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The open road stretched out in front of him and the cold expanse of the Rockies rose in front as McCree drove away from Cody, Wyoming and out into the expanse of the Wyoming wilderness again. It was nearing winter and the late fall wind smelled of snow as it bit at his nose. His motorcycle was built for long distance, a black and red beauty, that purred like a dream underneath him. He shivered slightly as the cold wind whipped around him, almost seeming to flow through him right down to his bones, despite the heavy leather gear he was wearing. He sped across the highway, no helmet, it was just a habit he couldn’t pick up as he enjoyed feeling the wind in his hair, even if it was as cold as it was today. His favorite thing about Wyoming though had to be the fact his Cowboy get up wasn’t out of place here. Here everyone wore cowboy boots and cowboy hats, and there was the never-ending debate of Wranglers versus Levi’s. He wouldn’t quite call it home, but it came pretty close sometimes.
McCree loved the empty expanse that was Wyoming. The quietness always soothed some part of him he never realized needed soothing. He’d be nearing Yellowstone soon and that was always a beauty to take in. He almost wished he’d stayed in Cody another month, so he could see it in full winter swing, but he knew if he stayed he’d get snowed in, considering how much Wyoming weather loved to snow. Who knows, maybe he’d get lucky and a storm would drift in while he was there. McCree hummed under his breath an old country song he vaguely remembered from his childhood and drove on.
Yellowstone was beautiful this time of year. It was nothing like the east coast, where he was hanging out last year. There were more evergreens and less deciduous trees, so it wasn’t an all-encompassing color change like New Hampshire, but rather a subtle touch of orange and red here and there among the greens of the pines. And what really got to him is that it just kept going stretching for miles. Most of Wyoming was relatively flat but nearer to the Rockies the hills just loved to roll on forever. He had parked his bike at the entrance and was walking through the park, hands in his pockets, as he trudged along the well-worn dirt paths. Last time he’d been in the area there been the whole debacle of a bison attack and there were more signs now warning people to stay away, and that they were still wild animals. Every now and then he’d catch a glimpse of one through the trees and the tour group ahead of him seemed to as well, because everyone started shouting and pulling out their cameras, scaring the poor thing away.
McCree huffed and sighed at the ridiculous sight in front of him and fell farther back from the group he wasn’t a part of. ‘No use associating with tourists’ he thought to himself and continued on. Eventually he reached the spot he was looking for. It was still as lovely looking as he remembered. He stood in front of Old Faithful and leaned against the railing, waiting. He knew it was cliché, but it was still one of his favorite places in the park. As it began to erupt, McCree pulled a disposable camera out of his jacket pocket and snapped a picture. ‘Maybe, I’ll develop this one, send it to my mystery friend.’ He shook his head, deciding against it, and stuffed the camera back in his pocket.
On his way out of the park, McCree stopped by the souvenir shop and picked up a post card. He made sure that his selection was different than the one he sent last time, and proud of his choice, brought it to the register and bought it. Outside, balancing on the seat of his bike, he scrawled quickly on the back of the post card, just small stuff this time. He didn’t want to overwhelm his mystery man, well at least he imagined him as a man, he had no clue what he looked like. Last postcard he’d sent had been a bit of him having an existential nightmare in Cody, and well he didn’t exactly want to send two like it in a row, despite his mental state still being relatively scrambled. So instead, he kept it short and sweet, describing Old Faithful and the drive up. He chuckled as he signed it as he always did, Kisses, Jesse McCree.
McCree had been writing mystery postcards to the same address for roughly two years now. One day, he’d just picked out an apartment’s address he happened to be passing on his bike in LA and wrote a postcard the very next day from the same city. It was the closest he’d ever been to his mystery person. He hadn’t really been back to California since, sure to the surrounding states, but damn did he hate how fake everyone seemed to be there. “Land of sun tans and shitheads” he’d jokingly named it one night. Of course, he had no way to know if his mystery man was even a man at all, or even reading his postcards, or, even worse, if he was one of the shit heads, but still he sent them. Part of him knew his words were most likely being thrown away, but he had a small sense of hope, that maybe, just maybe his random thoughts he was spouting into the void were being read and heard. To go an even further step, maybe even cared about. Honestly, that’s what got him through his loneliest nights. The thought that, maybe, mystery man would worry about him if he just stopped writing. It was just a thought, wishful thinking, but it kept him going, and that was all that mattered some days. McCree huffed out a laugh, and lit up a smoke, he had a long night ahead of him. Next stop, Roswell. He needed to go somewhere where the people were weirder than he was.
