#carnagekiid

Take the boy who always gave his name as "Junkrat". He was known to blow through the shop at strange times in a flurry of manic energy. He took the biggest, sweetest, most caffeinated drinks, flirted outrageously with Mako, and sprang away again. He was skinny enough Mako suspected most of his caloric intake was the coffee.

He never stopped moving. Always bouncing around on his mismatched legs. Always fidgeting with his mismatched hands. Wild flame-orange eyes always a little too wide, words a little too fast. Just looking at him was exhausting. He tipped decently, though, and, well... it was kind of nice to be called 'angel' and 'handsome' and 'gorgeous'. So Mako was a little bit fond of Junkrat, even if watching him reminded him exactly why full time college was a bad idea.

Mako might have watched Junkrat more than other customers. At first because his long pale body was only ever clothed in slightly too few clothes to be decent, and there was nothing wrong with admiring the view. As the semester wound up to finals week, everyone was more stressed. The coffee shop was overloaded with miserable students purchasing inadvisable amounts of caffeine, and everyone was on edge in class. In the middle of it, Junkrat seemed the same as ever—on the surface. Mako could see the frantic edge to Junkrat's mania, though, the deepening circles under his vivid eyes, the droop of exhaustion those rare moments he was still.

Everyone was pushed to the edge. Junkrat wasn't the only one. Mako just worried about him though. Wasn't much he could do for him, as just his barista. He had his hands full with work, classes, and the students he actually TA'd for.

He tried to talk to him, in the brief moments he was coming through the line. Not that talking was his strong suit.

"New arm," he noticed. He figured, if Junkrat didn't want it mentioned, maybe it wouldn't be such an eye-seering orange and yellow. It had an x-eyed smiley face sticker on it. "Cute."

"Yeahyeah, haha," Junkrat grinned up at Mako, but his whole body was faintly trembling. "Final project. It's... it's coming along. Yeah. It's fine. Great. Wear testing. Probably needs more work but... Yeah, it's fine. It'll be fine."

Mako held his hand out. Junkrat stared at it, tittering.

"Shake?" Mako prompted.

"Oh! Right, mate. Shaking hands. People do that." He shoved his hand into Mako's, and Mako shook it. The hand felt like metal, but it gripped with approximately average strength, and none of the joints pinched.

Mako released him, and gave him a thumbs up, which Junkrat immediately returned. "Seems good," Mako said, and handed Junkrat his receipt and drink.

Junkrat puffed up with pride, eyes shining. "Good! It is good, innit?" He grabbed his oversized drink, saluted Mako with it, cursed when some of it slopped out onto his shiny new hand, and was gone out the door.

In tiny interactions, Mako tried to brighten Junkrat's days. He wasn't sure how successful he was. He was glad when finals were over, and winter break started. Campus cleared out, the coffee shop only needed a single barista on duty, and Mako could mostly work on grading papers for the classes he was TA for instead of running off his feet for hours.

He wasn't expecting it when Junkrat showed up. He got only a small mocha, called Mako 'the beautiful angel of caffeine, giver of the life-giving elixir', said 'I love you' when given his drink like a man who hadn't slept in several days and didn't realize what their mouth was saying, and then curled up in one of the cozy armchairs instead of bouncing away.

Within minutes, he was snoring. He was far from the first student to ever fall asleep in the coffee shop, but he was the last one Mako would have ever expected it of. Junkrat snored exuberantly and loudly. It was oddly endearing.

Mako smiled to himself as he went back to his grading.

Normally Mako would have woken someone up after a little while, but he couldn't quite bring himself to wake Junkrat. It wasn't like there were any other customers for him to be disturbing, anyway. Mako let him rest, an ungainly heap of limbs sprawled in the corner, until closing time.

"Junkrat." Mako shook his shoulder, and he woke with a snort and mild flailing. He blinked uncomprehending up at Mako. "Closing time." Mako told him.

"Oh, right. Right." Junkrat stood and stretched, arching and cracking his back. He rubbed his face and looked toward the clock. "Shit! Fuck! Missed my carpool! Gotta take the fucking shitty buses and take three times as long..."

"I'll drive you," Mako said, and then closed his mouth, because he hadn't expected to say that out loud.

"Really, mate?" Junkrat beamed at him. "All right! I knew I liked you!"

Mako didn't regret it. He gestured him to follow with a turn of his head, and led Junkrat through the staff room, grabbing his jacket on the way.

"I'm not to far, but I'll pay gas money. What kind of car is..." Junkrat broke off with a gasp when he saw Mako's vehicle. "...not a car. Hooley Dooley would you look at that hog! Second sexiest thing I've seen all day!"

"Only second?" Mako pulled his leather jacket on, and pulled the studded riding gloves out of his pockets. He was almost insulted. His bike was probably the best thing he owned.

"Third." Junkrat's voice was small and strangled. "After you, earlier, and you right now mate I didn't know you could get any sexier!?"

Mako laughed, warmth blooming through him. They weren't customer and service worker any more. They were outside their usual context, and now anything was possible. He quite liked where the possibilities might lead.

