Work Text:
It was morning. The sun was bright. Everyone who ventured outside got snow blindness. Fareeha laid in bed, exhibiting a rare case of sleeping in, surrounded by blankets and one or two of Angela’s stuffed animals. Angela, meanwhile, was downstairs, accompanied with the morning newspaper and coffee, her hair in a messy bun to match her sweatshirt. The newspaper crumpled in Mercy’s hands, more focused on how to stop Fareeha from contacting hypothermia than how many cars were buried in snow. There had to be something snow related but safe she could do. Angela frowned, pondering before a light flicked on in her head. But of course. If only it was in storage somewhere… Ziegler stood up, finishing her coffee before heading into the garage.
Fareeha groaned, refusing to open her eyes. She yanked the blankets over her head, wishing she had two more. Thoughts of hibernating through the entirety of winter sounded very appealing. She didn’t have to fight the snow head on, it could be a war of attrition. Fareeha chuckled lightly at her strategic prowess as she held one of her wife’s plushies, a brown boar Angela affectionately referred to as ‘Luca’, close to her chest. She could stay in this heavenly bed forever. If someone else didn’t have plans already.
“Sweetheart! Wake up!” Angela jumped on the bed, shaking it the best she could as she pushed her sleeping beauty back and forth. Fareeha responded with a grumble, turning over and curling up. Angela pouted before grabbing the sheets, ripping them away with all her strength. Fareeha jolted, unprepared as her warm shelter was torn away from her, unceremoniously left lying on the bed in her underwear. Doctor Ziegler paused, eyes locked as Pharah’s face turned red. “Niiiiiiiiiiice-”
Amari chucked a pillow at her spouse’s face as hard as she could, covering herself. “WHAT THE FUCK, GET OUT”
Angela sat on by the kitchen table, holding her cheeks as she fantasized about what she saw, giggling to herself quietly. Fareeha walked down the steps, dressed in sweatpants and a dress shirt. “What did you want from me?” She asked, still pretty miffed about the rude awakening.
“Well..” Mercy grinned, shifting in her chair to reveal a snow-cone machine on the table behind her. “I figured we could use this instead of diving into a snow bank head first again.” Pharah frowned, rubbing her chin in confusion as she leaned over the colorful device.
“A..popcorn machine?”
“Seriously just let me explain before you try to figure it out because you’re not gonna be right, sweetie. Just watch.” Angela took a tray of ice cubes she had on the table, popping several out and placing them in the funnel, grabbing a paper cup and sliding it under the machine. “It’s not hard.” Mercy grabbed the crank, rotating it slowly as Fareeha watched the ice channel into snow, filling the cup. “Name a flavor.”
“.....fig?”
“All I have is root beer.” Angela grabbed an ancient-looking glass bottle, dousing the snow in brown syrup before passing it to her wife. “Try it.”
“Why did you ask me what…..nevermind.” Fareeha picked up the snow cone gingerly, prodding at it before biting into it. “....This is really fucking cold. But it’s..sweet.”
“Uhuh. That’s sugar, alright.” Mercy quipped as she hid the syrup’s nutrition label from her sight. “Anyway, I figured this way you can defeat the weather and eat something good at the same time.”
Fareeha nodded in agreement, finishing her snow cone before holding up a pair of fingers. “Two things. Turning ice cubes into snow isn’t impacting the storm outside, and is this all we’re having for breakfast? Do you want me to cook?” Angela hesitated before nodding, not mentioning the fact she already ate four bowls of the stuff.
“Alright.” Fareeha clapped, breakfast done and Angela saying her stomach hurt despite only eating half of her eggs. “I’m taking your idea to the next level.”
“Next level? What?” Mercy looked up from her chair with a pained expression as Pharah grabbed the paper cones and syrup, throwing open the front door with her new weapon. “Sweetheart, put on a coat…” Angela protested, holding her cramped sides as Fareeha ignored her, venturing outside. Ziegler couldn’t do anything but watch from the kitchen window, worried about her headstrong wife. Fareeha stood by the snow bank, waving the bottle around and splattering the snow with streams of root beer, scooping it up triumphantly. Angela couldn’t watch as her beloved proceeded to eat snow from outside, praying dearly that there were no dogs around recently. About a half-hour later, Fareeha trudged back inside, the snowbank having received a considerable dent.
“Sweetheart...that’s just...ugh..” Angela nearly gagged at all the health risks Pharah just experienced.
“Yeah, thanks. I really gotta piss.” The security guard dumped what was left of the supplies on the table, heading upstairs to the restroom. Mercy picked up the nearly-empty bottle of syrup, regretting most of her decisions as she read over the labels. Eight grams of sugar, two-hundred milligrams of sodium, expires 2010, twenty-nine grams of carbs...wait, what?! Angela re-read the labels in sudden panic. TWENTY-NINE grams of carbs?! Were they trying to kill her? Mercy was still agast when her gag reflex kicked in.
“I think a war of attrition would have been better…” Fareeha groaned, the pair sitting in bed with several buckets, sick to their stomachs as Angela repeatedly promised to clean out their cupboards.