Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The explosion had killed them both.

Hanzo had been left alone with the payload, much to his displeasure, and McCree had come to move the car so that the archer could take the high ground and provide cover from above instead. Before he could begin to scale the wall the bomb had gone off (where the thing had come from in the first place was a mystery) and had fatally wounded the two warriors.

Before being slammed painfully against the wall and blacking out Hanzo recalled the gunslinger’s eyes on him, wide and worried. That look on the usually easy going cowboy’s face had made something in Hanzo’s gut feel as if it was twisting unpleasantly, and then said guts had been splattered all over the pavement, a messy detail of Hanzo's untimely demise. It was a horrible, painful way to go, but at least it had been mercifully quick.

The respawn technology didn't leave them dead for long though. Hanzo didn't know the science behind it or how it worked, not many did, it was one of Dr Angela Ziegler’s most closely guarded secrets. He owed his life to the technology many times over, it kept him in the fight and that's all he needed to know about the mysterious, powerful science.

Or so he had thought.

-

The feeling of suddenly existing out of nowhere was almost painful, and he never got used to the sensation no matter how many times he was revived that way. There was something off, something not quite right this time he realised. Hanzo took a deep breath, anticipating pain, only to grimace in confusion when no pain came.

There was still a feeling of discomfort though, of something not being as it should. He couldn't quite identify what it was, and that bothered him. Hanzo was an expert assassin, he had spent years honing his skills, training his senses, and yet something was very, very wrong and he couldn't decide what it was.

He took a step forward, surveying the room he had spawned in. Everything looked right except… not quite. It was almost as if the angle he viewed the world from had shifted, and above him the wide brim of what had to be a hat was cutting into his line of sight. He reached up tentatively to try and identify the foreign object only to freeze, his entire body going rigid.

He had reached up to grab the hat but it was not his arm that he saw, though the sight wasn't entirely unfamiliar. Fear spiked in his gut as he assessed the prosthetic limb, the cool, silver metal entirely unlike the warm flesh of his own inked skin. The arm was not his and the dragons were no longer with him, in their stead was a tacky skull that had been painted onto the plate of his forearm. The sight of the skull gave him pause.

A wide brimmed hat and a gaudy prosthetic left hand were both staple features of Jesse McCree's questionable aesthetic.

Before he could inspect himself further he heard an alarmingly familiar voice cursing quietly to his right, followed by a sharp gasp.

He turned to see himself, his own dark eyes wide as he held his tattooed arm closer to his face for inspection. His head was turned awkwardly, his tongue bobbing out slightly as he gawked at his own arm. The pose was childish and embarrassing and completely beneath him. The only thing odder than this strange, out of body experience was seeing himself acting like this, acting like…

An odd thought struck him and chilled him to his core.

“Jesse?” He asked in a voice that was not his.

He watched his own body still and look up, his worst fears confirmed.

“Hanzo?”

The two men gaped at each other.

“I am inside of you.” Hanzo blurted, disbelief prevalent in the look of pure, unadulterated shock he wore.

“I’ve dreamed about you saying that darlin’, but in my head it was a lot sexier.” McrCee shot back, quick as a whip.

He smirked at Hanzo. It might have been charming, if he had been in his own body. As it was he currently had Hanzo’s face and the expression just made him look snobbish and cruel.

“Hey now, sunshine, don't pout so much. You'll give me wrinkles.” McCree sassed. The archer hadn't even noticed that he had be frowning until the cowboy had pointed it out to him.

Before Hanzo could chastise the other man for his aloof behaviour the comm buzzed to life in his ear.

“Hanzo, McCree, I require your assistance. Where are you?” Angela asked, her voice distorted ever so slightly by the hum of technology.

The cowboy and the archer shared a look of uncertainty.

“There has been a… complication.” Hanzo admitted. “Can you do without us?”

There was a brief pause.

“I am the only one with the payload, Jesse. Unless it is an emergency you will get your butts over here.” The good doctor snapped, her patience audibly wearing thin.

Hanzo balked at being addressed in this way by the doctor. She would usually never speak to him in anything other than a calm and professional tone, but she had never mistaken him for Jesse McCree before, had she?

McCree cut in before Hanzo could come to his senses.

“We’ll be with you shortly, just sit tight.” The cowboy promised before pressing a button on the comm tucked behind his ear and ending the conversation with the medic.

“McCree-“ Hanzo began, his tone sharp.

“We can't leave Angie alone with the payload, whatever this is we can sort it later. C’mon.” The cowboy encouraged, already heading towards the door, barreling head first into danger the way he always did.

Hanzo growled and grabbed McCree before he could reach the door. It was disconcerting, being able to control the prosthetic arm as easily as he could the real one but not being able to feel anything with his metal hand. He unholstered peacekeeper, pushing it into McCree's unexpecting arms before he began to fiddle with the belt Mcree kept his ammunition strapped to.

“Perhaps you should take a weapon you know how to fire into battle with you.”

He remembered the one time he had allowed McCree to use his stormbow at the practice range. The man had misfired and had hit Hana, who had been standing behind them. Thankfully the girl had been in her mech at the time, but Hanzo had sworn to himself that he would never allow the cowboy near his weapon ever again. He stood by that decision, especially now the fool was inhabiting his body.

By the time he had unbuckled the ammo belt McCree had his bow and quiver ready to hand over. They switched weapons swiftly, fitting holsters and belts and quivers over outfits that were not designed to incorporate such accessories. They looked odd, carrying each other's weapons with their holsters haphazardly thrown over whatever they were wearing, but at least they were armed with weapons they knew how to use.

Hanzo took a deep breath to calm himself before stepping out into the afternoon sun and taking off, heading towards the last place he had seen the payload. This would be a challenge, fighting in an unfamiliar body was not the kind of thing you could prepare for after all. With any luck they would escort the payload, get Angela to fix this glitch in the respawn system before McCree could do any lasting damage to his dignity and everything could go back to normal.

But of course things are never that simple.

Chapter Text

McCree’s life sure had taken an interesting turn. He wasn't sure that interesting was the word he was looking for, but how else do you describe accidentally inhabiting the body of the man you have a hardcore schoolboy crush on? Interesting was by far the safest word he had to describe the situation.

It had started with both of them dying horribly. Jesse had noticed the bomb too late, Hanzo hadn't seen it at all. He had just enough time to catch a glimpse of the archer turning to look at him before they had been blown to smithereens. As last views went, the sight of Hanzo’s pretty face wasn't bad.

They had been revived seconds later, Angela’s miraculous invention saving his sorry hide once again. He made a mental note to buy her something nice, a bottle of wine maybe, just to show his appreciation. Jesse McCree was rather fond of this mortal coil and Angela Ziegler was what kept him coming back to it, performing miracle after miracle to keep him and the rest of the team going.

Miracles, Jesse found, don't always work the way you think they should. The entire reason they are miraculous is because they are unruly and highly improbable. There was bound to be a fault in their design somewhere, and McCree had managed to find a pretty big flaw in this particular miracle if he did say so himself.

The first thing he noticed when he respawned was how short he was. McCree was a tall man, always had been, so he was bound to notice when he lost a good few inches. He frowned and immediately looked down, intent on finding the cause of his sudden loss of height (maybe he was standing on a step?) only to curse at the sight he was greeted to.

He gasped aloud at the sound of his voice, at how wrong it had been. That was not his voice, hell, he was pretty dang sure this wasn't his body. The traditional Japanese garments, the exposed chest and the glaringly obvious tattoo gave him a pretty good idea of who he had become.

He inspected the tattoo, twisting awkwardly to get a better look at it. Really the dragons running up his arms should not be his top priority but he had been curious about them for a long time now and Hanzo would shoot him dirty looks every time he tried to get close. He was getting a good look at the underside of his arm when he heard his name being called.

He looked up to find… himself. Either that was his body or somebody was doing a damned good impression. It took a second for the cogs to whirl in his brain, to make the connections and figure out what had happened. If he was in Hanzo’s body then that meant that Hanzo was…

The conversation that followed was obviously stressful for the archer. Jesse probably wasn’t helping by making joke after joke but he couldn't help it. Being smart mouthed and annoying was much better than panicking and freaking out in his humble opinion, so he stuck to what he was best at, making a complete and utter ass of himself.

He had managed to get Hanzo out the door and back into the fight despite pissing the man off. He was glad that the archer hadn't argued with him over it, while he knew Angela was perfectly capable he hated the thought of leaving her to fend for herself.

They found her crouched behind the payload, defending the precious cargo viciously. Her pristine white Valkyrie suit was pristine no more, spatters of red streaking down it. Jesse wondered how much of the blood was her own before abruptly abandoning that train of thought. Worrying about the healer would only serve to distract him from the task at hand. He could fuss over her later, hopefully after he had been returned to his rightful state.

He raced to her side while Hanzo split off to take the high ground. He fired blindly in the direction the enemy gunfire was coming from, sliding across the ground to take cover beside the doctor.

“It's about time yo-“ Angela began before stopping suddenly.

She did a double take, her shots faltering as her eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“Hanzo? What are you doing?” She gasped.

A loud bang to their left and the sound of a bullet whizzing past their heads kept McCree from explaining the situation. A man who had been trying to flank them dropped dead beside them, an arrow sticking out of his skull.

Both Angela and Jesse looked up to see Hanzo standing on the roof across the road, the red serape making him stick out like a sore thumb. He was taking heavy fire, his loud cowboy get up making him an easy target. McCree winced sympathetically, feeling bad for his fashion choices for the first time in decades.

“What on Earth are you two playing at?” The medic snapped, her eyes wild with the kind of fury that the ever patient doctor rarely ever let consume her.

McCree had to admit, she was rather scary when she got like this.

“Couldn't be avoided, I'm afraid. I'll explain later.” He managed to yell, ducking around the corner and catching one of the bastards in the knee with a surprisingly well aimed bullet.

“FIRE IN THE HOLE!”

Everybody snapped their heads up, looking for the source of the cry. Of course, only the Overwatch agents knew what it meant. The riptide whizzed passed a few stunned enemy agents before it exploded, flinging bits and pieces of the people who had been trying to kill them in every direction.

Angela dared to pop her head up first, holstering her pistol and folding her arms over her chest. They were safe, for now, safe enough for the doctor to stop and scold them.

“How nice of you to finally join us, Mr Fawkes.” She said snippily, her gaze hard and cold.

Junkrat just beamed sunnily back at her, not a hint of shame in his expression.

Roadhog joined them just as Hanzo made his way down from the roof with a grim expression. He had taken a few hits, though that wasn't much of a surprise considering just how obvious his position had been thanks to McCree’s choice of clothing. At least he had been wearing actual armour. McCree never did understand how he could go into battle wearing practically nothing in the way of protection, though he wasn't usually in the line of fire the way he had been today.

Mercy balled her fists and stomped over to the archer, lifting his serape to get a better look at his wounds before tutting angrily at him.

“This,” she began, already firing up her cascadus staff “ is what happens when you mess around during battle.”

A steady stream of golden light hit Hanzo in the chest, healing the wounds he had suffered quickly and efficiently.

“What were you two thinking?” She snapped, her head whipping from Hanzo to McCree to hit them both with a withering glare. “I expected you to have more common sense than this, especially you, Mr Shimada.”

Hanzo glared down his nose at the woman, able to do so more effectively now that he was taller. It was an expression that Hanzo wore routinely, the man was a proud warrior and was not afraid to act like one. The same expression on McCree’s face however was so entirely alien that even Junkrat seemed taken aback. It only served to fuel the fire of Angela’s rage.

“Don't you dare look at me like that Jesse McCree.” She hissed at him in her best mom voice, a finger pointed directly at him.

Hanzo’s expression didn't falter. The archer wasn't the sort of man who backed down easily.

“Allow us to explain ourselves before making accusations.” He demanded.

“What accusations?” Junkrat butted in, his head cocked to the side.

“They switched weapons.” Mercy seethed, glaring angrily at Hanzo.

Clearly she was not happy with the way he was treating her, and McCree couldn't blame her. He would never be so cold towards her, they had been close friends since the tender age of 17 and to treat her with anything but familiarity was spitting in the face of their friendship.

“Oi, we should try that!” Junkrat chirped, turning to nudge Roadhog and completely disregarding the tension in the air.

“No.” Was all that Roadhog had to say, though the mischievous glint in Junkrat’s eye made it clear that the conversation was far from over.

Mercy finished healing Hanzo, the bright light of her staff cutting out suddenly. They were still escorting the payload, following behind at a leisurely pace.

There was a look of conflict in the medics eyes before she sighed, her shoulders drooping and her expression softening.

“You better have a good reason. Or else.” She conceded, though there was still an edge to her voice, the promise of full fledged anger should their excuse be unsatisfactory.

McCree took a deep breath and reached to tug on the brim of his hat only to frown when his fingers found nothing but empty air. He would have to do something about that.

“The respawn fucked up.” He announced.

Fear flashed in Angela’s eyes.

“Now, hold on. It didn't fuck up that bad, we’re still in one piece.” Jesse reassured her.

Her face twitched in confusion.

“I'm McCree, that there is Hanzo. I ain't sure how it managed it but the machine switched us about somehow.”

It took a moment for the information to settle in. Once it did the medic’s face crumpled.

“Seriously?” Junkrat crowed, smiling widely still.

“That is quite the fuck up.” Roadhog added sombrely.

“You can fix it though, right?” McCree asked, though it wasn't much of a question. He had faith in the doctor, always had done.

The doctor, though, didn't seem to have the same confidence in herself that the gunslinger did. She looked pale suddenly, small even.

Silence lingered for a long moment before she spoke up, her voice meek.

“I don't know.”

Chapter Text

They escorted the payload the rest of the way in an almost painful silence. Even McCree seemed to finally have sobered in the face of Dr Ziegler’s uncertainty. It made Hanzo nervous- at least if McCree was joking there was hope. Without the cowboy’s terrible sense of humour he felt a little lost, though his pride urged him to deny it.

They made their way back to the ship, Mercy tapping furiously at the device in her hands. It beeped twice before she sighed and put it away, finally turning to address McCree and Hanzo.

“I'll need to run a few tests, just to make sure you're not in any immediate danger.” She announced.

“Danger?” McCree asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

“I'm not sure how stable your conditions are like that. Even if you feel fine something else might have gone wrong when you switched. I'd like to make sure that you’re both in good health as soon as possible.” She informed them, a troubled look in her eyes.

Hanzo nodded in agreement. Her concerns were valid, and if checking them over made her feel better he was willing to let her.

When they got on board she left them briefly to turn the autopilot on. Once she returned she began her examination, her high tech equipment getting readings quickly and efficiently. Her shoulders sagged, the tension draining from her body when she announced that everything seemed normal enough (beside the fact that their bodies were now hosting the wrong consciousnesses).

When she was sure that they were not in immediate danger she sat everyone down for a briefing.

“I've issued an emergency recall. Every agent on our roster has been ordered to meet up at our watchpoint in Gibraltar, with the exception of any agents affiliated with Talon. It's imperative they do not find out about the glitch.”

The doctor was right, Hanzo had no doubt. Talon was ruthless, who knew what they would do if they found out about this mess. While Overwatch worked with their agents on occasion the two organisations were far from friendly with one another. Talon would exploit any weakness they could find, without hesitation.

“Hold up, is that really necessary? I mean, things aren't that bad.” McCree cut in.

Angela sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. The bright white gleaming Valkyrie suit she wore was looking dull, drying blood sullying the once immaculate armour. She looked battered and world weary, a far cry from her usual angelic self.

“All of our agents rely on the respawn system. If there's an error with it, no matter how small, I cannot in good conscience allow its continued use. Especially when I'm not sure what exactly that error is.” She explained, her expression grim. “It could be nothing, or there could be a major issue with the technology. Until I know for sure we will have to suspend all Overwatch activity.”

“Dang.” McCree cursed.

“Dang indeed.” Mercy concurred.

“How long do you think we will be stuck like this?” Hanzo asked, bringing the focus back to their situation. The novelty of switching bodies with the cowboy had long since worn off and he was starting to feel increasingly uncomfortable.

“I'll have to run more tests once we get to the watchpoint, but I should be able to give you an answer by the end of the day.” She informed him with a soft smile.

“I have a much cooler plan. Everything got fucked up when you exploded, right? Let's just do it again! Kinda like turning it off and on again, but I'll get to blow you up.” Junkrat cut in, leaning forward with a disturbingly eager smile.

“Absolutely not.” The doctor forbid, her tone firm but fair.

“Explodin’ wasn't fun the first time around. I ain't plannin’ on doin’ it again anytime soon.” McCree responded, reaching up to pull his hat lower only to grimace when his fingers found nothing.

As the doctor and the junker began arguing between themselves, Jesse turned to observe Hanzo, who was currently wearing his beloved hat. Without hesitation he reached over and snatched it off of the archer’s head. A satisfied smile curled at the corner of his lips as he placed the hat unceremoniously on his own head, only to frown when it wouldn't sit properly. The ponytail that sat high on his head was stopping the hat from fitting the way it should.

He placed the well-worn Stetson down on the table and began tugging at the scarf holding his hair up. When it didn't seem to want to loosen his brows knit together, the tip of his tongue bobbing out in concentration. It didn't help.

Only when McCree started to hiss in pain did Hanzo finally intervene, sighing and standing so that he could aid the gunslinger. His own fingers replaced McCree’s (though technically speaking it was McCree’s fingers that were replacing his own). His hands were larger and rougher than he was used to, but his fingers were as nimble as ever and he was able to make quick work of the silk tie.

He sat again, taking the ribbon with him. McCree thanked him quietly before finally placing the hat on his head with a contented sigh. Hanzo made use of the scarf he had reclaimed, gathering his hair up. It was difficult working with the cowboy’s hair, it was a shorter and much thicker than his own. In the end he had to settle for getting as much of it as he could into a ponytail that sat on the back of his head instead of the top. It wasn't perfect but it at least made him feel more like himself.

When he finally tuned back into the others’ conversation, Angela had resorted to involving Roadhog.

“Mako, please do not let him blow up anything until I have the respawn system running properly again.” She practically begged.

In response she received a grunt of confirmation. It was the closest thing to a promise she would get out of the man and while it wasn’t much, it was still enough to make her smile. Now that she felt decently confident that Junkrat would not be blowing anyone sky high, she turned back to address Hanzo and McCree.

“There will be a meeting as soon as we land. I will ask that you leave the explanations to me, for simplicity’s sake.” She explained.

The two nodded their consent and she clapped her hands together and stood.

“That's all for now then. Get some rest everybody, we still have a few hours to go before we reach the watchpoint.”

She made her way towards the ship’s controls, where she had left her computer with all of the data she had just gathered from them. It was clear that she was not planning on taking her own advice.

“Hey, Angie.” McCree called.

“Yes?” She said, pausing to look back at him.

“Don't stress too much, okay?”

She smiled fondly and shook her head, leaving without making promises she couldn't keep.

The Junkers got up and moved to sit in the other corner of the room, leaving Hanzo and McCree sitting at the table on their own. Silence lingered for a long moment before Jesse finally nudged his arm and smiled kindly at him, though his usual cowboy charm fell flat now that he no longer looked like a cowboy.

“How’re you holdin’ up, partner?”

Hanzo huffed. He didn't even know where to begin answering that question, so he didn't even try, he just slumped back into the pale blue cushions behind him.

“It could be a lot worse.” Jesse pointed out.

“It could be a lot better.” Hanzo retorted.

McCree chuckled at that.

“At least you're still pretty.”

“Flattering yourself will get you nowhere.” The archer said sharply.

“I was flattering you too.” The cowboy purred, winking suggestively at the other man.

Hanzo groaned. He did not have the energy for whatever it was that McCree doing. The man was a chronic flirt, his advances towards the archer were shameless. It was flattering, but it was also confusing and awkward. Hanzo wasn't sure that he could give McCree what he wanted. He didn't do casual sex. If that was what McCree wanted, which Hanzo strongly suspected it was, then the archer had nothing to offer him.

“I am going to get some sleep.” He announced, hoping the cowboy would get the hint and leave him be for a while.

“That's a sound plan.” McCree agreed.

The gunslinger lay back across the sofa, repositioning his hat so it covered his face. With limited space left, Hanzo resigned himself to simply leaning on the table, head cushioned by his arms. The day had been stressful, and what was to come would likely be just as demanding. While sleep would not solve his problems it was the most appealing option he had. He let himself drift off, the comforting smell of cigar smoke gently lulling him to sleep.

Chapter Text

Napping had been a terrible mistake.

The promise of a few refreshing hours of sleep had been a vicious lie. He awoke feeling groggy, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. A thumping headache throbbed in the back of his skull, slowly driving him mad. There was something else too, a sensation that he couldn't quite name. It left him feeling agitated and uncomfortable. It was strangely familiar, but he couldn't quite place what it was.

Angela nudged him awake with careful hands, softly telling him that they would be landing soon. McCree received the same gentle treatment. Hanzo listened to him mumble and curse as he gracelessly forced himself up, frowning in a way that suited Hanzo’s face a little too well.

The archer tried to prop himself up on his elbows only for his left arm to slide across the table, nearly causing him to slam head first onto the surface. He caught himself at the last moment, his eyes wide with embarrassment at his unexpected mishap.

His look of alarm was enough to cheer up the grumpy cowboy, who began laughing at his expense. Hanzo shot McCree a dirty look, the incessant guffaw of the fool was doing nothing for his headache.

With a sneer he turned his attention to his arm. He had never noticed it before, but there was a sizeable metal cylinder jutting out where McCree’s elbow was. It was nothing immediately noticeable but it stuck out further than his elbow would naturally. To Hanzo it seemed to have no purpose other than to make the prosthetic awkward and unwieldy. The archer’s lip curled at the outdated craftsmanship of the limb. His own prosthetics were sleek and practical, nothing like the clunky mess that McCree put up with. And now he was stuck with the god awful limb. Perfect.

He watched McCree rub the sleep from his eyes, unwittingly smudging black eyeliner across the bridge of his nose. It might have been amusing, had he been in a better mood.

“You are ruining my eyeliner.” Hanzo bit out harshly.

“Your what now?” McCree muttered back.

“Look in a mirror, cowboy.” Hanzo huffed, his patience wearing thin.

He watched McCree search for a reflective surface, finally settling for the window. He shuffled closer to it, squinting to get a better look. When he finally caught a glimpse of himself he looked startled.

“Hell, you look like the goddamned Winter Soldier.” McCree gasped.

The reference went over Hanzo’s head but he didn't have the patience to remedy that right now.

“Come here.” He demanded, motioning for McCree to get closer.

He removed the tan leather glove and began vigorously wiping the stubborn black smudges away with the pad of his thumb. He felt McCree tense under his touch but the gunslinger allowed him to do as he pleased without complaint, even when the archer was obviously causing him discomfort. The eyeliner clung to his skin tenaciously, but Hanzo managed to get the worst of it in the end.

Once he was satisfied with his handiwork he reached across and fished a small black pencil from the folds of his obi. He uncapped the top of the little pencil and rested his hand on McCree’s cheek to keep the other man in place.

“Stay still.” Hanzo instructed, bringing the pencil up to his eye.

Having realised what was about to happen, McCree began to resist; pulling his head back much like a startled cat.

“Woah there, partner. Just where do you think you're puttin’ that?” He chuckled nervously, his eyes never leaving the pencil.

“I am reapplying my- your- my make up.” Hanzo stated, as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world, and for him it was. He stuttered slightly over which pronoun to use, not quite able to make up his mind which would be the most appropriate.

“Like hell you are.” McCree shot back, unable to tear his eyes away from the unoffensive little black pencil, which was still hovering a few inches away from his face.

“Do you have something against wearing make up?” Hanzo hissed, his tone accusatory.

“I have somethin’ against stickin’ shit in my eye!” McCree snapped.

“Jesse?” Angela called from the other side of the room.

“Yes?” He answered.

“You're being a baby.”

McCree did his best impression of a kicked puppy. It was a look Hanzo would have paid to see on the man’s own face, though he had to admit it was still satisfying (if embarrassing) seeing him gape uselessly at the medic like that.

“You do not have to do it if you truly do not want to.” He relented.

McCree sucked in a breath and pouted. It was not an expression many had ever seen Hanzo wear. If the eldest Shimada had his way it would stay like that, but the likelyhood of him being able to control who saw what dwindled increasingly every second that McCree had free reign of his body.

The cowboy seemed to consider the pencil for a long moment, squinting at it as if it would suddenly leap out of Hanzo’s grip and stab him in the eye. The eyeliner stayed where it was and he gave in, his shoulders sagging dramatically.

“Alright, alright. Just be gentle, yeah?”

Hanzo smiled and got to work, applying the eyeliner as quickly and carefully as he could. He tried not to linger and make the experience unpleasant for the gunslinger, though he had to pause occasionally to ensure he was applying the makeup evenly. When done, he capped the pencil and placed it back into McCree’s (or his?) obi, leaning back with a satisfied sigh.

“Done.” He announced, and just like that all the tension seemed to leave McCree at once.

-

Shortly after he felt the aircraft begin to descend. They would be landing shortly. He could sense Jesse becoming increasingly agitated beside him once more, fidgeting in his seat. He tried to think of something to say to ease McCree’s mind, but his own nervousness was getting the better of him. He watched in confusion as the cowboy began to pat his chest. It took Hanzo a moment to realise that he was searching for a pocket on a shirt he was no longer wearing.

His face crumpled, an almost pained look flitting across his features. Hanzo was concerned until McCree huffed and opened his mouth.

“You ain't gonna let me smoke, are you?”

Realisation hit Hanzo like a freight train.

He smacked the cowboy’s arm. Hard.

“Ow, hey! Hold your horses! I ain't gonna smoke if you don't want me to.” He yelped.

Hanzo hit him again.

“That is not why I hit you, fool!” He snapped back, his face flushed with anger.

“Can I ask why, or are you gonna hit me again?”

The archer grimaced at him, folding his arms tight across his chest.

“You smoke.”

“Well, yeah. That would be the root of our problem.” McCree sassed.

Hanzo’s frown deepened.

“Your body is used to smoking regularly.” He rephrased.

“Oh.”

A simple ‘oh’ didn't begin to cover it. That uncomfortable feeling, the one he couldn't quite name, had been a craving. McCree’s body wanted him to smoke, and the longer he left it the worse the feeling would get. Hanzo knew from experience.

He had picked up the habit from his elders back when he was still preparing to become leader of their clan. He had long since abandoned the vile habit. It was a toxic compulsion he associated with a toxic lifestyle, one that he no longer wanted anything to do with.

“Look, the cigars are in my top pocket. You have my full permission to smoke like a chimney for as long as you’re stuck bein’ me.” McCree offered.

“I do not smoke.” Hanzo hissed.

He had shunned a lot of things when he had abandoned his old way of life. His sword was the biggest thing he had left behind, smoking was a considerably smaller but still important habit he relinquished. He could not allow himself to relapse, not after all these years. He would suffer through McCree’s nicotine cravings. He would have to.

Before McCree could say anything else the aircraft finally landed, the ship shaking slightly as they hit the ground. He stood suddenly, not waiting for the cowboy, stopping at the closed door. His foot tapped impatiently, spurs making a metallic clink as the rest of the team gathered themselves.

Mercy was the first to join him. To his surprise she leaned in close, an arm on his shoulder as she whispered in his ear.

“I can help you deal with your little smoking issue, if you wish.” She offered before pulling away and flashing him a small smile.

“I- thank you.” He stuttered, genuinely taken back by her offer. It hadn’t occurred to him that she would of heard, or that she would have cared.

Athena’s dulcet voice came from above, politely asking the agents to watch their step as the door opened for them. Angela stopped them all before they could step out.

“Remember, you're not to say anything until I have a chance to properly explain the situation. It will probably be best if you avoid talking to anyone until after the meeting.” She warned.

