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Brigitte had managed to get a good night’s sleep - mostly - before Hana’s plane landed at the Gothenburg airport. She’d been up far too early, and gone into the workshop to try to burn off some nervous energy, only to hammer her thumb twice and almost burn her arm before her father kicked her out. It had taken several months of planning to pull this off, and the fact that the timing had to be right after one of the most recent Gwishin Omnic attacks so they would have a little more reprieve. It had been months in planning but less than four days between attack and plane ticket, and suddenly all the preparation Brigitte had thought she’d done went out the window the minute Hana sent her flight details. It hadn’t clicked until almost that morning that it was Midsommar - midsummer - and that the house would be packed to the rafters with people.
“It’s a little busier than I expected when I invited you,” Brigitte apologized halfway through the drive back.
“What do you mean?” Hana yawned and rubbed her eyes, looking out at the scenery, the buildings so different from those in Busan, the weathered copper trim gone green with age and wind and salt, stockier and sturdier without the sleek lines of her city. There was a sleek river flowing through it, and they followed the river for a time until they swung out into the countryside, a burst of trees and green speckled with small lakes and ponds.
“Some family friends came to visit, and they’re not always free, so…” Brigitte waved a hand as they drove from the airport to the Lindholm property. “Mama and Pappa will never say no to them, so it means you’re kind of going to meet everyone. Or at least a lot of them. Sort of like my extended family. A really extended family. And it’s also Midsummer.”
“Like who?” Hana sounded immediately suspicious, and Brigitte reached a hand over and put it on her thigh, squeezing gently.
“Angela’s here - so you at least know her. Dr. Ziegler. But there’s Reinhardt, my godfather - and my knight - and Bastion…” Brigitte trailed off. “I did tell you about Bastion, right?”
“The omnic.” Hana’s voice was a little strained. “The one your dad helped.”
“He’s not Gwishin,” Brigitte said, “and he’s… he’s good. He likes birds.”
“He likes birds?”
“Birds,” Brigitte confirmed, eyes back on the road. “And Genji, who I think is leaving tonight or tomorrow. He’s, uh, he’s a cyborg - so hopefully that won’t be a problem?”
“Cool,” Hana said absently, eyes on the countryside.
“You’re bunking with me, as long you’re okay with that.”
“Yes!”
“Well - it’s… like I said, it’s Midsummer. I didn’t realize, when you booked the tickets - and now… You’re going to get all of Sweden, and all of my family, at once. I can turn around and bring you back to the airport, if you want…”
“Have I ever run away from anything?” Hana put her hand over Brigitte’s and grinned across at her. Brigitte flicked her eyes off the road for a moment, just long enough to grin at her.
“You say that now.”
“I play to win.”
“Just as long as it’s not in the drinking contest. Between Reinhardt and Pappa, it’s a lost cause for the rest of us.”
Hana laughed, and squeezed Brigitte’s hand again. If that was the biggest challenge, this would be easy mode.
The Lindholm property wasn’t too far out of Gothenburg, but far enough that it had a large house and a workshop barn that Hana could see from the road. There were several cars parked in the driveway already, and Brigitte’s hovercar pulled up towards the workshop.
“Are you ready?” She looked over at Hana, who straightened her shoulders and nodded.
“Alright. It looks like it’s not - everyone, not yet, but that’s tomorrow. The rest of my family - the ones with their own families - will come tomorrow for lunch. It looks like it’s just my parents, Reinhardt, and Dr Ziegler - and presumably Genji, too.” She parked the hovercar and paused, reaching over and grabbing Hana’s other hand.
“Nervous?”
“No,” D.Va lied, throwing on her persona. Brigitte stuck out her tongue, and then kissed her quickly, a brush of lips against lips, warm and soft and a promise of more. She pulled away, and Hana made a little huff of annoyance.
“Cute noise,” Brigitte said with a grin as she hopped out of the driver’s seat and then snagged Hana’s suitcase from the back. Hana stuck her tongue out briefly at Brigitte in amused irritation. Brigitte headed towards the house, opening the door and then stepping in. “Mama, we’re ba-ack!”
