Dancing with Dragons

"Next time" happened to be three days later.

Jesse and Gabe were on the couch that Jesse had recently dragged into his own bunk, watching an action movie while Hanzo was out practicing on the range. The room was lit by nothing but the television and the light of the moon outside. The main character just learned that the token pretty girl was cheating on him, kicking off the story for his angsty military career. Gabe pointed to the screen when they showed said pretty girl kissing another man.

"Is that you?" he asked coldly.

Jesse froze up, stuck somewhere between hurt and anger.  There was a baby crying on the television.

"Is that you?" Jesse countered.

There was no verbal warning this time, no growl, no gasp of shock, no hesitation. It was a fist, not the back of a hand that found its way to his nose, and he landed hard against the arm of the couch. Tense fingers wrapped themselves in his hair and threw him off the couch, into the television. It shattered, and he cried out in pain as glass embedded itself in his upper body.

"What the fuck did you say to me?" Gabe hissed, voice hauntingly icy. It didn't sound human. It sounded like the breath of a wild dog when it had its prey cornered. It was harsh, and gritty, but Jesse didn't have the mental capacity right now to correct himself in thinking about his lover. His head spun, and the sight of blood staining his white t-shirt turned on a switch in his head that made him want to run. He could not win here.

"'M... I'm sorry, Gabe," he choked out, lifting a shaky hand to try and brush little chips of glass out of the skin on his neck. Gabe snatched him by the wrist and threw him into a wall by the door. He didn't have time to react. He landed face-first into the wall, and he screamed- actually screamed- as his broken nose rammed into the drywall. Jesse fell to the floor, tears singeing their way down his cheeks.

He dared glance over his shoulder, one last vain attempt at an apology before Gabriel stomped him into the floor. His boot was already raised. Jesse choked out something even he didn't understand.

Just then, there was a creak, and a wide rectangle of light spread itself over the dark room.

~

Hanzo froze in the doorway. He had gotten bored rather quickly at the range, and had decided to come up early to talk to Jesse. He needed to talk, to get this burden off of his chest even if it meant the destruction of everything he was once made to believe.

But all he found in his quarters was a cold blow to his reality.

McCree knelt on the floor, staring up at Hanzo with tears in his eyes. Behind his head, a boot was raised.

Jiyusuke knelt on the floor, staring up at Hanzo with tears in his eyes. Behind his head, an arrow was knocked.

Hanzo cried out without even thinking.

"Ryuu ga waka teki wo kurau!"

The room lit up in white and blue, broken shards of glass shimmering in celestial light that sent sparks of light jumping around the room. Dragons howled with a fury he had only heard a few times in his life. The world was silenced by the dazzling light, every creature on earth tuned in for the performance of the dragons' dance as they devoured, twirling and coiling and snapping their teeth at their prey. The building shook beneath their merciless wrath.

And then, all at once, the light went out, leaving just the dark room and the sheet of light filtering in from the hallway. Where Gabriel Reyes had been, there was nothing but a small ring of black smoke on the floor that vanished almost as soon as Hanzo spotted it.

He fell to his knees and cupped Jesse's face in his hands.

He wouldn't look up at him, so Hanzo lifted his gaze manually with his thumb, and looked into his eyes. That was how he broke McCree. The gunman let his face fall into Hanzo's shoulder, and there he stayed, shaking. Hanzo dared to wrap his arms around him, emotional consequences be damned.

They stayed like that for what seemed like forever, on the floor of the apartment, Hanzo solemnly holding what he now knew to be a broken man.

~

Jesse remembered very little of what happened that night. Hanzo had been so kind as to let him have his bottle of whiskey on his way to the infirmary, and he had nursed it like a babe nursing a bottle. He remembered cowering like a child, bleeding and beaten. He remembered the dragons, and he remembered that Gabe had pulled that damn vanishing trick. He remembered that when the whiskey started hitting, Hanzo picked him up and carried him the rest of the way to the infirmary, and all he could think about was how fucking easy that must be for someone with Hanzo's arm muscles.

So when he woke up the next day in the hospital wing, covered in little white bandages and sporting a brace for his neck, it took him a moment to understand what was going on. It wasn't the stiff kind of brace you used for a broken neck, but the kind you used when you slept on it funny and it started acting up.

He could have punched himself. He was so weak, so goddamn weak. He knew Reyes was a bad idea, goddamnit, he knew it and he still went and forgave him. Why? Because he was stupid and weak and he let himself believe that he was going to change.

