Work Text:
It has been over half a year since joining Overwatch, and by now you were quite well-augusted.
You had seen a “Now Hiring!” ad stapled on a lamppost by Watchpoint: Gibraltar when you were on your nightly stroll. On a whim, you decided to call the number at the bottom of the paper. When the other side picked up, you heard the glossy, musky voice of an alpha male. His accent caught you off-guard; you lived in America so you never heard an accent before.
“May I help you?” spoke your Samsung Galaxy S9 that you treated yourself to a week ago after failing a job interview to become a professional model. You never did have the build nor aptitude of a model. You were a little clumsy, sometimes forgetting to wash your undergarments before wearing it again, but you were well-intentioned. It was not surprising when the email sent to you the day after the interview consisted of F’s across the board. In your upsetness, you accidentally dropped your old phone off your balcony, reducing it to a pile of shardts. Luckily, you had a few money set aside for an emergency, so you bought a Samsung smartphone and continued your job hunt on it.
Having a touch of a creative side, you spruced it up with a couple of your favorite leafs. And a phone case, to prevent another accident from occurring. But you were caught up with decorating it and you forgot to turn it off. You left your phone playing Ariana Grande all night, albeit plugged in.
When you awoke in the morning, you did not feel anything out of the ordinary. That is, until you reached for the charger cord to unplug your phone. The electricity arced toward your index finger… strangely, it didn’t sting. The curiosity lapped at you and you tried to unplug it again, yielding the same result. This unexpected reality left you puzzled like a jigsaw. You pulled the charger out of your phone as fast as possible, ignoring your gut telling you this was a bad idea. But astonishingly, you were not killed. The charged electrons flowed out of the exposed, vulnerable end of the charger cord, a serpent of lightning. It pooled, webbed around your hand, teased at your nerves but never pained.
That was how you found out you could manipulate electricity. And that was exactly one (1) week ago. It did not make it easier to become a model, you were still too short, but maybe you had a chance at Overwatch.
“Hello, I saw your poster outside saying that you were hiring.”
The man on the line chuckled so infectiously you hoped he was wearing a mask!! “Yes, yes, we are hiring. I would like to ask you a few more questions before we move on with the process. Is now a good time?”
“N-now is fine!” You stammered, caught off-guard by the sexy way he pronounced words.
“Alright then, what is your name?”
“(Y/N) (L/N).”
“I see… (Y/N), is that right?” You heard frantic typing on the other end and then a pause. “You’re hired!”
“Wait, what?!”
“You’re hired!”
“But why?” You questioned, innocently.
“You didn’t hear this from me, but Blackwatch, which is Overwatch’s secret ops division, did a human experiment on you exactly one week ago. The purpose was to grant subjects the power to manipulate electricity by administering electro-charged nanoparticles through device screens. The other test subjects died of electrocution, sadly.”
“That sounds like a dangerous experiment. Why were they testing it on civilians?”
“The rest of the Blackwatch members did not sign up to be tested on and they had to make do. Anyhow, we’ll fly you in as soon as possible! One Overwatch agent has already confirmed your location and is on their way at the moment.”
You heard something in your surroundings, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly. Then the sound grew in noise and closed in on you. A lesbian-appearing woman was riding around in a rover.
“Hiya! The cavalry’s here!” The gay said. You had trouble understanding her accent but it sounded similar to the man’s. “I haa’d (heard) yo’a (you’re) tha (the) nyewest (newest) memba’ (member) of our creu(crew)!”
~~~Over Half a Year Later~~~
The sound of rain creased through your cerebrum, reverberated through your vertebrae, slithered slickly in your skull. When moist days like these came, you could expect most of the squadron soaking in the comfort of the common room.
Hanzo would be the outlier, never joining in. He rarely spoke to you. It was only if he needed something -- “(Y/N), may I have some chopped sticks? (what even is that? im american)” -- or someone --“(Y/N), have you seen McCree?”. Perhaps he had trouble opening up. He was likely still processing his guilt and daddy issues; thus, he was left alone by all.
Torjbojrn was making coffee for everyone. Ana took hers without anything in it. Rindheart opted for some bratwurst with his, and Zarya added vodka. Ice cubes for Mei’s. Marshmallows for Hana. Lucĩo refused any, insisting that “o café me deixa louco” and “estou na sua mãe". Pharah preferred a different blend and didn’t partake in the coffee. Tracter, (Y/N) learned, only drank tea. Roadhog and Junkrat were permanently banned from coffee. Mercy liked extra espresso shots in hers. McCree was in Hanzo’s room for some reason. Symmetra was vibing with headphones on and did not want coffee. 76 firmly believes that drinking coffee is feminine. Baptiste…
Bapiste was stirring his coffee at the table, alone.