Thousands of miles away, Hanzo was losing his shit. He’d just received another postcard from his mystery cowboy, he only knew the man was a cowboy because apparently, he had drunkenly sent him a roll of film along with a postcard, around December of last year, and among the pictures was, he could only assume, a selfie of his mystery sender. Hanzo, embarrassingly, had the picture stuck to his fridge. It wasn’t like anyone was going to see. If anyone it would just be Genji, and he already had teased him mercilessly to death about it. His mystery sender wore a ridiculous cowboy hat and had a scraggly beard that poked out in all directions. He was smiling at the camera giving a peace sign, with a cigar hanging out of his mouth. He had the biggest smile, and something felt warm in Hanzo every time he looked into the picture’s deep brown eyes. His mystery sender had apologized for sending the film in his next postcard, which is where Hanzo learned the drunk context. He often seemed to get drunk postcards around the holidays, but never again a roll of film. The latest postcard from his mystery man, however, had Hanzo stomach tied in a knot.
Dear Mystery Man, that’s how he’d always addressed him since the beginning.
It’s awful lonely up here. Wind blows mighty hard and I swear I hear voices that I haven’t heard in years in it. You know that feeling? Probably not, probably just me being a sentimental shit. There was a suicide up the road today. Makes me think about how it could’ve been me the way my minds been going lately. I got a gun, know how to use it too. Some nights I just stare at it and wonder.
Kisses,
Jesse McCree
How could he end, what was essentially, possibly, a suicide note so cheerily? Hanzo was practically tearing his hair out at the man’s stupidity, but more so with worry. He hoped to whatever God was out there that he got another postcard. He knew it was stupid, but he’d become attached to his Mystery Man. Enough to think of him as his apparently. Hanzo sighed and picked up his cup of coffee and reread the postcard one more time. He shook his head, there was nothing he could do but wait. He carefully picked up the manila envelope where he kept all the cowman’s postcards and slid the newest edition inside. It was time to go to work anyway, he thought as he glanced at the wall clock.
The whole time Hanzo was at work his mind wandered back to his Mystery Man. It was difficult to focus on the math and figures of his accounting job, when the one exciting thing, not a thing person he corrected himself, could be dead. He couldn’t help but wonder about the whereabouts of the man. If he had left Cody yet, or was still there contemplating suicide, or even worse, committing it. All these thoughts of death made Hanzo’s head swim and he rubbed at his temples, trying to stave off the headache he felt was coming on. He sighed, shook his head, and poured himself into his work. He couldn’t stand thinking about death any longer today. He had to believe that the stupid cowman was alive, and that was that. Despite this resolution from Hanzo, the day seemed to stretch on endlessly and he had to fight to keep his thoughts from drifting back to the Mystery Man. Eventually, however, the day did end and collapsed in his apartment, more exhausted than he had been in ages.
His resolution was proven right when, after a week of worrying, another postcard arrived from the Mystery Cowman, Jesse McCree. This one said very little, but the silence seemed to speak volumes to Hanzo, who could tell his Mystery Man didn’t want him to worry over him. He scoffed, it was definitely too late for that. The Man was out of Cody and back in Yellowstone at least.
Dear Mystery Man,
I’m back in one of my favorite places on Earth, Yellowstone. Got to see my buddy Old Faithful again. She’s always a beauty’ to watch erupt. When the light hits her water just right it’s one of the most gorgeous things you’ll ever see. The drive up was nice too, cold, but it kept me awake. It’s nearing winter here. You don’t get cold like this where you live.
