Chapter Text
Hana was halfway through her post-flight checklist when Brigitte Lindholm walked into her life. The left cannon hadn’t been tracking properly in testing, and she had half the housing panels off when she became aware that there was someone standing in the doorway. ‘You lost or what?’
‘No,’ the stranger said. ‘They said I’d find you down here. I wanted to introduce myself.’ Hana couldn’t quite place the accent—Europe somewhere, but most Europeans sounded the same to her. It was cute, though.
‘New girl. I remember.’
‘Brigitte Lindholm.’ She took a step into the maintenance bay. ‘You need a hand?’
Hana balanced her wrench on the mech’s arm and extricated herself from the spare parts littered around her. She was still wearing her flightsuit, and she knew exactly how awkward it made people. ‘Hana Song,’ she said, sauntering up and accepting Brigitte’s handshake. ‘And thanks, but no thanks.’
‘You sure?’ Brigitte’s eyes were on the mech. ‘I’ve never worked on any of the Korean models, but I’d love to see—’
‘You and every other engineer on this damn base.’ Hana frowned. ‘Mech’s mine. Don’t trust anyone else with it.’
Brigitte laughed. ‘All right. I know how it is. I’ll see you around.’
Hana didn’t bother returning the goodbye. The cannon wasn’t fixing itself.
*
The next time she saw her, Brigitte was sitting at the kitchen counter in one of the common rooms, eating a pastry.
‘What’s that?’
Brigitte looked up. ‘Cardamom bun,’ she said between bites.
Hana narrowed her eyes. ‘I’ve never seen those around before.’
Brigitte shrugged. ‘There’s a bakery down in the city that does them. I put in a request.’
Hana helped herself to an energy drink from the fridge. They were nearly out. She’d have to requisition more.
‘It’s quiet for a weekend,’ Brigitte went on. ‘I figured people would have time off. What do you even do for fun around here?’
‘Me?’ The sound of the can opening was music to her ears. ‘I stay in my room and play video games. Everyone else? Who knows. I bet they don’t have time for those sorts of distractions.’ She gave that last word aggressive air quotes. ‘Too old, the lot of them.’
‘What about Lena? She’s only, what, twenty-six?’
Hana snorted. ‘Tracer owns an apartment in London, which she shares with her long-term girlfriend. Ergo, too old.’ She squinted. ‘How old are you?’
‘Twenty-three.’
‘Hmm.’
‘I play a lot of games, if you ever want company,’ Brigitte said, licking the remnants of pastry off her fingers.
Hana hopped up onto the stool opposite Brigitte. ‘Wouldn’t be worth the five minutes it’d take me to kick your ass.’
‘You’re very sure of yourself.’
‘This is embarrassing. Please tell me you know who you’re talking to.’
‘Easy there, diva. Your reputation definitely precedes you.’ Brigitte cleared her throat. ‘But I grew up north of the Arctic circle. One of my sisters wants to go pro, even.’
Hana reappraised her. ‘Finland?’
‘Sweden.’
‘Shame. Finns could at least give me a run for my money. Your sister any good?’
‘She’s twelve.’
‘So what? I won my first title when I was thirteen.’ Hana took a swig of her drink. ‘What?’ she added, because Brigitte was hiding a smile behind one hand.
‘He warned me about you.’
‘Who?’
‘My godfather. Reinhardt.’
Hana made a face. ‘Oh my god, he’s the worst. Do something useful with your time, Hana! Come on, tell me, what’d he say?’
‘That you’re vain,’ Brigitte said, ticking words off on her fingers. ‘Arrogant. Prickly. He repeated that one a couple times.’ She grinned. ‘One time when he was a little drunk he called you an “infuriating little brat”.’
‘Guilty!’ Hana said, toasting the air with her can. ‘But he forgot the part where I’m really fucking good at what I do.’
‘No, he didn’t.’ Brigitte stood up and took her plate over to the dishwasher. ‘I got work to do. But let me know if you feel like kicking my ass some time.’ She winked. ‘Promise I won’t let you win.’
*
Three weeks later, Brigitte took a map off Hana for the first time. ‘Good game,’ Hana said automatically, waiting for the inevitable crowing. She always hated losing, but she hated losing even more when the other person made a big deal out of beating her in particular.
