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mayyoubekind · 7 years

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Gävle Goat

@roadratsecretsanta

My secret Santa present for @ratxz! They wanted something with the Junkers being happy, and I couldn't think of a situation better for them to be happy in than causing some Christmas chaos.

Summary: The Junkers blow up a goat for Christmas. (No animals were harmed in the making of this holiday.)

Link to the fic on AO3.

Something moved in the corner of his eye and Rat whirled, wielding the pair of bolt cutters he’d been using on the fence like they were a baseball bat instead of a small pair of pliers. He blinked when he was faced with a big, puffy snow coat instead of the guard he’d been expecting, and tilted his head back to scowl up at Roadhog- someone his size should make more noise when he moved, but the big lug was eerily good at masking his footsteps, even in the crunching snow all around them. His partner didn’t even bat an eye at the threat of being smacked with the tool, giving a short, non-committal grunt to indicate that all the security guards in the area had been incapacitated. After a few more continued seconds of the stink eye, Junkrat turned back around to finish cutting a large enough hole in the fence for them to slip through. Their prize was still hidden from sight, concealed behind another, taller fence made of portable steel panels, but he could feel the anticipation rising in his gut every time his bag of toys shifted against his skinny shoulders. Its weight could be felt even through the thick winter coat Hog had forced him into and he gave his torso a shake just to feel the backpack move again and hear the little charges and bombs inside roll around together. A giggle escaped his throat as he stepped aside from the large hole he’d created, gesturing for his partner to go through first with the air of a fancy butler welcoming his master home. One heavy hand, encased in a soft glove, landed on his head momentarily as Hog ducked into the hole and warm butterflies rose in his stomach.

“Ya ready to explode the goat?” Junkrat whispered theatrically into the night air, his eyes alight with mischief. There was a beat of silence and then the lanky junker’s face twisted in thought.

“Wait. That sounded dirty. We’re here to burn the goat. Beat it to pieces. Spank the straw. Pull the antlers. Jingle the bells. Tug the tail. Hit the holly. Flick the frame. Diddle the-“

This time Hog’s hand on his face wasn’t so gentle as he shoved him slightly, just enough to set him a little off balance and stop the word vomit. Rat cackled in the night air, catching himself against the steel fence with a wink.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll choke the chicken later, I gotcha.”

There’d be time later to celebrate the night, once they were cozy and warm in their dingy motel room, watching the news coverage of their efforts with cups of hot chocolate and a bed they’d already broken twice. For now, Rat shrugged off his backpack and set it on the ground so he could start rifling through the thing for the detonation charges he’d tossed in there earlier. Roadhog watched him silently, the eyes of his ski-goggles reflecting the dim light of the surrounding businesses. It was weird to see Hog without the gas mask, but it was just too damn cold out for the thing. He’d traded it for the goggles and a huge scarf to wrap around the lower half of his face, the entirety of the top of his head swallowed up by the largest hat Rat had ever seen. But even without his normal face on, Rat could still feel his boyfriend’s excitement as he pulled the charges from his bag and set about arranging them on the metal.

He’d come across mention of the Gävle Goat in some magazine that Roadhog had tossed his way when they first arrived in Sweden. The big lug always got him some sort of travel guide or pamphlet about each new country they ended up in, so that Rat could decide what he wanted to visit (and burn) while they were there. It was the Christmas edition of the rag, and the pages had been filled with festive red and green splashes and scenic views of roaring fireplaces, frozen lakes, and on one very special page, a gigantic goat built of straw. He’d immediately zeroed in on it since several of that page’s pictures featured the creature on fire, burning from the inside out or already just a smoldering pile of ashes. Reading took him some time, with the way letters seemed to swim over the page and re-arrange themselves on the page, but eventually Junkrat got the gist of the article.

