#always so damn whiny n rude all the god damn time. and he STILL wonders what the fuck me n my brothers problem w him is. like maybe its bc

[mossjimi]

[franklyshipping]

The Difference 10 Minutes Makes ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

SO I'VE BEEN WANTING TO WRITE A FIC WITH OUR FAVOURITE ARGUMENTATIVE TWINS DAMIEN AND CELINE, SO LET'S GET RIGHT ON IT!

When the body of Darkiplier sleeps, two souls take rest, not one. Two siblings in fact, both alike in dignity, and who keep a weather eye on the consciousness of the form they inhabit as they take their own rest. However tonight, there is conflict afoot. Nothing of the serious sort of course, it was nothing more than the pettiness of a sibling spat wherein love is at the root of it all; well, love and slight desire for smug influence over the other.

'You've attended 75% of the ego meetings Damien, you cannot deny the figures and you know that I have a right to having an equal proportion of involvement as you.'

Damien sighed through his nose as his body sunk into a squishy armchair, running a hand through his hair as the frustration of the discussion started to rise. That's the problem, when both people are suggesting things out of love.

'Yeah, that may be, but you attended 100% of everything when all this first started for god knows how long! I still don't think you've had enough rest Celine....'

Damien tried to implore to his sister, who was currently pacing in their little ''cabin''. I put that in italics since this is not actually a real place, but rather the design of where their souls resided inside Darkiplier when neither of them were in control of the body; aka, when Dark was sleeping. Celine sighed and shook her head, folding her arms as she fixed Damien with an insistent stare.

'It isn't as if that time drained me Damien, I'm not a feeble little girl who needs protection!'

'I know you're not!'

Damien replied in a slightly louder voice...and they both descended into a slightly awkward silence. They knew that the debate was idiotic, but they were both equally as stubborn as one another, which no-one and nothing would change. Damien picked lightly at the fabric of one of his chair's arms, and looked back up at Celine, still imploring. The last thing he wanted was for her to think that he thought she was weak, because it was quite the opposite. Damien knew she was the strongest out of both of them, but in order to keep that way she had to engage in SOME degree of self-care.

'Celine, I know better than anyone how strong you are. It would be completely stupid not to see how your strength keeps our moralities and sanity going....you're the strongest out of the both of us. But that doesn't stop you from still getting tired, I see it Celine, you still need more rest....'

Celine sighed softly through her nose, pursing her lips as her brain whirred. She knew he was only looking out for her, her sweet, innocent soul of a little brother. Celine couldn't deny that so much of her ached for more rest every single day...but if she wasn't there in some form in an emergency, then what would happen? No. No she couldn't risk it. See? Stubborn.

'Damien....I hear you, I really do, but I still have a responsibility to you. As your older sister I cannot just simply let you shoulder everything-'

'Oh heeere we go, you'll never keep that measly 10 minutes between our births out of anything will you?'

Damien groaned and rolled his eyes, slumping in his chair with a huff; that old damned argument, she BARELY counted as an older sibling, they were born on the same day! She just HAPPENED to be the one who popped out first, Damien didn't see why that instantly put her in charge of him all the time. At his, somewhat childish complaint, Celine raised her eyebrows and gave him a warning stare.

'Damien.'

Damien took no heed of course, he was an adult dammit! No degree of scary eyes was going to make him concede. So he rambled on, not angrily though, it was just his repressed immaturity coming out; that thing that happens when words happen before you even think them through. That was what happened...right here....right now.

'You always dig out every childish excuse. Not that it's a surprise, I mean, we both know that you just want to be in the body more so you have more chances to drool over Wilford and his new look.'

There as another silence. This one wasn't an awkward though. This one was electric. Damien's brain had caught up with his mouth, and Celine's brain was still trying to convince itself that those words had ACTUALLY come out of Damien's mouth! What a fucking nerve he had, and what a completely bullshit accusation too! There was no truth to it....none....nope.

'.....if you have any regard for your own self-preservation, then you WILL take that back.'

Now, any sane person would apologise right away and say they didn't mean to make such a rude accusation. Not Damien though, oh no; the bastard was grinning, smugly. This reeeeally took him back to when they were younger, embarrassing Celine was one of the most fun things he did as a child, and it was just as fun now. Seeing Celine with gritted teeth, narrowed eyes, and dare he say it, pink cheeks, just made Damien forget any semblance of sense. He'd gotten to Celine, and that's all that mattered.

'I don't see why, it is the truth after all. Strange though, I always thought you preferred red over pink-'

'ENOUGH!'

Celine interrupted, exclaiming in a similar tone of a mother who has just called you by your first, middle AND last name, just to let you know that you fucked up. Damien realised he fucked up. Especially when Celine stalked over, grabbed him by shirt collar and hauled him from the chair; this was not intended to hurt though, this was simply a throwback to familial rough-housing. And, just like when they were younger, Damien was caught off guard. Pretty soon he was pinned down on his belly on the floor ,with Celine gripping and pinning his wrists at the small of his back. Oh yeah, he fucked up.

