"Right, I think I'm finally done. How do I look?"
Angela caps her mascara and turns away from the mirror in her office to face Lena, who hmms thoughtfully. She perches on the edge of Angela's desk and looks over her with critical eyes.
"Outfit's great! You could do with some lippy, though."
"Lipstick? What colour?"
"Oooh. Cherry red. Something Christmassy!"
Angela smiles uncertainly. "Don't you think it'll be a little much? What with – you know."
She gestures up at her halo, now with the sprig of mistletoe attached. Lena vehemently shakes her head.
"You need lippy precisely because you've got mistletoe! What's the fun if you don't leave any kiss marks?!"
Angela pokes around her makeup case. She's got a nice rouge she hardly uses that would probably be perfect, but considering who she's hoping to actually get under the mistletoe, she would really prefer it if there were no traceable kiss marks left behind. Mark. If it happens at all, she's adamant it'll only be once.
"Oh, go on, doc, the boys'll love it!" Lena whines, leaning over to pout at her. "You'll look amazing!"
It would be a shame not to use it. There's also the very real possibility that she might not end up kissing Jamie anyway, though that isn't really a possibility she wants to entertain. Against her better judgement, Angela applies the lipstick and faces Lena once again for assessment.
"Better?"
"Stunning!" she says, starry-eyed. "You look gorgeous! Now let's get going!"
Angela grabs her coat before Lena ushers her out of the office, locking it for what will hopefully be the last time this year.
"Are you sure this skirt isn't too short?" she asks, trying to tug it down a little when they're in the elevator.
"Not short enough if you ask me!" Lena chirps, smirking at her. "Oh, stop worrying. It's a Christmas party for god's sake, if you can't wear a short skirt now then when can you?!"
Angela supposes that's true. She's nervous, though, looking down at herself. Her jumper was purchased online in a fit of panic last week after realising she'd forgotten to go out and buy one, and is decidedly unremarkable – white with an all-over red snowflake pattern. After rummaging through her wardrobe yesterday evening, she eventually picked out a black sequin skirt to go with it, something flattering to try and salvage the awkward length and loose fit of the jumper. It's a little shorter than she thinks is necessarily appropriate, but, well. Considering how terrible she's looked in all the time they've spent together, Angela would be lying to herself if she didn't want to at least attempt to impress Jamie, though at this point if he isn't already interested she sort of doubts a tight skirt is going to change his mind.
They arrive on the ground floor and cut straight across reception, over to the entrance of HQ's enormous assembly hall. Its primary function is to host conferences and speeches for business guests, but all the chairs have been cleared away to make space for the party and it's fully decked out with lights, music and decorations. The concierge takes their coats by the entrance, and when Angela steps inside with Lena she's positively dazzled by the transformation. There's a buffet, several long rows of dinner tables and even a big dancefloor, though most of the people already here are standing around chatting with plastic cups in hand.
"So this is where the budget goes," Angela says, looking at Lena with a wry smile.
"All this effort and it isn't even a bloody ball," she sighs. "Well, never mind. Let's go and see the others!"
They've arrived later than planned because Angela had some paperwork to do this morning, and Lena was kind enough to wait for her. It seems like they're the last two agents to join the party – everyone else is standing and sitting around the table close to the dance floor and don't appear to have noticed their arrival yet. It's a relief to see she's not the only one wearing something silly on her head, what with Lúcio's cooked turkey hat and Roadhog's reindeer antler headband. Angela grins when she spots Jamie chatting next to him. He wasn't kidding about his sunnies. As they come closer, she can see that he's wearing Christmas tree shaped sunglasses, and his jumper is bright blue and orange, Santa on a beach. Some of the other jumpers she's seen are absolutely atrocious, but Jamie's is especially garish. Angela loves it.
Roadhog nods in her direction and suddenly Jamie's looking around at her. She smiles at him, the mistletoe swaying in front of her as she tips her head up in acknowledgement. Jamie seems to jolt back at the sight of her, lifting up his sunglasses, and though he's too far away to hear Angela could swear she sees him mouth an enthusiastic WOW at her. Not even a minute into this party and he's already making her blush. That must be some sort of record for him, she thinks, giving him a shy wave from across the hall.
Jamie grins at her, eyes wide and bright when he waves back. Could he be feeling the same sort of excitement that she is right now? It's possible. But Angela is jittery too, already trying to figure out how on earth she's going to get some alone time with him without everyone noticing. Her headpiece will probably look benignly festive to the others but to her it may as well be an enormous billboard sign for his attention. There's going to be nothing subtle about the kiss she's planning on giving him when the moment is right, though, so perhaps it isn't such a bad thing after all.
In any case, employees from a wide variety of teams are here in addition to all the agents, so Angela is hoping it won't be too difficult to get him under her mistletoe sometime before this party is over. Now, if they could just merge into the group without anyone taking too much notice…
"She's here!" Lena proclaims as they approach the group, throwing her arms out beside Angela like she's showing off a trophy. The agents are all split off in small clusters, talking amongst themselves.
"Wh- What're you doing," Angela hisses, glaring at her.
"Oi! You lot! She's here!" Lena calls out again, ignoring her. This is enough to whip everyone's attention over to them, and the collective cheer that follows is so loud Angela covers her face in her hands, laughing from beneath her fingers in sheer embarrassment.
"Honestly," she says, Reinhardt's arm heavy around her as he gives her an affectionate side squeeze. When she brings her hands down she's immediately surrounded by everyone jostling her.
"Excellent work!" Jack says from behind her, patting her on the back.
"Never doubted you for a second," Jesse says, somewhere to her side as he squeezes her shoulder.
Winston pours out a plastic cup of champagne for her and then they're all toasting, Angela squinting as she takes a gulp of sharp fizz. She cringes when everyone cheers her again, trying to feel humbled rather than mortified by this attention. Jamie and Roadhog are looking down at her from behind the others, being the tallest members of the team, and Angela's smile is helpless when she spots Jamie. He's wearing his sunglasses, but there's something so softly fond about his smile back that it makes her wish she could grab him close right now and just—
"You should be so proud of yourself," Ana says in front of her, grasping her hands and squeezing them. Angela laughs, remembering where she is. Later, she thinks. Soon!
"I'm just so happy everything's alright," she says, before facing Zenyatta. "Thank goodness we got it sorted in time so you could join us!"
"The only goodness there is to thank is your dedication and hard work," he says, offering her a brief but gracious bow. Angela knows she must be bright red with all these eyes on her, but she has to admit that it's wonderful to be so very appreciated – to have Zenyatta with them, out of the ward after all his time cooped up in there.
The group break away after offering their congratulations, and is Angela giddy from the festive atmosphere. It's lovely to speak to Jack and Ana, catching up on how busy they've been and how relieved they are for the working year to be over. Jack seems particularly exhausted, Hana frowning up at him in disapproval as he recounts how many meetings he's had in the last week alone.
"Whoever thought such bureaucracy would still have a place in modern society," Angela sighs. "Oh, well. At least you're with us and not stuck in your office."
Jack chuckles. "It was pretty touch and go for a while this morning," he says. "I'm glad to be here now. It's great to see you again, Angela. I'm sorry that it's been so long."
"No need to apologise," she says. She's about to offer him a friendly kiss when someone whistles beside her.
"Hey now, that mistletoe better be HR approved," Jesse says, smoothly. She gives him one of her looks only for him to tilt his head and tap his cheek.
"If I must," she says, smiling around her exasperation. Angela tries to peck his cheek with the side of her mouth so it won't leave an enormous mark, but it's still enough to leave two red stripes. Below them, Torbjörn coughs.
"I think you'll find HR tend to back down when I get involved!" he huffs, folding his arms. Angela laughs, bending down to him.
"As they should," she says. Torbjörn's eyes crinkle as he smiles at her.
