Work Text:
"Jack!! There you are, my friend!!" A familiar German voice exclaims, followed by the sound of Overwatch's resident crusader charging down the hall to scoop the Strike Commander into a crushing hug.
Jack turns around just in time to see Reinhardt's giant arms envelop him, forcing the air from his lungs as he's spun around like a stuffed animal.
"Happy Birthday, Jack!! You are getting old!!"
He smacks Reinhardt's shoulder a few times, begging to be let down.
"Haha!! My apologies!!" Reinhardt booms, carefully setting the Strike Commander back on the ground, leaving him gasping for breath for a moment before straightening his trench coat.
"I'm only forty."
"Yes, and *I* am only forty-five!! You'll be grey soon!!" Reinhardt insists, ruffling Jack's golden hair.
"Don't tell me that, Wilhelm. I have at least another few years. I'm a supersoldier, remember?"
"How could we forget?" Another accent, just as strong. Swedish... "You never shut up about it!"
"Torbjörn!!" Reinhardt yells excitedly. "You made it!!"
"It isn't that far of a walk, Wilhelm!"
"I didn't know if you could cover all that ground!!" Reinhardt laughs loudly. "Your legs are so short!!"
"Perfect size to get your knees!" Torbjörn barks, pulling his hammer from his belt, "Stand still!"
Jack rolls his eyes at his old teammates' antics, chuckling as he continues toward the cafeteria, bracing himself for all of the attention.
Why did Angela have to insist on having a party when he still had so much *work* to do? He groans to himself.
When he walks through the cafeteria doors, he's greeted with streamers, balloons, and a giant banner reading "HAPPY BIRTHDAY STRIKE COMMANDER".
Admittedly, it brings a warm smile to his face as he begins to mingle.
Ana, Vivian, Angela, Mina, Emre, Torbjörn, Reinhardt, and eventually even Gabriel (along with some other branch leaders, he supposes) gathered to celebrate Jack's birthday.
Reinhardt wasn't wrong, they were all aging, but at least he'd be among friends.
--
Soldier: 76 knocks back another drink despite knowing he won't feel so much as a buzz. It doesn't even taste good.
Another year alone, this one harder than the others, owing partly to Ana's birthday letter that made it impossible to let the day pass like any other.
The aching emptiness in his heart grows with each passing moment, threatening to consume him entirely. He should have held on tighter—or maybe he held on *too* tight.
He definitely did something wrong.
Somehow, he'd made Ana feel like the world was better off without her.
Somehow, he'd made the *world* feel like it was better off without Overwatch.
Somehow, he'd made Reyes—
Jack shakes his head, trying to clear the image of his ex-partner from his mind.
The truce they'd had a few weeks ago dissolved the moment Talon needed Reaper back in the field, saying only "next time." before donning his mask and evaporating into smoke again, leaving Jack to trek back to his safehouse alone.
His mind wanders back to their time together, both personally and professionally—not that Gabe was in the business of acting professional unless the UN was watching. Jack can't count the times his partner had barged into his office with a demand, complaint, piece of intel, or mildly amusing video that definitely could have waited until Gabriel inevitably dragged Jack away from his work.
He closes his eyes to indulge in the memory of the hijinks Reyes got them into and adventures they had when Gabe refused to let Jack spend another second losing his mind to paperwork.
He jolts to awareness when he hears movement in the room, immediately grabbing his rifle and visor. "Show yourself!" Jack demands, weapon raised.
By the time the chill in the room registers, it's too late.
Something grabs him from behind, pitch black claws curling around his head to cover his mouth .
"Surprise." Reaper grunts as Jack tries to pry his hands away from his face. "You gonna freak out if I let you go?" He rasps.
Jack shakes his head.
When Reaper releases the other man from his claws, his next immediate action is to smack Jack's hands away from his pulse rifle when he reaches for it.
"Dickhead. I knew you were gonna do that."
"Can you blame me?!" Jack demands, turning to face Gabriel. This isn't Reaper. It's just Gabe.
"Doesn't make it less rude, Jack."
"What the Hell are you doing here? How did you even find me?"
"Oh, so you get to ambush me on my birthday, but when I do it to you..."
"Just say 'happy birthday' and get out."
"Nah." Gabriel laughs, pushing Jack back onto the couch. The way Jack goes flush isn't lost on his undead companion. "Don't look at me like that, Jack."
"What am I supposed to assume?!"
"You have no idea what shape the rest of my body is in—and I'm not going to show you. Not right now." Gabe says firmly as he removes his mask and pushes down his hood.
"Moira really did a number on you, huh?" He murmurs as he removes his visor and sets it down.
"I don't want your pity."
"Not my fault that you're so pathetic."
Reaper growls, anger briefly flickering through his expression before he manages to quell it again. "Just for that, you're not getting your present."
"Hey—! At least tell me what it is!"
"Why? So you can decide if it's worth fighting me for?"
"So I can decide if it's worth faking an apology."
Gabe rolls his eyes before producing a brown paper bag, almost dripping with grease.
It smells heavenly.
"I haven't had an actual meal in days, give me that."
"Nuh-uh. Apologize first."
"Fine. I'm sorry for calling you pathetic, you're not pathetic, you're just an asshole."
"Even your fake apologies suck." Gabriel scoffs, tossing Jack the bag. "Eat."
Jack tears into the bag, digging out a burger and fries, which he promptly devours.
"I should've poisoned it. You know, to say 'happy birthday'."
"Maybe, yeah."
Gabe raises an eyebrow, but decides not to press. Jack isn't his problem anymore.
He wishes he could believe that. "You gonna thank me?"
"You turned me onto these things," Jack protests, taking a bite of the burger, a sip of his drink, and then eating a handful of fries, "I think we're even."
Gabriel huffs, falling back onto the couch beside Jack.
"You never answered my question."
"Be more specific."
"How did you find me?"
"Oh." He shrugs, "Sombra owed me a favor."
"...funny, that's how I found you last month." Jack pauses. "Is she trying to—?"
"Probably."
"What do you think?"
"We're not even done trying to kill each other, we're not getting back together."
"Yeah, yeah, that's fair..." He sighs.
"You almost sound disappointed."
"God forbid I prefer having you with me instead of against me." Jack huffs, "What did Talon even have you do when you had to leave?"
"You never liked the gorey details before, don't pry now."
"Then what are we supposed to talk about??"
"I'm comfortable being silent. You should try it sometime."
"Asshole."
"Shithead."
They sit quietly while Jack finishes his food, and for a few minutes after he tosses the wrappers and bags and washes his hands.
"Gabe?" He asks, breaking the silence as he sits back down.
"What now?"
"Do you ever miss this? Miss us?"
Reaper turns away, refusing to answer.
Jack sighs, nudging Gabriel with his head. "Yeah. Me too."
"Happy Birthday, boyscout." Gabe murmurs, headbutting Jack in return, "We can talk tomorrow. Get some sleep."