I don't own FMA


Her eyes were shining over the top of her cards.

Bluffing, she had to be bluffing.

He wondered how much longer the game would last. Everyone else had gone home, making excuses and pulling clothes back on as they left the table. The librarian had been the greatest loss. Down to her skivvies. She'd gone red after loosing her skirt and only lasted long enough to declare her glasses counted as clothing. Once they were off her nose, she'd muttered an excuse about needing to leave on an early train to get back to her mom.

A pretzel hit him above the eye. "You still here?" Rebecca called.

He nodded and pulled his eyes back up to hers.

That same glint had been in her eyes last round, and she was shirtless now. He slid the unlit cigarette over to the corner of his mouth and took a swig of his beer to keep the smug smile from his face as he laid down his hand.

She eyed his cards and laughed. "Your turn to take it off," she declared as she fanned out her cards on the table.

Jean whistled. Three ladies and two kings. Noticing there wasn't a single heart in the bunch, he chuckled to himself.

He rolled away from the table and made to reach for his socks, but she made a clucking noise. He looked up to find her glaring at him.

He raised a brow at her, his eyes straying to her cleavage.

"The shirt," she demanded.

"Didn't know we were taking requests," he mumbled, but straightened and pulled the blue shirt over his head. He looked over at her and smirked. Surely, if he'd acquiesced, then she couldn't refuse to take her bra off when he won the next round--and he was going to win, dammit.

Rebecca threw another pretzel at him. "Your shuffle."

He gathered the cards and she got up form the table.

"Calling it a night?"

"You wish," she shot back as she ambled over to the radio. "Too quiet," she explained, shooting a glare at the empty chairs around the table.

He nodded and dealt the cards.

Once she successfully found an acceptable station, she whirled around and smiled. Her smile faltered when she saw the cards on the table. She fixed him with a glare, planting her hands on her hips. "How do I know you didn't cheat?" she demanded.

He shrugged his shoulders. His parents had taught him well, he didn't cheat.

"Do it over then," he told her, sliding the deck across the table.

She took them and made a show of shuffling them.

He repressed a groan as he picked up the cards she'd sent back his way.

"That bad, huh?" she asked when he returned four of his cards.

He took another sip of his beer.

He barely had a chance to look at his cards when she laughed and spread her cards out on the table. "Diamonds are a girls best friend," she sang.

He took off his socks and threw them at her.

"Real funny," she said through a scowl as she moved out of the socks' path.

She slid another set of cards to him.

He chewed on the end of his cigarette. Three kings. He looked over at her and frowned. There was that damn glint in her eyes again.

"It'll be the pants this time," she boasted as she waved her second full house of the night at him.

He let out a slew of curses while she laughed.

"Women, they'll be the death of me," he mumbled to himself as he tried to wriggle out of his pants without getting out of his wheelchair.

"Having trouble?" she asked, smirking.

"Lend me a hand if you're so impatient," he grumbled.

"You don't have to get snappy," she complained as she sauntered over to him.

He chuckled. "You want me out of my pants that bad, eh?" he joked, trying to recover from his outburst.

"Pffft. I just want to finish this game," she scoffed as she bent over and grabbed the ends of his pants.

He lifted himself from the chair.

Rebecca pulled.

His eyes widened and the dangling cigarette fell from his mouth.

"Got 'em," Rebecca celebrated.


"Ma," Jean croaked, looking past Rebecca to the hallway.

Rebecca dropped his pants, picked them up again, and held them to her chest as she whirled around. "It's really not what it looks like," she explained.

The older woman nodded, surveying the room. "Oh, uhm, well, I...I'll just go back to bed," she stuttered and made her way back down the hall.

"Mrs. Havoc, it's just a game," Rebecca called after her.

Rebecca turned around, her cheeks and ears red.

"Just a game," he echoed through clenched teeth.

She threw his pants at him. "Your mom...she..she saw me undressing you," she hissed.

Jean shrugged. "Least you're not living with her."

Rebecca glared at him. "You better tell her nothing's going on between us," she insisted.

He guffawed.

She snagged her shirt from the table and pulled it on. "If I walked in on a topless Riza pulling off your pants, I'd think there was something going on between you. You'd better tell her."

He laughed again. "Me an' Hawkeye. That's a real hoot. I'd have to give up smoking." He held up a hand to silence her. "I know, you're still looking for a good man."

"That's right, and I've got a date tomorrow..." She looked at her watch. "Today. You're a damn awful influence," she declared, searching for her socks.

"You suggested strip poker," he reminded her, tugging on his own shirt.

"And you just went along," she hissed as she stomped into her shoes.

Jean sighed. "Ma won't be spreading any rumors," he reassured her.

She nodded.

He followed her to the door.

"Remember, no strip poker on the first date," he hollered after her once she was halfway to the military car she'd borrowed for the night.


A.N. - Written for Havoc Appreciation Week(April 23rd-30th) and the prompt Mother/Father over at fma_fic_contest on lj. Don't we love parents with inappropriate timing?