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"Ok, ok," Jesse said, waving a hand in front of Gabriel. He was alert, more than usual today. Gabriel could guess why. They were alone. Gabriel flared his nostrils; expelling two lines of smoke, and then flicked the tip of his cigarette before turning his head and allowing his eyes to meet with Jesse's. The boy's gleamed. Gabriel could practically feel the hormones radiating from him. "I've been working on his one for a while now." 

The indoor shooting range was not what Gabriel considered the most romantic of settings. The large room consisted of long, gray cement walls bearing the occasional, small window that exposed the dreary weather outside. The only color was from the hanging paper targets set out in the far distance, and Jesse's handiwork ensured most of the red had been blown away.  

"Another new trick?" he asked. Gabriel analyzed the scene, contrasted it with the glimmer in the boy's smile. He almost wanted to suggest that Jesse wait a few days and try wooing him once the weather improved. 

Jesse flashed a grin at Gabriel that just barely restrained his ulterior motive. "I'm thinking of calling it 'Fan the Hammer.'" 

Four months ago a handcuffed Jesse McCree was giving him a double dose of the middle finger, asserting to both Gabriel and Jack that he would make their lives a living hell for dragging him into this situation. He was a swearing, lazy, disobedient pain in Gabriel's ass. 

Gabriel supposed he should be thankful things had turned around so drastically and, after giving some thought; he not only accepted, but welcomed this change in the boy's temperament. Jesse no longer tried to find ways to make training slower, difficult, and instead was working in order to impress Gabriel, to catch his eye, to earn a compliment or approving look that he could use to satisfy himself later at night. And Gabriel was fine with it. He didn't care what inspired Jesse to improve, so long as he showed results. Jesse could snag a less than subtle look at his rear all he wanted. Gabriel's job was to train Jesse, to hone his skills. That's what he intended to so. 

"Fan the hammer?" 

Jesse gave a quick nod before grabbing his revolver and pointing it at a colored target sheet set several feet away. "It's a work in progress. Lemme me know if you think it needs changing. If not, well, kudos to me for getting it right the first time."  

"Name's not worth much if there's nothing to it," Gabriel commented. 

"Of course, boss," Jesse cracked. He spun the cylinder, showing off the resting bullets in the chamber. "You think I came up with a fancy name without at least practicing? Why, I'm hurt." 

The bottom of Jesse's lip stuck out as he formed an exaggerated pout. Gabriel would never admit it, but it was almost flattering to see that he was worth the effort. Jesse played the part of rebellious teen rather well, but there was no hiding that Jesse had a look to him. He was messy and in need of more growing, but Gabriel could envision that, perhaps in three or four years, he's be a handsome, mature young man. In another setting, one where Jack hadn't given the boy to him as a delinquent suddenly turned recruit, Gabriel might have returned Jesse's hungry stares with one of his own. Maybe. 

Gabriel threw the end of this cigarette to the floor, snuffed it out with he tip of his boot. He looked at Jesse with a cold, intimidating stare. "Impress me, McCree," he ordered, and he could see the rush it gave the boy to have such an order handed to him. Gabriel could hear the skin from Jesse's hand clench tightly around the handle of his revolver over the sounds of rain hitting the glass windows. 

"I'll do more than that," Jesse attested, but Gabriel kept his composure, warning him with his continued stare and crossed arms that this wasn't a game, and that this was cutting into their strict schedule. Jesse maintained his confident smirk, along with his eager gaze and need to impress Gabriel as he spun around and faced the target. 

"What exactly do you intend to do?" Gabriel asked. He saw that the sheet was closer than the usual set range, noticeably so considering Jesse's talent at sharpshooting. 

"Rapid fire," Jesse answered. His hand hovered over the rear of the barrel, above the hammer of the revolver, and Gabriel foresaw what would unfold. His eyes darted to the sheet hanging at a distance. Was Jesse being honest when he said he practiced? Gabriel wanted to believe it, but if that were the case, then the boy must have done so at a much closer range, or merely practiced the art of slamming his hand against the hammer with the right velocity and pressure to issue out a speedy delivery of bullets.

Gabriel debated if he should say something, perhaps warn Jesse than issuing a series of shots so quickly would result in lower accuracy, and that he might want to consider readjusting the target. He went against the idea, only because he believed that failure would be better in the long run. Jesse wanted to show off during training. Some embarrassment would be good for him. 

Leather groaned under the sudden change of weight. Gabriel's brows turned upward as he watched Jesse move forward, his knees buckling down before shifting into a barrel role. Gabriel wasn't sure what to expect. Rolling forward before attempting to lay out a flash of bullets was a much greater feat to attempt than to merely stand in one spot. By this point there was no time to warn or stop Jesse, only for Gabriel to move back a bit in case something went horribly wrong. 

And it went wrong. Partially so; Jesse fulfilled a perfect dodge roll before bouncing up and slamming the side of his hand against the hammer. And it wasn't even an immediate failure. Two holes appeared near the center of the sheet, signifying to Gabriel that the boy was more than just barking out claims of grandeur. There was some bite to him showing off, and for that Gabriel was a little impressed. But the third bullet's puncture appeared much higher than the first two, well out of the usual range that Gabriel had come to expect from Jesse. And it was clear from the banging released from the fourth, fifth and sixth bullet, none of which resulted in the appearance of more holes on the target, that Jesse was still in recovery from his roll, or his arm had locked when he saw the placement of the third bullet, or something along those lines. 

Gabriel removed the plugs from his ears and waited for the target sheet to come forward, and a bit longer until he dared to approach the young man. 

"Three," he stated aloud, watching Jesse stand up straight and stare absentmindedly at the barrel of his revolver, then at the target hanging in front of them. Gabriel slammed his boots against the hard floor, causing Jesse to break from his stupefied trance and return his attention back to the older man. He was red faced with embarrassment. 

Gabriel pointed finger at the sheet. Jesse glanced nervously at his gun, as if ready to put all the blame on it. The light in his eyes was gone, emptier than the chambers in his revolver. It was so apparent to both of them that this was not how the show was supposed to end. 

"Three out of six ain't so bad," Jesse said. It was so apathetic that Gabriel couldn't tell if it was an admittance of defeat, or a sad, half-assed attempt to save himself from further humiliation. 

"Does that look like something worth being proud of?" Gabriel asked. Jesse didn't answer. Gabriel stomped over and snapped a finger at him, watching the boy shirk his shoulders up and his head away from him. "Well?"

Jesse shut his eyes. "No, sir." 

The apathy was replaced with a hurt whimper, the cry of a boy caught and in trouble for wasting an adult's time. Gabriel had seen this before, time and time again with new recruits. Hell, he'd been in the same spot years before. He saw Jesse struggle keeping his eyes shut, avoiding having to face the man he desperately wanted to impress, and knew that the kid had had enough. He could give Jesse pushups, make him do laps and pick out each bullet he wasted, but reddening on the top of Jesse's ears, the reflexive flare of his nose and refusal to look Gabriel in the eyes stopped him. 

It was easy to forget Jesse was not a volunteer recruit, even easier to forget that the boy desired his approval so bad that anything less hurt.

Gabriel lowered his hand. "Why?" he asked Jesse. 

Jesse shook his head before opening his eyes. "I swear I had it! You should seen me last night, you'd have been blown away!" 

Gabriel sighed. "That's not why," he replied calmly. He saw Jesse's shoulder ease down, surprised by the change in his superior's tone. Gabriel waited for Jesse's breathing to slow, just enough to ensure the kid wouldn't fall into a panic, before adding, "you can do better. Now tell me." 

"Because I can do better," Jesse said with a nod. He face was red. Just the face.  

"You can," Gabriel replied. "And instead of doing that you tried to impress me with a fancy name and a bunch of moves." 

Jesse shoved his revolver into his holster before smacking his hand on top his forehead. "I just... I had it last night." 

Gabriel rested his hand on Jesse's shoulder. He felt the muscles underneath his hand tense up from contact. "It doesn't matter whether or not you had it last night or this morning, or last week. If you're on a mission and conflict arises, you'll need to be able to get yourself out of it as quickly as possible. This is why you cannot afford to mess around."  

"I know." He watched Jesse's head turn. Was the boy staring at the hanging target sheet, taking in the fact that there was an abundance of red at the center, or was Jesse soaking in the warmth of a large hand on his shoulder, grip gentler than it should have been? Either way, Gabriel was confident a lesson was learned. He sucked in a quick breath before removing his hand from Jesse's shoulder, and he noticed how the boy turned back to him, looking less hurt than before, but offended that the contact was over. Against his better judgement, Gabriel caved in and decided to briefly pander to it, and he pulled the boy into a quick, one-armed embrace before smacking his back with his hand. 

"I won't give you pushups today," he said, completely ignoring the heavy, rapid beating that he felt through his clothes. "But try any more fancy tricks on me again during practice, and I'll see to it that you cleanse the walls of every single bullet, you hear?" 

His eyes were set up, to the uneven, fluorescent lighting hanging up on the ceiling. As Gabriel waited for his answer, he tried to figure the exact moment the boy went from hating him to liking him to whatever the heck was going on in Jesse's head right now. Love? No, no kid Jesse's age really understood what that meant. Lust, maybe. Crush, definitely. Gabriel smirked, still a little shocked that someone more than half his age would bother trying to impress him.

Jesse's voice vibrated against his chest. "Yessir." 

It felt like forever for Jesse to reach the showers, and on the way there he made sure to complain as loudly as he could, not stopping until hot steamy water drenched and stained his back red. He groaned, dipped his head back so his face would hit the spray of water, and then forget about his troubles. He kept his eyes closed, not opening then unless he heard the distinct sound of Gabriel's feet hitting the wet floor. 

"Good morning," Jesse's off-key voice bounced against the walls. "Good morning to you!" 

There was a beauty in knowing that Gabriel was always going to be showering with him, either before or right after Jesse started his. His form of revenge was petty at best, but it didn't stop Jesse from indulging in the habit of singing as poorly as he could, getting back at Gabriel without fear of being punished. He flung his head forward, wet hair sticking to his face as he opened his eyes and welcomed Gabriel with smuggest of shit-eating grins he could produce.

"Good morning!" Jesse snorted through his nose when he heard someone yell for him to shut up. Gabriel remained straight faced, ripping off his towel and hanging it while Jesse continued to serenade the communal shower with his obnoxious song. "Good morning, how are you?" He pointed his index fingers at Gabriel, wiggling them at the older man and providing the shower a much welcomed pause from his morning ritual. 

Gabriel grabbed the end of his curtain, staring at Jesse with a contemptuous glare before replying, "Just. Fine." He then pulled the curtain across, shielding himself from Jesse's antagonistic pointing, and turned on the water full blast. 

"Aw, did you hear that?" Jesse asked aloud. "He's doin' fine!" 

Someone yelled for him to go fuck off. 

