Title: Recline
Characters: Tracer, McCree, (Various Characters)
Note: This is for all those who requested more Tracer and McCree! Kudos to
Guest (rip I can't credit you)
cirithewitcheress - ok, not technically your request, but it's building up to that ;D
Also, I'd like to take the time to say THANK YOU SO MUCH to ALL of the kind reviews. This story has hit over 101k views! Hooley dooley! I'm in shock and awe. I've been getting messages that people really like this, or my writing, and I'm just, blubbering here. Honestly, I wish I could do more than simply thank you. ;-;
Rapid Fire Round
- I did kind of adopt the poker idea for this chapter, but I will have something with Junkrat and Symmetra - second time they've been requested.
-Mercy/76 accepted, not now.
-I've corrected the weapon mistake, kudos Sulhanjan!
-I have made Pharah make a couple more recent appearances, but I will give another chapter to her, definitely a mother-daughter bonding one. She has a lot to say about the fact Ana will go out of the way to slamdunk a dangerous terrorist for someone that isn't her own child, but has for the most part neglected Pharah herself. Trust me, I have a good idea for a drabble with them ;)
- Guixi
The aircraft touched gently on the runway, speed gradually waning to a crawl as it approached the sizeable hangar. Tracer and Winston hadn't been able to convince Zarya to return back to Overwatch with them, as she was content to remain in Russia for now, until it was safe again, but they were certainly more than willing to lend assistance. The scientist gave her full access to all of the organization's communication lines, from private direct comms to him and the other unofficial commanders, to Mercy's emergency only line.
It took some marginal convincing to get Lena to leave as well. Bless her heart, when she heard about the cause, she was dead set in remaining there to do all she could to help the country, though eventually was peeled away by Winston's persuasion. Lena's abilities were simply better suited elsewhere than the front lines – specifically, the back of the enemy's lines – and her scouting excursions were too invaluable to miss out on.
Tracer's face was unsurprisingly pressed up against the window as she stared down below at the engineers and attendants scurrying around, having prepped for their arrival. Beyond that lied a railing where she spotted a few figures waiting for it to be safe enough for it to be lifted so they could greet the returning agents.
Winston glanced over to his good friend and rolled his eyes benignly at her antics, before gently placing a beefy paw on her shoulder to tug her away from the window, and to sit properly on the bench– the aircraft hadn't completely stopped yet, and safety was everything. Even still, the agent found herself unable to sit still and rocked side to side, excitement dancing in liquid brown hues.
The second the pilot cleared them to leave, the woman was nothing but a streak of blue, already by the bottom of the aircraft's stairs and threw her arms up happily, spinning around and proclaiming;
"Hello, Overwatch!" she cracked a grin at the sense of deja vu – she had done the exact same thing when she had first been recruited, too. "The cavalry's returned!"
The sound of jingling spurs made her ears twitch and her attention thrown towards the protective railing, watching it lift up to let the agents on the ground meet with the returning crew. It took all of her willpower not to bound up and down – she really was overjoyed to be back, yet froze when her gaze cascading over the sight of McCree and his own toothy grin that touched his lips.
He barely managed to get out a greeting before the pixie like woman had sprinted up to him, and practically leapt into his arms, the two of them breaking into a shared laugh at his noise of delighted surprise. Jesse stumbled a little at the force of her impacting against him, especially as her chronal accelerator bumped against his armoured chestplate in a resounding clank, but regained his balance swiftly and wrapped his arms strongly around her waist and relished in the sporty perfume that washed over him.
Her arms tangled loosely around his shoulders, giggling as he lifted her up, the tips of her toes just barely gracing the floor like an angelic float, pulling away from the embrace long enough to now look into his eyes at equal height – a rare thing for her.
"Didja miss me?" Tracer teased; showering him with a smile that rivalled the sun for it's bright, vibrant energy.
