Work Text:
Fareeha sat on the couch. Hold on, it gets better. Dressed in a sleeveless hoodie and jeans, the security guard flipped through the pages of her novel, pretending to read as she watched Angela dote on their pet rabbit from the other side of the room. She was switching out an old, dirty plate for a new one, a literal tower of veggies.
" Lass es dir schmecken , mein Dieter~" Mercy cooed, snapping the grumpy rabbit's cage before proceeding to slip and fall, putting all her weight forward into the wall as she slammed her fist against it, leaving a considerable dent as she stumbled backwards. "Oh, shit. I knew I shouldn't have worn flip-flops indoors. Ah, oh well." Angela gave the wall a consoling pat before skipping upstairs to her lab like an asshole, happy-go-lucky as a tenured professor without a lesson plan.
".........dude.." Pharah stared at the dent in the wall,a sizable one at that. Fareeha set down the book as she got up to inspect the damage, tracing around the outside edges of the cracked material. ".......... dude ." The concerned Major scanned the rest of the room, noticing quite a few mistakes just like this one. A few dents in the corners, a hole where she had gotten just a bit too angry, and of course a dark coffee stain near the ceiling. Just the sight of it still made her irritated.
"This...." Fareeha rolled up her sleeves for dramatic effect. "...is going to need some improvement. Home improvement. Because it's a home. I'm the best."
Fareeha mumbled to herself as she walked down the tall, tall aisles of Home Depot, reciting the list of things the internet told her she'd need to repair the house. The cart in front of her squeaked when she pushed it, the back right wheel busted and refusing to turn. Kicking it just made it worse, but it made Fareeha feel a lot better regardless.
After staring at racks of toilets that reached halfway to the unnecessarily high ceiling and wondering how they got there in the first place, Pharah strolled into the paint aisle, the metal cans all looking the same and all looking hella expensive. She found some that looked kinda like the same white as the living room, good enough for her at least, except what was the difference between all the different types? Flat, matte, Semi-gloss. Eggshell enamel? What in the name of fuck was eggshell enamel? Eh, it would probably make Angela laugh. That was all she needed.
One trip to Home Depot later, Pharah set down her supplies. Cans of paint, spackle, some extra concentrated soap. Grabbing some brushes, a tape knife, and some work gloves from the garage, Fareeha was ready. But first things first, rewarding herself for taking incentive to fix up the house by making a smoothie. She deserved it.
"Sweetheart? What's that sound?" Angela stepped down the stairs with both hands on the handrail, looking like a timid deer as Fareeha turned off the blender. She tried not to smile as she poured the contents into a glass beer mug, just enough for one person, no leftovers.
"Just a smoothie, babe. Go back to whatever you were doing." Pharah shrugged nonchalantly as she pulled out a can of whipped cream from the fridge, shaking it before emptying copious amounts of the stuff on her drink.
Angela rubbed her arm nervously, tongue in cheek as she approached her wife. "That looks really….really good."
"It should. I put the rest of our gelato in it."
Mercy went pale. "You didn't. You wouldn't."
"Consider it a punishment for banging up the house." Fareeha said stiffly as she took a large gulp of the pink-colored smoothie, leaving a moustache of whipped cream on her lip. Angela turned and stepped shakily back upstairs, the anger seething off of her almost visible. Fareeha took another swig, knowing that she was not going to get off easy when they retired for the night, but she could live with that.
Fareeha wiped the remains of her snack off her lips as she got back to work, tugging on the coarse fabric of the gloves and cracking open the tub of spackle. The gray material spread easily across the hand-sized dent from her maniac of a spouse, making sure it was smooth and even before sitting back, wiping the sweat from her forehead and almost looking like she knew what she was doing. One time, in the military, one of the drill sergeants smashed a recruits head into the barrack wall for mouthing off and tasked the rest of them with patching it up. But that was ten years ago. And Pharah was relying way too heavily on that knowledge she didn't even fully remember.
After a few hours of letting the spackle dry, which may or may not have been necessary, Fareeha went about painting over it, dumping a sizable amount of the white liquid onto a paper plate. "This is easy." Pharah scoffed as she brushed over the gray surface of the spackle, leaving a patch of off-colored white in its place. Blatantly obvious against the much different white of the rest of the wall, Fareeha rested her chin on her hand. Maybe it would be okay if she tried to blend it into the rest of the wall.
A few hours of repainting, watching the wet paint dry, and repainting again, Fareeha had successfully made a decent cover-up of Angela's accident. Sure, the fade from white to different white looked pretty awful, but not as bad as a huge ass dent in the middle of the wall. Pharah had just taken a break to admire her handiwork as Dr. Ziegler came hopping down the steps again.
"Hello, sweetheart. I see you're busy working, how's it going?"
Fareeha smiled as she slipped off her gloves, keeping her sleeves rolled up and giving Angela a bit of a show as she flexed her biceps. "Oh, ya'know. It's tough but you just gotta get through it sometimes. No big deal"
"Ja, of course." Angela smiled, her phone in hand. "Oh, by the by, I called our insurance company and they're going to reimburse us for any services we use to patch up the house. But of course hard work is great too, danke." The possible devil smirked sadistically as she trotted back upstairs, her revenge enacted as Fareeha made some choking gutterances in the background.
The repair company came and went, and the house looked brand new as Fareeha stared at her hands, coming to terms with all her hard work being for naught as Angela chuckled like a prick for the rest of the evening.