Chapter Text
Big.
That was the first thought that sped through Junkrat's mind like electricity as he was forced to be face to face with pig-shaped leather.
Jamison Fawkes wasn't a short fellow. Towering at over 6 feet he loved to see people's reactions as he stood up from his normal bad posture to be about a head or so taller than they were. But this was different.
Junkrat was being held over a foot off the ground by bolder-sized hands and steel-pipe fingers. Looking into the face of, for most, death itself.
Very Big, was Jamison's second thought.
"Hooley Dooley mate. Yer fuckin' massive!" he exclaimed.
That was when Junkrat learned the first rule of Roadhog. The big guy does NOT like someone poking his belly.
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It was a couple months after their first meeting and a few firefights into their partnership. Roadhog was a real scrapper in a fight and the first time Junkrat heard him laugh as he blew the noggin off a cock-faced idiot actually made Junkrat pause and stare.
Big.
A big laugh for a big fellow. Junkrat could only giggle and vibrate where he stood as he listened to that thick, throaty laughter while Roadie slaughtered his way through a whole pack of junkers.
Big and Strong, was Junkrat's next thought as he watched his bodyguard toss that anchor of a hook clear across the field and snag a runner, dragging the man back with enough force to snap his spine and render him in two. The scream and shower of blood and guts were beautiful. Like poetry in motion! Or some shit like that.
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First night on the run outside their home of the Wasteland. The two managed to snag a good boat, courteousy of a strategically placed scrapgun to the back of the owner's skull.
Now though, they were on land once more and camping out in an abandoned building on the skirt tails of civilization. They planned a heist the next day. A right big one.
Junkrat wouldn't shut up about it. Even when Roadhog lobbed a broken piece of masonry at him. But the nights here weren't like back home. No warm layer of smog to hold in the heat of the day. So with night came cold. A strange sensation Junkrat wasn't familiar with as he curled up and tried to sleep while fighting off the shivers.
Big.
He thought, as two tree trunk arms wrapped themselves around his trembling form and pulled him close into a squishy pot-belly.
Big and Warm, was his next thought. A feeling of safety. despite knowing that Roadie could easily snap his neck, spine, every bone actually, with just a flex of those thick muscles.
Junkrat kept his eyes closed, not daring to open them for fear of breaking the odd dream he was in. It was too comfortable to try.
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It had been a couple of years now. Overwatch had recruited them both and he and Roadhog were legit workers now!
Sort of.
Sitting out on a balcony of the base with his peg and good leg hanging off the edge and kicking, Junkrat watched the sunrise. It was a lot easier to see outside Australia. No strange mutated creatures or scrap and smog to cover it. Junkrat even hummed his favorite little tune.
Big.
He thought as heavy thuds and a rustle of chains met his ears right before his partner flopped down next to him, letting his thick legs hang over the edge with Junkrat's own.
Both sat in silence, a rare thing for Junkrat. There was a soft warmth that engulfed the whole of Junkrat's hand after a few quiet moments. Junkrat didn't even have to look down to know what it was. Hog's hand over his.
Jamison smiled, for once an expression without mania or crazed light.
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Roadhog had done it since they first met. Since he pulled that scrappy rat out of the junk piles and took him for a ride.
Since orange eyes met reflective mask lenses.
Mako was the only one. He was the only one that could make Jamison feel all these things.
Big. Strong. Warm.
Jamison felt all of these explode within his chest like his favorite riptire.
Roadhog. Mako.
Big.