Ch. 7

McCree's First Mission

Hanzo Shimada

Spending time with his little brother was always an interesting event – to say the least. Hanzo sometimes felt like he was being forced to baby sit his sixteen year old sibling. His father would instruct him to "Keep Genji out of trouble." He didn't understand how next to impossible that was. Genji did whatever he wanted without regard for the trouble he'd get the elder Shimada in. It was always Hanzo in trouble. He did all that he was told, but was still disciplined for the younger's blithe actions.

For once, he believed he'd had him on lock and key. Hanzo had distracted his brother with the promise of ramen and a movie. Genji was excited to spend the day with his older brother – he always was. Genji was a hyper, lighthearted and friendly young man, and sometimes Hanzo didn't really understand why he liked being around him so much. He was in all ways of personality his opposite, but despite that his brother still loved doing things with him. Hanzo loathed being on babysitting duty, but admittedly liked being with his younger brother even if he could get overtly annoying.

That day their father was going to be meeting with a rival yakuza gang. They were going to be discussing the terms of peace between the sects. However, his father had subtly expressed to Hanzo the possibility of violence. He, perhaps, believed it may be towards the rivals in an unprovoked manner. He'd told Hanzo that he would like to have his heir there, but worried too greatly for the baby's wellbeing and therefor sent the more competent Shimada away to guard over him. Hanzo wasn't sure if he was offended or honored.

He wondered if his father cared so much for his own welfare as he did for Genji's.

"Just how you like it! Plain and boring!" Genji announced, placing the noodles in front of Hanzo. He flopped on the parallel stool with an exaggerated oomph, eying his own bowl with excitement. Hanzo wish he had that much enthusiasm for something so mundane. Everyday life may have turned out much more remarkable.

Hanzo wrapped a noodle around his wooden stick. He glanced over at his brother who was slurping at his. He hated slurping. It was annoying – always had been. However, more recently it reminded him of the American.

Genji grinned knowingly. He sat his bowl down and leaned back slightly.

"Your brow is turning red, brother," he said with a hint of mischief.

"Because of all that sound you are making," Hanzo retorted.

"I do it on purpose." Hanzo rolled his eyes.

"I know," he replied stonily, taking a bite.

"You think we'll have time to stop by the arcade before the movie?" Genji asked. Hanzo rolled his eyes.

He had known it was unwise going to the ramen shop near his brother's favorite hangout. There was always the potential of running into Genji's friends, but the possibility tripled when near that arcade. His friends were a distraction of a kind that Hanzo didn't allow for himself. Friends were unnecessary.

"No," he replied shortly. Genji scowled, his thick brows crinkling in frustration.

"Why not?!" he demanded.

"Because we will surely miss the movie." He huffed, folding his arms dramatically.

"Not," he argued. Out of the corner of Hanzo's eye he could see a flash of green move erratically, but he ignored his little brother's tantrum.

"Yes. If Iyani is there or any girl that is even slightly attractive you will be occupied for hours. There will be no prying you away."

"You're full of it, Hanzo."

"And you have no self-control, Genji."

Hanzo did not approve of Genji's friends. They were bad influences, and led his brother astray from his duties. Their father did not even try to regulate them. It infuriated Hanzo how their father allowed his little brother to run wild without worry while he did everything that was demanded of him and was still berated for the smallest mistakes.

Hanzo ate his noodles hoping that his brother wouldn't further argue with him. He didn't want to have to tackle him and drag him from the arcade. He hoped, however, that if he did manage to get side tracked that it would keep him from the mansion long enough for their father to conclude his business. Genji really didn't need his brother to lead him about the city in a distracting charade. He simply needed his father to give him some money and push him out the door with a word of a late curfew. Genji would distract himself. At least then Hanzo could have stayed with the adults and helped defend their clan.

He never considered that perhaps their father was trying to protect him as much as he was Genji. He knew only that he was capable and disciplined unlike his brother. He could stand with the best of them.

Genji's slurping ceased. He leaned back on his stool – far enough that for a moment Hanzo thought he might fall out of it. He reached to grab him, but Genji popped up straight. He grinned.