'C-Celine I was joking i-it was a joke!'

Celine merely scoffed, I mean, even for Damien that was pretty lame.

'Come now, that sort of excuse never worked when we were children....and it isn't going to work now. Do you remember what I used to do when you were getting too cheeky, little Damien?'

Celine cooed as she looked down at Damien, and smirked when she saw his face turn a wonderful pink. Despite them being twins, throughout much of their childhood she'd always had a good inch of height over him, which she'd always lorded over him, figuratively AND literally. Now, nickname aside, Celine's query also contributed to Damien's blush. He remembered all too well. Before he could formulate a reply however, it was like he'd gone back in time to being eight years old up past his bedtime...and being punished for it.

'A-AH! N-Nohohoho C-Ceheheline nohohohot thihihis!'

One of Celine's hands had initially snuck under his jumper and t-shirt to scratch at one of Damien's bare sides....ahh the nails, he certainly hadn't missed those. He'd started giggling instantly and wriggling about, so Celine decided not to waste time. Using her knees to keep Damien's wrists pinned at the small of his back, she now had both hands and ten nails free to scratch at her brother's exposed sides.

'Ahahahaw, still a ticklish little baby hmm? Why am I not surprised....'

Celine smirked as she teased....oh how she'd missed wrecking him like this. Damien tried to hide his face in the rug as embarrassment started overtaking his system, and his bouncy giggles were getting louder and louder too.

'IHIhihi ahaham nahat AHA BAHABYYY!'

Damien kicked his legs, as if subconsciously trying to emphasise his point, but Celine just kept on cooing and scratching.

'Awwww but you aaare! You were always a sweet baby with sweet tickly siiiides!'

Damien whined as he realised that Celine was bringing out her worst weapon in full force...the baby voice. Being talked to like a baby had always wrecked him in so many ways, simply because the embarrassment fricking consumed the poor guy. On top of that, with Celine deciding to up the intensity and dig into her brother's soft sides, poor Damien was well and truly cackling his head off. 

'NOHOHO OHOHO CEHELIHINE DOHON'T TAHAHALK LIHIKE THAHAT!!'

Celine smiled fondly at the sound of her brother's tender, whiny begs; she just loved how adorable Damien could be, especially when he was laughing like this. She'd loved making him laugh for as long as she could remember, Damien had kept his babyish giggle right into when he was a toddler, and bringing it out when they were young had always warmed Celine right to the core. She let out a giggle of her own now, but it was a malicious one. She resumed gripping his wrists with one hand as he rolled him onto his side, and used her free hand to claw at his belly as she teased.

Don't talk like whaaaat? Don't talk about your wittle tickly sides? Okay Dami, how about your tickly wickly tumtum instead?'

Damien let out a humungous squeal as his cackles came out harder and at a deeper pitch, his diaphragm certainly had its work cut out for it. Needless to say, Damien had quite the ticklish tummy, and now it was the target it spurred Damien to crane his neck and look up at Celine desperately through his mirth.

'AAHHHAHAA NAHAHAT THEHERE! YOHOHOU'RE EHEHEVIHIL!!'

Now, Celine had to admit, that seeing Damien's sweet, pleading puppy eyes was VERY nearly enough to sway her into a merciful mind-set. Those sweet eyes had gotten Damien out of a lot of trouble over the years, they just enhanced his whole demeanour of innocence. Oh....but if only Damien had managed to stop himself from insulting Celine, he might have saved himself from the clawed hand digging into his belly. Alas, no such luck for sweet Damien.

'Evil? Why Damien, you and I both know this is what you deserve. In a way I'm doing you a service with my sisterly discipline....'

Damien's eyes widened....oh hell no. He let out the most indignant noise that was possible amidst his cackles as he exclaimed in defiance of Celine's....oh, what do you call it? Absolute bullshit.

'BUHUHUHULLSHIHIT!'

'Language!'

Celine exclaimed right back with raised brows as she now actually stopped her attack...but Damien knew it wasn't going to last long. As he caught his breath though, Damien couldn't help but giggle at Celine's feigned shock at his swearing....and then his giggling got nervous. Damien knew his sister, and he knew that she was going to use this as an excuse to absolutely destroy him.

'First you accuse me of chasing after Wilford, and now you swear at me too? Perhaps some hysteria will help wash your mouth out!'

Celine growled maliciously, and soon Damien was squeaking and squirming weakly as he was forced back onto his front...and he swore his heart nearly stopped when he felt Celine crawling down over his legs. Then there was an immovable weight on his shins. Then....his shoes and socks were being removed from the equation.

'N-NOHO NO WAIT C-CELINE IT JUST S-SLIPPED OUT!! D-DON'T GET MY FEET PLEASE CELINE PLEASE!'

