Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

i dreamt about you last night.

„Can I tell you something gay?“, Genji's voice is a slur, and even in the eerie quiet the words hardly make any sense to Jesse, even if he's stone-cold sober, and trying really hard. Outside of the flat, the night is slowly shifting into something else, the weird hours between morning and night, the first hints of grey within the dark blue. Genji's head is resting in Jesse's lap, a chaotic mess of green strands of hair and tired eyes, edged in red, like he hasn't gotten an hour of sleep within the last seven days.

From the mess of words stumbling out of his mouth during the last hours, this might as well be true, Jesse figures, resisting the urge to brush the hair falling into Genji's eyes away. Instead he glances at the empty bottle of whiskey on the table, the half-empty glass behind it, because at some point of the night, Genji stopped caring, started gulping down the liquor straight from the bottle, and Jesse hadn't tried to stop him. Maybe he should've, being a good friend and all, but he knows too well, the look in Genji's eyes, everything about his posture, the slumped shoulders, the pale skin, the smell of cigarettes clinging to him, even if he knows that Genji never smokes.

“Sure”, he swallows the about five pet names that he normally would've added, but right now, everything feels inappropriate except raw truth, and at least Genji is talking again, not just laying face down on his couch, leaving Jesse to occasionally check if he was still breathing. Jesse figures he'll take it, no matter what it is Genji wants to tell him – anything is better than seeing Genji like this, especially better than the nagging, roaring feeling inside Jesse's chest that he should get up and hit someone, hit whoever hurt his friend like this, but in reality he's stuck on this couch, stuck to watching his friend fall apart piece by piece, a little more each day, and each day he drinks a little more alcohol than before, and Jesse has no idea how to continue any of this, because there's a world where he's just the guy next door who will not play any part in this story, and sometimes, he's afraid this is the timeline where it happens.

He's afraid that this is the timeline where he's the one being left behind, but he pushes the thought away, into the back of his head, because right now, Genji is here and both of them have a choice, even if so many choices have already been made tonight.

Genji blinks at him, like he's just realizing that Jesse is here, and his smile is lazy, almost content, even if it makes Jesse shiver for a split second, because he should be used to this drunk smile by now, but he isn't. “I dreamt about you last night”, he reaches out of Jesse's face, but instead stops his hand mid-air hanging in between them like he's forgotten about it.

“Was it a good dream?”, Jesse asks, even if he's afraid of the answer, and for a moment, Genji just stares at him, or not really at him, at a point behind his head, out of the kitchen window, or maybe at the plant Jesse has been ignoring for weeks, eyes empty. Somewhere in the house, a telephone rings. None of them moves, until Genji lets his hand drop with a sigh, rubbing his eyes.

“It wasn't good or bad, you were just there”, he murmurs, “and that's not half as gay as what excepted, right?”, towards the end of the sentence, his voice dies into a yawn, and he looks almost startled. “I should've made something up.”

“If the truth is boring, that's it, no need to make more exciting.”

“Life is exciting enough”, he adds, a hint of bitterness in his voice that makes Jesse almost cringe, “even if I like dreaming a little more.”

Jesse chuckles, softly. “Even dreaming about me?” “Especially about you”, for a second, Genji's smile turns back to his usual starry eyed smile, and Jesse finds himself smiling as well. This time, he gives in the urge to brush his hair back, and when Genji grabs his hand, he lets him. “I'm glad you're here”, he mumbles into the back of Jesse's hand, his breath warm against his skin.

I'm not glad you're here, Jesse thinks, but he's not drunk and not that dumb, even if he'd rather have Genji four countries away, smiling and sober and happy, with these dumb stars in his eyes that he gets when he talks about his university, than here, drunk, curled up in his lap, pretending the world is fine. But at the same time, he is, because sometimes, he's a little bit of a mess without Genji, and he's always glad about the trust. It's too much trust to sacrifice it for something as dumb as the butterflies in his stomach, even if he's old for this anyways, as Genji plants a soft kiss on the back of his hand, curls up a little more and closes his eyes.

Jesse is left with the sky turning brighter, his thoughts blaring inside his head, crashing into each other, wondering why the world always has to keep turning, even if he wants it to stop more desperately than ever before.

Chapter Text

i'm sorry for your loss.

Jesse always expected it to rain – so he brings an umbrella, just in case, just in case Genji doesn't have one, stuffed awkwardly into his backpack that doesn't fit his suit at all. He borrowed it from Jack and the sleeves are a little too long, the shoulders a little too wide and it feels awkward and uncomfortable. He has no idea what he's doing, and he wishes he had.

The day of the funeral, the sun is up high in the sky, there are birds singing outside and the air smells like death. Or maybe death smells like the expensive brand of cigarettes Genji has been chain-smoking ever since last Thursday, the most expensive brand he could find, he told Jesse, on the phone, in the middle of the night, because his father would hate everything about it. Jesse accepted it, because he's not in the position to talk Genji into anything, and others day, he maybe would've tried, but not these days.