"Do you really have to move so much?" Hanzo asked.

"Keeps ya on your toes, brother." He sighed. "So did you have to wear that? We're just going to a movie." Genji motioned to his brother's suit. He was wearing a tucked white button up shirt and black suit pants. Hanzo looked at his attire.

"It is nice."

"I asked for casual, and that is not."

"It's not a kimono."

"I meant a t-shirt." He waved at his own short sleeved casual black cotton shirt that had a pachimari on the front. It was stupid and Genji looked ridiculous in it.

"I have some self-respect."

"Would it kill you to get the stick out of your a-?" Hanzo hit him; popping him on the arm with the back of his hand. "Ow, dude."

"We are in public, Genji," he hissed.

"Damn, you need to get laid." Hanzo glowered – his brows crinkling together and his mouth turning into a hard line. He took a bite of his food, trying his hardest not to snap further at his brother. Genji waggled his eyebrows, his gaze fixed past Hanzo's head. "Speaking of laid…" he pointed slightly with a nod. "That girl over there is staring at you." He winked one of his silver eyes.

"Staring at you, most likely," Hanzo murmured, not bothering to look to whom his brother was motioning to.

"No, she's definitely looking at you." Genji grinned. "And now she's looking at your ass." Hanzo's eyes went wide. Genji leaned back in his seat slightly, looking at the aforementioned location on his brother. "I mean… in that suit… it does look good." Hanzo jumped, reaching to cover himself. A deep blush flushed over his face. "Don't be so obvious!" Genji whisper-yelled. He waved his hands. "And now she's looking the other way because she knows she's been spotted. Good going, brother. This is why you're single." He crossed his arms.

"Good going?" Hanzo quoted, still flustered – his face pink with embarrassment. "You're the one that was… that… You were… you were the one looking at my…" Rarely, was he ever at such a loss for words. Genji laughed – guffawed, really. He leaned back holding his slim stomach with a pale hand and howled. The noise caused eyes to dart in the Shimada brothers' direction. "Genji, shut up!" Hanzo demanded. Genji took a breath, drawing in deep air.

"Right, right, sorry. You're just so adorable when you're flustered." He tried to pinch his elder brother cheek, but Hanzo slapped the hand away.

"Genji," he grumbled. Genji smiled, sitting upright and leaning away to give his brother space.

"Alright, alright." He took a bite of his noodles this time – as opposed to slurping them. "She's cute though." He motioned back to the girl. Her posture was stiff and straight and her head twitched at the sound of the younger Shimada's voice. She was obviously trying to avoid looking at them once more, but was listening to the best of her ability.

"If you say so," Hanzo mumbled. He kept his head down at his food. His black hair curtained his face, blocking his view of the girl.

"Just a peek, bro, c'mon."

"No." He sighed.

"Fine. Have it your way. I guess I'll just go back to slurping my noodles." He went to pick up the bowl, pausing to glance slyly at Hanzo. Hanzo rolled his eyes – understanding the threat. He didn't give. Genji moved it closer to his mouth – his sideways gaze still lingering on his brother. He inched it closer and closer, waiting for Hanzo to stop him. "Okaaaaay," he hummed, putting it to his lips.

"Alright!" Hanzo agreed. He peeked through his hair to the left, looking at the girl briefly. She was alright looking – nothing particularly special, but still cute. He shrugged, looking back at Genji. He was sitting at attention with his bowl placed on the table. An expectant smile plastered on his face. "She's fine. Not my type though." The girl slouched her shoulders.

"Dude, why?" Hanzo shrugged, resuming his meal.

"Do I need a reason?" Genji sighed.

"What exactly is your type? Do you even have one?" Hanzo glanced at his brother. He brushed his hair back in thought. He felt unsure.

"Not her," he replied simply. Genji rolled his eyes.

"Let me set you up with someone."

"With who? One of the girls you are done messing around with? No thank you." Genji jumped.

"No! No, I have a few girls in mind that would be good for you… boring girls." Hanzo looked at his brother skeptically.

