Work Text:
Riza has found herself tired for the love triangle she's found herself in. (It wasn't even a real triangle, it was more like two lines converging into one peak – if it were a real triangle every party would be interested in each other)
Perhaps it's that moment of debating geometrical bodies that truly solidifies this horrible idea into something tangible, because Riza Hawkeye calls Rebecca Catalina up and says: ''Are you free?''
''Why?'' Rebecca only ever asks this question when she isn't sure if skiving off of work and paperwork duties is worth it.
Riza knows exactly what to say to get Rebecca front and centre in front of her: ''I've got a scheme.''
''Oh, I'm always free to scheme with you!''
This is the shortest telephone conversation these two have had in many, many years, but it's no less chaotic. If anything, it promises chaos most profound.
So, Rebecca's all about schemes, but she isn't sure whether this is safe.
''What if they blow up/set the perimeter on fire?''
''They won't. They'll be trapped within the confines of polite and civil conversation that public spaces demand.''
''That's the most Kimblee sentence I've ever heard.''
Riza shrugs her shoulders. ''It's true. Colonel Mustang would never do anything that would set him back, career-wise, and Solf would never endanger his public image as a gentleman. This is perfect.''
''If you say so.'' Rebecca Catalina's unconvinced, but she's not here to be convinced. She's a ride or die and that means that she's ready to set the world ablaze if Riza so wishes. And thankfully for the world, Riza doesn't wish it. What she does wish is to –
''-Invite you out for lunch. If you can make it, of course.'' Riza's on the telephone, smiling, curling the cord with her finger. This isn't really Riza so much as it's Elizabeth, the persona she dons when being Riza becomes too much effort. ''I feel like last time we left out too much.''
An immediate yes from the other line ensures that she's secured the first victim.
Now it's just left to-
''-Invite out to lunch so we can debrief about our latest case files, sir. Yes, sir. That one on the corner with the beautiful view. Of course. I'll see you there. If you come before me, be sure to ask for a reservation under Hawkeye. Goodbye, sir, take care.''
She gives Rebecca a thumbs up and Rebecca returns two. There's the second one, too.
Now all she's left to do is-
-Mind her own business and sit as far away as possible from the table she's reserved for Hawkeye. Rebecca's wearing a hat and a fake moustache. Riza's wearing a beard and a disguise her grandfather's given her from his disguise kit. Speaking of grandfathers, the man's sitting in an autocar parked outside with binoculars because, and to quote him: ''People these days don't scheme nearly as often as they should.''
While Rebecca looks like a very thin and pretty man dressed in a suit, Riza's elected to look like a scruffy fisherman who's come back from the sea after being gone for weeks on end. While Amestris is landlocked, Riza's imagination is not.
The first to arrive is Solf J. Kimblee and he asks for the Hawkeye reservation, gets ushered by the waiter, and tells them that he'll wait for the other party to show up before ordering. But that he'll take a water while he waits. It's all so very polite. He's even wearing his white suit.
Rebecca tells him that if things go well, that suit will keep its pristine white colouring. Riza tells her Rebecca, gruffly, like the cynical fisherman she's immersed herself in, that things haven't even begun being interesting.
Solf's looking at the menu, flipping through it, peering at it, flipping back, tapping his foot against the floor in impatience, looking at his State Alchemist pocket watch at the time, scowling, putting the watch back in his coat pocket, opening up the menu again, and on repeat.
He's early. He's like 15 minutes early. It isn't even lunchtime. Riza just knows him well enough to get a reservation for an earlier time because of this better to be early than late man.
Now, Roy's a pedantic man so he's early, too, but he's by only a scant few minutes early. Which in Solf's opinion is late and in Riza's opinion is cutting way too close for comfort. But he likes to make an entrance and this time it's no different.
Reservation name, sir?
Ah, yes, Hawkeye.
Right this way, sir! The other party has already arrived.
Rebecca's biting her lip to stop herself from laughing. Riza is smiling under her beard. Her grandfather is laughing from the auto almost as hard as Riza wants so. She can faintly hear him.