‘You too.’ Brigitte grinned. ‘That’s definitely never going to happen again.’
Hana blinked. ‘What?’
‘Come on, you don’t need me to tell you that you’re incredible. That was hands down the best game I ever played and I still needed you to make a few mistakes to even have a chance.’
Hana took her headset off—they were in the same room, but it felt weird to play without it—and put it away, to give herself time to think. ‘What did you mean,’ she said, ‘when you said Reinhardt didn’t forget?’
Brigitte cocked her head. ‘Just that. He spends ten minutes complaining about how annoying you are, and then he ends by saying that there’s almost no one he’d trust to have out in the field more than you.’
Hana frowned. ‘We’ve only been working together six months.’
‘You must’ve made a hell of an impression, then.’
‘Yeah,’ Hana said slowly. ‘I guess so.’
*
‘Hey hey.’
Hana glanced up from her desk and groaned. ‘Do you have to sound so cheerful all the time? You're worse than Tracer.’
Brigitte smiled. ‘Blame the language. A Swede could want to murder you, and to an English speaker the hello would still sound friendly.’
Hana took a swig from the half empty can next to her keyboard. The soda was warm and flat, at least a day old, and she cursed and reached for the fresh one next to it. ‘Then skip the greetings. Who has time for that shit, anyway?’
Brigitte mounted an office chair backwards and kicked off, crossing the distance between them quickly enough that Hana flinched back before she could stop herself. ‘Skip the greetings? What would Reinhardt say?’
Hana mumbled something under her breath.
‘That's right. He'd be appalled.’ Brigitte crossed her arms on the back of the chair and leaned in. ‘Let's start again. Hey hey!’
‘Was there something you wanted to say?’ Hana said through gritted teeth. Brigitte didn't reply, but her grin grew ever wider. ‘Ugh! Fine. Hello. What do you want?’
Brigitte’s expression was entirely too satisfied. ‘You wanna get a drink some time?’
‘What?’
‘I said, do you want to get a drink with me some time.’
Hana stared at her. ‘I'm not gay.’
‘I didn't ask if you were gay.’ Brigitte tilted her head in picture-perfect puzzlement. ‘I asked if you wanted to get a drink some time.’
Hana opened her mouth. Closed it. Frowned. ‘Why do you even like me?’
Brigitte laughed. ‘Because you try so hard to make people dislike you. Drink?’
‘No.’ Brigitte was half out of the chair before Hana’s mouth overruled her brain and blurted out, ‘I mean yes.’
Brigitte’s smile, wide and sincere, just about made up for the embarrassment rapidly overtaking Hana. ‘Tomorrow? Seven?’
Hana nodded automatically.
‘I'll come get you.’ Brigitte winked. ‘Wear something nice.’
*
Hana behaved—just about. She hadn’t packed a wardrobe with a view to dating, but then it was summer in southern Spain and the standards around “nice” fell as the temperature rose. Deliberately not giving it too much thought, she settled on a top that would have been scandalously revealing if her shorts didn’t ride up nearly to her navel. The effect was rather ruined by the pair of cat-ear hair-clips she put in at the last minute. It wouldn’t do to have Brigitte thinking she was taking this too seriously.
She was starting to wonder if she should just go get Brigitte—they had rooms on the same corridor, the whole waiting to be picked up thing was silly anyway—when the door intercom buzzed.
‘You’re late,’ Hana said into the speaker, then frowned when she noticed the time on the display: 19:03. She’d thought it was later than that.
The door slid open. ‘Sorry. Couldn’t find one of my shoes.’ Brigitte trailed off as she took in Hana’s outfit. ‘Hey there, kitten. You got a tail under those shorts?’
It was a normal, English “hey”, and for that alone Hana was thankful. ‘You’d like that, would you?’ She gave Brigitte her best disdainful look. ‘Perv.’
Brigitte grinned. ‘Maybe I would. Shall we?’ She offered Hana her arm.