These days he clings to the hope that he can maybe see Genji smile again, even if takes years.

Today, this vision seems more out of reach than ever, more like a castle in the sky, ready to crash down onto them. Maybe that's what Jesse really took the umbrella for, to protect Genji from the bricks of his life pouring from the sky. He doubts it would make any difference, the paper-thin cloth, but he's willing to try. He would try a lot of dumb things for Genji.

In the end, he leaves the umbrella in the car when Jack drops him off, awkwardly patting his shoulder like it would any difference. Maybe for Jesse, it does, because he always has something to home to, even years after his parent's death, because he has Jack and Gabriel and Aunt Ana, and family sure as hell doesn't end with blood, because he loves them more than his own father, and he wants and wants and wants, wants to feel Genji the way he does. It wasn't this way from the beginning, when they were playing their games, hanging out, making out, before everything turned upside down and suddenly they were so much more and so much more complicated.

This is complicated, and Jesse isn't sure he likes complicated.

Genji waits for him at the entrance, arms folded neatly across his chest, but his suit is crumpled and reeks of smoke, the shadows under his eyes are dark enough to swallow Jesse whole, his movement is nervous and uncoordinated. He smiles as Jesse approaches, behind a woman which faded dark hair, covered in strands of white, her whole posture and look speak of disapproving. Genji's smile isn't even a shadow of his usual smile, it's november mist, the one Genji hates so much, when the streets are gloomy and overgrown with shadows. That's how Genji looks, like someone ripped him out of a vanished portrait long after dawn, replacing his autumn with the darkest of winter. Jesse isn't sure if he believes that it's always darkest before the dawn.

He waits, while Genji and the woman exchange hushed words in japanese, fiddling around with his black tie, checking for the fifth time if the envelope with the money is still in his pocket, because he doesn't care, but there's no reason for him to be another excuse for Genji's family to hate him. His palms feel sweaty for no reason at all, and his throat feels dry when Genji finally exchanges bows with the woman and looks up, at him. “You made it”, his voice sounds cracked, and he looks tired, so tired.

“I told you I would come”, Jesse shrugs, there's a step distance between them, but none of them makes any move to cross it. They just look at each other. “I appreciate it”, it sounds hollow and fake, and Jesse swallows the lump in his throat. He's about to say something, anything, but he only manages an almost too soft “I never asked to be here” before someone interrupts him.

“Leave, then”, Hanzo demands, and Jesse wants to roll his eyes at him, bites it back simply because of Genji, who looks even more tired than before, if that was even possible. “I'm my own person, sorry”, he draws the sorry out and in the way Hanzo bits his lip he can see all the annoyance and hate they share. And history.

“This isn't your place and you're not suited even be close to my brother. Especially not today.” Jesse drops his hands to his sides, loose, while Hanzo's are clenched into fists. “You don't get to decide that, Hanzo.”

There is only disgust in Hanzo's dark eyes, raw and pure and so much more hateful, because even Hanzo is on edge, Jesse realizes, even Hanzo isn't able to keep up his farce in the face of the things that happened. It's not a thought he likes, especially not when Hanzo comes closer, shoving Genji aside, who doesn't resist.

“I'm head of this clan now”, he hisses, “so I get to decide that.”

“So you are going to make the same mistakes as your father by everyone else suffer?”

Jesse has spend enough time on the streets of rotten towns to know when someone is going to hit him, but Hanzo is fast and precise, so his step aside turns into a short stumble, Hanzo's hit leaves a burning line on his face instead of maybe breaking his nose, and for a second, they are close enough that Jesse could kiss Hanzo – in another lifetime, maybe he would've, but in this, Genji is there, pulling Hanzo away from him, furious english words turning into even more furious japanese, until their eyes meet again, but Jesse looks away, looks at Genji instead, how he bites his lip the exact same way his brother does, at the desperation in his eyes.

His eyes find Hanzo's again, breath heavy, his suit even more crumpled than before.

“Hanzo”, his voice is calm, the calmest he's felt in years, “if you hurt him, I'll kill you.”

Genji opens his mouth as to say something, but Jesse only stares at Hanzo, who, for once in his life, understands that this is not a threat to be taken lightly. “I'm sorry for your loss”, he adds, cold and distant, and he's sorry, for the damn show he has to put on, but as he turns his back to the Shimada brothers, he figures that it's about time he stops being an observer.

Maybe it's his time to become a part of this play everyone around him is participating in.

Chapter Text

you're warm.

