Come Dancing
"Why not come dancing? It's only natural."
- Good Riddance, Come Dancing.
"Oi, where on earth have you been? I've been looking for you everywhere!" Catalina exclaimed, bursting into Hawkeye's room.
"And yet oddly, my dorm room was the last place you thought to check at this hour?" Hawkeye asked without looking up.
"Yes! Wait, no…shut up! And get dressed, we're going out," Catalina announced, hands on her hips.
"Oh, are we?" Hawkeye said absently, her attention still primarily on the papers spread out in front of her. Rebecca resisted the urge to stamp her foot.
"YES!" she cried. "There's a whole battalion of gorgeous guys in from Western City right now, here for some training thingy, or something. Anyway, I just heard they're going to be at Templeton's tonight, since they do a lady's night deal on Thursdays—you know, no cover charge if you're female."
"Oh? That's nice, I suppose," Hawkeye said, turning a page of her textbook with maddening calm.
"Riiiizaaaaaa!" Rebecca whined, leaning over her friend's shoulder and trying to catch her eye. "Don't you understand what this means?!"
"A group of men, presumably attractive and unattached, are going out to a bar tonight?" Riza returned, hiding her amusement.
"You're missing the bigger picture, here! It's a golden opportunity! We're talking about officers, with respectable salaries and upward mobility! Suppose one of them is lonely and just waiting for the right girl to come along and sweep him off his feet? Come on, I need my wing-woman for this!"
Riza's lips curved upwards ever so slightly.
"We have early classes tomorrow," she reminded Rebecca in an even tone.
"So? The night is still young!" Riza spared an incredulous glance at the clock, and Rebecca rolled her eyes and amended: "Ok, not really. But we're still young, and you're only young once! And all we have tomorrow is hand-to-hand, anyway, which I know you hate. We can skip it just this one time, pleeeeaaase?"
"I have a paper to write," Riza said, tapping her pencil idly against the desk. Rebecca sensed Riza's resolve weakening.
"And it's not due until Monday; you have the whole weekend to finish it," she retorted quickly.
"By the time we're ready to leave, we'll only have about an hour before curfew. Don't you think you'll need a bit more time to sort through your candidates?" Riza asked next.
"Darling, please. You can't rush husband-hunting. Of course we'll need more than just an hour."
"And how do you suggest we're going to get back on base after curfew without getting caught?"
"I've already got that all sorted; don't you worry," Rebecca said confidently. Riza found that she wasn't surprised.
"Do I even want to know?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Best if you don't ask questions, really. Plausible deniability," Rebecca beamed at her.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Riza sighed. "All right. Assuming I do agree to this insane scheme of yours, what's in it for me, exactly?" she asked, finally giving up on her work and turning to face her friend.
"Um...my unwavering admiration and respect?" In spite of herself, Riza chuckled. "Oh! I know – I'll get us into the kitchens at night again!" Rebecca cried. "We can make another pie or something. I know you had fun last time; don't even try to deny it!"
"You know, I never did figure out how you pulled that off," Riza mused, eyeing her friend suspiciously. Of course, she wasn't taking the persuasive power of a fresh peach pie into account.
"Strategic use of my feminine wiles," Rebecca said breezily, waving a hand. "Which are going completely to waste sitting here arguing with you," she added, tossing her curls petulantly.
"Fine, fine…you win," Riza said, smiling a little. "I'll go. But only on one condition – if you drink enough to make yourself physically ill, again, then I will leave you there. Agreed?"
They both knew it was an idle threat. Riza would be angry, and probably end up scolding and lecturing for days, but she would never leave Rebecca behind. She simply didn't have it in her to heartlessly abandon a comrade in need of assistance, however sloppily intoxicated that comrade might be. Rebecca pouted anyway.
"Hey, I said I was sorry," she mumbled. "But I promise I'll be more careful this time. Honest and true. Cross my heart and hope to die."
"I'm holding you to that," Riza warned as she rose, closing her books. "All right, let me just change and we'll go." Rebecca cheered and threw her arms around Riza's middle, squeezing the breath out of her before releasing her just as quickly and bouncing over to the closet.
"Let's see your options, then," she said cheerfully. "Templeton's is a much nicer place than the Wild Turkey, so we'll need something with a little more class…"
Riza sighed as Rebecca ransacked her meagre wardrobe for something she considered suitable, tuning out the running commentary. (Ugh, no…boring…too plain…boring…lord, no, not that one either…too long…this shade of green, Riza, really? With your complexion?) Her usual skirts and blouses were a little plain, Riza had to admit. But she liked them that way.
