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The perfect arch of Zenyatta's pitch is what first drew him in. He had been out with some friends, drunk at a baseball game with the free tickets his father had given them. A vague hope that he would keep his nose clean for once.
It hadn't worked, the group of them loud and rowdy enough that management had been called once already. Sitting this close to the dugout, it had been a wonder they hadn't disturbed the players. Still, after the last warning, they had settled into lounging in the plush seats in a bored haze.
Genji turned his attention to the field for the first time, taking in the scattering of players taking their positions. They were a mix of human and omnic, all of them as uninteresting as the last. Seated as they were above the home team dugout, Genji didn't see the pitcher until he was taking the mound. Long delicate limbs looked out of place on the field, clearly built originally for something other than sport. Satisfied to have something to look at for the rest of the game, he hadn't been expecting anything more.
The first pitch draws his attention to the field like a shot. It draws everyone as the game starts off with a strike, a good sign for their team, but Genji doesn't care. Doesn't even look at the batter or the ball, eyes fixed on the pitcher. The graceful curves as they wind up, and sudden spring of the release, ball hurling towards another skilled strike. It's like a motion he's seen a thousand times when Hanzo practices, a bow pulling taught and the arrow sinks deep into the bullseye. This pitcher brings the motion to life, in ways he hadn't considered, gives him the same deep satisfaction as if he was throwing the ball himself.
He's mesmerized enough that his drink goes unnoticed, turning hot in the desperate summer heat. Not even the questing kisses from the girl in his lap can fully draw him away until the inning is over, teams wandering towards the bench. The game is already ninety percent over, so he can't help the urge to stand, leaning heavily over the railings to watch them approach. It gets a shout from his friends, but he doesn't care, attention caught on something that isn't drinking or drugs or parties for the first time in ages.
“You pitch beautifully!” He shouted, voice echoing onto the field, even with the din of the crowd. Faltering in step, the pitcher seemed surprised by the shout, surveying before finding him in the stands.They offered a wave and polite nod before heading to the dugout.
Disappointed by such a bland reaction, he flopped back into the seat behind him, ignoring the jokes and teasing from his friends. Contemplating another drink, he nearly jumped out of his skin when a ball all but landed in his lap. It was well worn, filthy from the inning that had just been played with a scrawling signature across the leather. Looking up quickly he gets him a more enthusiastic wave from the pitcher before they disappear again.
Pushing away his friends curious hands, Genji strokes along the stitching, staring at the loops and curves of the name across it. The meeting left him with a dull need, a desire to meet the pitcher again in whatever setting he could.
Getting into more games was easy, occupying his Father’s season seats, but meeting him in person was proving to be a challenge. The pitcher for the Iris, Zenyatta as he had learned that day, was more than willing to spend his time amongst his fans, but refused private meetings. While the other players would rub palms with the social elite, looking for benefactors and sponsors for the team, Zenyatta would take to public events, signing autographs for hours after the game. He wouldn’t refuse a photo in the street, always interested in personal interactions with his fans.
Genji only had the privilege of meeting him once, after waiting in an hour-long line after a game, his status worth nothing to the flocks of children and their parents. Cutting would have only caused a scene, and started off his first impression horribly. So he waits. Over an hour in a line of shrieking children and irritating drunks. Still, it all seemed to melt away when Zenyatta gave a little gasp of surprise at seeing him, quickly taking his hand in both of his own to shake it.
“Wonderful! I had hoped to meet you in person, it is always lovely to see a new fan, and one that has been so rigorous in attending.” Zenyatta laughed, still gently grasping his hand. If Genji had been smitten before, he was doomed now, awestruck by his voice and demeanour. He didn't register Zenyatta's question, only the curious tilt of his head as he stood stunned.
“What?” Genji asked, swimming back from the depths of his own head.
“I would like to know my newest supporters name, if that is alright with you.”
“Genji! It's Genji.”
"Genji" It sounded perfect from Zenyatta, like he was testing how the name rolled off his tongue. The thought of how it would sound in another context had him flushed, thankful that Zenyatta had looked away at someone's call. A guard was motioning for them to wrap things up, and Genji could practically see the disappointment creep into his frame. "It's been a pleasure to see you at our games. I should hope that you will continue to follow us throughout the season."
