Chapter 29: The Princess Bar

"My friend Maria is opening a bar," said Cecilia, staring at their hideous new wallpaper while standing in the center of their naked living room. The new furniture was delivered that afternoon and it was scattered around the first floor wherever it fit. Roy had to squeeze in through the entrance hallway because the loveseat was left there temporarily with a square table and a tall lamp atop it, arranged in a way that they wouldn't fall.

"You seem to have a lot of friends with their own businesses," commented Roy from the kitchen. He was warming himself a cup of coffee after a hot shower. There was a coffee table in the kitchen with a rolled up expensive-looking carpet leaning into one of the counters. Two comfortable armchairs were blocking the way into the living room so he would have to go around through the hallway to join Cecilia.

"People like me," she replied absently. "Hey, do you think this wallpaper is off?"

"It's puke yellow," remarked Roy, enjoying the way the ends of her lips curved downward into a frown.

"There can only be puke green."

"Okay," he said, staring at the travesty that she wanted to feel joy about in search of a few good descriptors. "It looks like hay sprinkled in horse dung."

"Oh." Cecilia put her hands on her hips, a small wrinkle formed between her eyebrows. "Now that's all I see." She turned to him, serious. "I should've gone with the birds. You didn't have a problem with the birds."

"I didn't. I liked the birds." He hated the birds. "We liked the birds."

He poured the steaming coffee into his mug and went around to join her. She approached him for a quick kiss before she picked up a scrapping tool from the floor and started to attack the ugly wallpaper.

"Maybe we can do a simple paint?" she queried, working diligently under his watchful eye.

He took a large gulp of his coffee, the heat searing down his throat, and tapped her shoulder. She turned, her eyes big and shining met his briefly, and he pecked her lips.

"Tell me what choice you make," he told her. "What time is the opening? I'll probably have to reschedule with Hughes."

"Hughes?"

"I invited him and his wife over for tea," he explained. There were details of their attendance to the Fuhrer's upcoming soiree that needed a little more consideration. He didn't want to go in there blind. "I hope you don't mind."

"Well, that really does light a fire under me," she replied, pausing in her removal of the wallpaper. "You can ask them to come at eight, for a late dinner instead."

"And the opening?"

"Opening is at six, we'll stay an hour, buy groceries, and get started on dinner," she said, confident. "Good?"

"Meet you there?" he asked.

Cecilia nodded and gave him directions to Maria's bar. He planted another kiss on her, promises to get there straight after work, and left the mug in his hands atop the nearest surface to grab his coat.

For all intents and purposes, Cecilia was his fiancée. After their confrontation, she softened upon agreeing to enjoy their temporary life together as a couple. He hadn't decided if this was the worst thing they'll ever do or the best, regardless, he enjoyed it. The everyday. Mornings waking up beside her face buried under pillows, late afternoons returning home to her working on the house decoration as if it were her very own project, and nights falling asleep with her in his arms, sometimes he touched her and kissed her and made her lips part, her voice spilling in broken syllables. He confidently claimed she was his own, she could do the same.

Roy went into work boasting about his new fiancée to his most trusted men, who were prone to doubt his newfound affection as soon as he was on the phone pretending to flirt with another woman. Not any of them had seen Cecilia when she came as Odessa, but the rumors had reached them. The only person in the know was Hawkeye and she looked at him disapprovingly upon realizing that Cecilia was the same woman he had her investigate.

"I do hope you're not making a mistake," Hawkeye had told him, her face softening with concern. "She may appear harmless in person, but she isn't quite on paper."

"We have an agreement," Roy had replied, "and I trust her to keep her word at least."

That had been enough to quell Hawkeye's initial worries, but it wouldn't hold for long. She knew enough about Cecilia's changing identities and Silas Marshall that she was undoubtedly justified in her concern.

Roy left work at six and made it to the bar after a fifteen-minute drive. He stared up at the blaring pink and golden neon sign that read Princess Bar with a blinking crown at the end above a white banner that welcomed customers in. He stepped inside after a trio of giggling women that he realized were sneaking glances at him. He smiled at the one who managed to meet his eyes and the apples of her cheeks pinkened. He turned away and found Cecilia sitting at the bar with her light brown hair falling on her shoulders, strands of it shining golden in the white lights above her.