"Ugh, you still don't have any dresses, do you?" Rebecca finally cried, exasperated. "Didn't we talk about this?" But before Riza could answer her, she whirled around with a slightly maniacal look in her eye. "Oh! I know! Wait here; I'll be right back!"
Riza didn't even bat an eyelash at her friend's abrupt announcement and departure. Which, she mused, was clearly a sign of just how inured she had become to the other girl's impulsive nature.
Just as Riza had finished re-hanging the clothes Rebecca had rejected, her friend reappeared with a garment bag in her arms.
"Here, try this. It was a little bit too long for me, and you're a just a couple inches taller, so this should be perfect," she said triumphantly.
Riza unzipped the bag to reveal a dress in a soft pink hue. Even as she opened her mouth to protest, she noticed that it was actually quite simply cut, with a modest boat neckline that would conceal both her cleavage and the entirety of the intricate array tattooed on her back. And the skirt would fall, fashionably, just to her calves.
"Rebecca, I can't just—where did you get this? It doesn't seem like your usual style," she asked, momentarily confused. Rebecca favored shorter, more fitted dresses, preferring to show off her figure whenever possible. Her friend just smirked.
"My aunt sent it to me as an early birthday gift. It's not my style at all, but I can't exactly tell her 'no, thanks' and mail it back. You've no idea the drama that would start. I was thinking about donating it or something, but if it suits you, then you really should just keep it. Go on, try it on!" she prompted. "I bet the color will look great on you, too!"
Riza fidgeted, wondering how to strip off without exposing her back. She'd been very careful to keep her father's legacy hidden from everyone at the academy, even her closest friend. Roy Mustang was the only living person who truly understood its significance, and as such Riza felt he was the only one who deserved to know of its existence at all. It would make for some interesting maneuvering when annual physicals rolled around, that was for sure.
"Good lord. Here," Rebecca huffed, spinning on her heel so that she faced away from Riza. "Go on! You have til the count of ten, and then I'm turning around, whether you're decent or not. One…two…"
Riza shucked her uniform and wriggled into the dress in record time. When Rebecca spun back around, she squealed in delight.
"I knew it! It's perfect! You've just got to keep it! No buts, now, I absolutely insist! Throw on some heels and meet me in my dorm in five!" she called over her shoulder, already dashing down the hall.
"What have I gotten myself into?" Riza wondered aloud. But she was smiling as she smoothed a hand over the soft fabric of the dress.
Having resigned herself to spending another tedious evening drinking lukewarm beer in a smoky room while watching everyone around her get drunk and/or flirt shamelessly with strangers, Riza was pleasantly surprised to find that the place Rebecca dragged her into wasn't a dive bar at all.
Assuming that it was common knowledge, Rebecca had failed to explain that Templeton's was in fact a popular dance hall on the west side, boasting a much classier clientele than their usual downtown haunts. There was a fully-stocked bar running along the back of the lounge, of course, but the primary draw was the enormous dance floor and the live orchestra that played five nights a week.
As they entered the main lounge, a vocalist onstage was crooning something sweet and soft about pining for his sweetheart back home, which proved that the band knew how to play to their audience. In spite of the 'Ladies' Night' promotion, the crowd inside Templeton's was predominately male, and a majority of those were men in uniform.
Rebecca heard Riza's soft gasp, and glanced over in time to catch the slightly widened eyes and parted lips. Following her friend's gaze to the dance floor, Rebecca grinned in sudden understanding.
"Why didn't you ever tell me you liked to dance?" she asked, pleased. "We could've come here ages ago!"
"I...it never came up; I don't know," Riza mumbled, blushing prettily.
"Secret's out now," Rebecca laughed, as she seized Riza's hand to lead her through the crowd.
Rebecca towed Riza over to one of the numerous small tables arranged along three sides of the dance floor, from which people could sit and watch the dancing while impeccably dressed waiters fetched them coffees and fancy cocktails. The two girls had only just seated themselves when Rebecca was approached and consequently whisked away by a distinguished-looking sergeant major from that Western Division she'd been going on and on about. But to Riza's great surprise, she was herself entreated to dance less than a minute later.