Kisses,
Jesse McCree
Hanzo looked out the window at the sun shining and his view over the beach. McCree was right it definitely never got cold in LA. Hanzo shuffled over to the glass doors of his balcony and swung them open letting the sounds of the city rush in. You probably didn’t get this where Mystery Man McCree was. The sounds of honking cars, yelling, and the smell of street food began to permeate into his apartment. Hanzo crossed his arms and stared out at the ocean, the waves had a sense of lulling his crowded mind into a state of peace and tranquility. Maybe that was what Wyoming did for McCree? He’d been there often enough in their one-sided correspondence. Hanzo went and retrieved the manila envelope and spread out the postcards on his coffee table. There was well over fifty as McCree was pretty regular and liked to send him one every week. So, fifty-two weeks in a year for two years meant there was a lot more postcards than Hanzo remembered. He was going to have to get another envelope. As he dug through sorting them into states he noticed a pattern, most of McCree’s more depressing ones happened in the Southwest to Midwest. He referred to the southwest as where he was from but the Midwest was he home, if Hanzo recalled from a postcard from Cheyenne, Wyoming. His more upbeat, but light on content ones, were always from major cities, and he always found a way to be in a major city on the holidays. He rarely visited the South, Hanzo counted only five postcards from various states in the region. He’d been out the country a little, but only to Canada and Mexico; Hanzo only had two from each region. His most was from Wyoming with well over ten postcards from various cities around the region, and California had the least with a whopping whole one postcard.
Hanzo stuffed all the postcards back in the envelope and tried to push out the thought that McCree was avoiding him. Hanzo couldn’t even say he was avoiding him, because well McCree didn’t even know him, so how could he avoid him. Still some part of Hanzo’s brain whispered that he was being avoided. Hanzo shook his head and stood up, closing the doors to his balcony, effectively cutting off the sounds and smells of the city. He’d had enough for today. He lurched back to his bedroom and just laid on his bed for hours thinking of his Mystery Man
McCree was, in fact, he decided, avoiding California. He had come to this conclusion staring over the Grand Canyon trying to decide where to go next when his brain offered LA, and he immediately turned it down. He didn’t know why he was avoiding it. He had friends there, a storage unit, and the people weren’t as awful as he made them to be in his head. Besides it was one of the few places you could get decent Mexican food besides Mexico. He had a favorite restaurant there that his best friend Gabe ran with his husband Jack and the food always reminded him of his mother’s, so there was no reason he should be avoiding it. Okay, so there was a big reason he was avoiding California and he knew he was just being a coward, Mystery Man. This was a man he’d poured his heart out to for two years and he couldn’t just waltz up to his door and say, “Hey! I’ve been writing you postcards for two years, one was almost a suicide note, wanna hang out?” Like that would go over well. Besides he had no way of knowing his postcards were even being read. He couldn’t just walk up to a stranger’s door, probably a stranger that hated him, and just act like they’d been friends for ages. The problem was, he really needed to get some new clothes and his storage unit and Gabe’s were calling his name.
“Fuck it.” McCree mumbled to himself leaving lookout deck of the canyon. California here he comes.
McCree decided to drive the whole seven hours in one go, with minimal breaks, because he knew if he didn’t he’d chicken out halfway through and loop back to Mexico or something. So, when he finally arrived dusty and sweaty on Gabe’s doorstep, you could say the last thing he was expecting was a hug.
“Mijo!” Gabe grabbed him and hugged him tight, “It’s been too long.”
McCree just smiled and hugged back as tight as he could. He hoped his silence was taken as agreement. Gabe ushered him inside his and Jack’s sizeable house. How they could afford this on their restaurant pay was beyond him, must have something to do with their former military background. McCree said hi to Jack and hugged him before Gabe led him back to the guest room.
“Stay as long as you need, you’ve been gone from us for too long. I was starting to worry.” Gabe said standing in the doorway watching McCree unpack.
“Well, I can’t promise I’ll be long, but I will stay here a couple days.” McCree replied looking over his shoulder.
“That’s what I like to hear!” Gabe clapped him on the back and left the room, presumably going to cuddle with Jack or something.
Domestic life had calmed Gabriel Reyes down some. He was more outward with his affections after he finally settled down with Jack than he had been when McCree first met him, but that didn’t mean he was a total softie. McCree had heard horror stories from workers in the restaurant, but then again it was always the ones that were too cocky or the ones that tried to be the boss that got Reyes fury. The quieter, and more willing to take instruction chefs, were doted upon by Reyes, so McCree guessed it really depended on who you talked too. One thing that didn’t change though was that Gabe could make a better Chicken and Corn Chilaquiles than what he’d had south of the border. If there was one thing he missed about California it was that.
