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[personal profile] comingupexplody
Thread getting too steamy for public? Did the meme start captcha-ing? Bring the party here and we'll keep it going!

gettin all transcendent up in hurr

Date: 2016-11-21 10:29 pm (UTC)
tekhartha: (ᴛʜᴇʏ ꜱʟɪᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡɪʟᴅʟʏ ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ ꜱʟɪᴘ)
From: [personal profile] tekhartha
There had been bets taken on how long they would last, Mako and Jamison- Roadhog and Junkrat, people murmured, but using those names now that they were officially part of Overwatch seemed wrong to Zenyatta. Regardless of how distant the pair seemed, regardless of the less than pleasant circumstances of their induction, they are now a team. First names, real names, should pass between them as easily as any other words.

Not that, he supposes, the conversations he's had with Jamie have been particularly easy, or even what he'd qualify as conversations. By turns rude, mocking and outright aggressive, Jamie has done an excellent job of shutting down every possible opening Zenyatta makes without crossing the line into violence- even if he's obviously itching to pull that particular trigger. And Zenyatta's been trying to make openings whenever he can. Zarya's distrust has melted over time, and even Torbjörn seems to look upon him with a certain respect these days, but Jamieson Fawkes is a singularly stubborn individual. Certainly, he can understand why. But...

It's late. They've spent the better part of three days chasing Blackwatch agents out of the area, and every one of them is exhausted; Zenyatta can feel his joints protesting, loose and overworked, his processors clogged with excess memory just waiting to be purged. Maybe that's why he finds his mind turning the events of the day over and over again in his mind like a precious stone, and it's Jamison and his manic grin that he finds winking back at him. He'd refused healing three times today alone. More than that, Zenyatta could have sworn that a few of those grenades were launched in his direction.

This time, against all logic, Zenyatta does not resist the pull of his instincts. He moves softly, stepless, to the room in which he knows he will find Junkrat, surrounded by traps and bombs and scrap, and knocks three times.

no no it's nice you'll like it

Date: 2016-11-22 08:48 pm (UTC)
tekhartha: (ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ'ꜱ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ)
From: [personal profile] tekhartha
Not for the first time, Zenyatta finds himself grateful to be inorganic; had he the muscles to tic he'd probably have flinched at the first sign of that mine, even if hindsight makes it clear that it's nonfunctional. The last thing he needs right now is to give Jamison a reason to think him easily intimidated.

Because of course that's the route the Junker heads down first. That gargoyle posture makes it easy to forget how tall he is, over six foot of wiry, radiation-hardened muscle and guts. Even without explosives he'd more than make do if he took it upon himself to dismantle an omnic. His olfactory sensors detect gunpowder, grease and soot. A dangerous combination, considering.

But Zenyatta simply laces his fingers together, the picture of absolute complacency.

With anyone else, he might apologise for the intrusion. But there's about as much use in apologising to Junkrat as there is in asking Hanzo for the time of day. "I wanted to speak to you privately." His gaze settles on Jamison's scowl, even and undeterred. "About today. May I come in?"
Edited Date: 2016-11-22 08:56 pm (UTC)

Date: 2016-11-25 09:04 pm (UTC)
tekhartha: (ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴏɴ)
From: [personal profile] tekhartha
Is there really anything he could conceivably say to convince Junkrat to keep this door open? Zenyatta doubts it very much, which is why he does the next logical thing instead: he grabs the door as well, right underneath his hand. As much as he's sure Junkrat would love the slam it shut on his fingers, he's going to have trouble overpowering the dangerous combination of titanium servos and sheer willpower.

Before the man can argue, he forces the door open just a little more and makes to edge around his body.

"I will, once we have spoken." Calm, but firm, as though he were speaking to a wild animal about to strike. What is it they say about rats and corners? "Five minutes. I need no more of your time than that- and while I am in here," he adds, tantalisingly, "I will respect that I am in your territory, and obey your rules. Within reason."

It's a very small trump card, but a trump card nonetheless, playing to Junkrat's ego. He may well let his guard down somewhat if assured that he's still in control.

