Chapter Text
"You have to behave, Fawkes."
A woman's voice rung out in the enclosed room they were in. He didn't know her name. All he remembered was faint memories of meeting with some Overwatch members. He recognized her, but there wasn't words to put to the face.
There was two of them. One darker skinned woman with white locs that were tied up neatly. She wore a orange sweater and a turtleneck underneath. Her skin was adorned with cybernetics— Junkrat wasn't sure how much of her was metal and artificial and how much of her was real flesh at this point. He couldn't ask.
The other woman was pale with light blonde hair. Her hair was almost frizzy, tied up in a messy bun. Her eyes were blue, adorned with tired eyes and dark circles signifying she definitely was not handling the stress of the new Overwatch well. She wore a black tanktop with a lab coat draped lazily over her shoulders.
Junkrat tilted his head, adjusting a little in his chair. The handcuffs clinked as he moved, the sound reverberating off the walls. "I haven't done anythin' wrong in months, mate." He began, giving a toothy smile. "I got no reason to. Got what I wanted, didn't I?"
The woman narrowed her eyes at him then exchanged a glance with the other girl in the room. "You've been in custody since your big show. That's the reason you haven't 'done' anything. Don't play smart with me."
It was true. Junkrat and Roadhog attempted another 'world tour' a year after their last one. Unfortunately, it went a lot worse this time. They got caught under a crashing building, trapped within with no way of escape. Once they were recovered and found, they were instantly locked up after being treated for their wounds. They were both held in different prisons, unable to even talk about each other without punishment. It was clear they were specifically preventing them from being able to scheme their way out of this again.
After a few months though, Overwatch reached out to the law enforcement. It took a lot of back and forth and a lot of scheduled visits to talk, but eventually it was decided that they couldn't hold the two criminals for much longer anyways due to law. Deporting them back to Junkertown wasn't allowed since they were banned from there and New Junk City, and they couldn't just be dumped in the middle of the Australian wasteland either. Overwatch decided to hold them temporarily in an attempt to 'reform' the two.
What a bunch of bullshit. Reform, yeah right.
The junker was annoyed by her tone, but shrugged anyways. "I got what I wanted." He repeated, as if confirming it. "I would be a better asset out on the field with ya then cooped up here, eh?"
"Vivian, are you really sure this is a good idea?" The shorter girl said in a hushed voice as they stared at the junker. "The big one is more compliant, but I'm not quite sure about—"
"Who ya callin' 'big?!'" Junkrat jerked in his cuffs immediately at her words, snarling at the shorter blonde. "Listen, if yer gonna be a bunch of dipsticks, I want no part in all of this! 'M here 'cause of one thing and one thing only!"
She gulped thickly at his outburst before steeling herself. "I apologize. You'd be a good asset to us, I'm sure."
"She's right. We'd be glad to have you, Fawkes. You seem to excell wonderfully in engineering— we could really use that after Torbjörn left. We only have his daughter, Brigitte left to pick up the slack."
Junkrat rolled his eyes. He wasn't really interested in what they really wanted him to do, but protection was protection. He had been locked up for months and if this equivalent to community service got him out of hot water for a bit, he'd take it.
"Fine." The junker huffed, leaning back in his chair as the dull clink of his handcuffs sounded behind him. "But what about Hog? If 'm gonna be yer 'engineer,' what's he gonna do?"
"We aren't sure yet." The blonde woman spoke, sighing as she pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. She looked exhausted, immediately slumping and leaning her head on one of her propped up hands. "He expressed that he wanted to just relax for a while. Figure out what he wants to do."
"That seems like him." He scoffed a little. If Roadhog was so accepting of this, he guessed maybe it was best he joined after all. There was nothing left for him after this, anyways. Would he rather whatever the law had in store for him after this or a cushiony life with Overwatch? "Alright, 'm in. When do I start?"
"A few months, give or take. We'll set you up with a room— We should be able to move you in with Santos and Cameron for the time being. By the time you settle in, Cameron will probably be off with the Wayfinders again, so it'll just be you and Santos."
"What about Hog? 'M I not gonna room with him?"
"No." The blonde one butted in almost immediately, her words stern. "Not until we make sure you two aren't planning anything."
Junkrat huffed, almost offended. "You think I care enough to make some lousy plan to destroy Overw—"
"It's so we make sure you don't steal anything and run off." Vivian interrupted, crossing her arms. "Wouldn't want to deal with that, would we?"
The junker grumbled, fidgeting in his bonds. "No. 'Course not."
"Exactly." She came up to Junkrat, fishing in her coat pocket for a small key. "Well, for now, welcome to the team, Jamison."
A click sounded through the room and Junkrat grunted, finally free from the tight metal cuffs. He stretched his arms upwards, flexing his hands. "Finally. Thought ya were gonna keep me cooped up like a dog forever."
