Archive of Our Own

The yell was loud and sudden and was the only warning that Junkrat had before he was bodily flung off of the man he had just pounced on moments before, tossed like a wet towel across a decorative coffee table into the loveseat of the small motel they'd been cramped into the last few days. 

He didn't quite hit either the piece of furniture dead on, but a laugh left him none the less, despite the fact that the breath had been knocked out of him. Hell, it was only a matter of time before the Hog finally snapped, right? 

The behemoth stood hunched, head whipped at the crumpled man, his artificial arm was making a hissing sound, probably jammed one of the rotors but that wasn't his problem. None of this was. None of Jamison Fawkes bullshit was his bullshit. There was only so much he could handle, day after day. So much touching, fawning, the closeness, the suggestive spread... It was too much to be teased with so relentlessly.

"M'GONNA LEAVE Y'ONE OF THESE DAYS!!!" Hog roared, feeling his stomach twist at the sound of his own voice, at the underlying hiss of the prosthetic part he'd just busted. Lucky that was all that was broke. That he knew of. 

"GO!!! Nothin's keepin' ya--rrgh-- here but greed anyway..." Junkrat croaked, pushing himself up on his elbow and a sudden gasp left him, followed by another nasty gurgle of a laugh. Maybe a broken rib or two, the edge of that ugly table was not kind. 

Roadhog was panting at this point, nearly knocking  one of the dressers over as he stormed through the small space-- he scooped up his bag and a handful of cash out of Rat's bag, gritting his teeth as he looked down at the shiny trinkets that were very clearly his various rings and what not, scattered inside. Keep 'em. Packrat idiot. 

"S'takin' so long, Mako?! Go 'en!!! Ah-- URK!!!" It was easy, out of battle to forget how quickly the brute could move in the heat of the moment, how big his hands really were until they were wrapped around one's scrawny neck.  

"DON'T call me that!"

There was a flash against the brute's mask, his eyes narrowing as he stared down at this pest, little blood coming from his mouth, sweat already on his forehead surely from pain and for a moment he squeezed. It'd be so easy... Too easy to get this terror out of his life for good; to not be tortured. Every. Single. Day. It wasn't as if suffering from the fallout of the crisis wasn't enough... No, he had to carry it with him, technically by choice, plastered to his side, buzzing in his ear. Wearing on his patience and whatever was left of his sanity. 

Oh, and THEN there were the moments when this fool of a man would get too familiar, too close. Call him 'Mate' too much. They weren't mates and if he could keep up his furious facade, they never really would be. It wasn't as if he cared at all about the arsonist, as if he was concerned for the bastard. Jamie was a pushy, mouthy, nightmare to be around, a selfish, childish, needy, lanky twat... He needed to be coddled for, not partnered with... He was the type of man that would fall asleep tinkering with an explosive and need to be carried to bed. The type that needed to be reminded to take a shower and then assisted for a decent part of it. He needed to be prodded to eat and not just drink his stupid half milk bubble tea all goddamn day. The type of dumb fool that had to be told over and over and OVER and OVER AND OVER to get off of him. Stop touching him, stop clinging or trying to ride his back... stop trying to grab his hands. 

A choked sound interrupted these dark thoughts and Hog stared back down to the red-faced man, tears building at the corners of his eyes and yet, he still grinned-- despite the clear panic. 

"Rrrgh... not worth it..." He hissed suddenly, dropping the other back to the loveseat and whirled, still clearly hunched and tense. The sound of Junkrat sucking in ragged breaths while trying not to whimper out any noise was too loud, thundering in his head and Roadhog grabbed his bag and stomped from the motel room, the door slamming behind him as he finally fled this living nightmare he'd been putting himself through. He'd expected the punk would try and bark out some nasty shit to him, but sounds that were leaving him were too close to panicked sounds-- almost sobs but were surely gasps-- something that Hog had no experience or preparation in dealing with.