"Ah, so the ones who are not good enough for you then?" He huffed, turning his head away from the younger Shimada. He took a bite of food.

"Hanzo, no." Genji huffed. "What kind of brother do you think I am?" He shot an innocent smile.

"The kind who would give me his passing flings." Genji sighed.

"I would not. I promise."

"This whole conversation is trivial, Genji, because I do not want you to find me a date."

"Well, you're not finding your own."

"That is because I am not interested in any sort of romance." Genji blinked – his silver eyes beaming confusion. It wasn't surprising. Genji was always out to find his next girl to woo. It made sense that he wouldn't understand that someone may not just be looking out for sex.

"Why?"

"It is an unnecessary distraction." Genji's stare was blank. He was clearly trying absorb his brother's decision.

"Why?" he repeated. Hanzo sighed.

"I have greater things to worry about. You don't have to understand it. Just don't pressure me about it." He took a bite of his food.

"Fine. If you want to be celibate that's fine. I'll just be sitting here… mourning your sad way of life." He slurped up a noodle while his gray eyes bore into Hanzo. The elder rolled his eyes.

"That's not what I'm saying…"

Hanzo wasn't a virgin. He'd previously been with men and women, alike. However, he wasn't actively searching for affairs like his younger brother. Sex was a physical release, but he'd never found emotion in anyone he'd slept with. Even his brother – while passing from woman to woman – formed bonds with those he bedded. Some of his best friends had started out as one night stands. Sometimes he wondered if there was something wrong with him. He didn't exactly understand why no one meant anything to him. He told himself that it didn't matter, and that it was better that way.

It was hard convincing himself that he didn't care.

"That reminds me," Genji said, pulling Hanzo from his self-reflection. "I've been dating this new girl that…" Hanzo zoned him out. He heard enough about his brother's conquests. They were all the same and all temporary. This one may be the one he gushed about now, but he'd move on to another one in a week or so. He nodded, acting as if he was listening to what Genji was saying. However, he was just focusing on the ambiance of the noodle shop and the taste of his ramen.

Off into the distance he heard a voice. It was low, twanging in English.

Hanzo's ears perked to attention. He raised his head, listening to the familiar voice. He spun in his seat looking at the wall as he eavesdropped.

"What is it?" Genji asked, noticing Hanzo's intensity.

"Nothing," Hanzo urged, waving at his brother. "Just eat your ramen. I'll be right back." He jumped up and moved through the doorway to the front of the shop. He glanced back to see his brother slowly turn to his lunch. He made his way to the counter where he knew the voice was originating from.

He wasn't surprised at what he found.

The cowboy was leaning over the counter, smiling a sincere smile at the employee who was grinning in reply. He looked at ridiculous as the first time Hanzo had met him. With that tall and wide brimmed dusty brown hat and the tall boots that clinked when he moved. At least he wasn't wearing plaid that day. Hanzo hated plaid. He was still wearing denim – it looked like the same jeans from their last meeting. Not shocking. He was wearing a different shirt, at least: a red t-shirt with "Howdy" written on it.

As Hanzo approached he couldn't even pretend like he wasn't unamused… by his apparel more so than his presence.

Hanzo placed his hand firm on the cowboy's shoulder and dug his fingers sharp into his muscle. It was meant to be a threatening gesture, but he seemed to shift further into the touch rather than away from. It confused Hanzo.

"Is he bothering you?" he asked the server in Japanese. She smiled.

"No, Hanzo," she said. "He has a cute accent, but I don't know what he's saying. He was just talking away, so I was listening politely."

"I'll handle him, Yeri. Go back to work." She nodded, her dark eyes darting between the two men. She bowed at the cowboy, smiling once more before turning away.

"Hey, Han!" he said. He was grinning up at him from his leaning position. His eyes crinkled form the force of the smile – making them squinty with joy. It was cute, but Hanzo would not admit it even to himself. In his position he was taking up two seats and distracting an employee. People were staring at him. He was being both rude and making a fool of himself at the same time. It had to be some kind of new record. This American was clueless.

"Don't call me that," Hanzo said. He tightened his grasp on his shoulder. "What are you doing here, McCree?" he asked.

