Dissention
It had been two days since Bianchi's death. She'd read the report – fortunately void of pictures – and forced herself to get back to work. As far as she knew, they hadn't yet replaced him – but then again she wasn't sure that she'd be told. Eventually she'd determine who the new Commander was, if only because his – or her – file would cross her desk at some point.
"No, look, you need–" Angela was leaned over the desk of one of her researchers, explaining where their math had gone wrong, when a resounding crash! interrupted her – interrupted everyone, as the lab went deathly silent as the sound echoed through the room. Angela straightened and whirled around even as she heard the guns clack as the guards prepared them for firing. That sound alone told her Winston was involved, even before she saw the gorilla surrounded by the remains of a desk and various glass instruments.
It was obvious – even to her, who hadn't been watching the gorilla with hawk-like intensity – that it wasn't purposeful. As she'd told Winston, tensions were high – but this was ridiculous. He'd been with Overwatch for over two months; they should be past this by now. Then again, he'd only been free for a little over two weeks. Still, instead of helping the gorilla, who was bleeding from his jarring introduction with the desk, everyone was acting like he was about to rip off someones' arm.
"Get out." She barked at the guards, striding between their guns and the gorilla that had – fortunately – remained still to avoid being filled with bullets. Angela noticed vaguely – courtesy of her combat training – that the rest of the researchers had pressed against their desks or the wall, trying to avoid the violence threatened by the agents.
There was tension in the air, and Angela knew that the smallest thing could set them off; so, instead, she drew their attention and ire on herself. She was Dr. Zielger, and she was willing to bet her life that Gabriel had ordered these fools to keep her, specifically, safe from the gorilla he didn't trust, and as such they probably wouldn't shoot her.
"We have order–" One began, and she glared at him as she came to stop a short distance away from them, fully blocking their guns from Winstons' much larger frame. They could step around her, of course, but it made their jobs just a little harder.
"I have just changed your orders." Angela said firmly, both hands coming to rest on her hips. "You will leave my lab immediately." She wasn't quite certain she had the right to order the two men around – she had no authority over agents that weren't injured – but she didn't allow her voice to falter. This floor was hers and she was tired of the guns in her lab. Instead of helping the gorilla, who was probably injured, she had to deal with these morons, and she was done.
"Will all due respect, ma'am, we answer to Command–" The blonde doctor cut them off fiercely, ignoring the guns that were still aimed at her chest; her mind flashed back to the last time guns were pointed at her, but she forced the panic down and away. She prayed that Winston remained still behind her, because if they decided he was a threat they might just shoot her to nullify whatever threat they thought he posed. She really didn't want to get shot again, especially in her own lab, especially without the Valkyrie suit.
"Last I checked, I am in charge of this lab, not the Commander." Angela corrected the man sharply, and she heard a gasp from somewhere behind her. Angela knew she was playing with fire, but that didn't change anything: she refused to allow her lab to turn into a shooting gallery due to an idiotic pissing match. It didn't matter if the order came from Jack himself; these men were leaving, now.
"You may report to him with your new orders." She had no doubt of which Commander the men were referring to. "If he has a problem with it, he can take it up with me himself." Angela raised one hand to point at the door; only years of medical practice kept it from shaking from the stress of having two very dangerous weapons loaded and pointed at her chest. Her heart was hammering in her chest, but she was well practiced at forcing herself to do things she probably shouldn't, regardless of how comfortable they were. "Out."
She held her breath as the men stared at her for a long moment, and she wondered if they would obey – or step around her to shoot Winston. Finally, they relaxed their hold and flipped the safety back on.
"Ma'am." One nodded stiffy towards her in, what Angela assumed was, respect, and both filed out the door. Angela stood frozen in place, heart pounding and roaring in her ears, as she listened to their boots fade away down the hallway. Then, once she was in control of herself once more, she turned back towards Winston, who was still in the ruins of a table. Ignoring the looks of shock and awe around her – she'd just thrown a gauntlet down, hadn't she? – she strode to her injured scientist, kneeling carefully in the mess.
