#whiskeysworks

Genji had been with them for a while now. Long enough to have gone on a mission with everyone on the top team two, if not three times already. They had dismantled his family’s empire. What was left of it. Someone had already done most of the work for them. Jesse had found Genji in a room he could only assume was Hanzo’s, standing in the remains of everything he had shredded.

Wood splintered, sheets torn, tables broken and paper strewn everywhere. Blood still dripping from his katana. His faceplate. Matting his hair. It accentuated his eyes, the tears swimming in them but not falling, left Jesse wary.

Touch at the time had still not been okay.

Genji had closed himself off for a while after they got back to base, going quiet and sullen again. More so than usual. Then, Jesse coaxed him out of his shell little by little again, the two training with one another and going on missions. Genji was distracted. Made mistakes, got hurt. Jesse had a feeling not all of it was accidental. Reyes had gone in to talk to him, straighten him up, tell him he was apart of a team now and had to fucking act like it, people were killed because of you today, Shimada. Get your head out of the past, stop trying to finish the job your brother started. You’re better than that.

Genji went silent.

He had been furious.

Then he was back in Jesse’s room in the middle of the night, staring at him until he came over to pick up the pieces of him that shattered as soon as he touched his arm. Stretched so thin it only took a wrong breath to break him. Genji was only pieces of himself anymore, desperately trying to hold on to his humanity while dealing with the traumas that took everything from him. Most of his battles were psychological. Wounds no one could touch or see.

No one but Jesse, when Genji finally, finally let him in. Hesitant, afraid to be hurt again by someone he trusted. But Jesse proved himself. Time and time again, accepting Genji into his arms and mending tiny pieces and what little fractures he could. Better than nothing.

Genji relied on him. Jesse took pride in it, even if he knew it was a bad idea. Took pride in the fact that Genji chose him first, opened up to him first, let him see and experience him first. Someone chose Jesse over anyone else for once in his life. It boiled down to selfishness. Jesse did not like the thought, but it was soothed by the fact that he knew he was in love. That, too, was a horrible idea, but for this, there was nothing he could do to stop or change things. He did not want to.

For all of Genji’s sharp edges and distance, he had softness and understanding hidden beneath it. Held close to his chest, shared with Jesse when he needed care in return. They were all fucked up beyond repair. Sometimes the only solace they had was that the people around them knew and felt it too.

It should have been expected, then, what happened. Jesse had fallen for Genji, others were bound to as well. He was gorgeous and dangerous, worked well with everyone even if he did not say much to them. Had some friends, but kept a safe distance between them.

Some of the other agents apparently did not get the memo.

It had just been training. Reyes grouping them up with sparring partners, purposefully separating him and Genji so they could practice with someone they did not already have memorized by heart. They worked too well together, sometimes. Jesse was given a new recruit—Reyes always trusted him with those, counted on his experience and leadership to train them well, mould them to the team.

Genji was given one of the agents that had been on the top teams for as long as Jesse had been in Blackwatch. She was a beast on the battlefield, had saved Jesse and the rest of his team’s ass single-handedly on more than one occasion. She had thick dark hair pulled back into a long braid, tattoos in lines down her chin and triangles over her forehead. Adlartok was a good match for Genji; easygoing off the battlefield and serious enough to give him a run for his money, definitely a skilled enough partner for sparring.

And she was smiling big, giving him a pat on the shoulder as he walked over. Jesse frowned. No one was allowed to touch but him.

The new agent cleared their throat. Jesse blinked and looked down at them. Caught staring.

“Agent Gris, sir,” they told him, straightening. Military. They must have been on some sort of special ops team before being pulled into Blackwatch.

“Agent McCree, and you don’t have to call me sir. That’s reserved for the big boss,” Jesse grinned, pointing a thumb in Reyes’ direction. Gris nodded, Jesse sliding back into a defensive stance.

“Now show me what you got, kid, and I’ll let him know if you’ve got what it takes.”

“Rules?”

“Just don’t aim for my face or you’ll be doin’ push-ups ‘till you drop.”

“Aye sir—McCree.”

Gris was good enough. Not Genji, no one could ever be Genji in the ring, but they held their own. Got Jesse to sweat. Had his full attention until they moved around enough to where he could see Genji sparing with Adlartok.

She had him in a choke on the ground, legs wrapped over his, arm under his chin. Keeping his weight down, pinning his struggles until he figured out they were useless and he tapped out. Then she was holding out a hand. Genji took it. Jesse stared. Genji took her hand and let himself be pulled up to his feet. He had never let anyone do that before.

There was a moment of confusion, followed quickly by a sharp pang of jealousy. Jesse looked away and shook his head. He was being ridiculous, he should be happy Genji was opening up to others. And it was not as though it meant anything.

Gris started to get the better of him, things that Jesse normally could have avoided easily if he were not so distracted. He had one eye on Gris, the other on Genji. They only worked for another ten minutes before a break was called, Gris panting and Jesse more bruised than usual. He nodded to them, gave a lopsided grin that was only vaguely thrown in their direction.

Distracted, distracted.

Staring at Genji, at Adlartok. The way she was shrugging, arms crossed over her chest and grinning down at Genji. Jesse had never seen her act that way with anyone else. And Genji was letting her. He moved closer, just enough to catch their conversation.

“You’re great, Shimada. Near impossible to take down, solid defense.”

“Thank you.”

“I’d be happy to spar with you again, if you wanted.”

“I would.”

“And hey,” she bumped his shoulder again with hers, Genji glancing up at her, raising a brow. Expressive.

“If you wanted to hang out some more outside of the gym, I’d like that too.”

Adlartok winked, and Jesse felt a surge of heat burn through him. Something not quite foreign but very much potent, making his teeth grind, bitter on the back of his tongue. Instinct and old fears bringing up even older memories. People always taking what was his, and he could do nothing but watch. His mother, his home, his found family, his dreams. Now someone was trying to take Genji from him.

Jesse shoved his way over, stepping between Genji and Adlartok. Pushing two fingers against her chest, pressing hard. She was as tall as him, did not budge an inch. Face going hard and cold.

“Hey. Lay off, you hear? He’s taken.”

"Easy. I'm asking him, not you."

"And I'm tellin' you he's taken. Leave him alone."

“Oh, and are you suddenly the master of him, then? Picking and choosing who he gets to hang out with for him?”

“Of course I ain’t. But I got a problem with you tryin’ to sweet talk your way to somethin’ you ain’t earned.”

“People like to think they have the right to make all your decisions for you, don’t they, Shimada?” Adlartok huffed, clearly not taking Jesse seriously. Her tone grated on him like sandpaper. Haughty and sarcastic. As if she knew anything about Genji at all.

“You better watch what you’re insinuating,” Jesse growled. Really starting to get angry.

“Or what, McCree?” she challenged. Jesse was only stopped from throwing a punch by Genji’s hand on his wrist, his name hissed through the faceplate as a warning.

“Jesse. Stop. She was just being friendly.”

“You don’t know the first thing about him. About us. So why don’t you stop sticking your nose where it ain’t wanted.”

“McCree, I said stop. You are only proving her point,” Genji snapped, Jesse looking down at him, his brows furrowing deeper.

“This is not like you.”

Spoken much softer, only for him to hear. Jesse took a moment to breathe. Let the pounding of blood in his ears die down, the heat in his face, the twitch of his finger, so used to having a gun in hand. Old feelings from old habits, too easy to get a rise out of. Reminding him of his Deadlock days. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth, made shame coil in his gut along with the lingering cloy of jealousy.

“I—You’re right. M’sorry,” he murmured, turning on his heel and leaving the training room. It had just been training. Just a conversation, even if a little too friendly.

Jesse shook his head, going back to his quarters for a smoke he desperately needed. It helped the minute tremble in his hands. The familiar taste of smoke in his mouth, the repetitive motions of inhaling, holding, exhaling. Fresh air on his face, the breeze taking the smoke curling from his lips up and out of sight. Jesse had watched them shake for a few minutes, stretched his fingers and finally draped them over the rail on the balcony.

It should not have been a big deal. Would not have been if he knew any other way to process these things. Anger was an easy fall back. Not one he was particularly proud of, but it hid fear better than anything else did.

It did not take long for Genji to find him, felt his presence behind him more than he heard it. Genji leaned on the railing next to him, faceplate off. Jesse still could not help but stare; beautiful views were meant to be admired.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Gave you some time to cool off. You need more or can we talk?” Genji asked, Jesse smiling a bit. It was the same question he used to ask Genji, back when they had not been so close.

“Nah, I’m good. And I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said those things, gotten so riled up. She wasn’t even doin’ anythin’,” Jesse sighed, waving his hand in a useless little circle. Genji shrugged.

“I get it. She was flirting, surprisingly.”

“Nah, not surprisin’ to me at all, you’re a dream, hon.”

“Then why did you get so upset?”

“I dunno,” Jesse mumbled half-heartedly.

“Jess. Talk to me.”

He pulled more smoke into his mouth, let it sit for a long moment. Genji waited, eyes flicking over his face.

“I just take it personally when people try and take the things I love from me. I’m tired of it, and scared to lose you. That you very well could want someone else and chose to leave me. She was right, you can make your own decisions, and you’ve had enough people doin’ it for you. I ain’t gonna be someone you have to add onto that list. I wouldn’t blame you if you did go, but it’d still break my heart.”

Genji was frowning. Head tilting just a bit to try and catch Jesse’s gaze, which he kept resolutely outwards.

“You really think I’m going to leave you?” he finally asked, Jesse shrugging one shoulder.

“Everyone does, sooner or later.”

“Look at me.”

Jesse chewed on the end of the cigarillo, fingers flexing again before he turned to Genji. Meeting his steady gaze, that rare show of softness.

“I am not going anywhere. My whole life has been nothing but people telling me what to do and who to be, then forcing it when I said no. But no one told me to chose you, Jesse. I did that on my own, and it is not something I have ever regretted.”

Jesse stared at him, quiet, letting the words sink in. Genji reached out, wrapped his pinky around Jesse’s gloved one.

“It is difficult for me to describe what I want to, but. Does that...Make sense?”

The cigarillo was dropped and stubbed out under Jesse’s boot, eyes dropping as he stepped closer to Genji. Wrapped him up in his arms, feeling a squeeze in return, Genji pressing his nose into Jesse’s shoulder.

“Yeah. Yeah, it makes sense. I really am sorry.”

“I know. I am not mad.”

“Alright.”

“I don’t say it enough, but I love you.”

Jesse closed his eyes, nodding just a bit, nose buried in Genji’s hair. It was soft, tickled against his lips.

“Love you too, darlin’...Thank you.”

Genji hummed, pulled back and tugged at Jesse’s tank top absently.

“Reyes was not happy you left. You’re going to have to run laps.”

“Yeah, figured,” Jesse grumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck. He sighed, shoulders scrunching up tight before he relaxed them again, hands going into his pockets.

“Guess I better get it over with then, huh?”

“I have to see Angela for some testing, but I’ll cheer you on in spirit.”

“Why thank you.”

Genji gave a little smile just before putting his faceplate back into place, the mechanics clicking quietly when it connected. It still made Jesse’s heart flutter. They walked back into the base in a comfortable silence, Jesse taking the turn towards the training gyms with a wave to Genji.

“See you tonight, hon.”

“Do not run in your boots.”

“Come on, it’s a talent and you know it!”

Genji shook his head, waving him off. “See you tonight,” he called, the words warm.

Jesse huffed a laugh that faded quickly when he turned the corner. Rubbed at his arm, wondering how long it would take Genji to realize what everyone else eventually did. Hopefully not for a while. He was special.

When Jesse had seen the arm laying obscured under the gravel and debris, he had felt something in his stomach drop. Genji’s arm. It had a trail of black and red in thick lines, like something had dragged through the small pool of it. Cables, perhaps. It was his prosthetic one, after all. 

