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Zenyatta sighed reflexively as he entered the courtyard—a habit he’d picked up in recent years.
His footsteps were light when he wasn’t floating, and he was nearly undetectable when he was. After one too many accidental scares, Mondatta had asked him to announce himself when entering rooms. He never directly implied that he thought Zenyatta might scare the others intentionally, but he was very clear that it needed to stop.
If Ramattra was ever surprised by Zenyatta’s presence, he never let it show. Even while deep in meditation—so deep that Zenyatta sometimes worried he disconnected something important—he never managed to get so much as a flinch.
And this time was no different.
Ramattra stood at the edge of the courtyard with his back turned, leaning on a stone railing that overlooked the mountainside below. As Zenyatta moved closer, he set his feet on the ground to walk the rest of the way, giving a gentle roll to his ankle joints.
Ramattra was studying a familiar scroll; it was full of old accounts of the Omnic war. Zenyatta had seen him reading it enough times now to know from a distance. He had asked Ramattra more than once what was so intriguing about this series of scrolls, but he’d never gotten a satisfactory answer. He eventually came to his own conclusions—that perhaps it was comforting to read about the Ravagers and where he came from—but to admit such a thing to someone else...
He understood why Ramattra’s responses were more along the lines of “learning from past mistakes.”
“Brother.” Zenyatta spoke as he arrived at Ramattra’s side.
“Brother,” Ramattra returned, unphased by Zenyatta’s presence as always.
Ramattra didn’t turn or acknowledge his new company, only continued to read the scroll he held flat atop the railing. He readjusted his grip as the wind threatened to take it from him.
The sun was high in the sky, casting a pleasant warmth down onto them from above. A light breeze rustled the trees around them, and the rare sound of running water joined them from a nearby stream. It was only melted enough to do so a few months out of the year, and Zenyatta found it particularly peaceful.
Ramattra had chosen the perfect spot for quiet reflection, tucked away along the side of the Monastery where there wasn’t much foot traffic from the other monks.
Zenyatta rested his hands on the railing as well, lifting his faceplate up to enjoy the spring warmth. He always missed it when it left; his frame wasn’t built to handle the extreme cold of the mountains.
He sighed contentedly, and without turning, flung one of his orbs over to knock against the side of Ramattra’s faceplate.
“Zenya—”
“I’m afraid,” Zenyatta interrupted, motioning towards the scroll, “that these scrolls will not change no matter the amount of times they are read.” His array glowed pleasantly as Ramattra finally turned from the scroll, something of a sigh pushing its way out of his vents.
“Was it not Mondatta who said ‘To understand something is to immerse yourself in it, until you find a kinship between the subject and yourself?’”
“I believe he was talking about other beings and cultures, Brother. Not static text.”
Ramattra rolled his thumb over the middle joint of his pointer finger, creating a light clinking noise—a nervous habit he’d had ever since Zenyatta had met him.
“We will agree to disagree.” He replied after a moment, and the clinking stopped. Zenyatta was surprised he didn’t push it further, but he moved on from his teasing to the real reason he had come looking for him.
“Would you join me in the workshop? I’d like your assistance with something.”
Ramattra tilted his head suspiciously. “This isn’t another one of your games is it?” Zenyatta didn’t have time to feel bothered by the accusation, as Ramattra had already begun to collect his scroll.
He played the part anyway, his voice shocked. “I would never intentionally waste another’s time. What are you implying?”
Ramattra stared at him flatly for a moment, and then gestured for him to lead the way.
Zenyatta greatly admired Ramattra’s beliefs, and also had quite a bit of fun making him question them, feigning ignorance until Ramattra caught on to his teasing. But there was something different about today. He seemed quieter than usual.
Maybe those scrolls had something new to offer him after all.
They moved towards the workshop silently—as silently as they could manage with the heavy clunking of Ramattra’s footsteps echoing off the high walls. Members of the Monastery and visitors alike gave them a wide berth and paused conversation as they walked—a greeting they reserved solely for Ramattra.
