Work Text:
Angela rolled over, hugging her pillow to her face as the unbearable reality of life slowly drew her from her precious sleep yet again. Birds chirping incessantly at the window. Loud music playing from Hana’s room. God she could use a cup of coffee. First things first, the doctor raised her head with a grumble, smacking her lips as the taste in her mouth made her want to die just a little bit more. Things weren’t helped by the bangs in her eyes, her disheveled hair sticking to the corners of her mouth. She looked like pom-pom hit by a windstorm. Sighing, Angela fumbled around her nightstand for a brush; she learned to keep one close after Hana nearly busted a gut laughing at her bedhead. As per usual, Angela spent a solid eight minutes brushing her hair before she ran out of fucks. Kicking her legs off the bed, Angela undressed, tossing her plaid pajamas on the bed before whipping on jeans and a sweater. Ready for the day. Last things last, the doctor reached at the nightstand for her hair tie. It wasn’t there. Angela frowned as she dug around a bit in the clutter of the table. Books, stained coffee mugs, a few tampons. No hair tie. She huffed. Not that she couldn’t just leave her hair down, but it was bothersome. Not to mention it was quite the distraction for Fareeha. At a loss, she headed downstairs. The sounds of Fareeha’s morning workout could be heard before she even got to the staircase. The ripped security guard was doing crunches in front of the TV, beads of sweat dripping from her face as she worked. Angela was mesmerized for a moment before shaking her head, trying to stay focus. She walked over.
“Hey, sweetheart?” Fareeha perked up at the sound of her wife’s voice, squeezing in one more crunch before catching her breath. She turned around, caught off guard as she looked at her wife, the stunning beauty looking more striking than usual as her loose bangs covered half her face, only exemplified by the hand on her forehead. Like some sort of Pavlovian training Fareeha couldn’t do anything else but stare, her heavy breathing no longer coming from the workout. What a gay mess. Anyway, Angela took the opportunity to crouch down to Fareeha’s level, undoing one of the strings of beads she always wore. They clinked as they fell into her hand. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
“I..uh..sure.” Fareeha blinked, dumbfounded, watching as Angela threw back her hair, looping her hair through the metal rings. Before long Angela gave her ponytail a trying tug, nodded with a satisfied look on her face. The improvised hair tie shimmered in the afternoon sun, in such a way that Fareeha pulled at the collar of her shirt. Angela went the rest of the day like that, until they retired for bed. She noted that Fareeha hit a new low as far as productivity went, took a picture to remember the day by, and immediately passed out. Never got her coffee.