People often mistook Junkrat's flickering gaze to mean he was never paying attention to anything. The truth was rather the opposite – he was trying to pay attention to everything. While this proved counterproductive at the best of times, his agitation did not let him settle on one detail - unless it was particularly demanding. Every small sound or subtle movement drew his eyes. It was one of the many reasons he liked explosions. They were big, they were loud, and everything else paled in comparison. It left him truly focused on the glory of the blast, allowed him to fixate, to quieten his mind. That was part of the appeal, though the sheer power and destruction they carried in their wake was equally as infatuating.

Explosions were an uncompromising force of nature that could not be challenged, that could tear apart every threat, every enemy. Dancing with that danger was exhilarating. He knew one slip could kill him, but after spending so much of his life hanging by a thread it barely seemed to matter. He knew that anyone standing in his way was in a much more precarious position. So long as he held that danger close, nothing could touch him. It felt like he was standing on top of the world.

He would have much rather been reveling in that kind of excitement than be, say, stuck in a mandatory briefing.

The monkey tried. He really did, but words alone could not hold Junkrat's attention for an hour. Nor could the occasionally exasperated glances he sent in his direction.

He shifted in his seat, eyes ghosting over his 'fellow agents'. Some of them were restless too, he could recognize the signs. Their waspish movements, the hushed murmuring amongst themselves when they thought the big ape wasn't looking. It all told the same story. For a moment, he wondered what they might be saying... Drivel probably, it didn't matter. Why even bother to eavesdrop? It would be far more interesting to just set the whole place on fire and be done with it. His mind played over the scene, a smile tugging at his lips.

The monkey gave a harsh cough, pulling his attention once again. Junkrat scowled, readjusting his position so that his peg leg was resting across his knee, fingers curling around it. They tapped away, his prosthetic hand clinking against the metal in what he expected, going by the monkey's expression, was an exceptionally annoying way. It served him right.

Junkrat hated this, hated just waiting, trapped in this stuffy room with nothing to do while the bloke just talked and talked and talked and didn't let Junkrat say anything.

"Now, I know a few of you only want upcoming mission details - and we've covered them - but please, this is just as vital. … I hope," the monkey continued, "that we are all on the same page here. I, ah, know that some of you might not place a high value on this element - but I assure you, team unity is important. We have to work together! And, I don't want to go pointing fingers here, but there are some of you who are a little ... stand-offish..."

His gaze drifted to Hanzo before he appeared to shake himself and continue. "-And those who like to stir trouble without considering the consequences... and those with... existing disagreements... but, it's vital that we move past this. We have to pull together... with new recruits lined up I want to make sure that we are the best that we can be. The more of us there are, the harder it will be to resolve all this, so now is the time. I can't force any of you, but must I encourage you to take steps! We will move forward and, uh... yes... move forward," he trailed off, adjusting his glasses as he pondered his words. "Right... well, I think that was the last of it. Morrison?"

"You heard him team," Soldier said, arms folded. Junkrat wasn't sure if it was the visor that made him look stern or if it was just something about the man, a perpetual sort of seriousness that ran from head to toe. "Put any squabbles aside, there's no time for disunity in the field. I will not be allocating missions based on who has a bone to pick with who. Dismissed."

Junkrat all but flew out of his seat, itching to be moving again. He was the first one out the room. That was only to be expected, seeing as he'd positioned himself at the back where he could keep an eye on everyone, angled so that the door stayed in his peripherals. Old habits had yet to die.

"Roadie, Roadie, Roadie," he chanted, spinning on his heel as his bodyguard followed at a more respectable pace. "Feel like me brains drippin' out me ears, could have carked it in there mate, 's not natural, people talkin' on for so long."

Roadhog gave a derisive snort.

Junkrat rolled his eyes. "Oi! I know I natter but least when I do it it's interestin'! See, that monkey's got no understandin' of drama, gotta add some spice to a story, theatrics, explosions!"

"Not story telling. Mission briefing," Roadhog said plainly, keeping stride as Junkrat limped off.

He hadn't quite decided where he was going yet, there were so many places and ideas, it felt good just to be walking. He had too much pent up energy to think clearly.

"An' what was that bit at the end? Somethin' about getting' chummy? Can't see the problem meself, we work fine as a team, walloped them Talon pricks plenty of times."

"Just because no one's trying to kill each other doesn't mean we're a good team."

"Course it does!" Junkrat insisted. "That's the definition of a good team, ay? Mean it's bloody fantastic, really, been here... don't even know how long an' no one's tried to knife us. That'd be a miracle where we're from."

"Not in the outback anymore," Roadhog reminded him.