He didn't manage to stutter anything out before Zenyatta finally released his hands and the next fan was ushered into his place. His hand still felt warm from the tight grip, and Genji felt like he was floating on cloud nine as he shuffled out of the stadium. There was no way in hell he was going to miss any home games this season, or even possibly the next. Checking his phone, he took note of when each one was, planning little reminders into his calendar.
After the next few weeks of practice games, there was a distressing gap in the schedule, filled with out of town games when the season truly started. Getting in the waiting car, he puzzled over how to fill in each gap.
Using clan funds to chase a baseball team would only be tolerated so far. It wouldn't be looked upon as poorly as his current life choices, but when they figured out why he was tailing the group around, he was sure Zenyatta would be shipped to another team. Scrolling through the team's site, he mulled over what to do.
The answer struck him in the form of a banner, tucked to one side of the screen. The Iris' mascot jumped and cheered, rolling across the screen each time new letters appeared to proclaim the dates of the upcoming cheer tryouts. Slouching into his seat, he whistled as he sent in his application, sure that it would be at the top of the pile.
________________
Convincing Hanzo to cover for him hadn't been as hard as he anticipated, only receiving a scoff and a dismissive wave. He probably didn't believe what he was setting out to do, convinced that Genji was going to treat it like all the other things he did to impress a partner.
Trying to justify his choice would make little sense, a few months of watching someone play and wanting to join the team to spend more time with them sounded more like stalking then genuine interest. Shaking off that notion, he picked his way to the try outs, sure that it would be a snap with his background and skills.
By the time he gets the call back he's convinced that Hanzo will say something. Try to convince him not to waste his time on something so frivolous, but instead he seems happy, in his own creepy way. When Genji gives him the news it gets him nothing but a smile, a pat in the back, and a handful of congratulations.
“You are finally taking on a responsibility that requires a great deal of effort. Even if it is outside of the clan, why would I not be happy for you?”
It left him with an almost ominous feeling, one that stuck with him through the first practice, deepening as it drew to a close. They had been told as a group that the first few days would be about growing as a team, and slowly be assigned positions. Two of the bulkier omnics that had made it had immediately been assigned as bases, and over the course of the day more and more people were picked out. The only other person around his build had been picked as a spotter, and as important as that position was, he was not interested in hiding his face behind someone else.
The coach's actual offer wasn't one he had been expecting, or even wanted. Instead of a part time contract, they were offering him two positions, one as a fill in flyer, the other was full time, but conditional on the first. Every game he wasn't necessary as a flyer, they were asking him to act as mascot. Images of the giant tumbling baseball from other games flashed in his mind, and he tried not to visibly shudder. Being stuck in that suit was a far worse fate than being stuck behind someone's ass, but the prospect of having a center stage and showing off his skills. Still, even in a dumb costume he could still show off, right? It would even get him onto the field faster.
With mixed training for the rest of the week, it hardly occurred to him to worry about the costume, or how soon the next game might be looming, until it was already time. Looking over the mess that was handed to him, he didn't bother containing his expression this time. He was surprised when the manager simply laughed it off, reassuring him that it wouldn't be a problem for long. Only mildly comforted, he donned the outfit, trying not to breathe too deeply.
There was time before the game started, so he made his way out to the field, keen on testing it's range of motion. It was surprisingly mobile, the pants allowing for a wide stance. Caught up in his own head, he didn't notice when the team began practicing and fans began to slowly file in. Finishing off a particularly flashy form, the sound of applause finally drew his attention, gaze snapping up to the cluster of fans and players watching him. With a short wave and embarrassed bow, he all but jogged to the dugout to make a quick getaway.
A tug in his sleeve halted his progress, Zenyatta's slim hand holding tight to his wrist.
“Genji! I had heard a rumor you were taking over this position, but it's wonderful to see you giving it your all!”