She knew there would be repercussions for this later. She had, quite publicly, gone against a direct order from one of the Commanders that was in charge of all of them – her included. Whether the order came from Jack or Gabriel made no difference, not in the long run; she'd defied an order, and there would be a punishment. Still, Angela couldn't – wouldn't – worry about that just now, or the reprimand that would swiftly come. Those men would go directly to the Commander – while she was almost certain it was Gabriel, there was a decent chance it could be Jack – and then she'd have to deal with that.
"Where are you hurt?" Angela asked, eyes lighting on the blood that dotted the white floor. She glanced to her left and right at the researchers that were milling about hesitantly. "Don't just stand around; this isn't going to clean itself." Angela kept herself from snapping – she wasn't angry with them – but it was a near thing.
"It's, uh, just my hands, doctor." Winston assured her cautiously, showing the woman the cuts on his hands. She looked them over with practiced eyes, nodding.
"Can you get up? I'll need to clean them." Her eyes looked over the glass that was in the disaster around her. "I'll also need to make sure you don't get sick from whatever was in those." The gorilla nodded before carefully hefting himself up without using his hands. Gingerly, he escaped the mess he'd made without cutting up his feet, and Angela rose.
"I'm taking Winston to the infirmary." She announced to the room, mostly so they knew where to direct the Commander when he came blazing in here. "I expect this," she waved her hand at the desk and glass, "to be properly taken care of by the time I return." Murmurs of assent followed her out the door as she led the gorilla – who was walking awkwardly without the use of his hands – away.
"You shouldn't have done that, doctor." The gorilla told her quietly as they ambled down the hallway. The distance seemed much longer today – either a result of their slow walking speed or the anger-induced adrenaline that was still rushing through her.
"You're probably right." Angela agreed easily. "But it still needed to be done." She didn't need any of her staff – to include the gorilla, even if some of the others held him in contempt – to be shot due to prejudice or itchy trigger fingers. It would have been one matter entirely if Winston had appeared violent – or if he'd actually done something in the lab just now to warrant having a gun drawn – but he wasn't and he hadn't.
"I'll face the consequences," she assured the gorilla, "but you will be fine." Winston was hers, just as everyone else in Overwatch – scientist, agent, or Commander – was, and she would be damned before he was caught in the crossfire when she could – would, had – shield him.
She healed Winston's hands and gave him two shots to ensure that he didn't get sick from the chemicals that might have gotten inside him from the glass, then escorted him back to the lab. She'd given him strict orders to inform her if anything felt wrong in the next seventy-two hours, no matter when it was.
Angela was honestly surprised that she'd been left in peace for as long as they had been. She found the lab cleaned and Commander-free – another surprise. She made sure everyone was back to work on their various tasks before returning to her desk. Angela wanted to go camp out in her office – easier to keep her scolding private – but she didn't want to throw gasoline on the fire by leaving Winston totally unchaperoned.
However, the biggest surprise of all was when it was Ana that came to collect Angela barely ten minutes later – bringing two guards to leave in the room with Winston. Neither woman said anything; Angela merely rose when the Captain entered and followed her out and to her office. The two women sat, and Angela fought not to squirm under Ana's assessing gaze. Angela wondered why she'd gotten Ana as opposed to Jack – Gabriel would be out of the question, of course – but knew better than to ask questions at this point.
"Why don't you tell me what happened?" Ana finally broke the silence.
"I was helping a researcher when there was a crash in the lab behind me." She told the woman, leaning back in her chair and clasping her hands in her lap. "By the time I'd turned around, your agents had their guns drawn and ready to fire on Winston. It was obvious that he'd tripped and fallen – breaking a table and several specimens in the process – and that the agents were overreacting." The words poured out of her in a rush. "So, I stepped between Winston and their guns and told them to leave."
It hadn't been as simple as all that, but it was a fairly succinct explanation for what had happened. She didn't recount how angry it had made her, to see the guns drawn on one of her scientists – even if it was Winston, the current point of contention between her and her superiors. She didn't tell the Captain how terrified it had made her, staring down the agents at the end of their guns. She didn't voice her desperate hope that they wouldn't fill her with bullets instead. How she felt didn't matter – not in this. It didn't even matter that she had bodily placed herself between guns and Winston in her lab. What mattered was that she ordered two agents out of her lab when they had been placed there by the only people that outranked her.
