Love's perfect ache (Overwatch, Junkrat)

[Frick]

(This takes place after 'Offer me my deathless death'.)

But my peace has always depended
On all the ashes in my wake.
~ Hozier, Arsonist’s Lullaby

When Roadhog slides out from under the covers, off to do his usual early morning routine - tea, meditation, some sorta martial arts practice with Hanzo - Junkrat doesn’t complain, just rolls over, curling closer to Lúcio. Shivers a little, but Lú wraps an arm around him and he slides back down into sleep, grounded and warm.

Chills wake him the second time, shivering hard enough to rattle teeth. Sun’s higher now, though still not a reasonable time to wake. Mystery as to why both Roadie and Lú are morning people.  Be funny, weren’t so annoying. Least Roadie has the sense to grumble about it until he’s caffeinated. Not Lúcio. Bright and cheerful at the asscrack of dawn as he is midday. Or midnight. Where’d he go, anyway? Junkrat pries his eyes open, blinking against a rising need to sneeze and catches sight of Lúcio picking his shorts up off the floor. “Oi Lú, ya ain’t need to clean up after me,” he blurts, but too late.

The necklace, forgotten until just this second, slides from his pocket and onto the floor where it lays, glittering. Lúcio frowns, scoops it up. Silent as Roadie. Not like his usual self.

“I can explain.” Maybe starting to talk’ll jumpstart his brain because at the moment it’s empty and dry as the middle of the Outback. “Found it during your set last night. Just walkin’ through the crowd an’ accidentally bumped into this sheila when I sneezed. She dropped it an’ before I could catch her attention to give it back she disappeared. Ain’t no way to find out who she was.”

“She dropped it.”

Junkrat shrugs. “Guess I surprised her.” Staying closer to truth needs less creativity. Still feeling fuzzy headed.

“Really.”

“Would I lie to ya?”

“I didn’t think so.” There’s an odd note in Lúcio’s voice. He doesn’t meet Junkrat’s eyes as he drops the necklace into his hand.

Makes a sickness rise in Junkrat’s stomach that has nothing to do with the cold. Doesn’t even want the damn thing anymore. Seemed like such a good idea at the time. “All right, fine. I took it. What ya lookin’ like that for though, mate? Reckon ya know what I do. No need to be a fuckin’ prig about it.”

“I thought I knew what you did, Junkrat.” Lúcio’s still quiet. Too quiet. Junkrat prefers yellin’ and cussin’ - get it all out and over with.

“Look, ain’t like the loss is gonna hurt her. Stupid rich cunt. Reckon she got plenty more where that came from.” Clenches his fingers so tight around the fucking necklace that the stones cut into his skin. Keeps feeling like he’s gonna sneeze, and it’s got him off his game.

Lúcio shakes his head. He's gathering up his stuff - more than just the clothes he’d shed the night before. Headphones, holopad, handheld game, toothbrush. A mug. A buddha. Everything he’d brought to their room.

“Come on, what d’ya want me to do? Turn myself in? Throw myself on Morrison’s mercy?” Even as he’s trying to keep his tone arch, a pit is widening in his stomach. Gotta be something he can say, something he can do to make this right. Throat’s dry and aching and he coughs a little to clear it. Doesn’t help, still tight.

Lúcio doesn’t even look up from his backpack. Just slides in his notebook and a scarf Roadhog made him.

“Come on, Lú. She’s some suit, not even anyone we know. Ain’t no love lost between you and the suits. You really telling me ya give a flying fuck about one tiny necklace, after all the shit they done?”

Lúcio shoulders the backpack and gives Junkrat a long measuring look.

His gaze is so piercing that Rat squirms under the scrutiny. Luckily the feathery tickle that’s been bothering him suddenly spikes into a need. Almost grins but catches himself in time. He wrenches forward with a sneeze, quickly followed by two more. “Huh Iiiishew!  Tsh!  Isshew! Ugh. Sorry, I…”

Lúcio cuts off the apology. “Save it. I can't believe you’d use that against me. That’s a low move, even for you.”