Now, I don't know about the rest of you, but if it was me tickling Damien right now then I would just crumble at hearing such desperate cries. Celine would do no such thing though, but this was because she KNEW her brother; she knew his limits better than anyone on the planet, so she knew he still had some strength left to handle what she was going to give him. Besides, as the elder sibling, if it wasn't Celine's job to keep teaching her brother manners, then whose was it?

'Ohhhh but Damien....this is my duty, I really have no choice.'

Celine smirked with diabolical satisfaction....as Damien screamed. Now, there are nails, and then there are Celine's nails. With each one filed to a devilish point, as they scratched up and down Damien's desperately scrunched soles at the speed of light, it was no wonder that Damien sounded like he was literally being tortured.

'AAHAHAHAH NAHAHAHAHA NAHAHAHAAAILS!!!'

Damien's mouth was wide as hysterical laughter poured out of him, and Celine merely giggled at the sound of Damien thumping the floor with his fists insanely. She crooned as she focused her ferocious scratching at the balls of his feet.

'Aren't they so wonderfully sharp? Usually I'd have them a little shorter, and maybe rounded off at the ends....but I think I'll keep them like this for a while.'

All Damien could do was keep on scream-laughing as his face got redder and redder, practically reaching the hue of a beetroot. On top of that, tears were trickling from the corners of his eyes as sweat beaded at his forehead.

'NOHOHOHAHAHA NOHOHOHO CEHEHEHELIHINE!!!'

Celine kept on smirking, kept on scratching, and just kept on teasing.

'Awww, you don't like them? Well they like you....they like you and your tender, ticklish feet so very much....'

Damien wailed and started thrashing like his whole body was being shocked, and honestly it was in a way. Damien's feet were a death spot when it came to tickling anyway, but for them to be tickled by the one person who really KNEW how to tickle them? There was no other tickle sensation like it....especially when those skilled nails reached and scratched under his tender toes relentlessly.

'AAAHAHAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAHAAA!!!'

Celine hummed happily at Damien's incoherency and decided to keep up her current technique for a minute or two; you must remember of course thought that Celine was being most attentive to her brother's state, she knew that he could handle it. After those sweet moments of screeching, wailing, and squealing though, Celine decided to croon for the last time.

'Are you sorry for being so cheeky and rude to me?'

Damien let out a soft sob through his laughter as he nodded, reaching the end of his tether as the incoherency really hit him; he was definitely going to sleep well tonight after all this.

'YEEEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHA!!!'

Celine couldn't help but smile smugly as she finally stopped her onslaught, sliding off of her brother's legs, tilting her head down at him fondly as he panted and gasped. Celine's smile became kinder though as Damien sniffled and giggled residually, wiping his face as he weakly started trying to curl his body up. Celine shuffled close and immediately pulled him into her chest, and immediately felt warmth in her tummy when Damien started to cling to her.

'Shhhhh....shhh Dami I've got you....'

Celine whispered as she tenderly stroked Damien's hair, smiling at how his blush was not dying down, and how it probably wouldn't for about an hour. Damien meanwhile was starting to recover himself, but ended up whispering just because of how fricking exhausted he was from it all.

'....'L-Line....'

Celine felt even more warmth swirling in her stomach now, and smiled bashfully as she recalled all those time on the past. Damien was tired, clinging to her needily and slurring his words because of how tired he was....and he never had enough energy to say her full name....so he shortened it. Celine wiped away the last of Damien's tears as she whispered, constantly soothing him.

'I'm here Dami.....'Line is right here....'

Damien smiled at his sister's gentle voice, and he nestled closer with a light mumble as his eyes started drooping.

'.....m'tired 'Line....'

Celine smiled, still stroking his hair as she watched Damien's eyes flutter shut completely. She carefully maneuvered them both so they were laying on the rug next to the lightly warmth hearth, and Celine whispered more.

'I know....I know. You rest Dami, it's okay, you just rest....'

Damien never stopped smiling as he dropped off to sleep....and for a moment, Celine made a move to get up...but realised that Damien was still clinging to her. Not just cuddling, not just holding...he was honestly clinging to her like she was his lifeline. Celine sighed softly....but felt herself relaxing with Damien's warmth and the hearth's safe crackle surrounding her. Then, as Celine herself dropped off, she finally conceded that maybe.....just maybe....the best way to protect Damien, was to look after herself too.

WOOOOOO HOPE YOU LIKED THIS FIC LEMME KNOW IF YA DID WOOOO LUV YOUS XX

[ecchima]

Human is beautiful, perfect is boring

Words: 4,6k Rating: T Co-author: @smuttybugggu AO3

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

Yo lo Amo

Hanzo can feel his stomach twisting and curling in disgust as he storms back into the agency. He has no patience for the fools who try to get in his path or speak to him. Echoes of his argument with McMilan--McCree--whoever the hell that man is, linger over him like an awful dark cloud. The worst part in all of this is that awful feeling of betrayal. Not that Hanzo wasn’t ever betrayed before, but this time, it actually hurts. Because he really, really liked McCree. What a fool he was.