He called out to her and she turned, gesturing into the seat where her purse had been sitting. She kissed his lips in greeting, her pink lips curving into a soft smile.

"Let me introduce you," she said, leaning forward to beckon the dark-haired woman on the other side of the bar.

The presumed bar owner excused herself with the guest she was speaking to and approached Cecilia with a smile, which grew with interest upon taking note of his presence.

"This him?" asked the woman.

"Yes, Maria this is Roy Mustang. Roy this is Maria Beckett."

Maria offered her hand for Roy to take and they shook, exchanging pleasantries. She was a tall woman with black curling hair down her back, heavily lashed brown eyes, and a pretty face. She promptly took his order and brought him a shot of whiskey.

As he took the shot, the burn of alcohol crawling down his throat, Maria leaned into the counter. "She hasn't driven you crazy yet?"

"We're not interrogating my date," Cecilia interjected.

"Not yet," answered Roy simultaneously, though it was an obvious lie between him and Cecilia. They were driving each other insane for weeks and were using each other while in a fake engagement.

"Don't you mean fiancé?" teased Maria.

"What kind of name is Princess Bar?" asked Cecilia.

Roy smiled, leaning into his hand as he stared at her elegant profile.

"Lennie picked it," answered Maria, turning to Roy to explain, "Eleanor, my wife."

"Is it a historian joke?" queried Cecilia.

"More of a subtle reference to the missing Drachma princess disaster that happened over a decade ago."

"Ominous," commented Roy.

Cecilia stared at Maria with a hint of confusion, tilting her head to the side. "Huh?"

"Seriously, you live here and you've never heard about it?" asked Maria. "Didn't they teach you anything in history class? Didn't you go to school?"

"Is that a serious question?"

"Are you serious?"

"Her disappearance was all over the papers in Amestris because the government was accused of having kidnapped her to jumpstart a war with Drachma," explained Roy. "Admittedly, there's always been tension between the two countries, but the aftermath of the princess' disappearance is assumed to be the reason the threat of war has lasted so long."

"Oh look, Lennie's back, let her talk your ear off on the subject."

"Who's going talk an ear off?" asked Eleanor Beckett, slipping in behind the bar with a box that she set down on the counter. She was a shorter woman with straight brown hair that fell to below her jaw and large hazel eyes. "You better not be saying anything embarrassing. Oh, Cecilia!"

Eleanor leaned over the counter in front of Cecilia and they exchanged air kisses before Cecilia introduced him as her fiancé.

"Has she driven you crazy yet?" asked Eleanor.

Roy and Maria laughed.

"Hon, why don't you teach Cee a thing or two about the princess you named the bar after?"

"You don't know about Princess Caitriona of Drachma?" asked Eleanor. "Seriously? For someone so invested in the downfall of the military—no offense"—Roy shook his head, not worried at all about what was said—"you certainly missed a big one. The princess went missing and Drachma's king is determined to prove Amestris kidnapper her."

"Okay?"

"The legitimacy of Drachma's ruling class is at stake," said Eleanor zealously. Maria walked off to serve a new customer. "The missing princess was the last member of the royal dynasty. The man that is currently called king isn't respected as a leader, so he's very eager to prove himself as a capable king by promising to find her. He campaigned it for weeks until he was crowned king. Why do you think they're still riding our asses now? Why do you think Fort Briggs exists?"

"I get all of that, what I don't understand is why you'd name your bar to reference a missing person?" said Cecilia.

"Because it's one of the most interesting unsolved mysteries of the world. Isn't that enough reason?"

"Well, the king obviously killed her to gain the throne," remarked Cecilia.

"You can't just say that!"

"There isn't evidence to support that theory," added Roy.

"There isn't any to not support it either, though."

"But," started Eleanor, "there's a lot of evidence that points to the possibility of the princess being alive somewhere out there."

"I still think the king killed her."

"You are wrong on so many levels and I'm going to tell you why in a minute, but Maria needs help."

Eleanor slipped away to help Maria prepare drinks for a group of new customers.

Cecilia turned her body in the stool to face Roy, who smiled at her. "She should have just named the bar Caitriona if she wanted people to get it. Princess could refer to anything."