The next day, after a long warm shower, McCree drove down to his storage unit, and on the way passed the address of Mystery Man and he totally didn’t almost stop his bike in the middle of the road, nope, no way. Instead, he kept going and got to his destination. The storage unit was dusty and looked like it hadn’t been opened in well, two years, which McCree guessed was a good thing, since it meant no one had been digging through his shit. He always thought the guy who ran this place was skeevy, but he guessed not, or maybe he just had nothing of interest. He dug through the small pile of boxes, he never had had much stuff, until he found the one labeled “clothes.” The first thing he pulled out was his mother’s old serape. God, he hadn’t seen this thing in ages. He pulled it up to his nose and sniffed and he swore he could smell of the odor of his mother, fresh baked bread and sunflowers, but soon enough the scent was gone. He would definitely be taking this. He dug through some more and only found old concert shirts from shitty punk shows or flannels that were worn to tearing. He packed a few of each and then traded the clothes that were originally in his bag for the one’s he just took and then closed the box.
Hanzo swears to God he’s seeing things. This morning as he stared out the doors of his balcony doors he saw person that looked exactly like McCree staring up at his apartment. But it couldn’t be McCree, because Hanzo had decided McCree was avoiding California and him, however, days later he was proven wrong. McCree was definitely in California, in this city, because he just received a post card from LA. Hanzo was, rightfully he thought, freaking out. Of course, this didn’t mean McCree wasn’t still avoiding him, considering the fact no one except for Genji and himself had stopped by his apartment within his knowledge. Unless, maybe he had stopped by while Hanzo was a work and…god he didn’t want to continue that train of thought. The almost meeting and missing it. But maybe McCree didn’t want to meet him. That thought hurt Hanzo’s heart. It wasn’t a ridiculous thought. The man probably didn’t want to embarrass himself. He had no way of knowing Hanzo was so invested in his letters. Except this last postcard had said something interesting.
Dear Mystery Man,
I’m back in LA again! It’s good to see my old friends and get excellent Mexican food, finally. Did you know my friend, Gabe, knows how to make it better than they do south of the border? I’ll have to take you to his place sometime. I sure hope someone’s even getting these.
Kisses,
Jesse McCree
Hanzo was most definitely getting these, and after spending an hour trying to decipher what McCree had crossed out, he blushed madly and threw the postcard away from him covering his face with his hands. What was wrong with him? He was acting like some love-struck school girl over a man he’s never met. It was ridiculous. Although the fact that McCree crossed out something about a possible meeting didn’t exactly bode well for his chances. But at least he’s thinking about it, his brain said in reply to his negativity. Hanzo shook his head, he needed to clear his head. He grabbed his keys and went out for a drive.
Maybe this wasn’t the best way to clear his head, Hanzo decided, as the horns of other drivers beeped loudly around him in rush hour traffic. Behind him a motorcycle rumbled, it was too big to weave through like the street bikes did. Must be built for long distance, he thought, and eyed the saddlebags in his rearview mirror. As his eyes slowly drifted up and across the bike and eventually to the rider his breath catches and stutters to a stop just like the traffic around him and suddenly nothing matters. In front of him, in fucking front of him, is Jesse goddamn McCree. The world spun for a moment before righting itself as McCree catches Hanzo’s eyes and winks. Hanzo thought to himself that he is dying. He was finally face to face with a man he knows everything and nothing about and this man has no clue who he is. What a world he lives in, what a cruel fate, Hanzo decided to love someone and had them openly flirt with him and they don’t have a clue they’ve been writing you for two years. Just then, traffic started moving steadily and Hanzo took the first U-turn possible and goes back to his apartment. He hyperventilates in his car for a few minutes, because he can’t believe he just saw McCree for the first time in two years and did nothing! He should have gotten out the car, stopped traffic, kissed him like there weren’t a thousand angry Los Angelians behind him, but no. What did he do but go home like a dog with his tail between his legs.
“Stupid!” He cursed pounding the dashboard of his car, “I am so stupid.” He sunk his head down onto the steering wheel and just stared at his feet. He felt like sobbing.
“Brother!” He heard the passenger door click and he didn’t look up to acknowledge his brother Genji entering the vehicle. “That was quite a display you put on there, are you alright.”
Hanzo stayed silent for a few moments contemplating if he should answer truthfully, “I am…not alright.”
“I could tell by you little attack on the car, but what has my normally stoic brother so riled up?”
