Chapter Text
The roar of engines died down as the small transport craft moved smoothly into one of Watchpoint Gibraltar's smaller hangars. With a hiss the exit ramp lowered to reveal two young women. The redhead coming up behind dressed in short sleeves and shorts, with the spunky pilot in front of her clad in a rather more... eclectic fashion.
"Well howdy there. Is that the new Overwatch uniform?" Jesse McCree observed as he ambled past while the two disembarked.
Tracer shot him an acerbic look while tugging at her jacket. Open in the front to accommodate a plump tummy, she wore it over a navy blue swimsuit. "We've been on vacation!" Tracer huffed, hands on soft hips. These were wrapped in Emily's sarong, completing the ad hoc ensemble in order to make her seem a bit more dressed.
"I'm going to get changed later... obviously! Silly git," Tracer declared, though not without a hint of uncertainty as her hand explored the curve of a plump lovehandle. Emily made note of the hesitation.
McCree chuckled hoarsely: "I know, I know. What, ya expect me to get up in your grill about dress code 'n' regulation? If anyone's gonna be a stick-in-the mud it's Ana."
Tracer smirked: "Ana? You're not saying that 'cause you're avoiding her, sneaking through here to have a smoke... right?"
The cowboy scrunched up his face and cleared his throat evasively. A hand holding a lighter slipped not-so-surreptitiously behind his back. "Ya dunno what it's like, kiddo..." he grumbled.
"I'm not gonna tell on you, luv," Tracer assured him with a shrug and a smile. "So long as you're not gonna light up in the hangar."
"I'm desperate, but not that desperate."
"So... how have things been? I mean, except terrible?" Tracer chuckled at the way Jesse's fist clenched tightly around the lighter, going white around the knuckles.
"Pretty quiet. Too quiet. Winston and Ana think Talon's plannin' somethin' sneaky, 'cause they ain't been up to their usual tricks lately." McCree sighed. "I came here 'cause I was told somethin' big was gonna go down, not this skulduggery business. Gimme a straight shootout over a stakeout any day."
"I dunno, they're tricksy. They could be closer than you think, the wankers," Tracer countered, following up with wide eyes and spooky hand gestures: "Maybe right under our noses! Oooh!"
Snorting out a chuckle at her own joke, Lena let a semi-awkward silence fall before she glanced back at Emily: "Well, we've had a long trip so I won't keep you."
"Much obliged," McCree chortled and gave her a lopsided grin. He bid them good night with a casual salute and went on his way.
Left alone in the hangar, Tracer turned to her girlfriend and yawned: "Well here we are. Wanna head straight to bed? I don't know about you, babe, but I'm knackered."
It was indeed quite late, thanks to a delayed departure from the summer retreat. Emily had to admit she had gotten a bit... distracted and subsequently lost track of the time. Not that she would have missed those extra couple of hours in the bungalow bedroom for anything. Staying the night at Gibraltar and catching a plane back to London the next day was a small price to pay.
"Uhm... actually..." Emily mumbled. Tracer and Jesse's banter had brought the debacle with her girlfriend's jumpsuit back into her mind. What if she got called for a mission and couldn't squeeze into it. Dr. Ziegler would give her an earful – and even worse: actually put her on a diet!
"I just thought I'd say hi to Winston... uhm... just in case I don't get to see him before I leave tomorrow."
"I'll come with–"
"N-no no you just go on ahead. I'll be with you in a jiff!" Stammering and red-faced, Emily counted herself lucky that Lena was tired enough to be convinced by her weak protest.
"You better hand me the harness, then," Tracer said and held out her arms for Emily to help her put on the chronal accelerator. Emily complied clumsily, slipping on the device and starting to do up the straps.
Tracer let out a loud grunt as her girlfriend struggled to fasten it, straps and metal digging sharply into her chest. "Ungh... you'd think this thing was originally designed for a bloke or something... for some reason it feels really tight over my tits right now."
"S-sorry..."
"Don't worry. If I've gone up a size, Angela will notice on my check-up tomorrow. I'll be on a treadmill the next couple of weeks..." Tracer laughed and gave her belly a slap: "...and you'll have your svelte girlfriend back in no time."
Eyes going wide, Emily gasped in horror: "B-but I... I..." Letting go of the harness, she moved to embrace her lover but stopped with her arms hovering around her. Tracer obviously greatly underestimated how much weight she actually had put on, but just the threat of her slimming down was scary enough to Emily... for some reason. "I don't... mind..." she eventually managed.
"Aww, you're so sweet." Tracer brushed aside Emily's hair to lean in and give her a peck on the cheek. "Thanks for putting up with my holiday chub, luv. Even if it's just a couple of pounds."
Pounds? Emily thought in disbelief as said weight pushed into her. It had to be a couple of stones at least. More than enough for Dr. Ziegler to notice. And already tomorrow! "I didn't mean it like..." she began, cutting herself off before she could mislead Lena into thinking she had not been sincere. "...I'll see you right after I've been to the infirmary!"
Shaking off the unfastened chronal accelerator – and inadvertently giving Emily an even more distracting show in the process – Tracer quirked an eyebrow: "Infirmary? Won't Winston be in his lab?"
