Chapter 01: Spicy Mexican Food

Sombra and Widowmaker were both sat down at the kitchen table, staring up at Reaper skeptically.

"Repeat what you just said?" Widowmaker asked slowly, raising a single, slender eyebrow.

"I'm cooking dinner tonight," Reaper repeated.

Sombra and Widowmaker both looked at each other, then back at Reaper. Widowmaker simply kept a single eyebrow raised whilst Sombra snorted and slapped her hands against the table.

"You want to cook dinner tonight?" Sombra wailed, burying her face in her hands. "You, Sir Edgey McEdgeface, Edgelord of Edgington want to cook dinner."

"For the last time, Sombra, I'm not edgey," Reaper growled, and Sombra snorted again.

Widowmaker, who had enough class not to laugh out loud, still remarked, "You are the one who dresses up like Death for official business."

"Thank you, Widowmaker, for agreeing with her," Reaper huffed, his eyes narrowed and upper lip twitching.

Widowmaker took a sip of her tea and nonchalantly replied, "De rien."

Sombra, who was laughing so hard that she had started to cry, somehow collected herself together long enough to ask, "Why'd you want to cook, Reapy?"

"Because I'm sick of somebody trying to poison me," he grumbled, daggers shot in Widowmaker's direction.

She glared back, tapping a long nail repeatedly against her mug. "You got food poisoning one time. One time."

"I'm still not convinced that you didn't intentionally poison it," Reaper shot back.

"I can't intentionally mean for food poisoning to happen," Widowmaker snapped back.

"Well, if you fill it with cyanide, maybe," Sombra remarked, earning glares from the arguing pair. "Or, y'know, you could fill it with Amelie's distaste for Emily. That would be enough to kill a bastion unit, and they don't even eat."

"I don't know of an Emily," Widowmaker muttered callously.

"You sure you don't know of a certain red head who's dating a certain British brunette?" Sombra teased.

"I don't know of an Emily," Widowmaker hissed, even more venomously this time.

"Suit yourself," Sombra said, before looking back up at Reaper, whom had his arms crossed and as tapping his foot impatiently against the ground. "So, you wanna make us dinner?"

"You realise you can't cook?" Widowmaker reminded him. "Neither of you can, because you're both pathetic."

"Neither can you," Sombra snarked back.

Widowmaker gasped, and practically leapt up off her chair. "What do you mean I can't cook? I'm a brilliant cook."

"Just because your food doesn't taste like it came out of the rear end of a donkey, doesn't mean it's good," Sombra said.

"Compared to your disastrous attempts my cooking deserves to be served at the finest restaurants," Widowmaker retorted.

"Which is why you always make the dinner," Sombra pointed out. She looked back at Reaper, smirking as she leant back in her chair, dangerously balancing on only two legs. "Speaking of why, why do you want to cook, Reaper?"

"Because Amelie is terrible at Mexican food," Reaper explained.

Sombra's eyes widened and she flashed Widowmaker a wicked grin. "He's right. Your Mexican food sucks."

Widowmaker scowled back in response and pushed up from the table. "Fine. Have it your way, but we will all die."

Reaper and Sombra watched Widowmaker storm away, ranting about something in fluent French.

Sneaking a glance back at Reaper, Sombra said, "You probably will kill us all."

"Shut up," he snapped back, before he too stomped away.

Sombra merely shrugged, finished her own drink, then snatched up the mug of tea Widowmaker had abandoned, finishing that too before following Reaper out of the room, presumably to buy Mexican ingredients.

#

"Sombra, that's too much seasoning."

"That's too much complaining."

"No, Sombra, that really is too much- dammit, Sombra."

Reaper scowled down at the mince they were currently browning, with a hideously large pile of taco seasoning sat on top. Sombra grinned back and said, "But it's Mexican."

"Mexican kill us," Reaper grumbled, reluctantly stirring in the spice. "Mexican kill Amelie anyway. She hates spices."

Sombra snorted and sat back up on the counter, watching as Reaper worked on the mince. "Did you make a joke?"

"I don't make jokes."

"Well, you're currently making one right now," Sombra challenged, pointing at the food.

Reaper paused and narrowed his eyes at her. "Your parents made a joke."

Sombra scowled back, and Reaper looked somewhat pleased with his comeback.

With a huff Sombra jumped down and padded over to the fridge, announcing, "I'm chopping the veg."

"Sombra, we do not need veg. Sombra listen to me. Sombra I don't trust you with that knife. Sombra-"

Several plasters around fingers, stab marks in the kitchen table, burn marks on hands, and unsuccessful attempts at getting Sombra to pay attention, dinner was finally done. Reaper called for Widowmaker, who walked in, took one look at the bombshell of a mess that kitchen had become in the process, and walked out again, muttering something about how she would rather eat snails.

Sombra dragged Widowmaker back into the kitchen, where Reaper was serving up the tacos he had made. Or attempted to make, anyway. Widowmaker sneered down at the bowl she was given, but reluctantly tried a spoonful of mince, only to spit it out straight away.

After a small explosion of what the other two could only assume was French cussing, Widowmaker cried out, her eyes already watering due to the abundance of spices, "Are you trying to kill me?"

"No," said Reaper.

"Yes," said Sombra.

"I'm cooking tomorrow, whether the two of you like it or not," Widowmaker hissed in return, stomping out of the room.

Sombra reluctantly tried the mince this time, then stuck her tongue out and said, "Yeah, let's leave it to Amelie next time."

Reaper just leant his head against the table in exasperation and muttered, "Shut up, Sombra."

A/N

Kate! I hear you say. Is this a fan fiction that isn't vocaloid? Yes, my friends. Yes it is. Had to submit some comedic writing for an Overwatch fan thing, so wrote some Talon one shots on the fly. Want something specific? Feel free to ask :3

Kate