Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Late nights at the shop weren’t that uncommon for Jesse McCree. Former felons did what they had to do to survive, after all, and as it turned out, it took quite a lot to keep afloat. Especially when your clientele were as desperate to survive as you.

Too damn soft , McCree mused, leaning against his back door and taking shelter from the rain for a moment while he took his smoke break. He should have been charging more; it’d be easier to make rent. But Omnics didn’t have damn anywhere else to go: traditional mechanics would rather break them down for scrap. He took another drag of his cigarillo, settling in to listen to the rain.

Damn near serene, except for the sound of the window breaking behind him.

He groaned, putting out his cigarello against the brick wall. Why’d it have to be his shop? There was a damn jewelry store down the street. Hell, he’d give them directions.

That in mind, he swung the door back open.

“If you’re looking for cash you won’t find it-”

“ here-? ”

The end of the sentence died in his throat as he got a better look at his intruder. An omnic? No. That was natural hair, a bare shoulder. But the rest of him was-

Fucking sparking.

McCree swore, closing the door behind him and going for his toolkit. Wasn’t looking for cash, Goddamn. His intruder was holding his own detached cybernetic arm, and had frozen up at the sight of McCree, but Jesse couldn’t find it in himself to care. Right now, he was just a man in need in help.

He turned with the wrench in hand, and his guest took a defensive posture, looking ready to kick him.

“Sit the fuck down.” Jesse gestured to his workbench with the wrench. The stranger stared at him for a long moment and Jesse glared right back.

He sat.

Jesse hauled the toolbag over and set up his equipment, wrenching the cybernetic arm from the other man’s grip and setting to work reattaching it. The work was calming, and he forgot his frustrations in favor of focusing. It was fine work, delicate wiring and neural attachments. Nothing organic on this side of the chest, though Jesse could feel a rhythmic pulsing under his fingers. Almost a heartbeat, but not quite. He could feel the burn of the other man’s stare, but it was easy to ignore it. He needed every bit of his attention to do this right.

The sun was rising through the window by the time he finished, and he’d hardly realized until he was done. He sat back.

“Well. Give it a wiggle then.”

That earned him an odd look, but the cyborg obligingly wiggled his fingers. McCree hummed with satisfaction at his own work.

The cyborg stood, stiff and abrupt, and bowed deeply to McCree. Before Jesse could open his mouth to say anything else the man was across the room in a blur and out the window again. Jesse swore- yelling after him-

“Just use the goddamn door next time!”

___

He didn’t use the door the next time either.

At least Jesse had kind of suspected he might need to come back, and it was a pretty high up window, so it wasn’t like leaving it unlocked was a serious security concern. He was glad he hadn’t counted on his new friend using the door, because replacing the window had been fucking expensive, and the night of no sleep had caught up to him fast.

Jesse didn’t even turn around when he heard the window open, just gestured to the workbench absently. He was finishing a prosthetic for a paying customer, and his intruder could wait.

Jesse may not have heard the other man cross the room, but he had a good sense for people, and it didn’t startle him when he felt the presence behind his shoulder. It was almost a phantom warmth.

“You are awfully trusting.”

McCree let out an undignified little shriek, and the cyborg jumped.

Jesse swung his chair around, clutching his chest dramatically.

“Son of a BITCH, you can talk??”

That earned him a scornful lifted eyebrow, and now that McCree was getting a good look at this man it wasn’t a bad look on him.

How did the upper half of a face manage to be so pretty? The cloth pulled up to his nose wasn’t making him any less striking.

“I don’t know why you’d be under the impression that I couldn’t.”

McCree huffed out a breath.

“Sure didn’t say anything the last time.”

There was a shrug, and now that McCree was looking it was a one-shoulder shrug because the other one was goddamn missing again.

“Empty words are a waste of time. Nothing was worth saying.”

McCree couldn’t resist an eye roll at that, and there was the slightest wrinkle at the corner of the cyborg’s eyes that made McCree fairly sure he was smirking under that mask.

He lifted the wrench warningly.

“Alright, well all I’ve got to say to you is sit the fuck down.”

__

McCree never ceased to gripe dramatically whenever he heard the sound of his window opening, but truth be told, he was getting rather fond of his visitor. The man was sarcastic at best, downright asinine at worst, and surprisingly good company.

More then that, he was a challenge. Both his personality and his circuitry drove McCree up a wall.

That, and his incredible talent for getting his arm ripped off.

This time was like all the others, except the cyborg had knocked on the back door instead. When McCree went to open it, he got an eyeful of the reason why.