They nodded in agreement. Even Junkrat and Roadhog had no complaints, which was a rare occurrence. She must have bribed the Junkers with something while they were asleep, Hanzo decided.

She led them off the craft and towards the main block of buildings. The sun bore down upon them, the humid air was almost difficult to breathe. Hanzo was really feeling the heat, though it wasn't too surprising considering he was wearing leather trousers, full chest armour and a serape as opposed to his usual, much lighter get up.

Overall he was feeling utterly miserable. The stress of inhabiting somebody else's body, having to get used to having a clunky fake arm, nicotine withdrawals, lack of sleep, a pounding headache and the heat were enough to make him feel thoroughly unwell.

But even in this pathetic state Hanzo was still able to sense Genji landing quietly behind him.

The slight whir of his mechanical limbs was enough to give him away, though Hanzo knew he was there even before he jumped down. There were few people in this world that could sneak up on Hanzo Shimada, and his brother was not one of them.

Hanzo turned in time to see Genji place a hand on McCree’s shoulder instead of his own. It made sense, considering McCree currently looked like him, but it still felt wrong.

“Brother, I was concerned-“ Genji began. He never got to finish.

McCree screeched like a banshee, spinning around so quickly that he promptly fell flat on his ass.

Everyone froze on the spot.

Hanzo felt the colour drain from his face as he watched the scene unfold before him in abject horror. Genji had never been able to sneak up on him, but McCree was an entirely different story. The cowboy was a skilled gunslinger, but he was no assassin. When Genji had come up behind him he had been taken completely unawares.

Genji could sense that there was something wrong. Hanzo saw him reach for his sword, his fingers grasping at the hilt, ready to draw his weapon at the first sign of trouble. He did not brandish his sword however, he instead did what most Overwatch agents did when trouble arose. He turned to Dr Ziegler.

“Angela…” He called, sounding very much like a child way in over his head. He had said Hanzo’s name in a similar fashion many times, especially in their younger years.

A stream of German curses left the doctor, most of which seemed to be aimed at the stunned gunslinger who was gaping up at Genji as if it were the first time he had ever seen him. The Junkers finally seemed to gather their wits as they burst into raucous laughter at McCree’s misfortune.

“Mein gott, Jesse.” She hissed. All of the composure that she had built up in the hours they had traveled here was gone in an instant.

Genji turned to look at Hanzo, his head tilted in a question. It was enough to snap the elder Shimada out of the state of shock that had consumed him.

“Get up!” He snapped at the cowboy. McCree scrambled to his feet, his chest still heaving as he tried and failed to catch his breath.

“Can I have a word please, Genji?” Dr Ziegler asked, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

He nodded, obediently following her as she led him off to the side. His eyes never left them though, his concern palpable.

“Aw, hell. I'm sorry, Han.” McCree muttered breathlessly, watching as Mercy spoke calmly and quietly to the cyborg.

Hanzo just shook his head.

“It could not be avoided.” He conceded, though his attitude was far from understanding.

Whatever Angela said seemed to appease his brother’s concern. He left them, heading towards the conference room without complaint. The doctor headed back towards them, the heels of her shoes making a pleasant click with every hurried step she took.

“Today is just one big disaster.” She sighed.

“Angie-“ McCree began.

She held a hand up to silence him.

“Don't. There's nothing to be sorry for.”

He grinned sheepishly at her and she managed to smile back.

“Let's just get this over with.” Hanzo urged. He had no patience for much of anything today, especially now that he was sporting a wounded ego.

The doctor nodded and led them towards the buildings once more, an air of determination about her. There was no trace of that sunny smile on her lips anymore, only the icy cold demeanour of a doctor with a serious job to do. Hanzo appreciated that more than reassuring grins and empty words. Accepting the harsh reality of their situation and searching for a solution was the only thing that would give him confidence. He only hoped that the good doctor would live up to her sparkling reputation and sort them out as quickly as possible, but given everything that had just happened he was starting to doubt his luck.

Chapter Text

It was a surprise when Angela led them to the conference room instead of their usual briefing room. Hanzo had only ever been in there once before, but he much preferred the sleek black décor to the traffic cone aesthetic the other room had. The fact that they were heading there was a bad sign though. Only the most serious meetings took place in that particular room, as far as Hanzo could tell. He had only ever been stationed at Watchpoint Gibraltar a few times though, so he couldn't be certain.

Everyone had gathered outside in the warm Gibraltar sun, muttering nervously amongst themselves. Hanzo noted that Morrison, Winston and the elder Amari were absent. They would be joining the rest of them shortly, no doubt.

Roadhog and Junkrat immediately integrated themselves into the crowd, the younger man announcing himself in his usual, obnoxiously loud way. Hanzo watched as Fareeha Amari perked up at the sound, not because of the Junker, but because of what his arrival meant. Almost immediately the woman’s sharp, hawklike gaze locked onto the medic and a smile as brilliant as the sun they were standing under lit up her face.

Their reunion was entirely too sweet. The younger woman scooped the doctor up in her arms while cooing her lover’s name over and over, peppering little kisses over every inch of her face. Dr Ziegler actually giggled at the show of affection, cracking a sunny smile that instantly made her look about ten years younger. Hanzo forced himself to look away as Fareeha started to question why the love of her life was covered head to toe in blood, hands running over her girlfriend’s body in search of injury even as the blonde assured her that all was well.

Beside him McCree began whistling quietly to himself, a tune that was probably from some old western. Hanzo elbowed the cowboy, shooting daggers at him. They were supposed to be avoiding giving themselves away, not making it obvious by doing something the other would never do. McCree was silenced quickly but soon started to fidget instead, looping his thumbs into his obi as if it were his tacky belt and rocking forward onto the balls of his feet, then back onto his heels. Hanzo folded his arms high across his chest and huffed. The cowboy couldn’t be more obvious, and the archer was sure that people were beginning to stare when they thought he wasn’t looking.

Inevitably McCree broke the silence between them, clapping his hands together.

“My eyeballs are floatin’, I'll be back in two ticks.” The gunslinger announced, already heading towards the nearest bathroom.

Hanzo had spent enough time with McCree to be able to decode (the majority of) his southernisms. He knew exactly what the other man meant and he was not pleased.

He grabbed McCree before he could get too far, dragging the cowboy back and keeping a firm hold of his wrist. McCree’s surprise all too quickly turned to amusement, a sly grin spreading across his face.

“Miss me already?” He cooed.

Hanzo scoffed in his face.

“Hardly.”

“Then what can I do you for, hon?” McCree asked, not at all put off by Hanzo’s cold attitude.

“I will not stand for you… relieving yourself while you are still in my body.” He hissed.

“Then you better sit down ‘cause I gotta go. Bad.” McCree shot back.

The archer sneered and McCree sighed, his expression softening.

“What do you expect me to do, Han? I can’t hold it in forever.” He reasoned.

Hanzo felt conflicted. He knew that he was being unreasonable but the thought of McCree… he shuddered, flushing with embarrassment.

“I promise I won’t look or anything. It’ll be a quick job, in and out, no fuss.” McCree swore.

Hanzo frowned at him, resolve crumbling.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” He added, drawing a small cross over his chest.

With a sigh Hanzo released the gunslinger and waved him off. Yet again he had lost an argument to McCree’s southern charm, even if he wasn't so southern at the moment. Stupid, sexy cowboy.

“You’re too good to me.” McCree announced, a little too loudly for Hanzo’s liking, before turning and disappearing into a nearby building.

Now Hanzo had been perfectly aware that their discussion had attracted the attention of a few of their peers, but when he turned and saw that almost all eyes were on him he balked.

Reinhardt and Torbjorn had gathered into their own oblivious little cluster during McCree and Hanzo’s spat. Angela had disappeared entirely, along with Satya. Everybody else was staring intently at him and Hanzo had no earthly idea why.

Well, he understood why Genji was paying such close attention to him after McCree’s little outburst. His brother stood off to the side with the omnic monk he was so fond of. He was probably expressing his concerns to his master, though Hanzo couldn’t be sure since he couldn’t see their lips moving. For all he knew they were actually just be standing there watching him in silence, though he doubted it. Genji had never been the silent type.

Everyone else was smiling at him, with the exception of the Bastion unit that chirped happily instead. He was trying to figure out what could have possibly attracted their attention when Lena Oxton happened.

She quite literally popped out of thin air. A flash of blue was all the warning Hanzo had before she was there, an arm slung around him as she whooped and cheered.

“You glorious sod, you’ve only gone and done it!” She crowed.

“It’s about time.” Lucio cut in.

Slowly but surely the younger members of Overwatch drifted towards him. Hanzo’s eyes met Genji’s for a moment, the younger brother keeping his distance but watching the older sibling closely.

“GG, cowboy.” Hana congratulated, her glossy pink lips curling into a knowing smile.

Hanzo, on the other hand, knew nothing at all. What exactly had McCree accomplished that would earn him such widespread congratulations? And if it was such a magnificent feat, how did Hanzo not know what the others were talking about?

Lena proceeded to answer his question and leave him with a million more.

“I can’t believe you pulled Hanzo!” She giggled.

McCree had… pulled him? Hanzo frowned, furiously wracking his brain as he tried to decipher what exactly the small British woman meant. While he could understand McCree nine times out of ten he had not spent nearly as much time with Lena, and struggled to understand her slang the way he understood the cowboy. What could she possibly mean when she accused him of pulling the other man? Maybe she meant it literally, he had grabbed McCree to stop him from going to the toilet just. Why was that important though? Surely they were not congratulating him for that. Surely.

“I want details, mister! Drinks tonight?” Lena asked, or demanded. Hanzo wasn’t quite sure.

“Angie and I are in, assuming this meeting isn’t completely catastrophic. I want to know how he got you to give up the hat.” Fareeha teased, tugging gently at the scarf in his hair.

Hanzo cursed himself for not thinking about the hat. Letting McCree reclaim it was foolish, made it obvious that something was up. Whatever assumptions the others had made were clearly wrong, but the mistake had been made all the same.

“Leave the poor man alone, you’re embarrassing him.” Mei scolded, shooing everyone away from him. He was grateful for the scientist’s tact, and only wished that everybody else was as conscientious as she was.

“You’re right, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him speechless before.” Lucio muttered to Hana, who nodded her agreement.

“Think I should take a picture, document it?” She said, loudly enough for Hanzo to hear. He scowled at her teasing and she laughed unapologetically.

“You’re being awful quiet there, sheriff.” Lena pointed out, leaning impossibly closer and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at him.

McCree couldn’t have chosen a more perfect time to return from the bathroom.

His arrival seemed to signal for the others to disperse. Slowly everybody began to back away, going back to their original groups or starting new conversations with different people. Lena hung back a bit as McCree approached, smiling brilliantly at the both of them.

“Drinks tonight. Don’t forget.” She reminded him. “Hanzo, you should come too. It’ll be brill.”

And with that she flitted over to Hana and Lucio, leaving McCree and Hanzo to stew in their confusion.

“The heck was that about?” McCree muttered, not taking his eyes off of the Brit as she laughed at something Lucio had said.

“They seem to think that you have ‘pulled’ me.” Hanzo explained.

“Excuse me?” McCree spluttered, suddenly no longer interested in Lena as he whipped his head around to face the archer.

“They all started to congratulate me, then Miss Oxton said that she couldn’t believe that you had ‘pulled’ me. They seem to think it has something to do with us swapping hats.” He elaborated. “Do you know what she means by ‘pulled’? I am not familiar with the term. Maybe I should look it up?”

“No! Nah, I mean, it don’t mean nothin’ honestly. It's just a little in joke we have, wouldn't be funny if I explained it. Forget about it.” McCree insisted, tripping up over his own words.

Hanzo eyes narrowed in suspicion and he made a mental note to look the term up later.

Just then the doctor returned with Satya, Winston, Morrison and the older Amari in tow.

“What are you kids doing out here? Meeting’s about to start.” Morrision announced, his voice cutting through the chatter.

Immediately the crowd started moving, filing casually into the building and down the stairs into the conference room. With a deep breath and a reassuring smile from McCree Hanzo followed suit, anxiety already building in the pit of his stomach.

Chapter Text

They’d had it worse before, but that didn’t make the situation any less shitty. Being in the old conference room didn’t exactly improve McCree’s mood either. The place was good for one thing and one thing only; delivering bad news. Every time disaster struck he found himself here, or in a room similar to this one. Sufficed to say, he was not happy to be back.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room, then another moment to adjust back as he stepped under the bright white lights that hung over the table. Angela had already taken a seat and was gesturing for them to sit beside her. McCree obeyed immediately, though Hanzo hesitated for a second before taking his seat. Jesse was used to this kind of treatment, he’d been the subject of worse meetings than this before, but Hanzo had never had the pleasure of being in the limelight until today. The poor fella was starting to look nervous, bless him, so McCree nudged him and smiled reassuringly. All it earned him was an anxious huff from the archer.

The meeting started quickly, all chatter dying down as Winston politely asked Athena to start recording the meeting for future reference. All eyes were on Angela, but it was Jack who spoke up first, as per usual.

“What’s all this about, Angela?” He asked, voicing the question on everybody’s mind.

With a deep breath the doctor sat up straighter, her eyes moving over the agents assembled as she addressed them.

“I am suspending all Overwatch activity until further notice.” She announced.

There were a few gasps and some muttered curses, most the expletives coming from the former Strike Commander.

“That’s a serious order, Dr Ziegler.” Winston said softly.

Ana Amari waved a hand dismissively at the other agents.

“The girl has her reasons, let her explain.” She demanded, smiling fondly at the blonde woman across the table from her. She always did have a soft spot for Angela, Jesse recalled, and it was starting to show.

“Thank you, Ana.” Mercy replied with a gracious nod, before turning her attention back to the group. “What I am about to tell you cannot leave this room. This is very sensitive information. There is a reason that agents affiliated with Talon have been excluded from this discussion, and I would appreciate your discretion.”

Before she could continue Lucio raised his hand, waving to get her attention from his seat across from her.

“Um, not to be rude or anything, but if Talon wasn’t invited to this little party then why the hell was Vishkar? Like, no offence. But why?” Lucio asked, his eyes roaming over to Satya, who was sitting on the other side of Angela.

The woman in question sneered at the audio medic, clearly very offended by the younger man’s comment.

“Vishkar works towards the betterment of humanity. To compare us to a terrorist-“ she began, bristling angrily.

Lucio began to roll his eyes, even as Angela interrupted.

“Miss Vatswani has been working with me on a few projects recently, her insight will be invaluable when it comes to solving this issue.” She informed Lucio, though the man did not seem convinced.

She turned to Satya after that, continuing her train of thought.

“Though I do ask you hold off on informing your employers about the problem until after we have dealt with the matter. Please.”

The architect nodded, but didn’t make any promises. McCree suspected she was still making up her mind about that to do.

“There has been an issue with the respawn technology.” Angela finally admitted.

There were more gasps, and Jack’s swearing became more colourful.

“What kind of issue?” Mei asked.

Junkrat began giggling to himself, a knowing grin plastered on his face. Angela shot him a dirty look before looking over to McCree and Hanzo.

She explained what had happened, from Hanzo being left alone with the Payload to them being blasted to bits and returning to the scene a few minutes later toting the wrong weapons. The focus was on Angela as she told the story, but occasionally people would steal glances at Hanzo and him when their names were mentioned. Beside him Hanzo’s gaze was fixed upon the shiny surface of the table, while McCree attempted to keep his eyes on Angela. Anything to avoid the curious stares of their companions.

“I only realised after the payload had been secured that Hanzo and McCree had… how do I put it? Switched bodies.”

A moment of silence, followed with a quiet murmur of confusion and a whirring noise from Bastion (who had somehow managed to spill bird seed all over the immaculate tabletop without anyone else noticing).

“You will have to explain, dear. What do you mean, ‘switched bodies’?” Ana asked, not quite ready to accept Angela’s words at face value.

“I mean they literally switched. That is McCree and that is Hanzo.” She explained, pointing to each of them respectively.

There was a lingering moment of silence before Lena ruined it by cursing loudly.

“Bollocks!” She yelped, hands covering her face.

All of those he found surrounding Hanzo earlier looked appropriately mortified. McCree leaned back in his chair with a satisfied huff. At least they had the decency to be embarrassed about nearly outing McCree’s crush on the archer.

“You know something we don’t, Oxton?” Jack growled at her, a single dark eyebrow appearing from under the visor.

“What? No! No, it’s just… it’s a really bad situation.” She spluttered defensively.

“Ain’t it just.” McCree concurred, tilting his hat over his eyes.

“All initial heath checks looked good, but I’ll be doing further tests to ensure that both Hanzo and Jesse are well. After that I’ll start looking for a way to reverse the process. Until then I must insist that all agents remain at the watchpoint.” Angela informed them.

“How long will that even take?” Morrison asked.

“As of right now I am unsure, but I should be able to give you an estimate by tonight.” She promised.

“Can we really afford to cease all activity? I mean, the error in the system is clearly not lethal-“ Winston reasoned.

“We don’t know that for sure.” Angela argued.

“Low risk missions should still be considered.” Morrison cut in.

“Absolutely not.” The doctor insisted with a shake of her head.

McCree sighed, tilting his head back and screwing his eyes shut. This was why he hated conference rooms. All the petty squabbling and disagreements always gave him a headache.

“I’m not just going to sit around with my thumb up my ass when innocent civilians need my help!” Jack growled.

“Ew. TMI.” Hana whispered to Lucio, earning an amused snort from the audio medic.

“The safety of our agents is my top priority-“ Angela explained.

“What about the safety of the people? Back in my day we didn’t have a fancy respawn system, but we still went out and did our damned jobs.”

“Back in your day Overwatch had greater numbers, funding from the UN and a much higher causality rate!” The doctor snapped, her fists balled and her face twisted in frustration.

Seeing Angela Ziegler lose her temper was enough to silence even the bravest members of Overwatch, a horrified silence falling over them all. She sighed, the tension leaving her as she ran a hand down her face. McCree had never seen her looking so completely and utterly done.

“I’m sorry, I just- give me a week to figure this out. That’s all I ask. Then we can discuss returning agents to active duty.” She compromised.

“That’s reasonable.” Winston said, turning to Ana, who nodded her agreement.

“I don’t like it, but there’s isn’t an awful lot that I do like these days. Tell us what you need, doc.” Jack conceded, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Nobody is to leave the base, especially those with bounties on their heads.” Angela began, shooting a pointed look at McCree who lifted his hands defensively. “Only light training, no simulations and no live ammunition. Mei, Winston, Lucio and Satya, I would appreciate your assistance when it comes to fixing the respawn machinery.”

Nobody had any complaints and with that the meeting was adjourned. Everyone stood, and Angela excused herself so that she could finally get cleaned up. She made them promise to meet her in the medbay after getting something to eat. Jesse was glad, while he wasn’t sure how long ago Hanzo had eaten he was sure it had been far too long for him. Some grub, even if it was from the canteen, was exactly what needed.

Chapter Text

They squabbled viciously over what to have for dinner. More accurately; McCree fought for his right to a hearty portion of mac and cheese while Hanzo insisted adamantly that the cowboy was not to eat the fatty, processed goodness on pain of death. Full names had been used, lectures were given on the importance of maintaining a heathy diet, tears had been shed. In the end they had compromised, McCree had been allowed a pitiful lump of mac and cheese along with a generous helping of what the gunslinger could only describe as ‘rabbit food’. He nudged the soggy leaves with his fork, still sulking.

“You’re not even giving it a chance.” The archer chastised as he dug into his own pitiful meal.

McCree had tried to warn him that a measly chicken salad would not be enough to fuel a man as big as he was, but Hanzo had scoffed at him and called him something probably not very nice in his native tongue.

The cowboy was gearing up to fling a particularly unappetising leaf at his oppressor when Genji appeared out of nowhere and sat himself directly across from them.

Most of the agents were currently in the mess hall, but none of them had been brave enough to approach the pair until now. McCree could see them sneaking not so subtle glances from time to time, but only Genji had the balls to actually sit with them.

“Howdy, partner.” McCree greeted, tilting his hat like a gentleman.

The younger Shimada started laughing hysterically. The image of his serious older brother spouting southernisms at him was hilarious, it would seem.

Jesse felt Hanzo tense up beside him. The relationship between the brothers was complicated at best, McCree wasn’t even going to pretend he understood what went through their heads at any given time. Hanzo had gone from straight up refusing to accept Genji as his brother to tip toeing around him, treating him as if he were made of glass. Genji, on the other hand, was clearly trying to get a reaction out of his older brother whenever they spoke. It meant that Genji was constantly teasing while Hanzo took everything entirely too seriously. It was exhausting just listening to them.

“This is not funny, Genji!” Hanzo chastised, frowning fiercely.

“No. It’s hilarious.” Genji corrected, feigning wiping a tear away over his visor.

Hanzo sighed, shaking his head and turning away.

“You still act like a child, even after all the years.” He muttered, almost as if to himself.

“And you are still as uptight as ever, brother.” Genji responded fondly. “At least I can be sure that it is definitely you in there.”

Before Hanzo could say anything Genji turned to McCree, tilting his head politely.

“I apologise for scaring you earlier, Jesse.”

McCree shook his head.

“Don't think nothin’ of it.”

Genji leaned forwards suddenly then, his demeanour darkening drastically.

“I hope you’re prepared.”

“Excuse me?” Jesse asked, his brow furrowing.

“He’s already got you eating leaves.” Genji pointed out. “You do know he gets up and trains at 5:30am sharp, right? He has done since he was twelve years old. He’s not going to let you ruin that for him.”

Jesse grew pale. He turned to the archer, saying nothing but silently begging for mercy. Hanzo caught the puppy eyes McCree was giving him, staring blankly at him for a moment before turning on Genji.

“I’m not in the mood for… whatever this is.” Hanzo growled, gesturing generally at his brother before turning his attention back to his chicken. The way he stabbed at it had McCree wondering if he was trying to kill it a second time.

“Relax, brother.”

Hanzo did not relax.

McCree cut in before the situation could get any worse.

“So… Looks like we’re gonna have a heck of a lot of spare time on our hands. Got any plans?” Jesse asked, attempting to tactfully distract the brothers.

“I will probably spend some time with my Master while I have the chance.” Genji responded.

Hanzo grimaced at the mention of Zenyatta. He seemed to have taken a dislike to the omnic, though McCree couldn’t see why. He was pretty sure that Zenyatta had never done a thing wrong in his entire life.

“What about you two?” Genji asked. “Are you going to take advantage of this situation?”

“Excuse me?” Hanzo said.

Genji paused before throwing his hands in the air excitedly.

“Are you kidding? You two have swapped bodies. You can do so much with that.”

“Like what?” McCree inquired, a smile curling at his lips.

“Do not give him ideas.” Hanzo demanded before Genji could get started.

Jesse didn’t need to see under the visor to know that the youngest Shimada was grinning evilly at his brother.

“I wouldn’t dream of doin’ anythin’ that would upset you, buttercup. I promise.” McCree announced, grinning lazily at Hanzo.

He watched the archer shift in his seat, pouting furiously as he gave up on the abused remains of his salad, folding his arms instead.

“Are you almost done? Dr Ziegler is expecting us.”

McCree paused to consider Hanzo, wondering if he should stop to finish his meal and force the archer to spend more time with his brother. He decided against it, shovelling as much mac and cheese into his mouth as he could and giving Hanzo a quick thumbs up in confirmation.

The archer made a noise of disgust as he watched McCree wolf down his food before politely saying his goodbyes. Genji seemed disappointed at his brother’s formality, but he said nothing, letting them go without a fight. They cleared their plates (McCree saying good riddance to the dastardly side salad) and they made their way to the medical wing.

-

Angela, they found, was not faring very well at all. Already she was knee deep in her research, flitting from station to station as she muttered quietly to herself. It took three minutes for her to even realise that they were there, and another five minutes on top of that for her to get to them.

The next few hours were filled with the monotonous hum of machines and the frantic click of keyboard keys as the two of them were subjected to test after test. Angela was thorough, he would give her that. She ran every test she could think of, using gadgets that McCree had never seen before to test for problems that sounded made up. In the end all three of them were tired and cranky.

“Good news.” Angela announced with a pained expression as she read the results for their final test.

“Are you sure?” He teased.

She continued as if he hadn’t spoken, ignoring him entirely.

“There is nothing physically wrong with either of you.”

“And still you frown.” He said, not quite ready to give up on his attempt at humour just yet.

“I can't fix this if I can't figure out what is wrong.” She told him, a biting edge to her voice. “Look, I'll go over the information I currently have and get back to you when I figure something out. For now get plenty of rest, and call me if anything changes.”

Hanzo nodded obediently. Before McCree could make a move to do the same the doctor shoved a well manicured finger in his face.

“I mean it, Jess.”

“Alright, alright!” He laughed, his hands raised in defeat.

“Don't try to play the tough guy, for your sake as well as Hanzo’s. It won't help either of you.” She warned.

His expression softened and he promised her he would report anything usual. It took a long second of her staring intently at him before she finally believed him enough to let them go.

-

They walked back to their rooms in silence, too exhausted to make small talk. They came to Hanzo’s door first, and both men stopped before it.

“You gonna be okay on your lonesome?” Jesse couldn't help but ask.

Hanzo huffed a laugh.

“I am a grown man, I am perfectly capable of tucking myself in.” He sassed.

“Just makin’ sure.” McCree shot back defensively.

And with that he turned on his heel, heading down the corridor towards his own room.

“See you in the mornin’ then.” He called back, more than ready to get a good night’s rest.

-

In his dreams the dragons howled.

Jesse had never seen a creature in that much pain before. It was bad enough seeing them like this, but he could feel it too, as keenly as he did his own pain. It broke his heart into a million tiny pieces. Sorrow, rage, fear, desperation… they had been abandoned. They were lost.

It shook him to his very core. A whirlwind of emotion that left him dazed and confused and hurting deep inside. He had no way of comforting the noble creatures, no way of offering reassurance. All he could do is share their pain and suffer with them in silence.

That is, until he woke up.

It took him a horrifying moment to realise that while the dream had left him the pain had not. He was shaking and sweating, his arm pulsing painfully. He rolled onto his side and groaned, a wave of nausea washing through him. He hadn’t felt this rough in a long time.

With a great deal of effort he opened his eyes, blearily taking in his surroundings. It was dark still, probably the middle of the night. A quick glance at his rarely used alarm clock confirmed his suspicions.

His arm twitched again, pain rolling through him as a bright blue glow lit up the room. He looked over at the source of the light, at the sickening sight of his arm.

McCree had seen Hanzo summon the dragons at least a dozen times, he knew what it looked like. The tattoo would glow as the archer called forth the spirits. Light would twist gracefully down from his shoulder to his wrist, the dragons taking form before they burst fourth from the shaft of the arrow. The twin spirits would dance in circles around each other, consuming their enemies in a terrifying and beautiful display of power.

Right now the spirits seemed stuck in the stage of coiling around his arm, stuck being the key word. There were areas where they had not quite detached themselves from under the skin, and what had formed of their bodies was a struggling convulsing mess. Jesse watched in horror as they scrambled and squirmed, trying to rip themselves free. And it hurt. God, did it hurt. It felt like they were shredding him up from the inside. The panic caused by their inability to escape tore through him violently. He cried out as they tugged at him; mind, body and soul.

Hanzo. He had to get to Hanzo. He’d know what to do, they were his damn spirits after all. He forced his feet over the side of the bed even as a fresh wave of pain shot through him. He should call Angela too, he thought as he forced himself to stand, he had promised her after all.

He stumbled towards the dresser where he had left his comm (he should have left it by his bed, it had been foolish to leave it so far away), clinging to his shoulder as if it would help numb the pain. He staggered forward, breath ragged, vision swimming. He got about half way before his legs gave out underneath him and he fell to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. He made one last valiant effort to stand before he realised he simply couldn’t.