"Hungry," he twanged, standing and rubbing his stomach for emphasis. As he shifted McCree went from looking up at Hanzo to looking down at him. He bent his head slightly so that their eyes were meeting. His smile remained. Hanzo shifted back – hyper-aware at his sudden closeness. He hadn't realized how large the other man was.

"Do you have money this time?" he asked cynically.

"Yup!" He slapped his hand down onto the counter, leaving a few hundred yen behind. It was enough to afford a basic bowl. When Hanzo's gaze returned to the cowboy's face he was grinning as if he was proud of himself. He seemed to be waiting for some sort of congratulations. Hanzo would not reward him for finally acting how a normal human should.

"This is not the only place to eat in Hanamura." McCree shrugged, plopping on a nearby stool.

"Nah, but I like this place."

"After last time I figured you'd be too ashamed to show your face here again." Yeri sat a bowl of noodles in front of McCree. He thanked her, pushing the money towards her. He grabbed the bowl and slurped. When he sat it back in front of him a noodle was left behind – stuck to his face. "Ah," Hanzo murmured – his eyes narrowing. "I see you have no shame." McCree just smiled at that.

"None!" he agreed which warranted an eyebrow raise from Hanzo. He found himself sitting down beside McCree, folding his hands in his lap. He hadn't intended on lingering.

"How did you manage to order?" he asked.

"I just repeated ramen and pointed at the bowl until she got the idea."

"Of course." He sighed, shaking his head. McCree laughed lightly before slurping once more. It was actually louder and more obnoxious than Genji's way of eating. He wasn't sure how that was possible.

"Yeri said you were talking to her. What were you saying?"

"Yeri's her name?" He shrugged, his eyes watching Hanzo from the side. "I was asking her about you." Hanzo blinked. He narrowed his eyes.

"Why?" he demanded in a cautious yet venomous tone.

"Well cause you was nice to me. I liked you and was hoping to see you again." Hanzo blinked, taken aback by the answer.

"Really?" he asked skeptically. For some reason his cheeks were burning. He prayed that the cowboy wasn't able to see it.

"Yeah!" The grin on his face was beaming. Hanzo had never seen anyone smile as much as McCree did. Well, except for Genji. Sigh. He was surrounded by cheerful idiots. "I like ya, Hanzo."

"You barely know me." He shrugged.

"Well, then let me get to."

Get to know him. That was a difficult request. Even if Hanzo was willing… his life was not one where friends belonged. He was loyal only to his family – to the yakuza. It was a life he had to keep secretive. Outside of that there was never a way anyone would truly be able to know the real him.

Hanzo felt a pit in his stomach. He didn't respond to McCree's request. Instead, he hung his head, his eyes glued to the table.

McCree didn't let the silence loom for long. Hanzo believed it was hard wired in his genetic makeup that he couldn't stay quiet for more than a couple minutes.

"You look mighty fine in that suit," he twanged, drawing Hanzo's shocked gaze. Their eyes met. Hanzo's face burned once more – this time hotter. It felt like lava was trapped underneath his skin. There was no way the blush wasn't visible. He fidgeted, uncomfortable with the idea of McCree making him redden, and more so with the idea of McCree seeing him redden.

"Thank you," he murmured, trying to contain himself.

"Goin' somewhere nice?" He slurped from his bowl while staring at Hanzo with interest.

"A movie." McCree blinked.

"Do people tend to go to movies in suits?" Hanzo shrugged.

"I do. Others do not."

"Well, aren't you a fancy man?" He grinned. Hanzo was unsure of how to respond. He stood up, realizing he should probably be ending the interaction lest he be late for his movie.

"I should be getting back to my brother. It was nice seeing you again, McCree." It wasn't a lie, but he wasn't sure how nice it really was. He turned away. "Goodbye."

"Oh – uh… Bye, Hanzo!" he called after him.

There were so many questions he had for the cowboy. He was a strange and sudden enigma that Hanzo was admittedly interested in. He would never pry, nor did he want to actually get to know McCree. It was easier that way. Still, he found himself being latently attracted to him in one way or another.

