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erimeows · 3 days ago

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Caretaker

Roy feels unsure as he holds his fist up to the wooden door of Riza’s apartment, his gloved hand hovering over the center. In his other hand, a bag from Panda House- her favorite takeout spot- dangles from his fingers. The pleasant aroma of egg drop soup and grilled chicken wafts faintly from the bag, but it’s no comfort against the growing unease curling in his stomach.

Roy knows that, for a long time, their relationship has been far from strictly professional. Riza is his closest confidant and his best friend. So, when he was told earlier that morning that she had called in sick- a rarity in the many years they’ve spent working together- he knew he couldn’t just ignore it.

Throughout the lonely work day, he convinced himself it would only be right to drop by her apartment after his shift at eastern headquarters ended to check in on her and make sure she’s still able to eat well. Now that he’s here, food in hand, dressed in a t-shirt and joggers, he’s unsure of whether or not this is what he should be doing with his evening.

He hesitates, glancing over his shoulder at the quiet hallway to make sure that no one is watching him. It’s getting late, and the thought of someone seeing him here tugs at the corner of his mind. Fraternization laws loom over him and his feelings for his subordinate like an ever-present shadow, but the worry fades as quickly as it arrives. He’s not here for anything improper. He’s here because she matters to him; because there’s no one left to look after her.

Still, he hesitates, because while he knows he could handle anyone else’s reaction to this, he’s not so sure about his ability to handle Riza’s. Riza is fiercely guarded, even with him. He’s seen her face battlefields without so much as a flinch, always calm, always composed. Vulnerability isn’t something she shows easily- not even to him- not in a very long time. Will she be mad at him for dropping by like this unannounced when he knows she’s going to be at her worst? She had to have been doing awful this morning to call in.

After standing in front of her door for an embarrassingly long few minutes, Roy figures that, even if she is upset at him for showing up while she’s sick, the comfort of knowing she’s okay will be worth whatever she can throw at him. So, Roy knocks on the door. Black Hayate immediately starts yapping- behind the door, Roy hears the sound of his tiny footsteps followed by the sound of his paws scratching at the door, but Riza still doesn’t answer.

The seconds stretch painfully long. He glances at his watch, watching the second hand tick once, twice, thrice. A full two minutes pass, and he begins to think she’s either asleep or too unwell to answer. Just as he steps back to leave, the door creaks open.

“Lieutenant,” He greets, his voice coming out a little softer than he intended for it to.

“Sir,” Riza addresses him formally even though they’re alone, a habit that Roy suspects will never die- and, quite frankly, she looks like shit.

Her once neat, golden blond hair is frizzy and oily, loosely tied into a messy ponytail to keep it away from her face. Her cheeks are flushed a hot pink while the rest of her face is sickly pale, and her forehead is covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She’s wearing an oversized button up and a pair of baggy pajama pants. Whether she’s embarrassed or surprised, Roy isn’t sure, but she hides most of her body behind the door upon realizing that it’s him, peeking her head out to analyze his expression with her tired eyes.

“Are you alright?” He asks as Black Hayate slips out the door to sit at his feet and sniff his legs.

“Did something happen?” She questions, her voice hoarse and dry as she changes the subject from her unfortunate condition. “Why are you here?”

“It’s unlike you to call in sick, lieutenant, that’s all,” Roy answers before she can worry too much. Though it would be just their luck for an emergency to happen on the one day she calls in, today was actually pretty normal, if not boring. He notes the slight tension in her brow, the way her lips press together as if suppressing an apology for being unwell. “I thought I should come check on you.”

“Right,” Riza clears her throat, wincing at the strain of the action. It’s evident that the action is painful. “Well, as much as I appreciate your concern, sir, I’m just fine. I’ll be back in tomorrow or the next day, so you don’t need to worry about finding coverage for me again-”

“You are not coming back to work tomorrow,” Roy interjects, able to see just how sick she is. “You have to rest at home to get better. Coming into the office like this will only make you sick for longer.”

“But sir, I’m alright,” Riza tries to argue, but while Roy would normally entertain it, he doesn’t this time.

“Clearly not,” He argues back, shaking his head and placing a hand on the outside doorknob. “I’m coming in.”

“What? This place is a mess-”

“I don’t care,” Roy walks past the door and into Riza’s small apartment, taking his boots off at the entryway and leaving them beside the row of shoes lined up beside Riza’s welcome mat. Black Hayate follows him closely. He shuts the door, locking it behind him, and tries his best to ignore the way Riza is rushing around to pick up the apartment; a stack of papers on the coffee table in the living room, a discarded pair of panties and a large t-shirt off of the floor. He can’t, however, ignore the sound of running water in the kitchen. He enters the room to see that the sink is full of soapy water and about to overflow. That must’ve been why she took so long to answer the door. “Were you… Doing dishes?”

