#mcreexhanzo

Hanzo shifted for what felt like the hundredth time that night. He turned onto his side, then his stomach, before finally settling on his back. He had come back from a mission sometime around midnight with Genji, Tracer, and Lucio. He had come back to his quarters and showered, intending to pass out as soon as possible, but the second his head hit the pillow his anxiety began to swarm. He felt restless and worn thin, too tired to sleep and too exhausted to stay awake. From every dark corner of his room he could feel shadows creeping up on him, threatening to crush him with their weight. The dragons within him stirred as well. He could feel them scrambling, antsy after the mission. Although everyone had made it back with only scratches, at times it still felt too close for comfort. He could still see the numerous enemies crowding Genji into a concrete corner, giving him no footholds to use in escape. Luckily, Tracer had managed to slip through and assist him. Hanzo had been afraid he couldn’t reach him in time.

Hanzo threw his legs over the side of the bed and held his head in the palm of one hand. His loose hair hung in front of him like a dark curtain. He scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palms and sighed. Maybe some tea would help. He stood, pulled on a sweatshirt, and toed on a pair of indoor sandals Hana had bought him. They had a thick strap across the knuckles of the toes that allowed them to be comfortable with his prosthetics while still giving him traction against the slick base floors. As a testament to his exhaustion, Hanzo kept his hair down.

He made his way to the base kitchen as silently as possible, knowing it was too early for any other members, even 76, to have woken up, yet still not wanting to disturb them. Hanzo entered the room without turning on the overhead light. He deftly avoided the chairs left pulled out by the sloppier agents and made his way to the stovetop. He closed his eyes before flicking on the stove light, knowing the sudden light, no matter how dull, would make his head pound. He weighed the kettle in his hand, feeling it had enough water for a few more cups inside it. He placed it on the dual burner and rested his head on top of his arms on the nearby counter.

“Y’all right there, Hanzo?” The sound of that southwestern twang immediately made him tense and his eyes screw shut. He straightened his back slowly, hoping to convey the illusion of only a momentary lapse of grace.

“Yes, McCree, I’m fine thank you.” He knew his voice was tight, but then again, when was it not? He heard the soft sound of McCree’s bare feet entering the room. Hanzo silently thanked the gods that McCree wasn’t wearing his boots and spurs. Then the entire base would be joining them in the kitchen.

“Are ya sure? You’re lookin mighty tense.” Hanzo turned to look at Jesse and lost focus for a moment. His normally freed hair was pulled back into a gentle, low ponytail that fetchingly framed his face and his already scraggly beard had patches of stubble around his cheeks and chin that gave him a thoroughly sleep mussed handsomeness. Not to mention the fact that he was wearing the low hanging flannel sleep pants that Hanzo was quite fond of seeing the mornings after the team drank together. To top off the sleep chic look, Jesse had worn the t-shirt Lena had bought him after a mission in Paris, a burgundy monstrosity with the caption “Bonjour Y’all” stamped on the center. Seeing the entire ensemble left Hanzo with a fleeting instant of contentment before the cowboy had to go and ruin it all by speaking again. “Hanzo?” McCree waved his hand to regain the archer’s attention.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m just making myself tea. Now, I’d appreciate if you could leave me to it,” Hanzo snapped. McCree’s eyes widened a bit and he held his hands up, placating, the corner of his mouth drawing upward.

“If yer makin tea, shouldn’t you be checkin on yer water there?” Hanzo flipped around quickly to see steam pouring out of the kettle, threatening to boil over. He quickly picked up his cup and grabbed the handle of the tea kettle. He used one hand to pour the hot water, but as the liquid began spilling into the cup below Hanzo started to shake. It started in his shoulders and traveled to his hands, the kettle visibly wobbling in his grasp. As he became more aware of his shakiness, it only seemed to increase, egging on Hanzo’s frustration. “Here, lemme-” McCree interrupted, reaching for the cup. Hanzo turned to him, hoping to block him from taking the supplies and recover his dignity.

