Back arched, Junkrat lay on the not entirely but comfortable enough bed as he held a ripped, stained, and partly torn notebook high above his head in his out stretched hands. Between his teeth, a pencil that was gnawed and chipped sat, currently earning itself even more bite marks along its already bitten hide. The time had come to concoct the next big phase in his and Roadhog's never ending crime spree across the planet.

Those Crown Jewels were awfully pretty and incredibly enticing to somebody obsessed with sparkly things like a Magpie was. Junkrat wanted them. He wanted to gloat and pose with the golden, gleaming things. Plus the crown would look exceptionally fancy on his head. Roadhog's too, if he was really honest with himself.

His attention was drawn away by heavy footfalls and turned his head to see Roadhog entering the room. The heavy set man made his way over to the window and shut the blinds with a gentle tug on a chord, sealing away the daylight that had been growing harsher. Junkrat was about to complain, saying he needed that light, but stopped himself when he saw Roadhog lift a hand to unfasten the clasp at the back of his head.

The mask fell from his face, landing comfortably in a waiting, outstretched palm that could easily smother Junkrat's face with little to no effort. He sat up, setting his notepad down and spat his pencil from his mouth. Where did it land? Didn't matter. Roadhog was maskless and that was always a good reason to forget anything else existed and focus on the sight before him.

Thick eyebrows that had once been black were now a faded silver to match his mane of hair that was still tied back in its tiny pony tail. A thick, solid nose held a piercing that Junkrat forgot the name of. It was like a bull, you know, the type you'd tie a rope around to lead the animal easily. Not that he'd do such a thing to Roadhog, he heavily doubted the older man would be into that. Unless he was. Would he? Even if they were together he highly doubted it.

Thick lips were cracked and scarred, as was most of his face but that was a given. You don't live in the Australian outback fighting omnics and government alike without earning a few good scars here and there. If anything, they made his face even more handsome than it was before. If that were even seemingly possible. A tattoo covered his chin, but it was partly concealed thanks to some silver whiskers beginning to grow. He'd have to shave soon.

"Wot's up Hog?" Junkrat asked, watching as the man walked towards him and the bed, instinctively scooting back a little when Roadhog sat on the edge of it. The already suffering mattress gave a wheezing squeak in pain as half of it collapsed under the massive weight, lifting Junkrat minutely higher due to the shift in weight and strength of the already tired springs.

He didn't get an answer and that made him tense. What was wrong with him? Roadhog was silent, yes, and Junkrat knew how to read that silence but right now he couldn't understand this silence at all. There wasn't comfort here, anger, and any other emotion was missing from the scenario. Junkrat shifted a bit more, eyes still glued to Roadhog's exposed, neutral face.

"I know." was all Roadhog said, and those two words spoken in that way, in that deep, low voice had all of Junkrat's emotions well up within him like a bomb wanting to go off.

Know? Know what? Junkrat was clear and easy to read as a glass window. A shattered, filth covered window. Long story short you could see what he was thinking, how he was feeling, more or less one hundred percent of the time since he wasn't one to hide himself or his emotions whatsoever. If he wore shirts with sleeves, one would almost say that he wore his emotions on his sleeves. But, there were no shirts, no sleeves, only raw, open emotion.

His face was a mix of panic and confusion. "Know what mate?" he asked, voice giving a small tremble. Again he shifted backwards. There wasn't much Roadhog didn't know about him. He was up front and honest about absolutely everything only having a bit of a joke when it came to the times Roadhog would ask about his arm and leg. The story changed every time. Crocodile. Bomb. Drop bear. Politician. Pelican. It was never the same story twice. But that was the fun of it.

There wasn't any fun here.

"A lot." Roadhog answered the question, before his large hand reached and pressed itself against the younger Junkers chest and pushed him back down onto the bed. He could most likely feel the rapid heartbeat of the Junker beneath him. He was scared yes, but this was also how many of his many fantasy scenarios had played out in his mind. How easy Roadhog could pin him, or push him up, against anything and do whatever he wanted to him. It made him tremble with anticipation but also fear.

Suddenly he realized what Roadhog had meant. He knew.

Shit, he knew.

"H-hey Roadie no hard feelings right I mean, can ya blame a bloke look at you how could any wally worth his salt not-"

"Shut up."

And, unlike every other time Roadhog ordered Junkrat to shut up, he did. His lips slammed shut and he continued to lay there, sweating madly, while his eyes remained locked on the older Junker. What was he going to do? Rip him to pieces? Whatever it was, he would get no fighting from Junkrat. He'd take anything the Hog would give him right now. A beating, a kissing, whatever it may be. If his shameless crush on the older man had just destroyed their working partnership he would get through it. He'd done it before, he'd do it again.

Jamison Junkrat Fawkes had survived the outback. At five years old he'd been robbed of his home, his family, and over the following years he would be robbed of limbs, a fully functioning mind, and even more yet he survived. He was the cockroach, the sneaking rat, nobody could bring him down to an end unless he wanted it and by God he wasn't about to give up now.

But when Roadhog's lips were suddenly on his stomach, of all places, Junrkat felt as if giving up was his only option. He wriggled, kicked his legs, and all but literally squealed as Roadhog assaulted his stomach with harsh blowing that made a noise he was not familiar with whatsoever. It earned laughter, from deep within Junkrat's anxious belly, and he squealed with laughter while trying to also force Roadhog off of him, and beg for mercy.

This wasn't what he'd thought would happen, not at all.

When the assault was over Junkrat was sweating, breathless, and trembling. He rolled onto his side, clutching at his belly, as he continued to tremble like a plastic bag caught in the crosswinds. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. He felt the warmth of Roadhog's body as he sat closer still, his back now pressing against the others. The touch had Junkrat's spine tingle. Giving a wheezy breath he finally turned his head, looking over his shoulder, and up at Roadhog's back.

"So w-what does all that mean, m-mate? Cuz you ain't..." he paused to swallow, "Ain't makin' a lick of sense."

"Not meant to." Roadhog said as he picked up his mask from where he set it down, and slowly slid it back into place and clasped it there properly after adjusting the straps. "Next time make sure I'm really asleep before you kiss me." he says, before getting to his feet and exited the room.

Junkrat could just lay there, feeling as if he'd been manhandled by a living hurricane.

At least, before hiding his blushing face into his one good hand and swear violently to himself.