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The day itself started out alright--Hanzo had his usual breakfast of pastries, candies, and one of the butter-mint milkshakes he’d obsessed over for the past few weeks. They spoke amiably as Jesse took one of the smaller raw steaks out of the fridge and patiently cut it into bite-sized pieces. Hanzo had once nearly had a heart attack when he’d walked in on Jesse chowing down without reserve, licking the blood off his fingertips and crunching on the bone loudly enough to be heard from across their apartment. Since then, Jesse had been doing his best to demonstrate manners. But aside from the frustrated attempts to use a fork and knife (and a cloth napkin like some kind of HGTV special), their morning was as serene as ever.
The sunlight streaming in through their dining room window was bright and golden in the way you couldn’t find outside of island life. Something about the pale sand added a shine to it that reflected in the lush green leaves that coated every available patch of dirt. The reds and yellows of tropical fruits and flowers thrived in it, adding their own purples and blues to the array. Without a cloud in the sky to dim the palette, the whole scene looked fake.
It had taken Jesse awhile to adjust to being surrounded by an actual ocean. It was something he hadn’t really had the chance to see before he’d been turned, and the ocean of sand surrounding the stone forest where he’d been trapped was nothing akin to the real thing. There were so many shades of blue and green that greeted him from the shallows, from the depths of the water just after the sandbank dropped off into the deep, and from the tidepools that drew in little circles of life and mixed the water with the reds and browns of the rocks.
The view of the waterline was perfect from where they sat because Hanzo had arranged for it to be. He was meticulous, Jesse had discovered, when it came to anything concerning living arrangements. His dragonling had balked at the idea of staying in the stone forest. He’d humoured Jesse for a couple weeks, but eventually his ‘hints’ that the fae could go wherever he pleased so long as he was part of the dragon’s hoard became less like ‘hints’ and more like travel brochures left spread out all over the place. Hanzo had sometimes even been so detailed as to circle his favourite suggestions.
One of the pamphlets had been practically littered with sticky notes about this particular island. Of course, when Jesse raised an eyebrow and asked if perhaps the dragon wished to move there, Hanzo had given the fae his most innocent look and acted as if he was delighted with Jesse’s idea.
Jesse smiled fondly at Hanzo, reaching out to swipe a little bit of whipped cream that had stuck to the man’s nose and popping it in his own mouth. Was still too sweet for him, but the soft look he got for his efforts was worth it.
“Sleep well?” Jesse asked.
Hanzo nodded. “You know I did.”
Jesse laughed. “S’fair. Don’t mean I don’t care to ask you anyway, dragonling.”
The dragon swirled the silver spoon in his hand, mixing up his remaining milkshake to an acceptable consistency. He gave the (mostly ice cream) mixture a thoughtful look before taking another bite. He stood up, holding the spoon in his mouth as he raided the fridge for something. He emerged again with a jar of maraschino cherries, looking pleased. He popped the lid off with a snap and carefully extracted one. Then two. Then three. Then he just dropped the bunch back into the jar and brought the whole damn thing with him back to the table.
He took the spoon back out of his mouth and licked his lips as he stirred the cherries into the the mixture, looking thoroughly satisfied with the decision.
“Perhaps we should consider a new home,” he said distractedly. “If we are reduced to the topic of my sleeping habits, it is probably time to consider a change of scenery.”
The casual way he said it gave Jesse flashbacks to piles of pamphlets stacked surreptitiously on his pillow. The fae raised an eyebrow.
“That so?”
“Mm,” Hanzo confirmed. “It would not suit us to dwell where there is no longer inspiration.”
Jesse smirked at that. “Dunno ‘bout that. I thought last night was pretty inspired.”
Hanzo rolled his eyes. “You are an entirely different kind of inspiration, my fae.”
Jesse grinned and winked, popping another bite of steak into his mouth. “S’what I’m here for, ain’t it?”
Hanzo tipped the last of his milkshake (now dotted red with bites of cherry) into his mouth and hummed happily. He ran his thumb over the corner of his lips, and licked off the whipped cream that had managed to escape the endeavor with his eyes still steadily holding Jesse’s. “You do certainly have your uses.”
“You’re such a sweet talker,” Jesse teased. Warmth spread through his chest like it sometimes did when he looked at Hanzo--out of the blue and uncontrollable. Like the man in front of him could scald him by tilting his head just the right way and would never even know he’d done it. Hoard or otherwise, it had Jesse tethered to the dragon by his heartstrings. And hell if that wasn’t a whole new level of danger Jesse had never prepared for. “Anyway, you already know I’ll go wherever you take me, dragonling.”
