What Happens in Hollywood
PROLOGUE
It had been McCree's suggestion that they make use of the Hollywood saloons. Having drunk their way through the liquor supply of two such places, the heroes were now crowded into a third establishment, in which Lúcio had discovered a piano; spirits were very high.
"What should we do with all the empty bottles?" Mei asked, collecting a few from the round tables. "Can we recycle?"
Junkrat snorted into his beer and answered: "You won't get rid of them that easy. I say we blow 'em up!"
"Calm down, my friend." Reinhardt thumped him on the back. "Now is the time for glorious drinking, not for violence." He motioned to towards Tracer. "Bring me another!" She zipped by, perhaps less nimbly than usual.
"I wouldn't be averse to some target practice," McCree suggested. "Anyone care to shoot bottles out back?"
"Dweet! Dweet! Dweet!" came the excited reply from Bastion.
McCree's expression fell. "Now, I don't think I'll compete with that."
"Doo-woo." The bot seemed dejected.
"Cheer up, little guy," Lúcio called out, folding down the lid of the piano. "I know a game we can all play – it's called Spin the Bottle."
"What is this game?" Orisa asked, pupils rotating in curiosity.
"Let's take it from the top. Everyone get in a circle," Lúcio instructed. To his surprise, the heroes drunkenly complied, each one making their way into a seat or onto a barstool, robots positioned between: a loose circle formed. Lúcio chose a dusty brown whiskey bottle, and placed it on a table near the centre.
"Now, we can play the regular version or the spicy version," he told them.
"Time to get my hands dirty!" Torbjorn rubbed him palms together excitedly. "Let's play the spicy version."
"Is this an easy game?" DVa asked.
"Here's how it works," Lúcio explained. "We spin the bottle, and whoever it lands on, gets a blindfold." He pulled a strip of bright yellow fabric from his backpack. "Then we spin the bottle three more times. Each of those three has to come and kiss-"
Mei gasped and DVa made a squealing sound.
"-the blindfolded player. That player has to guess who kissed them, and the most mysterious kisser wins the round." Lúcio grinned at the attentive faces.
"Now we're talkin'!" Junkrat cackled, screwing the lid off a fresh bottle of whiskey.
Mei's eyes were wide in horror, but Torbjorn called out, "Let's spin!" Following a few cheers of agreement, Lúcio spun the bottle. And to the dwarf-like man's glee, it slowly came to a stop in the direction of Torbjorn.
Mei's eyes widened further.
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SOLDIER 76
Soldier 76 was too old for this kind of screwing around. Actually, that was an excuse. Due to his enhanced body, he'd never really felt the symptoms of aging; and even a young Jack Morrison would've disapproved of the inane "Spin the Bottle".
At least this saloon had some good quality drink; he swirled the bourbon in his glass. Firmly set against responding to the foolishness at hand, he scooted his chair slightly behind Zarya, in the hopes that any bottle would end up vaguely in her direction and never his.
He watched Torbjorn stumble to the front of the bar where Lúcio blindfolded his eyes, blonde eyebrows poking out. Soldier supressed a sigh, and let his gaze wander, sharp mind becoming bored despite the soothing hum of the alcohol.
Unfortunately his gaze came to rest on the brightest point in the room, a pair of glowing golden wings attached to the shapely figure of a certain medic. He let his eyes rest there for a moment, drinking in the details visible across the room: her smooth ivory skin, platinum blonde ponytail perky as ever, thigh-high black boots, the posture of a dancer.
Jack tore his eyes away and glowered into his cup. He'd been trying to supress this recent interest his eyes had taken in the group's star healer. He was convinced that too many years in the force were finally taking their toll, and that his resolve for an independent lifestyle was weakening. It was probably time to settle down, meet a nice older woman, and live out his days on a farm in rural Indiana.
Perhaps Ana wasn't seeing anyone?
"Ooo!" came DVa's scream of excitement. Jack snapped his eyes up – sure enough, the first bottle had been spun, and Mei was making her way shamefully towards the blindfolded player.
She paused in front of Torbjorn, and then leaned in for a chaste kiss on the cheek.
"Frosty, baby!" he exclaimed. "It has to be Mei."
"That's right!" Lúcio announced. "First point to Torb; let's spin again, are you ready?"
The brown bottle became a blur, spinning around and around, eventually slowing to point at the strong figure of Brigitte. Her chair scraped loudly as she stood, confidently striding towards the small hairy man as if it were a mission duty. The kiss looked strong and brief, on the lips this time, and Torbjorn chuckled.
"A woman like that can't be mistaken; it's Brigitte, for sure."
