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Jesse’s been pining for the archer for months now with no luck. He’s tried everything– invited him out to drink (and, while they had done so, Hanzo had made some comment about McCree being unable to hold his liquor, and he couldn’t just let that slide , now could he?), trained with him every morning (those days usually turned out to be competitions between the two of them as well), even brought gifts back for him while on away missions. Hanzo is friendly with him, certainly, but that’s all he is.
McCree doesn’t want friendly . He wants all of Hanzo– to be his shoulder to cry on, to hold him, to sleep next to him, to kiss him .
He wants it so badly he aches .
He was moping about Hanzo and how oblivious to his feelings the archer seems to be on his way back to his room when a head of brown hair belonging to a girl that obviously had been eating way too much sugar barrelled straight into him.
“Hana?” Jesse had grunted, hands falling to the short girl’s shoulders as he pushes her back. “What in Sam Hill are you doin’?”
She’d shrugged his hands off her shoulders and bounced in place, a grocery bag hanging off her arm. Without saying a word, she’d reached into her bag and pulled out a familiar bright red box that she’d shoved into his hands. With a shout of, “Happy Pocky Day,” over her shoulder, she’d ran off to find her next victim.
Someone really needed to supervise Hana and her impulse purchases from now on , McCree had thought while turning the box over to survey the front. She’d given him a box of original chocolate Pocky, something he hadn’t eaten in over a decade now. It reminded him of a particular game that Genji had told him about while they were in their Blackwatch days. His best friend had regaled him with tales of playing the game as a child with these sweet treats, stealing kisses from boys and girls alike. Jesse took a moment to smile at the memory while wondering if the elder Shimada had ever played games like that when he was a kid.
Nah, Hanzo would never play a game like that. From what Genji had told him about their youth, Hanzo was always more focused on his studies and training than silly children’s games. He’d likely never played nor wanted to play “the pocky game”, as Genji had called it.
“Would he be willing to play it now?” A part of McCree suggests.
Well. That was a thought.
That’s what brought him to now, standing outside of the rec room where he knows Hanzo is, the box of sweets held far too tightly in his hands. He can feel sweat threatening to bead on his temple just thinking about propositioning Hanzo with this silly game. Jesse swallows back the knot in his throat, knowing that he’s hyped himself up far too much to back out now. He takes a moment to open the sweets and slide out a chocolate-covered stick (so he doesn’t fumble taking one out in front of Hanzo) before he sucks in a bracing breath and steps into the rec room.
At the sound of his footfalls, Hanzo looks up from his tablet from where he’s leaning against the island, a smile flashing on his features at the sight of him, before he turns his attention back to whatever he’s reading. McCree strides over to the kitchen area, feeling more confident with every step. He can do this– what’s the worse that can happen?
Hanzo could end up hating you or kicking your ass or–
McCree audibly clears his throat, derailing his own train of thought before it can crash and burn with him at the head.
“Hey Hanzo,” he says, gently rolling the pocky between his finger and thumb just to give himself something to do with his hands. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop and whatnot. He leans walks around the island to stand next to Hanzo, heart already beating far faster than normal. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Hello McCree,” the archer says, glancing up from his tablet once more with a single brow cocked. His eyes flick from McCree’s face to his hand, the other brow raising when he sees what he has there. “What are you up to today?”
“Well, Hana gave me some sweets yesterday,” McCree starts, figuring honesty is the best policy. Hanzo shifts to stand up straighter, arms crossing over his chest while he keeps his eyes on McCree, a small smile on his face. “An’ I remember Genji tellin’ me about a lil’ game you can play with these treats…”
“Oh? A game?” Hanzo asks, though the spark in his eyes betrays him in how he’s trying to feign innocence. Jesse’s heart does a cartwheel and his stomach contorts itself into a pretzel. A part of him wants to back out now (he can’t imagine how much Genji would make fun of him if he did) but the other part of him reminds himself that this is one of the only things he hasn’t tried. Besides, if Hanzo doesn’t want to, he can always play if off as a joke.
