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Quiet

Summary:

Soldier 76 ends a long day with the hopes of a quiet night of sleep. His enemy has other plans.

Note: This fic was previously sectioned off into individual chapters. That was a dumb mistake and thus has been fixed.

Notes:

I'm very very happy for all the lesbian art and ships in Overwatch but sometimes I need me some gay stuff. So I wrote some.
Also completely unbeta'ed im posting it right as i finished it so it probably has typos.

Chapter 1: Quiet

Chapter Text

Debriefing felt like it took longer and longer each and every single time he was forced to endure it. It was important, he knew that, but it still just… He was tired. He wanted to go home and sleep until he was forced to do it all again. The never-ending battle against Talon, against those that wanted to send the world into ultimate destruction…

Didn’t they have anything better to do?

Heaving a sigh, Jack Morrison turned down one of the corridors of the base in Gibraltar. It was one of the only bases still well maintained, so it had become a sad little hub of the fugitive Overwatch members. Parts of it felt like a zoo, what with how Winston had it set up to best suit his needs.

Still, it was better than nothing. They were outlaws now, and they deserved whatever they were handed.

Jack just wanted to find a bunk and pass out in it until morning. Would be better if he could go to the sad small apartment he was currently renting, but that was back in Italy, and that was a little bit too far to travel just to sleep in his slightly more familiar bed.

He’d take what he could get, though. If it was relatively soft, he was okay with that.

At least it was fairly private. He only shared it with three other soldiers at any given time, and even that was a rare treat. With a glance, he noted that the three others were already in bed, a few nameless soldiers that he’d hardly had a chance to know. Part of him didn’t want to know. They still lost too many to Talon, to angry mobs, to corrupt Omnics. A depressing point of view, he was sure, but it was hard not to think that way.

Unbuckling the holster from his hip, he dropped it on the nearby table before slumping into the bottom bunk, sighing heavily as he tucked himself back against the mattress, folding an arm under his head as he stared blankly up at the bunk above him. He really should take off his jacket and boots at the very least, maybe even his mask, but he was just too tired. He’d regret it in the morning, but he was just exhausted, as usual.

Once he was settled, he could finally get used to the low sounds of the other soldiers sleeping, their quiet breaths, the faint creak of the bunk as one rolled over, the faint tapping of metal on metal.

Well, the last one was a little weird. He grumbled about it, unwilling to open his eyes, brow furrowing as he tried to figure out what could possibly be making that sound. Maybe someone’s belt was swinging on the hook and tapping something? Or maybe-

Except the tapping was louder, and vibrating directly on his mask.

“Such reflexes on the great Soldier: 76,” a hissing, dark voice sank into his very bones, the tapping growing harder. “You’d be dead already if I wanted it.”

That was enough to make his eyes snap open, body rearing as he fought to get up, if not for the hand that clamped down on his throat, pressing down so hard, he could hardly wheeze out a breath. His own hands clambered and gripped at the arm that had him pinned, but it was solid, strong, immoveable. All he could do was focus on breathing and glare at who had him pinned.

“Reaper,” he hissed, fingers digging into rigid muscle.

The ghostly mercenary let out an airy laugh, leaning closer to his prey. “None other. I’ve waited for a long time for the two of us to have a quiet moment together. Shame it’s among your sleeping friends, but it will have to do.”

The hell did he want? Jack glared through his visor, just taking stock of what he had, what he could do.

“You think you can hide from your past. You think everything that happened disappears when you put on a mask and take up a gun. But you can’t. It’s there, Soldier, and it will never leave you. It’s burned into your bones, making you reek so powerfully of regret that everyone knows what you’ve done. And I know this because I’ve done the same thing. There’s no running, Morrison.”

Oh god. Jack’s breath hitched as that angry skull mask accused him. Part of him had always known, but… “Gabriel,” he whispered back, pawing again at the arm. “You died.”

“It didn’t stick,” Reaper snapped, talons tensing against his throat. “And you died too, Morrison, yet here you are. Weak. Vulnerable.”

