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Hanzo Shimada has loved Jesse McCree for years.
And for years, he remained silent.
It started with this rowdy young American man that flirted with anyone that caught the gleam in his eye, who visited his manor for far too short a time and which he later regretted having never gotten to properly know the man. Over time, he somehow wormed his way into Hanzo’s heart and he was never sure of how to handle it. He knew at first, given the circumstances, that it was a fleeting thing something that he couldn’t involve himself with for too long. When he first discovered this fact, he hated it. It would be just his luck that he’d find him again, surrounded by people he called family, including his own brother.
People that he assured Hanzo could be his family too. He doesn’t remember me, he’d thought, with a hint of sadness. All the better to squash the feelings he had before, yes?
It didn’t hurt as much at first. Possibly because he hadn’t known Jesse as personally then as he did now. Jesse wasn’t the head of the operation in the business trade with Hanzo and Genji’s father, and Hanzo hadn’t ever given him his name, nor Genji’s. It was silly. Fleeting.
It started out small. It always does.
He had wondered from time to time when the sound of Jesse’s laugh became more pleasant to him than he cared to admit. Wondered when he grew accustomed to the smell of those terrible cigarillos he smoked. Wondered when he found himself wishing Jesse would turn his soft smile to him more often.
His company became comforting, welcoming. The boisterous laughter, the jingling of his ridiculous spurs and loud footsteps to accompany the largeness of his being, the twang of a guitar in the night when he sat on the watchpoint’s balcony alone to clear his head. His eagerness, playfulness, the wholeness of his presence.
Jesse had looked so different now, but Hanzo could never forget the smile he wore. That was different now too, but it still held an edge of playfulness that the younger Jesse had. It told Hanzo he was in trouble.
There’s a memory, of his maskless brother and Jesse laughing at something Lúcio had joked about. That loud, rambunctious laugh rang out as he grasped Genji’s shoulder for support, his brother fared no better as he doubled over, the both of them wearing their faces out from smiling too much. The sight alone of his brother still able to retain his humorous side was enough to warm Hanzo’s chest, but when Jesse looked to him, still grinning, Hanzo felt the warmth increase twofold.
He had tried to pinpoint exactly what it was that made him think this way, that made him feel this way, but he couldn’t find a start or an end. It was everything. Everything, all at once. He hadn’t had the time to get to know him back then, and admittedly at first, he didn’t want to. But now that they were working together, it was hard to avoid it.
When did he begin to enjoy Jesse’s laugh? His smile? His scruffy, tanned face and wild, unbrushed hair hidden beneath his cowboy hat? His voice, his absurd accent and his almighty confusing southern idioms? Was it because he wished they could have been more, when they were younger, only to have Jesse leave him behind and forget about him? It was a business trip, after all, and Hanzo was young and had many duties to attend to. It didn’t help that Jesse had grown into a very appealing man. A very kind one. Someone that made him feel welcome, made him feel like he still had a home, a new family. Who made sure that he knew he belonged somewhere. Maybe that was why.
Even then, he still knew one thing:
it starts out small.
And then it grows, and grows. Unlike a garden starving for drop of water, he was met with all the rain needed to make that garden grow. Bountiful, never ceasing, he was given possibly too much, and the garden was soon left unattended. It grew, far beyond its boundaries, up to the point that Hanzo was certain it would grow past his ribcage, twine vines around his ribs and crawl out of his chest.
Which was why he wondered how--as if this was a punishment of sorts--he eventually came to find himself staring at a befuddled Jesse, who held a small crying child in his hands after finding it in the arms of its deceased parents. Under a collapsed roof, no less, waiting for the dust to settle so he could see clearly. Unfortunately so, the screaming never ceased from the little one, it mirrored his own thoughts as he watched Jesse stare helplessly at the tiny bundle of distress he held while he sat on his knees next to the two less than lucky bodies on the floor.
The rubble clattered and settled around them, Hanzo hurried to his side and looked down at the poor thing he held in his big, trembling hands. Rocks clattered to break the otherwise unbearable silence of the disaster that had occurred.
“Hanzo,” he rasped, his voice shaky, eyes blown wide in shock. Hanzo recalled memories of Jesse’s panic attacks just from the look in his eyes, and he became worried for the man. “We can’t just leave her here.”
He utters it like he’s already made his decision. He looks up at Hanzo with desperation, like he’s begging him without asking. Hanzo watched him for a long moment, thoughts a static mess along with the condition of the rest of the world around them.
He’s silent. Can’t find the words, doesn’t know how to react. Many things spring to the surface of his mind, hesitations and denials, refusals and compromises all alike. He wars with himself for a moment, knowing exactly what Jesse was implying with his words and the way he searched Hanzo’s eyes as if he wished for the discussion to go unspoken. A mutual understanding.
Hanzo understands.
He chooses.
They bring the child back to the base. He remembers the shock and disbelief on Lena and Angela’s faces, the concern, Jesse’s weariness. Angela looked over the little girl, searching for injury. She became adored amongst the others, everyone had a turn in looking after the little one. The baby loved Lena, and Lúcio and Hana, cried whenever Törbjorn tried to hold her, much to his chagrin. She screamed in delight when Winston held her, surprising him. “She likes me!” He’d uttered happily, glad she wasn’t fearful of him. And then there was Genji, god, Genji was a whole other story, absolutely thrilled at her presence. She was wholly confused at his mask, but it made ‘peek-a-boo’ all the funnier to play with her. Whenever Genji laughed, the girl laughed with him. Contagious; and she had a habit of reaching for his scarf to yank as hard as she could--Hanzo had similar sour luck with her in how grabby she was.
And Hanzo...it was an awful weakness. He would always hold her with absolute care, watch her like a hawk, make sure she wasn’t left alone. He was not as jovial as the others were, but there was a soft spot in his heart for the infant when she’d show interest in his attention. Be careful, he’d tell himself, be careful with her.
They soon noticed at how the child showed a lack in response to their voices, no matter who it was. Lena tried snapping her fingers and got no response, Jesse would give a brief whistle and she wouldn’t even flinch. Genji would deflate when she didn’t respond to his calls or chirps, she no longer responded to his laughs nor his calls for her attention.
“She appears to be deaf,” Was what Angela had told them after examining her again. She suggested cochlear implants, to which Hanzo swiftly denied her of before anyone else, perhaps a little too quickly. They made do, though, everyone who was willing tried to practice basic sign language gestures just for her. Everyone had a hand in her care. Jesse, however, was the most attentive. He recalls another memory from when he walked in on Jesse settling her against his hip one afternoon, humming low despite that she couldn’t hear him. He saw the cowboy smile at her and she began giggling, reaching up to try and grab his beard. It warmed his chest, feeling affectionate from a distance, knowing that he couldn’t get too close.
“You’ve grown very attached to her,” Hanzo joked at one point, while watching him cradle her against his chest, wrapped in his serape like a blanket. Jesse looked up at him with a weak grin, not something like defeat, but more that he had yielded to accepting that he had, indeed, grown far too attached to the little one.