“Yep. Genji called it the ‘pocky game’.” McCree brings the treat up to his mouth, holding it between his index and middle fingers like a cigarette, and wags his brows lasciviously at the shorter man. “Mind givin’ me a demonstration on how to play, Han?”
Jesse bites the end of the biscuit stick while shoving Hanzo with his elbow. Hanzo looks bemused for a moment, one brow cocked incredulously, although his eyes are still focused on the treat now clenched between McCree’s teeth. That’s the only implication that he even heard what Jesse said. Otherwise, the archer is peculiarly silent and still beside him.
The silence stretches on between them, seconds feeling like minutes, and sweat beads at Jesse’s hairline as he realizes how he might’ve finally crossed the line with the elder Shimada. After a few long moments, he goes to pull the treat out of his mouth, already feeling defeated. Damn it– he might as well get ready to play it off as a joke–
Hanzo’s hand reaches up and snatches the loose fabric at the front of his undershirt.
McCree barely has a second to realize that Hanzo has done so before he’s being yanked a few inches down to eye level. And, oh , are there eyes waiting there for him… Deep brown, playful, and shining with something Jesse can’t quite name, but, if he had to take a guess, he’d say it was… desire . The thought of Hanzo looking at him with such intent has his heart skipping more beats than is entirely necessary and his breath seizing in his throat.
This is much more than he’d hoped for.
Especially when Hanzo’s lips curl into a self-satisfied smirk and McCree wonders how they’d feel–
Jesse stares as Hanzo’s lips part (Gods above and below, they look so damn soft ) and his tongue peeks out to flick the chocolate-covered end of the treat between them. Gently, he leans forward and takes the sweet between his teeth. His eyes never leave McCree’s.
There’s only four inches of artificial chocolate and sweet biscuit separating their lips now. McCree can barely breathe, let alone think, when Hanzo starts to nibble at the end of it, closing the gap between them. The heat from his face is palpable, like the fire in his eyes, and it all stokes the kindling inside of Jesse, setting him ablaze. Warmth coils through him, curling around his heart and sending its molten tendrils through every vein until even the tips of his toes feel hot .
McCree doesn’t realize he’s biting at the other end of the treat until the gap between them closes considerably faster. He doesn’t even realize he’s tilting his head to avoid bumping noses– and to better slot their mouths together– until he sees Hanzo do the same. The box of pocky in his flesh hand is damn near crushed at this point.
It’s barely an inch now, just a bit more of the chocolate-covered sweet, and he’d be kissing the Hanzo Shimada. Oh Gods, he can’t wait– he’s wanted it for so damn long now, dreamt about kissing the archer in front of him countless times. Jesse drops the box of pocky to the ground, fingers itching to feel the lovely peach fuzz on the side of the other man’s head. He reaches for him, knowing they’re mere seconds away now–
Just when he can feel their lips brush, Hanzo snaps the last morsel of the treat in half and pulls away.
Jesse blinks. And blinks. And blinks.
What?
Hanzo is no longer right in front of him. The hand curled around the collar of his shirt is gone. Instead, Hanzo is standing back a bit, licking a stray smear of melted chocolate off his plump lower lip. He absentmindedly runs one of his thumbs over the skin, tongue darting out to lap at the digit and unknowingly causing a volcano to erupt inside of McCree. Every inch of his body is absolutely flooded with heat, fire and desire igniting the fuse inside of him and burning him from the inside out.
“That was fun, cowboy,” Hanzo purrs as he grabs his tablet off the island and turns on his heel. He strides towards the exit, a flirtatious sway to his hips while he talks at McCree over his shoulder. “Maybe we will do it again another time. But just so you know…”
Hanzo turns his head to peek over his shoulder, one sharp eye in view, as well as the curve of a self-satisfied smirk on those lovely, kissable lips.
“Strawberry is my favorite flavor.”
And with that, he’s gone.
All that he leaves behind is McCree in a pile of ash next to a crushed box of pocky on the kitchen floor.