A/N: Thank you WildSilence023, Giiz, sophiabell01, and dvltgr for the lovely comments. You have no idea how much they made me smile :).
Rev. 12/20/20 [content changed slightly]
chapter 9: to build a home
Armstrong Residence, 7:45AM
Riza twists her head, sluggishly, and sees a ray of light slither in from the curtains.
It's morning.
Last night's affair was a sad remembrance, vivid and strange, settling like a coil of snake in her stomach. It is not something she thinks would ever happen to anyone in her family. It is something she would rather forget.
The bed creaks above the bed frame. Riza turns to find Olivier stretching her arms above her head, her lids at half-mast.
"Good morning," Riza rasps.
Hoarsely, Olivier replies, "Morning, Riza." It sounds as if she has lost her voice in the shouting match last night.
Sandwiched in between them is Winry, still asleep, her even chest rising and falling to her shallow breaths. The creases around her eyes are no longer there. She looks peaceful, fresh faced, as if their fight had been a pretend imagination, not quite real and never quite happened.
"Winry's still sleeping..." Riza whispers.
"Let her. She needs it," Olivier answers.
"What do you think we can do about… you know?" Riza inquires quietly.
But Olivier throws back her own question, not answering her and spilling her thoughts instead. "Hey, do you think it was right for me to leave Winry behind?"
Silence leaks through as Riza contemplates, absorbs what her sister is truly asking. Then she shakes her head. "I don't think you left her behind, Liv… but I think we both could have done a better job to understand her." She pauses. "We could have visited more often, check in on her once every month. We could have checked up on her rather than asking through Edward or Alphonse..."
At this, Olivier frowns. "Have you been listening in on my calls?"
"Not intentionally. But it's pretty obvious you care about Winry more than you let on," Riza says. Then she chuckles, "That's why Alphonse let you pester him with all those questions."
Olivier props her chin up with a hand, her elbow resting on her pillow. "Hmm. I guess I'm not the only detective around here."
And Riza winks at her sister. "Anything else I should know about? A secret lover, perhaps?"
"Very funny, Riza."
Glancing at the digital clock atop her sister's nightstand, Riza goes on, "What do you have planned today, Liv?"
Liv turns to look at the hour, yawning and answering, "Didn't realize it's already 8. I have work in an hour. You?"
It's Saturday, and Riza has told her boss that she will meet him up for coffee this morning. It's just coffee, she says inwardly, though her face feels hot and the heat spreads down her limbs. She bites her inner cheek. "Well… I have to meet up with a… friend... at a coffee shop today."
"Did you say meet up with a friend? A secret lover, perhaps?" Olivier snickers. She snickers so loudly she shakes the bed.
Briskly, she puts a finger to her lips, shushing her sister, afraid they might wake Winry. "Be quiet, Liv."
"Is this guy worth your time?" Liv asks again.
"How do you know it's a guy? I said it's a friend," Riza counters.
"Because if it's Rebecca you wouldn't be blushing like a teenage girl."
Riza clears her throat. And then slowly, carefully, she pushes herself up and leans against the headboard. Her gaze darts to the ceiling and then the ground, and she feels embarrassment creep in, a hot, red plume tickling her face.
"It's just my boss. Nothing special." And Riza looks away then.
It feels so hot beneath her shirt that Riza might as well be wafting steam. She pretends as if she hasn't said a word, acting like she doesn't care. But she does. She cares about what Roy will think of the dress she's picked out three days prior. And she certainly wants him to impart more of Austen quotes, woo her with that big, admirable brain of his.
Her smile distorts into a frown.
When did that happen?
"It doesn't sound like 'nothing special,'" Olivier murmurs. "Otherwise you wouldn't be stumbling over a label for this friend of yours. You would've just said you're going out with your boss." Then she scrunches the bridge of her nose, furrowing it in puzzlement. "Aren't there some rules about dating your superior?"
