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Angela stared at the T.V. Not that it was unusual, but the crease of a frown on her forehead was. The average sized flatscreen played a sitcom back at her, one with a laugh track. Angela hated laugh tracks. She swore they sounded like dead patients, mocking her for past mistakes. It was pretty awful, actually. The television turned off with a 'pop', Mercy throwing the remote to the couch as she stood up.
Dieter sniffled as Angela crouched in front of his cage, smiling and sticking her finger through the bars, wiggling it. "Guten morgen, Dieter! Are you awake?" She giggled as the rabbit bit her lightly, and then promptly stopped as Dieter broke skin. "......Ah. Fuck." Angela stared at the bloody tip of her finger, sighing disappointedly. "Really, I thought you were better than that."
"Babe, I am home! Huzzah!" Fareeha kicked open the door, her arms full of bags from the local thrift store. Pharah glanced at her wife, Angela's hand bloody as she held Dieter through the cage bars. The soldier went white. "....I knew you were going to get bored of it eventually, but you didn't have to do something sO DRASTIC!?"
"What? Oh, this. Dieter bit me, the silly thing." Angela pulled her hand away, holding her injured fingers, trying to avoid stains on her turtleneck sweater. The sparse amount of medical supplies Mercy always carried with her came in handy, a bit of neosporin and a band aid before turning to Fareeha, who still wasn't entirely convinced she hadn't murdered their pet. "So...find anything good?"
"Uh. Yeah." Pharah jostled the bags chock full of various deals. Earlier that morning she had announced that the thrift store was having a fifteen-percent-off sale, and Angela opted to stay home instead of waste five hours of her life. "I found some speakers, a lot of exercise clothes. Some chew toys for Dieter, but I see you already gave him one." A light chuckle. Angela seethed, unamused. "A few ms dos pc games. some hiking gear and carabiners. A fur coat. And some other things."
"What about a new T.V.?"
Fareeha frowned. "Why would we need a new T.V.? The one we have now is fine."
"Is it?" Angela raised a brow. "Then why can I hear the laughter of the dead when I watch sitcoms? It's haunted."
"....What? I-..." Pharah rubbed her temple, feeling a headache coming on. "You have a fundamental misunderstanding of how a television works, and second off you don't even believe in gho....I'm not....i'm not having this conversation. This is stupid." Fareeha grabbed her bags, walking upstairs with a very done expression on her face. Mercy sighed, holding her cheek in disappointment at the drier-than-usual sense of humor of her wife.
Angela kicked up her feet, sitting at her desk in her cluttered lab, holding the skull from Goodwill in a bored fashion, imitating Hamlet. "Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio. A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy."
Fareeha listened from the hallway, not daring to go inside that room full of crimes against nature. She waited a few minutes, tapping her foot before getting impatient and coughing loudly, holding a fist to her mouth. The door slammed open almost immediately, Angela falling over herself to get out. "I HEARD A COUGH ARE YOU OKAY." Phara covered her smile, the sight was too adorable not to.
"I just came to tell you i'm barbecuing outside for dinner. It'll be ready in about half an hour. Thanks, babe." Fareeha kissed her cheek before smoothly walking downstairs, leaving Angela with an armful of medical supplies and a concerned expression.
The sun was shining unnecessarily hot, especially for a spring day. Fareeha wiped her forehead on her apron, sweating bullets in the godawful heat. At least the ribs sizzled nicely on the outside grill, Pharah admiring the smell as she finished stirring up the glaze. It was a very good looking rack. Maybe not as good as Angela's, but still very worthy. The glaze was brushed on beautifully, caramelizing without burning on the savory meat. I cannot express how amazing these ribs are . After a few more minutes on the grill for good measure, Fareeha set them on a wide serving dish, part of the set of dishes everyone gets on their wedding day but never use. Anyway, Angela came skipping out the back door, carrying a pot of corn cobs, leaving a trail of steam in her wake as she plopped them onto the table.
"Oh, wow, these look delicious! Did you really cook this?" Mercy wiped some drool from the corner of her mouth, eyes fixated on the hearty meal in front of her. Fareeha thought about how that's the same look Angela gives her in the bedroom before tackling her, but decided not to push it as she picked up a knife, the fat skin of the ribs popping as she sliced it open, her biceps flexing as she cleaved off a healthy section. The ravenous doctor scooped it up as fast as she could, tearing into it with a vigor that someone claiming to be a pacifist should probably not have. It was like a horror film. Barbeque sauce splattered the table underneath her, looking like a murder scene.
Fareeha stared before peeling her eyes away from her wife, turning her attention to what was most important in life as she cut off another hunk of meat for herself. The pair devoured the rack in minutes, the corn coated high in butter and pepper before following quickly behind. Fareeha rubbed her swollen stomach, burping as she wiped the sauce from her lips. She almost looked pregnant. A thought that crossed both their minds, Angela being just as stuffed as she was.
"So. Speaking about children."
"Right." Fareeha reached into her pocket, pulling out a folded up piece of paper and unfolding it on the table. It was a copy of some adoption papers, the name 'Hana Song' written near the top. "So. My Co-worker. He's always been a single father, but with his deployment overseas he's not sure he'll make it back. He asked me to take care of his daughter, I told him I'd think about it. What do you think?"
Angela smiled sweetly, placing her hand over Fareeha's and looking into her eyes. "I don't see why not. Let's sleep on it." Pharah nodded, slipping the paper back into her pocket, the two thinking deeply about the decision.