Work Text:
It was a standard mission, as far as missions in Numbani went. Scout the area, secure the cargo, hightail it out of there. Make it quick, get paid. Easy as pie.
Jesse tended to get bored on missions like this. Safe and secure in his perch, gazing down the long-nosed scope of his trusty Peacekeeper, he found there wasn’t much to do. With no enemies in sight, he was free to let his mind wander--how were things going on the ground? Though he hadn’t seen any reinforcements approaching, he knew there were plenty of enemy agents scattered throughout the building behind him.
Well, there was only one way to find out.
He brought a hand up to the comm lodged in his ear and tapped it. “Agent McCree reportin’ in. Things are lookin’ clear as day out here. How ‘bout inside?”
There was a second’s pause before the line crackled. “We’re on a mission, no chatter on the line. Unless there’s a new development over there, shut your yap.” Jack’s voice was, as ever, unmistakably exasperated.
Jesse held his hand to his heart dramatically even though no one was around to see it. “Ain’t no need to be so hostile, commander. Jus’ bein’ a dutiful agent.”
“He’s got a point, sir. Plus the poor guy’s all alone up there, give him a break,” Lena cut in, a smile evident in her voice.
“Eh, Eastwood can handle it. He’s been through worse,” Lucio added.
“I can hear y’all, y’know.”
Hanzo snorted. “Yes, we are aware. Go back to doing your job, Jesse.”
“But sugarpie, how’m I supposed to focus when your dulcet tones keep on distractin’ me so?” Jesse cooed.
“There will be plenty of distractions for you when we are safely back at the base,” he replied, tone even. Jesse thought he heard Lucio and Lena gagging in the background. “Focus on the mission.”
“Fine, fine. You owe me one when we get back though, sweetcheeks.” Jesse chuckled, looking back over the view below him.
He could feel Hanzo’s grin on the other side of the line. “I intend t--”
Whatever he was going to say was cut off suddenly by a crackle of static, followed by a long beat of silence. Jesse froze, waiting patiently for the line to clear though he could feel his heartbeat rise through his throat with every second.
After what seemed like an eternity the line crackled again, though this time it was Lena’s panicked voice that seeped through. He couldn’t understand what she was saying though the static, just that it was urgent.
“Do you need backup?” Jesse stood, already backing towards the entrance. “Lena? Jack? Say somethin’, dammit!”
More static.
Something about an ambush, being overrun.
The group splitting.
Hanzo.
His legs carried him into the building faster than he could think, rifle knocking against his back in time with his frantic pulse. Any thoughts of holding position were banished from his mind, panted through his lungs with the rest of his breath.
The corridors all looked the same here, Jesse knew that. Miles of seamless silver stretched on and on. Trying to find his way to Hanzo would’ve been like navigating one of those corn mazes Jack always spoke so fondly of, had it not been for Athena’s data. He’d have to buy Winston a lifetime supply of peanut butter when they got back to base.
If, his mind oh so helpfully supplied, if they got back to base.
He swept through various rooms, all covered wall-to-wall in dusty holo screens and computers. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the building was entirely abandoned. But he’d seen the briefing; there was no doubt in his mind that these upper levels were all decoys, old company offices that the target let be to throw any unwanted visitors off their tracks.
The stairs were just as dusty and disused as the rooms, but still held the building’s uniform silver gleam. He took care to step lightly over the old metal and peered around each corner with the nose of his gun. Still, the building was empty, like a ghost town.
Jesse frowned. At this point he should have at least heard some sort of noise. He continued on, and after what seemed like years finally managed to break out into a longer corridor. He waited a beat, listening for any signs of life, but again came up empty. He felt his gut grow heavier and raised one hand to a flashbang on his hip before pushing off the wall and proceeding forward.
Jesse rounded a corner into another long hallway, this one populated with doors. That wasn’t the only thing different about it--this corridor had obviously been used recently, if the smears of blood and oil along the walls were any indication. He followed them carefully, the path suspiciously obvious, until it led to a single door. The plaque read ‘CHIEF OF HOUSE’ in big, bold letters. The lock was broken.
He readied his rifle and kicked open the door, leveling it quickly at the figure inside, who had already done much the same, leaving Jesse face to face with a sleek black percussion pistol overlaid with intricate blue embellishments.
Well, wasn’t that familiar.
Jesse sighed and let his weapon drop while Hanzo bustled behind him and quickly secured the door. After taking a moment to ensure they were truly in the clear he turned on Jesse, grimace heavy on his face.
“What do you think you were--”
“Now, darlin’, hold up,” Jesse interrupted, “We need to get you treated, first and foremost.”
He wasn’t wrong--Hanzo, for lack of a better word, looked like shit. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was a veritable mess, sticking out of its bun every which way. Mottled bruises dotted along his cheekbones, obviously fresh, their muted purples contrasting starkly with the bright red of the blood welling up in his split lip. Not to mention the multitude of cuts and injuries dotting along his body.
“Let me patch you up, doll. Ain’t gonna do none of us any good like this.”