It had always irked Zenyatta. The palpable fear from the new members seeing their first ever Ravager, and the unwarranted suspicion from members who'd been there long before even himself. And even then—from what he’d picked up in idle conversation—Mondatta was the only one to completely accept a Ravager among their ranks.
Ramattra had never disclosed that he was bothered by it, but Zenyatta couldn’t mistake the quiet tink-tink that came from behind him. He also knew Ramattra didn’t enjoy walking through the larger, more populated spaces of the monastery, but Zenyatta selfishly wanted the others to get used to seeing him around. They would have to stop acting childish eventually.
They exited the grand, open spaces of the monastery into a quieter, more functional looking area that housed the workshop. It was through a small archway, and as they entered inside, Zenyatta gently slid shut the curtain-door behind them. He was glad to see it was empty.
Ramattra visibly relaxed beside him, seeming just as grateful that they were alone. The clinking had also stopped.
“What was it that you needed?”
“Wait here.” Zenyatta motioned towards a stone bench pushed up against the wall. “I will return momentarily.”
“I would prefer you tell me what we are doing here first.”
“I know.” Zenyatta replied, moving around the long shelf between them to reach the workbench.
Ramattra sat and waited patiently, his question unanswered. And Zenyatta knew he would.
This area of the workshop was left a typical mess. Loose washers and bolts of various sizes were strewn around, sections of cut cable scattered on the floor, and a small soldering iron was left on—forgotten by its previous operator. Zenyatta turned that off first, and then began drifting around the workbench to find what he needed.
There was a part of him that felt jittery as he sorted through the disorganized drawers. He took extra care in selecting the least rusted tools, and when that still hadn’t given him the time he needed to calm down, he reorganized the desk as well. His orbs buzzed around him, and he used their quiet chiming to help center himself.
Feeling a little less floaty, he returned to Ramattra’s bench with a wire stripper, a small blade, his custom-made hardlight heatgun, the soldering iron—just in case— and a long section of cable insulator.
Ramattra looked up from his hands as Zenyatta approached.
“What is all this for?” He rose from the bench, taking a step forward. “Are you in need of repair?” A tinge of surprise to his voice, and—worry maybe?
Zenyatta shook his head, motioning for him to sit back down. He tried, and failed, to ignore the pleasant warmth he felt pouring through the wires at the back of his neck.
“This isn’t for me.”
“Then—” Ramattra trailed off as Zenyatta approached him with an arm outstretched, his hand tentatively reaching for a section of cables near his jaw.
“Here.” Zenyatta gently prodded at one of the cable covers that had torn. He was having trouble keeping his hands steady, a strange, buzzing energy rising in his chest.
Ramattra flinched.
“This cable appears damaged.” Zenyatta said, his orbs jittering around him as he continued to inspect the cable. “I would like to fix it.”
“You—” Ramattra went deathly still as Zenyatta looked at him expectantly, small blade in hand. “You could’ve told me this is what you had planned.”
“I could have,” Zenyatta agreed, waiting for Ramattra to turn so that he could see the cable better. “But you would not have come.”
“I would have.” Ramattra said, obediently turning toward the far wall so that Zenyatta could start on the repairs.
Zenyatta laughed. “You have never cared for general maintenance. I feel as though I might have to start tricking you into it.”
“And was this not a trick?”
Zenyatta didn’t respond, focused on the task of cautiously removing the thick, faded blue cable insulator from around the bundle of wires inside. He had done this many times on himself and other members of the Shambali. Simple repairs were akin to a meditative practice by now.
Only this time was different.
He was starting to notice this portion of wires didn’t look as he expected them to. He was used to seeing significantly worse damage—the Himalayas were often unkind to weary omnic travelers—that wasn’t the issue. The Ravager design was a lot more advanced than he was expecting.
To his great annoyance, the joints in his hands kept locking up unexpectedly as well, and the ends of his fingertips lightly brushed the fragile bundle of wires inside more than once. He paused to flex his hand, rolling his wrist to try and ease some of the tension.
