Don't be nervous," he told her while shaking his head. "They're just my parents. Don't give this a second thought. I promise, you'll love them." Moving to her side, he helped Angela put on her coat. It was a sweet gesture, but it didn't calm her nerves. If anything, it made her feel even worse.

"See, I'm not z'even capable of getting dressed. Z'hey're going to z'hink me useless. Stupid. Just..." her voice trailed off to the point where Jack couldn't even make out her comment.

"Please don't tell me you just muttered that you're just my trophy girlfriend." He gave her one of those discerning looks. "And what's with your voice all of a sudden. You have mastering speaking clear, clean English for months and, all of a sudden, you pick up your German drawl?" To this, he cocked his brow. "You cannot be this nervous. Like I said, they are just my parents. I know they will love you. So stop worrying," he flicked his finger across the tip of her nose, "silly."

"Z-" she began but his glare forced her to think twice before mucking up her sentences again. "It's not just parents. These are your parents. You, Jack Morrison, rising star of Overwatch. These are your parents and, if they are anything like you, I know they're going to be beyond my league."

"This again?" Jack huffed while zipping up his windbreaker. "Angela," he swiveled to place his hands on her shoulders, "you need to stop doing this. You're amazing. One of the youngest doctors practicing medicine. You're a brilliant researcher too, working with other leading scientists to develop technology that will not only enhance a battle, but turn the battle forever in our favor. What you do isn't something to simply scoff at. You're the top of your class, the best of the best. I don't know why you think you're not worthy enough to be my girlfriend. If anything, I'm the one that doesn't deserve to be your boyfriend. I can't compete with all the awards you've won."

When he first started speaking, Angela drowned him out with her own self-doubt. But, as he continued to talk and her ears started to tune into what he was saying, she could feel her courage returning. It was moments like this that she was truly grateful to have found Jack. He was her better half whenever she was weak. He was her rock, her everything.

When she was little, she lost her family to the horrors of war. Ever since, she'd kept to herself and devoted all her free-time to saving people and eradicating the need for war. She never wanted another little girl to lose her parents for that vision still tormented her. Not to mention, not having one's parents? Not having your own personal cheerleaders? It made it hard to feel appreciated. Angela was used to thankless work and feeling like her actions and antics did little as no one acknowledged her.

That was until Overwatch, more specifically Jack Morrison.

He knew little about her, but he was always praising her. Always gushing about how fantastic she was. Why, he even stood beside her when she approached the board with the idea of building a rapid response medical deployment suit-later dubbed Valkyrie Suit.

Jack was always there. Always at her side. Always cheering her on and helping her when she needed a second opinion. And in those days, weeks, months, she came to enjoy his company. Why, it even grew to a point where she longed to see him. Where she'd spent countless hours just waiting for him to arrive. It seemed foolish at first, but the more she evaluated everything, the more she realized she didn't just treasure her time with him, she loved everything and anything that involved him. That she genuinely had fallen in love with him.

It made her heart flutter knowing that perhaps, just maybe, she found someone. Someone to fill the void that had long since been vacant. The idea of having a partner, a lover, it was beyond words and actions. Though it was also terrifying.

Thankfully, Jack was the kind of man who was patient and willing to work with her, just like he'd always done.

"Earth to Angela," she finally heard him say.

"S-sorry," she blushed. "I was..." She didn't dare finish. It was bad enough she had zoned out on him.

The kiss that was placed upon her lips was an unexpected but a most welcomed surprise. Face and ears turning completely red, she grinned to herself. "Thanks," she cooed.

"Stop beating yourself up," he whispered while tucking a strand of loose blonde hair behind her ear. "Trust me, my parents will love you. I love you. And if anything means anything, my love for you should far outweigh whatever doubt you're having."

"What time did you say they are getting here," she asked as Jack locked the door to their apartment. "I need enough time to prepare the meal."

"Uh," he glanced down at his watch. "In about two h-"

"TWO HOURS?!" She vigorously shook the door knob. "Let me in, let me in! I don't have time to go shopping."

Bewildered, Jack just stared at his frantic girlfriend.

"Well don't just stand there, let me in!"

So he opened the door. "I don't get why you're worried now. I told you about two hours ag-"

"I know, I know," Angela tried to stay calm but failed miserably. "It's just, I was worried. But you're right. If you love me, why wouldn't your parents. I was being childish again. Downsides of me being so much younger than you."

Jack glared at her. "How many times do I have to tell you, I don't care how old you are. As far as I'm concerned, we're the same age mentally. Though," he chuckled to himself, "you're smarter so you're probably older."

Bolting to the end table, she picked up a pad of paper and a pen. Scribbling with uncanny speed, she tore off the cat-themed paper and shoved it into Jack's pocket. "Go, get these items. These are the ones I'm missing. I'll see what I can do in the meantime. This meal will take at least 7-hours. They're getting here at noon and if we don't want dinner at 8, I need to get started now. Time is precious," she quipped.