The Gävle Goat was built every year to commemorate something or other- he wasn’t too clear on the details. What he was clear on was the fact that the thing, from the moment of its creation, was destined to burn. Ever since its first incarnation, way back in the 1960s, it had burned down over eighty times despite the builder’s best efforts to fireproof and protect the thing. The magazine spoke of the annual competition it had become in the minds of Swedes, a race to see who could get around the fences, security cameras, guards, and other precautions put in place to keep the damn beast standing until Christmas. There were betting pools on exactly how the goat would bite it- some of the more creative ways included hitting it with a car, throwing the entire 40-foot structure into the river, and carrying it away with a helicopter. It had Junkrat’s name written all over it, given that it was a few days before Christmas and no one had yet managed to get through the defenses this year. The security company hired to keep it standing was touting it as indestructible, which was as good an invitation to blow the thing up if Rat had ever heard one.

He could just see it now- a beautiful necklace of explosives, lovingly laced around the goat’s neck, a few bombs shoved up its ass, and enough C-4 packed into its belly to make sure people would feel the blast in Stockholm. Despite all the ways it had been destroyed over the years, the Gävle goat had never been blown up, and the mad Australian bomber was determined to fix that.

The pair of junkers retreated to a safe distance, back through the hole in the fence they’d created and a few more feet for good measure. Rat held the detonator in his flesh hand, unconsciously running his fingers over the bumps and ridges on the device as Hog scanned the area again, making doubly sure they were alone in the square. Once the blast went off, they’d have limited time to string the thing up, and the further away anyone was, the longer Jamie could spend on his art project. When he deemed the area clear, Roadhog gave a thumbs up and Junkrat gleefully pressed the detonator with all his might.

Instantly a boom broke the calm of the night and a wave of force and hot air blasted over them, shrapnel and dirt flying everywhere. Before the smoke had cleared, the junkers charged into the newly-made hole, Rat whooping with joy at the exhilarating feeling of smoke in his lungs and cinders burning on his face.

In front of them stood a gigantic goat, around forty feet tall, made entirely of straw and wood. Huge curved antlers, crowned with several lengths of holly and mistletoe rose into the night sky and disappeared back into the creature’s back, forming a ring throughout which strings of Christmas lights and little bells had been hung. There was a brilliant red ribbon hung around the goat’s neck and Rat’s eyes lit up with the idea of tying another bow, this one made of wires and bombs.

He made for one of the thing’s legs and immediately began to scramble up the side of the creature, using the internal wooden frame for support as he climbed. Now that he was close, he could see chicken wire strung throughout the frame as a deterrent to anyone trying to do exactly what he was doing, but little scratches and nicks in his coat didn’t bother Rat. Below him, Roadhog circled the goat and made for the guardhouse on the inside, next to the steel fence’s gate. It was open during the daytime, to let tourists and visitors see the Gävle goat, but the heavy doors were bolted shut now. There was no guard in the house- they’d timed their arrival to coincide with the switching of the shifts, and managed to catch both the guy getting off his shift and the woman arriving to replace him.

From up in the air, Junkrat took a moment to admire his partner’s massive form, hidden as it was beneath so many layers of fabric. He hated that about the cold- he couldn’t admire Hog’s broad back and muscle when the guy was all wrapped up in a coat. He imagined how Hog’s arms flexed as he watched the larger junker rip the door to the guardhouse off its hinges and set it aside so he could get at the controls within. He imagined the feel of those arms around him, pinning his legs to the bed, big hands stroking his sharp hip bones as that huge gut pressed the air out of him until all he could think about was Roadhog, Hog, his Hoggie…

He wasn’t supposed to be beating his own goat, although if his thoughts continued like that he almost certainly would get tempted to. Rat shook himself with a tittering laugh and returned to the task at hand, scrambling up onto the goat’s back so he could begin to pack the explosives inside. Underneath the layer of snow on its back, the structure smelled vaguely of chemicals and he assumed that was the fire-retardant they’d sprayed it with after it was built. Unluckily for them, Rat’s main objective wasn’t to set it on fire, but to simply blast it into little pieces. There wasn’t a chemical alive that could stop him when he got his mind set on a project.

