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“Your hair is full of knots.”
McCree started, his arm making a sudden movement that had water splashing out of the tub. His eyes focused, noticing the stars in the night sky out the window, the moon shining down on him. “Huh?”
“Your hair. It's full of knots.” Hanzo threaded his fingers through the locks, always so careful. His breath was warm, hitting the base of McCree’s neck in a relaxing, constant pattern. “Tell me if it hurts.”
Away from his thoughts, McCree kept his eyes open for a moment, taking in his surroundings. He must have briefly dozed off, given the slight slump of his body. He straightened up a bit, feeling Hanzo’s presence closer to him than he’d thought, as if ready to embrace him, chest to back, would he fall over. He was murmuring under his breath, soft words in his native tongue, something that, McCree was sure of, had relaxed him to the point of having almost fallen asleep right there and then, despite how his thoughts had been racing with the news he’d received upon his arrival. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
From the edge of the tub, their cat, Maloo, looked on curiously.
“‘kay,” McCree replied with a yawn, followed by an ‘aouch’ as Hanzo seemingly met another knot that he must have thought to be merely a patch of dirt; the water that ran down his arm was tainted brown, like the dust which covered the floor he’d slept on the night before, leaving the ruined beds and sofas for the others.
Just an hour earlier, he’d come back to base from a two week mission on Route 66. Their safe house had been compromised, and the team had relied on McCree’s knowledge of the area to spend the last few days there safe. It’d been far from comfortable, but apart from some cuts and bruises, everyone had come home unharmed, the mission ultimately a success.
As soon as they had landed in Gibraltar, greeted by Winston, he’d made his way to his and Hanzo’s room, deciding the detailed report the scientist always asked for could wait until the next day. He’d felt too tired, his mind too busy, and he’d missed Hanzo’s lips against his too badly for words, the absent warmth of his body nearby a constant ache through cold desert nights.
His attempt at slumping onto the bed like an old dog had been cut short by a Hanzo who wasn’t about to let his exhausted, dirty cowboy ruin their sheets. Before he knew it he’d found himself occupying the small stool in the bathroom, waiting for the tub to be filled, Hanzo helping him out of his clothes and meticulously checking for any injuries that McCree might have hidden from Angela.
The reward for Hanzo uncovering a nasty-looking, but treatable cut to his side had been a scolding look, a roll of eyes followed by a grumbled “Foolish man,” and finally, the welcoming kiss of relief that McCree had been so desperately needing. He wondered if he shouldn’t just hide minor injuries more often.
Now, they both soaked in the warm water, Hanzo having insisted on washing his hair while McCree cleaned himself up. He’d done so quickly, eager to be done with it and enjoy the moment, while Hanzo took his time, sometimes cursing under his breath at the mess that he was facing.
“Is it really that bad, darlin’?” asked McCree, glancing briefly over his shoulder at Hanzo’s concentrated face, only to wince at the new tug it provoked.
“It’s terrible,” Hanzo said, the line on his forehead creasing deeper. “Stop moving, I’m almost done.”
McCree nodded and began to hum an old country song, breathing in the smell of soap, taking in the familiar atmosphere of the room. He watched Maloo try to fetch the floating shampoo bottle cap without falling into the tub.
“’s good to be home,” he murmured later, the moment the touch disappeared from his skull only to be replaced with clean water being repeatedly poured over his head. He then leaned back against Hanzo’s body, taking one of his hands and clasping it over his chest.
“I missed you,” Hanzo replied, his mouth against McCree’s ear. “I worried.”
“You always worry, pumpkin.”
Hanzo’s brows furrowed, ignoring the silly nickname as he’d grown to do. McCree was convinced that Hanzo secretly liked it. “Do you wish I wouldn’t?”
“No,” McCree said. He turned his head to leave a kiss to Hanzo’s jawline, letting an easy smile form on his lips. “Wouldn’t be fair knowin’ that I worry just as much, now would it?”
Comfortable silence followed, only to be broken by Maloo bathing herself, and the gentle clip-clop of the water moving against the walls of the tub. They both wished that they could stay like this all night, McCree knew so.
“Winston said he had something to tell you,” Hanzo eventually said. His voice was casual, as though he wasn’t as curious and concerned as McCree felt he was.
