A/N: Why do they always get interrupted?

Blame it On the Dress

The restaurant was one of the most difficult to get reservations to, which went along with the fact that it was the highest-rated establishment in Central. The only reason a table had opened up for the four of them was that Maes had done some very skilled investigating for the owner as military and civilian lifestyles clashed, and some sort of off-the-books reward had been in order.

Roy sat across from his rival-turned-best-friend, thankful for the high pile carpet to dampen the sound of his nervously tapping foot. He was certain that Hughes was setting he and Riza up, and in a city crawling with with soldiers, it was exceedingly risky.

"What happened that the two of you wound up in separate hotels?" Gracia asked curiously. "Doesn't she need to be closer to be a bodyguard?"

"Normally, we're able to swing an adjoining room," he answered, shaking his head. "But this time, the accommodation arrangements got left to some rookie administration clerk that messed up somewhere along the line. We didn't find out there'd been a mix-up until we arrived in the city, and by then, it was too late."

"I told you that you could stay with us," Maes said, the mock scolding clear in his tone. "But did you listen? Noooooooooo, Roy knows everything." Unable to keep a straight face, he broke into a grin at the glare his friend shot him.

"You can't fit two extra adults in your place for a week," Roy countered. "Besides, you'd drive me crazy."

For a brief second, the other man's eyes flicked to the side, looking past the dark-haired alchemist's shoulder, before his grin widened and he lowered his voice. "Maybe. But not as much as that pretty girl walking your way."

Turning to see what Maes was staring at, Roy froze, eyes riveted to the woman weaving her way through the tables toward theirs. Her hair was down, pulled back along the sides and held by a pair of subtly glinting barrettes. Her dress was a dusty red, with gold accents along the left side. It was in the Xingese style, with a high neck, and cap sleeves, divided partway up the skirt on the outside of the leg. A pale gold pashmina around her shoulders made sure that no tiny corner of her tattoo would accidentally be shown.

Riza's gaze found his, and he stood automatically as she smiled. "You haven't been waiting long, have you?" she asked, eyes going to Gracia, then Maes. "The police were diverting traffic around an accident on Second Street, so it slowed me down a little."

"No; they were just able to seat us early is all." Gracia got to her feet, stepping around the end of the table to exchange a brief hug with the blonde Lieutenant. "We're just glad you and Roy were able to make it here."

She resumed her seat, Riza taking hers across the table as Roy held the chair out for her. She glanced briefly at him over her shoulder, giving him a small smile, before he settled down beside her trying hard to ignore the sly grin on Maes' face, and the way his eyes kept flicking between the two of them.

"So," he commented, trying to divert the attention away from himself and his Lieutenant. "If I'm not mistaken, this is the first time you two have been out since Elicia was born. You sure know how to celebrate."

"Picture time!" Hughes had his wallet open on the table faster than anyone could protest. Inside was a picture of a baby girl, only a few months old, green eyes wide as she stared at the camera.

Riza smiled, speeding Roy's pulse up again. "She's beautiful. And she looks just like her mother."

"Of course she's beautiful!" Slipping the wallet back into his pocket, Maes shrugged. "Though if she looked more like me, she'd be even more good-looking." He missed seeing Gracia roll her eyes skyward with a smile. "We were thinking of going out East for a vacation some time soon, so that you two could meet her, but you got to Central before we could." He mock-scowled at Roy. "Throw my plans for a loop again, why don't you. Thanks."

"Considering some of your plans are outright insane?" the other smirked. "You're welcome."

"You don't have to walk me back," she said as they moved along the nighttime streets. Early summer in Central left the night air warm enough to go without a jacket even at this hour. No one else was about; just the two of them.

"Yeah, I know." Hands in his pockets, Roy was careful not to look at her directly; he was sure that if he did, the same thing that had been happening to him all night would start again. Losing the power of speech right now would only lead to the world's most awkward silence. "But this is Central, not East City; there's a few more lowlifes around here than back home, and I just want to make sure you get there safe."

"That takes care of me," she mused, and he could hear the humour in her voice. "Who's going to take care of you, then? I thought that was my job."

He shrugged. "I have my gloves. I only brought them because I didn't figure you'd be using a gun as an accessory." When she didn't answer, he glanced sideways to find her fighting back a smirk. ". . . How the hell are you hiding a gun on yourself right now?"

"Very carefully," she answered, giving up the battle against her amusement.

They lapsed into silence for a moment. Riza studied her surroundings, as was her usual habit as a bodyguard; as was his habit, Roy surreptitiously studied her. "I don't think I've seen you in that dress before," he commented. "Is it new?"