He could hear that gentle clinking coming from Ramattra as he worked, and occasionally he noticed the mechanisms in his neck and jaw tensing and clicking strangely.
A part of him was shocked that Ramattra was behaving so—timidly? That wasn’t a word he had ever expected to use to describe Ramattra, but he was acting as though Zenyatta might harm him in some way. As if he was even capable. These wires were important, of course, but damaging them wouldn’t kill him. If anything, it would be a minor annoyance to an omnic like Ramattra, and he should know that.
Surely by now he could trust Zenyatta with something simple like this, something Zenyatta had done for so many other omnics, but... he supposed there was a chance he’d misunderstood their relationship.
He pressed in closer, holding some of the cables out of the way with the back of one hand, and using the other to gently brush against the wires inside to ensure they weren’t damaged. He noted the stiff, mechanical tensing of Ramattra’s shoulders and neck once more, but he was distracted by a small mark on the side of one of the innermost wires. He rolled it softly between his finger and thumb to get a better look.
Ramattra’s head snapped up, and suddenly there was an extra foot of space between them as Ramattra’s back was now against the wall behind him.
Zenyatta sat frozen, his hands still positioned as if he was holding the wires. He peered upwards at the other omnic, but Ramattra was still staring intently at the wall to their right.
He hadn’t realized how close they’d been until there was distance between them again.
“I—” Zenyatta paused a moment to collect himself. “It was not my intention to cause harm.” Ramattra turned toward him only slightly, but did not confirm or deny this.
Zenyatta waited a moment before trying again. “If you are ready, I only need to add the protective casing and then I will be finished.”
This didn’t seem to have any effect on Ramattra’s rigid body language, but he did lean forward to let him finish the repair.
Zenyatta picked up the new casing and fitted it carefully over the exposed bundle, sliding it behind so that the seam met in the front. He was cautious to avoid bumping the wires again, and took pride in managing to guess the correct gauge on the first try.
He picked up his heat gun and carefully positioned the opening so that the heat would be directed away from the wires. When he was finished, he rotated the cover around to hide the seam, though it was barely visible as it was.
He took longer than necessary repositioning the wire, finding the layout of cables and mechanisms on the side of Ramattra’s neck fascinating. He’d never been able to look this closely, and he might never get the chance again. He leaned forward further, trying to feel what was between the large pneumatic cylinder and the cables at the side of his neck.
Ramattra tensed again, and Zenyatta began to pull away guiltily. His luck had run out.
“I apolog—” He paused as something firmly grasped his wrist, keeping it in place.
Ramattra was looking at him now, and he steadily pulled Zenyatta’s hand back towards the side of his faceplate. He was gentle enough that Zenyatta could easily pull away.
He didn’t.
Zenyatta’s orbs began jittering anxiously around him again, but given permission, he moved his hand against the side of Ramattra’s face. He methodically registered every detail, every dip in material, the hard edges and soft slopes.
This was just curiosity. Nothing else.
Ramattra was simply indulging his desire to understand the mechanics behind the Ravager model. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. And then Ramattra almost imperceptibly began to lean into his touch, and it was like a dam had broken.
Suddenly emboldened, Zenyatta slid his fingers underneath the right side of Ramattra’s jaw, feeling again at the space between the cylinder and cables.
Ramattra leaned into it further, and Zenyatta ran his hand down the large pneumatic in his neck to where the reflected one met it at the middle of his chest. Ramattra’s jaw clenched again, and Zenyatta found himself roughly pulled forward.
Zenyatta stumbled onto his feet, the tops of his knee joints bumping against the bench Ramattra sat on. His chassis briefly clanged against Ramattra’s. His hold on Zenyatta left only an inch of space between them now.
Just as quickly, Ramattra let go, looking just as surprised that he’d done that as Zenyatta was.
“Zenyatta,” Ramattra’s voice sounded carefully controlled. “I think we should consider leavin—” He was interrupted as Zenyatta leaned forward, pressing his chest against Ramattra’s again and holding it there.