The blonde chuckled lightly to herself, finally standing up. "I'm Dr. Ziegler. Angela Ziegler." She took a step forward towards him, offering a hand to shake. "This is Vivian Chase. Sojourn."
Junkrat stared at the hand in front of him. He was never one for physical contact, but he forced himself to take her hand, giving a firm shake. "Ya already know my name. Don't need to introduce myself more then I already have." He grumbled.
"We're very familiar, Jamison." Vivian, grabbed the cuffs, locking them to one of the holsters on her belt. "Now, come with us. We're gonna give you a checklist and some things to take with you before we go to Gibraltar."
If someone told him years ago that one day he'd and Roadhog would be recruited into Overwatch, he would've laughed like a hyena at the audacity of the statement. Him? Overwatch? After all the things he'd done?
It was hard to believe. Even now, he felt like he was in some dream. This was some sick joke from the people running it, right? He'd be in handcuffs in no time with the dumb pigs ushering him out into the back of a van.
But it had been months since the initial invitation and their meetup with some of the main members. How they seemed to reach the both of them was unknown to him, especially at how much they moved around through different places to make sure they were locked up tight.
Roadhog was against it, he heard. They hadn't had much contact since they both got caught and were shipped off to different prisons. Junkrat wondered if he'd even stick around. But after a lot of back and forth with the main goons like Lena, Angela and that big lug of a gorilla, both of them apparently settled on it being very good protection from the people who put bounties on their heads. Getting chased for the rest of their lives just wasn't something either of them wanted. The concept was bleak.
He had heard of criminals with high bounties getting into Overwatch. Cole Cassidy, the gunslinger, was one of those people. The dumb cowboy had a bounty higher than the both of theirs, somehow. You'd think with multiple worldwide heists they'd be regarded higher, but...
Junkrat shook his head. He was lost in his own thoughts again. The time was the present, not the past.
And the present was him standing in front of his room.
He wanted to room with Roadhog, but the stupid Overwatch higher ups said it wouldn't be a good idea. They said something about grouping individuals in their age ranges— along with the fact he was barred from rooming with Roadhog until they were sure both of their intentions were in the right places.
Junkrat scoffed to himself. What a load of shit.
It didn't matter. He doubted he'd stay in this stupid vigilante organization for long, anyways. He didn't care for any of this. He just wished he could talk to Roadhog again. It had been months since he last saw him.
His prosthetic hand reached for the doorknob, turning it and opening the door to reveal what he was working with for the next few weeks.
The room was... surprisingly spacious. There were three beds, each with a big gap between. To the side was another door, what he assumed would probably lead to a bathroom or possible kitchen area.
The left half of the bed was wildly decorated, like some teenager was living there for years. Posters of various bands he had never heard of in his life lined the walls, along with framed music vinyls. A shelf was lined with various figures and little frog plushies. Pushed against the wall was a flat, beige dresser, endowed with a tank on top that clearly had some type of pet living within it with the foliage and dirt inside. A heat lamp was clipped onto it, currently on.
The other half of the room was split with a divider. It was much more barebones— the bed was unmade with clothes thrown onto the floor. A bag filled with various tools and knicknacks was laying on the floor, almost spilling out. On the bedside table was some random rocks, along with one that had... googly eyes glued onto the front? Purple crystals protruded from the back of it.
His fingers twitched at the sight of it. Before he knew it, he was grabbing it and shoving it unceremoniously into his pocket. Nobody would notice a stupid rock was gone, right? Those crystals looked valuable... He could easily pawn it.
"Oh, hey!" A voice came from little ways behind him. Junkrat's head jerked in the direction, spotting a man coming towards him.
He was... short. Really short. The same height as he was when he was hunched over. Dark skin and neat locs that were tied up into a ponytail adorned his shoulders. The extensions were glowing green, with a sort of pulsing energy behind it. The man wore headphones and a pair of thin, square glasses. On his chin was a neatly trimmed goatee.
He currently wore a black tanktop that nicely fitted his silhouette. He wasn't buff, but he certainly was packing enough muscle. On his left arm was a large tattoo that Junkrat assumed to be some type of frog. He wore regular old denim jeans with that and a black and white checkered belt that held it together.
This guy clearly was... something.
Junkrat stood up straight for once in his life, looming over him. He was distracted with this guy. Did he see him snatch that stupid rock?
When Junkrat straightened, the man recoiled back for a second, blinking in surprise. "Woah, you're tall." He said in disbelief. "I wasn't expecting that. You looked the same height as me when I was coming up."
"Yer short." Junkrat grumbled, narrowing his eyes at the man. "Who are you?"
"The name's Lúcio." He held out his hand, offering a polite shake. Junkrat simply... stared at him, his eyes still squinted with suspicion. He quickly revoked his hand, tilting his head awkwardly. "Ooookay, no handshake. That's alright, cool, cool."
