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Genji drifts awake when the mattress jostles beneath him. He blinks open his eyes to see the usual ceiling of a Gibraltar room and turns his head towards the wall that houses the dresser, expecting to be greeted by his own belongings, only to furrow his brow at the serape that bleeds vibrant red into the otherwise shadowy space.
"Sorry," says a familiar voice into the dark.
McCree's room, his still-drowsy mind supplies, and oh, right. He'd joined him after they'd gotten off the transport from the last mission, with the excuse that McCree's room was closer. Cyborgization does nothing for jet-lag, as it turns out.
Genji rolls over to face him, McCree sitting on the far side of the bed. "What time is it?" Genji asks, more alert already.
"Three," McCree tells him, then adds, "in the morning." At Genji's disgruntled noise, he shrugs. "Hey, you got your own room."
He's certain that McCree doesn't really want him to leave his bed, if the previous mornings he's woken up with McCree curled up against him are anything to go off of. Not that Genji hasn't woken up just as many times with his head tucked under McCree's chin and his arm fallen along his waist. But considering the sharpness of the reminder that he does, in fact, have his own room, Genji thinks fleetingly about whether he's being dismissed.
McCree beats him to the punch with a heavy exhale and more mattress-jostling as he gets up.
"Not that I'm saying you should head out." He runs a hand through his sleep-mussed hair and shrugs again, less hitched and more rolling. "Stay." A pause. "If you want."
Genji's annoyance slides out of his grasp as McCree heads to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. There's a vague frustration left behind that Genji can't place, and supposes that sleeping in McCree's bed must come with some drawbacks — one of which are the rude awakenings.
It isn't the first time that McCree's disturbed his sleep with his restlessness, but it's the first time that it's happened when they're both fresh off a mission and obviously exhausted. It's only been a couple hours; Genji had, admittedly, been looking forward to another several spent without being interrupted, and wonders if perhaps McCree is immune to jet lag the same way he's immune to abnormal amounts of caffeine.
("It just doesn't do nothing for me," he'd said once, and Genji had asked why he drinks so much of it, then. "Oh, easy. Old habits're hard to break. And I don't like hot tea.")
McCree wanders back into the bedroom after a short time. Genji feels a sort of appeasement at the startled reaction he gets, as if McCree hadn't expected to see him there still. He's quick to cover it up, but not quick enough. Genji stretches out lazily, tugs the covers open, pats the part of the bed that's gone cold without McCree in it.
"Are you done being cranky?" he asks, a little pointed about it.
McCree gives a snort. "Guess I am."
He makes his way over, picking his way past all of Genji's discarded armor, strewn here and there in the rush to catch up on sleep. When McCree lays down, he smells of his smoke rather than leather and gunpowder leftover from the mission. As if to prove that it's all water under the bridge, Genji shoves his face more firmly against the crook of McCree's shoulder.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Genji asks, shutting his eyes again. It's an offer that will most likely go denied, but it's an offer, all the same.
He feels McCree move, but it's only enough for him to shove his arm between Genji and the bed. "Still keyed up, is all. Didn't mean to wake you."
"Too late," Genji huffs against his neck.
"I hadn't noticed," McCree says, dry. But he presses a kiss to Genji's forehead after a second. The arm around him pulls him closer, and Genji throws a leg over McCree's to keep him in place, so it isn't all bad. Not even close.
When Genji wakes up in the middle of the day, McCree is still out cold, his breathing deep and even, his face more relaxed than he's ever seen it.
It continues to happen countless times after that, too — McCree waking Genji on his way out of the bed. Some nights, Genji follows and they chat and wander away the excess energy. Other nights, Genji simply waits for him to return. Slowly but surely, McCree stops looking as surprised to find him remaining there throughout his absences. (As if Genji would up and leave? Not while the bed's still warm, at least; it would be a hassle to go all the way back to his own room just to sleep. Might as well stick around.)
But things change, slowly. McCree doesn't wake up as often. Genji still does, but it's so simple to fall asleep again with McCree at his back, or against his chest, or even just as a presence in the bed with him. It's intimate in the most damning of ways, and Genji knows very well why, but it goes unsaid.
"Sleep's a slippery thing, you know?" McCree says on one of their quieter nights, when Genji has elected to join him on an aimless circuit around the base.
