A/N: So, to offset any confusion, this story is something of a hybrid between canon and a modern au. For one, they're living in apartments, and for another, it's never outright specified what Hanzo did to Genji, only that Genji still bares the scars and Hanzo blames himself. Oh, and most importantly, McCree actually considers calling the police, which he likely would not do in canon because they'd arrest him.

Aniki wo mite wa ore mo ureshii ni naru - Glad to see you, too, brother.

With a hand clenched tightly around the neck of his wine bottle, Hanzo stalked forward, forcing McCree to press his back against his apartment door as his lips curled to reveal sharpened canines and an unpleasant whiff of stale breath and alcohol.

"Get. Out."

Now, McCree wasn't rightly sure what he or anyone else had done to upset the man. Sure, he'd arrived at the archer's place without calling ahead, but the last thing he'd expected to find when he got there was Hanzo still in yesterday's clothes, though with a white robe draped over the ruined dress shirt and wrinkled pants that fell haphazardly from his shoulders to slip down his arms, seemingly without the archer's notice. An empty bottle of wine had rolled under the coffee table at some point, along with several beers, and it wasn't even noon yet.

McCree swallowed hard, knowing that Hanzo wasn't fully in control, and from the looks of the bags beneath his eyes, had spent the entire night in a similar state. Moving ever so slowly and without ever turning his back, McCree turned the knob of the door behind him, then slipped out into the hallway, the furious, unfocused desolation the archer wore staying with him like a brand on his mind.

A low growl came from within the apartment, followed by thud that shook the door and the sound of glass shattering. McCree whipped out his phone, though his fingers hovered as he wrestled with the decision of calling the police or his brother first.

In the end, he hit #2 on his speed dial, then waited in the hallway without anything to do until Genji arrived, breathing heavily through his nose, and hefting a bulging backpack, "How is he?"

After going for a casual shrug that failed to be convincing, McCree deflated with a tired sigh, "Let's just say he's been better." While his green-haired companion laid his knapsack on the ground, McCree glanced towards the closed door and the disconcerting silence that lay beyond it. "He's got me worried, Genji." Calloused fingers ran through his hair to sweep the fringe aside before coming back around to drag over his face. "Startin' to think we should be callin' in an expert."

"This is my brother we're talking about, Jesse." A grin tugging at his scarred lips, Genji pulled out a small rectangular box from the bag, then he pulled a strap over his shoulder, and made his way to the door, his footfalls utterly soundless on the carpeting. Kneeling by the lock, he lifted the top to reveal a delicate pair of lock picking tools, and with a wink, said, "I am the expert."

He fiddled with the silver instruments for a minute before a quiet click was heard, and Genji settled back, knees bent and balanced on the tops of his feet, relaxed and visibly satisfied with his handiwork. Without leaving his crouch, he turned the brass knob, pushed open the door, and slipped through the crack, leaving McCree to wait in the hallway for his reemergence from the deadly dragon's lair.

Once inside, Genji looked up to see Hanzo glaring down at him, mouth twisted into a scowl, though the heat sputtered and dimmed once recognition sunk through the self-inflicted haze. "Oh." Nostrils flaring, he inhaled through his nose. "It's you."

Rolling his eyes as he rose out of his crouch, Genji glibly replied, "Aniki wo mite wa ore mo ureshii ni naru." Grimacing, he lifted his feet to avoid both the puddle of wine and colored shards of glass on the floor. "Love what you're doing with the place, by the way."

A hoarseness to Hanzo's trademark exasperated scoff seemed indicative of a sore throat, and Genji filed that thought away for later. One thing at a time. Watching him closely, the way a wary and stand-offish cat might watch an overly excitable canine, Hanzo slipped seamlessly into their native language, "What do you want, Genji?"

"What? A guy needs a reason to see his favorite brother?" After sparing a quick wink for the disbelieving arch to his older brother's brow, he held out his hands in front of him and unfurled his palms, "But now that you mention it, think you could show me where you keep the broom and mop?"

Though it took some coaxing, Hanzo eventually pointed him in the right direction, and once armed with cleaning supplies, Genji insisted that he stay on the couch or put on some slippers, since the man was barefoot and liable to cut his feet on the glass if he continued shuffling about. And Hanzo, being who he was, couldn't stomach the idea of anyone cleaning up his messes for him, so he vanished into his bedroom to reappear with gray slip-ons. Still, he was unsteady, swaying often even when standing still, so Genji asked that he hold the dustpan while he swept the debris in, as it kept him immobile and close. In his inebriated state, the archer was in no condition to guess his motives, and so he acquiesced without comment or complaint.

Between the two of them, it wasn't long before the apartment once again appeared safe to live in, leading Genji to move on to the next step of his master plan. After depositing Hanzo onto the couch, where he promptly sank bonelessly into the cushions, Genji proceeded to dig from his knapsack a giant-sized water bottle, a gallon of vanilla ice cream, and an Akira Kurosawa DVD - the one about the seven samurai - which just so happened to be one of Hanzo's favorite movies.

He stowed the ice cream in the freezer for later, as it had begun to melt while they'd spruced up the place, and he doubted that the sugary treat would mix well with the wine saturating Hanzo's system, then strode back to the sofa to toss Hanzo the water bottle. Suppressing a smile at the disgruntled huff his brother made as he clutched the beverage to his chest, Genji waved the DVD in front of him, "Try to finish that water before the movie's half-way over, okay? It's almost three hours long, so we both know that's not asking for a lot, and it'll help with that killer hangover you're bound to have later. Also, I brought painkillers with me, so let me know if your head starts to hurt."

For a time, Hanzo's only answer was to blink sluggishly from under the curtain of lifeless hair draped over the side of his face while Genji inserted the disk, found himself a comfy spot in the opposite corner of the couch, then covered the both of them with a wool blanket he'd found in the closet.

They watched in silence as the samurai on screen sat stoically under the hands of the monks as they cut off his topknot, and all for the sake of saving a child from a hopeless situation. It was later, when the villagers were supplying the samurai with rice in a desperate bid for his aid, that Hanzo quietly and nigh incoherently mumbled an apology. His eyelids had grown heavy, if the increasing time he spent with them closed was any indication. In fact, they were closed now. His head rested on the pillow with the lingering pull of an unhappy frown curving his mouth and a furrow to his brow.

Once his breathing settled into a steady rhythm, Genji reached over his brother to adjust the pillow in the hope that it would lessen the likelihood of his waking up with a nasty crick in his neck, and carefully tucked the blanket around his sides. Then he flicked the fringe away from Hanzo's eyes, careful not to accidentally catch any of his piercings, until finally, satisfied with his handiwork, he returned soundlessly to his place on the couch to finish the rest of the film.