Chapter 2
Death and panties, not in that order
Emily was convinced she would die today. It would be a sweet death, caused by a cuteness overload. The injured hero was constantly falling over her words and by now clung to Emily for support instead of trying to act tough. Even just the way Lena kept looking over to her, staring at her face with starry eyes, was enough to make her fangirl heart nearly burst in her chest.
She's probably just delirious, quit it Emily…
Besides deep breathing, Emily had at least one more secret weapon that helped her keep composure.
Nothing gets me sober like having to explain all of this to Mister Bernstein tomorrow…
A small shiver ran through Emily at the thought before Lena finally got off the phone and caught her attention again.
"It's… over there… on the 3rd floor…"
"The yellow tinted house? An apartment?"
"Yeah, it's… kinda… you know."
She heard how Lena was chuckling self-consciously and quickly stopped herself from commenting on the modesty of the building.
Lena would probably like it if we were just talking like normal girls.
"It must be really cozy when you have visitors at home on a season like this."
"You think so?"
"I'm imagining it that way. A couch, a blanket and some hot cocoa in a comfy living room. Just the thing against the cold right now, hmm?"
"Yeah, it's freezing! You must be a psychic, 'cause I have a couch and some cocoa upstairs. I'll make sure to invite you for some when I'm back on my feet."
Emily had thought about Tracer's feelings for years, explored them in dozens of stories. Nevertheless, she was still surprised that she could somewhat understand her. After all, there was never any confirmation for her theorizing.
Maybe we are alike.
"That sounds nice."
She was confident that she could've forced her way home without any outside help, if she wanted to. Lena was secretly glad that she wouldn't have to though. Being vulnerable like this just once in her heroic life felt weirdly liberating to Lena.
There was of course another kind of vulnerable that she had to live through just a while ago, being lost in time and all, but this was different. In this situation she didn't have to worry. The hero found herself readily clinging to her rescuer after a while.
She's kinda cute.
The thought just came to her while stealing another glance to the side. Lena didn't particularly know that she had a thing for redheads up until now, but it became increasingly obvious. The light skin, the freckles, the vibrant color of her hair…
Don't think about stuff like that! She's so nice to help me home, let it go Lena…
"It's… over there… on the 3rd floor…"
"The yellow tinted house? An apartment?"
Lena chuckled quietly.
I know, right? Pretty pathetic for a hero.
"Yeah, it's… kinda… you know."
"It must be really cozy when you have visitors at home on a season like this."
Lena found herself blushing and blinking with surprise.
"You think so?"
"I'm imagining it that way. A couch, a blanket and some hot cocoa in a comfy living room. Just the thing against the cold right now, hmm?"
Lena imagined both of them doing just that and felt oddly happy about it.
"Yeah, it's freezing! You must be a psychic, 'cause I have a couch and some cocoa upstairs. I'll make sure to invite you for some when I'm back on my feet."
"That sounds nice."
Lena smiled inwards as they approached the building in silence.
When was the last time somebody talked to me like this?
The hero was absorbed in thought for a moment. At least the pain in her leg had become bearable in Emily's company.
Like a normal girl.
They arrived at the door to the apartment complex. Lena fished for the key in her pilot's jacket. It took a moment to find it, but neither of them seemed to mind all that much to just stand there, pressed up to one another. When she finally found it, her hand was shaking a bit too much to properly aim for the keyhole.
It was embarrassing.
Lena couldn't help her thoughts from drifting, trying to figure out whether her heart was beating so fast from the exhaustion, embarrassment or the company.
"Lena?"
"Huh?"
"Let's do it together, okay?"
Lena blinked a few times.
L-Lets… do it… together?!
Her heartrate skyrocketed for a moment while she stared at her companion for the night.
Did she… she can't… can she? W-What should I say!
Emily claimed initiative over the speechless hero and gently took her hand, guiding the key towards the appropriate hole, so they could open the door together.
Oh.
Lena was dumbfounded.
What am I thinking?
Emily smiled at her with kind intentions, oblivious of the tumult she had just caused.
Oh god…
"Lena? Are you well?"
I don't even know if she's into girls!
"Lena?"
"Y-Yes?!"
"Is everything okay? You look like you have developed a fever."
