Chapter Text
McCree really needs to stop smoking.
The idea of it isn’t exactly new, but he’s always ignored it, deciding that it was just easier to push it off for ‘later’, if not out-right scoffed at.
But now, as he desperately pants and huffs to catch his breath, struggling to keep up with the rest of the team, that’s all Jesse can really think about. The only thought that keeps running around and around his head, besides i’m going to die.
Ducking into one of the nearby doorways gets him a little time, pulls him mostly out of view and under cover. He gives a moan, still gasping, leaning against a wall heavily as he tries to recover. Is completely ignorant of the way, even resting his weight back like he is, his round, soft gut surges outward, pushing against his body armor and forcing it into a noticeable outward curve, plush flesh desperate for even an inch of extra space.
As his breathing starts to return to normal, one of McCree’s gloved hands is brought up, absently pressing at his softened jaw, thumb rubbing against the plump deposit of fat under his chin. Again under his raggy breath he groans. “Gotta quit this smokin’ ….”
Before he can get too comfortable, Jesse realizes where he is. That he’s been standing here for almost five minutes now, gathering his energy. He has to get moving again. The others’ll start to notice, and won’t it be just dandy if Mercy had this to tease him with every time he comes to get a check up?
With a sigh, Jesse shoves himself forward, forces himself into motion again. Doesn’t realize how the action causes his ass to almost wobble, even through the thick fabric of his pants.
Instead, he just turns his comm back on and lies, tries to hide his panting under his breath and says he got caught up in a dead end, and’ll catch on up to them real quick.
~
After the mission, which went off successfully, even if Jesse was lagging behind through most of it, McCree makes sure to give everyone his small, proud smile and at least a ‘good work out there, partner!’, before he heads back to his room to ‘unwind’, where he’s sure there’ll be a mountain of archival work waiting for him.
Ever since the recall, or more accurately the attack on Gibraltar that had, in ways caused the recall, Athena has been decrypting files from the old Overwatch, and had requested a second opinion on what was useful to keep ‘on hand’, and what could be filed away for reference. As the only member of Blackwatch still on the team, Jesse’d volunteered to sort through the overflow of, mostly useless, information. The thought of any of the others going through all of that, seeing the things that had been done, the horrible shit some of his teammates, former teammates, did, makes something in his stomach knot in worry.
The first thing he does, once the door shuts behind him, is strip out of the heavy body armor, eager to be free of it’s tight confines. As soon as the armor is peeled off of him, his soft flesh surges forward, belly flopping out to full size, thighs jiggling with effort and ass seeming to almost swell outward as it’s freed. The whole base is hot and it’s just a bit muggy outside, enough that, combined with the exertion from earlier, he’s practically coated in sweat on top of being sore, giving him a convenient excuse to take a nice hot shower and cool off before he gets to work. After he gets a treat from the little mini kitchen attached to his bedroom (three, maybe five-ish, of those sweet little oatmeal pies Angie tried to hide from the last time they went for groceries), the mission today has left him starving for something just oozing sugar.
Once his hunger is sufficiently dulled, Jesse strips the rest of the way and climbs into the shower. Absently runs a hand across his soft, pliable belly, rubbing up underneath it with a content groan, letting the round tummy fall and bounce for several moments before stepping into the steam, sighing in relief. Once he’s adequately clean, he dries off, slipping into a tee Reinhardt had gotten him at some point that says ‘I am an experience’. It’d fit fairly well about a month ago, but now struggles to so much as cover his navel, which he’s pretty sure is just from being washed too much. Probably. He also pulls on a pair of soft plaid pajama bottoms, letting the elastic slip below his waist where it’s more comfortable.
Then he plops himself down in the office chair, deaf to it’s groan of complaint, a fresh bag of chocolatey candy at one hand to help him through the monotonous work. Glancing at the clock, Jesse figures he has about an hour or so before Reinhardt or Lena has dinner ready.
~
Much later, McCree is standing against the railing of one of the overlooks, looking out at the ocean, at the waves, and trying to ignore his twitchy fingers. Jesse’s plump belly is pressed against the cool metal, not quite insulated by the soft fabric fabric of his t-shirt, which can’t reach far enough, the soft flesh overflowing onto the railing, making a nice place to rest his hands while he’s struggling to not feel so desperate for nicotine. When he’d mentioned that he was thinking about quitting over dinner, in response to some comment someone had made about how gross it is that smoking is still such a widespread habit, Angela had outright crowed in delight, had even promised to bake him a cake if he was serious (to which McCree remembers making some comment about wanting angel food cake), and even Hanzo had seemed impressed. So here he is. Committed to doing this, with everyone seemingly ready to embrace him if he needs it. Which he will.
It’s getting dark, and starting to grow cold, and Jesse takes a few more breaths before turning to go back inside, hands still absently folded against his protruding stomach.
So far so good. He’s not yet hurting, struggling certainly, but he hasn’t given in yet, and that’s a nice, pleasing victory. In fact….
In fact, Jesse feels so proud of himself for holding out so far, he decides to go treat himself to some of the ice cream sitting in the mess hall freezer. And maybe another handful or so of his snack cakes when he gets back to his room.