"You stepped in front of their guns?" Ana raised an eyebrow, tone incredulous. Angela doubted for a single second that Ana was unaware of what went down in the lab, but she nodded just the same. "And why, Angela, did you think that was a good idea?"
She hadn't thought – she had just moved, her first instinct to protect those around her – Winston and the other researchers both – from the guns, even if everyone – even the agents with the guns – were on the same side, whether they knew it or not. By the time she realized it probably was a bad idea, that they were fully prepared to shoot, she was already standing in front of the guns and at their mercy, rather than the other way around.
"It was the right thing to do." Angela said, after a long moment of thought. Ana just waited patiently for an explanation, and she made a helpless gesture with her hands. "They were going to shoot him, Ana." Obviously, Angela, they'd had their guns drawn. "He didn't do anything wrong." She found herself insisting.
"It isn't up to you to decide whether the gorilla – Winston – did anything wrong." Ana reminded her patiently. "Those guards are as much for his protection as they are yours." Angela choked on a derisive laugh.
"His protection? He is a prisoner here; he has no protection, not from your agents." She had been his only shield here in Overwatch; she was too compassionate by far, she knew, and yet she couldn't help herself. If he'd come off that rocket swinging, tearing through their men or if he'd destroyed her research lab the moment he'd been set free, she could understand. But instead, he'd submitted to their demands and the guns without complaint; he'd let her inject him with a number of medications, any one of which could have been used to kill him.
"If he were a prisoner, Angela, he'd still be locked up." Ana told her carefully. Angela wanted to call her a liar, but she didn't. "But he has only been with us a short time. We must be cautious – especially when he can do so much damage." The doctor knew that – she'd read the reports, seen what little footage was available that showed exactly what the gorillas of Horizon were capable of, long before Winston had landed on this planet.
That didn't change the fact that Winston had been regarded differently, even on the lunar base. He'd responded better than the others, and there was no sign that he'd been a part of the attack – not in the few clips recovered or even in the logs leading up to the tragedy. Coupled with his absolute passivity being here, there was no reason to keep him a prisoner.
"The three of you gave him to me." Angela said quietly in the silence, voice firm. "He is mine, under my jurisdiction and under my protection." Here she was on my solid ground; while she wasn't quite certain of where her authority ended, on this it was clear. Any medical staff – researchers like Winston included – were hers; she had it in writing somewhere in her rooms, from the contracts and paperwork she'd signed so long ago. "I will not have your agents threatening my staff."
"Careful, Angela." Ana cautioned, leaning forward. "This is not your infirmary. You still answer to us." Because they were the leaders of Overwatch, the only three that could overturn any of her decisions – though it had never happened. They mostly left her to her own devices – unless it was two in the morning or she wasn't eating, at any rate – and made sure she had the supplies necessary to do her job and do it well.
Then again, she'd never directly challenged any of their orders. She'd never needed to until now.
"And when one of my people gets shot? Not just Winston, but the others as well?" She challenged. "I was lucky they didn't get jumpy and shoot me this time – they didn't even lower their guns until right before they left – but what about next time?" Angela didn't want there to be a next time – she did not want another set of guards in her lab. Her researchers would be distracted with them after this, which meant that she'd have to keep Winston away for a few days; she would have to punish one of her more promising scientists because two idiots decided to make a big deal out of nothing.
"Winston has done nothing wrong. He has allowed us to confine him and inject him with whatever we'd like. He has not hurt anyone. He moves carefully and measures each action before he takes it, because he knows there are idiots with itchy trigger fingers." Angela was ranting now, angry at the injustice the gorilla was facing. She knew she should curb her tongue – Ana was not Gabriel, even if she was particularly forgiving.
"He is intelligent and has, in the short time I've had him, been an enormous help in the lab. He does not deserve to be threatened with violence when he stumbles." She took a breath. "My staff do not need to worry if they will be shot if they show up to work." She'd removed the scientists that had the biggest problem with the gorilla, but more would crop up if her lab began to be viewed as dangerous.
None of her researchers were cleared for combat – nor did most of them want to be. Today was probably the first time they'd seen a gun pointed at something – someone – outside of a movie or television show. She could not afford to step in front of a gun every time there was a misunderstanding. The stress – or an actual bullet – would kill her. The doctor bit her tongue before she continued and said something she truly would regret.
