DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. Arakawa-sensei does. AND, I do not own Our Song. Taylor Swift Does.

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Roy, instead of sitting in his usual backseat, sat in the shot gun seat of the old black car. His hair was in it's usual messy state.

Riza gripped the steering wheel as she drove down the road, her blonde hair undone from it's normal clipped up position. It felt odd to the both of them to be sitting so close. Roy was normally farther back than this while she drove.

The radio went on about the weather, and he rolled his eyes. He didn't want to hear about the rain. Swiftly he stuck out his hand and turned off the radio.

Not only was the weather irritating, it was worse that it kept going on and on about unrequited love in the songs it played on each station. Why didn't anything fit him and Riza, without being so.. fitting?

"Colonel, is something wrong?" Riza asked as she looked over to him, noticing easily his distress.

"Nothing, nothing," he brushed it aside, pausing before he spoke again while facing her. "I was just thinking about how we don't have a song."

"A song?" she looked back at the road, silence coming over them for a few moments. Then she spoke again. "What do two dogs of the military need a song for?"

"I don't know, I just seemed like a good idea," he shrugged his shoulders. She was always the sensible one. He figured she'd stop there, but he was mistaken.

"If you really want to know," she began, "We already have a song."

"Since when?"

"Since we were young," she answered.

"What is it? I have no memory of this," she had all of his attention now.

"Our song is the snapping of fingers. It's the rustling of piles of paper," she started. He made a small grunt towards her comment on his lack of paperwork done. "When we track the enemy and you walk in front of me real slow, because we're close behind and the others don't know."

Roy laughed. This brought a small smile to her cheeks.

"Our song is the way you smirk. The first time we met, I didn't treat you like I should have."

When Roy got home that night, he went to his bed slowly. Their song played over and over in his head.

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Roy stepped up the stairs to his office the next day. Riza was calmly situated at her desk. He'd had a horrible night, which meant barely any sleep. He wasn't a bit surprised to see a stack of paperwork on his desk fresh from this morning.

"Good morning, Colonel," she spoke up, not looking away from her own papers.

"Good morning, Lietuenant," he answered, sitting groggily in his chair. "What's the meaning of all this paperwork? After such a hard night.."

"It's only the daily things, Sir," she said, her pencil scratching against paper. He watched her for a few moments before he reluctantly pulled his first sheet of paper. He was about skim through it like any other, but he almost didn't notice the actual words.

Our song is the snapping of fingers.

It's the rustling of piles of paper.

When we track the enemy and you walk in front of me real slow,

Because we're close behind and the others don't know.

Our song is the way you smirk.

The first time we met, I didn't treat you like I should have.

Roy stared at the paper, set it down, stared at Riza, and then a wide smile spread across his face as he noticed her own cheeks forming into a smile.

The rest of the day, the same song played over and over again through his head. This time, it also went through her head.

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On the way home, Roy turned up the radio and switched through songs to see if there was anything better than their song.

There wasn't.