Jesse groaned for the millionth time in a row, rolling over in frustration. Fareeha clicked her tongue when a hairy leg knocked into hers, and pushed him back to his side of the bed with her foot. He gave a muffled whine into the pillow when his hip was thrust into an odd angle. Retracting her leg, Fareeha closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. But she could not help thinking of how much she missed Angela's lovely scent, when the thin whiff of cigar smoke made another pass under her nostrils. Jesse wriggled in his spot again, still facing downwards, and reached up to hug his pillow. Fareeha gritted her teeth when his elbow knocked into her shoulder. She was about to lose it when Jesse beat her to it.
"Oh, fuck Jack up his stupid pompous ass with his fuckin' pulse rifle!" He sat up on his haunches, yell ricocheting off the wall behind the bed.
"You should use my launcher," Fareeha suggested, opening her eyes. "It's much more painful."
"No, use my particle cannon," Zarya said from her post in front of the monitors. "It is much bigger."
"Why don't we use all of them?" Lena lounged in her chair beside Zarya, with both feet up on the table. "And I'll stick my pistols up his nose."
The four of them were assigned to this spy mission in Madrid, to track a notorious weapons dealer back to his hideout. It was a…punishment, of sorts. Jack conducted a surprise drill a few nights before – to keep the agents on their toes when an emergency did happen, and a quick reaction team had to be assembled. During this particular drill, their performance was abysmal. Just the four of them and their respective partners. They arrived at the briefing room almost four minutes late, looking absolutely disheveled.
Aleksandra appeared in only her sports bra and workout shorts. Mei was in a t-shirt so big it almost hung to her knees. Jesse reached the room without his pants, his grace saved by Hanzo who passed him a robe. Said archer was wearing a silly cartoon print t-shirt that belonged to Jesse and his own sweatpants. Fareeha wore a tee few sizes too small, displaying a strip of skin beneath it. Angela's shirt was buttoned all wrong, and she wore Fareeha's shorts which hung loose around her slimmer thighs. Lena was dressed in her own clothes, but there were marks all over her neck and collarbone. Only Amélie appeared well put together – that was, until Fareeha noticed the lack of a bra underneath her turtleneck sweater.
The fraternisation ban was almost brought down on their heads, before Ana stepped in and reminded Jack of how well it worked in the old Overwatch. Reinhardt and Torbjörn concurred, so Jack settled for another solution: separate the lovebirds to make a statement. So here they were in Madrid, far away from their lovers' arms. And it was slowly driving them up the wall. Too bad the proper people were not there to pin them against it.
Fareeha sat up as well, knowing she would not be able to sleep just yet. Her shift at the surveillance cameras with Jesse was done an hour ago, but her mind was still rather alert. Jesse moved to sit down in his spot, forehead landing on Fareeha's shoulder.
"I'm gonna die, birdie," he muttered. "I'm gonna die."
"I know, cowboy." Fareeha patted on knotted brown locks. "But we're going to make sure Jack dies first."
"Yeah. Fuck that asshole."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Jesse's shove almost toppled her off the bed, but she was saved by clinging onto his sleeve.
"Hey, hey!" The collar was pulled clear over his shoulder. Jesse tugged on her arm so she was righted, then frantically checked his t-shirt for damage. "Fuckin' hell, birdie. Be careful. Hanzo gave me this."
Fareeha sniggered. "Hanzo gave you that?" She pointed at the large bold letters printed on the front, spelling out 'BIG DADDY'. "I find that hard to believe."
"Alright I picked it out and he paid for it, you happy?" he grumbled, straightening his top with all the dignity he had. Which was not much in that moment. He patted out a short rhythm on the bed, before throwing his hands up in the air.
"Ah screw it. I'm not falling asleep anytime soon. You?"
"No."
"Then let's go shopping."
"What."
"Ay, great!" Lena called from the living room. Which was right in front of the bedroom. Which was right beside the kitchen. Which was right up against the narrow entranceway. The whole apartment did not have proper partitions or doors save for the bedroom toilet. This was the best they could afford with the pittance they were given. Fuck Jack. Seriously.
"Go get us more snacks and food and water. And if you get sparkling again, Jesse, I'll blink you out of the window."
"And I will snap you like a twig," Aleks added.
"I got that by accident, okay?! I wasn't paying attention." Jesse climbed out of bed and to go argue with the two women.