He sang a few more lines, making the occasional spin or slight turn of the head in order to check and see whether Gabriel was close to finishing. He could get away without using a curtain, but could not hold a stare for too long, not without risk of catching unwanted attention. Jesse hid behind the hum of a new tune, a falsified dance, and then would go quiet and listen to the heavy sounds of wet feet slapping pools of warm water. The desire to annoy and beckon for Gabriel's attention could not outlast the growing curiosity to see, partake in witnessing the older man's naked, wet form. The few seconds he had just before the curtains were pulled were never enough, and a dry (if not a little moist) Gabriel was very different from a wet one. If Jesse wasn't paying attention, got lost in the song or soothing heat of the water hitting his sore muscles, he'd lose track and miss out on the few seconds of Gabriel reaching for a razor, Gabriel pulling the curtains back and putting soap away before grabbing his towel. Jesse would be left with only the memory of a man who was growing less annoyed from listening to the same dumb song every morning. 

Towards the end of every shower, Jesse wondered what his end-game was. He could capture a maximum three, four glances of wet brown skin, dark hairs lined on top, changing direction with the contours of shifting muscle or water current. Before and after the curtains there was a brief, less-than-a-second window of opportunity for Jesse to look downwards, capture and imprint Gabriel's front or backside and privately relish in it. But what was the long term goal? Was there any at all, other than to sneak a peek and touch himself to it later?

He dipped his head back into the spray of the water, ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his abdomen with the other, eyes coming to a close as he tried to think of where he would go, what he would do, and feeling a ball form in the back of his throat when no answer came. Gabriel drew the curtains. He always did, even before the singing. Jesse could cease the annoying tune, but that would not change the fact that the curtains would always be there, and that Jesse would be blocked from being allowed to see more. Jesse could not imagine what it might take to have it pulled away, for him to see everything, freely, without concern or fear. Fantasy was all he had. Annoying Gabriel in just the right amounts so he would reply to the songs, his little quips and terrible sense of humor. It was an off-the-clock cry for attention. All for a glimpse, an image for him to use later, to pretend and play with. He'd never touch Gabriel, never be allowed to be that close to Gabriel. 

What was the end goal? To not go crazy while he continued his time under the man's tutelage. 

Jesse sighed, pulled his head forward and let long trails of water roll down his heavy face before slowly opening his eyes. It took a few seconds of blinking for his eyes to adjust to the sight of the tiled walls. He recognized right away the tender heat collecting at the head of his penis, and turned off the hot water in order to quell it. Tired muscles shook. He stepped back, shivering. He endured the cold water a few seconds more before shutting the water off, blindly reached for his towel and took it, wrapped it around his waist and then turned around. 

The shower opposite of him was empty, curtains pulled back. The pool of water under the dripping nozzle was draining, vanishing into a wide drain at the center. Gabriel might as well have never been there. 

The commander would understand if he was a few minutes late to practice. Surely. Just for one day. Jesse repeated to himself that Reyes could not punish him for having a headache. It wasn't as though he was drinking (there was no alcohol on the base) or smoking (a pack of cigarettes cost more than a deluxe meal at the nearby burger joint), or partying (ha!), so Reyes couldn't possibly blame it on his own doing. Still, despite this reassurance, Jesse held on to a slight fear of what might happen if his head didn't recover quickly enough. He stared his distorted, brown reflection in the cup, debating if he was better off coming up with a lie. 

He was halfway through his drink, with only about six minutes left until he was officially late for his morning run, when thoughts of Deadlock exploded into his mind. Life in Deadlock wasn't too bad, it began. Jesse blinked, watched an eyelash drop into his coffee as the life before Blackwatch played in front of him.

Life wasn't too bad then. It was difficult, but doable. The work consisted of repetitive labor, but it was easy enough, and after a few hours of moving stuff around, making deliveries, breaking and hacking into fancy tech-ware, Jesse'd earn his keep; enough food, booze and drugs to keep him complacent. There were other things, the movie nights, visits to the city, and the favored prostitute that was passed around amongst friends. Jesse tried that once, found it pleasing enough, but the girl was lacking that certain something, so Jesse went along and pooled his money for other fine pleasures. Nobody commented on the matter. Deadlock had a saying; don't shit where you eat. It sure as hell wasn't talked about, but in gang that consisted of men only, it didn't take a genius to figure such a saying erupted from past liaisons gone bad. Jesse respected the rule. Yeah, there were some mighty fine looking men running amok in the group, but Jesse didn't want to ruin good thing. The substance abuse made keeping it all in his pants relatively easy. 

Now he had nothing but a nasty reputation that forced him in line. No more sleeping past noon, no more eating whatever he wanted, when he wanted, and no more drinking till he passed out sick. His gun was kept in a locker, he had to memorize special codes in order to use it, write his name on rosters if he needed more bullets or wanted to try out another weapon. He couldn't settle disagreements with fights anymore, hell he couldn't get into any sort of argument without someone turning corner and giving him a look. Everyone thought he was a delinquent, and he was, but that didn't give them the right to judge him before anything went down! Jesse McCree knew his place. He was stuffed into Blackwatch for a reason, and he sure as hell knew it wasn't for his charisma, his dashing good looks or knack for humor. 

He was a good with a gun, resourceful, and he was disposable. 

But things could also get rough in Deadlock. Even with his head pushing heat and pressure down his spine, Jesse could easily recall those long, cold nights where there was little or nothing to eat, not enough blankets to go around. Now Jesse had a room to himself. It was small, consisted of a bed a table and chair, mirror and drawer, but it was more than what Jesse owned prior. He had medical insurance, a bank account, a shower, more than a week's worth of clothing, access to food, clean water. 

Jesse rested his head on top his arms, eyelids fluttering from the change of pressure. The pain in his forehead dulled, but his sides felt like walls closing in on his brain. He closed his eyes and sighed, wondering if things were really that bad with the gang. Nobody ever dragged him by the collar, forced him down to the floor and ordered him to do push ups, run laps, or threaten to take away the few privileges he had. He got into the occasional fistfight, but that wasn't anything a black eye or a few shots couldn't solve. Jesse couldn't work his way around the strike commander's insane demands, Reyes' judgmental stares and rough, accusational voice demanding he stop half-assing his work. But how was Jesse supposed to care when the only reason he was around was to avoid a lifetime prison sentence?

Sure, everyone scattered once Overwatch dropped in. Jesse was cornered without anyone to back him up... no one bothered trying to help him. 

The memory of those final moments between hearing the first explosion, people shouting about getting busted, to Jesse running for his life, struggling to keep his gun loaded while maintaining a safe distance between himself and the men in blue, until finally he was trapped, large guns pointed at him and an officer reading aloud his rights; it all spun in his dizzy head like some nasty, vomit induing merry-go-round. A slight ringing developed in his ears, and the light of the mess hall, the sounds of the people talking, even the smell of his coffee made him sick. Jesse buried his head deeper into his arms, fighting an armada that was the sting of tears, the dry lump in his throat and the pressure building in his head. Jesse felt himself sinking, losing the battle of his own wits, when a large hand fell upon his back, giving a rub and stirring him from his painful stupor. 

"What?" Jesse tried lifting his head, but the light above him caused him to cringe. He fell back into his arms, face twisting, eyes shut so tight, but not enough to stop the tears. The hand on his back slid up to his shoulder, continued rubbing and coaxing him to move from his seat. Jesse was sure he heard whispering. Some strange dream this was. When he realized the hand wouldn't leave, Jesse tried again, this time lifting himself up slower, and with added caution to the unforgiving light. 

"Mornin', Jesse." He heard a voice break through the fog. A large, blurry hand appeared before him, offering him a cup of water. "Do me a favor and drink this." 

Jesse turned, looking around the busy cafeteria. He could hear people, the clinking of utensils and heavy footsteps against the smooth floor. It was full, and yet he couldn't see it, but instead felt the heat of a few bodies huddled around him. And although he felt the warmth of their presence, the feel of the commander's large hand pulling him up, Jesse still couldn't see. "Ah, shit," Jesse groaned, covering his face with shaking hand. "Boss." 

The dark figure dove in, coaxing Jesse's hand away from his aching head and back to the glass. "Relax, Angela's called someone to wheel you into the medical ward." 

The plastic cup was pushed to his face again. This time Jesse took it, just so he could get Gabriel away from him. "Shit, man. I'm sorry. I must have-"

A new set of hands made their way to him. Smaller, softer hands, the tips not calloused from years of holding a weapon. Long fingernails. "Jesse, can you tell me how you're feeling?" Angela's delicate voiced pierced through Jesse's head. "You're rather warm...are you lightheaded? Does it hurt to stare into the light?" 

Her gentle touch was a source of embarrassment. Jesse wanted nothing more than to shoo her away, return to Reyes and beg for him to please do something about the gathering crowd that was forming around them. It was like getting captured all over again, except this time Jesse couldn't come up with some humorous quip to ease the sting of defeat. 

Jesse slipped back, ready to fall and crumble and hopefully disappear. Reyes stopped him. The same rough hand that held him by the collar before now hoisted him into a sitting position, another lightly tapping the side of his face to keep him alert. He heard Angela say something to the crowd. With his free hand Jesse reached for Reyes, pulled him in until he could make out the features of the older man's face. "Please don't get angry at me." 

He saw solid, dark brown eyes. Gentle eyes. Worried eyes. 

"Jesse, it's alright." Gabriel's lips moved not quite in sync with the words seeping into his minds. "Drink the water. We're going to take care of you."

Take care...of him? Yeah, that couldn't possibly be right. Jesse knew it was every man for himself. He knew, but he continued to grab on to Gabriel, watched with weary eyes as the man took him by the wrist and guided the cup of water to his lips, vision blurring and face going ablaze when Jesse gave in and took sip. 

"Relax," he heard Gabriel say. Jesse kept his eyes on the water, on the way it and the thin plastic turned Gabriel into a dark mass of gray and black, hid those brown eyes of his from Jesse's pathetic staring. "I'll work you to death later. Go back to daydreaming whatever it was before this ugly mug ruined your slumber." 

"Commander." Angela's voice was an echo. Gabriel turned away, chasing after it, and Jesse lowered his glass, racing to follow. "They're here." 

"You hear that, Jesse?" Gabriel's face returned, and with it was an expression Jesse couldn't quite place. He was sure it might have had to do with his headache, but  he could see something like a smile combined with those precious brown eyes. Why hadn't Jesse ever noticed those eyes before? Probably because the man was always so angry, but not right now. Was he relieved? Relieved for him? Jesse felt strong hands lift him into a standing position, slip down his back and guide him. Jesse dipped his head back, closed his eyes and he imagined his commander's smile, the way Gabriel held on to him and place him on a gurney. He kept his eyes closed all the way, even though it made the world spin worse while he was carted off, just so he could envision and make sense of that strange, attractive expression. 

A phone beeps a minute tune. Gabriel sniffs through one nostril, continuing to stare out into the empty road while he listens to Jesse type something out next to him.  

This operation is destined to be cakewalk. Gabriel brought Jesse not because he needed the extra manpower, but to give him an idea of how future operations set off base might function, assuming everyone did exactly as he ordered. 

"I hope you're not giving away confidential information in those texts?" His murmur sounds closer to a growl. 

"Nah, Angela just wants to know whether I started reading the book she lent me," Jesse replies in a voice that's a little too loud for Gabriel's liking. 