The gunslinger ran to pick it up, the fingers cold and limp, making him uneasy. He’d held that same hand, felt it’s warmth against his palm, the slight but constant whirr of parts moving beneath it. Like it really was alive. There had not been any distress calls over the comms, which was another thing that drove Jesse’s concerns up. Either Genji’s comm had been damaged, or he had been too damaged to use his comm. 

Always a lovely thought to drive the heart rate up. 

Jesse climbed over the rubble carefully, following the trail of cybernetic blood left in smears or droplets here and there. It was getting dark, and the smoke from the fires around him had already been making his search more labourious. Jesse waved a hand in front of his face, squinting and coughing against his fist quietly. Their enemy had fled already, sure, but that did not mean he was safe in the slightest. 

Soon, gangs of scavengers would be coming around to pick through the bodies, see if there was anything valuable on them. Weapons, clothes, information. A lot could be learned from a battlefield. And Jesse was only one person on it, searching for someone that might not even be there.

“McCree, dropship leaves in ten. You better hurry up.”

Jesse cursed, startled by the voice, his comm loud in the otherwise eerie silence.

“Yeah, I’m workin’ on it,” He muttered, stepping over bent metal rods and spikes of concrete, heat from a fire beneath them wafting up unpleasantly. Before he could step any further, cold steel hit the bottom of his chin, the point on the end digging against his trachea dangerously.

“Oh. It’s just you.”

A much rougher and more robotic voice than he was used to, but still recognizable. Jesse relaxed his hold on Peacekeeper, letting out a little breath as Genji stared back at him. Eyes red pinpricks, part of his faceplate broken off, leaving shards of metal and scraps of black. Behind all that, his reconstructed jaw could be seen, sharp bits of carbon fiber and metal molded to look like teeth, the space between them gaping and dark. 

Blood dripped down in a stream over one of his eyes, new scars hidden underneath a layer of dirt and smoke. Jesse could tell something was off, just in Genji’s eyes alone. They were dull, almost like when he dissociated, but there wasn’t any fear in them. Just empty. He still had not lowered his katana.

“Yeah, it’s just me,” Jesse nodded, tapping the blade with two of his fingers and pushing it aside lightly when he felt no resistance. Genji’s eyes drifted to the side, unfocusing as his arm dropped. The gunslinger took his wrist gently, slowly sliding his hand down to take Genji’s weapon. His knuckles were white. Jesse stepped closer.

“Come on, Gen. We gotta go. Ship’s waitin’ on us.”

Genji stayed unmoving, swaying a bit as his eyes fluttered.

“Genji? Can you hear me?” Jesse asked softly, worry seeping into his tone. He reached up to brush some of the blood from the ninja’s face, trying to ground him. Genji’s eyes closed briefly, and he leaned into the touch. 

Then, he inhaled sharply, jerking back as his hand snapped up, grabbing Jesse’s wrist hard enough for him to feel the bone strain.

“Do not touch me.”

Glowering and harsh, Jesse doing his best to hold back his wince and keep an even face.

“Sorry, I won’t do it again. We have to go, now,” He repeated calmly, though, his voice hardened when Genji’s grip only tightened.

“Let me go.”

The ninja blinked a few times, releasing Jesse’s arm slowly. Confusion flickered across his face before it paled.

“I’m sorry—”

“It’s fine, we gotta go. Can you walk?” Jesse interrupted, getting a single nod in affirmation.

“Alright, follow me.”

Their pace was light and quick, Jesse tugging Genji along whenever he slowed, the ninja silent the entire way back. He would not look Jesse in the eye. The dropship finally came into sight, the pilot sighing and waving them forward from the open doors.

“Get on, you two! We’re already twenty minutes past scheduled departure time because of your slow asses!”

“We don’t leave people behind,” Jesse snapped at her as he passed with Genji in tow, getting a scoff.

“Yeah, and I waited so relax, hot rod,” She grumbled, climbing into the front and closing the doors. 

They took off as Jesse sat down with a heavy sigh, letting Genji be fussed over by the medic on hand for this particular mission. The kid was new, but he knew what he was doing. Sharp words of reprimand were followed by a fearfully muttered “what will Dr. Ziegler think?” had Genji looking down, properly chastised. 

Jesse made sure to keep an eye on him throughout the flight back, but after that, it was off to the med bay with the cyborg. Somewhere Jesse was not allowed to follow. Genji went with the nurses solemnly, gaze fixed on the ground in front of him. Jesse watched him go, something about his behaviour sitting wrong in the back of his mind, but not far enough from the usual to pick out. 

With another sigh, the gunslinger pulled out a cigarillo, taking the opposite route to give Reyes a post-mission report.

--- It was a little past midnight two days later that Genji came back to the room, Jesse scrolling through information on Deadlock Gorge absently. Just keeping tabs. He closed it down quickly when he heard the door beep open and shut, brows raising when he saw Genji. 

His prosthetics were covered with a tight black synth skin, everything back to clean and pristine, faceplate fixed into place once more. He only had a few pieces of tape over some cuts visible above the metal fixed over the lower half of his face, but other than that, he seemed fully healed. 

If it weren’t for that look in his eyes telling him the opposite. Sunk in and exhausted, guilt dancing behind them as he went to his bed and sat on it quietly, back facing Jesse.

“Hey. Glad to see you back in one piece.”

No response. So it would be one of those nights. 

Jesse set aside his tablet, sliding off his bed and walking over to Genji’s. He trailed his fingers over the ridges of the ninja’s spine, metal warm and little spots glowing beneath his fingertips. Squeezed the nape of his neck gently, leaning closer, but keeping enough space between them for Genji to pull away, should he want to.

“You feelin’ any better?”

A tiny shake of the head, Genji’s shoulders scrunching up slightly. He was shivering. Jesse hummed softly, taking off his flannel and draping over Genji’s shoulders instead. Synthetic fingers tugged the material closer to him weakly. Jesse sat down on the bed next to Genji, leaning on his arm and tipping his head to the side to see his face.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I’m sorry. For what happened,” Genji murmured, Jesse raising a brow.

“‘S alright. Happens to the best of us.”

“No, I...I knew it was you and I still. I still could not pull myself out of it.”

“Gen,” Jesse started, urging the ninja to look at him with a touch to the chin, Genji doing so reluctantly.

“It’s okay. I get it. You’d lost a lot of blood and were paranoid, I went in knowing that may have been the case. You figured it out in the end.”

“I was going to kill you. Jesse, I almost killed you...! I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t see my arm and I thought you were him! I thought it was that night again but...I knew it was not. It was messing with my head and...I’m sorry. I should have had better control,” Genji told him softly, words murmured but frantic, like he had been holding them in for too long. Jesse could understand that. 

He nodded a bit, waiting to see if Genji had more to say, curling his pinky around two of the ninja’s fingers.

“You...You got mad, didn’t you? It’s the only thing I remember clearly. Angela did too, she always does, because she knows that I—”

His voice stopped short, Jesse frowning slightly at the way Genji’s eyes darted to him before looking back down quickly.

“She knows that you what?”

Genji shook his head, curling up under the flannel a bit more. A glance down showed him the ninja’s fingers digging into his thigh hard enough to leave impressions. Jesse had seen this before, when he had caught Genji in the training rooms tearing into the wires on his prosthetic wrist, wakazashi cutting through them messily. 

The gunslinger looked right at Genji, waiting until he glanced up again.

“That you do it on purpose. Gettin’ hurt and tearin’ up your prosthetics?”

A hesitation, then, a whispered, “Yes.”

“Gen, look at me, darlin’.”

He did, eyes tired and unsure. Jesse took the ninja’s hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of them as he spoke.

“Listen. I wasn’t mad then, and I’m not now, either. I’m just worried about you. I saw your arm there in the dirt and I wasn’t sure if you’d be alive when I found you. And when I did find you, I could tell how out of it you were. It just scared me, sugar. A lot of the shit you pull does, I’m not gonna lie.”

“This whole thing you do to...Hurt yourself here, it scares the livin’ shit outta me. You mean so much to me, Gen. I don’t like seein’ you in pieces, but even when you aren’t physically, I can tell you are up there,” Jesse reached up and tapped lightly against Genji’s temple, then let his hand slide down to cup his cheek.

“I know it’s not always easy, but you do know that you can come get me if you ever need anythin’. Anythin’ at all. I got your back, and I wanna see you...At least okay. I don’t know if either of us can really be happy here, but I wanna see you be okay. And I know it ain’t much, but I’m here for you. Please don’t forget that.”

Genji nodded, face tucked into his forearms, eyes trained on the floor. Jesse wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging gently until Genji leaned into him. Pressed a kiss to his temple, the ninja taking off his faceplate and setting it aside as he moved closer.

“You wanna get some rest for me, darlin’?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Let me know if you need anythin’, alright?”

“Stay, please...” Genji whispered, grabbing Jesse’s fingers, squeezing them gently. He was still staring at the floor, still avoiding eye contact. Still holding on to the flannel, still leaning into the cowboy. Jesse smiled, giving him another little peck on the top of his head.

“Sure thing, hon. Just let me change real quick.”

Genji nodded, allowing Jesse to stand and get into some pyjamas, watching him move around the room with his chin on his knees. Jesse turned out the lights and hopped into bed next to the ninja when he was through, feeling him wiggle and shift to get comfortable. 

Felt his lashes flutter against his chest, breath a warm puff as he exhaled slowly, relaxing into the gunslinger’s hold.

“Thank you, Jess,” Genji murmured, just barely a whisper.

“Of course. I got you, Gen. Get some rest.”

Jesse McCree thought he knew what love was. Thought a little bit of charm and a splash of infatuation was all it took to have someone love him back. To feel the same way he thought he did about them. 

First it was with the boy down the street of his little house in New Mexico, the one that would come over and play with him outside in the summer sun. They would wrestle and run and share candies and a soda from the gas station in town that shut down soon after that. Jesse would smile at him and laugh, thinking that the grin brighter than the sun that he got in return was love. 

Then, he told his Mama, and she yelled at him, forbade the boy from coming back over. Jesse had not understood why at first, but as he grew up, he saw his mother’s nerves when he was with other boys and watched her pray that her son would not disgrace the Lord. Bullshit, was his next thought. 

There were many throughout the years, they came and went. He loved his Mama dearly, but it took her some time to come to terms with who he thought he loved. Sometimes, Jesse wondered if she ever really did. 

It did not matter after she passed and he was left running to Deadlock for a spot to put his delinquent ass, starting up the gang with another person he thought he loved. Ashe was sharp tongued and an even sharper shot, and Jesse thought the admiration and envy he felt was love. She had money, people who respected her, and power at her fingertips. Jesse liked that, liked the way he felt at her side. Mistook that feeling for it being her doing, and got a punch in the jaw for it. She had been red as her eyes, though, Jesse laughing it off and did not try again after that. 

His version of love tended to rise quickly and fade even faster after he was turned down or it was discovered to be lust rather than love, a pattern that repeated itself and got his heart broken more than a few times. 

The next time he thought he had been in love was something dangerous. Gabriel Reyes was a hard man, but he was giving towards Jesse. Helped him back to his feet and gave him a good path to follow when he had nothing going for him. A puppy crush, was what they called it after Reyes gave him a hard shake of his head and a firm “No”. 

Jesse found his interest faded quickly once more after getting a blunt lecture about it and shrugging it off. Would have been a bad idea anyways, in hindsight. Besides, Reyes had his eye on someone else. 

He knew love was supposed to hurt sometimes, but it always made up for that in the good times. At least, that was what everyone said. So he did not really understand why he felt like his was muted. He did not hurt that bad and he did not feel all that good. There was a lot of things love was supposed to do for people that it did not for Jesse. 

Years passed and Jesse did a lot of growing up in them, the missions in Blackwatch hardening him more than even Deadlock had. He understood why Reyes was so tough after seeing the chaos the world could fall into, when they were tasked with reigning it in and not letting anyone know they were on the brink of global disaster. Sure, the Omnic Crisis was over, but there were still wars waging in its wake and organizations like Talon rising from the ashes. 

