Max's Fangirl Dump

~

The quiet filtration of Angela’s tank in her medical room hums like a distant melody in the background of their conversation. Genji’s become accustomed to the sound, like a child expecting a lullaby at bedtime. It’s peaceful, but only because of the gentle wave of thoughts it brings of her.

He sits without a faceplate concealing the scars he would otherwise shroud in shadows. She floats in clear and blue water beside him. His legs are crossed, but she floats, one hand holding onto the edge to keep her anchored and the other raised in the air. A stream falls off of her fingertips as she tells Genji of the severity of Lena’s bullet wound. He was there when she was injured. He was there when Mercy healed her. The precise descriptions of the whole matter in her voice are a lullaby at twilight.

Her glass tank is raised above the floor to keep the room in her sights and all of it’s going on. The medical center fully accommodates her unique physiology. A stainless steel landing beside the top of her open tank allows the two of them to have this conversation, but that’s not its real purpose. This is where she practices her magic on anyone injured but fortunate enough to require her assistance.

She doesn’t call it magic—her healing. Genji does. She saved him when he believed he was past saving. There was nothing else left to believe until she dropped out of the sky. It was surreal and comforting. A part of him wondered if the afterlife sent an angelic mermaid to welcome him to its embrace. Odd, but he wasn’t exactly complaining at the time.

Overwatch has many agents, some withheld from the public eye, and some who can do extraordinary, unexplainable feats.

She’s both. A mermaid, and a gifted healer.

“You look tired, Genji,” she says. Her gaze lays on him in a familiar fret.

He lifts his head, realizing his head was bowing under the weight of exhaustion. A mission that lasted 18 hours. That didn’t stop him from immediately making his way to her when the Orca landed, albeit he was carrying Lena as she bled profusely.

His eyelids snap back open. Her smile isn’t fooled.

“I’m sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck, twisting his head from side to side in a miniature stretch. “I was listening, I promise.”

She waves away his apology, droplets scattering across his metallic leg and the edge of the platform beside her tank.

“That’s not what I’m concerned about,” she says, still, the look that crosses her slightly glistening face is softened by his swift reassurance. “Genji, you really should tell me when you need to rest. What kind of healer would I be if I forced you to listen to me ramble while you collapsed beside me?”

“Collapse is a strong word.” Lacing his fingers behind her head, he leans back until he’s lying on the damp stainless steel floor. He tilts his head towards her. She fits her chin in her palm, elbow propped on the edge of the landing with amusement lining her lips as she awaits his explanation.

“I would say dozing, a little.”

“A little.” She echoes, entertaining his attempt.

Her smile is a type of oxygen. He breathes in the sight of it, becoming lighter, stronger, refreshed. The late-night glow of the room, a cyan that taints her natural color of pastel yellow scales, creates a dream. He has found peace here again and again, constantly, with her. Her entire body is glowing. If he scooped her into his arms or jumped into her water, would he wake up?

“I’ve learned that my bed isn’t as comfortable as it is here, with you.” His voice is quiet, buzzing with the slight echo of synthetic voice modifiers, masking his confession.

Her orange, translucent fins flick behind her, cutting through the surface of saltwater. Straightening, she pushes herself up. Water splatters off of her scale-covered chest. Genji has long been adjusted to her aquatic effects and stays in place as she curls her tail underneath her on the landing. A treasure chest of gold glinting beside him. She reaches for his face. Her wet fingertips trace soothing salt across the scars cutting into his skin. He resists closing his eyes and sinking deeper into her palm.

“Are you having more nightmares?”

“No.” A drop of saltwater trails a familiar path down his cheek and over his chin. He gingerly sets his hand over hers, waiting for the shock, for a knee-jerk reaction to pull away, but she doesn’t so much as flinch against his prosthetic palm. His heart begins pounding in his chest. They’ve been close before, but this is new intimacy he’s only imagined.

“I have dreams after talking with you.”

A slight furrow creates a divot between her eyebrows. Perplexity. He resists the urge to flinch in uncertainty. A soaked strand of white-blonde hair slips from behind her ear, slapping itself across her cheek. Before she can hook it away with a finger, Genji brushes it back with his other hand and tucks it away. His fingertips linger in the space behind her ear, soaking in the soft and silky smooth texture of her locks before lifting away. He wants to stay, to tuck a hand against her neck and pull her closer, but he’s too off-balanced in these uncharted waters. The urgency within his chest is clear.

Chase her. Catch her.

But should he? Does she want him to?

“How good are the dreams?” she asks, catching his hand before he can escape. The delicate look in her eyes comes across him, like a sea salt breeze on a hot day, and he wonders if this is what it means to have a reason to breathe.

“Better than anything I’ve had in a long time,” he confesses.

He pulls himself upright, facing her entirely. Her gills open and close quietly in small slits along her neck, almost invisible. The same motion as when she’s focused on something of great importance, saving a life, or listening to him. They’re sensitive to the slightest change in the current, the smallest touch.

“If you stayed here tonight, would all of the nightmares go away?” Her voice prods with curiosity and hesitation. The latter being rare for Angela. She’s always been the steady sun in his sky.

“I’d like to find out,” he asks, wrapping his fingers around her hand still holding his cheek.

Does she know? Does she feel him?

She nods.

“Stay then.”

The breath in his lungs escapes. A wild thirst propels him at the sight of her droplet-covered skin. He trails his fingers over the back of her wrist, slowly following up her arm. She watches his path before shivering. He freezes. His heart, still somehow beating, climbs into his throat with veracity he’s never encountered even when against the worst of Talon’s forces.

Her wet eyelashes, tangled and dark, lift. The weight of her blue marble gaze holds him together. He inhales as if he was held underwater for minutes, and reaches the dainty shape of her shoulder. The outline of her collarbone is as delicate as it is defining, and he traces that too. She shivers once more but leans closer, inviting him in. He scoots until his leg is pressed against her bent tail. Gold against metal.

He stops at the corner of her neck, her gills close, and she gives him an interesting arch of her eyebrow.

“I’m very much a fish, Genji.”

“You’re beautiful.”

He doesn’t have poetry. There isn’t any word glamorous enough. She is beautiful.

He’s aching for her.

Angela’s brow smoothes out, and her eyes flash with something that excites him. She takes his hand. Her steadiness guides him to a soft place on her throat, between two slits. One wrong moment could be disastrous, and he internally cringes at imagining making an offense but keeps himself in her sights.

He leans closer. A pulse runs wild underneath his thumb. She must hear the thundering in his chest.

She looks deep into him. She has no fear of those depths. He closes his eyes and falls into her ocean ravine, mouth first.

She tastes soft, the essence of seafoam. Her curving lips press against his scars and deformities, taking away the pain, healing him once more. He tries to mind her fins as he wraps his arms around her waist. Her slick scales are warm and press against his prosthetics like a slipway for a boat onto the ocean.

She pulls back an inch, her gills flickering open and closed. His gasp is no less graceful. He presses his forehead against hers. Wet hair tangles with his skin and cheekbones. She hums quietly, resting against his chest.

“You are the most handsome creature.” She looks up at him, blue eyes gentle on his heart.

“I’ll take that,” he grins.

She snorts before pressing her almost dried hand against his chest. Her palm cushions his racing pulse. A gentle reminder that this is real.

“Have sweet dreams, Genji.”