Emily was sweating, Lena too, both smiling a giggling at the bar after what was about their fifth round of speed dancing. They were both in competition and unable to keep up with their rival couple. Sombra and Satya were simply too fast, and when ‘Can’t Touch This’ came on from Fareeha at the DJ stand, Lena knew that Sombra had her beat. Her leg moves were too much for the spunky cockney.

So they retreated, a moment’s reprieve as they caught their breath and refilled on the liquor that was swallowing their minds whole. Lena’s bra was almost completely visible through the wetness of sweat around the collar and chest of her plain white shirt. She’d originally come to the party in a jacket too, but that had not stayed on long. Now she was looking extremely gay in her shirt, with sleeves rolled up, suit pants and her hair in its usual spiky form. Her teeth were pearls and her eyes gemstones as the lights whirled around the club like rolling drones springing to action. Emily looked equally as sapphic, a short red dress that reminded Lena of her Christmas jumper, but it suited Emily’s autumn gold hair mighty finely. She looked gorgeous, even as they panted from the exercise and the intense heat of the dancefloor. Lena was fine otherwise - they had pinned her time device near the door of the club under lock and key, she was feeling perfectly fine with the displacement syndrome. Nothing was wrong.

Except that they could hardly breathe and their throats were parched beyond a desert’s heat. Lena quickly signalled the tanned woman that was the barkeep, her frizzy hair wobbling as she rushed to serve customers. “My my they’re rushed off their feet!” Lena peeped, her face growing red and her shirt soaking almost.

Emily hugged her famously, kissing her cheek and then her lips, she was in and intense craze to snog her missus. “Whatcha expect love? This place is humming like a freaking car battery!” She squeaked, getting herself off of her lover once the sweats mixed. Emily grabbed a beermat and fanned her chest, right at the opening cut of her dress. “What we drinking? I need to get back out there and beat that Spanish bitch!” Emily snarled, eying Sombra on the dancefloor as she hotstepped around Satya.

“She’s Mexican, babe. There’s more Latin in her voice,” Lena told her girlfriend before hailing the tanned girl again. “Over ‘ere love! Can I get two of ummm…? Babe what are you drinking?!” Lena called to Emily, who was now bent over a table, rubbing some random ice on the back of her neck as Angela and Amelie laughed a little from the sides. Angey was waiting for Fareeha, her own girlfriend to finish DJing but the Egyptian couldn’t help herself. She had not played a slow song for the past seven, the dancers were beginning to tire out and melt from the heat. Emily and Lena were proof of that.

Sadly, Lena got no answer from her already tipsy and dance-crazed girlfriend, so she improvised. “Aaaaahh screw it. Gimme two Sex on the Beaches please love? And get something for yaself!” Lena smiled, tossing a ten-pound note on the bar and insisting the girl keep the change. “Actually, aww, rubbish. How much are the cocktails love?”

“Three pounds each darling. You want two shots with them?”

Tracer beamed, taking out another five note from her pocket. “Ya read my mind gal! But I’ll take four shots and you can still treat yaself!” She smiled again. Lena was such a girl’s girl, she could sweet talk her way through absolutely anything so long as she was sweet talking a woman. There was just something about her that she had - some connection with women. It wasn’t just that she was gay, that helped true, but there was something else. Lena just felt more comfortable with women and with girls, she could do anything with them, talk about anything with them, and it was as if they could never make her sad, except for one.

But that time was over, and Amelie was no longer the Widowmaker, she was a free agent, with short hair and long bandages over that spider tattoo on her back. She was gradually getting it removed.

Lena looked at Emily, who had looked to cooled down a little, now all she needed was a damn drink, to keep the intoxication levels pumping to keep her on the dancefloor and in Lena’s arms. In what had been developed into a dance battle between her, Emily, Satya and Sombra, the ginger was the most surprising to see on the floor. Usually, she didn’t engage, didn’t dance, but she could not help herself when it came to quick-stepping with Lena. The music had been so fast thanks to the manic Egyptian on the DJ decks, Emily had been unable to keep away from her speedy little cadet. She just wanted to dance and to drink, and now that the Mexican and the Indian had declared musical war on the two Brits, it was all or nothing. Emily demanded they win and after MC Hammer they were down.