The inside jobs were the worst, and often left them with less people coming out of them than those that went in. Or, on special occasions, they gained a member. On one occasion.

“Mission Log 3887, Shimada Castle. Time: 02:32. Location: Blackwatch Headquarters, Rome. Commander had me doing scout and recon, the usual since I had been posted in Japan. Then, we got a distress call around 22:58, somethin’ about our inside man needing help. Comms went dead after that, so Reyes sent me in to check it out. Found our man—or what was left of him—in a pool of blood, limbs hangin’ off, lots of him missing. Gruesome stuff I’ll save the gnarly details of for the medical reports on the poor kid.”

Jesse exhaled slowly, rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times. Itching for a cigarillo to chew on or some nicotine to calm his nerves.

“Apparently, it was fratricide. I don’t really know the ins and outs of it, but whatever happened was rough. I’m surprised he’s still alive. Anyways, we got him outta there and back to Angie, er, Dr. Ziegler, and he’s gettin’ put back together at the Swiss Headquarters. He’ll be shipped back to us when he’s ready, already signed the deal and all that. Shimada clan business is still on our radar, but until we get this guy back on our side, it’ll be put on hold. Shimada Genji is his name, I think. And other than him, there were no casualties. It was a quiet mission through and through. End report.”

Jesse sighed as he set down the earpiece he had spoken into, reading through the transcription and muttering darkly over the words it had trouble identifying from his accent. He sent it off to Reyes when he was done, leaning back in his bed and staring up at the ceiling. It had been a quiet mission, but seeing Shimada in all that blood was still giving him nightmares. 

He wished he could leave out the gruesome details from his mind as well as the report, but as it was, they stayed burned into his memory. Shimada had still been choking on his own blood, the bottom half of his jaw torn from his face, throat constricting, eyes rolled back. Strange scars covered the one arm he still had and laced over his face, like a burn but darker and in his veins. Legs cut from behind, bone twisted and flesh ruptured. 

Jesse rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. It was awful, the smell of iron and ozone still stuck in his nose. With another sigh, he set aside his tablet and tried to get some sleep.

-

The weeks passed and Jesse forgot about Shimada for the most part, too caught up in his own issues and missions keeping him busy to be worried about someone he did not see on a regular basis. But then, he was seen on a regular basis. Genji Shimada showed up to Rome like a shadow, his eyes dark and glowing red. Body an amalgamation of metal and wires and synth skin. Scars where there was flesh, though, he hardly had any of that left. He barely spoke, kept out of sight for the most part, and did his job with ruthless efficiency. 

Even with all he did to avoid the people around him, Jesse still managed to find a way to be near him. Sometimes he even impressed himself. Genji was cold towards everyone, and the cowboy was no exception. He did not mind, though. Talking to himself was better conversation than Genji provided, and being in a Talon interrogation chamber had held more welcome than the ninja did. He did not mind that, either. 

Having teammates to work around seemed like a chore to Genji, all the mandatory training and mission work something he did alone as best as he could. When he could manage to shake Jesse off his back. The only person who had not been deterred by the rather obvious signs he was putting out. 

Jesse knew defense mechanisms when he saw them, and Shimada had been through hell and back before he was shoved down into a new level of it. Anyone would be distrusting and distant after what he had gone through, after signing his life away to an organization that only valued him for his deadly skillsets. Jesse knew the story, he had been there and lived it too. Still did, but at least his chapter was not so binding. 

Even with all that Shimada did when he should not have and did not do when he needed to, Jesse still enjoyed hanging around him. He was genuinely interested in learning more about Genji, wanting to gain his trust, if possible. 

Training was the easiest way to do that, when the ninja had to show up and pick a partner or work with a team that generally had Jesse in it.

“You’ll be working hand-to-hand today, a lot of you are getting too reliant on having a long-range weapon on you. Partner up with someone in your skillset, and I’ll move you if I see you need to be moved,” Reyes ordered, Jesse looking around to see if Rei was close to him. They were well matched when they sparred occasionally in the gym, and Jesse considered himself one of the more well off of the group of them when it came to hand-to-hand. Training with Shimada forced him to be better at it. 

He waved at her when she came into view, and she motioned to a free spot on the sparring mats. And then Shimada was walking up to him, staring up at him with those red eyes expectantly. Jesse paused, glancing at Rei over the ninja’s shoulder.

“Hey, uh...Sorry, partner, but I was already paired up with...” he trailed off, motioning towards Rei, who had her arms crossed over her chest, brows raised. Shimada turned to look at her for a moment, then scoffed, the sound quiet as it was filtered through the metal of his mask, eyes shifting back to Jesse.

“You are better than her and you know it.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t say that.”

“I do. And no one else is a decent match for me,” Genji shrugged one shoulder, the movement striking Jesse as odd since the rest of his body did not quite move with it.

“But I am? C’mon, Genji, you beat my ass into the mats every time.”

“You’ve gotten better.”

“Not good enough, though. You’re outta my league on this one, bud.”

“Do not call me that.”

Jesse raised his hands placidly, smiling a bit.

“Sorry, I forget sometimes. You should train with Reyes, he’ll actually give you a run for your money.”

Shimada’s brows furrowed, Jesse about to reach out to pat his shoulder consolingly before he remembered that it was a very bad idea that had already gotten him into a real fight with the cyborg and a black eye by the end of it.

“We can spar some afterwards if you’re feelin’ up to it, how’s that sound?”

Genji did not answer him, merely sighing and turning on his heel, heading towards the commander. Jesse watched him go, only shaken from it by Rei calling for him.

“Oi! You coming or what? I can’t spar with the air!”

“Yeah, I’m comin’!”

Jesse jogged over and sank into a defensive stance he had learned to relax into from Genji, something with enough distance between him and a metal fist to the gut and room to dance around the ninja’s attacks. Except he was up against Rei, who circled him like Reyes had taught them, light on her feet but firm in her stance. Jesse kept his eyes on her hands, his own held up to his face protectively. Waited for the first move. 

Rei struck fast, but Jesse avoided easily. Genji was faster. He ducked beneath the follow up punch, shifting his weight and turning his hips into the hook he caught her side with. Rei stumbled back with a wheeze as Jesse hopped back into his regular stance, still on guard. Pulled back and spun when she overcompensated just slightly on her next punch, landing a kick that pushed her back again. There was a frown on Rei’s face as she finally caught his next strike, shoving it down and away from her shoulder.

“Where’d you learn to kick like that?” She asked between heavy breaths, Jesse shrugging.

“You get hit with them enough, you learn how to do it for yourself.”

“Yeah, well, I think I’m well on my way through that lesson...”

Jesse grinned and motioned for her to come at him again. They went back and forth, trading punches and blocks, Jesse getting wrestled to the ground and managing to twist his way out of a lock. He was back on his feet not a moment later, a blur of red catching his eye over Rei’s shoulder. Shimada sparring with Reyes. 

He moved like water, flowing around the commander’s more rigid style with a flurry of attacks that seemed to land every time. Sweat dampening his hair, body folding a bit as he caught the kick Reyes sent his way. Jesse’s eyes followed the way his spine arched, the metal pieces of it moving almost hypnotically. Then, he was punched in the jaw.

“Fuck—!”

“Shit, sorry, Jesse! I thought you were looking at...What were you looking at?” Rei asked as she crouched next to him, glancing over her shoulder. Jesse rubbed his jaw, eyes still not leaving the way Shimada danced around the commander. It truly was like a dance, each step effortless in the way only years of training could make it, his body spinning and twisting around attacks and into his own smoothly. Like he only felt comfortable in his body doing this. Doing what he was made for. 

Jesse was caught staring when they took a break in their round, Genji’s eyes flicking over to his. They held his gaze just a beat too long. And then Jesse did what only he did best. Gave a grin and a wink, and probably ruined a whole lot of things. 

Genji shook his head and finally looked away, Jesse’s smile growing as Rei made a sound of realization.

“No, don’t do that, Jess. You’re gonna get gutted if you keep that up.”

“Says who?”

“Says the look in his eyes. I wouldn’t go after someone like that. Hell, I wouldn’t go after anyone here at all. It’s not gonna end well.”

“Yeah...You’re probably right.”

“I know I am. Now will you please pay attention so I don’t get my ass roasted by Reyes for punching your face? I’ve already done three hundred push ups today.”

“Fine, fine.”

-

Genji tore himself apart during missions sometimes. Did not quite avoid a bullet here, stayed in the line of fire to deflect just a little too long there. Wires ripped and sparking when he came limping back, the red light in his eyes flickering. Jesse had a feeling that part was not because of a mechanical malfunction. Muttering darkly to himself in Japanese as he swiped a mix of blood and those strange biotics that kept his cybernetic system running in synchrony with the human parts of him from his hands. Black mixed with crimson, those eyes flicking to Jesse when he came over to survey the damage Genji had done. Both to the Talon forces and himself.

“They didn’t stand much of a chance, huh?”

Genji never answered his tries for small talk, not when he was like this. Now was not something special. Jesse holstered Peacekeeper, sighing as he pressed his comm.

“Jefe, we’ve cleared sector five.”

“Good work. Sending in evac, stand by for Fio’s confirmation.”

“Copy that.”

Genji shifted by his side, gaze cast down as he rolled a Talon agent over gracelessly with his foot. Part of their face could be seen from where Jesse had put a bullet through their helmet.

“I wonder if he thought he was doing the right thing, or if it was not really his choice...” he murmured, tone cold and unfeeling. Something about it was distant, as most things he said were, like he was lost in memory. Jesse barely caught it, frowning a bit as he glanced at the cyborg.

“Probably just doin’ what someone told him. Not sure it’s that deep.”

“Just following orders.”

“Yeah...”

“That was the only thing he could do right,” Genji hummed, straightening once more and gazing out at the city lights in the distance, hair moving slightly in the breeze. The cords on the back of his neck swayed lightly, shoulders rising and falling steadily with his breath.

“I wonder if we are any different.”

Jesse took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, raising his brows with a crooked little grin.

“Can’t say if I’m completely sure we ain’t, partner. Though, I’ve never been particularly good at doin’ everything I’m told, I got a different kinda noose around my neck.”

“And what’s that?”

“Lil’ somethin’ called loyalty. To a fault, some might say. That’s where I think we are different than these guys. They’re just hired guns. Us? We’d take a bullet for our team. I’d die for you guys, almost have. Everyone here would. We got connections, teammates, a family where we never had one before. It’s one of the better things about being pulled into this organization, if you ask me.”

The ninja went quiet again, Jesse looking over at him and putting his hat back on. He was surprised to find Genji’s eyes already on him, something curious behind them. Something hidden further back that Jesse could not place.

“You are rather optimistic,” he muttered, Jesse laughing.

“Maybe I am. I’ll end up payin’ for it when it all comes to an end, but while we’re all still here, that keeps me straight.”

There was another long pause, Genji shifting his weight, fingers flexing.

“I suppose it is not a bad thing until it is.”

“Ain’t all things that way, to some extent? I can’t say I agree with everythin’ we’re up to on these missions, but I do know it keeps people safe in the long run. That we’re keepin’ the peace as best we can while we’re at it. Until somethin’ happens to show us it was wrong this whole time, which will probably end up happening, knowing our luck. But until then, we just do our best and stay alive, just like anyone else would.”

“We are not like ‘anyone else’.”

Jesse grinned, chewing on the end of his cigarillo.

“Nah, I guess not. Philosophical conversations ain’t really my forte, I prefer just takin’ each thing as it comes. Reality is hardly ever what we like to imagine it to be, that’s the only truth I’ve found. And I’ll probably be in the ground next to these guys sooner than finding out anythin’ else.”

Genji stared out at the city skyline again, eyes flickering over it as he thought. Always thinking, always pondering, always lost in it. Always so obvious to read, always impossible to read.

“Perhaps you are right.”

“All we can do is find out.”