"Oh, Angela, don't you look lovely," he says. "It's good to see you so happy."
"It's mostly thanks to you that I am," she murmurs, aware that the others are still gathered around them. She doesn't know where Jamie is, though. Angela sets her hands on Torbjörn's shoulders and pecks him on the cheek, too, leaving a full kiss mark. His cheeks are rosy when she pulls back, and she smiles fondly at him, filled with gratitude for his kindness over the last few weeks.
"Jack's quite right, you know," Ana observes, when she stands back up. "It's delightful to see you again after all this time. Our true Christmas angel."
"Oh, Ana, the pleasure is really all mine," she says. She leans over as a friendly offer, and Ana chuckles, obliging her with a peck on each cheek.
Seeing as she's making the rounds, Angela looks out to see if Jamie's close by. He's over at the buffet with Roadhog and Lúcio, and she falters, disappointed to see that he's so far away.
"Hey," Genji says, drawing her attention back to the group. He edges in front of Jesse, looking handsome in his fitted sweater despite the cartoony penguins all over it. "May I, um. Have a kiss too?"
He smiles coyly at her. Angela chuckles, leaning over to kiss his cheek. It's more of a brush than anything, and then they head over to the buffet together, chatting on the way when they approach Jamie and Roadhog coming back to the agents' table. While they share another smile Angela can't really stop and say hello to him when she's in the middle of a conversation with Genji. They pass each other, Roadhog's antlers jingling as they go, and a pang of anxiety hits Angela out of nowhere. She's uncomfortably aware that they haven't even properly spoken so far today. There's still plenty of time, anyway. No need to worry just yet.
"Are you going anywhere nice this year?" Genji asks, when they're by the buffet. He's filling his paper plate up but Angela's stomach is too fluttery for her to be hungry, so she only picks out a couple of pastry bites.
"If you count London as nice," she says, smiling. "I'm with Lena and Winston on Christmas day but aside from that I'll probably just be at home."
"Nobody else you can see?"
"No, not really." Angela doesn't really want to discuss her lack of plans, nor how lonely she's going to be this year. "What about you?"
"We will stay in London, too," Genji says. "But maybe… I don't know."
He's smiling, seemingly to himself, and shakes his head. She probably shouldn't ask, but it's just the two of them over here and Angela feels like she knows Genji well enough to allow herself some curiosity.
"What is it?" she asks him, quietly. Genji glances over his shoulder and then back down to the buffet, needling some cheeses with a cocktail stick.
"I might ask Jesse if he'd like to come back to Japan with me," he says. "Not sure yet."
"Gosh," Angela says. She wasn't expecting him to just come out with that. "You mean, for Christmas?"
Genji pauses for a moment. "Maybe," he says.
He moves up to the drinks and offers Angela a cup of orange juice, pouring one out for himself when she declines.
"If you did ask him, I'm sure he'd love to go with you," she says. She's actually certain that Jesse would, an instinctive pull in her belly that's somehow telling her Jesse would probably go anywhere with him. "He told me he liked Japan much more than he was expecting."
Genji hmms. His lips are still curved upwards around the plastic cup as he takes a sip of juice. Angela's been curious ever since she noticed their closeness, but she isn't as close to Jesse as she is to Genji, and it feels a lot easier to ask him about this despite how infrequently they talk.
"Did you spend a lot of time together there? While I was out there, too?"
"Yeah, after dinner mostly," Genji says. "Some weekends."
"Gosh," Angela says again. "I had no idea."
They turn back, crossing the hall to head back to the others. Genji is walking slowly though, which Angela is grateful for now that it feels like he's opening up to her.
"You know, when we were in Blackwatch, he hated me," he laughs.
Of course. They spent years in Blackwatch, bickering all the time according to the stories Jesse told her when they left.
"But I hated me, too, back then," Genji adds. "I was like a child."
"You certainly aren't anymore," Angela observes, smiling at him. "We can all see how much you've grown as a person."
Apparently Jesse more than most. Genji grins at her like he can almost hear her thinking this.
"Anyway, it's nice to be here with everyone else for now," he says. Angela feels proud when she looks over him, the scars on his face that seem so reflective of who he was and the strong and mature man he's become. She'd thought it was mostly Zenyatta and maybe some of her own influence, but she wonders, now, if it might be the result of all his time spent with Jesse instead.
"Nice to be here with you, Angela," Genji tells her, dark eyes soft as they meet hers. "I hope you get to spend your holidays with someone special, too."
Angela laughs uncertainly, ignoring the swelling this creates in her throat.
"Me too," she says, softly. "We'll see."
The party is in full swing around them, festive tunes booming out of the speakers to match the noise of so many people. Most of the agents are sitting along the table as they approach, Lena standing at the head of it with a massive sack of presents in front of her.
"Oh, finally!" she calls out to them. "Come on, let's do our secret Santa!"
There's a free seat beside Jamie. Angela moves to take it only for Hana to dart ahead of her and steal it, presumably so she can sit beside Lúcio. It's – she wouldn't have been able to kiss Jamie right here at the table with everyone else, but it's still frustrating. Damn it.
There's another free seat next to Roadhog on the other side of the table which Angela settles into. She's happy to be at least somewhat close to Jamie here, as he's opposite Roadhog, but she's becoming increasingly nervous trying to plot a way of getting him alone. He's still wearing his sunglasses and looks a bit rigid in his seat, arms folded tightly across his chest with the sleeves pulled right up over his hands. He uncurls a bit when Angela sits down anyway, grinning easily at her from across the table.
"G'day, doc! You're looking very, er – nice, today!" Jamie says, awkwardly. Angela bites back a laugh. It's very sweet of him, but she has to admit that 'nice' is slightly underwhelming after the wow he gave her earlier.
"Thank you," she says. "Your jumper is, um. Very nice, too."
"Thanks!" Jamie laughs, a shrill sound as his face goes red beneath the sunglasses. He must be nervous, too. Angela wouldn't dare assume it's for the same reason as she is, but… there's no harm in secretly hoping it could be.
Lena passes down the presents. There was a modest spending limit this year and most of the gifts going around are silly, just fun things bought to make each other laugh. Despite her Jamie-shaped yearning, Angela is glad she's sitting next to Roadhog, as he was her allocation and she was rather pleased with her purchase.
"Ah," he says, the low gravel of his voice muffled as ever by his mask. He pulls the Pachimari earmuffs out of the wrapping and turns them over in his hands.
"Someone told me you were quite a fan," she says, loudly. Jamie cackles across the table, but then he's taking out a small bottle from his own gift-wrapped box, squinting at it.
"Oh," he says, eyebrows lifting in surprise. "Shit."
"What is it?" Angela asks, peering over inquisitively. Jamie holds it out to her.
"Nepalese joint oil," he says. "S'for metal limbs, uh - omnics and such. S'posed to be good in winter but I've never got me hands on any before to test it."
Nepalese? Angela gapes, wondering if-
"Much appreciated," Jamie says, nodding at Zenyatta. It's not as wide as usual, but he's grinning nonetheless. "Thanks, mate."
"You are most welcome," Zenyatta says, beside her. "Apologies that it is not more frivolous, but I thought it may be of use."
The fuzzy feeling washing over Angela almost makes her shiver. Goodness. She knows this hardly makes them the best of friends, but Jamie's genuine reaction here is such a massive step in the right direction she can't quite articulate how monumental this exchange feels.
Roadhog distracts her by removing his antlers and replacing them with the earmuffs. He turns to face her. The cuteness of the earmuffs combined with his frightening mask makes her chuckle, cover her mouth with her hand. He looks surprisingly adorable.
"Thanks," he says, nodding his approval. "They're great."