Eventually, Hanzo followed in line with Jesse. It was a weakness, something he couldn’t fight if he tried. The way she smiled at him and giggled and clutched to his chest when he lulled her to sleep, it was hard to turn her away. “Well, if she’s staying she’s going to need a name,” Angela commented. Hanzo half wished she hadn’t, it was bad enough that he felt he didn’t want to let the child go. Naming it would only make it worse.
“Kanna,” he replied after a moment, as if he’d already thought of it before, missing the way Jesse looked at him with a fondness and surprise.
“I like it.” Jesse. Hanzo flicked his gaze up to the cowboy, the two sharing a look of mutual agreement. His heart skipped a beat, then.
A year later, he finds himself in a whole new predicament, one he never remotely imagined he’d be in.
He lies on a bed in a house along a quiet, rainy town. It’s a nice place. Nobody bothers them, and they bother no one else. Nothing more than greetings and departures, brief interactions that aren’t prolonged into anything they’d rather not be involved with. The house is good, despite how often it rained in the neighborhood.
He can hear the muffled noise of the TV outside the bedroom door, and he looks down. There’s a fragile, soft infant girl lying on his chest, snoozing away as he naps with the pitter-patter of 3 o’ clock rain outside. He laid his head back down and let loose a sigh, closing his eyes. The baby shifts, he instinctively raises a hand to steady her, runs a thumb across one of her small shoulders.
The clicking of a doorknob brings him out of his former thoughts, the bedroom door opens, and the tall, lumbering figure of Jesse wanders into the room. He holds one hand in his front pocket and the other carries a mug. He tries to quiet his footsteps as he enters, face soft.
“Just wanted to check on y’all,” he whispers to Hanzo, “Dang if she don’t sleep heavier’n I do.” He laughs quietly, averting his gaze from Kanna up to Hanzo.
It still gives him the same feeling it did years ago.
He remained silent, allowing himself to indulge in the little gestures and shared looks. He always did. He never told anyone, not even his own brother, lest someone give him the smallest sliver of hope that what he felt would be reciprocated.
Jesse leans on the wall nearby and smiles down at him. A familiar one, the same one he wore when Hanzo held the baby against his shoulder at the base, already attached. A sweet, tender smile, one only meant for him.
Only him. He hoped. Hoped too much.
“Y’sleep well?”
Hanzo grunted in response, reaching up a hand to scrub at one tired eye. “What time is it?”
“A lil’ after three. Looks like the rain knocked you two out.” He grinned a little, and then his brows suddenly raised when he saw the child begin to stir on Hanzo’s chest. “Oh, damn, I didn’t wanna wake her.”
Hanzo shook his head, bringing his hands up to steady her on his chest. “It was not you. We’ve slept long enough for the day.”
Kanna fusses as they wake, and they take her to the kitchen to feed her while the TV attempts to drown out the mess of thoughts in Hanzo’s head. He watches silently as Jesse tries to get her to eat, looking more fatherly than he could imagine himself being.
They’ve done this for a year. He hates it when the realization comes back to hit him, making him tense for a moment. He knew Jesse wasn’t going to let her go. Out of everyone else, he had become the most protective, the most caring for her, and she grew attached to him. Almost as much as she grew attached to Genji. A bittersweet feeling gnawed at his gut at the thought.
He was at a loss when her attention was directed to him, and completely defeated when he’d manage to make her giggle.
“Atta girl,” he looks up to the sound of Jesse’s voice, knocked from his thoughts, “all full?” Kanna burbled in response and Jesse chuckled. He and Hanzo switch places as Jesse goes to set the dishes in the sink, while Hanzo cleaned her up, dabbing around her mouth and cheeks with a napkin. He hoists her out of the chair and into his arms, bouncing her on his hip ever so slightly as she reaches out to grab at his undone hair.
“Not the hair again, you little thief,” Hanzo smirks down at her as she persists, seemingly completely unbothered that she’s denied the right to yank a lock of hair at least once.
“I know it’s been a while,” Hanzo glances over to Jesse again, now with his cup of coffee in hand, “But I’m real glad we managed to get a house like this. It’s unreal how close it is t’ the old one I had as a kid.” He takes a sip of his drink before continuing, looking out the window to the stormy landscape. “Only difference is there’s less tumbleweeds n’ lizards.”
Hanzo can’t help himself. He chuckles, looking down at Kanna, brushing back the soft shock of black hair atop her head. “What’s so funny?” He hears the taller man ask.
“ You are all the tumbleweed this place needs,” he jokes gently, small smile still on his face as he glances up to Jesse only for a moment before turning back to Kanna. He hears Jesse laugh, and his chest warms over again.
More often than the others realized, he’d also wondered why, of all things, would he choose to share a house with Jesse McCree to raise a child that wasn’t even theirs? ‘Retiring’ wasn’t something he thought either one of them would utter, but it had been long enough that everyone believed it was best to put Overwatch behind them. Whenever he thought about going back to Japan, to take back his estate, only bitterness was found. Like he accepted that he no longer belonged there.
That part of his history had been closed. There wasn’t anything worth reviving from a vast criminal empire that ended in cold blood. None that he cared to now, at least. Occasionally he’d have a twinge of regret, but it was usually squashed with a sense of belonging, of feeling like he could do more for the newfound family he’d made with Jesse and the others over the years, and for this little one that they had found. It wasn’t an easy conclusion to come to, but he couldn’t say he was displeased with the results.
Months go by.
Hanzo and Jesse practice sign language when Kanna is asleep in her cradle. They sit at the kitchen table, exchanging words and short phrases to one another by signing. Hanzo has always known Jesse to be somewhat touchy feely, but...since they’ve begun sharing this house together, it’s only made it worse. Perhaps to the cowboy it might not have seemed like it since he’s always been that way, but Hanzo was more acutely aware of the brief touches and gestures than he cared to admit. Eventually they would learn short phrases to say to one another and sometimes only use signing to talk to get a better foothold on what they had learned. There were times when it was serious practice, and other times they got comfortable enough with it that goofing off was more common.
One night they lightly bickered over making dinner, their clashing rituals for cooking made them bump into each other often, when Hanzo idly complained about the weather in-between. “Well you shouldn’t be cold because you cover up properly now,” Jesse signed to him, and he puffed.
“I can cover myself better than you can hide your fat head,” Hanzo signed back, punching Jesse on the shoulder and earning him a laugh.
When they practiced, Jesse would sometimes gently grab Hanzo’s hands when he wanted him to stop so he could understand something better, pat him on the shoulder and let his hand linger a little too long.
Sometimes he’d even succeed in getting Hanzo to smirk or hide a laugh, and out of habit he’d try to cover his mouth. Grabbing his hands was a way to avoid that. “ How come I ain’t seen you laugh like that more often?” He remembers Jesse joking with him, “ Enough, you are being ridiculous,” Hanzo responded, smiling. Hanzo couldn’t tell if Jesse did it deliberately, or if he was unaware of what he was doing.