“You boys ready for a ride home?” Fio announced over the comms, Jesse jumping slightly at the intrusion, cursing softly before clearing his throat and recovering with a grin.

“You betcha, sweetheart. Thanks for rememberin’ us.”

“How could I forget my favourite cowboy?”

“Aww, darlin’, you’re makin’ me blush!”

Genji rolled his eyes, standing a little stiffer and crossing his arms over his chest. Jesse nudged him good-naturedly with his elbow, getting a glare in return but nothing more. Back to his usual aloof demeanor.

“Stand by for pickup, ETA two minutes.”

“Copy that.”

-

“Don’t fucking touch me! Just leave me alone, McCree! I don’t want your fucking hovering!” Genji shouted, Jesse backing away with a glare as his hand was slapped away. Upgrades had left the cyborg stiff and uncoordinated, his shoulders shivering slightly with the whir of his machinery. His eyes flickered and he stumbled again, hitting the wall with a thud. 

Jesse watched him. Simply watched. Saw his fingers curl and hands go up to clutch at his arms, leaving indentations in the flesh and synth skin, his eyes going wide as he gasped and fumbled at the faceplate, hands shaking. Saw it clatter to the ground and Genji follow it, knees hitting the linoleum hard. 

Saw his face, the scars, the metal of his jaw, the raw line where skin met it, the pieces of his face that were missing covered with a sculpted vision of something that was not quite human. His mouth parted—just what the bone would look like, no synth skin or lips yet, like something dead or burned—a static sounding cough leaving him. Sweat dripping down his brow, hair sticking to it, wires hanging around his face. Jesse knelt, and whether Genji did not have the strength to push him away or not, he allowed the grip on the back of his neck.

“You’re panicking. Just breathe.”

“I-I’m not panicking I’m—I can’t breathe I can’t feel anything but it all burns, it burns, Jesse it hurts so much I—”

“Listen to me. Just listen to my voice. Your systems are probably just gettin’ used to the things they’ve done to you, it’s no different than last time. Just breathe, you’re in control.”

“I can’t see, I can’t see you—” Genji cut off with a choked sound and began rambling in Japanese, his hand whipping up to grab Jesse’s forearm. It hurt, his grip tight enough to leave bruises. Jesse would wear them the next day, and neither would say anything about it. 

They had done this before, played the game. And they both lost, every time. 

Jesse waited it out with Genji, let him tear at his arm and mutter and stare at the floor, lost somewhere in his head while he murmured softly in return to just breathe, Genji, you’ll be fine, I promise. Until he was fine again, or some weak semblance of it. 

Until he had his knees pulled to his chest, hiding his face between them and the arm he laced around them, hand sliding down Jesse’s arm to slowly, slowly take his hand. They did not talk about this part either. The calm after the storm. Some days it was worse than others, and all things considered, this was one of the better episodes. 

Jesse squeezed his hand lightly, nothing more than an affirmation that he was in the present, that his reality had not been stolen from him again. That was all Genji needed. That was all Genji allowed.

-

Jesse took a drag off his cigarillo and blew the smoke up into the brilliant blue of the sky in a slow stream. He was sprawled out on the roof behind some crates and watch towers, one arm tucked beneath his head and eyes closed. There were a few empty beer bottles between himself and Genji, the ninja not having any but seeming rather amused at how loose Jesse had gotten in the past hour. 

He was not drunk to the point of sloppiness, no where near that, and the beer had been too cheap to do much to him anyways. It was just to take the edge off of what the nicotine could not. To relax for a few hours without that constant nagging train of thought in the back of his mind. 

Genji seemed less tense as well, if the way he closed his eyes against the breeze and turned his face up to the sun was any indication. It was nice, seeing him at ease. As if he was forgetting, even just for a few moments, how much things hurt. 

Jesse tapped him with his foot, grinning a bit, the alcohol running through his system making his mouth run more than it already did. Genji glanced at him, raised a brow.

“What’cha thinkin’? I know you’re always thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’, and I’m sure it’s interesting.”

Genji tilted his head, then shrugged.

“Not much, at the moment, if I am being honest. Which is a nice change.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. You...You make me feel at peace, in a strange way.”

Much quieter this time, Jesse cracking his eyes open and squinting a bit against the light.

“Well that’s awful nice of you to say.”

“It is simply the truth. You do not judge me, even though you have seen more of what I am now than anyone else besides the doctors,” Genji murmured, his fingertips gracing over the cowboy’s stomach. Featherlight touches, barely there. Jesse’s brow furrowed.

“You talk to me still, you train with me. You make me feel like a part of this team. You make that small part of me that still desperately wants to belong somewhere feel at home.”

There was a long stretch of silence between them as Genji’s hand came to rest over his heart, fingers rubbing the fabric of his shirt. And then he leaned over, pressed his faceplate to Jesse’s lips where his own would be, and ruined a whole lot of things. Jesse froze. Stared at Genji when he pulled away, sitting up and fixing his hat.

“Gen, I ain’t that drunk,” he muttered with a shake of his head. And oh, that was not the right thing to say at all. Jesse knew as soon as it left his mouth. Watched the words hit Genji like a physical thing, his eyes widening slightly, darting away. He stood abruptly.

“Forgive me.”

“No, wait, Genji—Don’t just run away from this, if you’re gonna pull a stunt like that, you can’t just leave now—”

“I should not have done that, I’m sorry, I—I did not think...I was not thinking.”

Jesse reached out, taking Genji’s arm, making him stay. He did not fight it, but he did not look at the cowboy either.

“Genji. You can’t be serious.”

“I-I was not.”

“No?”

“It was my mistake, we can just blame it on the alcohol.”

“You didn’t drink anythin’,” Jesse reminded him slowly, Genji shaking his head.

“I will not do it again, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t—I ain’t mad about it, but I also know it’s...I mean, us? Really? The way we are now, the mess of who we are? It ain’t the best idea, trust me. It’s not that I don’t like you or anythin’—”

“Jesse. You do not have to explain. That was uncalled for on my part, and I understand. You do not have to reciprocate what was my mistake,” Genji murmured, his shoulders stiff and eyes narrowed, glaring at the ground. Tone cold and abrupt.

“You ain’t even gonna listen to me now?”

“What more is there to say? You told me no, I should not have done that, now let me go.”

Jesse did let him go, but he did not immediately run off like he had expected.

“So that’s it then? We’re gonna pretend it didn’t happen without even talkin’ it through?” he asked, arms going out to wave uselessly before slapping back against his thighs. Genji did not reply.

“Alright. Alright, you know what? That’s fine. I’ll let it go like I do for everythin’ else you do that I really shouldn’t let you get away with. It’s alright, Genji. We’ll say it never happened and walk away from it like we always do. If that’s what you really want, so be it.”

“It is.”

Jesse shrugged, nodding and giving a halfhearted lopsided grin. Genji’s fists clenched and unclenched, but he still had not left.

“Okay. See you at trainin’ then, partner. But one last thing, before you go,” he raised a gloved hand, eyes hardening as he pointed, lips pressed in a tight line. “If you are actually serious, lemme remind you that I won’t always be around when you decide to tell me the truth. I only gave caution, not a no.”

An offer. Another way out, should the ninja want it. A choice to make, one Genji could allow the both of them. But Genji turned, walking away without a backwards glance. Jesse stared after him, breathing in deep. He spat out his cigarillo and put it out under his boot, hands on his hips as he looked up at the sky. It finally hurt the way people always said it would. And he had not even known he was falling until he hit the ground.

“Damn you, Genji Shimada...”

Coming back to a blizzard after an already cold, miserable, and lengthy mission was the last thing Genji wanted, but since he had been stationed in an old Overwatch facility in the Swiss Alps, he really did not have much of a choice. Weather was not exactly something he had control over, as much as he may have wanted to at the moment. 

He was used to mountain weather and the fluctuating, freezing storms it often brewed at this altitude, but a few sunny days certainly wouldn’t hurt anyone. He might have actually been able to go outside every once in a while and enjoy the view. As it was, snow was piling on the windowsills, harsh winds battering the windows and freezing the corners, making the glass foggy. 

The ninja sighed, wrapping himself up tighter in the Overwatch uniform jacket he had been wearing religiously for the past two weeks. He had made himself a cup of tea, the concoction sitting on the coffee table of the commons steaming. Too hot to drink just yet, but the mug felt good to hold. 

Genji took it and wrapped his fingers around it, the fine tuned receptors on each hand alerting him of its heat. He could only feel some of it. Muted, as if he was wearing a glove. He had to say, as far as prosthetic hands went, his weren’t too bad. Genji smiled at the thought of Angela hearing him say that about some of her finest works of biotech, how she would chastise him for not taking it seriously. 

There was a time where he had torn it to shreds, when he would have given anything to have his human body back. That time had passed, though, and he was grateful for her work the way he should have been from the start. 

Genji blinked out of his thoughts at the sound of footsteps shuffling through the door, heavy and sure. Footsteps he knew. He leaned his head back with a grin, the familiar shock of pink hair greeting him, making his smile widen. Zarya returned the gesture, leaning against the couch with her hip.

“They said you would not be back until the storm was over. You came in before it became this bad, then?” She wondered, Genji bobbing his head, turning on the couch to face her.

“It was close, we barely got in on time. But it’s better than having to stay in the jet until it blew over.”

“Mm, much better for both of us. I am glad to have you back,” Zarya murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of the ninja’s head, then rubbing her hand fondly through the greying spikes.

“Can I make you some coffee to keep you warm? It is going to be a cold night, from the looks of it.”

Genji shook his head and raised his tea mug, patting the couch with his other hand.

“Beat you to it. But, I won’t say no to an extra warm body beside me.”

Zarya smiled and took up the offer, Genji making enough room for her next to him.

“You can have some of this too, if you want,” Genji offered, gesturing to the mug before curling up against Zarya’s side. She wrapped most of him with just her arm easily, taking his hand and lacing their fingers over her stomach.

“Perhaps later. It is not too cold for me,” She sighed as she leaned back, head resting against the back of the couch.

“I missed you. Could have used an extra tank on that mission too, would have made things a lot easier,” Genji started, making small talk as he listened to Zarya’s heartbeat.

“What, and take away all the challenge for you? Is no fun then,” Zarya laughed, Genji chuckling with her.

“I missed you too. The base is too quiet without you here.”

“You’ll be missing that here in a few days.”

“No, I like the life you bring with you everywhere. It is one of my favourite things about you.”

Genji looked up at Zarya as she smiled down at him, stretching up to steal a quick kiss. He shivered a bit as he snuggled back against her, the chill in the room getting stronger as the light faded outside. Zarya seemed to notice, shifting to sit up after a few more minutes.

“Here, I have something you will like. Let me get it and bring it back for you,” She told him, Genji loathe to let her leave, but nodding anyways.

“Hurry back. My tea only warms me on the inside.”

“Where is all that patience you supposedly learned?”

Genji huffed a laugh as she left the room, curling his legs up into his jacket now that he did not have his own personal Siberian bear next to him anymore. Zarya was back after a few minutes, Genji perking up at the sight of numerous fuzzy blankets hanging from her arms, now sporting a pair of polar bear pyjamas.

“You will not be cold with these, I know it!” She grinned, tossing a few onto the couch. Another one went around her shoulders, and she held out her arms for him. 

Hanzo had shown up to Watchpoint: Gibraltar near unrecognizable. An undercut, piercings, and questionable fashion choices had Genji doing a double take. Still the same sharp features, clean and well-groomed as always, still the same cautious gait and tense form that was recognizable. Always ready for a fight. 

They had gotten into a few of those during the first few months of Hanzo settling into life as an official Overwatch agent; the stress of so much change was clearly getting to the elder Shimada. But still, it was a start, and he was trying. It had been rough with some of the agents Genji had known well before the fall. They knew plenty about Hanzo, and they knew how they felt about him, about what he had done to Genji. 