"Okay, okay," Jack chuckled. "I get it. I'll get the missing ingredients while you slave away in the kitchen. Doesn't seem fair but if it's what you in-"

"Go," she chuckled while practically shoving him out the door. "You know the highway backs up so you need to get out there before you get stuck in it for hours." Then her face paled. "Besides, you have to be back before they show up! I'm not sure I could handle meeting them without you," she rattled off nervously.

"Ha ha, fine. I'll be quick. Goodbye kiss," he begged.

"Fine," she teased while leaning across the door frame to kiss his lips. "See you soon," she purred.

"I'll call if I can't find anything," he said with a wave.

Traffic was worse than usual; he blamed the weather. The forecast called for warm and sunny but instead it was chilly and drizzly. Granted, they were listening to FM87.7, a local college's station. Odds were the kids had no idea what they were doing. But, for some reason beyond his comprehension, Angela loved the channel. Probably had something to do with the fact that they played European tunes but he wasn't certain for she had told him time and time again that she loved listening to his country stations too.

Making his way into the store, he moved to the first item not on the list-beer. His dad always loved a good IPA so he'd fish for some local brews and see what his old man thought. He grabbed two different boxes and a set of spiked seltzers for his mom. She had mentioned 'going on a diet' but that was absolutely ridiculous because there was no part of her that needed toning down.

After getting the drinks for the day, he turned to his pocket. Pulling out the list, his brows immediately furrowed.

"You have got to be kidding me," he groaned.

There was not a single item on the list that was written in English. In fact, he wasn't even sure it was 100-percent German. Angela had admitted time and time again that when she got nervous, she made up her own half-German, half-Angela language.

Picking up his phone, he gave her a ring. If she'd answer, he'd snap a picture of the list and ask her to read off the items so he could scribble to the side what she meant. Only, she didn't answer. And she didn't answer again or again. Opting to leave a message, he sighed. "Hey, Ang, it's me. Uh, so this list... it's... um, let's just say it's not in English. I'm sending you a picture. Can you please translate for me? Thanks. I'll, uh, I'll call back in a few to see if I can get you on the line. Bye, love you."

Doing as he said, he snapped a picture and texted it to the woman. He also copied another friend, Reinhardt, to see if perhaps he could make out the scribble. Only, a message kicked back the second he hit send. "This number's inbox is full, please try again later," Jack read aloud. "Are you serious? Reinhardt..." He rolled his eyes while chewing his lip. "Think Jack, think. If you can't get a hold of anyone, what can you do."

He peered down at the list. He started to assume meaning but realized just how foolish that was. If German was anything like the Spanish he took for a year, he knew that not everything that looked like an English word meant what the English word meant.

Snapping his fingers, he pulled up a Google Translate. "Karos." He punched in. Google didn't find a match. "Okay," he muttered, "how about karo." Apparently it meant diamonds. "Yeah, I don't think she's making jewelry for my mom so I'm going to guess that's wrong. But what's a food like diamonds. Diamonds are rare and expensive. What's something rare and expensive..." He looked over at the fruit. "Kiwi?" He cocked a brow. It just didn't seem right. It needed to be something more exotic. "Kohlrabi?" He looked at the cabbage-turnip-like veggie. "Eh?" he picked one up, "never heard of this but it starts with a K and looks weird. So sure," he dropped it in his basket, "let's assume that's what she wanted."

Little did he know she poorly abbreviated karotten, which was German for carrots.

On to the next item on his list. "Zwiebei." He cocked a brow at it. "Zwiebei, zwiebei, zwiebei," he hoped repeating it might make it sound like something. "Yeah, I'm not sure we're looking for a zebra weasel..." He looked at the produce around him. "Stripes... stripes... watermelon?" He looked over at the fruit that, if he squinted his eyes, could kind of look like zebra stripes. "Yeah, sure. That'll work."

If only he had realized the creases in the paper had turned the "l" into an "i," for if he had, he'd have realized it was the German word for onion, not watermelon.

"Kartoff," he looked at that one and scratched his head. "Knives? Cut-off? Er," he typed it into Google. "Oh thank god," he sighed happily, "potatoes." Grabbing the potatoes, he put them into the cart. It was the only thing on the list he was sure of at this point.

"Kase," he stated out loud before punching it into Google. "Oh joy, kase means KASE." He grumbled. "And what does kase mean."

Grabbing his chin, he looked around the area. "Kale? With a really curvy l?" It would have to do. Into the cart it went. Though it didn't make sense. They already had that cabbage-turnip stuff. Why would they need kale too? He had a bad feeling that at least one item he'd return home with would be 100-percent incorrect. But hey, he tried! Granted, if he had thought to type the word into Google, perhaps he would have realized Angela forgot the accents. Had he known better, he would have known "Käse" was the word she wanted and that meant cheese.

