Chapter Text
He almost doesn't notice them at first. The small touches. Little bumps in passing, gently touching two fingers to his wrist during mission briefs, holding his elbow with a featherlight touch, leaning on him, fingers lingering after his hat is snatched, rubbing his hair into a wild mess before returning the stetson. The little touches McCree finds himself noticing more and more often whenever Genji is near. At first, he tries to convince himself that it's all accidental, that somehow the cyborg with complete control over every fidget and shift of his body is only accidentally creating these drive-by contacts.
It takes McCree jolting awake in a cold sweat and too scared to go back to sleep, wandering the cold linoleum halls of the base and ending up in a silent encounter with the cyborg, it takes Genji crossing the tiled floor so quietly and running his fingers through Jesse's hair so softly for him to finally give it up. He leans into the touch and Genji rewards him with a gentle scratch, causing a shiver of delight to run through McCree. He takes a half-step closer, afraid of scaring Genji off, but the cyborg stays firmly planted, fingers still dragging tingling lines across Jesse's scalp. Genji tilts his head ever so slightly to the left and lets his hand rest against the back of Jesse's head before giving a light, experimental tug. Mccree sucks in a breath sharply and shuts his eyes, leaning into the touch more. He can almost see Genji's eyes light up as he presses a gentle kiss to the exposed material of Genji's wrist, almost hear the soft gasp as he wraps himself around Genji's small frame, almost feel the vibrations as Genji feels simultaneously grounded and ready to explode.
He needed this. They both did. They move to McCree's room, pressed against each other's side, and make their place on the bed, curled up together in the corner and shrouded in the thick duvet. Minutes that feel like hours pass filled with touches that start out cautious and explorative, gradually becoming solid and sure. Genji likes to rub at Jesse's stubble, likes to run his fingers over the broad plane of his chest and feel the nervous flutter of Jesse's heartbeat, likes to press his hands into the warm rolls of Jesse's stomach with a soft smile he knows Jesse will never see. Jesse likes to hold Genji's faceplate with his warm hands no matter how cold it is until it's warmed up, likes to press his face and tender kisses into Genji's hands, like to rub circles into the comforting texture of the material on Genji's thighs.
Every time Genji touches him, McCree feels the need to say something, anything. A thanks, a compliment, a request. Every time he thinks he's found something to say, all he can do is whimper as Genji moves on to the next area. He tries to convince himself to get up the courage to say it next time, but by then Genji has moved his touch elsewhere and McCree is content to just let him touch.
Eventually, to the ire of the two, McCree's alarm makes its loud arrival with the day. McCree breathes a shaky sigh and reaches for Genji one last time but the cyborg had already stood off the bed. Fumbling for the words he tried to speak when they were together, McCree opened and closed his mouth lamely, looking around his bed for some sort of excuse.
“We will do this again sometime.”
The sound of the cybernetic voice was strange after so long spent in quiet company and all McCree could do was nod as Genji stalked out of the room. As the door closed, McCree found himself gasping for air as if he'd been out of breath. He pressed a hand to his chest and found his heart beating rapidly. He let out a breathy chuckle as he flopped back onto his bed and rested a hand over his eyes.
“Lord A’mighty,” he rasped, smiling fondly to himself. He looked forward to next time.