Saturday II

Riza was surprised to hear the alarm the next morning. Roy took great care in turning it off during the weekends, sometimes going as far as burying it in his laundry or drowning it in the sink to make sure it would not disturb him. She had seen him fumble with it the night before, if vaguely.

The entire evening remained somewhat of a haze. Her heart was still sore, even though she kept telling herself to grow up and brush it aside already. Not the issue itself, but the fear – the fear of being found out.

And the fear of being apart again.

The alarm's obnoxious ringing died down, and Riza found herself smiling when the hand having reached over her came down to rest on her shoulder. He rubbed her arm, then enclosed her back to pull her to him, placing a long, tender kiss on her forehead. She wondered if it originated in the memory's resurfacing or if her face was perhaps looking just as miserable as the night before. But he was always gentle with her, and it welded the cracks in her heart together little by little.

"I'll let Hayate out," Roy murmured. Let out signalled a timely return, too brief for an actual walk. Usually, she would have scolded him for his laziness or overtaken the task for her loyal companion to get his proper exercise, but that morning, there was nothing she wanted more than Roy coming back as soon as possible.

He went to the bathroom first as always. She must have dozed off immediately, because the next time his hand landed on her arm, Riza did not remember having heard him come back. It confused her that he did not lie down right away. She lifted the blanket. Someone else felt invited, so she was promptly met with a wagging, panting Hayate, his wet nose cold against her own. She grumbled, startling slightly but then relaxed again. Roy had other plans.

"Come on," he rubbed her arm again. She gave another groan. Lazy Colonel, she wanted to nag, but she really did not have the energy to start an argument. Perhaps the fresh air would do her good – Hayate certainly thought so, judging by the way he kept whining and prodding her. She was not too convinced, but with nudges from either of the boys, finally heaved herself out of bed.

Too tired to question why Roy had prepared them, Riza received her clothes. Getting ready for the bare minimum of walking the dog around the block, she stepped out with Hayate excitedly on his leash. It was pitch-black outside.

"How much time is it?" she asked groggily. It came out so hoarsely, she hoped he was going to say a simple seven so she would not have to use her voice again. The complete lack of the sun already told her plenty – and plenty was nowhere near seven o'clock.

"Half to five," Roy blithely replied. She narrowed her eyes when he opened the passenger door to his car. He gave back a smile, so all she did was frown as she climbed in. It had looked like an order anyway. A kind one – one of those it's-for-your-own-good kind of orders.

Roy started the engine, and with the rumbling of the car, Riza noticed the bags on the backseat. Had he packed while she had slept on? He must have set the alarm on purpose, she concluded.

She remained quiet for another few minutes until they had reached the outskirts of East City.

"What are you planning?" she eventually asked. She did not look at him while she spoke, only flashing a glance from the side. His eyes remained glued to the road.

"Breakfast." Was all he returned. Riza pursed her lips. She was not in the mood for surprises, and even less for a mission. It would not keep her from delivering a flawless performance, of course; she would not disappoint him. The further they drove however, the more she doubted it was all too serious. He would have filled her in by now, had it been the case.

Riza realised that she must have dozed off when Hayate barked. She jolted awake, bumping her nose against the window. Rubbing it, she felt just how cold her cheek was with which she must have been leaning against the glass. Blinking repeatedly, she could make out high, dry grass and hills. Dunes, it seemed, puzzling her. Hayate gave another yip, and Riza had to squint to distinguish the dog and its owner, walking along.

"How late is it?" Riza asked suspiciously. A smile edged its way onto Roy's lips, making her narrow her eyes further.

"Just before sunrise," he informed.

He pulled into a parking lot, all the way in the back where trees blocked them from view. He surprised her anew when reaching behind him, handing over a different set of clothes. It looked too cold outside for them, but when he unfolded a pair of sunglasses, she complied without complain. A disguise – then it was a mission.