Hana blinked and took it. Brigitte was taller than her, more muscular, and it almost felt like any other date she’d ever been on, back when she was an independent adult at sixteen and thought herself as worldly as they came. But those dates had been all about snide, ironic remarks, points scored and defences punctured—inevitable, maybe, when your peers consisted almost entirely of gamers. It had been a delicate balancing act, always demonstrating that you were interested, but not too interested. There had been none of Brigitte’s… honesty.
‘Where are we going?’ she said, adjusting her hold on Brigitte’s arm. The other woman was wearing something Hana would have called armwarmers if it hadn’t been summer, and the material they were made of was so delicate she was worried it’d rip if she gripped too hard.
‘Somewhere that serves cocktails. Cold ones. That okay?’
‘Fine.’
A few paces later, Brigitte said, ‘you look cute.’
Hana gave her a sideways glance. ‘Adorable cute or hot cute?’
‘Do I have to pick?’
Hana mulled that over. ‘Thanks,’ she said eventually. ‘You too.’ Other than the armwarmers, Brigitte was wearing perfectly sensible summer clothing. With her forearms covered, though, she gave the impression of a person who wasn’t willing to accept she no longer lived somewhere cold. ‘Maybe not adorable, but I’ll give you exotic.’
Brigitte snorted. ‘No one’s ever called me exotic before.’
‘Yeah? Lucky you.’ Hana winced even as she said it, but there was no point apologising now.
‘Touché.’
Point scored. ‘Anyway,’ Hana said, but she had nothing to follow up with. They were saved from further awkwardness by the main gate, which required a security check from both of them. Hana hadn’t actually left the base since arriving in Gibraltar—even if she’d wanted to go out when the others had downtime, they usually put in a request for a dropship, and at that point it was almost easier to hit somewhere more exciting, on the African coast or one of the larger islands—and it took her a few seconds to work out the retinal scan.
‘This is nice,’ she said as they made their way down the steep path into the city proper. Gibraltar was not large, but the warren of streets that served as its core was well-stocked with bars and nightclubs. ‘Going somewhere local, I mean.’
Brigitte glanced her way, as if determining whether the comment was genuine. ‘Would’ve felt stupid if I was stationed here and never actually saw anything outside the base.’
Evidently Brigitte had done her research. She led them straight through half a dozen intersections and Hana, who was normally excellent at keeping track of that sort of thing, found herself enjoying the feeling of being escorted somewhere instead.
The bar was tiny but packed, down a narrow alley and with one single table sitting invitingly empty outside. Hana made a beeline for it, ignoring the offended looks as she beat another couple to it by a handful of paces. ‘D.Va wins,’ she said in her best streamer voice as Brigitte took her seat in a rather more leisurely fashion.
‘Knew you’d come in handy,’ Brigitte said, but there was a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. She glanced down at the screen in front of them and tapped in her order.
There were several pages of cocktails to peruse, and Hana liked to take her time. She went through them one by one, briefly tempted to order a Sex on the Beach just for the look on Brigitte’s face, before finally settling on a caipirinha. ‘What?’ she said when she looked up again. ‘I’m picky.’
‘I didn’t say anything.’
Their drinks arrived a few minutes later, along with a pitcher of water large enough for a table of four. ‘They must know you’re Swedish,’ Hana said. ‘Worried you’ll get heatstroke.’
It came easily after that. Brigitte spoke openly about her family—a seemingly endless source of relevant anecdotes—while Hana, also openly, steered the conversation away from her own. Talking about her upbringing made her awkward, sometimes, but there was something reassuringly casual about it this time—Brigitte was plainly curious, but never pushed on those doors Hana had shut behind her. Her drink was good, too, for a caipirinha made outside Brazil, and she was halfway through her second when Brigitte mentioned an ex and gave her the opening she’d idly been waiting for all evening.
‘So, you’re gay then.’
‘Nope.’
‘Bi?’
‘No.’
Hana frowned. ‘How does that work?’
‘You’ll understand when you’re older.’
‘Hey! I’m only, what, four years younger than you?’
Brigitte’s eyes widened in mock surprise. ‘You mean I’m on a date with a teenager?’
Hana settled into a pout. ‘Twenty next month.’
Brigitte raised her hands in apology. ‘I take it back. God knows I got enough of that when I was in my teens.’