“Jesse,” he says aloud, distinctly aware of how flustered he must seem when Jesse doesn’t let go of his hands, grinning at him like he’s caught him in his web, “we have to teach her correctly, or she’ll become a pariah.”
“I know, I know.” He replies, now looking at their hands. “Just…”
Hanzo tenses, feeling like there’s a weight to that one word. Jesse’s hesitating on something, Hanzo can see it. It’s the kind of pause where you expect a certain thing to come forth, something you aren’t ready to deal with, and as much as Hanzo would love to wring his hands away, he’s stuck. Can’t move for the life of him. That one, accursed part of his mind genuinely likes the contact no matter how often he tried to resist it.
A part of Jesse’s mouth perks up, squinting the eye above it briefly before he shakes his head, returning the easy smile back to Hanzo. “Ah, nevermind,” he says as though he’s conceding, “just appreciate you bein’ patient with me. This ain’t somethin’ I ever thought I’d learn.”
Hanzo huffs, curling his fingers in, and finally Jesse releases his hands so that they can continue their practicing. His mind always lingers on the contact long after it’s happened. It’s not like he has much else to distract himself with anyway, and when he does, Jesse comes lumbering back into his thoughts with how casual and homely he’s made everything in the household.
He drops his head on Hanzo’s shoulder when he does the dishes or cooks, whines about what kind of food he wants to eat. He’s beginning to develop a habit of sleeping in Hanzo’s bed because Kanna’s crib is in the same room. He’s even gone and managed to stop smoking like a chimney when Hanzo suggests it’s not good for Kanna.
One day it hits him hard, when Kanna fusses non-stop in Jesse’s arms no matter how much he attempted to calm her down, “Aw, settle down, honey,” he tried to soothe, knowing full well she couldn’t hear him, “your dad’s right there. See? You want him?”
The title alone was enough to choke Hanzo on the inside, even more so when the little one reached out to him, in her own childish language saying I want you to hold me instead . And through all of his attempts to not look like he’d just been handed the key to the world when Jesse swapped Kanna over to him, he let himself believe that just this once, he could see them as a legitimate family. Not two friends who agreed to raise a child and have the rest of their companions visit them to spend time with her as well. An actual family.
Too much , he thought to himself, chest hurting, too close. Enough with your delusional fantasy.
Kanna’s bawling stopped near immediately when Hanzo settled her in his arms, running a hand through the long mass of black hair atop her head and forcing a smile down at her. She looked up at him with wide, teary eyes, as Jesse handed him a napkin to help dry her face off. Her tiny hand fisted into the collar of his shirt, refusing to let go as she suddenly began inspecting the fabric as though it was fascinating to her.
He never imagined someone would need him in such a way, even if Kanna was just an infant. Leaving behind his empire meant leaving behind any chances of having heirs to the clan’s throne, any actual chance to have a future.
A family.
“Hey,” Jesse’s voice brought him out of his daze, “y’alright?” Hanzo looked up to Jesse, who was watching him with minor concern.
Hanzo turned his gaze away then, nodding sharply, a little too quickly, “Yes,” he says quietly, gently tapping the bottom of Kanna’s chin to divert her attention back to him so she could see him smile at her, “you are just usually much better at calming her down than I am.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Jesse unintentionally crowds Hanzo, stepping closer so he can look down at Kanna with him. Hanzo’s skin prickles. “She gets real fussy when you’re away, y’know.”
Hanzo knows, he has no reply. He recalls a startling moment when he had to leave for the day to run errands, and the mistake was made when he handed Kanna over to Jesse so he could gather the keys to his car; halfway out the door she began to cry, a sorrowful sound that neither of them were used to. “ Man she is not happy that you’re leavin’ ,” Jesse had commented, through all Hanzo’s attempts to ease her.
Hanzo’s hands tremble in the present, against Kanna as she continues to tug on his collar. Your dad’s right there.
He wonders if he’ll get to hear her call him that in the future.
Another year passes.
The time comes around when their companions begin to come and visit in groups, sometimes a few at once, to pay Kanna a visit and to catch up with old friends. Not having a war to fight wasn’t something they were used to, not that they were complaining about it. Hanzo definitely hadn’t expected this outcome to his life. At most, he had only two scenarios that he’d thought about before when he actually had the time to think about them: when it was all over, he’d either continue traveling the world like he had done before, or the other option which was less...pleasant. One half of him hadn’t even expected to last this long. He hadn’t confessed to anyone other than his brother that he’d already imagined himself with an expiration date, one that he thought would happen in battle at most.
“You mustn’t think like that, brother,” he recalls Genji’s melancholy voice, a tone he didn’t think he deserved from his younger sibling, “ there is hope for the future. Someday, you will see it.”
“Hey, Hanzo!”
He looks up to find his brother with a giggling Kanna in his arms, Jesse sitting next to him on the couch and smiling at the two of them fondly. Angela and Fareeha are sitting at the kitchen table and the omnic, Zenyatta, gently floats next to the couch. Genji is looking at him with a wide grin, his teeth miraculously white against his scarred, unmasked face.
“Do you think you’ll let her dye her hair green like mine when she gets older?”
Hanzo blinks. “Absolutely not.”
Genji fakes a pout, “Aw, come on. Maybe pink, then? Hana would be proud, I bet you she’d even dye her own hair to match.”
Hanzo deadpans. He recalls when Hana was with them last, bouncing Kanna on one of her knees. He wouldn’t have pictured her as the type to be bothered with kids, but--” When you’re a celebrity you get all kinds of people shoving their baby in your face,” she had laughed.
They chatter for a while as Hanzo watches them, idly listening to their conversation. His eyes are locked on Kanna as Genji stands and holds onto her tiny hands. He attempts to walk her across the room, he’s delicate with her, grinning ear to ear, like this is the best thing he’s ever done in his life. Hanzo feels that familiar tug in his chest. He wonders if he’ll always feel it when he sees Genji smile or laugh. He wonders if he’ll ever stop feeling that twinge of regret, of bitterness towards himself, even though it has been years and the two of them have long since put their past behind them.
His eyes wander up to the shock of green hair (which is most likely synthetic, he imagines) and he softens, his shoulders slumping slightly.
Perhaps when she is older, if she likes the hair dye that much. He thinks to himself.
When they leave, Hanzo stuffs a hand into Genji’s mess of hair and ruffles it hard out of fondness, and feels a mending satisfaction when he playfully fights back in an attempt to reach for Hanzo’s hair to muss. It feels like when they were younger, and it gives him a sense of healing. A moment of reprieve from the self-deprecating thoughts he’d developed over the years.
They leave, and life returns to just Hanzo and Jesse again. They work, come home, tend to Kanna. Eat, sleep, repeat. Hanzo settles into the domestic lifestyle a lot quicker than he expects, and when he notices it himself, he can’t find a reason to resist it. It feels too comfortable with Jesse, to resist, even if they’re just friends who agreed to take care of a child. A child who is going to have several parents growing up, considering their ‘arrangement’ as a whole group.