"I'm shocked you haven't gotten rip-roaring drunk, yet?"

She laughed, turning away. She took her empty margarita glass and raised it. Eleanor came by with a new mixture a few minutes later.

Cecilia drank two more margaritas before they left the establishment. They dropped by the supermarket near their house to buy the groceries Cecilia needed to complete the dinner she swore she left half-finished and returned home. Roy followed Cecilia to the second-floor landing before he grabbed and spun her around to taste the alcohol on her tongue. Her arms wound around his neck, drawing him close, and his hands slid underneath the skirt of her dress, fingers teasing their way up her thigh to the thin, stringy fabric sitting on her hip.

Between heated kisses, she reminded him that there wasn't enough time, but Roy figured if they ran out of it, they could just serve salad for dinner. He respected her urgency to escape their desires to prioritize dinner and brushed the hair from her flushed face. They were disheveled and teetering close to being half-naked with her thong on the floor next to her shoes and jacket, the front of her dress sliding forward because he undid the zipper while his jacket and tie were on the ground too, his buttoned shirt halfway undone.

"We can stop, just say the word."

Cecilia pulled him back into a kiss instead and he hoisted her up against the wall. Her legs wrapped around him snugly as their kiss deepened and their hands grew as eager as their passion. Articles of clothing littered the ground leading into the bedroom and their bodies melted atop the silk sheets.

Roy thrust into her slow, reveling in the warmth and tightness of her, and she moved her hips to match his rhythm. Her nails pinched against the skin of his upper back and her voice spilled from her lips like a broken melody. He touched her face, memorizing the contours of it with his fingertips and kissing it to feel the heat of her skin pressed into his lips. He marveled at the slenderness of her neck, following the curve of it from under her chin to the middle of her collarbones, and brushed his palms across them, watching the way her chest rose and fell with her heavy breaths, mesmerized briefly by the slight bounce of her breasts. He ventured further down as his thrusts became shallow and her awareness of his scrutiny grew, fueling the coals of passion burning in her. She knew she was beautiful. She felt sure enough in her skin to love her body that his roving gaze elicited a sort of pride in her. This confidence was electric.

He slid his palms across her smooth navel, his fingers stopping briefly to inspect the lifted skin, pink against white, a small contrast that he overlooked many times and wondered how. He ran the entire length of the scar.

She rose onto her elbows and in one fluid motion switched their positions. Laughter escaped her, but the harmonious sound fell away into a deep moan as she guided his cock into its deepest reach inside of her. She rode him to exhaustion, until his mind whitened, and his pleasure reached its peak.

For several minutes they lay entangled on the bed, the thin layer of perspiration melting away with the chill of the room, and listened to the sound of each other's breathing. Roy played with strands of Cecilia's hair, holding it between forefinger and thumb, rubbing its soft texture. He caressed her cheek with his knuckles until she rose abruptly, complaining about how much time had passes as she tugged on the first dress she found in their closet and ran out the door without zipping it.

Roy dressed unhurriedly in a dark grey suit and rejoined Cecilia downstairs in the kitchen. He stepped behind Cecilia as she rushed through last-minute preparations and kissed the side of her neck, zipping her up.

"Now," he told her, "put me to work."

She kissed him gratefully and asked him to finish preparing the salad while she finished seasoning the chicken.

Hughes and Gracia knocked at their door a half-hour after the white meat began roasting in the oven. Hughes handed Roy a bottle of red wine and shot Cecilia a knowing smile before pulling her into a sudden hug before clapping Roy hard on the back.

Gracia apologized for her husband's behavior before Hughes wrapped an arm around Roy's neck and dragged him into the living room.

Behind him, he heard Cecilia say, "I imagine he's prepared to goad all night."

Roy couldn't have agreed more.

As expected, Hughes spent a greater portion of the night goading.

"You see, I knew it would end like this," proclaimed Hughes, laughing obnoxiously. "It couldn't be any other way with the way you two have been looking at each other. Oh, I feel as though it was just yesterday when Roy was complaining about that maddening reporter."

Roy grimaced into his platter of food. "I didn't complain."