Solf J. Kimblee and Roy Mustang make eye contact.
They're giving her the benefit of the doubt, it appears, because Roy Mustang is dejectedly sliding to sit at the same table as Solf, who's already drunk his glass of water and is going to ask for something stronger, perhaps. But he's being amicable about it, asking Mustang how he's been.
Good, Roy Mustang says. Then he remembers to extend the same courtesy, and you?
Can't complain, Kimblee fires off back. The awkwardness is painful.
Riza's drinking her soup and making sure to clean her beard from the mess she's making. She isn't quite used to this amount of facial hair, you see. But she does steal glances towards the table reserved under Hawkeye.
They have what appears to be an amicable conversation. Riza sees Mustang and can see the Colonels’ mind whirling with thoughts and appropriate topics of conversation. She then looks over towards Kimblee and sees that Solf opens his mouth to say something, but then at the last minute remembers himself and doesn’t say what he wants to say. They’re both censoring each other and playing nice, just as Riza suspected they would in a public venue.
‘’I’m surprised they haven’t mentioned Ishval yet. They’ve been talking for ten minutes.’’
‘’They’re waiting for you.’’ Rebecca says, snickering. ‘’Mustang’s checking his watch every second.’’
Solf’s looking at Mustang. Mustang’s looking at Solf. The silence is now horrific.
‘’So…should we order?’’
‘’The Lieutenant hasn’t arrived yet.’’
‘’I’ve been here for half an hour.’’
‘’That’s your problem.’’
But they do order. Solf gets some salad. Roy gets a steak.
A waiter comes by and puts some flowers in the vase on the table. Then the next time he comes by he lights a candle on the table. Asks them if they would like something to drink. They’ve got a romantic selection of wines? What kind of wines? Aromatic, what did you hear, sirs?
Rebecca’s saying that paying off that waiter is the best decision of their lives. Riza does enjoy this. They’ve given her so much grief, those two men sitting awkwardly together and trying to bear through this lunch. Riza should have done this to them sooner, if only to teach them their place.
‘’How’s work?’’ Solf asks.
‘’Fine.’’ Roy’s cutting into the steak and stuffing his mouth full just so he doesn’t need to talk.
Solf is sipping on his water (they’d declined the wines, as it’s a workday, thank you). He chances a glance around the perimeter and spots two very strange looking individuals sitting at a table in their direct line of sight.
Rebecca initiates a cover and leans forward to make out with the scruffy fisherman.
Solf stops looking at them, not liking to intrude on such intimate moments between two loving men. They’ve both decided, unanimously, silently, to finish their meals and leave as quickly as possible.
Alas.
The waiter comes by to clear out the plates, but he brings a plate with him. It’s a chocolaty desert. He sets it right in the middle of the table, equally as far away from both Roy and Solf. Two spoons are brought over and given to the men at the table.
‘’Bon appetite.’’ The waiter smiles.
''We didn't order this desert.'' Solf says. Mustang's nodding along to this, saying that they must have mixed something up. The waiter just winks at them and leaves, saying it's on the house.
Riza looks at Rebecca. Rebecca shrugs her shoulders. This isn’t part of their script.
''We can split it, if you like.'' Solf asks just to be polite. He’d rather die, actually.
Roy Mustang whispers: ''I know you don't want to split it, it's fine.''
Solf doesn't push the topic anymore. He takes the desert spoon and he HACKS into the chocolate cake. Until he hits something. And then, like an archaeologist, he begins excavating whatever the mysterious thing in his cake is. Mustang's watching him raptly.
It's a box. A little crimson box, to be precise.
Solf J. Kimblee, to give credit where credit is very much due, tries his best to react in the calmest possible way: ''I'm flattered...although slightly afraid for your mental health if you think this is the appropriate way to go about having a first date with someone.''
''This isn't a date.'' Roy Mustang is a WOmanizer not a woMANizer, thank you very much.
''Oh, please, you had Riza call me here because you're not man enough to do it yourself.'' Solf smiles, thinking he’s cracked some secret code. ''I am a handsome man, but I don't bite.''
