Her brow rose. "Excuse me?" She clearly misheard him and his idea for a fun night out.

"Laser tag." He repeated again, this time with a growing smile on his face. "You know, fake guns, lasers, a dark room with a million corners, cheesy fog effects." The blonde lifted his hand up while shaping it like a gun. "Pew, pew, faashoooo!" Playfully, he shot at her. "Laser tag!"

His girlfriend of no more than three months gave him a deadpan look. "That doesn't sound fun." Gaze cast aside, Angela slipped her hands over her chest to give Jack one of her 'you're going to be the death of me' looks.

Yes, she was an Overwatch agent. Yes, she knew how to handle a gun (it was required for all Overwatch agents to have gun training-both pulling the trigger as well as safety protocol). But no, she had absolutely no aim.

Up until now, she saw no reason to go target shooting. To up her aim and accuracy, why would she want to do that? She was a medic, a doctor after all! Her focus was on life-saving procedures, not killing. Last she checked, a gun couldn't heal wounds (heh, if only she knew what Ana was working on!).

"Think of this like target practice," Jack egged on. "It'll be easier than using a real gun." His elbow collided lightly against her side. "Eh, eh?"

"Is it not a child's game?"

Her words were met with stark silence. She opened her month to rescind her comment and rectify the situation but she could see the damage was already done. The look in his eyes said it all. He was hurt. If she could shrink down into a worm, she would have. She would have crawled right away and vanished forever. But that wasn't possible, so instead she nervously fidgeted with her golden fringe.

Jack opened his mouth only to pause. She could see his mind working within his transparent eyes. They'd had this talk about, about ages and that so-called judge-worthy difference between them. Every time they spoke of it, he got this way. Silent and sad.

Finally, he broke the silence. "Miss Ziegler, are you saying I'm old…"

Angela chewed her lip. She pulled her eyes off him for just a moment. When they returned, she noticed his sly sideways grin. He was mocking her, which didn't help the situation whatsoever.

"No," she she huffed. She would definitely pay for this later. Still, she couldn't believe herself. Did she really just do that? Did she really just accidentally (might I add innocently) call her boyfriend old?

Technically speaking, he was old. Older. Older than her by quite a few years. All of their good friends ignored the age gap difference. Hell, none of them cared. They were just happy that the two were finally a couple instead of giving each other "I want to fucking pound you into the ground and make sweet love to you" looks. Ah yes, the good old days of pent up sexual lust and adolescent hormones.

Granted, there were always those that were against it.

Gabriel Reyes was one of them. His reasoning was two part. One, he liked Angela and wanted the hot, young, blonde doctor to himself. He wasn't overly fond of the fact that Jack ended up getting the girl, especially knowing that Jack was married to his work. How could he balance the two? And this lead to his second gripe: he thought that a girlfriend, at least for Jack, would be way too distracting. Reyes had big plans for the soldier and didn't want love to interfere. Not to mention the fact that top brass had their eyes set on the strapping blonde. If Jack continued down the path he was currently on, the board would ultimately promote Jack to Strike-Commander, the public face of Overwatch (a title that would later cause Reyes much angst and frustration).

"You're doing that thing again," his voice broke her from her train of thought.

"Wh-what thing?" She tried to play off the wave of guilt and memories as if it were nothing.

"That thing where you lose yourself thought." Jack was seated at this point and plopped his chin into his palms. "It's cute," he cooed lightly.

Her blush spread across her face, adding to her overall cuteness. Twisting her head to the side, she bashfully averted her gaze. This side of him, the side the world never saw, the sweet side that graced her with compliments, this was the side of Jack she loved most. He was a soldier with a soft side. Deep down, beneath the bullets, carnage of war, the ceaseless scars, and blood of the deceased, he was a sweetheart. Her sweetheart.

"Fine," she caved. Her shoulders rolled forward as her eyes sought out his. "I'll do it."

He went for the edges of his shirt and hiked them up. By the time he had lifted his shirt up to his chest, Angela caught wind of what he was doing.

"Not sex," she chided. "I meant laser tag."

"Why not both?" His coy grin in tow. "Sex now. Laser tag tonight."

She smirked. How could she say no? He was hot as hell and, well, they were still in the honeymoon phase of their juvenile relationship. The part where it was all about pure bliss, sweet kisses, and mad, steamy sex.

When evening came, Angela poured herself a cup of coffee. Breathing in its sweet yet bitter taste, she sent her playful azure gaze over to Jack. Hiding behind the cup, she blushed while a wicked grin crawled onto her face.

