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Genji is surly and silent from the moment McCree meets him, prone to snapping or fleeing at the slightest provocation. McCree understands, mostly. Genji’s been through a serious trauma. He shouldn’t even be alive right now. Angela even lectured them to be patient with Genji, to understand that he’s gone through more than he ever should have and that he’s going to be angry and bitter and traumatized.
They tell him he and Genji will be working together, eventually. Genji’s Overwatch, technically, but the operations they’re sending him on are more in the territory Blackwatch handles. Many of them will be mostly solo but they need someone to make sure he doesn’t go too far. That’s something he’s told in private, by Angela. That she thinks Genji might go overboard. She’s seen it before in people with his mental state.
The night after he’s told he’ll be working with Genji, he uses his Blackwatch authorization to dig up everything he can about Genji Shimada. It’s weird and invasive, maybe, and he skips over most of it that he thinks delves too much into Genji’s personal life but he needs to know who he’ll be working with. What he finds out is that the man he’s going to be working with is not the same man he’s looking up. He sees pictures of Genji smiling, bright green hair standing out like a beacon. It’s hard to dig them all up, although after his death he supposes it doesn’t matter anymore what bits of Genji are still on the Internet somewhere. He finds videos of Genji, a precious few. He watches exactly one of them because exactly one of them contains his other person of interest in this search: Hanzo Shimada.
It’s not very long, sixteen seconds. Who McCree presumes is Hanzo is standing, staring away from the camera, arms crossed. Hanzo turns to the camera when the person behind the camera calls his name.
He snaps something in Japanese, irritated, and waves a hand at the camera. McCree makes a mental note to brush up on his Japanese. The camera is set down on a flat surface and a young Genji Shimada bounds into view, tackling Hanzo. Hanzo catches him, says his name, scolding but affectionate. Says something else and Genji laughs, free and open, head thrown back. McCree catches a low chuckle from Hanzo, something else he can’t understand, and the video ends.
McCree finds himself replaying the couple seconds of Genji laughing over and over again. He doesn’t know how many loops he goes through before he snaps out of it but he does know he’s determined to bring that joy to Genji’s voice again. Maybe his face, if he’s ever willing to take that visor off. But at least his voice. McCree resolves, at 3:18am, to make Genji laugh again and laugh often no matter what it takes.
His first attempt is pitiful, a terrible joke, and all he gets out of Genji is silence. He doesn’t even turn his head to acknowledge it.
His second attempt fails too. As does his third. And fourth. He almost gives up counting until he finally gets a reaction. It’s not a laugh, it’s not anything specific, it’s not even on one of his attempts to make the cyborg laugh. It’s just… Something. Something affectionate. They’re outside and there’s a chill in the air, enough that McCree unwinds his serape and drapes it over the cyborg’s shoulders without thinking. Genji freezes, looks up at him. McCree freezes too, mid-stride, unsure.
“Just…” He says, after a long moment. “Y’seemed cold.”
“I do not get cold.” But there’s definitely a lighter tone in Genji’s voice than usual. McCree counts it as a win.
Genji starts to pull the serape off but McCree shakes his head. “Keep it for now. Makes me feel better, seein’ as you’re so small ’n all.”
“Alright.” Genji says and his tone stays light. He snuggles down into the serape and McCree pretends not to notice.
The next bit of progress McCree makes is months later. Genji’s been taking a much lighter, friendlier tone with him recently. Even joking very occasionally, but never laughing. Still silent and serious and angry more often than not, prone to moods but… More agreeable.
McCree’s been picking up some Japanese. Or… Trying to pick up some Japanese and he figures he’ll test it out on Genji. See if it’s horrible. So on their way to yet another mission in Hanamura, McCree behind as backup if needed, he tells Genji what he thinks means, “I’ve been learning Japanese.”
Genji starts, shoulders hitching, shaking. At first McCree thinks he’s done something wrong but when Genji speaks what he says is, “Your pronunciation is terrible.” And his voice trembles with suppressed mirth.
It really is unintentional when McCree finally gets to hear that laugh. He isn’t trying to amuse Genji. If anything, he’s trying to seduce Genji. Really, he’s just got no filter around him. He’s not quite sober but not quite drunk yet and he can tell Genji’s sulking over his inability to drink. His inability to… Everything. He knows Genji finds himself undesirable and in his buzzed mind this translates to… Reassurance, distraction needed. “You’re real lovely, y’know that darlin’?”
McCree finds himself leaning close to Genji when he says it and the last thing he’s expecting is laughter. But that’s what he gets, it bursts out of Genji like it’s been suppressed for too long and McCree stares.
“Darlin’.” Genji imitates McCree’s accent. “Really, McCree?”
“Call me Jesse… Babe.” McCree’s heart thumps in his chest so loud he’s sure Genji can hear it. Genji’s laughing harder now and McCree presses his forehead to Genji’s visor, gazing into his eyes through the helmet. “Your laugh’s so pretty sweetheart.”
“You are drunk.” Genji reminds him but he doesn’t pull away when McCree presses closer, pulling Genji into his arms.
“Sugar.” Is all McCree responds with, low and affectionate. “Sunshine. Sweet pea. Dumplin’. Cutie pie. Darlin’.”
He savors Genji’s laughter, savors the way the cyborg presses close to him, repeating the terms skeptically but not questioning him. “Wanna hear ya laugh more often darlin’.”
“I will try.” Genji mumbles it, visor pressed against McCree’s shoulder by now.
“I’ll give ya plenty to laugh about.” McCree makes the promise and knows he’ll keep it.