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To say the insulation of the small apartment left much to be desired was an understatement. Also, it wasn’t Mako Rutledge’s style. The walls were shitty and the winter in London was fucking cold. Yes, that was more like it.
He moved his masses around, wrapping the duvet tighter around him. At least, these English knew a thing or two about beds. This piece of furniture in question came with a strong steel frame and probably enough pillows and blankets to match Mako’s weight. Very farsighted from their landlord, Mako almost felt bad for knocking him out hard enough to send him into a coma for a week or two. He made a mental note to leave the poor man some money after all, given that Jamison didn’t cause any other unexpected expenses. Which was, unfortunately, one of the few things he could always expect from his partner.
Drunk with sleep, Mako reached for Jamie, but his fingers grabbed nothing but a cold, small pillow. He opened his tired eyes and a jolt colder than the room woke him up. The place next to him was empty.
“Fuck. I swear to God, Fawkes, it hasn’t been-” He looked at the clock on the nightstand. Almost seven in the morning, “It hasn’t been twelve hours. If something’s blown up I’m gonna… I’m gonna…” Freeze. His feet landed on the wooden floor as he jumped out of the bed. “Dammit.” When the world had still been normal and when he had still been nothing but a family man, he had sworn he wouldn’t buy slippers before his seventieth birthday. But that had been in Australia, the land of reasonable warmth, and not a windy, freezing hellhole like this, maybe forty-something wasn’t too young after all.
He seized his sweater from a pile of clothes and pulled it over on his way out of the bedroom.
“Jamie!” Mako stopped in his track, sighing with relief. He didn’t have to expect the police knocking at his door, there was no reason to prepare an escape or figure out how to break Jamie out of jail. There he was, the mighty Junkrat, wanted terrorist and a walking dispenser of mischief, pressing his face flat against the window in the living room. Without his prostheses, he was balancing on one leg, his hand pressed against the window for support.
“Don’t break your nose, Rat.” He grabbed one of Jamie’s strands of hair and pulled him away from the window. Mako used to groan with resignation when Jamie insisted on calling himself Junkrat but he had to admit, it fitted him. With the wide grin and the sparkling eyes in his narrow, sharp-featured face, Jamie indeed reminded him of one of these smart, cheeky rodents. A smart, cheeky rodent in his early twenties, missing half of his limbs and hair.
“Hoggy! Look! Look!” Giggling with excitement, Jamie turned back at the window, slamming his remaining hand against the glass. Mako looked. And sighed again. No wonder he was so cold.
“That’s snow, Jamie.”
“Bloody brilliant, Sherhog Holmes, ‘course it is.” Jamie slurred his words until they were a tangled mess, and a warning for Mako - when Jamie talked like this, he was growing impatient. When Jamie got impatient, a countdown was ticking until he started the next trouble. Although, there was a good chance that the shivering was due to the cold.
“Thought you didn’t know.” He picked a woolen blanket from the couch and draped it around Jamie’s bare shoulders. “Here. You’re freezing.”
“Thanks, mate.” Jamie sat down on the window sill, wrapped the blanket around him and huddled into it until he looked almost half as small as he really was. “Sure I know snow. Whaddya think I am, some country bum?”
Mako chose to resist the temptation. He remained silent as he looked outside. He hadn’t picked this apartment because of the pretty view. The window faced the path to the backyard and the next building was only a few feet away, crates and trash cans piled up against its wall. Gray in gray in gray, fitting to the sky when they arrived in London yesterday. But the stories he had heard were true. Snow possessed its own magic and used it to cover the ugly world with a beautiful blanket, creating an illusion of innocence and coziness.
“I saw a movie when I was a kid. One of these Christmas movies. I bugged me mom about snow and winter until she had enough and bought me the movie. Watched a dozen times a day.” He laughed and Mako felt the mood shifting. With all the chuckles, giggles, sneering, hysterical shrieking, it was Jamie’s mellow little laughter he found hard to handle.