"The easiest solution would be to confine him again." Ana informed her, as if that was truly a solution. Angela just gave her a look.
"Just because it is easy does not make it right." The doctor snapped, crossing her arms. She'd forced herself to remain in Zürich, both so that she could keep an eye on his gene therapy and so that she could be his advocate to the others. Then, once he was released, she decided to remain home until they would allow him to work without her direct supervision. Now that seemed like a faraway dream.
"And if he hurts one of your staff, Angela? Hurts you?" Ana demanded in return, shifting her weight in her chair. "He could easily tear through your lab; we both know that none of your people would stand a chance against him." Angela knew that – it was why she'd worn the Valkyrie suit around him when they first brought him in; it gave her a better chance.
"He could have lost it today, when he was bleeding and hurt on the ground with guns pointed at him, but he didn't. Your agents were more likely to hurt me than he was!" Angela insisted. "He remained still and calm, even after the guards were gone. He doesn't deserve to be punished." She'd argued this so often that she knew she was repeating herself; even if the situation was different, the words were nearly the same. Angela threw her hands up with a disgusted noise.
"You already know all of this; I don't know why we're going through it all again. You have already made up your mind – you and the Commanders – or you wouldn't be here." It was hard not to make the title sound like an insult, angry as she was. Whatever the decision was, Angela was sure to dislike it. "So, please, tell me what my punishment is to be. I have work to do." Ana sighed and leaned back in the chair.
"It is hard to punish you, Angela; as you know, you are invaluable to us here. We can't just suspend you – it would be detrimental to Overwatch's needs." She knew the best way to punish her was to force her into inaction – but even as she thought it, she knew that it would be a foolish waste of her time and talents.
"Gabriel would have us punish Winston instead by confining him to his room and doubling the guards." Angela opened her mouth to argue again, but Ana cut her off with a wave of her hand. "Jack and I disagreed. As you said, it is wrong to punish someone who did nothing wrong." Ana raised an eyebrow at the blonde doctor. "However, you did do something wrong. Which begs the question: how should we punish you?"
"We can't force you to remain in Zürich, not when your skills could save lives in the operating room or in the field, and we can't keep you out of the lab, not when you are the reason we have had so many advances. It's quite the conundrum, really – without being able to suspend or demote you, we are left with very few options." Ana told her, and Angela nodded slowly; her skills were invaluable as she applied them.
"Winston will be assigned two new guards, who will escort him and stand guard in the lab. They have strict orders; you will not interfere with them." Angela didn't like it, even as she knew it was inevitable. They couldn't be seen kowtowing to her, not after the stunt she had pulled. Hopefully these guards would be less twitchy.
"For the next four months – unless you are in the field or in surgery – you will not work outside of the hours of eight in the morning and eight in the evening. The guards will ensure you comply." Ana spread her hands before her. "It lacks substance, I know, but you have to admit that it is a perfect punishment for you when you consider the hours you prefer to keep." Angela already hated it – some of her best work was done at night, when everyone was gone – but she could recognize and admit that it was an odd punishment, even if it was specifically, perfectly, tailored to her.
"Many will believe you were let off lightly." Ana met Angela's eyes. "And it would be a fair statement. With this limitation to your work is a single, final warning. We do not wish to lose you, Angela, but we cannot have you publicly undermining us. You may argue with us in private, but you will follow orders in public." Her tone was firm. "If it is for the good of Overwatch, we will remove you." Angela's heart nearly stopped; she couldn't imagine losing her place here in Overwatch. Funny how she had, at one point, hated the thought of joining them and now she could hardly stand the thought of losing them. "Do you understand me?" The doctor bowed her head.
"I understand, Captain." Calling her Ana in this moment felt wrong.
"We don't want to let you go, Angela." Ana told her in the silence that followed. "Do not force our hands."
Eight in the evening came much too soon. She had no idea what she was going to do for the next twelve hours – for the next four months. She bid goodnight to the guards – who made sure she got on the elevator – and to Winston – who was being escorted by the guards. The elevator doors slid shut before she made a choice of floor; did she want to go to the canteen or did she want to hole up in her room?