Still, he never 'tested' her on her skills, knowing she was not only professional, but that they understood each other without having to pronounce a single word. Why would he not fill her in, unless… Riza glowered at him. Unless he was intending to do something reckless and stupid. Sacrifice himself for the success of the mission – he should have known that there would be no such thing as long as she was around.

He shrunk a little, having felt the menacing glare. "Here," he tried to overplay it, giving that sunny-boy smile. He was definitely about to do something stupid – the smile said it all. She accepted the sunglasses nonetheless, and even the oversized straw hat.

When they got out, the sun was indeed just about to rise.

Changing in the car was nothing out of the ordinary for them, but when Riza stepped into the faint light, she knew she had guessed right. The dress was not hers – it was nice, but it was not hers. If he was going to try and gift it to her afterwards, he had a lot of chiding coming for him.

He aimed for the dunes up ahead, so she followed. Hayate was excitedly panting and wiggling and pulling on the leash. She was about to enquire why her superior had seen it necessary to wear a pair of equally big, equally feminine sunglasses, when they reached the top of the dune-like hill. It really was a dune. Or a dyke, but she did not take the time to ponder on it.

There was water. An enormous lake, stretching far enough that they would not have seen the other shore, were it not for the mountains rising up into the clearing sky. The sun peeked over the horizon in the east. It set the water alight for a moment, blinding them despite the sunglasses. Small waves came licking at the sand like she had heard they did at the sea, each movement creating a sparkle.

Riza did not notice the way her mouth stood open until Roy's triumphant smirk edged its way into her field of view. Hayate did his utmost to notify her as well, although less about Roy than himself – he was tearing on the leash, whimpering to be released.

"I saw a nice place on the way here, up there," Roy said over the light wind and swashing of the waves. She followed the finger he pointed into the distance with her eyes. "We can throw a couple of rounds and then have breakfast, what do you say?" he smiled. She tilted her head.

"Rounds?" Just what kind of a mad-genius-bound-to-fail mission was this?

She got her answer in the form of a stick Roy produced from behind his back. Hayate jumped up at him, and before she could reprimand his manners, Roy had unhooked the leash with a click, then hauled the stick as far away as he could. Hayate dashed off, turning into a speck within the matter of seconds. Down in the sand, right in front of the water, he leapt, creating a whirlwind of sand and water. He looked so proud and content once dropping the stick back at his dazed owner's feet.

"Rounds," Roy grinned. He picked the now slobbery item up, holding it out. Hayate's jaws snapped shut, but he missed when Roy held the stick up higher. With Riza still frozen, he executed the desired toss himself. Once Hayate was gone, Roy wove his arm into his Lieutenant's, guiding her down the slope. "I thought we could use a break," he illuminated. "Get out for a while – if only for a few hours."

He knew her like the back of his hand. Of course, she was too dutiful; too much of a realist to grant herself an escape of days or weeks – her 'holidays' – undercover missions for him – spoke for themselves.

And so, for those few hours, she let him take the lead. Each step along the water was a blessing not even the remaining throbbing of her ankle could ruin. The rushing of the waves, the exhilarated panting of Hayate and Roy's warm flank to hers seemed to wash the shaking off her body like the lake lapped against the sand.

They walked for kilometres, and Riza was almost disappointed when the restaurant came into view. Her stomach told her otherwise, rumbling at the prospect of food alone. Attaching the leash to Hayate's collar, they entered. A waiter greeted them after another minute, even though there were hardly customers there yet.

"Your most secluded table, please," Roy ordered, almost in a whisper. Not to mention completely serious, his mouth a thin, determined line while the other half of his face remined hidden behind his leopard-print sunglasses. The waiter frowned. The place was small and snug, but the windows were wide and gave a full view of the beautiful lake. "The thing is," Roy spoke quietly, pulling a face as if embarrassed, "she has a grotesque laughter."

