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It starts, like most things in Jack’s life, with a battle. One moment he’s sitting in his office, reviewing next year’s budget, the next he’s flying through the air in a transport with a bunch of new cadets who are more intimidated by the shine of his boots than the thought of enemy fire. It’s an odd thing to get used to, even after all the year’s he’s had the title of Strike Commander before his last name.
Awe and admiration don’t sit well on his shoulders. Back before Overwatch, admiration only came when somebody was trying to get into his pants. Nowadays, people are more likely to try getting in his head, always vying for notice or favors.
He’s a little distracted when he goes into battle. He doesn’t like the way the latest recruits bow and scrape to him, thinks it might be good to put a bit more structure into the recruitment program. Starry eyes don’t recognize danger like they should. Neither do distracted ones, but it’s been a long time since a level five security alert has done anything but irritate him.
Which is why he finds himself camping out on a ledge, waiting for the Red Lightning Gang to give up on their hideout and surrender. The green recruits are getting antsy, but they won’t move until he gives the go ahead. They’ve got at least that much sense.
The gentle tug of something on his pants has Jack’s focus snapping instantly to his right. His rifle is pointed even before his visor finishes getting a read on the situation. It’s been a long time since anyone was silent enough to sneak up on him.
And it looks like it’s going to be a longer time before he breaks that record because there’s a cat standing on the ledge beside him. It’s scrawny, almost skeletal. He half wonders if its weight is why he didn’t notice it approaching. Too light on its paws, even for a cat.
But it’s definitely a cat and not some sort of advanced machine. His visor is reading its heat signature, and it keeps batting at the place where his boots end and his pants begin. He doubts somebody making an artificial spying machine would put in the effort to duplicate the fascination cats have with shiny things.
“Hey,” he says, keeping his voice low. There isn’t a need for complete silence. The targets already know that Overwatch has them surrounded. Even if Jack does attract attention, he’s not going to be the one losing a fight.
The cat looks up at him, staring in a way that only cats and Gabriel Reyes do. It’s like they’re seeing some mystical world instead of what’s directly before them, and judging him for not seeing it too. Jack wonders why he likes that look, wonders why he doesn’t object when the small cat decides his continuing immobility means that his shoulders are the perfect place to take a nap.
~~~~~~~~~
Gabriel comes home in the middle of the night. It isn’t the message saying that they need to talk that Jack sent him earlier in the week that causes his early arrival. They long ago agreed that they shouldn’t distract each other with serious conversations while one of them is on a serious op. Jack might have been spending his days babysitting kiddies, but Gabriel has been neck deep in a partisan rebellion for over three months.
That’s a long time to go without sleeping in his own bed. It’s an even longer time to go without getting a little affection from his lover. Just the thought of curling up next to Jack’s warm body, waking up in the morning to kisses, and getting off to something other than memories has him pulling a few strings to get home early.
The last thing he expects when he sneaks in through the front door is an unmistakable hissing sound. Even though he’s bone tired, he can easily spot the reflective glow of a cat’s eyes underneath the bench Jack insists they keep in the entry way in case somebody needs to sit down.
Gabriel’s first thought is that Jack has agreed to babysit somebody’s cat. Jack has been known to do things like that before. His second is that it sneaked in when Jack had the door open. Maybe it’s the neighbor’s.
He tries to step closer to it, and is rewarded with a threatening yowl, a yowl that wakes Jack up if the muffled thud from the bedroom is any indication. Sure enough, not ten seconds later, and Jack is standing before Gabriel for the first time in months.
Sleep pants are hanging low on his waist, hips just barely keeping them on his body. Blonde hair is tussled in a way that not even gossip rags could call sexy. A pulse rifle is cradled dangerously in familiar hands.
It’s the best sight Gabriel has seen in weeks.
“Gabe?” Jack asks, voice rough with sleep. It’s close enough to how Jack sounds after giving a blow job that Gabriel’s dick twitches.
The damn cat hisses again as it slinks out from its hiding place to cower behind Jack’s legs.
It’s young, that much is obvious. It also has a missing ear and looks one meal away from death. With a sinking feeling, Gabriel realizes that Jack definitely isn’t watching the cat for anyone. Their house is in an affluent neighborhood where their neighbors are the kind of people with summer homes. There’s no way it’s the neighbor’s cat either.
“What is that?” Gabriel hears himself asking as Jack moves to prop his rifle up against the nearby wall. The cat follows after him shooting suspicious looks in Gabriel’s direction.
