Under The Influence
By Yellow Mask
Spoilers: Winry working in Rush Valley, and Barry the Chopper's crush on Riza.
Disclaimer: I do not own FMA.
AN: Just a bit of silliness that popped into my head one day. I'm writing so many serious chapter fics, so I thought I'd try to revisit the slightly humourous oneshot. And yes, I am aware that Christianity does not exist in the Fullmetal Alchemist universe, but I needed an excuse to get them drunk, so...Christmas party! This is a semi-companion piece to Inebriation, the Edwin equivalent. This story follows 'Drunk Roy', the other follows 'Drunk Ed'. The beginning section is the same for both, just from slightly different viewpoints.
And by the way, this is set in the manga-verse.
Riza knew she probably should have stopped Roy the moment the word 'drinking contest' was mentioned. But, as the challenger was Edward Elric, she thought that the contest would end long before the Colonel got seriously drunk. Apparently, she had underestimated Ed' alcohol tolerance.
Her hand shot out and rested on top of Roy's shot glass as he tried to raise it to his lips. How many had he drunk already? Twelve? Thirteen?
"I think that's enough, sir."
He squinted his eyes as though having trouble seeing her. Considering the amount of alcohol he had consumed, Riza wondered how close that was to the truth.
"C'mooonnn, Hawkeye," he whined, "Jus' one mor'..."
"No more, you've had enough."
He glared at his opponent, the now exceedingly tipsy Fullmetal Alchemist. "You see? I tol' you I had it wors'."
Riza was momentarily concerned about Edward, until she looked across the table to see Winry attempting to pry Ed's glass from his fingers.
"Win'yyyyy..." he bleated. "I was enjoyin' that."
Then Roy's comment seemed to penetrate his alcohol-saturated mind. "You? Have it wors'? Ha!"
Riza restrained a sigh and fought the urge to massage her temple. It was supposed to be a nice, friendly Christmas party – Winry had even come down from Rush Valley to celebrate the holiday with the Elric brothers. But then Ed and Roy had to butt heads. Though a drinking contest wasn't quite how she would have imagined this turning out...
"Hawkeye..." Roy's voice pulled her from her internal musings, his hand tugging on the shot glass she kept planted firmly on the table. "I need to drin' that. He hasn't go' his drin' anymo', and 'f I drin' now, I win!"
"Bastard," Ed's pronunciation was robbed of it's force by the way he had gone slightly cross-eyed. "Even 'f you win, I still shay I go' it wors'."
"You do no'!" Roy exclaimed. "You only see her for r...repairs – I hav ta see Riza ev'ry day."
"Uh...do you have any idea what they're arguing about?" Winry ventured.
"I have a feeling I don't want to know," Riza snorted, trying to tug Roy to his feet.
"I'm going to take the Colonel home," she called to the room in general. "And I think I'll retire for the night myself."
"Come on, Hawkeye," Breda grinned, "The night's still young."
"It's past midnight."
"Huh?" The burly soldier turned to look at the clock. "Oh, right..."
"Does anyone know where Al is?" Winry gasped, trying to help Ed to his feet. "I could use a super-strong hand here."
"He went with Fuery," Riza reminded her. "The children's hospital, remember?"
Winry groaned. "Well, it looks like it's just you and me, Ed."
"Fine wit' me," Ed giggled.
As Riza all but dragged Roy out the door, she could have sworn she heard Ed tell Winry his coat had been stolen. It would have been cause for concern, if she hadn't seen it hanging on the coat rack as she helped Roy through the hall.
Smashing a handful of cold snow into Roy's face seemed to restore him somewhat. His balance returned, at least enough so that he was only leaning on her every few steps, as opposed to all the time.
But the alcohol seemed to have loosened his tongue, and Roy was showing no inclination to rein it in again.
"I don' like snow," he flicked his wet hands miserably. Riza had long since deprived him of his gloves, in case he accidentally set his shirt on fire in his current state. "Nope. Don' like snow. Too muchsh like rain."
He paused, peering intently at her. "Th' tip o' your nose is red."
