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Fareeha comes home to Zurich when her mother dies. She still thinks of it that way, as home, even though she was not truly raised there and has not lived there for years, training as she is with Helix. Because Overwatch is where she found herself. Found family, friends, confidants-- Angela.
She doesn’t tell Angela she’s coming home. She doesn’t tell anyone, why would she? They should assume.
Gabriel does, texts her a few hours after she gets the news. “Tell me when your flight is coming in and I’ll pick you up.”
“Red eye, 2:30 AM. Thanks Gabe,” Fareeha responds simply, appreciating that he knows that if she wants to talk about it, she’ll talk about it. There’s not going to be any sappy bullshit from him. She’ll get it from Jack. She’ll need it from Jack, eventually. Not now. She’s in the anger stage of things, swooped very quickly through denial, or whatever. Growing up amidst soldiers will do that to you. You don’t question if it’s real after you’ve seen death so many times.
The anger gives way on the flight home. To an overwhelming sorrow, like a hole in her chest. Her fists unclench and her jaw loosens and she sobs, deep and chest-wrenching, taking advantage of the private seat she shelled out for.
Gabriel is there to meet her, in sweatpants and with a hug that is such a summing up of everything she’s missed that it almost helps, for it’s few long moments. Neither of them comment on each others puffy red-rimmed eyes.
He turns something angry up loud once they are in the car. Fareeha closes her eyes and takes it gladly, letting it drown out the noise in her mind.
The base is quiet in the still cold morning, and standing in the light of the moon makes everything seem sort of like a dream. Gabe nudges her out of her dazed look up at the stars.
After carrying one of her bags inside, he gently informs her that both her old room and her mother's will open up under her fingerprint, so the choice is up to her. In the end, after he leaves her with another hug and a “you know where we are,” she chooses neither. Being alone in a bed with her thoughts is the last thing she wants, and her headache will only worsen if she cries more.
As she wanders through the empty halls her mind turns to Angela, who is here. In the same building as Fareeha for the first time in so long. There’s a longing under her skin that she isn’t sure is selfish or not, amidst everything. Surely the good doctor has more important things to worry about, surely she would have pushed for contact if she had cared more--
Stupid thoughts, those. Fareeha has more important things to worry about. Fareeha didn’t push for contact despite how very, very much she cared. Angie doesn’t deserve any more blame than Fareeha.
It's easy for Fareeha to let her thoughts stray to Angela. She doesn't want to mourn, grief hurts too much. She doesn't let herself feel guilty for not thinking of her mother. Ana wouldn't have wanted her to be as cowardly as she is being, anyways. Scolded her even, for not talking to Angela, while she was alive and in the know.
But it was easier not to, when they were apart. The fling they had before Fareeha left wasn't...serious by name. No matter if Fareeha was hopelessly in love, they'd never discussed it so she assumed that Angela wasn't. Or rather—wouldn't let herself believe that someone like Angela could love her back. Too good to be true. And Fareeha wasn't going to sacrifice the physical closeness she had for stupid feelings.
As she nears one of the small kitchens, Fareeha notices a light is on and she stops short, not sure if she wants to have an encounter with whoever is occupying it. An easy decision-- she doesn’t want to face anyone, so she turns to go back where she came from.
Then footsteps sound behind her and a familiar voice speaks her name. She stops in her tracks.
“Fareeha. When did you arrive?”
Slowly Fareeha turns to face the subject of her shifting thoughts. In the dark hallway, light from the kitchen throwing shadow on her face and dancing in her hair… Angela, in the flesh, circles under her eyes…is breathtaking. It takes everything in Fareeha to not stare and instead formulate a response. “About 20 minutes ago. Gabe picked me up from the airport.”
Angela draws her cardigan tight around her as if she is cold. Fareeha’s eyes follow the movement of her slender fingers as they wrap around her upper arms and then flex, like they always do when she is nervous. Her nails are bitten down to the quick. “I am glad to see you, though I wish it were under any circumstances than these,” she says softly and the cadence of her voice makes Fareeha’s heart ache.