A fond smile tugs at Jack’s lips as he looks down at the cat. A split second later, it’s curled in Jack’s arms. With Jack’s chest as a backdrop, the thing looks even tinier. “This is Miss Jellybean,” he says fondly.
“No,” is the word that comes out of Gabriel’s mouth in reply. It’s a denial and a plea all at once. Jack has named it. NAMED it.
Sure enough, a frown takes over Jack’s face a second later. It isn’t even his “I’m disappointed in you” frown that he gives people like Jesse McCree. It’s the frown that only Gabriel gets right before they’re about to get into a fight.
“You can’t name it Jellybean, Jack,” Gabriel says quickly. He knows when he won’t win a fight, especially when his opponent is Jack. He also still wants to get a little sugar from his boyfriend, and that isn’t going to happen if they have a fight over keeping the stray Jack brought home.
Thankfully, Jack falls for Gabriel’s misleading statement.
“But look at her toes!” Jack exclaims as he holds a tiny, impossibly fine boned paw up for inspection. The cat doesn’t seem to care that Jack is showing her off if the tiny purrs rattling her whole body are any indication. “They’re perfect little bean toes! And, and she has these spots on her belly that look like little jellybeans too.”
“It’s still a ridiculous name,” Gabriel says as he leans in to steal a kiss. The cat swats at him. She’s about as strong as a leaf, so she doesn’t do much damage. It’s still annoying.
“Bad Jellybean,” Jack chides as he sets her down on the floor. He gives Gabriel a kiss on his cheek, soothing the ‘injury’ before giving him another one on the lips that says he is looking forward to getting horizontal as much as Gabriel was.
“You’re going to love each other,” Jack promises as he starts dragging Gabriel to the bedroom. Gabriel agrees because his dick is doing all his thinking for him.
~~~~~~~
Miss Jellybean and Gabe don’t get along at all. Gabe complains that she leaves gray hairs on his clothes. Jelly complains about Gabe’s existence. Gabe whines about the way she stares at him. Jelly pushes Gabe’s coffee cup off the counter.
Jack is fairly certain their mutual dislike comes from the fact that they’re nearly identical in temperament. The only difference is that Jelly wasted no time in destroying the vase that Jack knows Gabe has hated for years.
Stupid is something Jack isn’t. He knows Gabe doesn’t like Jellybean. He also knows that he can’t force anyone on the planet to be friends with each other. It’s enough for him that Gabe doesn’t demand Jack get rid of Jelly. And, well, it might be for the best that they don’t get along. He isn’t certain what would happen to his paper weight collection if the two of them joined forces.
“You two don’t have to get along,” Jack coos as Jelly rolls on her back, showing off her belly to him. She’s such a trusting, loving cat when Gabe isn’t around that it’s almost comical. Jack wonders if maybe Gabe reminds her of the person who took off her ear, and that’s why she hates him.
“Mew,” Jelly replies. It’s a tiny little wail as she rolls to her feet. An underfed beginning means she isn’t going to grow into a large cat. Malnutrition does that. But as long as Jack is around, she’s going to have the best life ever.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Look, cat,” Gabriel says as he stares at the bottom of the easy chair. He hopes she’s under there at least. The damn thing gets slippery as all fuck when Jack isn’t home. “You’re going to have to quit hiding sooner or later. Jack is going to have my head if I don’t get you to your vet appointment.”
Normally, Jack going away on a mission isn’t too big of a problem. Gabriel sets out food, fills the water dish, and changes the cat litter. Jellybean uses all three items whenever he’s not looking. Of course she also makes a nest on all his black clothing, but he’s used to dealing with ingrates after bringing McCree into the Overwatch fold.
But Jack is off in Norway, soothing over ruffled feathers because of an incident between an Omnic dignitary and an Overwatch lieutenant who didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. Gabriel knows Jack is going to come home in a foul mood, his smiles and easy going charm wasted on reporters and the good of Overwatch’s image.
The last thing Gabriel needs to do is mess up Jelly’s vet appointment. Jack is particular about it, doesn’t want his precious cat getting sick. Rescheduling is not worth the hassle it will cause. It isn’t worth the disappointment that will flicker ever so slightly across his features before he lies and says, “It’s no big deal.”
Two hours and an adhesive bandage later, Gabriel returns home with Jack’s cat only to discover that she left gifts inside her carrier for him. He cleans out the carrier because there is nobody else to do it, and he’s too proud to make one of his Blackwatch lackeys do it. He doesn’t need that sort of gossip going around.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jack takes Gabe out on a date to the local grocery store. It isn’t exactly fancy as far as dates go, but there is a vague promise of ice cream involved. Their lives are hectic. They spend so much time in exotic locals that doing something mundane appeals to them.