Arm, at least marginally attached (this time). Loose wires in the chest, blood on the shoulder, legs sparking.

“Fuck.”

His guest took a step and immediately fell forward into McCree’s chest. McCree’s arms went up to catch him, which turned out to be a mistake because 200 pounds of metal hardware and deadweight was a little too much even for him. They both went down, Jesse half cradling the cyborg as his useless legs lay half shattered underneath him.

The man went rigid, his face pressed into McCree’s chest.

Jesse started an apology and to pull away, but a warm hand stopped him, firm on his shoulder.

“You have a heartbeat.”

Jesse raised his eyebrows, letting his hands settle on the other man’s back.

“Yeah?”

“You are augmented.”

“Just the arm, sug. Surprised you didn’t notice that sooner.”

He lifted his face, and Jesse felt pinned in place by those warm brown eyes. Lord, he could drown in them.

“But you repair Omnics. You have helped me without question. Why-?”

Jesse shrugged.

“Just the right thing to do. I’ve got the know-how, might as well put it to good use.”

The cyborg didn’t seem satisfied with that answer, his eyes clouding over, but Jesse wasn’t sure what else to say. He gave him a moment to his silence before he tightened the other man’s arms around his waist.

“Well come on now, we’d better get started or I’m gonna haveta open the shop late.”

Something was different about the silence as Jesse patched up the cyborg. His guest hadn’t stared at him this intently since that first repair, and McCree was having trouble ignoring it. He moved on, the mechanics familiar under his hands and wire and mental weaving together easily. Then he went for the first aid kit and moved onto the shoulder.

He paused as he cleaned off the blood. He’d noticed the mark in passing before, it wasn’t the side he normally worked on. But now that he felt it under his fingers he could see that the distinct shape of the dragons chasing each other’s tales, feel it under his fingers.

“-this a brand?”

The way the man immediately went stiff was answer enough. Jesse huffed out a breath and went back to cleaning the scratches. The silence stretched out in perpetuity. His guest broke first.

“You have no questions?”

McCree snorted, working on the bandages.

“Nah. Figure this answers some, even. Plenty of reasons a branded man can get his arm ripped off at ass-o-clock in the morning. You should really try harder not to though, just by the way. Just sayin’. ”

The lilt of passive-aggression in Jesse’s voice brought that little crinkle back to the corner of the cyborg’s eyes.

“Your objection is noted.”

McCree sighed dramatically.

“Ah, but how would I live without you if you didn’t? One of these days you’re going to get a minor injury and go cheat on me with another mechanic.”

That earned him a snort, and McCree felt the slow bloom of warmth in his chest as he looked up to the other man. There, sure enough, a full blown smile in the set of his expression, even with half of it missing.

“I could never.”

The sincerity of it made McCree’s heart ache. He felt winded, as though he’d taken a hit to the chest. Maybe in a way he had. He spluttered for a moment, but then settled on a smile.

“None of ‘em will be as good to you as I will, darlin’.”

To his own embarrassment, he meant it completely.

Chapter Text

Jesse liked it when his days were boring. Routine was safe. Routine meant he got to help some people, order pizza, and wait up in the shop to see if there’d be a man through his window to share it with.

Today had not been routine.

Honestly, he should have seen it coming. Wasn’t like him to keep away from trouble too long. Hell, it’d been half a year in Japan and aside from a devastatingly handsome cyborg breaking his window a month in, things had been downright mundane.

Couldn’t last.

He had opened his door this morning to a couple of surly looking men in suits and sunglasses- which was never a good sign- with yakuza tattoos, which was worse. He just had to put on his best smile.

“Can I help you gentleman?”

There had been some questions, some demands, some pictures of an omnic he had definitely patched up. Not that he told them that. It was easy enough to disappear in Tokyo, poor thing had to be long gone by now, but Jesse certainly wasn’t giving them any leads. There had been some not so subtle threats and Jesse had sure said something.   Must have been a doozy, what with the black eye he got for it.

Honestly, he’d been having a lovely nap on the floor for a couple hours. That was his story and he was sticking to it. No way Jesse McCree got punched out by a Yakuza thug. But of course, tonight would be another night for the window, and as it happened he wasn’t feeling quite up to moving.

“-Jesse!”

Aw. His cyborg sounded worried about him. He blinked up into the dark, vision adjusting to the single light being eclipsed. Ah, there he was. Those brown eyes were too damn sad. He was supposed to be making them brighter. Jesse didn’t want to ever do anything to made the man look like that, anguished and aching.