"Absolutely not," McCree joked, the corners of his eyes crinkling at her responding lip trembling pout. "Aw, don't go crying on me, sweetheart. You know that'll get me to blubber too, then we'll both look like horrible messes."
"Speak for yourself, Tex." she snickered, then regarded him with a bemused slant. "You thinking about putting me down any time soon? Ana is giving us a very strange look."
It was far too endearing to watch him blink rather innocently, realise that he had kept a hold of her since catching her impromptu leap, and flush a jarring pink against the tan of his skin. He fumbled, mumbling in a thick drawl and gently placed her back on the floor, entirely avoiding the elated face of the elderly woman eagerly watching the two reconnect.
Jesse hastily retracted his arms away from her waist to linger by his side, shooting the two women with a crooked grin that hid his embarrassment, though they both could easily see through it. It was made even worse by Ana's presence, given her usual chat consisting of her.. encouragement.. regarding Lena.
"Oh, children, don't worry about me. I am simply waiting for – Ah, Winston, there you are." the sniper tittered, shuffling over towards the gorilla and slipping her thin arm around his bulky limb and offering the confused scientist a knowing smirk. "We have so much to talk about, why don't we go to one of the conference rooms?"
"W-We do?" he asked, thoroughly puzzled at her implications and took one look to the proximity of McCree and Tracer, snorting out an instinctual huff directed at the cowboy when he took the wrong time to drape a friendly arm around the smaller woman's shoulders. "No, no, maybe I should stay –"
"This way, Winston." There were few rules from the original Overwatch that had stuck with them, but one that would withstand the test of time and outlive them all was the commandment that Ana Amari, alongside a prayer never to meet her wrath, was not to have her insistence taken lightly. The gorilla heaved a sigh and let himself be herded away from the pair, muttering something about being too much of a pushover.
Yet he was loved for his status as a bit of a softie, even if it didn't make for a good commander. He supposed that was why Jack Morrison rejoining was a blessing in disguise. Initially, he had been bitter and unwilling to retake the mantle, but the longer he remained, he naturally eased back into some unofficial position. It helped that many still respected him for reasons beyond his comprehension, and he was a necessity for keeping Ana in check.
Tracer observed the exchange all with a raised brow, and McCree seemed content to partially hide his face with the dip of his hat. "Remind me, oh, Johnny Guitar, never to get on Ana's bad side."
McCree's bushy brown brows knitted together at her unusual moniker for him. He understood the reference, but that was stretching it a bit too far. He seemed less concerned about Ana (and by extension, Winston too) now that it was just the two of them. Alone. "Are you trying to out nickname me? 'Cause trust me, doll. That's one duel you'll lose."
A sordid smirk played impishly in the corners of her mouth as she slotted easily by his side, his arm content to remain draped lazily over her shoulders and utilized her shorter height to lean her head against his chest. The two began to walk – because the aircraft hangar was not exactly the best place to have a conversation – aimless, but, carefree. The two were more than happy to just let their feet take them wherever.
It felt nice just to have something solid and warm to lean against after such a daring flight to aid a one-sided battle. Truthfully, the trip had revitalized Lena. She needed to get away from everything for at least a moment. No conflicted feelings. No missions that every second was like her last, and most importantly.. no Reaper. The sprite genuinely felt perky for the first time in what must have been like.. forever, since they had captured the terrorist.
"There's only so many ways you can sugar-coat saying 'honey', compared to westerns and cowboys, Eastwood." she mischievously pointed out, all while observing his character. Without the presence of others to point it out, he was confident; he didn't blush nor blunder showing her affection like they've always done – as noted before, they were physical people. Jesse was a slightly more restrained than Lena, but he was more than happy to sling an arm around in camaraderie and thought nothing of it.
Yet the moment someone mentioned about their habits, it was like being whipped into shape by a drill sergeant. A thought crossed her mind to sully her little teasing, and really hoped that Jesse was not embarrassed to be around her.