His cheeks were still flaring when he rounded the corner.

Genji was gone. His seat was empty, an barren bowl the only thing that was left behind. A note scribbled in green ink was stuck under it. Picking it up it read, "Hanzo, that cute girl that was looking at you and I started talking while you were doing whatever. She's nice. We're going to the arcade. Go on to the movie without me. Oh, and don't wait up. Your loss, brother. – Genji." Hanzo sighed. Genji had no self-control around women. That girl would become another notch in his belt.

Hanzo waded up the note and discarded it into the empty bowl. He spun around and marched back into the front of the ramen shop. He plopped onto the stool beside McCree. The cowboy was staring at him from the edge of his bowl. He sat it down and smiled.

"Back so soon? That was a short movie." he teased.

"My brother left with some girl," Hanzo huffed.

"Bummer…" He just nodded, looking down at the table. "He do this often?"

"More than I would like."

"How old's he?"

"Sixteen."

"Ah, makes sense." Hanzo raised his dark eyebrow. He looked at McCree in curiosity.

"How so?"

"Ya know… he's just a kid – living the life an all. I was the same." Hanzo grimaced.

"He's not a child. He's grown and he should know better."

"Sixteen ain't grown. Hell, I'm eighteen and hardly grown." He grinned sheepishly.

"You westerners are strange. I do not know how things are in America, but here a sixteen year old has duties – my brother more than most. He lives for the pleasure."

"C'mon. Sounds like he's enjoying his childhood."

"You are foolish." McCree leaned back casually and laughed.

"Sounds like you're jealous of him."

"I am not jealous of my brother!" Hanzo squared his shoulders.

Maybe he was though…

"Alright… alright… dropping it." McCree shifted.

For a few minutes Hanzo was silent. For once, McCree didn't start saying something random either. This time it was Hanzo who broke the quiet.

"So… as I mentioned I was going to a movie… and since my brother left without me… I now have an extra ticket." McCree's posture perked to attention. His shoulders lifted and his brown eyes widened. A smile tugged at his lips in anticipation of what was obviously coming. Hanzo sighed – McCree's eagerness annoying him slightly. He slumped his shoulder. "Would you like to come to the movie with me?" He almost leaped up in excitement.

"Of course!" He said grinning. McCree barely knew him and Hanzo could see that he already like him too much than was comfortable. Going on an outing together… it was a risk. Still, it was better than going to a movie alone. How embarrassing that would be.

Jesse McCree

Japanese movie theaters were really different from American ones. McCree had never experienced anything quite like it before. It was uncharacteristically clean: no sticky floors, overflowing trash cans, or discarded popcorn. The concession didn't even actually have popcorn. In its place there were foods that McCree wouldn't thing belonged in a cinema. There were some weird pastry things. McCree got one and it was super sweet. Everyone that worked there was very friendly, greeting the two men with big smiles and what he assumed to be courtesies in Japanese. Most American employees would half-heartedly rip your ticket and toss it at you spitting, "have a nice day" in the least enthusiastic way possible. It was a nice difference.

The ticket Hanzo had had ended up being for an American Hollywood movie. McCree hadn't even heard of it before – having spent the last year in Switzerland. It was nice to see something from his home country, however, having been in foreign places for so long. Luckily, it wasn't dubbed in Japanese. There were subtitles for the native audience, but McCree and Hanzo didn't need it. That made him feel a little special.

The movie was futuristic about a space explorer running and gunning with aliens – saving the universe and such. It was one of those sci-fi action movies with a romantic side plot between the main hero and an alien. It wasn't really McCree's thing. He was more into old western movies, but he ended up enjoying it, to his surprise. He wondered if Hanzo was into these kinds of movies. Somehow he doubted it. He definitely didn't seem the type. It was probably his brother who picked the flick.