“What do you want from me?” He should call out, warn his fellow soldiers, but it didn’t feel right. He wanted to remain quiet, wanted to keep the moment just between the two of them. Maybe it was for everyone’s safety. Maybe it was for something else.

“I told you. A quiet moment.” The grip on his throat lessened. “And unless you want me to whip out both of my shotguns and start reaping, then you’ll stay quiet.” Reaper let it rest there for a moment before shifting, actually climbing onto the bunk with Jack. The mattress creaked in complaint, sagging dangerously from the combined weight of the two men, but it held well enough. When Jack started to make a complaint, the grip snapped shut again, choking him into silence. “Silence.”

Geezus. Jack frowned when Reaper slung a leg over Jack’s thighs. It seemed like a compromising position that could damage either of them, so he slowly let his hands slide from Reaper’s arm, settling them down lower on the bed, ready to start throwing punches if needed.

But why was Reaper breathing so hard?

“I fucking hate seeing you out there,” Gabriel hissed, claws twitching against his throat. “I hate seeing you zip by, seeing you dodge bullets. I hate knowing it’s you out there. I hate…I hate knowing that you’ve never stopped fighting. I wished you were dead. I wished peace upon you…and upon me.” Reaper’s free hand thudded against the mattress beside Jack’s head, making him lean over him. “I wanted to forget the pain you’ve made me feel. I hate you so much, Jack.”

“Gabriel, I don’t understand.” Keeping his voice low, he searched for some kind of sign, something to indicate what his old friend wanted.

And then Reaper rolled his body downwards, his crotch rubbing quite firmly against Jack’s.

His breath hitched as Reaper shuddered, settling more firmly against him and continuing to roll his hips, a rather thick shape grinding against Jack. There was no doubting what it was; Reaper’s cock was hard, and he was dry humping Jack rather needily.

“I hate you.” His voice was weaker now, hand fluttering and twitching weakly against his throat. “I hate how old we are. I hate…” Breath choking, his hand slid entirely from Jack, pressing into the mattress as well as he continued to grind urgently. “Fuck. I hate how hard I get when I see you standing guard at an objective. I know you, Morrison, know how you stand rigid and true, know your furrowed brow…even before I did research, I knew it was you behind this goddamn mask. I hate remembering the past, remembering you…”

Well. The shadow of death was over him, dry humping him through way too many layers of clothes, and despite his age, despite how tired he was, Jack was…interested.

“Gabriel,” he huffed back, lifting one hand hesitantly, letting it rest on Reaper’s hip. “I’ve missed the past too.”

“Fuck!” Reaper snapped just a bit too loud, dropping to his elbows so he could nuzzle his mask against Jack’s. “I still fucking hate you.”

“I hate you too,” Soldier: 76 grunted back, sliding his other hand under Reaper’s coat so he could grip his thigh, hitching him closer so he was able to grind upwards too. It felt too good to really acknowledge how fucked up it was, dry humping his enemy in his bunk in the middle of their base, but it was indeed very fucked up. While they were that close, it was easy to hear Gabriel’s harsh breathing behind his mask, the faint scrape of their masks together…

“Couldn’t your lot spring for better beds,” Reaper snapped, finally noticing the rhythmic creaking. “Hard as fuck to get off and still be quiet.”

So that was what he wanted. “Easy fix.” It was fumbling and in the dark, but Jack managed to squeeze his hands in between the two of them, going for Reaper’s belt. The ghost figured it out quickly enough, pulling back so Jack had room to undo his pants, fishing out his cock. It was strange, patchy in skin tone, with the usual dark skin marred with white so pale it was almost translucent. “The fuck is wrong with your cock, Gabriel?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it. Now shut the fuck up and get yours out too.”

A little unnerving to have those talons close to such sensitive parts, but Reaper was gentle enough as he opened Jack’s pants to pull out his own erection. Once they were both free, Reaper settled against him once more, letting out a breathy moan when skin rubbed against skin.

Sill creaky, but worth it. Masks bumping and scraping against each other, Jack found himself really forgetting that he should care about this. He was angry at Reaper, angry at Gabriel, angry that he had lost his best friend over something so stupid, and he was angry that it felt so good to have his cock sliding and rubbing against another’s.

