Work Text:
Maya looked up at the sound of the front door opening.
Kashif and Asif entered, toeing their shoes off in the foyer.
“Back so soon? Did you find the moon?” asked Maya, as she leaned up to accept a kiss from Kashif from her perch on the sofa, legs tucked underneath her.
Kashif pulled away, smiling.
“This one,” he said, putting his hand on Asif’s shoulder, “found it on SkyView Lite. But unfortunately it was buried behind a car dealership.”
“A sad commentary on our times,” Maya replied. “Sorry, Asif.”
“It was just above the horizon, Maya bhabi. I told bhaiyya I could climb the dumpster to the roof!” Asif said.
“Yeah, two brown guys breaking into a car lot at dusk? Are you mad?” Kashif said, swatting his younger brother upside the head.
“Ow! No Ruh-Afza for you,” Asif said.
“Even better, I don’t even like Ruh-Afza,” Kashif shot back.
Asif tcch-ed his elder brother and waved him off as he headed to the kitchen, following his nose to the smell of pakoras frying.
Kashif watched his little brother depart with a fond look, and then, taking advantage of the modicum of privacy they had, promptly dropped onto the sofa and Maya’s legs.
“Uh, hello, those are my feet, I need those for walking and smashing the patriarchy, sir,” Maya exclaimed, but her eyes were twinkling as she settled her feet into the carpet of their Hounslow home, allowing Kashif to stretch long and rest his head in her lap.
Kashif leaned his face against Maya’s palm. “So remember how you said you’re rarely hungry for two kinds of grease at the same time?” Kashif asked. Almost to punctuate his point, a fresh sizzle emerged from the kitchen, presumably a fresh dollop of pakora batter hitting the oil. “Get ready for a lot of that.”
“Yeah, I gathered as much from the extreme sporting event which is grocery shopping pre-Ramadan,” Maya replied, carding her fingers through his dark hair. “Isn’t Ramadan supposed to be about worship and getting closer to God? I thought that guy was going to murder you when you reached for the last bag of chickpea flour before him.”
Kashif let his breath out in a whoosh. “Yeah, that was intense. Could have come to blows.”
He grinned up at Maya. “Thank God I know people in politics.”
Maya tugged on his hair. Kashif didn’t hate it. “I refuse to abuse my power like that,” she said.
“A pity.”
They sat like that for a moment. Kashif drank her in, lulled by her warmth and heavy-lidded from her fingers making circles against his scalp.
Sometimes he still couldn’t believe this moment, and all the moments of his life hence, included Maya.
Kashif took her other hand where it rested against his chest and cradled it between his own. “Our first Ramadan together,” he said softly. He looked up at her, feeling suddenly shy. “I’m happy you’re here, Maya.”
Maya smiled and squeezed his hand. “I am too.” Her eyes shone. “Ramadan Mubarak, Kashif.”
Kash kissed her knuckles. “Ramadan Mubarak, meri jaan.”