Riza jerked with a snort, only just holding it back. It forced an ungainly grunt up her throat anyway, supporting Roy's grimace. He turned to her with pitifully wrinkled brows. "Please, honey, spare the poor man," he tutted. "You see?" he addressed the waiter again. "It's very uncomfortable-making at full blast," he added, holding a hand to the side of his mouth as if to shield the words from reaching her. It only made her snort again, and she could see a twinkle in his shaded eyes that he could not repress.

The waiter nodded his understanding, offering them a small table for two. It was in the far corner, the closest thing being the staff room that was only used once during their stay. The window was at the other end of the restaurant, and so were the rest of the guests. There was even a pillar separating them. It gave Roy courage, so it seemed, his hand boldly landing on hers atop the table as they waited for their beverages.

"It's been a while since I've treated you, my dearest Lisa," he smirked. She pursed her lips, unsuccessfully trying to overplay her own amusement.

"Then it must be your memory failing you. I recall the last time quite vividly," she raised her brows, her free hand going to the hollow of her neck where the diamond hung under the dress.

"Care to illuminate for a hopeless man like me?" he asked. She sighed under her breath, the smile never leaving.

"Let's just entertain the idea that it might have to do with the fact," she drew a breath to give him another look, "that it was only this week, dearest Rob."

It was his turn to snort.

She found the strange looks the waiter gave them from the side to be justified, and it took her an awful lot of will not to draw her hand back when he appeared. Roy beamed at her, obviously aware. He made another silly comment on her unladylike attributes whenever their meals and coffee arrived, so she countered with a strict Robert. She only slapped him once they left. Still, her grin remained just as broad as his own.

Hayate had gone completely unnoticed thanks to the pig-laughter excuse. He had been the best-behaved Riza had ever seen him, not even lifting his head whenever food had arrived. He was exhausted to the bone, she assumed. He had slept through their meals, and then snored on her lap in the car. His wind-tussled, wet and sand-sticky fur had left her dress dirty and moist but Riza found herself unable to lament. She could not remember the last time she had been so relaxed; so carefree.

Most importantly, she could hardly remember the way she had been quaking with sobs, crying bitterly merely hours ago; how eyes so red and swollen with tears could now sparkle with delight.

Roy let her pay the petrol when she insisted – he had already overtaken the bill and clothes and she was not paying him any rent anyway. She felt obliged, so he did not make a fuss.

"Let me," she wanted to take the bags but Roy was faster. He was also faster in rounding the car, opening her door for her to step out. Hayate all but flopped out the car, dragging himself up the stairs and into the house with sore but overjoyed muscles.

"We should get you something dry, Lisa," Roy quipped. She gave him a look, though one of amusement.

"Will you let me help you for once?" She plucked the bag from his arms. He grinned from one ear to the other. He could not let go of it just yet.

He had bloomed in her undivided attention, having seized the chance of their undercover date to spontaneously use the now new codename. She had followed suit, naturally – and quite naturally so, not having had to think much to adapt.

Something inside her gave a tiny skip then, followed by a fuzzy twist in her guts. It had been a date, had it not? Not since their last time living together – when he had studied her back, then left her for the military – had she thought of their secret trysts as dates, no matter what he liked to claim. It left her slightly giddy, making her feel like the helpless part for once. Helplessly in love, that was.

She shrugged off his lent coat in the entrance, taking the folded pairs of sunglasses out of its pockets. What a ridiculous man she had chosen – a brilliant one, yes, but at the same time an idiot.

"Come, let's get you cleaned up," she told Hayate, who returned from the kitchen, his snout dripping with water. He followed without her having to repeat it.

"Do you want to me to draw a bath?" Roy asked from the bedroom. He had yet to let go of his role – not the character, but the man on a mission, aiming to please his date in the most courteous way. She smiled but declined.