Hanzo looked up at Genji now. His shock of green hair was generally a welcome sight, but right now he wished to be alone, “I have lost my one chance to meet the love of my life.” Hanzo eventually replied.
Genji sputtered obviously not expecting that answer, “I—what! My brother in love!” Genji laughed out loud, clutching his stomach. “I cannot believe I would ever see the day.”
Hanzo growled, “This is serious, brother.”
Genji sobered, “I know I’m sorry, it’s just quite a shock, you’ve never been interested in anyone except for that silly cowboy picture on the fridge.” Hanzo said nothing. “Oh my god, you met the cowboy!” Genji started bouncing up and down excitedly! “I can’t believe you met him and didn’t tell me!”
“I did not exactly meet him. I merely saw him on his motorcycle, and well, I panicked.”
“You mean you didn’t speak to him.” Again, Hanzo said nothing. “Oh brother.” Genji knew all about the postcards, Hanzo had gotten drunk enough one night and shown him the whole collection about a year back, and it was obvious even then that the man was smitten. “Well do you know where he’s staying?”
Hanzo merely shook his head, “Just that he is here in LA. His last postcard seemed to imply he was staying with friends— “
“Wait, wait, you’re saying he sent you a postcard, from LA.”
“Yes?” Hanzo furrowed his brow, “I do not understand.”
“He must be as much of a coward as you are brother if he hasn’t come visit you yet. He’s been writing you for two years! You think he would want to visit you.”
“I’m sure he has his reasons.”
Genji laughed, “Sure, sure. Well brother it is time to get to work, Detective Genji is on the case.” He shot finger guns at Hanzo.
“What do you mean?” Hanzo eyed him suspiciously.
“Duh, I’m going to find your one true love for you.”
“You do not even know where to begin.” Hanzo shot back incredulously.
“Of course I do! With the last postcard.”
Hanzo was going to punch Drunk Hanzo in the face, very hard. Genji had been searching through his postcards and the web for hours for clues, but thus far had turned up nothing. There were thousands of Mexican restaurants in Los Angeles, but it was difficult to tell who owned what. He regretted telling Genji about the postcards, but it was nice to see him so dedicated to something, even if he did occasionally throw out quips about the cowboy and him as he read through the postcards. Just as Hanzo started to drift off into sleep on the couch he heard Genji whoop and immediately shot awake.
“Brother! I’ve compiled a list of all the restaurants I could find owned by a Gabe or a Gabriel there’s only about ten. We can start to search tomorrow morning.”
“No, I will go now.”
“But it’s late.”
Hanzo shrugged, “I don’t have much time. Who knows if he’s even in the state any longer, from what I can tell he hates California.”
“Alright.” Genji raised his hands in surrender, “It’s your call.”
Hanzo nodded and took the list from Genji tentatively hugging him. “Thank you.”
Genji hugged back in earnest, “You’re welcome brother. Now go get him!” Just as Hanzo was almost out the door he heard Genji shout, “Don’t forget these!” and he tossed him the manila envelope full of postcards. Hanzo nodded, caught them, and was out the door. If McCree wouldn’t come to Hanzo he would go to him.
It was around nine PM when Hanzo started his search, so narrowed the list of restaurants to just the ones with bars and started out on his search. The first five were dead ends, and so were the next two, but apparently eight was his lucky number.
“What do you want to know about McCree.” The man was large and imposing and incredibly muscular with a black beanie on his head and a scar on his face.
“He has been…writing to me for the past two years and I just got a postcard saying he was in LA, but he hasn’t come by.”
“You’ve two have been writing to each other.” The man raised his eyebrow.
“No, he has been writing to me.” Hanzo held the manila envelope up to the man, “Here, these are the postcards.”
The man took the envelope and fished one out reading the back and flipping it over to the front, it was one of the Wyoming ones. “Sure looks like his handwriting, but why would he be writing you. I’ve never heard him talk about a, what was your name again?”
“Hanzo, and I cannot answer that. I can only assume I was picked at random.”
The man nodded, “Well my name’s Gabe and I’m sorry to tell you but you’re shit outta luck kid.”
“What do you mean?” Hanzo replied.
“He’s already left the state, so if he hasn’t come by now he probably won’t come by.”