“Yeah, I…” Without thinking, Fareeha steps closer. “Me also.”
There was an awkward silence. It is obvious that Angela isn’t sure what else to say. She knows how Fareeha feels about being pitied. Eventually she motions toward the kitchen. “I was just having tea, would you…”
At the mention of the word, Fareeha winces and Angela trails off, eyes widening in horror. “Oh fuck. I'm sorry. Maybe not, then.”
Fareeha looks at the ground and shakes her head. “It's alright. I should just go to bed.”
“Would you let me walk you back?”
Oh. Fareeha pauses and then looks back up. Angela’s eyes are sorrowful. She’d been close to Ana too. To assume that she isn't also hurting would be a mistake. “Yeah. Sure.”
They walk back in silence. Fareeha chose her own quarters, in the end. Wasn't ready to face what was behind her mother's door.
When they get there, Angela shuffles and then meekly speaks. “I’ll see you in the morning, then?”
Fareeha hums in response. “Yeah, I’ll be here.”
Then neither of them move. Fareeha doesn't want to leave her presence, doesn't know what else to say, doesn't want to say goodnight. The quiet continues for so long that Fareeha is about give up and turn away, and she almost does--
When suddenly Angela is cradling her cheek and tugging her back, leaning into her space and capturing her mouth in a gentle kiss. There is surprise and then there is hunger that Fareeha is almost frightened by. She reaches out almost on instinct, gripping at Angela’s waist and pulling them flush together. Angela gasps and Fareeha deepens the kiss, channeling so much emotion into the action, begging to be understood. And Angela seems to understand, keeping pace easily and with no hesitation. The wet slide of her tongue is like a heaven Fareeha didn’t know existed anymore. She has so missed this.
Suddenly, with a soft noise, Angela pulls back. She’s a sight, cheeks flushed and lips wet and already the slightest bit swollen and without thinking Fareeha leans back in. But Angie avoids her.
“We are in the hallway, dear. If you’d like me to continue, maybe…” She motions to the door and Fareeha blinks once. Then again.
Then she whispers, and her voice cracks and she hates it but she knows that Angela will have nothing but compassion for her and it’s safe. “Is it selfish… to ask you to make me stop thinking?”
Angela’s jaw tics in that way it does when she’s trying to stay composed. Fareeha refuses to think that she might be holding back tears, if only to keep herself from welling up again. “Is it selfish to want to make you think only of me?” Angela finally replies.
Fareeha has nothing to lose right now. No effort left in her to even feel shame. “Selfish or no, I don't care. I want you to fuck me.”
Angela’s eyes darken. “Open the door then.”
As soon as Fareeha finishes fumbling the code into the lock, Angela is pushing her into the room, pulling her head back down for a much more heated kiss. She fists a hand in Fareeha’s hair and tugs, obviously remembering how much it drove her crazy. Fareeha gasps into her mouth, slipping hands up the back of her shirt and skating over the silky skin of her back. “What do you want?” Angela whispers, backing her up until her knees hit the bed and she goes down.
“Anything you’ll give me,” Fareeha replies. She watches as Angela sheds her cardigan and pulls her cotton t shirt over her head. She’s wearing an old white bra with frayed straps and there’s a bruise under her ribs. Without a beat of hesitation she shucks her leggings as well. Her panties are equally worn and don’t match, there are more marks of combat on her milky thighs. She's the most lovely thing Fareeha has ever seen.
Fareeha’s stomach swirls as Angela folds herself down onto her lap and crosses thin wrists behind her neck. Fareeha grips loosely at her thighs, refraining from flipping her over and taking what she wants. It’s an odd thought that Fareeha could easily overpower her now, physically. She won’t though. Angela truly has the power here.
