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"Why does it have to be so fucking cold?" Sombra asks and shudders with her arms wrapped around herself.
"It's Russia," Reaper replies and doesn't seem bothered at all. "Of course it's cold."
"It's always Russia. Why are we here every two weeks?"
"If you had done your job the first time we wouldn't be here at all."
"Oo, salty, aren't we?"
"Hardly. If I was you'd probably be dead in a ditch somewhere."
"We talked about this, Gabe. Death threats among friends aren't cool."
"It wasn't one. I'm saying Talon would have dealt with you quick if they had found out about Volskaya. But even if, you wanted to kill me for throwing out your Chocomilk yesterday."
"I was kidding!"
"You were holding a knife."
"A butter knife! As a joke! A joking knife!"
She laughs and even if she can't see his face she knows he is doing the same. A cold breeze makes her shiver again, shift from one leg to the other.
"I'm actually going to freeze," Sombra complains. "Give me your coat, Gabe, you don't need it anyway."
Reaper stares at her.
"I don't?"
"You're dead."
"And you're rude."
Sombra frowns and tries to rub her sides as if that could warm her up. Reaper looks at her and sighs.
"Nonono," she protests as he actually starts to take off his coat, "I was kidding, jefe. I know the cold isn't great for your condition, either."
"Warm weather is worse."
"Yeah, but still."
They stand around unhappily waiting for evacuation and Sombra begins to lose feeling in her hands and ears. The first parts that'll fall off. She stands, shakes.
"Y'know," she finally says, "we could share."
Reaper laughs.
"Sure. How do you think that's going to wor-"
Sombra hugs him- around the waist because he is a good bit taller than her. He doesn't seem to radiate much heat at all but it's enough.
Reaper goes still.
"Gabe, you gotta put the coat around me or it doesn't work," she mumbles. "It's almost like you haven't done this in a while."
He takes a moment but eventually she feels something blanketing her, her fingers warm up, her body return from shut down. A hand on her back. She closes her eyes.
"If you wanted a hug you could have just asked," Reaper says.
"You would have said no."
"You keep assuming things about me. It's a bad habit."
Sombra rests her cheek against his chest.
"Going to get me killed?"
"No, it's going to get me killed."
"Because it takes two years of your life each time and you don't have that many left?"
"Something like that. It's likely I'll just disappear one day, turn into smoke for good and vanish."
Sombra tightens her hold on him.
"I was making a joke about you being old, Gabe. Not- not that. I wouldn't make fun of that."
Reaper hums.
"I know."
"Also, you better not leave me alone with those clowns. What am I gonna do, tell Moira about my day?"
"I'm sure she'd be fascinated."
"She'd sew my mouth shut or something. And don't say nothing of value would be lost, that's rude."
Reaper taps his clawed fingers on her back.
"Again, I wasn't going to say that."
"Because you're a softie under all the edge."
"No, because it isn't true."
He flinches as her hug turns crushing. Sombra has always been stronger than she looks. Maybe this will keep him together, she thinks, maybe this will be enough.
"Love you," she says. "You're the best."
Reaper chuckles. Sombra frowns even as she yawns.
"I'm not joking."
He keeps on laughing but it's fond.
"I know."
The hand on her back rests just below her shoulder blades. There's a heartbeat but she doesn't know if it's her own. Steady. Calm. Sombra listens close. She isn't cold.