Of all the stupid things to argue about, Roy couldn't believe that Riza had chosen socks

Note: Let's for a second pretend that they have miraculous things called 'washing machines' and 'dryers' in Amestris, because this story won't work without them.

Seeing Red --

Of all the stupid things to argue about, Roy couldn't believe that Riza had chosen socks.

In his youth he could remember a time when Riza's father had explained to him the difficulties of women. The man hadn't just been an alchemist, he had been a husband and father, and therefore a more knowledgeable source on the opposite sex. He had explained to a much younger Roy that there were times when you had to pick your fights, and times when you needed to be the one that made the first apology. He had also warned him about never underestimating an angry woman hell-bent on revenge with any sharp, blunt, or projectile-firing objects within or outside of reason.

As he stood in the kitchen, watching Riza chop carrots to go in her dinner for one, he wondered whether or not he should be worried about the knife in her hand. Also, whether or not she was carrying a concealed weapon around in her own apartment. It was hard to tell with the way her pajama top fell below her waist. He could imagine her keeping an arsenal under that shirt if she needed to. The whole situation didn't seem to bode well for his person.

"Riza?"

He saw her tense at the sound of her name. Her knuckles turned white around the wooden handle of the knife, and she began to chop more vigorously against the board.

"Riza I'm-"

"Don't," she said, turning around to point the knife in his direction.

He held his hands up in surrender, submitting to her wicked glare with a wide-eyed look of mock fear that only seemed to infuriate her all that much more. She turned back to her vegetables, pulling over a cucumber that she began to slice with deadly precision. He could only imagine himself in the vegetable's position. The thought made him flinch.

The living area was somewhat tidy, with only his belongings to mar the cleanliness of the room. He noticed his laundry basket in the corner, piled high with shirts and various undergarments that gave him a guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach. Imagine, guilty over clean laundry! He mentally scoffed at the idea that the great Flame Alchemist could be so easily intimidated by such domestic things as laundry. He glanced over at Riza as she began to toss the salad that she had been making. It was her fault that he felt so awful.

Grabbing a pair of pants and a shirt from the basket, he made his way to the bathroom, trying not to look in Riza's direction on his way. He could feel her burning holes in his back with her eyes as he walked. He would get dressed and leave, and that would be it.

"Don't come back empty-handed," she shouted after him as he shut the door behind himself. Standing in the hallway he could hear her angry murmurings from inside.

He had a mission of the utmost importance.

Meanwhile, Riza sat at the table feeling absolutely awful for the way she had treated Roy all morning.

The tiny conscience that spoke in the back of her mind had been screaming since the initial argument ("I can't believe you were so careless!"), and the guilt was beginning to seriously tug at her heart. He had tried to apologize in the kitchen, but she had been so absorbed in being angry that she didn't want to listen. She wanted salad. And new socks.

The argument came back to her as clearly as if were happening all over again.

In Roy's brilliance, he had decided to help out around the apartment with some of the cleaning and the laundry that she had begun the night before. In her distraction, she hadn't finished the chores before he had become restless and pulled her away for other "duties". His thoughtfulness at doing the laundry the next morning had been to make up for the previous night. But he hadn't realized that the pile of clothing on the floor hadn't been sorted for colors among the whites. He had dumped everything in the machine and left it to wash while he picked up the living area.

When she had woken hours later her "white" clothing was laying in a basket at the foot of the bed. It had taken her all of two seconds to realize that things were a bit off. The first thing she came in contact with was her favorite white shirt, now a lovely shade of pink. Instantly she saw red, the same color as the new shirt she had bought, now laying in the middle of her socks and underwear. They were also shades of pink.

The shower curtain had been nearly ripped off of its rail as she held it in her hand. Roy turned sharply, somewhat startled by her intrusion. He flung water and soap in her direction, and the rest dripped into his eyes. As he reached for his towel, Riza began to shout about proper laundry technique and how he was completely useless around the house.

"I can't believe that you just ruined my entire stock of socks," she breathed. "I can't believe that you were so careless! What the hell am I supposed to wear to the office tomorrow?"

"Well your pants and shoes usually cover your feet," he had offered, turning his face up to the spray as he rubbed at his eyes.

"Damnit, Roy!" she shouted. "You know that standard issue military uniform requires white socks!"

"Riza, it'll be all right," he said calmly. "They're just socks!"

"Just socks? Just socks? No, Roy. They are a symbol of your inability to complete simple household tasks."

He had turned back to her then, looking somewhat hurt and offended. It was one thing to say that he was useless, but a completely different thing to call him useless when he had at least tried to help. He wasn't perfect. He was only a very confused man that was still trying to figure out the workings of his somewhat new relationship.

"Riza," he sighed.

"Here's your towel," she said, tossing it into the water.

The door creaked open slowly as Roy poked his head inside. He looked around for Riza before walking inside. With him he brought a large brown paper sack that was bulging at the sides with the quantity of his purchase. A pleased smirk crossed his face as he sat the bag on the counter, pulling out a foldable wooden and cloth hamper. It was as high as his waist and held a moderate amount of clothing. Also from the bag he pulled out several armfuls of white socks, military issue that he had taken from the supply at headquarters after he had gone to the store.

They filled the hamper nicely, giving it some weight. He carried it into Riza's bedroom, pausing briefly at the door when he saw that she was laying facedown on the bed, obviously awake.

"I'm sorry about your socks," he apologized, setting the hamper next to her closet door.

"What is that?"

"I went to headquarters and took some socks to replace the ones I ruined," he explained, holding up several of the pairs that he had taken. "I thought about buying flowers, but this seemed more appropriate."

He frowned when she turned her face into her pillow.

"Riza?" He sat on the bed next to her, touching her back cautiously, hoping that he wouldn't incur her wrath again. His hand idly rubbed a small circle against her back, complete with the lines of his alchemy circle. It was a habit of his that he wasn't consciously aware of, but made her smile at the feel. She relaxed at his touch, thankful that he wasn't upset with her like she had been with him.

"I was awful," she whispered, turning her head back to face him. "I'm so sorry I yelled at you."

"It's okay," he grinned. "You're just breaking my bad habits."

"I like your bad habits."

They laughed together, their anger and frustration forgotten and forgiven in the moment. Roy leaned down and kissed Riza's cheek softly, leaning his forehead against her temple.

"How about some make up sex?"

"Roy!"

Riza sat up quickly and hit him with her pillow, sending him flying to the floor. He gave her a cheeky grin as he rubbed the back of his head from where he had bumped it.

"Well that's better than soap in my eyes," he said. "But you didn't answer my question."

"Sure," she agreed. "We can have the sex on one condition."

Roy stood and began to quickly undress, throwing his shoes and various bits of clothing around the room. Riza watched with amusement from her spot on the bed.

"What's the condition?" Roy asked as he began to pull his shirt over his head.

"You get to wear some pink," she smiled, holding up a pair of the ruined socks.

"Deal."

Note: Not really sure how this story came to be. The first line hit me during lunch, and I just went with it, not sure what the fight was about until I went to write it. I've never written Riza before, so hopefully they were both in character. Hope you enjoyed.

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