There's still plenty time before the target arrives. Gabriel eases the binoculars from his eyes. Just enough so that they don't press so hard against him and leave indentations. "She's been hitting you up quite a bit," he says. 

"Yeah, she has." Gabriel envisions the goofy smile spread across Jesse's young face. "It's nice."

The smile comes and goes, and very soon Gabriel sees a younger version of himself, stupidly waiting for a reply back from all the poor girls and boys he tricked into liking him. He cracks a dry chuckle and then says, "Be sure the books are the only thing you two share with each other, you hear?"

"What?" Jesse's voice threatens to crack. "You don't think...?"  

Gabriel found it hard to believe Jesse didn't notice the way Angela smiled at him during breakfast, how she made time in her busy schedule to visit him whenever he was done with his training or studies. 

"Nothing to be ashamed of. I was in your shoes once," Gabriel replies to Jesse's sudden silence. 

"I'm not." Jesse stammers. "But, well... when you're always surrounded by men, it can be... hard to pick up on things." 

Something about the way Jesse says it makes it feel less than truthful. It takes Gabriel a second for it to sink in, that what Jesse means is that he likes men, and only men. Gabriel recalls the few times Jesse was caught joking with the women on base, and suddenly feels guilty for assuming otherwise. A slight wave of panic hits as he realizes every gaze Jesse has ever set on him doubles in meaning. 

"Oh, of course," Gabriel finally says after a brief, but noticeable silence. "Well, I'm sure with time it'll become more obvious."

Jesse doesn't reply, and the outpost returns to its previous silence. Gabriel regrets being so presumptuous. Of course Jesse would get anxious over something like this. The damn kid was probably still holding on to his cherry. 

Gabriel reclines from his position, lowers his binoculars to sneak a peek at Jesse, and frowns when he sees Jesse no longer messaging Angela. 

"Or not," he suddenly adds, watching Jesse turn to him. "Either way is fine."

"Huh?" Jesse asks. 

"I mean," Gabriel says, struggling to fix his mistake, "Whether it's girls or guys, it'll be fine. You'll figure something out." He quickly raises the binoculars back to his face and set his sights on the road. "And if you're smart about it you won't scare them off with your obnoxious behavior." 

He heard Jesse move next to him. "Think so, huh?" He sounds unsure. 

"Know so," Gabriel reassures. He thinks for a moment, and then, in a slightly softer voice, adds, "Like I said, I was there once."

"Really?" Jesse sounds surprised. It doesn't worry Gabriel. He figures Jesse's reactions means well. 

"Yeah," Gabriel tells him. "If someone like me can get a few good lays, someone as... charming as you definitely will."  

Jesse chuckles and elbows Gabriel's side. "Ah, boss, you're making me blush." 

"Don't get any ideas, McCree," Gabriel warns. He notices he's smiling when he says it. 

Jesse bumps into him again. "Me? Why, I'd never." 

After that, it gets quiet again, but the silence lacks the discomfort from before. Gabriel's relieved. Although Jesse's not on the phone, Gabriel can tell he's feeling better about it. All Jesse needed was some reassurance, and someone to relate to. 

His eyes are back on the road. Gabriel guesses it should be another ten-fifteen minutes before the mooks show up to attempt to drop off all their black market delights.  

"Hey, Gabriel?" Jesse pipes up. "Can I ask you a question?"

Gabriel has a feeling he knows what Jesse's about to ask. "Yeah?" he replies, removing the binoculars temporarily so he can wipe the sweat collecting all over his face. 

"How do you know if a guy likes you?" 

Even though he saw it coming a mile away, Gabriel chuckles. It has to be the most hilarious things he's heard from Jesse. "Oh, you'll know, Jesse. You'll know."

He hears Jesse wriggle in place, and has to stop himself from breaking into a laugh. Luckily he catches something in the distance rolling through the desert, sees the color and make of the vehicles and falls into an excited, twisted grin. 

"They're early." Gabriel hands Jesse the binoculars. He flips his mic on, alerts his men to prepare for the upcoming attack. Gabriel reaches to the weapon case lying by, unbuckles the lock and grins madly when he sees the shotguns lying comfortably within. He takes them and returns his stare to Jesse. "It's showtime, McCree." 

Jesse has one hand over his holster, the other still cradling the binoculars. The smile he wore was wide and calm. "Sure is," he says, his voice slow and smooth and oblivious to the danger ahead. 

This kid is something else.  

The lectures from Jack were nothing like this. The halls were packed with men and women, soldiers and suits. Jack selected missions from the archives, battles that Jesse had never been to. With only so many recordings from the omnics crisis, most of the time Jack was tirelessly explaining with drawings of layouts or photos on the screen. Dots here, lines all over the place. Boxes that represented one thing, and little arrows that were supposed to be so many men. And Jack used war speech. Even after all these months, Jesse never quite picked up on it. But everyone around him paid attention, pointed at the screen, took notes and asked very precise questions, so it wasn't as though Jack was purposely trying to make him feel like the idiot black sheep. 

The only time Jesse liked the lectures was when Jack constructed battles. Jesse'd watch as Jack would turn the on holoscreen, switch perspective of the map, type in some crazy code, and suddenly it would all sink in and the table would turn into a small battlefield.

But today there was no hypothetical battle scenario, so Jesse took his usual spot in the back and stared with an absent mind as the strike commander pulled several file names on to the massive holoscreen.

"I remember these battles with a certain fondness," he began. "They were a series of assault missions. The second one had the highest expected success rate, at twenty-two percent."  

The screen loaded as the files opened. Jesse glanced at the mission names, the numbers following after, and a bunch of coordinates and things he didn't care to know. 

Jack continued: "All successes. Despite the casualties, we managed to have the omnic forces pull back by the third victory."  

The three files sitting the basic details of each mission glowed with an irritating fluorescence. But the name listed high above on all three battles suddenly caught Jesse's eye.  

He raised his hand. Jack approved Jesse with a nod. "Sir," Jesse began with some nervousness, "all of these were lead by Gabriel Reyes?" 

"That is correct," Jack replied. "After a minute series of devastating failures, Reyes took lead command and lead a collection of complicated assaults, which would later be known..."

Jesse lay back in his seat, astounded by this information. Of course he knew Gabriel was in the war, but until now the exact battles were never brought up.  

The screen changed, now showing a still image of men in blue racing towards a row of Bastion units, their backsides an indicator of the surprise assault to come. Jesse wondered how Gabriel managed to surprise them. How did Gabriel know what to do, when faced with an army of Bastions? How did he convince everyone this was a good idea, when the success rate was just barely over twenty percent? 

Jesse wanted to know, but he knew listening to Jack's overly complicated war jargon would get him nowhere.  

He raised his hand again. "Sir?" he asked aloud. "How come commander Reyes isn't giving a lecture on this battle?" 

"Reyes is not sanctioned for giving lectures on tactical approaches," Jack replied cooly before returning to the screen. 

Jesse was too quick to bring his hand up yet again, and then ask, "'Cause it would make a lot more sense to have him explaining all this than just you?" 

He didn't think it was a bad question, just an obvious one. Gabriel was good at talking to him, and since he apparently lead the battles, it only made sense that he'd be the one giving the lecture. But Jack replied to Jesse with strained silence. The harsh, if not severe look on his face was left long enough for Jesse to realize that was not an appropriate question to ask. 

He sank a little into his seat. "You know," Jesse added, smiling as though nothing were amiss. "On account of there being no recordings. Maybe it would help?" 

"Do you find my lectures lacking in detail?" Jack asked, crossing his arms behind his back. It was a look that told Jesse he was tolerating their conversation. Just tolerating. 

Jesse felt a growing, collective stare setting upon him. "No, just that I think it might help since he's not doing anything?"

Jack's head tilted a bit to the side. "Help?" he inquired. 

It was all he needed to say in order to get Jesse to backtrack. "Well, not that your lectures need any help..."

"Alright then," Jack announced, dropping his arms and returning to the screen. "Then let's continue where we left off."

Even though he had just been dismissed, Jesse was relieved to have Jack's eyes off of him. He slouched forward, dipping his head down in order to hide his face from everyone. "Ok," he said, just loud enough for Jack to register. 

"And McCree," Jack added. Jesse looked up to see Jack's back facing him, his attention on the screen and the still photo glowing on the screen. "Before you ask another question, consider whether or not it will contribute to the discussion, or if it'll only hinder by taking us off-subject." 

It was an unnecessary slap to the face. Jesse sat upright, his hands clinging to his jeans as he tried his best to keep a smile on his face. "Don't worry, sir," he said through clenched teeth. "I won't be bothering you anymore." 

He left the lecture hall, right as Jack was beginning to describe the issues they faced during the attack. He made sure to slam the door behind him.

Jesse didn't bothering telling Gabriel about the ordeal, figuring he'd hear from his commander eventually. And he did, the following morning. Gabriel pulled him out of bed, threw him into the middle of a cold, wet field, and had him stand in place while lifting up a heavy plank of wood. It took less than ten minutes for Jesse to regret having started a scene, but it wasn't until another ten had passed, and he was sweating and his arms were shaking, did Gabriel finally approach him and ask if he had anything he wanted to say. 

"Tell me about those assault missions you did, back in '47?" Jesse heaved, his left arm twitching under the weight as he spoke. 

After that, the next hour wasn't so bad. Gabriel told him the story behind the planned assault, how officials treated it less like an actual plan, and more of a suicide mission. Jesse fought through the pain by focusing on Gabriel's changing expression, his moving hands as he described everything to it's gruesome detail. Every once in a while Jesse's arms would give out and he'd drop the wood and Gabriel, busy talking, would wait a few seconds, sometimes more, before pointing at the large plank and signaling Jesse to pick it up and go back into position. 

Whether it all was real or not, Gabriel clung to those lovely images of Jack at his side, as an equal, as a conquerer. He'd never have Jack so close again, and once the war with omnics was finally over, would never be able to fantasize the idea of Jack above him again. 

"Gabriel, can I have word with you?" 

It wasn't even ten in the morning, and Jack was eager to shove his presence where it wasn't welcomed. Today that was the weightlifting room. Right in front of Ana, too. Gabriel didn't wait for Jack to enter his line of vision before sitting up. He eyed the towel resting close by, wondering if he should bother to wipe away sweat. Jack was dressed all nice. He stood out in a room where everyone wore tanks, loose fitting clothes or sweats. Jack was the odd one out, and yet Gabriel was compelled to clean himself up, make himself look halfway decent for the pretty Strike Commander.  

"Is this about the reports?" he asked, already knowing it was. 

"So you know then?" Jack rubbed his face. Gabriel thought it was strange such clean cut, chiseled face could upset him so much. "I need it filed and a copy sent to me right away."

Gabriel shrugged. "I already told you I'd have it ready."

"Yes, but that was two days ago," Jack pointed out. 

"It's not due until tomorrow, right?"

"Gabriel, you need to be more punctual," Jack said. His eyes were squinting, lips threatening to turn downwards into a small, dry frown. Oh, but Jack wouldn't dare. Not in front of Ana. Jack could instigate, but not if it exposed him as the antagonist. "I understand your line of work is...difficult, and keeping up with logs can be-"

Gabriel stood up. "Who said I was having a hard time keeping up?"

