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There was something to be said about the way a nice hot shower could make a stressed man feel, well simply put, not so stressed anymore A shower could make a man feel safe and warm enough that exhaustion was able to creep itself into the shoulders of a man, or in this case a justice seeking gunslinger, and drag him off of his feet and into the comfort of his bed or whatever he found himself sleeping on that particular night.
Jesse McCree was no exception to the benefits of a scalding hot, terribly long shower.
The water was warm on his battle scarred flesh, bringing a sort of tingle to his scars; the longer chipped nails scrubbed away the stench of sweat and grime away the more scars that revealed themselves to him, and his shoulders sagged with an odd sort of relief that those marks would prove that he lived.
He closed his eyes in content as the water rolled off his back pleasantly; the gunslinger didn’t want to leave the shower, and it took an unreasonable amount of effort for him to raise a hand and turn the shower off. With a heavy sigh escaping his lips, dark hues flickered to the counter top as he excited the shower, grabbing the towel that had been left by his little house guest.
He dried himself off quickly, excited to finally spend some time with Zenyatta, and once he was dry he made a grab for his underwear except … yeah, warm granite wasn’t exactly his cotton blend boxers, now where they? Hell, all his clothes were gone!
Leaving the bathroom with the towel wrapped around his waist, Jesse huffed as he brought a hand up to scratch at his mostly dry beard. “Zenyatta?” He called out, peering down the hallway. “Do you know where my clothes are; you didn’t put them in the washin’ yet, did you?”
“Uhm … “ The youngers voice piped up from what sounded like their bedroom. “No, not yet.”
The cowboy rolled his eyes, cheeks puffed out in a sort of playful annoyance to the antics of his love as he made his way into the bedroom leaving behind a trail of wet footprints. He’d clean them up later, he swore to it, but … what was a little water damage to the floorboards if walking a few feet satisfy his curiosity?
“Well, what are you doing with them then, Zen?” Fingers pushed the bedroom door open and what he saw had his heart aching, his mouth dry and feeling like cotton. “Oh … darlin’.”
Seeing that little monk in clothes nearly two sizes too big, boots and all, Jesse could forget about everything and whisk the man away to some cottage and live there forever.
Arms wrapped sweetly around the waist of his love, where fingers trailed along an all too familiar belt buckle as he bent slightly to rest his chin onto the monks shoulder. A wide grin tugged along his lips, the tickle of his beard had Zenyatta giggling. “You’re looking positively adorable, sugar bean. You’re looking like a real gunslinger now, aren’t you?”
“That’s right.” Zenyatta chuckled as he turned his head, the gunslingers hat drooping lazily over his forehead and nearly covered his eyes, to press a kiss against his cheek.
Eew. Wet beard hair.
“Watch out, cowboy.”