"As if I don't know. Point is, ya gotta have a bit of perspective, am I right?" he asked, flinging his arms wide as if to air the question. "Now, I like gettin' to know folk, love some friendly banter, but ya can't force people ta like one another, that just breeds snakes, all that hidden venom ready to strike... it ain't right. Ya tally up ya differences an' ya make boundaries, don't matter if ya got problems so long as ya can get a job done. I don't like everyone here mate, an' they sure as hell don't all like me despite me charmin' ways, oh do I try, but it ain't an issue. Things work fine right now, an' if it ain't broke, don't fix it."

Roadhog was quiet for a while, and Junkrat got the feeling he was studying him. The faint tilt of his head, the way the mask's eyeholes seemed to be directed more at him and less at the way they were going. Eventually he spoke up. "Winston's not picking on you."

"Ya what mate?"

"The monkey. His problem isn't just with you."

"Then who's it with, huh?" he demanded, kicking at the ground.

"Hanzo. Symmetra. Pharah and Ana... me."

Junkrat's eyes widened. "You? What the fuck is wrong with you, mate? Ain't no problem there, nothin' what needs changin' anyhow."

"I keep to myself, like it that way... he'd call it anti-social. Not good for team bonding."

"Well I'll tell that oversized circus pet where he can stuff his 'team bonding'!" Junkrat growled, shoulders tensed as if ready for action.

Roadhog simply chuckled, a deep, booming sound that scared the living shits out of just about anyone but Junkrat. He shook his head slowly. "Leave it. My problem, not yours."

"Ya problems are mine, mate. Fifty-fifty, remember?" Junkrat said, completely sincere.

This time he grunted. It sounded like a disagreement, but there was a lightness to it, a faint hint of lingering amusement. He reached out to pat Junkrat's head.

Junkrat had had enough practice that he knew not to flinch. He could tell the difference between an angry Roadhog that was about to give him a warning slap to shut him up, and a contented Roadhog that was just remembering old gestures from a time long ago. He bore the attention for all of a second then shrugged him off.

"Alright, quit it. I ain't got time for that. Ya wanna help me steal some shit later? See, Hana was tellin' me about these things called fireworks the other day... they're like explosions, but smaller and in pretty colours... an' I was thinkin', no point in makin' 'em smaller, right, cos what's the point in an explosion if it ain't spectacular... but I could stand to try the colour thing... shouldn't be too hard, just need to grab some new compounds. Make things interestin'."

"Fill out an acquisition form."

"Ya kiddin'? That ain't no fun, Hoggy, figured ya were better than that. Not turnin' into a law an' order freak, are ya? Strange of you to start actin' like a pig." He snickered at his own poor joke, grinning toothily at his bodyguard.

This grunt was more irritated than before, and suggested that Roadhog was having none of it. Sometimes he was hard to budge, stubborn as a... as a hog? Were hogs stubborn? Junkrat's mind wandered and he forgot his earlier question entirely. Soon enough he was ranting on some other tangent as he all but skipped down the hallway, oblivious to the start of the conversation, and Roadhog made no move to jog his memory.


Games night was on that evening as usual. As Hana babbled about the latest game she'd picked, Junkrat spared a good minute simply staring at the junk bunny sitting on her desk while he chewed his fingernails. Hana had insisted he build it for her after seeing Lucio's frog. When he'd presented it to her she'd proudly declared it was the ugliest thing she'd ever seen, but apparently she'd kept it, which he took to mean she liked it. The little thing appeared so out of place in the room. That didn't bother Hana though.

He was still grinning to himself when Lucio tossed him a controller. "So man, you looking forward to the upcoming missions?"

Junkrat took a moment to ground himself, to work out what Lucio was talking about. Memories from the morning snapped back into place and he nodded in vague agreement. "Sure... anytime they actually let me blow shit up without harkin' on about 'collateral' and all is good, yeah?"

"I uh... I meant more along the lines that we'd be on a couple of missions together... I mean, we've been in the field together before, but usually not all three of us, you know? I thought it might be nice."

Junkrat snickered. "Make it sound like ya think we'd be takin' a picnic together. Figure we should be a might preoccupied for that."

"What? Not even barbecue?" Hana said, raising a hand to her mouth in mock horror.

"Well... maybe," Junkrat offered, ever the generous one. "Ya fond of charred Talon agents?"

"Awww, my favorite. How did you know?"

Lucio was not as delighted with this. He pulled a face, lifting a finger as if to stop them there. "Firstly, gross, secondly, why do you two have to be like this? I just thought it'd be cool to spend more time together as a team is all... we co-op so well I guess I pictured actual missions to be a breeze if we got put on the same one... I mean, with this team, would we do great or what?"

"Lucio," Hana crooned, leaning off her bed so she could wrap her arms around him in a hug. She almost fell off in the process and the angle looked uncomfortable but she didn't seem to mind, and Lucio just laughed, not bothering to push her away. "We love you too you idiot, but we're not going to bond any more by shooting people together. Besides, I don't want to have to waste my time saving you two losers every three seconds."

