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McCree whistled as he stirred the seasoned, browning meat in the skillet. It was his turn to cook dinner and Hanzo hadn’t returned home from his latest mission, so Jesse took extra care not to mess things up. He never had a particular affinity for cooking, but years of practice assured that the food he made would at least taste good.
The meat was the last thing to finish preparing; he had already bought a bag of corn chips and made the cheese sauce to create his special nachos (a recipe even Hanzo was fond of, much to McCree’s delight). He grinned, chopping some extra jalapeño to put in the mix, imagining his boyfriend getting home. His hair would be adorably messy, his feet would drag, but he would keep good posture despite exhaustion and his eyes would brighten at the sight of a home-cooked meal, if not Jesse himself. McCree’s heart fluttered, smile widening at the thought.
Once the meat was cooked to his liking, Jesse began to put together his ultimate creation, humming an old tune to himself and wiggling to the beat in his head. But when he stepped back to admire his hard work, something was missing. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth before remembering the small container of guacamole Hanzo had bought only a few days prior.
He sniffed the tub of guacamole once he opened it, smelled a bit spicier but he figured it was just some new brand he had yet to try. He shrugged and globbed a large spoonful of the green paste to top off the nachos before hearing the front door open and close. Jesse couldn’t help but let the smile creep back on his face as he wiped his hands off on his apron, taking it off and hanging it over one of the dining chairs.
Hanzo appeared in the doorway, his hair messy (as McCree had imagined), Stormbow still held in hand, and a heaviness in the way he leaned against the doorjamb. Jesse abandoned the nachos in favor of getting closer to his boyfriend. He brushed a strand of hair out of the archer’s eyes and left a lingering kiss on his forehead. “Welcome home, sugar. Dinner’s ready when you are.”
Hanzo leaned into McCree’s touch, still present on his cheek. He closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of cheesy, spicy nachos. His favorite nachos. “It smells wonderful.”
Jesse chuckled, pulling away to wash his hands in the sink and then dry them with a towel, Hanzo watching him all the while. “Go wash up, baby. You look dead tired, let good ‘ole McCree take care of ya.”
Hanzo hummed his agreement, disappearing from view as he supposedly began washing up in the other room. McCree made him a plate all the while, a swell of pride blossoming in his chest as he set the table. He had only just finished when arms wrapped around his midsection and Hanzo nuzzled his head against Jesse’s shoulder.
McCree leaned back, “Awful cuddly today. Mission go sour?”
Hanzo shrugged, leaving a kiss on Jesse’s shoulder and untangled himself to sit at the table. “The mission went well,” he picked up a chip, watching a string of melted cheese stretch between the food in his hand and the plate. His eyes glittered when they met McCree’s, a small smile on his lips. “Is it so wrong to miss my boyfriend?”
McCree sat heavily across from Hanzo, picking up his own chip, “You don’t see me complainin’.’” Jesse shoved the chip in his mouth, expecting the cool, gooey flavor of guacamole mixed with cheese and meat and jalapeño but was instead greeted with fire. He choked, his tongue burning as he rushed to the sink. Hanzo was quick on his heels, dropping his nacho chip on his plate to stand next to McCree.
“Jesse? What’s wrong? What happened?”
Jesse spat in the sink, rushing to turn on the tap and drinking deeply. He paused to breathe, “The fuck kind of guac was that?!”
Hanzo’s eyebrows scrunched together as Jesse began drinking from the tap again. The archer eyed the nachos, retrieving a chip and sniffing the pasty green topping. “Jesse, where did you get this?”
The cowboy groaned, still leaned over the sink. “The fridge from that tub of guacamole you bought a few days ago.”
Hanzo let out a soft peal of laughter upon realization of what had happened. “Jesse, that was wasabi!”
At the flush on the cowboy’s face he only laughed harder, but moved to his side to offer a warm comforting hand on his back, rubbing soothingly all the while he still chuckled. He kissed the man’s back (as the rest of him was practically in the sink by then), humming affectionately. “Next time read the label, silly cowman.”