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Jesse McCree was not the type to show his fear, but every rule had exceptions-- some bloodier than others.
Get up.
McCree's ears rang as he lay sprawled out in the dirt, cigar and gun on the ground several feet away from him-- he'd made a risky shot and the situation had blown up in his face. Literally.
Get up, get to your feet.
The cowboy propped himself up stiffly and wiped his face with the back of his hand, smearing blood from his nose across his skin. Get up. He struggled up to his feet, mind reeling-- Where was Hanzo? Hanzo had been right behind him, that stupid, gorgeous samurai had been right behind him, was he okay?
He had to be.
McCree looked around. People were still here, he knew it. Spurs just barely jingling, he limped across the clearing in search of his teammates...
...And found one of his enemies instead.
Cruel laughter rose from someone ahead of him, and McCree's stomach dropped as he realized the laugh belonged to Roadhog. He scrambled back, spun on his heel to run, and ultimately failed to get away from the man in time. Roadhog's fucking hook whizzed through the air, and bit around McCree's middle painfully.
Shit.
The giant man laughed and gave his hook a sharp pull, sending the cowboy toppling to the ground with a frightened cry. Oh, god, what came next?
The answer was fucking terrifying. Instead of one grand pull to send his victim flying towards him all at once, Roadhog made an alternative decision and dragged.
McCree's voice wavered and broke as he exclaimed in response to the hook that dug into his skin. He struggled to pull it off and away from his clothing, crying out in pain as the nails pierced his skin and his body dragged across the dirt. His fingers scrabbled for purchase somewhere on the ground, trying to stop Roadhog from dragging him closer, but only found pebbles and loose sand. His fingertips bled, his clothes wore with the friction-- where the fuck was his gun?
Of course, on the ground with his cigar, blown out of his grasp. McCree reached for his Peacekeeper, tried to kick it with his boot, but Roadhog gave a sharp tug and his efforts were only met with pain.
His fight to escape was admirable, but he quickly realized that there was nothing he could do. That fucking maniac liked to see people struggle, and sure enough McCree struggled like hell, squirming and clawing at the ground and gasping while his body screamed in protest. Holy fuck, was he going to die? Where was his team? Where was Hanzo?
"Come here." Roadhog gave the hook a final tug to drag McCree the last few feet across the dirt, taking just a couple of steps forward to place his boot rather firmly on the side of McCree's head-- just the weight of it resting there was enough to hurt. McCree stared helplessly at his gun, far, far out of his reach, and a shaky breath escaped him in a humiliating moment of fear, a feeling the outlaw rarely allowed himself. "What's that thing you say? 'Like shooting fish in a barrel?'" He loaded his gun.
McCree trembled against the ground. "Y'all know I'm just gonna respawn, right? No point in torturin' a guy like this."
"Where's the fun in that?" Roadhog looked out at some of the other buildings, and after a pause, moved his boot down to McCree's neck. "We've got a visitor."
His heart swelled-- he knew Hanzo would come back! His eyes lit up at the hope that the samurai's emerging figure brought him, but it was also met with pain.
He didn't want the other to see him like this.
"Jesse!" He watched that big beautiful idiot pull out an arrow, getting ready to shoot it through their enemy's fucking head.
"Hanz--"
Roadhog's boot stomped down on his neck.
Snap.
Jesse thanked his lucky goddamn stars for respawn technology.
His body came back good as new just as it had dozens of times before, pistol in its holster and everything. Despite his body left in mint condition, his heart pounded in his chest and a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. Feeling himself die wasn't high up on the list of things he had wanted to do today, and yet he'd gone through it anyway.
Even lower on that list, though, was knowing Hanzo had just watched him die. Everything seemed to speed up again-- McCree took off running like a bat out of hell, into the blazing desert heat. He rushed past a couple of busy teammates, tipping his hat to Mercy as her angelic form flew along to heal a fallen comrade-- "Evenin', Miss Angela--" and skidded to a halt in the clearing where Roadhog and Hanzo were fighting tooth and nail.
Hanzo was nearly out of arrows and had a crimson stain forming on that pretty kimono-lookin' thing (McCree could never remember the real name and Hanzo had made it clear it was not a "dress") from what appeared to be a gunshot wound. Alternatively, Roadhog was full of arrows, like some bastardization of a pincushion. A big, ugly, murderous pincushion.
"Hanzo!"
The samurai's gaze locked onto the cowboy's at the sound of his name, and the reconnection seemed to ease some of his pain. The tiniest smirk crossed his lips, and he nocked his final arrow, turning back to Roadhog. "竜が我が敵を喰らう！"
McCree didn't know how to describe the shit Hanzo did with his dragon tattoo. He loved that damn thing, the inked serpent that coiled around his left arm and up to his chest-- it was absolutely mystifying to watch it start that enchanting blue glow and rise up from his skin. A giant blue dragon would form and do some crazy-ass shit that McCree just couldn't even begin to fathom. All he knew is that it razed down everything in its path, and looked gorgeous as hell doing it.
After it was all over, McCree just stepped forward, thumbs in his belt and cigar between his lips, starry-eyed from the sight. "Howdy, darlin'. You're lookin' miiighty fine."
"Jesse," Hanzo sighed, getting up to his feet. "I... I am sorry I could not be there for you sooner."
"Hey now," he mused, reaching out with his metal hand to tuck a stray hair behind the other's ear. "Don't give me those sad eyes, pumpkin. Help's on the way."
"I am... glad to see you in one piece." Hanzo gave him a look so soft that it caught him off guard, and he struggled to think of something to say for a moment.
"...Listen, doll, I'm glad too, but I'm worried about keepin' you in one piece, you're bleedin' all over me. C'mon, Mercy's on her way. She's the best doc we got." McCree wrapped an arm around the other's side to support him, and off they went.
"I have had much worse than this and been fine. I do not need you to hold me."
"Aw, c'mon, poppet. I ride in here, your cowboy in shining spurs, and you aren't swoonin' so hard you need support? Shoot."
Hanzo laughed, genuinely. "Very well. I will play along."
"Yeah?" McCree beamed at him. "Let's get you to the good doctor."