Tears of rage and betrayal build against the corners of his eyes, threatening to drip out. He bites back a sniff as he fans his eyes and quickly wipes at them, refusing to allow anyone to see him in such an upset state.

He pushes the doors of the room where he left Genji earlier and walks toward his brother. The room is quite empty, most people already went home or are getting ready to do so and Hanzo appreciates the quiet. It doesn’t ease the storm of his feelings but it helps to know there is little to no people likely to witness his misery.

“Hanzo?” he hears Genji call out, but ignores him.

“Come with me,” Hanzo hisses under his breath and grabs his sibling by the arm, dragging him out of the lobby.

“Brother, what’s wrong?!” Genji’s voice cracks in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away or push him back.  

Hanzo can’t bring himself to speak for several minutes, not until he and Genji are in his dressing room. After closing the door, Hanzo slumps against it, collecting his thoughts. He looks up at his brother and takes several deep breaths, trying--and failing--to regain some composure. He drags a hand against his face before he opens his mouth and swallows against his anxiety. “Genji…”

“What is wrong?” Genji demands, irritation and concern messing on his face. “What’s with the dramatics, Hanzo?”

“It is McMilan,” Hanzo snaps, his eyes growing watery. “I have been betrayed. It...He is…”

“Has he been friendly with you again? Or did he compliment you?” Genji cuts him, clearly irritated. It was hardly the first time Hanzo has pulled his brother aside to vent about the other model. “We’ve had this talk before, brother.”

“He is McCree,” Hanzo interjects and glares at his younger brother. “James McMilan is Jesse McCree. Or Jesse McCree is James McMilan. I do not even know which damn way it is!”

“Ah.” To Hanzo’s surprise, Genji doesn’t seem taken aback or even amazed by the revelation. “Yeah, I already knew.”

Hanzo can feel his anger spike. He straightens up and pokes at his brother's chest. “You knew and you did not tell me? Why? And don’t tell me you thought it was not relevant.”

When Genji lifts a hand to his mouth, Hanzo catches a glimpse of a grin between his fingers. He glares and tenses up as his brother begins to cackle, nearly curling in on his chest, when the teasing laughs escape his mouth anyway. “H-Hanzo!” Genji stammers in between laughs. “Brother...please!”

"I come to you for support and you laugh at my misery,” Hanzo huffs, crossing his arms defensively across his chest.

“Pardon my language,” Genji speaks with a strained voice and holds back another laugh. “How the hell did you not realize it sooner?”

Hanzo gapes at him indignantly. “I-He… It is not my fault, he is a master of disguise!”

“Oh my god,” Genji wheezes. “Come on, Hanzo! It was literally the same man, same hair and eye colors, and same build. How could you not see through his Clark Kent act?” He shakes his head and whips out his phone. “I need to talk to McWrap about this. Where is he anyway?”

Hanzo winces and inhales deeply. “It does not matter, Genji. I...Whatever we had is no longer…” his voice trails off and he turns away. Quietly, Hanzo stalks towards his recliner by his dressing room’s vanity dresser and sinks down, deflated.

“What did you do?” Genji asks. “You had a fight, didn’t you? I can tell because you’re being a whiny baby!” His brother whips around, lowering his phone, and follows after him.

“I am not!” Hanzo snaps between shuddering gasps and drags a hand across his face, resting against the top of his forehead. “Just forget him, alright? We are through. I will not be texting him anymore or calling him or eating dinner with him. And we will return to being distanced at work.”

Hanzo flinches when a pillow smacks him dead in the face. “This isn’t a soap opera, Hanzo! Ganko Anija!” Genji adds in Japanese and rolls his eyes. “Let me guess, you stormed off all dramatically and left poor Jesse to hang high and dry, wondering what to do.”

Hanzo bares his teeth at Genji and flings the pillow back at his sibling. “Be quiet!”

Genji steps forward, ducking out of the pillow’s path, and gives Hanzo a hardened look. His brows are furrowed in disappointment and his frown is growing. “Hanzo, I’m being serious. I was there that day in your photo shoot for the wolf sanctuary. Let’s see now: ‘It is impolite for two strangers to be so forward’? I’ve known him a lot longer than you have, Hanzo, so I can safely say you are being a damn fool! And you have no idea how great Jesse really is. If I wasn’t your brother, I’d say you don’t deserve him.”

“And how do you know him?” Hanzo whispers with a glare.

“He wasn’t lying about his work as a sound tech with bands,” Genji admits with a shrug. “I caught a glimpse of him at one of our shows, recognized him from all the advertisements, so I followed him to a local little bar after it was over. He begged me to keep quiet about his ‘secret’ identity. This was way before you two became associates, but it was still hard to hear about how cold you always treated him, Hanzo.”

