#caducevs

@caducevs

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. 

Send 📱 for a late night text from my muse. - not accepting

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.

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.

great question!

i don’t think it’s messy or cluttered in the way most people would visualize when hearing those words.

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. 

Send one for a kiss from my muse. - accepting

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.

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.