“No, it’s fine! I can handle-” A searing hot pain suddenly shot through him. By turning away, he had lost focus on controlling his hand and allowed the hot water to spill over his fingers. He shot his hand back, dropping the cup onto the counter with a clatter, shattering it against the linoleum. He felt tears begin to form in the corner of his eyes in reaction to the burn. He couldn’t help but swear. “Chikushō!” A hot wave of pain mixed with embarrassment washed over him as he realized McCree had seen him make such a fool of himself. Hanzo’s shoulders shuddered more and his breathing came out harshly. It took him a moment to realize he had been pushed to sit back in a chair and that McCree was kneeling on the floor, picking up pieces of the cup that had scattered off the counter. Hanzo took a deep breath and attempted to calm himself.

“McCree, I apologize,” he said, hoping to expel the waver in his throat. “Please allow me to clean this.” Jesse looked at him from his position on the floor and furrowed his brows.

“Ain’t no need to be sorry. This happens to us all sometimes.” They sat in silence together for a good while as McCree cleaned up the remnants of the cup and wiped up the mess of water that was dripping onto the floor. The only other sound was that of the stove fan buzzing and the soft, electrical hum of the yellow lightbulb. Hanzo used the time to clear his mind and control his breathing.

Jesse stood slowly, one hand holding onto his left knee and he softly groaned from the effort. “Not as young as I used to be,” he said to himself, rubbing the back of his neck. He turned his attention back to Hanzo. “You just got back from a mission, right?” Hanzo nodded. “You have anything to eat?” Hanzo shook his head no. “Well,” McCree laughed, “There’s something I can help you with! Mac and cheese sound good to you?” Hanzo nodded again. “Could I get a verbal answer darlin’, just so I know you’re here with me and not off somewhere else?”

“That sounds… fine. Thank you, McCree. You really don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” McCree said with a wide, toothy grin, “That’s what makes me so nice.” Hanzo couldn’t help but huff a small laugh at that.

For about thirty minutes, McCree worked on their box Mac and Cheese, insisting it needed to be just right in order to meet his standards. In the meantime, as he stirred over the pot and got out the butter and milk they’d need, he asked Hanzo some questions. Not any questions about the mission he had just been on or why he might have been shaking so much in the Overwatch kitchen so early in the morning, but about things that seemed remarkably bland. What was his favorite animal? (Dog). Did he have a dog growing up? (No, but he wanted one). What was the best season? (Summer). What did he like most about archery? (The quiet precision). In return, Jesse would give his answers to the questions, going so far as to include some sort of story as an explanation. He would cite experiences from when he was with Blackwatch and mention how the other teammates had influenced him in way way or another. Hanzo learned Jesse also loved dogs, that he had one when he was younger, that he loved fall, and that he unsurprisingly thought a gun was better than a bow and arrow. By the time McCree was serving the noodles into two bowls, they’d moved onto the topic of movies.

“How can you say you’ve never seen ‘The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly’?” McCree huffed, eyebrows flying up in mock anger.

“When I was younger, I didn’t have time to watch ancient American movies. I was busy training and finishing my studies,” Hanzo retorted, arms crossed in amusement. McCree turned to him and placed his first against his cocked out hip, a ridiculous pose that made Hanzo snort.

“Alright, Mr. Hotshot. You musta watched one movie in between all your fancy studies.” Jesse waved his freehand as he spoke, emphasizing the distaste behind the word fancy by twirling his fingers, then suddenly pointing them in the form of a gun between Hanzo’s eyes, “What’s your favorite movie? Be warned, I will judge you for whatever your answer is.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes and screwed up his mouth. It was true that he hadn’t seen many movies, not even after he had grown up. Ten years of running and hunting down members of the clan didn’t leave much time for entertainment. Only one movie came to mind when he thought about it. “Well,” he began, “there was a movie Genji made me watch with him over and over when we were younger. It was one about some truck drivers and a woman opening a noodle shop. I remember it being rather interesting.” He rubbed his chin, attempting to draw the name from where ever it was hidden. “But I can’t remember what it was called.”

“You talkin ‘bout ‘Tam-po-po?’” McCree spat out. It was clear he was confident and excited about his answer by the way he grabbed Hanzo’s shoulders and practically smushed their faces together. But, as Hanzo thought about it, yes, that was the movie. ‘Tampopo.’ He belatedly winced at McCree’s pronunciation.

“Yes, that’s it.”