They were still standing there before the opened front door. Emily was carefully holding her hand while Lena's cheeks blushed hotly in a bright pink color.
"Ah! E-Everything's okay luv, no problem, haha!"
Lena tried to downplay it, but before too long her concerned rescuer was feeling her forehead for temperature.
"You feel pretty hot…"
There she was right. Lena actually felt hotter by the second.
"… but it doesn't really feel hot like a fever. Still, I'll get you into bed as soon as I can."
Emily smiled again, totally oblivious.
Oh god, I'm gonna die…
Sombra was sitting with her legs crossed on the seat of her chair in front of her computer rig. Her room was dark and since this was her domain, she only wore a long, grey shirt and panties.
"Why do these units have to be named 'Reapers'? I just can't take them seriously…"
Little figures battled against each other in front of her on the screen. Now some tiny, red jetpack soldiers shot at ugly looking, blue mining drones. One after another, the little drones popped in miniscule flesh explosions.
"Ghah! But I should! I lost to them too damn muuuch…"
She threw herself back into her seat as "DEFEAT" flashed in front of her holo-screen. She continued to whine and grumble for a while longer before she would start her next Starcraft match.
"¡Jolín! I'm never gonna beat DVa like this…"
Then suddenly the door to her room was thrown open. Sombra got massively startled, almost falling from her seat.
"Quelle gueule?! Qui a osé écrire ça?!"
The hacker quickly whirled her chair around and clamored to stay on top of her seat instead of ungraciously slipping to the floor. She stared at Widow, who was standing in her doorway with an even worse blush than she had seen today in the aircraft. The French assassin was visibly worked up about something, so much so that she forgot to curse in a language that Sombra could understand.
"Hola amiga, I didn't expect-"
She stopped in awe in the middle of her lie. Of course, she expected Widow to be confronting her at some point about the story, but hadn't quite imagined it like this. Widow was after all only wearing a black lingerie top and matching panties.
She walked through the complex… like that?!
It was suddenly incredibly hot in the darkened room. Trying to stay on the chair had disheveled Sombra somewhat to the point that her shirt wasn't quite covering the lower half of her body.
"Who wrote that story?!"
"Huh?"
Widow was rushing at her. Sombra panicked at that, quickly pulling down her shirt to hide her panties.
"What-"
"The one you showed me, you little shit!"
The Mexican girl's eyes went wide as Widow grabbed her by the throat, pushing her further into the seat and the chair back into the table where her rig was standing on. She could still breathe somewhat, but the sheer act totally shocked her.
"O-Of course, I remember!"
"You better! Who wrote it?!"
Widow, whose head was lit up like a blue tinted peach, shoved a phone screen in front of Sombra's face. It was fixated at the top of chapter 4. Sombra vaguely remembered that this was the chapter where a mad Tracer confronted Widow.
Chapter 4… That fight scene was so awesome! And right afterwards Tracer totally took advantage of the weakened Widowmaker…
She must have grinned while thinking back to the story. The pressure on her throat increased.
Oh.
"Cease that shit-eating grin, or I will do it for you! Who?!"
Sombra quickly looked at the phone screen again. The author avatar on the page was a cute bunny with a small crown on its head. The author's name read 'Miju' just below that. Widow wouldn't be able to make anything of it, and that's what Sombra had counted on.
Air was getting sparse, so the Mexican girl hurriedly answered.
"S-She's… a reporter f-for the Evening Standard!"
Widow finally let go of her throat, but still looked at her with killing intent. Sombra coughed a few times and shivered in her seat.
"Her name. Tell me."
"Dios mio, would it hurt to say 'please'?"
Those amber eyes got dangerously thin, so Sombra was quick to correct herself with an awkward laugh. She knew how much Widow loved to have someone grovel before her.
"Y-You don't have to though! Anything for a good friend, right?"
Widow was getting dangerously close again.
"The. Name."
"H-Her name's Emily! Please don't hurt me…?"
The little hacker's heart began to beat wildly, partly in fear. A blue hand closed in again and made Sombra flinch, closing the eye shut on the side of approach. Rather than strangling her a second time however, a pair of fingers caressed her cheek. Widow also leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the little hacker's forehead.
"Good girl."
Sombra was stunned, unlike Widow, whom she watched turning around to leave the darkened room. Then she was alone.
