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“May I have this dance?”
Fareeha found that she was unable to suppress the heat that rose to her cheeks at this request. Angela stood before her, arm extended towards her invitingly. Her pale blue eyes carried a teasing glint that told Fareeha she would not be able to slink out of the offer so easily.
“I… I don’t dance often.” Fareeha sputtered out with an edge of a laugh in her tone. The objection would surely not be in her favor, but she figured the defense was worth a try if it could potentially prevent her girlfriend from witnessing the travesty that was her sense of rhythm.
“Nonsense,” Angela purred, leaning closer and pressing a hand against Fareeha’s shoulder. “I’ve seen you dance. In fact, I couldn’t get you off the dance floor at Reinhardt’s wedding.”
Fareeha mentally cursed at herself as the memory resurfaced, making a note to lighten up on the champagne in the future. The world didn’t need to see another clumsy rendition of It’s Raining Justic- … er, Men . She was out of excuses and stood frigidly before Angela.
“Follow my lead and you’ll do just fine.” The doctor’s voice was full of a teasing warmth as she grasped Fareeha’s hand in her own, loosely weaving their fingers together. Her other arm slid around her waist and allowed her to slyly press herself against the other woman’s chest.
Fareeha’s cheeks were stained with a blush as Angela readied their dancing position, reveling in the warmth that rose in her chest along with every meeting of their eyes. She was noticeably stiffer than the doctor, uncertainty getting the better of her. When it came to Angela, Fareeha’s brash and stoic demeanor was replaced by one more akin to a giggly schoolgirl. She was never quite able to figure out how “Mercy’s” charms worked their magic, and fell victim to them instead.
Following Angela’s lead, the pair drifted into an austere sort of waltz, the fault of no one but Fareeha. The doctor simply giggled upon catching a glimpse of her girlfriend’s sullen expression. “No need to act like it’s a funeral,” she murmured with a warm smile, picking up the pace a bit. With the quickening of their dance, Fareeha was caught a bit off guard, clumsily skipping over a necessary step as she struggled to regain their position.
She made this sound easy! Fareeha’s expression was contorted with frustration as she concentrated on syncing their movements. It was a bit silly to get so worked up in following a living room dance routine, but impromptu or not, her competitive streak would never falter. It was only when she redirected her attention to Angela’s soft smile would Fareeha begin to relax.
There were several moments of silence following the end of the song. As the needle once again made scratching contact with the record, Fareeha was overcome with a newfound surge of energy. With a sudden spring in her step, the once-apprehensive dancer took control of their movements. Before Angela could react, the other woman had pulled her closer and was directing their steps into a clumsy twirl.
“What’s gotten into you, mein liebling?” The blonde stuttered with a hint of surprise, though her eyes were bright with enjoyment. “A Sunday Kind of Love is more your style?”
Fareeha couldn’t contain a giggle as they continued to sway. “You’re much too charming to resist, doctor.”
“As long as it lightens you up a little.”
As the song fell into its chorus, a streak of boldness crept up within Fareeha. She lowered Angela into a dip and pressed a soft peck to her lips, parting with a shaky laugh. The two women grinned into one another, hair tickling their cheeks as they came together for another gleeful kiss.
“Hey there, wait…” Angela’s voice was edged with a giggle as she protestingly nudged Fareeha away. The dark-haired woman’s lips were curved into a teasing smile as she pressed them against Angela’s neck, leaving behind wine-colored traces of her lipstick. The doctor’s indignant laughter grew more apparent as Fareeha’s hot breath tickled her skin.
The soulful melody continued to sound from the record player as the couple made their way to the couch, stumbling distractedly over Fareeha’s discarded coat and shoes. They curled up side-by-side and resumed their passionate kissing, pausing only to gaze at one another and exchange breathy laughs.
“I told you it’s best that I didn’t dance,” Fareeha murmured, nose still pressing lightly against Angela’s cheek. She shut her eyes with a satisfied tiredness.
“Perhaps we should practice more often.” Angela’s lips, stained with the lipstick of another, were curved into a teasing smile as she leaned into the warm figure before her.
“I’d like that.”