"Gabriel, calm down," Ana muttered.  Gabriel blew hot air from his nose right as Ana turned and face Jack, arms crossed and lower lip stuck out in a disapproving pout. "Jack?"

"Ana, please." Jack had that look about him that made Gabriel wonder if he'd be so daring as to raise a finger at her. He could, and there'd be nothing she could do about. Instead, Jack looked away, closed his eyes as though he were trying to process the right decision, the one that would be most pleasing to everyone in the room. Finally, Jack looked to Gabriel, a small smile on his face. "Gabriel, I apologize if that came off wrong, but you need to understand the position we're in."

It was insulting that Jack could just act like this. Worse, that he thought he could get away with it. Gabriel knew Jack, or at least he wanted to believe he did. Whatever happened to that humble kid that just wanted to make the world a better place for mankind? When in the hell did the need to please twist into something else? How was it the same smile that once warmed Gabriel now pissed him right the fuck off?

Gabriel looked right through Jack's smile and replied with sneer. "You think I don't?"

"Boys, enough bickering." And walked up to Jack and slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Jack, Gabe will get the stuff completed. No more antagonizing."

Jack flinched at her touch. Gabriel could guess all that constant praise from the UN left Jack unprepared for a scolding, and from a close friend. It pleased Gabriel to see Jack's eyes soften, his mouth part a little from embarrassment.  

"And you," she said, turning and pointing a finger up at Gabe's nose "Why do you wait 'till the last minute to get the job done? You used to be more punctual about things, now I swear you wait until Jack gets all riled up before you attempt to finish something." 

Gabriel frowned. He cast his eyes downward, but he caught Jack staring patiently at him, waiting to see how he would respond. "You're wrong." 

"I don't think I am, Gabe," she replied. Quickly, too. It surprised Gabriel. "And you know what, that really worries me." 

Gabriel snapped upright. That surprised him even more. The disappointed look in her eyes that did more than just remind Gabriel that she wasn't on either side, but a spectator to a struggling friendship. 

He wanted to tell her not worry, that sometimes friends get into fights, but then saw Jack watching him, and although Jack didn't seem to harbor any resentment, and looked just as equally upset at hearing this as he did, Gabriel couldn't bring himself to let Ana know he was sorry for upsetting her. 

"I'm going to go shoot some bots. Don't follow me," he said with a low growl. He quickly grabbed his duffle bag and towel and stormed off, brows furrowing when he thought he heard Jack's voice.

Pride was an ugly thing. It had Gabriel lining up a row of training bots, setting them to passive mode and unleashing shell hell on them the second the switches were flicked. They dropped and crumbled with each pull of the trigger, bemoaning their sad existence while Gabriel reloaded the chambers. His nose flared, filling with the flavors of heat and shotgun smoke. It helped fuel and direct his anger, but didn't make him feel any better.

He stood over a damaged bot, pushing the heel of his boot against its cracked screen. Had he changed? If so, it was a result of all the changes Jack made first. Gabriel was merely reacting, adapting to everything Jack did.  He pushed more of his weight on it, listening to the screen groan under his force. The robot whined, alerting him that anymore damage would result in a longer maintenance period. Ana's worried expression flashed before him, and Gabriel removed his boots from the training bot's head, only to replace it with the end of his shotgun's barrel. He pulled the trigger, jumped back and watched pieces of metal fly into the air. 

"Now that's nasty." Gabriel turned around and spotted Jesse slowly approaching him. The kid had the smuggest grin on his face. Though he'd never seen anything resembling it on Jack, that smirk riled him up, and Gabriel had to remind himself of Jesse's ignorance to the ordeal. "I mean, sure, they're just bots built for bullet practice..."

"How long have you been watching?" 

"Just got here," Jesse answered. "I got practice in ten. Don't tell me you forgot, boss?" 

Gabriel had. He had been in such a rush to get here, to kick out anyone who could be mistaken for a moving target, and so concentrated on his rage that Gabriel lost track of time and the busy schedule he placed on his recruit. 

"Right," he muttered. He relaxed his arms. One of the long barrels hit the side of his leg and struck Gabriel with flash of heat. 

 "Then again," Jesse added, causing Gabriel to turn and watch the kid's sly grin stretch to his ears, "judgin' by the looks of these poor mofos, I'd say maybe an early break is in order?"

Gabriel sighed. "Trying to get out of practice?"

"Well, it takes a bot to rebuild a bot. Or a few people. And by the looks of it, there ain't much of either to go 'round." Jesse pointed to the flickering remains of a broken training bot, then to another beeping in the far corner. Gabriel's trigger finger nervously played along the smooth metal as an intact bot hovered to one of its broken comrades, beeping out a little sigh before tagging it for future pick up. He saw another vacuum up bolts and screws, and two more trying to repair a less severely damaged training bot. 

In the span of an hour Gabriel had managed to decimate most of the bots utilized for practice, rendering the room useless to anyone hoping to get some training in taking down moving targets, Jesse McCree included. 

Out of anger, Gabriel tossed his shotguns, the recoil of their impact causing one to point it long barrel at Jesse. Jesse jumped back, but lucky for both the barrels were empty. 

"You're, uh, looking mighty tense right now," Jesse said with some nervous laughter. 

Genuinely embarrassed at his own actions, Gabriel didn't bother with a reply. He stomped over to the nearest bench and sat down. A training bot hovered by, dragging a disabled bot with it. Gabriel groaned and covered his face, shutting his eyes as he haphazardly wiped away collected sweat. 

Loud, almost pompous sounding footsteps carried up to where Gabriel was sitting. Right then he regretted not telling Jesse training was cancelled. He felt the added weight of the younger man pressed against the bench, then heard the sound of leather dragging against the frame. Jesse was attempting to get closer. 

"Watch it, McCree," Gabriel warned. He was in no mood to tolerate Jesse's antics.  

"Whoa there, slow down." Jesse replied. He sounded playful as ever. "I haven't even done anything yet! You though, you wanna let me in on why the field looks like a scrapyard?" 

Gabriel dropped his hand and tossed a glare at his pupil. "Nothing that concerns you."

"Concerns me? You're my commander," Jesse said, and then boldly slapped a hand on top Gabriel's knee. "If you're pissed, I get the brunt of it The poor, desert rose that I am can't risk a bruised petal." 

There came a long, forced silence by Gabriel. It was, in part, a reaction to Jesse's statement, but also deep concern for the truth that lay behind it. Gabriel knew right now he was being less than approachable, and Jesse, in his own, strange way, was attempting to reach out. And whether Gabriel liked it or not, Jesse was right about his anger filtering into their professional relationship.

He gave in. "If you must know, there was a disagreement with...higher-ups." 

"Oh, don't tell me we're facing more cuts?" Jesse asked, his grin switched for a more appropriate, troubled frown.

Gabriel dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Nothing like that, no." 

"You gettin' the boot?" Jesse inquired further, and in doing so, inched his way closer to Gabriel. 

"No," Gabriel replied defensively, and in doing so, was struck with added embarrassment. That embarrassment coiled around in him and brought him right back to thinking about Jack. 

Sometimes he regretted never saying anything to Jack. Gabriel doubted Jack would reciprocate any feelings towards him, but the knowledge alone would have meant something to the man. Commander or not, Jack would certainly take those feelings into consideration, right? 

Gabriel ran his hand over his face, shocked that he'd be pushed into feeling like this. There were legitimate reasons behind never telling Jack a damn thing, now more especially. Him telling Jack about stupid, lust-filled thoughts would get him nowhere. He was an idiot to think otherwise.

Jesse waved his hand in front of him. "Blackwatch facin' its maker?" 

Groaning, Gabriel dropped his hand and let it hang over his knee. His head lowered, covering half his face in shadow. "Do you listen to yourself talk?" he asked with a growl.  

Unaffected by Gabriel's question, Jesse leaned in. "'Course I do," he answered. 

Gabriel's eyes shot up, leering at Jesse's stupid grin. "Then you know you sound like a idiot?" 

Jesse snorted. "I'd rather say dumb shit and laugh about it than be angry all the time." He resituated himself next to Gabriel, his hands spread across Gabriel's leg. "I know why I'm here... allow me to make the most of it, boss," he said with a slight, queer smile. 

His voice was...uncharacteristically low. Jesse hardly sounded like the same boy who just finished calling himself a desert rose. And then Gabriel noticed the way Jesse's fingers pressed into his legs, pushing with enough force that Gabriel could feel their possessive desire reaching through his jeans. He fixed on Jesse's eyes. The boy had one hell of a predatory stare. Gabriel couldn't remember the last time someone looked at him that way. Jesse was close to leaning against him. The air around him smelled like cheap cigarettes and processed sugar. 

A training bot whistled by, bringing Gabriel out of shock. He knew now was the time to tell Jesse to leave. Let him off the hook now, while his hand was still far enough away from grabbing anything. Jesse was eighteen, still a kid. Gabriel could pass this off as a simple mistake. If he had to, he could reprimand Jesse for breaking into his personal space, and then teach him a lesson with laps and sit-ups. 

His hand arose, intent on pushing Jesse away. It stopped halfway. Gabriel saw a single, brief flash of fear in Jesse's eyes. It was there in an instant, but then swallowed up by a vibrant confidence that made itself known to Gabriel in the form of a hand snatching his wrist. Both stared at the sight, this sudden act of violation, and when Gabriel sniffed, reaching the point of reconsidering and saying something regarding the act of insubordination, Jesse dove in and kissed him, cautiously at first, but the moment his lips threatened to leave, Gabriel's moved himself closer, returning it with a more vigorous, pleading kiss of his own. 

The bench creaked. Jesse immediately began pushing his weight against Gabriel, while his mouth greedily pulled him closer. Faced with the overexcited, unpolished energy of a younger man, Gabriel  struggled to catch up.They slid on top the bench, Jesse all over Gabriel, and whatever sort of resistance Gabriel could have given, he didn't. He let Jesse suck on his bottom lip, tear the beanie away in favor of clinging to what little hair he had growing. He savored the weak moans erupting from Jesse when he surprised him with a successive nip. His hand slid on top of Jesse's svelte back, fingertips tracing the shivers as it nestled at the base of the boy's spine, just right under the belt. Without a thought, he gave the muscles underneath a brief squeeze, feeling Jesse's above stiffen and sink and grind in reaction. A burn erupted inside Gabriel. He fought underneath Jesse, freeing his other hand from their entanglement and finding his way into Jesse's hair. Right as Jesse was about to bite down on him, Gabriel tugged at the boy's roots, rolled his head back gasping when he felt the boy rub him. 

"Hngh, Gabriel," Jesse murmured weakly into his neck.  

The hot air tickled him, but the boy's shaken voice woke Gabriel, and he opened his eyes. 

He couldn't recall when he had closed them. 

Jesse spends the rest of his day and evening outside, letting the wind carry his anger and occasional sobs away. He kicks the grass and tears away large clumps. He swears at clouds and shoots nasty glares at unlucky passerby's. He coils into a ball and buries his eyes into his knees, cursing at himself for daring to open up. 

