Chapter Text
McCree always thought there was something odd about the bowman. From the way he tended to keep to himself, to the bad blood that seemed to be between him and Genji. While the rest of the crew in Overwatch tended to crowd together on nights when they were all in the safe house and without a mission to do, Jesse saw that Hanzo never stuck around, choosing to retire to his room or the training room to practice shooting off arrow after arrow. After a few months, he had eventually learnt that Hanzo had made Genji the way he was, having almost killed him in a battle Genji still refused to talk about, and for good reason. With that, even McCree, who usually found it hard to dislike others, found himself struggling to like Hanzo. After all, he had nothing good to base any goodwill towards him. Eventually, he decided enough was enough. Even on missions Hanzo was too quiet for his liking, which made him feel like he couldn’t trust the man with his life. So, he decided to take matters into his own hands.
Cornering Hanzo one night in the training room, he watched for a few minutes as the man fired off arrow after arrow, his yukata hanging below, revealing his back. Jesse took a few moments to admire the way the muscles on Hanzo’s sweat covered back almost shimmered as he pulled the string of his bow back, displaying his almost hidden strength. McCree couldn’t let himself get too caught up in it however, and cleared his throat, alerting Hanzo to his presence. At least, he had thought so.
“What do you want, McCree? If you want the training room to yourself, you can have it in another 15 minutes.” Hanzo didn't turn around to address the cowboy, just keeping up his constant firing into the riddled targets.
“Well nice to hear more than a sentence come out of you, darlin’” McCree said, exerting his southern charm. “I just came to talk to ya, see if I could learn more about you. After all, we are working together.”
In reality it was true, he did want to learn more about Hanzo. But not entirely because he was working with him. More so just so he could see if his hate towards him was entirely founded. It wasn’t like he could say he was a patron saint who didn’t have blood on his hands but even he felt that killing your own brother was worthy enough for some disdain. Which seemed to be the sentiment of everyone working at Overwatch. The Japanese man sighed, letting his bow rest beside him. Turning to face Jesse, the American noticed that his eyes seemed to be slightly luminescent, but when he blinked, they were back to their normal brown.
“All you need to know, McCree, is that while I guard your back, no harm shall come to you. Although, I suspect you, like the others here, do not trust me to do that.” McCree froze.
“I know my brother has told you I was the one who put him in his new.... form. And that everyone here has a bond with him. I am unable to change people’s minds once they are made. Just like one cannot change a flowing stream.”
Hanzo walked slowly up to McCree, who tried to say something in reply. After all, he was all too aware of what it felt like to know people hated you. And yet here he was, hating someone for the actions of their past, when he had done the same. He had killed, taken people’s fates into his own hands, and ended theirs just as swiftly with PeaceKeeper. But, before he could get a word out, Hanzo was beside him, brushing against him as he walked out of the gym, the heady smell of the Japanese man filling the Cowboy’s senses.
“Do yourself a favour, Cowboy. Do not go against the flow.” And with that, Hanzo had left, leaving McCree alone, trying to compose himself.
“Well that was interesting.” he muttered under his breath, more interested to know about the bowman than ever.