Dr. Angela "Mercy" Ziegler was having a bad day.
Her team was taking heavy damage, and it was all she could to keep up with her duties as Healer. She'd just finished restoring McCree to health, and next thing she knew, Junkrat was on the verge of death.
"Move!" she demanded, a bit rudely to Roadhog as he hunched over his much-smaller sidekick, shielding the semi-conscious man from the fray.
"Yes ma'am!" the ferocious behemoth replied meekly, in a way that would have been humorous if Mercy wasn't so blasted tired.
"Oi, there's me sweet angel," Jamison 'Junkrat' Fawkes rasped feebly as she came to kneel beside him. He'd suffered a nasty wound to his belly, and was more or less holding himself together with one blood-soaked hand.
"Be still," she ordered, activating the Caduceus and applying the healing beam to the gaunt blond Australian.
He began breathing more deeply and easily as the healing beam did its work, knitting together the split flesh, erasing the blood that had pooled under him.
"Ahh, you're a sight for sore balls, darlin'" the sooty explosives fanatic chuckled up at her.
"Jamie... SHUT IT," she snapped, her beautiful eyes flashing, "I am in NO MOOD."
"Sorry ma'am," the amber-eyed man mumbled timidly.
He lay still and quiet as Mercy finished her task, and then Roadhog hauled him to his feet, and with a quick high-five, the two lumbered off to cause more damage.
She heard the sound of Reaper's enormous hand-cannons from someplace around the next corner, and she winced. As a physician, she was adamantly against the taking of lives, if at all possible.
Reaper, on the other hand, was adamantly FOR the taking of lives, if at all possible. The man could splatter the skulls of a dozen enemies in a matter of seconds, without breaking a sweat. She'd seen him do it.
She heard someone calling to her piteously, and ran around the corner in the direction of Reaper's shots.
This time it was Mei, bleeding profusely from a wound to her leg. Mercy set to work healing the sweet, bespectacled hero, and soon Mei was getting to her feet.
"Thanks, Mercy!" she said, with a smile. Then her eyes went wide as she saw something behind Angela.
"Look out!" the shorter girl squeaked.
Angela whirled, and got a fleeting glimpse of an enemy raising his weapon. She had no time to get to her pistol, and she knew she was blocking Mei's shot.
And then the attacker's head exploded in a spray of brains and bone fragments, splattering Mercy and Mei's uniforms with viscera.
"UGH!" Mei exclaimed, gagging, "REAPER!"
The sound of low laughter met Angela's ears, and Reaper calmly walked past her toward his newest kill.
"You're welcome," he growled as he moved to stand over the headless body, retrieving the soul globe.
Mercy shook her head, disgusted as ever by Reaper's wanton disregard for the sanctity of life.
Just then, she heard someone that sounded like Hanzo cry out to her, and she headed through the alleyway behind her, toward the sound. She found herself in a courtyard, but there was no sign of the Japanese archer.
"Hello?" she called "Hanzo, did you call?"
And then from every direction, from every alleyway and corridor, every doorway in the vicinity came a dozen armed attackers, all with weapons aimed at her, closing in.
"Take her out!" one of them shouted, "It's the only way to keep these freaks down!"
Suddenly there was a loud hissing, whooshing sound, and a swirl of black mist erupted out of the earth before her. Reaper materialized out of it and pushed her to the ground.
"STAY DOWN!" he ordered.
Mercy covered her head with her arms as she heard the sounds of lots of people being shredded by Reaper's guns.
As he completed the Death Blossom, Reaper suddenly grunted in pain, grabbing his shoulder. One lucky enemy agent managed to land a shot on the robed mercenary.
"Gabriel!" Angela cried out, getting to her feet. She reached for her Caduceus, but before she could grab it, an arm grabbed her around the waist, pulled her upright, and a gun was pressed to her temple.
She froze, knowing any attempt to resist would mean death. She watched as Reaper turned his head toward her. She couldn't see his face behind the mask, of course, but the squaring of the man's shoulders was obvious.
The black-robed mercenary stalked toward Angela and her captor, his gun trained on the man holding her.
"Drop it!" the unknown attacker man snarled near her ear, "Drop it, now! Or she..."
*KABLAM-SPLATTER*
Reaper was known for his deadly accuracy, and Angela barely felt the breeze as the bullet passed from Gabe's gun into the head of the man holding her. She did feel the hot, sticky mess that soaked her neck and the side of her face, however.
"Ohh, GABRIEL!" she yelped, scraping human yuck off her neck and slinging it aside.
She knelt to the sounds of Gabe's chuckling, retrieved the Caduceus, and aimed it at him.
"NOPE!" he said, holding up a hand, "Don't even think about it, Blondie. I can take care of myself."
