Work Text:
Hanzo had first slipped up during a mission briefing.
It was a dull Thursday morning, and those involved in said mission were sitting at a long table in one of the conference rooms. Lena and Genji were sitting to Hanzo’s left, nodding at little details Winston was pointing out to them. To Hanzo’s right sat Reinhardt and Angela, who were listening intently.
It had been a long week for everyone and part of the team couldn’t even be bothered to show up. A part of Hanzo wished he were more irresponsible, then he’d be the one sleeping in instead of zoning out to the drone of a monotone voice. He almost considered scolding one of the missing members through text- most likely McCree, since he knew he would take it.
Hanzo realized that Winston had said something directed at him when he noticed everyone was staring.
“Forgive me,” he said, feeling a little embarrassed. “I did not sleep well last night. Could you repeat yourself?”
“Ah, yes.” Winston adjusted his glasses. “I was asking if you thought you could do this within the timeframe suggested, or if you think we should have Lena buy you more time.”
“I reckon it’s enough.” Hanzo said, plainly.
Everyone’s eyebrows shot up, the room completely silent. Genji’s shoulders were shaking from him trying to contain his laughter.
What... had he said? He tried to remember the exact wording he used, but he truly was tired, because all he knew was that he had said yes.
“Uh...” Winston began, trying to clear the air of whatever had happened. “That’s... great to hear! Well then, I suppose we should all get ready.”
For hours after the meeting, Hanzo tried to recall if he had made some sort of faux pas. Nothing came to him.
It wasn’t until 4 in the morning, two days after the mission, that he finally remembered, shot up in bed, grabbed his pillow and screamed into it.
——
On Wednesday nights, everyone liked to gather in the rec room for games, drinks, and karaoke. At first Hanzo didn’t want to attend. He felt like an outsider. Someone who didn’t deserve the camaraderie of others. Someone who deserved to be alone.
It was only due to the persistence of Genji that he had started attending. He was surprised to find that people actually seemed to enjoy seeing him, as everyone smiled whenever he arrived. It was a strange feeling. Every fiber of his being wanted to reject this frivolity, but he told himself it was acceptable to enjoy things now. He was no longer the groomed heir of a family that had no compassion. He was free.
Hana had started to learn magic in her spare time to “shake up” her gaming streams. She figured that in between matches, she had to give viewers something new every now and then to make them want to stay invested. It turns out it was harder than she thought it would be.
Hanzo stood watching her, along with Lúcio, Genji, McCree and Brigitte. McCree was the only person who was holding an amber liquid of some kind- Hanzo assumed something like bourbon or scotch.
With a devilish smile, Hana pulled out a card from the deck and presented it to Hanzo with a flourish.
“Waaaaas this your card?”
Hanzo gave a small laugh.
“No, it ai-“ he froze mid-sentence. Dear God. He had almost said ain’t. What kind of linguistic demon was possessing him? Everyone was staring at him, confusion on their faces. His mind raced, trying to think of a cover.
“It ai.... ails me to say, that it is not.” He could feel his face burning. McCree had an eyebrow raised, while Lúcio exchanged looks with Genji. Hanzo cleared his throat awkwardly. “Apologies. My throat is dry.”
“Want me to get you something?” Brigitte offered, concerned. Before he could answer, McCree interjected.
“I’ll do it.” Without waiting for a response, he walked off towards the little kitchen that was attached to the room.
Hana pouted, trying to figure out what she did wrong. This was the fourth time that night she had tried to get the card trick right.
Hanzo was aware that she was still talking, but he couldn’t hear her anymore. He was so internally mortified at himself that he was just staring into space, the feeling of embarrassment coursing through his entire body. Someone snapped him out of it by elbowing him.
“Daijoubu, anija?” Genji asked, his head tilted a bit. Hanzo tried to shake off the feeling.
“I am fine. Thank you.”
Genji seemed to accept this and went back to talking to the others. Hana was trying her trick again, this time using Brigitte.
“Here ya are, Han.” McCree was standing next to him, holding out a glass of water. Hanzo reached to take the glass, but McCree wasn’t letting go. This forced Hanzo to look up at the cowboy, their eyes locking.
The deep browns of McCree’s eyes bore into him, silently asking a question Hanzo didn’t want to talk about. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity to him. Had McCree always been this tall? Hanzo suddenly felt so small in comparison. He pulled at the drink, indicating to the other to let go, ending their... whatever that was.
