Chapter Text
When she first got the job at the coffee shop in the hospital, Fareeha had joked that she was doing it to marry a handsome doctor. Her mum had just rolled her eyes, but she seemed happy that Fareeha was moving on. Returning to civilian life wasn't easy, as she knew from experience, and Fareeha was particularly dissatisfied about being removed from combat. The coffee shop, however, was just the right level of hectic madness to make her feel useful. And the doctors, well – some of them might just be tempting. One in particular was more distracting than she cared to admit. Her blonde hair was just a little too short to all stay in her ponytail, especially at the end of a long shift, and the strands that fell out framed a face that Fareeha may have once described as angelic. She knew her name was Angela, although she still struggled to take her order, and that she was a consultant in A&E who drank more coffee than was healthy in her quest to work harder than anyone else in the hospital. Other than that, however, she was barely capable of saying a word to her beyond the barista script that was now burned into her brain permanently. Even so, she still hoped their shifts would align more often than not, and if her heart sped up a little every time she caught a glimpse of blonde hair, that was no one else's business.
On this particular day, her shift had started early, and the few people in the hospital concourse looked drained, as if more of them hadn't slept last night than had. She saw a blonde ponytail approaching and her heart leapt in her chest, and she was very glad that she didn't currently have a customer in front of her.
“A regular black Americano, please,” said Angela, smiling warmly at the barista despite the heavy dark circles under her eyes that spoke of a sleepless night.
“Uh, yes, um, of course,” stuttered Fareeha, fumbling with the till as her co-worker rolled her eyes. “Is that all?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Fareeha managed to give her the correct change, almost dropping it in the process, and then turned quickly to join her teenage co-worker at the machine, although that was hardly necessary.
“Honestly, Fareeha,” she said, just loud enough that Fareeha worried Angela could hear her. “You utterly useless lesbian.”
“Hana,” hissed Fareeha, glancing over her shoulder at the doctor, “I-”
“I swear to god if you don't ask her out soon-”
“I'm not going to ask her out!” said Fareeha, keeping her voice low, “I just- I, uh- Oh, I don't know.”
“Useless lesbian,” said Hana, rolling her eyes as she clipped the lid onto the coffee.
She paused, a cunning look coming into her eyes, then grabbed the Sharpie lying on the counter and quickly scribbled something on the cup. Before Fareeha could read it, Hana had handed the cup over to the doctor with a friendly smile.
“Oh god, what did you do?” asked Fareeha, watching Angela walk away with a horrified expression.
“Honestly,” said Hana, giving her a dirty look. “You should be thanking me.”
Fareeha spent most of the rest of her shift trying to get Hana to tell her what she wrote, but the teenager was impossible to reason with. It was only after she'd returned home and pulled out her phone to check her notifications that she saw the text from an unknown number, and realised, half in hope and half in dread, what it was.
[received 09:32] Hi! You're Fareeha, right? The barista?
She swallowed, then quickly typed out a reply before she could lose her nerve.
[sent 11:41] I am. It seems you have me at a disadvantage here.
Although she was almost certain she knew who was texting her, it never hurt to be sure. She waited nervously for the response, hoping against hope it would be quick, and then was startled by the notification noise anyway.
[received 11:52] Oh! Right. I'm Angela. From the hospital.
Who else? Fareeha took a deep breath, steadying her nerves before she replied.
[sent 11:54] Right.
She stared at her phone blankly, searching for some way to carry on the conversation, then jumped as it chimed again.
[received 11:54] Do you give your number out to all of your customers, or am I special?
Fareeha laughed, not sure whether to curse or thank her gregarious co-worker. That would probably be decided by how well the rest of this conversation went.
[sent 11:57] You're special.
She hit send before realising how that might be taken, then quickly tried to backtrack.
[sent 11:58] I mean, it wasn't me! My co-worker wrote my number on your cup, I had nothing to do with it.
She closed her eyes, wondering how she could salvage a conversation that was already heading off the rails after only a few texts.
[received 12:00] And here I was, hoping the cute barista was into me ;)
Fareeha stared at the winky face for a long moment, wondering whether it was an accident or a genuine flirtation. Eventually, she decided it was worth the excruciating embarrassment of attempting to flirt back.
[sent 12:05] The cute barista is too awkward to flirt with pretty doctors.
[received 12:05] You're lucky your friend is prepared to do it for you, then.
Fareeha could feel her ears heating up as she blushed bright red, burying her face in her hands and taking a moment to compose herself before she could reply.
[sent 12:09] I guess so. Doesn't mean I won't kick her ass for it anyway.
The flirtatious text banter continued until Angela admitted she had to sleep before her next shift, and Fareeha kept grinning at her phone for a while after that, staring at the final Goodnight text until her adult brain kicked in and reminded her she had other things to do besides sitting around and being, in Hana's words, a useless lesbian.
Her next shift was an afternoon, and she spent most of it more than a little distracted, her attention focused even more than usual on her search for a blonde ponytail. Even so, Angela somehow managed to slip into the line without her noticing until they were face to face, and Fareeha was once more stumbling over her words.
