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Fox checks his watch discreetly and barely manages to suppress a sigh. He is off duty when the president is off duty, which wouldn’t be a problem if Oragana wasn’t so fucking dedicated. Fox likes the man—he’s way better than Palpatine could have ever hoped to be—but he seems to love neglecting his wife. Fox can’t say the same.
He checks his watch again.
“Do you have somewhere to be, Captain?” Organa asks from behind his mahogany desk. He didn’t even bother looking up, which means Fox wasn’t nearly as discreet as he thought he was being. He files that for future attention.
“No, sir.”
Organa sets down his tablet and offers Fox a warm smile. “I find that honesty is the best policy.”
“Sir, it’s Friday night. That’s all.”
“Indeed it is. Do you have plans?”
Fox makes an effort not to look at his watch again. It’s still midnight, it’s not like he can go back in time and bring Riyo a late night treat. At this point he may as well wait around and surprise her with breakfast. “Had, sir.”
Organa, for what seems like the first time tonight, checks the clock on his desk. “Oh my. I’ve certainly burned enough midnight oil. Will you also have an exasperated wife waiting for you?”
The question is polite. He knows Fox is married. Everyone knows Fox is married. He proudly wears his ring and the only time he could be mistaken for chatty is when someone asks about Riyo. “Yes, sir.”
“Well, let’s not keep our women waiting, yeah? I’m going to turn in for the night. No need to linger while I brush my teeth.”
“Yes, sir.” Fox straightens his posture when the president stands and salutes him as he moves towards the exit that Fox is guarding.
Fox doesn’t run to his car, he has more dignity than that, but he does hustle. Thankfully few people are around to chat, just a handful of overworked interns and the rest of security. When he makes it to his BMW, he speeds out of the parking garage and to the 24 hour taco place that he and Riyo love to frequent. It’s close to the capitol building so it’s usually where they meet for lunch. Or late night rendezvouses because neither of them have a healthy work-life balance.
He orders their usual and rushes home. He fights for a parking spot, and angrily jabs at the elevator button. It always takes forever, but apparently some ninny is taking their sweet time going up. He takes the stairs instead.
Five flights isn’t much, but it’s enough to remind him that he has a PT test coming up. He arrives on their floor just as the elevator doors open. He nearly collides with Riyo.
“I’m sorry,” she mutters, barely managing to draw her gaze up to his. “Fox!” She looks exhausted, but at 1 am, he can’t imagine he looks much better. Her strawberry blonde hair has mostly fallen from its elaborate updo and her burgundy blazer is undone, revealing an untucked rose blouse underneath.
“You’re up late,” he says.
“Yeah, we were putting together the final draft of that energy bill.” They start shuffling to their apartment. “You’re getting home late, as well.”
“Yeah. President Organa was reviewing some documents. After the assassination attempt we have a twenty-four hour operation running. I drew the short straw.”
“Babysitting the president in his office doesn’t sound like the short straw to me. It keeps you out of trouble.”
“Yeah,” he digs out his key and unlocks the door. “But I like trouble.”
She giggles and sets the plastic bag on the counter. He does the same and they both pause for a moment as they struggle to realize why both bags are identical. Her giggles turn into a fit of laughter, and when she snorts, he falls into a pit of wheezing chuckles as well.
“Oh my God,” she says, and wipes her eyes. “I fear marriage may have fused our brains.”
“No, you’re still too nice,” he says and kisses the top of her head while opening her boxes of tacos.
“I’m not so certain. I was driving the other day and told someone to get fucked.”
He snorts. “I’m sure they deserved it.”
“They did,” she declares righteously. “I’m going to change real quick. Want to watch a movie?”
“I can’t promise I won’t fall asleep,” he says, turning towards the fridge to pour her a glass of wine and grab himself a bottle of beer. “But sure.”
He carries their food out to the coffee table in the living room and joins her in the bedroom. She has already changed into her light blue pajamas and is combing her hair out in the mirror. She catches his gaze in her reflection and offers him a smile. He returns it easily as he undoes his tie and hangs it up.
He starts on his buttons and Riyo curses mildly. “What is it?” he asks, hands stilling. He glances around the room, tries to find what has upset her.
She turns to face him. “I don’t have a wad of ones on me.”
He rolls his eyes. “For you, I’ll put on a show for free.” He exaggerates undoing the last few buttons and she bites her bottom lip.
He knows they’re both too tired to do anything other than flirt, but the way her eyes linger on him as he shucks off his dress shirt and pulls off his undershirt makes him feel all warm and youthful. If he were a teenager, all bets would be off and they would be in bed right now.
Except he’s pushing forty and he’s ready to put his feet up and eat. Food, that is.
He rejoins Riyo in the living room, where she is biting into a taco and piloting the TV with a remote whose batteries have seen better days. He files that for future attention, alongside his note to be more discreet by the president, and falls beside her on the couch.
She presses play on When Harry Met Sally and sits back with her styrofoam box balanced on her folded knees. “I’ve seen this a hundred times. I won’t feel guilty if we fall asleep.”
He hums around the succulent carnitas taco. The opening credits roll and he swallows. “Sorry this isn’t much of a date night.”
She looks over at him and beams. “It’s more than I could ever ask for.”