‘Yeah?’
‘For some reason, people who build giant robots don’t have time for fourteen-year-old girls.’
‘Shoulda gone for the medium-sized robots. All the meka pilots are my age. I’m in my prime.’ Hana flexed one arm. ‘You’d understand if you were younger.’
Brigitte looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh. She reached past Hana for the pitcher of water, and if the muscles in her arm didn’t need to work quite as hard as they did to pick it up, it wasn’t like Hana minded.
‘What about you, then?’ Brigitte said once she’d refilled their glasses, Hana’s first and then her own.
Hana rewound the conversation. ‘Me? I’m straight.’ She waved away Brigitte’s raised eyebrows. ‘No, no, listen. You know sometimes you meet someone, and they seem almost perfect except for one thing, and you think, okay, give it a go, maybe the thing isn’t that important?’
‘Sure.’
Hana gestured vaguely at Brigitte. ‘Well, maybe the thing isn’t that important.’
‘The thing that I’m a girl.’
‘Yeah.’
‘They have a word for that, you know, and I’m pretty sure it’s not “straight”.’
Hana glared at her. ‘I said maybe, all right?’
‘Fair enough.’ Brigitte smiled and reached across the table to take Hana’s left hand in one of hers. ‘Sorry. I was just teasing. I don’t really think it matters what word you use.’
Hana spent a few more moments in a calculated sulk. Then the gentle pressure of Brigitte’s thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand got to her, and she relented. ‘I’ll accept that.’
‘One thing, though.’ Brigitte’s smile widened. ‘Almost perfect, huh?’
Hana snapped her mouth shut, as if she could take back words nearly a minute old. ‘It’s not my fault you have some sort of vendetta against sleeves…’ She trailed off. In her head, it had sounded more like a taunt and less like a confession. ‘Don’t let it go to your head,’ she added, but her heart wasn’t really in it, and by then she was almost certain she was blushing. Brigitte was just sitting there, watching curiously: are you planning on putting that shovel down, or… ? ‘Whatever.’ Hana drained the rest of her drink. The ice had melted, taking the edge off the alcohol, and the result was pleasingly gentle. So fortified, she met Brigitte’s gaze and lifted her chin in challenge. ‘You wanna go dancing, or what?’
*
When Hana woke the room was cold with pre-dawn light. Her head was thick with sleep and a haze not nearly strong enough to be called a hangover, and for a minute she simply lay there.
One of her nipples was uncomfortably stiff, and in this manner she realised, firstly, that she was naked, and secondly, that there was an arm wrapped around her side, solid and firm, fingers curled protectively around her other breast.
Memories of the previous night returned with only a mild effort. She waited for the vague disappointment she'd come to associate with one night stands, and on which account she usually steered clear of them, but there was nothing. Her body felt sticky and sated, and if her emotions planned to contradict the pleasant languor in her limbs, they were taking their time about it.
‘Good morning.’
Brigitte’s accent was stronger than usual. Hana made sure to hide her smile before rolling over to face her, dislodging Brigitte’s arm in the process. She told herself she didn’t regret its absence. ‘I don't normally go in for this sort of thing.’
‘Me neither.’
‘Really? This wasn't the play? Seduce the cute, innocent young girl, maybe brag a little about how easy it was to get D.Va in bed with you…’ Hana waggled her eyebrows. ‘I'm not judging, by the way, I'd totally do that in your place.’
Brigitte propped herself up on one arm, the sheet sliding down her chest as she did so. Hana tried not to blush. ‘Believe it or not, sex wasn’t the purpose of this exercise.’
‘Guess you got a little sidetracked then, huh.’
‘You're selling yourself short.’ Brigitte’s smile was all the brighter for the dimness. Then it fell away. ‘I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have… you were drunk.’
Hana waved one hand. ‘So were you. Don't worry about it.’
‘Still…’
‘Hey, Lindholm, chill. Love the chivalry, but I only had a couple drinks. I knew exactly what I was doing.’ Hana sat up and cast around for her clothing. There was a pile by the bed, much bigger than the two of them could have accounted for last night, and Hana filed that fact away. Brigitte: doesn't believe in wardrobes. She sifted through the pile by touch, discarding several too-large bras before finding the right one.