“Wait, what?” The words hit like a fist to the stomach. Hurts enough that he actually folds his arms over his middle. He blinks, confused at the unexpected attack. “What do you mean, even for me?”

“You fight dirty, Junkrat.” Lúcio sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look. I knew what you and Roadhog did before you joined Overwatch. I’m not naive.”

“Might beg to differ,” Junkrat mumbles, unable to help himself.

Lúcio doesn’t even bother to acknowledge the interruption. “I just thought you’d changed. Thought…  I don’t know…  maybe that being around us, getting to know who we are and what we stand for… I guess I hoped that you’d actually changed. Guess you were just using us to stay out of prison. Mei warned me, but I assumed she was being cynical.”

Junkrat opens his mouth to argue but before he can even get a word out, he sneezes. Hadn’t even felt it coming. The usual triplicate. “Heh-Iiishh! Issh! T’issh!” Just finishes one set when another hits. “Heh T’chew! Ishh!  Ah-Rrishh!” Only gets a breath or two before another washes over him. “Hih… uh’shhh! Isshew!  Huh-Ashhhuh!” Rubs his nose.  “Jesus, that coulda killed…” looks up over his sleeve; realizes he’s alone. “Me,” he finishes in a mutter. Lúcio’d gone somewhere in the middle of the sneezing and Junkrat hadn’t even heard the door close. Well fuck.

He should follow, confront Lúcio. Have a proper row instead of this… whatever this is. But he’s tired, still. Not sure where Lú’s gone and the thought of having to traipse all over the fucking Watchpoint to find him feels like too much work. Considers searching out coffee, breakfast, something to soothe the edgy sensation making him want to climb out of his skin. Instead he ends up sitting on the sofa, just sorta staring aimlessly at the spot where Lúcio usually kept his Buddha.

Doesn’t know how much time passes before the door creaks open and Roadhog steps in.

“You’d better fucking apologize to Lúcio, Rat.” He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, doing his best enforcer impression.

“Not so much as a ‘good mornin’, how ya feelin’?” Junkrat snaps back.

Roadhog shrugs, clearly unconcerned. “Afternoon now, and you sound like shit, so you probably feel like shit. Doesn’t make any difference.”

“You’re my bodyguard. Why’s he got you in here fighting his battles for him?” The edge of his own tone pisses him off more. “What, exactly, deserves an apology anyway? So I stole one single, solitary fuckin’ necklace, ain’t from no one he knows, ain’t none of his business.”

Roadhog just stares at him, with his fucking blank-faced mask. Times like these Junkrat wants to rip the leather from his face. Instead he clenches his fists in his pockets.

“Ain’t the necklace,” Roadhog says finally. “You tried to turn him on to get out of an argument.”

“Fuckin’ well didn’t,” Rat protests. “That’s what he thinks of me? That’s what you think of me?” Both of them. Both of them think he’s fucking selfish, that he’d use anything to his advantage, even if it hurt someone else. The understanding is worse than the headache pounding his temples. Worse than the fact that Lúcio left in the first place.

Roadhog’s still stone. And Junkrat’s nose is tickling. Because of course it is. Scrubs at it with rough knuckles, but instead of backing off like it did the night before, it just increased the intensity of the sensation. Ducks away from Roadhog, tries to hide the sneezes in the collar of his shirt.

It’s another interminable round of sneezing. When he finally catches his breath, realizes Roadhog is right in front of him. Feels Roadie’s frown, even behind the mask. Suddenly he reaches out and presses a hand to Junkrat’s forehead.

Huffs a small surprised breath. “Got a fever.”

Junkrat’s turn to shrug. “Told ya last night I was gettin’ sick.”

“Thought you were… exaggerating for effect.” Roadhog has the grace to sound contrite.

“A little, maybe.” Junkrat coughs.

“Not much, apparently.” Roadhog sighs, sits next to him and puts an arm around his shoulders, drawing him close.

