So after I horribly botched Mercy's language in the first one, please enjoy this re-upload. Everything should be accurate now - hopefully.
Mein Leben ist in Ihren Händen
My Life is in Your Hands
(Language notes can be found at the end, marked in the text by *)
Angela shrugs out of her Valkyrie suit with a groan and a hiss of pain. Stopping to roll her neck, her muscles spasm and pain lances up the length of her back to the base of her skull. She draws a shaky inhale and leans on the door of her locker for support, the cool metal soothing against her forehead.
Fareeha, already out of her Raptora armor and standing in just her underclothes, overhears a German curse and turns a concerned gaze on the medic. Seeing Angela in clear pain, she quickly finishes hanging up her one-piece flight suit and crosses the floor of the locker room. The upper half of the angelic suit hangs half-shed from Angela's waist, the planes of her back tense and knotted with discomfort. Fareeha comes up from behind and gently tugs the suit down, struggling slightly to pull the skin-tight material past the swell of Angela's hip bones. It doesn't help that her own muscles ache or that the damned thing clings like saran wrap to the woman's sweaty skin. After nearly ripping the Valkyrie suit off of her, it falls away around Angela's ankles.
"Are you injured?" Fareeha asks as soon as she can inspect the medic's pale skin. "You should have said something during extraction." She does her best to keep the question professional, stomping down the worry but failing to keep it from coloring her tone.
"Fine, I'm fine. Only the symptoms are somatic."
"Stress again?" the Egyptian murmurs against her nape while her hands slide open-palmed up Angela's back.
The medic nods and immediately regrets it. Another bolt of pain seizes her shoulders and Fareeha can feel her wince through the contact.
"You need a massage," the Egyptian says in the tone she uses with her subordinates. She tightens her grip on the woman's shoulders only to be shrugged off.
"Thank you, darling, but let's save it for later," Angela says just as another locker slams shut. Hana walks around the corner in short shorts and a loose graphic tee, her hair still damp, a small towel thrown across her shoulders. She catches sight of the two women - Fareeha in nothing but black shorts and a sports bra, pressed up against Angela who's likewise exposed in a lacy white bra and panties - and makes an exaggerated show of averting her gaze. She pauses before pushing out of the door into the hallway, a knowing smirk clear in the tone of her voice.
"Should I let the ape know you two are gonna be late for debriefing again?"
"That won't be necessary, Hana dear," Angela says quickly before the other woman can open her mouth.
"Whatever you say. Take care of her, Far,'" Hana calls over her shoulder as the door slams behind her. Something about the way she says it sounds more suggestive than the comment would imply.
Fareeha raises her eyebrows at Angela. "Kids know everything, these day."
"'These days.' You've been spending too much time with your mother." Angela chuckles. "Finish changing. I'll survive," she says with a playful push.
Fareeha eyes her skeptically but does as she was told.
"I'm still giving you that massage later."
"I can live with that."
Somehow they get through debriefing by midnight. It's a three-hour ordeal, coupled with hard-backed chairs and droning voices. No one wants to be here, not even Winston. Everyone wants nothing more than to fall on the nearest bed, but procedure is procedure.
Angela's hand doesn't leave the back of her neck until Fareeha's comes up to gently take over. The medic shoots her a grateful look and lets her chin dip forward while calloused fingers knead her sore muscles. She listens to Winston's run-down of the closing mission details before letting her senses wander. She catches the sound of Hana snoring in the seat behind her, the charred smell of Jamison's singed hair and his fidgety movements, Mako's heavy breathing, the soft clink of McCree's spurs as he idly taps his foot. The firm pressure of Fareeha's fingers does wonders to lessen her discomfort and before long, she almost drifts off.
"...gela. Angela. Yah habibti, wake up."*
"Mmm-huh?"
Angela's bleary-eyed gaze shifts from her lover's plaid button-up shirt to her face, focusing on the Eye of Horus tattoo below her right eye. She finds herself leaning against the Egyptian woman's shoulder, the fabric lightly damp with her drool. She scrubs a hand down her chin and sits up self-consciously as the other agents scatter to find their own dark holes to crawl into. Fareeha laughs and brushes a stray strand of gossamer hair behind Angela's ear.
"Debriefing's over. What do you say we go back to the room for that massage?"
