Chapter Text
The Watchpoint Genji led him into was almost exactly what the elder Shimada expected a defunct military base to be. The concrete courtyard was splitting as weeds pushed their way through. Rubble and garbage gathered in the corners of the chain link fence, which itself was buckling and sloping against the posts that held it. The gate had been forced open and hung uselessly, being so bent it would not close again. Hanzo stepped over the chain and lock that had once closed it, laying broken in the dirt. There was graffiti, but much less than the archer had suspected there to be, but then the Watchpoint was quite a trek out from the nearest town.
“Don’t let looks deceive you brother,” Genji said to him as he led him into the base proper.
Hanzo wondered what he was really hoping to achieve by coming here with the brother he had thought dead for so long. To change the world? Hardly. Overwatch was dead and clinging to it seemed foolish to him, but it was something Genji wanted him to consider… and he had missed his brother. If indulging in his foolish dream of his older brother fighting at his side meant they would be together, make amends, then Hanzo would support him. It was the least he could do after what he had done.
The deeper into the base they moved the more noticeably cleaner it became. Though they had yet to meet anyone Hanzo was aware of movement in the corridors and storerooms they passed. They were being watched, he was sure of it. He could feel eyes on the back of his neck. If Genji was leading him into a trap he was in too deep to run, he would have to fight his way out. His brother was relaxed though and even the 10 years of separation could not erase certain tells in his brother. Genji would have been babbling if he had wanted to distract Hanzo.
“They don’t know what to expect from you.” The cyborg tells him when he looks back to see Hanzo’s head darting at a noise off to the side. “The main team is probably waiting up ahead, these are just the recruits that are helping restore the base.”
“Civilians,” Hanzo mutters.
“We are all civilians.” Genji reminds him. “Overwatch was disbanded. I believe the current cover story is that this is a research facility now, investigating climate change.”
“Hm,” and a frown was Hanzo’s only response.
“At least try to get along with everyone. They are good people.”
Hanzo bites his tongue on his reply to his brother, that he himself was not a good person. Genji does not need his self-doubt and drama in his life. He was dealing with enough of Hanzo’s issues as it was.
Genji led him up to what could only be a command station, perched on a slight hill. Hanzo couldn’t help the feeling of being watched intensify as he looked up at the large windows of the second floor. He was sure he saw a silhouette there, a tall man looking down at him, but his imagination could have been tricking him.
Hanzo sighed as they stepped into the cooler interior of the building. The sun was hot and sweat was building on his temples. Genji seemed to have no such problems, simply removing his visor and helmet and dropping them on a nearby table.
“Winston?” Genji called, motioning to Hanzo to stay put while he mounted the stairs. Hanzo looked around, it was clear someone was living in what he had taken as the command center.
Bits of combat equipment were strewn about. He was just frowning up at what appeared to be a tire swing when someone came up behind him.
Instinct kicking in, he pulled his bow from his shoulder, notched an arrow and aimed. The man coming down the stairs had a piece of toast between his teeth and a manila folder in his hands. He was dressed as a farm hand, if Hanzo had to describe him as anything, a cowboy hat low over his eyes, unkempt beard, and drab colored clothes.
“Good reflexes.” He commented, without flinching. He held out the file to Hanzo who unnotched his arrow and put his bow back over his shoulder. Trying not to show his confusion he took the folder, opening it.
“You need to fill in your info,” the man told him between bites of his toast. He held out a pen which Hanzo took. He looked around and decided to use the table Genji had dropped his visor on. As soon as he turned his back and bent forward to write, the man whistled in admiration.
“Anyone ever tell you, you have a mighty fine ass?”
Hanzo could feel his face going red, but he ignored the man as best as he could, hoping he would go away. That was apparently not going to be the case. The table shifted as the man leaned against it. Hanzo’s eyes flicked over to him without his consent and he picked up more details. His skin was darkened by habitual sun exposure and his left arm was a prosthetic with a tacky skull motive set in the metal.