Her partner was a tall, handsome brunet—a civilian, judging by his clothing and bearing, and about fifteen years her senior. But he proved to be a decent dancer, holding Riza firmly and guiding her competently through the quick, rhythmic steps of a foxtrot. When the song ended, and the music shifted into an old and still popular waltz, Riza's heart skipped a beat. And in the next moment, she surrendered herself completely to the languid, gliding movements of her favorite dance.
Truthfully, he was never far from her thoughts to begin with, especially with a permanent reminder of their connection etched onto her back. But this particular dance, to this particular song…how could she not think about Roy Mustang?
The way her partner's hand shifted to rest just above her hip was achingly familiar. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend that the warm, masculine hand in hers belonged to someone else. And if she strained her imagination just a little, Riza could even hear his voice, gently instructing and encouraging her. This time, though, she was not a clumsy, inexperienced girl being taught to dance by her best friend (and secret crush), blushing as she took her first, faltering steps in the protective circle of his arms. On the contrary, Riza had since become a graceful amateur dancer whose fluid movements and quiet elegance attracted the interest of quite a few men in the hall, if only she'd known it. But her attention was turned inwards, focused on the cherished memory of an autumn evening in the not-so-distant past.
When the song ended, another man materialized at Riza's side to ask for the next dance. And then another, and then another after that. Since the music was just a shade too loud to allow for easy conversation, Riza's partners couldn't spoil her enjoyment of the evening with a stream of meaningless small talk, and it was perfectly socially acceptable to let her mind wander to more pleasant subjects. That was another nice thing about dancing in a place like this, Riza thought. One could appreciate the camaraderie in being a part of a large, boisterous crowd of people that was having a good time, and share in the infectious energy of the group, without actually having to contribute to a single dull conversation.
"One more," she kept telling herself, with each new song. "Just one more..."
For the first time in her life, Rebecca ignored a handsome man's attempts to flirt with her.
Leaning against the bar in the back of the room, she watched, amazed, as Riza glided serenely by. Her friend's talent was unsurprising—Riza had always moved with some degree of grace, so it was only natural that she'd do well on the dance floor. But Rebecca had never seen Riza's face go all dreamy and soft like that. And then there was that small, wistful smile on her lips, which somehow made Rebecca want to rush over to gather her up in a hug, and stroke her hair, and tell her that everything would be all right. There was a story in there, somewhere, she just knew it. Just as she knew that Riza wasn't likely to share it without prompting.
"Friend of yours?" her male companion asked, a little irked by her wandering attention. He'd just bought the girl a drink; she might at least pretend to laugh at his jokes. Wrenching her eyes away from Riza with an effort, Rebecca offered him her most charming smile.
"I like to think so. Pretty, isn't she?"
"Not as pretty as you," he replied immediately, his good humor restored in an instant. Rebecca giggled.
"Flatterer," she said, batting her eyelashes coyly. "Tell me more." She was very pleased she'd thought to give Riza that dress tonight. The soft rosy pink was quite easy to keep track of in a crowd, and she'd always been good at multi-tasking.
Some hours later, Hawkeye realized, belatedly, that she and her current partner had drawn far more attention than she liked with their extremely well-executed quickstep. The dancers around them had actually stopped and formed a small circle around them, as though enjoying an exhibition put on by professionals. Riza's first instinct was to bolt, and her second was to think of a valid excuse so that she could bolt gracefully without drawing even more attention to herself.
So as the band struck up a louder and faster number, and another would-be partner approached her with a cheerful smile and an outstretched hand, she plastered a politely regretful expression on her face and shook her head no. Gesturing vaguely toward the powder room, she then mouthed 'sorry' at the disappointed man just before she turned to flee.
Riza wove her way carefully through the crowd, suddenly desperate to find Rebecca. We really shouldn't stay any longer; it's gotten far too late, nagged the responsible voice in her head.
"Riza!" someone shouted to her left. Riza spun just in time for Rebecca to throw her arms around her in a loose-limbed hug.
"There you are! Are you all right?" Riza asked, concerned. But Rebecca simply smiled.
"Here I am! And yes, I'm fine. I've been drinking gin gimlets with some of the boys. They weren't half bad, either; I think you'd like them. The drinks, I mean, not the boys. Although those were all right, too," she giggled, and Riza shook her head and hid her smile. And then it occurred to Rebecca that maybe after a few drinks, Riza would be willing to share the story behind her hitherto unmentioned love of dancing. "Come on, let's go get you a drink or three," Rebecca chirped, wrapping her arm around Riza's waist affectionately and steering her back towards the bar.