“Obviously you do not know him very well, then. He has been very rude tonight.” When Genji raises a skeptical eyebrow, Hanzo continues, “He called me an ass and…” Hanzo pauses, trying to remember what else McCree said. When he can’t find any other insult, he repeats: “He called me an ass.”

The way Genji’s expression turns deadpan makes Hanzo shift uncomfortably in his chair. “Hanzo… Don’t tell me you haven’t been an ass, it’s not true and you know it.”

Hanzo crosses his arms across his chest and looks away. He doesn’t know what to reply so he does the next best thing: sulking in silence.

“Come on, Drama Queen,” Genji sighs and nudges Hanzo by the shoulder. “Food time.”

Hanzo takes a deep breath and nods before standing up and opening the door, Genji following him closely. Just as they’re about to step out into the hallway, Gabriel Reyes rushes past them, stopping Hanzo dead in his tracks.

It takes him a few seconds to regain his composure but eventually, he walks into the hall to look at McCree’s manager running.

“Wow, I’ve never seen him run so fast,” Genji says, frowning. “I wonder if McWrap made him angry...”

Hanzo huffs. “It could very well be, I would not care and it would serve him right,” he mutters and follows his brother in the opposite direction. He knows only one place where Genji would want to eat at.

After a much needed visit trip to Rumplings and a good night sleep, the Shimadas enjoy a lazy morning at Hanzo’s place, with Hanzo resting on his couch and reading a novella by his favourite author as Genji lounges beside him, flipping the tv channels at a rapid pace.

“Pick a channel or turn off the television,” Hanzo murmurs with an irritated tone. However, despite Genji’s somewhat annoying tendencies, he is glad his brother offered to keep him company for the night.

“Fiiiiiine,” Genji makes a mock whine and drops the remote, allowing the local news station to stay on the screen. It isn’t long before he turns on his side, relaxes against the couch, and gazes at Hanzo. “So. I’m not gonna pester you to tell how the fight went down...but just consider forgiving him, ok?”

Hanzo pauses from his readings and frowns. “I am making tea. Do you want some?” he asks abruptly, ignoring Genji’s comment as he stands up from the couch.

“You can’t run from this forever, brother. You work together, there’s no way you’re not going to see each other again and trust me, McWrap has an incredible sad puppy face.”

The elder Shimada scowls at Genji and walks around the couch, back into his kitchen. “Yes to tea?”

Genji sticks out his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Fine. Jasmine if you have any.”

Hanzo makes the tea in silence,not bothering to listen to the news as it runs on in the background. He watches as the water slowly turns into a dark brown; the color makes him think of Jesse’s eyes. He wonders what McCree’s sad puppy face looks like--until remembering that he’s mad at him and doesn’t want to see his face. He distracts himself by listening to Genji commenting on the news: the local schools are having fundraisers, a robbery occurred at a gas station, traffic was delayed because of an accident…

Holding back a sigh, Hanzo finishes preparing the tea and brings two small cups with him. He hands Genji’s cup to him but his brother doesn’t move and keeps his eyes glued on the TV instead.

“Thank you, brother,” Genji murmurs as he takes the cup. He lifts it up to his mouth but pauses as something on the screen catches his eye. “Hey, Hanzo. Isn’t that…?”

Hanzo looks up at the screen and freezes. There’s a crashed motorbike on screen. A tiny photograph of a familiar face appears In the top right corner of the tv as they broadcast the surveyed damage. He feels...numb as he recognizes the destroyed motorcycle. He’s certain that the red streaks on the pavement are blood. The crowd gathered around the scene all look horrified or upset. After, Hanzo spots a bold line of text scrolling over and over on the bottom of the story. Only then does the gravity of the situation click in place. ‘Famous Model Injured in Crash’. McMilan...McCree.

“Jesse,” Hanzo whimpers, feeling strangely heavy and frozen in place.  

“N-no way,” Genji whispers from beside Hanzo, as they both gaze on anxiously.

“--hirty-seven-year old, James McMilan, was injured in a crash last night. McMilan is a well known model working for LME productions. Witnesses affirm that McMilan was driving above the speed limit and went through a red light. He was rushed to a nearby emergency room, name withheld at the request of his manager, and is currently in a coma. Tragically, it is unknown if he will pull through.”

“Oh god,” Genji gasps between his hands and frantically reaches for his phone. “What if that was why Reyes was freaking out?” He dials a number with lighting speed and holds the phone to his ear. “Please answer...please!”

Hanzo still feels lifeless as he listens to his brother’s panicked breathing. “It’s not picking up, Hanzo!  It’s going straight to voicemail.” He watches as Genji’s eyes fill with tears, unable to move, unable to speak. He’s not even sure he’s breathing anymore.

“Shit!” Genji curses as he leaps up from the couch, tears dripping from his eyes, and rushes into the hallways connecting Hanzo’s living room to his bedroom. “C’mon Jesse, answer the phone, please!”

