Brigitte & Pharah - Part I
It was still hard to believe. Overwatch, that is. As a girl, Brigitte Lindholm had grown up hearing all the tales of their heroism and peril in the face of overwhelming odds. Now they were back and, most unbelievable of all, she was one of those heroes! Overwatch had returned to save the world once more.
It was a far cry from the Overwatch of her youth, of course - that sprawling international force for good with agents and teams all over the globe. Now Winston’s ragtag team of vigilantes occupied the old facilities - the decommissioned Ecopoints, mostly. It was slow going recruiting support staff and strike teams went out in fours so it wasn’t unusual for Brigitte to find herself completely alone at the facilities.
She shut her clothes behind a locker in the gym’s changing room. Not like there was anyone else there today but the armorsmith took protocol seriously. She was dressed in naught but a bathing suit, a grey and orange bikini top and bottom. A little skimpy maybe but she was proud of her body… even if there wasn’t anyone to show it to. She had a naturally lithe figure - her biceps and thighs were coming along well but her abs needed more work. The squire brushed her auburn hair out of her face, revealing freckled cheeks and honeyed eyes, a button nose and a slender jaw.
Today was going to be an aerobics pool day… but she always liked to stretch and lift a little in the weightroom to warm up. The squire threw a towel over her shoulder and headed into a room well lit from a whole wall of windows overlooking the cliffside beaches of Gibraltar.
She was surprised to find that she was not alone. Ahead of her, sitting on a bench curling a dumbbell, there was another woman. Brown skinned, with ebon hair tied back into a ponytail and… a hell of a body. Brigitte recognized a fellow gym rat when she saw one. The other woman was in a black sports bra and shorts almost as skimpy as her own. The swedish shieldmaiden bit the corner of her lip.
“Hello there.” The woman said, lifting her eyes up to meet her. Black strands of hair fell away from her face, revealing the tattoo under her right eye - an udjat just like Captain Amari’s.
“Hey?” Brigitte’s voice lilted curiously, “You’re, uh- Oh, you’re Fareeha Amari! Oh, sorry, Pharah, right?”
The Egyptian put down the dumbbell and smiled, brushing her hands and leaning back on the bench, “Is it that obvious?”
“I mean, Reinhardt talked about you a lot.” She shrugged, “Always said he wanted us to meet someday. Y’know, like the… next generation of Overwatch or something.”
“Well, here we are.” Pharah flashed a smile and spread her hands, “Let me guess, you must be… Brigitte Lindholm.”
“The one and only.” She replied with a grin of her own.
“I’m surprised.” Pharah rubbed her jaw, “Thought Reinhardt’s squire would be a little bit bigger.”
“Excuse me!?” Brigitte laughed, swaggering and swaying in place as she got more comfortable with the other woman, “I’m stronger than I look.”
“Really?” The Egyptian raised an eyebrow, “How much can you bench?”
The Swedish engineer rolled her eyes, “I don’t really bench press-”
“-how much?” Pharah insisted.
Brigitte sighed, “Two fifty, about?”
“Not bad.” The woman in black grinned, “If not the bench press, what do you prefer then?”
“Endurance training.” She replied, “I like long sets. Twenty reps or more.”
“Oh, so you lift light.” Pharah raised her eyebrows in a challenging tone.
Brigitte shook her head and marched on over the Lat pulldown machine. She wasn’t planning on sweating before the pool but now her honor was at stake! As she bent over to put the screw in for the two hundred pound setting, Pharah took a good long hard look at her ass and thighs. She certainly didn’t skip working on her glutes…
The squire sat down on the bench and lifted up her arms, grabbing the handlebars and going straight into it. One, two, three, four, five. It was impressive just how quick and even her pace was. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten. There wasn’t a break between them, and all the while Brigitte looked over at Pharah. Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. She watched the woman watching her, her eyes drifting away from the Egyptian’s gaze down to her own body- at her envy-inducing abs and the glimmer of silver in her navel. Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen.
The weights hit the bottom of the machine rather loudly, not from Brigitte being eager to unburden herself but rather in a declaration of how effortless it was for her.
“You tired already?” Pharah teased.
With a cocky grin, Brigitte pulled again, going into another set of twenty. She didn’t take her eyes off of the other woman for a second. Four, five, six… Beads of sweat began to form on her skin, her biceps and her back starting to burn. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen… Her heart began to race and she was breathing harder and harder. Nineteen, twenty.
Another loud thunk rang out through the room as she let the weights down.
“That’s all you got?” Pharah grinned, pulling out a hair tie and reaching up to the back of her head. This was beyond reasonable… but Brigitte enjoyed the challenge.
She smiled back, her skin glistening and her breasts heaving with every breath. One, two, three…