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McCree wakes up to an empty bed, the spot next to him cold, sheets bunched up where Genji usually is these days. He doesn't sulk because he's a grown ass man, but he considers it for a groggy moment as he lays there and pretends like he enjoys having his bed to himself for once, like he's not all too used to Genji's presence every night and every morning after that.
Genji's absence isn't meant to last long — he's accompanying Zenyatta on a trip to Nepal in an attempt to recruit some of the other monks there to Overwatch's cause. There'd been no offer extended to McCree for him to join them. McCree's not offended any. He recognizes their relationship as one distinctly different than what he has with Genji, or even what he has with anyone at all. He has an idea of how they might like some time, considering McCree's been taking up quite a bit of Genji's lately. His cheeks flush a little at the thought, which is fine, because Genji isn't there to point it out. But he's unused to thinking of himself as doting in any capacity, and decides not to go down that embarrassing road.
He sets out to shower and then, once he's dressed, for coffee. As it brews, he idles around, not rushed for anything. Today's just training drills as far as he knows, and he considers who he might end up working with since Genji isn't around as an easy, instant answer.
Breakfast turns out to be a quiet affair, the sun only just rising on the horizon by the time McCree picks a seat in the mess hall. Satya and Fareeha are awake with mugs in front of them, both sitting off to the end of the long table; Fareeha gives him a wave as he passes and he directs a tip of his hat their way, not particularly feeling a desire to join in on whatever their hushed conversation might be.
Slowly, more agents filter into the kitchen, voices growing louder as more join in. McCree stays on the edges of it all, finishing his coffee. If Genji were here, he would be sitting next to him, their legs pressed together beneath the table, a simple reminder of closeness.
But Genji isn't here.
McCree is still absolutely not sulking.
He lets the day pass by, does the training, stays in the firing range for hours after out of sheer habit. Stubborn, he continues not to look at the Overwatch-brand tablet Winston had given him when he'd realized, with no small amount of alarm, that McCree had ditched all of the tech he'd had an opportunity to pick up over the last few years because of both general paranoia and genuine threat alike. As it turns out, when you're wanted for the cushy amount that McCree's wanted for, people will track honest-to-goodness fucking anything they can. He's pretty used to not having a phone or anything similar at this point.
Or he thought he was. By supper, he's having a hard time not checking up on it. His fingers itch to make for the tablet left alone in his room. He doesn't know what purpose it would serve; Genji's probably too busy to bother messaging him anyway, which is perfectly fine. McCree's not clingy.
He just… isn't busy enough not to miss him.
His preoccupation nearly costs him when he runs into Mei and Angela turning the corner in the hallway. They jump; he stumbles back.
"You're not wearing spurs," is what Angela says to him, cross.
"I am —" McCree peeks down at his boots, and — oh, no he's not. He must have forgotten to put them back on the night before. He'd had to clean mud and shit from a lakebed off of his heels from the last mission. He hates swamps. "My bad. Wasn't paying attention."
"You were very distracted during the training drills we ran earlier," Mei adds, frowning.
Angela has a look on her face like she might just know why, too, so McCree tips his hat and circles 'round them in a hurry. "Just off my game today," he says over his shoulder. "Have a good night, both of you."
He gets to his room, finally. Puffs through two cigars, watching the sun fall past the ocean. Doesn't think about how empty his bed feels, or how quiet his space is. Except eventually he does, and then he scowls and lights a third smoke and snatches up that stupid tablet he's going to thank Winston for at some point, probably, but not right now.
The tablet doesn't turn on, and McCree gives it a look before he starts counting backwards and swears under his breath, unsure when he ever would have charged it. So he sets about finding the charger, eventually digs it out from beneath his nightstand, and plugs it in. Then he turns it on.
(The fifteen minutes that this brief interlude takes feels like much, much longer.)
The tablet has to work hard to connect to the internet on base, possibly having a difficult time waking up since McCree's never properly charged it before, or maybe because Hana is taking all the bandwidth. Both are likely options, and both at the same time are even likelier, so McCree makes his best attempt at being patient, even though he feels like he's already been patient and deserves a little break from this terrible plight he's in. Jesse McCree, he thinks wryly as he finishes off his cigar, who ever would've thought you'd end up so damn lovesick?
