#4guiltypleasure

(And there are a lot of things to stare at - the rugged ridge of her knuckles, the sculpted definition of her arms, the coat of arms of her regiment tattooed on her shoulder, the cotton top that fits almost too well on her torso, the strong lines of her jaw and nose, the lips that always look half a moment from a crooked grin.)

Fareeha pauses to wipe the sweat from her face with the bottom of her tank top, giving Angela a view of the well-toned abs underneath. She lines up another piece of cedar to split. “It’s strange, but it’s not impossible.”

Angela isn’t sure if Fareeha’s playing the fool or if she genuinely believes the whole thing is a coincidence.

(Angela is pretty sure that it isn’t.)

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, that should be enough for tonight and most of tomorrow.” Fareeha lodges the axe in the stump with a soft thump and starts piling the wood under the tarp. “Dinner?”

“Dinner sounds good.”

Dinner is uneventful. Angela is thankful that Fareeha isn’t one of those gungho campers that likes to take everything to wilderness survival levels of difficulty and instead just brought along easily prepped meals.

The fire crackles pleasantly as the sunlight starts to fade and Angela lounges nearby, watching the stars come out through the holes in the forest canopy.

“S'mores?” Fareeha asks, taking a bag of marshmallows from her rucksack.

“Ugh, no, I’m stuffed,” Angela says. “Why do you have so much food?”

“Because I was expecting more people to be here,” Fareeha reminds. “And because I have, as my mom likes to call it, a black hole for a stomach.”

Angela can hear Ana’s voice in her mind, saying exactly that, and she giggles. It’s been years since she’s seen Ana, but she remembers her fondly, and knows that the older Amari has aged gracefully.

“How is your mom?”

“Her and dad went on their ninth honeymoon - backpacking through some part of Asia or something this time - and they still aren’t even married yet.”

She sounds equal parts amused and exasperated and Angela lets out a full laugh at that. Fareeha’s smile is lost to soft hissing as she tries to peek at her dessert, fingers plucking at the searing hot foil with stubborn determination.

“You’re going to burn yourself.”

“Oh, I already did that,” Fareeha says. “Right now I’m just too hungry to care.”

Angela snorts because it’s something she’s heard Fareeha say dozens of times before, albeit when they were both much younger. (And perhaps it is a bit comforting to know that, despite the years apart, Fareeha is still the person she remembers.)

“Does it actually bother you that your parents aren’t married?”

The noise Fareeha makes in her throat is some sort of coarse, choked snort. As if the question is so ridiculous it short-circuited her response.

“Not at all,” Fareeha finally retrieves her dessert from the fire and cradles it like a hot potato as she unwraps the foil with soft curses. “Just annoyed at how hypocritical mom is, saying she’ll never get married but always telling me to settle down with a doctor or something.”

Pretending she isn’t blushing at the word ‘doctor,’ Angela is glad that Fareeha is too focused on hungrily devouring her s'more to look her way.

“It’s just,” Fareeha pauses, crams the rest of the mess of graham cracker and chocolate and marshmallow in her mouth, chews and swallows before continuing. “Doctors can be so condescending, y’know? ‘Back here again, Lieutenant?’ and ‘Oh, colour me surprised. It’s you. Again.’ I just can’t stand it.”

“Excuse you, I’m a doctor!”

Miraculously, Angela sees Fareeha’s ears tinge red.

“I didn’t mean you, Angela,” Fareeha somehow manages to speedily backpedal without tripping over her own words. “You’re an exception.”

“Does that mean you’d settle down with me?” The words are out before Angela can stop them and she’s left wanting to stare disapprovingly at her own mouth as Fareeha gapes.

“Um,” Fareeha chuckles nervously, clearly unsure if Angela is joking or not. Unsure if this is harmless flirting between friends or something more.

“Sorry,” Angela says, feeling the heat crawl up her neck and slowly fill her entire face. “I just… you know the others bailed on purpose, right?”

“What? Why?” The awkwardness drops from Fareeha’s posture, she becomes sharp as if expecting something bad. “Do they not like me?”

Of course that’s the conclusion Fareeha would jump to. She may be an old friend of Angela’s, but she’s only been back for a few months, and she’s new to this friend group.

“It’s nothing like that!” Angela has to take a deep breath in order to say the next bit, to own up to what’s actually going down. Even then she still can’t help using less direct wording. “They bailed because they wanted to give us some alone time.”

“Ah, because we haven’t seen each other in a while?”

Fareeha, it seems, is inclined to give the benefit of the doubt and not take the hint unless it’s spelled out entirely for her.

(To her credit, that is partially why the others bailed.)

The other part is because I got drunk and told Lena I wanted to sit on your face. “Look, I didn’t know they were going to do this until after they did it.”

With an awkward chuckle, Fareeha nervously says, “You’re making it sound like they locked us in a closet together at some group sleepover.”

She takes one look at Angela’s embarrassed expression and almost chokes on a marshmallow. “Oh! Oh? Um… really?”

Fareeha looks more bashful than Angela can ever recall seeing her, and she wishes for a moment she doesn’t feel like an overgrown teenager with a crush, that she could feel like the skilled surgeon she usually is. That she could apply a precise stroke with a verbal scalpel to this conversation.

“Yes, okay? I…” It feels childish to say she simply likes Fareeha. “I’m… attracted to you.” Perhaps that doesn’t convey the emotional attraction as much as the physical attraction, but Angela is okay with that for now. “Sorry if that makes things weird, I’ll just--”

“No,” Fareeha grabs her wrist before she can escape into the tent, and everything ahead of Angela is so unknown that she doesn’t know how to steel herself for it (or if she even should). “I mean, I feel the same way.”

Between the fire and her furious blush, Angela is surprised that her cheeks can get any hotter. “Really?”

“Really.”

She lets Fareeha tug her back down so she’s sitting on Fareeha’s lap. The reciprocation makes her feel confident enough to start teasing. “Even though I’m one of those overbearing doctors?”

“You’re the exception, remember?”

Fareeha kisses her, mouth still sticky-sweet with chocolate, and Angela is suddenly glad the others bailed because she couldn’t imagine trying to do this with them around, hooting and hollering.

When they pull apart, Fareeha bows her head, presses their foreheads together and stares into Angela’s eyes for the briefest of moments before her own go wide and she leans back, stunned by a private realization.