He settled astride the bike, patted the space behind him. "Ready, Junkrat?"

"It's... it's Jamie, actually," Junkrat said, as he climbed behind Mako. "It was just a silly nickname because I wanted you to think I was cool and different and remember me? Hahaha?"

"All right, Jamie." Mako grabbed Jamie's hand, which was delicately resting on his side, and pulled it so he was much closer to Mako's back. "Hold tight." He bared his teeth, reving the engine. "You're about to learn why they call me 'Roadhog'."

“So is staring forlornly out into space your new favourite pass-time or somethin’? Cause it’s awful pitiful.”

Ivan didn’t have to look to know who it was plopping down beside him. A pair of skinny legs stretched out in his peripheral vision clothed in suit pants and impeccably shined shoes.

“What do you want, Gilbert?” Ivan asked rather dryly, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees and clasp his hands together.

“Figured I haven’t pestered you in a while,” Gilbert shrugged, crossing his legs at the ankle as he spoke, “I’ve got a quota to meet, you see.”

“Is that so.” Ivan hummed disinterestedly. 

The two were sat on the outside steps of a conference building. It was meant to be a lunch break, but Gilbert himself had been snacking the entire meeting and Ivan seemed not to be hungry in the slightest.

“You didn’t seem to be paying attention at the meeting either.” Gilbert added, fishing through his pockets until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a cigarette and lighter, taking the opportunity to have a smoke while the meeting was out of session.

“That would be because I’m not interested.”

“Yikes. Economy got you down?”

Ivan shot Gilbert a sidelong glare, watching as the other impassively brought his cigarette to his lips and took a drag. Gilbert didn’t seem phased by the piercing look.

“You know very well what the problem is, East.”

“Hey now,” Gilbert frowned, leaning forward a bit to scowl at the other, “It’s one Germany. I’m back to just Gilbert.”

“Just?” Ivan echoed, raising a curious brow. Gilbert shrugged, tucking his carton of cigarettes back in his breast pocket. “You seem...remarkably okay with that.” Ivan said slowly.

“It’s nothin’ I haven’t been through before. Just...a little more permanent, I think. No more strings to pull to get me back on the map.”

“Right,” Ivan paused, “you’ve gone through this twice now.”

“Two and a half if you wanna count that coup d’etat or whatever in ‘33. Was it ‘33? Hell if I know, that was a messed up decade.” He fell quiet when he noticed Ivan seeming to lose interest in the conversation. Gilbert watched him for several long moments, cigarette perched idly between his lips.

The Soviet Union had officially been dissolved. All the satellite states released to take control of their nations as they saw fit. Germany had been reunified and the Iron Curtain torn to pieces in one fell swoop. Everyone was ecstatic, to say the least.

Everyone but Ivan, that is.

Gilbert couldn’t blame him. Losing a nation was hard. It was excruciating. But for Ivan to lose a Union as massive as the USSR, one that Ivan represented himself...

Well that had to be all sorts of painful. Gilbert could remember the aches and pains he’d had to deal with. The migraines and night-sweats and God some days it felt like every nerve in his body had been set on fire. 

“No one will speak to me.” Ivan said quietly; so quietly in fact, that Gilbert almost didn’t hear him.

“Well yeah, you sorta ran everyone into the ground.” Gilbert reminded him bluntly. Ivan closed his eyes and released a sharp breath. “Better’n tryin’ to purge the world for a perfect race.”

“Stalin was responsible for millions of deaths, Gilbert.”

“The difference is it was your own people.” Gilbert replied easily, plucking the cigarette from his lips after taking another drag. He flicked the ash off the end, exhaling smoke through his nostrils. “Herr Hitler was a little more...adventurous on that count.”

“This isn’t really making me feel better.” Ivan remarked.

“Who said I was tryin’ to give you a pep talk?”

“If that’s the case, I would ask that you kindly leave.”

Gilbert seemed to deliberate. “Nah.” He flashed a grin when Ivan glowered his direction. 

Ivan turned his gaze back to the street, watching the cars and pedestrians pass by. It was silent for quite some time before either of them spoke again.

“It gets easier.”

Ivan chanced a glance Gilbert’s direction, watching the other snuff out his cigarette and relax back against the steps. Hes expression was remarkably calm and collected; a rarity for him.

“This,” Gilbert emphasized, motioning vaguely to Ivan’s form, “it gets easier.”

“I’m not entirely worried about the physical misery, Gilbert.”

“I’m talkin’ about bein’ ostracized too.” Gil cut in, folding his arms across his chest. “Yeah, they’re pissed, but years will go by and people will move on.” He shrugged. “It’ll pass.”

“You make it sound like a common cold.” Ivan muttered, tugging his scarf a little more tightly around his neck. “Even my sisters ignore me.” He added quietly.

“It won’t be that way forever.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because nothing is. If you haven’t figured that out after living for damn near a millennia if not more, then what the fuck are you doin’ here?” Gilbert bit out rather harshly. “I used to be an industrial powerhouse. My army was something to be feared. But I also used to be nothin’ more than a handful of half trained nitwits who called them selves Knights when they were anything but.”