“Did you think of me?” Angela asks as she dips her head, pressing open mouthed kisses to Fareeha’s neck and nuzzling behind her ear. Fareeha doesn’t respond immediately, thinking of just how often Angela was on her mind, every day she was gone. Impatiently, Angela nips at the tender skin under her jaw. “Tell me.”
“Yeah, yes,” Fareeha gasps and skims her hands up Angela’s back. They land in her hair and Fareeha tugs on the hair tie in her ponytail, pulling it off. Loose blonde curls tumble free, soft and kinked from the elastic. “I thought of you all the time. I missed you.”
Angela pulls back then, eyebrows furrowed. “Why did you never call?”
“I didn’t think—“ Fareeha starts but then sets her jaw and changes her course. She won’t let herself be the only coward here. “Well. You didn’t either.”
Something sorrowful flashes in Angela’s eyes but then she’s pressing closer and kissing Fareeha again, sweet and slick and slow. The heat of her body and her soft curves against Fareeha’s own fills her with want. Too soon, unable to wait any longer, Fareeha pulls back with a gasp. “How do you want me?”
“On your back, sweet one,” Angela says as she tugs at the hem of Fareeha’s shirt. “But take this off first.”
Quickly Fareeha pulls the shirt over her head and feels Angela pop the button on her jeans. “You have to get up,” Fareeha points out as Angela slips her hands teasingly down the back of the now loose waistband. Angela simply bats her eyelashes in return and pushes Fareeha to lay back on the mattress, shuffling up to straddle her hips. With a smirk Fareeha pushes onto her tiptoes, lifting her hips off the bed and toppling Angela forward.
Catching herself with little effort, Angela huffs and blows her hair out of her face. “Cheeky.”
Fareeha grins and cups Angela’s ass, squeezing lightly. “Cheeky indeed.” Angela snorts with laughter. It is a sound that shouldn’t make Fareeha pulse with need but does anyways, and she instinctively squeezes her thighs together. Ever keenly observant, Angela doesn’t miss the slight movement. She arches an eyebrow and pushes back into Fareeha’s hand as she slips her fingers under the band of Fareeha’s sports bra.
“You’re wet for me already, aren’t you?”
Fareeha drops back to the bed but arches into the touch as Angela pushes the offending article of clothing up. As Fareeha’s breasts spill out she cups one lovingly, leaning down to lick at the pert nipple. Fareeha hums and wiggles, slipping a hand down to press ever so lightly at the damp space between Angela’s legs. This gets her a jerk and a sharp breath, and then Angela gives her what she wants, sucking and nipping at her. “I’d say I’m not the only one,” Fareeha says breathlessly, pressing more firmly through the fabric. Angela makes a small noise in the back of her throat and her eyes flutter shut as she grinds against Fareeha’s fingers. Just as Fareeha is about to pull her panties aside, Angela sits up and pulls her hand away.
“Enough,” she says though it’s obvious she wants more, face flushed, squirming a little bit. Fareeha raises an eyebrow but obeys because now Angie is moving down her body and tugging at the waistband of her pants. After lifting her hips to help the process along, Fareeha rids herself of her bra as Angie finishes pulling off the sweats. Blonde hair brushes soft against Fareeha’s unshaven legs and then Angie presses a wet kiss to her knee. “I missed the taste of you.”
Another kiss to Fareeha’s thigh and her stomach tightens and swirls with anticipation. In a way that is meant to be teasing, Angela kisses right above where Fareeha needs her most. Fareeha squirms as a pulse of pleasure twists through her, just from that light pressure. Finally, without her even having to ask (beg), Angela slips fingers under the elastic of Fareeha’s underwear and slides them down. Her mouth is busy before she’s even got them all the way off—she was always good at multitasking.
Fareeha whimpers at the first swipe of Angela’s tongue. A flick and pressure against her clit has her moaning outright, and she hears Angie huff out a laugh. As soon as her legs are free she tries to curl up, throw a leg over Angela’s shoulder but Angela pushes her thighs flat to the bed. Fareeha could easily resist this but what would be the point of disobedience? She lets herself be held open. One of her hands flies up to fist in Angela’s hair and the other tugs firmly on her own. “Gah—fuck, Angel.”