He leans over a little as he says it. Angela takes this to mean he'd like a kiss, as she's still wearing her halo. She hesitates for a second, afraid of what Jamie might think. But it's no use if she can't have a little fun with the mistletoe, and she's been giving everyone else kisses, so there's no reason for him to be concerned about this one – if he is at all. It's hard to tell when he's still wearing those sunglasses, though she's sure she can feel him looking at her from behind them.
She has to lift herself up from the chair to reach him, and then Angela kisses the snout of Roadhog's mask, leaving a big red mark on it.
"You're very welcome," she says, sitting back down. She can't see if he's blushing, but the way he dips his head and lifts a hand up to his masked cheek leads her to believe that he might be, beneath it.
Jamie clears his throat. "You, uh. Gonna open yours then, doc?" he asks, straightening up in his chair.
Angela glances down at her own gift. It feels like a small box, terribly wrapped with too much paper and even more tape. She sits back in surprise when she inspects the tag. To: Mercy. From: Junkrat.
Oh. She wasn't expecting Jamie to get her. Part of her hopes, helplessly, that this might be some hint, some subtle acknowledgement of everything between them, but the other part of her is afraid of the exact same thing when they're sitting at a table with everyone else.
She can feel him watching. Heart in her throat, Angela tears off the wrapping and cautiously lifts the lid, only to laugh at what she sees inside.
"Really?" she says, holding up the rubber ducky. "Really?"
"Thought you'd like that!" he sings. "Y'know, bein' a quack n'all!"
"Oh my god," Angela laughs, shaking her head. The rubber ducky is hilarious, but she's also delighted by it, by this acknowledgement of their playful banter, a reminder of the evening when she first realised she had a crush on him. Not that Jamie would know that, of course. She puts it down on the table with a long sigh.
"Thank you, Junkrat," she says, the name sounding odd even though she's said it so many times before. "I love it. It's very thoughtful."
"Not at all, doc," he chirps, hands clasped behind his head. His grin is positively shit-eating, the epitome of smug. Angela wishes he wasn't still wearing those ridiculous sunglasses. She wants to see his eyes and somehow relay her appreciation for this gift, but Jamie looks away from her anyway, distracted by Hana squealing at the plush she's gotten from Jack. It's only then that Angela realises – if they'd done this gift exchange standing up, it would've been the perfect opportunity to thank him with a kiss, pull him aside and explain how much this damned rubber ducky truly means to her. Damn it!
The rest of the agents open up their gifts, and Angela becomes unwittingly absorbed into Lena and Zenyatta's conversation about omnic traditions over the holidays. The atmosphere is good enough to enjoy the festivities, but time is ticking on and the fact that she still hasn't had a chance to have Jamie to herself – even just for one damned minute – is starting to bother her. In the corner of her eye she's noticed Jamie fidgeting even more than usual, but he's quiet, too, abnormally so judging by how little he's added to Hana and Lúcio's conversation about the terrible music being played. Reinhardt has come around twice to fill up everyone's plastic cups with champagne but Jamie has declined both times, though Angela supposes she isn't really drinking, either, her stomach too unsettled to cope with anything more than water.
"Jeez, Junkrat, what's wrong with you?!" Hana laughs suddenly, scowling at him. "You're making my chair shake!
"Oh, er - sorry," Jamie says, shifting in his seat. He must be bouncing his leg human leg a lot for Hana to feel it next to him. "S'getting a bit stuffy in this jumper, think I need to, uh – get some air."
Okay, he's definitely nervous about something. Angela nods and smiles at Lena while Jamie gets out of his seat. She wants nothing more than to think up some excuse, any excuse, to stand and go with him when he proceeds to leave the table, but it's impossible to just extract herself from this conversation and she still has no idea how to leave without it being completely obvious that she's following him. What if he doesn't even want to be followed? If he genuinely just – wants some air away from where they're all crammed in along the table together? Oh, honestly, this is getting ridiculous!
"Um, s'cuse me."
Angela glances up. A couple of young men have appeared at the table, standing behind Jamie's empty seat. She recognises them as the grads who were talking about him in the elevator a few weeks ago, actually. One of them – the one who spoke - seems embarrassed, an awkward smile on his face, but he's looking right at her.
"I was wondering if you might fancy a dance with me, Miss Ziegler?" he asks, hopefully.
All of the agents left at the table whoop – all of them except for Roadhog, who sits in silence next to her. Angela is sure that the grad visibly shrinks in humiliation, but her own second-hand embarrassment is so intense she doesn't quite know what to say.
The other grad steps forward, addressing Hana this time. "Um – Miss Song, would you maybe consider having a dance with me, too?"
Another whoop follows. Hana looks at Angela from across the table, and then she abruptly pushes herself up, smirking at the grad like she's sizing him up.
"What, you don't want my autograph as well?" Hana asks, hands on her hips. The grad panics.
"I – I mean yeah, sure, I'd love that, I'd love either really!"
Hana gives an exaggerated sigh. Angela notices Lúcio snickering into his hand where he's still sitting at the table.
"Fine," Hana says, hooking her arm almost angrily around the grad's. "I guess I can give you one dance, and if you're good, I'll sign your party hat."
And then she drags him off. All eyes at the table are now on Angela. Well… with no Jamie around, there's no reason to say no and hurt this poor boy's feelings. It is Christmas, after all.
"Of course!" Angela says brightly, getting up. The grad is thrilled until she remembers her halo, deflating again when she plucks it off and sets it down on the table. Mistletoe is fine as a playful thing with her friends, but not with strangers, and certainly not when she hasn't even used it on its intended recipient!
Angela puts on a big smile for the young man as they follow behind Hana. The lights over the dancefloor are dimmed in preparation for when Lúcio will be taking over the DJing after Winston's speech, and it's busy, filling up with people inebriated enough to dance.
The grad introduces himself as Tom. Angela tries to enjoy herself as they start dancing together - thankfully without physically touching - but she wishes she was dancing with Jamie instead. How on earth has she already been here for the best part of two hours and she still hasn't even had a proper conversation with him? Angela peers over Tom's shoulder to the agents' table as they dance, wanting to know if Jamie has come back, but there are so many people crowding around them she can't see.
A few songs play, old Christmas hits that've somehow withstood the test of time, and Tom asks Angela some well-meaning questions about where she's from and how she finds work. She's almost having a good time socialising with him when quite suddenly there's a firm tap on her shoulder. Excusing herself, she turns to see Roadhog facing her, disco lights bouncing off his stoic form. His arms are folded. Angela's stomach fills with dread.
"Rat's feeling sick," he says, deeply enough to be clear despite the music. "Think you need to see him. He's outside."
Oh no. She wants to believe this is nothing more than a miraculous excuse to get them alone and away from everyone else, but she's panicked by the idea of Jamie legitimately being unwell.
"Right," she says, before smiling around at Tom. "Thank you so much for dancing with me, but I'm afraid I need to go."
"Oh, okay then," Tom says, wilting. He wilts even more when Roadhog takes a step forward. "Er- thanks for dancing, anyway!"
Angela runs through the hall, pushing through the doors and stepping out into reception. She glances around. The concierge is standing outside the building - looks like he's having a cigarette - and reception is completely empty, illuminated by the huge Christmas tree in the corner by the concierge's desk. She's about to go outside to see if Jamie might be out there too, only to notice someone to her left, hidden behind the tree.
It's Jamie. He's pacing in a small circle, frowning and kneading his knuckles together, though he stops when he sees her, straightening up. His sunglasses are pushed over his forehead now, and when their eyes meet and his face brightens, Angela smiles, feeling like she's seeing him properly for the first time today.
"Hey," she says, rushing up to him. Angela is surprised to see that his face is clean, the prominent freckle on his nose clearly visible, but his smile is strained. "Are you okay? Roadhog said you were sick?"
"I'm – yeah, no, I'm fine," Jamie says, sort of laughing.
"Oh, thank goodness," she sighs.