‘Want to borrow clean underwear?’
Hana turned around. Brigitte had Hana’s crumpled underwear in one hand—printed with cats, and how funny she’d thought herself when she’d chosen that pair—and a plain white cotton pair in the other.
‘Thanks.’ Hana took the clean pair and shimmied into it. ‘You can keep those, if you want,’ she added, winking exaggeratedly. ‘To remember me by. I'll trade you for a shirt. Something big and loose and Swedish, so everyone knows what I've been up to.’
‘Sure.’ Brigitte tucked the cat underwear under one arm and reached over her side of the bed to produce a soft, flannel shirt from what Hana assumed was the clean pile of laundry. ‘Will this do?’
Hana’s eye twitched. Was there any way to throw the other woman off? ‘Perfect.’
‘You're only three doors down,’ Brigitte said as Hana shrugged into the shirt. If she was at all perturbed by the other woman's desire to leave, it didn't show. ‘Plus there’s hardly anyone around this early. Who are you expecting to run into?’
‘Doesn't matter,’ Hana said. ‘AI’ll see. Is Athena into girls, do you think? I could wear this unbuttoned.’
Brigitte stepped up to her and straightened the collar. ‘Doesn't matter.’ Her hand lingered by Hana’s cheek. ‘You're beautiful regardless.’
Hana opened and then closed her mouth. ‘I can't find anything in this,’ she managed eventually. ‘Could you bring the rest of my clothes later… ?’
‘Of course.’ Brigitte leaned down and kissed the top of Hana’s head. ‘And Hana?’
‘Yes?’
She leaned in even further. ‘Thanks for the orgasms.’
Hana was an expert in being smug, but even she didn't know how to react when a beautiful, naked woman offered her smugness on a platter. She stuttered a response and fled.
*
Hana didn’t avoid Brigitte after that. She didn’t duck into empty rooms or go the other way down corridors. She was just busy, that was all, and she spent more time holed up in her room than even she normally did. It had nothing to do with the memory of Brigitte’s arm around her.
Because she wasn’t avoiding Brigitte, there was nothing strange about the fact that she bumped into her, a week later, in the main maintenance bay. It was the middle of the night, and all she’d needed were a few spare parts, but still. It was perfectly logical for Brigitte to be there, working on some kind of barrier shield.
Brigitte stepped away from the workbench and pushed her protective goggles up to her forehead. ‘Hey. You doing all right? Haven’t seen you around in a while.’
‘Fine,’ Hana said, wrestling one of the storage bins out of its housing and frowning at the contents. ‘Where do they keep the replacement hydraulics?’
‘Third from the left. Need some help? I’m just about done here.’
Her instinct was to refuse, but if Hana was being honest herself, it had been a while since someone who really knew what they were doing had looked at the mech. She was perfectly qualified for the basic maintenance, true, but swapping out the entire hydraulic system in one of the legs was a little past her paygrade. ‘I knew you were just trying to get in my mech,’ she said, because that was her way of saying yes. Then she stretched, ostentatiously. ‘Or maybe you just wanted another eyeful, huh?’
Brigitte grinned. ‘I can’t deny I like seeing you in my clothes.’
Hana froze mid-stretch. She’d totally forgotten she was wearing Brigitte’s shirt over her flightsuit. It made a good concession to the increasingly cool nights: the suit was a pain to take off—she usually didn’t bother until she was back in her own room—and the flannel was warm and large and soft.
‘So,’ Brigitte said, stepping past her and pulling open the third storage bin from the left. ‘What do you need?’
When they were back in the smaller bay and Brigitte was examining the mechanisms inside the mech’s left leg, Hana began to have her doubts. ‘This isn’t, like, a date or anything.’
Brigitte’s voice came back muffled. ‘I didn’t think it was.’
‘Okay. Good. Because I don’t, you know, like you or anything.’ Hana winced. ‘In that way. I don’t—you’re nice.’
Brigitte poked her head out from behind the mech. ‘You don’t have to justify yourself to me,’ she said gently. ‘But thank you for telling me how you feel.’