It’s shortly after Kanna’s second birthday that Hanzo begins to feel the distant need to run away. He finds a number scrawled onto a sticky note atop the kitchen counter with a name under it; he and Jesse don’t have very many friends outside of their own group, not counting the acquaintances they work with, and he can’t help the half of him that’s curious, suspicious.
“Who is Reagen?” He calls, to Jesse, who is sitting on the couch empty handed--Kanna must be asleep in her cradle.
“Hm? Oh, yeah,” Jesse says, laughing a little. Hanzo’s suspicion rises at the slight guilty edge to the other man’s laugh. “I met her recently and gave her my number.”
His brows raise, and he turns to look at Jesse, who is still watching TV. He feels part of his stomach boiling. He can’t help the thought of denial that crosses his mind at that sentence, no, surely he couldn’t mean what I think he means.
“You met a woman,” He tries to make light, “are you making dinner plans? I’ll look after Kanna, if that’s what you want.” He adds the last part hastily, watching his fingers as he cuts up vegetables for lunch.
“Naw, I just gave it to her ‘cause I hit her car with my bike.”
Hanzo’s cutting knife stops loud and dead on the cutting board and he blinks. He turns and looks at Jesse, who is watching him from afar. “Oh.” Is all he manages to utter, and he sees Jesse’s brows raise and a slight grin appear on his face. It makes him nervous. A moment of silence passes, before the realization hits him. “You what? ”
“I was goin’ over a hill and didn’t hit my brakes in time. Didn’t do any severe damage, I promise.”
Another thing he hates is how the two of them have moments where they almost act as a hivemind. It was part of why they worked well together in battle. They could pick up what one another thought with a look, a gesture. They were close, they picked up on each others’ mannerisms, and there were times Hanzo wished Jesse wasn’t so good at catching him when he least expected it.
Like right now, for instance. Of all times.
“What kinda dinner were you expectin’ me to go out for, Hanzo?”
Hanzo turns, returning to his task. “I know how you are, that was just my first thought.” A little too defensive, he curses himself.
He hears the rise of the former gunslinger from the couch and a sound that’s in between a scoff and a laugh. “Yeah, I know, but you oughta know the only girl left for me is our princess in there. I ain’t like I used to be.”
Hanzo tries to re-grip his hold on the knife, swallowing a lump in his throat.
Our princess.
Ours.
“Ours?” He repeats the echo in his head, forcing a soft laugh. It becomes more difficult to steady his voice. “ Only ours? Are you planning on remaining here, raising her with me, until she comes of age?”
It takes a considerable amount of effort for him to not jump out of his skin when he feels Jesse’s presence close to him, to his right--he can see the shadow of his hands on his hips and his head dipped to watch him prepare the food. Or is he watching Hanzo’s face?
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
Hanzo feels the lump in his throat return, and it grips his neck, feels like it’s choking him. He darts his eyes up to Jesse’s, partly out of shock and partly because his restraint slipped and he had a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, he was smiling at him fondly. What he was met with surprised him: Jesse had his eyes on him this whole time, but part of him looked tense, almost guilty, Hanzo didn’t want to say he looked hurt because...because…?
Why is he looking at me like that?
“Really?” Hanzo asks, still trying to avoid being chased out of his shell, “you mean you have no future plans to move out? To settle down somewhere else?” His voice is quiet, it’s hard to wrench the sentence out of his throat. He sees Jesse shake his head, and Hanzo is thrown for a loop. He isn’t sure what to do or what to say, because one part of his mind is telling him to take it back, take it back and tell him that he wants it to be this way, that he wants Jesse to stay here and raise Kanna with him. And the other half, the half he’s always been the most familiar with, tells him that it’s not true, that there isn’t anything there that he can grasp onto for the hope that Jesse might be implying that he wants the same thing too.
“I ain't really thought about that much, and I'm kinda already settled down where I'm at.” Hanzo straightens his shoulders and back at that, anxiety welling, “And besides, she’s got a family in all of us, Han,” He responds, the low baritone of his voice washes over him, “ain’t like it’ll matter if one or two more are added to the list, if you're thinkin’ what I think you're imagining.”
The words clench Hanzo’s stomach again, and he finally stops his movements, setting the knife down flat and looking back down to the cutting board. There wasn’t an agreement or a denial. Hanzo isn’t sure what to make of that statement. The reality of their situation comes back to him, and he realizes that he’d grown too comfortable in his own little world once again.
Your dad’s right there, see?
Before Hanzo can think up another reply, they both hear the distant cries of Kanna in her crib.
“Shit--” They both move at the same time to go after her, but Jesse is faster, “I got ‘er, I got ‘er.”
He disappears into the other room, and Hanzo is left alone with his thoughts again.
He doesn’t feel like cooking anymore.
As the months roll by, he wonders how a person can live with their best friend and long-time crush for so long and not crumble under the pressure. He wouldn’t even call it a crush because he knows for a fact that he’s been head-over-heels with Jesse for so long, he’s surprised at himself for not packing up and fleeing, leaving the cowboy to take care of Kanna by himself.
They continue to watch her grow, and Hanzo can’t help but feel proud at how sweet and charming Kanna is growing to be. A handful of their companions manage to get together to celebrate her third birthday; they all share in practicing signing with her, make her laugh, take turns holding and playing with her.
He watches Jesse pick her up and tickle her, trapping her in one strong arm as she squeals with laughter and he smiles down at her, his barks of laughter filling the backyard alongside hers. It hits him, then, that they’ve been doing this for three years now.
Three years.
Three years, atop so many more, and he hasn’t uttered a single word to anyone about how much it hurts sometimes that he can’t bring himself to confess to Jesse. He’s accepted in himself that there will probably be three more years of silence, and then three more, and so forth, until he’s forced to watch Jesse find a partner that’s good to him and gets him to move out--
“Damn, this kid’s wearin’ me out,” He sees Jesse lumbering up the back porch stairs to come stand by him, tired out from all of Kanna’s energy. “You doin’ alright up here?”
“Quite fine. It’s amusing to watch a tall man such as yourself be outsmarted by a three year old.” He jabs at Jesse, who feigns being insulted, laughing.
“If she’s got this much energy now we’re gonna have a hell of a time when she gets older,” Jesse says, and the smile briefly falls from Hanzo’s face. “Y’know, Genji’s real good with her,” he comments, and Hanzo swallows.
“He is. He has always been more excitable, more…” Fatherly, he wants to say, but the thought cuts him suddenly, like he accidentally nicked his finger with a knife when cooking. He has always been better at what you lacked in.
“I can totally see him bein’ a dad,” Unfortunate that Jesse so unintentionally voices Hanzo’s thoughts, “he’s gotten her to even eat her vegetables. I tried so damn hard and she wasn’t havin’ it.”
“Perhaps it is merely your cooking.”