The flutter his heart gives is nearly painful, and he scratches the back of his head uselessly through the costume. This is like something out of the shows he used to watch as a kid.Sportsmanship and blossoming affection on the field. Pushing aside those thoughts, he tried to focus on stilling his heart.
"It wasn't anything that special. I just wanted to see what the costume would allow." He chuckled. "Looks like there’s still a limit, but it’s a lot better than I had thought.”
“It is a far cry from our last mascot. They were less enthusiastic about gymnastics and kept their routines simple.”
“They gave me one to follow, something they put together, but it...doesn’t seem particularly inspired.”
Zenyatta hummed, releasing Genji’s arm to stroke his chin. Warring between saying to talk and running off the field, a handful of the audience were making their way over, undeterred by his move to escape. Zenyatta noticed the approaching group and laughed, ushering him towards the exit.
“You have already acquired some fans I see. While I would normally encourage you to meet with them, but this close to beginning, it seems I'd best let you go.” Waving goodbye, he took the few steps into the dugout, quickly starting a conversation with his teammates.
Without him to talk to, Genji hurried to the change room to hide until the game started.
__________
The original routine he had been given went over about as well as he anticipated. A lackluster smattering of applause, broken by a few cheers to do more. It was obvious that those calls were from someone who had been here earlier, and the temptation to do something impressive grew.
He managed to hold out until after the cheerleaders routine was done, even if he wanted the attention there was no use pissing everyone else off. That kind of thing only ended in ‘accidents'. As everyone was heading off the field, he made his last assigned rounds, throwing in a few simple flips and tricks.
It was enough to stir up the crowd again, and get them excited as the team took the field. A few passing players gave him approximate pats on the back in appreciation. He carried that high with him for the rest of the night.
Even after the game, when a long line of children either demand or are forced to get their picture taken with him. There were a handful of adults as well, and by the end of it he was exhausted. The team had long left so he made for home with a deep sense of satisfaction.
It was nearly torn to shreds the next practice when he was called into the main office. Worried that he had blown his shot already, he tried to come up with an excuse for the changes in routine. Years of grooming easily take over as he strode into the room, looking for all the world like he owned the place.
The coach and manager almost jumped when he entered, conversation dying immediately. It takes an awkward cough from the manager for the coach to speak up.
“It's,uh...came to our attention that you deviated from the original routine during the last game.” She said, managing to casually avoid making eye contact by looking at a point over Genji's ear.
“Is it going to be a problem? The last guy didn't really write anything interesting into it and the crowd loved my stunts at practice.”
“We aren't going to debate that. The line for pictures after the game hasn't been that long in years. Our main concern was that the current mascot isn't designed for those kinds of stunts. It isn't safe.”
“I can land them perfectly fine, it won't be a problem.” A weight settles in his chest at the idea of being stuck with the other routine. It will make long hours stuck in a suit physically constraining on top of the heat and smell. He can almost feel his interest in the job fading, sure that it won't be more than a week's worth of work before he starts ditching. The only things he's been interested in for months will be ruined or beyond his grasp. Meetings with Zenyatta condemned to hours in line for a fleeting conversation.
“It's not that we don't trust your skill level, but working in that suit has its limitations, so some adjustments will have to be made.” Genji felt nearly numb, hardly paying attention as the manager chimed in talking about measurements, contracts,and changing conditions. It doesn't fully grab him as to what they are talking about until they bring out a series of designs.
“The previous mascot was a hangover from older management,” the coach said, pulling up the results of a public poll on the mentioned designs. “We think it's important to keep up a current public image and any of these is more easy to relate to with the current market.”
“So our next home game will be a retirement for the previous costume, and the unveiling of the new one.” The case they set down is as sleek as what he knows is inside, and any inclinging of worry he's had about getting bored is crushed when the lid pops open.
_________
Excitement over the new reveal lights a fire under him for the next week, and pushes him through an abysmal away game. The players had done well enough, but still lost, in an almost crushing defeat topped with a swamping crowd all eager in the wake of the announced retirement to get photos and handshakes for old time sake. He tried to tell himself it was only for two games. Two more and he would be finished with the huge uncomfortable mess of a costume.