She looked down at herself with a non-plussed expression. "When you go dress shopping with Rebecca Catalina, she makes absolutely sure you don't leave empty-handed," she murmured. "It was her choice, and I kind of like it . . . but I went along with it mostly just to shut her up."

Roy laughed, half to himself. "She's got good taste. I think you look —" He stopped himself, both verbally and physically. Riza took another two steps before doing the same, turning back to look at him in concern. Her gaze met his, and the word on the tip of his tongue disappeared into thin air.

". . . Roy? Are you all right?"

All the years of being so careful to avoid doing anything that even resembled fraternization were screaming at him not to say the word, if he could remember it. Just the way she said his name was making his head spin. Something deep in his chest wanted her to say it again, was wishing desperately that she would.

He watched as her expression became highly alert, those brown eyes watching him in concern. "You're starting to get me worried," she said quietly, retracing the last couple steps toward him. "What's wrong?"

Still speechless, he shook his head, and forced himself into motion again. Riza fell in beside him, still watchful, only now with suspicion. Her hotel was ahead on the left, golden light spilling from the lobby out onto the dark street.

I'll walk up with her, Roy decided firmly. I can't guarantee we're alone out here, but once we're inside . . . .

It was the most agonizingly long and silent walk of his life. No longer than three minutes, but it was beginning to feel like fifteen by the time they arrived outside the door to her room. Riza looked up as she fit the key into the lock. "Did you want to come in and make sure I brush my teeth properly?" she asked sarcastically.

"Sure." He caught the flash of an exasperated smile before she opened the door and stepped through. Following her in, he shut the wooden panel, watching as she crossed to turn on the lights beside the bed.

"Are you ready to talk about what happened outside?" she asked, over her shoulder. Pulling off the pashmina, she began folding it neatly. "I assume you didn't want to risk unfriendly ears listening in."

Roy's stomach flipped. ". . . . I'll just come right out and say it," he said, hands slipping into his pockets again as he took a few steps forward. "You look . . . there's no other word for it. You look beautiful like that." He watched as her head whipped around to look at him, the pashmina forgotten in her hands. "I . . . didn't want to say anything outside . . . like you said, in case someone was around. Not that any of the soldiers here would recognize anyone from out East, but just in case —"

"It's all right. I understand." She set the gold fabric down on the bed, turning fully to face him with a small smile. "It's nice of you to say so. Thank you."

Roy took another step forward. "It's not just being nice, it's . . . ." He hesitated, realizing that she might not want this to spill over into fraternization any more than it already had. ". . . . Permission to speak freely?"

She lifted one eyebrow, curious at the question — a superior officer always had the right to speak freely — but as well as he knew her, Roy knew she understood his reason for asking. ". . . Go ahead."

"It's not just being nice," he said again. "It's being truthful. You walked in the room tonight, and I didn't see First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, bodyguard and adjutant. I saw you. You were yourself for the first time in a while; I've seen you smile more times tonight than in the last year. And that's one of the prettiest things I've seen in the whole damn world."

The same smile spread slowly across her face as she folded her arms. "Well . . . . It's been a while since I heard you talk like that."

The weight of what he'd wanted to say finally off his shoulders, Roy shrugged. "It's like riding a bicycle. You never really forget how. How did I do?"

This time, it was Riza that stepped forward, further closing the gap between them. "I think you did very well, all things considered." Her eyes flicked down, then up in a once-over. "I have to say, you really don't look so bad yourself. It's a good change, to see you in something other than a uniform."

Roy inched forward another step. "If we were in uniform," he said quietly, "we wouldn't be standing this close. Funny what a change of clothes can do."

"And what exactly," she said softly, "are you hoping will happen before the clothes we wear dictate how we act?"

He smiled as she closed the distance by stepping into his arms, her head resting against his shoulder. "I think you know what I'm hoping for," he murmured. "But I'll hold off if you want me to."

Riza was quiet for a moment. "You're hoping for an invitation to spend the night," she said, and he could hear her smile. "It would mean I don't have to worry that you got to your hotel all right."

". . . . That reminds me . . . ." Leaning back to look at her, Roy lifted an eyebrow. "I want to know where you're hiding a gun under a dress like that."

Rolling her eyes with a smile, Riza took a step back. Pushing the divide in her skirt to one side, she unfastened a leg holster from the opposite side, just above her knee. Standing straight, she held it up for inspection, the semi-automatic nestled among the leather clearly visible. "Does that answer your question?"

Roy grinned, moving forward to slip his arms around her waist. "Sometimes I forget just how dangerous a woman you are . . . ."

