Chapter Text
Day 1
The new recruit was Swedish, and the first thing that struck Jack about him was how small he was. He came up to about Jack’s nipple height. Four and a half feet of pure Swedish muscle and luscious blond hair.
“Hëllö,” Torbjorn said. He stroked the braids of his beard with his claw arm, and winked, although considering he just had one eye he could easily have just been blinking. He solved the mystery by saying “WÏNK!” in a heavy Swedish accent.
Jack found himself blushing.
“Come this way and get settled in,” he said loudly. Too loudly. Torbjorn twirled his braids between his meaty, sausage-like fingers and smirked a little.
Day 5
Jack invited Torbjorn to the barbecue he held every week for Overwatch members. Torbjorn watched him roll the sausages on the grill with a keen eye.
“Do that to my dïck ömg,” he said.
Jack blinked.
“What did you just say?”
“Ohh… nöthing.” Torbjorn picked up a sausage, gave it a liberal coating of bbq sauce. Something stirred within Jack. He pushed it back down.
Day 11
Gabriel and Jack sat watching the agents practice a training drill. Jack’s eyes were drawn to Torbjorn, who was bent over and crooning gently to a newly constructed turret, his rotund butt poked cheekily and pertly in Jack’s direction. The hairs on Jack’s arms stood to attention.
What does he want from me?
“What was that?”
Jack scowled. He hadn’t meant to speak aloud.
“Nothing… hey Gabe?”
“Yeah?”
“What do you make of our new members? Like uh… Torbjörn, for example?” Jack looked sideways at Gabe, who rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“He’s a good addition to the team.”
“Mmm…” Jack looked back at Torbjorn, who was whispering to another turret. Jack looked at Torbjorn’s short yet supple arms wrapped around the cool metal, and he felt some kind of way.
Day 20
“I got you some lunch with extra bbq sauce on it. I know it’s your favoürite –“
“What, you think I can’t get my own lunch?”
Torbjorn’s lip wobbled and Jack instantly felt – guilty?
“It tastes nice,” he grunted. “Uh – I appreciate it.”
Torbjorn beamed as bright as his corn-coloured beard.
Day 31
One month. One month since the new recuits had come in. Jack looked at the employee appraisals he had to do. “Torbjorn Lindholm” the top sheet read. He was smiling in the picture, beaming at some unseen cameraman. Jack wondered idly where that cameraman had sat on a scale of 1-10 attractiveness compared to him. Jack was a 10, of course, but they must have been pretty close to him to get a reaction like that out of Torbjorn… and where did Torbjorn fall? Jack thought of the curves of torbjorn’s arms. The way his overalls clung to his round ass. His long braids, always perfected plaited, and so soft-looking…
Jack realised he had been staring into space for the past ten minutes. He blinked and shook his head, then went down and checked “extremely satisfactory” in every column on Torbjorn’s sheet.
Day 39
Torbjorn was the only person at the weekly barbecue, everyone else gone out on a very important mission. Jack was too busy to leave. Torbjorn just wasn’t needed. They stood in comfortable silence; Jack in his “Kiss the Cook” apron that he’d written “Don’t” in front of with a sharpie, and Torbjorn watching Jack flip patties as he usually did.
“Can I try that?”
Jack nodded, and undid the strings of his apron and draped it over Torbjorn. It came down to Torbjorn’s tree-trunk ankles. He took a sip from his Best Boss Ever mug (Mccree had found it at a Goodwill) and watched Torbjorn work his meat.
“Your technique could use some work,” Jack said, and he put his hand over Torbjorn’s. A thrill like electricity ran though him. Torbjorn caught his eyes and they gazed into each other’s faces, and then they were making out, burgers forgotten. Torbjorn tasted like a mixture of engine oil and barbecue sauce, and the flavour made Jack as hot and hard as one of Torbjorn’s turrets.
“Fuck, Torbjorn,” Jack groaned when they pulled apart to breathe for a second. “I need you.”
“Call me Torby. All my friends do…”
“Torbjorn,” Jack said firmly, and Torbjorn sagged a little. “Fuck me now.”
“Oooöh,” Torbjorn gasped. “I thought you’d never äsk.”
And then Jack put his dicc into Torbjorn’s pert ass, and it was good.
Day 41
“So, did you boys do anything exciting while we were away?” Ana asked. Torbjorn stretched himself up to his full height, which was still nowhere near her face, and seemed about to explode with smugness.
“Oh yoü know… just jäcking öff…. wïnk!”
Jack would see Ana’s expression in his nightmares.
Day 42
“Did you like my pün, Jäck? They had no idea what I was talking about!”
Torbjorn laughed. Jack wanted to cry.
Day 48
Jack lay on Torbjorn’s bed and stared up at the ceiling.
“A turret,” he said.
“Yës.”
Jack counted the nails on the ceiling, traced their geometric pattern with his eyes.
“A turret.”
“Yës.”
“You’re sure it’s safe? It won’t – y’know –“
Torbjorn scoffed. “ Don’t be stüpid, Jack. What kind of idiot builds a turret you can’t fuck?”
“I… I’ll do it. I’ll give it a try.”
Torbjorn jumped for joy – literally jumped for joy – and began work, his strong thick arms hammering and banging. Jack looked at the smile on his face and felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with being high on diesel fumes.
Day 53
User: John Jack Morrison
Search history:
- What does “huckleberry” mean
- Great birthday gifts for a woman co-worker
- Good woman birthday gifts
- Foot fetish
- Do I have a foot fetish?
- Guide to teenage slang
- Swedish translate
- Bbq sauce as lube
- Bbq sauce sexy
- What do Swedish people find attractive
- Sweden
- How to put the dots an o
- Relationship advice
- How long do you have to be together to be considered dating
- What does it mean if you think of someone every day since you met them?
Day 64
It was Ana’s birthday. The whole of Overwatch was there, and getting very, very drunk. Torbjorn leaned over and tried to smack his lips against Jack’s cheek, but missed and slurped his tongue in his ear instead. Jack froze, but no-one seemed to be looking.
“Get off me,” he hissed, and shoved Torbjorn away. His fingers dug into Torbjorn’s soft belly.
“But babe…” Torbjorn slurred.
“No,” Jack growled in a low whisper. “We’ve talked about this. We’re not telling anyone.”
“But Jäck…” Torbjorn’s words were cut short as he leaned over the back of the couch to throw up. Jack stared at his back, his heart pounding.
Was he embarrassed? There was no rule against dating co-workers in Overwatch. Although of course, he reminded himself, they weren’t dating. They were just friends. With benefits. Friends who fucked each other and sometimes each other’s turrets as well. What was wrong with that? Nothing, that’s what. Jack had another drink.
Day 69
“I løve yöu,” Torbjorn whispered into the curve of Jack’s lips. Jack stared at him.
“Thanks.”