The two of you had gotten fairly close soon after meeting, and you admired his work ethnic. He would always put others first. On your first mission together, your leg got scratched, and he tore off the sleeve of his shirt to wrap around your injury. You knew it was his favorite shirt too. It had a mosaic of attractive, blushing cartoon girls with their mouths open, as if they were begging for (Y/N) to feed them like cats. He nursed your leg back to health, cradled you in his arms and carried you bridal-style. You ended up developing a crush on the Hatian.
But he could never love you back, or so you thought.
You grasped your cup of hot coffee and sat down next to Bap. He seemed lost in thought.
“Baptiste, what’s wrong?” You inquired, like the Spanish once did.
“It’s- no, it’s nothing.” He continued stirring his coffee broodily.
“I can tell when something’s wrong. Listen, I may be stupid “
He sighed astronomically and you could feel the earth quake. “*sigh* I would like to talk to you alone later. It’s important.”
“Oh! Sure thing. You seem penisve, is there something on your mind?” You opened your arms for a hug, but you forgot that your hot coffee was still on the table, and you spilled it. The liquid trickled onto your pants and burned like fresh smokehouse barbecue. “Ouchies!” You yelled and covered your wound, which did nothing but rub more coffee into it.
“Ah fuck(but in a different language), let me help!” He scooped you up in his arms like he did on your first mission and carried you to his room.
Inside was like another world. Everything was neatly organized, from his bandages, to his Fluttershy plush collection. He went to work quickly, disrobing your lower half and wiping away coffee from your leg. Baptiste was unusually gentle when handling you. Each movement was graceful and tender. His thick fingers disinfected your injury. Now finished, he stepped away from you. The air around you was thick, almost as thick as his fingers. Nopony knew what to say. But it would be him to break the ice.
“Please be more careful next time.”
You were half-expecting a lecture afterwards, but it never came. He enveloped his rubbery arms around you. He was silent, but his face was contoured with worry.
“Bappie… what’s got you all worried? Tell me. I won’t judge.”
He sat down on his racecar bed and motioned for you to accompany him. “(Y/N), the truth is…” He connected his pointer fingers together, like he wanted to point in both directions at once. “(Y/N), I am attracted to you, and I am afraid that it will ruin our current relationship. These past few months have been the Play of the Game of my life, and without you I would feelsbadman. Just being next to you makes my heart go Pog pog, Pog pog.” He mimicked the beating of the human heart with his hands. “You make me feel like I’m Reddit Gold.”
You were in aghast. Mr. John-Baptiste Augustin spilled his feelings like coffee. You couldn’t look him in his eyes. He spoke up again.
“I understand if you do not feel the same way about me. In no way am I forcing you to feel something you don’t. I just wanted to be honest. And I hope you can do the same. To speak honestly.”
“Bapperoni, I will be completely honest with you. Your arms look like they were chiseled out of marble. Your hair is good. Your eyes are massive. You have clothes. Your voice is penetrating. I could listen to it all day. I wish you would light me up. You’re my Immortality Field. You give my heart Exo Boots. And your touch”- you slid his hands around your body -”I could have sworn you were the one with electric powers. Because every time we touch, I get this feeling.”
You guided his right hand over your heart (I mean like over your chest it would be kinda weird if he touched your heart directly).
“Ah… (Y/N)...” He chewed on your ear like a little tiny rat. “(Y/N), I love you.”
“Mmh… I love you, Jean-Baptiste Polnareff.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “But-”
He sat up in alarm and pulled away from you. “But what?”
“But… I am afraid that… I am white. I don’t think you want a white person like me in your life.”
“(Y/N), I still love you, even if you are white.”
“You don’t understand! I- I’m a stupid honky-”
Baptis grabbed your head roughly to look at you directly in the eyes. He growled in a low voice. “You are MY cracker. nobody elses.” He looks at you lovingly in the eyes. “MY CRACKER. my mayo monkey. my parchment paper. nobody else’s. my itty bitty cracker shitty.” He put his mouth to yours and made out with you.
You enthusiastically kissed back.
And it was electric.
.
.
.
.
…
“(Y/N), would you still love me even if i got nerfed??”
“Yes, Baptise”
“Good bc i just got nerfed again”