“It's nice to see you again,” said Angela, smiling flirtatiously and leaning over the counter.
“Yes- um- ah, what would you like to drink?” stammered Fareeha, feeling her ears heat up and hoping her skin was dark enough to hide the worst of her blushing.
“Hmm,” said Angela, peering thoughtfully over her head at the menu and chewing somewhat distractingly on her lower lip, “What would you recommend?”
“I, um, uh,” Fareeha stuttered, her entire knowledge of beverages fleeing her traitorous brain, replaced only by thoughts of how soft the doctor's blonde hair looked and how it shone under the light.
Angela smiled warmly, waiting for a response, and Fareeha was glad Hana wasn't there to mutter useless lesbian at her again.
“I usually have tea,” she said lamely. “Earl Grey.”
“I'm not usually a tea person,” Angela said lightly. “But I think I could acquire a taste for it.”
She winked, and Fareeha could feel her whole face turning red. She briefly wished that the ground would swallow her whole before putting the doctor's order through her till and then turning to the next customer, who seemed entirely oblivious to the complete and utter murder he had just witnessed.
She had another text waiting for her after this shift.
[received 15:37] Still cute and awkward, I see.
She laughed, relieved her complete inability to carry a conversation seemed to have come off as endearing.
[sent 17:52] Sadly, yes. You'll have to teach me to flirt like you do.
[received 17:57] Oh, I could never do that. Who knows who you'd go off and flirt with then?
Fareeha laughed. She hesitated before replying, but decided to be daring.
[sent 18:02] You, I hope.
She stared at her phone, waiting for a reply.
[received 18:04] You're getting better already!
[received 18:05] Are you ready to try it in person, or will you still be tongue-tied if I decide to take you out?
Fareeha blushed, then dragged up the courage to send another daring reply.
[sent 18:09] Only one way to find out.
The details were settled over a flurry of texts, the two of them comparing schedules to find a window for dinner – which ended up being lunch – and Angela continuing to gently tease Fareeha about her awkward flirting. After the date was settled, Fareeha stared blankly at her phone for a moment, not quite able to process the fact that she now had a date with the pretty doctor she had a massive crush on. Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone ringing, and she smiled when she saw an unflattering selfie of her and her mum flash up on the screen.
“Mum,” she said, answering the phone, “Remember when I said I was planning on marrying a handsome doctor? Well...”
By the time their date rolled around, Fareeha was almost farcically anxious. It was just a casual lunch date, nowhere fancy, but even so, she spent about four hours trying to decide on an outfit, which was especially impressive given the still military sparseness of her wardrobe. She eventually settled on something plain – jeans and a button-down shirt – and then spent several minutes finger-combing her hair and muttering reassurances to herself before setting out.
Angela was already seated when she arrived at the restaurant, which settled one of her anxieties (how to greet her: was a hug too forward? Would a handshake just be weird?) immediately as she slid into the seat opposite.
“You look... Wow,” she said, taking a moment too long to stare at her before accepting the menu from the waiter, flushing as she did so.
Angela did look stunning: her hair was down, and the ends just brushed her shoulders, and her blue eyes (had they always been so blue?) were outlined in neat black eyeliner. She was wearing a pretty short-sleeved blouse, blue with a floral pattern, and Fareeha suddenly appreciated just how unflattering her usual hospital clothing was.
“I mean,” she continued, after the waiter had left. “Your patients are lucky you don't dress like that all the time. I have a feeling you'd cause more accidents.”
Angela laughed softly, one hand going to cover her mouth.
“You have gotten better at flirting,” she said, leaning forwards and propping her chin on one hand.
Fareeha blushed again, looking down at the menu without really seeing it in an attempt to compose herself.
“So,” Angela continued. “What did you do before you were a charming hospital barista? I think I would have noticed if you were always there.”
Fareeha's chances of getting through the meal without looking like a tomato looked like they were becoming increasingly slim.
Over pasta, she told Angela about her time in the army, and Angela feigned shock that a former soldier could be so bashful and tongue-tied. When Fareeha tried to tell her that soldiers weren't nearly as pretty as certain doctors, Angela just raised an eyebrow, and even that small gesture was enough to make Fareeha blush. She could have probably sat there for hours, talking to Angela and slowly cooking her face with the force of her own blushes, but they both had to work that evening and in any case, the restaurant would have probably evicted them before long.
“This was lovely,” she said, after the bill was paid. “I had a great time.”
“I did, too,” said Angela, smiling softly.
They hesitated for a moment, then both laughed.
“I guess we have to go,” said Fareeha, sure her disappointment was clear on her face.
“We'll do this again soon, yes?” said Angela.
“Of course.”
They both stood up, facing each other awkwardly for a moment, then Angela leaned in, standing on her toes to press a soft kiss to Fareeha's cheek.
“Goodbye,” she said.
It was a moment before Fareeha could talk, or move, and by that time Angela had left. Mutely, she pressed one hand to her cheek and smiled.