"That was pathetic, Gabriel," Moira commented as she sunk her teeth into a bagel. Gabriel wiped the sweat from his temples with a forearm, the sun's heat mocking him as he created waterfalls of perspiration. It wasn't sweltering necessarily, but if one was standing in direct heat for nearly fifteen minutes on cream-colored concrete near a beautifully cold pool...
Well, it can get pretty hot.
Moira had herself situated on a lawn chair not too far away from where he stood, sitting in the comforting shade the umbrella above her brought about. Even then, she still had a layer of lotion spread across her skin. I'm Irish, Reyes. I don't tan, I fry, was her response to his remarks about her redundancy.
The woman had offered to help him hone his "wraith" skills, explaining to him that it would be "more beneficial to practice in an environment [he is] less comfortable in."
And so, here they sat.
"It seems to me that you're continuously having trouble materializing your body," she noted.
"Yeah, the heat is screwing me up," he told her, removing his dampened shirt. "I can't concentrate."
"If I am able to fade while experiencing mind-numbing menstrual cramps, then surely, the weather shouldn't be a problematic factor for you." He stepped over to the small table next to her and set his shirt down on its circular surface. "Was bringing that up really necessary?" he questioned.
"I'm using it as an example to prove a point." Moira set her plate on the armrest of the chair and adjusted her sleeveless shirt. "Now that we've located the problem, we can work on eliminating it. Now, fade again, this time focusing on your issues." Gabe huffed, determined to hear this attractive woman say something positive about him that afternoon.
He strode a few steps back and channeled his focus into the task at hand, becoming a cloud of mist almost instantaneously.
Gabriel couldn't see Moira, but he could hear her breathing, feel the vibrations her body gave off, and he was able to paint a decent picture in his mind of his surroundings and the doctor a few feet away. Doing his best to ignore the heat and knowing she was expecting to see improvement, he once again began to reform his body, focusing on a single part at one given time yet working quickly (or at least trying to) in order to complete his objective, all the while hoping to see an impressed Moira O'Deorain upon his return.
He regained vision, and the first thing he did was stare into her pretty eyes and hope to find some form of impressment. Against his wishes, however, her expression remained as void of emotion as before he became a blob of dark smoke.
"That was an improvement," she explained, finishing off her slice of bagel. "It still needs work, however."
"Hey, I'll take an improvement." He scratched the top of his head. "I might actually win, who'd of guessed?"
"I said it was an improvement, not perfect. Let's not get ahead of ourselves."
"Yeah, yeah, shut up and let me have this."
"You know I can't allow that," Moira laughed.
Gabe relished in the moment of joking around with this woman. He liked to imagine such a time was exclusive to him and him only. Nobody else was tolerable enough for their company to actually be enjoyed.
Nobody but him. Nobody's but his.
"You think w-" Gabriel was cut off by a cheerful, "Hey, you two!" from Oxton. He glanced over to witness the petite woman walking towards him and the Doctor, a pen and notepad held within her fair hands. "What are you up to?"
"Practicing," he replied.
"Yeah? It looks like you've really been working hard. And you too, Doc! It looks like you've been practicing harder than Commander Reyes!" The Brit giggled at her own joke, and it seemed as if Moira couldn't help but smile. "Coaching this man around is harder than any amount of physical work he has done this afternoon."
Tracer rolled her eyes. "Cut him some slack!"
"I'll think about it."
The way Oxton spoke to O'Deorain nearly dumbfounded him. Everyone resented her, for one reason or another. She was untrustworthy, suspicious, sociopathic, sadistic, cruel, unsettling, any word and every word that held any negative meaning at all.
And here Lena was speaking to her as if they were friends.
She had such a kind soul, Gabe thought. If this kid hated anyone, they sure as all Hell had to be a step beyond genuinely horrible.
And that wasn't Moira, right?
"We're getting pizza for dinner, and I have to go around and get everyone's orders," Oxton explained.
"They chose the right person," he commented. She smiled. "Of course they did! Now, what kind of pies do you guys like?"
"I'd like Sicilian," Moira told her.
"And what about you, Commander?"
"It doesn't matter. Sicilian, too, I guess." She wrote a few things down on the small booklet in her hand, nodding as she did so. "Alright-y, thank you."
With that, Oxton flipped around and blinked back into the doors of the Overwatch base.
"Were you going to say something, Commander?" asked Moira after a moment of silence.
Gabriel didn't like how she called him "Commander." It no longer sounded right.
"Yeah, why don't we head inside for a bit?" he offered. "It's hot as balls out here."
Instead of replying, or standing up, or nodding, she began laughing.
It wasn't similar to her usual calm chuckle; it was loud, uncontrolled, and more snorting than laughter took place, provoking a smile from Gabe. This just about made his day.
The woman sat up and covered her mouth with a hand, keeping herself in that position until her fit died down into nothing more then a few giggles here and there. Her dual-colored eyes shot to him, and the skin on her face became a dark red. "I apologize," Moira chuckled, "that wasn't very dignified of me."
"It's okay," he grinned, his own laughter threatening to pour over his bottom lip. The Doctor shook her head, a smile still present on her face. "That was disgusting, not 'okay.'"
"Oh, it wasn't disgusting!"
No, it wasn't. It was adorable, way too adorable, and as much as he didn't want to admit it, it was music to his ears.
"What the hell were you laughing at, anyways?"
"Your comment," she explained. "'It's hot-" she snickered, "hot as balls out here.'"
"That was really that funny?"
"Exactly how hot are testicles, Reyes? Care to explain that?" The giggles woven between her words made his heart expand to fit the entirety of his chest.
"It's an expression," he said to her, fighting off the emotions mixing behind his ribs, "you never heard it?"
"Clearly not."
Gabriel scoffed and held out his hand. "Come on, let's go inside."
She grabbed her plate, then his hand, and he helped her hoist herself onto her feet.
"Remember your shirt," Moira reminded. He nodded and picked up the heap of black cloth resting on the table. It was still damp with his sweat, and he cringed as he held it. "This is going in the wash."
"That isn't the only thing that needs to go in the wash," hinted the redhead.
"Oh, I'm aware, believe me," he laughed.
Suddenly, she took a few steps closer to him, and in a low voice, said, "Keep that between us, yes?" He nodded, her close proximity bothering him in the loveliest way.
"You know you don't have to be embarrassed by the way you laugh," Gabe reassured.
"Sometimes, you can't help the way you feel, Gabriel," Moira countered.
"Well, just throwing it out there."
"I know, and I appreciate it. Now, give yourself a shower. You smell like perspiration."