‘Ugh.’ Hana stuck her tongue out. ‘How are you always so damn genuine? Isn’t it exhausting?’
‘Large family,’ Brigitte said, turning back to her work. ‘You either learn to communicate openly or you end up hating each other.’
‘Sounds like a nightmare.’
‘You get used to it. It was good practice for adulthood. Maybe you should try it.’
Hana bristled, but Brigitte’s voice was soft and teasing, and she couldn’t mind too much. ‘My communication is perfectly adult, thanks very much.’
‘Yeah? How many dates have you been on?’
‘Tons.’
‘How many second dates?’
Hana only had to think about it for a moment. ‘Two.’
‘How many second dates have you wanted to be on?’
Hana paused. ‘Two,’ she said. Then she thought about it a little more. ‘But not the same two.’
‘See? Everyone thinks it’s so complicated, but it isn’t, not really. You just have to be honest about what you want, and communicate it.’ Brigitte emerged again, wiping her hands on her overalls. ‘Easy.’
‘Right.’ Hana rolled her eyes. ‘Easy.’
Brigitte laughed. ‘I meant the hydraulics. Knowing what you want? Learning to relate to people? That bit’s hard.’
‘It was different in Busan, you know.’
Brigitte put the spanner she was holding down, carefully, as if afraid that any sudden movements might startle Hana out of her reflective mood. ‘Yeah?’
‘I mean, okay, the whole dating thing was a disaster. But I knew where I stood. I had close friends.’ Hana paused. ‘A close friend,’ she amended. ‘But me and the other mech pilots… We were teenagers, you know? Teenagers who’d become celebrities, and then heroes, and then… How does anyone relate under that pressure? You don’t. The only genuine moments are wordless. Helping each other. Saving each other. Mourning each other.’ She shrugged. ‘And the rest of the time you make fun of each other and laugh and pretend it doesn’t matter.’
‘And here?’
Hana looked up. Brigitte had one hand on the mech’s arm, as if afraid to offer comfort any more directly than that, and just the sight of it relieved a bit of the tension in Hana’s own crossed arms. ‘Here I don’t even have that. Everyone treats me like I’m a child because, what, there’s merchandise with my face on it? They don’t get it.’
‘What don’t they get?’
‘It was a coping mechanism. For all of us, I mean, the whole city. Invent heroes, idolise them, turn it into a game, because then there are rules and the good guys win in the end. We pretended it was normal, but that’s what it was, and it worked.’ Hana met Brigitte’s gaze, a challenge, daring her to criticise. ‘And here Morrison chides me for being childish. Your godfather tells me that the things that got me through the last couple years aren’t a good use of my time.’ Hana’s voice had risen steadily, and she was nearly shouting by the time she reached the end of the sentences, fingers digging painfully into her arm. She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax her grip. ‘So, yes, I have defence mechanisms. I’m not going to apologise for it.’
‘I’m not asking you to apologise.’
‘Then what do you want?’
‘Nothing.’ Brigitte smiled slightly. ‘You were the one who brought it up. What did you want?’
‘Nothing,’ Hana shot back. ‘I don’t need a shoulder to cry on.’ She stalked over to the door, then looked over her shoulder, her hand hovering on the keypad. ‘Do you want the shirt back?’
‘Keep it.’ Brigitte hadn’t moved. The openness in her expression stirred an envy deep inside Hana. ‘It looks good on you.’
*
The next day Hana was called back to Busan, and she spent the whole trip telling herself it would be good to get away, to spend some time among people who really understood her.
Then Dae-hyun called, and somehow she knew what the news was even before she answered.
‘Sorry, Hana. Computer systems went down in the Incheon outpost. They needed an expert.’ He smiled. ‘We’re the experts now, huh? Who’d have thought!’
And she made the right noises and told herself it didn’t matter, but of course it wasn’t the same. She’d always been the favourite, the darling, but it hadn’t mattered then: the bonds of camaraderie were stronger than that. Now she’d spent six months on the other side of the world while the fight in Busan went on, and the mythology of Overwatch had rubbed off on her. She’d left, and the others had stayed, and if the familiar barrage of insult-greetings had more in the way of the former than the latter, she told herself a little resentment was inevitable; and if the jagged-glass smile she offered in response simply confirmed their suspicions of her sudden superiority, well, that was how it had always been, and perhaps it was better out in the open.