Date: 2016-11-25 09:53 pm (UTC)
tekhartha: (ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴍᴇ)
From: [personal profile] tekhartha
Oh, but he will have to tread as carefully as he would if he were traversing one of Junkrat's own personal deathtraps, and he will be made to feel every second of it. Yet Zenyatta has won his time, and he accepts the forfeit with a dignified nod that could, at the junker's height, almost be called a bow of sorts.

"My word is golden." Finally, he enters the room.

As he scans the small-scale chaos between four walls that constitutes the bunk, he decides not to choose between the bed and a tire for a seat. Instead pulls his feet up into a floating lotus position and rests his elbows on his knees, fingers bridged. His orbs cling tightly about his neck. No funny business, as 76 had once called it.

"You shot at me today." A plain, simple opening. Fact. "Have I offended you?"

Date: 2016-11-26 09:08 pm (UTC)
tekhartha: (ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴀᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ)
From: [personal profile] tekhartha
That laugh is like a rain of gunfire. Zenyatta withstands it, a silent wall of indifference to it and the abuse that follows, blow after blow of it. Nothing in this little diatribe is something he has not heard before but, no matter what Junkrat might think, he is not made of stone. There will, he supposes, always be some tiny, frightened part of him still wincing away from every word, a raised human hand, a threat.

Now, though, he does not wince.

If I only had a brain. That was the Scarecrow, was it not? Zenyatta remembers the film, black and white.

"You may be right," he answers, "but I am here nonetheless, and I would like to settle my differences with everyone here. Continue. What is it about me that you object to?"

Date: 2016-11-26 09:35 pm (UTC)
tekhartha: (ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ꜰʟᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ)
From: [personal profile] tekhartha
Put like that it does sound ridiculous, even borderline masochistic. But if they're going to get anywhere- if they're ever going to work together, amicably or not- Zenyatta knows he must have patience, and resilience.

There's something about the way Junkrat throws himself down down that's oddly feline: that long, slinky body, stretching and folding, territorial.

"Please, begin when you are ready." Zenyatta's voice is a soft, undemanding hum. "I will be right here."
Edited Date: 2016-11-26 09:36 pm (UTC)

Date: 2016-11-28 09:56 pm (UTC)
tekhartha: (ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟᴇ ʙʟɪɴᴅʟʏ)
From: [personal profile] tekhartha
Mistrust. Old war wounds. Zenyatta has heard every one of his answers time and time again, yet repetition has done little to dull their force. Every move Junkrat makes drives his points in harder and deeper, as if they were nails to be hammered in, and he sits still and silent to accept them as he knows he must. It is a matter of respect. Those prosthetics speak for themselves.

Finally, after what feels like a century's worth of time, he senses a break in the flow, and he speaks.

"I am." His voice is soft, birdsong to Junkrat's roar. "I cannot change what has been. But I can change what will be, and I do not want you, nor anyone else, to suffer like that again."

It is not an apology- he was created long after the Crisis had ended- but there is some of the force of one within it nonetheless.

Date: 2016-12-02 10:16 pm (UTC)
tekhartha: (ᴅʀɪꜰᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍʏ ᴏᴘᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴍɪɴᴅ)
From: [personal profile] tekhartha
The first assault had broken across Zenyatta like an earthquake beneath his feet; these aftershocks are far easier to endure. From beginning to end, he says nothing, refusing to let his head fall even for a second.

Then it's over, Junkrat seemingly having run out of steam for now. The storm clouds clear for a few precious moments, and in the quiet he makes a soft sound that might almost be a sigh to release the tension he's accumulated in the last few minutes. His shoulders drop, release- and then he straightens up again.

"That is fine." It takes less effort than he feared it might to get the words out; with one word he accepts Junkrat's aggression, and with the next he releases it as he would a wild animal. "I will respect your wishes and leave you to your own company from this point onward- on two conditions." Languidly, he raises one long, metal finger. "Firstly, I ask that you refrain from firing at me on missions. Secondly-"

He hesitates. Just for a second. He knows what he wants for his next term, but the odds of it being accepted...

Speak it.