“And now it seems you’re in a lesser position than when you even started.” Ivan added dryly.

“But I’m alive,” Gilbert rebutted, “and that’s gotta count for somethin’. You don’t just throw in the towel when something doesn’t go your way. No one gets anywhere with that. I started from nothing, Ivan. You can start from less. But as I see it, you’ve still got a nation under your feet and obligations to attend to. Make the best of it. You throw away a golden opportunity like that then you’re a coward.”

“It’s not as easy as just-”

“Trust me.” Gilbert interrupted harshly. “I know it. Don’t try and tell me I don’t. But no one got anywhere by rollin’ over and callin’ it quits.” He pushed himself up to his feet, dusting the back of his pants off. “Work hard to make things better. At the very least, they’ll see you try.”

Ivan heard the scrape of Gilbert’s shoes as he stepped back up the stairs. After a few moments he turned and called his attention.

“Gilbert?”

The albino turned on his heel, brows raised and hands shoved in the pockets of his trousers. Ivan hesitated briefly, looking uncertain at first.

“Thank you.” He finally said.

Gilbert’s lips curled up into a lopsided smile as he shot Ivan a mock salute. 

“Was this your idea?”

“Sorta.” Gilbert cleared his throat, shufflingnervously. “I mean, kinda. Yeah. It’s weird but I have my reasons,alright?”

“Care to share them?” Ivan gently clasped his hands behind hisback, watching Gilbert closely. “This is awfully generous, especially foryou. I wasn’t under the impression you were the giving type.” His gazeflickered briefly to the amber walls around them; at the gilded frames andsparkling gemstones. There had to be hundreds of shades of amber stitchedtogether in that room.

And Gilbert, to Ivan’s incredulity, was giving it to him. Just like that.

“It’s,”Gilbert started, wetting his lips as he stared off uncertainly to the side, “it’san apology.”

“Anapology,” Ivan repeated, voice rather flat and rightfully disbelieving, “from you.”

“Look,I know I was an ass to you growing up, but I do actually have some manners. I was kind of a dick toyou when we were kids.”

“Onlykind of?” Ivan arched his brows.

“Alright,a massive dick. So I’m givin’ you this room in the hopes that we can put itpast us and, y’know, you won’t try and get your revenge on me or anythin’.”

Ivanlooked exceptionally unamused. Gilbert couldn’t really blame him. “You’retrying to bribe me.”

“No.I’m not.”

“Anyoneelse would think so.” Ivan said. “You’re giving me an extravagant gift in thehopes that you can persuade me not toutterly decimate your new nation.” Gilbert grimaced. “It’s a bribe.”

“It’san apology.” Gilbert said again,desperately almost. Ivan couldn’t help but delight in that a little bit.

“Icould just flat out deny you.” Ivan said, garnering a rather anxious look fromthe other nation. “I’ve no purpose for these sorts of things, after all. Butthat would be a lot of money wasted on your part.”

Gilberthesitated, shuffling in place. “So…?”

“Wellit would be rude not to accept it,” Ivan shrugged, “so I suppose there’s littlereason not to. Other then I don’t trust you, of course.”

“Notvery many people do,” Gilbert admitted, “but then again who trusts anybody inour line of work?”

“Avalid point.” Ivan hummed, idly walking about the room to assess its moredelicate workings. Gilbert watched him like a hawk as he did. “This won’t meanwe’re friends.” Ivan added after a few moments of thought.

“Coursenot. I’m not that desperate.” Gilbertshifted his weight from side to side. “Allies would be a better term, I think.I’m just lookin’ to put the past behind us, alright?”

“Becauseyou’re intimidated by me.” Ivan cast a rather unnerving smile Gilbert’sdirection and watched as the other nation bristled.

“Whoisn’t?” Gilbert grumbled sourly. “Consider it a peace offering if that makesyou feel better.”

“Itdoes.” Ivan hummed, sweeping his gaze over a particularly fantastic frame. Hereached out to touch it, half convinced it would crumble to pieces the momenthe did. But the room was definitely real, and definitely one of the finestworks of craftsmanship he had seen in, well, ever.

AndGilbert was just…giving it to him.

Hemust’ve been desperate, Ivan thought. How silly.

“So?”Gilbert pressed, anxious for an answer. Ivan took his time deliberating,eventually turning to face the other after a few long moments of silence passedbetween them.

“Iaccept.”

Gilbertstared. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Christ,I didn’t think this’d actually work.” Gilbert breathed out in a nervous laugh,raking a hand through his silver locks. “Alright. Awesome. It’s a deal then.”His lips curled up into a lopsided grin as he thrust his hand out for Ivan toshake.

Ivanhesitated a moment, but finally reached out to clasp Gilbert’s hand in his.They gave each other a firm shake, and then their hands fell away.

Itwas the start of an acquaintanceship Ivan had not entirely expected. But one heultimately didn’t entirely regret, either.