Down, but not out.

“Here ya are Em, down the hatch!” Lena told the ginger, handing her the two shots that were hers. Emily smiled, kissing Lena on her cheek once again and then waiting. “Ya ready?” Tracer double checked.

“Take what’cha can Lena love!”

“Give nothing back, babe!” They chuckled and downed their shots, two of them in one and wretched at the taste afterwards. It was sharp, vulgar in the aftertaste, but then Lane handed her blushing and still sweating girlfriend her Sex on the Beach, the bright cocktail with sugar around the rim of the glass.

“Sex on the Beach huh? Is this a hint I ought to be taking baby? Something you wanna suggest?” Emily giggled, she always did this when Lena bought her a drink like Sex on the Beach. It was Emily’s favourite cocktail but Lena hardly ever got them it for she would always meet the same joke, and deep down she would always face the same dilemma. The conundrum that by the time she was tipsy enough to buy them, she wanted to ravish Emily so intimately at the closest thing that gave them privacy - the bathroom, the cellar, the back room if the bar had one, under the stage, behind the stage or if all else failed, in the back of the cab that would ferry their drunken bodies home. Lena would lick and hold and do all to Emily if she had enough if they both had enough and consent was given. Needless to say, it always was.

They downed the Sex on the Beaches too and by the time Lena was catching her breath, Fareeha had started another song. They both recognised it instantly before Pharah even called Lena’s name. “Oh my god!” Lena hiccupped, as Fareeha pointed to her.

“Yes you know what this is Lena, get your girl down here, show us that Charleston and whoop Satya and Sombra back to Mexico and India!” Fareeha called out, earning a shocked look of disgust from Sombra as she stopped her hot feet to eye the Egyptian DJ. At that time Angela reached the decks and held her rocket angel close. “Having fun Angey?” Fareeha asked her Swiss fiancee.

Angela kissed her closely. “Since when did you start calling me Angey huh Fareeha?” She smiled, pulling the tanned beefcake toward her for their lips to meet beautifully once again.

Lena and Emily walked to the dance floor again, meeting Sombra and Satya in the middle as the guitar strums began to kick in. They were about to kick off again and Lena had only one dance left she could try to the Russian standard beat of it. Aleksandra would be amazing to dance with to this, she was from Russia, but she was far too preoccupied with Mei to anything with Lena, and Lena had Emily anyway but did Emily know it too? There was only one way to find out.

“¿Estás listo para bailar?” Sombra asked, speaking in her native, hot and abrasive Latin tongue. It was Spanish just to get on Lena’s nerves. She knew French from Amelie, but not Spanish. It was Sombra taunting the zippy dancer if she was really ready to dance. “¿Estás listo para perder frente a todas estas personas encantadoras, Lena?” Sombra asked again, smiling a faux smile afterwards before clapping her hands and busting one hell of a move with her fierce and fiery steps, stomping her feet in a complete breakdown with Satya joining her behind her. They were good, really good, and they bust one hell of a move for the two Brits, but Lena was not out of the count just yet.

She mouthed the word ‘Charleston’ to Emily and as the violin breakdown came on before the lyrics, both Lena and Emily shuffled, swinging their legs and pumping their arms into and out of the bodies, swinging with a funk that seemed not to fit with the song. But as they kept performing the Charleston, it became more and more clear that the dance moved, the skipping and hoppity popping and locking of their arms and swinging of their legs, how the moved around each other, it was clearly working.

And before long they had the whole conglomeration of the dancers and the drinkers cheering for them, as they skipped around each other. Lena took Emily’s hand, as the drunken swill swirled around their minds, they giggled beautifully as Lena swung her ginger around. They were perfect together, and the whole audience saw it.

It was needless to say they won the contest, and then they won a kiss as the rest of the men and women joined in the dance, and as Sombra stormed to the bar for another drink. “Where did you learn how to do the Charleston, Em?”

“Well I knew you knew it, I had Mrs Armani teach it to me one time when you were on a mission with Fareeha. Now give us a kiss…”