"It's not a date," Riza insists. "Or if this is indeed a problem, then I might as well cancel today. Besides, I don't want to leave Winry alone today."
At this, Olivier laughs aloud, unrestrained. "You've always been a heartbreaker. Those poor guys in high school and college who fawned over you, they never made it past a second date, did they?"
The slumbering body between them starts to writhe. Stretching legs kick off the blanket, and Winry wakes with bleary eyes. Her palms rub her heavy lids, and she croaks, "Am I interrupting something?"
Smiling, Riza pats her head, gently. "Morning, Win." Then she glares at Olivier, who is muffling her laughter with a hand over her mouth. "And no, you didn't."
And of course, Olivier interjects. As she would. "We were talking about Riza's love life."
Suddenly, Winry jerks her body upright. Sleepy eyes grow big, and her little sister looks at her with both hands on her cheeks, completely stunned. "This is huge! Riza never let anyone take her out past a second date."
Liv drives her point home and flicks Riza on the forehead. "I. Told. You."
Stammering, Riza dismisses them with frantic hands. "That's not true! That one guy in college, we had a third date!"
"And then that's it, right?" Olivier smirks. "So, is this guy going on a second date then? Or is it already going on a third?"
Swiftly, Riza throws the blanket off of her legs and stands by the bedside. She stretches, rolling her shoulders, while looking at the corner of the ceiling in front of her, away from her sisters' prying eyes. "It's not a date. I only met up with him one other time before..."
"Oh, so it's a second date," Winry hums, putting a finger on her chin.
"We'll see how long he lasts," Liv remarks, nodding.
Her hands on her hips, Riza scowls. "Okay, I am so done with you two. I'm gonna make breakfast."
"Oh, by the way, Winry, do you have plans for the day?" Liv nudges her sister by the elbow, and then sticks out her chin at Riza. "Riza here has a date, but she'd rather keep you company. I have to be at work, but I'll try to come home early."
The smile on her younger sister's face says everything. It isn't quite a smile but a grin, mischievous and conniving. Then Winry giggles, her countenance lit, brighter than it had been last night. "Go on your date, Riz. I'm going out with Edward today."
Riza's eyes widen. "You are?"
"Hey, did something happen between you and Mr. Pipsqueak?" Liv asks, curious, her head tilted to one side.
Winry proceeds to bury her face in the pillow. She says something, though the sound is muffled, as if she doesn't want any of them to hear. As if she doesn't want them to lay judgment to what she has to say.
Liv nudges her again, a persuasive finger poking at her sister's cheek. "Come on, what is it?"
Her face is buried still, but she cranks her head sideways and speaks clearly into the air. "I think I'm in love with Mr. Pipsqueak..."
And Riza couldn't help but smile at Winry's little confession.
Downtown Los Angeles, 9:08AM
"Miles, where are you taking us?"
It is cold outside, and the clouds are so grey and heavy that Olivier is afraid it might just rain at any second. Her mind races between the implication of the breakfast joint in front of her and what her young sister has told her the night before. Winry hasn't said any more, but if Olivier ever finds out who has hurt her, she will make sure he pays.
And she will make sure he pays back what he took and more.
Thinking about it only boils her blood.
"We're going to sit down," Miles replies, "and eat some breakfast before we head into work."
"Can't we just get food to-go like usual? It looks like it's gonna rain."
"No. I want to have a proper meal with you. We can sit and talk like a normal couple."
"Oh."
A couple?
His answer was unexpected, and it swirls all kinds of sensations inside her chest. It warms her insides, like a small hearth has been lit and left there to comfort. And somehow, it buoys her feet, too, lifting her high above the ground and making her feel like she's flying.
The small restaurant is cozy and quiet, the air smelling of coffee and the sweet fragrance of baked goods. Her stomach growls at the display of pastries and pies. And she finds herself walking into a vacant seat as Miles saunters up to the counter and orders themselves a couple of breakfast sandwiches and teas.