"If dogs truly needed baths, evolution would have done a poor job," Riza noted. "I'll just towel him down to get rid of the sand," she informed. Hayate sat when she told him to, not squirming in the slightest when she ruffled his fur with an old towel. "I would've put you in the bathtub to flush down the sand, but we live in a house where the owner doesn't much care for clean floors, don't we?" she told him. He happily panted back at her, enjoying the attention.

"Excuse me?" Roy stood in the doorway, hands on his hips. He looked indignant, but Riza could not stifle a giggle. She covered it up with a cough. "This from the woman who could have just used the bathtub to spare us the mess?" he accused. She tried her best to ignore the eyes boring into her, which became harder the closer he shuffled with his face to hers. He was pouting so much, she almost felt his lips brush her cheek.

"As if you'd notice," she shrugged. "But you're not entirely wrong – you will unknowingly carry sand into bed if I don't see to this being wiped—ah!" she lost her balance when she grabbed her wrists. Her fall made him tumble over too, the towel whirling sand everywhere. Hayate barked at the commotion. Now on top of her, Roy took an instant longer to regain his composure. He grinned innocently at her glare.

"Now who's the sand-bringer?" he dared, but with her wrists pinned down, he apparently felt rather safe. She gave a growl, amusing him further. She opened her mouth for a witty reply, but he had other ideas. Swallowing her words by pressing his lips to his, Roy granted his tongue entrance with hers so open for attack. Instead of a complaint, a moan bubbled up in Riza's throat. She tugged at her restraints and he only let her go after she had proven herself with an ardent suckle of his lower lip.

Freed, her hands roamed to his nape, one running up the back of his head. He groaned when she used her nails, kissing her deeply, licking her lips, her teeth, her tongue.

Another tongue joined their game, making them part and wince away. "Eww," Roy groused, wiping his face, leaving Riza at the mercy of her excited dog. They knew better than to play-fight in the same room as him, but reality had not fully caught up with them yet.

"I'll clean this up," Roy offered. She spotted a light blush on his cheeks, and he grouched unintelligibly when she giggled at it. Had he felt caught by the dog?

She tried and failed to sit up with him still towering her legs. He did not appear too discontent with his spot, abusing the dominance to wrap his arms around her, making her rise entirely dependant on him. Like a princess in the embrace of her protective knight, he would have called it, while Riza felt more like a sack of potatoes. The sparkling in his eyes told her she had hit bull's eye with her assumption.

"How about some dinner?" he suggested, squeezing her simply because he could. Because he wanted to. The wiggling of his brows spoke of different ideas for after dinner.

"It's not yet six," she returned. "But," she cheered up his falling expression within a heartbeat, "I could make us an afternoon snack after I change out of this," she suggested.

"Only if I get to ask you to dance while we wait for dinner to cook afterwards," he replied a tad too immediately. She had to smile lopsidedly. He was cute sometimes, as far as one could call the Flame Alchemist cute.

"You can always ask," she coolly said. He growled in reply, nosing his way down her neck to tickle her with his breath. She tried to push him off, but knew she risked being dropped. Hayate saved her just when she had been about to give in and let Roy hear those embarrassingly indulging sighs.

Riza changed while he wiped the bathroom floor. He could hear her in the kitchen soon after. His heart skipped several beats of excitement, fluttering hopefully in his chest. Had she put on the dress he had laid out on the bed? Had she taken the hint or intentionally ignored it? He summoned every ounce of self-restraint as not to burst into the kitchen, taking a turn into the living room instead.

The radio sat on the coffee table as if waiting for them. It crackled, then a male voice came through, introducing commentators, experts and coaches. The game, Roy remembered. It was Saturday, when the men and he usually listened to the games, drinking beer and tattling about work like a group of pubescent schoolboys.

He switched the channel, soon finding what he was looking for. Not a favourite of his, but the piece would do. Perhaps the next, he thought, casually hooking his arms over the backrest of the couch. She was still busy in the kitchen, so he would not rush her. It was more thrilling this way, so he waited for her to emerge.

