Author's Note: This month I'm doing a self-imposed challenge during which I write one drabble each day. Most of them will probably be Roy/Riza-related, so I'm collecting them here. The title of the collection itself is from the poem "Most Like an Arch This Marriage" by John Ciardi which is both super pretty and super about Roy/Riza.
Overtime
They still stay late more often than they'd like.
Static from Fuery's radio is their only company, remnants of a political talk show they mostly ignored.
Riza flexes her fingers and rubs her eyes at regular intervals. Roy has done little but watch her for twenty minutes.
She raises an eyebrow when he goes to the radio. Piano and strings drift out across the room.
"We're working," she says as he pulls her into the circle of his arms.
"We're taking a break."
He hums along, slightly off-key. Riza's eyes slip closed when her cheek presses against his shoulder.