Martel woke up, feeling cold again, and therefore lazy. That, however, made no sense; every time Riza got out of bed, Martel was sure, the woman made coffee. Yet the house smelled faintly of the cloves from their tea last night, the flavorful aroma of coffee not replaced the weak smell. It took a while for her to manage to roll out of bed, the chill air cooling her blood, making her lethargic.
She stumbled into the kitchen, clumsily pulling her boots on as she did so. Riza was sitting at the table, scowling, a cup full of liquid too clear to be coffee in front of her.
"No coffee?" Martel asked confused, making her way over to the stove range, tapping at the percolator. Riza watched her sleepily, to apathetic to answer her question when Martel could easily find out herself. Martel picked the percolator up and slumped, letting it clatter back onto the range when she felt its empty weight. "Okay," she snapped. "Why is there no coffee?"
"There is no coffee," Riza said, yawning, grouchy, "because there is no milk. And coffee is nasty without milk."
Martel stared at her for a few moments. "There is too milk," she said moodily.
"Is not," Riza snapped back.
Martel stomped over to the ice box, shivering. "Is too!" she said, pulling out a glass bottle.
"Take a good look at that," Riza yawned. Martel stared at the bottle for a few moments then sighed.
The milk was off color, yellowish and when she opened the bottle didn't smell like milk she'd put in coffee. "Buttermilk," she moaned. "Why do you have buttermilk?"
"Griddle cakes," Riza said lightly. "And I make good buttermilk cakes."
"Domestic," Martel mumbled under her breath, fumbling through the ice box again. "Milk!" she snapped, pulling another glass bottle out, this time the right color.
"I am not domestic," Riza murmured, ignoring Martel's new discovery.
"MILK!" Martel repeated.
"That's not milk," Riza said, grinning up across the room at Martel."
Martel opened the bottle and smelled it. "It smells like milk," she declared. "And it looks like milk. Therefore it must be milk."
"Tip the bottle a little to the side," Riza told her, sipping at her tea absentmindedly.
Martel stared at her, but did so. "Cream's fine for coffee," she said, watching the viscosity of the liquid.
"Heavy whipping cream is not good for coffee," Riza retorted. "We need milk."
Martel glared at the bottle. "I'm too tired to go to the store," she told Riza pointedly. "And it's cold outside."
"You think I'm awake?" Riza retorted, the rest of her diatribe cut off by a yawn.
Martel sighed, putting the buttermilk back in the ice box, taking the whipping cream to the counter.
"What do you think you're doing?" Riza asked. Martel didn't answer, but went to the pantry getting cocoa powder and sugar. Riza just watched her as the chimera got the coffee grounds, boiling water in the percolator.
"I'm making whipped cream," Martel yawned, searching for powdered sugar. "Coffee isn't good with straight cream, but coffee with cocoa and whipped cream is good and you can't deny that."
"Can too," Riza grouched back, too tired to still be awake and without coffee.
Martel ignored the retort, setting up the press in the percolator once the water was hot.
"Beaters are in the second drawer," Riza said, just giving in, wanting her coffee now.
"Thanks," Martel responded, moving to the drawer. She poured some of the cream into the bowel, adding liberal amounts of powdered sugar, popping her shoulder before starting to use the beaters, twirling the cogs quickly.
She couldn't resist a taste of the whipped cream before it was done, and so licked the beaters as she took them to the sink.
"You should make some chocolate whipped cream, too," Riza complained.
"But there will be chocolate in the coffee," Martel told her.
"Who said I want it for the coffee?" Riza yawned.
Martel stared at her for a few moments, rinsing the beaters in the sink, letting the water run over her fingers long after the beaters were clean, just watching the officer. "I don't think we're on the same page," she said in a low voice.
"Why not?" Riza asked lightly.
"We've been sharing a bed for a week," Martel said, turning back to the sink. "You've told me several times how much you love me, but beyond a few mild kisses and the day we met again, you haven't touched me."
"It's hard," Riza said sullenly, sniffling.
Martel turned back to look at her face. "This hurts you as much as me, doesn't it?" she asked softly.
Riza didn't say anything, just looked up defiantly at Martel, her eyes free of tears, but pouting a bit. Martel smiled softly, drying the beaters as she went back to the bowl, pouring half the whipped cream into a second mixing bowl, eying the cocoa powder, beating it into the second bowl.
Riza watched her, sighing happily into her cup of tea, watching the steam rise, watching Martel stalk around the kitchen in her checkered pajamas, baggy around the woman's figure, making the difference in their sizes apparent. The top fell over her shoulder, the tattoos scrolling down her side, but Riza wasn't staring at that feature, watching what she could see of the side of Martel's face, content as she thoroughly mixed the cocoa powder into the whipped cream.
She put the whipped cream bowls in the ice box where they fit easily; milk wasn't the only thing they were out of.
"We're going grocery shopping after coffee," Riza told her.
"After whipped cream," Martel corrected her and was rewarded with a wide grin.
"After whipped cream," Riza agreed. She watched as Martel took the percolator, pouring the coffee into a sauce pan, which she placed on the range, heating it with low heat, adding the sugar and cocoa powder. It took her only a few minutes to get it to taste, and she poured it back into the percolator.
She wandered to the fridge getting the regular whipped cream, placing it next to the percolator, interrupted in her task by a yawn. She got two coffee mugs out of the cabinet and poured the coffee into them, spooning whipped cream on top absentmindedly swirling it.