"Oh, no," Riza said firmly. "No, thank you." Feeling slightly guilty for having ignored her friend for so long, she made no attempt to remove the arm around her waist, although she did plant her feet to prevent being dragged across to the bar. "Gin Gimlets? I thought we discussed this? I don't have to leave you here, do I?" she teased.
Rebecca pouted.
"I'm not drunk, geez," she huffed, withdrawing her arm from around her friend in order to place both hands on her hips. "Barely even buzzed. And I said I was sorry about that other time!"
"Yes, so you did," Riza conceded, smiling fondly at her. "But in any case, shouldn't we head back soon?"
"I guess it is getting pretty late," Rebecca admitted, pursing her lips. "We can go now, if you're ready."
"I think we'd better. It may be easier to sneak back onto campus before the sun rises," she said dryly, turning to lead the way to the exit. Now that she'd stopped dancing, her aching feet were loudly protesting their confinement in her very cute and very impractical high-heeled shoes (which Rebecca had persuaded her to buy).
"Aw, we'll be fine," Rebecca said lightly, looping one arm through Riza's as they reached the foyer. The heavy doors thudded shut behind them, muffling the music and noise within so efficiently that Riza was left with the disconcerting impression that she'd suddenly gone deaf. But the soft clacking of their heels along the pavement reassured her, and she found herself extremely grateful for the sleepy stillness of the empty street around them.
Riza drew in a deep lungful of the fresh, crisp air and shivered slightly, appreciating the solid warmth of Rebecca's arm in hers. Rebecca was uncharacteristically quiet as they walked, which told Riza that she was lost in thought.
"So, target rich environment tonight," she prompted gently, after walking a few blocks in companionable silence. "Did you meet anyone interesting?"
"Hm, not really," Rebecca replied. "There was this cute redhead with the prettiest green eyes, but then the jerk groped my ass while we were standing at the bar. Pig," she added, tossing her head.
"Want me to go back and clock him?" Riza said, glancing back over her shoulder in the direction of Templeton's. Rebecca snickered.
"Nah, s'okay. It'd be almost criminal to damage such a pretty face—you should've seen his cheekbones! And besides, I groped him back, so I figure that makes us even."
"Oh god, Catalina," Riza gasped. "Are we going to be allowed back?"
"And here I thought you didn't really like that kind of place?" Rebecca teased, feeling playful. "You always drag your heels whenever I suggest a night out."
"Yes, well," Riza said defensively. "At your usual bar, all I do is sit and nurse my beer in silence while you work the room. And after all the fun we had that last time…"she trailed off when she caught sight of Rebecca's smirk. "What?"
"Oh, nothing. But I'm on to you, now, Fancy Feet," Rebecca grinned. "You really like dancing, don't you? At first I thought you were just too nice to say no to all those guys. And then I realized–you were genuinely enjoying yourself out there."
"I…I wouldn't be opposed to going there again, sometime," Riza said carefully. Rebecca laughed. That was tantamount to an enthusiastic speech full of lavish praise, coming from Riza.
"That can most definitely be arranged," Rebecca replied brightly. Cheered by Riza's answering smile, she threw caution to the wind. "Sooooooo, who were you thinking about during all those slow songs with such a smile on your face? Go on, spill."
"What? N-no, I wasn't…were you watching me?" Riza spluttered.
"Well, of course I was! Had to keep an eye on my girl and make sure no one tried anything funny, didn't I?"
"I can take care of myself," Riza grumbled.
"Preaching to the choir," Rebecca giggled. "I've seen you in action, remember? O-ooh, was it your Mr. Unrequited?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Riza managed. But even in the semi-darkness of the quiet street, her flushed cheeks were obvious.
"So it was him, huh?" Rebecca said sagely, raising an eyebrow. "Are you ever gonna tell me his name, even? Or what he looks like? How you two met? Come on, you've gotta give me something to work with, here."
"There's nothing to tell," Riza insisted, forgetting that she'd been feigning ignorance. "I told you, he's just a friend. I haven't even seen him in…years, now."
"So what? Doesn't mean you don't still care for him."
"Of course I care about him; didn't I just say we were friends?"
"Friends?" Rebecca echoed, unconvinced. "Okay, then what was so interesting about this 'just-a-friend' that your attention was totally focused on him while you were dancing? You had all those gorgeous men practically fighting over you all night, and you didn't even notice!"