Hanzo grimaced, but otherwise made no protest. Taking his silence as a reluctant pass, Jesse reached to the emergency medical pouch he carried at his waist and got to work.
A few moments passed by in tense silence, Jesse’s gaze flickering from Hanzo’s wounds back to his face, before he spoke up again.
“The hell happened down here? Signal cut out, and I couldn’t damn well just sit there and wait for these fuckers to do as they please. Not to mention all this,” he gestured towards the leg he was currently bandaging. “You take on a dozen guards on your own or somethin’?”
Hanzo huffed. “Fourteen, not a dozen. It was not of my own volition. I ran out of bullets.”
Jesse rolled his eyes and got back to work, smiling to himself at the slight jumps he got out of Hanzo when he pressed antiseptic to his skin. Soon enough he was done, Hanzo wrapped up as well as he could be.
“Right, so. Comms are still down. I say we sneak through and rendezvous with the others outside, assumin’ they got out too. Safe to say the mission’s a bust at this point.” Jesse sighed.
Hanzo nodded. “Fair enough. However, we will need to be exceedingly careful. I heard agents passing through the hallway quite frequently in this part of the building.”
Jesse waved off his statement with a grin and cracked open the door, gesturing out with a flourish.
“Ridiculous,” Hanzo muttered, striding through with all the confidence of the heir he once was. It was times like these when Jesse remembered why he loved him so much.
They slunk through the hallway carefully, double and triple checking their surroundings as they moved on. Eventually they came to a large, open door, through which looked to be a warehouse. Jesse glanced at Hanzo. He nodded, and they moved in.
The warehouse was stacked with numerous crates, both metal and wooden, scattered around a drab concrete floor. The merchandise wasn’t what caught Jesse’s attention, though--a crowd of enemy agents, both human and omnic, were set up like dominos in the center of the room, all faced towards a massive stage. They were obviously waiting for something. Jesse didn’t plan to stick around long enough to find out what.
He and Hanzo moved quickly behind a stack of crates and peered around, searching for any sort of exit. The windows were all too high up, and most of the doors seemed to be beyond the large gathering. Before he could convince himself that backtracking was their only option, Hanzo tugged at his sleeve--near the back of the crowd there was a vent, just big enough to accommodate Jesse’s broad shoulders. They’d have to be quiet, but they could make it.
Jesse was broken from his thoughts by a creaking sound behind him, almost like a door opening. Before he could begin to wonder what it was he was ripped backwards. He swung around, coming face to face with an omnic at least three times his height.
He felt Hanzo stiffen next to him, at a loss of what to do. The omnic regarded them with hollow eye sockets before slowly lifting the rifle off of Jesse’s back. He made no move to stop him--anything he’d try would only make the situation worse. Time seemed to stretch on as the omnic lifted Peacekeeper higher and higher before clenching it with both hands. As Jesse realized what was happening, it was too late; the omnic snapped Peacekeeper in half like a twig with a sickeningly loud crunch.
The sound of hundreds of omnic heads turning rung through the warehouse like nails on a chalkboard, freezing Jesse in place. It wasn’t just the omnic units either--the entire room had turned around, eyes locked on their location.
Fuck.
Hanzo grabbed his arm and tugged harshly, pulling him out of his reverie and along the warehouse floor. They rain like the wind, footsteps drowned in the thunderous march of the enemy’s army encroaching on them. Hanzo hooked a left, then Jesse a right. They had no time to stop and check a map--all there was left was to run, and hope.
They rounded several more corners in quick succession before the first agents caught up to them. A hodgepodge of humans and omnics swathed in black came rushing towards them like a tidal wave, blocking out nearly the entire corridor.
Jesse pushed his legs to run faster, ignored his heaving lungs and just focusing on the path ahead. He could hear Hanzo’s huffing beside him, felt the steady presence of his hand in his. They turned another corner.
A shot rang out.
The weight in his hand dropped.
Hanzo collapsed on his stomach, gripping his side tightly. His face was pale, and Jesse could see the bright spots of red leaking through his fingers. He dove to the floor to meet him, hands coming up for support.
“Han! Han, darlin’, speak to me. Where’d they getcha, where’re you hurt?”
“Jesse. You need to leave,” Hanzo rasped, struggling to sit up. He managed to get to his feet, but still clung tightly to his side. “Get to Morrison and the team. I will be fine.”
“Like hell you’ll be! I ain’t leavin’ you!” Jesse wrapped an arm around his shoulder to take most of his weight and tightened his grip. Just as he’d expected, the agents pursuing them weren’t far behind--Jesse could hear them fast approaching, a stampede of feet against gray concrete.
The idea hit him like a train.
“Hanzo,” he panted, squeezing at his boyfriend’s shoulder, “I need your gun.”
Hanzo looked at Jesse like he’d just grown a second head. “What?”
“You heard me, your gun! Gimme your gun, please, Han, jus’ do it.”
With a sigh he relented, unholstering the pistol with shaky hands before handing it over to Jesse, who gratefully accepted it. He checked the chamber--one bullet left--before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.