“Oh good, just in time,” came a voice from the kitchen. Hana barely had time to take in everything - a large room, tall windows filling the space with light, and wooden floors and dark wooden beamed ceilings. A large fireplace with an old, weathered photo - a real photo, not a holopic - in a frame over it. The living room alone was as big as her entire apartment.
“I don’t like how that sounds. What’s wrong?” Brigitte set Hana’s suitcase against the wall by the staircase.
“Someone needs to set the table.”
“Ach, Mama.” Brigitte groaned. “Hana, come in, and I’ll give you the kitchen tour so you know where everything is. And you can meet my mother.”
Hana wasn’t sure what to expect, but the tall blonde woman with a braid, hands dusted with flour, was what she needed to see. She looked impeccably dressed, even for the kitchen, almost like something out of a movie, and Brigitte took down a stack of plates from a cupboard.
“You’re not going to make her do anything. She’s a guest, Mama,” Brigitte said firmly, throwing a look in Hana’s direction. “Hana, my mother Ingrid. Mama-
“Hana Song, or D.Va, yes, I know.” There was a sparkle in her eye like she wanted to say more, but didn’t. “You’re very welcome here. Anyone who can make my daughter almost solder her fingers is definitely someone I would like to meet.”
“I got distracted,” Brigitte huffed. “Who’s here for dinner?”
“Your father and I, you two, Angela, Reinhardt, Genji.”
“Is he…” Brigitte frowned slightly and glanced at Hana. “Well, I guess we’ll see.”
“Set the table, then please go try to get your father and Reinhardt out of whatever it is they are working on, would you?” Ingrid smiled at Hana, and then looked to her daughter and jerked her chin. “Well?”
“Ja, Mama,” Brigitte said with a sigh. “Can we at least put her stuff up in my room?”
“After you set the table.”
Table set and baggage stowed - and giving her time to clean off after the flight - Brigitte took Hana outside, holding tightly onto her.
“I’m not going to run off,” Hana said with a laugh, bumping Brigitte with her shoulder.
“I’m just happy you’re here, okay?” Brigitte stuck her tongue out and winked, and Hana chuckled. “Let me give you the tour while it’s still quiet.”
“There are seven people in your house tonight and that’s quiet!?”
“I have my siblings, their partners, and eight nieces and nephews from them,” Brigitte snorted. “And if everyone comes tomorrow - and I think they will - that means we’re going to have around twenty people here. Seven is definitely quiet.”
Hana couldn’t help the squeak in surprise, and Brigitte laughed. She pointed with her chin towards a small table and chairs around a fire pit. A blonde-haired woman was seated in one of the chairs, and on the ground in front of her was a figure in grey and white and black armor. The woman was bending over, intently looking at something along the figure’s back.
“Look, there’s Angela and Genji,” Brigitte said. “Hi, Angela!”
“Brigitte, back so soon?” The woman looked up and smiled. “And Miss Song. It is a pleasure to see you again,” she added with a wave. The figure beside her raised a hand in greeting as well. It seemed all-over armor to Hana’s eyes, and made no motion to move otherwise.
Brigitte tossed a rock in the figure’s direction, which he batted away with startling speed. “Aren’t you going to even say hello, Genji?”
“She looks overwhelmed,” came a synthesized voice, accented with the tones of a Japanese speaker. “I thought I would leave her be. And also I am afraid that if I move, Angela will sever some of my spinal connections out of spite.”
“I am trying,” the Swiss woman said irritably, accent becoming slightly thicker with her frustration, “to make sure these have been properly maintained, and this sunlight is the best place to do it. Now do stop moving, Genji, and let me check the seals.”
“Maintenance issues?” Hana perked up. “I’m good with maintenance.”
“I can’t trust him to get these parts checked by anyone on a regular basis unless he’s here. I’d offer to let you help but I’m afraid it’s a too many chefs in the kitchen sort of thing at the moment. But perhaps later, when you can see them all properly as they ought to be.” She smiled to take any sting from her words. Genji reached a hand up as Angela spoke, and she swatted his hand away. “Stop moving, you’re affecting things.”