Hanzo gave him a curious look. Amusement radiated from him and stained the taste of steak bitter. “Obviously. You are attached to me.”
Jesse huffed. “You know what I mean.”
He reached over to tuck a strand of long, dark hair behind Hanzo’s ear but caught the dragon by surprise. Hanzo jerked back, eyes wide, and blinked a couple times before relaxing. He raised an eyebrow at Jesse, looking back and forth between the fae’s hand and face.
“What are you up to, Jesse McCree?” Hanzo’s voice was playful.
But there was a pang of hurt that interrupted the warmth in Jesse’s chest. Like rejection. He couldn’t quite place where it came from, but it stung needle sharp through the happiness that had rested undisturbed before. Hanzo’s confusion mixed into the air like the maraschino cherries had mixed with the ice cream--leaving trails of red in its wake and colouring the image of the man Jesse saw before him. He retracted his hand.
“Was just tryin’ to be… I dunno.” Jesse shrugged one shoulder and grinned sheepishly. “Sweet, I guess.”
Hanzo’s head tilted to the side, curiosity now blatantly written across his features.
“Is that so?” Hanzo’s hand rested on the table between them and he tapped his fingers on the wood like he was carefully considering the options before him. Jesse wanted to reach out and slide his own fingers underneath, maybe press his thumb into Hanzo’s always-warm skin. But the look on the dragon’s face--like he didn’t quite understand what Jesse meant--stopped him short. The drumming stopped when Hanzo seemed to reach his conclusion and the fae felt his delight before he heard it in the man’s voice. “I think I understand exactly what you mean.”
Warmth spread cautiously again through Jesse’s chest. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Hanzo slid off of his seat again and moved around the table until he could straddle Jesse’s lap. He pressed them close together and looked down into Jesse’s eyes in a way that normally would’ve made the fae weak at the knees. But even with the fingers carding through his hair, something still felt off when Hanzo kissed Jesse fiercely.
It took Jesse just a couple moments to respond appropriately, and he heard the way Hanzo growled into the kiss, insisting, “I know you can do better than that, my fae. Show me. ”
As hot as that should’ve been, Jesse still had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could put on his best smile and get started on leaving marks down the dragon’s neck. It was later, after several rounds of inspiration, that it occurred to Jesse that he’d never actually held Hanzo’s hand. Had never kissed him just for the sake of it. Had never nosed under his jawline just to feel the fluttering pulse that made him feel safe. And it wasn’t until Hanzo’s lips were wrapped around him for the second time that night that Jesse realized belatedly that he’d never actually taken his dragon on a proper date.
“Fuck,” he swore under his breath.
Hanzo looked pleased and Jesse didn’t have the heart to tell him that his tongue had nothing to do with the exclamation.
This realization went from irksome, to irritating, to full on troubling over the span of a week. It started with guilt, wondering if he’d accidentally pressured Hanzo into something shallow and meaningless when the dragon had essentially procured his freedom. But each time he would try to plant a chaste kiss on Hanzo’s lips or reach out to hold his hand, the dragon would either miss the gesture completely or drag Jesse away to follow through on his promise to find a certain kind of inspiration.
Once, Hanzo had kissed back half-heartedly, his focus still obviously on the magazine in front of him. His eyes trailed down the images, pausing on a picture of Giethoorn, a canal city in the Netherlands that promised peace and quiet. Jesse had tried to pull his attention away by running his hand gently along the side of Hanzo’s neck, but the dragon pulled away with a distracted hum and muttered, “Maybe later, Jesse.”
Not that Jesse had a plan or anything. He knew that dating was important, that romance didn’t just blossom from nothing. But where exactly was he supposed to take a creature that had thousands of years on his paltry three-hundred-and-something? Hanzo had probably seen it all--had probably done it all. Back before Jesse had been turned, he recalled the standard dinner-and-a-movie formula. But Hanzo only ate for fun and only sweets at that. Plus, what kind of movie could possibly hold the interest of a dragon? A documentary on gold mining?
His research didn’t procure any more insight, either. He’d scanned through books and magazines in the island library that claimed to be expert guides on romance. They suggested flowers, candle-lit dinners, and something they referred to as ‘sweet nothings.’ To the credit of the authors, Hanzo had seemed to find the roses and the candles to be just as inspiring as Jesse’s attempts at casual touch.
