New Recruits (Junkrat x Male!Reader)

Chapter 1

"Winston you can't pair me up with them!" You groaned. The loud whining echoed throughout the empty lounge. This was where you and the rest of Overwatch would hang out and discuss any recent events, usually the outcomes of training matches. Now it was empty, though, as it was getting to be time for bed. Winston looked at you and sighed.

"(Y/n), we've been over this already. Although you may not want to do it, you are the best equipped to deal with those two." You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off before you could get a word out. "I will listen to your complaining no longer. Now please, go to bed." He turned away from you and began to walk towards the hall that led down to his room. This was honestly exactly what you had expected to happen. When Winston is convinced he's right about something, it takes a lot more than one person to get him to think otherwise.

You turned and walked to your new room in defeat. It was underground just like Winston's room, but much larger and much harder to blow up. It used to be a storage room for all sorts of weapons and ammo, that is, before the junkers moved in. Now the room was divided (rather unevenly) between the three of you. About half of the room was Roadhog's. His side consisted of one huge pile of pillows and blankets atop a king-sized mattress (that was lying one the ground), two piles of clothes (one clean, one dirty), and the...interesting smell of various snacks, drinks, and sweat.

Junkrat's side of the room was slightly smaller than Roadhog's, but still huge. It was surprisingly organized, with all of his parts for making and dismantling bombs in their rightful places. The smell on his side of the room was even more interesting than his partner's, if that was even possible. The weirdest part of Junkrat's room, however, was the large hammock attached to the ceiling. This was where he slept, though he couldn't get up there himself. Roadhog had to pick him up every night and place Junkrat in his bed.

Opening the door, this very situation played out before you. Roadhog looked at you and signaled for you to be quiet. Oh thank god, the little gremlin was already asleep.

Despite being relieved, you just couldn't wrap your head around it. If they were strictly in a business-like relationship, then why did Roadhog do things like that? He put the junker to bed, painted his nails, and heck, he even bathed him. So, were they friends? Something...more? That thought sent a disgusted shiver down your spine. It was just like that gross song "Two of a Crime" by Perma. The only reason you knew about that crappy band was because Lúcio's favorite past-time (aside from dj-ing) was to promote "underrated" bands. Ugh.