Junkrat said nothing, instead averting his gaze. Deciding to focus on the room he was in. Guess the guy didn't see him snatch it. "'M guessing this is yer part of the room?" He pointed to the side with all the posters and music themes.
Lúcio gave a happy nod, smoothly skating over closer to him. Honestly, it seemed he was showing off a little as he went. "Yep! And in the middle where you're standing is Sloan's part. They're here temporarily— you won't see them much."
"They're?" Junkrat raised a thick brow. "There's multiple?"
"No, no, they're nonbinary." Lúcio explained quickly with a chuckle. "Sorry, I know it's probably a bit confusing for you since you're from Ju—"
Junkrat let out an acknowledging grunt, which quickly shut Lúcio up. The shorter man looked up at him awkwardly, fidgeting with one of his locs. "Sorry, was that offensive? I don't know much about the culture of Australia after the whole... thing."
"We know enough," Junkrat began, clearly intending to let on more but stopped himself. He didn't know this guy, he doesn't owe him any more information on his home. Instead, he opted to talk about himself. "You probably heard our education system ain't the best. Thankfully, I didn't go to the plain ol' regular school. Most of what I learnt is through books 'n stuff. Walkin' around, talkin' to people, all since I was a little kid."
"That's cool. You're like, self taught or whatever." Lúcio gave a cheerful smile, but Junkrat could read that he was feeling displaced after their interaction. "Well, anyways, I can help you set up your things if you want? Make your side of the room cozy, y'know?"
Junkrat stared at him, suspicion rising yet again. This guy was... weird. Too keen on helping him. It felt foreign. Nobody acted like that in Junkertown.
He decided not to say anything. He grabbed his duffel bag— he didn't have much, just essentials. There wasn't much he really had in general since he went straight from behind bars to here— and brought it over to the bed, his prosthetic dinking awkwardly against the floor as he limped over. The bed creaked with the weight of the bag. The junker ignored the sound and began to unzip it.
Lúcio was quiet for a moment, just watching him. Junkrat could feel his eyes boring holes into his back, but he forced himself not to look back. He focused on taking out the contents of his bag instead. Clothes were mostly what he brought, along with the extra wrapping for his prosthetics. He set it aside on the covers as he heard Lúcio shuffle a bit, presumably shifting back and forth with nerves.
"Uh, I'm guessing you don't want my help?" Lúcio tried again, not moving from his spot.
"Help is fine." Junkrat finally said, not bothering to glance at him.
That seemed like enough permission for Lúcio. He bounded over, standing a little ways behind him. "Well, I can help put your clothes away if you'd like— we got some drawers underneath the bed." He reached for the clothes, but hesitated.
"Go ahead, mate."
Lúcio cracked a little smile at his words and grabbed at the pile before moving a bit back so he could bend over and pull open one of the drawers. He neatly folded it before placing it inside. "Is this all the stuff you brought?"
"Yeah. I don't got much else, after all." The junker answered, pulling out some of the hygienic items that Overwatch gave to him in the ride to the base. They sat him down and explained the basics of behavior and hygiene, but he was barely listening during it. Just nodded along and agreed to whatever bullshit they wanted to hear.
Safe to say, he wouldn't be bothering to use any of those.
"Really?" Lúcio's smile dropped a little. "I can let you borrow some of my clothes! Well— hm..." he took a step back, before chuckling. "Not my clothes— you wouldn't fit— but I have a lot of fan merch that's probably in your size all the way back home in Brazil. I can call up my dad and ask him to mail some over for you."
"Fan... merch?" Junkrat echoed, furrowing his thick brows. "Whaddya mean?"
"Oh, I'm a DJ. Before Overwatch recruited me and the whole Rio invasion from Null Sector, I was kinda world famous for my music." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, giving an awkward smile. "It's a little embarrassing though to admit out loud. I'm not that—"
Junkrat snapped up, standing up straight again as he pointed to Lúcio with a prosthetic finger. "I knew I recognized ya!" He said, his voice much louder. "Yer the guy from the cereal box!"
Lúcio blanked, staring at him with disbelief. He was absolutely gobsmacked, just bewildered by Junkrat's statement. The cereal? "... Really? You know me from... Lúcio-ohs? Not... my music or anything?"
Junkrat nodded vigorously, breaking out into a large, toothy smile. Showing off a missing tooth and multiple golden teeth. "Yeah! It showed up a few years ago— See, 'm not really a cereal guy, honestly, I prefer other things if I want a sweet breakfast treat, but yer cereal? Phenomenal."
"That's—" Lúcio was cut off as a voice erupted from the door.
"Heyyyyyy Lúcio!" A tall person with scruffy brown hair came into view, entering through the doorway like they owned the place. They wore a thick, baggy beige trenchcoat that had some pins scattered across the front along with a bright yellow turtleneck underneath. Big clunky brown boots made loud steps as they entered. The person was instantly shedding their heavy backpack onto their bed, before turning to face the two of them. "Who's the new guy?"