Jamie gazes at her, biting his lip. They're standing close together, and for a second she thinks this is it, her chance to kiss him. Angela tips her head up only to realise that there's no mistletoe dangling in the small space between them, and with a sinking heart she remembers that she took off her halo before dancing with that grad. No. No!
"Sorry for worryin' ya." Jamie looks away from her, down at the floor. He still has the sleeves of his jumper pulled down over his hands, something she notices when he scratches his neck. "I just, uh. Wanted to talk to ya for a sec."
Angela can't believe this. She should be beside herself with excitement – and she is, knowing that this was an excuse to get her away from the others after all. But she can't believe she was stupid enough to take off her halo, that they have this perfect opportunity and she doesn't even have the mistletoe she's been wearing exactly for it. She wants nothing more than to tug him against her, grab his jumper and pull him down into a kiss, but she can't.
"That's alright. I'm here now," Angela says, restraining herself by clasping her hands together instead. Fuck.
Jamie purses his lips. He seems incredibly nervous, even more than he was inside, and he still isn't looking at her. It's making her nervous, too, though it's the kind of nervousness that's flowering inside her stomach, warm tendrils of anticipation rather than icicles of dread.
"Right. Uh. Well, truth is, I sorta - got another present for ya," he says. He stuffs his metal hand into one of the pockets on his shorts, fishing for something. Angela is immediately aware of her heart, pulsing fast in the base of her throat. Another present?
"Oh?" she asks, with a caution that borders on fear as he pulls out a small black box. Jamie does look at her then, trying to smile again. It's not very convincing with his eyebrows drawn together like that.
"Yeah," he laughs, offering the box to her. "Not – got, so much as made, actually, but uh. Just – open it."
Angela carefully takes it. It's the same size as the box her rubber ducky was in. She has absolutely no idea what this could be, but her pulse has skyrocketed and she can feel the heat on her face from where he's looking down at her, watching, waiting. Her fingers shake as she flips the lid open, and then she gasps, has to bring a hand up to cover her mouth from the shock of what she sees.
It's a bracelet. A very delicate bangle, in fact, little more than a thin strip of silver really. There's an opal set in the centre of it, a big and uneven shape. It's beautiful.
"Oh my gosh," she breathes.
"It's – uh. Australian fire opal." Jamie swallows audibly. "Band's platinum."
Angela stares, almost too afraid to touch it, but she does, a timid movement as she lifts it out and Jamie takes the box from her. The bracelet is quite dented, clearly handmade, and that's when she meets his eyes again, staring up at him in disbelief.
"Y'like it?" he asks her, gently.
"I - I love it," Angela says. When she tilts it the opal catches the light, and many different colours shine from it, a glimmering rainbow encased in white. She can't quite believe what she's seeing, that she's been presented with something like this entirely out of nowhere. That it's come from him. The ducky was from Junkrat, but this – this has come from him.
"Did you really make this for me?" she asks, eyes searching his. Jamie's scratching his cheek but his smile is more natural this time, wider. He's gone red.
"Bending metal that thin was a right ballache," he says. "Kept snapping on me, must've gone through half a dozen. It's – uh, not sure if it's gonna fit. Couldn't exactly measure when it was s'posed to be a surprise."
Angela is struggling to form words. All those nights where he was working late, refusing to tell her what he was doing. His tiredness then. The dark circles left under his eyes even now.
"You, uh – want me to?" Jamie asks, taking a step forward, putting his metal hand over hers to hold the bracelet. Angela swallows around the ball that's caught in her throat. He's so close she can feel the warmth radiating from him, can smell the familiar scent of diesel when he leans in.
"Please," she says, just above a breath, before offering her wrist so he can put the bracelet on for her. Jamie frowns a little as he does, left hand holding her fingers while his right one carefully slides it over, his metal touch gentle as always. Then the bracelet is dangling off her wrist, small enough to be graceful without the threat of easily falling off. A perfect size.
She stares down at it, rooted to the spot. Jamie hasn't let go of her hand, cupping it in both of his. His human one is clammy but she's sweating too, knows her face must be on fire. Angela wants to say something, try to articulate everything she's feeling, but she can't, the words aren't coming. Crying, laughing, thanking him – none of it seems nearly enough for the enormity of this gesture.
Angela's breath hitches when something soft and warm brushes close to the corner of her mouth. Jamie withdraws slightly, just enough to look into her eyes from where he'd dipped down to kiss her cheek.
"Merry Christmas, Angie," he says, smiling hopefully at her.
She holds his gaze. Just as he goes to pull away her body moves on instinct, both hands reaching up to cup his face, all hard angles and warm skin in her palms. Jamie's eyes widen. He's bending to meet her anyway, thankfully, so Angela doesn't need to balance on her toes to reach him, and then she's bringing his face down to hers, pressing her lips to his. Kissing him, finally.
He gives a quiet mph of surprise against her, and then it's over, she's pulling back again. His eyes are so wide she wonders if he closed them at all.
"Wow," Jamie breathes.
She looks at the mark she's left over his mouth, the red tattoo of her confession. Angela thought once would be enough. She told herself it would be. But her body is burning, an unbearable pain from having to stop, and she keeps his face cupped in her hands, overwhelmed by the need to kiss him again, over and over now, so close to surrendering herself to him. The bangle is a cool weight on her wrist when she reluctantly withdraws, just about managing to let go of him and step back, but she gasps when Jamie grabs her hands, pulls her close again. Suddenly his eyes sharpen, narrowed where they were wide, and he grins down at her, a look that makes her stomach coil.
"Ohhh no no, don't think you're gettin' away with just one," he murmurs, a warm breath against her lips. The deepness of it resonates in her belly, and Jamie tugs her forward, closing the space between them and pressing his lips firmly against hers. Kissing her back, unbelievably. Angela squeezes his hands – shivers when he squeezes back – but it isn't nearly enough to satiate the burn, so she lets go to cup his face again instead, needing to keep his mouth on hers. When Jamie puts his hands on her waist and kisses firmer still, enough to gently tip her head back, Angela makes a needy sound against him, feeling like she could drown right here in his arms.
"Doc!"
The shrill call makes both of them jolt back. Angela whips around and is horrified to see Lena rush out of the hall doorway.
"Doc!" Lena shouts again, looking around reception but not spotting them. "Where've you gone?! You're gonna miss Winston's speech!"
"Fuck's sake," Jamie mutters, grinding his temples with his metal hand when Angela glances back to him. His sunglasses have fallen back over his eyes, and the kiss mark she's left is prominent, obvious evidence on his mouth. Ending this is the last thing she wants to do right now – ever, actually – but if Lena spots them behind the tree there'll be no way of explaining themselves. She panics, gripping the front of his jumper.
"We- we need to get back," she hisses. She's equal measures relieved and alarmed when Jamie shakes his head.
"Sod the fucking speech," he says, grabbing her hands. "Not having her majesty ruin this. C'mon."
He pulls her quickly, leading them past the concierge's desk. Angela doesn't have the breath to ask what he's doing, so grateful that he's managed to talk sense where she couldn't, and her heart rides high in her throat when Jamie yanks the cloakroom door open and pulls her inside. It's filled with everyone's coats, lined on racks and along the walls, and is supposed to be guarded by the concierge but he must still be outside.
They stand in darkness, Jamie holding her hand while he fumbles along the wall for the light switches. He flicks one of them, the light by the doorway, and then he's leading her down past rows of jackets and around the racks until they're in a darkened corner together, surrounded by winter coats and concealed from anyone who might come inside for a quick look around. Jamie pulls off his sunglasses and tosses them aside, and Angela's hands find their way back to the front of his jumper, fingers clutching the fabric covering his chest. He grins down at her.
"Much better," he says, hands back on her waist. "Got you all to m'self again."
