Work Text:
The air crackled with electricity, the mere rubbing of shoulders enough to give Sombra and Widowmaker a shock. While the poetics of it didn’t go unnoticed by Sombra, the reality was that they were 8 hours into the stakeout and Winston had been testing his gun for at least half of it.
“<I can feel it on my face>,” Sombra muttered in Spanish. She licked her lips, then grimaced as if she didn’t like the taste. “And your hair is standing on end.”
“Hush,” Amélie growled, though she lifted one hand from her sniper rifle to run long fingers across her forehead. She smoothed the already perfect coif of hair that was visible from beneath her visor, blue fingertips brushing across her cheeks and nose to make sure no hair was loose.
The hacker laughed and rolled onto her back, arms behind her head. She flexed her feet, toes pointed down, and crossed her legs at the ankle. “I can’t believe you fell for that. When isn’t your hair perfect?”
“Hush,” Widowmaker repeated, but with less rancor than before. Sombra smiled at the even-toned reprimand. What was a widow without venom?
The two were meant to be gathering intel for whatever Winston was putting through the pipeline, but in the half day they had spent in an alcove overlooking the Gibraltar base, they hadn’t found anything worthwhile. Well, unless his obsession with peanut butter was of use to Talon.
Winston had kept up the pretense that he was still operating from Horizon after Reaper’s attack, and maybe that was why he was so easy to spy on now. Holed up in an abandoned outpost when all signs pointed to his presence on the moon was enough to make the former (current again, by some standards) Overwatch agent lax.
Though, when they were debriefed after their extraction, Sombra would claim sole responsibility for their successful subterfuge. The small, two-person sized dome that surrounded the prone Talon agents kept them invisible to the naked eye. And the enhanced eye. As well as radar, infrared, heat sensor, and air displacement scans. The only way Winston would know they were there would involve him taking a stroll along the edge of the cliff and stepping on their legs. Just because he was lazy with security didn’t mean Sombra had to be.
The sun had set an hour before, the soft lilac and warm pink of the sky bleeding into the inky darkness. Amélie was the first to switch to night vision, her octoscope sliding over the upper portion of her face with a familiar crisp hiss.
Sombra rooted around in the pack she had brought, pulling out her normal-amount-of-eyes goggles and fit them over her eyes. She adjusted the focus, peering through the massive glass half-dome that had been cut into the mountain face and exposed Winston to the two agents. He was still tinkering with some aspect of his gun, tendrils of electricity bouncing around the room.
She was growing bored and restless. Idly, she rolled over, closer and closer towards Widowmaker until she came to rest on her side, her chest pressed against the sniper's arm. Widowmaker didn’t look away from Winston, but Sombra could feel the muscles in her bicep tighten.
“What are you doing, <my goat>?”
“I like it when you call me that. What does it mean?”
“Darling,” Widowmaker lied, but with the night vision goggles, Sombra could see the way her lips quirked, her nose wrinkling the way it did when she told a lie she thought was particularly funny.
“How much longer?”
“You know the answer to that.” The sniper jerked her chin up, directing Sombra’s attention back to the window that gave them such a clear picture of the agent. “We have to figure out what that is.”
Sombra hummed in understanding. She rolled over again, away from her teammate, and pushed to her knees with a sudden burst of energy. She removed her goggles, letting them carelessly drop to the ledge they occupied. “Wouldn’t stealing it be much quicker?” she asked. Before Widowmaker could answer, the hacker had pulled out her translocator. She tossed it in the air lightly, a flick of her wrist causing the small device to spin end over end, before she caught it with the other hand. “<I could do that>.”
“You don’t stand a chance.” Now Sombra had her attention. The goggles slid away from her face, and she leveled Sombra with one of her signature glares. To Sombra, it looked more like a signature smolder, and the corner of her lips quirked upwards.
“Are we placing bets?” Sombra threw the translocator outside their invisibility bubble. It arched up, sailing across the gap that separated their cliff face hideout from Winston’s cave hideout. Sharp, leg-like appendages dug into a chunk of the cliff just above the window. The pink light flashed once before a thin band on Sombra’s wrist vibrated.
Widowmaker snorted and rolled her eyes, but her shoulders had hitched up towards her ears. “He could have seen that!” she chided.
“No, he’s too busy.” The two women looked back through the window.
Even without night vision goggles, Widowmaker could see that he had once again put the gun down and was digging a banana into a jar of peanut butter.
“How many jars is that?” she wondered aloud.
“Like, five,” Sombra answered.
Widowmaker snorted again, though her irritation was starting to show. Waiting had never been a problem for her, but even she eventually lost patience. Still, she wasn’t going to let Sombra ruin the hours they had spent by allowing her to crash through the window. “We will watch until the extraction time tomorrow,” she said.
“Uuuugh!” The hacker, unaccustomed and unwilling to wait for anything, ever, threw her hands in the air. “We will know more if we have the gun!”
“<End of discussion>.” Although she said it in French, she returned to her previous position, chest to the tops of her feet flat against the ground, to signal the conversation was over.
Still, she left her octoscope off, preferring to watch Sombra out of the corner of her eye. She tended to make faces when she thought no one was looking and, indeed, Widowmaker could see her making one now, pink tongue poking out between painted lips.
The minutes ticked by. Widowmaker tried to split her attention between Winston - who was doing nothing - and Sombra - who was making increasingly profane gestures. In time, her companion won her full attention.
“Why are you so impatient?”
Sombra pursed her lips, a brow quirked in mock thought. She hadn’t yet returned to the ground, still up on both knees as if any moment she might spring forward to begin an attack. Widowmaker meant to comment on this, demand that she get back on the ground before she was spotted - though she knew it wasn’t possible - when Sombra dropped to her hands. Now an impish smile spread across her face.
“I’m not impatient,” she purred, “I’m just preoccupied.”
Widowmaker tried to push herself up, but suddenly Sombra had pounced, her legs straddling Widowmaker’s hips and taloned gloves pressed into the exposed skin of her back. “Do you want to know what I’m thinking about?”
Widowmaker felt the tickle of hair against her neck as Sombra leaned close enough to whisper. Her breath was warm against Widowmaker’s cold skin. “You are easy to figure out. I have an idea.”
Sombra snickered and rose once more to her knees. Free to maneuver, Widowmaker rolled onto her back. Her fingers went to Sombra’s hips as she readjusted, once more coming to rest her weight on the prone figure below her.
“This is a vital mission,” Widowmaker said.
“<Yes>,” Sombra agreed. She caught Widowmaker’s chin in her fingers with one hand while the other slid across the expanse of exposed skin at her belly. “Is it too important that we can’t look away? Even for five minutes?”
“Five minutes?” Widowmaker arched a perfectly shaped brow.
“10 minutes.”
“Humph.”
Sombra clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “<Greedy>!”
One last look at the window confirmed they had the time. Widowmaker bucked her hips beneath Sombra’s weight. The sudden movement caught her off guard, pitching her forward just enough that the two were now nearly chest to chest, Sombra’s hands splayed on either side of Widowmaker’s shoulders. “I think we can have more than enough time for a break.”