Author's Note: Takes place just prior to the major events of the Promised Day.


They didn't come here for this, but Riza's pressed up against the safehouse wall anyway, legs tight around his waist.

Roy's hands follow the curve of her thighs and she can't stop kissing him. He presses closer, mumbling nonsense and her hand cards through his hair.

Roy makes a sound that's too loud for Fuery and Breda, on watch outside, to ignore, but muffles it in her shoulder.

They should be more careful, like always—measured, deliberate, and holding themselves in—but it's hours until another war begins. They're as ready as they can manage.

It's too late for caution.