"Are you sure you don't want to go back to the party?" she asks, dreading the answer even though she's sure she can guess what it will be. Jamie scoffs.
"Now why would I go back in there when everything I want is right here?"
Oh, god. Angela shudders from how incredible it feels to hear him say that. It seems incomprehensible that he has, that they're his words, coming from his mouth.
"Do you really mean that?" she asks, barely a whisper. There's still a part of her that's thirsty for absolute certainty that he wants this like she does. He laughs, eyebrows knitting together like he can't believe she's really asking him this.
"Christ, Angie, 'course I mean it." Jamie reaches up to stroke her cheek with his thumb, human palm warm against her skin. He lowers his voice, eyes lidded as they look into hers. "Thought it was pretty obvious I'm smitten."
Smitten. Angela takes a short, shaking breath.
"Then it must be even more obvious that I'm smitten, too," she tells him, a fragile statement, the last step before she can allow herself to jump off the edge with him.
Jamie laughs again, though it's more of a puffed out breath of disbelief. Angela can't believe it, either. All the texts in the world couldn't have prepared her for this.
"C'mere," he says quietly, tugging her against him with such urgency it sends a rush of heat right through her. Jamie's metal hand is firm on her waist, and his human one is still cupping her cheek when he brings her into another kiss, something insistent this time, a tangible demonstration of his feelings that's more reassuring than anything he could say.
Kissing him is better than she ever imagined it would be. Mostly because it's real, actually happening despite all the obstacles that've been in their way, but also because he's holding her just as tightly as she's holding him, clinging like this could all end at any moment. They break and meet a couple of times, tentative as they feel out this new ground of reciprocation, until hesitation gives way to hunger and Angela gasps at the warm wetness of Jamie's tongue against her lips, whimpering when he parts them, tasting her. She hasn't done this in so long but he seems to know what he's doing, and when she delicately tastes him back her body burns under his fingers digging into her waist. Jamie isn't as aggressive as she'd imagined but she can feel in the strength of his hold and the way he's kissing her that he's hungry for this, for her. Even with her head tipped back from where he's bent over her, Angela never wants it to end, wants to live in this moment with him indefinitely.
When they eventually break she needs a moment to get her breath back. Seems like Jamie does too, the rise and fall of his chest quicker than usual now that she's cuddled up against it, arms around his waist. There's enough light coming from the other end of the room that she can see the lipstick stains on his mouth, pink now from where they've smudged from so much kissing. Angela almost feels accomplished looking at them, some small part of her pleased that she's been able to leave her mark on him. He'll have to wipe them off later, a thought that makes sadness clench at her chest. She doesn't want later to come at all if it means ending this.
"Glad you're not wearing that mistletoe anymore," Jamie says, forehead pressed to hers.
"What? Why?" Angela frowns up at him. "Don't you like it?"
"Nah, s'not that I don't like it." He shrugs. "Just don't need it."
"I was only wearing it so that I could kiss you anyway," she says, only a little shy to be telling him this. "Did you honestly think it was for anyone else?"
"'Course not," he huffs. He looks away, eyes flicking to the side. "Well… I hoped not." He squints back at her. "Thought at one point you were trying to make me jealous."
Angela chuckles. He's probably referring to Roadhog.
"I can assure you that wasn't the case," she says.
Jamie hums. He pulls back a bit, enough to kiss her forehead, and Angela sighs from how unimaginably happy she is that this is really happening. She wishes she could melt into him, his arms strong around her waist and his lips soft on her skin. They're softer than she thought they would be, though that might be because she's forgotten how it feels to kiss someone like this. The Angela going on dates prior to the summer seems like a different person to the one in Jamie's arms right now.
"Thought as much. Anyway, wasn't gonna letcha leave tonight before kissin' ya," he says. Angela's heart throbs from how utterly sweet this is.
"Is that so?" She smiles up at him. His smile back at her seems a little embarrassed.
"Well, yeah, been wanting to the moment I laid eyes on ya." Jamie pauses, then adds quietly, "Never thought I actually would, though."
His eyes are warm and honest as they gaze into hers. Angela tucks her head under his chin and squeezes him, wanting to absorb what he's just said into every part of her body. It's better than every text he's ever sent her combined.
"I never thought I would, either," she says, talking to his chest now, muffled in the jumper. "With everything that's happened, I was beginning to think mistletoe was the only way."
"Nah," he says, softly. "No way. Wouldn't have let it come to that."
Jamie cuddles her, kisses the top of her head. Then he seems to change his mind, dips down to kiss below her ear instead. The skin there is sensitive, hasn't been kissed in a very long time, and it makes her gasp, knees folding slightly from the shudder it induces. Her head is tipped right back from where he's standing so tall over her, and it occurs to her that for all this time he's been looking down at her – that his posture has improved so much since they first met that he towers above her, tall and strong.
"Jamie," she whispers, over his shoulder. He doesn't stop kissing her.
"Yeah?" he says, a hot breath that tickles, makes her clutch his back. She'd forgotten how broad he is, too, only notices again now that his shoulders are curved around her.
"You - nh - when did you -"
The door opens at the other end of the room.
"Anyone in here?" calls the concierge.
Angela bristles, freezing in his arms. Jamie freezes too. Both of them hold their breath. She can hear the concierge walking inside, the rustle of a coat. Silence. After a moment the light flicks off, and then the door closes, leaving them in darkness. Angela's heart is pounding. There's just enough light coming in from outside the door to see Jamie, the sharp outlines of his features, the shine of his eyes as they flick back to look at her.
"That was a close one," he says, exhaling. Angela grins at him, feeling bolder now that it's darker, more private than before.
"Perhaps he'll lock us in here until the party's over," she says. His hands are still on her waist, over the jumper.
"Oh yeah? Wanna be locked up in here with me, do ya?" he says, a curl to it that hooks her belly.
"I can think of worse things," she says.
"Can't think of anything better m'self," he murmurs, lowering his eyes.
He leans in then, grazing her lips with his tongue in a slow, teasing kiss. Angela's palms are clammy where they're still gripping his jumper, but she isn't at all ready to consider letting him go, even though she'll have to eventually.
"Wish we could stay in here all night," she breathes, lips wet from the slickness of his kiss when they part.
"Who says we can't?" Jamie asks. Angela is thrilled by how serious he sounds.
"You know we can't," she says, smiling sadly. "We'll have to go back at some point."
He laughs deeply, a sound that twists just so at her stomach.
"Then maybe I'll just hafta trap you here." He's stepping forwards, pushing her back. Angela goes willingly, dragging him with her. "Stop you from leaving."
Her back meets the wall, cushioned by someone's puffy coat. She can just about see the smirk on Jamie's kiss-stained lips and it's making her tremble, dig her fingers into his back. She didn't think it was possible to want him this badly when they've already kissed, but the ache inside her now is different, more painful and pronounced than any prior to this point.
"Looks like you've got me," she whispers. They're so close her lips brush over his as she speaks.
"Yeah," he says, a dark note to it she hasn't heard before. "Right where I want ya."
Heat pools in her belly and spreads downwards between her legs. Angela drags her hands along the back of his neck, threads her fingers up through his hair to tug him forwards, make him kiss her. It elicits a moan from him, another sound she's never heard in Jamie's voice before, and then he's pushing her, pinning her between his body and the wall. His hands stroke down over the curve of her hips and then back up, beneath the jumper this time, skin and metal on her waist. Angela moans into his mouth as his kisses turn a little sloppier, like he's getting impatient, and she wonders how she ever lasted so long without this when he's making it so easy to surrender herself.
"Fuck me, Angie," he says, panting when he breaks away. She knows it's only an expression of disbelief, but the heat in her belly has her balancing up on her toes to reach his ear, ready to make another confession.
"I've certainly thought about it," she whispers against it.
