"Trick or treat!"
Amélie smiles down at the small horde of children standing upon her doorstep. There are a few bedsheet ghosts, a couple of hastily-painted Frankenstein's monsters, an angel with collapsing wings, a devil with a bent horn, and even a little Tracer staring eagerly back. She grabs a handful of candy from her bowl.
"Thank you!' chorus the prepubescent voices. One by one they grab a chocolate bar, a tiny bag of gummies, a little cardboard box filled with peanut butter sweets; any candy they can get their decorated fingers on. The tiny Tracer is last in line. Amélie's smile widens.
"What a wonderful costume," she says, giving the girl a onceover. The ski goggles are colored red, her leather jacket is oversized, and the pants she wears are an absolutely appalling shade of orange. Center of it all is a chronal accelerator composed of cardboard and construction paper.
Amélie wishes she could adopt the girl then and there.
"Thank you," she says, smiling sheepishly. "My friends thought it was kind of stupid."
She grabs another handful of candy from her bowl and drops it into the girl's bag.
"I think it is splendid."
"Thank you!" She practically jumps up and down in excitement. "I like your costume too! How did you get your skin like that?" she asks in childlike wonderment. Amélie kneels down to eye level. She looks around conspiratorially and her little compatriot does the same.
"A witch put a curse on me," she whispers.
The girl's eyes widen behind her ski goggles.
"Holy crap! Are you gonna die?"
Amélie fights back a snort. Such morbid children.
"No, chérie. They saved me before it was too late." She can feel Lena's watchful eye over her shoulder. She chuckles to herself. "They were a lot like you, actually."
She grabs another handful of candy for good measure and drops it into the girl's burlap sack. The girl's expression lights up like a jack-o-lantern.
"Really?"
"Oui."
The girl grins a perfect Tracer grin. Her heart melts a little more.
"Thank you!" she exclaims yet again before throwing a glance over her shoulder at her retreating group of friends.
"Go on. Happy Halloween."
She does a little salute before scampering off like her blue construction paper was imbued with real power. Amélie smiles after her before retreating into the warmth and safety of her home.
Lena lounges on the couch, idle eyes scanning the bright television screen before her. Amélie cocks her head to the side and folds her arms. The smaller woman nods nonchalantly. As if she hadn't just muted the television and snuck over to watch her interact with the children.
"Your poker face is worse than your costume," Amélie says. Lena feigns indignance.
"Oi, I make a great Reaper!" She hops from her seat and grabs the discarded mask on the coffee table. "Deeeeeath coooooomes." Amélie snorts the ugliest snort. Lena takes the mask off with a cheeky smirk. "See?"
"You are absolutely absurd," she replies with a chuckles. Lena grins proudly.
"Yes I am."
She hug-tackles Amélie into the wall.
"What is this for?" she asks quietly, wrapping her arms around Lena's waist. "Not to complain."
"I'm so proud of you, love."
Her breath tickles the assassin's neck.
"For giving mini-you extra candy?"
"You were so kind." Amélie's cold skin runs warm with a blush. "Widowmaker wouldn't have done that."
"She didn't have you," she whispers in reply. Lena presses a kiss into the nape of her neck. Amélie exhales, leans into the wall, clutches her waist tighter.
"I… fancy… you… a whole lot," Lena says between tender kisses. Amélie laughs.
"As you've—" a kiss "—said. Numerous—" another kiss "—times. Lena, stop—" and another one "Arrête, chérie."
Lena giggles, resting her forehead against Amélie's.
"I mean it. You are brilliant and I love you."
Amélie hesitates behind burning cheeks. Lena kisses her again.
"It's okay. You don't have to say it," she continues. "I know you love me."
"It is difficult to take you seriously in that outfit," she deflects. To be fair, the outfit is ridiculous. The craftsmanship is worse than that of the mini-Tracer. It's essentially a black bedsheet and two plastic six-shooters, because no pound shop sold toy shotguns and Lena couldn't be bothered to spend more than five quid to mock Reyes.
Lena cocks her head to the side, a challenging smirk on her face.
"Am I wrong?"
Before Amélie can answer there's another knocking at the door. She sighs and Lena chuckles.
"You're lucky it's Halloween. Any other night I would make you answer me."
Amélie tilts her head sideward, a challenging look overtaking her features.
"Oh really? You would make me?"
Lena responds with her own cocksure grin and a little wink.
"You know I can, love." She unwinds herself from the taller woman's body before she can respond. "Go on. Give out candy. Maybe I'll have some candy for you when you're done."
Amélie shakes her head affectionately.
"Tu me prends la tête."
"I'm gonna assume that's French for 'I love you.'"
"It's not," she mutters, but Lena has already returned to the couch.
Amélie rolls her eyes and walks to the door, throwing one last look over her shoulder. The hood is off now, and her short-cropped hair sticks up in all directions. Not in that styled, prepared way she spends at least an hour fiddling with every morning, but in that just-rolled-out-of-bed-and-stop-looking-at-me-like-that-you-git-I'm-only-human way.
She sighs. She is completely and utterly smitten with this woman.
"Je t'aime," she whispers, too quiet for her to hear. Lena laughs at something on the television. Maybe one day she'll be able to say it. Loudly. Maybe she'll scream it from the rooftops. She certainly wants to.
But for now she has Halloween traditions to uphold. She takes hold of the doorknob and twists, letting in a cold October breeze. There's a boy in a hockey mask with a rubber chainsaw, a pair of tiny cheerleaders, a bunny, another angel, and, of course, a handful of bedsheet ghosts. Amélie smiles down at them.
"Trick or treat!"