He retrieved the soul globe from Angela's attacker, and then rotated his newly-healed shoulder.
"Ungrateful, much?" she retorted, lowering the staff and leaning on it.
"Yeah, yeah," Reaper muttered, a definite hint of a smile in his voice, "How many times am I going to have to save your life today, anyway?"
As if on cue, gunfire began to patter into the ground near them.
"At least once more, apparently!" she yelped, as Reaper charged at her. He grabbed her up with one massive arm and held her close to his body, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
She felt an odd, ticklish, tingling feeling throughout her body, and her feet were suddenly no longer touching the ground. In fact, she realized when she looked down, her feet didn't even exist. Both her body and Reaper's had dissolved into a swirling black mist from the waist down.
"Hold on!" he growled in her ear.
There was a dizzying, unsettling rush of motion that gave her vertigo, and she pressed her face into his neck as she felt herself floating rapidly over the ground. The gunfire was all around her, but none of the projectiles touched her. It sounded as if they were underwater.
After a few seconds, she was unceremoniously dropped to the ground, and she lay there, trying to catch her breath and waiting for her head to stop spinning. She'd dropped the Caduceus somewhere along the way.
"Stay there!" Gabe's voice called back to her as he disappeared into the fray again.
Angela sat up, holding her head, and found herself in a small, shadowy, protected alcove. As she recovered, she went over in her mind what had just happened, and realized she'd just experienced Reaper's infamous Wraith Form.
She had never heard of him ever using it on anyone but himself, and wondered if she was the first to enjoy the privilege.
Perhaps 'enjoy' was the wrong word, she thought, as she promptly leaned over and vomited.
She just sat there, still trying to scrape the remains of several of Reaper's kills off her skin and uniform. What a day.
Before too long, she heard heavy footsteps, and Gabriel came around the corner, carrying her Caduceus. He leaned down and helped her to her feet, and handed the staff to her.
"It's over," he said, "We won. But you're needed out here."
She had never enjoyed, nor needed, a shower more in her life...
Finally rinsing away the last of the shampoo, soap, and someone else's blood from her hair and body, Angela climbed out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her waist. As she moved to her bedroom, drying her hair with a second towel, she was torn.
Part of her was so exhausted that she just wanted to flop into bed and sleep until noon. But the other part of her kept replaying the day's incidents... specifically how many time Reaper had been there for her today. She felt she owed him a thank-you, at least.
Making a decision, she quickly put on her robe and moved to her bedroom door. But just as she reached it, there was a knock.
"Who is it?" she called, wondering which of her teammates needed what at this hour.
"Reyes," came the low, guttural growl.
She opened the door, and sure enough, there stood Reaper, aka Gabriel Reyes, in his civilian clothes. He wore black jeans and a black t-shirt, apparently unable to give up his favorite color, even when off-duty.
"Come on in," Angela said, kindly, opening the door wider and stepping aside.
He hesitated, and Angela could swear she saw uncertainty and shyness in his dark face. She bit into her tongue to keep from smiling. The Angel of Death, all timid and hesitant...
"Sorry to bother you," he said quietly as he finally stepped inside the room, and moved to stand awkwardly in the living area.
"No, it's fine," she said, closing the door and coming to stand before him, "Sit down."
"Nah," he said, shaking his head, "I can't stay, I just..."
He gave a humorously-uncharacteristic little shrug, ducking his head slightly.
"I couldn't sleep. I wanted to make sure you were OK," he mumbled, so quietly that Angela wasn't sure she heard correctly.
"Things got ugly out there, today and... well... I was worried about you."
She just blinked, feeling her face turn pink at the thought of Mister Big Bad Destroying Angel losing sleep over her well-being.
"Thank you," she replied softly, reaching up to lay her hand on his shoulder. He flinched at her touch, and she withdrew her hand.
"Sorry, reflex," he said, lifting his face, "I just... usually when someone touches me, it means I'm about to be struck, shot, or stabbed."
He gazed down at her, and she found she couldn't look away from his eyes, frightening as they were with their glowing red irises. How could eyes that terrifying have kindness in them at the same time?
"Well," she said, finally finding her voice, "I promise I won't strike, shoot or stab you."
She reached up toward his face, and he drew back, but just slightly. He swallowed hard, furrowing his brow, clearly making a great effort not to flee. It made her heart hurt, and she felt tears behind her eyes.
Moving very slowly, she cupped his cheek in her hand, and just held it there, stroking her thumb over his rough skin. She noticed a few open, gaping scratches on his neck, and she winced.
"Do those hurt?" she asked, quietly, still caressing his face.
"Yes," he replied, reaching up to lay his hand over hers, "But I don't notice anymore."
"Why not?" she asked, tracing his cheekbone with her index finger, moving closer to him.