When he returns, he pockets the receipt and reaches out his cold hand to take hers. It's a strange sensation. It's unfamiliar, new, akin to the first time she ever held a gun, and…
It feels dangerous.
"Miles," she says. Her partner lifts his head up from the table and meets her eyes. "I checked out the handbook. Relationships with partners are allowed, but we'll likely be transferred elsewhere unless we can somehow make it work without it interfering with our professionalism…" Then she pauses, licking her lips in uncertainty. "But I don't know how I feel if you don't tell your wife about us…"
Instead of agreeing, Miles laughs. "She hasn't contacted me since she left."
She squeezes his hand above hers, emphasizing her request. "The sooner the better."
He takes a minute to consider. And then he nods. "I'm submitting the divorce papers in a couple of weeks. I suppose that's a good time to tell her about us…"
Curtly, Olivier nods, speaking her assent without a word.
"So, since I haven't told Lil about us, are you going to reject me if I ask you out on a date?"
The notion of a date seems to make the entire affair real, permanent. It doesn't quite sit well in her stomach, and frankly, Olivier can no longer tell if it's her hunger telling her to reject or if it's her moral obligations to the wife who still knows nothing.
"Is that what this is…?" Olivier asks breathlessly.
"Is what...?" Miles inquires, looking at her as if she's a puzzle needing to be solved. "I've got a couple things in mind, if you want to hear them? Our next day off is in a week or so. It'll be a good time then."
Short nails dig into the paper cup in her hand. Olivier takes a loud gulp, her brain scrambling for what's proper and improper, her heart thudding to the footsteps of hurried patrons at the small shop. Her mouth opens, her answer at the tip of her tongue.
Armstrong Residence, 7:36PM
The dining table is set for six. Six, which includes him, a family friend, Riza's sister's work partner, and Riza and her two sisters. Clearly, Riza has told her whole family about him. Or her family somehow figured out that their coffee date has gone on long enough and that she and him would be returning to her place together. Somehow.
It makes Roy wonder... has she told them that he is her boss? The guy who decides her pay and also can't stop staring at her even if he's tried so hard not to?
Does Riza even know that?
He thinks he's been pretty subtle about his friendliness (read: affection), making it seem as if it's no big deal, though his heart picks up and gallops everytime she smiles.
Roy eyes the cider bottle on the placemat. There's also a bottle of red wine and white, which makes their "casual dinner" less casual and more of something that's been planned all along. The wood table is plentiful with a big plate of roast beef and a fruity salad and a whole tin of apple pie, so delectable and so nicely arranged. He wishes he had worn something a bit more formal and appropriate for the event instead of a pair of dark jeans and a plain T-shirt.
After all, there will be a plethora of prodding eyes. Especially after Riza's riveting story about her ambitious detective sister and the curious and mischievous younger sister.
From the kitchen, Roy hears Winry (he remembers that that's her name) and Riza talking, discussing something about lobster and pudding. Then he trots to the bookshelf lined against the wall, perusing their collection under the pretense that he's fine and dandy and that his palms aren't perspiring out of nervousness and fright.
What if her family doesn't approve of him? And what of the non-existent relationship that seems to be going in the right direction? If this is to go on, Riza's job at the company is surely at stake. Dating a boss is frowned upon. And illegal.
Riza's voice travels to the dining room. "Where's your phone, Winry? Give Edward a call and tell him to come soon."
"I lost it, Riza… I can't find my phone…"
And then the conversation is muffled before it becomes clear again.
"Do you still think about what your dad, Riza?"
And then...
"Don't be scared, Winry. Things will get better. I have no doubt about that."
Then the doorbell chimes and jerks him back, lifting his chin up from the bookshelf and pointing it towards the door.
Winry rushes to the door and opens it wide. A young man, short in height and lean around the limbs, crosses the threshold of their apartment and folds Winry into a hug. In his hand is a bouquet of red roses.