So kind all of the sudden!
Her body sunk down the seat unhindered this time. She had developed quite the sweat, which made her skin shine in the faint light of her holo-screen.
She's really getting off on this too, isn't she?
A stupid smile developed on Sombra's lips.
I need new panties…
Emily was definitely going to die tonight, although the cause of death was shifting towards embarrassment.
One Freudian Slip, yeah sure, but two in a row?! If this goes on I'll have invited her for a romp half a dozen times before the sun's up…
They were going up the stairs in dead silence. It was a bit more work for them, since Lena had a harder time climbing up the steps, but neither complained. Together they ascended three stories and finally stood in front of the modest apartment. Lena pressed the key into Emily's hand and that was that.
The smell of Lena assaulted poor Emily as they entered the apartment. Her head got dizzy for a moment and it was a lot more difficult than before to avoid going full on fan-girl-mode.
She's a normal girl. Think of Bernstein. Totally normal. Think of Bernstein.
There was a small shiver and Emily had herself back under control.
"I didn't really tidy up when I left, sorry 'bout that."
"Who tidies up when they're not expecting guests, right?"
"Some boring busybodies!"
They both giggled in unison as Lena led Emily to the bedroom. The chaos in there was more pronounced. The double bed wasn't made and worn clothes were lying about the small room, including underwear. Emily forced herself to ignore those. Still, she couldn't help asking about it.
"That's a big bed. Are you living with someone?"
Lena took a moment to answer as they were going towards the side of the bed. Emily tried to lay her down carefully on top of the mattress.
"No, but… I wouldn't mind if someone would."
Time seemed to go a lot slower for a moment. She felt herself being pulled down onto the bed, on top of Lena. The little Brit below her had a sly smile on her lips as they locked gazes. She stared into Lena's hazelnut eyes and felt her own growing bigger. It was all she could do to keep herself from hyperventilating as their bodies pressed up against each other
What the heck just Nononononono, think of Bernstein, this is too fast, I can't, Bernstein, she smells so nice whattheheckamithinking, Sternbeiwhyisshelookingatmelikethatohgodohgodohgodohgod…
"Emily!"
"H-Huh?!"
Lena was making a grimace and breathed heavily.
"You're lying on my bad leg!"
"OH!"
That wasn't the first time that a girl had fled Lena's bedroom with the last-minute-panic syndrome, but Emily was certainly the fastest. Her cheeks had turned as red as her hair as she stormed out of the room, apologizing along the way. Even if it was Lena that had pulled her onto the bed.
Why did I have to do that…
At first, it was a bit harder to focus since her leg hurt so much, but the pain steadily moved towards the heart.
... First the assassination, then I alienate my cute rescuer. Fuck! I'm so useless!
Lena gripped one of her cushions and buried her head in it.
Emily cowered on the floor, leaning against one of the walls, keeping her legs close to her body. She was still trying to keep herself from hyperventilating, rummaging through her handbag to find the little inhaler she needed for her asthma. Once she used it to breathe in, it was easier to think again.
A shiver went through her body.
I should've known! That was so Tracer to go overboard like that.
The thoughts instinctively came to her while her heart was still beating like crazy.
She can't keep anything in, can she? I bet she'll scream.
Right on queue a muffled scream was barely audible through the bedroom door. Emily giggled stupidly at that, but couldn't quite figure out what she was supposed to do right now.
Calming down would be a good idea.
A few minutes passed with more muffled screams on the other side of the wall, but they too stopped after a while. Emily looked around the apartment in the meantime. Apart from the chaos, she could make out all kinds of souvenirs from parts of the world that Tracer had been to. Part of a shelf was solely dedicated to plane models. She recognized pictures of important moments in flight history and even a portrait of maybe the most prominent female pilot of all time: Amelia Earhart.
She likes to travel. And there's so much aviation stuff!
The more Emily looked around, the less she actually calmed down. On the contrary, she got more excited by the second, trembling a bit and fidgeting uselessly with her hands. There was a stupid smile on her lips and she couldn't stop herself from squealing like an idiot fangirl.
I kinda imagined it like this! I feel like I'm in a story!
The ringing of the doorbell startled Emily immensely. She lost hold on her inhaler and tried clumsily to get it into her hands again. Then she inhaled once more before she stood up and went to the door.