She drew in a breath. So much for happy thoughts and rejuvenation.
McCree, unaware, chuckled good-naturedly. "And you know every single one of them? You sure I'm the one that's quote, creepily obsessed, darlin'?"
Her blood felt as if it just chilled to the core, her entire body turning rigid and halting in place, causing the cowboy to stumble and regard her with bafflement, noting her wide-eyes, like she had just saw a ghost. He muttered a curse at himself, tried to re-evaluate what he said that was wrong and was begun to try and apologize while her thoughts were running rampant and her gaze flickering rapidly.
"Shit – I'm sorry If I –"
"How did you know I said that to quote?" she cut him off, inkling of anxiety trickling into her voice and reflected in her light brown coloured eyes. The muscle in her neck twitched from the tension. There was only one person she had mentioned those words specifically to, and it was not Jesse McCree.
Her fears were steadily becoming confirmed as McCree took a moment to ponder, before a brief grimace marred his ruggedly handsome face, likely unwilling to want to admit it, but he wanted to be an honest man, especially to Lena. "Aw, well. Quite a few years ago now, darlin'. Think Reyes mentioned that, saying it was 'what you thought about me'."
It shocked him to hear her voice drop into a mimicry of Ana's controlled fury, so much so he even involuntary glanced to see if the sniper was around. Lena looked like the perfect image of composure, which, given who she was, made it all the more apparent that she was silently fuming. McCree had learned fairly quickly that the most passionate people tended to have the quickest, explosive tempers that barely lasted.
"What else did Gabriel tell you I said." What she didn't add, was 'things I expressly said in private and in no ways should have been repeated.' The fact that he deliberately chose to violate her trust just to pick the ones to rub in Jesse's face infuriated her all the more – and for what? Pettiness?
"I've had a lot of drinks since then to now, I can't remember everything he said to me, hun." wisely he tried to defuse and pacify her. There goes his plan for being completely honest – the few things he did remember were not exactly pleasant. Lena was not a horrible or cruel person, so there was little insult to his person aside from ineffectual jokes, but Gabriel had a way of twisting her words to sound like it was a harsh mark against him.
As such, a 'vigilante with a heart of gold' ended up becoming 'lawless thug with no redemption.' Relatively tame, compared to the abuse he tolerated within his gang.
Inwardly kicking himself for triggering the start of her declining mood, Jesse was not happy with being the perpetrator and engulfed her slim shoulders with his hands, steering her towards the direction of the nearest bar. Her feet co-operated so she would not end up falling, but she made noises of protest.
"Since you went off to Russia without so much as a passing mention it's felt like I've gone sober without my old drinkin' buddy." he explained, easing up when she tugged out of his grip and fell into step beside him, even if it was just a way to keep her in his sights and to stop her from doing something regrettable, like interrogate Reaper over the issue. "So you and I are going to have a drink, and that's the end of it."
"Drinks don't solve everything, you know." she grumbled. "This really needs to stop being our go to answer."
"I can think of plenty substitutes for our time if you'd like." Tracer glanced just at the right time to catch his brow wagging suggestively, and that cracked a smile to her lips. She smacked his arm lightly at his jest.
"I thought you were supposed to be the 'charming' one, love!" she stuck her tongue out at him playfully, a bit of previous cheer returning thanks to Jesse's efforts. He ruffled her hair, though it looked no different than what it was previously, given the state of dishevel it always appeared to be in.
He sniggered, quietly sighing in relief and patting himself on the back for a job well done in making sure Lena remained the joyous, chirpy Brit he knew and loved.
When they arrived at the bar, it seemed to be a full house. The air was filled with quiet, indecipherable murmurings, laughter and the clinks of drinks and splashing of liquid for the more uncoordinated drunks filtered within, and it was pleasant to see a good majority simply relaxed and at ease. Jesse idly wondered just how long the peace will actually last, and it was promptly broken by the boisterous laughter of the gentle German giant.
