I am late, and without Scar. Poor Scar gets no love. ;_; Sorry it's late!
title: Like A Man
author: windsor blue
pairing: Riza and Gracia
warnings/kinks: cross-dressing, language, mention of object insertion
word count: 526
Riza never once thought that Gracia wasn't comfortable in her own body. She knew others might say otherwise, sometimes, if they saw what she saw, but Riza knew better - knew Gracia better - than to confuse body anxiety with simple kink.
Riza knew that sometimes, when Maes was away for more than a few days at a stretch, that being the mother of a little girl in a neighborhood full of left-behind military wives would be just too much for Gracia. Too much pink, too much ribbon, too much cute and curls and it didn't mean she loved her daughter any less or that she wanted to be something other than the woman she was - it just meant that Gracia liked men, too, and that being without the company of one for too long wore upon her in a way most of the other military wives didn't understand.
Some women married military men for the shiny brass buttons of a dress uniform. Gracia had married one for the muddy boots and firearm sweat-smells of everyday life.
So when Gracia walked - no, strutted - into the Officer's Club wearing Maes' shirt and the hemmed-up pants and taken-in coat he'd abandoned a few years and several dozen of Gracia's pies ago; strutted in wearing his old clothes and his walk and a pair of boots she'd gotten from God-knew-where, with her hair slicked back and her breasts wrapped flat; Riza shifted on her bar seat and crossed her legs, playing at being demure. She leaned forward on her elbow and rested her chin in her hand, and when Gracia sat down beside her and ordered two beers - one for Riza and one for herself - she pretended to be flattered and surprised.
She smiled at how Gracia sat with her legs open, sprawled in the chair. She evened her breath when Gracia drank straight from the glass bottle, like a man, in long swallow-pulls. She uncrossed her legs and turned, leaned in, when Gracia swept the stray hair back from her face with a fingertip, cold and softly damp from the condensation dripping down the bottleneck.
Lips against Riza's ear, Gracia whispered, "I want to take you home and fuck you." Gracia's finger grazed the mouth of Riza's beer bottle, and she pushed it back and forth, a suggestion, a tease in Riza's hand and against her thigh. "With this. Hold you down and fuck you with this."
Riza's grip slid down the bottleneck, up a tiny bit and back down again. "What makes you think you'd have to hold me down?"
"I didn't say I'd have to - I said I want to."
Riza said nothing - only smiled and stood, taking her bottle with her. With Gracia's eyes on her she walked - no, strutted - to the door and leaned back against the frame, waiting.
Gracia drank her in - drank her like a man would, eyes everywhere, stripping her down and bare and open - and then Gracia followed. She flung an arm around Riza's neck, pulled her off-balance close, and led Riza out into the street to kiss her.