When Jesse finally contacted Gabe, he was starting to suspect that it was a fae thing. He already knew that fae singing could drug any human within hearing range with like they’d been hit with the aphrodisiac equivalent of a tranquilizer. But maybe the fae just had that effect constantly. Not to the same extent, obviously, but. It wasn’t like he’d had much of a chance to ask the fae that turned him. He had been a bit preoccupied with murdering them.
But it was sort of comforting to think that maybe Hanzo couldn’t help it. Maybe the romantic side of things was simply difficult to access because of the nature of what Jesse was.
“No, that’s horseshit,” Gabe said flatly. He looked unimpressed. “C’mon pendejo . You really telling me that you think you became literally irresistible when you turned?”
“Well when you put it like that, it sounds stupid,” Jesse groused, pointedly ignoring Jack’s snort from across the room. “Just figured you might know more ‘bout it. What with you gettin’ all involved in the community and all.”
“Involved in the community,” Jack repeated, chuckling. “Hear that, Gabe? You’ve been seated as King for over one hundred years--you’re involved in the community.”
“Oh fuck off,” Jesse snapped. He glowered at Gabe. “Remind me why you decided to kidnap the world’s shittiest human?”
Gabe tsk’d and reached out to muss up Jesse’s hair. “Three hundred years and you still can’t let go of your damn grudges. I don’t know whether to be disappointed or proud.”
“Proud,” Jesse said at the same time Jack said, “Disappointed.”
“Nearly three-hundred and one now, anyway,” Jesse grumbled.
At that, Gabe raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me that you’ve been with this dragon of yours for nearly a year? And you still haven’t gone on a date? Or held hands?”
The sting was back in Jesse’s chest, and the protective glint in Gabe’s eye wasn’t helping. He ran his hand over the back of his neck and looked away.
“Maybe a gift,” Jack suggested. He tugged at the necklace Gabe had given him so many years ago and looked at the blown glass pendant so softly it made Jesse forget how irritating he found the man. “Something heartfelt. When Gabe gave me this, he told me that he’d spun dust into the glass that he’d taken from my old farm in Indiana. That’s when I knew.”
“That was when you knew?” Gabe’s voice was gentle, and Jesse didn’t have to look to know that they were both making moon eyes at each other.
“Alright,” Jesse interrupted loudly over Jack’s heartfelt ‘yeah,’ and cleared his throat to make a point. “Gifts. Got it.”
“What’s this?” Hanzo’s eyes were wide when they landed on the pile of gold coins amassed on their kitchen table.
Jesse gestured to the stash proudly. “Gold. S’for you, dragonling.”
“Jesse, where did you get this?” Hanzo reached out to touch one of the coins, cautious like he almost expected it to be an illusion. His eyes narrowed. “Did you steal this?”
“Yes.”
“Jesse.”
“What?” Jesse grinned. “Ain’t no one gunna immediately assume dragon from some stolen gold. Lot’sa people like gold.”
Hanzo rolled his eyes. “Still, it is in poor taste. I shall figure out what to do with this later.”
He left Jesse standing alone in the kitchen with the pile of glittering gold and it took the fae a solid couple minutes to realize he’d been reprimanded.
______
Of course the gold hadn’t worked, Jesse realized later. Hanzo had tons of gold. A literal mountain cavern full of it. He had enough gold to buy out a continent and still have enough remaining for them to retire. Hanzo’s hoard made Smaug look like a fucking novice.
And Jack hadn’t been making eyes at food, or water, or whatever else it was that humans needed. He’d been all mushy about something meaningful. Something specific to him. And the pendant showed that Gabe was paying attention to that--not just that he was capable of providing for Jack’s needs.
Jesse squinted at Hanzo’s back, watching him move about as he made his fourth ice cream sundae of the day.
“What’s meaningful to you, dragonling?” Jesse asked, trying to sound casual.
Hanzo shot him a confused look over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“Y’know. What makes you all sentimental?”
The dragon turned around completely then, affixing Jesse with a suspicious look that made the fae’s whole essence chill uncomfortably. “Why?”
“Just curious,” Jesse mumbled, suddenly self conscious.
“Oh.” Hanzo’s expression softened and he scrunched up his nose, thinking. “I… do not know. Sour candies, maybe? They remind me of Genji.”
Jesse nodded in response and let the subject drop.