It’s a nice day, so nice that Gabe doesn’t complain when Jack makes him pick out a toy for Jellybean. In return, Jack doesn’t complain when Gabe tosses more lint rollers in the cart than absolutely necessary. The Omnic cashier doesn’t even blink as he starts ringing up their purchase. That’s the nice thing about Omnics, Jack thinks. Even if they’re judging you, you’ll never know about it.
He’s handing over his credit chip, ignoring the smirk on Gabe’s face when the cashier asks for his ID like his face isn’t plastered on a recruiting poster fifteen feet away, when he sees Gabriel sprint out the door like the world is coming to an end. It’s instinct to go after him. The cashier doesn’t even protest as they both leave. Whether because of apathy or because they’re prominent members of Overwatch, Jack doesn’t know.
It doesn’t take long to catch up to Gabe. SEP variations mean that Jack will forever be faster than him, and sometimes that comes in handy. Today, it earns him the view of Gabriel weaving through traffic, clearly chasing something.
At first, Jack assumes it’s a criminal or otherwise dangerous person, but no. Gabriel is chasing a dog – a stray if the condition of its golden coat is anything to go by. Before Jack can reach either of them, Gabe has the dog on some sort of makeshift leash that looks like it’s made out of a scarf.
“Done playing hero?” Jack asks when the duo reaches him. He tries not to sound amused, but he thinks he fails.
“You’d have done the same thing,” Gabe defends himself.
“No, I wouldn’t have. Because I don’t carry a scarf with me everywhere I go,” Jack teases. “A habit I thought you swore you stopped.”
Gabriel tucks his head in embarrassment. “I can’t help it that I wasn’t born with antifreeze in my veins.”
“I’m from Indiana, Gabe, not Antarctica,” Jack says as he eyes the dog. It has its tail between its legs, but isn’t growl. It’s shaking, clearly frightened, but it doesn’t seem like it is going to turn aggressive. It looks like it’s a Golden Retriever based mic of some sort.
A glance upwards shows that Gabe is giving it a soft look that’s more affection than pity. Jack wants to say something about that look, but he knows his lover better than anyone else. Gabe will deny having any such feelings, and promptly bring up how Jack brought Jellybean home without any warning.
So instead of saying anything about Gabriel and the stray next to him, Jack says, “Why don’t you take Fido there to the car? I’ll go back and get the groceries. We can stop at the animal shelter on the way home.”
He knows full well that Gabe isn’t going to leave the dog at the shelter. The only thing that is going to part him from his newly acquired dog is if it already has an owner. Even then, Gabe will read the riot act to them about being a bad pet parent.
Jack knows how easily Gabe gets attached. It’s how Jesse McCree ended up in Overwatch. Hell, it’s how they ended up being a couple in the first place.
~~~~~~~~~~~
They end up taking the dog home with them because the animal shelter they stop at is full. Gabriel tries not to show his relief, but he’s fairly certain Jack notices it anyway. Paranoid, Jack drags them to the veterinary clinic and pays the emergency hours fees to make certain it won’t bring home any diseases to his precious Jellybean.
Gabriel barricades the dog in the spare bedroom to keep the two separated. Jellybean camps outside the door to said room, tail twitching. Occasionally, she lets out a little hiss that makes the dog bark. She’s so obsessed with the dog, that she doesn’t even glance in Gabriel’s direction.
He thinks maybe she has finally chosen a new nemesis. He’s wrong.
Four days later find him stumbling through the hallways, desperate for his morning coffee when it occurs to him that he forgot to lock the guest bedroom door the night before. A vision of Jack’s sad face flashes through his brain as he thinks about Miss Jellybean and how small she is compared to the dog they’ve been hosting.
The panic doesn’t last long. The dog is curled up on top of Jellybean’s cat bed, large form squashing the sides down. Jellybean is resting on top of him, getting her tongue stuck in the long strands of fur as she attempts grooming her apparent new friend.
“I think it’s a good thing nobody reported that dog missing,” Jack observes, far more lucid than any man should be after rolling out of bed so early in the morning.
Gabriel wants to protest. He wants to point out that they’re very busy men with jobs that will keep them from always being home. But he also knows that Jack already pays for a pet sitter to be with Jellybean when they’re both gone. Jack has totally gotten attached to the dog. It figures.
“I get to name him if we’re keeping him,” Gabriel says.