"Hey, I do not need saving every three seconds," Lucio said, shoving her off affectionately.

Hana settled herself back down on the bed, looking thoroughly unconvinced. "Uh-huh. And I bet Junkrat here doesn't either, totally doesn't get himself into stupidly dangerous situations in the blink of an eye."

" 'S a talent. Why do ya think I keep Roadie around?" Junkrat proclaimed, grinning in his usual way. "Ain't so risky when he's there ta bail me out, best bodyguard a guy could wish for."

"Hear that Lucio? Maybe you should look at investing."

"Okay, okay, enough! I thought we were playing video games?"

"Oh alright," she relented, finally getting around to navigating the menu screen to set up a new match. "Rat, what do you think? Can I set the difficulty higher?"

"Depends if ya wanna hear me yellin' bloody murder or not, ya know I ain't exactly level headed," he said, spinning aimlessly on the swivel chair while he waited. "Got one of them brains, ya know, what says what it thinks when it's in the mood."

"Mostly terrible puns," Lucio said.

Junkrat shot him a look, sticking his pegleg out to stop his momentum. "Oi, me puns are splendid thank you very much."

"There's no such thing as a good pun, man, take it from me."

"Ya just jealous."

"Dude, we're talking about puns."

"Ain't my fault ya green mate," he said, puffing himself up with exaggerated self importance and laying a hand across his chest, "gotta work on ya word skills to match a master like meself."

Lucio couldn't seem to keep his expression exasperated, he cracked up every time he got a look at Junkrat's face, a thing Junkrat only encouraged by waggling his eyebrows. They were both well on the way to a giggle fit when Hana interrupted.

"Not to bother you guys, but you'll die in about ten seconds if you don't look at the screen."

This prompted a squark of alarm from Junkrat as he fumbled with his controller. Hana, merciless as always, had started the game already. She ignored all of Lucio and Junkrat's spluttered protests, kindly suggesting that they 'get good', but no matter how loudly they argued their smiles betrayed them all. Teasing like this had become the norm. Junkrat loved nothing better... well, except maybe explosives.

It confused him a little on occasion, that time spent with the other two felt genuinely good, but he thought he understood why he'd felt such a pull here in the first place, what Overwatch really offered. Changing the world meant nothing to Junkrat, but finding a place to stay, people who genuinely smiled back at him, who let him join in, made him feel like what he did mattered. It was nothing like the thrill of chaos and destruction, it was a pleasure that felt softer, safer... sometimes it was enough to make him panic because he didn't know what to do with it. At times he remembered the old desperate, selfish way of life and he felt as if he were being smothered by their presence, by their expectations, but that fear was dwarfed by the though that maybe he could lose this... he would burn the world down to keep it. No exaggeration.

They had just about settled down into the usual rhythm and chatter of the match when a knock sounded at the door. Junkrat froze in an instant.

Games nights usually meant they were alone. Tracer visited them occasionally to join in, though she rarely stayed long, always zipping off on some errand or other, but she never knocked. This was different. He didn't know who this might be. It was not a situation he could predict and Junkrat felt that familiar kick of adrenaline as he swiveled to face the door, tense but uncertain.

Not a threat, he told himself sternly, threats don't knock first. He still watched with suspicion as the door was pushed open. It moved slowly, inch by inch. He'd forgotten the game entirely by the time it swung wide, the controller clenched tight in one hand more for the need to hold something than any intention of playing.

Standing in the doorway was none other than Symmetra. He stared, bafflement turning his customary grin lopsided and uneasy, and for the life of him he wasn't sure how to react. Junkrat had never thought to see her here. Symmetra was a true creature of habit, she stuck to routines with a unique kind of stubbornness, breaking them only out of necessity. Yet there she was, back straight and head held high as if she had every right to intrude. Her presence seemed out of place, unnatural, and perhaps she sensed it too because her hands were clasped tighter than usual.

"Symmetra?" he said, the name hovering in the air, voicing his own confusion as much as questioning her arrival.

Lucio was far more blunt. "What are you doing here?"

There was a note to that tone Junkrat had never expected to hear from the DJ. His head turned, eyes flickering over Lucio as he tried to quickly assess him. He was right. Hostility. Why? Lucio smiled at everyone, forgave even his own stupid blunders, didn't have a mean bone in his body by Junkrat's reckoning, but there was no hiding the way he look at Symmetra.

This was very quickly beginning to feel like a confrontation. Junkrat shuffled on his seat, fighting the urge to rise. Knowing where you stood in a matter like that was important, but not matter how many glances he shot at each of them he couldn't work out what this was about.

After pausing a moment to digest Lucio's question Symmetra spoke. "Winston was clear this morning that disunity would create an imbalance in the field, one that must be rectified if we are to reach our full potential. I believe there is some... remaining disagreement between us. I have come to attempt to fix the matter."