Ramattra sat frozen for a moment, and Zenyatta looked up at him expectantly. Ramattra slowly reached up his hand, moving it just inches away from Zenyatta’s face. And he waited. Zenyatta nodded, and Ramattra began gently trailing his fingers along the side of his faceplate, his hand easily covering the majority of his jaw.
Ramattra touched him so reverently, as if the hard metal exterior of his faceplate could break with the slightest force. He ran his thumb over the small chips and dents in the metal as if he were trying to memorize them. Zenyatta felt the tension in his shoulders release as he found himself leaning into his touch.
He hadn’t known how badly he had wanted this.
Zenyatta turned and rested his head against the front of Ramattra’s chest, something he’d only done in distant fantasies. He felt Ramattra pause, frozen again by his movement, but Zenyatta had waited so long for this closeness.
He could hear the gentle hum of life and mechanical workings just under the surface. He listened to the steady circulation of air, the continuous pull and release of breath that kept the various systems inside from overheating. He was content to just sit there, enjoying their proximity, listening to the purring of Ramattra’s central processor.
But Zenyatta wasn’t the only one who was curious.
Ramattra’s hand slid from Zenyatta’s jaw to find the wires at the back of his neck. He flinched at the unexpected touch, but nodded against Ramattra’s chest in encouragement.
One hand playing with the wires, Ramattra lifted his other to rest it against Zenyatta’s shoulder, his fingers slipping in between the bars, feeling the pneumatic devices work under them. Zenyatta was enraptured by his touch, leaning into the curious and gentle hands that explored his chassis and now the wires beneath.
He fought against himself to pull away, but was ultimately successful, his drive to sate his curiosity stronger than his need to stay. Ramattra drew his hands back as Zenyatta sat up, but he seemed much less apprehensive now. There was something different about the way Ramattra looked at him. Something new, but something familiar as well.
Zenyatta brought both of his hands forward and rested them against the rib-like metallic structures along Ramattra’s chest. He slid his hands slowly across them, his fingers occasionally brushing against the protected chassis underneath. He could feel the heat from Ramattra’s ventilators warming up the wires on his wrists and forearms.
His hands followed the metallic bars around to Ramattra’s back, their journey ending in an embrace. He rested his head on Ramattra’s chest once more. His right hand continued upwards along Ramattra’s spine and then threaded into the cables that surrounded Ramattra’s head.
Ramattra pushed his faceplate forward into Zenyatta’s shoulder and returned the embrace. His hands found their way back up into the wires at Zenyatta's neck, and soon after, one of them left to trail downwards to the wires at the base of his spine. Zenyatta followed his lead, his hands wandering down Ramattra’s spine as well.
Zenyatta felt himself lose the last bit of will he had to stand, but Ramattra’s steady strength underneath him was an assurance that he would not fall. And he didn’t. Ramattra easily turned and repositioned them so that Zenyatta could sit on the bench as well, with one leg curled up under him.
Ramattra’s soft touches sent shocks of lightning straight through to his processing core. Zenyatta could feel the buzzing of his energy field grow stronger around him. It was all too much, he could feel himself slipping, and there was a loud clattering as he lost concentration on his orbs all at once.
Ramattra did not take notice, or did not care, and Zenyatta was far too focused on the overwhelming energetic buzzing around him.
It felt stronger, sturdier; it felt protective and fierce. Its emotions fully overwhelmed Zenyatta, and he struggled against it so he would not lose himself. But something about it felt... safe.
He suddenly recognized it as Ramattra’s energy field brushing up against his own, and he relaxed. He let down his walls, and felt the intense surge of emotion pour into him. It was harsh and forceful, something he had never experienced before. Ramattra exhaled scalding air from his vents, and Zenyatta basked in the warmth, and began to focus now on pushing his own emotions back across their connection.
While Ramattra’s energy field was like a forceful burst, Zenyatta’s was slow and all encompassing, a soft warmth that he focused on wrapping around Ramattra’s emotional turmoil. Ramattra began to shift uncomfortably, but then relaxed, and Zenyatta was sure he had recognized their combined energy fields as well.