“Take off your fucking mask,” Reaper snapped suddenly, hand sliding to touch at the metal. “I want to see how fucking old you are.”

“You first.”

“Same time,” Reaper compromised, talons leaving Jack’s mask so he could clasp his own. “See what you’ve made me into.”

“I didn’t do shit to you.” How dare he try to blame him for all of that? Still, he unfastened his mask, breathing unfiltered air heavily as he pulled it away, watching as Reaper did the same.

It was dark, and Reaper was still shadowed by his hood, but Jack could see his old friend well enough. Cheeks sunken as if with sickness, skin patchy and pale in places, one eye glassed white, Gabriel Reyes looked like death. When he breathed out heavily, it came out like black smoke. He looked horrible.

“Gabriel,” Jack breathed, gripping the edge of his hood and dragging his friend down, pressing their mouth together just a bit too hard, too much teeth and force as he kissed his old friend. It took a moment to have any reciprocation, but when it did come, it was just as hard, just as painful. He thought he tasted blood in there, but it was hard to tell. It felt too good, too much like relief, like giving in to something that had weighed on them for too long.

“Fuck me,” Reaper hissed against his lips, hips stuttering and stopping after a moment. “Yeah, fuck me.”

That really didn’t sound like a good idea. “Can you be quiet?” He really shouldn’t be considering it.

“They haven’t woken up yet.”

Not exactly a ringing reassurance, but it did sound like a good idea. “I don’t have any lube or a condom, Gabriel.”

“God you’re so fucking old. We don’t need either.”

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Jack hissed back, breath hitching when his enemy slid his lips down to his throat, biting through the tight underarmor he wore. “You want it to hurt and you want it to be filthy?”

“No and yes. Fuck. I don’t need lube and I want you to fucking come in my ass. Now shut the fuck up and help me get my pants down.”

“You’re an absolute idiot. If we don’t use lube it WILL hurt.”

“I don’t. Fucking. Need. Lube.” Reaper spat out every word, pulling back to glare at Jack. “Now help. Me.”

“Fuck. Fine.” His pants were too tight and the space was too small, making it a struggle to shove them down to the tops of Reaper’s boots. “Now what?”

“Now you shut the fuck up.” Reaper shuffled forward, then settled back so his bare ass rubbed against Jack’s cock. “See? Easy. Now you just have to be quiet.”

“You’ll be the loud one.” Such bickering, but Jack had to note that when Reaper rubbed a certain way, his ass felt…wet? “Are you already lubed?”

“Shut up.” Despite Gabriel’s strange skin, despite the darkness, he could see a flush come to his cheeks.

“Hopeful?”

Reaper’s hand clamped over Jack’s face this time, squeezing. “Shut the fuck up and help me.”

Huffing hard against the hand over his face, Jack reached down and gripped his cock, stroking it a few times before straightening it, unable to see where he was supposed to aim it. Instead, he just had to wait for Reaper to also brace his cock, sliding back and finally down, taking Jack’s cock in easily.

“Fuck!”

Definitely too loud, but part of Jack echoed the sentiment, his hands shuffling to Reaper’s thighs, gripping hard as his dick was engulfed with a tight heat he had long since forgotten. It had been far, far too long since Jack had felt anything besides his hand, and he was willing to let that sound slide.

Bracing one hand on Jack’s calf and the other snapping up to grip the railing on the bunk above them, Reaper started to roll his hips, head lolling back in bliss, his cock bobbing awkwardly between his thighs with the movement.

Something had to be done about that. Jack slid a hand down and gripped Reaper’s dick a bit too hard, stroking and jerking it like he was mad at it, but it was apparently what Reaper needed. The touch elicited such a broken moan, as beautiful as it was inappropriately loud, but probably not as loud as the goddamn mattress.

Easily remedied.

With a grunt, Jack twisted his hips, slinging Reaper’s weight sideways until the world tilted, the two of them tumbling off of the bunk and onto the floor. Gabriel thankfully stayed quiet, even when he was now on his back, his knees shoved up almost to his chest as he was neatly folded in two, Jack pressed over him.