“Just havin’ a nap.”

Ah, there. Just for a moment, irritation replaced worry.

“On your floor?”

“Testing out the new carpeting.”

“You have a black eye.”

Jesse feigned shock.

“I do?”

The cyborg glowered at him, but it was so much better than those sad eyes. The way his eyebrows pulled together he looked downright stormy when he was mad. Got McCree’s heart all aflutter.

Jesse drank in the other man’s features with his eyes, getting his fill of the stare and his cheekbones and-

“Huh.”

“What is it?”

“You got both your arms today.”

There was a sigh so heavy the end of it kicked off a mechanical whirring.

“So it would seem.”

“You havin’ any other troubles, sugar? you look right as rain.”

Ah, there went the eyebrows, pulling together to a single frustrated stormcloud.

“I believe you are the one having the troubles.”

It took a moment for those words to kick in, but McCree groaned.

“Tell me word hasn’t gotten around- I run a clean business and I was tryin’-!”

“No! No I...Have my own channels.”

That caught Jesse’s attention.

“Aw, you keepin an eye on me sugar?”

The cyborg elected to ignore him, instead bending down and picking up McCree as though he weighed little more than a sack of flour. McCree let out a startled squeak as he was carried to the workbench and set down with much more care than he would have expected.

McCree found his head being tilted back and a flashlight in his face. Pupil dilation. Huh.

The cyborg pulled away when he was satisfied, turning his back on Jesse to put the flashlight back in its cabinets.

“...I keep an open ear.”

Jesse frowned. That wasn’t a real answer.

“Hon-”

“Why must you call me these nicknames-” The sudden force in his tone was a deflection, and they both knew it, but McCree couldn’t resist rising to it-

“Because I don’t know your name.”

The cyborg stopped dead.

For a moment McCree was worried he’d finally gone too far. He’d ribbed the other man plenty but this might be what drove him off-

“I don’t have one, anymore.”

There was a finality to it, but it seemed false. Like he didn’t quite believe it. Well, McCree was a gamblin’ man.

“I think you do.”

The cyborg glared at him, but McCree could see desperation in the pools of his eyes. He saw the pain.

McCree put his cards on the table.

“Please.”

The glare softened, but he was quiet for a while longer. Slowly, the other man’s hand lifted. The cloth covering his mouth was pulled away, and there was such an openness in his expression that it made McCree’s heart ache. Part of his chin was metal, but the rest was almost untouched. There were only a few scars bitten deep into the skin of his neck.

“Hanzo.”

“Hanzo.” McCree tried it out, grinning when he saw the cyborg’s cheeks go pink.

“It suits you.”

Hanzo huffled.

“And what of you, cowboy? Is your nametag an alias?”

“Naw.” Jesse grinned. “I’m an open book, sweetheart . All yours.”

That earned him a glare, but McCree just grinned wider.

This day hadn’t turned out so bad after all.

__

McCree was beginning to think that life just liked to give him a little something to lose before it kicked his ass again.

The whole street had been quiet, and that was never a good sign. Folks living in this part of Tokyo had a sort of sense for when something bad was comin’ down the line.

Jesse felt it too, like an electricity in his spine, but it wasn’t just a premonition to him. Men like him knew when they had targets on their back.

So he closed up the shop, put on his old chestplate and loaded his gun. If he was going to go down he was going to go down fighting. Shoulda played dumb. Hell, shoulda played dumber. Don’t be a smartass with gang members. That was a lesson he shoulda learned a long time ago.

He was whistling to himself, double checking his ammunition and waiting for sundown, when he heard the window open. Out of habit he gave a wave over his shoulder in greeting, but turned when it dawned on him.

“Aren’t you a little early, sugar?”

Hanzo glared at him. He had a bow in his hand and a quiver on his back. He ripped the cloth away from his face.

“You- Idiot! There won’t even be a shop here by tonight! What have you done?”

McCree blinked. He wasn’t startled by the fact that Hanzo knew someone was coming for him, but the anger was a surprise.

“Same thing I always do, Han. Protect the people who can’t protect themselves.”

Hanzo growled.

“For once, couldn’t you have protected yourself?”

Jesse’s first instinctive answer was ‘no.’ Which was true enough, because he didn’t have it in him to step outta the way and let someone else get shot. But something about the anguish in Hanzo’s voice gave him pause.

The cyborg seemed more frustrated by his silence. His fingers were shaking, clasping and unclasping.