“Sometimes I’d get outside ‘n roll ‘round in the sand, pretending it was snow. Worked sometimes. Building snowmen didn’t. Mom scolded me for draggin’ the sand all over the house.” Jamie sighed. “Yeah. She would. At least can’t drag snow all over her house, now, can I?”
“Whatever.” With a harsh sneer, he brushed the guilt off. Yes, people had died, so what? It wasn’t like he had planned to blow up the whole Outback. Anyway, it had been almost two decades since, time to let go and move on. Which was fucking difficult with Jamison digging out stupid old stories all the time. “Why are you awake anyway? What’s with your jet lag?” he called over his shoulder while he stomped into the narrow kitchen. Swearing the English for building kitchen without having men of a stately shape in mind, he knocked his back against the corner of the sink on his search for coffee.
“It’s alive ‘n kicking but I had to take a piss!” Jamie yelled back, louder than necessary. “Started to snow on my way back. Had to have a gander.” The last part was muffled, Mako suspected he was pressing his face against the window again.
“How long have you been standing there?” Rubbing the hurting spot on his back, he left the kitchen. Cups, dozens of cups and a dead bug, but no coffee. The snow was at least three inches high, he doubted it took less than half an hour to reach this height since it started.
“Dunno. Long enough? Is there food?”
“No. I’m getting some. YOU stay here.” He returned to the bedroom for his pants and socks. Fortunately, he had thought of buying warm clothes before they left Australia.
“Why! I wanna go with you! Why should you have all the fun alone?”
Mako rolled his eyes. Fucking Rat, was he making it difficult on purpose?
“Because I’m not gonna carry you around when I’m buying breakfast. We’ve just arrived, no need to draw attention on our first day.” He put on the long, dark coat and closed it in front of his massive chest. The mirror confirmed his thoughts. He was looking great. The clothes had cost a small fortune as they were difficult to find in his size, but they were worth it. The weather in this country was shit but he could get used to the look of a gentleman. He stroke over his stubbly chin. Almost a gentleman.
“It’s not like it’s my fault me leg ‘n arm are missing. Wasn’t my idea to stuff them into a fucking suitcase.”
Oh, for fuck's sake!
“Shut up! Don’t you dare to blame me!” His steps thundered along his words as he stormed back into the living room. “It’s not my fucking fault they lost your suitcase and it’s not my fucking fault we had to fool the airport security. If you hadn’t lost your bloody limbs in the first place we…” Fuck. This fucking Rat had a gift of pressing Mako’s wrong buttons. Years! He had dealt with the criminal and the corrupt for years without losing his temper and then, Jamie had to tag along.
“Just shut up.” He turned around and headed to the bathroom, slamming the door shut between himself and the sad, apologetic smile.
“Dumb Rat. Can’t you get angry like a sane man?” He growled at his reflection. “Instead of blaming yourself?” When the truth was and would always be that his last heroic deed as Mako Rutledge was to blame, the few bombs that changed his identity, killed half of the Outback’s population. And mutilated one certain blond boy.
Before Mako had become Roadhog, he believed in the truth. Today, he feared what kind of smile Jamie would give him if he learned these truths.
He opened the mirror cabinet and found a shaving bag with hardly used utensils. But before making use of it, he peeled himself out of his clothes, threw them over the sink and climbed into the shower. Shivering, he cursed when the cold water soaked him. Once he was back, he had to figure out how the heating in this dump worked.
*
“I’m going out.”
“Yeah, getting breakfa- oh!” Jamie turned around when Mako came out of the bathroom. “You look good! And you’ve shaved…”
Of course he did. A working hairdryer probably had saved him from catching the first cold of his life. Also, it had turned greasy strands in a shining mane that he’d tamed into a silver ponytail. He felt his smooth chin. Now he really looked like a gentleman and nobody would assume he had ever been something else. Clean and clad in expensive garments, he not only had the air of an owner of a successful factory complex. Standing tall with over 2 meters in height and his impressive girth, he was a walking factory complex. Many others of his size would have looked like a fat boar stuffed into human clothes, but he wore every gram with pride and moved with dignity, showing the world he was indeed a one-man apocalypse, a breathing tower of power and strengths.