"Because EVERYTHING hurts," he replied, with a sad little smile, "All the time."
She froze, staring at him in horror.
"My cells die and regenerate constantly, at lightning speed, and I feel every second of it," he explained, "It's like being on fire, every moment."
"Oh, Gabe," she murmured, and a tear escaped to trickle down her smooth cheek. He swiped it away with his thumb, and she held his big hand in both of hers.
"It's OK," he said comfortingly, shaking his head a little, "I've gotten used to it."
To her shock, he suddenly leaned down and kissed her forehead, very briefly, very innocently.
Maybe it was a mistake... maybe it was dangerous... she didn't care. She stood on her tiptoes, leaned in, and kissed him full on the lips.
He tasted... terrible. She didn't care. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and after a few moments, his strong arms encircled her waist. The kiss deepened, his hands stroking up and down her back, hers reaching up to caress his head.
Angela's body ached, and she moved closer to him, wrapping one leg around his thigh in order to place herself more tightly to his hard form. He broke the kiss after another minute, and she gave a small sound of disappointment.
"Bedroom?" he growled, his red eyes alight, his teeth slightly bared, almost like a predatory creature.
She pointed, and he scooped her up in his big arms and carried her down the hall, never letting his lips part from hers. Once in the bedroom, he crossed to the bed and eased her down upon it.
Somehow they both managed to get their clothes off. Gabe might well have Shadow Stepped out of his, as quickly as he was suddenly naked. Angela's robe ended up on a pile in the corner, and then Gabriel's long, solid body was laid out over top of hers.
His hands moved over every inch of her, over her throat, across her breasts, down over her belly, and then lower still. His fingers were rough and strangely cool as they manipulated her, and she felt herself swelling and opening to him.
Her hand reached out blindly and found him, and she wrapped her fingers around his thickness. He gave an animal-like growl/moan of pleasure, and his breath came in harsh huffs, like a steam engine.
She watched his face, entranced at being able to see his expressions, instead of a featureless, cold mask. The looks of pleasure and vulnerability on his dark features made her skin tingle. He was hot, and as hard as steel in her small, delicate fingers.
He closed his eyes tightly, breathing hard through clenched teeth as she stroked him. But just as he seemed about to climax, he took hold of her wrist and pulled her hand away.
"W...wait," he panted.
"What's wrong?" she asked, still grinding her pelvis under his hand, closing her eyes.
"Do you trust me?" he growled beside her ear, running his fingers over her lower belly.
She opened her eyes and looked at him, a bit uncertainly.
"Yyyyes?" she replied hesitantly.
He grinned at her devilishly, his red eyes glowing in the faint light. As she watched, his body dissolved into a black mist. The cloud hovered over her body for a moment, and then settled into her, soaking right into her flesh.
It was indescribable. She could feel him in her mind, in her skin, in her heart and lungs, and of course, in her most private, personal places. It was like a rushing wave of sensation, flowing and ebbing through her nerves, tingling every bone and muscle, caressing her body at a cellular level.
"Ohhhh, mein Gott...," she gasped, lapsing into her native German as she was overcome with ecstasy.
"Does that feel good?"
It was his voice, and yet it wasn't. She heard him, but with her mind and her heart, rather than her ears. His life force spoke to her life force.
"Ohh... G...G.. Gabriel... GABRIEL!"
With one last, exhilarated, ecstatic wail, she came, her body arching gasping, clutching at the sheets beneath her for fear she would fall off the Earth.
She felt his rumbling, thunder-like chuckle inside her bones, and a moment later, the black mist rose out of her limp, sweat-covered body and reformed into a panting, joyously-spent Gabriel Reyes.
Solid again, he lay over her, and gently stroked the sweat-drenched hair back from her beautiful, flushed face. She just lay there, panting, her eyes still closed in rapture.
"You OK, Angelita?" he purred in her ear.
She just nodded, her voice hadn't come back online, yet.
His lips kissed her throat, and she finally regained enough control over her body to reach up and wrap her arms around him. She pulled his head down onto her breast and held him, stroking his short, black hair, feeling the prickle of his beard against her sensitized skin.
"That was...," she breathed, trying to find the right words. She couldn't.
"Wasn't it, though?" he replied, with another breathless chuckle.
"Is it always like that?" she finally managed to ask, opening her eyes and gazing up at him as he lifted his head.
He blinked at her, and then a smile spread across his face.
"No idea," he admitted, "Never tried it before."
She smiled back at him, giving a little chuckle of her own before hugging him to her again.
"Well don't I feel special, then?" she whispered.
"You ARE," he replied, softly.
Angela shifted over a bit on the bed to make more room for Gabe, and after a moment of uncertainty, he settled down beside her, still holding her close to him. The two heroes were asleep within moments.
THE END