It isn't until curfew forces him back inside, does Jesse drag himself back into the base, but not before passing by the hallway where Gabriel's quarters are located. For a while he just stares, feeling his chest tighten in anger, disappointment, defeat. He remembers the feel of the older man's lips against his, the parting of his mouth as excitement started to build, the rush from Gabriel's large hands sliding down his back and grabbing his rear. The feeling is fresh and still leaves small embers burning in Jesse. It makes him wish he'd never reached out to Gabriel, never took advantage of that moment of weakness. 

It makes him pissed as hell. 

Gabriel rests on his bed, filled with disdain. It's disgustingly quiet. He knows he's going to have to write something up, eventually. What on earth he's going to tell everyone is beyond him. He knows this is a court martial just waiting to happen, and no matter what the outcome, it's going to be ugly. Jesse's a kid, and his subordinate. In a fair judicial system, Gabriel knows this would make the end of his military career.  

Only, the world isn't fair. Although history hasn't been kind to him, Gabriel knows that, compared to Jesse, he has the upper advantage. He's a war hero and a member of Overwatch. Jesse's a ex gangbanger who had a choice between prison or expending his time as a member of Blackwatch.  It wouldn't take much to spin the story in his favor and have Jesse tossed into the proverbial fire. Gabriel can see it unfolding so easily in his mind, and it makes him sick. 

It would be so easy put all the blame on Jesse, but Gabriel knows better. A man of his size, strength and stature has no excuses. He let Jesse have his way, and Gabriel allowed himself to get lost in the moment. Worse, Gabriel indulged in it. He revelled in being desired. He got to experience a passion he hadn't known in such a long time, and it wasn't until he heard a boy's voice whimper out his name, did he remember why it had been so long. Whether he was willing to admit it or not, Gabriel knows he took advantage of the kid by letting it happen. 

The door knocks twice. Gabriel cringes at the hesitance before the third and final knock. 

"H-hey." Jesse's voice rasps through the door. "Lemme talk, please? I'm...I'm feeling really down right now."  

The request sounds like a desperate plea. A part of Gabriel wants to attend to it. Jesse needs solace. A kid his age needs someone to lean on. The years of military protocol tell warn him against it, but when he thinks he hears something resembling a sniffle, Gabriel gets up from his bed. 

He puts in shirt before heading to the door. Gabriel tells himself it's out of politeness, and not because he currently loathes himself and fears what's on the other side. He puts on his commander face and opens the door. "What is it?" 

Jesse's lifts his head, looking at him like some lost puppy. His hands shift in the pockets of his jeans. "Can we talk?"

"We're talking right now, McCree," Gabriel says, leaning against the frame.

"Not out here, please?" Jesse asks. His eyes dart away, looking for side to side, as though he's afraid of something. Gabriel's not sure what to think about Jesse being so worried about how this appears. 

Ideally, Gabriel would have Jesse in his room, and they'd be able to say what has to be said. Any sort of talk centered around relationships within the ranks was frowned upon, and the last thing Gabriel wants is to attract wrong attention. But the memory of the kiss, of him falling into the bench so willingly, stops him.  

He shakes his head at Jesse. "I'm afraid I can't allow that, Jesse. This can take place in the hall, or in my office if you'd like, but not in my room." He watches Jesse's shoulder slump. "I think you understand why," he adds. 

"I do...'cept I don't," Jesse replied weakly. "Gabe-Boss, please. Let me in on why that happened."

It's nothing like the low voice that pulled him closer just hours ago. It's the voice of sad little boy. 

It sinks in, and Gabriel feels the guilt pile as he faces Jesse with a frown. "We forgot our place."

"I don't mean that!" Jesse suddenly snaps. The hallways are are empty, but Gabriel still has to fight the urge to check around and see if anyone is listening. He forces his eyes on Jesse, and sees that his eyes are starting to redden. "I mean, it having to end the way it did."

Gabriel clenches his jaw. It's not the first time he's seen Jesse get emotional. He can only play the tough guy act, the joker and the cowboy for so long until he emotions start to pile up. Gabriel's usually pretty good at keeping a straight face, managing the boy's misdirected anxieties away from himself, and towards something healthier. 

Right now he doesn't know what to do. 

"I figured I'd be able to handle something nasty from you," Jesse stammers. He ruled his face with he ball of his hands, trying to stop himself from sinking any further. Gabriel can tell it's doing nothing, if anything, it's making it worse. "But boy, was I fucking wrong. That shit hurt." 

He'll start at any moment, Gabriel thinks. Jesses already choking up, struggling to keep face. It feels unnecessarily cruel to leave him standing in a dark, empty hallway. Gabriel knows it, and he accepts what he's about to do, but not without reminding himself what's at stake.

He removes himself from the entrance, and then takes a step to the side. "Jesse, come inside," he says with stiff restraint, but it's calm enough to not scare him away. Jesse sniffs, looks inward and makes his way tiny Gabriel's room. "Sit down," he adds once he closes the door.

When Gabriel turns around, Jesse's still standing. He looks lost though, so Gabriel lets it slide. He takes a seat on his bed, lets his arms rest on his spread legs as he tries to think of how to approach this. 

He begins with a question; "Do you know who I am?" 

Jesse shrugs. "A war hero?" he answers back with a question. 

"I'm your goddamn superior. I have complete power over you. Anything I say, your job is to do, without question." Gabriel's reply is sharp and lacking the same restraint he showed less than a minute ago. Jesse looks riled by the change. Good. "And can you tell me who you are?" 

Jesse's hands clench into fists, and then goes silent. He sniffs and shakes his head defiantly at Gabriel. "...fuck Gabriel, I didn't some here to get lessoned-"

"Quiet!" Gabriel doesn't give him the opportunity to talk his way out of it.

This needs to end. Gabriel didn't think letting Jesse harbor any feelings for him would amount to anything, but it did. Cleary his mistake was not snipping the desire away the second it began to bud. "If you can't say it, I will. You're-"

"Don't you fucking say it!" Jesse snaps. "Don't you dare use my age and your position as the reason!" 

The sudden outbreak startles Gabriel. He keeps his spot, watching Jesse hover over him, trying to be something that he's not. 

Gabriel frowns. "So you know."

"You don't think I can count?" Jesse nearly barks back. "I ain't that stupid. This is bad, I know it. I know you ain't supposed to be kissin' your boss. But it happened." He moves closer, reaches for Gabriel with a shaking hand, only to have to the older man look away. Jesse drops to his knees, and then smacks his hand again the floor. "Damn it, Gabriel, it happened!"  

"That's correct," Gabriel says, watching the hysterics unfold before him. "It did happen. And to keep you safe, I'm going to have-"

"What?" Jesse demands. He get ups on one knee. Before Gabriel can register what's going on, Jesse grabs him by the shirt, pulling him closer. "What are you going to do? Send me away? Have me locked up?" Jesse bites his lower lip, holding in a cough before adding, "I'm already locked up here. What the hell can you possibly do to me?"

It's not a threat. Jesse looks at him like he's about to beat the shit out of him, but Gabriel sees through the ruse. He feels the vibrations of Jesse's shaking hand run across his shirt. Gabriel lowers his stare down at the hand grabbing him, and he's once again faced with he realization that he could easily push Jesse away. Gabriel wonders if Jesse is aware of this.  

"This is a dangerous game you're playing," Gabriel mutters. He doesn't know if it's to Jesse, or to himself.  

"I know" Jesse says. Gabriel notices the grip on his shirt eases. "I know I'm stuck here until you let me off, or I end up damaged enough to be discarded." 

His eyes rest on retreating hand, on Jesse's shrinking voice. 

"I know me kissin' you spells a ton of trouble." Jesse's voice is closer to a whisper. Gabriel guesses this is where it ends, but then Jesse surprises him by edging closer, his hands shifting to rest on top of Gabriel's. "But I also know you're a super soldier, and you could have stopped me from pushing you down the first time, but you didn't." 

His voice isn't shaky anymore. Gabriel raises his stare back to Jesse, and is greeted once again with a look that tells a different story than the one he's used to from the kid. Stronger, powerful, icy and undoubtably alluring. It hits him that they're the eyes of a soldier. 

Gabriel lets out a dry chuckle. As he does, Jesse's hands spread over his, and fingers wrap around, clenching him. He knows he can break free from at any moment–they both do–and he doesn't. 

It's disturbingly quiet. Jesse breaks the silence and asks, "Are you gonna push me away, boss?"  

This is kid really is something else, Gabriel thinks. Caught in the moment, he smirks and stifles a chuckle that sounds more melancholic than jovial. It's his admission of defeat.  

He knows he should push Jesse away, but really, he doesn't want to. After everything he'd been through; being desired and chased by a hot and bothered delinquent is something else. Something new. And Gabriel can't recall the last time someone looked at him like that.

"Nah," he answers. As soon as he says it Jesse's springs forward, cupping Gabriel's face with his hands. They're shaking again, but despite that Jesse hold Gabriel down and kisses him roughly on the lips. Like his life depended on it. He pushes forward, crawling on top of the bed and struggling to keep the kiss going. It's gets clumsy. One hand finds itself around Gabriel's neck, and another slides under his shirt. It gets warm. Jesse hums something incomprehensible into the older man's mouth. Gabriel groans when cool fingertips rolls over his sides. He inches back, bringing a hand down to support himself as Jesse crawls on top of him, pressing his weight against him as a silent order to fall into the bed.

Gabriel does it without the slightest hesitation. 

"Thanks," Jesse replied, taking the glass and bringing it to his lips. The smell of whiskey filled his nostrils. "Oh, that's strong."

"Puts hair on the chest," Gabriel joked before taking a seat at the end of  the bed. 

Jesse took a gulp. Carbonated bubbles and whiskey burn his throat, and then warm his stomach. He gasped  after a swallow. "You got anything for the face?" 

Gabriel rubbed his beard with his thumb and index finger. "Cherish the boyish charm for as long as you got it, kid." 

Jesse took another hearty gulp of his drink before falling back into the bed. All efforts towards an inappropriate joke faded. Jesse sets his sights on Gabriel's backside. How long will he have to wait before attempting a second round? 

He thought about crawling over and pulling Gabriel back into the bed to share the warmth until he's fully charged. He lifted his hand over to the drawer to place his drink on top when he noticed the guitar. 

"That there guitar," he muttered. With his cup, he gestured at the instrument resting in the chair next to the desk.

"What about it?" Gabriel asked, leaning back and glimpsing at it. 

The only time Jesse saw Gabriel play was when Fareeha asked. The girl had a way with persuading the man. She'd bat her pretty eyes at him, make a cute little pout and ask Gabriel to bring out his guitar and teach her a few chords. It didn't matter what Gabriel was doing, he'd leave and come back with that old acoustic and play it with her. Always the classics and oldies. Metals bands from way back in the day.

Jesse figured he was at least twice as as adorable as Fareeha was, and if Gabriel would play for her...

"Play something," Jesse said. 

Gabriel shrugged. "I don't know any country."

"Ha, ha, I get it," Jesse jived. "No really, play something. Anything." 

