#breath.

A year and four months.

A year and four months ago, Roadhog made the mistake of saving Junkrat from a handful of the queen’s thugs.

A year and four months ago, Roadhog allowed Junkrat into his home to live with him, given they share whatever treasure Junkrat had found 50/50.

A year and four months ago, Roadhog started coming home every day to a new explosion, a new crazy scheme, a new bright idea that’d certainly get them killed.

A year and four months.

And yet the elephant in the room had yet to be addressed.

____ ____ ____ ____

Roadhog had worn his mask for years now. It wasn’t always the same one, and it didn’t use to be all the time.

It was a part of his signature. A marking of who he was. It identified him, more than any other attribute to himself.

So how the hell had Junkrat gone well over a year without even once questioning the damn thing?!

No. No it wasn’t just Junkrat not questioning it. It was his sheer disregard for it’s existence.

Several times now, during a meal, Junkrat would happily attempt to feed Roadhog with some cheesy “Say Ah~” just to smoosh whatever he was attempting to share into the leather of the mask.

Affection was the same way. Junkrat seemed overly affectionate, hugs and kisses were something he threw out liberally, especially at Roadhog. In excitement after a job well done Junkrat would often grab Roadhog by the face and kiss him directly on the mask’s mouth.

“Hooly-Dooly” The smaller Junker would say as he swooned as if smooching a mask was the best kiss he’d ever had.

Did it matter if Junkrat ever saw his partners face? No. Not to Roadhog, and probably not to Junkrat either. It wasn’t something they’d addressed.

But the way Junkrat treated it... He... He knew it was a mask.. right?

This were the thoughts running though Roadhog’s mind as he sat in a small cottage hotel in some little British town called Tadfield.

Junkrat sat on the floor, drawing out a plan to steal the crown jewels when they hit London, along with how to get off the island once they’d completed the job.

Roadhog watched Junkrat work from a large chair a bit away, his mind still wondering how one could be so brilliant and yet so stupid. 

The large man took a deep breath. The windows of the cabin were open. The air of the small village was clean. Easy to breath. Roadhog looked out the window, the cool summer night giving wind to a clear sky, stars shining brightly with hardly a hint of pollution.

The old lazy boy creaked in mild strain as Roadhog lifted himself from it, silently stepping out on the cabin’s porch.

There, in a rocking chair that complained just as loudly about Roadhog’s weight as the lazy boy, the large Junker slowly placed his hand on the claps of his mask.

It’d been so long sense he last took it off. It wasn’t safe in the wasteland, and with all they’ve been doing, and all the damn Omnics around, the air was never quiet as clean.

But here... Mako could breath.

He placed the mask gently on his lap. His lungs filled with the warm summer air.

He took a deep breath in.

And out

In

And out

Without the tinted lenses, Mako was able to fully see the stars lighting up the night sky. Hundreds of millions of little lights shining from billions of miles away. A few moved, satellites probably, drifting though their orbit around this shitty little rock Mako was forced to call his home.

“Oi, Roadie, what’cha doin’ out here?! I been talkin’ to an empty room for three minutes!” Junkrat’s voice took Mako out of his star gazing. He turned to the lanky man, who stood at the door of the cabin, an angry pout to his face.

Mako was a little surprised Junkrat could even recognize him without the mask on. Even a large handful of his fellow ALF members couldn’t do that anymore.

“Hog! Ya listenin’ to me?” Junkrat snapped his fingers in front of Roadhog’s face, tilting, “Rooooooadie~ Wake up!”

Mako gruffed and grabbed Junkrat by the waist, pulling the smaller man onto his lap, knocking his mask off in the process.

Junkrat’s ears perked at the soft clatter on the wooden porch. He bent down slight, picking up the mask, “Ya dropped this.” He spoke, sitting back up.

He then froze, staring at the pig shaped mask in his hand.

Junkrat say motionless for almost a full minute, staring, processing the item he held in his hands.

He then suddenly leapt from Roadhog’s lap, spinning midair and somehow landing perfectly on his peg leg.

“Roadie! Yer face!” He shouted, his face broken is a wild smile.

Instantly, Junkrat took his spot on Roadhog’s lap back, cupping his cheeks as he got close to the other, staring closely at his feathers.

Jamie took his time, soaking in every detail of his bodygaurd’s face he could, tracing his fingers over every aging line, every mole and wrinkle, over his lips and small protruding tust like teeth.

He was mesmerized by the sight.

“Jamie...” Roadhog finally spoke, a light flush to his face. His eyes, a deep chocolate brown, avoiding Junkrat’s gaze.

Jamison blinked, then snicked, “Shy cause I’m lookin’ so closely at yer mug, huh?” He teased, squishing Roadhog’s cheeks, “’s a real site to behold. I c’n see why ya keep it hidden. Hard to be an intimidatin’ Junker with squishy cheeks like these~”

Mako’s face flushed brighter as he sank into his seat, bringing his hands up to cover said squishy cheeks, along with the rest of his face.

“On no ya don’t!” Junkrat immediately grabbed at Roadhog’s large hands, pulling with all his might, “I’ve been waitin’ well over a year to give ya a real smooch! Quit bein’ so stingy with yer looks!”

Junkrat, in vain, continued to attempt to prey Roadhog’s hands from his face, whining his complaints loud enough for everyone in the small village to hear. He didn’t seem to care though.

When Mako finally gave in, Junkrat claimed his prize, happily planting quick kisses over every detail on Mako’s face he found appealing, which was, unsurprisingly, all of them.

Come tommorrow, they’ll be back on the road. On their way to London and then some, off to steal and plunder the world of whatever they wanted.

Come tomorrow Mako will return to Roadhog, a cold hearted killer with a Pig’s face covering his own.

Come tomorrow, they’ll be in another toxic city, on another boat, in another country, where the air is putrid and the sky in covered in a layer of smog.

But tonight they’re in Tadfeild.