Hanzo had only joined the team about a year prior, and during this time he had become acquainted with just about every member of Overwatch. Some could even be considered friends- something he had never really had claim to before.
McCree himself, was something entirely different. The first time he had seen the gunslinger, he almost couldn’t believe he was real. He looked like a walking caricature. And yet, McCree had been the first one to treat him with kindness and respect, even though he knew better than most about Hanzo’s past.
He found that at the end of each day, when he went to the training grounds for practice, the cowboy was there as well. They each had their own style of shooting and could easily talk to one another about battlefield strategies.
There were times where Hanzo was lying in bed and found that he couldn’t get that southern drawl out of his head. It was infuriating, yet made him feel warm. Was this why he had suddenly started speaking like the other man? Were they spending too much time together? Or was it something else?
Unwilling to address whatever feelings these were inside him, he turned back towards everyone else and sipped at his water.
——
Oh no. This could not be happening. Hanzo refused to believe this was real.
“Uh, Darlin’?” McCree whispered from behind him, his beard tickling the archer’s ear. “Yer elbow is smack dab in the middle of my-“
“Be silent.” Hanzo hissed through his teeth. He could somehow feel McCree pout behind him. How irritating. They wouldn’t even be in this situation if it hadn’t been for a certain cowboy’s big mouth.
This was supposed to be a simple intel operation, go in, get the info, get out. Their target was a connoisseur of gourmet cuisine, so they infiltrated a restaurant in Paris known for its decadent desserts: La Truffe Dorèe.
Hanzo, being someone who was quite familiar with fine dining, was going to be acting as an arms dealer looking for buyers. He didn’t speak much French, but the target was bilingual. Jesse however, knew quite a bit of French due to some sort of mission years ago where he had to stay in Paris for three months. He was to act as the waiter (a role he assured Hanzo he had done many times under Blackwatch) and also as translator if needed. They both wore an impressively tiny earpiece that could only be noticed if you were inches away.
The night seemed to be progressing well, although their target certainly seemed sleazy. He smoked inside, was loud, and treated the waitstaff like shit under his leather Gucci loafers.
Whenever Hanzo spoke, the man would turn to the massive bodyguards flanking either side of him and say something in French. They would laugh emptily, as though it were a required part of their job.
About an hour in, when the man was full of wine and chocolate truffles, he became even more rude and insistent. Hanzo was disgusted by how slovenly his demeanor was. The man had chocolate on the sides of his mouth and slammed his hands on the table when he laughed.
It was around this time that Hanzo felt the deal was falling through. He could see McCree standing across the room. Was he glaring? It was hard to tell from so far away. Something about his body language seemed stiff. Hanzo stood to excuse himself to the restroom, where he planned to talk to McCree over their comm, but as he turned he felt someone grab his wrist. Attempting to hide his disgust, he turned to address the man, when he realized with horror that McCree was storming over with an unbridled fury.
Before he could even speak, McCree had raised up the glass pitcher of water he was carrying and smashed it down on the target’s head. The glass shattered instantly, water spilling everywhere. Other people in the restaurant started screaming. The bodyguards reached for their guns and began firing. It was pure chaos.
Amidst the disarray, McCree had grabbed Hanzo by the arm and pulled him into the scrambling crowd of restaurant patrons. Utensils were scattered, cake flew threw the air, people were shoving others in attempt to get outside.
“Have you gone mad??” Hanzo was yelling over the cacophony of bullets and screams. McCree didn’t even reply. He simply guided Hanzo into the back of the restaurant, and pulled him into a radiator closet.
And that’s how they ended up pressed together, trapped in a claustrophobe’s nightmare.
When the sounds outside had died down, Hanzo still remained silent, unwilling to risk walking out into the barrel of a gun. How much time had passed? The discomfort of everything made it hard to be certain. All he could focus on was the ache of his feet and the heat created by their bodies.
“Han, I’m sorry.” McCree said, his voice low.
Hanzo stomped on his foot. McCree sucked in air in place of yelping.
“Okay, I deserved that...” he almost whined. “I know I put us in a bad box here, but ya gotta understand, Han. That sad excuse o’ dishwater deserved it the way he was talkin’ ‘bout you.”
Hanzo said nothing. He hadn’t even known he was being insulted. What did they say about him?
“I couldn’t just stand around an’ watch while that asshole grabbed you like that.” Hanzo felt McCree’s fingers touch his own. “They ain’t even worth the same air as you.”