Hanzo felt his heart crush inside of him and his mouth went dry, but suddenly, and spontaneously he asked, “Can you tell me where he went?”
Gabe blinked, “Sure I guess, but there might be a reason he ain’t visiting you. You know that right.”
“I do.”
“Alright if you still wanna go through with this, he said he’s heading down to Santa Fe for a week or so, don’t know beyond that.”
“Thank you so much.” Hanzo said, “This…means a lot to me.”
Gabe sighed, “Well good luck finding him, son of a bitch is hard to track on a good day.”
Hanzo thanked him once more and left, almost speeding back to his apartment. He ran up the stairs and unlocked the door quickly, startling Genji.
“Well what did you find out?” Genji asked excitedly.
“He is going to Santa Fe, so I am going to Santa Fe.”
“Are you sure, what about your job?”
“We both know I don’t need the job. I…I do not enjoy it.”
“Good for you!” Genji cried. “Stick it to the man.” Hanzo laughed and left Genji behind to pack. It was only a small bag, about a week’s worth of clothes. Genji hugged Hanzo as he left. “Good luck, brother.” Hanzo just nodded.
Hanzo contemplated as he drove. He had twelve hours to think and think he did. He thought about what originally brought him and Genji to the United States from their native Japan. Their father was a software engineer by trade and he moved them to the States to get a better job in Silicon Valley. Hanzo and Genji had had a happy but boring childhood, until their father died along with their mother in a car crash, and Hanzo was forced to watch over Genji as he was eighteen and Genji was only fifteen. He had grown up quickly, and luckily with their parents large, and he meant large, fortune was easily able to put himself through college and into the sensible career of accounting. He gotten hired at a large firm that paid well, and that had been that for years. Genji had pranced around doing all the ridiculous things teenagers do and him and Hanzo had fought about it, but they always made up. When Hanzo had gotten McCree’s first postcard it shook up his life. It had been sometime around Christmas, he couldn’t remember the exact date, but he remembered the card.
Dear Mystery Man,
Or at least I hope you’re a man. That’s how I imagine you. I’m really drunk, and I crashed my bike outside your house, but no one came out to see if I was okay even though the light was on. You’re the reason I think all Californians are self-absorbed assholes.
Kisses,
Jesse McCree
Hanzo was unsure what to make of the postcard when he first got it. It had been placed directly in his slot in the middle of the night. He remembered because he was almost blackout drunk that night and that was the last thing he remembered. The thing was despite the harsh wording McCree kept writing, and that intrigued Hanzo, because if he had to admit it his life was pretty boring. It consisted of going to work, going home, occasionally getting really drunk and lonely, and then going back to work. So, McCree’s first postcard had been some kind of blessing in disguise for him. It spiced up his life and he found himself waiting every week for the next one to come, and they just kept coming. From all over the country, from Maine to Oregon, Wyoming to Massachusetts, you name it McCree had been there. Hanzo was pretty sure he had a postcard from all fifty states, even Alaska. Thinking back to the manila envelope, he was sure he had two from Alaska. Maybe that’s why he felt it was so important to find McCree, not just because he thought he was maybe in love with the Mystery Man, but he just wanted to thank him.
The road was long, but not arduous, thankfully, and Hanzo reached Santa Fe in no time. Genji had just texted him that he’d gotten a postcard from Santa Fe and its contents. It felt weird having his brother read what was often only for his eyes, but it was necessary in his quest to find McCree, his Mystery Man.
Dear Mystery Man
Stopped in Santa Fe for a day or so but thought it’d be nice to go see my mom and dad on the reservation. I ever tell you I’m biracial, Navajo and Hispanic. Thought about seeing you in LA, but I didn’t even know if you wanted me to, or if you even read these. Probably would’ve been awkward and disappointing anyways.
Kisses,
Jesse McCree
Well at least Hanzo had another clue now. He headed his car toward the Navajo reservation. He was sure finding McCree was going to be like finding a needle in a haystack, but people were surprisingly helpful. He showed them his picture and they pointed him in the right direction. It didn’t occur to him that he’d be meeting McCree’s parents until he walked up to their house. Apparently, luck was on his side today because McCree answered the door, in full cowboy getup.