The air seemed to get shallower and more difficult to breathe, the pain in his arm more intense. He heard himself cry out again and he curled up as tears began to stream down his face.

Jesse McCree was no whimp. He was a man who regularly laughed in the face of death, grinning through bullet wounds and cracking jokes even when he was on the verge of passing out. This was different though, this was so much worse. He wondered for a moment if the pain would kill him before a blinding bout of agony ripped through him and he started to scream in earnest.

He was left to writhe and suffer on the floor for all of two seconds before there was a polite knock at his door.

“McCree?” A familiar British accent called, the sound of her voice muffled through the door.

He tried to say something cool and witty in response. He let out a hoarse scream instead.

There were no more polite knocks, only the desperate rattling of the locked door as Lena tried to force it open and the pounding of her fists against the surface when she failed to break in. It seemed to take her a moment to remember the AI that controlled the base.

“Athena, open the door! Quickly, Athena! Please!” She cried, though it was difficult for McCree to hear her over the sound of his own almost metallic screeching.

He was still screaming he realised, though it was difficult to tell exactly what was happening thanks to the pain that was clouding his mind. He knew Lena was at the door, and that others were slowly but surely joining her. He managed to look up just in time to see the door slide open and the tiny slip of a woman come racing in.

In his pain addled mind he expected to see her burst in wearing full combat gear. What he saw instead was a young woman with messy hair wearing a baggy shirt and loose pyjama bottoms, her chronal accelerator shinning proudly over her heart. A strange gurgling sound escaped his throat when he tried to greet her and he ended up curling further in on himself as she slid to his side.

The room suddenly seemed very full, concerned agents racing in, all in pyjamas but ready for action non the less. McCree hid his head under his arm in an attempt to escape their panicked voices. It was too loud, too much, too painful.

What’s wrong?

Where’s Hanzo?

Somebody get Genji!

McCree! Can you hear me? McCree, love? I need you to breathe.

What’s wrong with him?

Where is our master?

Lena, get my brother!

Angela won’t pick up-

You aren’t our master, where is our master?

He’s still screaming.

I can’t wake Hanzo! He won’t wake up! I don’t know what to d-

Those last words, even through the fog that had settled in his brain, struck a cord with McCree. It awoke something terrible in the dragons too, a fresh wave of panic. Confirmation that their master was in trouble, that he needed them, made them double their efforts. His body convulsed violently as they tried to force their way out. The panic of the people around him seemed to increase too, all of them crying out in shock and fear as they watched on helplessly.

Then it all suddenly seemed so far away and McCree finally floated away into blissful unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

It was cold. That was the only thing that Hanzo could focus on, the chill that had seeped deep into his bones and his brain. He was there in the deep dark cold, frozen for such a long time. He felt detached somehow, like he was drifting away…

And then there was light.

Bright warmth, slowly bringing him back, filling the emptiness. Blue light, coiling around him until suddenly it was unbearable, too bright to keep his eyes closed.

His limbs felt heavy, as if somebody had replaced his bones with led. Still, he attempted to lift a hand to his face to shield his eyes. He failed. He squinted, blinking rapidly in an attempt to protect his vision. It was as if somebody was shining a light directly at him-

Oh.

A small, curious face was pressed right up against his, watching him intently. They blinked owlishly at him, eyes filled with wonder. His mind raced. It shouldn’t be possible. How? How had he summoned the dragons without meaning to?

He hadn’t called on them without meaning to since he was a child, yet here they were, curled up over his heart. Another curious face slithered into his line of sight, body twitching with excitement.

The twin dragons watched him wake expectantly, the glow of their bodies half blinding him. They understood as soon as it occurred to him why it was too bright that they needed to back off. They slithered down to his stomach, obediently keeping a distance from his face. He scrunched his eyes shut, taking a deep breath to steel himself. When he felt brave enough he opened his eyes once more, looking down at the attentive dragons that were waiting patiently for him to gather his bearings.

He was in a bed that was not his own, he already knew that, he could feel it. The surprise came in the form of his arms. The rest of him was covered but… his skin was darker than he expected, and he was far hairier than usual too. He flinched when he saw that he was missing his left arm from the elbow down, then he recalled what had happened the previous day. McCree and he had switched places.

The pristine, uncomfortable sheets told him he was in a hospital of some kind. Thinking on it further he decided it was more likely that he was in the watchpoint medbay. Letting his gaze wander to his bedside he found the sleeping form of his brother. He had his faceplate off which was rare, revealing his slack, sleeping face. Part of him hated it, couldn't stand to see the scars he had inflicted upon his younger brother, but something warm bloomed within him too. Genji’s mouth hung open as he slept, the way it had done since they were children. Though the entire bottom half of his jaw was now made of metal he couldn't help but see the younger, carefree Genji sitting there in the chair. He had hated him once for being so blithe, now he craved such a sight. Ironic. Tragic, maybe.

Movement from across the room distracted him from his neologistic ruminations. On a couch pressed up against the wall lay a sleeping Angela Ziegler, her head pillowed in Fareeha Amari’s lap. The couple slept as peacefully as two people sharing one couch could. Both the doctor and Genji had blankets tucked around them, though the room was plenty warm enough without being wrapped up. The scene might have been cozy, if not for the aggressively institutional vibe the medical bay gave.

His gaze wandered further, his mind failing to connect the dots. Whatever happened was bad enough to cause Genji concern, to have the doctor waiting on hand in case anything went wrong. Beyond the heaviness he felt throughout his entire being he felt fine, or at the very least functional. His gaze finally fell upon the figure in the bed next to him, the sickeningly familiar sight of his own face shocking him.

McCree.

A knot of anxiety twisted through his heart. Any inner turmoil he had been having about waking the others resolved itself immediately. While he could handle waiting to find out what had happened to him there was no way he could ignore the prone form of the cowboy in the bed next to him.

He let the doctor and her lover sleep on, Angela needed a few good hours of rest. He turned his attention to his sleeping brother instead, the dragons following his line of sight and perching themselves on Genji’s metal shoulders.

“Genji.” He called in a hushed whisper, careful not to wake the others. His voice came out wrong, rough and gravelly and definitely not his.

The dragons coiled around the cyborg, nudging playfully at his exposed face. He stirred, his features scrunching up and his mouth closing reflexively.

“Genji.” He tried again, a little louder this time.

He groaned, attempting to bat the closest dragon away from his face. They growled viciously at him for having the audacity to try such a thing. The Shimada controlled the dragons, but that did not mean they were docile little pets. They were proud creatures, ones that didn’t take kindly to disrespect in any of it’s forms.

Genji startled at the ferocity of the sound, suddenly wide awake. He blinked at the now angry faces of the dragons before tilting his head down, polite and submissive.

“My apologies.” He said, a little too loudly for Hanzo’s liking. The others were still sleeping.

The dragons paused before drifting away from the younger Shimada, bodies twisting around each other as they made their way back over to Hanzo. One dragon curled into the crook of his shoulder, the other making themself at home on his chest.

It took Genji a moment to make eye contact, but once he did it clicked. His brother immediately surged forward, crowding Hanzo, who grimaced at the intrusion before attempting to smile for Genji’s sake.

“Brother! You’re awake! How do you feel?” He babbled in their native tongue, hands hovering, unsure where to go.

“… Sluggish.” Hanzo decided. He wasn’t quite tired but he still felt off, like everything was difficult.

There was real fear in Genji’s eyes, genuine concern. He’d not been able to see his brother’s face in such a long time, yet he could still read him like an open book.

“What happened?” Hanzo asked, the words struggling to leave his mouth. Even simple sentences were taking all of his concentration.

Genji looked over to Angela and Fareeha, conflicted over something. He took a deep breath, making a choice.

“It is… complicated.” He stated.

Hanzo frowned at him, not at all in the mood to play this game of cat and mouse, not right now. Genji caught the look before leaning back to sit properly in his chair.

“I will explain as best as I can.” He promised.

Hanzo watched him intently, the dragons tilting their heads towards him as he spoke.

“What is the last thing you remember?” Genji asked carefully.

Hanzo considered his answer for a moment.

“I went to bed…” He muttered, unable to remember anything after that other than the deep, the dark, the cold.

Genji nodded.

“The both of you went to bed after Angela had given you the all clear. About an hour or so later we heard McCree… screaming.” He choked out, as if recalling the memory was difficult.

Hanzo felt his stomach drop, his muscles tensing unpleasantly. He immediately turned away from his brother, his eyes on the sleeping form of the cowboy instead. The dragons followed his train of thought, leaving the comforting presence of their master to start nosing curiously at the man in the other bed.

“Tracer found him first. He was on the floor, and he wouldn’t stop screaming. It was… Hanzo, I’ve never seen him like that… never seen you like that.” He admitted, voice small.

It took a moment for Hanzo to realise what he meant by that. While it had been McCree screaming it had looked and sounded like him. His brother sounded so scared… Hanzo didn’t deserve the affection being shown to him. He resisted the urge to lean away, letting Genji capture his hand instead.

“What was wrong with him?” Hanzo asked, his throat tight.

“The dragons…”Genji began, clearly struggling to find the words. “It was as if they were being summoned, but they were struggling. It was… hurting him.”

Hanzo blinked back his shock, eye glued to McCree’s unconscious form.

“I arrived shortly after Tracer did, and I sent her to fetch you. She said she could not wake you. The dragons… they got worse and McCree passed out. We got the two of you down to Angela in the med bay. You were cold, your breathing was irregular…”

“What about McCree?” Hanzo insisted. He didn’t care what had happened to him, not when McCree was lying across from him, so fragile and quiet.

Genji paused for a moment before continuing.

“The two of you were in critical condition. Angela couldn’t figure out what had happened, or how to treat it… but we noticed that the dragons had calmed down considerably. With some coaxing we were able to get them out peacefully. They haven’t left your side since.”

Hanzo watched McCree closely, soaking in his brother’s words. Finally, he was able to connect the dots, but the picture he made was downright terrifying. Something straight out of his worst nightmares.

Only a Shimada can control the dragons. Technically speaking the blood of the Shimada now ran through McCree’s veins, but he was no dragon. His spirit was that of a cowboy still, and the dragons had sensed this. Hanzo wasn’t sure why it had taken them so long to figure it out, but once they had they had reacted. They sought out their master, and in their panic they had hurt one of the few people Hanzo had ever actually cared about.

It felt like somebody was choking the air out of him, white hot stabs of regret and fear twisting through his heart. The dragons began curling protectively around McCree, guilt radiating off of them. Hanzo had not been awake to guide them, to show them that McCree was a friend. Without him to reason with them they had lashed out, had hurt the other man deeply without knowing the consequences. They began nuzzling affectionally at the gunslinger, finally seeing their error. McCree was important to Hanzo, which made him important to the dragons. They had hurt him, all three of them, and that was unforgivable.

“Oh, Hanzo.” Genji sighed, his voice tinted with realisation as he watched the dragons curl around McCree.

He snatched his hand away from Genji’s, clenching his fist instead.

“I did this.” He growled.

“No-“ Genji tried to protest.

“I was careless. I assumed that the dragons would be fine, and I hurt him.” He insisted.

“Angela said he should wake up soon. He’s going to be fine, Hanzo.” Genji told him, voice mechanical and soothing.

Hanzo just shook his head.

“It is unforgivable.”

Genji let out a long-suffering sigh.

“It was beyond your control. You’re fine, McCree will be fine, everything is fine. Do not dwell on this, brother.”

Hanzo turned away, lying on his side so that he was facing McCree. While it was his own body lying across from him in his mind’s eye all he could see was the cowboy. His messy brown hair, his unkempt beard, the lines by his eyes from too many years spent laughing in the sun. It made something within him ache.

Genji seemed to sense that the conversation was over. He didn’t try to bait Hanzo the way he usually did, for once he let his brother brood in peace.

“I'll go and get you some food. Do you want anything in particular?” Genji asked, his tone quiet and polite.

Hanzo shrugged noncommittally, not looking away from where the dragons were gently preening the cowboy. Genji left without another word, his footsteps so quiet that even Hanzo had a hard time hearing him go.

-

Jesse McCree felt like 10 pounds of shit in a five pound sack.

His head was thumping, as if somebody had dragged him head first through hell itself. He winced as he opened his eyes, a curse on his lips. God, his voice sounded just awful. How much had he had to drink?

Unless… the monotonous beeping came from somewhere overhead. He forced himself to look up at the monitor. It was tracking the steady beat of his heart, beeping in time with the thump of his pulse.

He thought back, tried to remember the mission. How had he gotten hurt? He… couldn’t remember getting hurt. They had come home safe and sound hadn’t they? He remembered waking up next to Hanzo at some point.

It hit him like a ton of bricks.

He shot up, gasping as he struggled to take in his surroundings. He heard a small, indignant huff, then a flash of blue shot across the room. He turned his head to follow it, eyes wide and breath ragged.

The blue light shot out of sight, hidden behind the broad shoulders of a familiar figure. He was lying on his side, facing away from McCree. As if he sensed him staring the other man tensed, turning and locking eyes with him.

Hanzo stared at him, shocked and… relieved, from the looks of it. The archer was easy enough to read usually, but wearing Jesse's face had complicated things.

Hanzo began kicking his sheets away immediately, scrambling out of bed to get closer to Jesse. He closed the gap between them, clambering up to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. Hovering just behind him was...

“The fuck.” He croaked, squinting at the sight of two small, ferret sized dragons that were following Hanzo attentively.

“How do you feel?” Hanzo asked, his voice softer than McCree thought it ever could be.

“I’m- What happened? No, wait- what the fuck are those?” He spluttered, mind racing.

Hanzo pouted at the question, but his response was cool and collected.

“They are dragon spirits. You have seen them before in battle.” He explained matter of factly.

“Yeah, but they were all big then. These are… tiny.” McCree said.

“They are old and powerful spirits. It is not beyond their capabilities to change their size.” Hanzo huffed.

Said spirits moved from Hanzo’s side to McCree’s, lazily settling themselves onto his stomach. His arms hovered awkwardly in the air as he tried to process just what the fuck was going on.

“I have been told they have caused you a great deal of pain.” Hanzo muttered softly, sadly.

McCree swallowed the painful lump in his throat as he nodded. He tried to relax back against the pillows without disturbing the creatures sleeping on top of him, forcing his arms to settle by his sides. His eyes flitted to Hanzo, who had his head bowed forward, ashamed.

“I wish to apologise. They did not know what they were doing. It was my fault.” Hanzo muttered, barely above a whisper.

“Why? What did you do?” McCree asked, confused.

Hanzo tensed.

“I was careless. I made an assumption that got you hurt.” He explained.

McCree stayed silent, waiting for Hanzo to expand upon his vague answer.

“I did not consider the dragons to be a threat to you. Apparently being apart from me caused them to panic, and in their panic they hurt you. They are not at fault here, please do not judge them for this. It is I who deserves your anger.”

McCree blinked at him, shocked.

“I ain’t mad.”

“You should be.” Hanzo insisted after a beat.

“It’s not like you meant to hurt me, right?” McCree countered.

Hanzo turned away.

“What I intended does not matter. I caused you a great deal of pain. There is no forgiving my carelessness.”

“There ain’t nothin’ to forgive, sugar.”

“Jess!”

Both agents turned to look at the newcomer who had interrupted their conversation. Fareeha stood at the door, holding two piping hot cups of coffee. She hurried towards him, setting the mugs down on his bedside table before capturing him in a bone crushing hug.

“Woah there, lil lady.” He yelped, calling her by a nickname that hadn’t been accurate for a long, long time. She was almost as tall as he was these days, and probably twice as strong.

“We’ve been worried.” She murmured into his ear, easing her grip on him ever so slightly.

“Don’t you worry about me. I’m made of sturdy stuff.” He promised, patting his chest.

“Hanzo is made of sturdy stuff. Im pretty sure you're made out of cigar smoke and cowboy memorabilia.” She teased, reaching across the night stand to retrieve his hat before settling it on his head.

“Ouch.” He chuckled, adjusting the hat to his liking. “That’s harsh, sweetpea.”

She laughed as she stood.

“Does Angie know you’re up?” She asked.

He shook his head.

“I’ll go and fetch her. She’ll be glad to see you’re awake.”

She left the room and McCree turned his attention back to Hanzo, who had retreated to his own bed. He looked conflicted. McCree stole a mug of coffee (he needed it) and offered the other one to Hanzo, who accepted it after a moment of hesitation.

“What happened, exactly?” He asked. He needed to know.

Hanzo told McCree everything Genji had told him about McCree’s hospitalisation. Some of the details were vividly familiar, others a vague blur while some of the things Hanzo told him were completely unknown to him. By the time they had finished their coffee and the archer had told him everything Angela had made it back to the med bay.

She looked frantic and worn. McCree wondered if she had slept, and suddenly felt bad about drinking her coffee. She met him with a hug. Her grip was nowhere near as tight as Fareeha’s was, but it was still enough to knock the air out of him.

“Howdy, sunshine.”

“How are you feeling, Jesse?” She asked, professionalism kicking in as she leant back and picked up a chart that had been resting at the foot of his bed.

“My head hurts like hell, but that’s about it.” He told her.

“You’re sure?” She asked, staring at him incredulously.

He had lied to her once or twice over the years, just to keep her from worrying. Now she wouldn’t trust him when he told her that he was fine. It serves him right, he supposes, but the mistrust still grates on him sometimes.

“I’m sure.” He promised, holding his hand up and spreading his fingers so they parted in the middle, creating a V shape. “Scout’s honour.”

“That is the Vulcan salute, Jesse. You need three fingers for the scout’s salute.” Angela sighed tiredly, though a smile was starting to creep across her face. McCree saw it as a victory.

“Hanzo told me what happened.” He told her.

She froze.

“Ah, yes. About that. Genji and I need to talk to you.”

McCree quirked an eyebrow, turning to look at Hanzo, who looked just as surprised as he did.

“I’ve already called him-“ She began.

The cyborg entered the room, as if on cue.

“Ah, speak of the devil.” She said cheerfully, smiling brightly at them all. McCree knew that smile. He knew it was fake.

“You got some bad news for us or somethin’?” He asked, his tone accusatory.

Her faux smile faltered but her expression didn’t break.

“No! Not really.”

McCree tensed.

“Genji and I have discussed what happened and we came up with some theories as to why the dragons reacted the way they did, and why Mister Shimada became unresponsive.” She began.

He stopped her as soon as he heard the awful words.

“Wait what?” He half growled.

He turned to Hanzo, who had suddenly lost the ability to make eye contact with anyone. His dragons returned sheepishly to their master’s side, tucking their heads away to hide from the confrontation.

“What do you mean ‘unresponsive’?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Angela stuttered.

McCree shook his head. Hanzo had conveniently left that part out. He should have guessed something was up with the man, he had been laying in a hospital bed after all, but the presence of motherfucking dragons had succeeded in distracting him.

“It isn’t a big deal.” Hanzo insisted.

Jesse gaped at him.

“It sounds like a pretty big fuckin’ deal to me.”

“Brother, you almost died-“ Genji began.

That’s when McCree lost his shit.

“You nearly died? And you don’t think that’s a big deal?”

“Genji is being overdramatic-“ Hanzo insisted, as stubborn as ever.

“He’s really not.” Angela cut in. “If we hadn’t have found you I’m certain you wouldn’t have survived the night.”

“You’re sayin’ you think you know what caused this?” McCree asked her. He could kick Hanzo’s ass later, for now he had to make sure that the archer wasn’t about to drop dead.

“Uh, yes.” Angela said. “It’s rather complicated. You see, Hanzo stopped responding when he was separated from the dragon spirits. When they were reunited his condition began improving immediately. You also began to get better once the dragons were free and able to be with their master.”

“So… what would happen if we all got separated again?”

Genji stepped forward.

“Hanzo and the dragons’ spirits are tied; one cannot survive without the other. While Hanzo is their master you are their host, for the time being. Until Angela can get you back into your correct bodies you will be unable to leave each other.”

“What.” Hanzo hissed.

McCree felt his heart skip a beat.

“Like, we have to be together all of the time?”

“You should be fine apart for short periods of time, although I wouldn’t suggest testing the limits of that theory.” Angela informed them.

“This is… absurd.” Hanzo spat.

“What’s absurd is you not tellin’ me that you nearly died.” McCree shot back.

Now he was sure that Hanzo would survive he was fucking furious. The archer sighed, rolling his eyes as if McCree was overreacting. It only helped fuel his anger.

“No, don’t give me that. This is serious, Hanzo.” He chastised.

Hanzo looked over, his shoulders slumping.

“Don't you think you should, I dunno, tell me about these kinds of things?”

“It was not as important as-“ He tried to argue.

“Bullshit.” McCree spat.

Suddenly Genji started to laugh. Jesse turned on both him and Angela. He had almost forgotten that they were still standing there.

“You think this is funny?” He growled. He didn’t think Genji would he so… callous.

“No, no, of course not. It’s just- they’ve taken your side.” The cyborg chuckled, gesturing to the dragons that were now curled up on McCree’s bed, staring pointedly at their master. McCree hadn’t even seen them come over, but he couldn’t help but feel smug.

“See? Even your own dang spirits think I’m right.”

Hanzo huffed and looked away, his face like thunder.

“You can’t hide shit like this, okay? It ain’t right.”

“Fine.” Hanzo grumbled, refusing to make eye contact like a petulant child.

“Okay then. Alright.” Jesse sighed, the tension leaving him.

“We will make the arrangements so that you two can share a room together… though you are more than welcome to stay in the med bay.” Angela said, looking hopeful.

McCree just laughed at her suggestion.

“Y’know I love you, Angie, but there ain’t no way I’m stayin’ here.” Jesse told her. He had aways hated hospital beds.

“I agree.” Hanzo added, though he was far more polite about it than McCree was.

“Alright.” Angela conceded, though Jesse knew she would much rather have them where she could keep an eye on them.

“I will ask Winston to help me move the beds. Do you have a preference for where you would like to stay?” Genji asked.

“My room, please.” Hanzo told him before McCree even had time to think about it. It was probably for the best. His room was a pigsty.

Genji nodded and took his leave, while Angela lingered for a moment longer.

“There are some agents who are very eager to see you, once you feel well enough.” She informed him.

“Aww… you can send them down whenever.” He told her with a grin. It was nice to think that people cared.

Angela nodded, heading towards the door.

“’I’ll let them know.”

And then she was gone.

Chapter Text

Angela had told him that he had some visitors, but she failed to mention that by ‘some visitors’ she had meant nearly everybody stationed at the watchpoint. The dragons zipped down and hid under their beds as half of Overwatch filtered through the med bay doors, eager to see the two of them. They all wore smiles that didn't quite reach their eyes, their concern betraying them. McCree was quick to remedy this with an easy smile and a joke or two to put everybody at ease. His efforts didn't seem quite as effective as they usually were though, everyone remained on edge. They stayed for about an hour, constantly asking if they were okay and not believing him when he said yes, they definitely were. The entire exchange felt awkward and stunted. It was a relief when everybody left, really. He only had to deal with Hanzo then.

There was an awkward silence between them once they were left alone, one McCree wasn’t sure how to break. There was so much he wanted to talk about, too much. He didn't know where to begin. He was no closer to deciding what to say when Winston came in to let them know that he had moved their beds for them.

Angela let them go not long after, making them promise to get plenty of rest. He was glad to get away from the med bay, though the silence between Hanzo and him remained as oppressive as ever even after being freed. They went up to their living quarters, stopping by his room so that he could gather his personal effects before heading to Hanzo’s.

McCree was rather keen to sneak a peak at the archer’s living quarters. He had never been invited inside before. They had spent plenty of time together, but always on missions or in communal areas, never anywhere so private. He wasn't sure what to expect, but when he finally laid eyes on the room he couldn't help but think it suited the man who lived in it.

If McCree had to put a label on Hanzo’s aesthetic it would be “minimalist”. He didn't own much, and what he did have was kept in perfect order. The place was so tidy that McCree had the urge to remove his boots before stepping inside, only to remember that he wasn't wearing them. They had both left the ward in medical gowns, and Hanzo had been given a pair of rather ugly slippers. McCree didn't need any shoes now that he had Hanzo’s prosthetics, so he was saved from the shame of the ugly slippers. It didn’t feel right, walking around without anything on his feet, but he tried not to make a fuss about it.

His bed had been pushed to the far side of the room, parallel to Hanzo’s. He dumped his bag on the bunk and began unpacking what he could, a dragon spirit following him and sniffing inside of his bag, curious. Much like the archer Jesse didn't own much. Living the life of a bounty hunter meant that he had to carry everything he owned, which led to him not owning a fat lot. He had gathered a few more nicknacks now that he was back with Overwatch and had a room to put things in, but it still didn't add up to a lot. He unloaded his stuff, taking particular care to put the photo he usually kept at his beside where he could see it. It was a faded image from early on in his Blackwatch days, long before everything had gone to shit. He put it up on the windowsill, adjusting it to tilt towards him. It got Hanzo’s attention very quickly. The archer walked over to him, leaning in close to get a better look once he got there.

“You look so… different.” Hanzo murmured, his eyes never leaving the photograph.

McCree chuckled, watching the archer marvel at how much he had changed.

“It's the beard, ain't it?” He jested.

“Perhaps…” Hanzo responded, still looking deliciously surprised.

“I don't think I could’ve grown one back then.” He mused, stroking his face and feeling Hanzo’s beard. It was a decent amount of facial hair, but it had nothing on his usual beard.

“How old were you?” Hanzo asked, finally turning to face the man beside him.

McCree huffed as he mulled it over.

“I was about… seventeen there, I think. It was the year I joined Blackwatch.”

The gunslinger watched Hanzo’s eyes widen, his gaze drawn back to the photo as if it had some kind of magnetic pull.

“You were so young.” He gasped.

McCree just shrugged. It was nothing he hadn't heard before.

“I'd been holdin’ a gun for a long while before I joined Overwatch.” He pointed out.

Hanzo nodded.

“Yes, you mentioned being a part of the… Deadlock gang, did you call it?”

“Yup.” McCree confirmed, leaning back against the wall as he watched Hanzo stare in awe at the picture.

“I might not have recognised you, if not for the hat. And the belt.” Hanzo mused, his words dripping with contempt but the smile on his face saying otherwise.

“You sayin’ my face ain't memorable, Shimada?” Jesse teased, a smirk slowly spreading across his face.

Hanzo huffed in response.

“I’m just saying, you look very different. I don't suppose you would recognise me if I were to show you an old photo.”

“Genii showed me one once, actually. Your hair used to be a lot longer, right?” McCree said. He remembered the photo, mostly because he was shocked by just how bright Genji’s hair had been.

Hanzo looked surprised, and suddenly he only had eyes for Jesse.

“Genji still has photos of me?”

McCree paused for a beat, his brain urging him to think before he spoke for once, to avoid saying anything that might break the tentative peace between the brothers.

“I think so, yeah. He only showed me the picture once, and it was a while ago, but I think he still has it.”

Hanzo nodded, looking down at his lap. There was silence like a brick wall between them once more. Jesse didn't know what to say to make things better, so he didn't say anything at all.

Uncharacteristically, it was Hanzo who started the conversation back up again.

“I owe you an apology.” He said solemnly.

The gunslinger snapped his head up.

“What do you have to be sorry for, sunshine?” McCree asked, his head tilting.

Hanzo struggled with his words for a moment.

“I… have been unfair to you.” He announced.

Before McCree could get a word in edgeways he lifted a hand, cutting him off.

“You have been a good friend to me McCree, far better than I deserve. If I have given you the impression that I do not care, then I cannot apologise enough.”

