[FMA] Curtain Call, Hawkeye/Mustang, PG Title: Curtain Call Rating: PG Word Count: ~480 A/N: Thanks to angstymcgoth for looking this over; any remaining mistakes are my own. Prompt:Full Metal Alchemist, Roy Mustang/Riza Hawkeye, perfectly professional - On the job
"Have I told you how lovely you look tonight?"
Riza lowered her eyes to their hands resting on the table between them. "You have."
Roy brought her fingers to his lips. "Well, allow me to tell you again." He raised an eyebrow. "You're fond of this song, as I recall."
"Ever since that trip to the lake." She rose, her hand still in his as he led her to the dance floor. The restaurant was popular, with a respectable crowd even on a Wednesday night.
His other arm was around her waist, holding her against him as they swayed in the shadows near the edge of the dance floor.
She smiled and turned her head, pressing her mouth against his ear. "Steiner is approaching Havoc now. He looks to be taking the bait."
Riza lay her head on his shoulder, scanning the room before looking up again with a smile. "He's in place."
Roy brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "Good. Once Havoc leaves, we'll follow to provide cover."
Riza raised an eyebrow. "Of course," she said. "Just as planned."
"I apologize." He began to run his nails lightly over the small of her back. "Of course you remember; that was just to remind myself. I seem to be rather distracted this evening."
Riza held his gaze, only a tiny intake of breath betraying how the touch affected her. "That isn't fair."
"That dress isn't fair." Dark red and fitted, it flowed over her every curve like water, leaving her arms bare and exposing just a hint of the upper swell of her breasts.
"It was clean," she murmured. "And we didn't exactly have much notice."
"True," he replied, pulling her closer against him. She didn't fight him, letting her nose brush his cheek as he buried his face in her throat. To all appearances he was just a man who'd had a little too much to drink.
Just then Havoc and the target rose from the table, heading for the side exit.
Riza swallowed, Roy's lips warm against her neck. "They're leaving," she breathed.
Roy led her off the floor with an arm around her waist, his fingers brushing her hip. Unhurriedly collecting their things from the table, they headed for the front door.
Once outside, their bearings changed; Riza's easy stroll lengthened to a stride, the folds of her dress whipping against her legs. Roy straightened from his slouching walk, his seemingly tipsy gaze sharpening as he focused on the men ahead.
They'd caught up to within a half-block before Havoc dropped his cigarette on the ground, giving the butt a lazy grind with his toe.
"Shall we?" Roy pulled on his gloves, never taking his eyes off the target.
Riza pulled her pistol from her thigh holster, letting her skirts fall back into place. "After you, sir."