He’d seen Hanzo use the dragons before, a few times. They were fierce, awe-inspiring creatures that stole the breath right from his lungs. Hanzo had told him a bit about them, face lit dimly by moonlight when they were kept awake by demons from the past. Guardian spirits, he had said, who had protected the Shimada for generations.
Well, time to put that to the test.
Jesse wasn’t a particularly religious man. He’d gone to church as a boy, left it behind upon joining up with Deadlock. Reyes had been the one to inspire him to get back to it, though mass in Blackwatch was much different than what he’d been to before. Still, if there was one thing he remembered with stark clarity, it was prayer. Silent, willful, hoping that whatever deity was out there would just take a moment to listen.
He knew the dragons were listening.
He asked for their protection, their guidance. He asked that they didn’t rip them to shreds for daring to attempt this, that at the very least they’d let him damn well try to protect Hanzo, protect the one he’d held closest to his heart throughout all these damnable years.
When Jesse opened his eyes, there was lightning.
Electricity crackled through the percussion pistol, and he watched in bewilderment as his arm lifted it steadily up, seemingly on its own. A glance down at Hanzo saw him with eyes wide as windows, staring up in shock at Jesse. He opened his mouth, whispered something, but Jesse couldn’t hear it over the roar of thunder in his ears.
The enemy agents rounded the corner.
He pulled the trigger.
The dragons exploded in front of him, twirling twin masses of crackling blue power, tearing down the corridor at frightening speed. There were no screams, no time to react; before Jesse even realized it, the hallway was empty once more, only pools of blood and oil remaining to tell of what had once been.
Jesse chanced a look down to Hanzo. He stared up at him with something akin to wonder in his eyes. Before Jesse could comment on it, though, he fell forward, and everything went black.
---
Jesse awoke with a startled gasp, electricity racing down his spine and eyes blurrily adjusting to the light above him. The room was a blinding white with small orange motifs in a simple pattern and smelled strongly of coffee and antiseptic. He could hear humming from the far corner, a light, feminine voice that was oh-so-familiar to him.
He relaxed into the bed with a sigh, taking a moment to categorize his injuries. Strangely enough, he felt next to none. All Angie had hooked him up to was an IV and a pulse scanner around his finger, but those certainly weren’t specific to anything. His mind was still a hazy blur, gears winding and twirling to piece together what had happened.
Before he could, however, the sound of the medbay door sliding open tore him from his thoughts, and he was faced with one very disheveled Hanzo Shimada. Hair undone, clad in nothing but a navy tank and gray sweatpants, wrapped tightly in Jesse’s favorite gray serape, Jesse thought he’d never been more beautiful.
“Howdy there, doll. How you doin’?” He shifted upright with a grunt and cast a grin at Hanzo, grimacing at how sore his arm was. Hanzo strode over to his bedside and promptly collapsed in the chair next to it, viciously tugging Jesse’s hand into his own.
“Never, and I do mean never, attempt that again, Jesse McCree,” Hanzo spoke, voice low and gravely. Jesse couldn’t see his face through the curtain of hair that obscured it, but he knew that tone of voice. Knew it meant Hanzo was in some kind of mood, likely not a good one.
“Now before you go snappin’ at me, I had my reasons--”
“No. You are going to listen to me, Jesse, and you are going to listen well,” Hanzo interrupted. “What you did was foolish, and reckless, and could very well have killed us both. We are lucky the dragons did not devour us whole for what you tried to pull.” He paused and took a deep breath before looking up, a twinkle of amusement in his brown eyes. “That being said, you were brave to try. What you did saved us, in the end; it bought time for Morrison and the others to find us. So...thank you, for being a courageous idiot.”
“Well, ‘m your courageous idiot, y’know,” Jesse chuckled, leaning forward so that their foreheads were touching. “Couldn’t’a summoned those beasties without you. Pretty sure I was jus’ some sorta conduit--though they mighta fried up my nervous system somethin’ fierce.”
Hanzo hummed. “Yes, Doctor Ziegler mentioned that. Nothing to worry about, however, you shall be fine with some rest.”
Jesse frowned, looking down at Hanzo’s body. “And what about you? Last I recall you got shot, sweetheart.”
“It was only a flesh wound,” Hanzo replied, breath ghosting over Jesse’s lips. As always, his grin melted Jesse’s heart, right down to the core. “Doctor Ziegler says it is nothing a few days bedrest will not fix.”
“Well, I’d be mighty obliged to help you with that bedrest, sir. Seems like you’d need someone to keep you occupied.” Jesse leaned forward and whispered, as if telling a closely-guarded secret.
“I believe what you are thinking of is the opposite of bedrest. Rest, Jesse, is the key word.”
“Can’t rightly sleep when I got an angel like you next to me, hon.”
At that point Hanzo must have grown tired of his ‘incessant chatter,’ as he liked to call it, because he leaned forward and firmly brought their lips together. Jesse couldn’t complain--it was the best way for Hanzo to shut him up.