The closet felt even smaller than it had before, and he felt overwhelmingly hot. He didn’t know what to say. His brain was going haywire. Why did he always end up in these crazy situations whenever his mission partner was McCree? Was he cursed?
“I... thank you... for your concern. I could have handled myself, however. You did not have to risk yourself...” he turned, in what little way he could, so that he could at least see McCree.
“Wouldn’t be the first time, sweet pea.”
McCree was staring at him through half-lidded eyes, almost dreamily. Even in the dark closet, with only a sliver of light shining through the door crack, he could see the warmth in those damn eyes. Wait.. was he... getting closer?
Hanzo’s heart was racing, to the point where he thought he might be having a heart attack. He forgot how to breathe. Why did his entire being feel as if it were aflame?
The second their lips brushed, Hanzo felt himself pressing back towards the door in a panic, and that was enough to cause the door to swing open. Both men tumbled out into the floor. McCree was on top of Hanzo, the weight of him muffling the small scream he gave.
“Oi. There you are!” Lena was standing by the kitchen door, smiling. “We came as soon as we heard the gunfire. Didn’t know where you two went.”
Hanzo was scrambling beneath McCree, his cursing muffled. The cowboy moved off of him and stood, offering a hand. Hanzo glared up at him, his hair a mess.
“I’m sorry, darlin’.” McCree said with such sincerity, that Hanzo just grumbled and took his hand, effectively being hoisted up.
With a disgruntled huff, Hanzo started towards the nearest door.
“Han? Where you goin’? Orca’s that-a-way.” McCree called out, pointing his thumb back over his shoulder in Lena’s direction.
“I am fixing to get some real food after that disgusting tripe they called dinner.” As he pushed his way through the back door, he almost missed McCree’s chuckle.
——
It was the first Monday of the month, which meant movie night. Everyone brought a suggestion that would be voted on by whoever attended. Hanzo never brought anything, but he did attend.
Hana was sitting cross-legged on a bunny-shaped pillow on the floor, a massive bowl of popcorn in front of her. Genji was lounged in a beanbag chair that had definitely seen better days. Floating next to him was Zenyatta, peacefully waiting for everyone to get settled.
Hanzo sat at far right end of the gaudy, oversized couch. He was dressed casually, in blue joggers and a fitted black t-shirt. The only thing he brought with him was his phone and flask filled with sake. There weren’t any missions on schedule, so he felt free to relax.
Mei shuffled in, holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate. She was dressed cutely in oversized pajamas complete with snowball slippers.
“Hi everyone!” She said cheerfully, sitting on the opposite side of the couch. “I can’t wait to see all the choices tonight.”
Everyone chatted with each other, while Hanzo scrolled idly on his phone, just reading random facts on Wikipedia. After a while, it seemed like no one else was joining, so Mei turned on the projector.
“Hope I’m not too late!” McCree announced, hurriedly walking into the room. Hanzo looked up at the sound of his voice. The cowboy was dressed much less flamboyantly than his usual garb, wearing jeans, and a red flannel with the sleeves rolled up. In one hand he carried a reusable bag filled with what could only be assumed were snacks, and in the other he had a bottle of beer.
“Hi McCree! You’re just in time!” Mei smiled at him as she sat back down. “Now, what does everyone want to watch?”
McCree walked over and all but plopped down in the middle of the couch, a bit closer to Hanzo than Mei.
Zenyatta spoke first. “I suggest The Call of Calcutta: a Bollywood musical about two souls who find peace with each other.”
Mei clasped her hands together. “Oooh that sounds so romantic! I didn’t know you liked musicals.”
Zenyatta chuckled. “It is my guilty pleasure.”
“I suggest the animated film Yokai Wakaranai,” Genji chimed in. “You would like it, Jesse. It has a tsundere character, just like Hanzo.”
Hanzo had just taken a sip from his flask and had to cover his mouth so he wouldn’t spit it out. Genji was snickering. Hana was gaping at Genji as if she couldn’t believe he had the guts to say that to Hanzo’s face.
“I don’t right know what that is, so I don’t think I’m the best judge on that,” McCree said, with a raised eyebrow. “I was thinkin’ we could just watch an old classic film, nothin’ fancy.”
After Hana regained her composure she chirped, “Ok I was going to suggest the newest movie I had a small role in but I’m kinda liking Genji’s idea-“
“Classic it is then.” Hanzo said firmly, his cheeks tinged red. Mei laughed and used the remote to find the Film Archive streaming service. Luckily the films were all so old that they had become public domain and were readily available.
