For the McHanzo requests: how about Hanzo accidentally shooting an arrow through McCree's hat and being scared of McCree's reaction, but he's fine with it and kisses Hanzo's nose (idk I'm just making this up while I write)
If there is one thing the world knows about Jesse McCree, it’s that he is never seen without his hat. He wore it to meals, he wore it to practice, he wore it when they chased talon away from precious cargo. Lucio swears he’s seen McCree wear it in the shower.
Needless to say, should anything happen to that hat, McCree would find the offender and make him pay.
Hanzo stares at his hand, shocked that it had betrayed him like this.
Across the street, McCree brings a hand up to his now-bare head, feeling around for his hat, no doubt. He turns and finds it impaled to the wall, arrow stuck up to its fletching. Hanzo watches as McCree grabs the arrow with his cybernetic hand and breaks off the end, slipping his hat off and inspecting the damage with a frown on his face.
Was he angry? It certainly seemed that way. Angry, slightly hurt, maybe even offended. How could Hanzo blame him? Here they were, newly dating, and Hanzo has ruined McCree’s most prized possession.
All because his hand slipped.
McCree was looking at him now, and Hanzo frantically began thinking up excuses for his mistake: an enemy sniper, right behind him, dangling from her web, prepared to strike. The girl who shrouds herself in shadows and teleports about, gun pointed at McCree’s head, disappearing before he could let his arrows fly. Perhaps the creature that is somewhere between man and monster?
If only this were a talon mission.
“Hanzo, honey, if this is your way of breakin’ it off, I’m thinkin’ you should talk to Zenyattta and get an orb full of peace and tranquility, ‘cause this is just cruel,” McCree says, gesturing towards his hat, “Could’a killed me there, pumpkin.”
Hanzo watches as McCree dusts off his hat before placing it back on his head, confused, before replying, “It was not…No, no that was not my intention at all.”
“Mind explainin’ why I almost ended up gettin’ skewed then?”
“My hand…slipped,” he forces out, despite his pride. “I was readying myself and it slipped.”
McCree’s expression softens, and he lets out a chuckle.
“Who knew Mr. Shimada made mistakes.”
Hanzo frowns, surprised by the way the interaction was going. He was expecting more anger, a few curse words. Perhaps a flash grenade or a thrown punch.
“You…aren’t angry?” he asks, eyes flickering up to the ruined hat.
“’Bout what? Almost turnin’ me into a handsome kebab?” He takes his hat off to run a hand through his hair, and Hanzo continues to eye it warily. It dawns on McCree.
Tilting his head back, he holds his hat to his chest and lets out a deep, rumbling laugh. Hanzo stands there, face heating up, unsure as to what McCree is laughing at. Ruined hat or no, if the gunslinger was mocking him–
“Oh, Darlin’, I ain’t mad,” McCree says between his laughs, “S’just a hat! A couple’a holes ain’t gonna do nothin’ bad to it. Gives it some character.”
McCree grins at Hanzo.
“’Sides, I’ve got more of ‘em back at the base. I go through these hats like I go through my serapes.”
Now Hanzo is the one who blinks as he processes this new information. Come to think of it, he does remember times where McCree’s hat had left the battlefield scarred, only to reappear at the mess hall with nary a scratch in sight. His fear lessens, and his stomach begins to uncoil.
“If you…are not truly mad…”
“Honey I couldn’t be mad at you even if I tried. I was just a touch hurt that you’d almost killed me.” Hanzo frowns, and McCree shakes his head, grinning.
He grabs Hanzo’s hand and gently tugs him over, kissing him on the nose.
“Tell ya what, I’ll keep wearin’ this sucker ‘till you know it’s alright. How ‘bout it?”
Hanzo nods, nose scrunched up from the kiss.
Perhaps McCree cherished more than a silly old hat.