He managed to find a really old moulding tray that confectioners used to shape their gummies and hard candies like sea shells. He wrapped the gift in shiny golden paper and tied glittery gold ribbon around it in a neat bow before placing it on the center of the kitchen table. Next to it was a little handwritten note in Jesse’s scrawl that said, “For my dragonling.”
Jesse watched from where he hid as Hanzo picked up the box and read the note. The dragon shook the box a little, holding it up to his ear to see if he could hear whatever rattled around inside. Frowning, he slid the note in his pocket and tucked the box under his arm before he left the house again.
When he returned later that night, he didn’t have the gift. Nor did he mention it as they shared the dining room again for supper.
Back before he’d met Hanzo, before the Stone Forest Massacre where he and Gabe became fae, before he’d joined Blackwatch even; Jesse had always loved dragons. His Mama used to read him stories from the heights of the magic wars. Stuff that had happened thousands of years before their time when the wars were still wars, and less of an extermination mission.
Knights in shining armour would challenge these dragons to impossible battles. The dragon would test their wit, their skill, their bravery, and then finally, their hearts. And no matter how strong or smart the knight was, the dragon would outmaneuver them at every turn. It took someone special to get past it all--to even manage to get the chance to plunge their sword into the heart of the beast. To a kid from Middle of Nowhere, New Mexico, the idea that maybe he’d had that special something was enough to make up for the desolation sometimes.
When the stories of knights didn’t suffice, Jesse had moved on to hunters’ manuals. He’d read everything he could get his hands on. Different tomes described the anatomy of dragons differently and to wildly varying degrees of accuracy. One insisted that their human forms were a synonymous representation of their form as beasts--that their heart as a human was just as real and just as vital as the one in their chest when they were a giant lizard. Others insisted that the heart was a metaphor for where the dragon’s energy was densest. It claimed that you could not really injure a dragon so much as scatter its energy to such a great extent that it could not reform itself.
Regardless, the theme was consistent. You had to reach the heart of the dragon to kill it, and this was something that no hunter had any hope of accessing through brute force alone. Humans, the manuals said, should never hope to compare their strength to that of a dragon. Somehow, the would-be hunters had to trick the dragon into unwittingly giving them the chance.
Even when he was younger and ready to hunt, he had found that tragic. And when his Mama passed in her sleep, Jesse thought he might understand why dragons would be so reluctant to let anything have access to their hearts.
He was devastated when Blackwatch told him he was too late--that the last of the dragons had been slaughtered in Hanamura one thousand years before Jesse was born. The sadness of it stuck with him even after he turned. An entire species dead and gone because enough humans had managed to find their hearts. He spun stories of the beasts to himself on the lonelier nights. He breathed dragons out of smoke and made them dance across the desert sky, free and wild and safe. Safe from the humans that would try to make them vulnerable. Safe from the hearts that tied them down like Jesse’s tied him to the stone forest.
He knew better now.
Still there was something oddly poetic about the whole situation. He watched Hanzo from where he sat on the windowsill, cigar held heavy between his fingers. The dragon was sprawled across their bed, surrounded by books, magazines, and pamphlets of far off places. His eyes drank in every detail, soaked up every word of information like he was trying to hoard that too. Jesse thought that the way his silky black hair spilled over his pale shoulder and framed his face would have made him look like a rarity even if he hadn’t been the last of his kind. Even without the draconic blood in his veins, Hanzo was something precious.
Hanzo looked up at him sharply and Jesse worried briefly that he’d spoken out loud before a small smile touched at the corners of the dragon’s lips.
“There is something I need to do,” Hanzo said carefully, watching Jesse with an expression the fae couldn’t quite read. When he tried to reach out and touch the surface of Hanzo’s mind, he found it curiously blank. Like the dragon was purposefully blocking him out. “I will return later. Stay here.”
It was said too gently to have been meant like a command, but it made Jesse feel like a plaything nonetheless. He swallowed the lump in his throat and grinned through it anyway. “Sure thing, dragonling.”
Poetic, really, he thought again after Hanzo’s footsteps faded and the sound of their front door clicked shut. He had hunted with Blackwatch, survived the massacre as fae, had lived long enough in the stone forest to see the irony in killing the hunters that started to pursue him. And somehow, a miracle of miracles, he had stumbled face first into the last living dragon.