During the movie McCree noticed another cultural difference. The Japanese audience was stone faced the whole time. They didn't make noise the whole movie. McCree would guffaw anytime anything funny happened. He'd gasp, cheer, and mumble to the characters. Okay, maybe he was a little more vocal than the average movie goer, but the rest of the viewers didn't make a single sound the whole time. This of course caused Hanzo to glare at him with the most unamused and regretful look McCree thought he may have ever seen. To which McCree would smile sheepishly, and still continue to be expressive. He was having a grand time, and he felt like Hanzo was too.

At one point Hanzo muttered something in Japanese. McCree didn't know what he said, but his tone was exasperated. His knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists.

"What is it?" McCree asked, looking at him concerned. "Was I being too loud again?" Hanzo shook his head.

"No," he huffed. He pointed down a few rows. McCree's eyes followed his direction and landed on the back of a guy with green hair whose arm was around a girl. "My brother."

"He's here? Looks like he really wanted to see this movie." Hanzo snorted.

"Just with someone prettier than me," he said dryly. McCree laughed quietly. He craned his neck to try and see what the girl looked like, but he could only really see the edge of her eye, her cheek, and ear. He shrugged.

"I dunno. I think you're prettier."

Surprisingly, Hanzo made an 'hmph' noise that almost sounded like a laugh. He partially smiled; the corner of his lip turning up. McCree could see the slightest trace of blush burning under his skin and turning it a light pink. He smiled proudly to himself. That was the third time that day he'd made Hanzo blush. It only increased his desire to flatter him more if just to see the adorable red that spotted his cheeks each time.

"So you wanna go talk to him?" McCree asked. Hanzo shook his head.

"No!" he objected almost too loudly. It drew a few stares from the crowd, but not from his brother, luckily. "No," he repeated a little quieter this time. "It's not necessary. Nothing I will say will change his mind and at least this way I can keep an eye on him."

"You wanna spy?"

"I am not spying. At least here I can protect him." When he said that Hanzo went rigid. It was clear he had let on more than he meant. If McCree wasn't already aware that he was part of the local yakuza he would have questioned it. However, another question came to mind. Was Hanzo's brother part of the mob too? He was just a kid, but as Hanzo said in Japan he was seen as a man. McCree looked at the smiling green haired boy. His face beamed. Suddenly, McCree felt a pang of pity for him. He looked back at Hanzo who seemed to be focusing on the movie – probably hoping that he hadn't heard the protection thing. He felt pity for him too. McCree understood better than anything what it meant to be swept up in something toxic and dangerous.

When the movie ended McCree and Hanzo lingered to watch his brother. The kid and his date ended up purchasing a ticket to another movie, and Hanzo said since he was occupied they could probably leave.

The two ended up strolling through the darkened city. McCree wasn't sure what time it was, but it was late. The city wasn't dead, but there weren't that many people wondering around either. It was quiet, peaceful, and really nice.

"I had fun," McCree said, glancing over at Hanzo. His raven hair glinted silver in the moonlight. It was beautiful. There was a small flicker of a smile on his thin lips.

"As did I," he said. The way he turned his head away, his eyes looking at the ground, with his hair falling down slightly made McCree want to touch him. He really really just wanted to take his hand. He wasn't sure why though. He wanted to know what his skin felt like against his. He almost did – he was about to reach out when Hanzo abruptly paused. He turned to McCree. "I should be going," he whispered.

"Oh," McCree murmured. "Right. Well… I don't wanna keep you out any longer than I should. That wouldn't be proper of me." Hanzo scowled.

"You're not keeping me," he grumbled. He took a step back. "It is late."

"Right…" As he stood there looking down at him he trembled. Things became awkward at that point. It was as if neither man wanted to part, but they didn't know what to further say either. "So, uh, Hanzo, before you go… I," Jesse cleared his throat, "I wanted to give you this." He handed the smaller man a piece of paper. "It's my phone number. I'd like to get to know you better. You're the only person I really know here and I had fun. Maybe we can… do it again sometime…" A final blush spread across the other man's face, covering his cheeks and nose in a light kiss of pink. He glanced down at the paper then back up at McCree. The phantom of a smile tugged at his lips, but his dark eyes were impossible to read. He stifled his emotions.

