Genji, McCree thinks mulishly, has a bad habit of making strange things seem perfectly normal.  He’s sure his younger self might have had second thoughts if it had been any other person less confident or self-possessed, but right now McCree can see himself transfixed on Genji’s every move, clear as day and almost embarrassingly obvious.  Genji is nothing but wolfish, and McCree expects something akin to a merciless death by his roving hands and sharp charm.  

He is almost relieved when his younger self snarls back, grabbing both Genji’s wrists in a flare of temper.  McCree expects Genji to tease his way out of it, but he doesn’t expect Genji to relent with a startling amount of sincerity that doesn’t so much as soften his edges but show them more clearly.

“A fool? Oh, no.”

Genji glances at him, like he wants to make sure McCree is listening.  And there’s a difference between demanding attention and the vulnerability of waiting for it.  McCree feels his breath catch.