Title: Just Business
Genres: Humour/Friendship
Couple: Slight Miles/Liv
Rating: K+

Miles wasn't sure which was more puzzling: the fact Olivier had agreed to complete an assignment Mustang had given her, or the fact he had also come along to watch. She and Miles were seated in a corner of the pub, whilst Roy and Hawkeye were at the other end, the male commander constantly grinning at them. The Ishvalan didn't quite understand what was so amusing.

None were dressed in uniform. It'd be silly if they had. A group of men were their target, and they were aware the military were on them. Fortunately they weren't familiar with who was who. Said group of men were in trouble because they had a hobby of selling drugs to teenagers and the usual crime. Miles didn't understand why Central dogs weren't capable of doing this themselves. Were they really that weak they couldn't handle a few drug dealers?

The pub itself was nice. Apparently the bar owner was Roy's adoptive mother, whom Miles had forgotten the name of. She had successfully eavesdropped the men and discovered their ambition and the next time they would be meet in her pub. Coincidently, it was during the time he and his commander would be in Central. They would be leaving tomorrow, she had told him.

The men hadn't arrived yet.

'Ma'am, why are you doing something Brigadier General Mustang and Lieutenant Hawkeye are capable of doing?' Miles asked.

'I'm not sure if Mustang can do this. Anyway, he offered me a good sum of money so I thought why not. He did seem very enthusiastic for me to go along with this though. . .' Suspicion took over her expression for a moment. 'I'll have this sorted faster than he ever would.'

As soon as she said that, the door swung open and three handsome young men entered. They looked cheerful and pleasant whilst they ordered their drinks and found a table. Miles watched Mustang subtly point in their direction. The Ishvalan jumped a little when his commander suddenly choked on her alcohol. Concerned, he asked if she was all right.

'Oh my God. . .' She threw Mustang a very dirty look. 'That son-of-a-bitch. . .' Mustang started to snigger behind his hand. Miles and Hawkeye were completely oblivious. What was the matter? Olivier didn't face the men. She leaned closer to Miles. 'You see the brown-haired guy?'

The Major quickly looked for him. He was the most good-looking out of the three, wearing a very expensive suit. 'Yes.'

She snarled and whispered: 'He cheated on me.'

'He cheated on you?'

'Oh just tell the whole pub, Major,' she said through jarred teeth, pulling at his collar. He saw death in her eyes, and gulped. 'Mustang knew. He wanted me to come along because of this. Someone is going to end up in tears and it won't be me.' She cringed when the brown-haired man suddenly laughed heartily.

Miles couldn't believe it. 'You've had boyfriends, ma'am?'

She rose an eyebrow. 'Are you implying something, Miles?'

He shook his head. 'No, no. It's just. . .' He looked away from her expression. '. . . You don't seem like the type to have relationships. With all due respect, ma'am. I mean nothing by it.'

Olivier watched him for several seconds and blinked: 'I don't know how to respond to that.' She turned her head to the three men. 'Look at him. All cocky and disgusting.' Miles doubted she thought he was disgusting. However he didn't like the way she was watching him. He felt a pang of rivalry and was tempted to turn Olivier's attention back to him.

'What's his name, ma'am?'


Miles pulled a face. 'That's an awful name.'

'Amen.' She quickly looked away when Fred turned to her. Miles swallowed. Oh shit. She had just let her guard down. Fred watched her for a very uncomfortable amount of time. Olivier pretended he didn't exist, drinking her alcohol sip by sip, eyes darting here and there – anywhere but him.

Miles cleared his throat, feeling awkward. It didn't look great that he was with her. He hoped Fred wouldn't get the wrong impression. Wait – Fred needed to get the wrong impression so he wouldn't realise the military were on him.

He had to do something. Quick.

Miles found her hand and snatched it. Olivier almost choked again on her drink. She threw him a glare and he buckled away slightly. Then a deep, almost seductive chuckle escaped her lips. Was she a lightweight or something? Olivier chuckling? What in the world?

She pulled a crooked smile and shuffled closer to him. He felt his ears burn. Miles wanted to die when he spotted Mustang watching them behind his glass, grinning ear-to-ear.

He unconsciously squeezed her hand, feeling the pressure.


'Shh.' She placed a finger to his lips. Her eyes darted to the three men, then him.

Miles understood. She was trying to piss darling Fred off. Great. He was just the tool. And Fred was certainly gripped with what they were doing. Miles felt his rebellious side kicking in. Actually it felt pretty good to watch that man whither in jealousy because of him.

Her smile vanished off her face completely when he pulled at her collar, bringing her closer. The shock didn't last long and she quite happily snuggled next to him. Miles beamed.

Wait – this was really weird!

'Is he watching?' She whispered.



She nibbled at his ear. Miles widened his eyes. 'Mustang is watching as well.'

Olivier pressed a hand against his chest. 'Even better.'

'And Hawkeye.' Poor Hawkeye.

'Is she jealous as well?' Olivier made to turn and see Hawkeye's reaction, but Miles diverted her attention back to him by cupping her face. There was a pause before they both chuckled together then stopped abruptly. They pulled a face at each other. 'What are we doing?'

'I don't know.'

'. . . It's kind of fun.'

Miles had to agree. He did enjoy what was happening but it was sad to know it wasn't true. Olivier was only doing this for the assignment's sake (and to piss off her ex). The Ishvalan wanted to know how long they would have to keep this up until Mustang finally decided Fred was completely and utterly distracted to even notice the military watching him.

'Didn't know you were such a hooker,' she said, having a gulp of her drink.


She giggled by his stunned response.


The alcohol. It had to be the alcohol. She winked (Oh good Lord) at him, her boot trailing up his leg towards–
Miles grabbed her drink, consequently grabbing her own hand and dragging her to him. Olivier almost fell off her own seat by the sudden force. She smiled a little and moved so close to his face he could feel her breath against his nose. Miles froze, transfixed. He felt his heart racing a little faster than usual.

Suddenly Olivier produced a gun from her belt and aimed it straight towards the three men. Mustang and Hawkeye (the Lieutenant had to kick him hard to send him out of his reverie) were there before her, aiming their pistols towards their heads.

'Dare move an inch and I'll blow your brains to bits!' Mustang threatened.

The other customers ducked under their tables, but Roy's adoptive mother was completely undisturbed.

Miles was a little late in the game but it didn't matter. The three officers seemed capable of handling the men on their own. Olivier was constantly giving the brown-haired man a satisfied glare and was more than happy to handcuff his wrists. Soon the trio of men were taken away.

'You did a pretty good job,' Roy said to Miles afterwards. 'Completely distracted that guy. His face was priceless.'

'Did you see your face, sir?' Hawkeye inquired. 'I swear it was dribble I saw dangling from your lip.'

They met the General outside and Mustang patted her back heavily. 'Great work, General. I'm so happy you went ahead with my plan.'

Plan? It was all a plan? The whole flirtation and everything was the plan?

'My plan actually,' Hawkeye said. 'Although. . . I don't remember anything about General Armstrong and Major Miles having to flirt–'

'Necessary as this discussion is I need to depart. Nice working with you.' And with that, Olivier left briskly.

'Did you see that guy's sideburns?' Mustang whispered to Miles. He grinned. 'She's got a thing for–'


Before Mustang could say anymore Miles hurried to catch up with his commander, a smirk over his face.