Awol
The team had been sitting around for what had seemed like eons before a mission presented itself.
Hanzo was finding Watchpoint Gibraltar to be a relatively slow place. Hotter than the seventh level of hell, sure, but homey, and full of friendly people. Well, friendly enough. There were a few die-hard grouches hellbent on keeping him at a distance, and that was fine, because he was certain he was one of them.
Lena, Hana, Lucio, Fareeha, Ana, Winston, and Zarya all seemed relatively willing to get along with him. Genji- or more accurately, the machine that thought it was Genji- was distant, but his omnic friend was a little too comfortable. Always trying to get Hanzo to talk about himself or Genji, or make small talk. It seemed programmed to be non-invasive and only gave him gentle pushes to talk, but for whatever reason, it annoyed the hell out of him.
The junkers kept their distance for the most part, except one time he found a stick of dynamite at his seat in the cafeteria with a little bow on it, which he now had in his room under his bed. He supposed that was a peace offering, so he was on good terms with them. Thank God for that, he didn't want to have any kind of beef with those two. One was crazy and the other one had 170 pounds on him and didn't really seem to like anyone but his hyperactive companion.
There were still a few who didn't like him, though. Soldier 76, for one, seemed pretty apathetic towards him, even though Hana assured Hanzo that he was always like that to everyone. Reinhardt always looked at him with distrust and disapproval, since he was apparently the only one who remembered what Hanzo had done to his brother, so Hanzo avoided him. Torbjorn was equally as cold, though his seemed more like a general grouchiness, and Gabriel Reyes was honestly just kind of scary. There wasn't really any underlying hope that they would come to terms. Reyes just acted... evil? Hanzo would compare him to an attack dog on a constant leash, but he could never pin down what exactly that metaphorical leash was. Humanity, maybe.
The biggest scourge on his existence here, however, was still his roommate, Asshat McCree. Not only was he shabby, irrational, jumpy, evasive, disagreeable, and smart-alecky, but he also had the audacity to be pretty.
Under the shade of a cowboy hat and the scruff that accumulated on his face from being unkempt, his jaw was chiseled, his nose narrow, and his eyes set deep. They were dark, too, a mocha shade of deep brown. In Hanzo's younger, dumber days, McCree would have been a prime target for his... less honorable, undignified impulses.
He shoved the distasteful thought out of his mind and wound a strand of hair around his finger. The book in front of him was a history of Overwatch, but more factual and less embellished. This one had come from somewhere in the Watchpoint, so it wasn't just another package for bias. Its pages were old and felt stiff in his hands, but they gave off that book smell that sent him back to some peaceful days in his old personal library. He turned the page just as Athena's voice came on.
"Agents of Overwatch, report to the flight deck for briefing."
She was never too in-depth. He sighed and snapped the book shut, plucking his bow off the table and slinging it over his shoulder. People around him chattered with intrigue as they all moved towards the door.
He couldn't help but feel the excitement, too. This would be his first mission. A chance to prove himself, and release some of the restlessness that had built up from being stuck on base.
It was a simple enough escort mission; The payload would be controlled remotely from the airship by Winston while the rest of the team fended off Los Muertos. Lucio wasn't thrilled that he had to help out LumeriCo, who had known ties with Vishkar, but he understood the need for energy, especially in the cities.
Hanzo would be positioned in the buildings above, keeping watch for any gang members trying to sneak their way onto the payload. The nuclear core wouldn't last a minute if they got hold of it. McCree and "Genji" would be playing a similar role, though on ground level, and Hana, Bastion, Zenyatta, Reyes, Soldier 76, and the Junkers would be on the payload itself, playing defense for the few who made it past.
Hanzo had no intention of that happening. He boosted himself onto a rooftop, feet silent on the adobe as he ran with his team towards the payload. Nobody was getting past his impeccable aim. Not if he could help it.
As promised, the vehicle was waiting for them in a discrete garage full of boxes, some of which had to be tossed aside to haul it out. Hana popped out of her mech for a moment to fix the remote control receiver in place, then activated self-defense mode, and just like that, it was ready to go. Hanzo put his back to the wall, and peered over his shoulder out the window at the payload. All was quiet, but subtlety was important with his role. The longer he could go undetected, the better.
"Everybody in position?" Soldier 76's voice ground out through the earpiece, gritty and low.
"Affirmative," Hanzo replied.
"Yep."