There was a long, drawn out silence between them as Jesse processed what he had heard, but all the time in the world would bring him no closer to figuring out just what the fuck the archer was talking about.

“I'm sorry, you've lost me. Why exactly are you apologisin'?”

Hanzo looked away, his expression pained.

“Earlier, I made it seem as if I do not care about your wellbeing.”

Jesse continued to stare blankly at Hanzo, who became more agitated.

“You were angry, because I acted as if I did not care what happened to me while I am in your body. That is not true. I promise you, while your body is in my care I shall take responsibility for it.” Hanzo explained.

McCree contemplated what Hanzo had just said, watching the man with a careful eye. Quite suddenly he patted the place on the bed next to him.

“Sit.” He urged.

Hanzo looked wary, as if he didn't quite trust that Jesse would remain civil. Still, he sat obediently at the cowboy’s side.

“Look at me, Hanzo.” He commanded. The archer obeyed. “What happened to us? That ain't your fault. The only person blamin’ you is yourself.”

Hanzo looked conflicted, and immediately began spewing arguments to convince Jesse of his guilt.

“But I should have known. I assumed all would be well-“

McCree was having none of this. He cut in before Hanzo could get too carried away.

“Like we all did. Last time I checked, none of us can see the future. Nobody’s puttin’ this on you.”

“You do not understand. The dragons are my responsibility, McCree.” Hanzo argued.

Jesse sighed, pausing to gather himself.

“Okay. Your brother, he knows just as much as you about dragon spirits and whatnot, right?”

Hanzo nodded cautiously.

“But you're not blamin’ him for not seeing this comin’, are you?”

The archer looked offended that Jesse would ever insinuate such a thing.

“Of course not!”

“Then why are you blamin’ yourself, huh?”

That seemed to stump Hanzo. But only for a second.

“It is different, it was not his spirit that acted out.”

“Yeah, but if you should have seen this comin’ then he should have known too, if he knows as much as you do.”

Hanzo fumed quietly, glaring at him.

“The fact of the matter is, nobody knew what would happen. None of us saw this comin’, and that's okay. Things don't always go accordin’ to plan.”

“I hurt you.” Hanzo said simply, head hung low.

“You didn't do a thing wrong.” McCree assured him.

Hanzo rubbed his hands down his face.

“Now I have made you console me.” He muttered angrily to himself.

“Hanzo Shimada, there is not a single person on this Earth who could make me do anythin’ I don't want to. You didn't make me do shit.”

Finally, after what seemed like an age, Hanzo smiled tentatively at him.

“Have I ever told you that you are a good friend, McCree?” He asked.

The gunslinger grinned at that.

“You mentioned it earlier, darlin’, but my ego could always do with a boost.” He teased.

Hanzo rolled his eyes.

“I am not so sure about that.”

McCree gasped, scandalised. He clutched at his chest dramatically.

“Mr Shimada I am shocked and appalled. How dare you-“ he began, only to be cut off by a pillow to the face that knocked the hat clean off of his head.

He looked up to see his own smiling face, but all he could see in his mind’s eye was Hanzo Shimada looking back at him, happy.

“Oh it is on.” He chuckled, grabbing the offending pillow and brandishing it, ready to get his revenge.

Hanzo launched himself over the bed, lunging away to put some distance between them.

“Your revenge will have to wait.” Hanzo announced confidently.

McCree quirked an eyebrow at him, pillow raised offensively.

“We have a guest.” Hanzo told him, opening the door to reveal Hana standing in front of it, fist raised ready to knock.

She huffed at him and shook her head.

“How do you always do that?”

“Magic.” Hanzo said, deadpan. “Also your footsteps are rather loud.”

Hana tutted and folded her arms.

“Dinner’s ready. Do you want us to bring you guys something up or are you coming down to eat with the rest of us?” She asked, getting back on track.

Hanzo looked to McCree, who just shrugged at him. Hanzo deliberated for a moment before nodding.

“We shall join you downstairs, after we change.” He decided. “Thank you for your kind offer.”

Hana smiled, turning to leave.

“See you soon, cowboy. Shit, sorry, I mean Hanzo. You're Hanzo, that's Jesse. Sorry.” She rambled, getting more and more flustered the more she spoke. “Ugh, this is so confusing.”

“You can say that again.” Jesse agreed.

“I'll see you later.” She sighed, turning and heading back towards the stairs.

Hanzo shut the door and turned to Jesse.

“We should get changed.”

“I need a shower first.” McCree said, stretching the muscles in his back as he stood.

“I… could also do with one.” Hanzo muttered, flushing crimson.

Jesse, suddenly remembering that showering = nudity, felt the blood start to rush to his own cheeks.

“Uh, same rules as using the bathroom. No peakin'. Or I could wear swimming trunks. I think I have some stashed away somewhere…” He mumbled awkwardly, picking up the hat that he had dropped and placing it on the bed.

“… It is fine.” Hanzo said decisively.

“Oh well. I'm just gonna, y’know.” He stuttered, gesturing towards the bathroom door and grabbing his bag.

He had his hand on the door handle when a thought occurred to him and stopped him in his tracks.

“You don't have to like, be in the room with me while I shower, do you?”

He turned to face Hanzo, who looked startled by the question.

“Excuse me?”

“I'm not propositionin’ you, not that I would ever say no to takin' a shower with a beautiful man.” He chuckled nervously, winking at Hanzo, who looked downright mortified. “The dragons aren't gonna freak out because I'm in the other room, right?”

Angela had said that they needed to remain close at all times. How close was close? Would leaving the room doom them both?

“The dragons will be fine while you shower, McCree. You won't be that far away.” Hanzo assured him, his tone short.

“Good, good. I'll get goin' then.” He said, smiling smugly despite the embarrassment. Hanzo was just too easy to fluster, it was adorable.

He entered the bathroom, a dragon slipping through the door with him and promptly laying down in the sink, their body coiling in on itself. McCree gaped at them for a moment before shrugging and pulling off his medical gown. As he undressed he kept his head up, not looking down. At all. Nope.

He turned on the shower and waited for it to heat up, testing the temperature with his hand every so often. Once he deemed it warm enough he stepped in, his muscles immediately relaxing against the heat and pressure of the water. With a sigh he let the water drench him, wetting his hair until it stuck to the back of his neck. He marvelled at how much hair Hanzo had on his head, and how little hair there was on the rest of his body.

Hanzo had three bottles on a little shelf in the shower: shampoo, conditioner and body wash. He fumbled with them, reaching for the shampoo first. He inspected the bottle. It was fancier than anything he himself used. Letting out a low whistle he squirted a generous dob into the palm of his hand and started to lather up.

He cleaned his hair thoroughly, then applied the conditioner (which was just as fancy as the shampoo). It smelt nice, of Hanzo. He shook his head, stopping himself before he got too creepy. He washed the conditioner out of his hair and then reached for the body wash. The real challenge.

He washed his body in record time, touching as little as possible. It was the most awkward shower he’d ever had, and he’d had some awkward showers in his time. He climbed out the moment he was sure he was sufficiently clean and immediately went about drying himself up and getting dressed. It was a little bit of a fumble, considering he was trying desperately to not look down, but he managed it. Soon he was relatively dry and dressed in his usual gear, but there was a problem.

Everything was too big.

It wasn't much of an issue with his shirt, it was a little baggy on him around the waist but it fit okay. The sleeves were too long but he rolled them up to his elbows anyway, so that problem solved itself. It was the trousers that were his biggest issue, biggest being the key word. They were too baggy around the waist (his belt helped keep them up, even if it looked a little strange) and they were way too long. The once tight fitting leather trousers were not so tight anymore. Putting his chaps on just complicated the issue. He held onto the trousers by the legs and shuffled out of the room, the dragon following him. Maybe Hanzo would have a solution for him.

He stepped out of the bathroom to see that Hanzo was having his own fashion crisis in the bedroom.

He was having the exact opposite problem to McCree, his clothes were now too small. While the two were about as broad as each other their body types were otherwise very different, not to mention the fact McCree was much taller than Hanzo. Hanzo had managed to find a shirt (one that was just a little too snug to look comfortable) and was currently wrestling with a pair of jeans that definitely weren't going to fit.

Hanzo turned to him, his face flush with effort. He took one good at him and immediately shook his head.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“No what?” McCree asked, adjusting his grip on his trouser legs.

“The chaps. The belt. You're not going out dressed like that.” Hanzo told him, sounding very authoritative for somebody wearing jeans that wouldn't go up past his thighs.

“The trousers won't stay up without the belt.” McCree argued.

“I have other belts you can wear.” Hanzo shot back.

McCree chuckled, shuffling over to his bed and retrieving his hat.

“Sorry, sunshine. I got a reputation to maintain.” He declared, putting the hat on and adjusting the brim.

“You look ridiculous. I look ridiculous.” Hanzo hissed.

McCree considered Hanzo for a moment. He could understand why the other man might have some reservations about McCree moseying on downstairs dressed in his usual attire. His fashion sense was rather niche, he would admit. He would give Hanzo what he wanted, but only to an extent. He'd be damned if he gave up the cowboy look all together. He was a dedicated man, after all.

“Tell you what, darlin’. ‘Cause I like you so much, I'll make a sacrifice. You give me some clothes and I'll wear whatever you want me to. But the hat and the belt stay.”

Hanzo glared at him.

“The hat can stay. The belt goes.” He said, folding his arms firmly across his chest.

“I've been wearin’ this belt since I was seventeen, sugar. Ain't no way I'm partin’ from it now.”

“And there ain't no- is no way you are leaving this room wearing that.” Hanzo stuttered.

McCree grinned despite himself at Hanzo’s slip up.

“Don't smirk at me, cowboy.” Hanzo hissed.

Jesse shook his head.

“Please, Han? It has sentimental value.” He begged, giving Hanzo his best puppy eyes.

Hanzo glared at him as if he had just spat in the archer’s face. McCree prepared himself for rejection.

“Fine.” Hanzo muttered, pouting like a sulking child. McCree was quite frankly surprised by this development.

“Really?” He couldn't help but splutter.

“Yes, really. If it will make you more comfortable then I cannot justly stop you from wearing it.” Hanzo bit out, sounding very displeased with the situation.

“You're a real sweetheart, you know that?” Jesse cooed, grinning from ear to ear.

Hanzo scoffed and ignored him, flopping down onto his bed instead.

“None of my clothes fit your body.” Hanzo sighed, struggling to remove the jeans that did not fit him.

“I’m thinkin’ I'm gonna have to borrow some of your trousers too.” McCree said, nodding solemnly.

Hanzo threw him the pair of plain black jeans that he had just managed to escape from. McCree immediately went about taking off what he was wearing so that he could put them on, but not before throwing his bag to Hanzo, who caught it expertly.

“Take a look in there, see what takes your fancy.”

Hanzo nodded gratefully and started to root through the bag in search of something to wear. McCree managed to put on the jeans (that were tight at hell but fit nicely) and the BAMF belt, but Hanzo was still going through McCree’s bag even as he finished getting changed, and was only looking more and more confused by the second.

“Where are your normal clothes?” Hanzo inquired, his face a mask of uncertainty.

“Those are my normal clothes, sweet thing.” McCree told him, adjusting his belt so it sat squarely above his crotch.

“No, I mean your normal clothes. Street clothes. Like jeans and a t-shirt. Not your cowboy attire.” Hanzo elaborated.

“Darlin’, that’s it. These are all the clothes I own.” McCree told him.

Hanzo gaped at him.

“Surely you cannot be serious.”

“I am serious, and don't call me Shirley.” McCree jested. "No wait, scratch that. I have a couple of suits in my wardrobe still, but I don't wear them often. And I have pyjamas.”

Hanzo looked dumbfounded.

“You… always dress like that. Like a cowboy.” He gasped.

“Stop makin’ a fuss. I’m a grown man, and I can dress however I please.” McCree sniffed, a little offended by just how shocked Hanzo was.

“You have a bounty on your head, McCree. How do you keep a low profile when you're always dressed as a cowboy?”

McCree just shrugged.

“It ain't easy, but I manage.” He said, nonchalant. “C’mon, you can't tell me you don't like it. I make it look good, right?”

Hanzo took a deep breath, as if to argue, before he bit his tongue and turned away.

That had McCree grinning again.

“I must admit, it suits you, as strange as it is.” Hanzo muttered. “But it doesn't suit me. I can't wear any of this. I won't.”

“Well, what else are you going to do? If your own clothes don't fit you?” McCree asked.

Hanzo thought on that for a while.

“The soldier is about your height, correct? Perhaps I could borrow something from him?” He muttered.

“I mean, we could ask, but I'm not sure he’ll have a whole lot for you.” Jesse mused. “We could go shopping?”

“Angela has us on lockdown, and we’re both wanted men.” Hanzo said, looking rather unimpressed by the suggestion.

“I'll message Morrison, let him know the situation.” McCree decided, getting his phone out and tapping out a message.

While they waited for the Jack to respond Hanzo took a shower. Morrison showed up about ten minutes after they had messaged him, a bag slung over his shoulder. He left it with McCree, who thanked him profusely. The cowboy slipped the bag into the bathroom, leaving it for the archer. Then he waited.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom Hanzo was wearing a simple pair of jeans and a bright blue t-shirt. Morrison wasn't as fashion savvy as the archer was but Hanzo seemed satisfied with the clothes he had been given. His get up was simple, the only thing that gave away his true identity being the scarf holding his hair up. Unfortunately, the only shoes that would fit him were McCree’s boots, which displeased him greatly. Other than that he looked completely normal, which was downright bizarre on McCree’s body. He did not look like a cowboy, and he was uncharacteristically well groomed. Jesse wondered if Hanzo had taken the opportunity to trim his beard. He’d definitely done something to it.

McCree was looking more like a cowboy than Hanzo was. His plain jeans did little to disrupt his perfectly calculated cowboy aesthetic, though the prosthetics meant he was without his boots, which wasn't great. He was also without his chaps, which was rather uncowboylike of him. His shirt was his own, as was his hat and his belt. All the key components were there. He felt like himself, even if the look was rather strange on Hanzo’s body. Overall, he was happy.

After Hanzo was done fussing over the fact that he was going to be forced to wear McCree’s cowboy boots for the foreseeable future the strange pair headed down to get food. McCree couldn't help but think as they headed down that this was just the beginning of what promised to be a rather interesting week.

Chapter Text

“McCree.”

…

“McCree. Wake up.”

…

“Jesse McCree!”

The cowboy finally stirred from his slumber, looking up groggily at the archer. He was clearly annoyed but very, very sleepy.

“Wha-“ He slurred.

“It’s time to wake up.” Hanzo told him.

McCree turned to the window, and then turned back to him, a scowl on his face.

“The sun ain't even out.”

“I have already given you an extra hour in bed, cowboy. You need to get up now.” Hanzo insisted.

McCree considered this for a moment before promptly laying back down and bundling himself back into his blanket, closing his eyes and going back to sleep.

Hanzo was having none of it.

With a mighty tug he yanked at the covers, but the gunslinger had seen this coming and countered him, his death grip on the blanket keeping it in place. With a huff of annoyance Hanzo moved onto plan B, going to actually physically wrestle Jesse out of bed.

It backfired. Spectacularly.

He reached over to bodily grapple with him, not expecting the other man to grab him first. Before he could do anything about it McCree had him in a body lock, his legs and arms wrapped around his torso, keeping him in place. Once the initial shock of being grappled with wore off he attempted to struggle free, only to find the grip that Jesse had on him was inescapable.

“McCree! Let go of me!” He hissed, thrashing as much as he could in an attempt to break the other man’s hold on him.

McCree just held him in place.

“We’re goin’ back to sleep.” He told him. “Hush now.”

“This is childish-“ the archer began, only to be shushed loudly by the other man, who had already closed his eyes.

Though he looked peacefully asleep McCree’s hold was still firm. With one last strain of his muscles Hanzo attempted to break free. He remained trapped, tangled in Jesse’s limbs. He looked over to see the two dragon spirits curling up beside them, content with this new development. With a sigh he gave in and went limp. He would bide his time and wait for the cowboy to fall asleep again, then he would make his escape and exact his revenge.

Hanzo was fast asleep not ten minutes later, and didn't wake again until the gunslinger got out of bed.

McCree was insufferably smug for the rest of the day.

He didn't notice it until the fifth time he was getting changed whilst in Jesse’s body.

He caught it out of the corner of his eye, glimpsing it in the mirror behind him. It took a while for his mind to register just what it was he was looking at, but the moment it clicked he immediately went up to he mirror, tugging at the skin of his lower back so that he could investigate.

McCree, who had been getting into his pyjamas on the other side of the room, seemed to understand what was going on immediately.

“Woah there-“

“What is this?” Hanzo asked. Demanded, really.

Suddenly McCree looked sheepish, unable to make eye contact. Hanzo stared in the mirror at the image inked right at the base of the cowboy’s spine.

“Wel-“ McCree began.

“Is this a tramp stamp?” Hanzo asked.

The cowboy flushed crimson. A grin slowly spread across Hanzo’s face.

The tattoo was in no way tasteful. The placement alone made it look tacky, the design only helped to cement just how awful it was. The overwatch insignia sat proudly above Jesse McCree’s ass, the fading colours of the ink giving it a sort of tragic vibe. Two guns, identical to the gunslinger’s peacekeeper, adorned the sides of the logo, but they were not at all symmetrical. Underneath the words “RIDE FOREVER” were written in a barely legible font. The entire thing was a mess.

Hanzo looked up at McCree’s mortified face, a laugh escaping his throat.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up.” McCree mumbled petulantly.

“How did you end up with this monstrosity on your back?” Hanzo chuckled.

“I got the “RIDE FOREVER” bit when I was with Deadlock. Added the rest later on,” McCree informed him. “when I was very, very drunk."

“I would imagine so.” Hanzo agreed, getting another good look in the mirror.

“Do me a favour and don't tell anybody about this, okay?”

Hanzo paused, looking up from his reflection.

“I'm surprised, cowboy.”

“By the tattoo?”

“By your embarrassment. I thought you had no shame.” The archer teased.

McCree chuckled at that, shaking his head.

“This is the exception that proves the rule. Do I have your word?”

After a moment Hanzo nodded his consent to the other man’s request, drawing a little cross over his heart the way he had seen the cowboy do so many times when he made a promise he meant to keep.

“I will take your secret to the grave.” He swore.

And that was that.

“Sugar, you're killin’ me.”

It was seven in the morning and Jesse McCree was thoroughly miserable. It was making Hanzo feel incredibly guilty, but he was adamant they wouldn't skip practice again, no matter how many times Jesse hit him with the puppy dog eyes.

Hanzo handed McCree his tablet, on it was his current training regiment. The cowboy read it, despairing instantly.

“All of this?” He whined, his voice pitching as he scrolled down.

Hanzo nodded his confirmation.

“Damn, no wonder you’re ripped.” McCree breathed.

The archer just shook his head.

“We shall both follow this plan for now. I will adjust it to fit our needs once I have a better idea of what those needs are.” Hanzo informed the other man with an air of authority.

“It's a good job you're so goddamned pretty.” McCree grumbled.

Hanzo shot him a look.

“Are you ready?”

“Nope.”

“Let's begin.”

-

McCree was by no means an unfit person. Quite the opposite actually. While he may not have been in the best shape of his life he was stronger and faster than the average man by far. The one thing he lacked, however, was endurance.

Hanzo found this out the hard way.

His usual run left him winded if he pushed himself in his own body. At the moment he felt less winded and more like the air was being sucked out of him. A bitter, coppery taste filled his mouth as McCree’s lungs tried desperately to compensate for the oxygen he had used up. Turns out years of smoking those cigars did have an effect on the cowboy, despite his protests to the contrary.

Said cowboy had beaten him to their allocated finishing point and was smiling at him, hopping from foot to foot as of he had enough energy to go again.

Fuck you, Jesse McCree. That’s all Hanzo could think.

He was unable to voice his opinion thanks to the fact that his lungs felt like they were being squashed. It reminded him of the time years ago when he and Genji had been sparring (not messing around trying to wrestle each other for the fun of it, that would be undignified) and his brother had slammed down into his chest. It had hurt then and it hurt now, though he only had McCree’s smoking habit to blame, not his brother’s foolishness.

“I gotta hand it to you. This ain't so bad.”

If looks could kill Jesse McCree would be a dead man. Hanzo glared at him, spewing curses and insults at him in his mind, but being unable to say any of it out loud. He crouched over, bracing himself with his hands on his thighs, panting far too loudly. The dragons, who had followed him loyally the entire way, hovered over him protectively.

“What’s wrong, darlin’? Did I take your breath away?” McCree chuckled, flashing him a winning smile.

Hanzo made a rather rude gesture in response. Jesse just laughed louder.

“Skip this one.” Hanzo demanded, his lip curling up in distaste.

Jesse looked up from where he was lounging on his bed.

“What?”

“This song.” Hanzo clarified. “I don't like this one. Skip it, please.”

“I didn't think you liked any of my music.” McCree said, putting his tablet down so he could give Hanzo his undivided attention.

Hanzo shrugged, looking up from his book.

“Like is a strong word. Tolerate is more accurate.”

At first Hanzo despised McCree’s need for constant sound. He was always chatting or playing his music or whistling, anything to keep the silence at bay. For somebody who was used to the quiet it was a rather drastic change, but Hanzo could see that McCree needed it for whatever reason. So he put up with it. And sooner than he thought possible he had gotten used to it. It had gone from a constant annoyance to a comfort, like the smell of cigar smoke or the chime of spurs. It was something that he associated with McCree. This particular song, however, was not something he could learn to love, or even tolerate.

“What don't you like about this one anyway?” McCree asked, toe tapping away to the uptune beat.

Hanzo put his book down, taking a deep breath.

“It makes absolutely no sense.”

“It doesn't?”

Hanzo nodded.

“I cannot tell if this man is happy that he is single or miserable.”

“He’s happy, hon.” McCree assured him, a smile on his lips.

“But that makes no sense. He says the song ‘ain't so very far from wrong’, which means the song is wrong. So he's not happy.” Hanzo argued, his face scrunching up in confusion.

“It's a phrase, he means the song is right.” McCree explained.

Hanzo stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. Jesse just shrugged.

“What do his spurs have to do with him being single then?” Hanzo asked after a moment.

McCree pondered that, stroking his beard.

“I'm guessing it's the whole ‘lone cowboy’ thing. I don't rightly know.”

Hanzo shook his head, grimacing.

“Put the man who sings all the songs about God and being sad on.” Hanzo commanded. “Or anything that isn't this. It's giving me a headache.”

Jesse squinted at Hanzo, trying to figure out who ‘the man who sings all the songs about God and being sad’ was before he realised.

“Do you mean Johnny Cash?”

“Yes, that's his name.”

McCree burst out laughing.

“What?” Hanzo snapped indignantly.

“Oh darlin’, you got him pegged.” McCree wheezed. “I'll put him on right now.”

They ended up listening to an entire album by Jonny Cash. Occasionally McCree would slip ‘Jingle Jangle Jingle’ in there, just to get a reaction out of the archer. Hanzo was starting to regret admitting his dislike for the song, but only because it was getting more and more difficult to hide his smile whenever McCree tried to tease him with it.

“What’s that on your arm, sweetheart?” McCree asked, craning his neck to get a better look at the limb.

Hanzo raised Jesse’s non-prosthetic arm in response. The gunslinger pointed at what looked like a plaster, hidden half under his sleeve. Hanzo immediately rolled the sleeve further up his arm to reveal a neat, square patch. It was small and pale in colour and McCree clearly had no idea what it was.

“It's a nicotine patch.” Hanzo revealed.

McCree’s eyebrows shot up.

“The hell did you get that?”

“I gave them to him.” Dr Ziegler announced, re-entering the room and interrupting their conversation.

They sat side by side on a cot in the medbay, letting the good doctor perform whatever tests she thought would prove fruitful today. A lot of it involved taking blood samples, something McCree particularly seemed to hate. Hanzo could tell because he babbled more than usual.

“I bet you're real pleased with yourself, huh sugar?” McCree mumbled.

Hanzo just caught Angela’s smug smile before she turned away from them.

“You'd be betting correctly.” She confirmed in a happy, sing song voice.

Hanzo looked from the doctor to the cowboy, confused.

“Angie’s been tryin’ to get me to try nicotine patches for years.” Jesse explained to the man next to him.

“Yes, and Hanzo hasn't smoked once since he has been on them, have you?” Angela asked.

The archer nodded. It hadn't been easy but he had managed to stop himself, with the doctor’s help.

“Which proves,” she continued “that you really can quit if you just put your mind to it.”

“There's no point in me quittin’.” Jesse tried to argue.

“Your health is not a good enough reason?” Hanzo inquired, genuinely curious.

“Ang will just patch me back up if I get sick.” Jesse reasoned.

“I'd rather not have to.” She grumbled. “It's not nearly as simple as you make it out to be.”

“Can't a man have his pleasures?” He barked defensively.

“I'm not forcing you to stop, Jess. But it would mean a lot to me. And I'm sure Hanzo would appreciate it too.” Angela shot back.

Jesse grimaced at the doctor, who was now giving him the most heartbreaking puppy dog eyes. Then he turned to Hanzo, who just shrugged.

“You should think about your health now at you are getting older.” He stated, not wanting to get too into involved in this matter.

McCree gasped dramatically, rearing back and clutching his chest.

“That’s mighty rude, Mr Shimada. Especially considering the fact that you're older than me.”

The archer rolled his eyes.

“We're both getting older, Jesse.”

“Hanzo is right, dear.” Angela joined in, smiling softly.

McCree glared at the both of them.

“This is coercion, is what this is.” He proclaimed. “You two are teamin' up to guilt trip me. Well I can tell you now that I ain't gonna be bullied into doin’ anythin’ I don't wanna do.”

Angela sighed, then turned to address Hanzo directly.

“He's always like this. I tell you, he's my worst patient. Except for Jack, of course.”

They both chuckled. When McCree frowned at him he just smiled and mouthed an apology.

The cowboy seemed to forgive him rather quickly.

“And then what??” Hanzo asked, enthralled by Jesse’s tale.

“I got rid of it.” McCree told him.

“What? Got rid of it how?”

“I kicked it off the side of the train.”

Hanzo’s jaw dropped.

“You cannot be serious.”

“They were sendin’ back up. Didn't wanna risk everybody on board, it wouldn't have ended well.” McCree explained coolly, leaning back against the sofa in the rec room like he owned the damn place.

Hanzo wasn't used to spending his time in any of the communal areas, but having to follow McCree meant he ended up spending much of his free time with the other Overwatch agents now.

“But you had no idea what the box was!” Hanzo protested, leaning closer to the cowboy.

“It was nothin’ good, I knew that much.”

“And you let them have it! Not only that you kicked the mysterious glowing box without having any idea what it was! What if it exploded?” Hanzo babbled.

“C’mon, Han, of course it wasn't gonna explode." McCree insisted. "And this way nobody died for it. Except some Talon goons, but I gave them a chance to call it quits so they don't count.”

“I mean-“

A bright white light, partnered with a loud click, interrupted Hanzo’s train of thought. He turned to see Hana posing from the small table she was sitting at, bobbing her tongue out as she winked at the camera. Seeing the teen idol taking photos was nothing out of the ordinary, what caught Hanzo’s attention was the presence of the ethereal dragon spirits perched upon her shoulders. Not only were they lounging upon the young woman but they were posing for her too, their tongues out to mirror her.

He watched in wonder as she scrolled obliviously through the photos on her phone, smiling cheerfully. The dragons watched the screen intently, one pressing their nose to the glass, making her giggle.

“You okay there, Han?”

He whipped his head towards McCree, who now had a hand on his shoulder, his eyes full of concern.