His gaze swept the area and was astonished by the amount of agents gathered in one spot. Tucked neatly in the corner, Angela and one of the Shimada brothers were chatting lowly to each other, and Jesse had to stare to realise that the good doctor was smiling at the cyborg. His drink was untouched, but he noted bizarrely that it had some kind of crazy straw it in, likely from Hana's collection. A joke he'd likely missed, no doubt.
Speaking of Hana, the unruly teen had her forehead planted solidly on the table, sitting beside a supervising Soldier: 76. Apparently he had finally let her into one of the bars, though did not trust her word nor the bartender enough that she wouldn't try the alcohol, and had ordered for her. Jesse had to fight a grin from his face when he caught sight of a juice carton that was likely out of date and left over from when Pharah was a child, and was, needles to say, untouched.
Jack himself was content to flick around with the tablet on his lap, one arm strewn over the back of Hana's chair and occasionally breaking eye contact with his device to shift to the girl. Typical, that he wouldn't leave his office work where it belonged and just relaxed, even if, unbeknown to Jesse, he was playing Hearthstone.
Taking up centre stage was the inseparable duo of Torbjörn and Reinhardt, huge tankards of booze taking up the majority of the table as they were likely on their fifth or sixth drink by now, and neither of them showed even a hint of tipsiness. They were joined by a few new additions – an awkward looking Fareeha clad in black casual wear, somewhat flustered to be included with the two good friend's joviality, and a frazzled, rosy-cheeked Mei, nursing a glass of water.
"Och! The lovebirds have arrived!" boomed Reinhardt before them all, hands clutching his knees as he flashed Jesse and Lena a warm yet teasing grin. "We thought you had sneaked off somewhere. Ah, to be young again!"
It was Tracer who saved McCree from the humiliation and snickered. "If I knew you were expecting us for something, I'd have finished with him sooner."
Scratch that, she didn't save him at all. She made it worse.
Tugging his hat downward a bit in an attempt to fix it but in reality was trying to cover his flushed face, the German knight bellowed a hearty laugh that felt as if it reverberated through their bones. At least Mei had the decency to look sheepish for Jesse, but it did little to ease the butterflies dancing in the pit of his stomach at the implications he had just made to her privately not so long ago. He really needed to stop letting it get to him.
Reinhardt sobered up a little, mirth swirling in his single good eye. "Of course. Has he not told you?"
That was enough to prompt McCree into a knowing noise, filling in. " – Morrison gave the all clear for a game's night, just a day or so after you left for Russia. We've been trying to get more people to play but," he smirked. "I think I scare 'em off."
"Because you are a cheater." Pharah gave a sidelong smirk to him, then addressed Tracer. "He's only lost one match, and that was because my mother was playing."
"It's not my fault Lady Luck finds me dashing, darlin'." he huffed in defence. "And your mother is a great card player, she beat me fair and square."
"She thought we were playing Rummy. In a game of Texas hold 'em."
The grin on Tracer's face was starting to hurt her cheeks, but it was worth it to witness just how uncomfortable Jesse was getting with all the accusing stares and knowing gestures. He cleared his throat, stormed up to his part of the table and sat down defiantly, sticking to his word regarding Ana's card playing skills, even if the woman was better suited for other things.
"Fine, if I'm so much of a cheat, I'll be the dealer." he declared, snatching the set of playing cards out from Torbjörn's hand, much to the shorter man's grumble, flicked out the jokers and expertly began shuffling them. He did have a knack for a riffle shuffle, making the trick look effortless in his deft fingers before dealing the cards.
"I'll go for drinks!" Mei piped up, blushing to the sound of encouraging applause from the crew. For space (and to make the bartender's job easier), she took up the empty glasses and shuffled over to the bar.
"Just like old times," mused Lena, happy to be back. She checked her hand and almost lost her poker face when she saw she had a pair of aces, and sneaked a glance to McCree.
Card sharp indeed.