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“You get out what you put in.” The adage had never been truer than in this moment. The contents of the fridge waited patiently as Angela cracked the door open, the gust of cool air hitting her in the face. After perusing the shelves for a few seconds, she found what she was looking for. A bottle of wine, pink liquid sloshing inside.
“Hey, Sweetheart~ Come have a drink with me!” The fridge door slammed shut as Ziegler called into the living room over her shoulder, setting the glass bottle on the counter as she dug around for a corkscrew.
“No thanks.” Fareeha shook her head, busy watching television from the couch. “I’m trying to drink less.”
“Don’t say that, you make me sound like an alcoholic.” Angela mumbled as she unscrewed the top, admiring the fog flowing from the mouth of the bottle. She grabbed it alongside a few wine glasses, heading for the stairs. “Hey, Hana!”
“Wait, okay, fine, give me a glass you maniac.” Fareeha clicked off the T.V., beckoning her wife away from the stairs to join her on the sofa.
“Hah, gotcha~” Mercy cheered as she jumped on the couch, eagerly pouring a pair of tall glasses, handing one to Fareeha.
“Whatever happened to your drinking buddy? Mr. Wilhelm.” Fareeha lightly swirled her glass, staring at the shimmering liquid.
“Well, I mean. Since he started dating your mother he never shuts up about her. Sooo….” Mercy ended her sentence with a tip of her glass, downing most of her wine.
“Don’t remind me. I’m sorry I asked. God...” Fareeha hesitated for a second before taking a swig of her drink, suddenly much more eager to get drunk.
“You know what your mother asked me the other day?” Angela shifted into a more comfortable position, sprawled in one corner of the couch. “She asked me if she could keep Dieter for a few days. The nerve!”
“My mother doesn’t even like animals that much, what the hell….” Fareeha swallowed the rest of her drink in a single gulp, slamming down the empty glass on the coffee table. A skill from the army days.
“Slow down there, sweetheart. You’re going to get drunk.” Angela tapped a finger on the rim of her half-empty glass, a short ring echoing in the room.
“I thought that was the whole point of this.” Fareeha refilled her glass, spilling a bit of the red liquid on her hand in the process. “God damn. I mean. My mother. That’s just….”
“Old.” Angela interrupted, pouring the rest of her glass down her gullet. “Very old and weird.”
“Well, I didn’t want to be rude.” Fareeha mumbled as she slowly zoned out, staring at her glassy drink.
“Strange. I usually have the opposite problem.” Angela nudged her wife in the side, laughing at her own joke. “Ahh...But seriously, we should probably just grit our teeth and not ask questions. They seem happy, in any case. We’ll give em a few weeks to cool off and they should be normal as always. I want my opera partner back.”
“Yeah, and I want a mom that’s not starting a golden age romance scene at my dinner table.”
“Don’t we all.” The corners of Angela's mouth curled as she snickered into her drink. “How’re you holding up? Need more?”
“....I think i’m drunk.” Fareeha slurred her words as she stared at her third glass of wine, mesmerized. “I’m used to beer.”
“Congratulations on being average, bitchacho. Maybe you’ll be able to forget that both their cars leave dinner in the same direction, even though your mother lives on the other side of town.” Angela weighed her glass in her hand, setting it down before hugging the bottle itself. “You don’t even want to know what he tells me if I run into him within forty-eight hours after.”
“Why are you telling me this. I’m already a sad drunk. I shouldn’t have agreed to this. This deal is getting worse all the time.” Fareeha threw her arms up, complaining as she fell back into the throes of the couch, Mercy watching in amusement before laying down, joining her in the crook of her arm.
“D’ya think they’ll get married? Old couples tend to marry early~”
“God, dude, babe. Really. C’mon.” Fareeha groaned as she pinched her temples. “That would be so confusing like….You’d be drinking buddies with my father-in-law, my mother would be married to her granddaughter's social service agent...pretty sure there’d be a custody battle over Dieter.”
“They can take Dieter over my dead body!”
“Didn’t someone in the scientific community condemn you of being, like. An undead god. Salem witch trial style? Wouldn’t you already be a dead body?” Fareeha furrowed her brow, remembering the evening that Angela had come home with bloody knuckles, ranting about how much of a backstabber her newest assistant was.
“Yes, well.” Angela grabbed one of the security guard’s hands, pressing the palm into her bosom. “You tell me.”
“....” Pharah blushed at the incredible softness in her hand, giving it a light squeeze before letting go. “Point made. Unnecessarily.”
“Hey, sweethe-”I don’t understand how you can drink so much.” Angela pursed her lips, taken aback as Fareeha stared at the empty glass she was holding above her face. “I mean, I like drinking as much as the next guy, but shouldn’t there be a limit? You’re a doctor, isn’t it bad for your health?”
“...When you are the most advanced medical authority on the earth sometimes you don’t give a fuck.” Angela crossed her arms, still slightly pissed at being interrupted.
“I feel like Hana would be more understanding of that statement than I am. I’m just a desk jockey.”
“I think you do more work than me and Hana combined.” Angela closed her eyes in contemplation as she snuggled deeper into the arm of her wife. “But I guess that’s world wide economics for you.”
“That’s kinda depressing.” Fareeha frowned as she snuck the bottle out from Angela’s hands, taking a generous swig.
“Welcome to life.”
“Are you always this depressing when you’re drunk?”
“Don’t worry, I’m here for you~” The drunken doctor kissed her lovingly, cooing. “Drunk or not~”
“I feel like you’re dodging the question.”
“Maybe you should stop asking questions, then, and tell me you love me back.” Angela smiled slovenly as she urged her wife, holding her closer.
“I love you. Can we get off this couch?”
“Nope~”
“Are you going to tie me to the couch.”
“Yep~”
“......I think I’m too drunk to move.” Fareeha sighed, trying not to smile as she made herself comfortable.
“Mom?! Other mom?!” Morning. The stairs reverberated with the sound of footsteps as Hana stumbled downstairs, yawning with the force of an exhausted teenager. “I need food...my hoard’s running out…Where are you?!” The quick search stopped as she stepped into the den, a heavy stench of alcohol wafting in the air. The intertwined bodies of the couple lay sleeping on the couch, peacefully snoozing after a night of cuddling. Hana shrugged, raiding the fridge before heading back upstairs.