Hanzo swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling rather dry. The dragons were meant only to be seen by the Shimada, only by family. Recent events had forced him to abandon this tradition, but he had never expected to see the dragons being so familiar with the other agents, so comfortable.

Comfortable.

The dragons were an extension of himself. They felt what he felt. Only now, watching the dragons roll around playfully with Hana, did Hanzo realise just how comfortable he was here.

“Hanzo?” McCree said gently. “Are you okay? Do you want me to ask her to stop?”

Hanzo realised he had turned back to stare at Hana, who was now playing with the ancient, fearsome dragon spirits. She and an app open on her phone and they were pressing their faces to the screen in time to the uptune beat of a pop song.

He shook his head, forcing himself to look away. He was at home here, and that realisation hit him like a ton of bricks. He hadn't felt at home since before his mother had passed, and that was a long time ago.

Suddenly the dragons were with him again, pawing at his face, concerned for him. He looked back up to Hana, who was now watching him with the same concern, and then to McCree, who looked confused. The world seemed to be shrinking around him, too much attention, too many questions.

He was out of his seat in a flash, rushing to the door before Hana could open her mouth. With a curse McCree followed, not wanting to lose track of the archer considering their current predicament. Hanzo made it to an empty hallway before he stopped to let McCree and the dragon spirits catch up with him.

“What was that about?” Jesse asked.

Hanzo let the wall support his weight as he tried to gather his thoughts.

“It's stupid. I'm being stupid.” Hanzo insisted, looking up at the ceiling so he didn't have to look down at McCree.

“If it's upsettin’ you then it's not stupid.” McCree told him.

“I'm not upset.” The archer insisted.

“Then what is it?”

Hanzo paused, the words not wanting to leave him. Eventually he was able to open up, if only to Jesse.

“I… have not felt like I belong in a long time, but here…” He tried to explain.

Suddenly McCree was smiling at him, though his dark eyes were somber.

“I get it. It's difficult, bein’ on the run, livin’ day to day, then comin’ here and suddenly bein’ surrounded by people who actually care about you.”

Hanzo watched McCree with wonder. Somehow the other man had managed to perfectly sum up exactly what was bothering him when he was unable to find the words for it himself.

“It’s okay to let yourself be one of them, Han. It ain't easy, but it's worth it.”

That alone was enough to have Hanzo choking back the tears. He didn't actually cry though, it wouldn't have been dignified, but he was closer to shedding tears than he had been in a long time.

It was nice to be surrounded by people who cared about you, but it was even better to have somebody who could understand you. Hanzo had found both of those things in Jesse McCree.

“It's official; I'm bored.”

Hanzo looked over from where he and McCree were sitting watching a repeat of some humdrum, daytime television show to Lúcio. The younger man was draped upside down over the sofa, the blood rushing to his expressionless face. Seeing him doing anything but smiling was a dead give away that something was wrong, though boredom was not something Hanzo had ever seen Lúcio suffer before.

He was right, everything had gotten frightfully boring around the Watchpoint. Angela was still working night and day to get them back into their rightful bodies, the week deadline looming over her made her work even more frantically, but she was the only one under such pressure. The rest of the crew had been given a plethora of free time, but they had also been confined to the Watchpoint, and contact with the outside world was limited. A large group of tightly strung, high maintenance, larger than life individuals used to constant action suddenly putting the breaks on was always going to lead to boredom, or worse.

“We can try to find something more interesting to put on.” McCree offered, smiling sympathetically at the younger man.

“Not in the mood.”

“What about your new album? Aren't you still working on that?” Lena chipped in.

“I've hit a wall.” Lúcio told her, grimacing.

“We could ask Hana to set up one of her games in here.” Mei suggested.

“She's been playing the new Mortal Kombat game none stop, I don't want to make her give up on that just to please me.” Lúcio told them.

From across the room Satya tutted loudly. That alone was enough to set the usually laid back musician off.

“What?” He practically hissed.

“There is a perfectly good beach not ten minutes away and you sit about, complaining that there is nothing to do.” She chastised, looking down her nose at him.

“We’re on lock down. That means we can't leave the base, unless you had forgotten.” Lúcio pointed out.

“The beach is part of the Watchpoint.” Satya snapped back.

There was a long moment of silence.

“Wait, really?” Genji cut in.

“Yes, really.” Satya confirmed, standing up effortlessly to move over to where everybody was sitting.

She clapped her hands together then pulled them apart. In the space between her hands a map of the Watchpoint appeared. Hanzo was impressed with the detail, though he knew to expect nothing less from Satya.

“See, right here.” She pointed out, one perfectly manicured finger singling out the beach, which was in fact a part of the facility according to the schematics.

“Bloody hell, I've been stationed here for years and I had no idea!” Lena gasped.

Lúcio sat up suddenly, the usual grin back on his face.

“I can't believe I'm saying this to a Vishkar poster girl, but you're a genius!”

Satya looked more than a little offended.

“I'm surprised this is not common knowledge.” She huffed, ignoring Lúcio completely.

“I was not aware of it.” Genji informed her.

“Me either.” Confirmed Mei.

“Well, we know about it now!” Lena exclaimed, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

“If you didn't know about it then there's a chance Winston does not either. I think you would need to get permission before heading down there.”

“We’ll get the permission, don't worry about it.” Lúcio told her, brushing her concern off.

“From Winston, Captain Amari and Dr Ziegler. And Soldier 76, as well.” Satya insisted.

“Fine, fine, we’ll ask everyone, relax for once, Vaswani.”

While they bickered about permission McCree began speaking quietly to Hanzo.

“I'll have to find my swimmin’ trunks. And maybe break out the old guitar.” He mused.

“You play guitar?” Hanzo asked, surprised. He was not aware the gunslinger could.

“Not very well.” Jesse admitted.

“Nonsense!” Lena cut in. “You’re really good. Hell, you could probably have given Reyes a run for his money back in the day.”

“Well shucks, I don't know about that.”

“I would like to hear you play.” Hanzo told him. Lena’s praise had peaked his curiosity.

“I'm rusty as hell, I'll have to practice a bit before I can play you anythin’ proper. But sure, I'll play you a little somethin'."

Hanzo nodded, quietly thanking him and silently promising himself to hold McCree to this.

Hanzo sighed as he locked the bathroom door behind himself, pausing only long enough to let one of his dragons slip inside with him. This room was basically the only place where McCree would not follow him, where he could be alone if only for a little while. He did not mind Jesse’s company, quite the contrary, but he needed a moment to catch his breath every so often.

He turned the shower on, letting the water heat up, and disrobed. The old soldier had been kind to let Hanzo borrow what little clothing he owned. The man had been sympathetic when he had taken him aside to thank him for his generosity, and was generally much more approachable than he first seemed. Though gruff and awkward the man clearly did care about the rest of his team. Hanzo admired that.

When he was down to his pants Hanzo froze, catching a glimpse of himself in the full body mirror. It occurred to him then that he had never really looked at McCree’s body before. He snapped his head away, forcing himself think of anything else. Only to look back up not a moment later.

Everything about Jesse was warm and inviting. He was a big man, tall and burly with a healthy amount of body fat. He was not as toned as the archer was but he was a strong man nonetheless, stronger than Hanzo for sure. And good lord, he was hairy. It made Hanzo think of a teddy bear… He wondered what it would be like to hug McCree. He imagined it would be rather pleasant.

The thought made him blush.

The reflection in the mirror wasn't quite right though. Hanzo inhabiting the other man’s body had done him no favours, physically. His dark eyes lacked he usual mischievous glint, and no matter how he tried he couldn't quite replicate that charming, mirthful smirk, the one that made the archer melt like warm butter. He just looked cold and stern. He looked like Hanzo. No matter who’s skin he wore he would never quite escape himself, never fully.

The heat of the water began to make the mirror fog, distorting his view. He forced himself to look away and sighed. He missed McCree. Though he was spending more time with the man than ever he missed his physical presence. He wanted to see him smile again, wanted to hear him talk in his own voice. Hell, he even wanted to see the man wearing his own clothes again. Hanzo was just a cheap imitation of the real thing right now.

Despite it all, Hanzo had to admit he was actually having fun. Spending time with Jesse made all of the nonsense worth it. Even if it was awkward and uncomfortable swapping bodies with the cowboy, just being with him soothed his soul. Of all the people to be stuck in this situation with, Hanzo was glad he had been stuck with Jesse McCree.

“I actually think it suits you, you know.”

Hanzo looked up from his breakfast to stare quizzically at Ana Amari, who was steeping her tea with a smile that made the archer suspicious.

“Excuse me?”

“The cowboy look.” Ana clarified, nodding at McCree, who was sitting next to him.

Said cowboy hastily swallowed a mouthful of the sugary cereal he had guilted Hanzo into letting him have.

“Thank you! See, I told you. It looks good on your body too.” McCree babbled enthusiastically, tilting his hat like somebody was about to start taking photos.

Hanzo rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Why would you encourage him?” He scolded.

Ana chuckled.

“I apologise.” She conceded. “I must say though, it's rather… unsettling, seeing you dressed normally when you look like him.”

From their left came the sudden, loud clatter of somebody putting their cutlery down just a little too quickly. They all looked over to see Lena, slumped over her breakfast, body sagging with relief.

“Oh thank god, I thought I was the only one!” She exhaled.

“Excuse me?” Jesse asked.

“It's weird as hell, kid.” The old soldier cut in, looking up from the news story on his tablet.

“You've been wearing that hat since the day Gabriel brought you in. I was actually starting to think it was a part of your head.” Fareeha chimed in, laughing quietly to herself.

“You've seen me without my hat plenty of times.” The cowboy protested.

“Did you know he wore it when we all met with the UN?” Morrison asked, addressing Hanzo directly now.

The archer shook his head.

“We all wore these lovely, nicely tailored suits and then he goes and wears that.” Ana said, gesturing dismissively at the offending article.

McCree tugged at the brim of the aforementioned hat defensively. Hanzo couldn't help but laugh.

“What is this, pick on McCree day?” The cowboy pouted.

“Everyday is pick on McCree day when you dress like that.” Morison teased.

Jesse turned to Hanzo and nudged him playfully.

“C’mon Han, aren't you gonna defend my honour?” The gunslinger urged, fluttering his eyelashes prettily.

Hanzo just kept laughing.

The teasing continued. Eventually Fareeha managed to find a picture of them all receiving medals. Every single one of them was dressed smartly, smiling brightly as the important looking men and omnics awarded them for their service. And then there was McCree, holding the well worn hat to his heart. It made Hanzo smile, for all the wrong reasons. Though he played it off as playful teasing there was a swell of affection he couldn't quite shake. He wondered quietly to himself if he could convince Fareeha to send him the picture, and resolved to ask her about it later.

---

It was late, closer to morning than it was to evening, and Hanzo had officially given up on sleep. He stared blankly at the ceiling, tired eyes boring holes into the dark, shiny surface. It happened sometimes, sleep would allude him and memories would plague his mind. He would be stuck, his thoughts looping repetitively, and before he knew it the sun would rise and the day would begin. He had come to accept that it was just something that happened sometimes.

Tonight though, things would not go as they usually did.

Without any warning the cowboy sat bolt upright in his bed, the sudden movement making Hanzo flinch. The dragons showed immediate concern, fluttering over to the other man to see what was wrong.

In the darkness of the room Hanzo could see his own estranged form panting as he clutched at his chest. The archer rolled over and flicked the lamp on, making the cowboy jump. It took Jesse a moment to catch his breath and realise what was going on.

“Sorry sunshine, I didn't meant to wake you.” He apologised, still sounding a little breathless.

“You didn't.” Hanzo assured him, staring bleary eyed at the clock, which read 3:24 AM.

“Oh?”

The archer turned to smile humourlessly at the man in the other bed. The dragons were nuzzling at Jesse’s arms, comforting him in their own little way.

“Bad dream?” Hanzo asked. It was a stupid question, but it took the attention off of him.

“You could say that.” Jesse sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow.

They were silent for a long moment before McCree got out of bed. Hanzo assumed the man meant to use the bathroom before he started putting a jumper on.

“C’mon, get up.” He urged, throwing a hoodie at the archer.

Hanzo sat up, his head titled.

“Where are we going?”

“Anywhere that isn't here.” Jesse announced, sounding decisive.

Deciding that he no longer wanted to stare listlessly at the ceiling Hanzo obeyed, putting on the hoodie and following the gunslinger.

-

McCree brought them to the kitchen first, then led the way to the rec room. It was ridiculously early, so of course nobody else was about. McCree insisted on making them both sandwiches, though Hanzo protested, stating that it was far too late for food. McCree had looked him dead in the eye and said “fuck that” and that was how Hanzo found himself sitting in the rec room at 3:34 AM, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He hated the sandwich, but ate it anyway, chewing mindlessly as Jesse fussed over the list of Holovids.

At 3:39 Jesse finally decided what he wanted to watch. He sat back as it started to play, the dragons settling down next to them and promptly falling asleep.

At 3:48 Hanzo realised what sort of film it was that McCree had put on.

“Really?” Hanzo couldn't help but ask.

“Huh?”

“A rom-com?”

The woman on screen was ditzy, clumsy and pasty. Hanzo wondered if he had seen the actress in anything else, before realising the woman was so generic looking he could have seen her literally anywhere. McCree hadn't even bothered to put on something more modern and refined, he'd chosen a slightly older film that looked about twice its age.

“Not what you were expecting from me, huh?” McCree chuckled.

Hanzo shook his head. He'd expected to watch yet another western. He would never have thought the other man would even be willing watch something like this.

“I prefer action, but this is the sort of thing that helps me sleep.” He explained.

The archer could understand that, in a weird sort of way. He would much rather close his eyes than stare at the trainwreck of a movie on the screen.

He found himself sucked into this woman’s boring plight, the humdrum generic plot slowly but surely boring him to sleep, or perhaps even to death...

-

He was roused by movement on the other end of the sofa. He looked up blearily to see Jesse getting up. Hanzo didn't remember falling to sleep, but he must have at some point.

When Jesse realised that he'd managed to disturb Hanzo he winced, flashing an apologetic smile his way.

“Sorry darlin’, didn't mean to wake you. Just need to grab a drink." He said softly.

Hanzo grunted as the gunslinger made his leave, then turned to the screen.

The bland but conventionally pretty protagonist was now pressed up against a wall, being kissed by the man she had been cussing out the last time Hanzo had been awake. He watched in confusion as they kissed passionately in what looked to be a dank and dirty alleyway.

McCree reentered the room, carrying two cups of tea. He handed one to Hanzo before sitting back down and making himself comfortable.

“How much did I miss?” Hanzo grumbled, his voice thick with sleep, as he gestured to the TV.

“About… Fifteen minutes. You weren't asleep for long.” Jesse informed him.

Hanzo blinked back the confusion, trying to understand how the characters had gone from hating each other's guts to making out in an alleyway in that time.

“What's wrong?” McCree asked, sensing Hanzo’s befuddlement.

“I thought they hated each other.” Hanzo explained.

“They do.”

Hanzo looked at Jesse.

“Still?”

“Yup.”

“Then why are they sticking their tongues down each other's throats?”

McCree chuckled heartily.

“The bad guys were comin’, so they had to.”

“What? That makes no sense.”

“Aw c’mon, don't tell me you've never heard of a fake-out make-out!”

“Fake-out… Make-out?”

“It's a classic! The bad guys are catchin’ up to the heroes, so they start kissin’ to distract them, or to hide in plain sight.” McCree told him, gesturing at the bickering couple on the screen.

Hanzo made a face at him.

“I wonder how effective it would be in real life. Maybe we should try it next time Talon comes knockin’.” The cowboy teased, flashing a winning smile and a cheeky wink.

Hanzo huffed and said something he instantly regretted.

“You are barking up the wrong tree, cowboy.”

It was true. Jesse was after something Hanzo couldn't give him. McCree was free with his affections, but Hanzo needed something more stable. He needed a relationship, not a fling and Jesse just didn't seem the type to want something like that. Genji had confirmed his fears when Hanzo had asked his brother about McCree’s past relationships once. Lots of flirting, but never anything consistent. Hanzo liked McCree too much to just spend a few nights with him and then call it quits. And he cared about him too much to tie the gunslinger down to somebody like himself at all, and the idea of forcing him into a relationship that he even didn't want in the first place simply abhorrent. He could do better than Hanzo, he could find somebody who wanted the same things as him, somebody who could give him exactly what he deserved.

And yet…

He knew he should have said something earlier. He knew it wasn't fair to lead him on, to let him keep flirting like this. But the truth was Hanzo enjoyed it. He liked the attention, he loved how Jesse smiled when he would get flustered, he loved how warm and inviting the cowboy was. So he had let him keep at it.

But now he'd finally gone and opened his big stupid mouth.

Jesse McCree was uncharacteristically quiet. He stared blankly at the screen, his face an emotionless mask. No teasing, no witty come back, nothing. Just silence.

Hanzo knew he'd fucked up.

This is how it should be, really. This was what was fair. But it still hurt, and Hanzo selfishly wished he could take the words back.

Somehow he managed to fall asleep again before the film he was no longer watching ended, and this time he didn't wake up until morning.

-

Giggling, hushed whispers, and the sound of a camera going off.

“Shh, shhhhhhhh, they're waking up!” A familiar British voice chirped.

Hanzo looked up, the bright morning sun too much for his eyes. He squinted at the orange and brown blob in front of him, confused.

After a few moments he remembered where he was and realised what he was waking up to. He rubbed his eyes and saw Lena in front of him with her phone out. To the side stood Genji, who was stifling a laugh with his hand, Mei, who was blushing furiously, and Zarya, who was grinning down at them.

In the night McCree had slumped over, leaning on him, but now he too was rousing from his sleep. Hanzo watched him gather his wits, realise what was happening, and then move as far away from Hanzo as the sofa would allow.

Hanzo remembered what he'd said last night and had to resist the urge to kick himself.

“We are sorry to wake the two of you.” Zarya said, sounding entirely unapologetic.

“We can leave.” Mei offered, already trying to push the pink haired woman beside her out of the door. The move was entirely ineffective, considering the Russian woman was a towering behemoth of muscle and willpower and Mei was only 2/3 her height.

“Maybe we should give them some alone time.” Genji urged, moving towards the door too.

“Knock it off you guys.” McCree grumbled, standing up. Hanzo did the same. “C’mon Hanzo, let's go get dressed.”

He followed obediently, ignoring the confused stares of their friends.

As he followed silently behind Hanzo knew he had really fucked this up. But he also knew that he deserved nothing less.

Chapter Text

The rhythmic tick tock of the clock echoed through Hanzo’s room. In a lot of ways it was worse than silence. It made him feel too aware of everything, or more specifically, of the cowboy sitting on the bed behind him. They hadn't spoken since they had returned from lunch, and that was hours ago. Well, Jesse had tried to initiate conversation a couple of times, but Hanzo had felt too awkward to say anything that would keep the exchange going.

Things between the two of them were, well… they were vastly different, but nothing had really changed. McCree was ever the gentleman, still as kind and charming and friendly as ever. But the flirting had stopped. No more pet names, no suggestive remarks, no secret smiles or meaningful winks. Nothing.

Hanzo was officially miserable.

He had no right to be, it was his own doing. But still. It felt as if he'd lost a little piece of Jesse McCree, one he didn't even know he had been holding close to his heart. The others could sense the drift between them, he could tell. Their awkward silences, confused faces… but nobody said anything. Hanzo was quietly grateful that they had more tact than he had originally thought.

His inability to express his emotions without opening up a Pandora’s Box of embarrassment left him with a lot of unresolved feelings. Not dealing with said feelings meant avoiding the cowboy, but he couldn't exactly pull that off right now. He had to spend every waking moment with the man, and it left him with a rather bizarre cocktail of emotions. A Molotov Cocktail, if you would.

He couldn't escape, but that did not stop him from adamantly avoiding the issue. He spent most of his time with his face in a book that he had actually finished three times over now. He wasn't even especially fond of the story, but it was an excellent way to effectively ignore McCree.

“I’m gonna pop in the shower, I wont be long.” Jesse announced suddenly, abandoning whatever it was he had been doing (Hanzo refused to look) and wandering over to the bathroom.

The dragons stayed where they were as he closed the door behind him. Much like the man they were bonded to the spirits had distanced themselves from the cowboy. No more following him around like lost little puppies.

Hanzo sighed, sagging over the table he sat at. He let his head hit the desk and groaned. Bathroom breaks were the only time he had to himself, where he could sufficiently wallow in self pity without having to worry about being judged.

Or so he thought.

“Is now a bad time?”

Hanzo snapped his head up, seeing none other than Satya Vaswani standing in his doorway, poised and perfect like a goddess. She sounded both unapologetic and unamused. Hanzo swallowed hard and sat up, hoping to God he looked more presentable than he felt.

Other than Jesse, Satya was perhaps the best friend he had here. She had a sharp wit, a surprising sense of humour and there was an elegance in everything that she did. He wasn't sure why she had decided to grace him with her friendship, but he was grateful.

“What can I do for you, Satya?” He asked, nodding politely her way as he straightened out his top (he really wished he was wearing something nicer).

“Tea.” She stated simply, gesturing for Hanzo to follow her down the corridor.

The archer hesitated, eyes flitting to the bathroom door. He could hear McCree whistling over the sound of the shower.

Satya, sensing Hanzo’s hesitation, stopped to pout at him.

“We will not be long. You will be fine, I assure you.”

Hanzo shifted his weight, torn between what to do. He was sure that his friend was right, ten minutes would do no harm. McCree would spend that time in the shower anyway, he wouldn't be missed. The dragons, sensing that he was being swayed, looked at him with pleading eyes. They would be fine as long as he returned promptly, but clearly the prospect of him leaving for any amount of time did not still well with them. He felt an intense guilt in abandoning them, but tea with Satya did sound like a nice change of pace from being trapped within his current emotional dilemma…

“Ana has made a new blend.” Satya informed him, her lips curling up. She knew she had him with that.

Ana often experimented, creating her own infusions of tea. Both Satya and he enjoyed sharing them with her, and she was always happy to test her latest creation on them. Hanzo knew he would regret not at least going to fetch a cup, even if he couldn't stay to sit with them for as long as he usually did.

He stood, Satya looking up at him with a smug smile. He was still not quite used to his new height, usually they were about as tall as each other but now he was significantly bigger. Looking down at her didn't quite feel right, but somehow she managed to maintain an air of superiority.

After consoling the (rather miserable) dragons, Hanzo followed her obediently. She led him to the smallest common room, a break room with basic kitchen supplies. It was not as frequented as the larger common room was, but it was the perfect place for their tea sessions.

“I must say, the scruffy cowboy look does not become you.” She stated bluntly, giving him a once over as they walked.

Hanzo had to agree, though he felt a little defensive. Not of himself, but of Jesse.

“McCree wears it better, I admit.”

Satya just fixed him with a look, pursing her lips.

“If you say so.”

“I do say so.” He bit back, straightening up. She could say what she wanted about him, but Jesse was different. He deserved better.

For reasons that Hanzo could not fathom, his reaction made her chuckle. Thrown by this (Satya would not usually stand for such blatant disrespect), he remained silent until they reached the kitchen.

He entered the room expecting to find Ana in her usual spot, but the woman was nowhere to be seen. Instead sitting in the centre of the room, his arms folded menacingly over the table, sat his brother.

Surprised, the archer looked over to Satya, only to find that she had disappeared. He turned, blinking back the shock at her sudden departure. He hadn't even heard her go.

“Sit.” Genji urged, interrupting Hanzo’s train of thought as he gestured to the chair directly I front of him.

Why did he feel as if he was in trouble?

He sat, his mind flashing back to all of those times as a child, being lectured by his father in his office. This was nothing like that, of course, but Genji had always reminded him of their father. It was a family resemblance that only seemed to grow stronger with age.

“What is this?” He asked warily.

Genji pushed a cup of steaming hot tea towards him, as if trying to placate him. Hanzo didn't touch it.

“I just wanted to see how my big brother is doing.” He bullshitted.

Hanzo squinted at him. He was being far too pleasant, and the mysterious, vaguely threatening vibe he was giving off left an unpleasant taste in Hanzo’s mouth. So the archer said nothing, opting to glare at his brother instead.

“Y’know, I can't exactly hold a conversation with you if you won't talk.” Genji jested, trying to push the cup towards Hanzo again.

Hanzo didn't touch the tea, and remained as silent as ever. After a long, drawn out moment, Genji sagged in his chair, defeated.

“You are impossible, do you know that?” The younger Shimada grumbled.

“What is this?” He asked again.

“I am worried about you, brother.”

Hanzo tensed, not quite sure how to respond to his brother’s bold, blunt words.

“Worried?” He asked after a moment, licking his lips nervously and folding his arms over his chest.

“About you and McCree. Something has happened between the two of you.” He announced, sounding supremely confident in his deduction.

It left Hanzo reeling. He did not expect his brother to be so… perceptive. It took him a moment to gather himself enough to respond.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” He sniffed once he regained his composure, definitely not sounding defensive.

Genji sighed, shaking his head and leaning forward, almost uncannily like their father.

“Hanzo, you are my brother and I love you dearly, but you are full of shit.” Genji informed him, sounding rather sad. “Please tell me what is wrong.”

“Nothing-“ Hanzo began, ready to vehemently deny everything.

“Bullshit.” Genji cut in. “I cannot help you if you won't talk to me.”

“What makes you think I need your help?” Hanzo snapped.

“You've always excelled at everything you've put your mind to, but when it comes was to people, you're hopeless. I, on the other hand, know how to socialise like a normal human being. You need help, and as your brother I'm honour bound to do what I can. Now tell me what is wrong.”

Hanzo considered the situation carefully. Maybe Genji could be of some assistance… but that would mean acknowledging a whole lot of feelings he had worked very hard at repressing entirely. He chewed his lip, fidgeting with McCree’s metal arm as he considered his options.

“I'm not here to judge you.” Genji promised, a softness in his voice that few rarely ever got to hear.

It was enough to break Hanzo’s resolve entirely.

“I… I do not even know where to begin.” He admitted, eyes trained stubbornly on all the little details of his prosthetic arm. He refused to look Genji in the eye.

“Did you have an argument?”

Hanzo shook his head.

“Did one of you do something that upset the other?”

Again, he shook his head.

“Then it was something said between the two of you.”

“It was something I said.” Hanzo corrected.

Genji watched him expectantly, waiting for him to explain himself.

“I made it clear that I am not interested in him the way he is interested in me.”

A long, drawn out moment of silence stretched between them. Hanzo continued to study the grooves of McCree’s arm, unwilling to try to gauge Genji’s reaction.

“But… I thought you are interested in him.” His brother choked out.

“Well… Yes, but-“

“Then why would you tell him you're not?!”

“Because we are not attracted to each other in the same way.”

Finally, he gathered the courage to look at his brother, who was now sitting back in his chair, scrutinising him.

“Okay, explain this to me. What do you mean by that?” He asked calmly.

“Jesse desires a more amorous connection,” The archer said slowly. “But I am not interested in that kind of relationship.”

“So… You don't want to date him?”

Hanzo sighed, brows pinching together in frustration. Clearly his brother was not getting this. He would have to spell it out for him.

“I am interested in McCree romantically.” He admitted, swallowing the lump the confession created in his throat. “But he is only interested in me sexually. I am not interested in a purely sexual relationship of any kind. Ever.”

“Oh.”

Hanzo pinched the bridge of his nose. This was not something he had ever talked to his brother about. He didn't think Genji had it in him to understand, considering how open he had always been with his affections, especially in his youth. He had been something of a playboy back then, the polar opposite of Hanzo.

Honestly, he had never planned to have this conversation with his brother, he hadn't even thought it would ever be an issue. He assumed their family would find him a wife that had good connections and that would be it for him. Now he had left the clan behind and his feelings suddenly mattered again… now he actually had to actually deal with this sort of thing.