He grit his teeth. "Yep." Did McCree even take this seriously, or was he just trying to get a reaction? Hanzo entertained himself with the thought that he had an excellent shot at McCree's face if he got too annoying.
"McCree, tighten up," Soldier commanded, and Hanzo shot him a shitty grin. He knew he saw it, too, because McCree pouted at him from on top of the payload. That was probably the handsomest he ever looked- His hair wind tossed, gun drawn, hips forward, colorful, bright lights bouncing off the highlights of his cheekbones, and a pout on his plush lips. Soldier 76 interrupted his thoughts. "Move out."
Hanzo was allowed to think McCree was handsome. That was just common sense, not even his personal opinion.
The payload shuffled along at an agonizingly slow pace. It was for the safety of the residents of Dorado, but it was torture to watch it hover slowly over the pavement under the threat of Los Muertos. Surely it could stand to move a little faster. Fifteen miles per hour instead of ten. Eleven. 10.01. Anything. Just faster.
The little hovercraft began turning a corner and Hanzo left his position for a new one, further ahead. The streets were still silent beneath the quiet hum of the payload until a gunshot popped and the episode began. He picked up his pace to a sprint, determined not to miss out on anything. Reinhardt stood in front of the payload with his shield up, though it was already cracked from how many guns were aimed at it. There must have been sixteen of them opening fire on the team below. He loosed arrow after arrow, cursing when all of them missed, and planted themselves in shoulders or chests instead of skulls.
His dragons weren't ready yet. He couldn't force them out, either. It was up to them to help him on their own accord when they decided he deserved it. He gritted his teeth and began to loose another when a bullet whistled past his ear, and he threw himself back into cover behind a stack of boxes.
Suddenly, a familiar, but abnormally silky voice growled out over the comm.
"It's high noon," McCree purred, and a quick crackle broke the air. Were those gunshots? They were all fired at the same moment. Hanzo leaned out to see five more dead bodies laying in front of McCree. He shrank back into his hiding spot, face paling. He had heard Jesse could shoot fast, but nobody told him it was that fast. The dragons were seemingly just as intrigued, as they suddenly stirred, and Hanzo thanked him silently, if begrudgingly, for his talent.
"It is about nine thirty in the evening," Hanzo corrected snarkily and began shouting before McCree got the chance to defend himself. "Ryuu ga waga teki wo kurau!"
Blue dragons spiraled out from in front of him, sparking and snarling, massive jaws snapping to devour any and all in their path. The familiar sense of celestial power overcame him,and Hanzo jumped out from his window onto the payload, a new arrow knocked. It found its mark on the one unfortunate straggler who scrambled away from the devastation behind him. He fell to the ground, the shaft standing from the back of his neck.
Hanzo panted heavily, his senses coming back down from overdrive and exhausting him, reminding him why he had to be careful about summoning the dragons. He felt his knees trying to give out and he tried to play it off by leaning casually against the nuclear core. Regardless, it earned a long, impressed whistle from McCree. "Pretty handy with that bow."
Hanzo felt his ears turn pink, and he was stunned for an appropriate response that wasn't "thank you," so he shrugged noncommittally. McCree was vastly different on the battlefield. More at ease, Hanzo noticed curiously. He liked this McCree much more than his snappy, skittish roommate, but it begged the question of why? Why was he more calm getting shot at than having to meet a new companion?
"I have never seen someone shoot so quickly with a gun," Hanzo replied curtly, his way of avoiding a direct compliment. McCree winked at him from beneath the shadow of his hat, and Hanzo's face blazed. He was forced to turn away now, and without another word, hopped off the payload to rush up a wall and find a new vantage point, damned be his exhaustion.
He watched from above as Reyes jumped onto the payload and viciously shoved McCree off of it. Jesse landing on his ass in the dirt and laughed, but it wasn't genuine. If anything, Hanzo would call it nervous.
Old, familiar feelings were stirring. He was not going to flirt with the idea that McCree was flirting with him, and he was sure as hell not going to flirt back. There would be no flirting of any sort between anyone or anything. No. He was not a degenerate, he could abstain from scratching that itch that told him he should be with a man. It was an itch all too familiar to him. If anyone could fight it, it was Hanzo Shimada, once-heir to the criminal empire in Hanamura. He was so much more than the common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd.*
He was a dragon, and he was wiser and stronger than that.
