#the Shimada logo is one of the patches on his tail

[codexjinora]

"Rumors exist of the exiled siren prince, who killed his brother and to this day is searching for redemption."

Mermay 2024 is upon us and I've finished my first fully-rendered drawing in literal years. I had to do it to 'em. I hope you all like it. There's a fair few easter eggs to the Shimada clan in there. The background is not drawn by me, luckily there was a free stock image online because underwater is HARD.

(Tumblr PLEASE dont kill the quality.)

[classywastelandbread-blog]

Honored Spirits Bonus Chapter: Sleepover

I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately, so this is to commemorate it. 

Yay?

The mission hadn’t gone wrong per se, but it had certainly taken a hard sideways turn. No one had died and there were no injuries that required more than a few hours in a biotic field under Mercy’s tender care. The payload had been secured with no civilian casualties and only a little damage to the streets and buildings.

Still, mistakes had been made and friends had been injured. It marked the first major mission since Hanzo and McCree had returned from their...explorations and while it seemed to go well, clearly it had not.

It didn’t matter that they had on hand the best that modern medicine had to offer - no one liked being patched up by nanites or in the itching, lukewarm clutches of a biotic field. Worse in some ways was Mercy’s Caduceus staff, which everyone - including Mercy herself - agreed was one of the most uncomfortable sensations that any of them had experienced. They should not be able to feel flesh and bone and muscle knitting back together but it served as a good deterrent to caution against reckless behavior in battle.

(No one dared mention Ana’s biotic rifle, even if the sniper didn’t seem to be around. She was not so petty that she would withhold healing for a teammate that needed it - and held still long enough for her to shoot them with her darts - but she would make sure that it hurt before the pain was soothed and their wounds healed.)

Dinner after they had returned and debriefed was a quiet affair and almost immediately they all dispersed, still lost in their thoughts.

McCree wasn’t surprised that he woke up shortly after attempting sleep and wasn’t too surprised to find his room light up with a gentle blue glow. He caught sight of Soba perched on the edge of his desk, its tail twitching and curling in nervous arcs of pale blue scales and golden fur.

“I could use something to drink,” McCree said out loud into the oppressive silence of his room. It was a sensation like tinnitus - the quiet yawning like a chasm so much that his ears rang with it. “Lemme get a shirt on and then we can go to the kitchen.”

Soba’s talons clicked against the top of the desk until he gestured to it and it drifted over, far quicker than McCree was used to, to tangle itself around McCree’s shoulders and waist. Just as he was about to step out of his room, he paused and grabbed the beat-up paperback he had read with Soba as they hunted down Hanzo’s targets. As if in reward, Soba nudged the side of his jaw. It still didn’t speak and McCree knew that it was a sign that it was particularly upset.

That in turn meant that Hanzo was upset.

“Why don’t you tell Han I’ll be out in just a sec?” McCree suggested, reaching up to tickle the underside of Soba’s jaw. It didn’t settle but submitted with ill grace to the scritches. If it indeed spoke, he couldn’t hear it but Hanzo still seemed to expect him and hand a mug of tea ready.

They smiled wordlessly at each other and McCree leaned down to press a bold kiss to Hanzo’s cheek as he picked up his mug, a silly thing that they found covered in dust and grime in one of the old storage rooms with the Overwatch logo on one side and the words, You don’t have to be crazy to work here. We’ll train you.

Hanzo looked up at him, his smile hidden in his eyes as he sipped from his mug, a joke that Hana had gotten for him that said, Might be vodka. His eyes also said the other things he wouldn’t say out loud. Udon rippled beneath his skin.

“Brought a book,” McCree said, wiggling the old paperback novel as he sipped at the tea. “If ya wanna join me.”

He was only partially surprised to find Hana on the small loveseat in one of the corners, bundled up in a blanket. She had a similarly haunted look and yet another mug of tea in her hands, this one bearing her logo.

“Wanna read with us?” McCree asked as he settled on the couch. “It’s Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton.”

McCree sighed, settling himself and then holding still for Soba to settle itself in turn. A moment later, Udon peeled itself away from Hanzo’s skin and curled up, restless and shaky in his lap while Hanzo himself curled up against McCree’s side. Hana joined them wordlessly, forcing the two of them to shift so that McCree was in the middle of the couch; she tucked herself against McCree’s other side.

Disgruntled, Soba tucked its head beneath the collar of his shirt and flattened itself along his skin. Hana’s eyes were sharp if a bit unfocused but she made no comment on it, curling herself further into his side.

“You want us to start over?” McCree asked as he thumbed to one of the pages marked with a small sticky-note marked with Udon’s name - the last place they had all left off. Another one with Soba’s name was further in the book.

Wordlessly, Hana shook her head; she bent her face over her mug and curled up tighter.

“Alright,” McCree said and took a sip of his own mug. Dirty leaf water he may tease Hanzo, but the warmth was very much welcome to chase away the bone-deep chill of night terrors.

Three pages in, Soba had peeled away from McCree’s skin, now laying on it and draping its body across his shoulders. Leaning against his arm, Hana toyed with the tuft at the end with both hands as she listened to McCree read.