Junkrat would be fine. He wasn't... upset, he was just breathing. There were plenty of supplies for him to be able to suss himself... suss his own goddamn arm... Nothing more than what he'd done to himself... He had enough money... 

The behemoth stomped on until his legs burned, not terribly familiar with this landscape of West Hollywood but it was dusk and their seaside motel was as out of the way on a modest dead end overlooking the ocean. It was thankfully low-key and run down and shitty as they were... All that mattered was that he'd be able to disappear for a while. 

But... Why not forever? Why not just be gone? This was the perfect chance to sever any ties, to split, be finished. Money and jewels came and went, hell, he'd had to leave his beloved motorcycle in Australia... maybe he'd go back there, hang out in the farm house until he croaked.

A sigh growled out of Mako as he made his way down to the shore after more furious trudging, ever grateful for his mask and inherent body language, people were splitting like the Red Sea to make a path for him, no one wanted to be near an enraged hog, did they? 

Fucking... Junkrat did. But that was moot now. Should have finally been enough to push the Rat away proper, right? And yet... his gut burned. He ached, feeling like he couldn't catch his breath despite the multiple cans of Hogdrogen he'd huffed. Why? Why was he even bothered by the fool? The man was grown, he knew what he was doing. 

Surely, he was as calculated and sinister as the rest of 'em, right? Every graze, every press of his stupid, skinny, sweaty lanky body- he had to know, didn't he? Every coy retort, every long, heavy-lidded look. He HAD to know what he was doing.... right? 

Roadhog pulled his mask from his head and set it on the bag to his left, palming his face as he rolled his dome back to gaze up at the darkening sky. 

What had he done? 

Saved himself, that's what. From nonsense and bullshit and a life of yearning and wanting and frustration. Another heave of a breath left the older man, heels of his hands at his eye sockets before he shifted on the bench, straightening. How many times could he resist temptation after the constant barrage of unwarranted... what was the word... affection. 

Jamison Fawkes had survived this long without him. He'd go a lot farther in this twisted life without having to be around somebody who cared. 

That was the real issue, wasn't it. Affection. Fondness. Liking. You have and you hold, you lose and you lament... It's so much easier to go through life with nothing, wanting for naught, having no expectations... And yet as soon as an opportunity had risen to have a companion, a partner, a SOMEBODY, he'd taken it with all of the begrudging theatrics of a petulant teenager who didn't want to clean their room. 

He was a liar. 

A big fat one. 

A big, patchimari loving, pig adoring, endeared to a skinny double amputee that he'd just thrown across a motel room for touching him, liar.

"...Fuck..." The big man rumbled out, swallowing thickly as he sucked in a deep breath and quickly strapped his mask back to his head. 

It was... more than hard to deal with the fool... To be around him, to literally have to be touching him on the daily and restraining how much he wanted to squeeze the man to him. To put his arms around the Rat and... There were too many variables. Take off the 'mask'?  But... no one had ever said that Mako Rutledge wasn't a great big idiot, in addition to being a 'ruthless, cold-blooded killer'... Hah. If any of the guys he'd been running with twenty years ago had heard that line today, they'd laugh him off of the face of the continent... Big, gentle, piglet loving pudge was now known as a faceless murderer, covered in spikes and ink... 

Hog sat forward on the bench, letting out a deep breath through his nose into the mask and sprung back up, shouldering his bag and resigning himself. Hell, he hadn't even been gone by what was probably an hour or two,  he'd get back, everything'd be fine. Judging by his gait, however, it didn't seem as he really thought as such, panting by the time he'd walked the mediocre incline to the motel room. The sun had set against his back, the moon hovering above his head like a spotlight of shame and the room was dark from the outside. 

Well. Shit. 

Either Rat was gone too, or he was already in bed-- the former seemed more like it. 

The first thing that Mako had noticed with a wave of nausea as he pushed the door open, was the whirring sound of the Junkrat's arm rotor still whirring, the next was the ragged sound of the other man's breathing. 