Jamie goes still for a moment. When he pulls back his eyes are wide, hands unmoving on her hips.
"You've. Thought about it?" he asks. For the first time since she's known him, Angela thinks he almost sounds afraid.
"I - I have, yes. Is that bad?" she asks, scared that it is. She thought he'd be pleased by it, unless she's been reading him wrong and all their flirting was simply building towards these kisses and nothing more.
"No." Jamie wets his lips, purses them. "No, it's – definitely not."
Angela wishes it was lighter in here so she could see him clearly, properly read his expression that looks so much like shock. He dips down to her.
"Jamie, is-"
"Is it bad that I think about it every fucking night?" he says, whispered words close to her ear.
Oh, god. She suspected, always hoped, but never thought he'd tell her, even if he did. In fairness she never saw them getting this far in the first place, but it makes the heat pointed inside her, spiking from the confirmation that he's thought about being intimate with her, too.
"I think I'd be upset if you didn't," she admits, against his cheek. "If I was alone imagining what it would be like."
"Oh," Jamie says, lips brushing her ear now. "Well then. Can't have that. You want me to tell you what exactly I've had in mind?"
He squeezes her hips. Angela shivers.
"I - I don't think that's a good idea," she says.
He pauses, withdrawing enough to frown at her. "Why's that?"
Angela looks away from him. Her face is burning, matches the rest of her body.
"Because I'm not sure I'd be able to contain myself," she says, a hushed voice in this darkened corner of the room.
"Fuck," Jamie says. He lifts his metal hand off her hip and drags it over his mouth like he's struggling to comprehend this, and Angela can't help smiling from having invoked this sort of reaction from him. His body is still pressed against hers, though, and she thinks she can feel something against her stomach, something that wasn't there moments ago.
"Oh my god," she says. "Are - Jamie, are you hard, right now?"
He laughs, apparently not even remotely embarrassed by this.
"Can you blame me? You're - fuck, Angie, you're a bloody bombshell, how'd you want me to react when you tell me something like that?"
A bombshell? Angela would cringe if it was anyone else, but coming from Jamie it strikes her as particularly high praise. She giggles.
"Ohhh, it's funny, is it?" he says, smirking at her.
"No, it – it's lovely," she says, biting her lip. "I'm flattered."
Angela yelps when quite suddenly Jamie's hands grip under her thighs. He hoists her up, pushing her back to the wall again to pin her firmly with his body. Her skirt rides up, underwear displayed where her legs are spread either side of his hips, and while she should probably be concerned about this all she can think of is how breathtaking it is to have so much of him pressed against her, bodies separated by a few thin layers of fabric.
"Is it funny now?" Jamie asks, growled out into her neck when he rolls his hips, grinds the hard bump directly between her legs. It's so unexpected, sends such a powerful bolt of pleasure through her that Angela grips his back and clenches her thighs around him, crying out.
"Jamie!"
"Shhhh," he says. She can feel him smirking, the curve of his lips against her neck. "Someone might hear ya."
He rolls again, grinding himself into her, and Angela strangles the moan in her throat into a needy whimper, fingers scraping over the fabric covering his back. Jamie snickers.
"Just thought I'd give you a little demonstration," he says. "So y'know I'm not joking."
"I think I can tell that you're not," she breathes, only to moan out when he grinds again, the fabric of his shorts rough over the lace of her underwear.
"Good," he says. If this is a taste of what she can expect in bed with him, Angela was right to imagine Jamie being aggressive after all, a deliciously exciting thought made even better knowing that it's likely to actually happen. He kisses her neck, gripping her thighs where he's holding them apart, and Angela curses the fact that they're in the cloakroom at headquarters, not in her bed or his right now. She's so aroused that it's dangerously tempting to give in to him, ask him to give her a more thorough demonstration right here.
"Jamie, please, I want to but – we can't, not here," she pants, fighting every urge that's telling her otherwise. She gives his jumper an insistent tug, and Jamie's shoulders sag a little. He doesn't grind again, just uses the solid weight of his body to keep her pinned to the wall.
"I know," he murmurs against her neck. "M'sorry, Angie, I just – can't bloody help m'self."
Angela shudders, feeling his frustration in the huffed breath over her skin.
"Don't be sorry," she whispers, hot and shivery all over from the pulsing between her legs. Her arms slide back so she can cup his face, bring him up from her neck so she can smile at him. "I want to, believe me, I just - I don't want it to be here."
Jamie holds her eyes. His are intense, molten even, but he gently lets her down, puts his hands back over her hips. He shakes his head, looks away.
"Can't believe you want to at all, to be honest," he laughs.
Angela laughs too, shakily tugging her skirt down. Her bracelet falls over her wrist as she does, a new weight she hasn't gotten used to yet.
"I can't believe any of this, really," she says softly, smiling down at it. She reaches out to his chest, wanting her hands on him again. "But we should probably think about getting back. As much as I want to stay here with you."
"Mmh. Guess so. When you thinking of leaving?"
She blinks. "You mean, tonight?"
"Yeah. When?"
Angela tries to remember herself. Everything's been so wonderful and overwhelming with him that it's difficult to think of existing outside this secret space they've created. There isn't a single part of her that feels ready to leave him, now or later on this evening.
"Probably before midnight," she sighs, thinking of her last train home. Jamie's hands tighten slightly on her hips.
"Wanna come home with me instead?" he asks, quietly. "Got somewhere you can sleep."
Angela grins. She probably should've expected an offer like this, given what they've just done, but it's still unbelievable that she knows he means it.
"Oh really? And where would that be, I wonder?"
Jamie smirks. "I'll give you three guesses," he purrs.
Ah. Suddenly it's an offer that's going to be very hard to refuse, too.
"But y'know, we don't – we don't hafta do anything right away," he adds, quickly. "I know I've just – said all that, but I can wait. S'gotta be right."
"Oh, Jamie," Angela says, hotter from this than anything else they've done. She really, really wants to just say yes. It feels like she could, easily, and go back to his place knowing exactly what they'd end up doing there. But surely it's too soon, isn't it? She doesn't feel like it is, but the proper and adult thing to do is build up to it, even if it seems like they've done nothing but build up to it, an endless climb with no crest in sight.
Jamie reaches out to brush a few locks of hair out of her face. With his metal hand, of course. His human one slides up to her waist, under the jumper again.
"Look, I know you're gonna say no, I understand why," he says. "Y'know I'd never force ya. But fuck, Angie, I just want you somewhere that isn't here or, I dunno, anywhere else where other people can come and ruin it. M'sick of it."
"I'm sick of it, too," she says, lacing her hand over his metal one. The bracelet falls against it, a soft clink of metal on metal.
"I can sleep on the couch," he says, bargaining now. "I'd sleep outside the bloody house if you wanted me to, doesn't bother me. Don't care what we do or don't do. Just want you to m'self for once."
He looks at her searchingly. Angela chews her lip. There's the answer that feels right and the answer that's logically right. It seems inconceivable that they're even at this point where she has to stew over whether or not she can go back to his place, that this isn't some daydream she's allowed herself in the midst of work. Now that they're really here she doesn't know what to do. God, if only she'd planned for this.
"I'll – can I think about it?" she asks, gently. He nods.
"'Course, no pressure. Just – putting it out there, s'all." Jamie reaches for her hands, holding them up to his chest. "You'll give us a kiss before you go though, won't ya? If y'not coming back with me."
Angela melts. "Of course I will. We won't be able to do anything here, not if the others might see, but -"
"I know, I know," he says, squeezing her hands. "I'll see you off at the station, yeah? Steal a goodnight kiss from ya then."
"It wouldn't be stolen," she says. "Thank you, though. I'd love that."
"Alright." Jamie sighs, letting go of her hands to scratch his neck. "S'pose this means I hafta stop kissin' ya now though, don't it?"
