So Much Mchanzo

Morning, Darling

Time for some cheesy McHanzo fluff aye (boy howdy am I trash)

Warnings: none I guess wowie zow, maybe profanity, idk

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McCree sucked at mornings, if he was honest with himself. Never was a morning person, never will be, and that's that.

He preferred to sleep until around (high) noon at the least, but the recall kinda put a damper into that routine. Now he actually has to get up. And do things. Aw jeez.

The sharpshooter eventually got used to waking up earlier, but any time before 7 am was dead to him, don't even try to wake him up that early. If you did, well, as Mercy likes to put it, "You'll just get a cranky man-baby that runs on coffee for the rest of the day."

Well, six months into recall, Jesse McCree managed to break his own golden rule.

He stirred, groaning quietly. He could barely see. What time even is it? It's too dark to be day, but at the same time too light to be night. He looked over at the night-stand next to him.

"Awww, shit..." The cowboy cursed, rubbing his human hand over his face.

6:03 am.

This was way too early, and McCree was way too tired. Of course, Jesse has the worst trouble falling back asleep after waking up, and settled for just laying there.

After sitting for about five minutes, laying on his side, McCree slowly became aware that something was pressed flush against his back.

Well, someone.

Finally awake enough to actually get his senses in check, he registered Hanzo Shimada pressed close to his back, he arms snaked around his mid-section (Before continuing, Jesse took a second to marvel at the tattooed arm thay was hugging him close. Did McCree ever mention how much he loves Hanzo's tattoo?), and the archer's face resting on the side of his neck.

Hanzo really looked at peace like this, was the first thing Jesse thought. It seemed like nothing was wrong in the elder Shimada brother's life; like he wasn't constantly fighting the demons of his past, and trying his damn hardest to redeem himself. No, like this, he seemed peaceful, without a worry. He looked safe.

The cowboy turned his head a bit, enough to rest his cheek against the other man's. "Mornin' darlin'." He drawled, southern accent thick and laced with grogginess.

The arms around him tightened just a bit, and out of the corner of his eye, McCree could see the tell-tale signs of a smile. Oh, Jesse lived for moments like these.

Ok, maybe McCree could become a morning person, but only for this reason, nothing else. If it meant that he got to wake to this kind of thing, he'd break his "golden rule" a lot more often.

The sharpshooter sighed, and leaned into the man behind him, enjoying the contact.

Yeah, he could get used to this.

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Hope y'all enjoy some fluff, boy howdy is this corny

Anyways I've never really written McHanzo stuff, but this pairing is my will to live, pls appreciate

Ok thanks for reading m8s, seeya