She walked back to the kitchen table and moved Riza's tea cup away with a huff, giving her the coffee. "There being no milk is no excuse to not make coffee and drink tea," Martel said softly, sipping at the sweetly bitter beverage.
"Don't be so bitter," Riza giggled. "You've got your coffee."
"If you think I'm bitter, why don't you make me sweet?" Martel asked, rubbing her bare foot up against Riza's ankle. "The whipped cream's in the fridge."
"Coffee first," Riza murmured happily, sipping at the beverage. "And besides, I think I could only make you bitter sweet. You've got too much angst and misery and pain inside of you." Riza stared at Martel over her cup of coffee, keeping a straight face until Martel glared morosely.
"See?" Riza asked, giggling. "You just prove my point!"
"I'm not bitter," she complained. "I'm just cold and coffee-deprived."
"Well, we can fix the latter here," Riza pondered. "The second we might have to get into bed with, though."
"You mind doing laundry?" Martel asked nonchalantly.
Riza stared at Martel, trying to puzzle out the seemingly non sequitor.
"I mean," Martel said. "If we take whipped cream, especially chocolate whipped cream into the bedroom, do you think the sheets will stay clean?"
Riza bit her lower lip, trying not to laugh outright. "I'm not domestic," she told Martel carefully. "But from watching you in the kitchen, you are. Why don't you do the laundry this time?"
"I'm not domestic!" Martel countered. "I am, well, was part of the elite forces. I kill people for a living; I don't cook or clean or do laundry or any crap like that."
Riza just watched her, sipping the girly coffee drink the woman had made.
"Okay, I'll do the laundry," she snapped, glaring at Riza's passive face.
Riza got up and got herself a second cup of coffee, stirring the whipped cream on top happily, watching Martel. "We ought to get you some new clothes," she said, leaning back against the sink.
"It's not like I'm planning on going outside a lot," Martel sighed. "I'm dead, remember?"
Riza frowned. "I doubt anyone will recognize you," she said softly.
"I can't really risk it," Martel said. "I knew I was safe with Greed, but now I have no one to protect me." She bit her lower lip once she realized what she had said, raising her gaze to look Riza in the eye.
"I know you're here for me," she intoned softly. "It's just..." She paused, searching for the right words, lowering her eyes, no longer looking at Riza. "I know you'd fight to protect me, but when I was with Greed, I believed he couldn't die. He was the perfect invincible man who could always keep the military from hurting me.
"And... I was wrong you know? The thing is, I've been thinking about it, and he chose death." Martel looked pointedly at Riza. "Well, he would have left either way, but he specifically went to her house. Knowing he's likely die.
"How is that protecting me?"
Riza didn't know what to say at first, just watching her over the cup across the kitchen, but she put her coffee cup down on the counter, walking over to the chimera, wrapping her arms around her.
"I mean," Martel continued. "He gave us a choice. We didn't have to leave the lab, but that would have been worse. But he said he'd take care of us if we took care of his needs."
Martel just watched her, her face perplexed, no tears pooling in her eyes, just a calm, but hurt demeanor. "And we did," she continued in a hoarse voice. "We killed, kidnapped, stole... We did anything he asked us to because he claimed he'd do what no one else could--protect us from our creators."
Riza stroked the woman's short hair, the chair hurting her ribs, but not caring. She'd only seen the girl cry once. Only once.
No one knew this woman like she did, even if her body had been meshed with something else. Riza could touch every plane of her stomach, stroke down her thigh, press against her shoulder and know innately this was the woman she loved.
She didn't need a little trigger like tears to tell the girl was hurting, showing the world she was too strong for their definitions of feminine sensitivity, flaunting her strength, though it was crumbling inside.
Perhaps her arms around the woman, her slight waist, could rebuild some of that structure. Remind her that you didn't need invincibility to love someone and give up everything for them.
All you needed was a soul.
Riza didn't know how long she held the chimera, but when she pulled back, her chest was bruised from the ribs of the chair, though that didn't matter because Martel had stopped shaking. She pulled the chair back from the table, touching Martel's shoulder softly, leaning over to whisper, "I'm here."
The words seemed to be enough to stir the chimera, gazing back at her wordlessly, her eyes dry, her body still, a badly executed attempt at defiance scrawled across her face, just trying to protect herself. Just trying to keep from getting hurt.
"Don't you remember what we said?" Martel asked her softly. "We're going to spend the rest of our lives together, remember?"
Martel paused, watching her, blinking slowly.
"I can't abandon you and stay with you for the rest of my life," Riza clarified. Martel nodded, plastering a smile that didn't fit on her face.
"You may not be domestic," Riza told her scornfully, "But emotions shouldn't be too feminine for you."
Martel opened her mouth to say something, but Riza leaned forward, kissing her gently, her fingers splayed on the chimera's neck, open fingered, leaving the marks clear to see.
After Riza pulled back, straightening up, Martel stood up as well, taking her hand in her own, a genuine smile on her face. Riza pulled her close wrapping an arm around the waist of the slender chimera, burying her face in the crook of her neck.
The affection was almost startling to the chimera, but she didn't complain, enjoying the soft grip around her waist, the kisses against the back of her neck.
The touches yielded promise for both of them; promise that it didn't matter what had happened, funerals or alchemy, wars or coups because it didn't matter, soft kisses assuring not only love, but protection. It was a step at least, the caresses and kisses, and neither of them really minded that the whipped cream lay forgotten in the ice box.
Because they'd have the rest of their lives.