“Which one should I pick, McCree? I’m not too familiar with these old films.” Mei said, clicking through the titles.
“Hmm..” McCree leaned forward, focusing. “Ah, How about A Fistful of Dollars? Classic spaghetti Western.”
“Spaghetti?” Mei asked.
“Heh, yeah. They called ‘em that ‘cause the directors were Italian. This one was actually based on the Japanese movie Yojimbo.” McCree scratched his beard. “Well... loosely based...”
“You mean stolen?” Hanzo said, idly. McCree shrugged.
“As long as we don’t have to listen your Italian accent...” Genji said with a smirk.
“Hey! My Italian is great.” McCree said confidently. “Bone-a-sera!”
Mei giggled and pressed play.
As the film started, McCree pulled out a box of chocolate covered malt balls. He shook it at Hanzo, offering some with a grin. After a moment’s hesitation, he held out his hand for McCree to pour some into.
The movie played on, McCree chiming in with trivia and facts every now and then. Genji would crack wise at memories they shared together, making Mei and Hana laugh.
Hanzo had to admit to himself... it felt nice. Being surrounded by friends, the ease of the atmosphere... McCree’s warmth next to him. This was something he never imagined being able to feel, growing up in Hanamura. Not when he was the first born Shimada.
At some point, Hanzo had drifted to sleep. He only woke up because Genji was gently shaking him.
“Anija...”
Hanzo blinked slowly, sitting up from his slouch. Looking around the room he saw that he and Genji were the only two left in the room. He assumed the others went to bed. As he shifted, he felt something slide down his shoulder. When he looked down, he saw it was McCree’s serape.
“I just thought you would like to sleep in your own room.” Genji said. Hanzo simply nodded. “You know... you have been acting a bit strange. You can tell me if something is bothering you.”
Hanzo didn’t really know what to say. That somehow he was being infected by cowboy talk? That he had embarrassing thoughts he didn’t want to admit?
“I just...” Hanzo began, “have a song stuck in my head. It is irritating. No matter how much I try to ignore it, the song persists.” He told himself it wasn’t really a lie... more of a metaphor.
“I see.” Genji said, studying Hanzo’s face. “Well... sometimes when you get something stuck in your head, the only way to get it out is to listen to it more.”
Hanzo hummed. How exactly could he do that? He felt if he spent more time around the cowboy, it would only get worse.
“You know, anija,” Genji continued. “You are allowed to like this song. You can be happy.”
Hanzo opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
“You are worth it, brother. The past is behind us. The only person who needs to forgive you now is yourself.”
—-
Hanzo sighed, sitting on the roof of one of the buildings at the watchpoint. There weren’t very many private places at Gibraltar, but this spot he found was nice. There were no cameras and he hadn’t really encountered anyone since discovering it.
A chill ran through him and he hugged McCree’s serape closer to himself. He thought back to what Genji had told him and pulled out his phone. The music streaming app he found had a variety of country playlists on it, and Hanzo picked one at random and let it play. His earbuds were back in his room, so he let it play on speaker.
As the gentle strums of guitar began, he closed his eyes, hugging his knees up to himself under the serape. A deep voice sang and he listened, wondering if this really would get McCree’s idioms out of him, or if he even really wanted that.
Well, I'll never forget the first time that I heard
That pretty mouth say that dirty word
And I can't even remember now what she backed my truck into
But she covered her mouth and her face got red
And she just looked so darn cute
That I couldn't' even act like I was mad
Yeah, I live for little moments like that
Well, that's just like last year on my birthday
She lost all track of time and burnt the cake
And every smoke detector in the house was goin' off
And she was just about to cry until I took her in my arms
And I tried not to let her see me laugh
Yeah, I live for little moments like that
I know she's not perfect but she tries so hard for me
And I thank God that she isn't 'cause how boring would that be
It's the little imperfections, it's the sudden change in plans
When she misreads the directions and we're lost but holding hands
Yeah, I live for little moments like that
When she's layin' on my shoulder on the sofa in the dark
And about the time she falls asleep so does my right arm
And I want so bad to move it 'cause it's tinglin' and it's numb
But she looks so much like an angel that I don't wanna wake her up
Yeah, I live for little moments
When she steals my heart again and doesn't even know it
Yeah, I live for little moments like that
When the song faded out, he heard the telltale jingle of spurs behind him and sat up straight.