Jesse figures it's a good moment to question most his life choices, because he's done a lot of dumb things, a lot of illegal things and questionable things, but it's the coldest winter morning in ages, his hands in the leather gloves shake so much he can barely steady his grip and he's desperately clinging to the front of the Shimada estate, trying his best to climb up.

And it's not even about breaking in – in a way, it is, but Jesse has no money or gems to gain from it, and he regrets his decision to come here for this bullshit more with every passing second, with every time he struggles to pull himself up, peeking into the window first to ensure that Hanzo's face is not the last thing he sees in this lifetime, because he would bet his hat on it that Hanzo would shove him away without as much as blinking, probably waving him goodbye on the way down until Jesse's remains shatter on the frozen grass. The thought makes him shudder – mostly the part where Hanzo's eyes are the last thing sees, not the part where he dies.

There are days where he really, really likes Genji, and today probably is or he wouldn't be here right now, but dying by Hanzo's hand is not really on his list of things he'd do for his maybe-boyfriend. Climbing up his house in the middle of winter is on that list, apparently, and if someone would've told Jesse that three years ago, he probably would've laughed.

Especially if someone would've added that it would be Hanzo's house, but the reason wouldn't be Hanzo, but that's something that has no place in his life and his head and his bed anymore, and this is really not the time to think about it.

Instead, he settles on praying to a god he doesn't believe in that he makes it out of this situation alive, and the god apparently has mercy with him, because his stone-cold fingers find the windowsill, the metal covered in ice and snow and he flinches away from the touch, forcing himself to cling to it anyways. “Fuck you”, he mutters under his breath, into the red cloth of his scarf, and it's directed to no one in particular. His body feels heavy from the cold, stiff, while he pulls himself up until he holds onto the window instead, which probably isn't a good idea, but he doesn't get much time to regret it, because Genji's eyes meet his, wide open with surprise and then Jesse stumbles into the room head-first, tumbles half onto the floor, half onto Genji who tries to catch him but fails miserably.

It ends with Jesse face down on the floor of his maybe-boyfriend's room while Genji tries his best not to laugh. Of course he fails that as well, and Jesse curses at him in ugly spanish which only makes Genji laugh more. It turns into an ugly cough and Jesse is worried enough to actually roll over to blink at him. “Are you dying?” Jesse McCree has always been known to be a sensitive man, and it's not a trait he plans on dropping anytime soon. “If I die now”, Genji manages to fit the words in between the coughs that shake his whole body, and Jesse can't help but to notice how unhealthy his skin looks and how he looks thinner then the last time they met, “Hanzo is going to get you into jail for murdering me, no matter what any autopsy report says. He'd spend his whole money on it.”

Jesse simply grins at him in reply, dropping his jacket and the gloves on the floor where they leave wet, muddy traces on the carpet. He knows that Genji hates the carpet more than his live, so nobody really minds, nobody who's in the room right now at least. Instead he flops down next to Genji on the bed where he sits, cross-legged, grey sweatpants and a plain white shirt, not a sign of the clothing style he normally prefers, but Jesse is used to Genji at home being a different Genji than he one he knows, even if that doesn't mean that he likes any of them more. He simply wants Genji to be as happy as possible, because that's his favorite, and the thought is so sappy that he can almost feel his blood sugar reaching questionable heights.

He pushes it away, because Genji isn't even his boyfriend.

“Are you contagious, because I forgot to ask and -”

“You'll throw yourself out of the window if I tell you yes?”, Genji manages a weak smirk.

“I'd never do that!”, Jesse complains, but Genji merely rolls his eyes at him. “If Hanzo would walk into this room right now, you would totally do it, don't lie to ill people.” He settles on muttering something into his scarf instead of replying.

“And no, I'm pretty sure I'm not contagious anymore, so nothing to worry about, cowboy.”

“That's something, at least”, Jesse lets his hand rest between Genji's shoulderblades, feels the pointed bones beneath the skin. “I should've brought Jack”, he jokes, “Jack and Ana, because neither of them can resist puppy-eyed ill boys who clearly haven't eaten enough during the last weeks.” “Who's the puppy-eyed boy in this relationship?”, one second, Genji is pouting, the next, there is something like panic in his eyes because Jesse can almost taste the words, the venomous words who have no space in this room.

Relationship.

For half a shattered moment, none of them says anything, before Jesse pulls Genji closer, until his head rests on Jesse's shoulder, and he can feel Genji shifting closer, until their bodies are pressed together, comfort in each others solitude, the solitude of this house, of the past buried somewhere a floor down. “Not a relationship”, Genji mumbles, head buried face down in Jesse's scarf.

“Not a relationship”, Jesse repeats, digging his fingers in the cloth of Genji's shirt.

When Genji throws his arms around Jesse's upper body, Jesse lets him.

“You're warm”, he rambles, and Jesse can't help but to smile.

“I climb a house up in the cold for you, and this is the only thing you tell me?”