Sirens sprang up in the distance; a wailing that stayed the same no matter what country they were in. He sang along to them as he stuffed the goat (Oh, had to tell that one to Roadie), his voice jumping up and down several octaves in time with the emergency vehicles. Hog emerged from the security booth with a self-satisfied air, and out of the corner of his eye Junkrat watched the gate slowly start to swing open. His bodyguard saluted him with two fingers before jogging through the gate and out of sight.

There was a moment of apprehension in Rat’s gut when Roadhog was no longer in view but he squashed it, shimmying across the goat’s back so he could reach the big red bow hung on its neck. Utilizing a sharp edge on his prosthetic arm, he cut through the fabric easily and let it fall to the snow below. A necklace of yellow, smiling bombs replaced it in a matter of seconds, the wires already strung and ready for priming. Rat only had a few seconds to admire his handiwork before he turned and crawled back across the structure, this time making for the goat’s ass. The last device in the bag was in the shape of a Christmas wreath, hung with bits of scrap metal and a few little pachimari charms Junkrat had managed to convince Hog to part with.

Carefully, he looped it over one shoulder, so he could leave his hands free to grab onto the wooden frame inside the goat. He lifted his right leg and jammed the end of the peg into a spot that seemed secure enough, ignoring the scratches and nicks the chicken wire left on the wood. When he was sure that it would hold him tight enough, Rat flopped over onto his belly, feeling the straw scratch against his winter jacket as he lowered himself over the back of the goat. Hanging upside down with his peg leg twisted up in the frame to make sure he didn’t fall, Jamie fit the explosive wreath right where he judged the goat’s asshole should be, cackling to himself as he strung the wires of the C4. All the blood was quickly rushing to his head, turning the exercise into a feat of muscle memory as he hurriedly connected the detonator to the remaining wires, feeling the familiar form of his bomb take shape beneath his fingers.

A roaring in the distance joined the loud sirens and he smiled to himself, letting the backpack drop off his back and into the snow below. Junkrat was tempted to let himself do the same- the soft, fluffy white stuff on the ground looked like it would make a nice cushion for his fall- but he waited until the bike and Roadhog came screaming into the square.

Hog stopped underneath him and huffed in annoyance at the sight of his boyfriend dangling off the side of a straw goat. Clambering off his bike, he went to stand underneath Rat and held out his arms, sure in his assumption that the skinny junker hadn’t planned a way down for himself.

“Gimme a sec Roadie!”

Rat giggled and waved before he started to kick his legs around, trying to untangle his peg from the frame. A few holes opened in his pants from the wire before he managed to get his leg free, and Jamie whooped in glee as the ground and Roadhog were suddenly rushing up to meet him.

His partner grunted as he caught the lanky junker, stepping back with the force of the impact. He hadn’t been prepared for the extra pounds that the snow clothing gave Junkrat. The blonde was red in the face from dangling upside down, the color contrasting spectacularly with his hair, and Hog turned to run them over to the bike. Depositing his partner in the sidecar first, he settled back into his seat and gunned the engine of his motorcycle just as the first police cars came screaming into the square. The cops gaped at the sight of the two junkers next to the goat, seemingly trying to comprehend why two of the most wanted criminals in the world were in their small town.

They did not get long to think before Roadhog was accelerating towards them as Rat scrambled upright in the sidecar, watching the police scatter in panic as the motorcycle raced out of the steel enclosure. Jamie managed to reach out a hand and snag the big red bow he’d left in the snow as they passed and he shouted with glee as they sped down a small side street, just barely big enough for the motorcycle to get through. Roadie joined him, his deep laughter ringing in Rat’s ears and bringing those butterflies to the surface again.

A deafening explosion rang out over the motorcycle’s engine and he twisted in his seat to watch the red smoke on the horizon, savoring the way the sound had reverberated and vibrated in his chest. They could watch the explosion later on tv- he was sure it would be all the news channels could talk about. Right now he savored the thrill of the night and the cold, and the enormous presence of Hog at his side. There were a few ideas in his mind of what to do with the red ribbon, and most of them involved one or both of the junkers wrapped up like the prettiest Christmas present there had ever been.

#ratxz #Mel's writing #Junkrat #Roadhog #Overwatch

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