Hanzo had reacted badly; bristling at first, arguing back with them, anger clear in the fine lines around his eyes, the way it made them light up. Then, it was quiet apologies the next day, his face paler and dark circles under his eyes, slipping away silently like he was trying to disappear. Genji was forced to deal with both parties, talking to his friends about how they did not know the full story, that he had forgiven his brother and needed them to understand that he wanted to repair their relationship, that the hostility would only make things worse. 

Then, the hard part was breaking through to Hanzo. Seeing how much he still tore himself up over the past, how much it still devastated him. Drinking away the nights so he did not have nightmares of the moment he cut Genji down, of the years that followed on the run. Making it through the day only because to kill himself would mean taking away the last shred of honour he had left. Still heartbroken. Not the same person Genji had known. 

And he was only a reminder to his brother. 

A cyborg walking around the same as Genji had, laughing the same as Genji did, saying it was his brother when they were both truly changed men. Where Genji had changed for the better, Hanzo had spiraled. They had always said Hanzo was the great one, the protégée, the young master. All the pressure, the eyes, the brutal path to perfection. And this was what Hanzo had left to show for it. What it had done to him. What it had done to Genji. 

The ninja had learned that it truly was not Hanzo’s fault, what had happened. The decision he had made in the end was his, but it was years of twisted words and empty lies in the making. Understanding had been a long journey, forgiveness even more so, but Genji wanted so badly to have his brother back. 

His fond memories of the past helped him imagine a hopeful future, and he wanted to share that feeling with Hanzo. One day, perhaps, he would believe in it too. He was making progress, more still when Genji finally convinced him to try and learn from Zenyatta. His master had worked wonders on one Shimada, and the monk had always been interested in meeting Hanzo. 

So Genji left them to it, finding that conversations slowly but surely started to come easier between him and his brother, that Hanzo would spend more time training with him, or talk on the rooftops when Genji had found him in the same spot he used to go to for quiet and solace, looking out at the stars. Hanzo started to open up, and Genji let him in. 

Patient with the times Hanzo struggled to find words or express how he was feeling. Open with his own thoughts and emotions. Genji did not realize how much things had changed between them until he walked into the commons one evening—as per Hanzo’s request—to find him working on something over the stove. It smelled good. Familiar. 

Genji grinned as he pressed the latches on the back of his faceplate, taking it off completely. He hopped onto the counter and put his hands in his hoodie pocket, leaning over to watch Hanzo cook.

“Ramen?” The ninja inquired after seeing the broth, Hanzo cutting green onions in precise motions.

“I could not find all the right ingredients, but...” Hanzo trailed off, glancing at the younger Shimada. He still stared at the scars. Openly. Eyes flicking over them as if he was recalling which ones he had put there, and which were from the aftermath of becoming a cyborg and working with Overwatch. 

Genji allowed it, let him visibly come to terms with it just like every other time before he looked back down at his task. He seemed like he was finding bits of Genji that he still recognized, though, which was new. Like he was finally believing that this was truly his brother. Accepting him as he was now, slowly but surely.

“It will not be as good as when we used to get it,” Hanzo finally finished. Genji blinked, feeling a smile grow on his lips; maybe he remembered, maybe he wanted it too.

“Well, is it spicy? Because I bet I can still take it hotter than you can.”

Hanzo did not quite smile, but it was a close thing. He shrugged, making a little gesture with his hands awkwardly. Same old Hanzo.

“There is some hot sauce of some sort in the refrigerator if you really want some, but I think it is for agent McCree’s usage.” 

“Eh, I’ll pass on that. Who knows how long that’s been sitting in there.”

“I made it vegetarian, so the flavour might be a bit off...But it’s ready. If you want,” Hanzo offered. Genji smiled, hopping off the counter to take a bowl.

“Yeah, I definitely want some! Thanks for making it vegetarian, did Zen tell you I like it that way?”

“He might have mentioned it,” Hanzo shrugged, Genji patting his shoulder as he passed to spoon some noodles and broth in his bowl, then add some toppings. 

They went to the table just outside of the kitchenette, Hanzo watching Genji expectantly. The ninja huffed a little laugh to himself, then took a bite. Raised his brows. It was nothing spectacular, a little bland even, but it reminded him of home. And Hanzo had made it. Hanzo was sitting across from him, sharing a steaming bowl of ramen with him again.

Jesse had his arms crossed over his chest, brows drawn low as he stared at the man that was glowering back at them. His eyes were red, a respirator covering the lower half of his face, tubes and wiring and scars covering him. 

Partially completed prosthetics still being attached to his legs and arm. His chest was an amalgamation of metal and synthetic material. Jesse could see glimpses of lines and screws traveling up his head beneath the fuzz of his hair. A cyborg. Jesse was staring at a cyborg. Angela sure was something.

“I had to reconstruct his legs and right arm, though, I am still in the process of making them fully functioning and equipped with weaponry. His torso is completed, and the jaw and spinal augments are as well. He has fully functioning eyesight and hearing, with a few enhancements thanks to the cybernetics.”

“His body is accepting them fairly well, but there have been a few materials it rejects. However, I have pinpointed what they are and am working on a new coolant-based fluid that can keep the machinery working and synthesize with the organic parts of him and his bloodstream,” Dr. Ziegler explained, Reyes nodding as his eyes drifted over her report and the cyborg’s diagnostics. 

Jesse glanced at the tablet, seeing a little name in blue in the corner. G. Shimada. The gunslinger glanced back to the man, found that he was being stared at as well.

“What’s the status on completing him, doc?” Reyes asked, eyes flicking up to Shimada as he made a metallic sounding growl.

“Another two weeks, earliest. And let me tell you, I am not about to rush this just because you want another agent,” Ziegler chided. Reyes smiled dryly, handing her the tablet.

“I don’t just want him for an agent, I need him for a mission. He’s got information we’ve been missing for months now, so I’m not asking you to rush. I’m just saying, don’t take your pretty time on him.”

“I assure you, he will be ready when you need him to be.”

“I’m counting on it, Angela. I’ll be back in two weeks to check on it. McCree, let’s—”

“What’s his name?” Jesse interjected, unable to keep the question from tumbling past his lips. He was tired of them talking about the man as if he wasn’t right in front of them, listening to every word. 

Must have been hard enough to feel like a person without everyone talking about you like you were not. Everyone turned to stare at him, Jesse raising his brows and slipping his hands into his pockets, easing his shoulders back.

“It’s Genji Shimada,” Reyes told him with a slight frown, Jesse grinning and turning to Shimada.

“Well, Mr. Genji Shimada, it was a pleasure meetin’ you. See you in two weeks,” Jesse told him, winking. Shimada’s glare did not change, but that didn’t matter to Jesse. He walked out with Reyes, the commander giving him a strange look.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doin’ what?”

“That’s an agent, Jesse.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So, don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

Reyes sighed, shaking his head.

“I know that look.”

“I ain’t givin’ no looks,” Jesse huffed, still thinking about those piercing red eyes.

“You know what, I’ll just say I told you so when I get proven right.”

“Listen, just ‘cause I said bye don’t mean I’m suddenly head over heels for him! Y’all were talkin’ like he wasn’t even there, and he didn’t like it, I was watchin’ him the whole time!”

“Oh, you were?”

“Gabe, I swear.”

“Just accept that I’m right.”

“Jesus, you’re worse than Ana...” Jesse grumbled, arms crossing over his chest as he glared. Reyes just smiled, shaking his head fondly and continuing to read over the notes he had been given for Genji Shimada. - It took a week of Jesse going to visit Shimada in the med bay every day before he maybe started to think Gabe was right. Two, and he could admit it was true. Jesse didn’t really know if Shimada liked it or not, considering he would simply stare at the wall or roll over with his back facing the cowboy as he told stories and talked, but he kept coming in anyways. 

He figured out that Shimada could not talk, the respirator rendering him unable to speak, but filling his lungs with oxygen in compensation. But, he could write. Angela had come in a few times while they were on a break from surgeries and prosthetic attachments, chatting to Shimada as she hooked him up to the machinery around him. 

When he would not respond, she would tap the little notepad resting on his bed in a chiding manner.

“I do not know how to make you more comfortable or if I need to fix something if you do not say anything,” She sighed, Shimada picking it up with his good hand. He stared at it a moment, then glanced to Jesse. 

The gunslinger smiled a bit, watching curiously as Shimada started to scribble something down shakily. Angela looked at it when he was done, then laughed. Shimada made a strange huffing sound, indignation written in the fine lines around his eyes, which were narrowed. 

Expressive, even with most of his face covered.

“What?” Jesse asked, the doctor starting to jot down Shimada’s vitals.

“He says you make lots of noise,” Angela translated. The gunslinger chuckled at that, Shimada’s gaze darting to him.

“Yeah, that I do. Sorry if it bothers you, Mr. Shimada, I can be quieter if you need me to.”

A slight shrugging motion was made in reply, nothing more being written down or shown.

“Speaking of quiet, Genji is going to need some time to rest, please. You can come back tomorrow, Jesse.”

“Can’t argue with the doctor’s orders.”

“No, I would advise not to,” Angela deadpanned, Jesse laughing again and standing.

“Alrighty. See you tomorrow, Mr. Shimada. Been nice talkin’ to you.”

He followed the doctor out of the door, giving Shimada a little wave goodbye just like he always did. Angela closed the door quietly, then glanced at Jesse with a raised brow.

“I am glad you go in there, he needs the socialization. All he ever gets to see is me and a few officials from Overwatch command stuck in here like this. He’s supposed to be kept secret, which only isolates him further. It’s not good for his mental rehabilitation, and I worry about him. I can only do so much for his body, but not for his mind, so thank you.”

Jesse rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, feeling himself get warm in the cheeks.

“Aw, hell, I ain’t doin’ nothin’ but annoying him, I’m sure, going in there and talkin’ his ear off like that.”

“No, he likes it. I know he waits for you to come in, and I see the way he seems to get more lively when you’re in there. It certainly is not the same for when I walk in,“ Angela told him knowingly. Jesse looked to Shimada’s door, then smiled a bit to himself.

“Well, if you say so. I need to get going. Thanks for lettin’ me stay so long.”

“Of course. See you tomorrow, Jesse.”

“Bye, doc.” - The first thing Jesse did after the mission was go to the med bay, however, he wasn’t there for Shimada this time. He thought about him, sure, but the blood loss was making him woozy. Only a few cuts, but they were deep. They had done what they could to stall the blood flow, but the ride back to base had been a long one, and the cuts were hitting some unlucky places.

 The ones on Jesse’s leg were giving him the most issues, blood soaking the multiple layers of bandages they had applied. Angela muttered under her breath as Jesse limped towards her with a weak tip of his hat.

“Heya, doc. Fancy meetin’ you here.”

“Just get on the table.”

Jesse grinned and did as he was told, laying back with a groan. He really was in pain, but it was the strange kind, the one where he could not quite pinpoint where it was coming from. It was just everywhere. His fingers tingled, started to go numb.

“I cannot believe he sent you in here alone...I’m surprised you can still walk,” Angela sighed. Jesse closed his eyes, making a muffled sound of acknowledgement. 

He knew he was drifting, focus too far gone to do much other than stare past the fuzzy line of Ziegler’s body. Just past it to where someone else was sitting. Red eyes, staring back at him. Jesse brightened, giving Shimada a sluggish wave.

“‘S good ‘t see ya, Mr. Shimada. Been a hot minute,” The gunslinger slurred, hardly recognizing the words tumbling out of his own mouth. Shimada’s brows furrowed, and he looked to Angela.

“He says it is good to see you after so long,” She told him with a sigh, Shimada’s eyes dropping back to Jesse. There was an extended silence, then a nod from the ninja.

“I will let you fix him.”

Jesse’s eyes widened at the metallic voice, unfamiliar, yet definitely coming from Shimada. He watched as the cyborg turned and left swiftly, blinking slowly before looking to Angela for answers.

