Ugh! Classes, classes and more classes. Had to wind down somehow. And this is my rushed attempt at doing just that.
Welcome to Part 5 of Hat. It ended in a bad spot, but I hope you like it anyway.
Hat: Part 5
The architect looked at Hanzo for a long time. "How do you even understand what he says? His accent and pronunciation are abhorrent," Symmetra pointed out.
It was completely beside the point, but Hanzo had to nod in agreement. The cowboy was hard to understand even on the best of days.
"Anyway, it seems to me that you think about McCree far more than anyone should. Why are you so obsessed with this?" she asked.
Did he really think about McCree a lot? Sure, he found the gunslinger's ways interesting and he enjoyed watching him just to see what interesting thing he would do or say next. And then there was that interesting discovery about McCree's hat that may or may not be true. The cowboy's ways were...interesting.
"I noticed something else as well," Symmetra added.
Hanzo's brow quirked curiously as he waited for her to continue.
"Not only does he behave differently around you, you behave differently around him."
The bowman folded his arms. "How so?"
"You both display confidence bordering on arrogance among others, but when you are together, you both become more meek. At first I thought that there was just cultural respect there, but now it seems to me that you both have crushes."
Hanzo scoffed. "Grown men do not have 'crushes'."
It was Symmetra's turn to scoff. "If you do not appreciate my opinion, go talk to someone else."
He didn't care to talk to others. Symmetra was the closest thing he had to a friend. "That is impossible. He even expressed interest in you," Hanzo told her.
"Did he?" She'd asked as though she didn't believe him.
"He mentioned being jealous," Hanzo told her.
"Jealous of you or jealous of me?" Vaswani asked. "You said that he kept looking at you while you two were with the others. In my opinion, when he said that he was jealous, he meant that he was jealous of me because I am close to you."
"That was not what he said."
"That may have been what he meant."
"You can't make that assumption."
Symmetra rolled her eyes. "As I have already said, you are free to ask someone else his or her opinion if you have no intention of listening to mine."
"I AM listening. I simply say that you are wrong."
"Wrong? You don't even have proof one way or the other. You have no idea what is going on. He likes you. And it would appear that you like him."
Hanzo looked confused. "Explain."
"You haven't stopped talking about him for the past few days. You are in love."
"Ridiculous! This conversation is pointless and baseless. I will take my leave."
"Go ahead. But when you finally come to the realization that I am right, do NOT come begging me for advice," Symmetra told him.
Hanzo childishly stormed out of her room and went straight to his own. He wasn't even sure why the suggestion had upset him. If he knew she was wrong, he should have just brushed it off.
Then was it possible...? No. As he had said before, grown men don't have crushes and McCree had already practically told Hanzo that he was interested in Vaswani. And the archer was simply curious as to McCree's behaviors. There was no law against curiosity.
-later-
"Hey, Shimada."
It was McCree. Hanzo was a little surprised to hear his voice when this wasn't one of the places where his group usually gathered nor where he wrote poetry. And speaking of poetry, the gunman had his notebook with him. He must have been headed to his writing spot when he happened across Hanzo.
"Hello, McCree," Hanzo greeted.
"Headed to the laundry room?"
Considering Hanzo was carrying a basket full of laundry at the time, that was kind of a stupid question. But he remained polite. "Yes."
"Mind if I join ya?"
Did he want McCree to join him? After his conversation with Symmetra, he wasn't sure what to think about how often McCree approached him anymore. But what reason did he have to say no? Then again, the gunman wasn't carrying laundry, so what reason did McCree have to join him? "You may if you would like," he went ahead and told the taller man.
The two walked quietly to the laundry room and once there, the cowboy simply watched as Hanzo arranged his things. The silence was uncomfortable and having McCree watch him was equally so.
McCree must have picked up on that and he cleared his throat before he spoke. "So, the other day ya said ya had somethin' to say to me. What was it?"