“You cannot name him Death Blossom,” Jack says automatically as he walks away, no doubt heading to the kitchen to get the coffee that has steadily been brewing since Gabriel got up. Modern technology is at its finest when it comes to helping hard working commanders awake.
“For the last time, it was a joke,” Gabe complains as he trails after him.
Jack pulls a couple of cups down from the cupboard. “It was not a joke. Don’t think I’m clueless as to what goes on in Blackwatch, Gabe. I know what you call the maneuver when you’re teaching it to your agents. I also know that you like to chant, ‘Die! Die! Die!’ while doing it. You are not assigning a Hot Topic name to your dog.”
“Our dog,” Gabriel corrects, “and McCree is going to be running laps for days for telling you all that.”
“You’re the one that rescued him, not me,” Jack says.
“The dog or McCree?” Gabriel asks.
Jack gives him a smile and arches his eyebrows. “Yes.”
“Fine. I’ll just call the dog…”
“If you say, ‘Jack’ you’re not ever getting a blow job ever again,” Jack interrupts without looking at him.
“If you’re just going to veto all my suggestions, why make me name it?” Gabriel asks.
“I named my cat. It’s only fair you name your dog.”
“Fine. Mr. Flufflebottoms,” Gabriel challenges. His dog. What a notion! Just because he bought all new dog toys and expensive pet food for it doesn’t mean it’s his dog.
“Sounds good to me,” Jack says as he pours the coffee into their mugs.
“Don’t be a jerk,” Gabriel growls.
“I thought you didn’t want me vetoing your suggestions?” Jack says with an air of innocence that is utterly faked.
Gabriel would growl again, but Jack is pushing a cup of coffee into his hands. The siren song of its smell distracts him. It distracts him so well that his brain doesn’t register the gentle tug on his sleep pants until the tug turns into a light thump.
He glances down to see Miss Jellybean in all her one eared, foul tempered glory, bumping her head against his leg. Unfortunately for him, Jack notices at the exact same time and utters a soft, “Aww.” Jellybean stops what she’s doing to give Gabriel a glare that clearly says, “Don’t get used to this, human,” before running over to rub against Jack’s bare legs in a ploy for cat treats.
“Are you making friends?” Jack asks the cat as he obeys her commands like a puppet.
Gabriel rolls his eyes and takes another sip of his coffee. “If only those shiny new recruits could see you now. Strike Commander Morrison, falling for the simple ploys of a cat. You’d lose all credibility. Sometimes I wonder how you ever made it in the military with such a…”
A piece of toast gets slapped over his mouth. “Gabe,” Jack says with an almost fond tone, “if you keep talking, I’m going to have to show you exactly how I ended up in the military.”
Gabriel wiggles his eyebrows and pulls the toast out of the way. “That sounds like an interesting proposition,” he says with as much meaning as he can force into the words. He’s sure he doesn’t look the greatest. Bread crumbs are stuck to his face and likely in his beard as well. His pajamas are faded and mismatched because he hates shopping for them. But he’s successfully propositioned Jack when he’s looked worse.
There’s a slight gleam of interest that flashes in Jack’s eyes. It’s there and gone, but Gabe knows the signs of a successful seduction when he sees them. Sometimes it is ridiculously easy to get in Jack’s pants… or lack of pants as the case may be.
Living with each other hasn’t always been the easiest task. Gabriel doubts anyone is ever truly prepared to move in with another person. Still, their first big fight was about the temperature the thermostat was set at. Gabriel is always cold. Jack is always hot. Their enduring solution is to set the house temperature at a degree that neither of them prefer and dress to offset it.
The result being that Jack is forever trying to wear as little as possible while Gabriel is always trying to figure out how to put on more layers without looking like he’s going on a polar expedition. Not that he’s one to complain. He by far has the better end of their arrangement. It’s not like watching Jack wander around in nothing but a pair of shorts is a hardship.
Jack, on the other hand, gets to look at an impressive array of men’s pajamas and hoodies. Although, Gabriel figures Jack has developed something of an appreciation for the look. He never complains, and always seems eager enough to help Gabriel out of them.
But Gabriel doesn’t need to be thinking about clothing, cats, or dogs because Jack is dragging him back to the bedroom they just left. Urgent hands are tugging at the hem of his shirt, trying to get him naked before they reach the bed. Blood is rushing south, and he blames that for the thought that pops into his head.
He is going to name the dog Vizzy. And someday, down the road, he’s going to let Jack know that Vizzy is short for Tactical Visor.