The cowboy fished out two shot glasses from his pouch, putting them on the matching plastic table that sat between the two chairs. With teeth he pulled the cork off of his whiskey bottle and filled both glasses. He didn’t speak as he pulled the cork from his mouth and dropped it between the shots.
Hanzo idly watched it roll to a stop as they picked up their respective glasses. With a small raise to each other, they tossed them back. The whiskey burned in the sweetest of ways drawing a hum out of him and the satisfied noise from McCree made his lips twitch ever so slightly into a smile that he was quick to hide. “Where else would I be?”
“I s’ppose you’re right.” McCree drawled, raising the bottle in an offer. When Hanzo set his glass back down, he refilled them both. This time they remained on the table instead of being picked up straight away.
Hanzo plucked a silver case off the table, his own that he’d left out here from the night before. He opened it and pulled a cigarette from the metal container before snapping it shut. He’d long ago stopped offering one to McCree, the man had his own cigars. He clicked his tongue, spinning the cig softly between his fingers. “What caused you to search?” He asked, stilling his hand, open end pointed toward the cowboy.
McCree was used to this routine by now, he pulled a cigar and his lighter out, doing the gentlemanly thing and lighting Hanzo’s smoke before his own. “Ain’t a mission without a good drink the night before. Figured I’d find my drinkin’ partner.”
Taking a drag, he rested his cigarette between his index and middle fingers. “One usually drinks to calm his nerves…” His eyes slid over to McCree who was happily puffing away. “Are you nervous about this mission?”
The sharpshooter chuckled, picking up his shot glass and pausing until Hanzo did the same. Another raise to each other, another down the hatch. “I ain’t been nervous about a mission since I got me a sniper watchin’ my back.”
“Archer,” Hanzo was quick to correct, setting his glass back down. As expected, it was filled again.
“Right, my own Robin Hood.” He purred with such a tone that if Hanzo wasn’t a more schooled man, would have brought a flush to his face.
Hanzo chose to ignore it though another drag on his cigarette. “You sure are trusting of my arrows.”
McCree lifted his head, looking at him. “Should I not be?”
The archer turned his head as well, looking right back at the cowboy. “My aim is never off.” It was as much a boast of his skills as it was an assurance that he’d continue to pick off the enemies that threatened McCree. “But you certainly are less…. Concerned about how close it can be.”
The boisterous laugh he received was infectious and Hanzo didn’t even try to hide the smile that wrapped around his cigarette. “A little thrill ain’t hurt no one, partner. The others just gotta get used to livin’ a bit risky again- they ain’t all been on the run like you and I.”
“I will drink to that,” He replied, and this time he was the one to pick up the glass first. Raise, down, refill. “I have learned that I cannot take the same shots with others as I can with you.”
McCree snorted. “And tha’s why I told Winston to pair us up for every mission. Wastin’ your potential, and that ain’t gonna continue happenin’ on my watch.”
The archer gave a wry smile. “How thoughtful of you, worrying about my potential.”
“No fuss now,” He replied with a deep laugh. “I’m bein’ selfish with it. It’s nice to have someone watchin’ me. And it’s mighty fun to see them panic when they realize I led them to meet their maker. You put the fear of god in men, Robin Hood.”
Hanzo curled his upper lip, like he’d smelled something foul. “I take it that will be my new nickname for a while?”
“If you’d rather go back to bein’ Legolas, I can do that for ya.”
He snorted, picking up his shot and downing it without waiting. When he set it back down he eyed McCree, head to toe. The man was dressed as he usually would be for a mission, sans his chest armor and sarape. Casual wear in the hideout. “Don’t be cheeky.”
The cowboy broke out into a fit of laughter, holding his gut. “You’ve been spendin’ too much time with Tracer,” He grinned widely, punching Hanzo’s shoulder. “mate.” He said, trying to mimic her accent.
They both laughed, McCree’s loud and rough, Hanzo’s soft and subtle, until a blanket of comfortable quiet settled over them. He enjoyed these moments with McCree, if he was honest. When he had first met the man, he would never have guessed that they both were aiming towards similar goals of redemption, that they both understood that the past should not be forgotten. Where they differed on that was whether it should consume the future or not.
It was getting easier to consider McCree’s view of not letting it clog up future opportunities. Spending time with the cowboy and what few conversations he’d had with his brother since their conflict in Hanamura were helping.