“Yes,” Riza calls out, and then follows him into the kitchen.

“I can’t believe you’re cleaning when you’re this sick,” Roy chastises and reaches forward to turn off the faucet before it can overflow onto the counter and floor. “Have you even eaten anything?”

“No,” Riza shakes her head and takes the bag of food from Roy’s hands, setting it on the kitchen table. “I tried this morning, but I wasn’t able to keep anything down.”

“How about water?” Roy questions, to which Riza grimaces.

“Not much luck there either. In fact, trying to drink water only made it worse.”

“That bad, huh?”

“...I suppose so,” Riza shrugs, leaning back against the kitchen counter and crossing her arms over her chest. “I did go to the doctor to get checked out after I called in this morning. He gave me some medicine to take; anti-nausea and some pain meds. He said it’s just a stomach bug that’s been going around and that I should be fine within a couple days.”

“You should’ve called me personally to let me know…”

“It’s not as if I’m dying.”

And instead of saying ‘I still worry about you’ like he wants to, Roy says-

“Sit down and try to eat some of the food I brought. I’ll finish the dishes.”

“Sir, you really don’t have to do that, I’m perfectly capable of-”

“You. Are. Sick. Sit down- that’s an order, lieutenant.”

Riza smiles and rolls her eyes at him, but sits down at the kitchen table and unpacks the food.

“Hopefully this anti-nausea my doctor prescribed has kicked in. I’m starving,” Riza hums and opens the bowl of egg drop soup, picking at it with a plastic spoon. Roy takes off his gloves, pocketing them before grabbing a sponge and beginning to wash the dirty dishes. “How was work today?”

“Boring. The office felt so… Empty without you there,” Roy admits, thinking back to the workday. When Falman told him that Riza would be absent, his heart had dropped and shattered into tiny little pieces within his chest in a way that he didn’t know it could. The day was painfully boring without Riza to talk to. “I’d rather talk about you.”

“My day’s been rather boring as well, so unless you want to hear about the gruesome details of me being hunched over my toilet bowl…”

“Right,” Roy laughs. “What should we talk about instead, then?”

“We don’t have to talk,” Riza responds. “I enjoy your company as is.”

“Right…”

So, they stay in Riza’s kitchen, silent besides the sounds of the scrub being brushed against Riza’s dishes and gentle slurp of Riza drinking her soup. When Roy finishes washing the dishes, he dries them off and puts them away in Riza’s kitchen cabinets before sitting down at the table with her to eat his food.

Something about this is so… Domestic, from his shoes being left behind at her door, to him being able to wash her dishes, to them sitting alone at her kitchen table like this on a regular evening, eating together with Black Hayate napping between them on the floor.

They eat in comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional cough from Riza or the rustle of a napkin. The air feels warm and easy despite Riza’s condition. As Roy watches her pick at her soup, he feels a pang of something he can’t quite name. A longing, maybe. Or perhaps gratitude- for moments like this, fleeting but meaningful.

“You don’t have to stay here, you know,” Riza murmurs after a while. “You checked on me like you wanted. I’m sure you have better things to do with your evening, so whenever you want to go...”

Roy leans back in his chair, watching as Riza’s expression shifts with something he’s not used to seeing; uncertainty. This, he decides, is where he belongs tonight.

“I’m exactly where I need to be,” Roy replies, meeting her gaze. “You look like you could use a caretaker for the night, anyway.”

Riza raises an eyebrow at that.

“What, like you’re going to stay the night here?”

“Why not? No one saw me come in,” Roy shrugs. “I’ll clean the rest of the house, pick up more medicine if you need it, hold your hair for you while you puke… You know, the romantic stuff.”

“Well, if you insist… I guess I wouldn’t mind your company.”

“It’s settled, then.”

After cleaning up the kitchen and finishing their quiet meal, the evening wears on, and the fatigue etched into Riza’s face grows more pronounced. Roy glances at his watch. It’s late, and the unspoken question of what happens next hangs heavy in the air.

Riza stands from where they’re sitting on the living room couch and reaches into the small paper bag on the coffee table to pull out two pill bottles. She opens them both, fishing out a tablet from each and taking them with a sip of water. There’s a slight nervous energy in the air that Roy can’t quite shake.

“You should go get some rest,” He says, breaking the silence. “I’ll be here.”

Riza crosses her arms, leaning against the back of the chair.

“You don’t really plan on sleeping on the couch, do you?” She asks.

“Unless you’d rather me on the floor,” He teases.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not going to fit on that couch, and you know it.”

“I’ve slept in worse places,” Roy shrugs, waving off her concern. “I can handle one night on the couch.”