Brigitte rolled her eyes and snorted, continuing to walk.
“Are they…?” Hana raised an eyebrow and jerked her chin in the direction of the two.
“I don’t think even they know,” Brigitte said with half a laugh. “She’s been a family friend since before I was born, and he comes by and trains with me. He’s fast. Really, really fast. They’ve been like that as long as I can remember, though.”
“I bet I’m faster,” she said dismissively, and Brigitte chuckled.
“Maybe some day you two can have a video game off or something. He used to play them a lot before… stuff happened. Anyway, Pappa’s out here, in the workshop. Um, Bastion might be in here too…”
“I’ll be fine.” Hana squeezed Brigitte’s fingers. “You… you have a lot of people.”
“Just wait until tomorrow,” Brigitte said wryly. “Just you wait.”
Dinner passed easily, Hana slipping a little more into D.Va than she wanted, but finding - to her own surprise - she had more to talk about with everyone than she expected. Reinhardt and Torbjörn wanted her opinions on mechanical things, Angela wanted to know how Korea was recovering, Ingrid was bent on feeding Hana until she exploded, and Genji knew far more about gaming than Hana expected to give him credit for. By the time the meal was over, even the last of Hana’s usually boundless energy was spent and she willingly climbed the stairs, toppling over onto Brigitte’s bed face-first.
“Never gonna move.”
“You’re going to have to, you’re right in the middle of it. Pick a side.”
“You have a lot of people.” Hana echoed her words as she brushed out her hair.
“It’s like your squad, I guess?” Brigitte poked around in a drawer, her back to Hana.
“That would be like you and Reinhardt. No, you’ve got all these…” Hana gestured, lost for words. “Reinhardt and your father and Dr Ziegler and Genji were all Overwatch, weren’t they? I saw the photo in the living room. A photo, not even a holopic, but a real printed photo. Angela looked so young! And Reinhardt, and your dad, and…”
“Pappa’s afraid if something shorts out, the holos will get fried and he’ll lose those.” Brigitte pulled off her shirt and sports bra. Hana was grateful Brigitte was facing her dresser, otherwise she would have been tongue-tied or bright red - or both. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the flex of muscle. Thankfully, Brigitte pulled on a tank top quickly, bare skin covered again by fabric. She turned around, revealing one of the souvenir tee shirts from Busan with the mackerel - except she’d cut off the sleeves. Hana laughed, reaching out towards the cartoon fish that leapt across Brigitte’s chest. “Yeah, they were all Overwatch. But Genji left early, and went off with omnic monks. Pappa retired, and Reinhardt was forced out, and only Angela stayed til the bitter end, trying to save everyone. It’s why I worry about you and MEKA.” She dropped onto her bed, holding her arms out, and Hana eagerly stepped into the embrace, straddling Brigitte’s lap.
“Well, MEKA isn’t Overwatch, so you don’t have to worry.” She leaned in and kissed her girlfriend on the cheek. “But you said I had big personalities - Reinhardt! He’s as big as Tokki! Bigger, maybe.”
“Yeah, there’s a lot to him,” Brigitte admitted, edging back onto the bed and wrapping her arms around Hana. “Bad jokes and all.”
“I’m jealous. You have all these people that love you, that care about you, and it has nothing to do with fame or that…”
“They’re family, but you’re important too, and I care about you just as much.” Brigitte dropped backwards abruptly, and Hana let out a squeak as she toppled forward.
“WTF,” Hana said indignantly, sprawling across the other woman, who proceeded to snicker. “What’s so funny?”
“I’ve never,” she caught her breath, “never heard anyone actually say double u, tee, eff, before. It’s always - always the full words. What the fuck.”
