Prompt: Warmth
Warmth is the feeling when Moira's healing beam washes over Angela, her soreness suddenly dwindling, the scratches closing, leaving only dirt and ruined armor. So that was what it felt like. She had protested vocally, of course, reminding Moira that her nanites would eventually heal her in their own time - as if the other doctor needed a reminder. Perhaps Angela saw the faintest trace of concern in those mismatched eyes, or maybe she had imagined it, yet she felt eternally thankful and relieved when the soft light engulfed her and so she let out a sigh she didn't notice she had been holding.
"Don't be silly. You need to look out for yourself, too."
-
Warmth is that immense sensation flooding through her body after taking a decent sip from the pocket bottle Moira had offered her, her throat now effectively on fire. The culprit turned out to be Irish whiskey, of course, from somewhere near her hometown. She hadn't expected Moira to be that nostalgic about her upbringing, and certainly she hadn't expected an Overwatch member to bring alcohol to a mission, yet Moira was infamous for doing things on her own terms and Angela knew better than to question things.
They had reached their objective, yet Angela's nerves had worn dangerously thin. Trying to keep her team together while tending to their health and still moving the payload could be a tedious task at times. Most likely the Irishwoman understood this better than herself, so when Moira offered her this drink - her expression typically smug and maddening - Angela didn't act surprised. Instead, she tried to be tough, accepting the challenge without hesitation, and failing miserably when her face screwed into a grimace upon tasting the raw liquor. Moira chuckled and turned away, making her way back to the dropship. The after-effects left the blonde's face flushed and her body a furnace.
She scoffed and went to follow her. It should be annoying, the way the other doctor was always self-satisfied and looking down on others, yet Angela couldn't find herself to care and finally let her tense muscles relax.
-
Warmth was that special feeling of solitude that you could only share with certain people. And perhaps Angela would never expect one of these persons to be Moira O'Deorain, yet there she was, stuck in the laboratory with only the Irish doctor and none of the other staff to be seen.
It was Christmas and most Overwatch members found some time to spend with their families and loved ones. Peace and quiet that Angela had always made good use of, working on her research at the most random hours without ever being bothered before relaxing with a cup of mulled wine or two. The silence had never bothered her – quite on the contrary.
And so she should have felt annoyed when the labs didn't turn out to be empty during Christmas. It had been no one else than a certain other doctor being the sole second occupant of the labs. They had gone on with their work as usual, never speaking a single word at all. Normally, this could have turned into a very awkward situation for the two of them, yet never once Angela felt pressured to speak up for some mindless chatter, or to exchange some of their usual bickering. Instead, they kept working side by side as the evening progressed. It was oddly comforting and perhaps she felt a sense of peace by being able to share this moment with someone. And perhaps, Angela thought, it wouldn't hurt to share some of her mulled wine from her homeland with Moira after work was finished.
-
Warmth was that unexpected moment when Moira pulled Angela into a tight embrace, shielding her smaller body from the world, giving comfort in a manner that no one would have ever expected from the typically high and superior woman.
The battle had been hard, the losses were surging, and after working in the surgery for hours Angela still felt restless, defeated, and like she should have done so much more, cured so much more pain. Her body was yelling for rest and food, yet her mind was numb, unable to let go of all the images. Slowly she trotted out of medbay, heading to the living quarters when her body suddenly just went still. She idled and turned to the wall, her forehead resting against the cool surface of the wall as she tried to retain composure. She wouldn't cry - not out there, in public, in front of other people, but her body was shutting down and leaving her trapped.
Angela barely managed to take a look at the figure that had suddenly stepped up to her. It was Moira, eyeing her with an unreadable expression. The blonde now struggled even harder to not shed tears, and failed even harder once Moira wordlessly pulled her into her arms, her body then finally giving in and growing weak in the firm hold stabilizing her world.
It had become increasingly common for the two rivals to share intimate moments like these, showing weakness to the other one and receiving comfort in return. They had never talked openly about it, and Angela felt that it didn't matter in that moment. She relaxed, fully aware of gentle hands stroking her back, and finally allowed herself to cry.
-
Warmth was the everythingness that surrounded her as she lay in Moira's arms, cuddled up to her chest with her own tiredness finally becoming noticeable.
Never once had she looked at the clock while working in her office and it was typical for her to forget about time. Hence she had no idea how long Moira had been idle on her couch, reading a book in silence since having entered wordlessly a while before. In the past Angela might have been annoyed, suspecting Moira to quietly look for another way to rile her up, yet she hadn't felt her presence to be intruding at all.
Finally Angela had stood up, muttering something about grabbing a new cup of coffee, purposely neglecting the way her body was longing for a nap. Moira lowered her book, sitting up and finally disrupting the silence.
"You look like you could use a break."
The blonde sighed.
"Don't be silly, Moira. Work never sleeps."
The other doctor looked slightly amused as Angela made her way to pass by the couch. What she certainly did not expect was for long strong arms to grab her shoulders and drag her down onto the couch. She yelped and protested, still not used to this kind of closeness and certainly not to Moira trying to be protective. She wanted to be furious, her workload a constant reminder in the back of her head. She wanted to pull away, but Moira always smelled nicely and despite her lean built she felt amazingly warm against Angela. Her usually so infuriating voice was gentle and comforting, and with the last fraction of consciousness she managed to kick off her slippers before succumbing to sleep.