The old nickname just slips out without a thought, but Angela moans in response and looks up. Fareeha’s hips jerk and her chest feels tight as she meets Angela’s eye, watches her pink tongue move. “I—“
Love you doesn’t come, despite how badly she wants it to. “I forgot how good you are at this,” comes instead. But that’s something Fareeha can work with. “How good you are at—ah—taking me apart.”
And that’s certainly the truth. Angela manages to quirk a smile and slips two fingers into Fareeha easily, crooking them and pressing up, holding steady. She presses her tongue flat and then sucks firmly at the same time and Fareeha shouts. Her thighs almost snap shut but she holds steady. Angela is obviously not planning on giving her anything else slowly, focusing intently on what she knows will make Fareeha come undone for her. Quickly.
Fareeha’s thighs shake and she lets go of Angela’s hair for fear of hurting her. Instead she grips her pillow tightly, so tight her fingers hurt. A flash of pleasure so intense shoots through her that she flies up off the bed, curling in on herself, and then—
She comes, quivering, folded over Angela and pressing whines like kisses into her hair. Angie’s fingers dig into her thighs and she hums in response. When Fareeha’s shaking slows, Angie starts to kiss at the inside of her thighs again but Fareeha has other plans. She pulls away, scrambling back slightly and then pulls Angie after her. “Come here, come here,” she says breathlessly and needlessly as she tugs and Angela willingly follows, kneeling once again between Fareeha’s legs. Her mouth is red and her chin is wet and Fareeha can’t help but surge forward and kiss her. The taste of herself on those wicked lips almost distracts Fareeha from her task but she pulls back with a gasp after a few long moments. “Your turn,” she says and rolls Angela’s panties down her thighs. Angela smiles and sits down on her bottom, taking them off herself and then tossing them away.
“What do you plan to do with me, officer?” Angela teases. Fareeha grabs her by the waist and pulls forward, back onto her knees. Then she adjusts, folds one of her legs under her and pulls Angela on top of it so she is straddling Fareeha’s thigh. The smile on Angela’s face falters and she moans as Fareeha pulls her down. She’s so, so wet against Fareeha’s skin and— not that she wasn’t going to anyways, but Fareeha can’t help but touch. As Angie grinds against her thigh Fareeha slips a hand between her legs, dipping between her slick folds. She circles Angie’s clit and then presses with small circular motions, watching rapt as Angie’s eyes flutter closed and she bites her lip.
“Want you to come just like this for me,” Fareeha whispers. “I know you can do it.”
After a few too-short minutes, Angela does, with her head thrown back and her fingers gripping bruises into Fareeha’s forearms. Fareeha licks and then presses kisses against her throat until she comes back down, breathing heavy. “Wow,” Fareeha whispers and brushed Angela’s hair out of her face. “I missed that. I missed you.”
Angela looks up at her and her eyes are sad again. Fareeha almost asks what’s wrong but it’s obvious, isn’t it. And Angela tells her, anyways. “Then why didn’t you come back for me?”
Fareeha’s stomach twists painfully. “I’m here now?”
It’s a real weak excuse. The furrow between Angela’s eyebrows deepens and then she turns away, climbs off of Fareeha’s lap and then off of the bed. Fareeha clambers up, reaching for her. “Please, I—“
“You didn’t come for me, though.” Angela says and her voice is strained.
Fareeha pauses, then. She knows what she says next has to be important. She thinks of her mother and it hurts like a knife in her stomach. Like it will hurt for a while. She thinks of saying I love you, like she wanted to so badly earlier, like she’s wanted to say so badly for years. She thinks of everything she wished she’d said to her mother and never had. There’s not much that Fareeha knows right now. But she knows there’s one thing that she wants.
“No, I didn’t. But I’ll stay for you.”