“Hey now, you love my cookin’.”
“Very few select dishes. Moonpies do not count.”
“You still like it though,” Hanzo can practically hear his eyebrows waggling.
“I will admit it when there is proof.”
“C’mon, now,” Jesse nudges him, grinning ear to ear as Hanzo turns to look at him, and he can’t help but smile back. He’s got your heart wrapped around his finger.
He returns to the others then, and Genji joins him in replacement of Jesse while Lena play-wrestles with her. “Oh, you got me!” She cries as she falls to the ground and Kanna raises both hands in the air in victory.
“She’s gotten really good at signing,” he hears Genji’s voice next to him, the pat of his hand on his shoulder, “I can’t believe she’s already three.”
“She favors you the most, it seems,” Hanzo jokes.
“I’m telling you,” Genji ruffles a hand through his own hair, “it’s the hair. Kids love bright hair colors.” He grins, and Hanzo returns it.
They watch Hana and Lúcio play tag with Kanna in the backyard, Angela joins them and leaves Fareeha to watch from the table nearby and converse with Jesse instead. It’s quiet, for a while, on the porch and in the presence of his brother.
“You and Jesse are doing a good job,” Genji speaks up again, switching to Japanese, “You’re a convincing family.” His tone of voice makes Hanzo’s skin prickle slightly out of nervousness, like there’s a teasing, suspicious hint in his words. He knows he's speaking in stealth for a reason.
“We are a family,” he replies, “just as you are to her, and Angela, and Hana. All of us.”
“You know exactly what I meant,” Genji blurts, playfully bumping his shoulder into Hanzo and he’s certain he feels himself sweat, “you two work great together. Are you guys actually...y’know?”
“ Genji, ” Hanzo retorts quickly, shoving Genji back despite his brother’s shit-eating grin, “how-- why are you assuming this?”
“It’s hard not to, I’ve seen the way you look at McCree.” Hanzo is considering his former impulse to run away. Hanzo huffs, turning his head away despite Genji’s persistence, “C’mon, are you serious? All this time I thought there was something going on between you two.”
“Is that what everyone else thought, too?”
“Kind of, yeah.”
“Are you serious.”
“You two hung out a lot back on the base, during missions and free-time. Plus I haven’t seen anyone else make you laugh like he does. Nobody really has to say anything, they can see with their own eyes too, you know.” Genji smiles to himself, “It looked like he took a lot of stress off your shoulders. I was kind of happy to hear you two agreed to move in and take care of Kanna. I thought it was official.”
Hanzo curls his fingers under a folded arm, thumb fidgeting with the handle of a mug in one hand, grinding his teeth. He knows Genji is looking at him, now, and he can’t bring himself to hide how he looks, how he feels about all of this. He hates others prying into his business, even if Genji is his brother. This wasn’t exactly something he was keen on opening up and examining. He’d convinced himself that he was okay with just waiting it out, no matter how withering it is. It’s been years , he reminds himself.
“Hanzo?” He turns to look at his brother, who is watching him with a knowing expression. “You two really aren’t anything other than friends?”
“Yes, I thought that was obvious already.” He responds a little more sharply than he intends, turning away to watch Jesse and the others. He sighs, closing his eyes, rubbing at his face, “I am sorry.”
Genji shakes his head, understanding. “I know you, Hanzo.” He says nothing, wanting to leave the conversation behind, but Genji is making it difficult. He has an opening, an offer, and he isn’t sure he wants to avoid it.
It’s been so long. Years. He’s said nothing. Have the others figured it out before he, himself, did?
“You like him, don’t you?” Genji’s voice is quiet this time, comforting, but Hanzo says nothing. He continues to watch Jesse. Swallows a lump in his throat. Genji notices. “Oh,” He doesn’t want to hear this. Not yet. Not out loud, not when he couldn’t say it to himself, or to anyone else first.
“You love him.”
He grips the mug in his hand, the three words constricting around him and threatening to suffocate him. He can’t bring himself to deny the assumption or confirm it. If he speaks, he’s sure to fall under. Never, in all his years, did he think it would have been revealed like this. He hadn’t planned to tell anyone, no matter how much he was tempted to do so.
“Hanzo...hey, look at me,” Genji gently prods, and Hanzo does so, reluctantly, “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just messing around.”
“...It’s fine,” he says finally, it’s really not . “I know you.” Genji offers a small, lopsided smile.
“You...really do, then?” He asks once more, and all he can do is respond with a sharp nod. “For how long? You look really troubled.”
Hanzo feels stiff, near sickness, trying to dig the words out as best as he could. “Years.” He utters, deflating, relinquishing himself. Like taking a huge breath after a long run. “Far too many years.”
“How many?”
“Before father passed. Before…” Hanzo lingers, didn’t have it in him to finish the sentence.
Genji was silent for a while, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed, thinking hard. It was long ago. Hanzo can see when the realization hits him. His eyes slowly widen and his brows raise near into his hairline, mouth agape. “Holy shit,” he says. It was hard for them to not be familiar with the ridiculous American that paraded around, flirting with everyone. He distinctly recalls Genji even being a target once, but at the time, it was far more lighthearted.
“And you haven’t said anything? Not one word?” Genji exclaims quietly, in shock, grabbing Hanzo’s shoulder. “Why haven’t you told me?”
“It is not that easy.”
“Did you just think that you’d eventually get over it?”
“At first, unfortunately,” Hanzo replied wryly, “clearly I was mistaken.”
“I don’t see how you’ve kept so quiet about this for so long,” Neither do I, Hanzo thinks, “talk to me, brother.”
“What is there to say?” Hanzo says, an edge of weakness to his voice, “what could I tell you? You’ve already figured it out for yourself, there is nothing left to discuss.”
“Then perhaps it’s not me you should be talking to about this.”
Hanzo knows immediately what that suggests. He snaps a look over to Genji, who is mirroring his expression in a challenging way. “No,” he responds, “you know I cannot do that.”
“Why not?” Genji persists, and Hanzo feels a headache rising, “Are you afraid that it’ll make things awkward? Jesse isn’t the type of guy to just pack up and leave because of something like that.” When Hanzo says nothing, he continues, “Talk to him, Hanzo. The worst that could happen is that he just doesn’t reciprocate.”
Hanzo sighs, closing his eyes and dipping his head. After keeping it withheld for so long, he isn’t sure how he would even go about it. Thinking of all of the ways it could go wrong prevented him from even trying.
“You know I’ll be here for you for whatever happens.”
Hanzo looks at him weakly, thanks him anyway.
He ignores the advice and puts it off. Again.
Kanna is a lot more lively at the age of three. Bonding with her becomes a more frequent task than when she was an infant. She wants to play, wants to go out more, wants the help of either Hanzo or Jesse when she studies or sometimes wants their company when watching TV. She’s able to converse with them now, however juvenile her sentences are. Jesse walks her through the living room with her feet atop his, he play-wrestles with her and somehow, to Hanzo’s dismay, convinces her that nothing exists outside of bubble baths. She watches them both take turns cooking and sits in Hanzo’s lap while he watches TV, scribbling in her favorite coloring book. Hanzo sometimes sits on the floor and lets her brush his hair and braid it, and Jesse comes home with a smile on his face when he sees that she stuck some of her favorite hair clips in the back of Hanzo’s hair.