And Hanzo. What must Hanzo think of him, seeing him cry over some scrapes like a six year old? Jesse knew he wasn't weeping for his wounds, but that made it all the worse, because he had done all of that to himself. He let Gabe fuck him up and take his heart and crush it like a bug. He had let their relationship go to shit, and in a lot of ways, it was his fault. All the places he could have just talked to him. If he had just been honest without being aggressive, if he had taken control somewhere along the line, this never would have happened to him.

The frantic beeping of his heart monitor must have alerted Angela, because she came in the door in a hurry. He still wasn't sure why he was hooked up to one in a first place- he was tore up good, sure, but they were just cuts. It's not like his heart was in danger of stopping. He started to sit up, but cried out in pain when his chest burst out in pain.

"Jesse, don't strain yourself!" Angie tittered, suddenly in a mild panic.

"Holy hell," he growled. "What happened?"

"I'm afraid Gabriel broke some ribs," she said. Her voice was solemn for a moment before picking back up. "Well. I mean. Just one rib, actually. Where did you feel the pain?"

"Left side," he replied.

Angie hummed in agreement. "That's good. That's the side that's supposed to hurt. Was it all on your left side?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I was afraid there might have been some bruising higher up on the right side." McCree shook his head and Dr. Ziegler scribbled something on her notepad. "Anyway, you're about due for a dose of painkillers. I would have started them last night, but somebody was more interested in whiskey than his health."

Jesse gave her a guilty shrug, not exactly feeling up to joking. She must have noticed, because her good-natured smile turned into a worrisome pout.

"Anyway, I'll get on that. Luckily, your rib was only fractured a bit, and with how far modern medicine has come- you're welcome, by the way- I should have you up and walking in a few hours. You can take those bandages off if you'd like. The biotic cream should have done its job and laced them up with scar tissue by now."

She left the room without waiting for him to respond. Aw, hell. Scar tissue?

Mercifully, there was a small mirror on the table next to him. One by one, he plucked off what seemed like hundreds of tiny bandages, leaving them scattered on the bed like confetti. When he lifted the mirror to his face, he winced a bit. It wasn't honestly that bad, but his left cheek was littered with little white marks, especially further back near his ear which had a new nick in it. The most notable one was diagonal from his temple to his laugh lines. It was big and bumpy and dark. It looked like a long, fuchsia callous.

The sight of it made him cringe a little. Hopefully that would heal better in time. He didn't want to look like 76.

A knock on the door made him set the mirror back down and look up. Hanzo stood, as if he had been summoned by Jesse's thoughts, holding a flat white box. Jesse looked away, shame making him look and feel grouchier than he wanted.

"Hello."

"Hey."

Silence.

"I... Brought you something," Hanzo said, lifting the white box.

Jesse looked up at it, suddenly curious. Luckily, it felt like either the painkillers were working or Angie's sciencey bullshit potions had fixed his rib.

Hanzo let out a nervous "Ah--" of protest as Jesse sat up, then silenced himself when he realized that the other man wasn't even wincing. Still, Hanzo walked over to spare him unnecessary strain. He paused, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

McCree expected the awkward conversation to continue for at least a few more minutes, but instead, Hanzo just stuffed the box into his hands and then turned around to hurry out. McCree didn't bother to stop him, but watched him leave, and again, shame bit at his ears. He felt like he should punch a tree, or fistfight a bear, or challenge Zarya to an arm wrestling match to alleviate some of this unbearable shame.

He felt like a baby. A tiny, pathetic little baby, which is probably how he looked, too, shabby and tired and eyes bloodshot still from tears that wanted to show up, but didn't, because he had drained them all dry last night under the influence.

He palmed at his face and scratched the back of his neck before taking a breath and opening the box. He had to be honest, he expected a blanket or something to keep warm, or a medical kit, or booze. He didn't expect to open the box and find a sheet cake staring back at him with the words "I'm sorry I possibly murdered Gabriel Reyes" scrawled in expert handwriting, in red frosting. Also in the box was a note, in an envelope, covered in frosting and tucked in the side. McCree opened it carefully, but still got frosting all over his fingers.

And I'm also sorry he vanished into thin air. And I'm sorry I didn't help you sooner. And I'm sorry everything turned out like this for you. The counter lady said this would not fit on a cake, so I had to write a note. So, sorry also that this is not on the cake. Genji once said it is customary to write your sentiments on a cake, but I do not see how you express everything on such a small canvas. I hope that you recover quickly.

-Hanzo

McCree stared at it for a long few minutes. He looked from the cake to the letter, and then back to the cake, and then back to the letter.

He laughed. Quiet at first, and then it turned into a bark, and it got harsher until he couldn't hear himself, and he couldn't breathe he was laughing so hard. The heart rate monitor was bleeping like crazy, but that made him laugh, too. Angie ran into the room as fast as she could, only to stop in the doorway and shake her head in confusion. McCree just shook his head at her, unable to conjure a response in his stupor. He waved his hand at her, his laughter toned down to an air-constricted cackle.

