Night - A McHanzo Fic (McHanzo Week 2017)

Night - A McHanzo Fic

On the outside, Hanzo Shimada was a tough man. A battle-hardened warrior, a master marksman. No matter the circumstances, his icy-cold external image was simply something which strictly had to be upheld. Honour, and wisdom, were to be represented externally.

But there was a softer side to Hanzo, too, once one dug a little deeper. A side which he had tried, countless times, to prevent seeing the light of day.

A side only presented to those whom he loved, and deeply trusted.

Jesse McCree, his unlikely partner and one true love, was one of those people.

On this starry, gently-moonlit night, Hanzo simply reflects on this fact. He is a light sleeper at the best of times, but nights like these with their peaceful atmosphere and gentle lighting make him feel almost lucky to miss out on sleep. The silky bed sheets feel pleasantly silky against his tattooed skin as he gazes, distractedly, out their apartment window into the inky night beyond.

Curled up cosily in bed beside his American lover, he can't help but contemplate just how incredibly lucky he is.

"...Whatcha thinkin' 'bout, darlin'?"

McCree's softly-spoken question cuts through the silence. At this stage, Hanzo knows better than to question why the cowboy always finds a way of staying awake at this hour. How he manages such a thing. It happens most nights, and all he can do now is accept is as a normal occurrence. Hanzo feels him stir, adjusting his position, before he feels the unmistakable scratchiness of his lover's unshaven cheek nuzzling into his shoulder. A well-muscled arm pulls him closer, locks itself around his waist.

Hanzo only sighs. A smile involuntarily stretches itself across his face, as he shifts his position to nestle himself against McCree's warm body.

"Nothing in particular, Jesse," he responds to his lover's question. "I was just... admiring the beauty of this night."

And thinking of you.

He doesn't say this part out loud.

Instead, he closes his eyes as the pleasing sensation of his lover's fingers, threading delicately through his untied mahogany hair, shortly follows his answer. He can't remember the last time that had ever failed to relax him, to completely ease his mind, and he can't hold back the sigh of pleasure which escapes his lips in response.

"'S still not as beautiful as you, darlin'..."

McCree's breath tickles his face as he whispers in his ear. He continues softly stroking Hanzo's velvety brown locks, brushing a stray strand behind his ear, and traces his finger slowly down his neck.

Hanzo lets out a quiet hum of contentment as his lover finds a sensitive spot. He involuntarily arches his shoulders, just a little, before he relaxes himself against the plush pillow and simply allows McCree to continue.

"Thank you..."

The words spill out, not so much a sentence as a relaxed murmur, barely comprehensible as he buries his face in his pillow.

You are far, far too much, Jesse McCree...

The tears trail down his cheek and soak his pillow before he realises he is even crying. He is confused first; crying is still an emotion foreign to his body, and he does not know why the tears have suddenly sprung unprompted.

Maybe it is just his inner emotion setting itself free, he muses. Like a caged bird finally spreading its wings, he feels a familiar swelling rise in his heart.

"Jesse..." he whispers, hoarsely, as his lover plants the smallest of kisses against his cheek. At the best of times, his lover's neglect for his personal grooming has the tendency to annoy him, but in this moment, the scratchy feel of McCree's beard against his skin feels quite nice. "I..."

"Ya love me?" the cowboy playfully finishes his sentence, as he once again pecks his cheek with a chaste kiss.

You know me too well.

"...Yes."

He sighs again, and lets the tears fall. They seem at odds with his relaxed smile and peaceful demeanour, but he doesn't care. Emotion is something to be shown; he has been strong for too long.

Yes...

"Yes, Jesse..."

Hanzo half-sobs the words into his pillow, only hoping McCree would still hear them.

By the way his lover gently strokes a finger across his tear-streaked cheek, wiping away the tears, he evidently doesn't need to worry about that.

"Aw, don' cry, sweetheart..."

Again McCree's whispered words caress his neck, his warm breath tickling against his unclothed skin.

"Don' cry. 'M here. Relax," McCree soothes, continuing to stroke Hanzo's face. He continues to do this for as long as it takes the tears to stop. A few moments is all it takes. Mercifully, they soon cease, and he relaxes once more into McCree's tender hold. "Go to sleep."

With his face snuggled into his slightly dampened pillow, Hanzo simply allows himself to melt into the tender moment his lover has created. The heat of McCree's body, snug against his own, works better than a hot water bottle; the warmth is almost intoxicating.

It is something he feels he needs.

He feels... safe. Loved. As if he had been deprived of such things in the past. Which isn't too far from the truth.

Things have changed since then, and he can not be more glad.

There is just something about Jesse McCree.

He doesn't know what it is.

All he knows is that he is lucky to have the love of a man like he.

The thought is enough to again make him smile. The beauty of the night is too much to resist; Hanzo can't help but again open his eyes, slowly and lazily, and he takes one last look at the softly-lit landscape outside. The last remnants of the city noise, the odd snatch of traffic sound, still trickle in slowly through the open window. It is an unlikely source of comfort, he knows, but coupled with the steady rhythm of his lover's breathing, it greatly relaxes him.

He manages to stay awake for a while longer. Unusually for him, Hanzo thinks, McCree seems to have dozed off already. His breaths are slower, deeper; his arm now more slack against his midriff. Though, it doesn't take long for the calm release of sleep to catch up with the archer too. Eased in slowly by the gentle rise and fall of his lover's chest against his, and the slower, more relaxed pace of his lover's breaths against his neck, he closes his eyes.

I do not deserve you, Jesse. But I am lucky all the same.

"I love you, Jesse...." he whispers into the darkness, not expecting a reply.

He can't be entirely sure, but just as the borders between wakefulness and sleep fade, he thinks, surprisingly, that he hears a soft voice in return.

"Love ya too, Han," it whispers, just loud enough for him to hear.

Those four words are all he needs to finally fall into a deep, untroubled slumber. Finally.

He falls asleep with a smile across his face.