Hanzo listens to his brother’s voice breaking, cracking in pieces. He chokes back estranged sobs. The teacup in his hand slips between his fingers and tumbles down to the carpet. Hot tears roll along his sharp cheekbones as his last conversation with McCree rings in his ears.

“You never gave me the chance to get close and get to know ya.” He remembers McCree’s expression, the tears in his eyes. “Do you have any idea how painful it was to be half loved?” He remembers his own anger then, cold yet still burning, the venom in his voice when he said: “You are not worth my time.”

As Hanzo squeezes his eyes shut, a distraught gasp breaks free; deep sobs immediately follow after it.

The news reporter’s voice starts echoing in his head. “McMilan was driving above the speed limit and went through a red light.” Hanzo shakes his head to try and stop the voice but it keeps repeating itself, accusing.

He hears Genji fumble around in the hallway, cursing in a mixture of Japanese and English. Wordlessly, with eyes still soaked and dripping, Hanzo stands up and makes a beeline for his shoes and jacket.

“I will be back,” Hanzo weakly mumbles to his brother and slips out the door while Genji is still distracted.

The drive from Hanzo’s place to LME productions passes in a blur; he barely remembers it happening at all. But, here he is, glancing around frantically. His heart thrashes wildly against his chest in panic and his breathes heave heavily and unevenly against his throat. Frays of hair have broken free from his ponytail--a sign of his rushed appearance--and sweat coats the skin of his forehead. He takes a moment to try and scold his expression into his usual poker face before entering the building.

Many concerned expressions zero in on him, but Hanzo ignores them. He searches the crowd of people all gathered around the greeting office’s large wall mounted television where everyone is watching the news alert about James...Jesse. When he spots his target, Jack’s personal receptionist, and makes a beeline towards her.

The brunette woman is clearing her desk; where an almost comically large bouquet of flowers is taking up most of the wooden space. He steals a glimpse down to the flowers and spots a tiny yellow card that reads ‘You’re in our thoughts, James.’ tucked in the paper band.

“Lena!” Hanzo calls out to her.

The woman jumps in surprise and quickly spins around to meet him. “Hanzo! Ya scared me, luv!”

“I cannot get a hold of Jack,” Hanzo explains, taking a deep breath. “I need to know where Jes--James has been taken to.”

Lena opens her mouth and closes it several times as she considers Hanzo’s words. She blows a few strands of hair away from her eye and meekly sags her shoulders. “Ah...Jack told me to keep hush hush at the moment, luv,” she murmurs apologetically. “Besides, I don’t really think it would be a great idea if you visited him there,” she says, wringing her hands. “Since y’know… You two fight all the time.”

Hanzo sighs and starts playing with one of the loose strands of hair from his ponytail, looking up and away to try not to spill any tears; he’s getting desperate.

“It has been pointed to me how,” he pauses, looking for another word than ‘mean’. “Uncivilized I have been to him… I would like to apologize.” Lena looks at him skeptically until he adds a weak, “please”.

After a short time of silence, Lena sighs under the pleading gaze. She gathers the flowers and shoves them against Hanzo’s chest. “Fine. I’ll tell you, but you gotta bring these too.”  He nods eagerly and takes the note where Lena wrote the hospital’s address.

Before he can turn and leave, Lena quickly steps closer and glances around cautiously. “From what I understand, James has been admitted under a different name, luv. An alias? Anyway, it’s Jesse McCree.”

Hanzo mumbles, “Yes, I know. Thank you, Lena.” Then he turns and leaves as fast as he can without actually running and jumps into his car. He types the address in his GPS and tries to focus on the road this time.

When he finally arrives to Overwatch hospital, Hanzo spots his and Jesse’s managers getting a coffee. He moves stealthily across the lobby and sits in one of the chairs, feigning to be waiting as he listens to their conversation.

“... It’s all my fault, Jack.”

“No, we already talked about this. You can’t help that the kid was driving above the speed limit, Gabe!”

Hanzo watches from the corner of his eyes: how Gabriel sullenly stares at the floor and how Jack wraps his hands around the other man’s while their coffee rests on a counter. They are practically pressed against each other’s sides, almost...intimately; needing one another’s comfort. But then… Jack leans his head against Gabriel’s shoulder and Hanzo starts to think that all the gossip he hears about them at work isn’t just gossip.

“Let’s wait until he wakes up. He’ll tell you what happened.” Jack says almost too softly for Hanzo to hear.

“I killed him, Jack,” Gabriel’s whisper is so pained and broken. “I made him take that stupid diet. I saw he got drowsy and clumsy. Even the nurse said...”

“She said it didn’t help, she didn’t say it was the reason of the accident, Gabe.”

“But what if he fainted? For all we know, he could have fainted on his stupid bike because of that diet I forced on him! And for what? A bloody photoshoot with Hanzo. Everyone thinks he’s so cool, wonderful Hanzo with his tattoo and his long hair. That guy’s just a bully!”