“I didn’t know you listened to Country.” McCree said as he walked up. Hanzo looked up at him. The moonlight created an almost ethereal glow around the cowboy, even the cigarillo that was stuck between his lips.
“I don’t. Usually.” Hanzo admitted. The playlist continued on as McCree lowered himself to sit next to him.
“What’s the occasion then?” McCree asked curiously. Hanzo noticed that he was wearing the same clothes as earlier, sans serape. Wasn’t he cold?
“I’m... not sure.” He said honestly. “I suppose lately I have been... attracted to things like this.” A knot formed in his stomach, as if he has just admitted something intimate.
“Oh?” McCree had turned to face him now, his cigarillo forgotten on the concrete next to him.
“It has its charms.” Hanzo said, his eyes locking with the gunslinger’s. The man grinned lopsidedly. It was annoyingly adorable.
“You look so damn cute in this.” McCree said as he tugged his own serape that adorned Hanzo’s shoulders.
“Hmm. That must mean I am keeping it.” Hanzo smirked a little, his heartbeat quickening. He hadn’t allowed himself to openly flirt like this in... ever? At least not with someone he knew he would see on a regular basis.
McCree looked drunk with reverence. He leaned closer a bit.
“Well, I don’t know about keepin’ it, but I’m willin’ to share anything of mine with you, honey.”
“Hmph. Then why did you leave it without telling me?” Hanzo feigned offense, crossing his arms across his chest.
“Hey! I had to use the lil cowboy’s room. And I was washin’ some of the dishes everyone dirtied up. I didn’t expect ya to be gone when I got back.” McCree rubbed at the back of his neck, almost apologetically.
“But you found me anyway.” Hanzo said, his smirk returning.
“Well, let’s just say a little sparrow told me.” McCree grinned. Hanzo wondered when his brother had figured out his hiding spot. Not that it was that hard to find, but still.
The wind picked up in a gust that made McCree shiver a little. Hanzo looked at him, asking, “would you like this back?”
“That’s alright, darlin’. I wouldn’t feel right if you were cold instead. It ain’t too bad.”
Hanzo watched as the wind gently caressed the man’s auburn locks. His eyes wandered to McCree’s exposed arms. Even in the moonlight he could see the goosebumps on his skin.
“Come here.” Hanzo said, lifting the serape in a suggestion of shared warmth. McCree didn’t have to be told twice. He scooted over until they were pressed together, the warm cloth draped across both their shoulders.
The cowboy smelled of smoke and leather, and something else Hanzo couldn’t quite place. Perhaps that was just the pure scent of him. It both relaxed and excited the archer. He looked up at the sky, admiring the twinkling of the stars.
“Beautiful ain’t it?” McCree said, having noticed Hanzo’s gaze.
“Yes. The stars were not this bright in Hanamura. Too close to the lights of Tokyo.”
“They were always bright in Santa Fe.” McCree said, a nostalgic tone to his voice. “Not a lot out there, even in downtown.”
“Perhaps you could show me sometime.” Hanzo said, without even thinking. He swallowed the knot in his throat. McCree turned his head towards Hanzo.
“I could.” He said. “But it ain’t the most beautiful thing I’ve seen.”
Hanzo’s mouth felt dry. Somehow he found the courage to face McCree as well, and his heart thundered at the look in the other man’s eyes.
Hanzo felt like he should say something, but he didn’t know what. It was obvious that McCree was attracted to him. He wasn’t blind. But he had never really dealt with this situation before. Not where he felt something as well...
Genji’s words echoed in his mind.
You can be happy.
Hanzo decided to try. He ignored the part of his brain that was always giving him what-if scenarios. The part that always cast doubt upon everything and made him guarded. The part that made him miserable.
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to McCree’s. McCree wasn’t hesitant at all. He deepened the kiss and wrapped his arms around Hanzo’s waist. Electricity shot through Hanzo, a fiery feeling that only made him want more. He gripped at McCree’s shirt desperately, as if his entire being was screaming “finally!” His dragons stirred eagerly under his skin. It was divine.
When they parted, he gasped for air, realizing he had been too excited to breathe properly. McCree was grinning like a fool.
“Oh honey, you have no idea how long I wanted to do that,” he said breathless. “I reckon this means ya like me?” His voice sounded unsure, yet hopeful.
Hanzo couldn’t help but smile.
“I reckon it does.”