Riza fought the urge to roll her eyes. Yet in competition with her exasperation, was the little voice in her head telling her he looked...cute...standing in the snowdrift and staring at her with a puzzled expression on his face. Like a little kid.
"You lips are red," Roy noted, then unexpectedly began pouting. "Tha's no' fair."
"What's not fair?"
"You are. Mos' women hav ta do some'hing ta pique my sexshual interest, bu' all you hav ta do is stand around an' exist. Tha's no' fair."
It may have been delivered in a drunken, petulant whine, it managed to single-handedly put all of Riza's higher-thought processes on hold. Had she heard that right? Roy thought she was...sexy? Did he...?
She squashed that thought as soon as it formed. He was attracted to her, that was all he said. She couldn't hope for anything more, and was surprised she got this much. Even in her wildest dreams, she'd never dreamed of Roy returning her affections...
She pulled herself out of her thoughts when she noticed Roy was still rambling. "An' tha's what we were ar'uing about. About who's th' mos' sexshually frus'rated."
"Sexually frustrated? You? Can't you get any of those bimbos to sleep with you?" Riza could have kicked herself for the small amount of jealously that leaked into her voice.
"Bu' they're no' you," Roy muttered, sounding forlorn. "They're no' stubborn, sexshy blon' snipers wit' hair-t'igger tempers who can kick my ass in a secon'-"
He broke off abruptly, staring at waist. "I thin'...I thin' I jus' got aroused..."
Riza, for her part, was staring incredulously at him. This sounded like a lot more than just lust. A whole lot more...
Then she gave herself a rough mental shake. This was not the time to get into this. When Roy was sober again, maybe. But not now.
"I think we should talk about this later, but right now, we need to get you home-"
But Roy wasn't listening to her. "Bu' then agai', I'm aroused mos' of th' day. 'Specially when you get into tha' sexshy lieutanan' mode. Sometimes, when you lean over my desk wit' th' paperwork I just wanna..." He degenerated into incoherent rambling.
Riza was reeling. 'Sexy lieutenant mode'? She was tempted to ask him for details, but quickly reaffirmed her vow that she wouldn't get into this while he was drunk.
"An' that shupid scrap o' armour..." Roy's tone was dark. "Whasisname th' Chopper. Hittin' on you all th' time, an' that hug...like he had eve'y right to grope you like tha'. Callin' you Missy...wanted to burn him into a mol'en heap, then burn him again, an' again, an' again..."
"Come on, you need to get home," Riza sighed, leading him down the street. "And when you've sobered up, we're going to have a long chat, Colonel."
"Hmm?" She looked up at him, to find him staring at her with an odd expression on his face.
"My name's Roy. You never call me by my name..." he muttered, sounding like a five year old denied ice cream.
What could it hurt? "Fine. You need to get home, Roy."
When she said his name, the force of his smile stunned her.
"In your room, on the bed," Riza ordered, almost shoving Roy through the door. "I trust you can handle undressing yourself?"
"I'm fine," he slurred, waving a hand in her general direction, but then he stopped in his tracks, staring at her, looking faintly worried. "You're no' leaving, are you?"
Riza hid a smile. "No, I'm not leaving. Trust me, when you wake up, you'll be wanting help with that hangover." Which reminded her...
To the sound of Roy staggering about his room, she picked up his phone and dialed the office. Falman picked up.
"Falman, are Ed and Winry still there?"
She heard Falman chuckle. "Yeah. He was too heavy for her to drag out, so she's trying to convince him to leave of his own accord. Good luck to her, I'm staying well away from it."
"Just give her this message. Ed's going to have a killer hangover tomorrow, and I'd venture the opinion that this is the first time either one of them has touched alcohol. So when he wakes up, she should try to get him to drink a lot of water, followed by making him eat burnt toast, followed by another large drink of water."
"And that really works?"
Riza hung up as she heard bedsprings creaking alarmingly. Had Roy gone to bed obediently, or had he fallen onto it?