"So that was fun," she stated plainly while putting her cup down. "Don't suppose you want to skip the lasers and go str-"

"WHOA!" Jack's fist pounded on the table; the echo caused by the gesture vibrated across the metal surface and straight into her hand. The shock it caused Angela to flinch.

"Are you bailing on date night?" His judgmental sapphire stare bore into her. "Are you standing me up…" Cute little wrinkles formed beneath his lids and across the bridge of his nose. He was joshing her and it made him all the more adorable.

"Why I would never stand you up." Her hand slipped away from the coffee to adjust her bra. An action his eyes were quick to lock onto. "I was just suggesting that we could do something a little more…intense."

"Uh, excuse me." His voice was dry, judgmental. Jack's hand went across the cool surface to steal her mug. Dragging it toward his body, he took a sip. It was sweet, just the way he liked it. He had another gulp. "Laser tag is intense." Again, his nose crinkled as he set the now-empty mug back down on the cool surface. "Do you even know what it is?"

"Grown-ass men hiding behind short walls attempting to shoot each other with colorful guns that shoot lasers and make ridiculous noises. And to prevent eye damage, you wear goggles. Yes?"

"Grown-assed men?" Jack scoffed. "You do realize there will be sixteen year olds pining for you."

"Wait, what?"

"Whaaaa?" He tried to play off his comment like it was nothing.

She glared at him. "Jack…" She reached across the table to steal back her coffee. Of course it was empty. She now-annoyed glare flickered up to Jack. "Jack what is this talk about sixteen year olds…"

"Uh…" He bit his lip. He forgot to mention it was Discount Wednesday, the day when all the youngsters would flock to the arena to pawn n00bs. And Jack, being Jack, wanted to kick some serious ass and show those punks that he was still the king of laser pointers and ridiculous sound effects.

"You're not serious." Her face void of all emotion.

"I…am…?" His brows furrowed as his sheepish grin appeared. She was going to kill him. "Heh." He felt the sweat beads forming just above his brow. He really needed to learn to talk less.

"Jack Morrison," she was now coming to him. She slinked like a lioness hunting her prey. With each step corner, Jack felt the hairs on his neck rise. This was it. He was a goner. She was going to eat him-and not in the sexual fantasy kind of way he was hoping for!

Closing his eyes, he braced for impact; he was done for.

But nothing came.

Slowly, he peeled open his baby blues to spy himself staring down the slope of her fingers. Her hand. Her gun-shaped hand.

"Pew, pew," she smirked. "Plashooooo! Aaaaand you're dead."

"Plashooo? What the fuck is that supposed to be?" He tried to hide his laugh.

"Is that not the noise you made?"

He broke into a fit of laughter. "No, it was not 'plashooo;' it was faaashoooo."

"Close enough," she quipped before a smirk drew up the edges of her lips.

Lips falling apart, they quickly reformed back into a into a smile. She was damn cute.

"Ang," he tried to contain his amusement. "Are you, are you saying…" His eyes sparkled much like the snow on a sunny day.

"I'm saying let's go kick some ass and get your name back up on that leaderboard." She smirked before holstering her fake hand-shaped gun. "We'll show 'm why no one can match the peerless might of Jack Morrison!"

The ride over to the arena was full of Jack giving Angela tips. Do this, don't do that, avoid this. Always go for a kill-shot but, if you can't, aim for a limb. Make them crawl. Make them suffer.

"Wait, I thought this was laser tag?" She blinked at him with a deer in the headlights look. "Since when does shooting someone in a limb help?"

"This isn't just laser tag. This is extreme laser tag. If you get hit, the gear you wear alters your condition. So if you're shot in the leg, the leg armor will become stiff and lethargic, making it ten times harder to walk. Making you any easy target."

"Oh jeez," Angela's hands fell around her face. "I'm going to die."

"Nonsense," Jack flashed her a grin. "Stick with me, and you'll never go hungry again!"

"Jack," Angela flipped to the radio; she was sick of listening to Jack's old mixed tapes. He had a knack for hinting Disney songs in the middle of some good tunes. "Why are we listening to the Lion King?"

"That was… uh… Fareeha?"

"Uh-huh. Because Ana would let you take her precious little goddess in this death trap."

"What! Old Blue is no deathtrap." He pat the hard edges of his Jeep Wrangler's steering wheel. "She's just… seen… better… days?"

Ang smirked. He was a cutie. "Admit it, you're a kid at heart and you know it."

"I'm a kid at heart and I know it."

"See," she wore a warm smile, "that wasn't so hard was it?"

