Second Ray-Orange
The clock ticked. It was one of three sounds in the room, an odd comfort to him. He turned the page of his book, the second and occasional sound. Roy turned his head slowly, not wanting to disturb the woman beside him and looked at the clock, grimacing when he saw the time.
Here we go again he thought to himself. He rolled over on his side and looked at Riza's sleeping form, her gently breathing the final and most wonderful sound in the room.
"Riza... Riza its two o'clock." He whispered, before leaning down and kissing her gently. Riza's eyes fluttered open and she sent him a heart warming smile. That is until he got of the bed and walked over to the night stand. Her eyes widened.
"No." She stated, her voice hoarse. Roy ignored her, and continued with his task.
"No." She repeated, attempting to make her voice stronger than before, but only succeed in creating a weak sound. Roy sighed and turned around, a bottle and a spoon in his hand. She eyed them suspiciously. Roy sighed heavily.
"Riza, I don't understand how you can look an enemy in the eyes and not even flinch yet you cower in the face of medicine." Riza grimaced at his comparison. But it was difficult to explain it. Medicine was fine but this stuff...was orange. Every time the liquid glooped on to the spoon, bile rose in her throat at the offensive colour. Orange was just wrong. It was the colour of vomit, of juice with too much stickiness, of warped Sundays that turned your stomach. She could taste headaches and dizziness, a sweetness that was artificial and nauseous. Orange was the colour of burnt sunrises that felt wrong, of clashing illness and regurgitated niceness. It was a lying colour. But how on earth was she supposed to explain that?
"I just don't like it." she muttered, turning away as Roy poured the dose out of her.
"Open." He instructed. Riza whipped her head around and glared at him menacingly, making him shrink back. He was treating her like a five year old.
"Please." He appended, giving her a sweet look that made her anger ebb slightly. She complied and Roy smirked, slipping the spoon into her mouth. All at once the orangeness hit. She gagged once, keeping her mouth firmly shut, not wanting to spit the stuff out all over Roy. Her stomach retched, filled with manipulative orange, clashing orange, headache causing, vomit inducing, fake, sickly, overly sweet...
Her mind stopped working as Roy kissed her. Riza swallowed abruptly as she felt his tongue trace the outline of her lips. The medicine gone, she parted them, sighing in pleasure as the kiss deepened. After a few moments, Roy pulled away, leaving her breathless. He sat down and pulled her against him and looked down at her.
"See? Wasn't that bad." He stated teasingly.
A/N: Is it just me who could never take orange medicine as a child? Thus I always had the pink calpol. Pink is healing. Lol.
Please review.