Gabriel set his glass aside and left the bed. Jesse crawled over, and then repositioned himself to rest on his stomach, arms hanging over the bed. His fingers held on to the rim of the glass. 

"Play me the song of your people," he said with a crooked grin. 

"I thought I could play anything?" Gabriel asked as he grabbed the guitar by the neck. Jesse's eyes fall on it. 

"I changed my mind," he replied, and then chuckled as Gabriel sat down next to him. 

"Look at you, ordering me around," Gabriel muttered. He played a few chords, testing to see if everything was still in-tune before reaching to fix a few strings. He looked over at Jesse resting next to him. "I should throw you into survival training next week. See if that helps deflate some of that ego you're filling up on."  

"And miss out on this dashing boyish charm?" 

"I'll survive." Gabriel sneered, but Jesse could see the smile hiding behind it.

"I'm hurt, Gabe." Jesse tapped the lower portion of the acoustic body. Gabriel swatted his hand away before attempting a note. It was noticeably fuller, rounder, definitely in tune. Gabriel's hands shifted, fingers lifting and bending and finding their proper place before Gabriel started. The room filled with something poignant. Jesse listened, trying to make sense of it, apply a name to the melody. "Whatcha playin'?" 

"Something real old," Gabriel said between notes. "Nothing you know. I made it up, a long time ago."  

Jesse waited for a few more notes to play, connecting the sad piece together before asking, "You wrote your own songs?"

"Music," Gabriel corrected. A small smile appeared as he continued to play. "Couldn't write a decent song to save my life." 

The remark was admirable. Jesse nursed on his drink, fighting through the smile with the strong taste of whiskey. Was it so weird that he thought Gabriel was cute, playing some sad little song that, once upon a time, had dreadful lyrics attached to it?

"Who broke your heart?" he asked, turning his glass and letting the ice clash in tandem with the song. 

"Guess."

Jesse stared at the scratched body, the faded portions of the wood worn from rubbing against so many different things. "Girl, and she was at least a year older than you. Thought you weren't mature enough for her."  

Gabriel stopped. "Not bad," he said. 

"I got it right?"Jesse perked. Gabriel reached for his glass, took a quick gulp before throwing Jesse a slight nod. Jesse grinned, and then pressed himself on top of the man. "Play something else."

Gabriel replied by nudging him off, immediately began playing as Jesse tried to exaggerate a fall. His arms extended up to keep his drink balanced and safe from spilling. He rolled back, purposely causing as much vibrations as he could in order to disrupt Gabriel's playing. It did nothing. Despite his efforts the music held on. 

The room was quiet, filled only with the odd tempo of another unfamiliar song. The beat suggested to Jesse he should try jumping up an down. Maybe mosh. Jesse could only guess the horrendous lyrics that once accompanied it. "Faster, but still kind of sad," he commented. 

Gabriel chuckled. "I was pretty moody when I was your age."

Jesse sat himself upright, wondering if he's ever end up a topic worth making music about. As stupid as it sounded, he secretly desired it. He brought his drink to his lips, listening quietly as the music picked up during what Jesse guessed was the chorus. He settled on Gabriel's moving fingers, and somehow his stare bean trying across the rest of Gabriel's naked body. 

Would it be wrong if he tried reaching around, behind the guitar? Jesse wished there was a way to touch Gabriel, to slide his hand over taut, muscular flesh, and stroke him without risking the abrupt end of this moment. 

He finished the drink, set the empty glass on the drawer and crawled back to Gabriel. His stomached glowed warm, matching the heat rising up his shaft. Jesse was still soft, but he knew the right move by either of them would set him off. He'd knock that old guitar off of Gabriel and a heavier, stranger kind of music would replace it. 

When he got close enough, Jesse wrapped his arms around Gabriel's frame. He was careful enough  to keep his hands from sinking lower. He rested his face on top of Gabriel's shoulder, and right then there was a shift in the tune, a change in melody. The hard sharp notes softened and were replaced with something fine, almost feathery. Gabriel's fingers were magic, turning that wannabe mosh song into an entire new genre. 

It was fragmented, and there were pausing in between some notes. Gabriel would produce a fine line, only to stop a second, as though he were trying to gather or remember what they were. It was a nice enough song, despite the occasional pause. 

Jesse breathed into Gabriel's warm skin. "What are you playing now?" 

The upbeat tune ceased again. "I don't know, yet," Gabriel admitted, sparking a flame in the younger man. "I'm just making it up as I go." His hand slid along the fret, trying to concoct the new song. Jesse struggled behind him, trying to silently coax himself back down and praying the alcohol would kick in soon, all so that the music could play on.  

Men rolled out and Jesse, always looking to show off, ran ahead. Gabriel saw his unruly student disappear, running between busy isles, jumping over discarded cases, his revolver loaded and aimed at whatever moved, and Gabriel knew he only had a second to warn him to stay behind, but he didn't. He got lost in the anger, and he forgot Jesse was even there, but also knew Jesse was there, always just a kid to him, and he needed protection, but he was also a soldier, and soldiers were supposed to keep it all inside. 

No one kept it inside. They kicked down a door on the second level and saw the room, cleared out but still holding the fragile remains of its inhabitants; animal printed blankets, stuffed toys and stained underwear. Gabriel clenched his large pulse rifle, felt it slips in his shaking hands as he tried to control himself. He lost control of his men. The sound of boots were going up and down the stairs, curses bouncing off the walls as everyone desperately looked for the perps, only to discover they'd come to late. Where was Jesse in the midst of the chaos? Gabriel could only recall searching for someone, anyone. It didn't matter who. He just needed a reason to believe this mission wasn't a complete failure. 

After checking all three levels of the warehouse, tearing apart rooms, shifting through isles and moving things and downright contaminating evidence, Gabriel gives up. "Everyone get back to the front," he orders into his headpiece. His lungs ache and his throat constricts when he tacks on, "They're gone." 

Everyone takes their time leaving. Gabriel doesn't stop them, not even when he knows the men in coats wont be able to check evidence right away. He gets it. It doesn't matter how well-trained they are, some things are just too much for a man to handle. Without a sicko to beat up, someone fleeing for him to shoot and kill, Gabriel feels helpless. 

He finds Jesse sitting next to a shipment container, legs up to his chest, and arms wrapped tightly round. Butler is squatting next to him, trying to reach him with helpful words. As Gabriel approaches he tries to list off the age of everyone in this squad, does the math and estimates that there's at least a ten year gap between Jesse and the next soldier. That's so many years of experience, of hardening under defeat. And yet, even after Gabriel reaches the shady area, quietly shoos Butler away to have a word with Blackwatch's youngest member, he's at a loss for words. 

Jesse peers up at him. "Hey," he mutters into his legs. 

"Hey," Gabriel says back. He takes a small step forward, but then stops. For a second he wants to know if any of this is familiar to Jesse, if maybe this is just too much to handle. He has to bury the frightening thoughts aside. "Can I sit down?" he asks.  

"Yeah," Jesse says, and looks up at Gabriel with forced smile. 

It's the middle of the day, and defeat seems to be on everyone's mind. Forensics walk by, escorted by frustrated Blackwatch soldiers who want to get back inside the warehouse for another opportunity to find something. 

"Sir?" Gabriel hears Jesse ask. 

"Hmm?" He replies back, glancing over and watching Jesse rub his nose against his sleeve.

"They're going to find out what happened, and we're going to chase after the bad guys, right?" Jesse asks, peering at the scientist walking through the open doors. Gabriel stares at the door gingerly, wishing he could just shut them and trap the stench of fear inside. 

"Well, yeah," he says. His voice is thick with restraint. "That's what forensics do."

"We'll figure it out, and we'll find the people who did this." 

Gabriel wishes it was that easy. Even with plentiful evidence, sex rings are hard to chase after. It's not his or Blackwatch's area of expertise. The only reason they got involved in this mess was because Lacroix got informed of some international names being tied in the mix, and he was doubtful. With all the important things cleared out, it'll be hard for Overwatch to keep their hands on this. Unless someone gets real lucky in there and strikes gold, all of this will get passed on to a special victims unit, and Jesse will never know the end to this tragic tale. 

"Maybe, yeah," Gabriel says, keeping it to himself. Jesse sighs through his nose. 

Right now he doesn't need to know the truth, Gabriel thinks. Blackwatch has a lot less red tape to deal with, but anything outside of its jurisdiction was a no-go. Jesse doesn't need to know this.  

"Gabe," Jesse says, and Gabriel flexes when he hears Jesse's voice come so close to breaking.  

"Yeah?"

He hears Jesse sniff. When Gabriel looks, Jesse's face is buried between his legs. "It's not fair," Jesse says, stammering. "It's not fair."

"I know," Gabriel replies. He moves closer and throws an arm around Jesse. "I'm sorry," he says, rubbing Jesse's trembling back. 

Jesse sink and Gabriel feels the boy pull him into an embrace. Gabriel holds on to him and lets Jesse disappear into his arms. 

Some men pass by. Few look over to see what's going on. Those who do seem to share the same thought as Gabriel, that Jesse shouldn't have been involved. None of this was right. None of this was fair. Jesse was only eighteen, barely at the cusp of manhood. Defeat was imminent, but Gabriel should have held on longer, kept Jesse ignorant of it for another day. 

"Why would someone do this?" Jesse asks, shaking. "To kids?" 

Gabriel stares out, his chest welling with guilt as he finds himself incapable of answering such a question. 

Soon as it was over, first thing Jesse wanted to do was not get reacquainted with Gabriel, but explore the entirety of Paris. Understandably so. Gérard offered Jesse his services and awarded the young man all the privileges that would let him skip past the long lines, not have to pay to enter some of the historical buildings, and have everyone speak to him in polite, enthusiastic English. He left right away, barely sneaking a kiss from his boss, and took Angela along with them, leaving Gabriel to his own devices which, at the time, was to get some much needed rest. 

In the three days Jesse was away, it never once occurred to Gabriel that anything strange might arise. He had no reason to think Jesse would do something that could hurt him. Even after Jack mentioned on the second night that Gérard sent him an amusing message about taking the kids out to see the nightlife. 

Not once did Gabriel think Jesse would do something so... predictably stupid. 

It began with a call. Not to Gabriel, no, but to Ana. 

"Slow down, slow down, dear, what is it?" she said, bringing a hand to cover her other ear as she got up from the table and left the dining area. Reinhardt was the only one following her with his curious stare. Gabriel didn't think twice about it 

When she returned she excused herself from the meal. "Girl troubles," she said before leaving. Gabriel remembered how concerned Jack was. Lindholm had to assure him it was probably nothing, made a few crass jokes to take their mind of things. Gabriel actually snickered at a few of them. 

She was gone the rest of the night, but just before Gabriel knocked off, he got word from Jack that Ana met with the kids. Gabriel knew that meant Jesse, and it still meant nothing. "Girl troubles," Ana had said, not "girl and boy troubles," or "trouble with the kids," or anything suggestions that Jesse might be involved. It was girl troubles. 