Hanzo served them more tea after two more pages. As he was coming back to his spot, Angela walked in with Ramen draped across her shoulders; after making herself a cup of hot cocoa surprisingly heavy with milk and Ovomaltine, she found a spot on the loveseat. When asked if she wanted them to start over, she shook her head and asked for a brief summary of where they were in the book, claiming to have once read it a long time ago.

Though he could tell it wanted to join Soba and Udon where they were tangled around him and Hanzo, Ramen remained with Angela, occasionally nudging its snout against her cheek reassuringly.

McCree continued to read. When he finished reading about a scene that talked about Tim’s love of dinosaurs, Soba spoke for the first time. I don’t like Tim’s father, it said petulantly.

Smiling, McCree reached up to stroke the underside of its jaws. Hana mumbled sleepily as the motion jostled her.

It’s a trope, Udon grumbled. The father that isn’t as understanding as he should be.

On his other side, Hanzo stiffened and McCree casually looped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed. Shimada Sojiro was like Tim’s father, Soba said, twisting so it was spread out over Hanzo, McCree, and Hana’s laps.

“Why’d you stop, cowboy?” Hana mumbled sleepily.

“Sorry,” McCree murmured back. Across the room, Angela stirred her cocoa with a tired smile; Ramen yawned adorably from its perch on her lap though McCree knew that the dragon spirits had no need for sleep. He turned the page and resumed reading.

A page and a half later, they were joined by Mei and Snowball, who both seemed surprised to see the group. While the kettle warmed again they went out to get as many blankets and pillows as they could find and returned with Lena in tow. They derailed their storytime to construct a crude blanket fort.

Childish, Udon sniffed, but it was by its suggestion that they use the tables placed on their sides to make the enclosure larger. Regardless, Udon got the other spirits in the air until everyone was able to settle down on makeshift pillows and blankets.

Hanzo claimed a spot tucked up against McCree’s right side while Hana resumed her place on his left, curled up and not quite touching him. He knew better than to push her and his left arm was needed to hold the book anyway.

At his nod, the dragons settled again. Soba curled up on his right side, a long cool line from collarbone to ankle as it balanced along the seam created by McCree and Hanzo; Udon mirrored its pose over McCree’s other side, though at his hip its hips and long tail curled to drape over Hana’s as well. It curled the tufted end of its tail under her neck and let her toy with the silky strands as she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.

Ramen curled up with Angela, Mei, and Snowball, letting the little drone rest with a happy trill against its belly and forelegs. Angela, Mei, and Lena were propped up against the long side of the couch, the kettle of hot water resting on an insulated pad between them; Ramen had draped itself over their laps when they were settled.

Continue! Ramen said imperiously.

Smiling, McCree waited for Hanzo’s sleepy “translation” and obeyed.

The next morning when Ana made her way to the common room, she found a small crowd outside the doors.

“What is it, Jack?” she asked quietly. Soldier 76 twisted to scowl at her, an expression only visible in the furrows carved into his brow above the mask. “Oh right,” she said with false sympathy. “That’s not your name now, is it?”

Soldier 76 grunted. “Told you not to call me that,” he agreed gruffly.

Waving him off, Ana pushed past into the kitchen. Reinhardt smiled widely at her and gestured for her to be quiet. He was very carefully pulling out ingredients for breakfast and she eyed him before looking for her kettle.

“Looks like the kids had a sleepover,” he said, his thunderous voice as soft as he could reasonably make it. Looking where he gestured, he indeed found the “kids”.

They had created a blanket fort out of the couch cushions and assorted blankets she recognized as the plain, ubiquitous things from Storage. Mattress pads provided cushion for the “floor” of their fort - to ease the aches in backs that may be used to feeling the ache of the hard ground but were becoming too old to comfortably enjoy it - and more sheets and blankets hung over the short-legged tables tilted on their sides to give it the appearance of a nest.

McCree and Hanzo were curled up together like two matching puzzle pieces; Hana Song lay tangled in the comforter next to them, one foot sticking out, bare to her knee as the motion of her tossing and turning hiked up the leg of her pajama pants. Her hand lay draped tentatively over McCree’s metal wrist. To their side, Mei, Lena, and Angela leaned against each other. Empty mugs lay tilted on their sides, some of them with contents that had spilled to the carpets and others with empty stains that marked where they had been filled with tea or cocoa.

The dragons were tucked around them: Soba and Udon rested on the now-cushionless couch like glittering blue-and-gold gargoyles while Ramen perched on the edge of the table with Snowball, in power-saving mode, resting on its shoulders. A book was held carefully in Soba’s jaws, the page delicately saved between its teeth.

“Let’s let them sleep a little longer,” she said to the immortal spirits. “Bring me the book, Soba, and I will mark the page for you.” The dragon obeyed and she used a piece of napkin from the kitchen to mark their place as promised. “If they wake up and are hungry, will you tell them that we’re at the lower kitchen?”

Soba twisted in the air around her head but from its perch, Udon nodded regally. Smiling, Ana shooed the curious observers out and helped Reinhardt pack up the ingredients to take to the other kitchen as promised.

“I think they earned themselves some rest, don’t you think?” Reinhardt smiled agreeably.