Dorado
Alright, so Hanzo was a little more comfortable with this new idea than previously expected.
Maybe it was the fact that opinions of him had changed when word got around about him- he would have to tell an embarrassing story about Genji sometime to be even that he had told everyone. Maybe it was the fact that luckily, he had left out that little detail about him and McCree.
It was good. That bit would come in time, if ever.
Dorado, however, came around a lot sooner than expected, and it wasn’t until about three days beforehand that he realized that he needed something to wear.
Where do you get a suit tailored in three days? He had some tight-fitting shirts that he could wear a nice jacket over, but that was only semi-formal.
He had already asked around, but nobody had offered anything useful. 76 had graciously given an odd look and held up a stiff, white, collared shirt that Hanzo had to politely decline because, besides the fact that his chest was probably way too broad to fit 76’s shirts, something about borrowing from him didn’t sit well.
The soldier did, however, point him in the direction of Ana, who agreed almost immediately to help him out. He had offered payment, but she seemed happy just to help, and the next morning, she had dismantled a set of old janitor suits to make a proper tailcoat and pants.
Modelling for her and letting her take his measurements was an awkward affair, but she didn’t seem to mind. The suit was finally done the day before they went to Dorado on a private jet provided by LumeriCo.
It was a decent enough size for all who came, with all the necessities needed to pamper them. LumeriCo had really gone all out. There was a table in the center of the compartment with cup holders, and the cabinets below functioned as a fridge for all kind of drinks. Unsurprisingly, that was the first thing that caught Jesse's eye, and he spent most of his time before take off rooting through like he was looking for his brand.
Somehow, Hanzo doubted that they had anything McCree was used to drinking.
They did, however, have sake, and not just one kind, but all high end. Garyubai, Choryu Tsukihi Kasanete, and his absolute favorite that was so specific he wondered if they had found it in his files somewhere. Dassai 23. Hanzo poured himself a bit and tipped it back, closing his eyes and letting the burn bleed down his throat, fruity and smoother than molten gold.
"Y'know, that sake's not half bad but... I prefer a little bite to my liquor."
"Ha!" Hanzo huffed unconvincingly, "How predictable. Such unsophisticated taste."
"Well fine then, lemme taste some'a yers," he said, putting on that handsome pout and holding out his hand. Hanzo obliged and poured another glass, handing it to Jesse, but when he reached for it, Hanzo pulled back a little.
"Taste it. Do not take it like a shot."
"Sure, darlin'," Jesse agreed, and took the little white glass. Hanzo poured himself another while Jesse waited, and then he lifted his glass.
"Cheers."
"Kampai."
'They tilted back at the same time, but Hanzo lowered himself sooner to take in McCree's face. He had his eyes closed, and his nostrils flared. His cheeks pinkened and his mouth puckered a bit.
When the taste settled, he let out a long whistle.
"Never had that kinda sake before."
"Then you have never had good sake."
McCree shrugged like the matter wasn't even up for debate.
"Alright, partner now it's yer turn," McCree said, eyes suddenly sparkling with mischief. He offered up a tall, clear, crystalline bottle. Inside was a dark liquid that reminded Hanzo of flat cola.
Hanzo cringed at it, and McCree laughed.
"C'mon, this is the fancy stuff."
Hanzo cringed deeper, but held out his hand.
"That's the spirit," Jesse said and poured two glasses. Hanzo took his, glowered at it, and then pinched his nose and tipped it back.
He had no idea that you could put cancer in a bottle. The burn was nothing new, but the taste was ugly.
He wrinkled his nose.
"You must be very desperate for a drink to choose this," he remarked finally, and set the glass down. McCree laughed again, that deep, rich sound that captivated everyone who heard it with resonance like an acoustic guitar.
"You should try the cheap shit," Jesse said, taking another sip.
"You mean rubbing alcohol?" Hanzo said sarcastically, earning another chuckle. He was on a roll today with making Jesse laugh, apparently.
He shook his head and poured himself another small glass of sake.
~
Jesse ran his hand over his jaw to test his stubble, making sure that it was even. The collar on his undershirt was nice and stiff, his sleeves were rolled neatly, and his hair was behaving itself. He took a step back to admire his work, adjusting the crown jewel, his belt buckle, and he took a mental note to suck up to Lena over the next few days. She had picked out his outfit since this was everyday fashion for her, and he had to admit, he looked good.
He wore a full burgundy suit with a white, collared undershirt and a black bowtie that he had let Lena talk him into.
He had not, however, let her talk him out of his earrings and belt buckle. This one was a rose with thorns twisting out to either side, pure gold to match his modest golden studs.
Outside, the party had already begun, and even though this was the last official day of the Festival of Lights, it would probably continue for days after LumeriCo stopped hosting. It was one of those where when the party ends, it doesn't really end. It just moves somewhere else.
He hoped to god his deodorant would hold through the night, because he couldnt imagine doing what he had planned without sweating.
He was going to dance with Hanzo. That was his one goal for the night was to get a dance in, even if it took every bit of charisma he could muster. Because, realistically, he didn't think Hanzo knew what he was up to. He probably just thought McCree had invited him for a guy's night.
