Chapter Text
It was quiet on Gibraltar's cliffs that night. The kind of quiet where even the waves below sounded tired as if sentient. Hazard had dragged an old blanket from his bunk, made of rough wool, itchy as hell... and laid it out on the concrete ledge overlooking the sea. He didn't even know why he'd brought it. He wasn't the blanket type. But Juno had this way of making him do things that felt unlike himself.
She sprawled across it like she had never seen stars before, even though she claimed she could 'see better than anyone.' One arm behind her head, the other pointing up, tracing invisible lines between constellations. The night painted her in silver, her screen flickering faintly like a second moon. Hazard sat beside her, massive frame hunched over his knees, arms draped heavy across them. He wasn't looking at the stars, not really. He was watching her look at them. That was the part that felt like space; like something bigger than he had words for.
"You're quiet," Juno said suddenly, her voice muffled by the blanket as she rolled onto her side to face him.
"Mm." His reply rumbled in his chest, low and noncommittal. So not like him at all.
"Mm?" She mimicked him, but higher pitched, teasing, and grinned when his eye twitched.
Hazard shook his head. "Just thinkin'."
"About?"
He hesitated. Hazard wasn't the type to open up, especially not about his family. But Juno had a knack for catching him off guard. He leaned back, staring up at the scatter of stars. "...My mum."
There was a pause. He felt her still beside him, like she wasn't sure if she should speak. Then she perked up. "Oh!" Juno's voice carried this burst of excitement, like a kid who just solved a puzzle. "She's from space too?"
Hazard's head whipped toward her, brows furrowed. "What?! No- bloody hell, Juno-" His accent dragged the words out, rough around the edges, equal parts disbelief and laughter.
She snorted, rolling onto her back again, kicking her boots up in the air like she didn't weigh a thing. "Well, you said she's up there once! Don't blame me for connecting the dots!"
Hazard groaned, rubbing a hand down his face, but he couldn't hide the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "That's not what I meant. She's… gone." His voice softened on the last word, almost too quiet to hear over the sea.
Juno's laughter died out. She tilted her head toward him, screen catching a glint of starlight. "Oh," she whispered, a little sheepish. "I didn't know."
He shrugged, big shoulders rolling, the motion heavy. "Ain't somethin' I talk about much."
The silence stretched between them, but it wasn't totally empty. Juno shifted closer, her arm brushing against his. She was small next to him, quite literally half his size. Weightless in comparison. But oddly enough, the contact burned hot, grounding him properly. "You miss her," Juno said softly, not as a question but like she already knew.
Hazard let out a long breath through his nose. "Every damn day."
Juno hummed, thoughtful. Her fingers tapped against the blanket in some little rhythm. Then, with that quicksilver brightness of hers, she said, "Well… maybe she is from space. Like, what if she's up there right now, watching you? Watching us." She gestured broadly at the sky, then jabbed him lightly in the ribs. "Bet she's laughing at how serious you look right now."
Hazard barked a laugh before he could stop himself. It startled him, the sound so raw and unguarded. "You're ridiculous!"
"And you love it," she shot back, beaming.
He didn't answer that, but his silence spoke louder than words. He turned his gaze back to the stars, but this time, he let himself lie back on the blanket beside Juno. Their shoulders touched fully now, the warmth bleeding between them. He could feel her screen glow flicker against his jaw whenever she shifted, her presence filling every bit of space like she was daring the universe itself to make room for her. Hazard thought about how small she was compared to him, how fragile she looked lying there. He also thought about how easily she unsettled him, stripped him of his armor with nothing but a dumb question and a smile.
"Hey, Hazard?"
"Mm?"
"Don't take this the wrong way, but… you feel heavy." She giggled when he turned to glare at her. "Not like... bad heavy. Just… like gravity. You make it hard to float off."
He blinked at her, processing what she just said, then shook his head with a soft chuckle. "You're somethin' else, Juno."