“Not the talkative type?” the man continued to question him. Hanzo could feel his eyes roaming over him. He tried and failed to control his blush by settling on anger. Who did this fool think he was?
“You’re pretty when you get mad,” the man noted, his southern drawl grating on Hanzo’s nerves and yet, there was something enticing about it, about the man in general really. He stomped that thought down. Hard.
“What is your problem?” Hanzo demanded, turning to glare at the man.
“You have a pretty voice too.” He was leaning with his arms folded against the table.
“Who are you?”
“Name’s Jesse McCree, sweet thing.”
“What do you want?”
“You.” Hanzo couldn’t help the anger welling up in him. He had never been so insulted before. Was this really the ‘good people’ Genji had told him about not 5 minutes ago? This lewd savage?
“McCree stop teasing my brother. He will actually kill you,” Genji said from the top of the stairs. McCree threw up his hands, palms up to show his surrender and backed away from the archer, much to his relief.
“We were just getting acquainted,” he mumbled, his eyes staying on Hanzo. He smiled, giving the elder Shimada a wink.
“You forget I know you, cowboy. I am surprised you don’t have some arrows sticking out of your butt.”
“Kinky,” McCree commented, to which Genji just rolled his eyes.
“Ignore him,” Genji told Hanzo, who continued with his paperwork.
“That’s what I was doing, it didn’t seem to stop him.” Finishing the form he took the few steps over to McCree and handed him the folder. The cowboy rubbed his fingers over Hanzo’s as he took it, sending a rush of emotions racing up the archer’s arm, not all negative. He leaned in close to Hanzo’s ear as he pushed to walk past him.
“I wasn’t teasing when I called you pretty,” he murmured, leaving Hanzo behind with a fresh blush on his face. When he realized he was still staring at the open door the cowboy had left through while his brother was looking at him curiously be stammered.
“Your friend is…” he faltered, somewhere between angry and turned on. He could not tell the last part to his brother, he could barely admit it to himself.
“Lewd,” he settles on, feeling that the word was not adequate.
“He’s a slut. Better to keep away from him until his interest in you wanes.”
Hanzo could see the wisdom in his brother’s words, it would be better to avoid any advances, not just McCree’s, until he had found a place in Overwatch, if indeed this was the place for him. Still, he could feel the cowboy’s eyes burning on his skin and shamefully he wanted more. It had been so long since anyone had found him attractive that he was flattered, despite having been angered at the advances.
He stomped down his treacherous line of thought as he followed his brother up the stairs. He blinked at the sight that awaited him. A real live gorilla was perched in front of a console typing away, the file he had filled in for McCree open next to him.
That would explain the tire swing his mind supplied.
“Mr. Shimada. We are happy to welcome you to Overwatch. I am Winston,” the gorilla said as he left his typing and came over to shake hands with Hanzo.
“Please, call me Hanzo,” the archer said, bowing to the creature after shaking his leathery hand.
“Hanzo, yes. You have all your equipment?” Hanzo nodded, indicating his bow, arrows, and backpack. He traveled light.
“Good, Genji can get you settled.” Winton made his way back to his desk, picked up a communicator and brought it over to the brothers.
“If you have questions or want to contact your teammates you can use this. Athena? Say hi, Athena.”
“Good day, Hanzo Shimada,” an artificial voice greeted from seemingly nowhere.
“Athena is our AI. She can help you get around and will alert you if you are on an active mission,” the gorilla explained.
“Good, I would like to be placed on one as soon as possible,” Hanzo said. He had always felt the most useful when fighting. Sitting around being friendly was not his strong suit and he might make friends faster with his teammates if he could be useful.
“We will keep that in mind. Genji, will you show Hanzo to the bunk room?”
“Of course.”
To say he was disappointed at the communal sleeping arrangement was an understatement. He was used to having his own space, no matter how dingy, and the thought of having to listen to the other male members of the team snoring around him was disconcerting.
Not to mention that McCree slept here too.
