If you’re doing requests, would you do a McSombra story from that list of friends to lovers prompts? Namely “You’ve been pouting ever since I went on that date, what’s up?” With McCree going on the date, Sombra getting jealous. Or Sombra “I’m holding your hand cause the movie is scary, alright? It’s a… Terrifying… Rom-Com…”

itshigh-boop:

Ooh, that first one inspired me more but in a bad way. I don’t really see someone like Sombra who’s probably never developed any meaningful relationships in her life handling jealousy well, especially if she was still confused over developing feelings for someone whom she considers a friend – a rarity in itself. Confused and angry Sombra, ahoy…

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  “Knock knock,” came McCree’s drawl along with the sharp knock of his rough knuckles at her door.

The noise startled Sombra but she didn’t jump, instead letting her silence be his invitation to step inside her work space. The clink of his spurs were drowned out by the loud hum of the machines she worked with and stopped once he was standing at a respectful distance from her chair.

“Been cooped up in here an awful long time, don’t ya think?”

“Tengo mucho que hacer. Así que te lo agredezco que me dejaras en paz.”

With a small nod, McCree moved to lean against the wall, folding his arms over as he watched the woman work. She seemed to leave it at that and he let the dim lighting, low electric hum, and the monotonous sound of her typing nearly lull him to sleep. Apparently his presence soon grated on her last nerve. Spinning in her chair, she swiveled to face him, the skin between her eyebrows pinched in irritation. 

“¿Que quieres? ¿Que no te dije que tengo mucho ha terminar?”

He heard her alright. But he was far too busy thinking why she was so short and angry with him. And he knew she was angry; Sombra knew a great deal of English and spoke it fairly often, especially around the others. However, he’d noted in his dealings with her that she slipped back into Spanish when she was really feeling something and not just masking her emotions with fleeting grins.

“I heard ya loud and clear. I just came in to check up on you. I ain’t seen you in a while. No one has.”

Sombra scoffed, turning back to her computer. “If that’s all then you can leave.” 

“I’m just asking a question. No need to be so hostile.”

Clicking her tongue, Sombra began typing away. “As you might remember, McCree, I’m only here because you put in a good word for me when your buddies decided to get together again and I defected from Talon. They don’t trust me, with good reason, and so they stay away. Or maybe I do them a favor and stay out of their way.” Her typing increased in intensity, fingers striking each key. “In any case, I prefer being alone.” 

In truth, his continued presence in her space gave her a sense of comfort that she hadn’t felt in weeks. Ever since she stepped foot on the base and especially ever since the damn pilot-

“It’s just strange, that’s all.”

Sighing, Sombra rubbed at her forehead. “What is, McCree?”

“Yer face.” When she turned to accost him with a frown, he shrugged, eyes downcast as he fiddled with his belt buckle. “Ya been pouting ever since I went on that date.” His brown eyes glanced up at her. “What’s up with that?”

A look of confusion briefly touched her features, biting her lower lip and worrying it between her teeth. 

“¿Qué es ‘pouting’?” 

“What you’ve been doin’ ever since then.”

She rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t help.” A quick search for the definition and she scoffed. 

“¿Haciendo pucheros?” Another scoff. “Am not.”

“Are too. Got to be honest with ya, Sombra, it ain’t a good look for ya.” That it was unusual. He was so used to those full, purple lips quirked in a smart little grin. McCree thought at times that it was impossible for Sombra not to smirk.

Apparently he’d gone too far. She stood and stepped in front of him, and despite nearly being a head shorter than him, the look in her eyes gave her the aura of a giant looming over him. 

“If I’m ‘pouting’, then it’s because this place bores me to death. Maybe I’m just wondering why I ever thought that this arrangement was a good idea.” She gave a quick jut of her chin, and a tense smile, eyes holding no amusement. “That’s probably why I’m ‘pouting’, McCree.” She grabbed the back of her chair, settling herself with more force than necessary and moved back to her usual spot. “Now if you’re done with the questions, leave. I’ve got work to finish.” 

He let the silence pass through them again. McCree removed his hat, running a hand through his hair and exhaled through his nose. “Alright.” Pushing himself off the wall, he readjusted his hat, moving toward the door. He gripped the threshold, pausing to turn and stare at her back, illuminated by the computer glow. “Don’t forget to eat,” he began. “Won’t do anyone any good to have ya pass out. Maybe I’ll see ya in the mess hall.” 

When there was no response other than the cold, hollow sound of fingers tapping against keys, he left. Sombra heard the thud of his boots and tinkle of his spurs echo in the hallway until they faded away. Once she was sure he was gone, she stopped typing, leaning her forehead against an upturned palm. 

Just what in the hell was wrong with her? And why was it that his presence had her feeling a gentle calm in one moment and an inexplicable fury in the next? It was a nasty, boiling sensation that burned at her ears and lower belly. 

Ever since the date…what, the blind date that Oxton had surprised McCree with out of the blue one evening? Sombra remembered chatting with him one evening over coffee in the mess hall. It’d been a few days since she was able to sit and relax with the gunslinger after arriving on base with him. It felt nice – she was used to those one-on-one conversations and exchange of pleasantries and harmless jokes that they shared before her ‘resignation’ from Talon. It was how they became…acquaintances. She valued the time she had with her closest thing to a friend dearly, even if she never said anything.

Then the little pilot came bounding in, ignoring Sombra’s presence completely as she proudly announced to McCree that she’d done him the pleasure of setting him up on a date. Of course, he was confused, the question of ‘why’ evident on his face while Sombra felt a sort of dread. She’d excused herself, leaving them to discuss the details. How she wanted nothing more than to swipe the little grin that Oxton passed her off that cute face. 

Of course Sombra couldn’t smother her curiosity. It was pathetically easy to look up exactly who this date was. Someone around McCree’s age – an Overwatch operative when it was still active. Not Blackwatch but apparently the two had a respectable enough acquaintanceship. 

It wasn’t so much the date that bothered her…just…the fact that it would potentially cut their already short time spent together on their rare free days. Yes…that was it. 

And then she heard nothing of it. As he said, he hadn’t seen her. Since then, she absorbed herself in her work. He didn’t tell her about it and she didn’t ask. In any case, perhaps it was better she didn’t know. She didn’t want to know. 

Sombra peered over her shoulder, watching the door where just moments before, the gunslinger stood. She heaved another sigh, knowing that she probably took it too far with him. It was too late now. She wanted to be alone, right?

The glow of the computer began blaring uncomfortably against her retinas. She reached over, pressing the power button to the monitor off and immediately, her eyes closed in relief. Sombra placed her elbows against her desk, interlacing her fingers and leaned forward until her forehead pressed against her hands.

“I need a drink.”