And for once, the weight of missing his mother and everything he carried didn't feel like it would crush him. Not with her there with a shoulder pressed to his, pointing out constellations he clearly didn't know the names of, weaving nonsense stories about space moms and alien families until his chest hurt from laughing. And though Hazard didn't say it out loud, but lying there with her made him feel lighter than he had in years.
The stars stretched overhead, but neither of them were looking at the sky anymore. Juno had propped herself up on one elbow, screen tilting down to catch Hazard's face. He stayed flat on the blanket, arms folded across his broad chest, the faintest smirk still hanging off his mouth from her last joke.
"So," she started again, voice lilting, curious. "Why'd you even join Overwatch? You don't exactly scream 'team player.'"
Hazard gave her a sideways look, unimpressed. "Straight to the jugular, eh?" He exhaled hard through his nose. "Ain't no romantic story, luv. I was in the war. South Africa, Null Sector pushin' through like locusts. My whole unit got chewed up. I didn't have much left to lose."
Juno seemed to frown, finally turning off the screen that lit her face before. She had read reports about Null Sector on Earth, of course, but hearing it from someone who actually experienced it carried a different weight. Hazard didn't dress it up either. His words were blunt, stripped raw by memory.
He continued, voice low. "Overwatch picked me up 'cause I knew the terrain, knew how to fight those metal bastards. Didn't care much for the politics, still don't. But better than sittin' 'round waitin' to rot."
Silence hung between them like before. Juno reached out and tapped a finger against the massive plate of his shoulder. "And you stayed. Even after… all that." Hazard finally turned his head toward her, eyes catching her own glow. "Guess I did." His gaze lingered, softer now. "What about you, eh? Ain't like you were born for this life."
Juno laughed; but it was short, almost defensive. She plopped back down beside him, arms spread wide like she could hold the whole sky. "Yeah, you're right. I wasn't." She paused before continuing. "I was just… curious. Always curious. About everything. About people. I wanted to help. I thought Overwatch was supposed to be that... the helping people part, not just shooting at robots and mercenaries." Her voice tilted sharper at the end with the frustration slipping in, something Hazard hadn't heard from her often.
"You think it ain't?" he asked.
"I think…" She hesitated. What was the best way of describing it, if it all? Her hands folded on her chest in thought. "I think sometimes it forgets. I didn't sign up to be a weapon. I signed up because I wanted to understand the world, make it better. But most days it feels like I'm just patching bullet holes."
Hazard studied her for a long moment. The way her eyes almost dimmed, how her shoulders slumped despite her size. He wasn't good with words. Never had been, matter of fact. But he knew that look.
"You're right," he admitted, surprising even himself. "Overwatch… it's messy. Half the time I don't know if we're doin' good or just makin' a bigger mess. But you..." He shifted, rolling onto his side, the ground creaking under his weight as he leaned closer. "You remind me why I bother. You're too bloody stubborn to quit."
Her eyes brightened at that, almost glowing. "You think I'm stubborn?"
"Like a damn rock," he muttered, and it made her laugh again, light spilling over the heaviness like sunlight breaking stormclouds. Juno scooted closer without thinking, her shoulder pressed snug to his arm now, her small frame dwarfed by him. She felt the heat radiating off his body, the solidness of him like a rock. Hazard, for his part, didn't move away. He let her lean, allowed her warmth seep into him.
For a moment, the conversation drifted, the both of them staring out into the dark sea, each lost in their own histories. Hazard thought of South Africa; the wreckage, the smoke. Juno thought of the bright eyed recruits she'd once trained with, some of them gone now, scattered to the wind. And then- Juno broke the silence, her voice soft. "Maybe that's what Overwatch really is. Not the missions, not the orders. Just… us. The people who keep showing up. Who keep trying!"
Hazard looked at her again. Really looked this time. Her brown eyes reflected the stars like a thousand tiny suns, her words so simple and yet cutting deeper than she knew. "Maybe," he said quietly.
