“Boy, that sucks,” Lùcio commiserates as he carefully lowers himself next to Junkrat on the couch. Junkrat, for his part, doesn’t react for a few seconds, then seems to register that he is spoken to and squints at Lùcio warily.

“What does?”

Lùcio frowns and points at him, “That you’re sick, my dude. Sucks.”

Junkrat purses his lips, eyes still squinting. He’s as leery of Lùcio’s sympathy as a deer with one leg in a trap. His quiet contemplation is almost… creepy.

“If I can do anything for you… just say the word, right?” Lùcio prompts, knees bouncing nervously. He’s never spoken a lot to Junkrat – there wasn’t much to say, usually. The guy didn’t seem to listen half the time anyway, preferring to giggle about one thing or another which was equally unnerving as his quiet solitude right now.

“Roadie checks in on me.”

“Oh. Right.”

That seems to be it for a few minutes – only disrupted by Junkrat’s coughs that rattled his thin chest. His head was sagging forward as Lùcio watched – eyes getting heavy beneath the bushy eyebrows.

He looks utterly exhausted and unwilling to give in to his body’s needs. Instead, he jerks out of it whenever he is on the precipice, throws Lùcio an almost irritated gaze and just keeps sitting curled up.

After a while, Lùcio unclips his booster from his belt and fiddles with the controls. It doesn’t take long until he puts it face down on the low table, soft waves of the usual healing rhythm thumping against the wood.

He sees Junkrat staring at the booster, and when he doesn’t say anything, Lùcio offers, “Maybe it’ll help. Y’know. Can’t hurt, right?”

Another ten minutes pass by with the music soft and relaxing – and then Junkrat shifts, crawling closer and putting his head with an exhausted sigh against Lùcio’s shoulder.

He doesn’t say a word of thanks, but Lùcio feels on top of the world anyway.