Lúcio whooped. "Another point for Torb! Let's see if the final kisser can be more mysterious."
Though he wasn't wearing the lower mask tonight, Soldier hoped his visor obscured the disinterested expression on his face. A leadership role demanded some tolerance for team-building exercises, and the heroes seemed to be greatly enjoying themselves; even Widow's eyes were sparkling with amusement. Well, maybe the game wasn't so bad after all.
"Oh, my!" Mei burst out, as the third spin came to a rest.
The room grew quiet, and with the fluid grace that painted all her movements, Mercy rose from her chair. Soldier's stomach suddenly clenched, and he looked away, disgusted. His brain told him he didn't want to see this, though others in the room began laughing openly with anticipation.
As the young woman stepped lightly in front of Torbjorn, Jack got up to swipe the whiskey from Junkrat's table, turning his back to the action. DVa giggled loudly behind him, and the room held its breath for a moment.
"Ooo hold on a minute, now," called Torbjorn. "That's the kiss of a special woman. A sultry woman, a rare woman – hmm now." He hesitated, then: "Well – it has to be… Widowmaker!"
"Wrong!" Lúcio shouted, and the room was filled with cheers. Soldier sat heavily back in his seat, in time to see the blindfold removed. As least it was over now, Mercy sitting primly on her chair, eyes innocent beneath that halo.
A halo he'd like to rip off, for what she was doing to his insides. A truly angelic woman couldn't make him feel this… sickness, or whatever it was! More liquor seemed appropriate, so he filled the glass again and tried to relax. It was just Mercy; he'd run missions with her a hundred times, he trusted her, and she was a faithful teammate.
She'd probably be a faithful lover too.
Nope. That was it – team-building be damned, Jack was going outside for a breather. He tensed his muscles to stand, but then something horrible happened.
"Our winner is Mercy, with the mystery lips! That makes it your turn now, Angela." Lúcio motioned for her to sit at the front, blindfold ready.
Jack groaned, which mercifully went unheard in the room full of chatter. Simultaneously he felt a need to flee the place, and to sit down intently watching every move to follow. Should he drag his chair back into the circle a little? No, definitely not, that was a reckless plan – or was it? Soldier felt immobilized by the whiskey-drenched swirl of thoughts.
"Let's up the tempo!" called Lúcio, and the heroes cheered.
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MERCY
Angela Ziegler often felt shy, but the rum had fixed that. At 37, she hadn't kissed as many men as a younger Mercy would've expected, but there was no time like the present, right?
The sounds of Lúcio directing the game faded into background noise as Mercy mentally prepared her senses for the challenge. It was exciting, she had to admit. The ins and outs of medical practice could feel dull at times, and a wild night out was a rare burst of fun for her usually serious self. Besides, she was happy to be the centre of joy for her dear heroes.
"Step up to the plate!" said Lúcio.
Mercy couldn't hear any steps as someone approached, but soon she felt warm breath near her lips, scented with… was that gardenia flowers? A sharp but gentle finger tucked a loose golden hair strand behind Mercy's ear, before soft lips melded with hers, a kiss she shared willingly. She thought she could feel a smirk on the lips of the mysterious someone, and instantly realized who it must be.
"Why, Sombra, I didn't expect you!" she called.
There was applause, and Lúcio began the next round. This was quite pleasant, Angela thought, mind humming with the mojitos her Mexican friend had mixed for her; a perfect distraction from her recent feelings of depression, which she couldn't quite explain. Mercy had been happy for years as an Overwatch medic, yet these days it wasn't always easy to pull on her battle gear and head into the field. Could her life be missing something?
When she'd confessed these feelings to Sombra last week, the woman had suggested that Mercy find herself a secret lover; apparently it was working out for Sombra, who wouldn't reveal her mystery man's name, but undeniably kept up a peppier demeanour than Angela had been able to manage lately. Was it worth a try? Perhaps this game was the fated answer to her problem, and the upcoming kisser would become more than a one-time embrace.
Heavy footfalls were approaching, and Mercy refocussed her attention on the physical realm. She felt tense and nauseous: now that fate rested on this game, it wasn't just a fun romp. This could be meaningful, this could be-
Sudden warm flesh was pressing against her midriff, and Mercy flinched back. A massive hand pushed into the back of her head, and lips overwhelmed hers; the smell of sweat permeated. Panicking, Angela twisted away and yelled out the name, "Roadhog!" A deep, hearty laugh erupted in her ear, confirming she had guessed correctly.
Well, so much for fated lover. That was not what she'd had in mind! One more kiss to go, then she could slink back into a more comfortable spot, a wallflower for the rest of the night.
"The last mystery kisser, please!" Lúcio called.