“Can I help you.” His voice sounded like deep roll of thunder over a flat plain, something you could hear for miles, and there was more than a twinge of southern in it. Hanzo was speechless and looked down at his feet before tentatively handing McCree the manila envelope. “You a delivery guy? Sure don’t dress like one.” McCree said and then said, “Or talk as much as one.” Under his breath but Hanzo still heard it.
Hanzo looked up when he heard McCree open the manila envelope and watched his face change as he examined the contents. It ranged from shocked to happy to finally settle on anger.
“This some kinda joke!” He yelled at Hanzo and Hanzo shook his head furiously still unable to speak. “Well then why am I holding all these damn postcards I wrote, who the fuck are you?”
“Th—The person you wrote them to.” Hanzo stuttered through the sentence regaining his voice.
McCree seemed to settle down at that and he broke into a wide grin, “Well shit if I’d known you were so darn cute I woulda actually come and seen ya.” Hanzo blushed.
“That is exactly why I am here. I…wanted to see you and thank you.”
“For what darling? I ain’t done nothing but write you postcards.”
“You have done an immeasurable amount for me Jesse McCree.” Hanzo recounted the tale of his boring life rather quickly and explained how much McCree’s postcards meant to him.
“So, what you’re saying is you’re here to thank me for making your life less boring?”
“Essentially, yes.”
“Aw, so it ain’t my pretty face that brought you all the way out here?” McCree drawled and winked at him.
Hanzo muttered under his breath, “That too.” And despite his best efforts McCree seemed to hear him and his shit eating grin somehow got even wider.
“Come on in darling. Ma was just cooking up dinner, and I’m assuming you had a long drive. Why don’t you sit down and eat with us for a spell?”
Hanzo thanked him and walked inside following McCree. The house smelled wonderful like how Gabe’s restaurant had smelled. A mix of spices and herbs all blending together wonderfully.
“Ma!” McCree called, “We done got ourselves a guest tonight.”
“Who is it mijo?”
“Remember I told you I was writing postcards to that one fella in LA, well you’ll never believe who showed up. His name is…” McCree trailed off, “Well, shoot darling I never did get your name, must’ve been too distracted by your pretty face.”
Hanzo blushed again, “It is Hanzo, Hanzo Shimada.”
McCree smiled wide, “Name’s Hanzo. You mind if he joins us for dinner. He’s had a mighty long drive.”
“Of course not, set the table Jesse.” His mother called from the kitchen.
“Be right back, sugar.” McCree winked and whisked off into the kitchen. Hanzo stood in the dining room awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. McCree was right, however, and he was back rather quickly, arms loaded with plates, glasses, and cutlery.
“Let me help.” Hanzo said and took some of the burden off McCree, helping him set the table.
Eventually McCree’s mother emerged from the kitchen with piping hot plates of food that looked delicious, but Hanzo couldn’t name. They all sat down and McCree’s mother, Maria, as she introduced herself, prayed for the meal, and then invited them all to dig in. The food was delicious, and the conversation was plentiful. Although, McCree kept trying to flirt with him throughout the meal, with his mother encouraging it. However, the meal came to an end and it was time for Hanzo to go.
“You have somewhere to stay beautiful?” McCree asked and Hanzo opened and then shut his mouth. He hadn’t really thought of that.
“My car.” He eventually came up with.
“Aw shit, a car, naw you’re staying here, come on.” And thus, the decision was made for him. McCree set him up in a guest bedroom, although he waggled his eyebrows and said, “I wouldn’t mind sharin’.” Hanzo didn’t know whether or not he was serious…he bet he was. Hanzo went to bed for once not thinking at all, just blissfully exhausted.
The next morning, he woke to the smell of cooking tortillas, bacon, eggs, and another litany of things. He yawned and stretched before padding downstairs.
“Mornin’ sunshine!” McCree said smiling at him from the stove, “Want breakfast.”
“That would be appreciated.”
The two sat down to eat and Hanzo asked a question he’d been wondering, “Where is your father? You said you were going to visit him and your mother.”
“Oh…” McCree rubbed his hands through his hair, “My dad died a couple years back. I visit his grave whenever I can. That’s what I meant.”
“I’m sorry.” Hanzo replied solemnly, “I didn’t know.”
“Not your fault darlin’.” The two ate in silence for a while after that before McCree broke it. “Say I was thinking how about we head out and I can show you around?”
“That would be lovely.” Hanzo replied smiling slightly.