"No," he flicked the station back. "No it wasn't."

Pulling into a vacant parking spot, Jack undid his seat belt before sliding out of the Jeep. One of the few perks of having no doors meant never having to unlock the doors! And, since it was ancient as fuck, he didn't have to worry about anyone stealing anything. What was there to steal? A hard, cushion-less bench? The junker radio? The steering wheel from hell? The doors-oh wait, he took those off already.

It was a good thing it was a warm summer night. Then again, if it were any other season, he'd have bolted the doors back on and flipped to the hard top. He had no interest in freezing his lovely blonde.

"We're here," Jack could barely contain his excitement.

"I supp- wait a minute." Her eyes shifted over to an all too familiar car. "Jack…" She pointed toward the vehicle. "That better not be who I t-"

"Angela!" Jesse rounded the truck and rushed up to the couple. "Jack said you'd be joining us tonight."

"Us?"

She wished she'd said no. Had she known that other Overwatch agents were coming, she would't have signed up for this. She had absolutely no desire to show off just how bad she was at aiming, at shooting. Besides, what's this supposed to be date night, as in just Jack and Angela...?

"Angie! Jessica!" A familiar child's voice came from behind them. Seconds later, the blurred figure rocketed into Angela's stomach where she buried her head. Ang gave Fareeha's head a good pat; the kid was growing up to be quite the beautiful young lady.

"Jessica?" Dare she even inquire?

"Jessica. We had a tea party this morning and I painted his nails. He is now Lady Jessica."

Ang shot Jesse's nails a look. Sure enough, they were a pretty, sparkly pink color. "Charming," she smirked.

"Reyes said I could!" As soon as she stated it, the tanned man appeared from behind her.

"No, I said you could if Jesse said it was fine."

"Oh." She rolled her eyes. And Jesse groaned. Clearly she relayed a different message to the cowboy.

"Well, kiddos," Jack flashed the crew a wide grin, "are we ready to-"

"Daaaamn, look at these losers!" A bunch of young punks exited a mini-van.

"So old…"

"Dude, you think they can even see?"

"Oh snap, hot fuckin damn, check out Blondie."

"You mean legs for days."

Ang turned her head to Jack. It was his cue to do something.

"You do realize," he quickly bridged the gap between his party and the thug-like teens, "she knows about a dozen different ways to kill you without leaving a trace behind, right?" Every word he spoke was done so in a way that would send a shiver down the spine. Didn't help that he had this dark, shifty look in his eyes.

The majority shuttered at the comment; not really fans of death. All but one. And that one seemed impressed. "Well then, I look forward to meeting her kiss of death."

"Kiss of…?!" Jack hiked up his sleeves. "Why I outta-"

"Jack," Fareeha was holding on the man's black t-shirt, "why don't we do this the right way."

"The right way?" His curiosity got the best of him.

Jesse stepped forward, loving the idea. He knew exactly where the kid was going. "Winner gets the girl, duh. Whoever has the high score gets to take Angela home."

"Oh dear lord," Angela muttered. "I am not a prize!"

"Worried your old man will lose you to me?" The kid cracked a smirk.

"Jack," her head snapped to him.

"Don't worry, hun." His arms fell boastfully on his hips. "I won't lose."

Once in the arena, the crew was given their gear. The rules were read in perhaps the most monotone, lackluster voice they'd ever heard (really, it made the rules drag on and on and on). And the scoreboard served as a taunting reminder as to what their goal was.

"Old man," the kid from before stepped forward, "you're going to need this. Good luck because," his finger pointed up at the score board, "I'm JACK1N0FF-007."

Jack gagged before pinching the bridge of his nose. "Oh yeah, kid? See those scoreboards?" He pointed to the ones from previous years. "I'm SKIPPY76."

The raven's jaw fell on the floor and lingered there just long enough to collect dust.

"Yeah," he recovered with complacent grin. "Still, thanks for the luck, kiddo." He winked before moving to the weapon's locker. It was time to load up and move out. "You wanna pistol?" He grabbed one for Ang. Before passing it to her, he fiddled with it. Not overly fond of the design, he put it back and picked up another one. It looked identical but this one had a better weight to it. That and it was white and gold instead of green and blue.

"Preferably. Unless there's a minigun or rocket launcher."

Jack cocked a brow. "Why would you want one of those?"

Fareeha laughed and answered for Angela. "Because you don't need to aim with those, silly!"

"Exactly. Because I can't miss."

The darkness ate her. It swallowed her whole.

