Chapter Text
“Angie, help.”
From her place on the bed, brushing her still-damp hair from her shower, Angela Ziegler looked up and towards the entrance to her and her girlfriend’s shared bathroom. The protracted whine in Fareeha’s voice made her smile as she set aside her hairbrush and went to see what was wrong.
The issue was made immediately apparent as she entered the bathroom to find Fareeha attempting to drag her own hairbrush through her hair, and failing. It seemed like the water only made Fareeha’s already thick hair thicker, causing it to knot horribly whenever she didn’t condition it. Considering she only did so when Angela made her, this was something of a common occurrence.
As Fareeha turned to look at Angela upon her entrance, Angela found that she had only just enough self-control to stop herself from bursting out laughing. Fareeha’s normally imperious and oh so calm and collected face was currently pouting, every line and angle of her face seeming to convey her misery.
Stepping quickly behind Fareeha with a sigh more from amusement than annoyance, Angela deftly extracted the hairbrush from the knot it was caught in. Next, her hands found themselves on Fareeha’s upper back as she gently pushed the pouting woman out of their bathroom and to the space next to their bed. Angela made her sit on the edge of the bed through light touches applied to the shoulders and clambered behind her, the practiced routine of all this making it something that didn’t need words to be accomplished.
On her knees behind Fareeha, she began to gently brush Fareeha’s hair. The long, deft strokes of the brush stopping whenever they encountered knots. This, coupled with Angela’s own nimble fingers, picked apart the worst of the tangles whenever they were found. As the brushing continued, Fareeha began to visibly relax, her shoulders slumping slightly in clear indication of how much she enjoyed Angela’s ministrations.
Finally finishing the brushing, Angela set aside the brush and leaned forwards to place a light kiss on Fareeha’s cheek.
“All done, liebling,” she murmured as she wrapped her arms around Fareeha’s shoulders in a quick hug before shuffling around once more so that she could sit alongside her.
Fareeha took this as her cue to move behind Angela in turn and place her hands on the doctor’s upper back, kneading her fingers into the tense muscles there and drawing a groan of pleasure from Angela’s throat. For while Fareeha loved having her hair brushed, Angela adored backrubs. She loved them to the point that it had become almost routine for Fareeha to give them to her in the evenings, especially after longer, more stressful days than usual.
Today, however, Angela reached up and grasped Fareeha’s hands with her own, stopping the massage.
“Not yet, Fareeha, if you go much further we’ll need another shower and I am not letting you make us late. Again”
“Bah,” Fareeha said, grinning, “you’re no fun.”
Angela simply smiled and leaned back, “Later,” she whispered, in a voice that sent shivers rocketing down Fareeha’s spine.
“I’ll hold you to that.” She replied, wrapping her arms around Angela in a quick hug as she pressed her lips to her cheek briefly before releasing her, letting the doctor stand and make her way to their shared wardrobe.
Reaching inside, Angela draw out a coal-grey pair of suit trousers and an accompanying jacket. Tossing them lightly to Fareeha, she made a motion towards Fareeha’s chest of drawers.
“Get dressed. While I like seeing you in just a towel, I’m not sure your mother would appreciate it quite as much as I do.”
As she spoke, Angela reached into the wardrobe once more, pulling out a sleek, navy blue dress. Turning around, she laid it out over the bed and snuck a quick glance towards Fareeha.
To her disappointment, Fareeha’s military training had already kicked in and she was almost dressed already, shrugging the suit jacket over a crisp white shirt. Turning back to her own clothes, Angela also began to dress, though at a somewhat slower rate than Fareeha.
Fareeha, not one to wait around for long, made her way to the door.
“I’ll go and make sure mother hasn’t left without us,” she explained to Angela’s back.
Angela’s reply was a grunt of acknowledgement as she focussed on getting into her dress. As the door to their room slid shut, however, all pretence of struggle left her and she finished pulling the dress on with something approaching ease.
One last quick look in the bathroom mirror, to make sure that her hair was still in good to go, and Angela went over to the desk she had insisted they have in their bedroom, largely so that she could occasionally be lazy and work in the slightly cosier surroundings of their rooms.
Opening the bottom drawer of the desk, she reached in and removed the false bottom. Inside the true bottom of the drawer was a small box, which she removed with utmost care, checking the contents when it was safely in her hands.
Satisfied with the condition of the contents of the box, Angela transferred it to her handbag, specifically chosen to match the dress, and went to put on her shoes. Finally ready, she cast one last glance around the room to make sure that she hadn’t forgotten anything, and, smiling slightly to herself, made her way out into the hallway and off towards where she knew Fareeha and Ana would be waiting.