Oh fuck... 

He moved automatically, not wanting to flick on the corner-side light but did anyway to find his cohort still in the same position he'd been dropped into, whirring arm draped over his stupid face and passed out despite the odd position and the irritating noise. 

The guilt made the gargantuan feel like he was wading through molasses towards the other man, tense as he'd been earlier, burning with fury but this time at himself. It was too easy to pull Jamie into his arms, against his chest. Too natural to cup his head, his back, whispering apologies that he couldn't hear before setting that busted body onto the bed. 

The prosthetic was disengaged and clicked off, tossed to the meager desk in the room; Mako panting as he stared down at the damage he'd done. A can of Hogdrogen was crushed into his lungs before he removed his mask and pressed it to Rat's face, wincing as the skinny fool bucked as if resuscitated, bodily jerking as he gasped in-- and then Roadhog was up, moving with a fraction more haste than needed to the medical kit, to wet some towels. He hadn't realized that he'd dropped his bag back down next to Jamie's, out of habit, that even in the dark, he'd felt a tiny bit of relief at the sense of home but right now was for rectification. 

"Th'fuh..." Junkrat managed, eyes fluttering open as he was rocked in the face with compressed healing and the overwhelming smell of his companion. The room shook a bit, as they always did in these cheap motels as Roadhog moved around, the bed creaked, like all of them did under his weight. 

"..." Gloves and rings plucked off with haste, Mako rummaged through the bag for the bandages, frowning widely as he then palmed the smaller man's torso, brow arching at the bruise forming on his skin. 

"Nice'n, almost got'm--" 

The another can of Hogdrogen was crushed into Rat, interrupting the snide little comments that were sure to come; the brute staring down forlornly at his cohort. Hog felt the slight man tense at the look before relaxing as the purified air filtered through him. 

"M'sorry Jamie..." He breathed out, forcing himself to meet the other's eyes through his own mask. 

"Huh?"

"Yer... there's--" Mako plucked the mask from the smaller man's head and pressed it to his face, knowing that he needed to replace the cans but needing the shield. Christ. He got up, fetching two more canisters and twisted them into his mask before turning back to the bed, his cohort curled on his side, hand over his face. "Jamie..."

"Sh--" His hand was removed from his face by a frighteningly gentle grasp, his face dabbed with one of those wet towels too tenderly. Who WAS this? "Fuck... Hog..." Junkrat managed to breathe out, eyes scrunched shut at he resisted looking at the bigger man who was presently doting on him. 

"M'sorry... so sorry..." He rumbled, voice low and gravelly, tossing the towel and tracing his fingers across the other's bewildered face. 

"Fer--"

"I need you." 

Those big blonde eyebrows practically hit that usually soot-covered hairline and he stared in disbelief at the brute, wanting so desperately to start laughing at such an absurd statement-- but instead, his brows furrowed, his face crumpled into a weak frown. 

"Bollocks."

Mako let out a growl, whipping off the mask and grasping the bicep of Jamison's unfucked arm, forcing him to make eye contact again. 

"I NEED YOU."

"BOLLOCKS!!!!" Junkrat shrieked back, eyes wide as he nearly put his forehead to the other man's. "M'nothin' t'yeh but quick cash'n--" 

He was silenced with the boldest move he'd yet seen the brute make, Hog shifting forward, crushing his mouth to the his, pressing him down as he stole his breath and was rewarded with the skinny man growling back against his lips, resisting, fighting and then finally whining, gasping in something that sounded like a sob and pressing back too eagerly.  

When Mako pulled away, he had to bite his bottom lip at the broken look on the other's face; at how his forehead still bore the frown lines, at how pink his cheeks were. 

"M'so sorry..." 

"Shut up.." That line rarely came from the arsonist, if ever and he broke his left arm easily out of Mako's grasp, gnawing on the inside of his cheek as he was allowed to touch that typically hidden face, pulling the other man back to him. "Just shut th'fuck up..." Jamie whispered out, voice cracking as pushed his mouth sloppily to those big lips, taking the kisses from the behemoth that he'd been yearning for. 