He slept like a baby and woke up snug in the middle of his bed, the sun heating his back. Another peaceful night without sneaking around with a rowdy cowboy. On his way down Gabriel spotted Angela, wearing a look and avoiding eye contact with him.  Her wary presence alerted him that she, Ana and Jesse recently got back from their excursion. The shine in her hair told him it had been a long night. The red tips of her nose and ears, her aversion to make eye contact, left him curious to know what had happened, especially since Jesse wasn't around to tell him. 

 He found Ana sitting in the hotel's waiting room, rubbing the dark circles under her eyes.  

"Long night?" he asked in a low voice, surprising her with a shoulder rub. "What happened?"  

She smiled, threw her head back and stared up at Gabriel, "can you keep a secret?" 

Gabriel wished he had said 'no.' 

"Sure," he replied, jumping on to the couch and sitting himself next to her.

She fell back on him and told him the story of how Angela and Jesse went to some fancy club on the middle of Paris, got mixed with some French boys, and were coaxed to go partying with them. Why Gabriel kept massaging Ana's back when he heard this, he didn't know. It already clicked. French boys. Just the way Ana had said it, too. Her chuckle filled with nostalgia for having once been so young, so stupid and willing to chase after something new and exotic. Gabriel already knew what would happen, where this story would go, and still he listened as Ana laughed at it all. Angela and Jesse wooed by the pretty French boys. Angela and... Jesse, drinking and getting lost and coupling with strangers. 

Angela...the one who called Ana when she realized they were drunk and in an unknown area, and couldn't figure out where Jesse was. Not knowing made it worse. It forced Gabriel's imagination to do the work and fill his mind with vulgar imagery. 

"It took a few calls, but we found him, just a few floors above," Ana said. "Poor boy barely had his pants on when I yanked him out of the apartment." By this point Gabriel was pushing himself into the corner of the couch, squeezing between the stiff cushions, tying to busy his shaking hands with a throw pillow. "They were so embarrassed. Asked me not to tell anyone." 

"Did he?" Gabriel heard himself ask.

"They both did," Ana replied with a chuckle. "Dumb kids, they're lucky they didn't get hurt. I gave them a stern talking to, after spending all night looking for them. Lord, and Jesse leaving Angela just so he could...I swear, boys." 

The world was spinning. Gabriel stopped breathing and channeled his anger inward. It was hypocritical of him to be get so mad about it. After all, Gabriel was no angel himself. He broke a few hearts, back in his day. He knew. 

"Promise to not say anything," Ana asked him. "They've had enough from me. Wait a few days before you start teasing Jesse, ok?"

Gabriel mirrored Ana's exhausted smile. "I'll try," he said. 

The world was spinning.

It wasn't as though they were official.

It'll never be a standard relationship, Gabriel reminded himself. That's how he worded it to Jesse when he tried weaseling his way out of running one morning with minor flirtation. You need to be professional about this. They were active members of Blackwatch. It was important that Jesse understood this, not for the sake of their jobs, but also for their safety should anything happen on the front line.

And Jesse was eighteen. Gabriel let the number linger as he rolled a cigar between his fingers. His back leaned against the balcony's railways. It was past noon and Jesse hadn't left his room. 

He was eighteen. Eighteen and part of a global organization that would demand that he travel to all sorts of new, exotic places. How could Gabriel be angry at Jesse? A job description like that was an invitation to debauchery. How could he expect Jesse to save it for later? An eighteen year old. Jesse was a man, but only in the shallowest of terms. Jesse needed to explore. France was full of wonderful new experiences. 

And there was the rest of the world to consider. 

Gabriel turned around, resting his elbows on the railing. He swallowed thickly, thinking of all the good lays he had when he was young. It wasn't right to keep Jesse away from that. 

The sun beat down on him, and Gabriel's head sank. The back of it burned, and he shut his eyes, trying to remember what it was like to be so young and reckless, but all he could do was think about how Jesse asked Ana not to tell. 

A loud, rapid knock behind him, followed by Jesse's voice pleading to come in. "Hey, I'm back! You there, Gabe?"

It didn't sound like the voice of someone who did anything wrong, and that made things so much easier for Gabriel. He did nothing wrong, Gabriel thought, and then brought the cigar to his lips as he stared out into the busy city. He breathed in and the smoke helped sooth the burn in his throat. 

"Hope you don't mind me bursting in," Jesse said. He cheerfully made himself at home in Gabriel's room, humming something to himself. His loud footsteps stopped just before reaching the sliding door. Gabriel listened as Jesse kicked them off his feet. "Man, you would not believe all the stuff Angela and I did!" 

And then Jesse heard brown-suit say his mother's name, and then his father's, and all the pieces of the puzzle Jesse didn't even realize was staring right in front of him were put together.  The other man, one in a darker suit, introduced himself as a lawyer. He pulled a small chip from his suitcase and handed it to Jack, and then a manilla envelope to Jesse. Jesse's finger's pushed the corners as he weighted the envelope in his hands. All the while he was told everything he needed to know about his parents were in the envelope, and that also contained in it, as well as the chip, were documents related to him. In exactly twenty-four hours his officers will have access to his limited history, health records and whatnot-certainly not his parents' history-but of course the envelope in Jesse's hands were not the only copy. Dark-suit was no-nonsense and repeated to Jesse his rights, told him no matter what his superiors saw Jesse wouldn't be held accountable. 

In the midst of the disenged lawyer jargon, Jesse's jaw tightened, and he busied his hands, pinching the space at the ends of the envelope, guessing its light weight had to do with his parent's living boring lives after they all split up. But through the talk, Jesse mustered the courage to look over at his silent, awkward strike commander, and right as he did Jesse's finger slipped over the flattened metal clasps and wondered if there was a reason behind that downtrodden look, other than the obvious intrusiveness that Jack's presence provided in being a part of all this. 

When it was over, Jesse let Jack do all the thanking, and he left the room in a hurry. Jesse's fingers played with the opening, bending the metal clasps until it snapped. For some reason he thought about Gabriel, and he wondered if maybe he should open it in his company. The back of his throat tightened, and Jesse fought against his instincts to find Gabriel pull him into a frightened embrace and beg him to help him through this. 

Jesse turned the corner, passed the medical ward, it hit him that, once he opened the envelope, he'd know exactly what his parents were up to; what happened to his father when he left his mom, and what became of her when he did the same just a few years later. It made Jesse think twice about reaching his quarters, and he backed into a wall and cradled the file in his arms, scared.  

When Gabriel received the email regarding the addition to Jesse's report, along with the personal day off due to personal information regarding family, Gabriel wanted to go straight to Jack's office and demand why he was left in the dark over such a delicate matter. Halfway to his office Gabriel  came to his sense and knew exactly why Jack didn't tell him. Because it wasn't any of his business. Anything regarding Jesse's personal history he could have access to in a day or two, but Jesse's parents? Even if the entirety of Overwatch knew what Gabriel and Jesse did behind closed doors, that certainly didn't give him a right to being there. 

But Gabriel was a stubborn, and he was determined to be there for Jesse, even if he didn't want him around. He waited two hours, which he figured was enough time for Jesse to get the information, reach his place and read the news, and then he headed for Jesse's quarters. He knocked on the door, called for Jesse, but was greeted with silence. Jesse wasn't in his room. He wasn't in the mess hall either. Or in the recreational rooms. 

With nowhere else to go, Gabriel returned to fixating on his anger. He found Jack in the lounge, catching up on his reading, looking oh-so content. Gabriel burst in with heavy footsteps and threw himself on the couch opposite of Jack's. 

"Having a day, are we?" Jack calmly inquired without lifting his eyes from his holopad. 

"I can't find McCree," Gabriel growled. 

"Did you check your email?" Jack asked, glancing up and testing Gabriel with an impatient stare. "He has a personal day off. 

"Which is why I want to see him," Gabriel barked back. "You just gave an orphan a bunch of delicate information he might not be ready for." 

"Information that he might not want to share," Jack added, dropping his holopad on the couch. He sat upright, one leg crossing on top of the other. "And you'll have to accept, whether he favors you or not, that there are some things he might want to keep for himself." 

It irked Gabriel to see Jack, sitting there with his legs crossed, hands cupped on top like some holier than thou figure, looking up at him like he was some stupid child about to have a fit. Jack had no idea what Jesse was to him...what he still was to him. It would be so easy to just snap and tell Jack he didn't know shit, but Gabriel knew it was pointless. All this arguing wouldn't get him closer to speaking with Jesse, and Jack had a point. Gabriel knew none of this was his business. 

He punched a cushion and flipped himself over, his back now facing Jack. 

Nearly five months since he and the ingrate cowboy went their ways, and Gabriel thought he finally was free of whatever influence Jesse had over him. They were doing their own thing now, and only regarded the other as student and teacher, soldier and commander. No more stupid pinning to have him sneaking less than subtle peeks, doing stupid tricks to catch his eyes, or trying to pull him into some tight spot so they could share a moment. All it took was a email for Gabriel to go back thinking about Jesse as more than just his stupid, impossible pupil. 

"Jack...I don't know where he is," he said, and this time Gabriel let worry he'd been accumulating since receiving the email out, and when he glanced at Jack, he saw that his expression no longer harbored its previous hostile demeanor. Jack eased back into his seat, lips pulled inward as he contemplated Gabriel's distress with his own. 

"I understand your concern, I do," Jack finally replied.  "Don't think I don't worry about him myself. It's like you said, Jesse's an orphan. And now he has information that's going to give him everything: the good and the bad. It's a lot for someone to take in, but we need to believe that he'll come to us if he needs it." Jack stood up, walked over and leaned on top of the couch's arm, just above Gabriel's head. "Don't forget, we're all family. When he's ready, he'll come to you, I know it."

Weird how Jack could come off condescending one second, and then remind Gabriel of the boy that once aspired to be a hero the next. Right now the man sitting above and signaling such a friendly, supportive smile made Gabriel think of better days, back things weren't so complicated. When in the hell did things get so bad? When he pushed Jesse away from him? No, further than that. When they got together int he first place? No, there was no avoiding that. Gabriel crushed the cushion underneath him, spat a few swears and listened as Jack sighed, waiting for him to let it all out.

How was it that Jack could smile at him, tell him things would be alright, and for him to actually believe in it? 

"I wish I could just know what's going on in his head right now," Gabriel confessed, burying half his face into the furniture.  

In the perfect world he'd follow up and tell Jack what was eating at him. It was more than just a worried commander, more than paternal instincts driving him insane. Lord help him, even after all these months Gabriel was beginning to suspect it might be love. That horrific emotion that tore apart logic, made Gabriel so angry at Jesse for being a kid and snapping at him for lying, and it was that stupid emotion that kept him clinging on, desperate to take this opportunity to forgive Jesse. 

Jack sighed above him. "Don't we all." 

The anger dwindled. It was replaced with sorrow and silence. Gabriel felt the heat from Jack's presence so close to him. When a hand patted him on the back, he wasn't sure what to do, what to say. If only he could tell Jack. 

