( Junkrat x Roadhog. Male/Male relationships. Will be NSFW in future chapters, warning. I also know nothing about Australia and did 10 minutes of research before spontaneously writing this at 3am! First fanfiction as well, enjoy! )
Australian mid-day; the heat had just scraped to an unforgiving 31 Celsius and was still climbing as the sun peaked to it's highest point. After a week of travel, Junkrat had managed to hit the boarder of the central region of the northern territory and was entering into the Tanami Desert. The vast silence of the place was taken over by the spluttering rev of an old bike and start-stop tunes of a CD that was mimicked by a rather overly enthusiast, and bad, gritty voice. Junkrat's many time renovated rusted Harley-Davidson adorned with custom enlarged track wheels ate at the dirt road he travelled along, the iconic red Tanami sand flying high in the air. A beaten plastic cased portable CD player was strapped to the front of his bike, blasting out old 90's tunes from disc he had recovered a few months ago from a raid on a large scrap pile, it was hard to hear over the bike.
Junkrat needed to find a decent place to rest, unload and repair what needed to be done. He knew he had blown something in the wrong direction on his bike for sure, the loud bang from the exhaust followed by the ever declining speed was practically a screaming red sign which cried 'fix me." The bike kept bucking back and forward in an attempt to meet Junkrat's expectations of speed but ended up coming to a sudden stiff halt which sent his face colliding with the bike's worn rubber tipped handles. "Oh, shit..." He groaned a bit as he rubbed his dirty face, "I just fixed ya up last week, stop playin' round." He really didn't want to be in the middle of nowhere and get stuck here without anything useful. His eyes darted the blank canvas that was the area, just hoping his engine had over heated and only needed cool down time. He spotted a scattered collection of termite mounds about half a mile out and knew he could take cover from the sun for a few hours there, it was better than sitting out on the road. He was a scrawny looking man, thin as a snapped twig in the outback and as filthy as the ground itself yet he managed to push the bike with some hidden strength. He walked with a heavy limp, small peg leg etching jagged lines in the sand and metal arm constantly flashing the sun into his own squinted eyes.
"Argh, you really fucked this one up mate." He scratched his own head in annoyance, grabbing his CD player and switched it off. "This thing survived longer than the damn bike!" He couldn't help but have a burst of hysterical laughter at the stupidity of it all, shaking his head and had a dumb grin stretched over his face. He took a seat behind a 5ft bug mound and started to rustle around in the sack that was held in a shopping basket chained to the back on his bike, pulling out some beer. He hadn't had clean water in around two days and the only thing that didn't taste too awful when it was off was beer, it was just extra sweet and sticky. He propped up a meter by meter scrap of metal in direct view of the sun as he started to tinker, and admittedly kick, his bike back into working order. He got the main frame of the bike from the junk pile back down by Mildura and found the engine Moree. It had taken a long time to build and every time it breaks, it takes even longer to fix. He had skipped food for the last day and had found himself pretty hungry, knowing the food in his bag would have gone rotten with the heat by now. He checked the strips of rabbit he had skinned two days ago, wrapped in a shred of leather, and it was definitely smelling more than off.. He didn't have anything else for now and he really wanted to die a cool, explodey death and not killed by rotting rabbit strips. He threw them down onto the hot metal surface he had laid out and it sizzled on impact. He sighed and just laid back, eyes shutting.
If he got stuck out here, seriously stuck, he couldn't really do anything. He had taken a gamble by cutting his travel by going through the desert and if it didn't pay off- he'd be so fucked. A second thought crossed his mind, he wasn't entirely screwed. There was one guy who'd travel a distance to come get him but oh boy, would he get the shit kicked out of him for asking. Mid-day soon faded to twilight and after hours wasted trying everything to get his bike up and going, he really seemed to be out of options. His bike was busted, a slight sense of nausea had caught up with him and just a plain old ache of his bones from travel was enough for him to reach for the only one knew item he owned, a cell phone. It was a flip phone, nice and compact. Junkrat had a weird consternation about technology. He stared at the phone for a solid ten minutes before looking around at his surroundings; the horizon far off into the distance, the dirt road which was many miles longer than he could count and even up at the sky that was slowly fading black. He sighed a bit, not overly excited to be calling for help at all, it was unlike him to do so but he needed it. He clumsily bashed in a certain number he had taken great care in remembering for purposes exactly like this. He smiled a bit to himself though, it had been a few years since he last saw him. He hit call and the phone only rang for a whole 3 seconds before a familiar voice gruffly snorted into the phone, "What?" It said.
"So, piggy. Wanna come down 'ere and gimme a lift?"