"Perhaps," he said indifferently. McCree smiled, still. He had seen a flash of his true reaction.

"I'll… be seen' you now. Adios amigo." Hanzo blinked at him in confusion.

"What?" Jesse grinned.

"Spanish," he said. "Means goodbye friend." Hanzo's blush deepened.

"Goodbye, Jesse McCree." The sound of his name rolling of that beautifully accented tongue made McCree shiver… almost too visibly. He was sure Hanzo caught that. However, he didn't say anything. He backed away slowly before turning and strolling from McCree. He couldn't help but watch Hanzo disappear into the distance – bathed in the light of the moon and glowing like an enchanting angel.

When McCree finally trudged into the apartment the house was dead. Williamson was passed out on his futon that he'd dragged into the living room from his room. He apparently didn't like sleeping with Hasashi that much. McCree just rolled his eyes, stepping over him and heading to his own room. He was tired and wanted some sleep. He started to open the door, but paused when he heard a familiar voice emanate from somewhere inside. Reyes's voice followed.

"I told you not to let Torbjörn drink," he said.

"He's a little man with a lot of anger. There was no controlling him," said the voice of Strike Commander Morrison. Oh, made sense.

Reyes was sitting crossed legged on the edge of his futon. He had one of those little table things pulled up in front of him with his computer sitting on top. He was wearing a tight grey t-shirt and burgundy shorts cut high on his thighs. His brown curly hair was messy and disheveled – curls sticking every which way. His brown eyes were puffy and tired, but wide like he was trying to stay focused on the screen.

"Ana is going to pick him off from a sniper spot one day when he's not expecting it, I swear, Jackie." Morrison laughed. "This is two birthday's in a row. If he gets shit faced and starts breaking shit with a hammer next year he's not going to see a forth."

"She wouldn't even speak with him today. Poor Reinhardt is trying to mediate, but neither of them are having it."

"Glad I'm not him…" both men chuckled low. "Kinda wish I could've been there though."

"Yeah… me too… Maybe Torb would have settled down if you had threatened to punt him into next week."

"Still can't believe you told him that. Am I rubbing off on you, Morrison?" Reyes grinned teasingly and wide, his white teeth gleamed in the glow of the computer screen.

"I'd rather you be rubbing on me," the Strike Commander's voice had turned into a low rumble. Reyes shifted, a satisfied smirk growing on his face. McCree didn't need to hear that… "But I was a little… buzzed; he was being rowdy and wasn't listening to my Strike Commander act so I thought I might channel a little Commander Reyes."

"It works better when you say it without that sunshine smile of yours." Morrison just laughed. Reyes laughed for a second before flopping back on his bed. He stuck his arms under his head and breathed deep. He stretched causing his dark shirt to pull up slightly and expose the lower half of his bronze stomach. McCree could see his belly button and the dark hair that ran in a trail downwards. "Still wish I could have been there," he said. "I'm sick of missing everyone's birthdays."

"You'll be here for the next one, Gabe." Reyes huffed.

"Doubt it." There was a pause. "I miss you, Jack."

"You know I miss you too."

"Sometimes I feel like I'm going and going, dodging from one shadow to another and I never have a moment to slow down and… move into the sunlight. When we're together I feel like we can only ever talk about work because it's more important. We never get a moment to… to just be us anymore…" He turned to his side away from McCree. He couldn't see his face when he said, "I'm fucking sick of it."

"When you get back we'll take a vacation. No Overwatch… no Blackwatch… just us…" Reyes looked over his shoulder back at the computer.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah… we'll go someplace nice, away from it all." Reyes snorted.

"Hm…maybe we should come back to Japan as tourists. It's really nice here." He sat up back to his cross-legged position. "There's these pink flowered trees. They're all bright and pretty and all that lame shit. Anyway, they remind me of you."

"Aww you really know how to win a man's heart," Jack said sarcastically.

"Hey, I already have your heart!" There was a pause.

"That you do, Gabriel." He said it low with adoration. McCree couldn't see the Strike Commander, but if he could he would probably being looking at Reyes like he hung the sun.