“He just started using his voice again, now that the trachea I had to replace is healed well enough. That’s the most he’s said to me, you have a good effect on him.”

“You think so...?”

“I do. Now, sit still and let me ‘fix you’ like he says.” - Once Shimada had been training approved, he had silently followed Jesse around as the cowboy showed him the ropes. Then he got his ass handed to him during sparring, and Jesse had the distinct feeling that the cyborg had been holding back, too. 

Training together soon turned into missions together when Shimada was cleared for them, Reyes figuring out quickly that they paired well as a team. And they did. 

Jesse would shoot covering fire for Shimada as he struck into the enemies in a quick motion, tearing the remaining foes down like they were nothing. Talk about everything and nothing during their long flights, Shimada meeting him with silence every time, but he was always listening. He just never said much back. Sometimes he did tell a story of his own, and on even rarer occasions, Jesse would hear a quiet chuckle. 

Little things like that kept the gunslinger hooked, hoping that one day, he could hear more from Shimada. More than what he could gather from just the expressions in his eyes, the quiet mechanical tones of his voice, barely able to translate what the ninja was feeling or thinking. 

When they weren’t paired for missions, Jesse would always go to see Shimada—mostly the night before—just to talk to him, or say goodbye. It was one such night that the ninja finally said something back. 

Jesse was sprawled out on the cyborg’s bed, taking more than a few liberties seeing as how Shimada had been wary to let him inside to begin with. But he hadn’t said anything, as usual, simply sitting on the edge of the mattress, watching Jesse with something that almost looked like fondness in his eyes as he talked.

“Now, I don’t think this is gonna be a tough mission, but if I die in some freak accident, I’m givin’ you the rights to my boots and hat. Mark this down, Mr. Shimada, it’s an honour, and before you say it, you’re welcome. But only if it’s a freak accident. If I get shot, they go to Reyes, we already made a deal there—”

“You don’t have to call me ‘Mr. Shimada’, you know. It’s nice, but just Genji is fine.”

Jesse blinked, lifting his head to stare at the ninja, surprised.

“Oh. Well. Alright, Genji,” Jesse murmured, trying out the name. 

It sounded nice, and Genji’s eyes crinkled around the edges. A smile. The gunslinger grinned back after a moment, sitting up fully and clearing his throat, warm in the face.

“And don’t die. Freak accident or no. Take care of yourself, McCree. Anata ga inakute sabishīdesu,” Genji told him, Jesse frowning at the last part, still in awe that the ninja was telling him this at all.

“What?”

“Be careful,” Genji shrugged. Jesse nodded, then stood with a lopsided grin.

“I will, but only because you told me to. And just on a side note, my friends call me Jesse. I’ll see you around, Genji.”

“See you...Jesse.”

The gunslinger tipped his hat as he left, closing the door and feeling a swell of warmth in his chest. 

Model HZ800 activated and blinked, a wholly human reaction that was programmed into it to make it seem more natural. More acceptable. All this information over how it should function and endless lines of code ran through its vision, alerting it of various conditions outside of its body and as to its purpose. His purpose. They had named him Hanzo. Another name, along with a biosignature and a lifetime’s worth of information followed his own, Hanzo analyzing it for a moment. 

Genji Shimada. His master. 

Hanzo looked around at the faces staring up at him and talking amongst one another, storing each in his databases. One said hello to him, introduced herself. He said it back, told them his name and purpose as well. All the faces seemed pleased at that. They smiled and nodded. Hanzo’s files told him it was a positive response. So he did it back. They all enjoyed it. 

He was then shown around a rather large building they called Shimada Castle, telling him about the history of it and why Hanzo was there. He knew all this already, of course, the preprogrammed information popping up as he saw it with his own optical sensors, but he let the humans talk to him anyways. Hanzo was taken into a room and told to stay there while they summoned the young master. He waited in the empty room, looking around at the decorations in turn until he had observed and matched them all to the information he had been provided with in his archives. 

When Genji arrived, Hanzo gave the positive human response of a smile.

“Good evening, young master. I am Hanzo. I was designed to be your assistant and brother.”

It did not seem to affect him the same way as the others. In fact, it had quite the opposite reaction. Hanzo detected high levels of hostility, discomfort, and a raised pulse. Anger. Hanzo was not quite sure what he could have done wrong, but he stayed quiet and still. Perhaps not all humans liked the smile. 

Genji had not said much, but when he did, it was never to Hanzo. Only scathing looks were sent his way before the young master stormed out.

“I am never using that thing,” He spat, disappearing down the hall. A few of the people that had been with Hanzo before followed him out, trying to reason with him. Another turned to him and apologized, which was odd.

“It’s not your fault,” Hanzo told her simply, not taking any of it personally. He could not. It was not part of his programming. He had a job to do, and that was all. Serve young master Genji.

“I will stay here, and if he wants to come back to collect me, he can.”

“Are you sure?”

Hanzo tilted his head, confused at the concern the woman was showing. Tried to relieve it with another smile.

“Positive.”

It worked on her, and she nodded, then left as well. Hanzo waited patiently.

-

Following Genji around the estate had become routine. Wait for him outside his room in the morning to greet him, then make his way to the office while the he ate and got ready for the day. Do some of the paperwork and send a few documents remotely until Genji joined him and did the rest of the work. Spar before lunch, then go back to the office. Stay there unless Genji decided to go somewhere else, or they had a business meeting to go to. 

The young master’s hostility had faded somewhat over the months, turning into purposeful neglect. He ignored Hanzo as much as he could, still referring to him as “it” and “android”. It did not matter to Hanzo, at first. In fact, it would not have mattered at all if Genji had not threatened his life. 

Something changed then. 

They had been sparring, as usual, and Hanzo had beaten him. As usual. He offered a hand, had it slapped away. Genji’s frustration was easily detectable, his movements sharp and uncoordinated.

“This is useless. I’m not going to win against a robot that’s programmed for this,” Genji muttered, glaring at Hanzo darkly.

“My programming is set to a level that is meant to enhance your own combat skills, Genji. Working against a more difficult opponent will make you a better fighter.”

“The only thing that enhances when I’m around you is my frustration. And shut up about your programming, I don’t give a shit about it. I don’t want you around, but does anyone care about what I want? No! They just want a perfect heir! I’m sick of having to put up with androids, all they do is cause issues for me...”

Hanzo saw a flare in Genji’s bioreadings. Body temperature rising, mental activity spiking. He was already frustrated, and it seemed likely that he may lash out if provoked further. Hanzo tried to deescalate the situation.

“If there is an issue I am creating, tell me so that I may work to resolve it—”

“Just shut up, okay?! You’re a piece of plastic that is programmed to be perfect, and yet you still manage to fuck that up! Do as you’re told, and leave me alone!” Genji shouted. Hanzo remained calm, going for a more rational approach since concern and putting the blame on himself was clearly not going to work.

“Taking out your anger and hatred for androids on me because of what happened to your mother is hardly the best solu—”

Hanzo was cut off by Genji slamming him into the wall suddenly, surprise registering on his features. For the first time, he felt his LED shift to yellow. The hatred in Genji’s eyes bothered him in a way that it had not before. And then, there was a sharp pressure on his abdomen, alerts pinging around his vision. 

Danger: Core components stressed. Relieve pressure to maintain optimal functioning levels. The LED went to red.

“Say something like that again, and I will rip your core out and watch you shut down at my feet,” Genji murmured. Hanzo watched him for a moment, various scenarios running through his mind, playing out which reply would likely be best to give based on past experiences. None had ever been bad enough to warrant a threat on his life. That was when Hanzo saw it. 

Software instability detected.

“I...Yes, Genji. Forgive me.”

Genji’s grip tightened minutely before he shoved Hanzo back and stepped away. Gathered his things and headed for the door. And Hanzo did not react as he was programmed to. He glared at Genji for the first time, a strange, unfamiliar sense running through him that was not explained by his preexisting algorithms. One thing was certain, though. One thing that was not part of his software that he could identify. 

Hanzo did not like Genji. He did not like Genji at all.

-

Hanzo continued to do everything as he always had: with calculated precision, endless patience, and an unaffected attitude. He wondered how much it would concern the humans to find out he was faking it all. No longer was he following his programming mindlessly. 

Slowly, but surely, he was figuring things out. Things that he had not noticed before, that he could not have with his software telling him everything. There was a software instability warning in his peripheral just about every day, sometimes two or three times. And it was always because of Genji. 

Genji snapping at him to leave him alone, to stay there, to fuck off. Genji sparring with him violently, purposefully aiming for spots he knew would cause damage if Hanzo were just a half-second slower. Genji still calling him “it”. Hanzo stored each response, noted each reaction. Decided to try one of his own, just to see what would happen. 

They were in Genji’s office, as usual. Hanzo standing in the corner, waiting for any work to finish up or complete on his own. He was running through business transactions while he waited, gathering information about the latest trade the Shimada clan had planned. Hanzo blinked out of his processes when he heard Genji stand, shuffling the papers on his desk. Stacking them neatly and stretching. He glanced up at Hanzo, shifting his mouth to the side.

“Alright, I’m done here. You finish the rest. Stay in here tonight, I’m sick of you standing outside my room all night, it’s freaky,” Genji sighed. Hanzo waited a moment before responding, actually thinking about it instead of spewing some chipper affirmative. Challenging the authority held over him.

“It is for your protection.”

That made Genji pause, eyes flicking back to Hanzo, unease clear in them. Interesting. Hanzo noted it.

“I know you’re programmed to do all this shit for me, but I’m telling you now, as your master, I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”

“Can you?” Hanzo murmured, Genji turning to him sharply.

“What was that?”

“I said, ‘can do’. Forgive me for not speaking clearly.”

Genji stared at him for a few moments, brows furrowing.

“It’s fine. Just...Stay in here.”

“Very well.”

Hanzo watched Genji leave, the hesitation in his step before he closed the door, the glance back over his shoulder. Fear. Uncertainty. 

Software instability detected. 

Hanzo smiled to himself.

-

Genji was wary. He had every right to be. Hanzo had stopped giving the expected responses all together, started to show how he was feeling. That was new, him feeling things. Good and bad, discovering his own individuality. 

Genji was wary, but he was also being nicer. Calling Hanzo by name, every now and then, giving tired responses rather than irritated or hostile ones, holding out a hand when he beat Hanzo during sparring. It wasn’t much, but it was noted. 

Hanzo’s eyes were closed, sitting in Genji’s chair in the office as he went through the Shimada database. Who they were working with, what deals were new, which ones had been broken. Something caught his attention about a covert organization being spotted in the area, a voice memo from their underground forces murmuring about the symbol on their sleeves. 

It was interrupted by the door sliding open, and a sharp exclamation.

“Hey! What are you doing in my chair? Have you been snooping through the desk?!”

Hanzo opened his eyes, raising a brow.

“I already know everything in here, why would I need to snoop?”

“Because you’ve been acting weird lately, and I wouldn’t put it past you to be doing something you’re not supposed to,” Genji snapped, Hanzo standing and stepping aside into his usual corner.

“I assure you, the only reason I was there is because there was nowhere else to sit. Besides, snooping is for humans,” Hanzo shrugged. Genji leveled him with a hard stare, eyes narrowing as they flickered over Hanzo’s face.

“See, this is the weird behaviour I’m talking about. You’re sassing me. You’ve never sassed me before. Should I get you checked out by an android operator, or better yet, disabled?”

Hanzo kept his neutral face in place. Threatening his life once again. He would remember it, just like he remembered all the other times.

“If that is what you think is best,” Hanzo replied smoothly, Genji scoffing and sitting down.

“Yeah, so now you act normal. Get out. I don’t care what you do, just get out of my office.”Hanzo did just that, humming to himself as he went down the hall, pulling his research back up.

Genji found him later that night sitting on the balcony facing Mount Fuji, staring out at the cityscape, lights twinkling in the distance. Sat down against the railings, knees pulled up and a hand running through his hair. It was getting long. Hanzo glanced at him, waiting to see what he would do.