And Roy realizes it is the same kid who approached him as Riza made her way up to her apartment—the same kid who asked for money to buy a bouquet of flowers as Roy fiddled with his thumbs and prepared his speech for tonight's unanticipated dinner. He had stayed in the lobby to take a breather. Instead, a rude kid swindled $5.20 out of him.
"Oh, it's you," Roy hears himself say.
Right away, the blond kid turns to him and greets him with a loud march into the living room. "Oh, it's the cheap bastard who won't lend me a few dollars." He looks at Winry, still glaring, "You know this guy, Win?"
Winry looks at Roy and then back at the so-called family friend. Edward, was it?
Winry answers, calmly and honestly, "Tonight's the first time I met him." And then she slaps Edward on the arm, making the boy wince beneath his glare. "Don't be rude, Ed. That's Riza's boss."
Edward's brows pleat together, and his forehead wrinkles. "If he is her boss then why is he here?"
"Just because I'm her boss, I can't be here?" Roy shoots back.
From the kitchen, Riza shouts her 'hello' to Ed. Then she emerges with an apron on, carrying a tray crowded with slices of carrots and broccoli, a whole bone-in ham filling the center.
With narrow eyes, Ed points at Roy. Rudely. "Riza, who's this bitch? Is he really your boss?"
Confused, Riza looks at Roy and then back at Ed. "Yeah. That's my boss."
And Edward sizes him up, studying Roy from the top of his mussed, black hair to the white sneakers he wears. "Huh. I thought you had a better taste in men than this, Riza."
Riza laughs, Winry frowns, and Roy can feel irritation scraping the bones beneath his skin.
"Don't forget. I technically bought that flower for your lady friend here, considering that it was my money you spent," Roy smirks, rolling on his retort.
Their dinner is neither casual nor uneventful. It started out tame enough. Polite conversations were exchanged, the guests introducing their names and divulging their occupations. It went as well as he thought it would, though Riza seemed more reserved than usual, as if there were things she hadn't wanted to share in front of her sisters and their guests.
Once the red wine pours out and glasses are filled, everyone starts to reveal themselves. By the third glass, Roy concludes that Riza's younger sister is nice, easily flustered, and quiet. Quieter than Roy originally thought. Olivier, on the other hand, is the queen of her little castle. She acts like she owns the place, as she does, and throws questions at him and Edward as if they were her apprehended criminals.
"So you said you and Riza work together?" Liv asks, her cheeks tinted a slight pink, like her lips. But her interrogation is as sober as it goes.
Roy nodded. "Yeah. I started a month ago."
"In what capacity?"
"Um," Roy pauses, considering her question. It really does feel like a test. One wrong answer and Roy feels like she's going to swallow him up. He clears his throat. "I'm her manager, if that's what you're asking. We're handling a project in East LA right now."
"As in you decide her pay and her performance rating?"
"I suppose I do."
Olivier's face lights up at this. Beside him, Riza eludes his gaze and stares down at her plate instead. Her food is half eaten and her glass is barely touched.
"Oh, I see," Liv says. A tiny smile lifts her stern lips, and for a moment she looks less intimidating than she has been the whole night. "At least you're honest. Though I'm not sure you've got her best interest at heart."
His heartbeat speeds up at her remark. How wrong he was that she would have approved of him. Clearly, she is catching onto the illicit factor of what would come out of their relationship.
"Liv, it's-" Riza starts to say. Her face is panic-stricken, her eyes wild. But Olivier puts her hand up and stops her.
"Can you two even date each other? Wouldn't that get Riza in trouble?" Liv asks again. She brings her wine glass up and gestures towards Riza, and then him. "What if she gets fired? What if you get fired?"
"Ah, uh, no. It's not like that," Roy promptly explains himself. "Riza's been a tremendous help with my side project. In turn, I make sure she makes great progress with her manuscript. We aren't dating," he concludes.