Had the Tank so effectively convinced himself that this 20-something year old had been too young, too naive, too much of a distracted fool to want to be plastered to him as he was?

It HAD been too easy to do, to view his behavior as malice and teasing versus the reality. 

Roadhog had found his hair undone by the time their mouths had parted again and thankfully, an entirely different look on the other junker's face. 

"Ah need'ya too... incase y'somehow... hadn't noticed..." Jamie rasped out, face flushed from making out, from trying to convey how he felt through the physical act rather than having to say it. 

"Huh... Y'could do better."

"So could'ya..." 

A thick eyebrow arched at that and he shrugged a little, gazing down at the other and then felt a pang of guilt strike him hard. 

"Don't want anyone else."

"Bol--"

"I don't." Mako interrupted, looming over the other man with furrowed brows as he stared into him. "...an' if I dinna wanna be here... wouldn't..." He murmured that last part a little too softly, sighing as his eyes flicked over that fool's face. 

"But..."

"M'sorry..." The older man wheezed, hanging his head, cheek against the other man. "Y'cant help being annoying..."

"HAH!!! An' yer a rude, violent mothefuckah,  but Ah'll keep'yeh..." 

"Nah... shouldn't have... Should never..." Roadhog pushed himself to sit up, grunting out his angry breath as he sat up and rubbed at his face.  "Ah'll never be able t'make that right, Rat..." He wheezed out, voice grave as he rubbed at his scalp. 

"Mmh... y'got time... well, maybe. Who really knows, eh?" Jamie murmured, feeling like he was sliding back into his weird comfort zone with the other man and got easily onto his knees, hesitating for only a moment before wrapping his arm (and stump) around the behemoth. 

Mako tensed for a moment as well, feeling a cold flush of shame roll through him before he reached up and pat the other man's shoulder, fingers grazing across his bare skin. He sighed, moving with the frightening speed of earlier as he grasped at Jamie, yanking him over his shoulder, into his arms and squeezed him a bit. 

"Don't... let me... be a sonofabitch like that, huh..." He rumbled, putting out the smouldering ends of the other man's hair with this chins, then cheek as he relished in the feeling of the other against him. 

"Oh yeah... An' how'mi supposed'ta do THAT, eh?" 

"Mmm..." Mako sighed, shrugging as he attempted to give this sincere thought, cheek still against the other man's head. This felt too good. Too natural. Jamie FIT with him and he'd have to had been a total fool to deny it any longer. "Maybe try'n touch m'dick... show me yer arse... Mmh... er that little sneaky place over'th top of yer shorts. Belt-line..." He rumbled, cheeks warming a little at his sideways admission of where he was sometimes looking. 

"Go right fer the cock when yer pissed, are y'mental? Ah only GOT one hand left, mate!! AN' it's me LEFT one-- heh-heh!"

The older man shook his head, inhaling a deep breath as a sigh. 

"...'ow can y'be laughin' right now?"

"Shittt, mate... M'glad y'came back!"

"Y'knew I'was gonna..."

Jamie was silent at that and the stretch of lack of noise was making the behemoth tense again. 

"...Y'know... if'n I was gonna leave yah, it'da turned y'down back in Junkertown..." The tank rumbled, sighing again at his admission. 

"...then why?"

This was the question that he didn't want to answer. How to put to words, how his needs outweighed rationality. It would have been wholly easier to have turned his back to the scrawny junker, to tell him to find his own way, make his own path. 'Y'got yer treasure, that's yer problem...' . But he'd so eagerly (despite how begrudged it seemed) begun to command the other man, take him under his wing in a way. Make no mistake, he must keep the small, handsome weirdo at a distance. Perhaps, despite being mechanically inclined, Jamison wasn't the most observant of human beings... it didn't take much more than a hard glance at Mako Rutledge to see that he was soft in all the right places, hard or harder in others... Roadhog epitomized a big, tatted, pierced, jewelry wearing, leather, and camo encased 'daddy' so to speak-- and this nigh cliche twunk of all things had nearly fallen into his lap (where he was presently) and had been trying to stay there for some time. 

