Hello! I really love your work! Are you still taking Doomcio requests? If so, may I request some injury care with Akande taking care of Lucio? Double points if it's something to do with Lucio's inability to walk without his gear (that headcanon hits me in the feels)
I am so sorry this has taken an age to respond to! I also apologise for how this may render, I wrote it on zero sleep. Thank you so much for the support, @rottenadel! <3
Rainy Day (Canalso be read on AO3)
Doomfist | Akande Ogundimu/ LĂșcio Correia dos Santos (T)
Lucio wishes he just stayed in bed that morning. Akande wishes Lucio would stop protesting his help.
 "Hey, I donât work for you.â
 Akande smirks. âWeâre going to make it.â
 Straddling Akandeâs lap, arms slung over his shoulders, the look LĂșcio gives him is incredulousâalmost betrayed for daring to doubt. âOf course weâre going to make it.â
 Akande shrugs, relief sinking in. He allows himself a little smugness, ignoring the droll stare narrowed on him at point blank range. âOf course.â
 In the low light of LĂșcioâs sonic amplifier, their shadows ebb and flicker on the narrow tunnel walls in a soft wash of remedial gold. One sprained wrist ago, the speaker began to spark after LĂșcio threw down his sound barrier. LĂșcio has finally allowed Akande to inspect the injury (after the third time he asked). Thatâs how he knows LĂșcio is worried.
 âYou were favouring your back?â Lowering the bandaged wrist, Akande follows LĂșcioâs eye when the DJ ducks his head.
 âItâs notâyou know. Just feels loose sometimes when I donât have the chance to stop.â LĂșcio yelps, arching away from the hands that slide around his waist, up and under his shirt. His hands close over Akandeâs, eyes darting to the deep shadows at their backs. âWe donâtââ
 Even in the dimness, LĂșcioâs cheeks glow. Akande watches his Adamâs apple bob as he swallows, breaths loud and unsteady. Slowly, the hands on Akandeâs let go.
 The underbelly of Londonâs omnic city stretches deep. Its tunnels, alleys and shanties cluster and burrow upon themselves in configurations that even their combined effort is struggling to discern. When they tipped over the platform of Kings Rowâs old power station, it felt like a short plummet. But if their logic holds and LĂșcioâs readings are correct, they fell at least thirty stories. Four hours later, theyâre making slow progress, and theyâre both feeling the strain of the landing.
 If only that was all they had to worry about.
 "I confess I didnât realise the city grew so far down,â Akande peers through a narrow gap in the curve between steel wall and low ceiling. Is that light on the other side? Is that a conveyor beltâ
 "Youâd be surprised where people will go to be free. Or where theyâre pushed when theyâre out of options. Thatâs the last time I try to save you from a fall,â LĂșcio grumbles with a gentle wince, and he stiffens when Akandeâs thumbs dig deep, massaging tight circles through the cluster of nerves around his tailbone that are giving him so much trouble. âNnhâŠ.â
 "I would have recovered if you did not interfere.â
 LĂșcio trembles under the strength of his touch, sweat beading his temple, and he levels Akande with a hot glare. âHow are you this ungrateful?â
 It just makes Akande smirk wider. He reaches for the last vial of LĂșcioâs healing liquid, and the tunnelâs light fades from wheat gold to a pale, aurora green. LĂșcio doesnât protest when Akande pours it into his palm, warming it between his hands, so he must approve of Akandeâs intention. âMy own frog prince, fresh out of water.â
 "Youâre not even funny,â LĂșcio protests through gritted teeth.
 âAnd all youâve done is complain all day. People say you are a positive force; I donât know who theyâre talking about.â
 "It was raining,â LĂșcio mourns, as though that should explain everything.
 Akande muses at the distant hum of generators, vibrations thrumming within the walls. The air is cold, not a natural source of light in sight. This is a world unto itself. âI doubt they have the concept of weather down here.â
 "I was supposed to stay in bed.â
You could have, Akande muses while LĂșcio braces his hands against Akandeâs abdomen, the touch warming through the thin, sleeveless shirt. Akande looks from those hands into LĂșcioâs face, but the other man is scowling at his collar instead. LĂșcio flinches, chest pushing out, when Akande applies pressure to a particularly hard knot of muscle around the dip of his spine, skin slippery with sweat and Zieglerâs solution.
 How many hours had they been running now?
 A sharp knuckle under his pec yanks his attention back to LĂșcioâs narrowed glare. âAnd you were supposed to stay away. This was my day off. I was gonna order in. Turn off my phone. Just me and the last season of whatever, with the storm on my window.â
 Akande smiles. âIt does sound attractive.â
 "I wouldnât have invited you.â
 âThen why did I wake up in your bed?â
 LĂșcioâs gloved knuckles gently buff him against the jaw for that.
Armored thighs tighten around Akandeâs waist with a stifled grunt of pain. Carefully searching LĂșcioâs face, Akande palms the warm skin of the DJâs waist, squeezing gently, fingers dipping below his belt to trace the seam of carbon fibre, duraplasteel prosthetic and flesh. This is all he can do for LĂșcio until they can get him to a doctor. âBetter?â
 LĂșcioâs hands close around his wrists, jaw clenched. As Akande holds his eye, and LĂșcio searches him right back, the air seems to warm and thicken. Heâs keenly aware of LĂșcioâs heavy weight across his hips, how his breaths are slowing. LĂșcioâs hand rises and palms oil grease with a light touch against his neck. His attention falls to LĂșcioâs mouth, soft lips relaxing their scowl.
 A sharp bark ratchets from the shadows at the end of the tunnel.
 They stiffen. The hands on Akandeâs wrists have tightened to an iron grip.
 "Slowly,â LĂșcio urges, and slides to his feet as Akande stands. His skates come to life with a quiet hum, and not for the first time Akande wishes those lights had an âoffâ setting.
 "They donât give up,â Akande canât help but be impressed, searching the fathomless dark for signs of movement, backing LĂșcio up behind him. âI want to bait one back to the surface.â
 "Weâre barely staying ahead!â LĂșcio hisses, and he may be completely justified but this is for science. The things Akandeâs team could learn from one of those, how and why they survivedâŠ. âYou wanna let them catch up? They nearly took your arm off!â
 Akande clenches the fist of his gauntlet. The inlaid dart barrels of his opposite knuckles are shredded, but his hand is still intact. Repairable. âEvery city has its defenses. Even here, there is something to learn.â
âYou weirdos and your experiments! Iâm not dying for your education!â LĂșcio snarls, fingers tight on his arm. He tugs insistently, amplifier against his hip. âI got one boost left. C'mon, we gotta go.â
 "I heard you,â Akande hushes him, still watching the dark.
 LĂșcio shoves off of him, muttering under his breath. âShoulda stayed in bed this morning.â
 The barks grow louder, a clanking scuffle of metal claws on steel that splits Akandeâs ear with their whine. But itâs the grind of rusted gears that makes his shoulders hunch, the sound of an old terror, wretched and broken and sprinting towards them at breakneck pace. A pale, red glow breaks the veil of the dark â then another, then a blur of more. Dozens of eyes of nulltroopers and slicers, remnants of a failed uprising. Cannibalised. Revived.
 Akande meets LĂșcioâs eyes, narrowed in determination. He looks to the long stretch of shadow ahead of them, and nods.