“I didn't think you were- Wait, now I'm more confused than ever. McCree told you he's only interested in sex?” Genji asked.

Hanzo paused, thrown by the question.

“Well, no, but when I asked you-“

“Uh… I never said anything like that.”

“Yes, you did.” The archer insisted. “I asked if Jesse had ever had any partners before, you made a joke about a cowboy having a partner, and then you said he'd never shown interest in a long term relationship.”

Genji gaped at him.

“I said I never heard him talk about being in a long term relationship, not that I knew for a fact that he would never want one!”

“But-“ Hanzo stammered.

“I worked with the man for like, a year before Overwatch disbanded. I barely know anything about his past, let alone his attitude towards relationships!” Genji exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

Hanzo felt like his brain was short circuiting, and suddenly he was questioning every interaction he had ever had with the cowboy.

“But, but- he's only ever flirted with me. If he wanted something more he would have made more serious advances, surely.” Hanzo reasoned, throwing his arms out dramatically.

He was a little offended when his brother began laughing at him. He sat, scowling at the younger Shimada. (He'd been doing that a lot lately, he was worried he would leave Jesse with frown lines). It took entirely too long for Genji to calm down, but once he did he looked directly at the archer and sighed fondly.

“Oh Hanzo, Jesse is clearly head over heels in love with you.”

Suddenly, he was reminded once more of the time Genji had body slammed into his chest. It had winded him badly, and it had hurt to breathe for a little while after. Right now Hanzo felt a lot like he had done then.

“What.” He asked breathlessly, voice as small as he currently felt.

“It's obvious! I thought you knew!” Genji chuckled.

“That's ridiculous.”

“It's really not. Ask anyone, they'll agree with me. McCree totally loves you.”

“Stop saying that!” He hissed. He was completely unequipped to be dealing with this right now.

“But it's true.” Genji insisted, a smug grin on his scarred face.

Hanzo shook his head, swallowing hard.

“It is not. And even if it was, it wouldn't matter. I have made my bed, and now I must lie in it.”

The green haired menace leaned in even closer than before, hands cupping his face as he stared intently at Hanzo.

“What did you say to him exactly to make you so sure that you've ruined your chances forever?” He inquired.

“We were watching a film, I fell asleep and he told me what I had missed when I woke up. The characters had been kissing in order to distract he enemy,” he explained, hating how stupid he sounded recounting the awful plot of the trashy film McCree had put on. “He made a comment about trying it out and I told him he was barking up the wrong tree.”

Genji started laughing again. Hanzo had to resist the urge to throw something at him.

“Dude, he probably thinks you were telling him you're straight or something.” He pointed out, giggling the entire time.

“He knows what I meant.” Hanzo insisted, confident that McCree had understood his intent.

“Look, Hanzo,” Genji said, the smile melting off of his face until finally his expression settled into something much more serious. “You need to talk to him. Properly. You have to sit down and find out what exactly it is you both want.”

“There's no point.”

“Yes, there is.”

“No-“

“It's a misunderstanding Hanzo, not game over.” Genji assured him.

“Even so, I should not-“

“Why?”

“Because McCree is McCree. And I am just… myself.”

Genji squinted at him, confused.

“I am glad you have a sense of self Hanzo, but that's completely irrelevant to this conversation.”

“I worded that poorly, that is not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“It would be unfair for me to try to initiate a relationship with McCree.”

“Why?”

“Because he can do so much better.”

There was no probing question following that statement, no witty retort, Genji just stared blankly at him, eyes wide and mouth slack.

“Hanzo…” He muttered. He sounded confused, and hurt.

He'd said too much without even realising it. He looked down at his legs, something in his chest twisting as he began to regret opening up with every fibre of his being. He made himself look stupid, he sounded desperate and needy and pathetic.

He heard the scrape of a chair, and the soft tap of Genji’s feet. He could sense the cyborg hovering over him without even looking up.

“Come here.” He demanded.

The archer obeyed, and the moment he was on his feet he found himself wrapped in a bone crushing hug.

“You deserve to be happy, Hanzo. I want you to be happy.” Genji muttered into his ear. “Don't give up before you even try.”

He tensed, surprised, before forcing himself to relax and patting his brother’s back awkwardly. He’d always been terrible at this...

“Promise me you'll talk to him?” His brother asked hopefully.

He sighed. He wasn't getting out of this one, was he?

“I will consider discussing this with McCree after we have been returned to our rightful bodies. It is… too confusing to do it as we are right now.” He finally conceded.

“Alright.” Genji exhaled, placated, for the time being at least.

They parted, tentative smiles on both of their faces. It was a nice moment, at least until his brother opened his big mouth.

“It doesn't matter what form you take Hanzo, you still give terrible hugs.”

The archer rolled his eyes and shook his head. Leave it to Genji to ruin a serious, heartfelt moment.

“I should go. I have been gone too long and Jesse will be wondering where I am.”

“Of course.” Genji agreed, taking a step back.

“I- thank you. I feel much better, having spoken to you about his.” Hanzo admitted.

They struggled to have meaningful conversations most days, but when they did talk it was as if they were still as close as they had been before everything came crashing down around them. It was a tentative truce, but Hanzo was glad to have his brother on his side once more.

“I would be happy to return the favour, if you ever needed somebody to turn to.” He offered genuinely, albeit awkwardly.

“I'm touched, but Hanzo you are the last person I would ever turn to for relationship advice.” Genji admitted. “Besides, my romantic life is perfectly fine, thank you every much.”

“You have to have a romantic life for it to be going well.” Hanzo pointed out, unimpressed.

Genji smiled knowingly. Hanzo’s jaw dropped.

“Are you dating someone?” He gasped.

Genji leaned back nonchalantly, the smug look cementing itself on his face.

“Genji.”

“I thought you were leaving. McCree will be missing you.” The younger Shimada pointed out, sounding entirely too casual.

“Is it somebody I know? It is, isn't it?”

“Goodbye, Hanzo.”

The archer stood tall, folding his arms over his chest and looking down at his brother, firmly staying exactly where he was. McCree’s height advantage made the pose more intimidating than it would have been if he was in his own, smaller body. He appreciated the edge it gave him.

“You do realise that if you don't go back soon you could actually die?” Genji pointed out.

“Then you better tell me who you're dating very quickly then.” Hanzo shot back, not ready to give up quite yet.

The brothers locked eyes, both equally as stubborn. Almost.

Genji cracked first.

“Fine, but you're probably not going to like it.”

Hanzo frowned. Just what kind of relationship was his brother in? And with who?

“You, uh, don't exactly like him.”

So it was a him, and it was somebody he knew and disliked. He wracked his brain, trying to figure out who it could be. It was most likely somebody from Overwatch, but who could Genji possibly be dating that he would disapprove of? He didn't particularly hate any of his fellow agents, though he wasn't exactly fond of everyone. He thought more about who he saw his younger brother spending the most time with, and there was only one person who came to mind.

“The monk?” He wondered aloud.

The tight smile Genji gave him was all the confirmation he needed.

“I was not aware that the relationship between the two of you was… of that nature.” The archer said, choosing his words very carefully.

“I know you're not overly fond of him, but he makes me happy.”

It was true, Hanzo was not particularly taken with the omnic. He disliked the way he spoke to him as if he knew him just because he was related to Genji. Still, he could not deny that he had been a good influence on his brother, and the blush that was creeping onto the other man’s cheeks implied that he really was smitten. If it made Genji happy, then it made him happy too.

“I am glad you have someone. You two seem like a good match.”

“Really?”

Hanzo hummed agreeably. Genji glared him for a moment, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Are you sure you’re my brother? You haven't swapped bodies again have you?”

He shoved Genji playfully and the two started chuckling quietly.

“I mean it, I'm happy for you.” He insisted.

Their laughter subsided and the younger brother pushed the elder towards the door.

“You best get out of here before McCree comes looking for you.” He urged.

Hanzo sighed, allowing himself to be guided out of the room. He'd been gone far too long, Jesse would surely be out of the shower and worrying by now. He should have left a note or something. He would have to apologise once he got back.

“Remember what you promised.” Genji called after him as he made his way down the corridor.

Hanzo nodded as he went. He was sure this conversation was not something he would forget anytime soon.

Chapter Text

Only a week ago Hanzo had been convinced that Doctor Angela Ziegler was the epitome of having your shit together. She was the finest medic on the planet, with a heart of gold and the looks of a model. No matter the time of day she was immaculately made up, and she always had a smile and a stern word for all under her care. She was, for lack of a better word, perfect.

Now she was an utter mess.

Her blonde hair, usually so carefully tied up, was pulled back in a messy bun that was already falling loose. He could not tell if the black smudges under her (painfully bloodshot) eyes was eyeliner or evidence of how little sleep she’d had. She had a strange slump to her walk, and either she hadn't seen anyone else that day or nobody that she had encountered had the heart to tell her that her shirt was on back to front. Not only was she physically deteriorating, but she was anxious and snappy too.

The week she had been given to sort everything out had come to an end, and she was nowhere near to finding a solution.

Hanzo had been sitting in the medbay with McCree for what had to have been more than five hours. Angela worked manically, as if she might somehow crack the code in the few precious hours she had left. Everybody knew that, short of a miracle, there was no hope of that. Regardless, she worked as hard as ever, slogging through data and taking test after test after test... It was a pain, but neither of them dared to complain while the doctor was working so hard for their sake.

The dragons had gotten twitchy about two hours ago, and Hanzo was having a tough time keeping them from causing trouble. They were bored, and lack of entertainment meant they tried to make their own fun. This mostly included sticking their noses where they didn't belong (more than one pile of important paperwork had been disturbed and some very expensive equipment had almost been broken beyond repair). In truth they were as restless as he was. Sitting doing nothing didn't suit Hanzo, and watching the doctor suffering through a downward spiral was nothing less than stressful.

She was struggling to keep this up, clearly. She'd been shuffling and tripping everywhere she went and when she blinked sometimes her eyes stayed closed for just a little too long. After watching her nearly nod off at her desk for the third time that hour he decided it might be worth trying to coax the her into taking a moment for herself.

“You have been working for quite a while, Angela. Perhaps it is time you took a break? McCree and I would be happy to go and fetch you some lunch.” He offered gently.

The doctor snapped her head towards him, annoyance flashing in her bright blue eyes.

“I only have…” She paused to check her watch. “Thirty seven minutes until we have to meet with the others. I can't afford to stop now.”

Hanzo sighed. They would all be convening again to discuss the situation today. There would no doubt be a whole host of arguments and petty squabbles to sit through, and with Angela on edge… it was bound to get nasty. Hanzo hated being the cause of such a commotion. While he was more eager than ever to get back into his own skin, he had actually gotten relatively used to McCree’s body. He could stand staying this way a little longer, he just hated being a burden.

Hanzo resigned himself to accept the medic’s harsh dismissal, unwilling to agitate her anymore than he already had. There was a long meeting ahead of them and he was too tired to cause anymore upset. Jesse McCree, on the other hand, was far from ready to give in. He shot to his feet, fists balling.

“This is ridiculous.” He boomed, making both the doctor and himself flinch at the sudden volume of his voice in the otherwise quiet medbay.

“Jess-“ Angela tried.

“No. Angie, you've been workin’ yourself to the bone. It's too much, you gotta take a break.” He practically begged.

“I don't take orders from you, Jesse McCree.” Angela snapped, her features twisting unpleasantly.

Jesse glared at her.

“I will carry you to the cafeteria kickin’ and screamin’ if I have to.” He threatened, voice low.

Hanzo rolled his eyes. Things between Jesse and himself were… relatively normal. He had managed to actually talk to him once he had returned from his chat with Genji, and while things were still awkward they were only getting better with time. He felt confident enough to get between him and the fuming medic, who was glaring daggers at the cowboy.

“There's no need for that, McCree.” He scolded, then turned to face Angela. “But he is right. You're overworking yourself. You should at least get something to eat before the meeting.”

For a moment he thought the petite blonde woman might fly at him in a fit of fury, but then her shoulders sagged, and it looked as if all the fight in her was gone.

“I'm nearly done here. Just… let me finish this, okay? Just a few more minutes. Please.” She sighed, wilting like a flower.

Jesse sat back down, and Hanzo followed suit.

“You’ll be having a nice, long sleep in your own damn bed once the meetin’ is done too, y’hear?” Jesse insisted.

Angela grumbled something under her breath and the cowboy must have taken that as acceptance, because he didn't say anything else.

Now that things had calmed down Hanzo looked for his dragons again. They were doing something under the bed just beneath them, he didn't bother to check what. At least under there the trouble they could cause was minimal. Satisfied that his spirits were behaving, he turned his attention back to the medic, tentatively breaking the silence.

“What are you going to say at the meeting, if I may ask?” Hanzo inquired, eager to ease the tension between the three of them with friendlier conversation. He assumed Angela would ask for more time, though she had become somewhat difficult to predict in her sleep deprived state.

“I'm hoping if I ask very nicely and prove that I've made good progress they'll let me have more time.” She informed them, confirming Hanzo’s suspicions. “I'm afraid if they don't grant my request things will get very complicated. And dangerous.”

“How so?” Jesse asked, curious.

Angela sighed, putting her pen down and swivelling on her chair to face them.

“The respawn system is rather delicate. To work on it sometimes I have to shut it off. Obviously I would not be able to do that when agents are off on missions, which will slow the process of fixing this mess down considerably.” She explained wearily. “Not only that but while I run maintenance on it there's no guarantee that the system will remain stable. Worse glitches may occur, or it could just… stop working altogether.”

McCree swore. Colourfully.

“Exactly.” She said with a tight smile, turning back to her notes.

“Surely if you explained it to the others they would-“ Hanzo began, only to be interrupted almost immediately by Athena’s dulcet tones.

Her icon popped up on the computer screen in front of Angela, and her voice came seemingly from above them, though Hanzo couldn't say from where exactly.

“Angela, there is a situation. We have unauthorised personnel on base.”

That got the doctor’s attention. She set her pen down immediately, staring up at the ceiling.

“We have intruders?”

“Agents Widowmaker, Sombra and Reaper have gotten past my security.” Athena confirmed.

The doctor tensed, the colour draining from her face.

“How?” Angela croaked.

“It would seem my systems have been hacked. I am attempting to find a solution as we speak.”

Angela cursed under her breath.

“Where are they right now?”

“I cannot confirm the location of Sombra, Widowmaker is currently in Lena’s room, and Reaper is making his way down to the medbay.”

Angela looked downright horrified when she heard that last snippet of information.

“Why didn't you tell me that bit first?” She snarled.

“My apologies. I am currently having to run emergency maintenance on my systems, that takes priority over my response protocol.” Athena explained, her voice as steady and calm as ever.

“How far away is he?”

“He is currently one floor above us, but is moving quickly.” Athena informed them, sounding less steady now.

Angela began muttering desperately under her breath, looking around the room as if searching for an escape. There was none.

“Angie, relax-“ McCree tried, his voice strained.

“We cannot let them know that you aren't you.” She insisted desperately.

Hanzo wracked his brain for a solution.

“We could always pretend to be one another?” He suggested.

“Look at yourselves, he'll know something is up the moment he sees you!” Angela cried. She was right. Jesse looked like his usual cowboy self and Hanzo was currently wearing one of Jack’s shirts, a bright blue one with the words ‘TOP DAD’ printed on the front (A joke from Lena, apparently). They were very suspicious. “You need to get changed, right now.”

“There ain't no way to sneak past him, is there?” McCree asked, though he sounded like he already knew the answer.

“Reaper is directly on route to the medbay. There is no way to avoid him.” Athena confirmed.

“Damn.”

Angela was already up and out of her seat, scurrying over to a supply cupboard and sorting them some medical gowns. She threw the garments to Hanzo, who caught them expertly, before she began hurrying them roughly towards the examination room in the back, dragon spirits in tow.

“Put these on. If he sees you, you pretend to be each other. I'll try to get rid of him.” She instructed, forcing them into the smaller, more private room and shutting them in before they could argue.

For a moment they just stared blankly at each other. Then they began desperately tearing their clothes off.

Hanzo managed to coax the dragons into the cupboard as he shrugged off his jacket. He didn't want to have to explain their presence should Reaper confront them, he was reluctant to show them off to members of Talon at all. He'd just managed to shut them in when heard the door to the med bay slam open.

“Hello, Angela.”

Hanzo shuddered. Reaper had finally caught up to them. He began pulling his shirt over his head.

“Gabriel, what are you-“

“Cut the shit. You know why I'm here.”

A moment of silence.

“I don't-“

“Maybe you should start by explaining why every single agent was ordered back here except for those of us affiliated with Talon.”

He heard Angela stammer, and cursed quietly to himself. The mercenary was catching her off guard, and she had no good excuses prepared. Hanzo began removing the cowboy boots next, kicking them off with less respect than McCree would probably like.

“Did you think we wouldn't figure it out? That we wouldn't recognise a dead end mission? I know when I'm being played, Angela. You sent us to Dorado to waste our time. What I want to know is why.”

“Take a step back, Gabriel.” Angela demanded, sounding strained. Hanzo saw McCree tense, torn between sticking to the plan and going out there to step in. He didn't trust Reaper, none of them did.

“What are you hiding?”

“I'm not hiding anything, you're being paranoid.” Angela sniffed.

Hanzo went from kicking McCree’s boots under the table to undoing his belt and pulling down his jeans.

“You’re full of shit.”

“If you must know we're doing maintenance on our systems right now. Everyone got recalled so we could do them safely, and so that everybody could take a well deserved break. You didn't get invited because nobody can relax with you sniffing about and causing a ruckus. Like you are doing right now.” She bit out harshly.

There was silence as Reaper took in this information.

“You look like shit, Angela.” He finally said.

“How kind of you to say.” She spat back.

“You don't look like you've had any time off at all. In fact, you look more stressed than ever. I didn't realise basic maintenance could be so taxing.”

He was calling her out. He knew she was lying and he wasn't going to let her get away with it.

“Han.” McCree whispered, short and sharp.

Hanzo stepped out of his jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor as he turned to face the other man. While he had managed to get down to his underwear McCree was still in his jeans.

“My belt’s stuck.”

Hanzo’s eyes bulged at this information. He closed the distance between them in an instant and started fiddling with the tacky belt without hesitation. Jesse wasn't kidding when he was said it wouldn't come off. The belt locked at the front, and the mechanism was well and truly stuck. The fiddly little thing couldn't be forced, the only way to get it off quickly would be to cut it. Hanzo looked around. There was nothing in the room with them that would cut through the leather, and even if there were it would take a while. There was also the fact that Jesse would never forgive him for ruining his favourite belt.

“You're a terrible liar.” He heard Reaper growl. He'd missed whatever the medic had been saying to him beforehand, but it clearly wasn't convincing.

Whatever excuses Angela was making, Reaper was not buying them, and Jesse was stuck in his BAMF belt. Reaper knew McCree well, and if he saw what he thought was Hanzo wearing the distasteful buckle it would tip him off for sure. He'd know something was up, and with a little digging he would figure it all out.

“Look Gabriel, I am a very busy woman. I don't have time for your conspiracy theories, especially when you have gone against our terms. Part of our agreement with Talon was assurance that Sombra would go nowhere near our systems. You've broken that promise.”

“And you're lying to us.”

Desperate, Hanzo tried tugging as hard as he could on McCree’s belt, anything to see if he could get the cowboy out of his trousers. He could just hear in the back of his mind Jesse making some comment about Hanzo trying to get into his pants, and be shook his head, dismissing the thought. Now was not the time to be thinking about such things, especially considering the fact that McCree had stopped flirting with him. He was being foolish again, getting distracted...

He tried giving the belt one last tug, seeing if he would break the mechanism. The force made McCree lurch forward and he nearly toppled over. With a soft curse the cowboy grabbed whatever he could to save himself, his hands finding purchase on the cupboard behind him. He managed to save himself, barely, but the cupboard shook and a loud clunk echoed from inside it as something was dislodged from one of the shelves.

Both McCree and Hanzo froze in place. There was silence from outside the door.

Well. Shit.

“What was that?”

Shit.

“Oh, uh, I have patients in there, actually.”

“Oh really.”

He was going to come and investigate.

He turned to Jesse, his horrified expression mirrored on the other man’s face. Reaper, one of the most deadly mercenaries in the world, was going to open the door any second now and see the two of them half naked. He was going to know.

“What, no, don't go in there, they could be getting changed!” Angela exclaimed, her voice sounding closer than before.

Think, think, think! He had to think of something before that door opened.

“Who’s in there?”

“Jesse and Hanzo- please, I told them to get changed not too long ago, I doubt they’d appreciate-“

He watched as Jesse turned a rather alarming shade of pale. He could hear the heavy clunk of Reapers boots getting louder as he approached the door, and the quick tap tap tap of Angela’s feet as she tried to keep up.

“No, Gabriel, don't-“

An idea flashed in his mind, both brilliant and terrible. There was a moment of hesitation, of him begging his brain to think of literally anything else. But he knew what he had to do. He only hoped that Jesse wouldn't hate him for it, though he doubted the gunslinger would hold a grudge. He had been the one who wanted to try it out after all.

“I mean it, don't you dare go in there!” Angela demanded. She was right by the door now, he only had a few seconds to act.

Not quite believing that he was actually doing this, he grabbed McCree, lifting him up off of the floor by the waist and wrapping his mechanical arm under the other man to support his rear. Jesse yelped, instinctively grabbing onto Hanzo and wrapping his legs around him. Perfect. Hanzo pressed in close, sure to cover the gaudy belt buckle with his body as he pinned Jesse back against the cupboard. They locked eyes and he whispered the fatal words, the simple phrase that would surely be his undoing.

“Fake-out Make-out.”

Recognition flashed in McCree’s warm, brown eyes before his gaze became something more, a burning want. Their lips met, and only a second later the door came crashing open. 

Chapter Text

“Fake-out Make-out.”

Those were, in Jesse McCree’s humble opinion, the most fantastic words he had ever heard in his entire life.

Fear turned to confusion to excitement in a matter of seconds and he rushed to meet Hanzo half way, their mouths finding each other just as the door crashed open.

He knew he really should be focusing on the fact that Gabriel and Angela had just burst in on them but he couldn't quite bring himself to care, not when he was finally kissing Hanzo. And… kissing himself, kind of. Good lord did his beard really feel like that? It was so scratchy! Oh god, this was weird. It was also probably his only chance to kiss the archer, ever. The conditions were far from perfect, but he'd be damned if he didn't take the opportunity to be this close to Hanzo. He deepened the kiss, letting himself enjoy the bizarre experience in the embrace of the man he had been pining after.

He decided, after a good few seconds of snogging each other's faces off, that it might be a good idea to see what was going on around them. He opened his eyes and was instantly filled with regret when he saw his own face pressed close. Did everybody he had ever kissed see this? No wonder he'd never been able to keep a boyfriend for long, holy shit.

He pulled away quickly, turning from the dazed, hazy expression on Hanzo’s face (God he really wished they were in their own bodies right now) to finally assess the reaction of their audience. Angela was standing there with her hands covering her face, eyes peeking out from behind slim fingers. Whatever she had thought she would be walking in on, it certainly wasn't this. Reyes, well, he didn't seem to be appreciating the sight of Hanzo and him getting down and dirty. At all. He recoiled like a cat taking a bath, retreating back through the open doorway.

“Wha- Oh god Angela, why did you let me walk in on this?!” Reaper spat, voice dripping with contempt.

It took a moment for Angie to realise what she had been accused of.

“Let you? Let you!?” She screeched, jabbing a finger right in Gabriel’s masked face.

Angela had been on edge all week, and now, even in the face of a man who would love nothing more than to kill her given half a chance, she was ready to explode. Reyes wasn't about to let her get away with it though. He snatched her wrist, the sharp, metal tips of his gloves digging into her skin. He leaned in far too close, his grip tightening until blood began to well up where his gauntlets met flesh. Despite the anger being directed at her, the doctor didn't falter. She stared defiantly back at Gabriel even as the blood began to trickle down her arm.

“Do you think this is funny? Do you think I'm joking?” He hissed.

Jesse was ready to untangle himself from Hanzo and really give Reyes a piece of his mind for daring to lay a hand on the doctor, but before he could somebody bet him to the punch.

“Gabriel!” Her voice rang out loud and clear, capturing the attention of everybody in the medbay immediately.

In the doorway was Fareeha Amari, standing tall and proud, and good lord was she angry. She looked like the calm before the storm, a force of nature just waiting to be unleashed. Rage burned bright in her eyes, but the way she stared down her sharp nose at them all left Jesse feeling icy cold. She strode up to Reaper and McCree swore he saw the other man flinch.

She took her place at Angela’s side, batting Reyes’ hand away with a flick of her wrist. He didn't fight it, backing away as she wrapped an arm around the doctor. She wasn't quite as tall as him, but it didn't stop Fareeha from staring him down with all the authority of a severely pissed off queen.

“Jack is looking for you. You shouldn't keep him waiting.” She bit out. It wasn't a request.

Reaper suddenly seemed to remember himself, snarling at the pair. Fareeha looked about ready to fly at him if he tried anything, whether she could win the fight was up to debate but she certainly seemed prepared to try. Angela was just watching her girlfriend as she glared at the man in front of them, eyes full of wonder. Jesse imagined he'd react the same way if Hanzo ever came to his defence like this.

They locked eyes for what felt like an eternity, poor Angela caught in the middle of an incredibly pissed but unarmed Fareeha and an angry gun wielding Gabriel, both of them trying to call the other’s bluff. If neither backed down it would end in bloodshed, and that would cause problems for everybody involved.

Gabriel Reyes was, for the most part, a practical man. Sensing that there was no way to favourably end this, he gave in. He knew how to pick his battles, to bide his time. But he was also infuriatingly proud. He slinked off towards the door, glaring menacingly at the two women as he went, backing off but not backing down.

“This isn't over.” He promised, growling nastily at the doctor.

His need to have the last word would perhaps cost him dearly. Fareeha’s carefully composed mask cracked and her lip curled, fury twisting her features in a terrifyingly unfamiliar way.

“Oh, I should think it is!” She snarled.

She moved as if to chase him out the door, but Angela finally seemed to remember that she was a part of this scene and not just a spectator, and she tightened her grip on the other woman to stop her. Gabriel took the opportunity to take his leave (a little faster than was perhaps dignified), black mist trailing in his wake.

A tense silence fell across he medbay.

Reyes was gone.

Suddenly, it was as if nobody but Angela and Fareeha existed in the whole entire world. They held each other close, the tension draining from them as they whispered sweet nothings to one another. Angela looked about ready to collapse as Fareeha stepped back to brush the hair out of her girlfriend’s tired eyes. She pressed a gentle kiss to the doctor’s forehead with a weary smile, and Angela melted into her touch like warm butter.

“Are you okay?” Fareeha asked, voice warm and gentle with none of the harshness there had been before.

“I'm fine now you're here. Thank you.” Angela sighed, wrapping her arms around her love and resting her head on her chest with a small, content sigh.

Then her eyes snapped open and suddenly she was staring at Jesse and Hanzo.

Oh right. They were still pressed up against each other.

Jesse turned his head slowly, eyes drawn magnetically towards the warm, firm line where their bodies met. This was all rather intimate, now that he was thinking about it. There was what, two, three layers of clothing separating them right now? Just a few little flimsy bits of cloth between him and Hanzo... Oh boy, wasn't that a lovely thought.

It was a very inappropriate thought, that's what it was, and it was going to stop right now. He was staring, and Hanzo had probably already noticed. He needed to look up and play it cool. Right now.

…

Now.

...

Now.

...

Nope, he was still looking down intently at where their bodies were connected. The sight was hypnotic, absolutely mesmerising. He couldn't stop, he needed to stop.

