The question makes Fareeha’s thoughts come screeching to a halt. It’s both expected and unexpected in a way; she and Angela have been spending a lot of time together, and Fareeha had been developing feelings for the doctor, but could never be sure if Angela would return them, so she kept them to herself.
Now she’s sure she’s been reading the woman wrong this whole time. Or she had allowed her crush to be painfully obvious.
She realizes she’s not said anything in reply yet, and she probably looks incredibly shocked. she doesn’t want Angela to think the advance was unwelcome, because that’s definitely not the case. She’s just... a little stunned, is all.
She swallows, feeling heat rush into her cheeks, and she has no doubt Angela will see the blush, even in her dark complexion. “No––no, I wouldn’t mind at all.”
Send 📱 for a late night text from my muse. - not accepting
[ text to; Angela ]: I’ve been trying for hours, but I just can’t get myself to go to sleep.[ text to; Angela ]: Is there some sort of cure for jet lag? Because this is killing me.
💑 What are my muse’s requirements for a potential partner?
sex+romance headcanons! - accepting
💑 What are my muse’s requirements for a potential partner?
First and foremost, they need to be able to handle her military life. It’s a lot of her being away for weeks or even month at a time, a lot of risk on her end, and the possibility that she may not come back one day. Her partner should be able to accept this as best as they can; they don’t need to be happy about it, but they should be willing to work with her in her rather odd and often hectic schedule.
After that, she doesn’t have a lot of requirements. She’s never been very picky when it comes to potential partners.
Jack wraps and arm through Angela’s, walking with her around the common areas of HQ. “I’m sorry... that I didn’t come to you with this sooner.” he knows she could have helped, but survival came before anything else after the Swiss HQ exploded.
He didn’t want to think about how much pain he caused her, letting her think he was dead.
“That I didn’t come to you sooner, in general” his voice is kept low. It was just the two of them, but he didn’t feel a need to speak loudly. Never around her did he need his walls up, then and now.
tell us about tracer's place! is it messy. is it cluttered... is there a lot of stuff or not very much at all, does she ever come home after a long period of not-being-home and like sneeze because of all of the dust
great question!
i don’t think it’s messy or cluttered in the way most people would visualize when hearing those words.
she lives in an apartment. it’s cluttered/messy in the since that it always looks half moved into (because she never has the energy to do it after coming back from missions). there are still unpacked boxes in the spare/guest room. she hasn’t found the time to buy a sofa and chairs yet for the living room. there is one small couch to sit on and an ottoman and a tv on a small table. but it doesn’t feel sad. it has picture frames of friends and family. lots and lots of pictures of people she loves. and of fun things she’s done. she has photography/paintings on the walls. magnets on the fridge. some clothes on the bedroom floor. a little area where she can work out. with music speakers that sit on the ground (but look like they should be on a shelf) and a yoga mat.
The mess hall is quiet with just her and Angela sitting at the table, neither of them really acknowledging one another beyond the occasional glance. At least, that’s how it is for Fareeha, but it’s not because she’s trying to just steal a few looks in the doctor’s direction. She has a pen in hand, and a bit of paper resting underneath the other.
She’s been idly drawing a few lazy circles on the page, before her eyes drifted to the doctor at her side, and her hand itched to try and put her face onto paper. The drawing is a little messy, with her going over little mistakes and adding little details as she remembers them, all the while trying to make this as inconspicuous as possible.
A few longer strokes with the pen, and her arm accidentally bumps into Angela’s. “Sorry,” she murmurs quickly, shifting just a little bit over so that she doesn’t knock the doctor’s arm again.
Fareeha stirs as a beam of early morning sunlight falls across her eyes, and a little noise of displeasure at having been disturbed from her sleep rumbles in her throat. She blinks slowly to clear her blurry vision, and the ceiling above her slowly comes into focus. The beam of light is still across her eyes, and she shifts down just a little to get out of it.
As she does, she becomes aware of a weight on her arm. She quickly stops, not wanting to wake the woman lying next to her, and she feels a slight movement against her arm. She turns her head towards Angela, watching her begin to stir as well, although she doesn’t seem to be waking just yet. Unlike Fareeha, she’s lying on her side, and the sunlight hasn’t hit her in the face just yet, although she’s sure it won’t be long before it does.
Fareeha can’t help but smile as she watches Angela sleep on; she looks so relaxed and at peace when she’s asleep. All the little creases that come with her frowns of concentration and worry have relaxed into smooth skin, and she almost looks like she’s smiling in her sleep, although Fareeha knows it’s just the angle.
The Captain slowly curls her arm around Angela, wanting to draw her closer but also not wake her. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work, and Angela lets out a cute little groan as she’s roused from her slumber.
“Mm, Fareeha…? What time is it?” she asks, her voice a little rough with sleep. Fareeha’s lips pull up into a warm smile at the sound, and she ducks her head in to nuzzle her nose against the doctor’s. Angela gives a little whine, but returns the affectionate gesture all the same.
“I don’t know. Early,” Fareeha says in reply. Angela gives her a searching look, but she doesn’t seem to have the energy to ask more questions. She tucks her chin against Fareeha’s shoulder, blinking slowly like a lazy cat might. She looks about ready to go right back to sleep, completely ignoring the fact that the sun is up before she is.
Fareeha ducks her head in again, this time to press a light kiss to Angela’s nose. The doctor hums, the sound content. She murmurs something in German that Fareeha doesn’t catch (although, even if she had, she likely wouldn’t have understood it), and nuzzles the Egyptian’s shoulder.
“Go back to sleep, ya amar,” Fareeha murmurs. “I will wake you up in a little bit.”
“How about something warm? It will will help you sleep.”
fluff starters
“It should not be my rest you should worry about.” She commented quite quickly; of course a nod to the fact that Beau did not share her sleepless nights alone. Oftentimes the other would stay awake, labouring over something she kept close to her; something Beau watched from a distance more times than not, simply for the sake of wishing to give her space; alone time, as people called it.
The query from the other did open up some possibilities, however. Of all the things she had attempted to adapt to, a good sleeping pattern for the sake of the other’s health had proven most difficult. Stubborn, she was; always looking out for others but never considering that were she not in good health herself, she could help none. Beau could say she was guilty of the same, but she did not need such sustenance, but rather indulged in the hope that she would follow suit.
This was no exception to the rule, of course.
“Perhaps we can make that cocoa -- you’ve some cubes of the chocolate you like left in your fridge. That, and some blankets.” They were warm things, but perhaps the biggest indication of the woman’s commitment was the fact that she reached over to the coach and once again donned the sweater she had been gifted previously. It, of course, served no purpose; it did not warm her at all -- but the sentiment was enough.
“Maybe we can rest tonight.” She nodded, but not before adding. “Both of us.”