Genji looks over, pausing his stride alongside McCree. "I know," he replies, patient but no less curious as to where he may be going with it.
He recognizes the furrow between McCree's brows, the weight of his thoughts keeping it there. It's the same expression he gets when he's lining up a particularly dubious shot, focused and concentrated onto one specific point. McCree's eyes don't exactly stray, but there's almost something shy in the way his gaze flicks from Genji's face down to Genji's hands.
"You have been better lately," Genji prompts, a bit charmed in some roundabout way.
"Yeah." McCree reaches in a pocket, comes up again with a cigar. "And whose fault is that?"
Genji raises a brow at him as he lights his cigar. "I help you sleep?" he asks after a beat..
McCree seems to fluster, nose crinkling. "Yeah," he manages. "I, uh... That sound stupid or something?"
Genji thinks of his own easier, restful nights. Waking only long enough to sidle closer to the warmth of McCree's body, the soft reassurance of holding and being held. Genji has slept with many people, but generally only due to a particular sort of fatigue. He realizes suddenly that the last few times they've fallen into bed with each other, it has only been to sleep, and for nothing else. It's a realization long due and only throw him off slightly.
"No, it doesn't," he says. "I sleep better with you, too."
The tension in McCree's shoulders drops out all at once and he sighs. Takes a drag of his cigar. They're outside, so Angela at least can't complain that he's ruining the air quality for anyone else.
"I mean, it really ain't just that," McCree goes on, picking at the cigar's wrapping. "When we're on a mission together, I ain't ever gotta turn around, check my six. I know you got me. Or if something goes bad, I got eyes on you before anybody else. Hell, I've been putting my gun up instead of shoving it under the bed."
"And you sleep through the night," Genji murmurs, a dawning edge to his words.
"And I sleep through the night." McCree pulls in another long breath of smoke before exhaling. He pauses for a second, jaw working. "It's… been nice, is all."
There's a lot that he doesn't know how to say, especially now that McCree's tugged the proverbial rug from under his feet. He plucks the cigar from McCree so he can hold it away from them both long enough to kiss him, stealing the taste of that familiar smoke right off his lips. Genji feels a hand light upon his side, and the start of a smile against his mouth.
He flicks the brim of McCree's hat when he leans away, the sly curve to his own mouth matching the tiny grin playing at McCree's.
"I make you feel safe," Genji says, awfully pleased.
"Hey, I'm fresh outta being on the run from people who wanna turn my head in for a pretty penny." McCree makes a grab for the cigar; Genji holds it further away from him with a playful step back. "I sure as hell hope it ain't a surprise that I trust you."
Genji dances another half-step away as McCree lunges, teasing, "Would you like to be little spoon tonight, then?"
McCree's cheeks color darker, though he doesn't sound embarrassed in the least. "Wouldn't mind, either way."
"Good." Genji lifts the cigar up to his own lips to hide the nervous sway of his smile behind his hand. "Because I feel better when I'm able to hold onto you, anyway."
McCree watches him closely for a long moment, those sharp eyes scanning him over.
Then he grins.
"Don't bullshit me with that," McCree says. "I know you cuddle up closer when you think you ain't gonna wake me up." He holds his hand towards him with the palm up and fingers outstretched expectantly.
Genji purses his lips, caught, and passes him the cigar. "Only when I wake up and you've managed to get across the bed from me."
"Liar. Two nights ago, we were plenty close already and you still wormed your way between my arms."
A pause.
"I'm not embarrassed," Genji tells him finally, scoffing.
"No reason to be," McCree replies, that grin of his turning into something fonder.
Back in McCree's room, Genji pulls McCree's shirt off of him and quiets nearly spoken words with a long kiss that takes the breath out of him. McCree's the first to drop into bed, Genji following him down, and when they finally get settled against the mattress, Genji rolls to turn his back to him. He pulls McCree's wrist over his side, lacing their fingers together, sidling closer until he can feel McCree's slowing breaths against his back.
"Thought I was little spooning," McCree mumbles against the back of his neck. He feels the gentle kiss he presses there, the smile near the tail end of the contact.
"Tomorrow," Genji promises, shutting his eyes.