Her work was her life; the last time she'd had this much time off was when she was in high school. Even then, she could research topics that interested her; she was fairly certain that would be considered work, and she needed to toe the line for at least a week or two before trying to get away with something like that. She didn't watch television – she didn't even own a television – and most of her reading was done for work; burying herself in her work – even before Overwatch – made it easy to avoid hobbies. It made it easier to avoid casual social situations, too. Her first friends had come with Overwatch, but they were the ones who she was fighting with; she wasn't quite sure how to manage that.
She decided that she should eat – she hadn't eaten breakfast (as usual) or lunch (due to stress and a limited workday) – and went to the canteen. It was deserted – dinner had ended over an hour ago, but there was always something to put together. She made herself a sandwich, and as soon as she was finished eating she took herself up to her rooms.
Angela was surprised to find Gabriel leaned against the wall outside her room. She paused as she stepped out of the elevator – she wasn't certain if he was going to lecture her or not, if he was here as Commander or not – but there was nowhere else for her to go. He had looked up when the elevator opened and looked her over critically.
"Where have you been?" He asked; a glance at the watch on her wrist revealed it was a quarter to nine.
"I was in the canteen." She imagined he thought she was breaking their rules; she wasn't so foolish to try to do so on the first day of her punishment, even if it did chafe.
"Come on." He pushed off from the wall and headed further down the hall, to where she knew his rooms were. She hesitated briefly but followed him down the hall.
"What are we doing?" She asked as he pushed the door open. She'd never been in his rooms before – they'd always curled up on her couch in the evenings. Late nights were not conducive to long winded meetings of any sort, not when she went to work so early, so it never had been an issue before.
"We're watching a movie." He told her, as if it had already been agreed upon as opposed to something she just found out. She was pretty sure he had more important things to do – she knew that, normally, she certainly did, and he wasn't the one being punished. There was no reason for him to be watching a movie with her at nearly-nine in the evening.
"Make yourself at home." Still, it wasn't like she had anything better to do, so she walked inside. He followed her in, allowing the door to swing shut behind them.
His rooms were set up in the same layout hers were – she imagined all of the rooms on this floor had the same floorplan. His boasted a single couch and coffee table, placed before the television she assumed they would be watching. His guns – and what looked to be cleaning cloths – as well as other combat gear sat neatly on a table against the far wall. It was tidy, as hers was – she wondered if it was because he spent as little time in it as she did her own or if he was naturally neat. The two doors that she knew led to a bedroom and a bathroom – like in her own rooms – were closed.
She curled up on one side of the couch as he grabbed the controller. Before he turned the television on, he looked her over once more.
"Do you want to talk about what happened today?" His tone was carefully neutral, and she wasn't certain if he wanted to talk about it. She knew he didn't like Winston, and probably liked even less that she's gotten herself into trouble over him. Angela worried her lip, and decided that she really didn't want to talk about today – not right now – and shook her head. Between the guns and Ana, she'd had enough fighting today.
He dropped onto the couch next to her and flipped on an action movie that, after her own time in the field, seemed rather anticlimactic. She curled up against him, her head resting where his shoulder and chest met, and his arm wrapped around her, his hand coming to rest on her hip. He was rather vocal towards the television – berating bad decisions and muttering directions as if they could hear him – but she could tell he was enjoying himself.
"What did you think?" He asked, as the credits started to roll. She glanced up towards him with a small smile.
"You're very noisy." She teased. "But it was a good movie, I guess."
"You guess?" If she wasn't pressed against him she would have shrugged.
"I don't watch many movies, Gabriel. It was a bit over dramatic at times and the logic behind some of their actions was flawed, but I guess that's alright." He laughed.
"You're not supposed to be analyzing the movie, Angela. You're supposed to enjoy it." He grabbed the remote to change the movie.
"Says the man who was barking orders the entire time." Angela poked him in the chest.
"Yes, well." He selected something and the screen went quiet as it loaded. "Old habits die hard, I guess."
While it was late when the second movie ended, it was nowhere near the hours she was used to keeping. She expected him to start another or send her on her way, but instead he let the credits roll. Angela glanced up, wondering if maybe he'd fallen asleep, to find him staring blankly at the screen.