McCree wanted to gag at the old men. He decided now was a good time to come in before Reyes started getting naked and he'd have to share the living room futon with Williamson. He shoved open the door with his boot and strolled in. He looked at Reyes with faked confusion to cover up the fact that he'd been eavesdropping at the door.

"Oh, the kid's back," Reyes told Morrison.

"Who you talking to?" McCree asked as if he didn't know. He flopped on his futon next to Reyes and leaned over to look at the screen.

The Strike Commander's face was framed in the center and he was sitting with his back straight. It was as if he had stiffened to formality when Reyes had announced McCree's presence despite that he'd just been telling Reyes he wanted him to 'rub on him.' McCree could tell that he was in his office despite only having been up there once or twice. He could see the Swiss vista behind him through the large pane windows that framed the most important room at the HQ. He found it amusing that they had been talking dirty in the middle of Morrison's office. Too bad Angela or someone hadn't walked in and caught them. It would have been a lot funnier from that perspective. The foil between casual messy hair Reyes and straight spine uniform Morrison was obvious. They were like night and day. Hell, they even kind of looked like night and day.

"Hello, Agent McCree," Strike Commander Morrison said.

"Howdy, Strike Commander," he said, leaning slightly into Reyes as he looked at the screen. He propped his elbow on Reyes's knee casually. "Talkin' about work?" he asked with a knowing grin. He thought he saw Morrison's cheeks flush. Reyes growled. He shoved McCree off him.

"Fuck off, McCree. Were you listening to our conversation?" He shrugged.

"Dunno what gave you that idea, boss." Reyes narrowed his dark eyes.

"Commander Reyes," Morrison said from the computer. Reyes turned his scowl to Morrison.

"Oh don't go getting all fucking formal on me, Jackie, we're fucking married. Everyone knows it whether you think so or not. You're not fooling the kid. He's not stupid."

Reyes was the only person he'd ever heard yell at the Strike Commander. If anyone else dared they'd get punished if not by Morrison himself then by Reyes. One time McCree had witnessed Reyes beat the ass of some Blackwatch recruit who had made some disparaging comment about the Strike Commander. It was quite the sight to see.

Morrison sighed. "Sorry, Gabe," he said. Reyes smiled smugly.

"That's fucking right you better call me Gabe." McCree saw Morrison smile. "Alright, sunshine, McCree's going to brief me so I'll call you in the morning."

"Alright, Gabriel. I love you." Reyes smiled at his husband.

"I know," he said blissfully. Morrison smiled. McCree found that a strange way to respond to your spouse expressing his affection, but Morrison seemed used to it. It must've been traditional. Reyes hit a button on his computer and disconnected the call. He turned to McCree. "How'd it go?"

"It was good!" McCree announced. "We saw this movie about space exploration and fighting aliens it was called…"

"Not what I mean, dumbass," Reyes growled. "What'd you find out about the yakuza?"

"OH," McCree hummed. He leaned back, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. "Nothing much. I'm pretty sure Hanzo's little brother is a member too though, and he may've been expectin' danger because he was alert." He went to light the cigarette, but Reyes plucked it from his mouth.

"Don't smoke in here," he growled.

"You do."

"I do outside." He shook his head. "Now you're distracting me. That's it?"

"Yep, but I think he's likin' me. Maybe if he gets more comfortable he'll open up about it." McCree shrugged. "I feel bad for em. He's like my age and he's stuck in this thing that's putting him in danger…"

"Like you?" Reyes asked. McCree blinked at him.

"Yeah, I guess." He looked off. "Still better than the gang though…" Reyes sighed.

"I know it's tough, kid. You can do good here…" He clapped McCree on the shoulder. "I'm here for you."

A/N: Ah, I loved this chapter so much. Poor Hanzo is surrounded by cheerful idiots in goofy shirts. Also important note for those following the story since the beginning: I am going to be changing something in chapter 1. It is a small change, but with a huge effect to the story. It is a change regarding the whereabouts to Reyes's body. In the chapter I originally stated that it had never been found. However, do to my new head canon I want his body to actually be found and buried. I will not say more for risk of spoilers.