He chose an open bunk in the corner, throwing his backpack into the storage crate in front of the bed. He stripped off his jacket and stored it as well, remaining in only a black t-shirt and his jeans.
He went to take his bow up again, but Genji shook his head.
“You can leave it behind for now, brother.”
It took a real effort of will to do so and he felt naked and unnerved as he followed Genji, who told him that they were heading to the cafeteria. Hanzo tried to memorize the way, but all the corridors looked the same and his feeling of uneasy made it difficult to concentrate.
The cafeteria turned out to be a nightmare in and of itself. Where McCree had been friendly, granted in a lecherous manner, the rest of the team met him with suspicion or downright distrust. One, a pretty blonde Genji introduced as Dr. Angela Ziegler, went as far as to slap him hard across the face, drawing looks from everyone around before stomping off.
Hanzo could see Genji wanted to chase after her and he told him to go, he deserved the hit for what he had done. With a thank you Genji sprinted after her.
Pressing his knuckles to his lip, they came away sticky with blood.
“I’ve never seen Mercy so angry before,” a familiar voice said behind him. Sighing Hanzo turned around, faced again with the cowboy.
“I did deserve her anger,” he pointed out.
“Genji has forgiven you, she could at least be civil,” McCree said, raising his voice so that the peanut gallery could hear. Some of the people in the cafeteria had the decency to look embarrassed.
Dropping his voice, he added, “Come, let's get that cleaned up.”
Hanzo hesitated. Genji had warned him and he was inclined to listen to his brother, since he had been a playboy in his youth and would know. The cowboy noticed his hesitation and winked at him.
“I’ll keep my hands to myself, cross my heart… unless you tell me otherwise.” McCree even went as far as to draw the cross and Hanzo deemed him safe for the moment. Besides, he told himself, even though the man was bigger than him, he could still defend himself. He had fought off men bigger than the cowboy before.
Leading him into a bathroom, McCree wet a cloth and dabbed it gently at the cut, his hand coming up to cup Hanzo’s cheek to make it easier, much to Hanzo’s protest that he could do it himself.
The act felt too intimate. The cowboy so close that the shadow of his hat fell across Hanzo’s face. He wanted to pull away, wanted to push forward. McCree’s eyes were soft brown and gleaming, cast down to Hanzo’s lip, but flickered up to meet Hanzo’s.
“There, all clean,” he murmured, his hand still on Hanzo’s cheek.
“I…” Hanzo stammered, his eyes darting to McCree’s fingers. The gunslinger pulled his hand away as if he had been bitten, holding it palm open to Hanzo.
“Sorry, know I promised.”
“It’s fine.”
McCree smiled at him.
“Warming up to me? You looked like you were going to murder me before.”
“That is still a very real possibility,” Hanzo warned him, walking out of the bathroom, the cowboy filing in behind him.
“I figured, but I also figure you need to make a good impression, since everyone pretty much hates you and killing me won’t earn you brownie points.” Hanzo huffed at this, picking a direction to walk in, McCree stayed with him.
“Genji’s forgiveness is all that matters to me,” he told the cowboy angrily.
“Now, yes, but on the battlefield with no support you will sing a different tune.”
“I am a sniper, I don’t need support. I am the support.”
“And if you get shot? If you need healing? Mercy won’t offer to help.” Hanzo stopped, rubbing his fingers over the piercing in the bridge of his nose. The foolish cowboy was making sense which was annoying him even more. He was also lost.
“Left to get back to the sleeping quarters, if that’s where you were heading,” McCree said helpfully. Somehow this made Hanzo snap.
“What everyone seems to forget is that I know I fucked up with my brother. I deserve their judgment, their hate and, frankly, his too. I don’t know why he wants me here, why he forgives me, but if he wants me here then I am going to stay, despite their best efforts or yours. I am not here to play games and I am not your plaything. If you think you are getting me to sleep with you, you have another thing coming.”
Hanzo deliberately marched off to the right, leaving McCree behind.
“Well, that could have gone better,” the cowboy mused to himself.