“Noob,” Hana said firmly, and Brigitte snickered before ending Hana’s indignance with a kiss, cupping her face in broad hands and tugging her down slightly to her. They didn’t get to do this nearly enough, not with the infrequency of visits. Hana curled her fingers around the back of Brigitte’s head, straddling the stockier woman. Brigitte’s lips were a little chapped, but still warm and soft. Brigitte opened her mouth easily for Hana and she dove in, tasting whipped cream and lingonberries and the faint vanilla from the sweet dessert crepes they’d finished the meal with. Brigitte made a soft, startled noise beneath her, hands tucking themselves onto Hana’s hips and then curling around her, drawing her inevitably down to stretch across Brigitte’s body.
She wasn’t sure how long they spent losing themselves in touches and kisses, but Hana didn’t make it into pajamas before they fell asleep, still lazily wrapped up in each other’s arms and warmth.
The next day was straight out of an in-game cinematic, a beautiful summer day with fat puffy clouds scattered in a brilliant blue sky. The Lindholms had pulled out tables in the afternoon sunshine and chairs ranging from the nice solid ones from the dining room, to some of the workshop’s stools. The number seemed to fluctuate, hovering around twenty. Some of Brigitte’s siblings and their families had come, as she’d implied, meaning the house echoed and the garden was full of the babble of Swedish and English.
Before she could take much note of it, Hana found herself in a discussion with Torbjörn and Reinhardt and Genji about mechanics and armor, and the functionality of Tokki. While she listened to Reinhardt and Genji argue about stealth versus force - an argument that seemed to have been going on for years, and they picked up and dropped whenever they met - she looked for Brigitte. She stood out, a brunette in a forest of blondes, taller than most even without her armor on. Hana squeaked as she felt fingers close over her shoulders, and looked up and back to see Brigitte standing behind her.
“And there is proof of the virtue of stealth,” Genji said with satisfaction, gesturing. Hana could feel her face going beet red, and then the sensation of something being settled on her head.
“And absolutely no comments about pinning her anywhere,” Brigitte chuckled, wrapping her arms protectively around her girlfriend. Hana tried to reach up and touch whatever Brigitte had put on her, but couldn’t. It felt like a hat, or a wreath - she guessed it was, since Brigitte was wearing one of her own, a profusion of white and green flowers and leaves twined around in a crown shape.
“Go be disgustingly infatuated with each other somewhere else,” Torbjörn said with a grin. Hana watched Brigitte stick out her tongue.
“Like you and Mama? Everywhere? You two worked to repopulate half of Sweden on your own, I can kiss my girlfriend if I want to.” Brigitte’s voice was self-satisfied, and she squeezed Hana lightly. “But out of respect for you old sticks in the mud, I won’t.”
“Old sticks in the mud?” Genji’s voice was indignant. “I will have you know-“
“No, you won’t,” Torbjörn said firmly. “She does not need to know about your life before this. Neither of them do.”
“I have had plenty of experience with women-“
“And you are not telling either of them about it! You do not need to give my daughter any advice about girls.”
“I’m doing just fine on my own, thanks,” Brigitte smirked. “You’ve been living with monks, anyway.” She loosened her grip on Hana. “You’re an old stick now by association. Especially since I’m the one with the girlfriend, and you’re not. C’mon, Hana, let’s go grab something to eat before everyone empties the table. There are a few things you should try, and I want to make sure you recognize everything before you have an incident.”
“Like you and the live octopus?” Hana raised an eyebrow as she stood up.
“Yes, like me and the live octopus,” Brigitte said with a huff, leading Hana away. “Though there’s no octopus here today. Herring and salmon and cheese pie, and strawberries…” She sighed in bliss. “But you deserve a chance to see it all before everyone demolishes it, and to know what it is before someone tries to get you to eat it for a joke.”
Brigitte guided her along the tables almost creaking with food - an entire cured salmon, trays of pickled herring, bowls of meatballs, potatoes, salads, and several large chests full of beer. There were bowls of strawberries everywhere, bright red and whole or sliced and set on a cake, carefully protected from bugs (and quick fingers).
“Is that a… shield?”