Frantic chimes from the tablet interrupt his thoughts. He snatches it up to see a bunch of messages from Winston appear first, directed at all of the agents; then there's a scrolling list of alerts from Athena, informing members of her maintenance and lists of things to be done elsewhere on base; after that comes several notification of app updates, which McCree swipes away almost as quickly as they appear. Finally, he pulls up the message menu himself, overwhelmed from looking at the pop-ups as they load in.
He perks as soon as he has the opportunity to see the topmost message, Shimada, Genji written there, followed by his agent ID. He'll have to change the display name at some point, but for now he's embarrassingly quick to open the message itself.
[SHIMADA, GENJI]: Try not to miss me too much :kissing_heart:
The message was sent hours ago. McCree's heart aches something awful about it, both pleased that Genji was thinking of him and dismayed that while he knows Genji is simply teasing him in the message, he's right on the mark. McCree is missing him, quite a bit. To the point where he's pretty sure he isn't going to get much sleep tonight, but, well — he's never been good at breaking habits, and sleeping next to Genji has become a very good one over the past few months. He's only disappointed that canceling all of the app updates has made it so that he has no idea what the emoji Genji used looks like, but he can make some educated guesses.
He sends a reply after a moment of deliberation, taking a few tries to acclimate to the keyboard on the screen.
[MCCREE, JESSE]: Could tell you the same
There's a curious pause, then —
[MCCREE, JESSE]: Howd you know I'd check this at all????
Satisfied, McCree sets the tablet to the side of the bed and resolves to not look at it until the morning. He slides off the bed with a weary roll of his shoulders and a long breath, changing out of his jeans before he gets too drowsy and unbothered for it. While he's brushing his teeth, he hears the now-familiar ping! of the tablet, and pokes his head out of the bathroom to see the screen bright with another notification.
It's probably just telling him another update is needed, he tries to convince himself.
He spits out the toothpaste and makes a beeline for it, anyway.
[SHIMADA, GENJI]: A lucky guess ;)
[MCCREE, JESSE]: Hmmmmmmmmmm
More likely, Genji was counting on him missing him enough to drag the stupid tablet out, but McCree refuses to give him the satisfaction outright. Genji's going to have to work for it if McCree had to go through getting all flustered about texting. He wonders for a second if Genji misses him just as much, if that's why he's awake when Nepal's hours ahead. If whatever bed he's been given for their visit feels just as lonely as McCree's.
He gets embarrassed all over again and looks back down at the screen.
[SHIMADA, GENJI]: Do you want to video call?
[MCCREE, JESSE]: Lemme get decent
It's only a joke, but he's feeling spicy, so… he adds a winking face.
[MCCREE, JESSE]: ;)
[SHIMADA, GENJI]: :eyes:
McCree is still laughing to himself, light and under his breath, by the time the incoming call alert flits up into view. There's a sudden urge to fix his hair, slide further under the sheets, find the best lighting, even though Genji's seen him in plenty of less flattering states. Covered in blood, check. Half-dead on the ground, check. Sweating and wheezing, check. Sweating for better reasons than mission objectives, check.
He brushes his bangs out of his face and clears his throat before answering, knowing full well that he's being ridiculous. The thumbnail of himself in the corner sets an uneasy scene — dark as night room with the only thing brightening his face being the washed-out blue tint of the tablet light, tablet itself sat on his lap, against his leg at a funny angle. But Genji's picture is far more enthralling, and he can't help the way his shoulders fall a little bit in a tiny reassurance at seeing him, even though it's over the internet and there's none of that tactile, present comfort. It's still something, and Genji looks tranquil and pleased, with a warm lamp making his eyes glitter. Or maybe that's just from the obvious fact that he's clearly about to tease McCree to hell and back. Either way, McCree doesn't care, grinning wide.