“Damn, I love that! Genji made me watch it with him back in the day. I loved that scene where that old guy teaches em how to eat ramen. I always think about that movie while I’m cookin!” McCree’s enthusiasm drew a smirk from Hanzo.

“Such as when you’re cooking mac and cheese from a box?”

“What? No!” Jesse insisted, color rising on his cheekbones. “I meant when I’m cookin seriously.” Hanzo felt his smile grow.

“You like cooking, cowboy?”

“Well, I like seeing all the satisfied faces after eatin what I made. Is that such a crime?” McCree pouted, leaning away in order to cross his arms.

“No, I suppose not. In fact, it’s a rather nice trait to have,” Hanzo replied, the earnest tone of his voice surprising himself. Jessee beamed.

“Well, thank you kindly. Say, why don’t we chow down before the pasta gets cold and while we eat we can put on a movie.” McCree offered one bowl to Hanzo and gestured with his head out the kitchen door, where the common room was just down the hall. Hanzo knew he should try and rest so that he could be ready to debrief once everyone else was up, but he found himself unable to say no. Since McCree had helped him settle, he had stayed calm and was able to take his mind off the mission and all the dark thoughts that came with it.

“I think I would be amenable to that.” Hanzo rose and took the bowl from Jesse on his way out the door, leading the way.

***

“Fill yer hand, you son of a bitch!”

Hanzo could barely hear the line as it was shouted out by the fat cowboy on screen. Sometime earlier McCree had turned down the volume until it was little more than background noise. It must have been the around the time that Jesse had pulled a fleece blanket over them seemingly from nowhere, but he couldn’t quite recall. Hanzo stared at the empty bowls sitting on the coffee table. The mac and cheese had been thick and gooey, warming Hanzo’s stomach with cheesy goodness. He had taken a moment to peer over at McCree during the middle of the film and found the man watching the movie intently, fork hanging loosely from his mouth and specks of sauce dotting his beard. It was in that moment when Jesse turned, sensing Hanzo’s eyes on him, and gave him a soft smile that Hanzo realized he was happy. The twisting ball of anxiety that had settled in his core since he had agreed to join Overwatch seemed to have unraveled and become somewhat pliant under McCree’s ministrations. His shoulders were low, his breathing steady, and he felt strangely safe, or as safe as someone in his line of work could be. By the time the credits began to roll, Hanzo’s eyes felt heavy and the warmth he had been able to accumulate under his section of the blanket was enchanting. He thought he would truly fall asleep until McCree nudged him. “Hey, Hanzo,” he whispered gently. “Movie’s over. You wanna go to bed? I’ll take care of the clean up.” McCree made a move to stand and grab the bowls from the table, but Hanzo stopped him with a light touch to the wrist.

“No, McCree...Jesse. Please, stay here.” His voice was soft, softer than he had expected, but him asking this felt like an unexpected secret being shared and to be any louder would ruin the moment. “I enjoy your company,” he admitted. In the dark of the common room, Hanzo had trouble gauging McCree’s reaction until the cowboy sat down beside him closer than ever before. His darkly tan and speckled cheeks had distinct and spreading pink stains on them. Hanzo felt himself being drawn in and he could feel the harsh puffs of McCree’s breath. A sudden need for propriety hit him, bringing a hot blush to his own cheeks. He pulled himself back from the contact and retreated his hands to his lap. “Only if you would want to stay, that is. I have already taken too much of your time.” It was McCree’s turn to reach out and touch Hanzo.

“No!” he insisted, his voice almost booming in the silence of the morning. He flushed again in embarrassment and lowered his tone as he said, “You haven’t taken any of my time. There’s, uh, no place I’d rather be in all honesty.” A small smile blossomed onto Hanzo’s face and he wrapped his slender hands around McCree’s larger pair.

“How would you feel if we watched another cowboy movie, Jesse?”

Jesse flashed a charming sliver of his white smile. “That sounds perfect, darlin.”

***

Genji wandered into the kitchen around 6:00 having already been up for two hours or so in order to meditate with Zenyatta. His master was waiting for them in his shared room, most likely charging against the wall, all in order to enjoy the sight of Genji eating. It was a strange yet endearing quality Genji found himself willing to cater to.