Venom lay curled up against Widowmaker, her head on her lover's shoulder, eyes closed. "So glad you're home, love."
Amélie looked down to her lover's hair, sated, for the moment, but not finished, and she tipped her head forward, nuzzling at that spiky hair she knew so well. "I am too, cherie."
She rolled over, rolling Lena over as well, straddling over her wife. Lena squeaked a little in protest - "Aw, I was comfortable!" - but quieted as Amélie brought herself down atop the younger woman, kissing her, gently, holding herself up with one arm as the fingertips of her other hand brushed slowly along her lover's left torso and breast, Lena's body lighting up with blues as her wife's fingers danced along their ways.
Venom gasped a little, returning the kiss, reaching up around Amélie's head and to pull her closer, but Widowmaker pulled back and slid down, tracing down Lena's neck and chest and stomach with her tongue, down to her mons and then further, light following her touch, then head down between her lover's legs, hands now around her hips and thighs, Venom's back arched and Amé pushed her lover back down - can't have you if you flex away from me - Lena's hands weaving through Amélie's hair as she moaned.
Venom wanted, or part of her wanted, to quip about being even more comfortable now, but couldn't, the words lost, the thought lost to what her beautiful blue spider was doing with her amazing blue tongue, until she came, again, shaking with the release, moaning, gasping out, "How do you do that?!" and her spider smiled openly and wide, saying, "You have to be French."
Lena laughed and grabbed a pillow and bopped Amélie with it, crying, "Vive la France!" as her lover rolled away, giggling, this being the only kind of time and the only kind of place where the assassin might openly giggle, alone with her beloved and as safe as she ever might possibly be, warm in her nest with the woman she loved more than anything and anyone else in the world. No rifle, no guns, no mines, no chain - well, not that kind of chain - nothing but each other to hold and adore.
"Y'know," Lena said, as they cuddled back up together. "At some point, we have to get up and get back to the real world."
"I know," said her Amélie. "And it will not be so pleasant as this. But don't you feel better, at least, for now?"
"Yeh," smiled the younger assassin, sleepily. "You?"
"Oh yes," said the senior assassin, again kissing her partner's head. "Much better."
[the next day]
"I think it is important we allow them to take their best shot," said the Widowmaker, sliding the last chair off the wall and into place around the table. They had set up the teleconferencing gear in the practice gym's meeting annex, and were awaiting everyone else's virtual arrivals. "Politically important," she emphasised. The new Overwatch effort may not have been her idea, and she might still consider it dubious over the long term, but she was determined not to contribute to its failure.
The younger assassin did not growl and did not snarl, but the anger that flashed across her face might make someone think she had. Damn, she thought immediately, No. Get a lid on it, Venom! She brought more of the web online, forcing herself to calm. She smiled.
Amélie shook her head. "Please, Lena, don't. Be angry, do not lock this down so far."
Lena looked placidly at her lover, and blinked. "Won't do any good to yell at you, love. And I don't want to ruin last night."
"This is not better. Yell at me," said the older assassin, encouraging her lover with gestures of her hands. "Scream, if you must. We have never had lies, and I do not want to start now - not over someone like him."
Venom lifted the web a little, felt the rage surge, and bit her lip 'till it passed. Careful, she thought. A bit at a time. Another step, and then a third, and then she did in fact scream, drew her pistols, and jinked out to the gym floor, firing as many clips as she could, utterly destroying the "Morrison" practice bot they'd set up earlier, punching at its components hard enough to send machine parts flying across the room.
She hunched atop the remains, panting, and crying. "That's... why."
Amélie walked over, slowly, carefully. "And controlling it directly, as you have been, is fine - in the field. But it is not fine, here. Please. It is safe. Talk to me." She put her hand on the back of Lena's neck, and rubbed the muscles gently.
Venom hung her head, and, slowly, replied, "Nothin' to say that I haven't already. I hate him so much."
"I know. Say it anyway."
"I hate him. Not just for the Slipstream. Not just for that. For everything else, too." The younger assassin flipped over, lying on her back, shoving robot bits aside and staring up from the floor, as her wife sat down next to her, running her hands through her hair. "It's like, it wasn't enough to abandon me after the explosion. It's like, he had to destroy..." She paused.
"Go on," encouraged the spider.
"He had to destroy everybody else, too. It had to be him, or it couldn't be anybody, didn't it? Half of Overwatch died in that fight - I knew those people, we were friends. Hell, I dated a couple of 'em... there'd been this redhead, a flight mechanic named Emily..." She shook her head, no, trying to clear the memory away. "And then Winston was exiled, and Mei abandoned in Antarctica..." Her face went sharp and angry. "Didja know, when he brought on Hana Song, she was fifteen? Fifteen. He made her into a child soldier and nobody even questioned it."
"He hardly had to persuade her," the spider noted.
"Yeh, but he had a responsibility not to. And he did anyway."
The blue assassin agreed, "This life is no place for children," as Sombra's ready light flashed. "It looks like everyone is signing in," she said, as Jesse McCree, Geanna Mariani, and Akande Ogundimu's ready lights followed the first.
"Wow," Lena said, sitting up, wiping the tears away. "Everyone's right on time."
"Jack always had a way of focusing everyone's attention," said the spider. "I am not surprised that this time will be no different. Are you ready?"
"Yeah," Venom said, her head clearer, web completely lifted and still in control of herself. The violence had helped, at least for now, as it usually did. "I think so." She sat next to Widowmaker, holding her wife's hand under the table, and both their displays and cameras lit up. She looked over at McCree's image, and, muting her microphone, asked Amélie, "...is Jesse in his bedroom?"
"It is a small safehouse," the spider replied, with some amusement.
"Yeh, but... isn't that Shimada's bow in the corner?"
The spider discreetly checked, and nodded, just a little. "I think so." She smirked. "That is not what I meant by recruitment."
Venom, who had once been Tracer, and who had once been recruited, stifled a giggle. "The hell it's not."
"Quiet, you foolish girl," the spider said, struggling not to laugh. "Decorum. We have work to do."