At practice he was sequestered as well, only allowed to work on routines before the players needed the field, in the time well out of anyone's viewing. The manager and coach had put far too much effort into keeping the costume a secret. It choked the time he had to see Zenyatta down to a painful minimum but the reveal will be worth it. A reveal for the players had been planned for the day before the public one, and it's all Genji can do to contain his excitement.
The day of he nearly feels like he will shake apart, wound tight as if ready to start a challenging assassination. It's been years since something has given him this much of a thrill, and consistently at that. He can feel his own drive to impress on the first showing, not just to the players but to the crowd. Pacing the length of the dressing room to burn off energy, he jumps at the polite knock. Zenyatta came through the door without waiting for a reply, covering his eyes.
“Genji, I've come to collect you for the party.” The hand covering his face probably does little to block his sensors, but it feels so wholesome to him that Genji has to laugh.
“Sent on an errand and not even allowed to peek?” Genji said, laughter colouring his voice.
“I suspect,” Zenyatta replied, slipping in to lean against the door “that it was an attempt to allow us a moment alone together.”
Genji feels the flush bloom across his cheeks. Even with hand still raised, he can feel Zenyatta's focus on him and flushes all the worse for it. He hasn't been subtle about watching Zenyatta, but he hadn't expected anyone to push them together like teenagers.
“I can't say I'm upset. You're a hard one to get time alone with.”
“I find that if one wishes for an...extended time alone, it is best to ask.”
It's only a few short steps that take him to the door, plastic armor clinking as he leans into Zenyatta, pulling down the hand that covers his eyes. He isn't wearing the helmet, and so saves only a little face in asking something like this while dressed as a children's hero.
“Would you be willing to spend some time with me?”
In answer Zenyatta leaned forward, pressing their mouths together in a chaste kiss.
“I thought you would never ask.”
The party after feels like a blur, shaking hands and cheering voices as he makes his first entrance. A small taste of the excitement to come tomorrow that's washed away by the lingering taste of Zenyatta on his lips. They won't have time for anything now, but soon. There was a mutual promise of soon. That itself made him feel feather light and unstoppable.
It keeps him floating to the next day, through the opening act with and the last performance in the old costume, until the new one is clipping in place around him. The stress of landing the perfect opening is an easy thing but it hangs around, leaving the air thick with tension until one of the cheerleaders is sick into a bin. Worry becomes a very real weight as they discuss what to do.
It's already too far into the event to call in a replacement, and the only one familiar with the full routine is Genji. Genji, who is quickly saddled with the task of performing his first full routine in the new costume and then changing into the only available cheer uniform to fill the missing role. His mild worry congeals to dread. Any inch of off timing and he stalls both performances to a halt.
There isn't time to focus on it, as they call for show time. The uniform gets stashed in his locker and they all take their places. His own is in the lighting rigging, higher than he's ever been before even on clan business. He's sure his heart will beat loud enough to give away the surprise, but it doesn't. As the field clears, the lights go down and the crowd falls slowly quiet. The murmurs of excitement of so many people are still loud enough to feel deafening, but he doesn't feel scared anymore. Endorphins surge, and he takes his planned dive, laughing like a madman. The guidewires make the descent a controlled thing, leaving time for a perfect flip before he lands without a scratch. Spotlights flick onto the pitch and catch the polished green of his armor, and he can feel the ripple of awe roll through the crowd. After all, a new Sentai's entrance is always a thing to behold.
It feels like an instant between his landing and his final jog to the changerooms. Quickly changing into the uniform, he fell in step with the others running onto the field After doing his new routine it feels exhausting, muscles straining from harsh moves, but it's far more worth it to finally be on the field.
Even with the few glances he can manage to give the crowd, he knows they are enraptured. High off the new performance, with nothing else on the field to distract and the huge screen showing off their every move, he doesn't know how they could look anywhere else. Tired as he is, the last toss in the routine is the hardest. Keeping his focus, he manages to give it some extra flair. The sense of awe is worth the tense moment of held breath as he sores through the air. A pin could drop in that instant, and the whole stadium could hear it. After it though, when he lands safely in the arms of his bases, the wash of excitement is dizzying. It leaves him giddy for the last steps of the routine. The quick bow as they leave the field doesn't feel like enough.