And she scares the living daylights out of them both when she’s heard running out of her room, crying, completely distraught from the severe storm outside. She goes to Hanzo first, jumps into his bed and wakes him up. He startles, instinct telling him to reach for the knife he has under his pillow. He quickly switches the nightstand lamp on so he can see her panicked signing.
“Monster!” She hiccups, still trying to sign, “monster!”
Jesse comes stumbling into the room in disarray, a worried look on his face. Hanzo gathers Kanna up in his arms, holds her close, tries to calm her down as he watches the tall man sigh in the doorway.
“It is alright,” Hanzo tells Jesse, “she says there’s a monster in her room.”
“Ah, geez,” Jesse rubs at his forehead, walks up to them, sits on the edge of the bed to ruffle her soft black hair. He raises his hands to sign to her, “monster where?”
She lets go of Hanzo to reply, “in my room! I see shadows!”
“Probably just the light from the streetlight outside,” Jesse mumbles, “we’ll get rid of it, okay?” he signs back, and he can see the way Jesse changes when Kanna smiles up at him when he signs this to her.
They stay to their word for her, inspect her room, look for any signs that might be the reason for scaring her. Jesse finds a branch from the tree outside too close to her window that got caught and banged against it, casting spiny dark lines across the curtains. Hanzo carries her in his arms, lets her rest her head on his shoulder as he lets her watch Jesse open the window and smack the branch away.
When all is said and done, she still makes it very clear that she doesn’t want to sleep alone tonight. She’s a child, after all, they couldn’t expect to just force her to stay in her room after she’d been scared to tears. Jesse crowds them, gets close, a little too close despite Hanzo’s inner protests, resting a hand on Kanna’s head to brush her hair affectionately.
“Stay with papa,” she signs, and Hanzo doesn’t miss how Jesse’s eyes widen very briefly, it’s a mirror of his own reaction. The two of them glance between each other, he can sense something from the taller man, something that he can’t put his finger on.
“Me or Hanzo?” Jesse replies to her, and she holds up two fingers. Both. She wants to stay with both of us.
He and Jesse glance at each other again, and he sees a familiar hesitation in the other man’s eyes.
“Well, I mean…I wouldn’t mind.” Jesse starts, but Hanzo’s eyes flick up to his. His nerves flare suddenly. As if sensing his anxiety, Jesse shakes his head and holds up one finger to her. Kanna puffs, Hanzo feels her little fingers toying with a strand of his hair. Finally she gives, and holds her arms out to Jesse, who sighs and takes her into his arms.
“I’ll stay up with her for a bit,” Jesse says as he tries his best to ignore how Kanna has a fascination with toying with his beard, “you’re the one that’s got work in the mornin’.”
Hanzo nods. “Thank you,” he says, quietly, reaching up to gently pinch Kanna on the cheek, making her squeak, causing him to smile. He leaves them and returns to his room to try and sleep, and it does not come to him easily.
He wakes up, rested, but utterly sad . He dreams of his future, of seeing Kanna grow to her fullest, of feeling accustomed to Jesse’s fingers winding through his hair and sharing gentle kisses at night. It does not help that he sometimes can’t tell what has really happened and what was imaginary. Was that brush of the hand a dream, or did it really happen? Did he imagine Jesse leaning towards him on the couch? Did Jesse actually wind a lock of his hair in between his fingers when tying it up for him?
It’s as though Jesse continues to inch closer to him as the weeks roll by. They maintain a steady lifestyle and balance between who does which chore and whose turn it is to tend to Kanna. Jesse helps him cook, helps him clean. He manages to persuade him into playing with Kanna, until he loosens up enough to lie on the floor on his back and hoist her into the air on her stomach with a pillow underneath her. Makes him tense once when cooking by threading his calloused hands into Hanzo’s hair to tie it up for him while he’s preparing the food. He holds Jesse through minor episodes up until one big panic attack brings him down, clutches him close, tries to anchor him to the world as he shakily holds an unloaded Peacekeeper in his hands.
“Don’t let ‘er see me like this--” Jesse gasped, begged him, unable to stem the flow of tears.
“I won’t,” Hanzo had replied, “I have you. It’s just us, right now. I am here.”
He still sings, makes Hanzo laugh, hums still when he rocks Kanna to sleep in his arms even though she can’t hear him. He comes home sometimes with Hanzo’s favorite treats, helps him take off his prosthetic legs and massages the stumps below his knees when they ache. Hanzo returns the kindness that Jesse has shown him over the years they’ve been doing this. There’s a creeping fear that rises in Hanzo, something that he knows he can’t avoid for much longer.
Talk to him, he hears Genji echo in his mind, despite all of his attempts to avoid it. He knows that Kanna will always have a family in them both, and with the rest of their friends, but he isn’t sure how to handle that she’s already given a title to him and Jesse. He’s never heard her call Angela ‘mom’ before, or Lena. She hasn’t even called Genji anything. A part of his mind rationalizes that it’s only because she’s still young and spends more time with Jesse and himself.
“Why no hold hands?” She asks him one day while they eat breakfast together, Jesse thankfully out doing errands.
He blinks at her, mouth halting his chewing as he tries to process what she just asked. “We hold hands all the time,” he replies, pointing to her afterwards. She shakes her head, her black hair swaying with the movement.
“You and papa,” she says. Hanzo’s fingers fidget around the spoon in his hand.
“Why would we?” he signs back, tentatively.
“All kids’ parents hold hands,” she tilts her head back up at him, resuming her eating, completely oblivious. The realization nearly floors Hanzo.
She spends the most time with Hanzo and Jesse, she’s convinced they’re her parents. He grits his teeth, feels that ache in his chest that he’d done so well to suppress over the last few months. He doesn’t have a response to her question, and luckily she’s distracted easily.
Talk to him, Genji’s voice pierces his thoughts again, and for once he briefly considers it.
Hanzo is not necessarily afraid.
He simply doesn’t think he deserves the chance to tell Jesse. He’s too careful, too methodical. He doesn’t think he deserves Kanna, either. Doesn’t think he deserves any affection Jesse could give him. Sometimes, he’s still amazed Genji gave him a second chance. It’s not often that the person you murdered in cold blood comes back from the grave to forgive you.
It’s hard for him to accept that there’s a possibility that Jesse would reciprocate. He looks at how kind and warm the cowboy has been to him over the years, and for the second time he allows himself to believe that yes, there’s a chance. There’s a chance that they can be a legitimate family together, that Kanna won’t have to pick between either of them.
She’s got a family in all of us, Han.
It all comes to a screeching halt one night when Jesse comes home late with an armful of plastic bags filled with takeout and a six pack of beer. Hanzo turns his torso around from the couch to watch him at the doorway.
