How perfect is this? Roy thinks as he holds Riza in his arms. The band is playing something slow, and they rock back and forth to the music with perfect synchronicity, feeling each other's breaths, and refusing to let go. Roy knows that around him, people are staring, but for once, he doesn't care. This is his and Riza's night. It's just for the two of them.

Riza's soft hair presses against his cheek- she is standing with her right arm wrapped around his waist, her left hand in his right, and her head pressed against his collarbone. Roy stands with his left arm wrapped around her waist, his right hand in her left, and his face pressing against her forehead. Nothing in the world could compare to holding the love of his life in his arms.

In another time, Roy supposes he would have been embarrassed to admit to himself so freely what Riza was to him. But today was different. He remembers the way she looked at him when the priest had bound their hands with a white ribbon and declared them to be husband and wife. He remembers the way he felt when she first appeared at the end of the aisle, and how the tears had immediately sprung to his eyes, despite his efforts. She was so beautiful, and he still couldn't believe that she was his.

"Roy?" Riza asks, and he adores the way his name sounds in her voice. No more "sir" or "lieutenant" or "colonel". It would always, always be "Roy" and "Riza" from now on.

"Yes, Riza?"

"Are we dreaming?" He senses the vulnerability behind her voice, and the band plays a swelling chorus, synchronizing with her words.

"How can this be a dream?" Roy marvels to her. "We've worked so hard and for so long- how can this not be real?"

Satisfied, Riza relaxes back into his embrace, pressing a kiss to his collarbone where it curves in the hollow of his throat.

The band continues playing, and Roy doesn't know much about music, but in his humble opinion the finesse and precision they play with is the finest he's ever heard. They dance into the night, and time seems to slip away from them. Roy closes his eyes and sinks into the feeling of her against him. She is undoubtedly his home- wherever she is, he feels rooted and solid when he is with her. It didn't matter where they were- East City or Central- she would always be his security, his soul, his life. They did not need words to express the expansive affection they had for one another; it was simply always known, always understood whenever they looked at each other.

Roy opens his eyes, and is surprised to find that his surroundings are different, and that there are tears streaming down his face. He stares up at the wood paneling of the ceiling in Riza's apartment, noting the sudden silence, and a glorious mixture of dread and bittersweet love swells inside of him. Next to him, his lieutenant stirs, and immediately asks, "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"It was just a dream," he replies. "One I very much wish was real."

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