A cry ripped her from the sweet embrace of sleep. She was immediately wide awake, bolting upright and ready to spring into action, when a hand crept from the darkness from behind, grasped her shoulder and pulled her down onto the bed. She put up a token resistance, of course, but was secretly relieved to find herself lying back down onto the warm sheets.

"I got it this time." Fareeha murmured while she climbed over her and out of the bed.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go?" Angela asked, though the sincerity of her sentiment was severely undermined by the fact that she had already, shamelessly, snuggled back into the blankets and turned to her side.

Fareeha's only reply was a sardonic smirk, crooked in her typical fashion, charming and completely dashing despite the heavy bags under her eyes. Something within Angela compelled her to commit this moment to memory, to sear it into her brain; this image of her love in a state decidedly unbecoming of the Strike Commander of the reformed Overwatch. Hair disheveled with a giant cow lick sticking out, shirt askew and, looking closer, actually put on inside out. It was domestic, for lack of a better term, and though it looked so mundane from the outside, it was far from it for the both of them.

She burrowed deeper into her blankets after her wife had left the room, quickly arriving in the next room. Even though she was desperately exhausted, she forced herself to remain awake. Listening to Fareeha coo and fuss over their baby when she thought no one could hear was quickly becoming her favorite thing in the world.

"Hey there, little Rima, what's wrong?" came the thin voice over the baby monitor. "Did you have a bad dream? Or maybe the diaper needs changing, let's see...nope, looks good. Are you hungry?"

Angela sighed and closed her eyes. She could see it in her mind, the glow in Fareeha's eyes, the sheer joy written all over her features when she got to spend even a moment with their daughter. She looked ten years younger, all the weariness and fatigue of the daily grind seemingly disappearing into thin air.

Despite her best attempts, Rima was still crying. So she resorted to the one surefire way that put their little girl right back to sleep, and Angela felt her heart almost burst with affection and love when the melodious voice trickled from the cheap speakers.

yalla tnam Rima
yalla yjeeha el nawm
yalla theb essala
yalla theb essawm
yalla tjeeha el awafi
kel yawm b yam

yalla tnam yalla tnam
la dbahla tayr el hamam
rooh ya hamam la tsadee
bidhak a Rima la tnam

Rima Rima elhenda'a
Sharek ash'ar w mna'a
welli habbek bibousek
welli baghadek shu bietra'a

ya biya'a el inab
wel inabiyeh
oulu la immi
w oulu la biyei
khatafouni el ghajar
men tahet khaymet majdalyei

etteshetshe we tteshetshe
wel khawkh taht el mishemshe
kel ma hab el hawa
la'tof la Rima mishemshe

hey hey w hey lina
distik laknik ayrina
tanghassil tyab Rima
w nensherhon a'al yasmina

Gradually Rima's crying had been reduced to fussing, and eventually there was just Fareeha's beautiful voice. She continued humming some tune for a while until she eventually put the baby back down into the crib and silently made her way back to their bedroom.

As soon as she had slipped under the covers Angela turned around and threw an arm over her waist, pressing herself closely into her wife.

"I love you, Fareeha." she murmured, head resting on a strong shoulder.

The Egyptian smiled and kissed her on the head before replying with an affectionate "I love you too, habibti."

At least for this one night, everything was right and pure in their little world.

so I thought i'd write some actual fluff this time around, since it's only fair we get to 'hear' fareeha singing a lullaby, too. The song in question is Yalla Tnam Rima. I have no idea if the transcribed arabic in here is accurate, though. So if you spot any mistakes point them out!

peace