“What is all that?”
“I drank your last beer,” Jesse says, hauling all of the food to the table, “so I thought I’d buy you a new pack. I also figured you didn’t wanna cook tonight so I just got takeout.”
Hanzo gives him a small smile as he rises from the couch, setting the TV remote aside, “How considerate of you,” he says, approaching and digging through the bags as Jesse reaches down to take off his cold boots.
“Yeah, well,” He fumbles with one shoe and finally kicks them both off, “it’s been a long week for both of us. The little one in bed?”
“Yes. She’s out like a light, already.”
“Sounds good.”
They lounge on the couch and talk, watch TV in-between. They drink and eat, relax in silence and being able to just sit still. A rarity with how often Kanna is up and about, Jesse swears she gets more energized every day.
“Did you get your hair cut?” Hanzo comments, looking over the taller man.
“Just a little, got it trimmed since it was gettin’ too long for me.”
“Don’t cut it too short,” Hanzo responds, idly tugging on separate ends of his hair as if straightening it out, “you will look weird if you cut it past your shoulders.” He pauses then, blinks, slowly pulling his hand away, completely unsure of where the sudden forwardness came from.
Jesse turns to him, grinning at him and swallowing a mouthful of food before he points his fork in Hanzo’s direction. “You like it the way it is, huh?”
“I did not say that.” He’s caught, trapped in the spider’s web again, takes another swig of his beer.
“You may not’ve said it directly but I know it was there.”
“You are being ridiculous.”
Hanzo is reminded of their proximity on the couch as Jesse nudges him with his shoulder, “I ain’t the one gettin’ defensive over a haircut.”
Hanzo shakes his head, rolling his eyes, “Imbecile.” He grumbles in Japanese.
They drink and eat more, until the two bags full of takeout is mostly gone. Soon, the beer loosens them up, and Hanzo finds himself the most relaxed he’s felt in months. Jesse makes him laugh, gets him to talk more, makes him feel more comfortable now that they have a moment to themselves. Hanzo doesn’t notice that they’re sitting side to side now, nearly touching. He also doesn’t notice how much closer Jesse seems to be, close enough that he notices the sharp smell of whiskey from a shot he had earlier, the only thing missing being the smell of the cigarillos he used to smoke. He can faintly make out a slight pinkness in Jesse’s cheeks from the beer as he smiles and laughs easily, has his arm over the back of the couch where Hanzo sits. Hanzo feels himself lean towards it.
There are a lot of habits they had to put behind them if they were to help raise Kanna. Smoking and drinking had been two of the main things. He imagines there are many more things he could sacrifice as long as he could keep Jesse and Kanna by him.
They don’t drink like they used to. They can’t, really--they’re fathers now.
Fathers.
Somehow, that thought doesn’t startle Hanzo half as badly as it should have. His mind is too distracted by how warm and homely Jesse feels next to him, becomes even more distracted when Jesse turns his head from the TV to look down at him, smile faltering only a little, but not out of uncomfortableness. They’re focused on each other now, there’s no one else here but them.
“Somethin’ on your mind, darlin’?” Jesse speaks so low, so quiet, his deep voice rumbles against Hanzo’s ears and send a shiver down his spine.
Darlin’.
The affection he’d locked far away suddenly bursts forth. It grows, grows, just like the garden, winds itself around his ribs and fills his chest to the point of bursting.
“You,” he answers, his voice wavers only slightly, “all the time.”
The gaps close.
He feels Jesse’s beard tickle his face when their lips meet--it’s soft, sweet, neither of them press back with force or tread any further than a brief kiss. For once, Hanzo is convinced he’s having a dream lucid enough that it feels real. The familiar heartache at the thought returns to him. He doesn’t want this to be a dream. He doesn’t want to wake up again, feeling lonely despite living with two other people in the same house. He wants Jesse. He wants.
“...Hanzo?”
The world stops, and Hanzo’s eyes snap open.
Jesse is looking down at him, confused, worried and mildly hesitant, but he hasn’t moved an inch.
Hanzo panics .
He reels back, hands steadying himself on the cushions to back himself away from Jesse in one swift movement. He stares at him like he’s committed the second biggest mistake of his life, his muscles tense, and he wants to run .
“ Hanzo ?” Jesse repeats himself, worry lacing his voice as he reaches out for the dragon.
Your dad’s right there, see?
Our princess.
She’s got a family in all of us, Han.
Oh...you love him.
Talk to him.
Darlin’.
The dragon flees. Hanzo launches himself off the couch, makes a break for the bathroom.
He hears Jesse call after him and give chase, but he can’t do anything to resist or keep Jesse from following him into the lavatory as he heaves into the toilet. There’s a nagging voice in the back of his head; he used to be able to handle his liquor far better than this. His frayed nerves are what cause him to collapse to the floor in a heap of sickness as Jesse holds his hair out of his face until he’s through emptying the former contents of his stomach into the toilet.
The process seems longer than what it actually is. Jesse rubs his back the entire time, not saying a word but offering comfort in the small gestures as Hanzo rode out his nausea. Still taking care of him, still so sweet. It makes it hard for him to push himself off the rim, he knows he’s going to have to face Jesse now.
When there’s nothing left to hurl, Hanzo flops back, sits down helplessly, flushes the toilet in aggravation and reaches for a nearby towel to wipe his mouth off with. He doesn’t even have the strength to swat away Jesse’s hand as he gently brushes his hair out of his face, keeps his bangs out of his eyes. The cowboy’s eyes are on him, he knows, and yet he continues to stare at the floor. Jesse doesn’t press him and he doesn’t make a move.
Once Hanzo regains his breath, Jesse offers him a hand. He doesn’t look up at the man, he can’t bring himself to, not yet, but he takes Jesse’s hand anyway and lets him hoist him back to his feet. His free hand remains on Hanzo’s back to keep him steady, it warms the skin beneath his shirt where his palm remains. Hanzo leans over the wash basin for a moment to collect himself before he gathers up some water, rinses his mouth out, brushes his teeth and dries his mouth off once again.
He braces himself on the counter, palms flat on the surface and leaning over the sink. His breathing has evened out and he can still feel Jesse’s hand on his back, feels his thumb briefly rub a circle against his spine.
“You okay?” Jesse’s quiet voice breaks the silence. It takes Hanzo a full five seconds before he can respond.
“No.” He finally says. The hand on his back shifts, rubs, tries to offer him comfort.
“Talk to me.” It’s worded like a demand, but Hanzo knows the tone in his voice. He’s worried, offering an ear. He wants him to open up.
Talk to him.
Talk to him.
He takes a steadying breath. “Jesse, you…” He hesitates, swallowing his fears. No more putting off. “You are my closest friend. A good friend. I respect you. I would follow you into hell--you know this, we have been there before.”
Jesse says nothing. He listens, only responds with a brush of his thumb again.
