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*knock knock knock*
The sharp, hurried taps at the door woke Hanzo from his sleep as he rolled to the side, eyes creeping open, facing his nightstand. The illuminated numbers on the clock read 20:38 - he had most likely slept well through dinner. Not like he would be able to maintain much of an appetite anyway, he mused. The medications, although they were currently keeping him from being in a world of pain, had the inconvenient side effect of suppressing his appetite.
Hanzo arose slowly and carefully, wincing as he reached for the shirt that had been haphazardly crumpled at the foot of the bed. Thanks to the injuries he had sustained, which apparently included two weeks of unconsciousness, it took longer than he would care to admit to finally put the damn shirt on. Getting dressed the next few days would be interesting to say the least, he thought as his fingers grazed over the harsh sensation of several stitches on his right flank.
He answered the door to be greeted by a beaming smile from the resident gunslinger, who had shed his usual combat chestplate and chaps for a soft, red flannel shirt and weathered jeans. The cowboy boots and the familiar jingle of the spurs remained, of course.
“Hey there,” began McCree, “noticed ya weren't at dinner, and thought I'd check up on you.”
“I wasn't hungry,” Hanzo replied, clearing his throat, voice still warming up from his brief slumber. “But thank you for checking on me.” The smallest of grins found it's way to the archer’s lips as he glanced up to look McCree in the eyes.
Two weeks of unconsciousness, thought Hanzo to himself. Two weeks which apparently included the cowboy diligently watching over him in the medbay, taking breaks only for the barest of necessities - bathroom breaks, food breaks, and eventually cigar breaks after Angela caught him lighting up and promptly reprimanded him. And shower breaks, thanks to Genji’s brutal honesty. “If you don’t shower, your stink will knock him right back into unconsciousness before he can even open his eyes” were his exact words.
Hanzo couldn’t help but wonder what compelled the man to stay by his side for those two weeks. He knew what he hoped was the reason, but considered it a long shot for such a handsome, kindhearted gentleman like Jesse McCree. As much as he longed for just some reciprocation of the attraction and infatuation the archer had developed for him, the friendship they shared would be enough. But the question still lingered in the back of his head.
“Jesse, was I really out for two whole weeks?” he finally asked.
“Yeah, just about.”
“And you were there the whole time?”
“I sure was.” McCree replied with a chuckle. “How’d ya know?”
“Genji told me,” Hanzo’s voice lowered, gaze softening. “But why?”
The cheery smile that McCree wore slowly faded as he leaned closer, eyes like fire burning into the archer’s own. “Why do you think?” his voice rumbled.
“I do not know,” Hanzo replied softly, inching even closer. “I know what I want it to be, but... I’m afraid to ask.” He continued, voice wavering.
The sly smile Hanzo had grown so fond of slowly crept back onto the taller man’s face. “Please, don’t be afraid.” Jesse lifted his large, calloused hand to gingerly brush against the shorter man’s cheek. “You'd probably be right.”
Their first kiss was timid and careful, lips barely grazing. Hanzo’s heart was racing, heartbeat loud in his ears.
“I was afraid too; I don’t know what I woulda done if you never woke up.” Jesse confessed as he leaned his forehead against the archer’s. “I never thought you would feel the same way towards me as I feel about you, but I had always hoped.”
“I had hoped for the same.” Hanzo wrapped his arms around the gunslinger, pulling him into a tender embrace.
“No need ta’ hope anymore, darlin.”
Their lips met once again, passion building and intensity bubbling at the surface. Kissing Jesse’s soft, slightly chapped lips was much more enjoyable than Hanzo could have possibly imagined. As he parted the cowboy’s lips with his eager tongue, he could taste traces of the warm, heady flavor of tobacco and whiskey. Jesse reciprocated, deepening the kiss and exploring the archers mouth with his own.
When Jesse's flesh hand crept up his partner’s side, under the shirt he had hastily thrown on, his fingers found the prickly stab of the stitches on Hanzo’s side, causing him to wince at the sudden pain.
“Sorry bout that, forgot you're still recovering,” Jesse chuckled, pulling his hand back.
“It's fine,” Hanzo gently grabbed the gunslinger’s hand, guiding him towards his bed. He carefully sat, leaning into his pillow and pulling the cowboy’s body next to his. The bed was barely big enough for the two to fit, but they managed to make it work, Jesse remembering to be mindful of the archer’s injuries.
“You are here, Jesse; that is enough for me.” His eyes closed as they simultaneously leaned in, sharing soft, tender kisses.
The kisses continued through the night; some slow and languid, both taking time to savor the moment together, while some were passionate and filled with desire. Hanzo still couldn’t believe he was sharing a bed with the man whose attention he had been craving the past few months. He didn’t know it at the time, but Jesse harbored a similar feeling of disbelief, as he fought back the temptation building in his chest to further explore their bodies. But after waiting as long as they had, another couple days would be worth it. Eventually sleep overtook the archer, his head finding comfort on the gunslinger’s shoulder.