They fall into bed without changing - everyone had attended the debriefing in their night clothes, knowing that they wouldn't have the energy to change a second time. Angela's robe parts just enough for Fareeha's hands to slip in over her trapeziuses. Her fingers flex and dig into the stiff muscle, working slowly and firmly up the sides of her lover's neck. With a bit of coaxing, Angela leans forward to rest her forehead against Fareeha's collarbone for better access.
"Too much tension. You should hit the gym occasionally to work some of that off," Fareeha comments.
"When they put a gym in the med-bay, I'll consider it."
"Oh? And do doctors have their own doctors, or are you expected to self-medicate?"
Angela scoffs. "Self-medication was the first lesson in my medical training."
"Then how about treating yourself to a hot bath on occasion?"
"Mmm, if someone were to draw one for me, I suppose I could find the time to enjoy it - on occasion."
Fareeha's lips twitch into a grin. "I swear, if my mother were here right now, she'd have something to say about stubborn children."
"As much as I love your mother, if Ana Amari were in our bedroom right now, I wouldn't be. Besides, I'm older than you."
Fareeha ignores this and pulls away to pat the mattress next to her, motioning for Angela to lie down before beginning a series of arm stretches. When the blond doesn't move, she shakes out her hands, clenches them into fists, and cracks her knuckles.
"Let's go, on your stomach. We're doing this massage the right way."
The medic shakes her head but gives in with no more resistance. Just as she moves to prostrate herself, Fareeha catches at the back of her robe.
"Oh, and off with this, yah amar," she says a little too sweetly.**
Angela's eyes narrow into a playful glare. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Why yes, I am. And if you'd just do as I say, so will you."
"Fine, fine, have it your way. Mein leben ist in ihren händen, schätzli."***
Angela disrobes and finds a comfortable position with one pillow under her waist and another tucked under her chin. Once she's situated, Fareeha climbs on top of her to straddle her hips.
"Now just relax and take deep, slow breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth. That's it."
Stretching her muscular arms one last time, she brings her hands together and feels around Angela's lower back with her forward palm, carefully locating the knotted muscles.
"Have you actually done this be-FORE!" Angela's voice rises as her lover presses down with what feels like all her weight into a particularly tight knot. The medic's back arches, her feet and head lifting clear off the bed for a split second before falling like dead weights. A low moan continues to seep out of her as gentle hands switch to caressing the tender area.
"Every Amari knows how to work a sore muscle," the Egyptian says as she continues working up each side of Angela's spine. "I give Aleksandra regular massages after her workouts - clothed, of course," she adds hastily.
"Is that s-OH," Angela says and groans as Fareeha finds the next spot in need of attention. Her following words are squeezed out with difficulty due to the compression of her rib cage. "I suppose I had better add that to my practice as well."
Fareeha is given pause by this. "Does that mean you intend to become an official Amari?" There's a teasing intent behind the question, but her pulse still quickens as she waits for a response.
"If this works-MMH! I'd gladly bear your child-AH!"
Finished with the taxing part of the massage, Fareeha sits back and works her lover's trapeziuses and deltoids with deep-penetrating strokes of her fingertips. The woman's pained groans gradually morph into more relaxed sounds as her body loosens up.
"Mmm, right there, schätzli . That feels exquisite..."****
With each moan, a warm feeling grows inside of Fareeha. She knows it's not that kind of moan, but the two really aren't distinguishable. She finds her hands getting bolder, roaming farther down Angela's back and then sliding around to the front, the caresses turning into a kneading motion as she fills her hands with soft flesh.
"'Deep, slow breaths,' you said." Angela's voice breaks through the haze of tingling heat suffusing Fareeha's senses, a hint of laughter in her mocking tone. "I thought that was for my benefit, but you're the one who can't catch her breath."
Fareeha chuckles and leans in close so she's lying on top of her lover, her arms still encircling her. "I could hold onto it better if someone wasn't so good at stealing it." Although she can't see it, she feels Angela smile.
"Oh Fareeha Amari, your hands may be rough, but your tongue is smooth as silk."
"Only the best for my angel," Fareeha says against Angela's shoulder mid-kiss. "Now, about that bath..."
Language notes:
*Yah habibti is an Arabic term of endearment meaning "My love (fem.)"
**Yah amar is an Arabic term of endearment meaning "My Moon" often denoting beauty and innocence
***Mein leben ist in ihren händen, again,is Swiss German for "My life is in your hands"
****Schätzli is a Swiss German term of endearment meaning "Treasure"
If any of these are incorrect, please let me know!