“Gabe, hold on. Look, I was going to talk to Hanzo about his attitude towards Jesse, but getting mad isn’t going to help right now. Calm down,” Jack replies and reaches for the other man’s shoulder. “Please…You know it’s not his fault either.”

Hanzo looks away, of course it’s his fault. How could it not be?

“You should get some rest, Jack,” Gabe quietly mutters and kisses Jack’s forehead. “Ve a dormir, cariño.”

It takes a few more minutes and a pair of puppy eyes but Jack accepts to take a nap while Gabriel goes get something a bit more consistent than the hospital’s coffee. When he’s sure he won’t be noticed, Hanzo walks discretely up to the information desk and coughs to get the receptionist’s attention.

“How can I help you sir?”

“I...um...came to deliver those flowers to…” Hanzo pauses and pretends to look the name up on his phone, “Jesse McCree.”

The receptionist types the name on his keyboard and scrolls down for what feels like ages before looking back at him.

“I’m sorry but this patient is still in a light coma state and he’s not taking visitors.”

“I understand but this is my job, I could get fired for not delivering these flowers. I will be in and out.” Hanzo can tell the receptionist is about to refuse again so he quickly adds, “Unless you would like to carry this particularly heavy bouquet by yourself, of course. It would actually be rather helpful.”

The guy just eyes the enormous bouquet wearily before giving Hanzo the room number and the direction to the elevators. It doesn’t take him long to find the room but he stands in front of it for several minutes, bracing himself and praying to all the gods he knows that he won’t be greeted by the sight of a McCree missing half of his body parts or something.

He freezes after he cracks open the hospital door and peers inside. His chest clenches up when he sees the prone form bundled up on the bed and he quickly rushes inside. Machines clutter around the bed--all monitoring different parts of the man’s body--and layers of pillows and blankets are swaddled around Jesse. The flowers are dropped on an empty chair beside the bed as Hanzo kneels by it.

He gets a better view of the other’s injuries and his eyes immediately tear up. Where Jesse’s left arm should be, there is a bandaged stub. Jesse’s face is decorated with deep scratches and bruises and several bloody patches adorn his head; a brace is clamped around his neck where bandages are wrapped snug towards his forehead and over his left eye. His right foot is set in a cast, supported by a cling at a corner of the bed.

Hanzo cringes, having little idea of how much pain the accident must have caused him. With a shaking hand, he clutches his fingers around Jesse’s right arm and buries his face against his chest.  “I’m sorry,” he whispers, blankets muffling his words. “I did this to you, didn’t I?”

At this moment, Hanzo would gladly give everything he owns to feel McCree’s strong and warm embrace, to see those soft chocolate eyes, the little marks at their corners whenever he smiles.

A choked sob escapes him when he realizes just how much he’s lost because he was too prideful to just listen, too wounded to forgive. He laughs dryly. He has hurt Jesse more than the cowboy had hurt him. Physically and emotionally, Hanzo thinks bitterly as he remembers what the journalist had said on the news.

When he hears a groan, Hanzo immediately glances up to see  Jesse’s eye blinking slowly. He watches as the man rolls his gaze around, exhaustion and confusion very visible in Jesse’s expression while he examines his surroundings. When he finally gazes at Hanzo, a big and soft smile forms on his face.

“Jesse?!” Hanzo croaks, his tone barely above a whisper.

“Did te dolió...heaven...?” Jesse’s voice is hoarse and dry, but the goofy smile never leaves his face. He reaches up, almost drunkenly, and presses his fingers on Hanzo’s eye. "Mmmm... Estoy mas volado que una cometa. I must be in heaven.... Un ángel."

Hanzo pauses and frowns when he realizes that Jesse is far from coherent--most likely on a high dose of painkillers. A part of him is thankful the man is still alive; the other half despises himself. It’s his fault Jesse is in a hospital bed, missing an arm and heaven knows what other parts of his body.

He feels his lips quivering as he cups his hands around Jesse’s own and gently lifts it up. He presses a kiss to the calloused knuckles and bites back a sudden sob. “I’m so sorry, Jesse. I’m sorry.”

A light frown appears on McCree’s face as he watches Hanzo repeating apologetic whispers on loop. McCree wiggles his arm in an attempt to free his hand from Hanzo’s grasp then he pinches Hanzo’s nose with some difficulties.

“Boop!” He says happily, retrieving his hand slowly and sticking out his tongue in concentration as he tries to position his annular between his middle finger and index. After a while, he looks down at his hand and chuckles before positioning his thumb between the two fingers.

“Gotcha nose!”

Hanzo’s frown vanished from his face, but his brows still sank against his eyes. “I...should let you rest. I just needed to see you and apologize, Jesse.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?!”

