(sorry in advance for what follows)

You've always been one for the golden 'eight hours of rest' rule. But currently- by no fault of your own- you find yourself unable to submit to blissful unconsciousness, much to your fucking chagrin. And if you weren't knocked out in the next 15 minutes you would be in no shape for training come tomorrow.

So why were you here with a pillow clamped over your head? Because your inconsiderate neighbour is currently (from what you can muster) conducting a late night wrestling match. Or like, fighting off a dozen goblins. The thought brought a moment of laughter to you, though that was probably the sleep deprivation rearing its head.

It's safe to say you weren't used to this. In the few months after joining Overwatch and moving into your assigned room you had no problems with rowdy neighbours, namely because they were always out prioritising sparring over sleep. But unfortunately for you that wasn't the case tonight. You lifted the pillow from your face momentarily, hopeful the grunting had stopped. To your disappointment it sounded like a few more goblins had joined in.

You restlessly turned back and forth for a few more minutes, but by God that Junker really did have a pair of lungs on him. Flinging the covers off of your vest and short covered form you stormed over to the far wall of your room and brought a fist down angrily against it. Finding yourself unsuccessful in grasping any attention using your hands, you yelled out a hearty "Jamison you aussie cunt, if you don't put a sock in it I'll come in there and pull your tongue out". Granted the language was a bit strong, and you didn't have anything against the kid (aside from how his face twitched unnervingly and his giggle was reminiscent of an eight year old's), but he was an obstacle in the greater plan right now.

Really the last thing you wanted to do right now was go through with your threat. Not necessarily out of kindness to Fawkes, but just because your room was pretty cosy and your plush covered bed was more appealing than the thought of whatever stink could be in Junkrat's room. But the Australian battle cries had long since cracked whatever restraint you'd been feeling.

Stomping quickly to the door, you bypassed your slippers in your sleepy yet rage-filled state and exited your abode. Flexing your fingers and planning to punch the door in, you caught a glimpse of the door of the adjoining room. Of course it was ajar. You doubted Junkrat even knew what the word 'privacy' meant.
Pushing enough for it to swing open you readied yourself to list off the reasons why Fawkes needed to shut up immediately for his own safety. But you froze. Mouth hanging open and hand still outstretched, your mind quickly intruded- 'of course he's jacking off you fucking yam, who's wrestling at 11:30 at night?' You honestly overestimated your logical reasoning.

So yeah, there he was. On his back. Cock in hand. Two metal fingers in his ass. Headphones clamped over his ears, no doubt listening to some obscure whalesong or whatever kids these days jack off to. Thankfully his eyes were closed. You could have taken a picture to use as some sick bargaining chip for explosives but you're a good(ish) guy.
Not one to interfere with the beauty of self love, you disregarded the speech you had readied and quietly reached to close the door for him. You realised you probably wouldn't be able to look at Junkrat ever again without the memory of his balls impinging on you. 'That's alright. I've seen worse testicles in my day,' you thought to yourself.

You had the door halfway closed when he opened his eyes.
"Oi! Who's out there?" came the slightly laboured voice. You honestly hoped he would have just left it be and kept jackin', but you can't have it all.

You popped your head round the door- making sure to keep your eyes on Junkrat's face. You could still tell that his fingers were in his ass though, leaving you slightly unsure as to how to continue.
"Uh, hi Jamison. Saw your door was open and I heard stuff so I was just-" he cut you off.
"You're just the person I needed to see!" he announced. Did he need to talk strategies or something? That really could wait, this kid sure knows how to pick a time for chatting.
You narrowed your eyes."In case you've forgotten, you're kind of…" you gestured to the vague vicinity of his cock filled hand, "… busy." He looked at you incredulously. "Aye sheila, I'm having a bitta trouble finishing though. Think you could help a pal out?" You couldn't believe this guy. Asking you to jerk him off as though it was as simple as a back scratch. And in what you would class as one of your lowest moments you found yourself considering it.

After a few moments you quietly asked "Will you shut up if I do?" All you got was a sprightly grin in response.