Thank you, arisha12 for your review! I really appreciate it!
Also huge thanks to Skorm who pointed out to me that something wasn't quite right... nothing uploaded even though the email told me so. Thank you!
Where Roy Doesn't Want To Share
The streets were dark with the approaching night, the evening crisp, her breath forming clouds. Briskly crossing the road, Riza made her way to her apartment building, a bag of groceries in hand, when she heard someone calling out to her.
"Lieutenant!" She turned, one hand shooting to the exposed strip of her leg to find the gun she had strapped to her thigh beneath her long skirt. The steps closed in quickly but she soon recognised the clanking of metal on asphalt. "Lieutenant," Alphonse came to a halt, his brother stopping next to him.
"You have a gun with you when going shopping?" Edward frowned instead of returning her greeting.
"I always have one with me," she disclosed, not elaborating on there being another one hidden away between the garlic and onions.
"Always? What about in the shower?"
"I believe you came to me for a reason?" She dodged the question, giving him a look and he grinned sheepishly.
"Well, we haven't found a place for the night; we've only just arrived by train and were going to look-"
"Brother needs a bathroom," Alphonse cut the monologue short, receiving a nudge that hurt his offender more than him.
"You didn't have to blurt it out," Ed mumbled.
"Oh," Riza eased her stance only now, putting the gun away again. "Of course, my apartment is just over here," she nodded in the direction of one of the high buildings behind them. With an awkward 'thank you', the two followed her through the front door and up the flights of stairs until they arrived in the right corridor.
She had to balance the bag against the door to fish for the key with the other hand, nearly making the groceries spill, creating a thud against the door Hayate barked at from the inside.
"Oh, let me," Alphonse stretched out his arms to help when the door suddenly opened. She had to grip the bag tightly, leaning back as not to fall. Edward stiffened at the head that poked out in puzzlement. Both expressions fell.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" Ed yelled, pointing accusingly.
"What do you mean, what am I doing here? What are you doing here?" The Colonel gave back just as indignantly.
"Not answering the question, huh? Making yourself suspicious there," Ed smirked with his eyes narrowing in mistrust that only riled the Flame Alchemist up more.
"Excuse you! This happens to be my Lieutenant's place and-"
"Quiet down, will you?" Riza hissed, shoving him back inside. Waving the boys after her, she closed the door. Her death glare made all three of them shrink, silencing them, if only for a moment. She pointed at the bathroom door and Edward disappeared immediately. Hayate was overjoyed upon her return, greeting her with his nose prodding her leg and she smiled, carrying her bag into the kitchen.
Sighing exasperatedly, the Colonel pursued her.
"Why is he here?" He enquired but she ignored the question, finding it unnecessary. He supressed another sigh, watching her instead. She could feel how not only his eyes yearned to be glued to her, knowing he wanted nothing more than to be nearer, reach out, do whatever he was not allowed to do when they were not alone. It took every bit of strength of him not to and he had to busy himself with turning down the flame of the already boiling water.
"You took longer than expected," he commented as he picked up a stray tomato from where she was almost done with putting everything away, "the noodles are almost done," he said, wincing when she gave him a look from the corner of her eye, retrieving the vegetable from his hand.
"Oh, I see someone's being a slave driver even after working hours," Edward, returning, grinned at the effect he had on the Colonel. With a groan of irritation, the latter turned.
"You're too tiny to hold this conversation," Mustang shot back.
"Who're ya callin' tiny?!" Ed barked furiously, fists balling, eyes flaring up.
"And anyway, I already made the spaghetti- and what do you have to do with this? Get out already," Mustang interrupted himself, shaking his head. Alphonse had not even edged into the small kitchen area, crouching down to pet Hayate in a safe distance.
