I don't own FMA
Day 38 - Birthday
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As the door closed behind another departing guest, Olivier found quite an unfamiliar feeling building in her stomach.
Her face twisted into a scowl at the sinking sensation and she looked from the door to the other side of the room where Buccaneer stood with Catherine at his side, probably talking his ear off.
He shook his head and Catherine stuck out her lips in a pout.
Olivier's scowl transformed into a smirk.
"She's quite determined, isn't she?" a voice asked from beside her.
Olivier scowled again. "A family trait," she hissed, not bothering to look in Maes' direction.
"Passed down from generation to generation?" he asked, not missing a beat.
"Maes," a voice scolded.
Olivier finally looked over at him. "My wife, Gracia," he introduced. "Gracia, General Olivier Armstrong."
The woman's green eyes lit up as she smiled and offered her hand.
She gave the woman a quick handshake and briefly wondered if the woman knew of her husband's photo obsession.
At the thought, Olivier recognized the strange sensation that had been making her stomach turn—dread. Dread at being seen as a sentimental fool. She couldn't let those framed photographs be her gift. She shook her head, not quite sure what had possessed her to go through with something saccharine, so soft, so completely and utterly traditional.
Without a second's hesitation she whirled around and marched toward the hall, leaving the couple staring after her as she left the party.
She paused at the foot of the stairs as Buccaneer called to her.
"You were able to shake her," she observed, lips turning up with the hint of an amused smirk.
"We could use her for stealth training," he joked, trying to ease the tension he felt in her gaze.
She gave a dry chuckle and continued up the staircase.
He followed just paces behind her as she navigated the hallways of the mansion which would have been a maze to him without her in the lead.
She rapped on a door.
"Where are we?" he asked, but she held up a hand to silence him as she glanced up and down the hall.
She slowly opened the door and then pulled him into the dark room after her.
He blinked away spots as the light flickered on and noticed a table piled with gifts in the center of the bedroom.
She motioned for him to follow her to the table. "If I ever try to give such a sappy gift again, have me admitted to the hospital without delay," she growled as she started moving aside the mountain of presents. "Now help me find it," she snapped when he didn't respond.
"Why aren't they opened during the party?" he asked as he moved aside a particularly large gift wrapped in shimmering pink paper.
She shrugged her shoulders—it was just the way it was done. "He only ever opens gifts in front of the family."
The sound of shifting boxes around took over their conversation, until she gave a cry of triumph and held up a set of set of slim packages wrapped in blue paper and tied together with silver ribbon.
"You're father would like it," he reminded her.
She laughed as she started towards the door. "I would never live it down," she argued. He followed her back out into the hall and let her lead him away in a different direction then they'd come by.
She froze as she heard laughter and footsteps down the hall.
"In here," she ordered, opening a door to her left.
"Quiet," she ordered, pulling him further into the dark room as the door clicked shut behind them.
By the time they stopped, his eyes had partially adjusted to the dark and he could make out a vague outline of Olivier standing just in front of him. As the seconds passed by, he noticed her outline radiated with the alertness she always held in battle.
She seemed to stiffen for a moment, and just when he'd began to think he'd imagined the stiffness, he heard footsteps and then the door creaked open.
Giggles filled the room, and he silently tensed up waiting for the lights to flicker on. His mind filled with the conclusions his family would jump to if they found him in a dark room with his commanding officer. Surely, hers would make the same assumptions.
"No, keep them off. We know this room well enough," said a husky voice, one he almost recognized.
The tension seeped out of his body, but now his cheeks heated. Surely this room had been chosen by the mystery couple for a reason.
"As the birthday boy wishes."
Recognition flashed through his head and he reached up to cover his ears. He couldn't think of a worse situation to have gotten himself into. Alone in a dark room with Oliver and her parents about to…he couldn't even think it.
"Boy! You dare call me boy," Phillip boomed.
Olivier pinched herself to make sure she wasn't having some sort of heinous nightmare.
"Put me down," Augustina demanded through a fit of giggles.
Olivier cringed. She had to get out of there. She yanked on Buccaneer's sleeve and followed the wall back to the door.
She bit back a curse as she bumped into a table.
Silence filled the room.
"Who's there?" her father called out gruffly.
"Sorry, I was just coming back for the sheets, I left the old ones in here when I changed them," she said, pitching her voice a bit higher than usual.
"Glad you remembered about my usual present. Go and fetch us the birthday champagne, leave it on the table in the hall," Augustina ordered, not a hint of embarrassment in her voice.
"Yes, Ma'am." Olivier navigated her way around the table and to the door, yanking on Buccaneer's sleeve to lead him in the right direction.
Part of her worried that her parents would ask questions when they saw two people leave the room instead of just one. Hopefully the hall wasn't lit so bright their silhouettes would stand out too much.
Once they were safely in the hall without incident, she heaved a sigh of relief and stormed down the hallway with Buccaneer in tow.
She only slowed upon seeing a maid wandering the halls. "Birthday champagne outside the birthday suite," Olivier snapped.
"Right away, Miss," the maid said as she gave a quick curtsy.
Olivier growled at the retreating maid. Apparently everyone knew about her parent's little tradition.
"If you would have just left your gift—"
"If you even try to convince me to go put this back, I will shave off that ridiculous mowhawk and mustache of yours," she threatened.
"I wouldn't if my life depended on it," he promised, still trying to shake the events of the "birthday suite" from his head.
Olivier had just managed to chuck the gift into her room when Alex called out to her. "Livi, Bucky, help me send off the last of the guests," he boomed.
"It's about time we left, too," Olivier told him.
"But Father will be opening gifts soon," Alex argued.
Olivier repressed a cringe. "You can fill me in on all the excitement tomorrow," she said, her tone daring him to press the issue.
Alex stared after them, at a loss for words, as she and Buccaneer left him standing in the hall alone.
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A.N. - Roughly 1210 words for you! Some figurative rainstorms have been impeding my writing time, and I'll be going out of state next week to help my grandfather get everything ready move in with us in May, so I'll be disappearing for a short while. If I can crank out another chapter before I leave, I'll post it, but it's not a sure thing. Also, I'm pretty sure that Olivier is now going to try and give me nightmares for writing this. Thanks for reading!
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