The bellringing was from someone directly in front of the apartment. Emily was nervous about opening it.
Who will that be?
Emily pushed down the handle and slowly opened the front door.
"Greetings."
A stunningly beautiful blonde woman in a white polo shirt, jacket and jeans was standing on the other side of the threshold. The beauty had her hair in a ponytail and carried a bag of tools at her side.
"Hello!"
That's Mercy!
Emily often used the Medic as side character in her stories, so she kind of knew her almost as well as Tracer. There was a whole fandom surrounding her and captain Amari. Some of her friends would absolutely kill for this moment. Emily tried to not look too giddy.
That's who Lena was on the phone with?
"I'm sorry, I don't know you? What are you doing in Tracer's home?"
"O-Oh! I brought her home, sorry. My name is Emily!"
Too excited dimwit, calm down!
The redhead was still a bit shaken from being pulled into bed with her idol earlier, but eventually she got a hold of herself.
"That's awfully nice, thank you for helping our little Lena."
The doctor simply entered at this point, since it wasn't really on Emily to decide whether she should intrude or not. While the redhead was busy closing the door, Mercy had already turned around to face her.
"That's a camera bot."
Mercy gestured towards CA1.
"…and you are a reporter."
A cold shiver ran along Emily's back. She tried to say something.
"I-"
"That's an awfully expensive model. You're working for a corporate tabloid, aren't you? I should destroy that thing and throw you out this instant."
Emily was wide eyed and frozen to the ground. CA1 hurried to hide behind it's owner and projected a large, red X on his little screen at the idea of being destroyed.
"N-No! I mean, yes, I'm a reporter, b-but I'm not… I'm with the Evening Standard! Please don't hurt Cassy!"
As journalist and Overwatch aficionado, Emily knew too well that corporate and government controlled media all over the world had a decent interest in the past of taking the organization down a notch.
They would react with mistrust to any journalist, wouldn't they?
"The Evening Standard? They don't use bots like these."
"You're right! Cassy… he's mine, he was a present from someone."
Emily looked uncomfortable just by mentioning it. Mercy raised an eyebrow.
"That's an expensive present if I ever saw one."
She won't let go that easily, will she?
"Cassy, can you show her?"
"Bweee-o."
The little bot cautiously floated in front of the blonde's gaze and displayed his own commercial contract. Mercy's blue eyes scanned the document until her other eyebrow was raised, too.
"That family…"
A scared Emily closed the distance between them. She was trembling a bit as she carefully took one of Mercy's hands in hers.
"Please don't tell anyone, I beg you! I'm not here to make a story or anything, I just wanted to help Lena when I saw her hurt! I already wanted to delete all the compromising footage of her, I promise!"
Her pleading was desperate. Mercy looked at the reporter with scrutiny, but couldn't seem to find any dishonesty. A few moments passed before the doctor finally smiled and shook her head.
"I'm sorry Emily, I got the wrong impression. You seem like a nice girl."
CA1 showed a video of fireworks in celebration of not being destroyed. Emily was too relieved to react while Mercy seemed mildly amused.
"Now, where is Lena? We shouldn't let her wait for medical attention any longer."
"S-She's in the… the bedroom."
Mercy raised an eyebrow again, but she didn't lose any more time. Emily followed closely behind her. The redhead watched Mercy approach the side of the bed as she entered the bedroom, pulling a cushion from her patients face.
"She's out cold… with a cushion on her face?"
"Wow… she really did scream herself into unconsciousness, didn't she?"
The blonde doctor gave her a puzzled look.
"Lena screamed? Was she in pain?"
Mercy rarely saw someone develop a blush as fast as the redheaded reporter did right now. Emily avoided eye contact and started to nervously rub the back of her head.
This'll be awkward.
"Well…."
Notes:
¡Jolín! ~ Curses!
Dios mio ~ My god
Quelle gueule?! Qui a osé écrire ça?! ~ What the fuck?! Who dared to write this?!
Hi there, dear reader!
This chapter is supposed to give you a better idea of what kind of story this'll be.
If you feel like it, please tell me what you think about the way it's going. Not everything's set in stone yet and I'd love to know what resonates and what doesn't.
Either way, thanks for reading~