“I didn’t let you stay with the intention of you leaving with a back injury,” Her tone softens, but there’s a firmness in it that allows no argument. She looks toward her bedroom door and then back at him, hesitating before speaking. “You can sleep in the bed.”

He blinks.

“I’m not kicking you out of your own bed while you’re sick. That’s just evil.”

“I wasn’t suggesting you do,” She replies, holding his gaze. Her cheeks flush slightly- whether from fever or embarrassment, he’s not sure. “It’s big enough for two. And it’s not like this is the first time we’ve been close.”

Roy stares at her, caught somewhere between disbelief and something warmer. He opens his mouth to argue but thinks better of it. She’s right, and probably not in the mood to argue with him while she’s ill. Still, the idea of sharing her bed feels… Intimate in a way he isn’t sure he’s prepared for. They slept together in a tent a handful of times in Ishval, but that was… Different. There, they were wartorn and desperate for comfort and Roy’s only other option was rooming with Solf J. Kimblee. Here, they’re in Riza’s apartment and Roy could turn around and go home to his own bed if he really wanted to.

“Alright,” He agrees, scratching the back of his neck. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Riza answers simply, already heading toward the bedroom.

Roy follows her, glancing around her room as he steps inside. It’s a bit of a mess, which he expects after having seen the rest of her apartment today. There’s a few personal touches- books stacked on the nightstand and a small framed photo of her and Black Hayate on the wall make it feel distinctively hers. She grabs an extra pillow from her closet, fluffs it, and tosses it onto the bed.

“You take the left,” She says, climbing into the right side and pulling the blanket over herself. Black Hayate pads into the room, hops onto the bed, and curls up against the small of Riza’s back. “Goodnight, sir.”

Roy chuckles softly as he settles in beside her, keeping a careful distance.

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

The room falls quiet. The only sounds are the faint hum of traffic outside and Riza’s steady breathing. Despite his initial unease about this, Roy feels a strange sense of calm. The day’s worries slip away, replaced by the quiet comfort of being close to her.

Hours later, the calm shatters.

Roy wakes to the sound of retching; something loud and painful and so not Riza that it fills his chest with a pang of concern. He bolts upright, disoriented for a moment, before realizing the bed beside him is empty. The muffled sound of vomiting comes from the bathroom connected to the bedroom.

“Riza,” He calls before he can think better of it, slipping out of bed and moving quickly toward the noise. They’re past the point of formal titles 24/7, though he doubts she heard him regardless. “You okay?”

Roy reaches the bathroom and knocks on the door once, then twice. When Riza doesn’t answer, he goes ahead and opens it. He finds her hunched over the toilet, her hands gripping the edge of the bowl as she dry-heaves miserably. The sight tugs at his chest.

“Roy,” Riza groans. The toilet bowl is full of remnants of their dinner mixed with stomach acid and water. Beside it is a flurry of used tissues, covered in spit and vomit. “Go back to bed.”

Roy shakes his head, kneeling down beside her as she retches again. With one hand, he rubs her back, and with the other, he holds her hair away from her face.

“Hey,” He says softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She shakes her head, but she’s too weak to really protest. The effort she’s putting into just staying upright is heartbreaking.

When the worst of it passes, Riza slumps back against the bathroom wall, her eyes glassy and tired.

“I’m sorry,” She murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t apologize,” Roy says firmly, grabbing a washcloth from the bathroom cabinet and running it under cool water. He kneels in front of her, pressing the damp cloth to her forehead. “You can’t control this.”

She closes her eyes, leaning into the sensation.

“This is humiliating.”

“It’s not. You’d do the same for me,” He counters. “You’re sick, Riza. Let me help. You’re not going to get better all by yourself.”

Hesitantly, Riza agrees.

“...Okay.”

Roy stands, filling a glass of water and crouching beside her again.

“Try to drink a little.”

She grimaces but takes a small sip, grim determination written across her face. When it stays down, she sighs in relief.

“Thank you,” Riza’s lips quirk upward faintly, but exhaustion quickly overtakes her. Roy helps her to her feet, steadying her as they shuffle back to the bedroom. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Roy shakes his head as he tucks her back into bed, climbing in beside her.

“I know… But I wanted to.”

“Well… Thank you.”

“Any time,” He smiles. “Now, let’s go back to sleep. Unlike you, I still have to go to work in the morning.”

Surprisingly enough, Riza turns to face Roy, scooting closer to him. Roy moves a couple inches forward, and then a couple more. Before either of them have the time to think about the consequences, Roy wraps his arms around Riza to pull her even closer, allowing her to snuggle up against his chest.

“Goodnight,” She says.

“Goodnight, Riza.”

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