"This is... uh..." Lúcio glanced up at Junkrat, before making a grimace. "Shoot, I never caught your name,"
"Junkrat." The junker straightened up yet again. This... person... was already unnerving him.
"Junkrat, eh? Strange name. Is it actually your name or a nickname?" The person kicked off their boots, using their foot to push them under the bed. "I'm Sloan, but I go by Venture to some. I gave the name myself! It's tacky, I know."
Junkrat's brows furrowed, before snapping quickly. "Whaddya need to know my real name for?"
"Jeez, sorry. Touchy subject?" Sloan awkwardly glanced at Lúcio really fast, giving him a look, before meeting Junkrat's gaze again. They held out their hand, expecting a shake. Junkrat of course didn't take it. "Well, it's nice to meet ya, Junkrat! Need any help settling down here?"
"Don't worry, I'm helping him unpack." Lúcio smiled, before grabbing one of Junkrat's pants, folding them neatly. "Can you believe he barely came with any clothes?"
"Oh, do you need to borrow some of mine?" Sloan instantly offered, leaning over their bed to dig through the drawers underneath. "I've definitely got a lot here that probably fits you."
"Yeah, I offered some of mine but..." Lúcio trailed off, and Sloan let out a laugh at that.
"Nobody's fitting into your clothes, shortie." The archeologist teased before grabbing a t-shirt, tossing it at Lúcio. "That might fit. It's an older shirt of mine. Kinda worn out though, sorry."
Lúcio caught it with ease, unfurling it. It was a black shirt with the design of a band that the junker had never even heard of on the front. The DJ sized it up with Junkrat's frame, letting out an inquisitive hum. "I think it'd fit. Sloan's a lot wider than you, but you both are tall."
Junkrat had remained quiet for a really long time, just letting the two talk. He stared at the shirt, blinking.
This was just weird. They were just giving him things because he didn't have it. What was the catch? There had to be something both of them wanted in return.
"Uh, what do I owe ya...?" Junkrat hesitantly reached for the shirt, grabbing it with his flesh hand.
"Owe?" Sloan echoed, finally standing up. They used their foot to close the drawer, which shut with a soft bang. "You don't owe me anything. I barely wear that shirt anymore, so I don't need it. I'm happy to give it to you."
The junker just... stared at Sloan. This had to be some sort of trap or blackmail. He didn't know how, but that just wasn't how the world worked. People weren't kind for no reason— they always wanted things in return for their generosity. This was no different, right?
He opened his mouth to speak, but Lúcio introjected. "Why don't you go see if it fits you, Junkrat?" Lúcio gave him a smile, ushering him to the bathroom. "If it doesn't, we can see what else Sloan has."
Junkrat decided it was best not to fight it. He let himself be ushered to the bathroom door, shirt balled up in his hands. Lúcio opened it for him before stepping aside, giving him space to enter. "We'll wait out here for you."
When Junkrat stepped inside, the door shut behind him with a thunk.
Alone.
A large mirror sat upon the white countertop, showing his reflection upon himself. He just stared at it for a long while, still holding that shirt against his chest.
Wild and messy blonde hair, tanned skin and marks and moles all over his body. A pointed nose and missing teeth. Bushy eyebrows and light orange eyes. A sight he had unfortunately become accustomed to. That was him, after all these years.
He looked away, staring down at the shirt.
There was no debt for it. Nothing that he owed. It was hard to wrap his brain around that somebody just wanted to give him something with no strings attached.
It was just a shirt.
It felt deeper to him than just a shirt, though.
Junkrat opened the door back up, stepping out back into the room. Lúcio and Sloan perked their heads up, glancing at him. Both were lounging on their beds— Lúcio was laid down on his back scrolling through his phone while Sloan was sitting on the edge of the bed, kicking their feet impatiently.
"Is it too tight?" Venture asked, getting up to bound closer to him. They grabbed at the fabric around his torso, pulling gently at it to test the fit. The action made the junker flinch, pulling away almost instantly. His teeth gritted and his fists balled up tightly.
Who did this person think they were, being so touchy? He glared at Sloan, a warning look in his orange eyes. His breath came out as a low growl, barely audible. "Don't—"
He quickly cut himself off.
Venture's head snapped up, meeting his eyes. Their gaze locked for a moment, but didn't say a single word. There was something in their eye, though. Worry? Surprise? Confusion? Weariness? Junkrat couldn't pinpoint it.
Maybe silent recognition was what it was.
"T's not too tight, no." Junkrat forced himself to calm down as he answered, trying to quickly cover for his odd behavior. "I uh, it's nice. Thanks, mate."