“Ha, yeah,” McCree replied. “He told me ‘bout it.”
“And?”
McCree’s eyes focused on Maloo, who stared back.
“Look at her, she’s checkin’ you’re not lettin’ me drown,” McCree cooed, reaching out to boop the cat on the nose. She sneezed, and licked the water away as McCree let out a short laugh. “Good girl.”
“Jesse.”
“Yeah, yeah.” McCree sighed, running his hand across his face. He turned around in the tub, splashing more water out, before kissing Hanzo’s forehead. “I’ll explain. Just let’s get to bed first, alright?”
Hanzo gave a sharp nod of his head, taking out the plug for the water to drain. They rinsed each other’s bodies with clean water, before wrapping themselves in towels, drying McCree’s hair as much as possible, prior to heading for the bedroom, Maloo on their tail. There, McCree flopped unceremoniously on the bed while Maloo went to sit by his prosthetic and hat by the bedside table. He discarded his towel, throwing it at the closest chair where, granted, most of his clothes flew towards when he was in a hurry to slip under the sheets.
Lying on a mattress after a long mission had always felt like bliss, but as Hanzo settled naked against him, McCree thought it could never get better than this. Two years, and there wasn’t a day when waking up by Hanzo’s side that had him feeling any less thankful.
“Whatever Winston said. . .” Hanzo started, the vibration of his throat felt against McCree’s forehead. “It’s troubling you.”
“Givin’ me stuff to think ‘bout, yeah,” McCree admitted, shaking his head under Hanzo’s chin. Part of him wished Winston had waited until the next morning, when he and Hanzo had reunited, before informing him. The other understood why he hadn’t waited. “Didn’t even ask you how you’ve been. ’m sorry, darlin’.”
“I meditated with Genji and Zenyatta, and Hana insisted I played some of her videogames with her. I still have a fanbase since last time, it would seem.”
“‘m not really surprised ‘bout that,” McCree mumbled with a laugh. “I’d better stay your biggest fan, though.”
“Obviously.”
“I thought y’were gonna say that I was bein’ cheesy.”
“Cheesy is your second name, we both know that.”
“You’d wound me, darlin’,” McCree said, using Hanzo’s own hand to put over his heart in mock offense, “if I didn’t know that you love me for it.”
As answer, Hanzo only wrapped his arms tighter around McCree’s body, bringing him even closer, a low chuckle rumbling through his throat. He didn’t speak no more, but McCree knew him enough by now to understand the silence; the conversation started in the bath wasn’t forgotten, but he didn’t have to talk about it if he didn’t want to.
McCree focused on the warmth emanating from Hanzo, closing his eyes. The news Winston had brought had been unexpected, but not bad. It’d brought back old choices that McCree hadn’t brought up at the forefront of his mind in a very long time, though he had never forgotten. He’d meant to talk to Hanzo about it—he just hadn’t been sure how to bring it up.
Hanzo liked straight to the point, McCree thought, so straight to the point would do.
“Winston said he’d seen my mamá. On one of the security cameras of Dorado we’re watchin’ in case somethin’ happens there.” McCree felt Hanzo’s breath hitch. He was still processing the information himself. “I know what you’re thinkin’.”
“Isn’t she—”
“Supposed to be in America? Yeah, I thought so, too.” McCree sighed, kissing Hanzo’s collarbone, in a way seeking comfort. “Hearin’ ‘bout her—I guess it made me remember how much I miss her, y’know?”
“You never explained to me what happened,” Hanzo pointed out, gently. He threaded his fingers through McCree’s still damp hair, and McCree let out a slow breath. He probably knew more about Hanzo’s family than Hanzo knew about his. He’d never felt like there was much worth saying, and in consequence Hanzo was only aware of the big lines.
“Heh. That’s a long story, but I can make it short for ya.” He parted from the archer, laying his head higher on the pillow so that they would be face to face, legs still entangled. “I wasn’t a good kid, but I loved my mamá. Would have done anythin’ for her, except, I guess, stayin’ out of trouble. I messed up on that point, imma not lie to you. When I got caught with Deadlock, and Reyes offered me the deal to join Blackwatch, I had one condition: I asked that she be given a new identity, and the means to move states safely. Just states, because she would never have left the country.” McCree shook his head. “Deadlock would have known one way or another that I’d betrayed them an’ joined Overwatch, and well, they knew all there was to know about her.” He paused, seeing the understanding in Hanzo’s eyes, but continued nonetheless. “For safety, I asked that even I shouldn’t know who she’d become an’ where she’d go, unless it was away from America. Away from the gang. Broke her heart that day, I’m sure. I never saw her again.”