“And you will always be that friend to me, the closest person next to Genji. But...” He continues, staring down at the sink, as if hoping it would do the talking for him. His fingers curl into his palms, pressing his closed hands against the counter. He feels Jesse come closer, hand snaking around to his shoulder, grips it to give him support. He swallows, throat tight--time to stop hiding.
“There have been many days where I wished I could be more to you.”
He sucks in a breath through clenched teeth, grits them, wants the floor to swallow him up. Jesse still says nothing. Hanzo doesn’t know if it’s good or bad. The hand on his shoulder squeezes tighter, as if he’s trying to prompt him to turn back, to look Jesse in the face. It makes him straighten slowly, dragging his hands across the counter, refusing to look.
“I have...wanted more, for a very long time. Longer than I think you realize.” He shakes his head, “But I do not want that to change us. I do not want it to turn you away from me if you refuse. Not just for my sake, but for Kanna’s as well. We are friends, before anything else.”
“Han…”
He only slightly hears Jesse, but he cuts him off before he can continue. “And I will understand, if that is what you want us to remain as. I will overcome it, eventually.”
“Hanzo, look at me,” Jesse tries, he puts his other hand on Hanzo’s free shoulder, attempts to turn him. He resists.
“I don’t want you to feel like you need to take pity on me and appease me out of guilt,”
“Sweetheart, look at me,” Jesse says, desperate now, and Hanzo’s defenses break at his word and he lets Jesse turn him fully to face him. He’s wrapped up in his large, tanned arms, eyebrows knit looking down at him with concern that he still feels that he doesn’t deserve. Hanzo steadies himself in the turn by putting a hand flat against Jesse’s chest, but it’s shaky and powerless.
Hanzo watches his worried eyes as he brings up a hand to brush fingers against his cheek, and something wet smears off of his skin.
Oh. When did he start to shed tears?
“You kept this under your skin long enough to let it reduce you to this ?” Jesse says, his tone of voice is anything but malicious or disgusted. “You say whatever the hell you want, you couldn’t even tell me this?”
His fingers unconsciously flex against the fabric of Jesse’s shirt, and his eyes drift down to his chest. “This is different,” he murmurs, “not everyone is like you.”
He feels Jesse take a deep breath beneath his fingers, chest rising and falling, hands squeezing his shoulders in support. “Y’know,” Jesse’s tone of voice changes, and Hanzo is confused for a moment, “if this were any other scenario, I’d think you were pokin’ fun at me with that.”
Hanzo’s brows furrow. Half of him becomes irritated that Jesse is making light of this whole ordeal, but it dissipates quickly when he realizes that the man isn’t angry or uncomfortable. He’s made a point to get closer to Hanzo, won’t let him go, keeps him locked in place as if he’s afraid Hanzo will run away. He’s being very...Jesse McCree about the whole thing.
You two work great together.
Jesse seems to notice his lack of response and tries to pick up the pieces, “Sorry, darlin’,” he says, quieter this time, enough for Hanzo to hear his heartbeat pick up from the nickname, “I know you’re hurtin’. Just don’t want you to think I’m gonna be scared off.” Hanzo’s skin gets goosebumps when he feels Jesse’s hands slowly work their way up to either side of his neck, up to his jawline, fingers rub into his cheekbones comfortingly. He feels warm, he feels anxious. He feels half of the weight lifted when Jesse relieves him of one fear.
“Hanzo,” Jesse manages to coax Hanzo’s head upwards to look him in the eye. His eyes are so warm and welcoming and Hanzo feels his chest clench again, “Tell me all of what you’ve been wantin’ to tell me. I wanna hear it from you. I ain’t gonna run. I promise.”
Hanzo swallows, feels sick all over again. He’s never imagined he’d gather up enough courage to say anything to Jesse. But he’s sure of it, he’s been sure of it for a long time. He never thought he’d find anyone to love more than he loved Jesse McCree.
“I love you.” He says, finally, “I’ve loved you for years.”
Hanzo’s nerves feel like they’re being fried over and over when Jesse leans forward, bumps their foreheads together, tries to wrap his arms around the smaller man to settle his quaking body. Hanzo doesn’t stop him, finds himself too weak. His fingers grip the fabric of Jesse’s shirt as he presses the two of them together.
“Say it again.”
Hanzo hesitates. Swallows. “I love you.”
“One more time.”
“I love you.”
“Hey,” He feels light when he sees Jesse smiling, he can’t believe what’s happening to him right now, it almost doesn’t feel real, “that’s a damn good thing, ‘cause I love you too.”
Hanzo closes his eyes and lets the relief wash over him in tidal waves. Another tear pushes its way past his eyelashes, and he exhales. Jesse crowds him, dipping his head to kiss at Hanzo’s cheek, down his jaw, the side of his mouth; gentle pecks that grow more firm as Jesse tries to reassure Hanzo that he isn’t mocking him or joking. He kisses under his eyes, his forehead, his hair, until he finally lays a kiss on Hanzo’s lips to reinforce what he said. Hanzo barely holds it--he’s exhausted, his nerves are fried. All he can muster up is a smile against Jesse’s lips until he pulls away, Jesse moves a hand in to brush it against Hanzo’s cheek.
“There, now, that’s a much better look on you. Y’know I always loved your smile?”
Hanzo breathes a chuckle, and he suddenly sucks in a sharp gasp to stem the flow of tears.
His throat hurts, his head hurts, he feels like a complete mess. They stand in the bathroom, holding each other, mostly Jesse rocking Hanzo in his arms and comforting him beyond Hanzo’s expectations. He loses track of time and how long they stay there, he doesn’t recall how they leave or how he ends up on a soft bed before he falls asleep.
But he wakes up.
His eyes slowly crack open, blinking slowly, sees the blurry sunrays shining through a nearby window. He feels like he got hit by a semi-truck, his back and legs ache and his throat feels sore. He shifts an arm and feels soft sheets; he’s back in bed.
He stares up at the ceiling, wondering if last night was real. He’s had too many dreams to filter through that gave him empty promises of a future he couldn’t have. He sighs, and closes his eyes again. The familiar ache comes back.
A sudden snore interrupts the silence.
Hanzo’s eyes snap back open. He forces himself to turn his head, and the ache is replaced with a newfound wholeness.
Jesse is asleep next to him, facing his way, completely out cold. In between them rests Kanna, who had crawled into bed with them sometime in the night, nearly squashed between his side and Jesse’s shoulder, sound asleep.
Hanzo feels his lips curve into a warm smile, his ribs full of affection, the garden grew past his ribs and now laced his body. He raises a hand to run his knuckles across the back of Kanna’s hair. It’s real. You’re not dreaming. It’s real.
This is my family.
Overwhelmed with thankfulness, he allows himself to carefully roll over and drape an arm across Kanna, finding Jesse’s open prosthetic hand atop his pillow and taking it in his own. He feels the metal fingers of Jesse’s prosthetic close in reflex to fit against Hanzo’s own, and he closes his eyes.
This is home.