They were silent for a moment, turning to look at Lúcio. He seemingly didn't hear or notice the interaction. He just continued scrolling through his phone, random videos playing outloud at a thankfully low volume. "Uh, of course, yeah. I probably have more shirts that're close to your size, if you need 'em." The archeologist offered, albeit a bit awkwardly after that whole small ordeal, already moving to the drawers underneath their bed.
"Nah, one's enough. I uh, don't really wear shirts all that much anyways." He quickly admitted, hooking a finger under his collar and pulling at it. Shirts were just solid damn itchy, he couldn't stand it. And the fabric along his back made his skin feel like it was crawling sometimes. He never understood why he'd wear a shirt when being without one felt so much more freeing. "They're uncomfortable."
"Oh, well, you should've said that in the first place, doofus!" Sloan's attitude almost changed instantly, seemingly like they forgot the interaction only moments ago. They gave a toothy grin, and Junkrat noticed a chipped front tooth almost instantly. "Well, either way, you can keep it. Maybe if you cut the sleeves it'd be nicer?"
Junkrat blinked, but nodded at their suggestion. Maybe...
"Oh, I think that'd look real nice." Lúcio butted in from his place on his bed, looking up from his phone. "The sleeves seem a bit tight on your frame. Snipping them would definitely help."
Sloan did a little L shape with both of their hands, squinting their eyes like they were focused. A low hum left their lips. "Hmm... if you cut the sleeves right at the seam then stretch it with your arms a bit, it may help fit better on you... It seems a bit tight around that part." They pointed out.
"Oh, Sloan, I forgot to tell you about the stuff you missed from the meeting Winston and the Wayfinders had!" Lúcio suddenly blurted out, quickly getting up and tossing his phone haphazardly on his bed.
Junkrat quickly tuned out their conversation about whatever they were discussing. He was lost in his own thoughts, staring at the two of them.
Venture— no, Sloan, and Lúcio. His new roommates for a while.
His heart ached as he thought about Roadhog, then Junkertown. It was so... different here. The culture, the people. Even outside of Overwatch, he just felt homesick.
How would he ever feel anything more?
His fingers twitched as he stared at the two of them as they conversed with each other. They were close, at least, that's what he assumed. Sloan had their arm wrapped around Lúcio's midsection as they brought him closer, yapping on about their travels and what they were doing before that. Lúcio had his hand on one of the loose strings on their trenchcoat, twirling it around between his calloused fingers to kill time as he talked to them.
He didn't ever think he could be that touchy with anyone. Even with Roadhog, his closest friend.
Roadhog didn't talk very much. He would yap his ear off only to be met with a long sigh or a grunt of acknowledgement— well, that was if he was lucky to get a response at all.
Even the times they had to sleep in the same bed together on cold nights, Roadhog refused to get closer than he had to be. When Junkrat would ask for comfort, he would get none. When he'd ask for warmth, he was lucky if Roadhog offered him a blanket.
Often times, he wondered if Roadhog even liked him or he just stuck around because he felt obligated to. Maybe Roadhog cared about him, but it probably wasn't the way he wanted to be cared for. For his company to... mean something to the junker.
They had a weird contract together, after all. 50/50, split earnings. It worked well for the two of them. But, it wasn't anything beyond that. It didn't feel like anything beyond that.
He had nothing besides Roadhog. He was banished from his home, an enemy of multiple countries and hated by so many for his actions and greed. Even his possessions were taken from him when he slipped into custody on that fateful night. No belongings, no money, no riches or gold.
It was all his own fault, but he kept pitying himself for it. If this didn't happen, if that didn't happen... maybe it wouldn't be this way.
But, they both had to know about what he'd done— at least Lúcio had to have, since he knew the british girl and the angel had sat him down and explained his new arrangements. He knew that much, right?
Yet... Lúcio seemed kind to him despite his supposed knowledge. He didn't even flinch when Junkrat tried to intimidate him. He just stood his ground, smiling up at him with that cheerful look.
The junker shut his eyes tightly, kicking himself internally for his behavior hardly an hour ago. Why did he do that? Was he trying to show off? Push the DJ away?
When he opened his eyes back up, he saw Sloan and Lúcio staring directly at him. He blinked in surprise, staring right back at the two.
"...So?" Lúcio raised an eyebrow.
Junkrat looked back and forth between them, puzzled. "... What?"
"He asked you if you wanted to join us. We're gonna head down to the dining area and get some lunch." Sloan answered for the DJ, giving him a little understanding smile.
"Oh," Junkrat blanked. His brain felt like it was restarting. "I— uh,"
"C'mon, just join us, man." Lúcio chuckled lightheartedly, moving to the door. Sloan seemed to follow subconsciously, hovering around him. "We can show you around the place! Plus, Sloan's probably not gonna be here for much longer, so you better hang out with them now before they have to leave."