"Wow, throwing a bunch o' noodles into a pot. Stunning, Lieutenant Colonel,"
"Colonel," Mustang growled where their faces closed in on each other threateningly, eyes only darkening slits. "And there's not a person on earth capable of making that incomparably delicious sauce except for her, so butt out, pipsqueak,"
"Don't call me pipsqueak!" Edward hollered, foreheads clashing violently, veins pulsing. Both froze when Riza cleared her throat in a meaningful way. Reluctantly, the Colonel puffed, straightening again. "That sounds really nice though," Edward stuffed his hands into his pockets, retreating. The glint of mischief in his eyes did not go unnoticed. "Now I'm curious how it tastes,"
"Would you like to stay for dinner?" She asked without turning, steadily chopping up spring onions that sizzled in a pan a second later. Mustang almost exploded, torn between beheading his fellow State Alchemist and changing the mind of his Lieutenant.
"No, that won't be necessary," he slid over to her, muttering next to her ear with gritted teeth. "Riza," he drawled beseechingly in a hushed voice, "we were going to eat alone. Just the two of us," he urged but she did not look up. The knife scraped down the cutting board to fill the pan with fresh as well as sun-dried tomatoes.
"You're so greedy sometimes, you know?" Edward pushed all of the buttons he possibly could, getting that vein to bulge again. "Al doesn't even eat," he reminded with what was supposed to be a nonchalant shrug. His smirk was devilish though. "Trying to kick two kids out into the cold night, really," he sighed as if disappointed. The Colonel growled.
"Please set another plate for Edward," Riza piped up, calmly stirring her more and more ambrosially smelling sauce. Grinding his teeth now, the Colonel reluctantly got out a plate – the smallest he could find, receiving a strict poke for it, reconsidering. Ed grinned triumphantly from ear to ear, on the Flame Alchemist's heels to watch him arrange his place at the far side of the table.
Meanwhile, Riza sighed to herself. She threw Alphonse a sympathetically apologetic look but he shook his head.
"It's okay, I'm used to it," he said, fishing for something behind his loincloth. She raised a brow. "Here, I write down everything I absolutely want to eat once I get my body back," he presented a small note book. Giving a short stir, she let the wooden spatula go to inspect the list.
"Looks like you're a sweet tooth," she smiled and he gave a short laugh.
"I'll ask brother to rate it so I can put it on,"
"Then I'd better not slack off," she returned to her task and he hectically waved his hands in the hopes of not having pressured her. "Though I don't think this deserves as much praise as the Colonel gives it," she seasoned once more, then stirred. "Or can beat apple pie," she said and he laughed.
The bickering from the table grew louder and Riza feared they would alarm the neighbours again, so she decided to put an end to it.
"Roy," she called before having thought it through, "lid." She simply instructed. They must have already heard him call her by her first name, and even though one would have expected it from him more than her, it had come out so naturally, she could not have stopped it. And she liked saying his name. He followed suit without hesitation, trotting over like her loyal puppy.
Grabbing the noodle pot's handles, Riza moved it over to the sink. The lid he had picked up came to meet her movement, fitting just so for the water to drain. With a practised ease, they turned it upright in unison and he left the lid where it was, taking the pot from her to transfer its contents to a large bowl.
She knew he was a little hurt by her having invited the Elric Brothers to eat with them. Anyone for that matter. He relished their evenings in the kitchen; it was plain to see how he was inwardly pouting.
Usually, he would take any chance for contact. He would take over spoons or the pot like a moment ago to touch hands, he would lean over her shoulder instead of eyeing something from the side, he would stand close enough for their hips to brush or he would adjust her apron, lovingly tugging and tying until it fit just right. Sometimes, he would dare to run his hands around her waist, leaning in to hold her from behind when he was sure it would not hinder her too much. It cured his worst moods and strengthened those lingering concerns after either of them had gotten injured during a mission.
It visibly bothered him to be keeping his distance now and she was sure that without her presence, that golden blond braid would have been singed already.
Fortunately, the two squabblers restrained themselves from any more than sinister looks and the occasional peeving remark here and there as they ate.