Even as she crashed into an anonymous hotel bed, she thought: this is unwinding, this is what I need, a few days and I’ll be back to normal.
The conviction lasted until the moment she stepped off the dropship, back in Gibraltar, and there was Brigitte on the landing platform, doing something to the innards of another dropship, and she greeted Hana with a smile and that goddamn cheerful Swedish “hey”, and two things happened at once: all the stress of her trip to Korea lifted, and she burst into tears.
There were few constants in her life, but here was one of them: Hana Song did not cry. She pushed past Brigitte, nails biting into her own palms, and rounded a corner before the other woman could so much as raise a hand to slow her.
Her room would have been too obvious. Instead she made her way to the rec room off the secondary maintenance bay, the one which housed her mech and which no one but her ever used. It was a scruffy, untidy room, dominated by two battered old leather sofas, but it was private and it was comfortable and that was the important thing.
By the time Brigitte found her, Hana had dried her tears. That was something.
‘Hi.’
Hana was occupying one of the sofas, feet up and facing away from the door. ‘Hi,’ she said, and marvelled that the act of saying hello could be so easy and so loaded at the same time.
‘Can I come in?’
‘It’s a common room. Anyone can come in.’
‘Can I come in?’
‘Got the clearance, don’t you?’
‘Hana,’ Brigitte said, so gently it made Hana feel like she was made of glass. ‘Do you want me to come in?’
That was the problem with deflection. It only worked if everyone else was playing by the same rules, and one of those rules absolutely forbade direct inquiries. ‘Yes!’ Hana said, more sharply than she’d intended, as if the gravity well inside her would only allow something so crass as sentiment to escape if it did so with great force. Hana kept her gaze fixed on the ceiling as Brigitte sat on the other sofa. ‘It’s all your fault, you know.’
‘What is?’
‘This! Me, lying here. A few weeks hanging around you and I can’t even handle a few light barbs! I got so used to you being… nice to me, and I, I missed you—it—I missed it, and now what am I supposed to do?’ Hana stood up and stalked over to the wall, because it was easier to ignore Brigitte when she was out of peripheral vision. ‘Everyone’s gonna think I’ve gone soft.’
‘You missed me?’ There was no mistaking the smile in Brigitte’s voice.
‘I—yes, all right? But I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to do sincere. Not when—when there might be more dates involved. It’s driving me crazy.’
The squeak of sofa springs was unmistakable. Brigitte’s footsteps were soft on the plastic floor. ‘Do you want me to show you?’
Hana didn’t trust her voice. She nodded.
Arms encircled her from behind, gentle, powerful arms, and Hana let herself lean back against Brigitte’s chest. ‘I like you,’ Brigitte said, her breath soft on Hana’s ear. ‘Prickliness and all. I don’t want to change you. But—if you want—I want to help you change yourself, just a little. You don’t always have to be defensive.’
‘So, what, you want me to be nice to everyone?’
Brigitte laughed. The vibration of it travelled all the way through Hana and into the ground. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I want you to let me be nice to you. You need defences? Let me defend you, once in a while.’
Dae-hyun had said much the same thing, once. He’d meant it literally: defend her from physical harm. It was different. Only it wasn’t, and she was only now realising how much she’d missed that, how quickly she’d taken it as given that she’d never find it in Gibraltar.
Hana’s hands trailed along Brigitte’s left arm, the one around her stomach. The other was resting on the swell of Hana’s breasts, but there was nothing remotely sexual about it. It was simply the logical place for it to be. It felt right.
‘It’s all right to be soft sometimes,’ Brigitte whispered. ‘I’ve got you.’
She stepped back, then, but before she could disengage entirely Hana spun around and caught one of her hands. ‘Don’t—’ She swallowed. ‘Don’t. I want you to keep holding me.’ Hana’s ears burned. That wasn’t the sort of truth you admitted, not even to yourself, but Brigitte was just grinning at her, and Hana smiled back hesitantly, and then Brigitte just picked her up, like it was nothing, and she squawked and flailed all the way back to the sofas. She ended up on her side, pillowed in Brigitte’s lap, the hand stroking her flank doing something to make up for the wounds to her dignity.
