Some Nights- Jesse McCree
He's too old for this, Jesse thinks as he's backed into the corner of an alleyway in Kings Row. Too old to be dodging bullets and arrows, not knowing if it's the enemy's projectiles or his own team's. Too old to be throwing flash grenades and dodging into cover at the last possible second, narrowly missing losing his head, or at least part of it. He's too old and not very old at all and he wonders if that's how Jack feels. The war is aging his body and his mind, but he knows he won't stop until he's dead.
Some nights, as the sun sits close to the ground and he's perched somewhere comfortable, lit cigar rolling loose between his lips, he thinks about what the war has already cost him. It doesn't take much to remember everything he wants to forget. The autumn sunset glints off his metallic arm and reminds him he doesn't need to reach back very far. It's all in front of him, all around him; the empty space of land where he'd wanted to have a fence, build a barn, and raise some horses, maybe a family. Whether that meant ponies or children, he's not sure. It could've been both, he thinks, but he says it quietly to himself so no one will hear the way even as a whisper his voice cracks. He's reminded he's alone.
When he thinks about family, he thinks about Blackwatch first. Overwatch came later; his family now, but not the one he feels deepest about, not if he's honest with himself. He's only ever honest with himself. Blackwatch was Reyes, and Reyes was family. He was the closest thing to a father he'd had and it had been troubled but good. It was those little moments of good that he clung to, sometimes playing the scenes over and over until he forgot the bad. But the bad was always there, always tucked away for sunsets and cigars, for moments alone when he could afford to give it a little time in the light.
Jesse thinks about family a lot lately, maybe too much. He takes some extra time shopping for presents just before Hana's birthday, and buys her something probably too expensive. He tries to look like it was nothing, like he didn't know what to get her and he just picked some small thing up, but he's asked Lucio at least twenty times when the date was so he doesn't forget. She's probably too old to be his daughter, but her eyes sparkle when she looks at him and her hug lingers, and he thinks this is the closest he'll ever get.
The adults go out for drinks afterwards and the kids have a sleepover. Jesse likes that Jack calls them "the kids", like they're really all just one big dysfunctional family from a TV show, and maybe they are. The thought gives him warmth, but the man sitting next to him at the bar is all heat.
His arms are crossed over his chest and he's glaring straight ahead, but Jesse's leg nudges his under the lip of the bar and his hardened features soften. He's still not looking at him, even when Jesse smiles openly, but that's just him, that's just Hanzo.
Jesse has to remind himself sometimes that even though Overwatch feels like family, it's first and foremost his job. Even sitting at the bar pretending to be more inebriated than necessary, it's still work and these are still his coworkers. He loves work, but the moments after he says goodnight is what he lives for; when his hand is tangled in long hair and his body is pressed against the hard angle of Hanzo's hips. When he burns kisses into every inch of his flesh and he's swollen for it, when he can feel the other tighten around him and choke out his name in ways no one else can.
Jess thinks that's the meaning of life.
Even when it's over and they're limp, cooling down but still sharing heat, he thinks if he didn't have this, there'd be no point to anything. If he didn't have someone he cared about so deeply in his arms at that very moment, he might die. What gets him the most is that who he holds matters. It matters more than he thinks it should and more than he'll ever say. It matters that it's Hanzo; it can't be anyone but Hanzo.
They're both battle worn, too seasoned for it to be a crush; that was for preteens and mid-life crises. No, they know what this is, what it means. Jesse won't let them say it, and he figures Hanzo won't anyway. He's more disciplined, more controlled, but also more loyal in his affection. Betrayal is a sore subject for the both of them, so they never put a name to what they feel. They'll leave it for after the sun sets, unspoken, and Jesse is fine with that.
He's too old for this, Jesse thinks as he runs calloused fingers down Hanzo's gently curved spine. It's the first time the archer has chosen to stay, to fall asleep next to a broken cowboy. He's too old to be so ridiculously infatuated and afraid at the same time.
He's too old to be in love, but he knows he won't stop until he's dead.