"Be careful, Mercy!" DVa said nearby, warning her friend. Of what exactly, Mercy wasn't sure. Was it a dangerous game? Yes, feelings were dangerous; she'd come to learn that over the course of her demanding life. Feelings could interfere with work, feelings could destroy friendships, feelings could possess your soul and lead you down paths you weren't willing to go. She generally pushed her feelings away, focussing on the science, the physical, the medical matters which required a brilliant mind and a steady heart.
So when the next set of footsteps approached, Mercy's senses were fully alert. This could be nothing, but it could also be the spark of something beginning that she wasn't prepared for.
A man stood very near her; she could tell by the slight musky scent. A hand reached out to caress her jawline, as if confirming permission. She opened her lips slightly, inviting the kiss. He leaned closer, and their foreheads touched before he moved in and their lips met. This kiss was a real one, insistent with pressure, and Mercy pushed into it, deepening the feeling. Why not? This could be her chance; this could be the risk that would lift her out of loneliness.
It was over too soon, and the gentle hand gone from her face, leaving a breathless desire behind. But whose hand? Whose lips?
"Is it hot in here? Or is it just me?" said Lúcio, encouraging the howls that followed. "Mercy, guess your mystery kisser!"
Mercy considered.
It could be Hanzo. Rippling muscles, the gentle hands of an archer, a handsome angular face that rarely broke into a smile – it might be him. Yet the breath hadn't smelled of sake, and Mercy was sure she'd seen him drinking it all evening.
It could be his brother, Genji. The younger man was polite, protective, and gorgeous – well, the parts of him that were still human. Could he have sparked the passion Mercy felt? She was unsure – she hadn't noticed him in that way before; it seemed unlikely.
What of the men in masks, Reaper and Soldier 76? She hadn't seen Reaper without his mask for a long time, but still remembered the rugged face of Gabriel Reyes, his brown eyes warm pools it was hard to look away from, his smile transformative and likeable. If it was him, she was in a lot of trouble, because a relationship with the smoky monster he'd become would be impossible. It wasn't what she wanted.
That left her with McCree: the charming, the respectful man who couldn't help but flirt with women. She didn't blame him – blessed with those dark blue eyes and a strong jawline, speaking in that Western drawl, few women could resist his touch. She felt it was plausible that she could be one of those women, seduced by his honest and inviting manner. Was it him?
Her thoughts drifted back to Soldier 76. She'd seen Jack without his mask plenty of times, in and out of her treatment bay for countless battle injuries. She'd seen him without his shirt on, too, and swallowed now at the thought of his super-soldier body. Yet, Angela thought, that wasn't the part of him that she found most appealing: he was a hard man, a selfless and reckless fighter whose leadership had brought them to be the heroes they were today. And he was also kind, and observant, and those icy blue eyes were unreachable in a way that made her long to be the object of his gaze.
Oh. Did she have feelings for Jack? She hadn't considered it seriously before, but now that she was trapped in this decision, it seemed obvious who she wanted her mystery kisser to be.
"Is it Soldier 76?" she ventured shyly.
"McCree wins!" Lúcio bellowed, swiftly removing the blindfold. A wave of disappointment hit Mercy in the chest, and she managed a weak smile for Jesse McCree as she walked back to her chair.
Sombra handed her a new drink. "Nice plays, sister; you almost had us."
She stared into the glass of mint and rum, watching the leaves float and sink. This had been a wake-up call she was not expecting. Her mind struggled to focus on the present, still musing on a certain shirtless soldier. She supposed this was the punishment for repressing fantasies – once they came to light, it was impossible to hide.
"Why'd you guess Soldier?" Sombra asked.
Mercy tried to think of a valid excuse, and scanned the room, looking for the leather-jacketed object of her thoughts.
He wasn't there.
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SOLDIER 76
"Is it hot in here? Or is it just me?" said Lúcio, and the crowd whooped.
Soldier couldn't take it anymore, and exited the saloon, wooden doors swinging wildly as he stepped into the dusty streets of Hollywood. Stars were out, and the air was mild; the scent of hay was nicer than the cigar smoke drifting out of the saloon behind him. Soldier stretched his arms behind his back, and cracked his neck – what a night.
A nearby crate looked inviting; he wasn't in much of a state to stand, after all that alcohol. It was definitely the liquor that made him feel sick to the stomach right now, wasn't it? He sat down.
Jack wasn't sure that intently staring as three different heroes kissed the woman he'd been coveting was the most subtle approach. He hoped that no one had noticed his possessive looks; at least Mercy herself wouldn't have known, so he was safe there. He could keep these jealous feelings to himself and continue restricting any incidental gazing; there didn't have to be a future to this crush.
