#fauxsamurai

Foreign tongue and foreign mannerisms left Hanzo with a bit of distaste in his mouth. He knew of Jesse McCree and what his group did– and what his father wanted. It was near impossible to move weapons within Japan, and had been since well before the modern era had given them such leaps and bounds in technology. Always, these things seemed to come with curses attached. Perhaps this was why the Shimada heir clung so tightly to traditional aspects of his culture despite it being a terribly antiquated thing to do. Even his mode of dress spoke of it– long hair that symbolized an oath of some kind that he would not speak to anyone until the promise bound to it was brought to pass.

Or perhaps as some of the members of their crime family would whisper– he knew he was beautiful and used it to his advantage.

Hanzo had watched him, listened to the heavily accented drawl as the terms of their smuggling agreement were reached. McCree was something of a charmer, all oily smiles and wicked charisma. He knew well already even a young man only in his twenties not to trust such a creature.

And here he was, wandering back into Hanzo’s private space on his own– though he had been told politely to “make himself at home” he did not necessarily mean this. Not by any means.

It took several long moments for everything McCree said to sink in, and he really couldn’t tell if he should be impressed with his balls or if he should be disgusted. Though… he also knew that he mustn’t anger a business partner– nor should he pass up a chance to gain something else that the clan could use. Even if it turned out to be as simple as personal leverage on this man in particular.

He took a slow breath and tempered his response, the tentative and almost confused expression on his face giving the sense of innocence, though feigned.

“I thought our business was concluded this morning. I assure you, we have arranged for you to enjoy the best luxury my countrymen have to offer until your return to the states.” Hanzo’s delicate brow rose, head tilted just slightly as he continued. “Do you not have the company of your own associates to enjoy?”

His English was almost too perfect– carefully mapped out though his accent was thick when he spoke.

This may have been the first time Jesse had traveled out of the United States, but it was by no means his first rodeo. He’d been with the Deadlock Gang for years, rising in rank and credibility the world around. The fact that their once small time gang had expanded to reach the far corners of the world had really attested to that.

He smooth talked his way into one of the biggest weapons shipments they had ever done, his southern charm and sharp wit keeping everything nice and tidy. Though, he had his eyes on the supposed heir to this clan as he sat in on their business deal, no doubt learning the ropes about how to deal with foreign business. There was something about him that drew Jesse to the depths of the estate to seek out this heir in his room.

It might not have been the best manners to invite himself into a private setting, but he had a sneaking suspicion that these people weren’t going to piss off their weapons dealer before they were delivered. There were still several days in between then and when the shipment arrived, seeing as Jesse and a couple others went ahead to secure the specifics and make sure everything was as planned per their original agreement.

Jesse watched the young heir carefully, watching his expression and body language, trying his damnedest to figure him out- though he remained an enigma, likely on purpose.

“The deal has been made, yes, though our business is far from over. Until I have that cash in hand, our business stays incomplete.”

His smirk widened as he hooked a thumb behind his gaudy belt buckle, his other raising to tip his hat a bit out of his eyes.

“Does that finest luxury include you, darlin’?”

He was joking. Mostly. Okay, so he might have only been joking if it didn’t end up getting him killed. He was drawn to this man in the most magnetic way and he couldn’t explain it. He knew getting involved with business partners always spelled trouble, but what was a couple drinks, right?

“T’ be honest, I could use a night away from my associates. Drove me up a damn wall the whole plane ride here, and I’m sure they’re sick of me too. Pro’ly all seekin’ out some tail as we speak, anyway. ‘Sides I could use a pretty li’l tour guide t’ show me the best place f’r a drink.”

He gave a brave wink, hoping he wasn’t stepping over any lines. The last thing he wanted was a sword to his throat.

It was not without meaning that Zenyatta spoke. He often chose his words and delivery carefully– with intent.

Hanzo frowned and tilted his head slightly as he mulled it over. What was the omnic trying to say?

“If the rooster does what nature asks of it, what else is there to ponder?” He mused. “Sometimes I think you think too much.” Hanzo offered a small smile.

@fauxsamurai; The little crescent of flesh found itself imprinted upon the omnic’s circuitry, coursing through networks of wire and static upon his sensors’ reception of mild imagery. This was the brother of a man whose love reached beyond the throes of his own humanity, his own kind, and yet the smile did not fail to remind the mentor of a sparrow once tucked beneath his wing.

“In this instance, I believe the rooster was you,” he modulated, gently, kindly, eyes in perpetual sopor. 

I have seen bad comps and terrible plays but NOTHIng like this. Ever.

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“Han... Don’t say that.”

McCree moved closer, prosthetic finding Hanzo’s cheek before slipping into his hair and pulling him into his chest. Neither of them could sleep lately, and McCree had a sneaking suspicion as to why. Though it was several years ago, hell, it was a decade ago-- he still remembered approximately when Genji joined their ranks.

“We’ve all done fucked up shit-- Our pasts don’t matter. What matters is what we’re doin’ here and now.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of Hanzo’s lips, hugging him a little tighter.

“Bit of a loaded question there, don’t ya think?”

Jesse rubbed a hand through his beard and groaned, knowing that, no matter what he said, someone was going to get upset-- though he already knew his answer, and he could name several people who would scoff at him for it.

@fauxsamurai

Jesse blinked down at the man, confused about what exactly brought this particular conversation topic up. He smiled, nervous about what it could mean, but his heart raced at the thought. Hanzo Shimada wanted to kiss him.

Did that mean he would?