''Pfft.'' Mustang scoffs, coming to the conclusion that this is, all, in fact Solf J. Kimblee’s doing. ''Lieutenant Hawkeye called me here because you're clearly head over heels for me. I knew it.’’
Solf, then, replies calmly: ‘’Full disclosure: I have been with much better looking men than you. But I will admit I’ve never been with a man who proposed on the first date.’’ He gestures to the box. Then he opens the box and sees a ring, letting out a delighted little gasp as he goes to put it on. ‘’Oh, Mustang, you shouldn’t have!’’
''I've never seen that box in my life.'' Roy Mustang seethes. ''Let alone the ring.''
Solf J. Kimblee puts the ring on his finger to admire it. There's a little flame on it. ''Sure, Mustang, sure. You didn't plan this at all. Now, say, I know you're not as big of a lunatic as to believe that you want my hand in marriage – so, I ask – what is this ring supposed to signify?'' A wonderful idea pops into his head, because he smiles: ''Is it to commemorate the first step towards an amicable partnership?''
Roy Mustang claims that this ring isn't his. And that he would never put a flame on any ring he'd give anyone. That this all screams Kimblee's style and this isn't funny anymore. Not that it was ever funny, he adds!
''Who sent the ring?'' Riza's thinking. But she just turns towards the auto parked outside with a man in a disguise and binoculars having the time of his life and so suddenly all makes sense. ''God fucking damn it.''
''That man's got style for these things, you know.'' Rebecca says. Riza is inclined to agree, but she's unappreciative of the fact that he hasn't come to them with this idea. The execution could have been so much better.
''Why is the box red if it isn't from you?''
''I would have chosen a tasteful, black box.'' Solf defends himself, glancing at his pocket watch to check the time. ''I'm not crass and flashy like you.''
''Crass?'' Roy Mustang's laughing, ''Flashy? Joke's on me, I guess, because those are adjectives that perfectly describe YOU.''
''They are keeping this very civil.'' Colour Riza surprised.
''I think because they still believe you'll join them any minute. They keep checking their watches.'' Rebecca whispers. ''Should we cut them loose?''
''I think we should leave.'' Riza says. She's seen enough.
Rebecca nods. ''Yeah, you know what, never explaining that this was all an experiment is, factually, the best way to get results. Plus, we got a get-away driver.''
Riza turns around and sees that her grandfather's waving them over.
Rebecca pays for this lunch and they hurry it out before Solf J. Kimblee manages to say the 78th wrong thing in a row.
''Take the ring off!'' Roy Mustang has had enough!
''So it IS yours!''
''It isn't mine and it sure as hell shouldn't be yours, either!''
''You can't have both! Admit you orchestrated all of this and I'll very gladly give you the ring back, Mustang!''
''THIS WASN'T ME!''
''Well, it wasn't me either!''
''This reeks of psychosis and that's your department!''
Solf taps the ring. ''This is a guilty man's ring. This has Maes Hughes written all over it helping you design this thing.''
''Should we let Maes in on it?'' Rebecca whispers, now in the back of the auto. Grandfather and granddaughter have their binoculars out and are watching.
''Oh, yeah, definitely we should tell Hughes.'' Riza says that he should be aware of what's happened just so he isn't completely confused. ''But we should tell him it was all Solf's idea.''
''Exactly. Never let them know our next move.''
They see Roy Mustang standing up from the table in a fury. Solf’s holding his hand to his chest and refusing to give the ring back. He’s KICKING. ‘’This is assault, Mustang!’’ ‘’This is theft of property that isn’t yours!’’ ‘’Then whose ring is it?’’ ‘’It isn’t mine, but it isn’t yours, either!’’ ‘’Mustang, admit it’s yours and I might even let you take me out on a second date!’’ ‘’This wasn’t a date!’’
Grumman puts the car into first and starts leaving just as the restaurant owner has to kick them both out for disturbing the peace. All in all, Riza calls this the most fun she’s had in a long time.