"Hmm," is all Olivier says. And this worries and confuses him all the more.
He sneaks a glimpse of Riza, who begins to poke at her ham with her fork. She doesn't look at him, though her back is now slouched against her chair, as if she can't wait to leave stuffy room for the outside air.
And really, at this point Roy is ready to leave himself.
"Winry, are you okay?"
With her back against the kitchen counter, Winry takes another sip of her cider. "Yeah. I'm fine."
Riza mimics her, releasing a gust through her mouth and leaning against the counter. "Long night, huh?"
Apologetically, Winry turns to her. "Yeah… I'm sorry Liv made your date awkward."
"It's not a date. You heard him," Riza murmurs. Though disappointment is palpable in her tone. Riza obviously had wanted tonight to be a date, Winry thinks. "Did you ever find your phone?" Riza asks, steering their conversation from the subject of her boss back to her again.
Dread pools in her stomach, roiling, swirling like a giant wave and making her feel like vomiting the food she just ate. With her lips pulled between her teeth, Winry sighs. "Can I... tell you something? Promise you won't tell anyone?"
Mutely, Riza nods. Concern is dulling her warm, brown eyes. And Winry almost wishes she can take her words back.
"I lost it… after our taco lunch…" Then she shakes her head as guilt swells and constricts her chest. "Sorry, I meant… I purposely lost it." And before her sister can say anything, Winry goes on, not giving her the chance to speak, "I'll have to get a new one. If it's alright… can I borrow some money? I'll find a job soon, and I'll pay you back-"
But Riza merely smiles, and she lifts a stray hair out of her face and tucks it behind her ear. "Don't worry, Winry. We'll get you a new one tomorrow." Then her countenance turns solemn. "And then… we can talk about why you purposely lost it whenever you're ready."
This moves her, and the urgency to spill everything Winry keeps inside is suddenly so overwhelming. Her fingers tremble as she puts away her glass. And before she knows it, Riza is there, hugging her and making her feel better, even if slightly.
"I'm so… so sorry, Riza. I'm so useless…" Winry breathes into her ear.
A steady hand rubs her back, up and down, soothing her. "That's nonsense. You're fine. Just let me know how I can help, okay?"
For a while Winry remains silent. She snuggles into her sister's embrace, tender and safe, and Riza merely stands there, hugging her like a life raft. Once Winry's found her bearing again—even breaths and a placid heartbeat—she looks up at Riza.
"Do you, um… still think about your dad? Did going to Doctor Knox help… at all?" Winry asks hesitantly.
It takes Riza a couple of minutes to answer. Inhaling deeply, Riza looks beyond her, beyond the walls of their kitchen, as if recalling a forgotten memory. And then she finally looks back at Winry. "I still dream about my dad sometimes. It's not as bad as before, so I'm sure Doctor Knox has made some things better. But you and Liv helped me a lot, too. You two make me forget, even if only for a moment."
"How bad was it… before? Before mom and dad... took you in?"
Her question twists a slight grimace on Riza's face. And Winry releases her, grabbing at her cider again, wishing it had been wine instead.
"Whenever I thought about my dad… I would feel sick. Like I needed to throw up. I didn't wanna see anyone, and I ended up locking myself in my room for days on end. I didn't want anyone to ask what's wrong, or what happened. It was bad, Winry. Really bad… I lost a lot of weight then, too. I couldn't even look at my favorite food and make myself take a bite..."
Winry can see Riza shudder, the outline of her shoulders rippling with the remembrance of her long-ago misery. Her breathlessness is visible, in chorus with her darkening eyes and shaky lips. She looks scared, as if her dead dad is still here, still with her, forever haunting and never leaving.
And Winry sees herself in Riza. It is exactly how she feels whenever she thinks of Russell and his scraping nails and calloused fingertips.
A/N: Please review/comment/kudos, the bad and the good. Anything that would make me a better writer.