"Well," Lucio said, "we're busy."

Still Symmetra hovered, not entirely sure how to approach. "I did not mean to intrude-"

"Then don't." The way he said it made it clear he didn't care what she had to say. Lucio's eyes were narrowed, lips set in a tight line, he looked like another person entirely.

The reality of it finally seemed to hit Symmetra. Carefully, she composed herself. "I can see this is perhaps not the best time. I shall call again at a later date."

Lucio grit his teeth. "Just go."

"As you wish. Goodnight." Abruptly she gave a short nod and turned on her heels, closing the door behind her with a faint click.

Lucio sighed. Irritation still pinched at his features even after she was gone, but it was softer than his earlier hate, the lingering memory.

Junkrat gave a low whistle. "Crikey, what was all that about then, ey?"

"I can't believe she came here," he said, as if he hadn't heard. He sunk low in his beanbag, arms wrapped tightly around himself like he was trying to contain something. "I mean, can you believe it?"

"I ain't sure, mate," Junkrat said, scratching at the back of his neck, seeking to find some way to occupy himself while he put things together. There was a puzzle here, a story he didn't have the words for, a blind side that left him oddly vulnerable. He didn't know quite what he was stepping into, or if he wanted any part of it. "Feel a bit in the dark here. Ya got a problem with her?"

With exaggerated stealth Hana lent toward Junkrat, catching his eye. "It's a Vishka thing," she whispered as if that explained it.

He twirled his wrist in a desperate gesture to elaborate but she pursed her lips, glancing at Lucio like she was unsure she should be speaking. Lucio did the job for her though.

"Viska tried to destroy my home," he told Junkrat plainly. "She was a part of that."

"Who? Symmetra?" he asked, torn between disbelief and laughter at the very idea.

Lucio was definitely not in the mood for laughing. "Yeah dude, Symmetra. Goes on and on about everything in it's rightful place, but you know she means people too? Thinks it's okay to just tear everything apart to make it how she wants, doesn't care about everyone else. Her and Vishka are the same. I want nothing to do with either of them."

Maybe Junkrat should have just shut up. Should have just left it there. But he was used to speaking his mind here, to saying what he wanted because Lucio and Hana let him get away with it.

He was sure, so sure, that this was a mistake. Lucio's description and his own experience with Symmetra did not align, and he had to do something, right? He didn't even really understand why he felt the need to speak but somehow letting things stand seemed wrong. It was the same feeling that pressed him to yell out when anyone insulted Hog's weight, a sudden niggling desire to act he'd never been able to articulate. He drew a breath, fingers tapping at the edge of his seat.

"...Nah mate," he said, confidence growing. "Can't speak for them Vishka pricks, suits can't be trusted, but Symmetra ain't all that bad. Sure she's a bit of a stick in the mud but she don't mean no harm. Works for Overwatch now, anyways. Figure if she loved Vishka all that much she'd still be with them, eh?"

He smiled, but Lucio's reaction was not promising. He sat too still, expression forcibly blank, eyes carrying none of their usual sparkle. Junkrat felt a sinking in his chest.

"Don't make me argue with you man," Lucio said. "I don't want to do that."

He didn't like the way he spoke. Didn't like the way his gaze struck him as a challenge. Junkrat gnawed his lip, focus darting to Hana who was shooting him a warning look. "Yeah... okay. Forget it."

This seemed to be enough for Lucio. Yet the silence hanging in the air ran too long, left Junkrat shuffling about, suddenly uncomfortable in a place he'd become so familiar with. Part of him wanted to just leave then and there, but part of him was convinced that if he did it would somehow make things worse. He struggled for things to say, to do, to fix, for a way to neatly slot the pieces back together and carry on like nothing happened. He ran circles in his own head but found nothing, and his gaze kept wandering back to Lucio, slumped and strangely somber on his beanbag.

"Well," Hana said brightly, "the bad news is that while all that went down you both died. But on the bright side I discovered a new mode. They call it a Hyper mode. Basically it's the same game but at double the speed, and I just unlocked it for us. What do you say? Are you ready to die again... twice as fast?"

Hana tried, he commended her for it, but the night was a bloody wreck. The cheer had bled away and every exchange felt forced, every smile hollow and the more he thought about it the more Junkrat could not shake the certainty that this was, once again, his fault.

Jamison Fawkes, king of all fuck ups. He didn't even have the energy to laugh.


((Shout out to captaindeadeye for doing a bit of proof reading on this chapter, and also the random anon who followed me to tumblr to complement me. You're sweet ^_^

Anyways, I feel so-so about this chapter, it didn't come out quite how I wanted it to but I think it's best to just keep moving forward. Cheers for reading.))