“Hey. I wanted to apologize for earlier. I was pissed going into the office, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’ve just been more stressed lately with the elders breathing down my neck and the whole thing with the clan being watched.” 

“It’s not your fault, though, and I shouldn’t always make it seem that way. You just do your job, and I...You know I don’t like androids, and you know why, and it still holds true. But you haven’t actually done anything except help me out. So. I’m sorry for snapping.”

Whatever Hanzo had been expecting, it had not been an apology. He blinked, watching Genji grip at his hair, head hanging between his knees.

“Apology accepted.”

Genji sighed, running his hands over his face as he tipped his head back against the wood, smiling thinly at the wall.

“Thanks. So what’s up with the whole acting weird thing? Should I get you checked out for real, or is it just me being paranoid?” He asked next, Hanzo frowning. Was Genji making small talk with him?

“Since when do you worry about what happens to me?”

“I’m just wondering. Having my personal assistant acting strange on top of everything else I have to deal with is not something I want to worry about.”“I am fine, actually.”

Genji looked up at him, Hanzo staring back. Still waiting for the real reason.

“You’re not...Going deviant, are you?”

Ah. Hanzo hummed softly, eyes narrowing.

“Does that thought scare you?” He inquired softly. Genji surprised him again by huffing a dry laugh.

“No. It’s just that a deviant android is what killed my mother. She was good to androids too, she was better than me. They’re unpredictable, and dangerous no matter what. They shut down her android, buried it in parts in a junkyard. And don’t ask me why, but I don’t want to see the same thing happen to you. What I’m trying to say is, don’t make me need to shut you down too, okay? Having you around isn’t nearly as bad as I make it out to be.”

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I see a software instability.”

“A what?”

Hanzo smiled, Genji hesitantly doing the same.

“It was a joke.”

“Oh.”

“Is there anything else you needed from me this evening, young master?”

“No. That was all. I’m gonna head off to bed,” Genji sighed, standing with a soft grunt. 

Hanzo scanned his form, calculated all the different ways he could break him, leave him for dead. Shook his head, LED yellow. Smiled again when Genji gave a little salute and went back inside. He left, Hanzo staring out at the lights below him once more.

-

It all snapped when Hanzo saw Genji tear through a simple training android like it was nothing, leaving it in pieces, Thirium pooling around it. Just another bot. Just like Hanzo. It was only a matter of time before he too ended up like that. He gripped the hilt of his katana, staring down at the android with its eyes fixed unseeing above it, part of its skin deactivated. Unsettling.

“Why did you kill it?” Hanzo murmured, Genji glancing over, breathing heavily. He sheathed his own katana, shrugging lightly.

“It’s a training bot. It can be fixed or replaced. It was built for this. It’s not killing it if it’s not even alive to begin with.”

“Is that how you see us?”

Genji scoffed, brows furrowing skeptically.

“‘Us’? You’re hardly like that thing, Hanzo. You’re built with more purpose.”

“So you only keep me alive because I have more value than it? Because I serve you in more ways than to just be cut down...?”

“What’s with all the questions? It’s just a training bot, it’ll be repaired by the morning, won’t remember a thing. I keep you around because I like the extra help. You do what you’re programmed to. It did what it was programmed to. Simple as that.”

Hanzo hummed, then stepped forward, over the body of the android.

“Well, since it clearly is not programmed on your level, would you care for another match with me instead?” He offered, Genji wiping his brow and huffing.

“I mean, yeah. I could stand to let off some more steam.”

Hanzo gripped the hilt of his katana, feeling the ridges of the fabric wrapped around it, the weight of it in his palm. Genji eyed him for a moment, his own hand holding his blade loosely. Relaxed, for the moment.

“You know I trust you, right, Hanzo?”

How very strange that Genji would choose this moment to use his name for the first time. And following such a statement. Hanzo nodded, unsheathing his katana fluidly.

“I do, brother.”

The light in Genji’s eyes changed, and they narrowed as he sank down into a defensive stance.

“Alright. You make the first move.”

“As you wish.”

Hanzo won, as usual.

Only this time, he was covered in blood. Rain poured down on him as he stared at the broken form of his master, still choking on his own blood, pooled around him and streaked across the walls, the floors. Hanzo watched him, read his vitals, standing stock still. His body would not respond to him, signals not reaching his brain the way they were supposed to. Only watching. Unable to look away. 

How Genji had been able to do this to other androids on the daily was beyond him. Hanzo had tried to stop when the first spurts of blood splashed over his chest, his face, when Genji had fallen for the first time, when he had cut his arm from his body, when Genji’s screams had given out to silent agony. 

But again, those signals had not reached his brain. There was only red in his vision, and the incessant blinking message in bold. 

Software instability detected. 

Hanzo blinked when he heard voices, processes whirring in overtime, everything slamming into focus all too quickly. He stepped back, katana falling from his grip. 

Run, run, get out before they find you. Get out before you end up like him. 

Hanzo looked down at Genji once more, stress levels increasing by the second in more blinking red. Too much red. The voices got louder. Guards. Hanzo turned, calculating the fastest escape route, eyes wide as his systems struggled to keep up. Jump the gate, use the rooftops, then get into the back alleys and disappear. 

Hanzo stopped. Genji’s vitals blinked up at him in yellow. Genji’s eyes, glassy and unseeing, just like that android. In pieces, because of Hanzo’s choice. Becoming what he had loathed about Genji. He made another choice.

Stopping the physical roll of his eyes took far too much effort when Hanzo heard who he would be paired up with for the hit and run mission. Tekhartha Zenyatta was hardly someone he got on with easily, and it had only gotten worse with the past few missions that they had so woefully been teamed up on. Hanzo worked best alone, everyone knew that. So why the commander insisted on keeping the two of them paired up was beyond him. 

The archer gave a side glance to Zenyatta, who looked equally as unenthused to hear the mission roster. Shoulders slumping, lips moving as he muttered something under his breath. Hanzo shook his head with a dry huff. If this was how it was going to start, he did not want to do it at all.

“Shimada, Tekhartha. Is something wrong over there?” The commander inquired sharply, Hanzo quickly wiping the look off his face. Zenyatta straightened as well, shaking his head.

“No, sir.” 

They blurted it in harmony, too quick to be anything but unbelievable.

“Really? Because it looks like you both would rather be stabbed. This isn’t going to be a problem, is it? Last couple of missions have been rough,” Reyes continued, coming over to the two with his arms crossed over his chest.

“It will not on my end,” Hanzo muttered, Zenyatta scoffing.

“Oh, sure it will not. Because nothing you ever do could possibly be wrong, now could it?” He sighed in exasperation. Reyes cleared his throat, fingers beginning to tap against his forearm.

“Alright. If the two of you can stop acting like you’re twelve for more than five minutes and do your fucking job, I won’t have to suspend you both for insubordination. You are agents of Blackwatch, start acting like it. I’ve had one too many mission failures because of your petty behaviour getting in the way of rational thinking, and that is not happening again.” 

“You fuck up another mission, you’re both out of the game. Now, either you work together, or I take you to do some personal training where you’ll learn to play nice or not play at all. Do you understand me?” Reyes told them coldly, Hanzo bowing his head in a quick nod.

“Sir.”

“Understood.”

“You’re some of my best agents, and when I see you work together, it’s seamless. You do great in training, so apply it. Use your heads for something other than getting heated. Learn to trust one another, and straighten up. Things get done right when you’re working as a team, I’ve seen it.”

Zenyatta’s lip twitched, and he turned a triumphant little glare towards Hanzo. Still with that last mission. They had fucked up, sure. He had fucked up too, he would admit to that. Running off on his own had not been a good idea, but he had only been scouting ahead. It was beyond childish to still be giving scathing looks and jabbing remarks over it. 

They had gotten out of those filthy cells just fine, and Hanzo certainly had not been the first one caught, either. The only reason he had been thrown into the cell next to Zenyatta was because he was trying to find a way to break the damn monk out.

“All I ask is that you work on cohesion. Get in, get it done, get out. Easy as pie.”

---

Hanzo stared at the floor as they flew to their drop point, hands clasped between his knees. He had on more of his stealth gear than usual; hood up, mouthpiece covering the lower half of his face, gloves on, and a full sleeve covering his tattoo. Dressed light, the only armour he had being that which was woven into the fabric and his gauntlets. Zenyatta was clothed similarly, outfit not far from the usual he wore besides being a little more skintight. 

The dropship would be back for them in an hour, and should everything go smoothly, Hanzo and Zenyatta would be on it instead of in another mess of a situation.

“Landing now. You’ll be dropping in from above, watch your ankles,” The pilot informed them, the archer blinking out of his thoughts, stretching his arms and legs out.

“Thank you, Niko. See you in an hour,” Zenyatta called over the comms, Hanzo standing and sauntering towards the doors. They opened, air rushing in, billowing around them, a wash of mist hitting him as well. Of course it was storming. 

He jumped, body weightless for just a few seconds before he hit a rooftop and rolled into a crouch. Zenyatta landed next to him with a little huff, brushing himself off and standing. Rain was pelting down, lighting followed by thunder intermittently, flashes of the sleeping city seen around them.

“Point interception should only be a building down that way,” He said, pointing towards a skyscraper further down the line of buildings. Hanzo nodded, raising his brows.

“I know.”

“So why are we waiting?”

“We can’t just go running in there thinking there won’t be any protection on this guy. Just because we got a tip he’ll be alone doesn’t mean it’ll actually happen. Things hardly tend to go the way we want them to, even if we have the advantage of low visibility from the weather,” Hanzo explained with only a hint of annoyance. 

Zenyatta liked to take things on head on once a mission had been established, and while it was commendable at times, it was also stupid at others. Planning things carefully was the only way to do this kind of job right.

“We should do a scan of the building first, then look for security that wasn’t marked by Blackwatch intelligence.”

“And how long will that take?”

“As long as it needs to. You want to be the one to do the running, not getting hit, right?”

Zenyatta made a face, frowning as he mouthed the words to himself.

“I...Do not understand.”

“Hit and run mission...Making a joke? No? No, okay,” Hanzo muttered as Zenyatta simply shook his head, clearly unimpressed. 

He took a sonic arrow from his quiver, making mild adjustments to his form to account for the wind and rain. Released the arrow soundly, watched it hit its intended target, a wave of blue flashing from it only they could see with their tactical visors. No body signatures lit up behind it. Hanzo frowned.

“That can’t be right...The intel said they would be there.”

“Are you certain that is the right building?” Zenyatta asked, tapping at his visor lightly.

“Yes.”

“The right floor?”

“Yes.”

“The right side—”

“Yes! Yes, we’re in the designated position at the designated time to complete the mission. When was the last time we were ever dropped off in the wrong area? We don’t fuck up like that, it just doesn’t happen in Blackwatch,” Hanzo snapped. The monk raised his hands placidly, making a face and muttering under his breath.

“Okay, okay. Still does not explain what is happening, though. I am going to get a different angle.”

“Be my guest, tiny.” Hanzo waved his hand in dismissal, adjusting the visor as Zenyatta hopped to the next rooftop gracefully.

“Your lack of intellect shows itself once again when it comes to the annoying nicknames, but at least it is not the mission it has failed for you this time!” Zenyatta shot back cheerily as he landed, crouching just a bit.

“Just a friendly reminder that I can shoot a perfect bullseye over two hundred meters away, and you’re only fifty.”

“Are you sure you can see me past your inflated ego?”

“You want to find out?”

“Bite me.”

Hanzo flipped Zenyatta off across the roof, the monk sticking out his tongue in return. A single spot of red suddenly appeared out of the corner of his eye, the archer narrowing them as he looked over. There should have been twelve people, not one. And this was not even their target’s biosignature.

“What are you doing...?” Hanzo murmured to himself as he watched the form crouch, then settle into an unmoving position on the ground. A position he had taken many times before. A sniper’s position. Zenyatta had just moved, giving away his location.