Which wasn't technically wrong, but...
He huffed at himself, and straightened his collar one more time before finally leaving the mirror. With one last deep breath, he stood up straight and stepped outside.
Lantern lights were strung from the rooftops, lacing over the courtyard in a sparse net of gold. There were buffet tables set under the roofs at the edges of the courtyard and a local band was set up on the side that overlooked the sea. They were playing something mildly electronic, but slow and acoustic at the same time.
Most of the Overwatch agents had left the hotel early to come, but looking around, Jesse realized Hanzo still wasn’t there. His collar suddenly felt a little bit too tight, and he plucked at it nervously. What if he wasn’t going to show up at all?
It was another forty minutes or so before Hanzo arrived to ease Jesse’s nerves.
The music was at just the right volume that it was the main background noise of the party, but you could talk over it if you wanted to, and the lights had dimmed into shades of red and violet and yellow.
Jesse couldn’t imagine Hanzo meant to make a scene in showing up, but his presence kind of demanded attention even when he wasn’t impeccably dressed in a black suit with striking snow white detail. He wore a matching ribbon around his waist that was long enough to trail him the same way his hair ribbon usually did. His hair was down now except for the two strands at the front that were pinned back.
All of this combined with his presence put a considerable dent in the chatter. Of course, he noticed, but he didn’t tone himself down. If anything, he raised his chin a bit like he was coldly inviting some imagined criticism that he expected.
If the rest of the people there were intrigued, McCree was awestruck.
Hanzo locked eyes with him from the entrance and immediately started making his way over.
Jesse floundered for something suave to say.
“Almost thought ya weren’t comin’,” he said instead, sounding sheepish.
Dammit.
But Hanzo’s mouth quirked like he wanted to smile.
“I would not miss the chance.”
Chance? The chance for what? To dance? To be with McCree? To see the lights? It didn’t really matter. All of those possibilities made Jesse dizzy with joy.
The first place they went was to the buffet at the edge of the courtyard. Hanzo peered down at the variety of Texican food with a wary eye, his plate empty until Jesse started pointing out things that he might like.
“These right here are my favorite, but I dunno if you’d like it. Ya don’t like liquor, so ya prolly don’t like spice,” he said, pointing out the Mango con Chile’s, but Hanzo put a few slices on his plate with the tongs.
“I like spicy,” he said shortly, and moved on down the line.
They ended up not eating all that much, but Hanzo had apparently decided that Mango con Chile was his new favorite, and McCree eagerly filed that information away.
It must have been close to midnight when the lights turned from blue back to violet and red, and McCree found his head bobbing to the sweet, gentle thrum of the band’s song. There was the soft sound of singing, almost swallowed up by the music, but that gave it a sort of distant quality that he could appreciate. He closed his eyes and let himself sway a bit.
“Jesse,” Hanzo said, voice so gentle McCree wondered if he had actually heard it. He opened his eyes and hummed in acknowledgement.
“Would you like to dance?”
Jesse’s eyes snapped open and he looked at Hanzo, whose dark silvery-brown eyes peered at him with intensity like a storm cloud. He thought his heart was going to pop, but he tried to stay calm when he quirked his head and replied, “Sure, darlin’.”
He thought he saw Hanzo blush.
Jesse took his hand when they walked away from the table and paused. He wasn’t sure whether or not he should lead, but Hanzo seemed to already have that covered, so Jesse followed him as he placed his hands on Jesse’s shoulders.
He had his eyes on the ground, and his ears were red, but he didn’t seem to have any trouble dancing. In fact, Hanzo was the very essence of radiance, white ribbon tracing his dance in a violet trail, broad shoulders set back like an emperor, feet gliding over the green lawn in beautiful spirals and side-steps as he led the dance beneath the lanterns. Jesse was struck by him, dazzled in the rosy light that was cast over his dramatic features and doing his best to keep up with what should have been such a basic dance, but had turned into something more brilliant than a sunset on the sea by Dorado.
But he shamed himself. How could he have expected anything less than divine? He was, after all, dancing with dragons here.
But Hanzo was so shy. McCree wondered if it was the publicity, or the dancing, or just the closeness that added that blush that saw when the light faded back to champagne.
Jesse tentatively pulled him closer, and he looked up with caution, letting their gazes meet. McCree watched his face in a trance as the multicolored lights bled onto his sharp cheekbones, casting glimmers into those stormy eyes that made him hold his breath in anticipation of the thunder to come.
And Hanzo looked back with an expression that made him feel like he was the only one in the courtyard.
McCree hoped to God and everything holy that Hanzo wouldn’t be offended. He leaned down, letting his eyes fall shut as he closed the distance between them.
But his lips met the tip of Hanzo’s finger instead. He was looking at the ground again with his ever-unreadable expression.
“Darlin’?” Jesse said, pulling away from Hanzo for a moment.
“I must go,” Hanzo said abruptly, and without any further explanation, pushed away from him, back towards the hotel where the Overwatch agents were staying.
McCree took a step after him, but stopped short, watching as the tip of his white ribbon vanished around the corner.
Had he done something?