“Why did it have to be the Shimadas? Why couldn’t you have mouthed off to anyone else? Why couldn’t it have been any other clan, Jesse?”

It clicked. The injuries. The information. The dragon tattoos and the dragon brand.

“Oh.”

Jesse couldn’t seem to think of anything else to say.

Hanzo stalked over to him and Jesse jumped, resisting the immediate impulse to grab Peacekeeper. But Hanzo just wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in his shoulder.

“Jesse-” Hanzo’s voice broke off.

Jesse’s arms went up to wrap around the cyborg’s back.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t know what else to say.

Hanzo’s arms tighten around him.

“I can’t disobey them, but I can’t let them hurt you-”

Jesse remembers plenty of faces at the end of his gun barrel. He remembers the order to pull the trigger.

Do as you’re told.

He had. He had and he had and he had until he just couldn’t any more. And then he ran.

Jesse eases back a bit, looking up at Hanzo still loose in his arms.

“Hon, no matter what you feel like you gotta do, I’ll forgive ya.” He’d forgiven himself, after all.

Hanzo’s eyes fill with tears, and Jesse pulls him close again. He looks at the fading light out the window. Not long left.

Hanzo stays quiet in his arms for a moment, but he starts to tense. He raises his head and McCree sees the uncertainty fade from his expression. Hesitation gives way to steel.

“No.”

His hands are firm on Jesse’s shoulders, like he doesn’t plan on letting go. Jesse’s heart twists in his chest, daring to hope.

“No?”

“I am not going to let them hurt you. We are leaving.”

Jesse’s takes a second to process, and then he’s out of his seat with his pistol in his hand, grinning.

“Well, let's go then.”

On the way out he opens his locker and draws out a cascade of red and gold fabric, and a well worn hat.

Chapter Text

Jesse lit his cigarello and leaned against the rail, looking up at the cloudy sky. Rain soon. That’d be a little bit of a hinderance-

Behind him, the window broke. He smiled to himself, loading his pistol. That’d be his cue.

When he moved inside, he noted the three men in Deadlock colors already sprawled out on the floor, a single figure standing over them as terrified diners still cowered in the booths.

“Aww honey, you didn’t save any for me?”

That earned him a sharp look, but even with his mouth covered McCree could always tell when Hanzo was smiling.

There was a movement behind the cyborg and Jesse’s gun was up, giving a single report. Hanzo spun as the body hit the floor and swore. Jesse moved across the floor, poking the body over with his foot.

“-fucker had an EMP. You doin’ alright dear?”

Hanzo rolled his eyes, but Jesse noted the flush at the tips of his ears with satisfaction.

The silence broke, then, as the manager came rushing out of the kitchen to thank them. McCree grinned and just tipped his hat.

“No trouble. We were just passing through, noticed these thugs pointing guns at all you lovely people. That just ain’t right. We’ll be outta your hair.”

The man tried to insist that they stay so he could talk to the sheriff about compensation, but McCree waved him off, just tucking an arm around Hanzo’s waist as they went back out into the desert. He was in a rather jaunty mood, hopping on the motorbike and whistling as Hanzo tucked against his back. Hanzo must have found it charming, because McCree felt the barest press of lips between his shoulder blades.

“We had better be going.”

“Aww honeybee have you got your mask off? I’d like to take a while and look-” Jesse was twisting in his seat, but Hanzo rebuffed him with a firm push.

“Later.”

McCree grinned to himself. He was finding he rather liked having a future to look forward to. He resumed his whistling and started the engine, enjoying the press of Hanzo’s arms around him as they took off.

They headed west, and through the clouds, McCree could almost make out the red and violet bleed of the sun. He grinned to himself. He liked that. The cowboy and his lover- riding off into the sunset.

“What are you laughing at?”

Jesse shrugged, pressing his cheek to Hanzo’s where it was lifted to his shoulder.

“You wanna set up shop somewhere away from here? Maybe California? Deadlock’s just about gone.”

Hanzo’s snort is just a little puff of air against Jesse’s neck.

“Can you only resist the desire to head west once you’ve reached the edge of the continent?”

McCree shrugged cheerfully.

“Maybe that’s it. Somethin’ in my blood I suppose.”

Hanzo snorted, pulling the hat off of McCree’s head as they start to pick up speed.

“Well, I am happy to be your passenger, No matter your course.”

Jesse grinned.

“Love you too, darlin’.”

Hanzo said nothing, but McCree felt his arms tighten around his waist. He didn’t need to say it. Jesse knew.

That was plenty.