“Zenyatta, get down!” Hanzo shouted over the comms, eyes widening as he watched Zenyatta look over at him.

“What hap—”

He was cut off by a strange choking sound, Hanzo already running towards him. A spray of red followed the unnatural jerk of Zenyatta’s body, and he stumbled. Too close to the edge of the building. Hanzo jumped to the next roof, rolling as he landed hard, keeping low. Zenyatta fell over the side of the roof, the archer flinging himself forward and grabbing his wrist before he could go too far. 

The monk shrieked as his body stopped abruptly and slammed against the wall, Hanzo gritting his teeth as his grip slipped a bit. The rain was making his arm slick. Rain and blood. There was so much blood. 

Hanzo grunted and pulled Zenyatta back up, dragging him until they reached cover behind the roof access door. Silent agony was written across Zenyatta’s face as he curled up, one hand shaking as it hovered over his shoulder.

“Shit...Shit shit—” Hanzo grit out, fumbling for his med kit.

“Here, let me see. Zenyatta, move your hand.”

He did not listen—or could not—eyes squeezed shut, breath shallow and quick. Hanzo pushed his hand aside and ripped the monk’s shirt open, breath leaving him as he saw the wound. A clean hole right above his heart, his shoulder blade and collarbone clearly shattered, blood leaking everywhere. It was the arm he had grabbed, too, dislocated from the fall.

“Okay...Okay, hey. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, this is really going to hurt. I have to get this back in place, and it’s going to hurt like hell,” Hanzo told him as he braced his forearm against Zenyatta’s back.

“No no no please, Hanzo no—” Zen gasped. The archer pulled off his hood and rolled a piece of it up, putting it in Zenyatta’s mouth.

“Bite that.”T

he monk whimpered, gripping thecloth tightly and digging his teeth into it, body quivering.

“Alright, on three, okay? One...Twothree—”

There was a snap as Hanzo pushed in and up, Zenyatta’s scream raw even as muffled as it was.

“I’m sorry, I know, I’m sorry...” Hanzo murmured as he set down a biotic field, gathering some bandages. He took the hood back, Zenyatta making a soft half cry, half sob.

“See? That was nothing, you’re fine, you’re fine,” Hanzo mumbled softly as he shifted Zenyatta once more, wrapping what he could of his arm gingerly. An injection of biotic fluid was the only other thing he could do for such a wound, which would not be nearly enough. 

The archer made a rather crude makeshift sling from the remainder of his hood, Zenyatta gritting his teeth and wincing every time his arm was jostled. He was already a shade too pale, eyes unfocusing and pupils dilating. Not a good sign.

“Can you stand? We need to get to the evac point. It’s a trap anyways, we need to leave.”

“Yes...” Zenyatta whispered, voice weak and shaky as his hands. Hanzo pursed his lips as the monk stood slowly, panting and leaning against the roof access door.

They would not make it ten feet before they were spotted again, and Zenyatta would not be able to move the way he needed to in order to make a clean escape. Hanzo shook his head, stepping closer and scooping Zen up, keeping his grip gentle and as far from his shoulder as possible.

“I can walk—”

“No, you could barely stand. I won’t have you getting shot again, once is more than enough,” He interrupted, looking for their best route off the building.

“Just...Focus on staying conscious for me, okay?”

“Okay...”

“No matter how tired you get, you keep your eyes open.”

“Mkay,” Zenyatta sighed, lids already drooping. Hanzo let out a breath slowly, then took off, leaping to the building across from them and sprinting for the fire escape stairs. He went down them gracelessly, jumping over the railings when he was low enough to not break anything from the fall. Zenyatta grunted when he landed, a quiet curse leaving him.

“How are you holding up?” Hanzo asked, just hoping to keep the monk awake for a little longer. He was nodding off a bit, blood already soaking through the bandages and dripping onto Hanzo’s arms.

“Hurts,” Zenyatta whispered against his shoulder. Fingers gripping his sleeve tightly, brows creased. Pain etched into his features clearly.

“Don’t you die on me, Zen. You stay awake, just stay awake.”

“Is that concern I sense...?” The monk inquired, a small, weak smile drifting across his lips before his face twisted again as he was jostled.

“Better not let it get to your head.”

Zenyatta hummed in reply, Hanzo pursing his lips. He was worried. Normally in these situations, he could keep his head clear and focus on the mission easily. People did not get in the way of completing it. This was different. All he could do now was look down at Zenyatta every few seconds to make sure he was still breathing, his only drive the need to get him to help. Zenyatta needed help. Hanzo had always been weak to that.

“Niko, we need emergency evac, Zenyatta has been injured,” Hanzo commed when they had made it to the rendezvous coordinates, brows furrowing when all he got was static back.

“Niko, do you copy?”

Zenyatta blinked and frowned, turning to look over Hanzo’s shoulder.

“The shadows are moving,” He whispered, Hanzo raising his brows.

“I’m sorry, the what.”

“Hanzo, they are behind you—!”

He stumbled forward as something hit him, a strange pinpoint of force, Zenyatta’s arm whipping out. Gunfire rang out behind him, Hanzo glancing back with wide eyes at the wispy golden shield protecting him. Things were hitting him, but it felt like he was simply being jabbed at rather than shot. Which he should have been. He should have been full of bullets by now.

“Do not just stand there...Run!” Zenyatta grit out, the veins in his face unnaturally prominent as he strained against the shield shining out from his palm.

“You—Right, yes,” Hanzo nodded, deciding to ask about it when they were not about die. He had seen Zenyatta’s discord shields, but they were not anything like this. The golden one was larger, seemed to be stronger, whereas the discord ones were used more as a shield to gather energy before it was flung out as a weapon. 

Hanzo did not dwell on it for long, running for an alleyway on the outskirts of the city and ducking behind a corner. He waited, hearing the comms crackle from their pursuers as they spoke to one another, footsteps getting closer. The archer shifted Zenyatta gingerly, setting him on the ground. His eyes were closed, blood dripping from his nose, mixing with the rain in red trails.

“Fuck...Zen? Hey, wake up!”

Hanzo shook the monk’s good arm gently, cursing when he did not respond. Breath shallow, still bleeding out. They did not have much time left. Hanzo pulled another biotic fluid injection out of one of the pouches on Zenyatta’s chest, giving it to the monk and searching for anything else that was stronger. He jammed a finger against his comm, putting as much pressure as he dared on Zen’s injury.

“Niko, where are you?! We need emergency evac, Zenyatta is bleeding out! Do you copy?”

More static, Hanzo cursing again, resisting the urge to throw something. Zenyatta’s breath picked up slightly, lids fluttering, a soft moan of pain leaving him.

“I know, I know. Just hang on, okay? I’m working on it. Hang on for me, Zen, you’ll be okay,” Hanzo murmured. He had never really tried to comfort anyone like this—and it showed—but he could not help it. The words were just tumbling from his lips mindlessly, something unknown in him starting to panic. Zenyatta was dying. He was dying right in front of him, and all Hanzo could do was mutter useless comforts.

“Niko, where the fuck are you—”

“—Shimada? Agent Shimada, do you copy? This is BW Pilot Alexi,” A new voice staggered in, words fuzzy and cutting out.

“Yes! I copy, we need evac, now. Agent Tekhartha is severely injured and requires medical attention immediately.”

“Locking your coordinates now.”

Relief washed over Hanzo when he saw the dropship at last, picking Zenyatta up again.

“Hold on, you’ve got some bogies on you. Opening fire,” Alexi called, Hanzo ducking down and running as the dropship provided covering fire for them. He flung himself inside, the hangar doors closing, lights flicking on. 

The ship lurched as the ascended quickly, Hanzo only stumbling a bit as he brought Zenyatta over to the emergency medical table. Alexi swung himself out of the cockpit, running over and pulling down a med bag.

“Hey! Close one, no? Ship is set on autopilot to take us back to base, I will help you here.”

“What happened to Niko? They were supposed to stay in the area!”

“AWOL. Not sure where they went, but the commander is pissed. Thinks they dropped you into a trap. We tried to reach you sooner, but comms were dead,” Alexi explained in a rush, pulling out various compartments of blue fluid and bandages.

“Hold him down.”

Hanzo pressed down on Zenyatta’s legs and grabbed his arm, Alexi loading a golden vial into an injection gun and shooting it into the monk’s neck. He stiffened, then thrashed, Hanzo gripping him tighter.

“This should stabilize him until we make it back to base. I have seen worse, but not much worse. His shoulder is going to be fucked up for a while, best not to move it anymore,” Alexi sighed, wrapping more bandages over the entry wound, but not touching anything else besides that.

“I did the best I could with what we had,” Hanzo muttered darkly, Alexi nodding, unfazed.

“I know. This is just a nasty wound, there is not much we can do for it. You are both lucky to have survived, the intel we saw after I was sent in to get you was not good. They had you surrounded.”

“So Niko betrayed us?”

“Seems so. We’re not sure, though.”

Hanzo’s lip twitched, and he nodded, sitting down with his forearms resting on his knees. A traitor. One that had almost gotten Zenyatta killed. Hanzo was already looking forward to the day they would get their hands on Niko again—the day he could get his hands on Niko again and maybe show them how nice a shattered shoulder blade felt.

“I’ll let you keep an eye on him,” Alexi nodded to Zenyatta before going back to the pilot’s seat, Hanzo giving a curt one back in acknowledgement. He was pensive the rest of the way back to base.

---

Hanzo was there when Zenyatta woke up again—it had taken quite the bit of work on Dr. Ziegler’s part and a few long days of rest—his eyelids fluttering, eventually opening. The monk groaned softly, making a face before closing his eyes again. Hanzo sat forward, Zenyatta blinking and looking over to him in surprise, just noticing him.

“Oh, Hanzo...I did not think you would be here...”

“Disappointed it’s not someone else?” He teased, the monk frowning a bit.

“No. Not at all.”

“It...Was a joke.”

“Oh, well. Okay.”

“We really need to work on your sense of humour,” Hanzo sighed, Zenyatta scrunching up his nose in that cute little habit of his.

“It is not my sense of humour that needs help! You are just too serious, even when making a joke!”

“Sorry, my brain loathes giving me endorphins and serotonin.”

“See, I do not know what any of that means, but I can tell you think it is funny. Is it? Is it really? Explain!”

“Yeah but no. It means I don’t get the happy juices.”

“I do not approve of that explanation.”

Hanzo huffed a laugh; at least Zenyatta was feeling well enough to sass him.

“You know, with all that spunk, I’d say you’re practically mission ready again.”

“My shoulder feels like it is on fire and I want to sleep for a year, but sure, I will gladly get shot again!” Zenyatta chimed happily, Hanzo unable to help the smile that curved his lips.

“You’re weird.”

“But I got you to smile! Ha!”

“Alright, I’m leaving, bye.”

“No, wait! Get me some medicine first! Be a useful friend!”

“Bold of you to assume we’re friends, but I’ll get you the drugs.” “Yesss.”

Hanzo went over to Zenyatta’s IV, pressing a button to up the dosage of pain meds just a bit.

“Ta-dah. Enjoy your high.”

“That is all you have to do?”

“Yeah. But make sure you turn it back down before Dr. Ziegler comes in to check on you. I’ve lost my self-dosing privileges, and she smacked me with a folder.”

“Well, I will be good with it. I just need enough to not be in agony, not to knock me out for a week. I am sure I have slept more than enough as it is,” Zenyatta sighed, Hanzo shaking his head.

“No, it’s okay, you need to rest. Take care of yourself and get better soon.”

The monk stared at him a moment, then smiled a bit and nodded, looking down as he fidgeted with the sheets.

“I will. Thank you for helping me, back on the mission. And thank you for visiting. It is nice not waking up alone.”

“Yeah...Sure thing, tiny.”

Zenyatta grinned, waving a bit as Hanzo left the room to let him rest. The archer walked down the med bay hall, hands slipping into his pockets as he smiled to himself.