"...M'prolly gonna need some time t'show ya... not so great with words..." The brute murmured, sucking yet another deep breath. "But... yer..." This was hard. "Yer very much mine... sooner part with m'motorcycle than yeh..." 

"Y'did already, mate..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"....OHHHHhhhhhhh... heh... well... eh..." Jamie flushed with realization, leaning back into the wall of heat the other man offered. "Gotta tell yeh though, y'ever putcher hands on m'like that again... Ah'll blow ya limb from limb..." He tittered softly, eyes shutting as if he was imagining such a horrid thing. 

"...Deal."

One eye snapped open at that and Jamie smirked, nudging the behemoth with his fist. 

"Yer roit strange..."

"Comin' from yeh, I think that's a loose compliment."

"Heheheh! Mebbe it is..." 

They sat together, existing in a pile of sweaty limbs, neither wanting to interrupt the comfortable silence between them; listening to the other breathe. Time had passed lazily but who knew how much. 

"Mmmh... y'ever gonna elaborate on 'need'n, mate?"

Mako lifted his head, having had dozed a little, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose. 

"...mmm...  nope. Gonna hafta show ya... eventually..." He wheezed in response, rubbing his cheek against the top of the other's head. 

"Who knew y'were such a snuggly fucker... Ah'mean... the patchimaris are kinda an indicator..." 

"Mmmh.." Roadhog squeezed the other man in response to that, smirking a little. 

"Jealous?"

"A lil, s'not fair that somethin' not even alive gets yer love..." 

A laugh boomed out of the behemoth at that, blinking at those words and feeling positively tickled. Mm, so he had a petty boy on his hands as well. 

"Yer stupid..."

"That might very well be so..." Jamison began and was interrupted by the great big, breath-crushing squeeze he'd gotten from the man he was laying against. "Urk-- ok..ay..." He croaked out, patting the brute's arm but found that he wasn't any less cuddled, just slightly less crushed. 

"Better?"

"Yes... Now jest gotta get m'arm back in workin' order!" 

Mako tensed at that, forgetting about how he'd thrown the limb off kilter whilst throwing the man off kilter and frowned.

"I'll fix it, don't worry."

"M'not worried! Ah mean, don't do it again, but--" 

"I won't. Jamie..." There was that weird tilt to the tank's voice again, lips pressed together in a wide line as he cupped the younger man's cheek and drew their gazes together. "...yer too special..."

"...Not the er... mental kind, right?"

"...Not entirely."

"Hey..! Ehhh...S'good 'nuff fer me... m'hungry. Shit mate, don't need t'ask if YER hungry..." Junkrat teased, stretching against the brute. "Butcha feel roit good..." 

"Mmmh... s'dyou... s'why it's so hard t'have ya lyin' on me all the damn time..."

"Oooh, grinds yer gears, do it?"

"Somethin' like that..." Mako murmured, nudging the smaller man to sit up. "But... lemme take care of ya t'night..."

"Y'take care of m'every night..." Jamison murmured, cupping the brute's jaw and grinning as he watched the big man press into his light touch. Oh, this was good.

"Oh... y'noticed then..." 

"Mmh... yah..." The younger man murmured, leaning to meet those dark irises before pressing a tentative, almost nervous kiss to the other's bottom lip. "S'that good?"

"Mmm...very..." 

Another light peck, followed by a low noise from Roadhog and he shifted. 

"Let's... eat."

"Food?"

"Stupid..." 

"Heh! Wot!" 

"...Stupid..." But it was said softer, almost affectionately, pawing at the other man's head.

Things would be all right. Well. Maybe not ALL right.