Neither of them moved away. The blanket beneath them was scratchy, the night air cold, but the space between them burned. Juno didn't even realize when she stopped pointing at stars and started tracing the curve of Hazard's profile instead, her gaze drinking him in like he was the only constellation that actually mattered. She was never good at hiding her curiosity. And Hazard… well, Hazard had never been good at being wanted.
"Hazard," she whispered his name softly. He turned his head toward her, and for a moment she just stared; at the rough line of his jaw, the steel piercings catching stray moonlight. Her hand lifted before she could second guess it. Small fingers brushed the edge of his jaw, then slid upward, skimming the sharp metal at his nose, the studs along his ear. He froze, breath caught, every muscle coiled tight as if touch was something foreign... dangerous. "You're all edges," Juno murmured, thumb ghosting over the line of his cheekbone. "Sharp everywhere. Even your silence is sharp."
Hazard huffed out a sound that wasn't quite a laugh nor a sigh. His eyes hooded, gaze locked on her. Slowly, so slowly, like moving through mud, he raised his own hand. Massive, calloused, scarred. When his palm finally cupped her round face, it swallowed her. Juno's head fit there too easily, fragile as glass, glowing faintly against the darkened skin of his knuckles.
"Small thing," he rumbled. His voice cracked around the edges, lower than usual, almost hoarse.
Juno's breath hitched, heart hammering relentlessly in her chest. She tilted into him, her cheeks flushed like they couldn't contain her pulse. Hazard's thumb brushed the edge of her chin. The size difference was obscene; his hand covering her whole face, his body looming over hers- but the gentleness was unbearable. He held her like she might vanish into space. "Never thought--" He cut himself off, jaw tightening. "Never thought I'd…" His throat worked, trying to force words out that refused to come.
But then Juno leaned up, closing the gap herself. Their lips touched first as a question, light and tentative, nothing more than a spark. But sparks always have a way of catching.
Hazard inhaled sharply, the sound deep in his chest, as if her mouth on his was more shocking than a bullet wound. She tasted like salt air and static, the faint sweetness of whatever energy hummed through her small frame. His lips were rough, slightly chapped from years of neglect, but he pressed harder, answering her question with one of his own. Juno parted for him instinctively, and Hazard followed, tongue brushing past her lips with a hunger he hadn't meant to show. She gasped into him, tiny hand gripping the collar of his open jacket like she might drown otherwise.
The kiss deepened, a messy and desperate thing. Tongues sliding, teeth grazing, breaths caught and stolen. Juno's body was light against his, but the heat of her mouth sent fire through his veins. Every nerve screamed awake. Hazard's hand on her face trembled, not from fear, but from the sheer force of holding back. Her heart thudded wildly, her chest feeling like it was full of stars that were collapsing into novas. She kissed him harder, small noises slipping between their mouths. Hazard groaned low, the sound vibrating through her chest where it pressed against his.
Neither of them had much practice. Neither had ever cared to before. For Juno, intimacy was something she never thought about- it always seemed distant, irrelevant. For Hazard, it was a luxury carved out of lives he didn't get to live. Yet here, on a crappy blanket beneath a sky full of ghosts, it burned through both of them like they'd been starving for it all along.
When they finally pulled apart, it wasn't because they wanted to. It was because air became necessary. Hazard rested his forehead against hers, breathing ragged, his chest rising and falling like he had just gone ten rounds in the pit. Juno's heartbeat finally relaxed, dimming, like the embers after fire.
"Bloody hell…" Hazard muttered, voice wrecked, accent heavy again.
Juno giggled breathlessly, though her hand still clutched his collar. "Took you long enough."
He laughed out louder than before, then pressed a quick, almost frantic kiss to her mouth again. Just to prove he could. She melted against him, cheeks warming like sunrise again.
Neither spoke for a while after that. They just lay there, pressed together, staring at the endless night sky as their hands found each other without asking.