"W-winston? Uhm... right... I'dbetterhurrybye!" As if wearing an accelerator herself, Emily suddenly disappeared before Tracer's eyes, running away at full speed.
Emily put a hand on her chest and exhaled. Stopping by Winston just to say hi – and casually mentioning some "minor adjustments" to Tracer's chronal accelerator and perhaps a new jumpsuit – had given her an opportunity to calm down. But now came the real challenge. She didn't know Mercy all that well, but one thing was for sure: The doctor took her work very seriously.
Emily hesitated outside the doctor's office to gather her courage. Deciding it was best to just get it over with she knocked on the door. Without waiting for a reply, she pushed the door button on nervous instinct before she could stop herself.
The door slid open to reveal a rather surprised Mercy. "Guten abend?" the doctor blurted out, moving to sit upright in her chair but ending up... not. Emily noticed Mercy's chunky body surge and roll inside her struggling turtleneck sweater during the aborted attempt. The garment clung tightly to her big gut, serving to accentuate the lovehandles bulging out on its sides.
"S-sorry for disturbing you this late..." Emily muttered apologetically. She tore her eyes off the plump doctor, noticing a large, half-empty box of donuts on her desk. In her surprise, Mercy had forgotten to hide it. "There was something I wanted to talk to you about."
"Is something the matter?" Mercy asked earnestly. She turned her chair away from the computer screen to give the sudden visitor her full attention. It let out a tortured creak.
"Everything's fine, it's just that... I wanted to ask if you could go a bit easy on Lena."
"How do you mean?" Unable to help herself, Mercy picked up a donut – seemingly unaware that she was doing it in full view of her guest.
"Like... on her next medical..." Emily said hesitatingly. She didn't want to be too overt, not just to avoid rousing Angela's suspicion but more importantly to avoid embarrassing her girlfriend.
Mercy shook her head gently: "Regular check-ups are important, especially after a lengthy absence." Unconsciously she took a bite out of the succulent pastry in her hand and added with no appreciation of the hypocrisy: "It is imperative to keep all agents in peak – urp – physical condition at all times."
"Oh it's nothing like that," Emily assured her hastily. She felt stupid for thinking that a woman as intelligent as Dr. Ziegler wouldn't immediately fill in the blanks. "I was just worried... uhm... she might be feeling a bit down?"
Already going for another donut, Mercy gave Emily a kind smile: "I can do a quick psych evaluation next time she comes to see me. Don't worry, I won't tell her you brought it up if you don't want me to."
"What I meant was..." Emily ventured before giving up. She couldn't bring herself to go into further detail – and it would just make things worse. "It's not that bad. Sorry for wasting your time, Dr. Ziegler."
"Not at all. I'm here to help," Mercy said reassuringly and greedily licked glaze off her fingers. "And please, you can call me Angela."
Emily thanked the doctor for her time, but before she left she took note of the logo on the rapidly depleting pastry box. It looked like a donut with one half covered in lemon icing, the other in blueberry.
Deep in thought, Emily stumbled into Tracer's room. Collapsed, face first on the bed, the room's owner stirred with a rough snore.
"Zzzhuh... mmh... c'mere, babe..." Lena muttered, moving over slightly for her girlfriend to join her. Up in the air, her big butt wobbled and shook as she sidled her bulk further in.
"Be with you in a sec, darling," Emily smiled. "I'm just going to look something up real quick..." Picking up her phone, she started typing something into its search engine.
* * *
Mercy grumbled as she had to reach over her gut to get to her notes. In her other hand she held a soda cup up to her lips, sipping idly from the straw. Athena had gotten this morning's food orders wrong again and Mercy had graciously taken it upon herself to dispose of everyone's unhealthy meal. The stack of trays, many empty wrappers and haphazard soda cups hidden under her desk bore witness to her diligence. It had taken some time to get through it all.
Computer pad in hand, she leaned back sluggishly in her seat and rested it on her belly. Suppressing a belch, she tossed aside the now-empty cup to focus on her work. "Lena Oxton", as the file read, had shown a positive progression, but if the upward trend continued she could soon be considered overweight.
"Everything in moderation," Mercy said admonishingly to the computer, idly rubbing her belly to alleviate its fullness. A knock on the door brought her attention to the time. Grunting and huffing, she sat upright as best she could. Her hefty thighs pushed against her gut, putting it even more in the way of the attempted maneuver.
It took some time before she gave a flustered reply: "Ah... Come in!" As the door opened she hastily tugged at the hem of her sweater, doing her best to cover her bulging belly.
Comfily clad in sweatpants and a stretchy t-shirt that failed to fully cover her midsection, a cheerful Tracer stepped into the office. "Cheers luv, the cavalry's back!"
"Good morning, Lena," Mercy greeted her matter-of-factly. It was still technically morning. "We really need to have a serious conversation about your– wait... what's that?"
"Huh? Oh this? Just a small vacation prezzie." Tracer smiled broadly and put a big box down on the desk. Prominent against the white cardboard, the two-colour donut logo shone into Mercy's eyes.
With one hand on her stuffed belly, a bit of drool appeared in the corner of Mercy's mouth as she stared at the stylized donut: "Say, why don't we reschedule the appointment? Something just... uh... came up..."