"Wurst," he smirked. "I know what that one is," he said while looking for sausage. It was probably the only word on the whole list he actually knew and didn't have to look up.

With only three items left and still no answer from Angela, he boldly took on the last items. There was no way she could be mad at him. He was trying and she always told him she loved it when it tried, especially for her!

"Feffer." Jack blinked and tried to say that one again. "Feffer. Like feather?" He scratched his head. "She wants chicken... or maybe turkey? Or did she mean eggs..." The latter seemed more plausible as he was running low so he took a swing (and a miss) and went for eggs. If she hadn't been in such a hurry, Angela might have remembered to write 'Pfeffer,' which means pepper. Granted, it's not like he'd know which pepper-the spice or the vegetable?

"Biscuits," he beamed down at that one. He knew exactly what those where, in English. If only he knew they had a slightly different connotation in Europe, where it referred to cookies or crackers.

Down to the last item and running low on time, he tried that item on for size.

Not entirely sure how to say this one, he opted to just read it: "Gewebe." Into Google it went. "Fabric?" His brow arched. "Uh," he looked around, "not sure this place sells fabric. Also, why the hell would we need that to cook..." Whistling, he ripped that item off the list. "We'll just say it was never there and proceed to the checkout lines..." Too bad he didn't mull over the idea more. Perhaps he would have come to the conclusion that she wanted tissues or paper towels, or something in the clean-up department. Instead, he completely dismissed it and didn't bother giving it any thought. After all, he had already wasted too much time trying to assume the items on her list!

Once through checkout, he looked at his phone again. Sure enough, a message had come through. It was from his mother.

"GPS says we'll be there in twenty. See you soon. XOXO."

Panning over to the time, he panicked. "Twenty minutes," he huffed. "Shit!" It would take him at least 25, assuming he didn't speed.

Sloppily shoving everything into the Jeep, he rolled the car back and made his exit. It wasn't going to be pretty, but he didn't have much a choice. He'd have to take the back roads and hope they'd hit traffic. If he could buy himself five minutes, that would have to do. Angela made it pretty clear she didn't want to have to greet them all by her lonesome.

Trying her phone again, it went straight to voicemail. "Hey, heading back. Tried to get everything on the list. Parents said they'll be there in about twenty. Hope I beat them. Bye! Muwah," he made a kissing sound before hanging up.

Meanwhile, at the house, Angela was so engrossed in her cooking that she completely forgot about the phone she'd left in her jacket pocket. She paid no attention to the time either for she was too busy singing and dancing to the country tunes that played over the radio.

Knowing the recipes from heart, she did what she could with everything. When Jack would finally arrive with the missing ingredients, she could finish the meals. Or, in this case, figure out a fix that would save the meal due to Jack's horrible luck at guessing German-ish words.

When the doorbell chimed, she didn't give it a second thought. Wooden spoon in hand, she skipped over to the door. "Coming," she purred over the Luke Bryan song that had come on. "You're just in t-"

The cheer instantly died when she opened the door to two complete strangers.

Lip quivering slightly, she swallowed hard. "H-hello," her cheeks flushed as she pulled her gaze away. This was beyond embarrassing. Her hair was up and sloppy. She had flour and tomato paste caked on her cheek and jaw. She hadn't change out of the apron yet, which was a mess of ingredients. The kitchen looked like a bomb hit it for pots and pans and knives were thrown every which way. The music was too loud. Her makeup hadn't been touched up so she looked on point.

And there, right before her, were two, perfectly beautiful people.

The woman, slightly shorter than her had soft ash locks that ran down her chest in long, luxurious curls. She wore a lovely burgundy blouse that really made her silvery-blue eyes pop. Despite being in her sixties, she was absolutely gorgeous. Her lipstick was on point and the way she smiled just melted years off her. Even her scent appeared young and lively; it was a sweet mix of raspberries and lemonade.

The man, much taller, had soft golden-white hair and eyes just as blue as the Caribbean. He had a sly side grin that instantly reminded her of Jack. His body was lean and toned, aging well despite being older. Even his skin looked flawless, a nice even tan color thanks to the summer sun. He was dressed in plaid with blue jeans, which only solidified the fact she already knew-these were Jack's parents.

"Hello," the woman spoke in a voice so sweet and pure Angela could have sworn she was a queen, "you must be Angela." Her reassuring smile made it hard to be nervous and yet she was.

"Yes," Angela bobbed her head lightly. "That's me. But please, you can call me Angie."