Hanzo jumps in surprise, Jesse blinks slowly. They both turn their head to the doorway to see a fuming Gabriel Reyes--clutching a cup of coffee in his hand and shooting daggers in Hanzo’s direction.  He wipes at his eyes, takes a deep breath, and bows his head. “I-I...I did not mean to intrude.”

“How the hell did you get in?” Gabriel gritted between his teeth.

“I brought flowers,” Hanzo offers weakly and gestures to the discarded bouquet on the other chair.

“Gaaaabe!” Jesse calls out happily, oblivious to the tension between the other mens.

“Jesseeeee.” Gabe answers in what Hanzo assumes is his best fake happy voice. “Don’t move, kid, you’re so high you could touch the moon. And you,” he says, walking towards Hanzo and gripping the front of his shirt, “are getting the hell out of here!”

“Noooooooooooo!” Jesse whined, trying to sit up.

Gabriel let go of Hanzo at once and rushed to hold Jesse back in his bed. “I said don’t move, condenado niño.”

"No hagas que el ángel se vaya, jefe."

Gabriel snorts. “Angel? Maybe the kind with horns and a pitchfork..”

"Yo lo amo, Gabe."

Hanzo watches the two men converse, feeling uncertain, ignorant and confused the whole time. When Gabriel passes a glance away from Jesse and back on himself, he can feel his heartbeat quicken. Next thing he knows, Hanzo is being guided back into a chair and a rather pissed Gabriel engulfs his vision. “What the hell is he talking about?”

“I don’t speak Spanish,” Hanzo admits quietly and rubs his forearm awkwardly. “What did he say?”

“He says,” Gabriel answers, leaning even closer, “that he’s in love with you. So I would like to know what on Earth lead him to think that. Everybody knows you hate him, Hanzo. Do you suddenly find my kid interesting now that he almost died?”

“No!” Hanzo snaps and buries his face into his hands. “I mean...that’s not…” A deep sigh leaves him as he glances back to Jesse and focuses on what’s left of his arm. “I have been a fool.”

“I think everyone’s been a fool,” Gabe mutters as he shoves the bouquet of flowers to the ground and sinks down in the other hospital chair. “But it doesn’t answer my question, cabròn.”

Hanzo takes a deep breath and looks at him in the eyes. “Before I explain everything, I want to let you know that I deeply care about Jesse and the only reason I am here now is because I am worried and--” Hanzo takes another deep breath before his voice can crack. “I am really sorry for what happened to him.”

“What.” Gabriel’s deadpan expression is enough to make Hanzo falter for several seconds.

“I know it sounds skeptical, after the way I’ve acted in the past...It all began about a month ago.”

Hanzo took a deep breath before he recounted everything from memory: his first meeting with Jesse McCree, their first dinner date, their first movie night...their first kiss. Hanzo saw no point in hiding the truth, especially after what lies have cost him already.

Both men pause when Jesse weakly moans and mutters something in Spanish. His fingers prod and scratch at the wires strapped onto his exposed chest, monitoring his vitals.

“Oi!” Gabe sends an irritated glance at McCree and snaps his fingers. “Don’t touch, mijo!”

“I don’t like ‘em,” McCree complains and ignores the man.

Hanzo stands and reaches for McCree’s hand, taking it gently between his own two. “Jesse, please don’t.”

Jesse pouts and for a moment, Hanzo thinks he’ll try to free his hand to keep scratching at the wires, but the goofy grin returns to his face. “I’ll be good, if...mmm...a kiss.”

Hanzo looks down at the cowboy’s lips and cringes. They’re still bloody from the accident and probably hurt. He lets his gaze wander across the other’s face to find a better spot and when he finds it, he slowly leans forward and lays a gentle kiss on Jesse’s forehead, near his temple.

“You should go back to sleep, Jesse. You need to rest.” Hanzo whispers.

“I don’t wanna…”

“Sleep, Jesse,” Gabe states, sounding more like a worried parent than a worried manager, as he watches the pair.

Jesse looks up at Hanzo and mumbles “Stay,” his hand squeezing Hanzo’s, making him look at Gabriel, silently asking permission.

“Alright,” Gabriel huffs, “but this talk ain’t over, Shimada.”

They watch as Gabriel takes his coat back and Hanzo swears he hears a quiet, “Take care of him.” before he’s gone.

Jesse pulls on his sleeve to get his attention and says “Bed…With me?”

It takes Hanzo several minutes to figure out what McCree wants from him: to lay on the bed together. He eyes the small hospital bed skeptically before placing one of the chairs next to McCree’s bed and laying his head on the other’s chest, making sure he won’t hurt Jesse or disconnect the wires.

Exhausted after such an eventful morning, Hanzo falls asleep to the sound of the heart monitor and Jesse’s breathing.

The translations are : -Stubborn Brother! -Go sleep, my dear. -Did it hurt...heaven...? -Mmmm... I'm flying higher than a kite. I must be in heaven.... An angel. -You damn child -Don't make the angel leave, boss. -I love him