Never Let Me Go (A McHanzo Fanfic)

Red Sky in the Morning

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"Are ya done puttin' clothes on, darlin'?" McCree asked from his side of the room, where he rocked on his heels and played with his trusty--but empty--revolver. "Ya know, you could come out naked and I'd still dig it."

"Your blatant seduction won't work on me," Hanzo fired back with the sound of ruffling cloth. "And what is this? Why do you men wear two pants? Why is the other one shorter than the other?"

"It's called underwear, Hanzo." Jesse pinched the bridge of his nose, blotches of red barely visible on his brown face. "Um...ya know, it's pretty neat, and I have a lot just like it so you can keep that one if ya like."

A light thump came from the other side. "I have a feeling in my gut that says I shouldn't even have touched that, so...I'll pass."

"So..." McCree began, drowning in thick awkward tension, "about your tail-"

"It disappears when a merfolk strays out of water, or when there is not enough to suffice my needs," Hanzo cut sharply. If it were possible, his steely stare would have burned a hole into the curtain and it would have disintegrated into a pile of warm, dry ash. "If you're worried about your treasure, don't be. I'll still be able to swim; my tail should return once I go back into the sea."

"Then I guess we're still set on treasure huntin' later?" McCree clasped his hands together.

"Yes. I guess so."

After the interesting little discourse, the siren spread the curtain some distance apart and stepped out to the light for the pirate to inspect in greater detail. Jesse held his chin in between his fingers and nodded back with strained smiles and "you look great"s pouring out of his mouth. McCree's eyes swept the expanse of the merman's stocky body, draped in a gossamer shirt he let him borrow for the sake of modesty. The hem came down halfway to Hanzo's knees, and his muscular arms failed to push through the length of the loose sleeves, proving it to be too long for his own good. McCree also noticed that his captive lost the brown pants altogether, and he looked up without a word, searching for a reasonable explanation in the merman's tawny orbs.

Hanzo was quick to sense the pirate's burning stare, and he in turn, returned the favor with an equally furrowed glare. "What?" he spat.

"I gave ya pants for a reason, darlin'."

"Your pants are too long--they make me trip, and its heavy to wear," the merman replied, curling his lips in impatience and irritation. What was so hard to get?

"Well, we can't have ya walkin' around lookin' like that." Jesse clicked his tongue and ran his palm over his tired features.

"Don't you have anything else? Something I can actually manage?"

The captain skated his eyes from the siren's face and unto the low recessed ceiling above. His face shone with the glow of thought, or maybe it was the candle light reflecting on his skin; either way, Hanzo found the sight to be rather pleasing--a good mix of handsome and daunting, a look that commanded the stage and demanded the respect of those around him.

Wait, the siren stopped in his tracks. Did he really just think that?

While Hanzo drowned in the carnality of his reveries, McCree had gone over to a large chest sitting beside his improvised bed of crates and pushed it out of the shadows with little to no effort. Then, the captain sat on an ankle and eyed the lid, the intricate iron details rusting throughout the ages it has spent dejected in The Huckleberry. The rounded leather top was peppered with dust, and it made Jesse scratch his scalp the longer he had to look at it.