"This is really good!" Ed's words were muffled through his still to the brim stuffed moth. "Only the noodles are a little too soft," he smirked cheekily at the Colonel. Mustang clenched his jaw as not to burst again, not least because of the exhorting foot on his under the table. He huffed instead, displaying perfect manners as to remain in his Lieutenant's favour. "Top five, at least," Ed instructed and Al began scribbling it down excitedly.
"Wow, that's an honour," the child's voice rang within the armour, "you're always such a picky eater, brother," he smiled through his tone and Riza returned it despite the interruption of heavy protests from the side.
"I'm glad you like it," she paused rolling the spaghetti up on her fork. "Do you know where you will be staying?" She asked. The Colonel banged his fist that was clutching his fork onto the table. She glanced at him from the side, his pleading urgency turning angry again. Not that she was about to offer her own place – she did not even possess a couch to lend to anyone.
Ed snickered at the reaction, shaking his head.
"Nah, but we'll go ask around; someone's ought to have a free bed," he shrugged, gleefully twinkling at Mustang whose shoulders sank in relief.
Riza offered her phone to call a hotel but the boys declined. They stepped into the corridor after Al had stroked over Hayate's head one last time and Edward had finished up, not without another provoking comment.
"I'm helping with cleaning like a gentleman does," Mustang defended himself, obviously feeling the need to do so when being asked as to why he was not leaving. Ed just snickered, wiggling his brows, his next taunt unheard when the Colonel shut the door in his face. He gave a long groan, then returned to the table to stick to his promise. That, too, he seemed to feel necessary.
Riza had to smile clandestinely. There was no competition for him, especially not from a teenager, but she could not help but like him struggle a little; prove himself.
"Why did you have to invite them?" Roy grumbled above her ear when having scooted close enough beneath the sheets. His arms wound around her, hands coming to rest on her stomach and ribs respectively.
"This is still my place and if I want to be hospitable, I'll decide on my own," she courtly said. He mumbled something unintelligible but definitely disapproving. He was starting to guess her to have enjoyed his jealousy.
With a kiss to the crook of her neck, he lured out a sigh. Her muscles relaxed, sinking into the mattress.
"Mh, don't," she moaned softly, contradicting herself.
"Don't do that again," he tugged her closer, tracing his lips up the side of her neck. She could not stifle a giggle and he was glad she did not.
"You worry too much," she prodded her elbow backwards, a futile attempt to stop his actions.
"He's not your type," Roy said against the warm skin of her nape, not daring to loosen his embrace and push her hair aside. Another chuckle, fading into a hum of pleasure.
"Is that so?" Her voice was controlled but he knew better, detecting every change, every hint of weakness that he caused. A smirk stretched across his lips.
"Oh, yeah. Your type is – let's see... tall," he pecked her nape, "dark hair, dark eyes," he kissed her jaw, wandering down her neck with every attribute. She smiled to herself, eyes blissfully closed. "A perfectly sculpted body," he caressed her shoulder with his mouth, "and a wit that makes your knees grow weak," she snorted, suppressing another moan when he nipped at her supple skin.
"Wrong," she sounded awfully collected, never giving him the satisfaction of showing how, in truth, she was putty in his hands.
He pouted, waiting until she had finished shuffling as she turned to face him.
"That's not my type." Her hands wriggled upwards between their bodies, coming to rest on his chest. "You are." She whispered. His heart soared, mind in a frenzy that his broad smile of a lovestruck idiot mirrored.
"I was actually referring to me," he stated the obvious and she shook her head. Then she nuzzled it beneath his chin, into his neck.
"I know. But that description might be applicable to others," she illuminated and he had never been happier about having been wrong; about being corrected. Her arm squeezed through under his, wandering up his back to hold onto his shoulder in a firm, yet tender embrace.
I love you, too. He wanted to say, biting his tongue instead. She did not want to hear it. It hurt on both ends not to be allowed three little words. But she knew anyway, he had no doubts.
Tightening his arms around her back, he pressed a long kiss to the crown of her head. Deeply, they sighed in unison. Her words rung in his ears until he drifted into a dreamful slumber, the most important person in his life safely in his arms.