Finally, he sat up with one loud sigh of finality.

"Are you finished?" Angie asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, don't get yer sleeves in a knot," he replied, a smile lasting on his face now.

"Good. Don't let me hear that monitor go awol again, or else it's not gonna make another noise. Ever. Got it?"

"Not even when they remove the body?" he joked, and she rolled her eyes, but her smile was back too.

"No."

~

Hanzo hurried out of the infirmary as fast as he could while still appearing casual on the off chance that McCree wanted to talk to him. He had spent his childhood practicing good penmanship and eloquent language, most of which had stuck with him- at least, the Japanese bit. But talking face to face was another thing.

He was a professional in intimidation. But that left him seriously lacking in certain departments, like compassion. Previous attempts in being genuine usually just ended up with both parties uncomfortable for one reason or another, so he avoided it and kept his thoughts to paper, where they could be edited as many times as needed before anyone ever saw them.

The thought made him stop at the door of the waiting room, hand frozen on the handle.

He should have proofread that letter more closely. He should have omitted a lot of unnecessary rambling about cake, for example. What if McCree took it as a sign of him not paying attention to his personal issues? Would he be insulted?

There was a sudden bought of laughter down the hall, and Hanzo recognized the voice. He let his head drop into the door, which clattered weakly on its hinges.

He imagined what he must have looked like, trying to convince the baker lady that a letter that size should be able to fit on a sheet cake. He recalled the face she had made when he had scowled over the glass counter, trying to intimidate her. It had not worked.

Hanzo giggled under his breath at himself , and opened the door, walking outside.

At least Jesse wasn’t mad, he thought.

He didn’t realize he had been grinning still until he rounded a corner and suddenly stubbed his toe.

Hanzo hissed and swore, lifting his foot to assess the damage. His pinky toe was an angry red. He looked up at his assailant indignantly and Genji stared back, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

“You should not wear flip-flops,” he advised, instead of apologizing.

“Sandals,” Hanzo corrected him with a growl, and set his foot back on the ground. “Why is your foot so hard?”

“It is made of metal,” Genji replied without missing a beat.

“All of it?” Hanzo said, and looked down at it. He thought it was just armored. He stood there in silence for a moment, then stepped past his robot brother… thing, guilt chewing at him.

“Interesting. I will leave you to that.”

“Wait.”

Hanzo winced, and turned around. He had been dreading this moment since he first arrived at base. Genji’s robotic substitute should be furious, but he knew better. Time with the true omnic had suppressed whatever anger he held.

That was how Hanzo knew he was not Genji.

“Were you visiting Jesse?”

Hanzo almost let out a sigh of relief. He had forgotten that they were good friends.

“Yes. He is well.”

“He is well, or his bones have healed?”

He looked back up to see Genji’s visor glowing dimly back at him. Genji must have figured it out from his expression, because he sighed. There was a whirring noise as he turned his head as if to look over his shoulder at the infirmary.

It was bizarre to try and think that it was Genji under all that metal, and Hanzo found himself peering into the visor as if he could see him, but the moment he saw what he thought was a pair of eyes, he blinked and shook his head, shaken by an imagined resemblance.

“Why did you not tell me?” Hanzo said suddenly, and Genji looked back to him. Hanzo tried not to look at his visor again, and switched to Japanese on impulse.

“[Why did you never say that you were with the omnic? Why am I the last to know that you like men?]”

Genji laughed light-heartedly.

“[I did not know it mattered so much to you, brother.]”

“[I do not care what you do with yourself. You have always been a delinquent.]”

Hanzo paused, and wondered if the humor had gotten through, wondered if the new Genji knew the difference. A somewhat metallic laugh sang out from his helmet, and Hanzo dared to smile. That sounded like Genji.

“[I think you are jealous, as I have something that you do not.]”

“[And tell me, what is that?]”

“[A boyfriend.]”

Hanzo froze, not sure whether or not he should be offended. He spluttered in reply, meaning to say something snarky, but he only managed to get two or so words into a phrase before backing up.

“[I do not- There- Why would- I am not,]” he stopped and folded his arms. “[I could.]”

Genji’s faceplate didn’t change, but he had no response, and Hanzo had nothing to follow up, so he just stood there, frozen, trying not to turn red. He failed miserably, heat blazing in his cheeks. Finally, after what seemed like a million years of silence, Genji motioned at the infirmary with his thumb.

“[Yes, you could.]”

Without further explanation, Genji left, leaving Hanzo to stare at the doors he had just walked out of.

He could?