But it was tempting. Angela wasn't just a pretty face and a hot body; she was also sweet and selfless, intelligent and giving – and innocent, something Soldier was alien to these days. How she had preserved her innocence through the bloody violence of battle over the years, Jack didn't know – but he longed find out, in her arms. Perhaps she could breathe a little of that innocence back into him, restoring hope the way she restored life to her fallen teammates.
Lost in his thoughts, Soldier didn't look up until he heard the sound of muffled crying behind him. There she was, an angel, sitting on the porch of the saloon, knees pulled to her chest, hand covering her mouth to quiet the soft sobs. Her eyes were down – she hadn't noticed him, and he felt disturbed to be witnessing this private sadness. Bright tears sparkled on her cheeks, caught in the lanterns' glow.
"Mercy?" he called out softly, approaching. "Mercy, are you okay?"
Her eyes snapped up, panicked and fearful.
He stopped. Was she afraid of him? He didn't want to scare her any further, but her expression concerned him. Why was his treasured healer afraid of him?
"I – I'm fine," she stumbled over her words, whether from drink or emotion, he couldn't tell. "It was just too much, that game in there."
He cautiously resumed his approach, walking up to her and then sliding down the saloon wall to sit beside her, a foot or two away.
"Sorry," he apologized, taking responsibility. "I shouldn't have let them keep going. The whole thing is inappropriate."
She shook her head and wiped a tear away. "No, it's fine. I'm okay. It wasn't your fault." Her mascara had dripped, smearing slightly in a way Jack thought was actually cute. He longed to reach out and brush her cheek, to comfort her, but it wouldn't be appropriate.
"Still, I'm sorry," he repeated. "Did you win, at least?"
"No." She sniffed, a semi-smile forming. "I didn't guess the last one."
"Oh?" he asked. "McCree? Well who did you guess?"
She took a heavy breath in. "I guessed you."
He couldn't hold in a short laugh. "Me? Really? I don't know, Mercy, you think I'd do that?" He wasn't really comfortable with tied up women.
She lifted her eyes to his, as if searching. "I guess not." She looked away. "I guess I was sort of hoping."
His heart skipped. She was hoping he'd kissed her? Did he hear that right?
"Uhhh, were you?" She looked back up at him, and the sincerity was clear as an azure sky. He had no control anymore, and blurted out, "So, would you like me to kiss you now?"
Well, shit. So much for resisting temptation! (Though he'd like to meet a man who could resist Angela's beautiful blue eyes, and her perfect coral lips; especially when she was sad.)
Mercy stood up at once, and walked away into the street, then stopped, her back towards him. "Oh, Jack," she said. He followed, striding up behind her.
She whirled around, and he narrowly dodged those delicate wings. She didn't have to say anything this time; the pleading look was enough.
He grabbed her waist with a gloved hand, pulling her in close, pressing their hips together. The few inches of height difference invited him to tilt her chin upwards with his other hand; he did so.
She slowly reached up, unclipping his visor as she had many times before. He was exposed to her now, and if she could read the unrepressed desire in his eyes now, there was no way to stop it.
"I couldn't stand watching you," he confessed, "with the others."
She nodded. "I couldn't stand it when it wasn't you," Mercy admitted. "It's why I was crying. I… I didn't know I wanted you until tonight."
He closed his eyes, savouring the words. Could soldiers have butterflies? He thought he might be having them now. To still the nauseating feeling, he pressed his lips to hers, and she leaned up and into the embrace.
His hand travelled up to hold her ponytail and he pushed his tongue into her mouth, pent-up passion surging into the kiss. He felt her small frame pushed up against his body; possessing her like this felt so right, so natural.
Pulling back for breath, he checked himself. Was this okay? Was it what she wanted?
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MERCY
Soldier's kiss was nothing like the others of the night. How had she been so naïve as to think McCree passionate? This kiss was a thousand times that one.
The feel of Soldier's firm body pressed into her own soft form, the electricity that passed between their mouths, the breathless constriction of her chest – these were not everyday feelings, this was something so surprising, so pleasing, that Mercy's head was spinning. She relaxed into his arms, letting his strong body support her.
And this was everything she needed. Jack's light eyes were searching hers, and she knew what he was asking. "This is what I want," she breathed. "Just this."
And maybe more. Definitely more.
He grinned, the ruggedly handsome face of a younger man showing through the smile. Her body felt light, she was floating.
"Hey!" a voice called out. "You two didn't spin the bottle!"
"Shut up, Lúcio," said Soldier, not turning around. He pulled her into another kiss, and the stars exploded.