"Oh, you're a reporter?" asked Gracia, smiling into the glass she was lowering from her lips. "What paper do you write for?"

"No, I'm really not," replied Cecilia.

"She's a part of the resistance," said Roy. "She spent her entire journalist career protesting against the military."

Hughes leaned forward, elbows on the table briefly before Gracia pointed it out, and commented, "I heard you're the one to thank for the lovely moniker the State Alchemist go by."

Cecilia laughed. "No, that wasn't me at all. That was"—and the laughter died in her expression—"that was…someone else."

Gracia was quick to change the subject and Roy felt Cecilia was relieved.

Roy and Hughes took care of the dishes while Cecilia gave Gracia a tour of the house.

"Don't get carried away," said Roy. "Cecilia and I aren't really engaged."

"For now," remarked Hughes, a glimmer in his dark eyes. "Say what you will, but the truth is obvious."

Hughes pulled out a narrow envelope from his coat pocket as Cecilia and Gracia's voices drew closer to the living room. "This is what you asked for."

"So, who was it? Her contact?" asked Roy.

"Elliot Myers."

He almost sputtered. "The major general?"

"I got a hell of a shock, too," said Hughes. "Your new fiancée has some good connections. You should be careful."

Roy caught a glimpse of Cecilia by the entrance of living room talking animatedly to Gracia.

"Weren't you rooting for us a minute ago?" asked Roy with a smirk.

Hughes grabbed Roy by the shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "You deserve a good woman, Roy, and on the surface, Cecilia is good, but you don't trust her and she doesn't trust you. There isn't much you can accomplish in a relationship without trust. Continue with your current arrangement until you both receive what you want from it and part ways. That is…unless you feel she will be a necessary asset."

He didn't want to see Cecilia as merely an asset. He wanted her at his side in a different sense, more than a trusted comrade and beyond a temporary friend.

"You have a lot to think about," said Hughes, releasing his shoulder.

They used the remaining time to go match their stories for the Fuhrer's party. Roy never considered Hughes would want his wife involved in anything to do with his ambition, but when asked about it, Hughes said that he didn't believe any danger could come out of attending a party.

"Not to mention, Gracia has been very excited about it," he had continued. "She's also fond of seeing Odessa again."

Once their stories aligned, Hughes and Gracia left with Roy and Cecilia seeing them off at the entrance of their home. As Cecilia shut the door behind them, she turned with a frown adorning her face.

"Really? I give you free reign of what our backstory to coupledom is and you come up with childhood friends?"

"It's common."

"It's a cliché."

"It's believable. Nobody knows enough about where I was born to say otherwise."

"And not only that, I'm a laughing stock because of your poor reputation with women."

Roy laughed. "Not with women—"

"You know what I meant!"

"Well, the story serves its purpose. Simple is enough sometimes."

Cecilia headed for the stairs and Roy followed. She prepared a bath, inviting him to wash her hair, and he agreed, despite his mind full of thoughts his conversation with Hughes brought back to him. Doubts seemed to swim persistently through his head despite knowing that a week after the Fuhrer's celebration, there reason for his uncertainties would disappear from his life. Yet, he struggled with the idea to let her go.

They sat together submerged in soapy bathwater with Cecilia situated between his legs with her own drawn up to her chest and steam rising all around them. The mirrors on the wall were fogged and it smelled strongly of her citrusy shampoo mingling with the faint berry scent of her body wash. He lathered creamy shampoo through her light-colored hair, observant of the way the tension in her body gave in to his touch.

"What kind of story would you have preferred?" he asked, his voice echoing against the pearly bathroom walls.

"Something memorable."

Enjoy the moment, he told himself, and when the time comes, let her go. Yet he let his fingers fall from her head to wrap his arms around her and kissed her raised shoulder. Very softly, very honestly, he whispered, "I love you."

And he did.


xl: I anticipate the next chapter will probably be either super long or broken up into pieces. I want a big chapter for the big party because it's going to be big.

Now, it's 1AM, I have class at 9AM, so I have to get to sleep. I'll post a preview for the next chapter sometime tomorrow.

Thank you to: starrat, Kimono Kay, helpmewoofy11, WhoisMissa, and animexxfreakxx for your reviews!

I hope you enjoyed this one!