While he would never dream of attacking Hanzo, it was bitterly fitting that he wanted access to a dragon’s heart more desperately than he ever had before. The ache in his own chest confirmed what he’d feared as a kid, too. He didn’t have that something special. Distantly, he wondered if being struck down by the victorious dragon was any less painful than being trapped with a heart he would never truly touch.
Being summoned was sort of like having someone tug on the baby hairs at the back of your neck. It could be a tender motion, or it could hurt like hell. Thankfully, Hanzo had mastered the art of it and Jesse only ever felt his dragon’s will tugging at him in the softest of ways. However, after a fitful night of little to no sleep, Jesse still jumped at the feeling and followed it maybe a little too eagerly.
He blinked sleepily, trying to take in his surroundings. It took him a moment to recognize the great dunes made of gold coins and trinkets, but when he did his eyes fell on the wooden sticks Hanzo had planted into the mess of it. He stood a couple meters away, and was shaking the flame off of the match between his fingers. A smile was spread across his face and he looked strangely hopeful.
Jesse raised an eyebrow at him.
“Doing your annual count?” the fae teased. He pointed to each of his eyes in turn and gave Hanzo a grin that he hoped didn’t show through as hollow. “What’s your total now that I’m here?”
Hanzo snorted and stepped around the burning fruit. He took Jesse’s arm by the crook of his elbow and led him past the small fire. Jesse’s eyes lingered on it for just a moment, spotting the blistering remains of apple, melon, and mango. They walked leisurely through the cavern for a long time, moving beyond hills of gold, around stalactites and stalagmites meeting somewhere in the center to form spiraling stone pillars, and passing display cases full of ancient magical items so potent that Jesse could feel a buzz from them as they slipped away from sight.
“Where are you takin’ me, dragonling?” Jesse asked.
“In about three minutes it will be exactly one year from the first time we met.” Hanzo spoke fondly. “When I first brought you an offering in the stone forest.”
Jesse’s eyebrows raised to his hairline. “You remember that?”
Hanzo scoffed loudly. “Of course I do.”
“Wait, didn’t we meet at the bar? Yeah, you came in all pissy and--”
“The McCree I met then was only a part of you,” Hanzo interrupted, raising an eyebrow at Jesse. “I will settle for nothing less than the full thing.”
Jesse’s mouth fell open and he found himself at a loss for words when they rounded the last corner. It was the trove where Hanzo kept the items dearest to him. Each had a shelf and a light shining on it. The area was always immaculate. And among the featured pieces, Jesse spotted a familiar looking mound of gold coins. Next to it were dried red roses, pressed flat and framed. Then there were three long white candle sticks, held together with the glittery gold ribbon Jesse had used to wrap the candy tray that leaned against the cavern wall next to them. Even the box he had packaged the tray in had been kept, with the paper lovingly folded and tucked underneath. But it was the frame on the end that held his attention. It was small, and in it he could see his own scrawl.
For my dragonling.
Jesse felt the tears well up in his eyes before he felt Hanzo’s hand in his own.
“I have been trying to think of what to give you for our first anniversary, but I admit that I am at a loss,” Hanzo explained, oblivious. “So I thought that perhaps you could pick something from the most valuable things I own. Whatever it is your heart desires, Jesse, it is yours.”
When Hanzo met his eyes again Jesse couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of his chest. Joy spilled out of him like he intended to flood the whole mountain with it and Hanzo looked more than a little surprised.
“I did not expect to evoke such a reaction but--”
“I already know what I want,” Jesse interrupted, tugging Hanzo closer by their joined hands. He turned his back to the shelf where his gifts sat and ignored the treasures that lined the walls around him in favour of the one before him. He grinned broad and bright; Hanzo dazedly mirrored the expression. “If you’ll let me, at least. I’ve always wanted the heart of a dragon.”
Hanzo laughed low and sweet. “Pick something you do not already have.”
Jesse squeezed Hanzo’s hand in his own and pressed a kiss to the back of it.
“I love you, dragonling,” Jesse said quietly against his skin. The words had clawed their way out before he’d had a chance to think it through. Well, he thought. There’s a first for everything. “Y’know that, right?”
Hanzo’s smile may not have glowed with feeling the same as Jesse’s eyes did, but it lit up the whole cavern nonetheless. “Of course, my fae. I love you too.”
Around them stood items men had killed for. Statues and swords that had started wars and ended centuries of peace. Priceless did not even begin to cover it. But nothing in the cavern could hold a candle to the dragon that pressed close to Jesse’s chest. Nothing in the world could compare to his kiss.