"Oh, I think another one or two won't hurt," she says, giving his jumper a little yank to bring him forwards again. Jamie isn't hard anymore, but his body is solid, a strong and comforting weight against hers as he indulges her, kissing long and slow to draw out these last few moments of privacy before they head back out to the others. Bliss before the pretence of none of this having happened, Angela thinks, sadly.
He holds her hand when he peers out the door, checking for any sign of the concierge. Jamie's exaggeratedly surreptitious movements have her stifling laughter as they creep down the corridor together to the staff bathroom. He kisses her again when they part, and Angela aches from how much she already misses him when she starts washing off all the lipstick that's smudged over her face and neck. Her lips are slightly swollen from all the kissing, and she's flushed, probably flushed all over from their intimacy even though it was only brief. It was still so much more than she ever dreamed would happen tonight.
Why does she feel so sad? She should be grateful for everything they've just done – and she is, truly, still can't believe any of it even though she's got the transferred marks to prove it. But it's almost like allowing herself to have him at all makes the pain of being away even worse. Angela takes a few deep breaths, steadying herself against the sink. She can't really go to his house when they've only just said all of this, can she? When she has absolutely nothing on her except her phone and her house keys, no change of clothing, no toothbrush even?
No. She shouldn't. But if nothing else, at least she knows with certainty that all her yearning hasn't been in vain. Angela reapplies her lipstick, collects herself again. She's relieved to see Jamie standing waiting for her outside. He's grinning with his hands in his pockets, all casual as though they haven't just spent the better part of an hour making out, and he's done a very good job of wiping his face, too. Angela wishes she didn't feel so sad from seeing him looking so clean.
"Phwoar," he says, lifting his Christmas-tree sunglasses up. "What a stunner."
He waggles his eyebrows at her, making her chuckle. She notices he's missed a spot when she steps up to him, so she reaches up to rub at the corner of his mouth. Warmth bursts inside her when he grabs her hand and kisses it.
"Think I need another kiss now you've got that lippy on again," he says, against it. Angela's heart flutters.
"I'd love to, but you know I can't," she says.
"Bah, bloody tease." Jamie lets go, allows her to rub. "You need to wear it more often!"
"If I do, it'll only end up all over you again," she says. He dips down to her ear.
"Sounds like heaven if y'ask me," he murmurs, before kissing her cheek. The fluttering in her chest lingers as they walk, and Angela bites around her smile, keeping her eyes ahead.
The understanding of discretion is implicit between them, and they don't hold hands on the way back up. When they're passing the concierge's desk she finds she really doesn't want to go back inside. Considering how thoroughly spoiled she's been Angela really can't complain, knows she has no right to feel like this. She steals a few looks at Jamie, grinning to himself as they walk, and she can't help thinking about the open offer waiting for her like a safety net at the end of the night, just in case she changes her mind.
"After you," Jamie says, holding the door for her. Charmed by this gesture, as she has been by just about everything else he's ever done, Angela thanks him on her way inside, and then they're back in the party, the world outside their cloakroom. The lights are low, the music is loud, and a lot more people are on the dancefloor than when Angela left. She pulls the sleeves of her jumper down to hide her bracelet as they come back to the agents' table, but she can feel the cool and delicate weight of it over her wrist and smiles privately, watching Jamie weave through the crowd towards Roadhog while she takes a seat beside Winston.
"I'm so sorry for missing your speech, Winston. Junkrat wasn't feeling well," she says.
"Ah, the others told me," he says, looking concerned. "Is he okay?"
"Yes, he – thought he had a temperature. I think he was just a bit too hot in his jumper, so we went outside."
Angela is hugely relieved that her brain kicked into the appropriate gear for this answer, afraid of what might've come out if it hadn't.
"Oh, thank goodness for that! Most of the speech was regurgitated from that end-of-year email I sent out this morning, anyway," Winston says, smiling. "You didn't miss much."
The speech and end-of-year email are mostly a reflection on the year's successes and aims for the future. She's very fond of Winston, but the only reflection Angela is interested in right now is the last hour, everything Jamie said to her and the thrilling press of his body against hers. It sends heat rushing through her, head to toe and everywhere in-between, and she tries to stop herself from grinning stupidly as she thinks about how incredibly worth it the rest of the year has been to have enjoyed her stolen hour of Jamie's company this evening.
They chat for a little while. Angela is happy to sit with Winston and let the adrenaline wash over her, recover from being so overwhelmed, and she joins him when he grabs some leftover food from the buffet. She glances over her shoulder every now and again in the hopes of catching sight of Jamie, but almost everybody is on the dancefloor, letting loose now that Lúcio's in charge of the music. Winston eats, and then they join the crowd, Angela fishing her way through it to dance with the girls.
"There you are, lovely!" Lena says, buoyant as she takes Angela's hands. She seems a little drunk. "I was looking everywhere for you earlier! Everything alright?"
"Yes, I'm good thank you," Angela says, though she wants to say she's never felt better. "Ready to dance!"
"Good! Bloody Junkrat stealing you away from us!" Lena huffs.
"Is he okay?" Hana asks, peering over Lena's shoulder.
"He's fine, I think he just needed some air," Angela says. "It is rather hot in here."
"Thought he'd be used to the heat," Lena says, wrinkling her nose like she doesn't believe this. "Oh well, glad you're back! Let's dance!"
"Well hello, ladies!" Reinhardt bellows, sliding into their little group with a flex of his bicep. He's rosy-cheeked and undoubtedly tipsy. "Mind if this German hunk joins you?"
Ana laughs. "I don't think we've got much of a choice!"
Jack and Torbjörn follow suit not long after this, and eventually the group comes together, Zenyatta and Winston dragged in by Lena. Genji looks exhausted when he stumbles into Hana, having extracted himself from a group of women from accounting who've apparently been swarming him the entire evening, and Jesse sidles in afterwards, grinning with a plastic cup of beer in hand. Angela feels a metal hand on the small of her back, and she smiles around at Jamie, Roadhog giving her a thumbs up from behind him. He must know what's going on, she thinks, having to look away before her blush becomes too obvious. The room is stifling, everyone sweating in their festive jumpers but dancing nonetheless. Jamie stays close beside her, Hana screams when Jesse accidentally sloshes beer over her shoes, and Angela loves it, loves all of it, feeling happier right now than she has done all year.
"Group photo!" Lena announces, dragging everyone over to the photographer when they've had a good dance. Most of the agents are in various stages of inebriation, and Lena herds them together like a sheepdog against the festive backdrop hanging on the wall, insisting that Hana needs to stand right there and Torbjörn needs to come to the front, please!
Angela meets Jamie's eyes when Lena separates them, insisting that Genji needs to be next to her instead. Jamie pouts at her from over his head, eyebrows furrowing, but when the photographer lifts his camera she can feel his metal hand against the small of her back again, making her grin as the flash goes off.
They collectively return to the dancefloor. She should feel exhausted after having such a whirlwind of an evening, but when Jamie takes her aside on their way back to show her the time on his phone – 23:47 – she's ecstatic.
"Y'said before midnight," he says, hand cupped over her ear. "Wanna get going?"
Angela nods. "Let me say goodbye and get my ducky, then we'll leave."
They share a grin, and Angela is giddy as she cuts through the crowd, Jamie following behind. She bids goodnight to everyone she can find, though Torbjörn seems to be lost in a sea of bodies up towards the front of the dancefloor. Finally she approaches Lena, reaching out to hold her shoulder.
"I should really get going," Angela says, having to shout from how loud the music is.
"Oh no!" Lena shouts back, appalled to hear this. "Stay a bit later, feels like I've barely seen you!"
"I'm sorry, I'd love to, but I'm still a little tired from the week."
Lena peers over Angela's shoulder, presumably looking at Jamie, and scowls.
