Laughing Sickness
Junkrat rarely laughed on purpose. He'd told people a few times, mainly when he walked around the base at night and spooked them with his cackles.
And again in the showers and locker rooms, when he'd catch glimpses of dicks.
He got beaten up the first few times. Apparently laughing at folks when they were naked and on display was considered offensive.
Worst of all was during serious moments and stretches of silence. He had laughed during Roadhog's funeral. The entire base had been there, heads bowed and still; while, Junkrat rattled like a boiling pot. He sputtered in his speech, as he struggled to breath through the giggling and tears.
After that, most of the team ignored his laughing, which he was grateful for.
Sure, most if not all thought he was plum-crazy, which he was, but he still wished he could laugh, genuinely for once.
When someone would tell a joke, he'd laugh; sure, but he could tell by the quirk of their brow or the glint of their eyes that it wasn't worth the same laughter as another.
Junkrat had oversold his laugh. Others were sick of it, no doubt, but what they didn't know was that Junkrat was sick of it most of all.
"Junkrat, why do you laugh so much?"
It was McCree who'd first asked so plainly.
Sure, others had asked him the same question before, but usually a threat was tacked on at the end.
Not this question though.
Junkrat grew nervous as he bashfully looked up at McCree. He smiled big and cheekily, but still a few chuckles slipped from his closed teeth.
"Can't help it." Said Junkrat.
McCree sat down crisscross. There was a campfire between them and a rabbit that needed cleaning tied to McCree's belt.
Both of them had been paired up for a mission. It was a simple one, mere reconnaissance. McCree would've preferred to work alone. Junkrat was the last person he would've picked for company, having heard stories of his obnoxious hyena laugh during the dead of night.
But Junkrat had a hand covering his mouth and tears dotted the corner of his eyes.
McCree thought back to Junkrat's response.
"You're not laughing on purpose, are you?"
"No." Said Junkrat. The crack and wetness of his voice was all the confirmation McCree needed.
"That's unfortunate. You happen to know why?"
McCree had taken a knife to the rabbit. Its pelt was twisted off and tossed aside. McCree had no intention of tanning it, but Junkrat had grabbed it up and ran his fingers across it, petting it as if it was still alive.
It would've come across as disturbing, if it hadn't looked so sad. Junkrat was crying now, clean streaks of tears cut across his dirtied face.
He stared at the ground, refusing to look at McCree as wet little giggles punctuated his sobbing.
"I do...but if I told you, you'd gut me like that rabbit."
McCree snorted at that. "I doubt it Rat. If I wanted to kill you, I'd have done it as soon as you'd came into Overwatch-would've collected that sweet bounty on your head."
Junkrat smiled meekly, but made a point not to laugh.
"Roight, that makes...a bit of sense."
"Tell you what..." McCree grinned, and gestured with his knife. "You tell me what's up with your uncontrolled laughing and I'll give you my share of this rabbit. You can help yourself to the entire thing."
It was a bit of a sour deal on Junkrat's part. McCree could very well catch another rabbit, but Junkrat would have a harder time.
He had no conventional weapons: no guns, arrows, knives, nor even a slingshot.
Junkrat usually carried just bombs, which if he lobbed at a rabbit, would putrefy the meat.
And Junkrat certainly wasn't in the mood to chase one down with his bare hands, like he'd done his entire childhood.
McCree finished cutting up the rabbit. The crackling of tasty morals over the fire sealed the deal for Junkrat.
"Alright, mate. No skin off my back."
Normally Junkrat would've haggled for a better deal; perhaps for another rabbit or two. But, eh, things didn't always need to be perfect for him.
He shrugged and leaned over to grab some meat.
McCree smacked his hand away.
"Oi, what was that for?!" Junkrat angrily scowled.
"It's not cooked yet, dusthead." Said McCree.
Junkrat just scowled harder. "So? What does it matter if it's cooked or not?"
McCree raised a brow. "You can't eat raw meat. Else, it's crawling with diseases otherwise."
"Oh? I guess that explains some things."
"What?"
"It's got to do with my laughing." Junkrat shrugged. "The doctor blondie, Mercy, said it was caused by a disease."
"Ahh." McCree nodded. Junkrat could see his eyes flicker around, his mind connecting the pieces. "So what's it called?" He asked.
Junkrat shook his head. "Don't know what its proper name is. It was common back home. Junkers just call it 'laughing sickness.'
"I see." McCree turned the meat over. Junkrat was tempted to try snatching the meat again, but McCree waved for him to continue.
"Roight." He huffed. His already weak patience grew horribly thin when hungry. "Anyway, I have holes in my brain. The missing bits cause the laughing, shakes, and twitches I get-can't ever stop moving." Junkrat clenched his teeth. "Even when I want to."
McCree didn't say anything, even when Junkrat's fingers hovered around the fire, aiming for some meat.
"Let me guess, radiation poisoning?" McCree had a thoughtful expression.
Junkrat sniffed and shook his head. Small chuckles escaped him. "Oh, oh no. I wish it was that simple! I thought that too, but Mercy says radiation doesn't work on the brain like that."
Really? Darn, that was my best guess." McCree smirked. He noticed that Junkrat was smiling now. It was good for him to talk about it.
McCree figured he didn't have much conversation with anyone else, period.
Funny, considering how much Junkrat usually loved to talk everyone's ears off.
"So don't leave me in suspense. If not radiation, what did you in?"
Almost immediately, Junkrat's smile vanished. McCree almost regretted the question, but he was curious…and was giving up his dinner over it.
"Yeah, yeah...guess no harm in saying it." Suddenly Junkrat's expression turned steely and dark. "It comes from eating people."
"...Pardon?" McCree pretended not to hear as he poked at the rabbit. Junkrat scowled, not sure what to make of his reaction.
"I ate people." Junkrat sighed. "It's all I ate for a while. You know, while I was trapped in the Outback?"
Sure, he'd catch lizards, birds, and rabbits...but..
"Why?" McCree sounded genuinely perplexed.
Junkrat stared at McCree, as if the answer was obvious. But McCree just stared back, and waved for him to continue.
Junkrat's eyelids twitched. His patience was gone.
"What!?" He abruptly stood up. His arms shook as he paced back and forth.
Something about the plain response ticked him off.
"Because it was the only good food I had!"
McCree stayed silent.
Right, Junkrat had to talk more.
"Ok, ok. You know all about my bounty. Well, it didn't start with my 'terrorist activities.' No, I was chased constantly throughout the Outback. I only got a break when I managed to hire Roadhog."
"Hrm, your rabbit is done."
Junkrat perked at that. He sat back down.
Quickly, he started biting at the rabbit.
McCree looked amused. Junkrat continued talking through a mouthful.
"Anyway." He waved a hand as he swallowed. "It just made sense. My food literally came running to me! Blowing them up half cooked the meat anyway." Junkrat took another big bite.
"Eating people was easy."
McCree shifted his hat. "Can't say I blame you considering the circumstances."
An eerie thought crossed his mind. "It was a good thing I never seriously set my sights on hunting you then. What a way to go."
Junkrat stopped eating. McCree thought he'd again pissed off the rat, until Junkrat smiled.
"You're mighty right about that."
McCree chuckled, albeit nervously.
"What's it taste like?"
Junkrat shrugged. "Just regular ol' rabbit, mate."
"No, no, people."
"Oh."
McCree was asking the real questions now.
Junkrat laughed. It started slow, he'd almost held it in-until he realized it was real, a genuine one. He had McCree's full attention.
"Buddy, mate, people taste better than this rabbit."