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fandomweekly2017-04-02 11:49 pm
masu_trout) wrote in fandomweekly2017-04-02 11:49 pm
Entry tags:
[#037] Push and Pull (Overwatch)
Theme Prompt: #037 Opposites Attract
Title: Push and Pull
Fandom: Overwatch
Rating/Warnings: None
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 985
Summary: Genji and Zenyatta in the city of harmony.
Even in Numbani, Genji and Zenyatta attracted attention.
It was—well, it certainly wasn't as bad as it could be. (Genji could remember vividly their time spent traveling through less Omnic-friendly locals.) Omnics and humans alike were welcome in the city of harmony, and certainly no one here would think to toss insults or rocks at them.
Their problem, in fact, was almost the opposite. It would be endearing if it weren't so annoying.
Zenyatta was especially famous here. Few knew him by name, but everyone admired his brother and everyone wanted to offer their condolences for Mondatta's death. The Shambali were a symbol of peace and light, harbingers of a better future for humans and Omnics alike.
Genji was none of those things. It wasn't hard to understand why people here avoided him, even if it was frustrating: between the green-gray armor, the sword, and the odd too-close-to-human shape of his form, he looked like some sort of off-market murder machine.
Twice today someone had stopped Zenyatta on the street to ask him if he needed any help, shooting nervous glances at Genji all the while. No matter how kindly Zenyatta turned them away, the suspicion still stung.
Zenyatta was his friend, his mentor, his savior. All of the above, and more than that besides. He'd sooner cut off his own limbs than betray him.
It was to the point where he almost wanted to take off his visor, but that would cause more problems than it could possibly solve. The mish-mash of flesh and metal was hardly subtle; Numbani welcomed human and Omnic alike, but Genji suspected it would have more trouble wrapping its head around someone who was simultaneously both.
There was only one person who'd ever seen Genji's body and not reacted—however quick they managed to hide it—with horror or far-too-eager curiosity. Genji took a deep breath, letting that reminder settle into his mind. He had that person here with him. It shouldn't matter what anyone else thought.
Well, Genji thought with a sigh, this has been a dud.
He unfolded from the lotus position, giving up on the attempt at meditation for the moment. Peace was too hard to reach with all these idle thoughts burrowing into his brain like parasites.
Probably his surroundings' fault. Normally they both preferred the outdoors, but there was nowhere out there that could possibly offer them any privacy. They'd settled for their hotel room instead. Somehow the scent of linen and stale cigarette smoke just wasn't helping him concentrate.
Zenyatta hovered near the largest window, his faceplate flickering occasionally as he focused. The metallic orbs that ringed his neck spun in a loose circle around him, dancing and leaping and swapping places with each other as he manipulated the magnetic forces that controlled them.
“Master,” Genji sighed in his most overdramatic voice. These days the effect was somewhat ruined by the mechanical edge to his words, but he still thought it worked well enough. “I just can't do it. These exercises aren't coming to me at all.”
Back when they'd first met—when Genji had taken after him like a lost puppy, trying to act sullen and apathetic to cover his desperate loneliness—he'd often complained just like that. Neither his life in the Shimada clan or his time with Overwatch had ever taught him much about patience.
Luckily, that particular quality was something Zenyatta had in spades.
“Oh?” Zenyatta's lights brightened and his orbs drew back round his neck—his equivalent of cracking an eye open after a long nap. “Do your surroundings not agree with you?”
“Yes,” Genji said. He'd meant for it to be a joke, but the words came out all too serious.
Ugh, he thought, trying not to cringe in embarrassment. It was petty to feel this way about a few small discomforts.
Zenyatta didn't react, though. He only hummed softly and said, “I see.” After a moment, he added, “it weighs on me as well. I hate to see you mistreated so.”
“It's not mistreatment,” Genji protested immediately. For all it embarrassed him, it was entirely understandable. “They're right to be concerned for you.”
“And are they right to treat you like a criminal?”
“It's… reasonable.”
“Genji.” Zenyatta sighed.
“It's no big deal. I'd never complain about getting to travel with you. Not when I've learned so much by your side.”
“I've learned a great deal from you as well, Genji. Does that mean you wouldn't be upset if someone mistreated me while I was with you?”
It wasn't the same at all, and yet Genji couldn't explain why it was different—instead, he went for the next best question. “I've taught you things?”
“Of course,” Zenyatta said, solemn. Mischief laced his voice as he added, “how else would I know it's possible to burn water?”
Genji winced and thrust an imaginary sword into his heart. “Low blow, master.”
Zenyatta's warm laughter echoed through the room. “Oh, Genji.” He reached out, took Genji's hand in his own, and guided it to the tangle of cables and wires just under his chestplate.
Beneath his visor, Genji burned bright red. This was… an intimate gesture among Omnics: the equivalent of a kiss, at the very least. It wasn't the first time Zenyatta had come to him this way, but he still could hardly believe he might be so lucky.
Genji grasped Zenyatta's free hand. He wasn't a true Omnic and he had no equivalent cluster, so instead he guided Zenyatta's metal palm to press against the spot where his heart still faintly beat.
“See?” Zenyatta asked. His body thrummed softly against Genji's palm. It felt fragile and strange and wonderful. “There is peace to be found in sharing your troubles.”
Geni snorted. “And there's a lesson to be found in everything, I take it.”