Despite her best attempts, Angela couldn't get the flashbacks out of her mind. She knew all of this was fake. For fun. To help the guys relax. But the bang-bang-bang and the wisps of smoke just brought back ghosts. Horrors.

Clinging to her pistol for dear life, Angela tried to find her way out. She's holed herself up in a corner underneath the stairwell to the upper level. Thus far, no one had spotted her. And although she was grateful fort his, she was more concerned with leaving here. Getting back into the light. Away from this. Away from the memories.

Crawling on her stomach, the blonde moved like a snail across the concrete floor. A few times, she lowered her head too much, which caused her chin to bear a few cuts, similar to rug burn. Nothing major, all minor nicks, but enough that it looked like she was having a terrible time.

She was, what, nineteen? She lost her parents when she was a kid and ever since that day, she'd been taken from the war. Ran from the darkness. She forced herself to learn. To become a scientist, a doctor. She sought to save lives, rather than take them.

And then, one day, Overwatch came knocking. They promised to help her dream become a reality. They spoke of peace, of justice.

They had one wish for her. To smile.

She had one wish for them. To save.

Together, they would bring about a change.

Each day spent with Overwatch, Angela grew closer to a medical breakthrough. She spent countless hours hunched over a desk, a petri dish, ceaseless amounts of data, endless hours of graphs, charts, and research notes, the occasional db (dead body). She was glad to be safe, behind closed doors. Welled up in some state-of-the-art facility.

And then, then the riots happened. The uprisings. The attacks.

Darkness.

Her hand was forced. She was put on the field, but not as a soldier. She was a medic. She was there to help.

To kill, to hurt? That wasn't her. She hated violence. Loathed it.

Why did I agree to this? She kept asking herself that question. Even though this arena was fake, the guns were fake, she couldn't stop the bombs her mind dropped on her.

The blood. Her mother's screen. Her father's final words.

It all…

"Angel!"

She jumped from her skin. Gun fumbling from her hands, those panicked blue eyes looked up at the voice with the utmost sense of fear. Her face flushed of all its color. Her wide-eyed, frightened stare made her look small, weak. Sheer terror controlled every aspect of her form. She was petrified.

"Angela," his voice broke down her walls. His arms wrapped around her. Reminded her that she was safe. That this was all just a game. It was for fun. To relax.

"Shhh," he continued to hold her, coddling her face against his chest plate. "I've got you," he holstered his gun. They were safe, out of laser point's way. For a moment, he could hold her. Enjoy her.

"Shhhh," he cooed again. "I'm here. I've got you."

At this point, Jack realized the game of laser tag was no longer top priority. Angela was shaking to the core. She felt numb, cold. Something was definitely wrong and, despite wanting to get the high score, he knew catering to Angela's needs far outweighed his own boyish desires.

"Ang," his cheek pressed lightly against hers. Slowly, through contact, he felt his own flesh cool. Each second he kept his cheek pressed against hers meant an exchange of heat and much needed comfort. His warmth into her frozen, scared body. He'd get her back. Push away the fragments of darker days, bitter nights.

Hands completely engulfing her, he tugged the woman down into his lap. They were literally sitting ducks. Anyone that came down the stairs would have a clear shot at them, Jack knew this. But, again, his need to help Angela cope with the darkness overcame all other needs.

It also helped that Jesse was on top of things. High up in a tower, he kept a close eye on the pair. If anyone got too close, he'd begin suppression fire and convince them to turn their sorry asses around. As much as he hated to admit it, seeing Jack with Ang did make him happy. Jack was the right choice, when push came to shove.

"Jessica," Fareeha tugged on Jesse's vest, "why aren't we moving?"

"New mission," he retorted. "Need to protect the fallen angel," he gestured down to Angela.

Eyes wide, the raven puffed out her cheeks. "We'll protect them, just like they always protect us!"

"Exactly."

Slowly, her color returned. She felt warm again. Whole again.

Who knew a few long minutes sitting in the dark could do this? She always hated the dark and yet, with his arms wrapped firmly around her, the dark didn't seem so bad.

"J-Jack," her voice cracked as she fought back her frustrated tears. She was ruining date night. She was ruining his chance to get the high score.

"Nope," he blew a puff of air against her cheek. "You're not allowed to say it." When his lips made contact with her taut flesh, a farting noise jiggled her cheek. In that split second, both burst into laughter.

"Jack Morrison," she swatted loosely at him, "that is not the kind of behavior a soldier like yo-"

Again, he pressed his lips firmly against her. This time, it was her neck. Forcefully blowing into her skin, another gassy (well this time more airy) noise escaped from her folds.