No wonder that Jamie - despite close to two meters himself - looked so fragile in comparison. Proud, yes, that he was, but beyond that, he was a jittery, twitchy twig always on a quest to prove himself as the hero of his own story. With mixed results.
“You have a problem with it?” Mako walked past Jamie. The cold shower had drowned most of the accusing voices whispering in his mind but he still wasn’t in the mood for seeing Jamie wiggle on his seat, staring at him with glowing eyes.
“Nah! Luv it. Bet the ladies gonna luv it, too!”
Shut. Up!
“Stick your jealousy up your ass!” he grunted. “Gonna be late. Don’t move an inch, or else!”
“But I’m-”
Mako shut the door, embracing the harsh wind that howled through the quiet street.
*
It was way after noon when he returned, although it was hard to tell. They sun refused to show herself and the thick, gray clouds had made themselves comfortable all across the sky. It had never brightened since he had left and it was still snowing.
He shook his feet and brushed the snow off his shoulders.
“Jamie?” He opened the door and knew it. Jamie wasn’t there. Not just because he wasn’t greeted with chatter. Jamie could be fast asleep, yet, he’d be there. If he wasn’t, the air was quiet.
Mako put down the luggage he was carrying, among it, several bags holding groceries and baked goods that emitted a delicious, savory scent. Hoping against hope, Mako rushed into bedroom, bathroom, even the kitchen.
Back in the living room, he began to worry. Jamie wouldn’t run away because he felt hurt. He wasn’t one to hold grudges and he loved Mako’s company too much. The idiot had told him and he was a horrible liar. In return, Mako was a horrible partner and as long as Jamie was fine and hadn’t finally deserted Mako’s pathetic fat ass, he promised he’d treat him better. After all, that had been his resolution once the fresh air had sobered him up. Jamie could be exhausting and caused problems often enough, but this time, every time when Mako lost his temper, he hadn’t done anything wrong.
He was on his way back outside when he noticed a small piece of paper on the floor. He picked it up, wondering if Jamie had dropped it there on purpose or if he had brushed it off where ever it had been lying on his frantic search for his partner.
The squiggly and scrawly letters were difficult to decipher. It was astonishing how Jamie had mastered writing with his artificial right hand but still had trouble with his real, non-dominant one.
Hide and seek! Find me! ♥
Mako crumbled the note in his hand and inhaled sharply against the lump in his throat. Stupid Rat, never one to bear a grudge against a stupid pig.
He didn’t waste more time inside. After wading through the snow for hours, the novelty had worn off quickly for Mako but Jamie was a different caliber. Once something fascinated him it took at least one medium catastrophe to derail his attention. Following his trail wouldn’t have been difficult at home - one footprint hoping forwards was unique enough - but the snow had covered all traces.
Once on his way to the backyard, he took a look at the window to their living room, almost expecting Jamie pressing his nose flat again and giggling like a hyena at the success of his prank.
But the spot was empty.
Mako turned around and was hit square in the face.
At once, he reached for his gun, remembering he left without any weapon as he ducked for cover behind a trashcan.
Wiping his face to gain clear vision, he realized it wasn’t blood that wet his face. It was snow.
And from behind a crate, Jamie emerged, swaying on one leg, a snowball ready in his hand.
“Jamison Fawkes!”
“Ya face! Ya shudda look at ya face!” Shaken by giggles, he had to cling to the nearby gutter to keep his balance. “Oh.” The chuckles stopped for a sad moment when he realized he had dropped the snowball, lost it forever. The grief didn’t last long.
“Ah, never mind! Got a dozen of ‘em here! Wanna fight me, Hogster?”
“I should stuff you into the snow. Headfirst!” But his grin betrayed his harsh threat.
“Sorry, mate. Always wanted to do that. Wait until I figured out how to make them explodey!” Jamie leaned against the wall, holding his right stump at an angle as though was crossing both arms in front of his chest. “Explosive snowballs. We can use them next time we rob a bank. They’ll never know what hit them. Hit! Get it?” The next fit of laughter took hold of him while he rubbed his remaining upper arm. It was Mako who got hit, by a sudden realization.