"You gonna be alright getting home?" she asks. "Don't tell me he's walking you to the station!"
"I am, ta!" Jamie shouts, leaning over Angela's shoulder. Oh no. "It's called being a gentleman!"
Lena laughs, folding her arms. "What the bloody hell would you know about being a gentleman?!"
"More than you! Don't think you'd know a gentleman even if he smacked you in the face!"
"It's been so much fun, Lena!" Angela says, darting forward to kiss her cheek goodbye. "Looking forward to seeing you soon!"
Lena makes a sound of disgust in Jamie's direction. She faces Angela with a smile, though.
"Alright, love. Just don't let him try anything. Text me!"
Angela collects her ducky from the agent's table, and then they're leaving the party together, Jamie thoroughly ruffled when they're waiting for the concierge to collect their coats.
"She's got a fucking nerve," he grumbles, tugging his jacket on. It's black, might be leather, and looks impossibly attractive on him despite his garish jumper. "Don't let him try anything. Like I'm some sorta-"
"Shh," Angela says, putting a brief yet placating hand on his chest before belting her coat. "She's just – being protective, I suppose."
Jamie takes off his sunglasses and makes a scornful sound. "What, and I'm not?"
She smiles at him. "I didn't say that."
Nobody else is leaving yet, and the street outside headquarters is about as empty as reception. It's a freezing cold evening, enough for her to see her breath as they walk down the steps. The underground station is just across the road. Angela has a rough idea of where their trains will branch off. They won't have many stops together before she'll need to say goodbye.
"Surely you can understand why she'd warn me off you, though," Angela says, when they've crossed over.
"What's that s'posed to mean?" Jamie asks, sounding hurt. She can hear him pause behind her, only to follow when she walks into the tunnel that leads down to the station, his leg clunking over the steps. Just as they're at the bottom, Angela grabs Jamie by the front of his jacket, having to use more strength than she thought to pull him against her. He gives a surprised oof.
"It means that she thinks you're dangerous," she says. "And so do I."
Jamie's eyes go wide when she grins up at him, only to sharpen into something so sinister it sends a chill down her spine.
"Oh yeah? Scared of me, are ya?" he asks, quietly, amused by this.
"Very," Angela says. "I'm trembling just looking at you."
Jamie laughs, a low, deep sound that makes her body thrum, and she gasps when her back suddenly meets the wall, pinned by him once again.
"That ain't trembling," he murmurs, close to her lips.
"It's not?"
"Nah, not one bit." Jamie leans in, close to her ear now instead. "But I'd love to make you really tremble, Angie."
It's a dark promise, one that envelops her body in fire, and he swoops down to kiss her, something harder and hungrier than the others they've had so far. Angela grips his jacket, loving his aggressive tongue in her mouth and hating that soon this is all going to be over. She feels like she's being ridiculous for even considering returning home tonight. Isn't even sure she's looking forward to the goodbye kiss anymore, dreading getting on that stupid train back to Bucks on her own. But how can she go with him? They haven't even been on their date yet. She can't rush this, not when it's only just begun.
"Jamie," she gasps, when they break. He just grins at her.
"Best get you on your way," he says smugly, tugging her hand as he turns.
Somehow they make it onto the train. It's relatively quiet, some suits and tourists taking up a few of the seats. Jamie pulls her into the corner of the carriage when they're on, standing up and shielding her from the other passengers with his long body, broad back. Angela keeps her arms beneath his jacket and around his waist to stay steady as the train departs, enjoying the warmth of his body. Jamie's holding the pole overhead, human arm around her shoulders, glancing around like he wants to make sure they're safe.
"You seem to enjoy trapping me like this," she says, regaining his attention. Jamie smirks down at her.
"Just being protective," he says. "Y'know, that thing you strongly implied I'm not."
Angela laughs. "You know I wasn't trying to say that. I doubt I'll ever forget what you did in Japan for as long as I live."
Jamie's smirk softens. "Oh," he says, as though he's a bit shocked to hear this. Angela goes up on her toes, and it's just about enough for her to almost reach his mouth.
"So don't worry," she says, gently. "I'll never feel safer than when I'm with you."
He looks at her for a long moment. Angela swears she can see something change in his eyes, a subtle shift in amber, but she can't tell what it is, exactly. She can feel it in his arm, though, the one around her shoulder that tightens, draws her against him, under his chin.
"Someone's gotta look out for ya," he mutters, above her head. Angela grins to herself, clinging onto him while they sway together, train rattling around them. Somehow she suspects he isn't nearly as huffy about this as he sounds.
As she feared, there are only a few stops before the line branches off for their respective stops. Angela has to drum up every ounce of willpower she's got to exit the train at her connecting platform, her grip on Jamie's metal hand tight when she pulls him off with her. The platform she needs is across from this one, but there're several corridors leading to other exits which are suitably tucked away. She pulls him into one of them, another private corner, and then they're kissing again, quickly, knowing they're running out of time. Jamie pins her with his body like he's craving her even now, holding like he doesn't want to let her go. She hopes he won't.
"I – I don't want to say goodbye," Angela says, when they finally break for air. Her lipstick is smudged over his mouth again.
"Then don't," Jamie says, words firm, eyes pleading. "Come home with me. S'nothing stopping ya. I've already toldja we won't do anything y'don't want."
"I… Jamie," she says, looking to the wall, the floor. She chews her lip.
"Alright alright," he says hurriedly, holding her by the shoulders. "Okay. If you're this nervous about it, let's meet up tomorrow. Or – Sunday. Sometime this weekend, yeah? Sound good?"
He's smiling hopefully at her, but she can see that he's disappointed. She's disappointed, too, knows she's letting both of them down.
"Tomorrow," she says, nodding. Her eyes are prickling. Why is she doing this?
"Right," Jamie says, resolute. "Then I'll text you. Y'never know, we might go on that bloody date after all at this rate."
They laugh, even though Angela is a hair's breadth from crying, and then they're kissing again, their last one. It's sweet and slow, just his lips on hers.
"You sure you'll be alright from here?" Jamie asks, hands lingering on her waist and his eyes holding hers. Angela nods. The need to cry has ebbed now that they've got concrete plans.
"Yes, honestly. Thank you so much for coming this far."
"C'mon, Angie," he says, softly. "Don't hafta thank me. Just text me later, yeah?"
"I promise," she says, and then that's it, he's letting go of her, saying goodbye and walking away.
Angela steps out of the corridor feeling numb. She stands alone on the platform, waiting for the train, and stares blindly at the advertisement on the concave wall opposite. Logically speaking, this is the right thing to do. She doesn't have any overnight things with her, no change of clothes. It makes sense to go home.
The train rolls in, and Angela grimaces at it, at herself. They haven't been on the date, it's true, but they've also already kissed, and they've spent the last however many months clearly wanting one another. Is she really going to live the rest of her life like this? In stolen moments, constantly shared by everyone else? It's as though everything good that happens is in the middle of something else, like she can't allow herself any privacy, any real time with anyone outside work. There've been so many barriers in all this time, but the only thing between them now is…
What on earth is she doing?
Angela turns and runs back across the platform. The train has pulled in on the other side. She can see him there, stepping on.
"Jamie!" she calls, rushing over, but the doors are already closing. He turns sharply when he hears her, and Angela jumps back when he immediately throws his metal arm out, making the other people standing inside the train jolt. There's a heavy chnk as the automated doors jam around it. Then they open up again, nothing but a single step between them. Jamie laughs, extending his human hand out to her.
"There's gotta be an easier way of doing this," he says, eyebrows furrowed. He's grinning, though. "Gonna need a new arm soon."
"Sorry," she says, taking his outstretched hand. Then she's stepping up, back onto the train with him, pulled into his arms.
Finally, Angela thinks, smiling as Jamie tucks her back under his chin and the train doors close behind them.