Somehow, magically, he managed to force his gaze higher, to Hanzo’s face. Yup, he'd been caught staring. The archer was as red as a lobster. McCree opened his mouth to say something witty and charming to diffuse the tension but all that came out was a strange, strangled noise of gay panic. Just as he felt like his head was about to explode the most blessedly beautiful thing happened.

Hanzo laughed. It bubbled out of him, startling them both, and grew. His shoulders shook, peels of laughter escaping him, a grin splitting his flushed face. Jesse felt warmth blossom in his chest as he himself began to chuckle. It was infectious, and soon they were both cackling almost hysterically, tears streaming down their faces.

“I… I can't believe that worked!” Hanzo gasped breathlessly.

“Oh it worked alright! I just wish I could've seen the look on Reyes’ face when he…” Jesse choked out, the end of his sentence lost to the laughter.

McCree pressed his forehead against Hanzo’s shoulder to steady himself as he shook with laughter.

“I gotta say, this is some extreme form of narcissism here.” Jesse wheezed, before finally starting to catch his breath.

Hanzo hummed his agreement, his chuckles softening now, until eventually they faded all together.

They both calmed down, their shaky breaths the only sound in the quiet room.

Jesse lifted his head from Hanzo’s shoulder to look at the other man, and found himself mesmerised once more. They locked eyes and with the initial awkwardness of the situation laughed out of them all that was left was a very different sort of tension.

“I should probably put you down.” Hanzo whispered.

“Yeah, you probably should.” Jesse agreed, words spoken just as softly.

Neither man made a move to untangle themselves. Instead they stared into each other's eyes and waited for something to happen, for one of them to gather the courage to either break them apart or bring them closer together. Jesse wasn't sure what would happen, though he knew which option he preferred.

A polite cough interrupted them.

The two suddenly remembered that yes, Angela and Fareeha had been watching them the entire time, and just like that the spell was broken. Hanzo set him down gently and Jesse retreated a respectable distance, trying to swallow the bitter taste of disappointment.

Disapointment. That's what it was, the heavy feeling in his chest that was slowly eating away at him. His first, and potentially only kiss with Hanzo was nothing more than a cheap distraction. 

He had imagined what it would be like when he finally got to kiss the archer. He fantasised about it a lot, more often than he would care to admit. Sometimes it was a spur of the moment thing that took them both by surprise, an act of passion. He would just grab the other man and kiss him roughly, usually during one of their late night drinking sessions, or on the battlefield if he was feeling particularly adventurous. There were times when it was Hanzo who approached him, pulling him close and initiating the whole thing. His favourite little fantasy was perhaps the most romantic one though. He imagined their first date. He would pull out all the stops, take real good care of his man. It would end with the two of them watching the sunset together as they exchanged casual touches and easy conversation. He would wrap his arms around the other man just as the night air was getting cold, then he would lean in close and they would kiss, sweet and soft and...

It had never even entered his mind that they would kiss for a reason that wasn't simply because they wanted to.

He squashed the thought. No. Hanzo didn't even feel that way about him, he had said so to his face. He needed to get over this, to respect Hanzo's wishes. This was the only kiss he would ever get, and he had to treasure it. He forced himself to appreciate the moment, to enjoy it. Every second spent with Hanzo was a gift that he refused to waste.

“What exactly is going on here?” Fareeha asked cautiously, dark eyes flitting curiously from Hanzo to McCree.

When it became apparent that neither man had the courage to explain themselves the doctor stepped in.

“Well we were trying to get rid of Gabriel- oh, thank you for warning us Athena.” Angela said, tilting her head up to address the seemingly omnipresent AI.

Athena responded almost instantly.

“You’re welcome, Angela.”

“How are your systems?” Jesse asked, concerned that Sombra’s hacking had done some kind of lasting damage. There were reasons that they wanted the hacker nowhere near their resident AI, and it wasn't just for their security.

“Everything is back online except for a few security cameras.”

“Which cameras?” Fareeha inquired, sharp features pinching together with worry.

“Two cameras on floors one and three, both facing hallways leading to living quarters.”

They all looked at each other, trying to figure out what Sombra could possibly want from their rooms.

“See if you can get Winston to run some extra diagnostics, just to make sure you're well, then get him to help you restore access to the cameras.” Angela suggested.

“He is looking for solutions as we speak.” The AI assured them.

Fareeha began shaking her head vigorously, gesturing to the two men in front of her.

“We're getting off topic here. What exactly is this?” Fareeha asked again, more urgently this time.

“Well, it was some very quick thinking on Jesse’s behalf-“ Angela began.

McCree chuckled, shaking his head. The medic immediately stopped talking.

“Actually sunshine, it was all Hanzo’s idea.” He revealed, a stupid lopsided grin finding a home on his face. It wasn't at all forced.

Beside him the archer froze, and the cowboy could practically feel the panic radiating off of him. In hindsight, maybe Jesse should've taken the fall for this one. Oops. He'd done fucked up, again. His smile faded just as quickly as it had appeared and he started to wonder whether Hanzo would ever be able to look him in the eye again after this. God, he was so stupid...

“Really.” Angela asked, shaking him from the steady stream of self deprecating thoughts that were now plaguing him. It didn't sound like she particularly believed him.

“It is true.” Hanzo admitted, voice small.

He was really starting to look uncomfortable, and that simply wouldn't do, not while Jesse McCree had anything to say about it. The cowboy clasped his shoulder, a friendly smile lighting up his face.

“Hey, you really saved our asses.” Jesse assured him.

“It was some quick thinking, and it certainly threw Reyes off.” Angela chimed in, backing Jesse up with a forced smile. Even when she was stressed beyond belief she still had his back. He didn't know where he would be without her, honestly.

“So you two started making out as a distraction?” Fareeha cut in, frowning firmly.

They all nodded in confirmation. Fareeha took a deep breath and turned to her girlfriend.

“I do not think he suspects you two, but Angela… He knows you're up to something.” She said softly, concern written all over her face.

“Yes, I'm afraid my life just became that much more complicated.” She agreed, rubbing her temples in slow, circular motions.

Fareeha immediately began rubbing her shoulders and pressing kisses into the crook of her neck.

“Shh, it's alright. I won't leave you alone with him again.” She promised.

“I just… I need some time to plan, to sort our story out. Athena, could you please discreetly inform everyone that the Talon agents are here and that they're not to let them know anything. We need- Oh god!” She exclaimed, horrified.

At the medic’s sudden realisation everybody tensed.

“What is it?” Fareeha urged, hands firmly on her girlfriends shoulders.

“Lena! Widowmaker is in her room, I forgot! They're going to rip each other apart if we leave them-“ she cried, ready to shoot out of the door to rescue the small British woman.

Fareeha’s firm grip on her shoulders stopped her however.

“Sweetheart no, I don't think it's a good idea to interrupt them.” She said kindly.

Angela’s mouth formed a small o, surprise lighting up her dead tired eyes.

“Still, really? Lena had told me they- never mind, it's not important right now.” Angela bit out.

Lena had assured the doctor that she was not seeing the beautiful, cold hearted sniper anymore. In fact, she had insisted that she hated the other woman’s guts, and would love nothing more than to tear her a new one. Jesse had been there to see this, and Lena had been about as convincing as he was when it came to concealing his massive crush on the archer. Angie had actually fallen for it though. Jesse knew Lena was in for the lecture of a life time once the doctor got her hands on the smaller woman. Maybe he would give her a heads up if he got the chance, save her from the fury of the sleep deprived doctor.

“We need to come up with a plan, that's what we need right now. Athena, where are all the Talon agents now?” Fareeha asked, bringing them back on track.

“I am still unable to locate Sombra, Widowmaker is still in Lena’s room and Reaper is currently heading to the meeting room with Jack.”

Oh.

Oh.

“The meeting!” Angie gasped.

They still had to go to the damned meeting.

“We have to call it off.” Angela croaked, anxiety rolling off of her in waves.

“If Reaper already knows then it may be too late for that.” Hanzo cut in, speaking with a sort of grim acceptance.

“Han’s right, it'll be suspicious if we call it off just because he showed up. He’ll know we're hiding something.” Jesse reasoned. He didn't like it, but the meeting had to happen.

Angie looked like she was going to cry.

Instead, she shrugged Fareeha off and clambered onto the cold, hard medical table beside her, lying down face first on the unwelcoming surface.

They watched her in stunned silence for a long moment. She offered no explanation. She just lay there.

“Uhh… Angie, sweetheart, what are you doing?” Fareeha asked, hovering uncertainly over her girlfriend.

“Going to sleep. Wake me up when this nightmare is over.” Angela instructed them, her voice muffled by the table that she was still insistently face planting.

With a huff of humourless laughter Fareeha gently coaxed her girlfriend up into a sitting position. Angela offered no resistance, but she still looked distraught even as Fareeha began to rub her arms in slow, reassuring circles.

“We can do this Angela, we just need to come up with a plan of action. Then you can sleep for as long as you like, I promise.” The younger woman said soothingly.

Angela took a deep, steadying breath and gathered herself. When she next opened her eyes they were shining bright with determination. She looked much more like her usual self, and it made Jesse feel so much better. Everything would be okay now, Angela always knew what to do. Always.

“Okay. First things first I need you to go and fetch these two some clothes, something they would usually wear.” Angela instructed, turning from Fareeha to the boys. “You're going to have to pretend to be one another until I can find a way to get rid of the Talon agents.

Jesse felt his stomach drop. This was going to get very complicated very quickly.

“Wait, what about Gabriel?” Fareeha bit out, hovering close to Angela’s side.

“What about him?” Angela shot back, fair brows pinching together.

“What if he comes back? I don't want to leave you while he's lurking…”

“He’s with Jack right now, and Hanzo and Jesse are with me. I'll be fine, but I need you to fetch their clothes. They can't show up to the meeting wearing what they have here now.” Angela reasoned.

Fareeha didn't like it, but she nodded all the same, stealing a quick kiss before hurrying out the door to complete her mission. The medic watched her leave and then turned back to them, her face a mask of determination.

“You two need to be able to convince them that you are yourselves. Give me your best impressions of each other.”

Both men gaped at her, stumped by her demand.

“Well, go on!” She insisted, folding her arms and waiting impatiently.

Jesse spared Hanzo a glance before clearing his throat and shifting his weight, indicating that he'd give it a go first. They watched him as he readied himself. He’d played a lot of roles in Blackwatch, pretended to be a lot of different kinds of people to get to where he needed to be, but never before had he actually had to pretend to be a specific somebody else. Still, he knew Hanzo well, was familiar with all his tells and little mannerisms. He could do this.

He folded his arms and tilted his head up, as if supremely confident that he was taller than he actually was. He exhaled loudly and clicked his tongue, sneering slightly.

“Hmpf. Unworthy.” He sniffed, pausing to brush an imagined spec of dirt off of his shoulder.

He knew he was hamming it up a little, but it seemed to work. Angela perked up, her relief palpable as she started to actually applaud his little performance.

Hanzo seemed less impressed than Angela was at his antics. He was frowning rather fiercely, as if offended. McCree flashed him an apologetic smile, and it seemed to do the trick because Hanzo rolled his eyes in the way that told you that he wasn't really angry with you anymore.

“Okay Hanzo, your turn.” Angela urged, looking expectantly at the eldest Shimada brother.

The archer looked a little like a deer in headlights, which wasn't a great start but Jesse had faith. They watched him shift awkwardly. He did nothing. Angela’s smile faltered.

“I- this would be easier if I was not in my underwear.” He admitted, staring down at his mostly naked body.

McCree felt himself blush as he forced himself to keep his eyes on Hanzo’s face and nothing else. He didn't need to see his own hairy, scratched up body. It was bad enough looking in the mirror, seeing it from the outside was just… No.

“Just give it a go, Hanzo. We won't judge you.” The doctor promised with a kind smile.

“I… I feel foolish.” He admitted, shoulders sagging.

McCree clapped him on the back.

“That’s good, means your half way there to being me.” He teased.

It took Hanzo a moment to get the joke, but once he did he was chuckling and shaking his head. It felt like a victory to Jesse.

With some hesitation the archer managed to gather the courage and do as Angela had asked. He hooked his thumbs into the rim of his underwear as if it were his belt and leaned back, smiling lazily but scanning the room with a piercing gaze. He… actually looked uncannily like Jesse. If it wasn't for the fact he was standing there in his underwear he might have actually believed that he was meeting his double.

“Name’s McCree. Howdy.” He drawled.

The inflections weren't quite right in certain places but the accent was passable. It just sounded like he perhaps had a bad cold. They could work with it, Angela certainly seemed pleased enough.

“As long as you avoid talking to Gabriel I think we can do this.” She said, looking genuinely hopeful.

Then she turned to Jesse.

“Now, let’s get you out of those trousers.”

McCree choked on his own spit.

“’Scuse me?”

“Hanzo needs to be wearing that belt at the meeting, and you need to be wearing Hanzo’s clothes. So you need to give him the belt and take off the trousers.”

“Oh, right, yeah. It's stuck.” He said simply.

“Oh.”

Angela proceeded to fiddle with the mechanism of the belt until Fareeha returned, carrying a big pile of clothes in her arms.

She froze at the door, watching her girlfriend tug at another person’s trousers and grimaced.

“Do I want to know?” She asked, deadpan.

“It's stuck.” Angela gritted out, trying to force the belt. She was having about as much success as Hanzo had.

With a sigh Fareeha walked forward, telling them to move aside and let the woman with the degree in engineering handle this.

And that is how Jesse McCree ended up with his two best friends and the man he was low key in love with gathered around him, staring intently at his crotch as they all worked desperately to undress him.

And it wasn't even the weirdest part of his day.

Chapter Text

The time had flown by all too quickly. They were hurrying to the meeting, late because Fareeha had insisted on seeing to the cuts Reaper had left on Angela’s arm (“You don't know where those gloves have been!”). If the doctor had come up with a plan she certainly hadn't shared it with the rest of them. When they had asked Angela she told them all to just “sit there and look pretty” (it was Fareeha who had asked the question). Jesse considered coming clean about the whole situation, just to spare them all the embarrassment of watching the sleep deprived medic winging it.

He wouldn't dream of doing such a thing though. There was a reason Angela had been so insistent on keeping Talon out of the loop. They were already desperate enough to get their hands on her healing technology, Jesse could only imagine what they would do to be able to switch bodies with other people. That kind of power in the hands of a group like Talon? Assassins that could look like anyone, agents disguised perfectly as politicians… It could not be allowed to happen, and their best bet at keeping the technology out of Talon hands was making sure that they didn't know about it in the first place.

Widowmaker was their biggest concern. If she found out there was no doubt that she would pass the information to her bosses. That kind of unquestionable loyalty was one of the perks that came with brainwashing your agents. Fortunately for them they had the only thing capable of distracting the cold hearted killer: Lena Oxton. Gabriel… Well, Gabriel would sell the information to whoever waved the most money in his face, and Talon was usually the one that offered him the fattest pay check. He also seemed to be the most put out by Angela’s obvious deceit, and there was the fact that he knew Jesse well. If Hanzo was left alone with him for too long he'd know something was up, and he'd sell the information on. Sombra was the wild card in this situation. She probably wouldn't give the information to Talon, not straight away at least, but there would be no way she wouldn't use it to her own advantage somehow. It was just a question of when it would come back to bite them on the ass.

So they had to make this convincing. They were already at a disadvantage, the Talon agents knew something was going on, but they didn't know what. All he had to do was make sure that they didn't figure out that it had anything to do with him, and that meant being the best version of Hanzo Shimada that he could be.

That was all that was stopping him from fighting with his kyudo-gi. He needed to look like he wore this all the time, even if having half his chest hanging out for all to see felt damn weird. Hanzo had to help him into the traditional garment, and had insisted that he leave himself uncovered. Honestly he felt like he was playing at being Hanzo, it didn't feel right at all. In Blackwatch his roles had been easy enough to slip in and out of, but this was entirely different. At least he wasn't alone in this. He had to help Hanzo figure out the chaps, and how to properly wear his serape. He felt quite envious of Hanzo, getting to wear all of his beautiful gear. He missed his hat, and the belt too. Fareeha had worked her magic and fixed the clasp on it, but not to his benefit. He hated how bitter he felt, and how there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

On the plus side, he had been graced with the presence of the dragons once again. They had released them from the cupboard where they had been shut in and forgotten about, much to their displeasure. Everyone present had agreed that there was no way to hide the dragons from the Talon agents, which seemed to upset Hanzo a great deal. Jesse couldn't blame him, he hated the thought of those slimy bastards knowing anymore about the Shimada and their dragons than was necessary, of them getting any nasty ideas in their heads about what they could do with them. Look at what they had done to Amélie Lacroix just to get to her husband. Jesse didn't need to think hard to imagine what would happen to Hanzo if Talon took an interest in him.

Since the dragons had to pretend to be his alone Hanzo had instructed them to stay close to him. They had been avoiding him something fierce ever since he had fucked things up with the archer, so it was nice to have their companionship again despite the circumstances.

As they approached the meeting room he looked over at his companion, noting how horrendously uncomfortable he looked in Jesse’s cowboy get up. McCree gave his shoulder a squeeze and flashed him a reassuring smile as Fareeha opened the door for them.

“We got this Darlin’, don't you worry.” He soothed.

That got him an odd look from the archer, something flashing in his eyes that Jesse couldn't quite decipher. Before he could think too hard about it, Hanzo smiled back at him.

“Of course.”

They entered the conference room without any drama. It was already packed, hushed voices bouncing off of the echoing walls as everybody muttered excitedly to their neighbours. The arrival of Talon was the most eventful thing to happen all week, and everybody had something to say about it.

Despite them being late, they were by no means the last ones there. Jesse was glad, it meant that they would probably attract less attention to themselves, though the bloodcurdling glare that Reaper was giving Angela was anything but subtle. All the Talon agents were sitting together, though Sombra’s chair was currently empty. McCree wondered if they had managed to locate her yet.

Fareeha and Angela split from Jesse and Hanzo to sit elsewhere, probably to keep Talon’s eyes off of the pair. The switched up pair sat together, the dragons disappearing under the table to wrap around his ankles, out of sight. They took a seat next to Satya, who offered them a polite greeting they both grunted at. The empty seat to the other side of them didn't stay empty for long. Lena popped into existence right next to them in a flash if blue, hastily hurrying to claim it.

“Sorry I'm late loves.” She panted, a lazy smile warming her features.

She did not look her usual self. For one thing, her hair was an utter mess. The usually well groomed spikes were in disarray, looking distinctly like a game of kerplunk gone wrong. More obviously her face and neck were covered in lipstick marks. Purple trailed down past her collar, and was smeared across her lips. Clearly somebody had been having fun…

Lena seemed pleasantly oblivious of her current predicament. Jesse could already see people looking and whispering, and Angela shooting a death glare her way. The Brit just stared into space with a dreamy look on her face, none the wiser.

As much as he hated to do it, Jesse needed to burst her bubble.

“Hey, Lena, you have some…” He informed her, gesturing generally to her entire face.

Quite miraculously she managed to rub at one of the only parts of her face that wasn't covered in purple lipstick, a confused look on her face as she found nothing out of the ordinary.

“No sweetheart, it's more like-“ he tried, gesturing more vigorously now.

A small, metal circle slid across the table and landed perfectly in front of Lena, shortly followed by a pack of small wet wipes. McCree followed their path back to Symmerta, who made no indication that she was even paying attention to their conversation.

Lena picked up the items and fiddled with what Jesse now recognised was a compact mirror. She opened it up and let out a sharp gasp, her face turning from an interesting mismash of purple and white to purple and red. She began scrubbing viciously at her skin with the wipes provided, cursing under her breath the entire time.

She froze suddenly, eyes locking onto something across the table as she squeaked in outrage. McCree followed her line of sight and saw that somebody else also had their compact mirror out. Widowmaker sat, a wicked smile on her lips, the look in her sharp, golden eyes pure evil. She reapplied her lipstick vindictively, the same shade of purple that was decorating Lena’s face painted on Amélie’s lips now. For somebody who claimed to be devoid of all emotion, she certainly looked rather smug.

Jesse forced himself to look away, to save the last vestiges of his friend’s pride. He did, however, lean over and whisper in her ear.

“Maybe avoid Angie for a while. Unless you wanna be chewed out.”

She looked up at him, all doe eyed and innocent.

“Shit, she knows?” She had the audacity to ask, even as she sat there with the other woman’s lipstick smeared all across her face.

“Lena Oxton you're about as subtle as a brick right now, you do realise.” He deadpanned.

She pouted at him, but suddenly his attention was elsewhere. Sombra had finally joined them.

She slipped into her seat, smiling like she knew something you didn't, which she always did. She looked particularly pleased with herself for some reason, and Jesse had the feeling that he didn't want to know why.

“Where have you been?” He heard Gabriel growl from across the table.

“Wouldn't you like to know.” She shot back, inspecting her scarily long nails.

So even Gabriel wasn't sure what Sombra was up to here. That was something to keep in mind. She noticed him staring at her then, and she flashed him the most horrendous smile and a wink. The action was almost… flirty?

What the fuck did that mean?

He snapped his head away, hoping that breaking eye contact with her would settle the growing pit in his stomach. She had just caught him staring, she didn't know anything, she just liked to make you think that she did. Either that or she had a weird crush on the archer. That idea, as implausible as it seemed, just made him feel worse. He was already faring badly enough when it came to winning the other man’s affections, he didn't need competition.

He was just trying to scrub the image of Hanzo sweeping the hacker off of her feet and the two of them riding off into the sunset out of his mind when chatter in the room hushed. The meeting was starting.

Angela stood up, a sickly sweet, fake smile contorting her beautiful face. Her top was still on back to front, McCree realised.

This could only end badly.

“Good morning, everyone.” She greeted them, at exactly seven minutes past three in the afternoon. “I hope everyone has been enjoying their time off?”

When, after a good few moments of gut wrenching silence, it became apparent that the doctor actually expected an answer, everybody began unenthusiastically murmuring in agreement. McCree felt like he was actually going to die.

“Good, good. Good to know. I'm glad. That's good.” She said breathlessly, obviously stalling for time. “Well, first things first, I think we should confront the elephant in the room. As I'm sure many of you have noticed, some familiar faces have joined us.”

Low murmurs filled the room, everyone leaning over to the person next to them to share their opinion on the matter. The familiar faces in question looked entirely unfazed, except for Sombra who he swore to God was smirking at him, specifically trying to catch his eye. He refused to meet her gaze entirely.

“They were not invited.” She stressed, meeting Gabriel’s viscous gaze head on. “After this meeting I'm afraid that we are going to have to ask you to leave the base.”

“But Angie, you issued a full emergency recall.” Sombra said sweetly, bringing up the file out of nowhere, the image flashing purple over the table for all to see. “According to the rules that you yourself drafted, all agents must answer the recall for safety reasons. That includes us Talon folks, though you must have conveniently- I mean accidentally- forgotten to inform us and sent us on a dead end mission instead.”

Angela seethed quietly and Jesse felt his stomach start to do flips. There wasn't much Angela could do to dispute the facts since Sombra had cold hard evidence.

He knew this would happen, that something like this would occur. The so called “truce” between the organisations was tentative at best, and was always doomed to end in tears. One mission where Talon and Overwatch’s intentions aligned was all it took. The occurrences were rare, but every so often something would happen and both groups would have an interest in it. In the beginning Overwatch was simply desperate enough to accept help from anywhere (the situation was that bad) but slowly it had become an negotiated thing. McCree had disagreed with it from the start, had nearly up and left again because of it, but the promise of seeing Reyes on civil terms had kept him here. He had hoped that talking to the man and working with him again would do him some good, but so far he had remained as prickly as ever. They had made a deal with the devil, they'd given Talon an inch and they'd taken a fucking mile, and Jesse McCree was in no way surprised.

“Not only have you hacked our AI, you've also accessed confidential files. Part of our agreement was that you'd stay away from our systems.” Angela snapped, as if anyone here ever expected Sombra not to snoop.

The accused shrugged casually.

“I guess we’ve both failed to hold up our ends of the bargain. Call it even?”

“Absolutely not!” Angela hissed.

“Your meddling could have caused serious damage to Athena-“ Winston began, voice rising dangerously.

“Maybe, if I was sloppy, which I'm not. Your AI is fine.”

“That remains to be seen.” Winston shot back.

“I promise you, she is fine. I can send you a report of exactly what I did if it would put your mind at ease.” She offered, already sending the files his way as she tapped at the hologram floating in front of her.

“We are still going to have to ask you to leave.” Angela insisted.

“We're not going anywhere.” Gabriel snapped.

They locked eyes, the tension between them thick enough you could cut it with a knife.

“Your behaviour today has been unacceptable. You have forced your way onto our property, infiltrated our security systems, threatened me, disregarded the privacy of my patients-“

“Oh please-“ He snapped.

“The medbay is a place of healing and I will not stand for anyone disrupting that! The confidentiality of my patients and the integrity of-“ she began.

“Integrity?” Gabriel interrupted. “I wasn't the one sullying the ‘integrity’ of your medbay today.”

“I told you not to go back there but you insisted on ignoring my direct instructions-“

“Oh please, you wanted me to walk in on them. I bet you thought it was hilarious, tricking me into seeing that.”

“What…” Mei muttered quietly, giving a voice to the collective confusion of the rest of the Overwatch agents.

Reyes, damn him, was staring pointedly at Hanzo now, his tone of voice taking on a malicious lilt.

“Shall I tell everyone what was going on in your precious medbay?” He threatened.

Stunned silence followed. Jesse dared to sneak a look at Hanzo, who had never looked so enraged before, not while wearing Jesse’s face. It was weird to see himself looking so genuinely angry, it was enough to distract him from the impending sense of doom that had possessed him.

“Gabriel don't you dare, I mean it!” Angela bit out.

The seeds of discord had already been sown, and while Reyes was known for sometimes being merciful, Reaper was a vengeful son of a bitch.

“What the hell is going on here?” Morrison demanded. He always hated being out of the loop.

“Let's just say I walked in on something I never wanted to see, involving the ingrate, Mr. Shimada and a lack of pants.” He spat, spite fuelling his words.

Eyes slowly but surely turned on them, connecting the dots.

Aw hell.

“No way!” Lena gasped, the biggest grin on her (still slightly purple) face. “No bloody way!”

And then the meeting descended into chaos. Agents cursed and questioned and muttered to themselves in confusion. Angela tried to quieten everybody, but they couldn't hear her over the sound of their own excited voices. He turned to Hanzo, who was twitching dangerously, as if fluctuating between exploding and imploding. He was angry, so so angry, but he was also scared to speak because if he did it would have to be as somebody he wasn't. McCree understood perfectly, he wanted nothing more than to chew Gabriel out over this, but he couldn't, not like this. All he could do now is try to make the situation more favourable.

He acted impulsively, and took the archer’s clenched hand in his own. It was his turn to be the hero and save the day.

“We were hoping to keep this quiet for a little while longer.” He announced, before cutting Gabriel with a sharp gaze. “Thank you for sharing it with everyone.”

“Then you two are really…?” Hana asked, a delighted smile on her face.

He nodded sheepishly and turned to Hanzo. The archer looked at him, eyes owlishly wide. Then he caught on and it was like somebody had flipped a switch. He smiled wide, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. It was very convincing, Hanzo’s movements echoing even the smallest details of his own typical body language.

Confusion turned to congratulations quickly after that. Whether or not the others thought this was real, he was surprised to find that the other agents would be so interested in his love life. After many hugs (and a slap on the back from Zarya so powerful that McCree was sure she would launch him across the room) they managed to settle down. In the chaos he saw Fareeha nudging Angela to keep her awake from across the room and winced. This… it wasn't exactly going well, the last thing they needed was for the doctor to pass out mid sentence.

