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When he wakes warm in his bed and entangled in a woven blanket he has owned most of his life, Roy knows at once that it is Sunday morning. While he is half-asleep, he doesn't question the unusual weight on the other side of the bed, or the way his body is curved to make room for company that he isn't used to having. It takes another moment for him to remember that this isn't right. This isn't something he had planned.
This simply isn't done.
His eyes snap open, and what he sees before him is a perfect painting right out of his dreams. His confidante, his Lieutenant, his Riza, sound asleep in the sunlight that comes in from the window behind him. It's a wonder the sun hasn't blinded her awake. She is a wonder. Her hair shines in the light like pure gold, draped over her bare arm which looks deceptively gentle at rest—all of her does.
"Serene" isn't a word that Roy (or anyone, really) would typically use to describe Riza Hawkeye. In this moment, it's the best word he has. Even her breathing is so quiet that he would have missed it under the faint birdsong outside his window if he weren't paying attention. He shifts the slightest inch closer to hear it better; he thinks he catches her heartbeat as well.
Roy is no fool. He knew just as well as Riza did that this was bound to happen eventually. What else could their heartfelt conversations and comfortable silences have led to? What other consequence is there for trusting each other so wholly that they've needed to be careful not to give too much of themselves in doing so? And yet the foregone conclusion does not negate how he feels right now, and all that is is nervous. Every part of him shakes down to the bones; every noise rings in his head in spite of his quiet bedroom.
Nervous because in spite of the evidence before him, this couldn't possibly be happening, and goodness knows what situation he will actually wake up to once he comes to his senses;
Or because this is real, and he truly is lying next to Riza, and she has never been like this with him—or (he selfishly hopes) with anyone, for that matter—and no matter how blissful the moment is, it will end, and they will never allow themselves to make the same blessed mistake again;
Or perhaps because Roy has never cared for anyone like he cares for Riza, but what will she think? What will she say? What will she be like when she wakes up and finds that they have crossed the line they swore to never cross, that they have risked everything that they have devoted their lives to?
The thought terrifies him.
Roy reaches for her in search of comfort. His slow, trembling fingers brush her hair away from her face, behind her ear, and he releases a deep, tense breath. He is now relaxed as well, maybe even enough to go back to sleep and keep soaking in her warmth for another hour or—
"AHH—!"
Next thing he knows, he is on the floor with a throbbing cheek, and Riza is sitting up on his bed, eyes wide and alert, panting, holding up his blanket against her body with the same fist she had decked him with. It takes them both a second to realize what has happened. Then Roy winces as he falls back, leaning limply against the side of his bed, and the expression on Riza's face turns into one of panic and concern.
"Roy—Colonel! I didn’t mean to—"
Riza scrambles off the bed and leans in closely to check the damage. She pushes Roy's hand away from the bruise now forming on his cheek, exclaiming—"Did that hurt? Are you all right?"
Another moment passes before they realize that she hasn't let his hand go. Their eyes meet—or, Riza's eyes meet Roy's, because he hasn't looked away since she came up face to face with him. Her expression changes again, this time displaying shock and disbelief over what they had done. She withdraws from him, pulls back her hand.
"I'm sorry," Riza breathes shakily. "This was a mistake. We shouldn't have let this happen. You and I..."
Roy has been afraid of this as well. He has carried the fear with him long before they even came dangerously close to breaking all the rules. And although the mistake has long lingered on their horizon, it's the prospect of losing Riza because of it that he cannot fathom. Even now, he is afraid that he is already losing her before she has even put any physical distance between them.
And so, he smiles.
Riza stares at him disbelievingly, apprehensively. "What are you—"
Then she half-screams, half-laughs as Roy attacks her sides, fingers running and jabbing playfully from under her arms all the way down to her hips. It never occurred to him that Riza could be so ticklish, but wherever his hands go, she seems to only cry out more loudly. She has fallen to the ground, defenseless—almost as startling as his new discovery. Then she's kicking in the air involuntarily, pushing him and thumping away at his shoulders and arms without quite hurting him. Roy begins to crack up as well.
“Roy Mustang!” Riza yelps amid gasps of breath and laughter, “I swear I’m gonna—!”
“You’re gonna what, Hawkeye?”
In one swift motion, Riza catches him by the wrists and flips him over, straddling his belly to pin him down with his back on the floor. Roy pushes, but Riza quickly goes for his ribs—now he is the one in raucous fits of laughter, writhing and twisting as though it will hide the ticklish parts of his body out of her reach. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots one of his pillows perched on the edge of the bed. He makes a grab for it, but Riza is quicker than he is, and suddenly she is alternating between smacking him with the pillow and tickling him wherever she can touch him.
He is helpless between the pillow and her hands, but not for long—“Stop—I’m warning you—!”
Roy reaches for the small of her back and the back of her neck all at once, and the effect is instantaneous. Riza flinches and shrieks and she's distracted enough to drop the pillow. He takes the chance to pull her down towards him. His fingers drum against her body, eliciting her laughter, and then he rains kiss after kiss on her neck, then her ear, then her cheek. Riza giggles at each turn, then slaps the floor repeatedly to signify surrender, to get him to stop. Soon, she gives in; she kisses him right back.
Roy doesn't quite remember how he held Riza the night before, or how he kissed her, but he'd die before he forgets the way she is now. Riza is dressed down to her underwear and one of his old shirts, hair undone and untamed. Her lips are sweet and passionate against his, beautiful with the smile she wears, and he loves her like he has loved nothing in this whole world.
At long last, they break away from that blissful silence. First, they exchange a glance, then they smile tentatively, like they've just realized for the first time what they feel for each other. Roy reaches up to Riza and tucks her hair behind her ear. She strokes his unbruised cheek gently with her thumb.
"Good morning, beautiful," he says softly.
"Good morning.”
Riza kisses him once more, then slowly rolls off and lowers herself onto the floor next to him. He pulls her close so she can lay her head on his chest. As she does, she reaches across him and grasps his free hand tightly. Roy feels her heartbeat through their clothes, and he knows that Riza’s mind is wandering; she isn’t quite there with him now. He gives her shoulder a comforting squeeze.
After a while, she says, "Was that you trying to get back at me for punching you?"
“I can’t even court-martial you for that when you and I are clearly guilty of a graver offense.”
Riza lets out a short, dry laugh. "So what was that about, then?”
"I couldn't be sure at first that you were actually lying next to me, and that I wasn’t dreaming. It seemed too good to be true." A pause. His voice drops to nearly a whisper. “I want to keep waking up like this—next to you, hearing you laugh. Even if it's... complicated, even if there's still so much ahead of us, I've decided that I don’t want us to worry about how we can get through this. I don't need to worry as long as I have you."
Roy can tell that she spends the following moment deep in thought. There is hesitation in her breath, a slight tension in her shoulders. Then, Riza slides her fingers between Roy’s, pressing her entire body into his by the slightest inch. He knows the way she thinks; this is Riza standing still in the eye of the storm, struggling to navigate their quiet in search of serenity. But to Roy, there is nothing to be afraid of, because if there’s anything he knows from the way she has stood by his side all this time and from the perfect way she fits into him now, it’s that Riza isn’t going anywhere.
She asks much later, "Should I make us breakfast?"
He turns and buries his face in her hair, already half-asleep again when he responds.
"Stay. It's Sunday. We could just stay here a little longer."