"Here I was hoping I'd called fast enough to catch you indecent," Genji sighs. His voice crackles just a little over the connection; it's fine, it's fine, McCree thinks.
"Not quite," McCree says, smile lingering. "How're things over there?"
Genji shifts, his nose wrinkling a tiny bit, scars following suit. "They have been very welcoming, but I am doubtful that we will achieve what we came for. I had my suspicions as much, but I believe Zenyatta is going to be disappointed with the reception to his offer tomorrow."
"Things'll turn out somehow," McCree offers, aware the sentiment is a weak one, but he'd be lying if he said he was hugely invested in the concept of more Overwatch agents. Call him a cynic.
"Yes," Genji says, and brightens from his solemn tone, like flicking a switch. "We will return in less than a week, I expect."
"S'that so?"
"Mmhmm." His voice takes on a sly edge. "And since you miss me so much, that must be good news."
McCree feels his face warm, and then he's glad for that shit lighting. "You wouldn't've messaged me on this old thing if you hadn't been missing me too," he points out, refusing to acknowledge how surly he sounds.
"So what if I did?"
It might just be the way the screen makes everything go a little funny, pixels and whatnot, but McCree can't shake the strange earnest expression on Genji's face. Trusting. Expectant. Not exactly playful, or teasing, because that he would expect. But it's that sincere look that gets him, right in the chest. Makes him all shaken up. Makes him wanna drag Genji close with a startling amount of want.
He can't kiss him through the screen, but hell, he wants to.
"Then I'd tell you the only reason I brought the tablet out was 'cause I'd been missing you too," McCree admits, finally.
He stays quiet after, having paid Genji back for the sincerity by owning up along with him. They've got almost five hours' difference in timezones between them, a whole different kind of scenery, and nothing but less than a week to look forward to, and they're still just looking at each other like it's some kind of baffling yet not unpleasant surprise that they've each decided to take the high road and talk about feelings.
"I wish —" Genji starts, breaking the silence, and then shuts his mouth.
"Don't go getting sentimental, now," McCree warns, dry, but his heart already skipped anyway.
"Ha. It's that… I am unused to having a bed to myself, now. And unused to waking up without being choked by the blankets you've managed to twist around us."
"Rough sleeper," McCree says, like an apology.
"I know," Genji says, as if it's something to be fond of.
They don't have the time to talk much more; Genji has to be up in precious few hours, and while McCree knows that he can run on fumes much longer than most primarily flesh sorts of people, he doesn't like tempting fate. Their conversation ends in gently traded goodnights, McCree's thumb resting against the disconnect button long after it's already over with. He falls asleep after a while of staring at the ceiling, and when he wakes up, he's all tangled up in the blankets and the tablet is, miraculously, in the spot next to him.
Thoughts still sleep-fuzzy, he's slow to make a grab for it — but when his hand bumps the side, the tablet lights up with a message on the screen.
It wakes him up enough to pull the little device closer, propping himself up on an elbow to open the new, unread message that's an hour old by now; setting it to silent before he'd gone to sleep had at least done the job of letting him sleep.
[SHIMADA, GENJI]: <attached image 01>
McCree opens the file; it's nothing more than a picture of the sun coming up from Genji's window in Nepal, the morning light playing off the mountains nicely. He admires it, then glances out to his own window and the sun rising from the ocean there.
He raises the tablet and snaps a picture of his own, sun glittering over the water and sparkling along the sea-drenched cliffs with something like familiarity. After a few lazy seconds of deliberation, he sends it to Genji and waits in bed for a reply that comes unexpectedly quick. He's not going to accuse Genji of waiting on him, but he can flatter himself for a second with the idea of it.
[MCCREE, JESSE]: <attached image 02>
[SHIMADA, GENJI]: Good morning!
[MCCREE, JESSE]: Morning
[MCCREE, JESSE]: Try not to miss me too much :-*
He only gets out of bed once he gets Genji's last response, smiling slightly to himself as he wrangles his way out of the sheets.
[SHIMADA, GENJI]: I could tell you the same :kissing_closed_eyes: