Stressed

(A MekaMechanic angst one-shot)

Hana Song sat alone on the couch of Brigitte’s apartment, scrolling through the library of games on her GameGo Holo. She’d been lucky enough to have the week off, so she had spent the past few days sleeping over. She heard the lock turn in the door and looked up to see Brigitte walk in.

“You’re back early. Everything go okay at the gym?” Hana asked.

“Yeah,” Brigitte said, rubbing her right shoulder. “I just pulled something so I came back.”

“Does it hurt?” Hana asked.

“Yeah…” Brigitte admitted. She seemed like she was about to say more, but instead she sat down on the couch without further comment. Hana put down her handheld.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

“You could give it a massage if you want,” Brigitte offered. Hana stood up and walked around to the back of the couch. She put her hands on Brigitte’s shoulder and began to rub. Brigitte winced. “Ah! Not so rough!”

“Sorry!” Hana eased back. “Wow,” she said after a few moments, “You’re really tense. Like, everywhere. Everything alright?” She allowed her hands to wander a little across the big girl’s back, as if to emphasize her point.

“Yeah,” Brigitte replied, a slight but uncharacteristic edge to her voice. “It just hurts.”

Hana wasn’t fooled. “Are you sure?” she asked gently, moving her hands up to the base of Brigitte’s neck, which was as tight as a bowstring.

“Yes,” Brigitte snipped. “I’m Fine.”

Hana sighed. She could feel the tension building in Brigitte’s body. “Brigitte, if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. But don’t lie to me. I’m not dumb.”

The tension in Brigitte’s body built, and then all at once it disappeared. She slumped over and rested her forehead in her hands. “It’s Reinhardt,” she admitted softly. “I’m worried about him. I know how badly he misses Overwatch, but he’s old, and he’s reckless. He doesn’t realize that I can’t save him from everything. Hell, he probably doesn’t even realize he ever needs saving at all! He’s gonna get himself killed!” Brigitte’s voice got louder as she continued on. “He thinks he can do all these things he could when he was younger, but he doesn’t realize he’s not young anymore! Every time we get back from a fight I have to help him with a new sprain or bruise or something! He just can’t keep…”

Brigitte continued to vent as Hana listened, all the while rubbing the big girl’s back and shoulders as the tension in them waxed and waned. After a while she reached up and undid Brigitte’s ponytail and hair clips, which looked like they had been done painfully tight when she had left for the gym earlier. The Swede’s long red hair cascaded down over her back and shoulders, and Hana carefully rearranged it so that it sat comfortably for Brigitte, untangling a few knots while she was at it. Once she was satisfied, she returned to rubbing Brigitte’s back and shoulders, which were looser than before, but still quite tense.

Brigitte continued to rant for about an hour, the topic changing several times as the sources of Brigitte’s pent-up stress continued to make themselves known. Hana would comment occasionally, but for the most part she just listened in silence and did her best to comfort her girlfriend with back and shoulder rubs. As the rant went on, Brigitte began to lose steam, and eventually she paused long enough for Hana to speak up.

“I need to make myself some dinner,” Hana said softly. “Do you want me to make you anything?”

“No thanks,” Brigitte replied, the edge to her voice having vanished long ago. “I’m not really hungry.”

Hana felt her heart break a little. Brigitte never turned down food. “Okay,” she said gently. “You can keep going if you want, I’ll be listening.” She brushed a lock of Brigitte’s hair behind her ear and planted a small kiss on her cheek. As Hana’s dinner cooked in the microwave, it seemed that Brigitte’s rant was mostly over. She said a few words here and there, but the room was mostly silent, save for the hum of the microwave. Eventually, the microwave binged and Hana removed her food and brought it to the couch. When she sat down, though, she was surprised to see tears starting to roll down Brigitte’s freckled cheeks. Hesitantly, Hana reached out and wiped away a tear with her thumb, but this simply caused the tears to come faster. Though, perhaps this was what Brigitte needed to finally let out the last of her pent-up stress.

Either way, Hana was clearly distressed. She had never seen Brigitte cry like this before–she was always so cheery and optimistic. Unsure of what to do, Hana crawled over and curled up on Brigitte’s lap, wrapping her arms around her broad shoulders and pressing herself firmly against her. Immediately, Brigitte’s muscular arms wrapped themselves around Hana’s small frame, pulling her in even tighter, and as Brigitte buried her tear-stained face in the crook of Hana’s neck, the sobbing began outright. Months of stress and tension were finally making their way out of Brigitte’s body. Hana held Brigitte tightly, occasionally cooing soothing words and shifting her weight so that the hug stayed comfortable for Brigitte. Eventually, the sobbing died down, and Brigitte’s grip loosened. “Thank you,” she sniffed.

“Don’t mention it,” Hana replied with a soft smile. It seemed like Brigitte was mostly better now, so she risked a gentle tease. “Wow, your makeup is all messed up. Let me help.” She cupped Brigitte’s cheek with her hand and tried to wipe away the dark eye makeup that was running down her face. She succeeded only in smearing it. “Aw, dammit, that just made it worse.”

Brigitte laughed, some of her usual warmth and happiness finally making a return. She wiped off her running eyeliner with her thumb, and affectionately smeared it onto Hana’s cheeks in her usual bunny whisker pattern. She leaned back to admire her work for a moment.

“I love you”

“I love you too.”