A trio of performances, and the most nail biting game he's ever seen, all crowned with a last minute steal to win the game by his favourite pitcher for the cherry on top. Genji feels like he could fall into bed and die happy.
He makes it into the building this time before Zenyatta pulls him aside like all those days ago. His uniform is caked with mud from his last slide to home, shining chrome scuffed and dull. It makes Genji’s hands itch for a rag. Anything to bring a shine back to Zenyatta's body. Caught up in his own staring he nearly misses the one he's getting in return.
Zenyatta's eyes are fixed low, on the short skirt that hangs just above his shorts. It had been a last minute change into the only uniform around, and Genji himself had only really noticed when the skirt flew up in his field of vision. Zenyatta, though, seems to be fixed on it, frame locked in between his normal delight and surprise. He can feel the metal around his wrist heat up a fraction, and it's a split second decision that has him leading Zenyatta instead. They head towards the back of the building, skipping the supply closet and changerooms for an office. He doesn't know who's office it is. It doesn't matter, this high on the game from Zenyatta's home run and his first successful set, nothing matters but this.
It's easy to push him against the door as soon as it closes, a gasp as delicate as his laugh working it's way from his chest. Genji chases the noise with his lips and teeth, tracing every curve he's dreamed of touching. The pistons have no give, but the soft material of his throat took an impossible to deny imprint of teeth.
Not a fainting doll type, Zenyatta is just as eager to touch, feeling the muscles he had been fixated on. Of all things, his dusty hands pushing up the pale white skirt feel obscene. To anyone walking in they'd look like teenagers celebrating a home team win. The triumphant baseball player getting with his cheerleader sweet heart. Taking hold of Zenyatta's thighs, he hefts him against the door, and pushes between them. The rough fabric of his pants chafes his own soft skin, but Genji can't be asked to care. Loose as they usually are, he can feel everything when pressed this close. The sweet curve of Zenyatta's hips, nearly delicate in his hands, trim waist, hot chassis pressing against his chest, and above all the hard line of his modesty panel.
Pushing a knee against it, he's delighted when it slides away, the soft valve underneath pressed against the fabric. It has to be uncomfortable, but Zen doesn't seem to care, pressing against his knee in slow deliberate motions. It's all Genji can think of to see it, taste it, give Zenyatta everything he could ask for.
The absolute need and frenzy must show on his face, because a cool hand cups his cheek, bringing him up to focus. Zenyatta's face plate hasn't changed, but every line of him is written with the same desperate want all wrapped in an iron control. The kiss he leans down to take steals the breath from Genji's lungs and pours some of that iron into his belly, molten and burning. A quick move has him hauling Zenyatta to the desk, clearing it off to lay him down. His thin belt slips quickly enough from it's loops, its clatter against the desk nearly deafening in the small office.
But it doesn't matter. None of it matters as Zenyatta pushes him back and makes a show of easing down his fly. The stiff white fabric parting to reveal, shiny chrome, black, and nearly violent teal.
The silicone of his valve matches his array perfectly, and Genji can't resist the temptation, his hand pressing against the slick opening before he has the chance to think. It's every bit as soft to the touch he had hoped, and the manager walking in on them wouldn't stop him now.
Slipping down the tiny shorts under his skirt, Genji doesn't waste any time pushing inside. He has enough sense to take this at least slowly, enjoying each twitch as Zenyatta's passage changes to fit around him. Strong hands clamp tight to his shoulders, encouraging him to move more quickly and Genji is all too eager to comply.
Fully seated, he looks down to take in the picture they make together. It's just as debatched as he'd hoped, the white of Zenyatta's uniform tinted blue with his own slick, every twitch only making the mess worse. He's still mostly covered by the pleated skirt, but a quick trust has the fabric shifting, and exposing them as it bunches around his waist. As both of them start to move, grunts and moans mixing with the dangerous scraping of furniture, he fleeing realised that he'd have to buy the team another uniform.