The Simplicity of Simple Things
Riza hummed lightly to herself as she set about preparing the meal. She pulled the large cooking pot down from the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet, the only one he had, it seemed. Checking inside, she rolled her eyes. This wasn't the dust that had gathered in the months Roy had spent recovering. This had taken years to accumulate. Of course the man did not cook. He probably ate out every night, or ordered in. Hell, he probably wined and dined a different woman every night.
She sighed as she turned on the faucet and began to scrub out the pot. After making sure it was sufficiently dust-free she filled it with cold water and set it on the stove. She began to set out the vegetables she had bought at the market: carrot, potato, celery, onion, pulling them from the bag one by one.
"Riza darling, step away from the stove."
Startled, she jumped back, colliding backwards with the man she hadn't realized was standing behind her. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and she tilted her head back, smiling up at him. "Are you offering to cook dinner?" she teased, her brown eyes warm and dancing.
Roy smirked and shook his head, pulling his gloves on. There was a snap! and the burners ignited, flaring up, almost too high, and the room filled with smoke. One by one, each went out until only the one under the pot was left burning, and at a reasonable level. "I didn't want to singe your pretty eyebrows," he told her, but she was laughing and waving at the smoke in the air.
He made his way slowly around the kitchen, leaning heavily on the cane, and dropped gratefully into one of the chairs.
"Sir," she said with mock seriousness. "I think you need to work on your aim." She raised her eyebrows pointedly at the scorch marks on the wall behind the stove.
He leaned back. "Eh, I'll get used to it," he said lightly, catching her around the waist and pulling her in for a quick kiss.