"Maybe . . . but never a danger to you." She gently tossed the holster onto the bed, turning back just in time to meet his kiss lips-first. "If you're going to — come in for a visit," Riza said, speaking between breaths. "You could at least — take your coat off — stay a while."

"Thought you'd never ask."

He worked his arms out of the sleeves, lips never leaving hers, and let the dark fabric drop to the floor. Waiting just long enough for her to slip her feet out of her shoes, he backed her slowly toward the bed; her one-handed grip on his tie made sure he followed her down.

"If I didn't think you looked so good in a dress like this," he said, grinning, "I'd put a moratorium on you wearing them."

Riza smirked. "In the interest of protecting what remains of your sanity?"

"I'm perfectly sane, thank you." The grin widened into something dangerously confident as he nuzzled against the side of her neck. "It's in the interest of your protection. If I keep seeing you looking like this, I can't be held responsible for my actions." She laughed — nothing more than a quiet chuckle at the back of her throat — and he froze. ". . . Damn, I love that sound."

There was time for two kisses to the soft skin of her neck before the door was kicked in. Heavy booted footsteps rushed through the door along with the sound of gun safeties being taken off . . . and then silence.

". . . I realize this is a bad time, Colonel, but if you'd both be so kind as to put your hands up," a voice said, trying hard to cover the tone of someone taken aback.

Mentally cursing a blue streak, Roy rolled to one side and sat up, scowling at the first man he spotted with a gun pointed his way. "What? You've never gotten drunk and fallen over on someone before?" he snapped, taking care to slur his words convincingly. He looked back to Riza. "You okay?"

The man who'd spoken, who was the only one without a weapon, glared. "Your conversation, the one that determines whether you live or die, is with me, Colonel."

That one look at her had been enough; she had her usual mask back in place, and she had a plan. She just needed his input to make it work. And so he would. "Okay, okay." Roy shot another glance at the quartet of guns pointed in his direction. "But if we're going to talk, you tell your boys to put their toys away, all right?"

Smiling tightly, the man shook his head. "I don't think so. I'm not an idiot."

"My gloves are in my coat, my coat is on the floor, and I am freaking s***faced right now." He shrugged eloquently. "Couldn't shoot straight if I wanted to. But you said you wanted my hands up, right?" Getting to his feet, listing slightly to one side, he laced his fingers together on top of his head. "There. See? Now put 'em away."

With an impatient gesture, the man gestured his thugs to stand down; they did so, putting the safeties back on. "What about the girl? What's her purpose here?"

"Her?" Roy shrugged again. "She works in the club downstairs. When the bar cut me off, the manager sent her up here with me to make sure I made it." He leaned a little too far to the right, taking two staggering steps in that direction, putting him now on Riza's right side. "Look, fellas, I'm really not sure I ought to go anywhere right now. Can you maybe come back tomorrow?"

"No," was the snappish answer.

"Too bad." Dropping the slur, Roy smirked. "That was your last chance."

Riza's hand had started inching toward the gun she'd set aside the moment he stepped between it and the gunners' line of fire. Now she drew it, beginning to fire as Roy dropped into a crouch. Five shots, one to the shoulder of each gunman and their spokesman, dropping all of them to the floor in pain.

Rising fluidly, she assumed a stable firing stance. "If any of you reaches for any sort of weapon, my next shots won't be aimed for non-vital areas. Understood?" When no answer except one or two groans came, she spoke over her shoulder to Roy. "Colonel, if you'd be so kind as to call hotel security?"

They watched the doors of the truck close on the spokesman of the attack group, before the engine started and the vehicle pulled ponderously away from the curb.

"We were lucky," Riza murmured. She'd changed into casual clothing since the attack, her hair still down. "They're affiliated with a group that's against the military, so there's very little chance of them wanting to report what they saw."

Roy shoved his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. "Even if they did, it would be the word of criminals against that of a high-ranking military officer. With no concrete evidence, it's all hearsay; no real basis for court-martial. We're in the clear."

"Good." She cast him a sidelong glance, smiling in dry humour. "I'm not sure I should let you stay by yourself tonight, if that's the kind of company that finds you. It would be safer if you had a bodyguard present."

He smirked. "Are you volunteering for the position?"

"Of course. And you should probably stay here; they'll be checking military-held hotels with a reservation under your name. We can pick up your things in the morning." Brown eyes flicked briefly around the street, seeing no one else within earshot; nevertheless, her voice grew quieter. "Besides; I believe you were just starting in on a list of things you like about me."

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