During their walk, it had been a pleasure to talk about the trivial things. It had not even been the way it was when they pretended, but genuinely free of their normal lives. Not that their current constellation was anywhere close to 'normal', he conceded. Perhaps a dance was not even necessary, Roy pondered. He would be just as happy to welcome her next to him, to sling his arm around her and chat about everything and nothing.

He focused on the radio again when the music changed. It started similarly than the previous, but there soon was a low female voice lulling the room into a peaceful hum. It made him start to invent pickup lines for should she actually be wearing the simple but lovely black dress he had bought her ages ago. He did not even have to discuss it with her because he had gifted it to her ages ago too. One of the many things that had seen daylight after years of isolation in her flat.

With the radio on however, and his ears trained on the faint clinking in the kitchen, he failed to hear the voices on the street.

"I can't believe the Colonel forgot about the game; he didn't mention it once," Breda said, rucking up the crate of beer under his arm.

Havoc took a drag from his cigarette, never even bothering to take it from his lips to speak. "He's probably still busy playing house," he returned boredly.

"House?" Breda frowned, clueless.

"You know, playing house like kids do," Havoc supplied. He turned around to glance down the street again, Breda nearly bumping into him. Still no sign of Fuery – where was that boy?

"He's at Hughes?" Breda tried to make sense of the information gained, most likely thinking of little Elicia. Havoc shook his head.

"Nah, the Colonel plays the adult version," he grinned. Breda's brows only creased further.

"Adult version…?"

"Go home, Breda," Havoc used his free hand to knock on his friend's head. "You don't need alcohol anymore, you—" he stopped when steps rapidly approached. It hit Havoc just then – Breda didn't know about that illicit shared living community going on. And he was nowhere near allowed to tell anyone if he wanted to avoid a slow, painful death. None of the others knew, safe for the newest arrival, he reminded himself, watching Fuery catch his breath.

"Sorry I'm late." The Master Sergeant supported himself on his knees. Looking from one to the other, he blinked twice. "Is something wrong?" he asked. Breda shot Havoc a look then but the latter only snickered. He climbed the steps to their superior's flat, ringing the bell. He suppressed a wince when there was a bark – they would give themselves away without him so much as moving a finger, it appeared.

A good thing, that was, Havoc thought when somewhat angry steps thundered towards the entrance. The sooner they were exposed to the team, the sooner he could discuss the matter – he was dying to concoct juicy scenarios and steamy details with Breda.

"What do you want?" Roy was close to snarling when he opened the door. Havoc hoped it was the usual leave-me-and-my-precious-Lieutenant-our-precious-alone-time fuming and that they were not having an argument. It was always amusing to see the Flame Alchemist shrink to the size of a sugar snap pea but it was impossible not to shrink alongside him when Hawkeye was on a roll.

"More importantly, what's that hideous blatancy you're listening to – they're already starting the first match," Havoc argued, letting himself in. Breda saluted casually, mumbling an excuse when having to shove a more or less with irritation perplexed Colonel aside to fit the beer. Fuery snuck by as fleetly as he could, ducking his head and hustling to return to the men's sides. Roy turned slowly, threateningly, making the youngest member of his Unit wince where he had not yet chosen whether to follow Havoc into the living room or Breda into the kitchen.

"Hey! Nice you came," Breda cheered, the beer landing on the table with a thud. Oh no, Roy thought, he was going to guess! He was going to find out she was living and sleeping there – there, where she was least allowed and most obviously revealing their feelings – when something else hit him. That sandwich-inhaling bastard! He was going to ruin the surprise! That glorious revelation of her outfit!

Slamming the door shut, Roy stomped into the kitchen.

"And so fancy too – this is just a games night," Breda was saying. It made Roy fume and inwardly cry at the same time. Whatever 'fancy' was had been meant for him and only him!

"You've just never seen the Lieutenant outside of work, have you?" Havoc had already strolled into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe with a mixture of boredom and cheekiness. "Any woman for that matter, I would—"

"You would not, you walkin' chimney," Breda huffed, affronted. Havoc only smirked, and sure enough, had it returned.

