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Jesse had a never ending supply of nicknames. Not only for Hanzo, but everyone else in his life as well.
Hanzo lost count of how many he had. It seemed like it was just whatever came to Jesse’s mind first. He’d wrap an arm around Hanzo’s waist and murmur a ‘sweetheart’ or ‘sweetpea’ before planting a kiss on him. Nicknames meant for sweeter moments.
‘Honey’ and ‘darling’ were dropped consistently, mostly when there are others present. Public nicknames, still sweet but more appropriate.
In more intimate moments, Jesse would stream out nicknames like a gospel, but ‘baby’ comes up only in those moments. It’s become something like a code word; when whispered in Hanzo’s ear in the late evening, he knew where it would lead.
There were other, ridiculous ones that Hanzo shakes his head at. ‘My prince’, ‘sugar tits’, and ‘mi coraz ó n’ - which he ruled out when he convinced Jesse to finally translate it for him. In fact, Jesse has a supply of Spanish nicknames almost as much as those in English, and Hanzo only knew what a few meant. ‘Chulo’, he discovered, meant cutie, and was usually said when Jesse was in a playful mood.
Particularly, ‘mi amor’ has popped up every now and then - in the early morning before their day starts, where Jesse is lazily pressing kisses along Hanzo’s forehead, nose, cheeks, the words murmured against his skin. Or when pressed close together on the couch, watching some rented movie and a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, Jesse says something sappy punctuated with the Spanish term. Hanzo has yet to get around to asking what it means, even though a small part of him has a suspicion.
Despite his endless nicknames for Hanzo, Jesse has stuck to only a handful for the kids. Aria is his ‘conejita’ which Hanzo found meant something like ‘little bunny girl’. Fitting, for a girl who has a seemingly endless supply of energy. Mateo is frequently called ‘lindo’, a term that Hanzo eventually learned meant ‘pretty boy’. Fitting, as well; Mateo had a pretty set of curls and wide eyes that could be mistaken for a doll’s.
Aside from those usual nicknames, Jesse also drops variations of ‘chiquito’, depending on which child he was talking to. ‘Chulo’ is a shared nickname between all of them. ‘Tramposo’ is dropped when the kids use their pouty faces to get ice cream on the drive on home.
A majority of these, Hanzo searches up himself since Jesse neglects to ever translate his Spanish. He often refuses with a wink and a mischievous smirk.
When Jesse’s father came to visit, they conversed nearly entirely in the other language. While Jesse used it intermittently, Gabriel would often lead a one-sided conversation in that language, with Jesse and the kids nodding along while Hanzo tried to read between the lines. The kids, raised by those two for most of their lives, were far more fluent in it than Hanzo ever expected to be.
Aside from ‘Pa’, Jesse and Gabriel shared a myriad of nicknames for each other. Some of Jesse’s include ‘jefe’ or ‘viejo’, which Hanzo understands as insults of some sort. Gabriel likes to stick with ‘cabrón’ or ‘pendejo’, both which are answered with another insult or a punch on the arm.
While the nicknames typically stop there, there are tender moments that Hanzo overhears that cause nothing but warm, fond feelings for Jesse. Such as, when Christmas rolled around and most of the family was there, Jesse pulled Ana into a hug and whispered, low enough to be meant for the two of them but loud enough for Hanzo to hear, was a quiet, “Love ya, Ma.”
It was that same Christmas party that Jesse tugged him away from the excitement, a corner of solitude in the kitchen. Hanzo pressed against the counter with Jesse’s arms boxing him in, lips moving languidly together without intentions.
Jesse pulled back with a hum, their noses brushing. “I ever tell you I love seein’ you with my family?”
Hanzo gives him a chaste kiss. “You have.”
“Well, I do love it,” Jesse said, his thumb bumping Hanzo’s lip. “Mi amor.”
A throat clearing had them pulling away to see Gabriel in the door, one eyebrow raised. Jesse stiffened visibly, but Hanzo could only cast him a worried glance. Asking about it could wait until later.
“Matty wants you to help him set up his kitchen set, Hanzo,” Gabriel said. He wore an unimpressed expression. “Jesse. I need a word.”
Hanzo pecked Jesse’s cheek, but only got a stressed smile in return before he left. Something like a child caught red-handed. As he stepped out of the kitchen, he caught a bit of fast Spanish from Gabriel - ‘pendejo’ in the mix. Everything else might as well be broken garble to Hanzo’s untrained ears.
He and Mateo set up the new plastic kitchen, fit with fake food and cutlery. The counters and fridge were made to fit Mateo’s size, but it didn’t stop Aria from wanting to join in. Mateo, luckily, did not mind sharing.
It was late in the evening when Ana and Reinhardt finally decided to leave. They brought Fareeha’s presents to the kids, since she was spending Christmas with her father that year. Gabriel was the last to leave, fixing Jesse with a long stare before he was out the door - leaving Jesse with a red face and an expression Hanzo couldn’t figure out.
Once tucking the kids in bed, they lazed around in their own bedroom, Hanzo pressed against Jesse’s side as he continued his nightly novel. It was startlingly domestic, a drastic change in the past few months for Hanzo. It felt right, and Hanzo couldn’t shake the warm feeling it brought on.
Jesse, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to sit still. Something clearly nagged him; his hands ran along Hanzo’s arm, not contentedly, but anxious. He seemed to want to say something and stop himself right before the words left his mouth. It went on for far too long, and instead of waiting, Hanzo closed the book and faced him.
“What is wrong?” He asks, watching Jesse’s expression turn to fear.
“Ah--” Jesse broke off, his face going an unnatural shade of red. “Well, um. I gotta tell you what it means when I say mi amor .”
“‘My something’,” Hanzo says, knowing that much. And a little more, if his hunches are correct.
“Right,” Jesse says, and hesitates. “Right. Well. The amor part is, um.” He takes Hanzo’s hand in his and presses a kiss to his knuckles. He meets Hanzo’s eyes, apprehensive. “It means my love.”
Even though his guess was right, Hanzo still feels his face flush at hearing it said aloud. Jesse barrels on, undeterred now that the words are out there.
“I love you, Han, I really do,” Jesse says, his anxieties bubbling as he starts toying with Hanzo’s fingers. “And, if you don’t wanna say it back, that’s fine--”
Hanzo leans forward and captures Jesse’s lips, mid-rant, who sinks into it in relief. As they pull away, Hanzo admires the dazed look on Jesse’s face, then hastily adds, “I love you too.” He does not show much verbal affection, and actually prefers showing what he’s feeling, but this is an important moment to have the words open and out there.
At the goofy smile on Jesse’s face, it is worth it.
“Is this what Gabriel talked to you about?” Hanzo asks, recalling that moment in the kitchen.
Jesse reddens again, but this time with embarrassment. “Yeah. He heard me say it and knows what it means, called me a dumbass for not telling you and then threatened to kick my ass if I didn’t do it soon.” He presses another kiss onto Hanzo’s knuckles. “Glad I did.”
Hanzo pulled Jesse close so they were chest-to-chest, arms wrapped around waists and legs tangled together, a content feeling that makes any doubts or worries slip away. Plenty of room to bask in the new milestone of their relationship.
‘Mi amor’ is a nickname to keep.