“Dammit, Jamie! Could you live through a day without trying to get yourself killed? You could at least have put on your traveling clothes!” He pulled off his coat as he sprinted down the alley and threw it over Jamie, wrapping him up tightly. Dammit, the fool wasn’t even wearing a sock.
“Oh, nice!” Jamie almost disappeared, Mako’s coat was big enough for two or three of him. “Smells like you.” He buried his face in the fabric and let Mako pick him up without any protest.
“Fool,” Mako grunted while the shivering bundle huddled against his chest.
“So warm! See, it was all worth it! Hey, hey, where do you think ya going, ya hog!”
“Back inside.”
“No no no, not yet! I gotta show you something. Please, Mako!” Pulling at Mako’s sweater, he gazed up at him with wide, begging eyes.
“What have you done and how much does it cost us?” He didn’t bother arguing. Jamie was shivering, his lips were of an unhealthy blue color and he could feel his cold body through the layers of fabric between them. Jamie needed to get inside, away from the snow that was still dancing in the wind. But when Jamie called him by his name, he was serious about whatever it was this time.
“Cost us? Nothing! It’s gonna give ya something!”
“A working heating?”
“Better. A smile!” Jamie’s limbs wiggled as he cried out the priceless reward.
“You sound like a bloody kookaburra when you laugh like this.” Which was enough to make him smile. Now he was curious what could have put his yappy chatterbox into such a happy mood.
“Hurry, to the yard! Before it’s gone!”
Gone? He followed the alley around the next corner, his boots sinking deep into the snow. The other apartments seemed to be empty during the day. There was no other soul and away from the streets, they didn’t hear the traffic. There were only Mako’s huffs against the cold in his lungs, the snow crunching under his steps and Jamie chuckling in anticipation.
“Stop! Stop! Don’t move!”
Mako hardly heard the many light slaps against his chest. A loud Stop had decided often enough over life or death in the wastelands. He stood still without moving a muscle, scanning the surroundings for the enemy.
“Look! Look, down there!” Jamie pointed at the ground.
“What…” Needing a moment to understand there wasn’t a threat, Mako looked down.
“It’s a snow angel! No, a snow-rat-angel! Made by me, the artistic Junkrat!”
Indeed, there was a shape in the snow. A long, lanky and angelic shape, impressive to behold if the right half of the skirt weren’t ripped off. Also, it was missing a wing. The path where Jamie had crawled away from the shape to find a good spot to pull himself up was roughly covered with snow, sticking out from the otherwise flawless white blanket.
“Well, it’s a prototype. I’m gonna make a better one, when the fucking plane coughed up me arm ‘n leg. Whenever it is, got time!” Jamie hurried to add. He turned his head away from his masterpiece, giving Mako a crooked smile, apologizing with a shrug. There it was again, the guilt piercing through his heart and this time, he maybe didn’t do the right thing, but the better.
“Don’t be stupid. It’s perfect.” He tightened his grip around Jamie, holding him close to his chest.
“Really?” A happy glow colored the pale cheeks.
“What I said. And sorry for earlier. I just… you don’t have to be jealous.” There were more important things to say. This was better than nothing and it was the truth.
“I know, ya stupid lug!” Jamie punched him and quickly reached up to poke Mako’s cheek before he snuggled back into his arms. “You’re looking so good like this. I wanted to say I’m proud of ya, but you threw the door into my face!”
“Oh.” Freaking Rat. He let his gaze wander. The blanket of snow was hiding trash and concrete from his eyes and even large trash bags and another trash can looked like taken from a picture book. The surface was glittering under the light of an outdoor lamp. After all the tired and busy faces he had seen this morning, some grumpy, some adorned with fake smiles, Mako wondered if people from a world like this would feel like they’d stepped into a fairy tale when they visited Australia for the first time, too. And how long that feeling lasted, until the first sunburn? Or the first encounter with a huntsman spider? It was so easy to spot tourists, the horror in their eyes gave them away.