‘See?’ Brigitte said. ‘That wasn’t so bad.’
‘Easy for you to say,’ Hana muttered. ‘This is humiliating.’
‘But?’
Hana sighed. ‘But I like it. It’s comfortable.’
Brigitte brushed a strand of hair out of Hana’s eyes. ‘Keep going,’ she said. ‘You’re doing great.’
This was what being a cat must be like, Hana thought, all gentle words and soft hands. ‘It’s hot how strong you are,’ she said, because even cats had claws.
Brigitte shook with laughter. ‘Thank you.’
Hana was silent a long time. ‘He wasn’t there,’ she said eventually.
‘Who?’
‘My friend. Remember? My one friend.’ She laughed. It came out like a sob. ‘He was out of town. Not his fault. And the others… I don’t know. Maybe they were always like that, and I’m the one who changed. It felt so much more hostile. With Dae-hyun it was always different. He wasn’t a pilot, you know? He was our tech guy. He didn’t care who had more kills or who had more advertising deals or whatever the hell else we turned into a competition. It was just… easier. Safer.’ She took a shuddering breath. ‘So there you go. Scorecard, D.Va, the teenage years: one friendship.’
‘What about Hana Song, the twenty-year-old? How do you think she’ll do?’
Brigitte’s hand made its way to her head, smoothing hair still tangled from the journey and massaging her scalp in a way that made her shiver all over. Hana pressed into the touch. ‘You make me feel safe, too.’ Her voice was very quiet. ‘I think that’s what I wanted, when I woke up next to you.’ Talking about it like this made it something other than casual sex. It was embarrassing. ‘But I guess I didn’t realise it, and that’s why I left, and that’s why I was weird later.’ She cleared her throat. ‘It wasn’t about the, um, sex.’
‘You’ve been thinking about this.’
‘Not really. But it’s pretty obvious, once I, you know, let myself think about it.’ Hana tilted her head to the side, so she could see Brigitte’s face. ‘I must seem so weird. I don’t even know what I want half the time.’
Brigitte shook her head. ‘Everyone has to learn how to connect to other people, Hana.’ She smiled. ‘Which half is it this time? Do you know what you want?’
Hana licked dry lips. ‘Yes.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘I want you to ask me out again.’
Brigitte’s whole body relaxed a little, as if every cell had let out a tiny breath, and Hana realised the other woman hadn’t been sure where this was going, had been wholly willing to get up and leave if that was what Hana had wanted. ‘I was hoping you’d say that.’ She looked down at Hana, a very serious expression on her face. ‘How about it? You wanna come round my room tomorrow evening and watch something?’
‘Yes. I do.’ Hana paused. ‘Does that mean we’ll fuck afterwards?’
Finally—finally—Brigitte blushed. It looked good on her, with her freckles. ‘If you like. I’ll spoon you as much as you want, though, sex or no sex.’
‘Good. That’s good.’ Hana took a deep breath. ‘It’s a date.’ She sat up, folding herself into position so she could look at Brigitte. ‘I should go. I really need a shower. But promise me one thing first? Please keep being nice to me? I think—I think it’s good for me.’
‘Even if you stand me up tomorrow,’ Brigitte said slowly, ‘I’ll still be nice to you. No one should be punished for letting themselves be vulnerable.’
Hana nodded once, jerkily. Then she darted forward and pressed her lips to Brigitte’s. It wasn’t a deep kiss, but Brigitte’s lips were soft and her arms wrapped around Hana and all the nervous energy Hana wasn’t quite sure what to do with dissipated between them, replaced by something calmer and more peaceful. When she pulled away, the look in Brigitte’s eyes was pure mischief. ‘What?’
‘Straight, are you?’
‘Oh, fuck off. Just watch, I’m going to keep calling myself straight just to annoy you.’
‘I know you will.’ Brigitte leaned in and pressed one more kiss to Hana’s lips. ‘And I wouldn’t want you any other way.’