“Fucker,” the ghost grumbled, talons scraping against the floor. “Could have warned me.”

“I could have,” Jack agreed, leaning down, pleased with the wheeze of breath that was forced out of Reaper when their noses brushed together. “But this is better.”

Gabriel lunged up the rest of the way so they could kiss again, so broken and sloppy, but it was perfect. It made it so much better when Jack started to fuck him on his own, hands braced behind Gabriel’s knees so he could really thrust deep, bottoming out each time.

Obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin replaced the creak of the mattress, but at least it was a little quieter, or so he hoped. It was hard to really focus on that, what with how Gabriel was huffing and moaning with each breath, talons scraping and clawing at the floor with increased fervor. And he was getting louder. Too loud. His head was tilting back, lips parting as he started to groan and-

Jack slapped his hand over Reaper’s mouth, shoving in deep as he came, grunting lowly as he smothered whatever sound Reaper made as he came too. Whatever it was, Reaper replaced it with a loud scrape of his talons against the floor, surely damaging it.

There was a shift from a nearby bunk, making them both grow quite still as they waited for some sign. Whatever it was, the man just rolled over and sighed heavily in his sleep.

“Old man,” Gabriel whispered softly before his solid form became like smoke, drifting out from underneath Jack. Soldier: 76 had to catch himself, bracing a hand on the floor as he watched the ghost slide and settle on the edge of the bed, his pants back up, his mask in hand. “Don’t doubt that I’ll still try my damnedest to fucking kill you when we meet on the battlefield.”

Jack scowled, rising as he shucked his pants up, tucking his softening cock away as he moved closer to Reaper. It was interesting to see how his enemy watched him move, tried to glare, but still let him grip his hood on either side of his face, letting him drag the two of them close.

They stared at each other for a moment, old soldier to old soldier, their breathing still rough from the sex they’d just had.

“You can try,” Jack finally whispered, eyes flickering down to Gabriel’s lips.

The challenge was enough. Gabriel let out a soft sigh as he leaned in the rest of the way, kissing Jack with far more care than before. If anything, it was soft, almost tender. It was supposed to be quiet, supposed to only last a second, but the kiss dragged on, growing more involved until Reaper had to cup the back of Jack’s head with one hand, the other hooking against his waist as breath grew harsher still.

It was like a memory, their kiss. A memory of the past years, a memory of when they had been friends, had shared everything with each other. They had fought together, joined Overwatch together, had talked about everything together. It was almost funny how something like jealousy and betrayal could tear it all down into nothing, giving them nothing to share anymore except anger and pain at their age, at how they still had to fight wars that were not their own.

And it was almost horrifyingly intimate. They had nearly killed each other so many times in recent battles, and yet the way they held each other, the way Jack had to let go of Gabriel’s hood so he could embrace him, hold him close as they kissed and slumped back against the bunk again…it was like breaking down a wall that had been too weak since the beginning.

“Don’t get hard again, old man,” Gabriel gasped out between desperate kisses, talons scraping too hard against Jack’s scalp. “You might have a heart attack.”

“You’re older than me,” Jack snapped, leaning back so he could scowl down at his old friend.

Reaper just hummed, sliding his hand so he could press a talon against Jack’s lips, just staring at him.

“Got something to say to me?” Jack had to prompt him again, a little concerned by the stare.

“Why didn’t we do this more when we were still friends?” Gabriel finally sighed, removing his hand. “Why did we ever get out of our bunks and go fight that fucked up war?”

“Because we were soldiers. And we did what we had to do.”

Reaper blinked dumbly at that before leaning up, giving him one last kiss before slipping his mask back into place. “Fuck that.”

That was strange. Jack slid off of Reaper, letting him stand from the bunk, turning to face him with only a slight wobble to his step.

“Until later, Soldier: 76,” Reaper growled as his body faded into smoke, turning and drifting out of the room like a phantom.

Grumbling, Jack hauled himself up and headed for the showers. He could deal with that some other time. For now, he really had to clean off all the sweat.

And maybe work off the second stiffy he had worked up.

He was too damn old for all that.