“Over there! Hey, listen to me!”
Distracting himself from his own embarrassment and Jamie’s affection had worked a little too well. He hadn’t heard him talking until he tugged at the collar of the sweater.
“I’m listening.”
“Finally. You were spacing out, mate, thought you’d drop me any second. Now look, over there!”
Mako’s mouth twitched into a grin. Pouting for longer than a few seconds wasn’t Jamie’s forte. This time, he was pointing at a small heap of snow. Careful not to step on the snow-rat-angel, Mako walked closer and gave up trying to hide his smile.
This was the most pathetic snowman he had ever seen, and there had been a few, built in gardens or right on the sidewalk by children. This one hardly reached his knees. Most of its rump had crumbled away and Jamie’s handprints were still visible all over it. The head was attached on top but not quite in the middle, giving the creation a skewed posture. But he had managed to form ridges where a hat was supposed to be, arranged in a similar pattern to Jamie’s remaining hair. The arms were nothing but rolled up pages from a newspaper Jamie had probably found in one of the trashcans. Bottle caps functioned as eyes and stared from a mouthless face. A round, broken china plate was tied on the thing’s back with a broken cable, a less impressive version of Jamie’s RIP-Tire.
“I know what ya gonna say. How can a man with only one hand form a masterpiece like this? Just wait until I got me other arm back! I’m gonna build you next!”
“If you promise to not run outside in your shorts again I’m helping you.”
Mako almost laughed. Jamie, the man whose face never stood still, stared at him in surprise, with an expression blanker than the snowman’s. It was impossible to not adore this scrawny, impulsive, excitable live wire of a man.
“Any more pieces in your art exhibition?”
“Not yet.” An unspoken promise was lingering in the short answer, a warning for Mako to keep an eye on him.
“Can we go back inside now?”
“Oh, I guess so,” Jamie said with the generosity of a man who had just given away a fortune that meant nothing to him. “Go on, loyal servant. Carry your king back into his castle!” Leaning his head against the strong arm holding him, Jamie impatiently waved his hand.
“Pshaw!” But if it made Jamie happy to act like finally leaving the cold was his idea, so be it. The sooner Mako switched on the heating, the sooner he could defrost his idiot.
“So, got any good plans? We better get started soon, I already feel all rusty.”
“You’re freezing, not rusting. The plan is to warm you up, coffee, food, movies.” He had thought of another plan he was certain King Jamie would like but that could wait.
“Movies? What movies? Thought the internet's crap here?”
“Bought some.” Questions, questions. Always, Jamie was asking too many questions when he could simply accept that Mako was trying to make up for his mean behavior and shut up about it.
“You’re my favorite giant, you know. Can’t wait to pay you back! Gonna built the biggest snow-hog the world has ever seen! Gonna make it full-size. We could use it as a decoy when we rob a bank and when the police gets close enough - KABOOM! Whaddya sayin’? Good idea, eh?”
“We talk about that tomorrow.”
“Ow, come on! I… I… ACHOO!” That sneeze came so suddenly and violently, Mako jumped backwards, startled, being closer to dropping Jamie than he liked to admit.
“Or the day after tomorrow. When we know for sure you aren’t dying.”
“Ain’t dying of an itsy bitsy tiny sneeze, Doc Hog.” Sniffling, he scratched his nose before another tickle launched the next attack.
“Maybe not.” Just in case, once they were back in the living room, he shoved Jamie’s suitcase behind the sofa before Jamie could see it. He didn’t have to know Mako had been standing and arguing at the airport for more than two hours until he got the suitcase with Jamie’s prostheses back. Once he had them back, Jamie would run outside and throw himself into the snow to start and complete his snow-hog project or die trying.
A hot drink, food, and cuddles had to be enough to show him he was sorry.
And so, half an hour later, after a long shower, Jamie was wrapped into the thick clothes Mako had bought him this morning. When he snuggled closer into Mako’s arm, holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate while watching the same Christmas movie for the third time in a row, Mako knew it was enough.