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It was nighttime. Clouds hung in the black sky, the moon a floating crescent. Soft, classical music played from the window, the kitchen lights illuminating the closed curtains. The couple relaxed for the evening, a radio and some gelato resting on the table, both exhausted from Angela’s nothing-but-a-sweatshirt challenge during the day.
“You know i’m going to have to get you back for this.” Fareeha had her arms crossed, pretending her spoon was a cigar as she held it in her mouth.
“I’ll be looking forward to it.” Angela winked as she dug into the gelato, easily having emptied half the tub on her own. Pharah looked out the window, biting her spoon in stubborn defeat.
“Can we at least change the music? I’m not a fan of violins.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Angela spun the dial, changing stations to one that played classic rock. The Beatles blared from the speakers. Fareeha grabbed the radio, looking through the stations.
“Everything you listen to is so old.” Amari went through station after station, eventually leaving it on a hockey game.
“Please” Mercy started just as foghorns filled the room, the home team having scored a goal. Angela waited before continuing, “It’s almost like you’re saying i’m old.”
“.........” Fareeha slowly turned the radio back to classical, not meeting Angela’s blood-thirsty gaze. “Classical’s really not so bad.” Dr. Ziegler smiled as she went to polish of the tub, only to clash into Pharah’s spoon. Their eyes met. The music picked up. The last bit of ice cream lay defenseless in the corner.
“Babe, you already had a ton. I think I get this.” Fareeha’s narrowed her eyes stubbornly, prepared to attack.
“Oh?~ Then I suppose you can have it. whEN I’M DEAD IN THE GROUND!” Angela’s eyes gleamed as she lunged, her offensive deflected in a swift movement as Fareeha pressed her weapon into a corner.
“Surrender now and I will be merciful.” The security guard smirked loftily, overbearing her opponent. Angela knew she was no match. Unless…
“Initialize operation low blow!” Angela leaned across the table, licking her lips seductively as she locked eyes with her offput wife. Fareeha gritted her teeth in resistance, trying not to watch as the grip on her spoon slackened. Angela chuckled, blowing against her ear, trying to be as sultry as possible. Fareeha caved, tilting her head to the side as the doctor kissed her neck.
Pharah blinked, and it was over. Mercy sat back in her chair in victory, scooping the last bit of gelato into her mouth. Fareeha mumbled in frustration as she wiped her neck, standing up.
“I’m...going to bed. You’re a dirty cheater.”
“I might be dirty but I would never cheat. On you~” Angela giggled, in high spirits as she tossed the carton into the trash about five feet away. “Did you see that?”
Fareeha sighed, walking upstairs and swearing her revenge. Mercy listened to the radio, tapping on the table as boredom took place of Fareeha’s absence.
Fareeha woke in the middle of the night. Rubbing her eyes, the sound of folk music playing loudly from downstairs. “Wha the fuck…” Pharah grumbled as she threw on a bathrobe, sleepily walking downstairs to punch someone in the face. She made it halfway down the stairs before setting eyes on art in motion.
Angela swung about the kitchen wildly, singing obnoxiously along to the radio, a glass of wine in her hand. “Ja Gruezi wohl, Frau Stirnimaa~” Ziegler shouted the lyrics drunkenly, yet still with a tint of refined elegance. “Saged Si wie labed Si wie gaht’s dam ihrem Maa?~”
Fareeha sighed, sitting on the stairs with a small smile on her lips, not as bothered as before. “JA GRUEZI WOHL FRAU STIRNIMAA~” Angela took a swig of wine, polishing the glass clean before grabbing a lamp, or rather, an impromptu dance partner.
“SAGED SI WIE LABED SI WIE GAHT DAM IHREM MAaa?” Mercy’s singing dropped off as she noticed her lovely wife watching her with an amused face. The lamp sagged in her arms, her face turning red in surprise. The two looked at each other, frozen, the swiss music blaring.
“S-sweetie..” Angela sniffled, tearing up as she clung to the lamp. “I…” Mercy whimpered as she dissolved into sobs, Fareeha’s amused smile gone as she went to wrap her arms around her spouse.
“Hey now, why’a crying?” Pharah patted her head awkwardly, trying to understand the situation as Angela cried into her chest.
“Because….” The drunk doctor trembled, doing her best to stop sobbing, “You were right...I am old...I listen to music from the 60’s for crying out loud!” She flung a gesture at the radio, the cheery folk song playing faithfully. “I’m just an old hag…”
Fareeha mouthed an ‘oh’ in regret, looking down at her wife. Tilting her chin up, Pharah kissed her deeply, holding her cheeks as she pressed her mouth against Angela’s. Ziegler relaxed in her hands, her drunken face softening with a slight blush as Fareeha broke the kiss, looking at her apologetically.
“I’m sorry. You’re not old at all. I think you’re quite the catch. And for what it’s worth, I listened to the Monkees when I was a kid. Sometimes still. My bad.” Pharah watched Angela wipe her eyes, hoping she hadn’t done too much damage.
“Dance with me.” Angela whispered quietly, grabbing the sleeve of Fareeha’s bathrobe.
“I’m sorry?” Fareeha raised a brow before being yanked into the center of the dining room, Angela laughing as a new, louder song started up. German lyrics filled the house as Fareeha did her best to keep up, letting her wife swing her about the kitchen and in turn doing the same.
The morning sun peeked over the horizon as the couple laughed happily, turning about in each other’s arms with no end in sight.