The older man looked to his wife. "I see why he likes her," he chuckled. Turning, he graced her with his smile. "Is Jackie-boy home yet? Or did he leave you high and dry to fend for yourself against us wastelanders?" He received a prompt swatting and a cold look from his wife.

"N-no," Angela rubbed the back of her head, "he's out fetching groceries. Should be back any-" her eyes went wide. "Please excuse my manners, come on in. Make yourself at home." She shuffled backwards into the house. As she did, she turned down the radio and offered to take their jackets. "As I was saying, he should be back any minute now."

"Smells good," the woman stated. "Need any help?" She rolled up her sleeves, ready to pitch in.

"Nonsense," Angela quipped, "you're guests. I cannot have you working while you're visiting."

She chuckled while shaking her head. "Haven't you learn we Morrisons are stubborn and like to help," she followed Angela into the kitchen.

After pulling back her hair, she opened her arms up to greet Angela. "I'm Elizabeth," she embraced the blonde and smothered her with love, "and this is my husband, Andrew."

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you both," she cooed while anxiously accepting the hug. It had been far too long since she last received this kind of welcoming from a family member. "Jack has told me wonderful things about you both."

"Ha," Mr Morrison scoffed, "bet you know all about L's legendary pies then."

"I do," she removed the apron and started to put the appropriate items into the dishwasher. "Jack says your cherry pie wins at the county fair every year."

"Except this year," she turned on the water to start scrubbing the dirty pots.

"Oh?" Angela's brow quirked.

"I tried something new. I did a strawberry rhubarb pie this year," her grin swallowed her face, "and I took best of show. Not just first prize for the country, but also for the state!"

"A most impressive display!" she exclaimed while selfishly wanting to try the pie herself.

"I've seen that look before," Elizabeth teased. "You'll get your fair share. I brought one with me as a housewarming gift."

Andrew huffed. "She wouldn't even let me sample it and I had to hold it on my lap the whole time..."

Her brow quirked.

"Andy forgot his glasses," Elizabeth jumped in.

"Aye," he waved his hand at his wife, "I didn't forget them. Just misplaced them. I found 'm too but she wouldn't let me drive. Said my city drivin' would get us both killed."

"Amen to that," a voice came from the door, as did the rustling of plastic bags. "Sorry I'm late. I had an issue with the list..." He glared over at his girlfriend.

"What?" Angela grumbled. "What was wrong with the list. Carrots, onion, cheese, sausage, black pepper, crackers, tissues. Not sure what's so hard about any of those."

Eye twitching, Jack hid the bags behind his back. "Yeah. Totally easy. I had no issues at all." His sheepish grin was his undoing.

"Jack..." Angela stepped out from behind the counter. "You did get all those ingredients and items, didn't you?"

"Welllllll," he swallowed, "I tried. But... the list... had... I... um."

Her deadpan expression hit him.

"Um, well, I know... I know I said I'd learn German but... I haven't yet. So... I might... have... guessed...?" Large, cheesy grin on his face, he quickly added, "but I did try calling you several times. You ignored me so this is clearly your fault."

"My fault?" She wormed her way around his backside to see what he brought home.

"Uh?" She pulled out the kohlrabi. "What the heck is this?"

"I have no idea," he stated plainly. "But I bought it."

"Well clearly, but why?"

"I thought you wanted it. Karo... Kohlrabi. Kinda... maybe... not really the same but I tried...?"

"Karo... Carrot."

She pulled out the next item. "And what is this? Why a watermelon?"

"Zebrei or something like that."

"Zwiebel?" She pinched her nose. "That's onion."

"Well it sounded like zebra so I went with something striped." Raising up his hands, he tried to show his guilt. "Hey, I tried. I even tried Reinhardt to see if he could help but his phone was full."

"And what's this?" Angela pulled out flaky, buttery biscuits.

"Uh, biscuits. Like you asked." Jack gave her one of those 'duh' faces.

A rolling chuckle emerged from the kitchen. "Jack, Jack, Jack," his mother stepped over to him. "In Europe, that would mean cookies or crackers. Not... not biscuits."

"Well that's confusing and how could you confuse cookie with biscuit. They aren't even the same thing!"

She wanted to be mad but there was just something undeniably cute about Jack's mistake that made it impossible to be upset. Instead, Angela started to laugh. And, in time, everyone was laughing right along with her.

"Deary," Elizabeth's hand graced the curve of Angela's back, "why don't I help you doctor up the meal with these incorrect ingredients. We can save it, I promise."

With a heartwarming smile and a peaceful expression on her face, she felt a happiness she hadn't felt in forever. "I'd very much like that." It had been years since she last cooked with her mother. And although Elizabeth wasn't Leona Ziegler, this woman shared similarities. Both were beautiful and extremely loving. And they both always seemed of raspberries. "I'd very much like that," she repeated again while stepping up beside Mrs Morrison.