She risked opening the door a hair, peering into the darkened room. Roy had managed to remove his boots, dress pants and coat, but remained thankfully decent in his shirt and underwear. At the sound of the door opening, one red-rimmed eyes cracked open.
"Will you be here when I wake up?" he asked, sounding like a small child.
"I'll be here in the morning, yes. I think you'll need help with your hangover."
"I love you, Riza," Roy muttered, before rolling over onto his stomach and closing his eyes.
Riza froze. He...loved her? No, he was drunk, she shouldn't read too much into it. But what if...
No. When Roy was sober, then she was going to have a long talk with him. He hadn't said much during the walk home, but what he had said had been more than enough to keep her pondering for the next decade or so.
Except Riza was fed up with pondering, and she'd had more than enough of waiting and wondering. She was determined that tomorrow, for good or ill, they'd finally sort out this 'thing' between them.
Still, even after she'd settled down on Roy's living room couch, it was a long time before she slept.
Roy woke, and instantly wished he hadn't. The deep, pounding ache in his skull, the horrible, sickening taste in the back of his mouth...yep, he had a hangover.
The door to his room opened, and the pain that resounded through his head at the hinge's creaking drove away all thoughts of who would be in his apartment. He groaned, and tried to burrow into the covers, trying to will himself into the oblivion of unconsciousness.
Until a calloused palm slid across his cheek, and he opened his eyes blearily.
'Not another drunken one night stand...'
But then his eyes landed on Riza Hawkeye's face.
Roy was instantly wide-awake. 'Riza? What's she doing here?'
His fogged, pain-wracked mind was unable to supply the answer.
"Here, drink this," Riza ordered, holding a glass of water to his lips.
"Wha...?" Roy was still trying to process the fact the Riza was here. In his apartment. With him.
"Drink,"Riza repeated. "You have a hangover, you need to dilute the alcohol in your system."
But why was she in his apartment? He tried to ask, but his brain didn't quite translate the words to his tongue. "You...here...why?"
For a second, Riza's expression flickered, and she looked...hurt? Then it was gone, and Roy chalked it up to an alcohol-induced hallucination.
"I got you home after the Christmas party, and since you were going to have a very nasty hangover, I thought I'd stay to help out."
Roy furrowed his brow, then regretted it as a sharp flash of agony speared his forehead. He groaned, and Riza pushed the glass into his clumsy fingers.
After being forced to drink several glasses of water and choking down two pieces of charred toast, Riza left to re-straighten his couch (she said she'd slept on it), with the instruction he was to keep drinking water.
But now that his mind was back in semi-working order, Roy was able to piece together his fragments of memory.
He remembered the drinking contest with Edward, and had a vague recollection of downing shot glass after shot glass. Then a dim memory of Riza offering to walk him home, and a faceful of snow shocking him to something resembling his senses. And then...
Roy moaned as the conversation with Riza filtered back to him. He'd never been much of a talker when he was drunk, so why had he suddenly revealed all his longing, all his love, to the one person he swore would never know? And now...
Now Riza knew. And it would ruin their relationship, as he had always known it would. How could she continue to work professionally with him now that she knew...?
He head snapped up. The headache was forgotten in the wake of his astonishment that she had used his name.
"You called me...?"
"You asked me to call you that last night," Riza said calmly, sitting in the chair opposite him. "Don't you remember?"
"I...I remember, but..."
"As for as some of your...revelations...last night, I have just one question."
Roy braced himself.
"You told me you loved me. Is that true?"
For a moment, Roy considered lying. But their professional relationship was already ruined, so he figured he had nothing to lose.
At first, all Roy could realise was that she hadn't stalked out of his apartment to hand in her transfer request. But this was swiftly trumped by the realisation she was leaning across the table towards him. And even this was surpassed by the feeling of her lips on his own.
For a split second, Roy wondered if he was still dreaming. Then he decided that if this was a dream, his headache would have disappeared when she kissed him. And while it didn't disappear, it definitely took a backseat in his list of priorities.
After all, who cared about hangovers when they were kissing the love of their life?