"I –" Riza's mind went blank. She hadn't noticed. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said again, faintly.
"You really don't, do you?" Rebecca said in a changed tone. "While you were dancing, especially during the slower songs, you'd get this expression on your face. It's a little hard to describe, but it was sort of happy and sad at the same time. You looked…" Heartbroken, was what she wanted to say. "You looked like you were a million miles away."
Both girls were silent for a long moment.
"You're right. I was a million miles away," Riza finally admitted, hesitant. "I was just…remembering. One of the songs they played tonight, one of the waltzes…well, my friend was the person who first taught me how to dance. As it happens, it was to that very song. I...hadn't heard it in quite a while, and I guess it made me a bit nostalgic. He was my first real friend. And I...I suppose I got a bit caught up thinking about those days, and about how much his friendship meant to me, back then. That's all."
"Oh," Rebecca managed, mind reeling. And suddenly she felt like a complete ass.
She'd discovered early on that it was difficult for quiet, reserved Riza to trust anyone with personal information, however small the tidbit might be. Once she'd figured it out, Rebecca had resolved to be a friend who was worthy of that trust, hoping that she could become the kind of confidant Riza had never had, growing up. And what had she done instead? At the merest hint of a mystery, at the slightest chance that Riza might have a love story in her past that she'd not shared, Rebecca had plowed right in. With all the grace and tact of a raging bull in a china shop, she'd tried to force a confidence to satisfy her own selfish curiosity, without any regard for her friend's feelings. What kind of friend did that?
Heartily ashamed of herself, Rebecca opened her mouth to apologize and to beg Riza to just forget she'd ever asked; forget that she'd said anything at all. But before she could speak, Riza shot her a sly look from under her lashes.
"And no, I'm definitely not telling you his name," she said in an amused tone. Once again, Rebecca was floored. But she recovered quickly.
"Aw, why not?" And why aren't you angry with me?
"Because I know you," Riza said lightly, giving Rebecca's arm a little squeeze.
"Oh?" Rebecca croaked, around the lump in her throat. Overcome by a wave of affection, she gently squeezed Riza's arm in return.
"Mm-hm." Riza went on. "If I gave you a name, you'd probably find a way to contact him, and concoct some sort of elaborate plan to reunite us, in hopes that one of us would spontaneously declare undying love for the other the moment we're together in the same room," she went on. "You're picking out wedding colors even as we speak, aren't you?"
"I was thinking an autumn wedding," Rebecca replied in a dreamy voice. Let it not be said that Rebecca Catalina was not remarkably quick on the uptake. If Riza wanted a bit of lighthearted humor to smooth over her embarrassment at having shared something so personal, than that's exactly what Rebecca would provide. "I've always looked good in red. Maybe with gold accents? And of course, you'd be radiant in ivory satin."
"Ivory? I thought the bride was meant to wear white?"
"Pure, stark white hardly looks good on anyone. It'd wash out that peaches and cream complexion of yours, and we certainly can't have that. Ivory or even cream would be far better. You could've just blown me off, you know," she added, unable to stop herself.
"If it were anyone else, I would have," Riza replied lightly, without pause. "You've certainly got your work cut out for you if you intend to have me married off by autumn. You've still got to find the groom, for one thing. Oh, and you will by my maid of honor, won't you?" she added, turning to smile brightly at Rebecca.
Rebecca laughed, and the lingering knot of anxiety in her stomach dissolved entirely.
"I'd be honored to! I hope your man has some good-looking, single friends. Isn't it traditional for the maid of honor to hook up with the best man at a wedding?"
"You're incorrigible," Riza managed through her giggles.
"It's one of my best traits," Rebecca agreed cheerfully.
A.N. Deepest apologies to those of you following this story who've been patiently waiting for an update. I've been suffering a terrible case of I'd-rather-spend-my-free-time-reading-rather-than-writing-itis. I think it's mostly cleared up now, though, but I'm told time will tell :D Anyway, here is a nice long chapter to make up for my negligence!
Feedback is welcome and very much appreciated!
xoxo Janie
P.S. I just noticed that this chapter actually ends up setting up a situation in one of my earlier stories on this site, which was completely not my intention but still makes me happy. It's not particularly surprising, I suppose, considering that I love the idea of Hawkeye dancing in blissful ignorance while Rebecca watches and plots. :D