"Gabriel…?" She asked carefully. "Are you alright?" He blinked and looked down at her.
"Yeah, I'm alright." He assured her, his free hand running over his head. "I just–" He cut himself off, shaking his head with a sigh. "It doesn't matter."
"Are you sure?" She wondered if it was about today, and while she didn't really want to argue about it, they could talk about it – rather, he could lecture her – if that was what he wanted. "We can talk about it."
"No. No, it's fine." His jaw was set; whatever it was – and she was willing to bet it was her stunt in the lab – was bothering him. "I'll tell you later." The arm around her tightened briefly, and she allowed herself to be pressed more firmly against him. "It can wait."
"If you're sure." She told him after a long, considering moment, shifting into a more comfortable position against him. "What's next?"
"It's getting late." He murmured after the third movie, and she nodded. He was right; she should head to bed and let him get some sleep. She carefully pushed away from him and stretched, a big motion pulling both arms up and over her head as he flipped the television off.
"I should go." She responded once her stretch was done. Her eyes found her watch, it was well after two – which surprised her, as she hadn't expected to be up late during her punishment. Then again, until her sleep schedule regulated to match, she'd probably be up late anyways. Angela rose to her feet.
"You could stay." The offer was so quiet she thought she'd imagined it. But, when she turned to look back at him with red cheeks, his eyes met hers resolutely.
"I, ah, Gabriel–" She stammered uselessly, embarrassed as her cheeks grew warm.
"I'm not asking for sex, Angela." He sighed, and she wondered about the unhappy sound. Before she could question it, he continued, eyes dropping to his hands. "I was just… It's fine, you don't have to stay if you don't want to." Angela made a frustrated sound.
"I don't know what it is you want to know if I want anything." Once again she lamented her lack of social grace and knowledge of societal norms. If she wasn't who she was – brilliant and driven and an innovative genius – she'd have a better understanding, but then she'd never have made it to Overwatch to begin with. It made her feel foolish and unworthy of the attention he'd bestowed upon her, when she had no idea how to determine what was wanted and what actions should be taken.
"I just want to sleep, Angela." He was no help either; a man of actions rather than words, getting anything out of him was like getting blood from a stone. Oh, she knew he was trying to help her, that he understood that she was honestly floundering most days, but that didn't make him any less recalcitrant.
"With me?" The words were hesitant – even she knew the colloquialism behind that word. He'd said he wasn't looking for sex, and she believed him. He hadn't lied to her, not as far as she could tell at any rate.
"I just," he sighed, and she could almost imagine his thoughts – of how foolish she was, of how he hated that he had to spell it out, "I just want to hold you; is that alright?" His words were gentle, and she could hear real longing – and something else? she couldn't tell – in his voice.
"Just sleep?" She repeated, as if she didn't believe him – which she did, just she felt the need to fill the silence with some sort of sound.
"Yes, Angela." The words were patient. He was careful at not pushing her too far, to reach just outside of where her current comfort zone was and gently tugging her along. She nodded slowly, licking dry lips nervously.
"Alright." Since the night they'd changed the nature of their relationship, they'd never slept in the same room; she knew, logically, that it was just sleep, that she'd slept next to him before – even on him, once – but it felt different. She glanced down at herself; she was wearing her scrubs, and while they weren't her first choice of sleepwear they were comfortable enough.
"You can borrow something of mine, if you'd prefer." He offered, seeing where her eyes went. His hands moved up, palms out towards her. "Or you can stay in that. Up to you."
"I'd appreciate that." She replied awkwardly, and he nodded and rose, striding towards the bedroom without looking back. Angela stood uncertainly in the room, knowing she should follow – he'd expressly asked her to stay, and that indicated an invitation into his bedroom.
"Are you coming?" He asked carefully, poking his head back out to regard her. She nodded and managed to get her feet to take her across the room – it was just like hers, only not. The bed was made and there wasn't any sign of clutter or clothes. He handed her a bundle of cloth and pushed her towards the bathroom – which was just as tidy as the rest of the room.