"I would like to shake your hand. Just the once."

Date: 2016-12-03 09:42 pm (UTC)
tekhartha: (ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ꜰʟᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ)
From: [personal profile] tekhartha
"I do not have a game," Zenyatta answers smoothly. He'd expected some resistance from the moment he made his proposition. "I want to demonstrate my respect for you, and for your wishes."

Besides, he reasons silently, what harm could he really do to Junkrat? He's already missing one arm, as he's already so charmingly pointed out. He holds his hand out in hopeful expectation- hopeful, that is, that it won't be yanked clean out of his wrist joint for scrap metal.

Date: 2016-12-03 10:25 pm (UTC)
tekhartha: (ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴏɴ)
From: [personal profile] tekhartha
There it is again. That aggression. The last few minutes, it seems, have been little more than the eye of Junkrat's storm, and it has already passed over the both of them. Zenyatta gives a small, disappointed sigh, and rises to his feet again.

"I will oblige your first condition, if not the second- if you shake my hand." For such a soft voice it truly is impressive, how hard he can make it sound. Not angry, or aggressive- just determined. He will not be moved on this, even if he is already gliding across the floor to where Junkrat sits. It also, conveniently, brings him closer to the door. "Just the once."

you have picked the wrong opponent junkrat

Date: 2016-12-05 09:35 pm (UTC)
tekhartha: (ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ'ꜱ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ)
From: [personal profile] tekhartha
Startling though the accusation may seem, Zenyatta cannot help but wonder if it isn't a perfectly logical leap. All that's changed is that he's now asserting not only his dominance but his masculinity in the broadest way he possibly can: with height, and with a passionless leer.

He pauses. This is where he could give up, or give in, continue to take Junkrat's seemingly bottomless supply of hatred in martyred silence- but given the good that approach has done so far there seems no point in dragging it out.

Before he can have his trust, Zenyatta realises, he must first earn his respect.

The omnic pauses. The tilt of his head, like a sparrow mocking a hungry cat, comes far more naturally to him than he thought it would.

"You sound very sure of that, Jamieson." His voice is silk-smooth, without the faintest hitch; his gaze remains trained on Junkrat, unfaltering. "There is very little a human can do that I cannot."

Date: 2016-12-05 10:19 pm (UTC)
tekhartha: (ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ꜰʟᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ)
From: [personal profile] tekhartha
The laugh doesn't rattle him this time. Instead, Zenyatta raises his chin a little to meet Junkrat's gaze as if inviting it to examine his shoulders, chest, waist- though he knows even before it flickers lower where it will linger the longest.

"Among other things. There exists a wide variety of models." Of upgrades, shapes, sizes. This body did not always belong to him, but in the time since his epiphany, before devoting himself to the Shambali, he had taken the time to know it: he is not a virgin, for whatever such an empty concept could possibly mean.

Now, though, he improvising, following where their conversation leads without any true purpose. Winging it. If Junkrat is a creature of impulse, he will be one, too.

And for a fraction of a second the lines of Jieba on his brow pulse just as fearlessly as Junkrat's laugh. "Are you asking for a demonstration?"

Date: 2016-12-06 08:47 pm (UTC)
tekhartha: (ɪᴍᴀɢᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ʟɪɢʜᴛ)
From: [personal profile] tekhartha
Zenyatta has to admit that, for once, the feeling is entirely mutual; of all the hundreds of possible outcomes he'd dreamed up, this was not one of them. It hardly seems to be his own body that swells forward with the slow, gliding movement of the tide against the shore; the hand that reaches out for Junkrat's cheek, softened into a cup, seems to belong to someone else.

But he does not withdraw it.

"Very well. If you should change your mind, however," he says, evenly, without so much as a trace of his concern, "you need only say the word."

His palm finds Junkrat's jaw, smudged with grease and gunpowder; automatically he shifts his thumb to that sneering mouth in a light, curious stroke. Kisses are beyond him, of course, but this he can do. The junker's body language is all vulgar implication, but if they are going to do this they will do it at a pace that suits him as well.

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Jamison "Junkrat" Fawkes

November 2016

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