"Yeah, the Wayfinders wanna set up shop over in Petra again. They said there's a little nook we haven't explored yet." They did a little excited bounce, grinning widely. "I'm so stoked, you don't even understand! I've been waiting for this forever!"
Lúcio gave them a little congratulatory pat on the back before ushering them out of the door. The shorter man turned, glancing at Junkrat. "You coming?"
For a long moment, Junkrat just stood there awkwardly. He was actually being invited to come along? No strings attached?
Maybe this whole arrangement wouldn't be as bad.
"Have a seat, Jamison."
Junkrat awkwardly stepped into the office, gazing around warily. He had been with Lúcio and Venture for a good few hours as they showed him around the Watchpoint until the angel girl decided she wanted to finally schedule her checkup. He sat down on the patient bed, his back hunched as he looked at her.
He never liked doctors. The last time he could remember seeing one was when he was very, very young. One of his earliest fleeting memories. When his mother was still around and when the crisis just began. The date was fuzzy... He couldn't even remember how old he was. He just remembered being scared.
"So... What's the plan, doc?" He looked at Angela, trying to seem casual. He hoped his nerves wouldn't show through.
"I want to do a quick physical on you since I didn't get to do one before. Mako already had this done— now it's your turn." Angela got up, placing her clipboard down as she headed to one of the many cabinets. She already had a few tidbits of information on his condition— she made him weigh himself and do the whole peeing in a cup thing before he even stepped into the office. "And also ask a few questions."
Junkrat stared at her as he bounded around the room, searching for something. "Uhh, what kind of questions?"
"You were born before Australia became what it is now, right?" She asked, finally fishing out a stethoscope from one of the drawers. She pulled out a piece of plastic which she ripped— he assumed it was some alcohol wipe. "Your birthdate says February 29th, 2052."
"I was young when it happened." Junkrat shrugged nonchalantly. "Don't remember much."
"I see," She tossed the wipe into the nearby trash can before stepping up to him. She already had the tips of the stethoscope plugged into her ears. "Take a deep breath for me."
Junkrat obeyed, flinching as the cold metal touched his warm skin. She pressed it firmly against his scrawny chest as she listened, humming at the sound she heard.
A few repeats in different parts of his chest and back and she finally stepped back, hooking the stethoscope around her neck. A tight frown adorned her face as she stared at him. "That doesn't sound good at all."
"What's wrong with me, doc?" Junkrat straightened, staring right back at her. He tried to put on a goofy façade but something deep inside him churned. There was a pit of nervousness in his stomach at the look she had on her face.
She said nothing, instead moving to grab her clipboard. She scribbled some notes down quickly before stepping back. "You have a rattle in your breathing along with what sounds to be an irregular heartbeat. Not to mention you're dangerously underweight and severely dehydrated— Jamison, it's a miracle you're still alive."
Junkrat swallowed thickly, nervously meeting her eyes. "What, are ya gonna tell me I got a year to live or somethin'?"
"No, but I'd like to run more tests and ask a few more questions." She sat down, leaning back in her chair as she sighed. "Do you have any connections to your family? Knowing medical history might—"
"No." Junkrat cut her off almost instantly, the words almost being spat out.
Angela blinked in shock at his firm tone. "Jamsion, you must know something."
The junker shut his eyes tightly, leaning his head on his hands. His head was starting to hurt. "I don't know where she is."
"She?" Angela tilted her head. "Your mother?"
He scoffed a little. "Yeah. Her."
"Do you know anything about—"
"She's not important."
She sighed. It clearly wouldn't be easy to get information from this man. Junkers were always so... to themselves. Even a boisterous man like Junkrat wouldn't open up even to a doctor.
It was clear this was going to be a long day.
Junkrat sat down on his new bed, holding the papers Angela had given him. It was a set of instructions and a list of his medicines and vitamins he was prescribed. He didn't want to look through it. He didn't want any of it.
She went on for hours about different things he definitely had and also things she theorized that he might be suffering from. It was going to be a long few weeks as she performed tests and studied him to diagnose him with things he had never even heard of before. None of the names of various issues or complications he had he remembered, only the concept of him being a miracle that his body still operated stuck with him.
In a bag were various pill bottles filled to the brim with capsules of different colors, sizes and lengths. They had his name written on them along with what it was named but Junkrat didn't bother to look. The thought of taking so much of this medicine made him sick to his stomach. He didn't want it.
So what if he was sickly and malnourished and dehydrated? He was used to the pain by now. The tremors in his body were a part of him. His twitchiness, his vision going blurry at random times, the utterly sick and nauseated feeling he'd get when he'd eat or drink anything... that was... him. Right? It was all he knew.
Venture was the only one in the room at the moment. They were laying back on their bed when he entered, perking up already at his frustrated demeanor. "Hey, Junk. How'd your little visit go?"
Junkrat groaned loudly, rubbing his face with his hands. He didn't want to talk about it. "Delightful, mate. I had a blast."