The two got on McCree’s bike, Hanzo with a helmet, McCree without. The two rode around the reservation meeting quite a few people along the way and they didn’t start making their way back toward the house till it was nearing close to dark. Suddenly, McCree stopped the bike on the side of the road and just looked up.
“Always was one thing I missed about this place when I was traveling, it’s so damn hard to see the stars anywhere else.” McCree said almost longingly and Hanzo looked up as well.
“Wow.” Was all he could muster at the sight. The constellations were so clear and bright that they almost seemed like they weren’t millions of miles away. When Hanzo looked back down McCree was staring at him. “What?” He asked cocking an eyebrow.
“Nothing, you’re just…beautiful. More beautiful than anything I’ve seen in all my travels.”
Hanzo blushed for what felt like the billionth time, “You keep making me blush cowboy, yet you do nothing about it.”
McCree laughed and leaned in close to Hanzo before sealing his lips in a kiss. McCree tasted of cigar smoke and whiskey, something the two had shared in a bar just off the reservation. The kiss was better than anything Hanzo had experienced before, it had emotion and meaning behind it. It felt like Jesse really cared for him and wasn’t just looking for a fuck. Eventually the two of them pulled back for air.
“Damn darlin’ I don’t think I gotta travel no more.”
“And why is that?” Hanzo said stealing another kiss.
“Because I finally found what I’m looking for.”
Hanzo clipped on his helmet and climbed on the back of McCree’s motorcycle behind McCree. McCree might’ve been done traveling but Hanzo was far from done. They had returned to LA where McCree had met Genji, and Hanzo had met Gabe and Jack, each seemed to approve of the other. They had spent some time getting to know each other in Hanzo’s apartment in more ways than one. Eventually, however, Hanzo brought up the suicide postcard and McCree broke down spilling how his life hadn’t been a hard one but it’d been lonely.
His father was always distant from him and his mother, and so were lots of people on the reservation due to his mixed race, but his mother loved him so he knew he wasn’t totally alone. He’d started travelling as soon as he could, taking odd jobs here or there to finance it, until eventually he found a job as a truck driver, driving shipments cross country. This way he could travel and get paid, but he grew bored of it quickly and longed to drive his motorcycle and see what he wanted so he quit and went back to taking whatever job would have him. He’d amassed quite a resume over the years working at butchers, flower shops, receptionist for tattoo parlors (he wasn’t much of an artist he claimed), cashier, you name it he’d done it…just not for very long. He’d spent lots of nights sleeping under the stars because he couldn’t afford a hotel, but he liked it that way. He hadn’t done much in the way of dating before Hanzo, just one-night stands where he could get them, if he was sober enough to get them. Along with the souvenirs from his travels he’d picked up depression and was fighting it so hard for so long that when he wrote that postcard he’d just wanted to give up and end it all. Shoot himself with Peacemaker, his revolver, but he didn’t because he’d been holding out hope for Hanzo, even if he hadn’t known him at the time.
“There was just something, the sliver of a chance, that someone besides my ma would miss me you know, so I didn’t, and it turns out it was a damn good thing I didn’t.” McCree kissed Hanzo softly before hugging him tightly a few tears leaking out of his eyes.
That was what brought them to here. Both Jesse and Hanzo on the back of McCree’s motorcycle ready to go see the world together. McCree wanted to show Hanzo all the sights and Hanzo wanted to see all of them. Even though his Mystery Man was no longer a mystery, he still brought excitement into Hanzo’s life, along with love, and passion, and so many other emotions Hanzo couldn’t name. There had been something holding back Hanzo before. An unknowable fear that he had inside of him, that he wouldn’t ever be more than one of thousands of accountants at a firm. But with Jesse here that fear was gone and instead replaced with a sense of adventure he only remembered feeling when he was a child. With Jesse he felt like he could do anything, and they would do everything, together.
“You ready darlin’?” Jesse asked leaning back toward Hanzo, as Hanzo wrapped his arms around him. Jesse was still not wearing a helmet, despite Hanzo’s many protests.
“I’ve never been more ready.” Hanzo said planting a gentle kiss on Jesse’s lips.
Jesse blushed and turned around, “Well let’s get going then.”
Jesse revved the engine and sent them flying down the highway toward, and with, everything Hanzo could ever want.