“Only if you're willing to learn.”
“I am,” Genji said, and closed the gap between them.
Title: Push and Pull
Fandom: Overwatch
Rating/Warnings: None
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 985
Summary: Genji and Zenyatta in the city of harmony.
Even in Numbani, Genji and Zenyatta attracted attention.
It was—well, it certainly wasn't as bad as it could be. (Genji could remember vividly their time spent traveling through less Omnic-friendly locals.) Omnics and humans alike were welcome in the city of harmony, and certainly no one here would think to toss insults or rocks at them.
Their problem, in fact, was almost the opposite. It would be endearing if it weren't so annoying.
Zenyatta was especially famous here. Few knew him by name, but everyone admired his brother and everyone wanted to offer their condolences for Mondatta's death. The Shambali were a symbol of peace and light, harbingers of a better future for humans and Omnics alike.
Genji was none of those things. It wasn't hard to understand why people here avoided him, even if it was frustrating: between the green-gray armor, the sword, and the odd too-close-to-human shape of his form, he looked like some sort of off-market murder machine.
Twice today someone had stopped Zenyatta on the street to ask him if he needed any help, shooting nervous glances at Genji all the while. No matter how kindly Zenyatta turned them away, the suspicion still stung.
Zenyatta was his friend, his mentor, his savior. All of the above, and more than that besides. He'd sooner cut off his own limbs than betray him.
It was to the point where he almost wanted to take off his visor, but that would cause more problems than it could possibly solve. The mish-mash of flesh and metal was hardly subtle; Numbani welcomed human and Omnic alike, but Genji suspected it would have more trouble wrapping its head around someone who was simultaneously both.
There was only one person who'd ever seen Genji's body and not reacted—however quick they managed to hide it—with horror or far-too-eager curiosity. Genji took a deep breath, letting that reminder settle into his mind. He had that person here with him. It shouldn't matter what anyone else thought.
Well, Genji thought with a sigh, this has been a dud.
He unfolded from the lotus position, giving up on the attempt at meditation for the moment. Peace was too hard to reach with all these idle thoughts burrowing into his brain like parasites.
Probably his surroundings' fault. Normally they both preferred the outdoors, but there was nowhere out there that could possibly offer them any privacy. They'd settled for their hotel room instead. Somehow the scent of linen and stale cigarette smoke just wasn't helping him concentrate.
Zenyatta hovered near the largest window, his faceplate flickering occasionally as he focused. The metallic orbs that ringed his neck spun in a loose circle around him, dancing and leaping and swapping places with each other as he manipulated the magnetic forces that controlled them.
“Master,” Genji sighed in his most overdramatic voice. These days the effect was somewhat ruined by the mechanical edge to his words, but he still thought it worked well enough. “I just can't do it. These exercises aren't coming to me at all.”
Back when they'd first met—when Genji had taken after him like a lost puppy, trying to act sullen and apathetic to cover his desperate loneliness—he'd often complained just like that. Neither his life in the Shimada clan or his time with Overwatch had ever taught him much about patience.
Luckily, that particular quality was something Zenyatta had in spades.
“Oh?” Zenyatta's lights brightened and his orbs drew back round his neck—his equivalent of cracking an eye open after a long nap. “Do your surroundings not agree with you?”
“Yes,” Genji said. He'd meant for it to be a joke, but the words came out all too serious.
Ugh, he thought, trying not to cringe in embarrassment. It was petty to feel this way about a few small discomforts.
Zenyatta didn't react, though. He only hummed softly and said, “I see.” After a moment, he added, “it weighs on me as well. I hate to see you mistreated so.”
“It's not mistreatment,” Genji protested immediately. For all it embarrassed him, it was entirely understandable. “They're right to be concerned for you.”
“And are they right to treat you like a criminal?”
“It's… reasonable.”
“Genji.” Zenyatta sighed.
“It's no big deal. I'd never complain about getting to travel with you. Not when I've learned so much by your side.”
“I've learned a great deal from you as well, Genji. Does that mean you wouldn't be upset if someone mistreated me while I was with you?”
It wasn't the same at all, and yet Genji couldn't explain why it was different—instead, he went for the next best question. “I've taught you things?”
“Of course,” Zenyatta said, solemn. Mischief laced his voice as he added, “how else would I know it's possible to burn water?”
Genji winced and thrust an imaginary sword into his heart. “Low blow, master.”
Zenyatta's warm laughter echoed through the room. “Oh, Genji.” He reached out, took Genji's hand in his own, and guided it to the tangle of cables and wires just under his chestplate.
Beneath his visor, Genji burned bright red. This was… an intimate gesture among Omnics: the equivalent of a kiss, at the very least. It wasn't the first time Zenyatta had come to him this way, but he still could hardly believe he might be so lucky.
Genji grasped Zenyatta's free hand. He wasn't a true Omnic and he had no equivalent cluster, so instead he guided Zenyatta's metal palm to press against the spot where his heart still faintly beat.
“See?” Zenyatta asked. His body thrummed softly against Genji's palm. It felt fragile and strange and wonderful. “There is peace to be found in sharing your troubles.”
Geni snorted. “And there's a lesson to be found in everything, I take it.”
“Only if you're willing to learn.”
“I am,” Genji said, and closed the gap between them.
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