Fareeha sighed and climbed out as well, switching her shorts out for jeans. As much as she loved these three, she would sell her soul to have Mercy glide in – wings and all – and fly her somewhere far away.
Very far away. Secluded. Where no one could hear her scream Angela's name as she gets ravished by–
"ibn iš-šarmuuTa," Fareeha cursed under her breath, leaning her head against the wardrobe.
Jack had better not conduct a drill the day they returned to base. It would be a very eventful homecoming.
Fareeha stayed at full alert as she watched Jesse's tracker slip and slide through the docks. The man had volunteered to go in alone, to scout out their target's base. Despite his laidback and sometimes moronic behaviour off duty, the man possessed a hidden intensity that bespoke a murky past, where even darker acts lurked. It was that same intensity that saw him safely through missions, and made him the perfect candidate for tasks such as this. That did not stop Fareeha from worrying about him though. If he got caught here, only Lena and Aleks were available as backup. Fareeha was too far away to help directly, and could only call for reinforcements before going in.
Their map was getting more and more detailed the longer Jesse remained in there. But it also meant an ever increasing risk of getting caught. She could not order him to stop – they were on strict radio silence until he bugged out – so they would have to trust his judgment. Lena's blue blip on the grey area map was lurking at the edges of the base, careful to stay out of sight. Aleks' was even further, motionless as she waited in their car.
Resisting the urge to drum her fingers, Fareeha kept her focus on the screens until Jesse's blip finally started making its way towards the edge. She watched it move rapidly to Lena's position, and the pair snuck off towards Aleks. A quick scan revealed no unknown signatures on their tails.
"Mission accomplished, Pharah." Jesse sounded smug – he had earned the right, after all. So she chose not to burst his bubble. Yet.
"Nice one, McCree. First round of drinks' on me. When we nip to the pub later?" Fareeha grinned at Lena's approving whoop.
"Love ya, birdie. See you back home."
The channel switched off with a crackle of static. Fareeha kept one eye on the screens as they tracked her teammates' position, and reached out for her phone which just vibrated. It was a message from Angela.
[Where are you?]
[In the apartment. Why?]
[And the rest?]
[On the way back. Just finished up here. Why?]
A few seconds passed when Angela's status went offline for a while. Fareeha raised a brow, glancing up at the monitors to make sure everything was in the green. Then her phone screen lit up again. She looked down and promptly snapped her gaze back up, checking the apartment to make sure she was truly alone.
Heart pumping faster, Fareeha's eyes landed back on the photo Angela just sent. She was lying in bed, propped up against her pillows. The photo started from her mouth, curved as she bit sensually on her bottom lip. Blonde tresses spilled over one shoulder, exposing a smooth expanse of creamy skin on the other. A thin bra strap hung tantalisingly off-shoulder, leading her eyes down to the sheer black bra with lacy patterns just barely covering her modesty. And the photo ended there.
Fareeha blinked, eyes glued to her lover's cleavage as she scrolled relentlessly downwards, hoping to load even more photos. Nothing. Her thumbs hovered above the keyboard as she tried to think of something witty to type. Nothing.
Angela sent her another message. Text, disappointingly.
[Miss you.]
[Miss you too.]
Then she smirked. Fareeha switched to her camera, lifting two fingers to her mouth. Parting the upright digits, she pressed her tongue against them, with only the tip poking through. Quickly snapping the photo, she sent it along with:
[Save yourself for me.]
She glanced back up at the monitors to check her team was still safe. They were, and no doubt already planning where they could suck her wallet dry. Satisfied, she looked back down to see another photo. It was now trained on Angela's mouth, with two fingers pushed through her parted lips – something Fareeha was prone to do during sex. The sight of Angela's tongue peeking through the fingers sent a thrill of arousal down her body. If only the fingers were hers, not Angela's. As if that was not enough, a voice clip accompanied the photo.
"I'll try. But no promises," Angela purred huskily. Fareeha could almost feel her breath on her ear.
Fuck.
[Good night, Bärchen. Sweet dreams ;) ]
No. No!
Of course she was cutting it off now. Fareeha was right where Angela wanted her, and that was how the Swiss devil would have her stay. Silently giving thanks that their mission was complete, Fareeha locked her phone reluctantly. Depending on how quickly they could stash the equipment away, they would be back at Gibraltar within the next two days. And Angela had better be ready. It would be a very, very eventful homecoming.
A/N: ابن الشرموطة (ibn iš-šarmuuTa) = son of a whore/bitch