~
Jesse sat in his seat on the aircraft, his knee bouncing fervently. His eyes were glued to the floor because he knew that when he looked up, he would see Gabriel's scowl. The guilt was already eating at him, but he knew that Gabe's scowl would finish him off for good. He hadn't meant to flirt with Hanzo, especially not on a mission, in front of Gabe, so soon after the Genji incident. He hadn't meant to, but he did it anyway. Why did he do that?
Hanzo was hot in all the right ways. Every inch of him seemed carved from marble, and in battle he was like a statue come to life. He was dark, and mysterious, but he also managed to be cute in the way that his ears pinkened when he received a compliment, or when he stuck his tongue out a little bit when he was focused.
Jesse was immediately mad with himself for thinking about it. But not as mad as Gabe was going to be.
He was "invited" back to Gabriel's quarters that night, and he was suddenly yearning for the days when they all slept on a cot in one single bunker. He didn't want to have to face his lover tonight.
Gabe was waiting for him in the doorway. All of the lights were on, but the room was silent except for the tapping of Gabe's fingers on the counter.
"Jesse," he growled lowly.
"'M sorry," Jesse said on impulse, and immediately regretted it as a vase or a glass flew past him and shattered on the wall behind him.
"Shut up!" Gabe shouted, and stormed towards him.
"Gabe, hun, sweetums, I'm sorry, I-"
He broke off as a hand whipped across his cheek, knocking him to the floor. The entire left half of his face stung, and he resisted the urge to spit out the tinny blood that pooled in his mouth.
"You fuckin' winked at him, you little slut," Gabe raged, and Jesse cowered. God, he had fucked up. He didn't dare talk. "Get the fuck out of my sight! I don't wanna hear you, see you, or think about you for the rest of the night!"
Jesse stood up slowly, and took a few slow steps back towards the door before booking it. Tears stung the backs of his eyelids as he ran to get back to the safety of his room.
Fuck. His room. He couldn't go back when Hanzo was in there.
Why? A tiny voice asked him, and he stopped at the end of the hall.
Why? Why are you always trying to make him happy? Why do you go to all these lengths? Why isn't he ever satisfied? Why do you still try? Why did it have to be you? Why did Hanzo have to show up and ruin everything? Why couldn't anything go as planned? Why did Reyes have to make it weird in the first place? Why couldn't they just be family again?
Why was he still standing in front of his own door, waiting for permission from a monster to go to sleep?
He pushed it open and stepped inside, surprised to find that Hanzo was making food. McCree tilted his hat downwards a bit to hide the bruising on the other side of his face.
"Whatch'ya workin on?" he asked, even though all the life was drained from his voice right now.
Hanzo cast him a curious look, and eyed him before answering.
"Hibachi steak."
"Neat."
There were a few moments of silence before Hanzo spoke again.
"How do you like your steak?"
Jesse stopped, and lifted his chin a bit.
"You gonna make me some, too?" he asked, baffled.
"Mine is already done," Hanzo replied nonchalantly. "This is yours."
Jesse looked at the frying pan, full of half-cooked steak. Onions and peppers had already been cut up along with broccoli, and there was a pot of rice boiling. The smell was extravagant, and it wasn't until Jesse paid attention to the aroma that he realized how hungry he was. The smell of it brought him down from his distress just a little bit. He really didn't know what to say. He thought they had a mutual disliking of one another, but here Hanzo was making dinner for him.
"Medium well," he said, and settled for, "Thanks," then sat down on his cot. Hanzo brought it over when he was done, and to Jesse's surprise, sat down next to him. He didn't really have the strength to argue, so he just shoved some food in his mouth.
"This's d'licious," he said, perkier, his mouth stuffed. He didn't look over, but he could feel the judgment radiating off of his roommate like heat. On the other hand, there was nothing but genuine appreciation in Hanzo's voice when he replied, "Thank you."
They ate in silence for the rest of the meal, which was perfectly fine. It was peaceful, and quiet, and dark, and for once, McCree didn't feel like he needed to say anything, even if there was plenty they could talk about. At the end of the meal, Hanzo collected the dishes, set them in the sink, and went to his room without another word.
Jesse watched him leave, and the image of Hanzo outlined in moonlight brought him back to the mission, where the archer had done acrobatics in the colorful lights of the festival. It made him wonder if the Dragon had ever learned to dance the way the people in the streets of Dorado did.
Hanzo was graceful and striking- he would make a wonderful dancer.