Silent, Hanzo seemed to be deep in his own thoughts for a long moment, hands motionless, pressed against his own chest. Perhaps he was thinking of his own parents, how different his relationship to them had been. McCree couldn’t help but think that his mamá would welcome him as a second son, no doubt, as he traced the lines of Hanzo’s tattoo from the tip of his fingers.
“What will you do about it?” Hanzo asked at length, his eyes finding their focus again, locking on McCree’s.
McCree shrugged, ignored the sudden tightness in his throat. “Nah, nothing. ‘m just glad she’s safe.”
“It’s been a long time, Jesse,” Hanzo said, carefully. “There must be a way that you could meet her.”
“Even if I could, I don’t want to.”
Hanzo frowned. He reached out, his thumb grazing the side of McCree’s face. “Why?”
“It’s been over twenty years, Han.” McCree shook his head, kissed Hanzo’s palm. “So much has changed—what hasn’t is how dangerous this life is.” His lips formed a sad smile. “You worry enough about me for the both of you.”
“She’d want to know that you’re safe,” Hanzo insisted, then tilted his head slightly to the side. McCree could never tell whether he loved or hated that Hanzo always seemed to be able to read right through him. “You’re scared of something else.”
Not a question; an observation.
McCree shook his head a second time. He nodded to his stump. “She’d take one look at me an’ freak out. Probably would take me home and tie me up to a chair to make sure that I ain’t gonna get hurt again.” He let out a cheeky grin. “Maybe she'll be nice enough to tie you up with me for company.”
Impassible, Hanzo didn’t laugh at the joke. “That’s it, isn’t it?” he said instead, that look on his face that made McCree want to look the other way. Instead, he held his eyes, but gave no answer. Hanzo was right; he was scared of something. He’d just needed a while to figure out what, to realize he’d been wondering about it for years, probably. Hadn’t been able to pinpoint it until now. Only feel it. That’s what he’d been thinking about when he’d drifted off in their bath; how his mamá would react if she ever saw him again. Hell, how he would react.
McCree settled back against Hanzo, his head tucked under the archer’s chin. He breathed in, smelling soap, Hanzo’s familiar scent. Tried to focus on it, but Maloo chose that moment to walk over him, stepping on his side’s wound to pass between them. He winced, his whole body tensing under the abrupt hurt. Hanzo’s hand was quick to rest on his back, offering silent comfort as Maloo settled above their heads.
“If she can forgive me, I guess she’d cry,” McCree eventually said, “an’ because she’d cry, I’d cry too. Perhaps you’d find it heartwarmin’ and all, and cry with us.”
Hanzo hummed. “I’d be there?”
“Wouldn’t want you anywhere else,” McCree mumbled, hand going up to caress Hanzo’s hair, gently going down his back to his bottom, only to go back up and rest on his hip. “Wanna keep you close.”
Wouldn’t want to be alone.
“If I went lookin' for her, admittin' I even had the time for a lil’ trip like that, y’know—” McCree paused, unsure that he was even taking a decision. And, if he took it. . . perhaps it was a bad idea. Perhaps he would mess it up, and he would never forgive himself for it. From the look in his eyes, Hanzo might just as well have read his thoughts. “Would you come?”
“Jesse.” Hanzo cupped his face, making their eyes connect. Commanding attention, in the gentlest of ways. To this day, McCree still wondered what he'd done to deserve such a perfect partner. “Every step I took, you took it with me. If I didn’t know you any better, I’d wonder why you are even asking.”
McCree sighed, catching Hanzo’s hand and bringing his fingers to his lips. He left a kiss there, before leaning into the touch. “‘lright,” he murmured, then smiled. “Always there to catch my foolish self, huh?”
Hanzo returned the smile, tucked a lock of McCree’s hair away from his eyes. Above their heads, Maloo purred. “You haven't fallen yet.”