They sat still for a long moment, emotions floating invisibly in the air between and around them. And Zenyatta understood, suddenly, just how similarly they felt. They were both so nervous, both so quietly overjoyed.
Ramattra pulled back, reaching his hands up to cup either side of Zenyatta’s face again, leaning their foreheads together with a clank. His thumbs gently caressed his faceplate and jaw once more.
Zenyatta laughed lightly and turned to bury his head into Ramattra’s shoulder. Their combined feelings had begun to subside, but Ramattra still held him so closely, his fingers idly playing up and down the wires running along Zenyatta’s spine. They must’ve sat like that for hours, not speaking, not needing to.
The sound of footsteps reached them from the hallway a while later.
Zenyatta quickly began to straighten himself, standing up from the bench. Ramattra was very hesitant to let go, but eventually he also recognized the sound and began to gather himself.
Zenyatta stood and picked up his tools in a hurry, unsure whether or not he should look at Ramattra. He suddenly felt like he’d done something wrong, like he’d taken things a step too far.
He rushed back to the workbench behind the shelving units, anxiously storing away the tools into their correct drawers. He didn’t feel any better being out of Ramattra’s sight, in fact, he might even feel a little worse. He called his orbs around him again and they spun wildly. He attempted to calm himself with their chiming anyway.
It didn’t work.
He briefly tried to meditate, but the buzzing in his head and chest wouldn't stop. He needed to move around. He needed to get out of this room.
He rolled his shoulders and stretched, and—as normally as possible—exited the workshop area, motioning for Ramattra to follow behind him into the hallway. There was no one outside, so he assumed whoever it was had already left.
Zenyatta couldn’t be sure, as he still refused to look, but he thought he heard Ramattra stumble over the step up from the door. A pleasant fondness blossomed in his chest, and he began to relax again.
Their shared feelings had subsided, but he wondered if Ramattra was just as unsure, if he felt just as naked.
He could still feel the whisper of gentle touches along his spine, the way Ramattra had hidden his face in his shoulder, the vulnerability of sharing energy fields they’d experienced. He shook his head to banish the thoughts, but he couldn’t stop thinking of the way Ramattra had leaned into his touch, so trusting.
He took a less populated route through the monastery now, afraid that somehow the other monks would know what had happened between them. He just wanted to get back to the courtyard where they could be alone again.
They could talk, sit together as always, and maybe this time Zenyatta would lean against him, as he had always wanted to. Maybe now he could intertwine their fingers as he had dreamed of before. Maybe things could be different now, closer. Maybe—
He paused suddenly, noticing the sound of Ramattra’s heavy footsteps had stopped filling the empty hall.
He turned to look at him, finally. His gaze was immediately drawn to Ramattra’s hand—which he quickly dropped back to his side, away from where he’d been fidgeting with the new cable.
For a long moment they just stared at each other.
“Is it... uncomfortable?” Zenyatta asked, his voice exiting his vocoder with a strange crackle.
“No,” Ramattra said quickly, “it’s just—,” He turned his head to the side, and Zenyatta followed his gaze.
They were standing in front of a large, ornate mirror that stretched the length of the hallway.
Ramattra stood reflected in it, much taller than Zenyatta, his new cable a stark red against the usual sea of black that surrounded it.
Zenyatta felt a pleasant warmth flow through his own, matching cables.
“Oh, yes.” He said, orbs jittering nervously still. “They were out of blue.” He found himself lying.
“I see.”
When they finally made it out into the courtyard, the sun had just finished setting. The sky was fully alight with stars now, and they sat under them as they often did. But a bit closer this time.
They hadn’t spoken much still, but as the night wore on and the other monks left to go inside, Zenyatta found himself leaning against Ramattra’s shoulder. And later, Ramattra gently grasped his hand, interlocking their fingers atop Zenyatta’s thigh. And maybe there wasn’t much to say after all.
-=-
This fic was HEAVILY inspired by this artwork done by @keltii-tea on tumblr! They have posted LOTS of ramyatta content recently and i love it all. go follow them!!