"Jaaaack," she fought to keep that laugh in her throat.

He huffed in another big gulp of air. Burrowing back into her neck, he recreated that tender, juicy, farting noise from before.

Unable to contain her laughter any longer, she burst into both tears and a fit of laughter. Each chuckle caused her stomach to ache. This was too much. He was too much. The feeling-like the buzz on your lips when you hum-tickled. It fought the darkness and drew forth the mood she needed.

After snorting a few few more times, she eventually pulled away from him. Panting, Angela ran a hand across her forehead. With weary eyes, she gave Jack a once over. "Just how old are you again?"

"According to you?" There was that devilish grin of his. "Old."

"I…" she was flustered. Her face completely red. She did call him old…but… ugh!

His spryness caused her to gleam. Despite having a good few years on her, he was still as young as she was. Hell, probably younger. Mature in the mind (and bed), but all goofs and giggles when it counted.

"Jack," she rose with the help of his extended hand. "Thank you."

"For…?" His head cocked to the side.

"This," she leaned forward. A kiss landed square on his lips. "For being you."

One kiss wasn't enough. Hands falling around her hips, he yanked his woman in close. Their noses butt against one another as their lips became familiar with each other's.

There was no forcing. There was just doing.

Twisting his lips, Jack plunged in deeper. His tongue twirled around hers, which caused her heart to skip a beat. He was always so smooth. So perfect.

His kisses? Ugh, they were to die for.

Melting into him, she began to purr.

"Jaaaack," she half-moaned, half-pleaded ,"you're the devil."

"Uh-huh," his lips separated from hers. "Because I sometimes run around in this red and black Devil Suit. Yup, you got me."

Chewing her lip, she flitted her lashes up at him. "It's only a prototype."

"And it's only for my eyes. In my bed."

"Ooooh?" Her sweet breath kissed him right in the face. She loved to see him get jealous. Get clingy.

In for another kiss she went. This time, she put her tongue in his mouth. She liked the feel of his teeth. Smooth, polished. Even though they weren't perfect cosmetically speaking (they weren't in a straight line all the time), she loved them. They were like a game to her. She loved the dips and turns. The cracks, the crevices. The way his-

She pulled back. "I think I owe you," she flirted.

Jack's smug mug sat flat on his face. "You won't hear me c-"

The tail end of his comment was drowned out by the whirl of the alarm. Sixty seconds remaining.

"You better get out there," Ang commented, noticing that he was just a handful of points behind first place.

"Eh," Jack shrugged, "I've got something better right here."

Her cheeks pulsed a raspberry color.

Forcefully yet gingerly, he shoved her right into a corner. There, he allowed their lips to crash into one another yet again.

She moaned into his mouth. He thrust his hips forward just a bit.

They wanted each other. And bad.

Too bad they were surrounded by young punks.

Still, once they got home-assuming Jack could last that long in the Jeep and not pull over on some side road-they'd have their fun. Hash it all out. Between the sheets.

Her hand fell in his soft blonde locks while the other one copped a feel of that mighty fine ass (who cares if it looked flat-he was just bad at picking out decent butt-fitting pants).

In return, Jack's hands slipped beneath her shirt. So what if the straps of the breast plate complicated things. He figured out how to fondle her breasts in the darkness. Even if only for a second.

"Twenty," a countdown began. "Nineteen."

Angela's heart raced. Jack's thundered within his chest.

Each kiss grew sloppier. Wetter. They needed to bust outta this popsicle joint and get down on each other. But the moment, the darkness, the risk-oh was it tempting.

"Ten… nine… eight…"

"Pew, pew, plashooooo!"

A blinding blue light pushed all the shadows off her face. Her chest flickered. It pulsed. It glowed.

Eyes furrowing, she patted at the flashing lights.

"Three… M3RCY down … one…!"

The lights came on. The entire arena was a mess of smoke and painfully hideous decorations that were to server as 'walls' and 'bushes.'

Blinking, she looked up from her chest and over to Jack.

There, plastered across his face was the biggest, most devious grin she'd ever seen.

"JACK MORRISON," she stepped forward to smash the hell out of him.

Hands up, he turned quickly on his heels.

"And that's my cue to run like hell!"

As she bolted after him, her ears picked up the announcer's words.

"SKIPPY76 takes the top spot! SKIPPY76 is the winner!"

Despite hating him for using her as his final set of points, she was secretly happy to know that Jack had won. That and the fact that he chose her laser noise sound effect to finish her off.