“Yeah. It was a little experiment I did when I was younger,” Brigitte said with a half-laugh. “It was received better than the cat armor, at least.” She glanced at her. “I told you about that, right?”
“Yeah, and how unhappy that poor cat was!”
“You just watch out, or Tokki’ll be next!”
“Hah!” Hana scoffed. “Like I’ll let you near my mech now, knowing you have that plan.”
“Oh, you’ll let me help because you like it when I help,” Brigitte countered. She and Hana filled their plates and settled at one of the tables, watching others follow their lead. Now that Hana could see, she noticed that all of the women were wearing flower crowns, including the younger girls. Someone had even put one carefully on Bastion, including the omnic in their celebrations, and it had settled contentedly to be bedecked with more flowers by the small children. The small bird that fluttered around it almost constantly seemed enthralled by the blooms, constantly pecking and examining them with great interest.
The rest of the day followed with drinking, songs, dancing, including the maypole, and Hana managed to get some photos she could post to her stream. She was careful to avoid anything with the children, but Brigitte now seemed more than willing appear on D.Va’s social media, so there was a flurry of photos of the pair in flower crowns, the food, selfies by the maypole - everything Hana had wanted to capture, everything she had wanted to share but kept quiet.
As the festivities began to wind down and the night air took on a chill, Hana and Brigitte tucked themselves up by a small fire, periodically tossing sticks and small logs into it. They watched as the children were chivvied into cars and off to their homes. Some of the other adults began collecting towels and fluffy robes, and Brigitte groaned, shaking her head. Hana settled herself on Brigitte’s lap, absorbing the warmth and contact. They didn’t get to do this often, and she was determined to enjoy every moment of it. She rested her head on Brigitte’s shoulder, looking at the fire.
“This is crazy,” Hana said. Brigitte chuckled, her body shifting against Hana.
“It’s Sweden,” she said, and kissed Hana’s forehead. “There’s maybe two national holidays we really celebrate, and this is one of them. We go all-out. I’m glad you made it for this, even if it wasn’t what we expected.”
“I am, too.” She readjusted her position and brushed her lips across Brigitte’s. She felt a little daring, a little mischievous, doing it in front of everyone - but no one seemed to care. Brigitte kissed her back, hooking her arms around Hana’s waist, and the world seemed to fade into a soft buzz and blur for a few moments. Brigitte smelled like woodsmoke and sunshine and she tasted like strawberries, and Hana could get used to this. The thought had enough time to settle in the back of her mind before Brigitte’s tongue teasing at her own chased it away. Hana’s fingers curled into Brigitte’s shirt, the fabric abruptly rough against her suddenly-sensitive skin.
“If you two would like to continue,” came the amused voice of Brigitte’s mother from behind them, “I believe there’s a room inside with your name on it.”
“MAMA!” Brigitte yelled indignantly. Hana laughed, and a few others joined in, warm and amused from a day of conversation and well-lubricated with beer and snaps.
“I like her,” Ingrid said with a grin, pointing a finger at Hana. “You haven’t made that sort of shocked noise since I found you-“
“NOT IN FRONT OF EVERYONE!” Brigitte looked mortified, an expression Hana had absolutely never seen on her before. Usually calm and composed, the reliable type. In that moment that Hana realized just how pretty a shade of red her girlfriend could turn under the finely-calibrated words of her mother. And then it struck her how clever Ingrid was, as Brigitte hauled Hana away from the crowd, for some privacy and to stop being as red as chili peppers.
Oh, Ingrid Lindholm was good. And she knew it, giving Hana a parting wink. Hana resolved to thank her profusely later.
“There’s a tradition,” Brigitte said as they climbed the stairs, “that I think we can give - should give - a pass to.”
“What’s that?” Hana paused, crossing her arms in the hallway. “Don’t think I can handle it?”
“Well, do you really want to go skinny dipping at midnight with half those people out there?”
“Maybe we can start our own tradition,” Hana said thoughtfully, hand on Brigitte’s door. “I’d really like to see you in that flower crown. Just that flower crown.”
“I think I can arrange that.”