Junkrat leans into his warmth, his solidity. “Didn’t want to piss him off,” he says. “Just took the necklace without thinkin’. An’ maybe I was trying to get out of trouble - don’t like to have him mad at me.”

“Not the one who needs your apology, Rat. He’s in his room.” Roadhog squeezes his shoulders once, presses a kiss to the top of his head and stands up.

Junkrat sighs and looks wistfully at the bed. Absolutely bloody knackered, but knows he won’t be able to sleep with Lúcio angry. With one last longing sigh, he heads across the Watchpoint to find Lúcio.

At first there’s no response to his knock. The ache in his stomach’s back, and he clears his throat nervously. Pitches his voice loud enough to carry through the door, but hopefully not loud enough for Mei to hear him. “Oi, Lúcio? Open up, mate.”

Still nothing. Jesus, had he really fucked it up this badly, that he won’t even answer the door? Knocks again, louder. “Come on, Lú, least let me apologize.” Shoulda brought tissues, he realizes as his nose runs. He sniffles, and as he does the door finally slides back.

To Rat’s surprise, Lúcio can pull off a look almost as forbidding as Roadhog. Might be a good bit shorter, and half Roadie’s weight, but he’s channeling the largeness of his stage presence and it sends Rat back a step.

“What do you want?” No welcome in his voice or his posture. He stands in the center of the doorway and crosses his arms.

“Said I wanted to apologize,” Junkrat says, biting off the words. Then reconsiders. “Wait, no. Ain’t how I mean it.” He tries to collect his thoughts, to say the right thing for once. “I am sorry, Lú. For stealin’ the necklace. An’ for tryin’ to take advantage of a situation…” to his utter dismay he realizes he needs to sneeze again. This time he’s got enough advanced warning to actually step back away from the doorway and turn fully away.

Starts slow, just a weirdly spaced out triple. “Huhtshh!... Tssh!.. Huh… ihhh... Tshhhuh!” They  do nothing to clear the tickle, he just keeps sneezing. He loses count after nine and by the end of it his throat’s gone raw.

“Saúde, Rat, Jesus. You okay?” Lúcio’s resting a hand in the center of his back, warmth radiates out from the touch, and it steadies him. Luckily Lúcio’s also more prepared, passing tissues over his shoulder.

Junkrat blows his nose, tries to clean up a bit. “Been better. Really am crook. Ain’t makin’ that up.”

Lúcio pulls him into a hug. “Yeah, no shit.  I’m sorry for saying that, I know you wouldn’t. I was just so pissed. Come on, come inside. I felt like I got hit by a truck when I was down with the cold.” Draws him into the room. The lights are dimmed, soft music playing, and when Lúcio urges him to lay down in his bed he has to resist the urge to immediately curl up and sleep.

To his surprise, Lúcio lays next to him. They both stare at the ceiling, rather than at each other.

“You lied to me, Junkrat,” Lúcio says quietly. His voice is firm. Won’t take no shit.

“I didn’t…”

“You said she dropped the necklace.”

Fuck. He did. “Just… didn’t want ya lookin’ at me like that. Like you was disappointed in me. Like you was judging me. For takin’ something from a suit. A suit who has more than enough and…”

“You have more than enough now, don’t you?”

The question stops him cold.

“You work for Overwatch, you get paid, you get room and board. You aren’t in Junkertown. You aren’t alone. You don’t have to do that anymore.”

For a minute wishes he’d sneeze again, just to have something to break the silence. “And when Overwatch is done with me,” he asks, just above a whisper, “what then?”

Lúcio pauses before he answers. “That’s up to you, isn’t it? Up to you how much you change, and how real that change is.”

[Tassielli]

!!!!

I love all your overwatch stuff. 

[Secret Sneezer]

I love your writing! It's the perfect balance of kink and plot and it's always a pleasure to read

[Frick]

@TassielliThank you!! Comments always make my day.

@Secret SneezerThank you so much! Trying to get that balance right is one of my main goals, so I'm happy to know it works!