The sarcasm wasn't lost on the archeologist. He silently wished it was, though. Maybe he wouldn't have to prepare himself for a sudden questionnaire. "Hey, it's not too bad." Venture leaned over on their bed. "When I got here, Angela gave me a physical too. Said she couldn't believe how unhealthy people my age were! I think she said the same to Lúcio— we're just super dehydrated."
Junkrat didn't respond. He didn't know how to. Venture had no idea about how long this list of medicine was that he apparently had to take was, he was sure. Once they found out they'd probably laugh.
After a beat of silence, Venture filled it with an innocent question. "Got prescribed anything?"
It was like they could read his mind and all his troubles within. Was he really that much of an open book or were they just continuing the conversation?
"Lots." He grumbled, opening one of the drawers and shoving the papers into it carelessly. He didn't want to look at it anymore. "Ya couldn't even imagine, mate."
"I can imagine it! I take a lot of medicine too, so I get it." The archeologist sympathized, leaning over and grabbing a tray that was hidden under some books on their nightstand. They presented it to him. "I sort it by day. In here is prozac, estradiol, then adderall. Along with my vitamins, of course. When I was a kid I took like, way more. They switched me around on a lot of anti-depressants until they settled on prozac. The vitamins are what Angela prescribed me since I've been here and gosh, they've reeeally helped."
Junkrat blinked, staring at the tray. It was transparent blue with compartments that held multiple pills ranging in sizes and colors. A lot of their words sounded like mumbo-jumbo buzzwords to him. He had no clue what a ‘prozac’ or ‘adderall’ was or even did.
"Lúcio also takes a couple of pills to start off the day. He's on a lower dose of Adderall than me— it's kinda funny if you think about it! Both of us have ADHD. He also takes a few vitamins but not as much as me, just some vitamin D3." Venture continued, finally putting their pill case back into its little nook. "It sucks having to take so many pills to start off the day but hey, it helps. What'd she prescribe you?"
"Vitamins." He began, opening his mouth to speak. There were so many with different names that he couldn't even fathom to pronounce. "Some for some infections... She said she wanted to do some... 'mental health evaluations' for me tomorrow on top of that." He practically forced the words out.
Was there really so much wrong with him? The thought stuck in the back of his mind no matter how hard he tried not to think about it.
"Don't sweat it, Junkrat." Venture reassured with a smile, moving to give him a friendly pat on the back. They tried to ignore how he stiffened at the action. "You'll start feeling better in no time."
Junkrat sat there, not really knowing what else to say. What could he say? He didn't want to take these dumb medications or vitamins. They wouldn't make him feel better— He didn't want to 'feel' better, actually. He just wanted to be himself and live as himself. There wasn't anything wrong with him.
The door clicked open a beat later, the familiar face of the short DJ entering. "Hey Sloan, I just—" Lúcio lifted his head, noticing Junkrat immediately. He shut the door behind him before waving. "Oh, hey, Junkrat. Back already?"
The junker grumbled in annoyance. How many times was he gonna go through this whole spiel? "Yeah."
"He got prescribed some vitamins, nothing special." Venture answered for him, getting up and sitting back down onto their bed. "Probably the same as us."
"Makes sense. She said a bit ago I could probably ease off the vitamins since I'm not deficient anymore." Lúcio practically flopped onto his bed, letting out a tired groan. "Oof, I'm beat. Zarya has really been trying to get me to do these crazy workouts. It's almost too much at this point."
Venture laughed at that. "Hey, she's just trying to help you not be a twig anymore."
"I'm very strong, thank you very much. It just... doesn't show on my body." He lifted his shirt up slightly, revealing a toned but not even close to muscular stomach. "I'll get abs one day...!"
"I don't doubt you're strong, doofus— Especially with the amount of exercise you do every day. You've just got like, no muscle definition." Venture moved to poke at Lúcio's stomach, which incited a giggle as he pushed them away.
"Shut up, you're the same! You eat so much junk food—" Lúcio was cut off as Venture tackled him playfully, pinning him to his bed.
"You calling me fat?" Venture teased, pinning his arms down so he couldn't escape.
"No! You're putting words in my mouth—" Lúcio yelled in between chuckles before his eyes glinted with mischief. "But I mean, if you say so...!" He squealed as Venture instantly wrestled with him the moment he got his sentence out, both of them laughing like maniacs as they tussled and fought to be the one on top.
Watching them fight and tease each other was almost foreign to the junker. This type of play wasn't normal to him. He saw it in the old surviving movies and shows that made their way to Junkertown on burned cassettes and DVDs. He remembered fixing up an old box TV when he was just fourteen to watch the old crappy reality TV shows burned onto a cracked DVD he stole from the local shop. It reminded him of that.
