Junkrat choked on air, body apparently forgetting how breathing was supposed to work, when he caught sight of the bartender. He grabbed on to the mate he'd come with, Bill, in case he forgot how to walk and stand too. Wouldn't put it past himself, haha.
The bartender was colossal, gorgeous, too amazing to be real. Pure silver hair up in a high ponytail, huge hands nimbly juggling a shaker they absolutely dwarfed, putting on a show. The bartender's pink button-down shirt had the arms torn off and frayed, and they were tall enough Junkrat could see over the counter that the shirt was tied up into a crop top, big soft belly bare of anything but tattoos. The bartender's arms, though. Those arms, thick and meaty and flexing with such muscular grace as the bartender served drinks.
"Hooley dooley, I'm gay," Junkrat breathed. "I'm so gay."
It's always going to be lust at first sight, no matter how Junkrat and Roadhog meet -- An exploration of what Roadhog might have been like, had there been no omnic crisis in Australia.
A gift for @femmeroadhog
Enjoy!
-TS