She pulled the scrubs off and folded them, leaving underwear in place, and pulled his shirt – comically large on her thin frame – and shorts on, tightening the drawstring to keep them on her. She lamented not having a toothbrush, but helped herself to his mouthwash and washed her face. A sharp knock had her jumping.
"You okay in there?" Angela pulled the door open.
"Sorry." She gathered her scrubs and stepped out of the room.
"It's fine. I'll be there in a few; make yourself comfortable." She nodded and, once she made it to the bed, he closed the door and sent the room into darkness. Angela placed her clothing on the nightstand – having nowhere else suitable to put it – and sat on the edge of the bed uncertainly. When he emerged several minutes later, she was still sitting on the edge.
"You don't have to stay, Angela." He told her tiredly. He was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, but something about the way he was standing made Angela feel like it wasn't his normal sleeping attire.
"No, I want to." She insisted. Angela was just worried about screwing up… something. She wasn't really sure what. "I was just waiting for you." He flipped the light off and made his way to the bed easily. It bounced under his weight as he settled, and she turned to look at his dark silhouette. Carefully – with considerably less bouncing – she crawled under the blanket, worried that she'd bother him and then feeling like an idiot because he'd asked her to stay so why would he be bothered? Slightly emboldened – partially by the knowledge that he wanted her to stay and partially by the darkness that hid her flushed cheeks – she shifted until she was just next to him, hesitating momentarily about invading his space.
"Come here." He mumbled, arm shifting and making space for her at his side. She curled up, just like she would on a couch, head on his shoulder and his arm came around to rest on her hip. Angela wasn't sure where to put her arm, but finally she settled for resting her hand on his sternum.
She was certain her heart was going to beat out of her ribs. She was even more certain that he could feel it from where her chest pressed against her side.
"Relax. Sleep." He rumbled, sleep roughing his voice.
She did sleep eventually, but it wasn't until long after his breathing had slowed and his body relaxed in slumber.
His alarm was probably the most annoying sound she'd ever heard. She groaned and rolled onto one side as he pulled away to turn the noise off.
"Morning." He said, flopping onto his back once more.
"What time is it?" She asked, one hand reaching up to rub her eyes as the other covered her mouth as she yawned. If it weren't for her punishment she could laze or sleep in, but being forced to start and stop work at certain hours required that she get down to the lab as soon as she was allowed.
"Little after seven." He rolled over and threw an arm over her waist, lips pressing to the top of her head briefly. She smiled at the gesture – all her anxiety from the night before was gone; now that it was over she just felt foolish – before sighing.
"I have to go. I need to get to the lab." He knew the limitations of her punishment, just as the other two did. That didn't stop him from grumbling under his breath and pulling her tighter against him for a long moment.
"I know." He said finally, releasing her. "Duty calls." She glanced back over her shoulder to look at him.
"I'll see you later?" He nodded, before capturing her lips with his – she felt mild embarrassment because she needed to brush her teeth.
"Count on it." They both rolled out of bed, and she collected her clothes and headed towards the door, glancing back only once at the man before leaving the bedroom. She could give him his clothes back later. Now, if she could just make it to her room without anyone seeing her.
Angela opened the door to find Jack on the other side, one hand poised to knock. They just stared at each other, and the longer the silence grew the redder Angela's cheeks grew. She wanted to stammer that it wasn't what it looked like, they were just sleeping, but the words wouldn't pass her lips.
"Uh, is Gabriel in?" Jack asked awkwardly. Mutely, she nodded before clearing her throat – twice.
"I'll, uhm, I'll get him." She offered. Angela would have called out from the door, but she didn't think she could raise her voice loud enough to alert the man. Angela left Jack standing in the doorway and poked her head into the bedroom. He was just about to close the bathroom door, but paused when he saw her.
"What's wrong?" He asked, taking in her flushed cheeks and the near-death grip she had on her clothes.
"Jack's here." He stared at her for a moment before barking a laugh.
"Of course he is." Gabriel aborted his trip to the bathroom and followed her out of the room. Jack was exactly where she'd left him, looking faintly amused now.
"I'll, uh, I'll see you both – later." The words were rushed as she brushed past Jack and fled to her own room.
AN: Trash punishment is trash. Even after two years I can't think of anything better.