It was a tradition, of sorts.
Well, to put it more accurately it was more of an annual habit they just fell into, but if one thought about it, that's how all the best traditions started, right?
In the late-Christmas season Lena and Emily would venture out into the snowy streets of King's Row and walk the strip, weaving through the throng of last-minute shoppers. It was almost always crowded when they decided to embark on their little journey together the night before Christmas day ("the nightmare before Christmas day" as Lena had so eloquently put it), sidewalks bursting with people bundled in hats and overcoats, arms decorated with paper shopping bags as they flitted from store to store, like moths along a string of lights.
They never went to shop themselves. Both normally had the better sense to get their Christmas presents well beforehand (well, Emily had the better sense. Lena cut it closer and closer each year). Their adventures through the cold people and the frigid weather were more for the sake of doing something together. Most of the time they managed to find a clear spot off in a distance where they could view the busiest square and people watch. They'd sit and sip hot cocoa or scalding tea and point out passerby to the other before they both competed in spinning the most ridiculous tales of their shopping woes or what disasters might've occurred to bring them to shop this late. Lena tended to go more outlandish and usually won due to her sheer creativity, but Emily was always more than content to listening to her girlfriend yammer on, painting her vivid imagination in the frosty air, the snowflakes dancing around her breath and acting out her stories for her.
There were certainly worse ways to spend a Christmas Eve.
Other times they would brave the sidewalks themselves, pressing close and holding each other's hand as to not be separated in the bustling crowd. Emily would tell brief stories about her day, always claiming them to be uneventful and rather dull but she noticed how Lena hung onto each and every word, those brown eyes so vibrant and shimmering underneath the glow of the streetlamps that Emily always felt a pang in her heart as she remembered just how much she missed her when she went away.
But most of the time, it would be Lena retelling her stories of her missions from around the world, from the crazy adventures that Winston sent her off to to the absolutely psychotic ones she got mixed up in by herself. They were always amusing and exciting to listen to (and worrying. Oh dear lord in heaven were they worrying.) and Emily always listened with rapt attention, only glancing away to make sure they wouldn't bump into any of the rushing shoppers.
Or the one time she passed by a storefront and halted, her gaze locked with the window emitting the golden glow of light from inside the high-end store, her eyes a bit wide with yearning and shininess.
"So like, D. Va, who I swear has less common sense than I do sometimes just propel jets right in the middle of three turrets surrounding her and I'm thinkin' 'Bloody 'ell this girl is gonna go and off herself before she can even reach two decades' and I'm gonna be the one responsible 'cause since Mercy ain't around to play mum much anymore I'm suddenly the one who got tagged to be the responsible one since I signed up for the recall first which is total shite if ya ask me really but God, Winston tries so hard all the time I couldn't just say no to the big fella so of course you know I agree to babysittin' and - "
Lena halts her long-winded ramble of a story to notice that Emily's hand had long slipped from hers. In a brief second of panic she frantically looked around her, head whipped against the brisk wind, her neck almost suffering from the whiplash and cheeks pinking from the harshness of the chill. Her eyes are quick to scan the crowd, searching for the vibrant splash of red that was her girlfriend in the otherwise monotonous crowd. She felt her heart race and her lips begin to dry when suddenly, a few steps back, she spots her. She's standing right outside the window of a storefront, entranced by whatever is on display seemingly. The crowd parts around her and Lena beelines for her, a frown marring her pretty face.
"Everything alright, luv?" she asks when she comes within reaching distance, her hand reaching out to grab Emily's again and return them to the shared warmth between them. Emily jumped a bit and looked down to see her girlfriend looking concerned at her, lips puckered into an adorable pout reminiscent of a confused toddler. Emily lifted her other hand to the top of Lena's head, threading through spikes hardened with ice and cold, kneading them to their normal softness.
"Yeah, I'm sorry. Just got a bit distracted is all." She began to tug Lena back down the sidewalk the way they were originally headed, squeezing her hand gently. "So finish telling me about this character. She seems rather….ostentatious from what I've seen of her on the telly and the holograms."
Lena nodded and began to divulge back into her spiel about her newest comrades, but not without catching a quick glimpse of what in the window had caught Emily's eye.
A sole mannequin, donning a green-printed scarf.
A/N: Of course I had to write something for these two because holy shit they're cute and holy shit Tracer is fucking gay this is a real thing.
It's short because I just wanted to get this idea off of my chest (the first idea for a ship is always the toughest). However, it's still pretty slow-rolling so if y'all have any ideas feel free to send 'em and I'll consider it!
And don't worry~ I'm still gonna be writing widowtracer too. But these two are cute and canon and did I mention Tracer is canonically gay?