Roy wanted to hit them both up the head – better even, knock those two numbskulls together – when he rounded the corner. He almost staggered for a second, nearly having forgotten in his rage.

Riza was standing at the counter, now turned to the bickering men. She was wearing the dress; the pretty black dress with the long sleeves and large, decorative buttons down the front. Her hair was down – what a blessing not only for his eyes but her tattoo as well – but she had tied the strands from the front into a small bun at the back of her head. So casual yet so stunningly beautiful. It froze him until he felt her gaze, questioning and innocently adorable.

"…run errands like the dutiful soldier I am – that's how," Havoc was defending himself when Roy awoke from his momentary trance.

"Please, you just wanted to stalk your superior officer in her chivvies and the paperwork conveniently worked in your favour, old pervert," Breda waved off. Both of the men were smirking, almost reminding Roy of himself and Riza in private – what an old married couple they could be. Academy friends, they called it, so his standard tease had become 'love at first mud crawl'.

For now though, having somewhat saved the situation or not, Havoc needed to go. They all did. It was still their date night and Roy wanted to give it his all.

"Alright, that's enough." He grabbed the beer off the table. The sudden heaviness nearly caught him by surprise but he got it off the table and back into Breda's arms. The two Lieutenants frowned at him, completely clueless. At least Havoc should have known better, Roy thought, game night or not. "Go on and get Fuery," he ordered, shoving them out of the kitchen.

"Colonel?" Riza raised her voice, so he threw the door shut. She had her head tilted when he turned. It softened his features and his heart, his arms twitching to enclose her.

"Sorry, I'll just kick them back out," he neared her anyway, the urge to hug her only growing. "You look—"

"Oi, it's starting!" The kitchen door opening startled them. Roy zoomed backwards, his arms still awkwardly, rigidly extended. Riza glanced towards the source of Breda's voice with a practised ease, picking up the cheese, crackers and fruit platter she had prepared as if having done so all along. Breda had not even entered though, already back in the living room as not to miss anything. Roy huffed.

She followed him when he menacingly trudged towards the noise. He opened his mouth for a scold and more orders, his inhale swallowed by the commentator and the cracking of beer cans. Then again by the doorbell.

"Who the hell…?" he grumbled, joining a skidding and barking Hayate at the door. Holding him by his collar but letting him bark and show his teeth at the boy in front of the door, Roy must have looked every bit as much as Hayate.

"D-delivery," the boy shuddered, merely dropping the bags on the ground, taking a step back. Oh, he had put together a clever team alright, ordering too much food for him to eat alone, but Roy would still see to it that they paid the entirety of it. For now, he dug out his wallet from his coat. Slender fingers laced past his, taking Hayate's collar to relief Roy of it.

Once paid, the boy all but ran down the street, so they collected the bags off the ground before Hayate's nose could inspect each one. He did manage to grab himself a spring roll, and it would not be his last, seeing as Breda would soon find a way to keep the canine as far from him as possible – tossing food.

The entire evening became a mess, but from the point on where Roy resigned himself to his fate – a date night with his entire unit – it was actually quite enjoyable. Falman showed up much too late, only saving himself a collective mocking by bringing a proper brandy. Everyone but Hawkeye helped themselves, but she obtained attention another way.

Throughout dinner, they all shared everything. It was the standard procedure when ordering Xingese – fried rice, fried noodles, all mixed with spicy vegetables and meat, soy sauce and Fuery's sacred spring rolls. Roy would usually leave his bean sprouts to the side or try to fish for more noodles without picking the foreign greens up. That night was different however. Riza was there.