It almost made him feel fond, yet somehow deeply uncomfortable at the same time. He yearned for something like this. He had Roadhog, but they never played like this. When they fought, it was an actual fight— and he was always overpowered so quickly. He was never very strong. In a lot of fights, he wasn't the one to win.
He didn't want to think of those moments. His failures and losses haunted him.
A couple minutes of their playfighting and eventually the DJ relented, realizing he couldn't win. Venture had him lying on his stomach by now with his hands pinned behind his back as they sat on his legs. All he could do is kick weakly at their back which wasn't getting him very far. "Okay, okay, you win! Get off of me!" He freed his arms and shoved them off easily as Venture stopped putting their weight onto him, flopping over on the bed beside him. Even with the small bed it was enough to fit them both. Venture was tall and wide but Lúcio was short enough where he didn't take much space.
"Told you I'm stronger then you." The archeologist had to get the last laugh as they pushed him slightly.
"Are not! You're just taller." Lúcio retorted, shoving them hard enough where they lost balance and tumbled off the bed, landing on the floor with a loud oof. The sight made the shorter man erupt into laughter, pointing at them. "Hah! Loser— ACK."
Venture was already back up and tackling him yet again, pinning their body on him and smothering him. They used their hands to cover his mouth, preventing him from making any more retorts. All that was heard was loud muffled yells and squeals as he fought to pry himself off of them.
Venture finally turned to Junkrat, who had been quietly staring at the whole playfight the entire time. They felt a little flustered, their cheeks going a bit red in embarassment "Ah— this is normal, I promise!" They assured before suddenly Lúcio freed himself, kicking Venture off yet again and making them tumble off the bed for the second time. They fell onto their ass, letting out a loud and exaggerated "OW!" as they hit the floor.
"You big jerk!" They whined as they slowly stumbled back to their feet, rubbing a now particularly sore spot on their back. "Ugh, I'm gonna feel that bruise tommorow..."
"Payback for when we were on a mission and you ran into me while I was scaling a wall?" He offered, looking up at them innocently. "I swear, I almost broke a bone there."
"Fine." Venture grumbled, pouting. "We're even now."
Junkrat stared back and forth between them. Their banter was so natural, like two best friends.
Is this truly how people acted outside of Junkertown?
...Is this how people acted just in general? Maybe he was the strange one after all.
It made him feel sick. His stomach churned at the thought, feeling nauseated. It all felt too real. He felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb. A wolf amongst sheep.
“Hey Junkrat, did you ever end up grabbing lunch? You didn't eat anything before you went to Dr. Ziegler's office.” Lúcio's words tore him like ripping flesh out of his fleeting thoughts.
The junker perked up, blinking in surprise at being addressed. That truly was the question of the hour. Did he have lunch? He went out with them but didn't eat a thing. He really couldn't even remember eating breakfast. Or even what he had yesterday for that matter.
“Uh, no.” He spoke a bit quieter than usual. It was foreign to hear him talk so softly. He felt awkward being put on the spot like that. “Just the cookies and juice the Doc gave me after takin’ my blood, I think.”
Venture sat up, looking at him with a concerned look in their eyes. “What? Junkrat, did you even have breakfast?”
Junkrat felt sheepish at the way they were speaking to him. It wasn't a big deal— he'd gone days without food many times. He always forgot to eat. He was constantly off in his own head, distracting him from the mere concept of grabbing a bite to eat. “Uhh,”
Venture instantly grabbed Lúcio's arm, practically dragging him off the bed. He fell to the floor with a startled yelp, his arms desperately trying to grab purchase on the covers. “Hey!—”
“C'mon, Lú! Let's go out together and get Junkrat some dinner. There's absolutely no way he's not starving by now.” Venture finally let go of the DJ, grabbing one of his sweaters and tossing it to him. Thankfully, Lúcio had enough reaction time to catch it safely before it hit him in the face.
“Could've gave me a warning, y'know.” Lúcio huffed as he sat up, quickly putting the sweater on. Venture was already hopping out the door, not even waiting for the two of them to catch up. Lúcio glanced at Junkrat. “You coming?”
Junkrat swallowed thickly. Something felt unnatural about all of this. They were so willing and keen to get close to him. It was like they didn't care who he was or what he did in the past— if they even knew about it. He assumed they did, right?
Maybe that was why they were acting like this. They just didn't know him. They were just treating him with basic human respect, that was all. When they found out, they'd hate him. It was a tale as old as time to him.
He got to his feet, his prosthetic peg leg dinking against the floor awkwardly. He wasn't really hungry, but something in him craved the company of the two young adults. His body was moving faster than his brain, already getting up and off the bed. “I'll come. Gotta stretch these legs of mine anyways.”
It wouldn't be so bad. Maybe he can savor their company before they found out and ostracized him.
Lúcio peered out the door before letting out a little groan. “Ugh, let's hurry— Sloan's already down the hall. They're so impatient sometimes."