Hanzo had played his part perfectly, a little too perfectly for somebody who could barely muster himself to pretend for a much smaller audience earlier. Reyes had no reason to suspect anything was up, and so the fear of discovery took a back seat. At the forefront of his mind now was the fact that Hanzo had taken his hand. They sat close together now, the other man running his thumb over Jesse’s knuckles affectionately. He hoped nobody could tell how loud his heart was pounding, or how he had actually started to sweat.

Silence fell over them, all eyes on Angela once more. Or, most. Hanzo hadn't been able to look away ever since he had announced that they were “dating”, and he had somebody else’s attention too. He couldn't be certain, what with the mask and all, but he could swear that Gabriel was giving him the stink eye. Why the hell was he glaring at Hanzo now? Why couldn't they for once just catch a damned break? Whatever his issue was it would lead to nothing good. He made a mental note of it, prepared to bring it up to the others later.

“You definitely can't stay, especially if all you're going to do is aggravate other agents.” the doctor announced with an air of finality.

“We have a right to be here. If you want us gone you'll have to remove us by force.” Sombra bargained.

“Don't tempt me.” Angela muttered under her breath. Well, Jesse assumed she intended to say it quietly, but in reality she had said it loud enough for the entire table to hear.

Amélie’s eyebrows shot up towards the neat line of her hair and Gabriel's fists clenched with the promise of violence.

“That's not a fight you can win, Doc.” He hissed.

“Back down, Reyes.” Jack commanded, situating himself so that he acted as a physical barrier between Gabriel and Angela.

“You're leaving tonight, that's final.” She demanded.

Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly) enough, it wasn't one of the Talon trio that tried to refute this, but Lena.

“C’mon, doc.” She urged. “It's getting late and we’re miles away from anything. At least let them stay the night.”

Angela glared at her and Jesse was now certain that Lena Oxton would not survive the night.

“I see no issue with allowing them to remain on base for the evening, assuming they are willing to cooperate.” Satya agreed, which was actually a shock. “I suggest we put it to a vote.”

“That's… a very sensible suggestion, yes.” Angela conceded, though she didn't look at all happy at the prospect. “All those in favour of allowing the Talon agents to remain for the evening raise your hand.”

Of course neither Hanzo or McCree raised there hands. Angela, Fareeha and Winston refused as well. Some surprising hands were raised. Morrison, for one, voted in favour. Ana, too. All of the Talon agents voted in their own favour too, even Amélie swallowed her pride and raised her hand. All Jesse could think was that she must really want to spend the evening with Lena. All in all, even if they discounted the votes made by Talon, those in favour just about secured a majority.

“It's decided then, Talon agents stay here for the night and leave first thing in the morning. We’ll organise transportation for you and take you wherever you want to go. Does that sound fair?” Ana put forth.

“Hmm, yes, yes. Sounds reasonable.” Angela said, obviously a little put out to have been outvoted on this. Jesse couldn't blame her, as he was feeling similarly himself.

“That's settled then. So we can move on.”

“Yes, the rest of the meeting.” Angela stated, her voice as dead as the look in her eyes. “So we have already been here a week. Does anybody have anything to report? Progress made on mechanical updates or training regiments?”

This was her big plan? Ask everybody for reports that they hadn't been asked to prepare? Oh Angie… Jesse cringed at the confused silence that followed. This was never going to work…

However, today was a day of heroes springing up from the most unlikely of places, and people bullshitting their way to victory. Meekly, Satya raised her elegant prosthetic arm to get her attention.

“I have some issues I would like to bring to everybody’s attention.”

What followed was, for lack of a better term, absolutely spectacular. Satya gave a forty three minute, beautiful hard light presentation on what she had worked on this week. It included work on mapping the base and pointing out potential weaknesses in their defences, updates for multiple pieces of technology (most of which wasn't even her own) and she even brought up Lúcio's idea of opening up the beach for their communal use. As far as McCree could tell it was some kind of peace offering, Lúcio certainly looked touched by the gesture.

Satya Vaswani had given a better, longer presentation with literally no time to prepare than McCree had ever been able to in his life. It was amazing. It blew his mind. He had to stop from standing up and giving her a round of applause when she was finally done.

Nobody had anything much to add after that, and so the meeting was adjourned. Everyone moved away in clumps, tension still thick in the air. Lúcio and Hana took off chatting happily about what they could do on the beach, the Talon folks slinked off into the shadows led by a disgruntled Winston, Tracer took of like a shot to follow Widowmaker, Fareeha guided a barely conscious Angela towards their shared room before giving up and sweeping her off of her feet to carry her. Slowly but surely everybody was making their way out.

Hanzo tugged on his sleeve to get his attention. He turned to him, suddenly struck by what they had been through today. It barely felt real, but the serious look on Hanzo’s face told him otherwise.

“We need to talk.” He said in a voice that made McCree want to do anything but.

“Our room sound good?” He asked, a lump forming in his throat.

Hanzo nodded and led the way, walking a little too fast for McCree to fall in step with him. The Dragons drifted either side of him, looking at him as if to say “what the hell did you do?” before shooting past him to greet their master. Jesse could feel each individual beat of his heart, his stomach twisting painfully as his traitorous feet led him closer and closer to his doom.

Chapter Text

Hanzo closed the door behind them, locking it just to be sure. Jesse took the opportunity to allow himself to fall face first onto his bed with a dramatic groan. Today had already been too much, too fast, too chaotic. All he wanted was a drink, a smoke and a good nights’s rest. He didn't have the energy for whatever the hell this was.

He felt the bed dip beside him as Hanzo joined him, and peeked out of the corner of his eye to see the archer lying flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling. With a grunt Jesse flipped himself to do the same, and they both lay side by side, legs dangling off of the edge of the bed. That reminded him...

“We’re gonna have to push these beds together.”

Hanzo sat bolt upright and glared at him.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, we’re pretendin’ to be a couple, ain't we? We gotta make it look convincin’, and since we're sharin’ a room it only makes sense that we’d be sharin’ a bed.”

Hanzo considered him for a moment.

“Jesse, I have no plans to invite the Talon agents into my bedroom between now and tomorrow morning.” He said simply, though irritation was edging into the tone of his words.

“It ain't the invited guests I'm worried about, Sugar.”

He met Hanzo’s gaze, face grim.

“You think they'll come here?” The other man asked, looking around his bedroom for possible signs of intrusion.

“Sombra and Reyes were both givin’ me the stink eye. I wouldn't rule out either of them payin’ us a visit.”

Hanzo’s expression darkened and he cursed quietly to himself.

“Hey there, Darlin’. It ain't nothin’ we can't handle, we just have to hold out until the mornin’. We can do that.” McCree assured him, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Hanzo turned to meet his eye, their faces just a little too close together. He felt his breath catch in his throat as the sudden closeness reminded him of just how close they had been only a few short hours ago, and how easy it would be right now to do it all over again. Hanzo seemed to be feeling similarly, he could practically hear the archer’s brain struggling to function. They stayed like that until Hanzo finally tore himself away and stood.

“Help me then, cowboy.” He commanded, voice a little too rough for it to be casual.

Jesse could do nothing but obey. They moved the nightstand out of the way first, then they began moving the bed frames. It wasn't as good as having an actual double bed but it would suit their needs for the time being.

“Why did you tell them we’re dating?” Hanzo asked suddenly, head down as he pushed the beds together.

“What now?” Jesse responded, not because he didn't hear or understand the question, but because he had not a clue how to answer it.

“You could have told them a number of things. You could have said nothing at all. Why say that we are dating?” He clarified, standing tall and addressing the gunslinger head on.

“Well,” Jesse said carefully. “I didn't exactly have much time to think, but we didn't know how long we’d be stuck with Talon’s lot. It would be weird for us to spend so much time together if we were just doin’ the dirty. Would’ve been suspicious as hell. Sayin’ we’re datin’ made the most sense, I suppose.”

Hanzo nodded thoughtfully, looking placated.

“Besides, Reyes would never have bought it otherwise.” He added.

Hanzo’s brow furrowed as he looked back at Jesse.

“Why not?” He asked.

“Knows me too well.” McCree shot back, concentrating on trying to get the beds to line up perfectly. “Knows I'm all soppy and romantic.”

Silence hung heavy in the air after that. McCree didn't notice to begin with, frustrated as he was with the bed frames that just would not cooperate and line up properly. It didn't click until he looked up to see Hanzo watching him, wide eyed and slack jawed.

“What?” He asked defensively.

“Nothing, I just did not take you for a romantic, is all.” Hanzo admitted, red faced and bashful.

The words hit him but refused to sink in. He stood there gaping like a fish, thoughts unable to organise themselves into anything cohesive.

“Excuse me, I need a shower.” Hanzo muttered, not able to look in McCree’s general vicinity. He grabbed his pyjamas (though it was probably too early for the archer to be getting into them just yet) and ducked into the bathroom, two dragons slipping through the door behind him.

Jesse was left to stew in his own confusion.

Not a romantic?

Not a romantic?!

Maybe it wouldn't sting so much if it came from someone who he hadn't been constantly flirting with ever since they first met. What the hell did he mean not a romantic? Had he not been clear enough with his intentions? He was pretty sure he was being clear, he couldn't make it anymore obvious without outright propositioning the other man. And Hanzo had to have understood his intentions, he wouldn’t have told him to get lost otherwise.

The words “barking up the wrong tree” haunted him now more than ever. He had even less of a clue what they meant. Every word out of Hanzo’s mouth only served to confuse him more and more and more. It was frustrating, it was-

A knock at the door jarred him enough to pull him from his thoughts.

He realised he had been stood gaping in the exact same spot since Hanzo had left the room, like a statue, a monument of the moment Hanzo Shimada had ripped out his heart. He shook his head, going to greet his visitor. He needed to be at the top of his game, now more than ever.

He opened the door to find… no one.

That was odd. He stepped out, having a good look to see if he could locate his mystery knocker. Two doors down he saw Mei standing at Zarya’s door, waiting to be let in. The pink haired woman opened the door just as Mei noticed him. She gave him a little smile and a wave. He responded on autopilot, waving back politely as she stepped into the room and disappeared from sight.

He stepped back into his own room and closed the door, admonishing himself for being jumpy enough to respond to a knock from down the hall. He leaned against the door as he collected himself, eyes scanning every inch of the space. He only just now realised that he thought of it as his room… their room. Over the week he had moved everything of value into the space, as well as a few bits of junk that Hanzo probably hated. The room was a mix of the two of them, his life woven seamlessly into Hanzo’s. For a moment he imagined what he'd do with the space if Hanzo and he actually did move in together, for real. He'd take him shopping, picking out the tackiest furniture he could find just to make Hanzo laugh. Then he'd actually buy it, just to see him pull that face, the sour one that made his heart flutter. They'd argue endlessly and it would be wonderful.

God, he really had it bad, didn't he?

He moved to the bed and flopped down on it. Jesus, what was he going to do? Sharing a room with the man who was currently in the process of breaking his heart was one thing, but a bed? He was too damn old to be this bothered by something so trivial. He needed to get a grip.

Maybe he should just come out and ask him how he felt in exact terms. It would be simpler. It would also be horrendously embarrassing, not to mention uncomfortable since they were currently stuck together. He didn't want to make his own life more complicat-

Purple flashed beside him and nearly gave him a damn heart attack.

He managed to stop himself from rolling off of the bed but still did a rather spectacular impression of a spooked cat as he pressed himself bodily down into the mattress.

Her image wobbled, an indistinct purple shape. Soon she took on a more solid form, like a ghost flickering into existence. On the bed next him, laying on her side as if she was about to ask to be painted like one of his French girls, was Sombra. She watched him with hungry purple eyes, eyes McCree didn't trust.

“Hey there.”

It took him a moment to register just what was going on, and another to remember that he was supposed to be Hanzo right now. He sat up straight and tried to sound as authoritative as possible.

“What are you doing in my room?” He demanded.

Her lips curled up as she leaned in closer.

“I’m here to see my favourite archer, of course.”

She began tracing the pattern of his tattoo with the sharp edge of her nail, following it ever so slowly up his arm.

“You and the cowboy, huh?” She asked, not really expecting an answer. She looked around and made a retching noise at all of he cowboy paraphernalia he had filled the room with. “Tacky. We both know you can do so much better.”

Her hand was traveling further and further up and god damn it Jesse McCree was frozen in place. What in tarnation…

“I- what…” He spluttered eloquently, eyes glued to the finger slowly going up and up and up.

“Don't play coy, I’ve seen how you've been looking at me.” She purred. “He doesn't have to find out, if that's what you're worried about.”

She reached his shoulder and settled for stopping there. She was pressed into his side now, her breath hot on his neck.

“It can be our little secret.”

How was he supposed to respond to this?! Had Sombra misinterpreted his suspicion earlier, or did she and Hanzo actually have a thing going? Oh god, what if Hanzo didn't even like men? It would make sense, he would indeed be “barking up the wrong tree”. What did he do about it now though? He didn't know how to not fuck this up! He was-

As if from nowhere, there was a phone in his face. It made a distinctive shutter noise, flashing twice. And then suddenly Sombra wasn't on him anymore. She was instead rolling around her half of the bed, absolutely howling with laughter. She cackled like a witch, clutching her stomach as she kicked her legs in the air with childlike glee.

“I can't believe you actually fell for that!” She hooted.

“I-“

“I was playing you, dumbass.” She wheezed, tears streaming down her face from how hard she was laughing.

He let that sink in. She was playing him? What the hell for?

“Don't worry, cowboy. I'm not gonna try and steal your boyfriend.” She promised.

He tensed.

She had called him cowboy.

“You know.”

Her smile became predatory.

“Of course.”

Hanzo burst in then, wearing nothing but a towel. He had probably heard Sombra screeching over the sound of the shower and had come to investigate, considering the bubbles of soap in his soppy hair. Before he could ask any questions Jesse turned to look at him.

“She knows.”

Hanzo frowned fiercely at the intruder.

“Go get dressed, quickly. We’ve got places to go, people to see.” Sombra commanded, hopping to her feet.

“We do?” Jesse asked, not sure what exactly she was getting at.

“Mhmm.” She confirmed. “I have an important proposition for Doctor Ziegler, and you boys are gonna help me make my pitch.”

--

Hanzo had dressed quickly, Sombra sliding through her holograms as they waited. Jesse watched her the entire time, trying to figure out her angle. She wanted something, but Sombra was a mystery, her motives always shrouded in darkness. She was constantly making “friends”, getting favours however she could to cash in when the time was right. How this was going to fit into her grand scheme, Jesse had no idea.

She had stopped them from calling the doctor, insisting that it was fine, she already knew where she was before leading them down the hall, towards the room Angela shared with Fareeha. It felt rude to barge in on their private space, but Sombra didn't care about etiquette, only results.

She looked back every so often at them, eyeing up the dragons that had curled protectively around Hanzo and himself.

“What kind of tech is that?” She asked suddenly, gesturing to one of the spirits. Hanzo raised an eyebrow, confused. “All the reports say they're spirits but we both know that's bullshit. It's some sort of holograph, right? Or like Satya’s hard light creations but… different.”

Hanzo kept his mouth shut, jaw tensed as he listened to her list off her different theories. Eventually, after failing to get a response, she fell into step with them and reached out to prod at the one on Hanzo’s shoulder.

“I would not suggest doing that if you value that hand.”

Her eyebrows shot up as she pulled back, then as she took a note of Hanzo’s glare she began to cackle once more.

“Okay okay, I'll keep my hands to myself... this time.” She promised, winking meaningfully at the now blushing cowboy before picking up speed again to take the lead.

They reached Angela’s door and before McCree could warn her Sombra knocked unapologetically loud. He winced. Angie had probably only just dropped off to sleep...

The door opened to reveal a very, very angry looking Fareeha Amari. She popped her already bedridden head out, ready to punish whoever dared disturb her girlfriend’s slumber. When she saw Sombra wearing a shit eating grin, flanked by both Jesse and Hanzo, she froze, her rage dampened by confusion.

“I need to talk to the doctor. I have some things to discuss with her.” Sombra announced.

Fareeha shot a worried look at both Hanzo and McCree before turning her attention back to the hacker.

“No chance you’ll just… go away, is there?” She tried, a tiredness that did not suit her overcoming her usual energy.

“Nope.” Sombra shot back, lips popping the p.

“Give me a minute then.” She huffed in defeat, retreating back into the room and closing the door behind her.

“Take your time,” Sombra told the closed door. “Figuratively speaking. I'm a busy woman.”

They stood in the hallway for far too long, listening to the couple on the other side of the door bustling about. Sombra only got more agitated the longer they made her wait, and Jesse was starting to wonder what the hell was so important to make somebody like Sombra this impatient. He thought she was all about playing the long game, but apparently he had misjudged her.

It was Angela who opened the door to let them in, looking messier than ever. Her hair was a bird’s nest, lids heavy over her tired, bloodshot eyes. She gestured for Hanzo and himself to take a seat on the edge of her bed. They obliged, Jesse taking a moment to survey his surroundings.

It had been a while since he had visited their room. Photos littered the walls, one of a young Angela and her parents he hadn't seen before caught his eye. The rest of the pictures could've belonged to either of them, a mishmash of photos of Overwatch agents taken over the years. In fact, most of what was in the room might've belonged to either Angela or Fareeha, with a few definite exceptions (Jesse doubted the medical diploma hung proudly on the wall was Fareeha’s, or that Angela liked to fish). He wondered if, given time, Hanzo and he could become this in tune.

Sombra stood in the middle of the room, the centre of attention. Fareeha stood with a protective arm around Angela, the both of them facing the hacker.

“You know.” Angela said simply, not one to beat around the bush.

“Yup.” Sombra confirmed.

“And now you want something from us in return for not telling anyone.” The doctor continued.

“Yeah, I want your firstborn child. Unless, of course, you can guess my real name.” Sombra teased.

Neither Fareeha or Angela looked impressed.

“No? No one here got that reference? Hanzo, McCree?” She asked, turning to them. Jesse just kind of shrugged, which earned him a dramatic roll of the eyes from Sombra. “ Fine, whatever. I hate kids anyway.”

“What do you actually want?” Hanzo urged her to tell them.

She folded her arms over her chest and addressed them all with confidence.

“Talon doesn't go tomorrow. In fact, we stay for as long as everyone else does.”

The four of them looked at her, confusion mixing unpleasantly with a growing sense of horror.

“In return I make sure no one else finds out. Hell, I'll even help you deal with this little situation.” She pointed at Hanzo and himself, lips pursed. “Do we have ourselves a deal?”

Angela started shaking her head immediately.

“Absolutely not.”

That was enough to dampen the look of self satisfaction on Sombra’s face. Clearly she hadn't expected to hear a no.

“You don't exactly have much of a choice, you realise?”

Angela folded her arms, looking surprisingly imposing for somebody in their pyjamas.

“There's always a choice, and I'm saying no.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“Well, what now?” The gunslinger asked, looking around the room.

It seemed like nobody had a plan.

“Well I guess I go and tell the boss what's going on here…” Sombra sighed after a moment, her tone taking on a sort of wistful quality.

Fareeha grabbed her arm immediately, her superior strength keeping the hacker from leaving.

“We can’t let you do that.” She said, dark eyes narrowed.

“Then agree to let us stay.” Sombra retorted immediately, the grip on her bicep not at all concerning to her.

“We can't do that either.” Angela cut in.

“Then what the hell is the plan here?” McCree asked.

“Do you have somewhere we can hold her?” Hanzo inquired. Sombra immediately started to laugh.

“I can think of two reasons why that's a bad idea, one of them is dressed like the grim reaper, the other is blue and they're both upstairs right now. She can't just disappear.” The cowboy pointed out.

“What else would you suggest?” The archer snapped.

“I dunno, but not that!”

“I'm willing to negotiate…” Sombra informed them in a sing song voice, a wicked smile on her purple lips.

“We've already told you no.” Angela reminded her.

“Do you understand what negotiate means?” She spat back. Her vicious tone of voice had Fareeha tighten the grip on her arm.

“We don't want to make any deals with you.” The soldier hissed.

“I don't think we have much of a choice.” Hanzo sighed. “Release her, let’s talk.”

“We told you-“ Fareeha tried to argue.

“What else is there to do? We cannot keep her here, and we cannot let her talk. We must come to an agreement some how. Let her go.”

Hanzo’s cool, business like tone was enough to get through to her. With an angry grunt she finally released the other woman, who smiled cheerfully at the archer.

“This is why you're my favourite.” She told them, eyes locking with McCree. Clearly she was taunting him now, but Jesse refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

“I do not have time for you games. Why should we let you stay on the base? Why would you want to?”

“Gibraltar is so lovely this time of year...”

“If you do not give us a good reason within the next thirty seconds there will be no further negotiations.”

Sombra pouted, considering her options. While she did that Jesse gave himself a moment to acknowledge just how hot under the collar Hanzo had made him. The way he had taken charge, yet somehow remained cool, but was still strict… Damn. He wasn't sure why but it was really doing it for him.

He should really start focusing on what was going on.

Sombra was still deep in thought, brows knit tightly together and fingers steepled.

“We will not wait forever.” Hanzo warned. “Either have an answer for us or you do not.”

“Talk.” Fareeha insisted.

Sombra glared up at them all, her face a picture.

“What I say stays in this room. You breathe a word of this to anybody and I ruin all of your lives, publicly and painfully. Understood?”

After a second they all nodded, faces grim. Jesse wondered quietly what lie Sombra was about to try to fool them with.

A purple hologram lit up in front of her, and after a few efficient taps an image was projected in front of them all. The first thing Jesse noted was the setting. It was dark, with fireworks lighting up the night sky, and wherever it was it looked cold. In the forefront of the picture the subjects were wrapped up and warmly dressed, though their noses and cheeks were flushed from the chill. Sombra was holding the camera, smiling brightly, and her other arm was slung around a surprisingly cheerful… Satya Vaswani.

McCree immediately started to search the photo for evidence of manipulation. Nothing was obviously wrong with the image, but that was to be expected. Sombra was a pro at this kind of thing. He'd need some time to actually make sure it all checked out.

Sombra moved her hand and a new image appeared in front of them, obviously taken moments after the last. In this one she was kissing Satya’s reddened cheek. In the next image she brought up the two of them were pulling faces at the camera and goofing around, something Jesse had thought the perfect, poised Vishkar agent incapable of.

“How do we know these are genuine?” Hanzo asked, not sounding at all convinced.

“You could easily have faked these.” Fareeha agreed, folding her arms over her chest.

With a dramatic sigh Sombra closed the images, her shoulders slumping like their collective distrust was weighing her down.

“Really? You think I sit about editing pictures of me kissing overwatch agents for fun? I'm not that creepy.”

Her defence was met with silence. She grumbled to herself and brought the screen back up, tapping at it as she loaded up Satya’s contact details. She peered around the bright screen to glare at them.

“You keep your mouths shut, got it? Complete silence. You give me away and every dirty little secret you have becomes public knowledge.”

“You don't want her knowin’ we’re listenin’?” He couldn't help but ask.

“She doesn't know I'm doing this and she isn't going to find out if you value your lives. Now are you gonna be quiet or what?” She hissed.

He mimed zipping his lips shut and waited. Sombra took a deep breath and pressed the call button. The screen loaded for a moment, beeping a few times before Satya’s voice cut through the silence.

“Where are you?”

She was clearly not happy. The hacker winced at her tone.

“I'm sorry, I'm going to be a little while longer.”

A pause.

“Our time together here is limited and you're wasting it.” The architect accused. Sombra’s expression hardened in response.

“I know, I know. I'm sorry. It really can't be avoided. Doctor Ziegler wanted a word with me, she said it was urgent.”

Angela pulled a face at that.

“What does the doctor want with you?”

“I dunno yet, I haven't spoken to her.”

Satya hummed softly from the other end of the line, her anger wilting.

“I won't let her keep me much longer, I promise.”

“You had better not.” Satya agreed. Or threatened. Jesse wasn't quite sure.

There was a moment of silence between the two women, then suddenly Sombra was smiling, but not her usual knowing smile. It was something much more genuine, something… softer.

“I brought your favourite.” She practically sang.

Jesse could hear the surprise in Satya’s silence.

“Really?” She asked meekly. Sombra hummed an affirmative.

“The one with the little bits and everything.”

She perched herself on the edge of the nearby dresser, happily chatting away like she had forgotten the others were there. Jesse was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to look away, like he was butting in on something private.

“I suppose I could forgive your tardiness.” Satya sighed, before her tone turned more serious. “I don't have anything for you. I'm sorry.”

Sombra rolled her eyes.

“Getting to spend time with you is more than enough.”

Satya laughed, a light, fluttering sound as perfect as she was.

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Well, there’s more where that came from.” Sombra promised with a chuckle.

“Prove it. Get over here.”

“Soon, soon, I promise. I'll finish up with Doctor Ziegler and then we can make the most of our time together.”

Satya hummed again, sounding sadder this time.

“Oh, speak of the devil. I've got to go. See you soon. Love you.”

“Love you too.” Satya responded before hanging up.

A moment passed as everybody allowed themselves to process the exchange. Then Sombra sighed loudly, turning to look at them all.

“Happy?” She asked. The smile was gone.

“Why has Satya not mentioned this?” Angela asked, frowning.

“She hasn't said anything to me either.” Hanzo informed her, sounding just as put out. Jesse knew both of them were good friends with the architect, and not being trusted with something so important was baffling to them.

“We agreed to keep it quiet for the time being. It's nothing personal.”

“So you want to stay here… just to spend time with her?” Fareeha asked.

With a sigh the hacker turned to her.

“Do you know how much time off Vishkar gives their employees annually?” She asked, her words cutting. “Not a lot. And it's not like I have all the free time in the world either. This little ‘recall’ you people having going on here is technically on the clock for her, even though she’s basically doing nothing. So yeah, sue me, I wanna take advantage of the situation.”

They all looked at one another, conflict flashing in their eyes.

“Suppose we let you stay… You'd have to help us ensure nobody ever finds out about this, especially Talon. I'm not even sure how you found out-“ Angela began.

“You didn't make it easy.” The hacker grumbled, turning to Hanzo and himself. “Did you know she's been writing all your medical notes in three layers of code?”

McCree blinked slowly, shaking his head. He hadn't known that.

“The files were supposed to be secure.” The doctor cut in, sounding displeased.

Sombra shrugged at that. The medic considered her for a moment.

“Work with Winston to fix our security and you have yourself a deal.” She bargained.

Fareeha immediately grabbed her girlfriend’s hand.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah, no offence but letting me vamp up your security is basically handing me the keys to the kingdom. It's not the smartest move.” Sombra admitted, looking shocked.

“You can hack into whatever you want anyway, you've proven that. We might as well make sure that nobody else can.”

Sombra smiled, a terrible thing that made McCree’s stomach flip unpleasantly. She nodded approvingly and offered her hand. Angela shook it. Her smile became a grin, and his stomach began doing somersaults.

“It's a pleasure doing business with you. Now if you’ll excuse me I've got a grumpy girlfriend to go cheer up.”

And just like that Sombra was out the door.

They all turned to Angela.

“Are you sure about this, sunshine? You're takin’ a mighty big risk here.” Jesse reminded her.

The doctor flopped down onto the bed, hitting it like a sack of bricks.

“Sombra’s got power over us, there's no way to remedy that. All I can do now is make the best of this situation and hope this doesn't blow up in our faces like literally everything else has. Besides, Winston will make sure we don't give her too much control. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to sleep. I suggest you two do the same.”

They said their good nights and let themselves out. The end to all this drama felt rather… abrupt. Jesse expected Reyes to jump out and catch them, or for Widowmaker to slide out of the shadows to threaten them. But nothing happened. The archer and the gunslinger went to bed without any further interruptions, a sense of unease weighing heavily upon them both.