Hanzo paused and thought for a moment. He remembered that day and he remembered what he wanted to talk about. He just didn't know how to word it at the time. He still didn't know how to say it.
"No one else is here if ya have somethin' to tell me," McCree said quietly.
The cowboy's hat was off, as usual, and he was simply watching him. How much more uncomfortable could things get? Hanzo frowned. He was a grown man. He could simply ask what he wanted to know. And surely McCree was mature enough to answer any questions he had.
"I would like you to be plain with me," Hanzo began.
"Gotcha," McCree said.
Admittedly, Hanzo immediately lost his nerve. Maybe he should've just left well enough alone. He didn't really have to tell McCree what he'd intended to talk to him about. As a matter of fact, Hanzo basically already had the answer he was looking for. McCree wanted them to be friends. End of story.
Yet the cowboy was patiently waiting for him to say something. The bowman guessed that he probably could have said anything and McCree would have been satisfied.
"I was wondering about your poetry," Hanzo finally said. It wasn't really a lie. It just wasn't what he'd wanted to ask him at that time. And he could see something akin to disappointment on McCree's face.
"Oh, was that all? Thought ya mighta wanted to tell me somethin'. Maybe even somethin' personal," the cowboy said. If the disappointment hadn't been obvious by the expression on his face, it was definitely obvious by the sound of his voice. But being the polite soul that he was, McCree gave a nod and answered anyway. "I like to call 'em mission poems. It's really no big deal. Just my own views on our missions with kinda like western dramaticism added in fer flavor, ya know."
The bowman looked at the gunslinger strangely. He was basically writing his own version of mission reports? Now Hanzo was even more curious. What kind of western dramaticism did he add? And why write them at all? And why as poems? The archer looked at him for a long time and he could tell that McCree had more to say. But Hanzo figured it wasn't his place to ask for more information than he'd already been given.
The gunman sighed and opened his notebook to one of the later pages. "This is the most recent one I wrote," he told Hanzo.
McCree was actually showing him what he'd written. Hanzo felt honored. He doubted that the gunman showed his work to many other people. When the bowman began reading, it seemed peculiar. The words flowed more elegantly than he expected. Not only that, but the main character of this particular poem was quite obviously an archer. He looked up at the cowboy.
"I was watchin' ya on our last few missions. I gotta admit, seein' ya in action was pretty impressive," McCree said, putting on his hat once again. He tugged the brim down, but not before Hanzo spotted the slight flushing of his cheeks.
Hanzo was once again honored, but it wasn't because McCree thought his bowmanship was impressive. He'd always known that his skills left those around him in awe. He was honored because the cowboy had written about him in a way that he'd never really seen himself. Not as a man seeking redemption for his questionable past, but as a hero, righting wrongs simply for the sake of doing what was right. McCree portrayed him as an upright-standing, graceful and beautiful lawbringer. He wasn't sure how upright-standing or beautiful he was, but he'd always been aware of his own gracefulness.
The cowboy interrupted his thoughts by clearing his throat again and saying, "There's a few more in there with you in 'em."
"If this is the way you see me, you are in for the disappointment of your life," Hanzo said with a chuckle.
McCree chuckled as well. "Nah. That ain't how I see ya. It's just my westernized version of ya."
If that were the case, he wondered how McCree actually saw him. "The one I read is very good. May I read the rest?"
Panic was evident on McCree's face. "Uh, ya don't wanna do that," he said slowly.
Hanzo raised his eyebrows and looked at the notebook that was still in his hands. "Why not?"
"Alright, I'll be honest with ya, but you gotta promise not to laugh," McCree said, tugging the brim of his hat down even lower to cover his face.
"I promise."
"Well, when I said that there's a few more in there with you in 'em, I mighta been underplayin' it a little. And by a little, I mean that all of 'em are about you," the gunman went on.
Hanzo narrowed his eyes in confusion and stared at the notebook. The most recent poem that was in there was nearly at the end of the notebook. Then, the entire notebook was filled with poems starring him?