The men watched silently, never daring to comment on how their superiors wordlessly communicated. She plucked out his bean sprouts as if automatically. Whenever finding a missed one, he would shove it to the side until her chopsticks returned to pick it up. In return, she placed any spring rolls on his plate first until he had wiped them enough on his noodles to get off any access sauce. Neither of them spoke or shared a glance while the spectacle unfolded, but the men eyeing them from the side found it was not necessary. They knew each other's habits well enough not to be needing words.

No one commented on it, at least not openly but through much saying glances. Neither did anyone mention the abundance of cardboard boxes in their backs – Fuery and Havoc knew, and the others most likely feared it to be whatever new, crazy plan the Colonel was concocting.

That cover blew when Hawkeye excused herself for the night, Roy promising that they would be quiet.

"As if you don't sleep in the same bed," Havoc – the most brandy-infused – said the very second the door to the bedroom had shut. He pointed at the alibi blanket and pillow they had crumpled to the side of the couch, almost indignant.

"Don't be ridiculous," Roy retorted, sightly affronted. He was convinced that no amount of alcohol ever could push him far enough over the edge of reason that he would get them court-martialed – he would pass out or die before that happened. Still, wide eyes of understanding passed between Breda and Falman, if perhaps only at the fact that Hawkeye was staying that one night. "What kind of a gentleman would impose himself on his guest like that?"

"You're a playboy, everyone knows it," Havoc shrugged.

"And a gentleman," Roy repeated. Another shrug, this time paired with nods from all around.

"Fair enough, they say that too – smug lady-killer," Havoc conceded, if somewhat disappointedly. Jealously, Roy concluded, their history of 'stolen' girls undoubtedly the origin. It made him proud, accidently causing his tongue to slip.

"And what a most beautiful lady," he sighed a little, more to himself and in a way to brag even though they saw her every day at the office anyway. But he had gotten to see her in two dresses within a single day, he boasted, this time in his head.

"Isn't that against the rules?" Breda lifted his beer to gesture towards the hall Riza had disappeared down.

"The law," Falman corrected.

"I can compliment her all I want, and she's not here anyway," Roy gave back.

It became the final statement of the night when the commentator on the radio was exchanged for the Amestrian hymn. Not a single soldier liked it, seeing as it meant war or death whenever it played. Switching the radio off altogether, they shuffled out the door. Roy left with them, taking Hayate down the street. That distance turned out far enough, Hayate's legs still more than tired from the sprinting through the sand.

After having gotten ready, Roy snuck into the bedroom. To his surprise, he found her not snuggled into the sheets, but curled up atop them, still in that lovely dress. Her ankle caught his attention where it was blue but not swollen anymore. It must have hurt her when having been sent running through Headquarters, and Roy hoped she had not simply borne the pain throughout their date.

Reaching out a hand, he trailed along the receding bruise. It hardly pulsed anymore. She roused at his touch, blinking the sleep from her eyes. A sight to behold, he found, seeing as she always woke whenever anyone so much as entered the room – not with him though. Not under his roof or in his care.

"I called you beautiful," he purred when she finally looked at him. A tired but gentle smile set into place as she hummed.

"Thank you," she reached out to him when he crawled up next to her, tugging at his shirt to softly peck his lips. "I tried to wait; I thought you still wanted to do something," she said, and he became aware of the way he had trailed up from her ankle, subconsciously relishing the suppleness of her leg. "But it got so late and I fell asleep," she yawned. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't be," Roy said, stunned. It was true that he had been eyeing her all night, at least whenever bringing plates into the kitchen or after dinner when no goals had been scored. Leaning closer, he kissed below her jaw, enticing another hum.

"I'm really tired – is that alright?" she quietly asked, eyes already closed again.

"Of course," he assured, still taken aback. Even gentler than before, he kissed her crown, then her cheek. "There's nothing to apologise for. Let's only do it when you're in the mood too," he emphasised, and she smiled. Her arm came up to wind around him in return. Roy felt his heart skip a beat, then another when she used the lever around his neck to fully kiss him.

He could not help but think what a lucky man he was. And how glad he was that they did not, in fact, sleep apart.