Jack remained perched on the arm of the couch, a quiet but prominent force meant to console Gabriel should he decide to welcome it. Gabriel didn't, but he also kept from pushing Jack away. He waited, looking into he dark suffocating warmth until all that was left was the very distinct feeling of failure. He accepted it, let it soak into his bones before getting up and leaving the lounge. He was careful not to make a scene on the way, as not to ruin whatever it was that just occurred between him and Jack. He couldn't say for sure if things just got better or not, but they certainly didn't get any worse. Gabriel wanted to keep it that way. 

With his schedule cleared for the rest of the day, and nothing to do, Gabriel tried to figure out what was going on with him. He built a personal sanctuary with the hood of his sweater and hid his face in darkness. Gabriel wondered when exactly he started caring about Jesse that way, and why was it just now that he was realizing this? Things were finally normal between them, and now his stupid heart wanted to ruin things? What a crock of shit.  

Gabriel fished through his pockets just as he passed the medical ward. He needed a smoke, he thought. Something to help him as he tried to clear his mind of these ridiculous thoughts. He saw Angela walking by, holding two cups in her hand. She looked distracted. Gabriel stopped and watched her enter the wing in a hurry. He backtracked, headed to the entrance, stopping when he saw the small groups huddled together in the waiting room. 

Angela stood before Reinhardt and Jesse, offering them of cup of something each before passing reception and returning to her office. Jesse sat spread legged in his seat, leaning forward and supporting his head with his hand. It was hard to tell, but his cheeks were irritated with speckles of pink from having been rubbed. His hat rested on the neighboring seat, barely covering a large envelope and some documents. Nothing was stopping his messy, unkempt hair from falling over his forehead and fingers, but a large hand swept over and fixed it up before grabbing Jesse by the shoulder and giving him a good shake. Gabriel watched as Jesse perked up, trying to save his drink from spilling before shooting a look at Reinhardt. 

The tip of his nose was red, and Gabriel could see the puffiness around the bottom of Jesse's eyes. But the young man was smiling, albeit wearily, and he said words Gabriel couldn't hear to Reinhardt, and in return Reinhardt replied back, aiding Jesse through whatever was in those documents with surprisingly quiet reinforcement. All the times Gabriel had worked with the man, Reinhardt's been nothing less than a loud, booming force, but now Gabriel couldn't make out a thing. 

Angela returned, took Jesse's hat and all the files in her hand before sitting next to him, placing them all on her lap. Everyone looked tired, beat and worn out, but also accomplished, like they'd been away from home, on some mission. Just as Angela rested her hand on Jesse's, Gabriel turned and left the ward, carrying within his chest the stinging, soul-crushing feeling of defeat. 

It's not the first time someones been shot on the job. Not the first time someone's been killed in action, either. 

Hold on, McCree!

Jesse's seen it a dozen times. Before shooting baddies in Blackwatch, joining Overwatch, or doing dirty work for Deadlock. His time on the streets were filled with violence. Men knifing each other over a warm meal, pointing guns at anyone dressed slightly better than them, pulling the trigger when it amounted to so little. Jesse witnessed it a few times. Most of the time he woke up to the sound of it. Either way, he considered himself lucky enough to not have been a part of it. 

Medic! Assistance needed!

This one time, one of the Deadlock boys-was it Eddie?-held on to a stick of fuming dynamite too long. It happened. You light one up and mess around, scare one of the newbies with it before snuffing out the fuse. Jesse was checking up on his horoscope, discovering a surprise was just around the corner, when the dynamite went off, and following the large, deafening boom was a wet spray of blood and gore hitting him and every unlucky son of a bitch in a twenty foot radius. The poor bastard didn't die right away, but trying to help him was a lost cause. Jesse hid in a shed, covering his ear wth his stained hands, muffling as much of the screaming as he could until it was finally over. 

It hurt bad enough to listen to someone die. Watching people slowly fade out in front of him was another mess. Winant getting shot in the lung, several miles off from the carrier, and watching him go out with the help of a delicious morphine cocktail administered by his trusted partner, was inexplicably hard. Jesse held on to Gabriel that night, wondering if he'd ever be expected to do the same, or have to ask Gabriel to inject him into a peaceful death. 

Jesse, are you there? Rough fingers lightly hit his face and pull Jesse out from the darkness he didn't realize he was already sinking into. Like a black quicksand right above him. Jesse blinks several times, mentally backing himself away from the dark tunnel, until he see the faint images of his commander and two more officers behind him. 

There's a ringing in his ear. Rapid gunfire going off in the background. People shouting to pull back. 

Tears roll down his dusty face as a cold, prickly feeling staggered across his chest. With a shaking hand Jesse reaches and chases after the source, the burning pit in the middle of his gut. His hand hovers on top of firm hands pressed against his wound, a gun wound that's from some kind of semi, something that spread across him because Jesse's sure it's all over his insides. Half his innards feel like they're on fire, and it's increasing with every short, stammered breath he sucks in. 

He starts to cry. "I don't want to die." 

Gabriel points to one of the officers. They disappear. It has Jesse's heart racing, his chest now heaving with fear. The pain increases. Gabriel returns to him and calmly states, "You're not going to die."

Impossible. How could Gabriel possibly know that? Jesse hiccups and sobs as pressure builds on his lower spine, the stabbing pain rising into his heart. The soldier pushing against his wound mutters something to Gabriel. Jesse wants him to know it hurts to bad and to make it go away. He's too scared to die.  

"I don't want to die, Gabe," Jesse whines. He writhes in place. Gabriel rushes and holds him down. The pain reaches levels Jesse didn't think were imaginable. It's beyond comprehension. 

"Jesse, I'm not going to let you die," he hears Gabriel's voice echo in the distance. 

The pain racks, and Jesse is sure this is it. Nineteen years at war with the world, and he's finally met his maker. Didn't even get to see the bastard's face, either. 

It's lava burning his insides, clawing at his gut. Jesse blinks up at Gabriel, tries to tell him how bad it hurts, for his commander to please do anything, but the words never leave his lips. His vision blurs, and Jesse can feel death dragging him back into that long, dark tunnel.

"Don't leave," he whimpers, shutting his eyes right when his vision starts to fail. 

The pain starts to dwindle. It's warm now, and it starts to feel like a needle sewing a pattern in his stomach. His insides are aglow, but surrounding him is a powerful chill. 

"I won't leave you," he hears Gabriel tell him, but it's so far away Jesse can't be sure it's real. He barely registers the hands pressed firmly against the bleeding holes, and Gabriel holding him up, trying to shake him back into the light. Where was that anyways? Jesse stares out, but doesn't see that pretty little light he was promised. He supposes that's his own damn fault. Light at the end meant pearly white gates and hot little angels waiting on the other side. Jesse sure as hell didn't deserve any of that. Still, even a red light and burning hellfire was better than this darkness, this cold. 

No soldier gets let behind. 

So cold. He couldn't even feel the heat of the blood oozing out of him. 

Jesse? 

It's quiet. Dark. Jesse keeps blinking, sees Ana and Reinhardt flash in his mind, then Angela and Torbjörn. Oh shit, this is really happening. He sees everyone in some way or form, in faded stills, brief memories that he didn't know he had stored away. I wish I was a better friend, Jesse thinks. I should have trained more, should have been there for Fareeha, and stayed on Jack's good side. Faded images play through the iciness and the sinking feeling, and Jesse sees Gabriel and gets hit with that final pang of regret. 

Gabe, I'm sorry for breaking your trust. I'm such a lousy piece of shit.   

Jesse wakes up holding Ana's hand. Once his vision clears, he sees she's fallen asleep by his bedside. A few seconds later, he makes out the sterile hospital smell, sees the bed he's in isn't his, and Jesse understands the nightmare he woke up from was real. Also, he's alive. 

Confused and parched, he tries to move from his spot and reach for a nearby pitcher, but his abdomen feels like it's made of stone. He think's about waking Ana, but he sees the puffiness surrounding her eyes, the large coat covering her, and decides against it. The woman needs her rest. 

Jesse looks around for the magical buttons that will call a nurse in and supply him with the answer he needs, but then spots Gabriel sitting in the corner of the room, asleep. His arms are crossed and legs spread out, and in addition to the shadows under his eyes, there's the same irritated redness surrounding it that alert Jesse that things had to have been pretty bad. The final images of Gabriel above him, his voice reaching into Jesse's dying mind and telling him he wasn't going to leave play again, and his dry eyes and throat start to sting. Gabriel's still in uniform, hasn't changed and probably hasn't left the damn room. 

"Shit," Jesse says, grabbing his throbbing abdomen as he struggles to even out his breathing. It hurts so damn much, being alive. The bedcovers slide off and he sucks in another sharp, stabbing gulp of air when he sees the entirety of his chest covered.

"Jesse?" He looks down at Ana, and she's staring up at him, her red eyes widening as she begins to registers his alertness. She grabs hims before he can say anything, even though it pains his stiffened stomach, Jesse hugs her back. 

He doesn't think he's hugged her before, and doesn't know why. It feels really good. 

"Jesse..." Gabriel calls Jesse to return to the corner of the room. 

Like Ana, Gabriel appears so tired, so old and human. It actually scares Jesse to think he has this effect on another person. 

"I'm alive," Jesse barely brings himself to say. From the bottom up, his entire chest starts to hurt. "I'm sorry." 

"It's alright," Gabriel replies back, and then gets up from his seat. 

"Wait," Jesse says. "Don't leave, please." 

Jesse can't explain why he thinks Gabriel would. After waking up to Gabriel in the room with him, still in Blackwatch gear, wearing a day old look to him. But Jesse can't bear the thought of him leaving yet, and he holds on to Ana like a lifeline, his lips curling inward as he watches Gabriel slowly approach the bed, tapping her lightly so she can move aside and give him just enough room to smother Jesse with a familiar, loving embrace. 

He can hardly breathe. 

Six hours later, after a tag and bag and a good shower, Jesse sits in a near empty diner with his commander, eating chewy flapjacks while Gabriel looks over a list of new recruits being assigned to the organization. Rumor has it Blackwatch is going to hire more colorful names, men with records not too dissimilar from Jesse's. Apparently Jesse's successful track record is a big deal, and the UN got it in their mind to test Reyes to see if they can afford offering "second chances" to other criminals. That's how Jesse figures they worded it. After so many years of this, Jesse still knows better. It's cheaper to send no-goods into the line of fire than beloved soldiers. 

"You checking these out?" Gabriel says in between sips of his coffee. 

Jesse's attention is on the low-grade syrup he's continues to add to his meal. "Sure, sure." 

"Jesse," Gabriel's tone warns him. Somewhere along the line Jesse forgot this wasn't just a date. "Memorize some of these names, you'll be commanding them soon enough." 

"Second in command," Jesse mutters to himself. It doesn't quite fit him. Rolls off just as well as a tank in mud.  "Do I get to make 'em run laps if they don't do their homework?"

"Sorry to say most of these chumps have the middle school education you lacked upon entering," Gabriel snidely remarks. He tosses a file at Jesse, expecting him to pick it up and make the smallest attempt at skimming it before returning to his lukewarm cakes. 

Jesse takes a quick gander at the named scrawled on top. "And yet I'll be paid twice as much as 'em," he says, and then shoves  a forkful of food into his mouth. 

Gabriel chuckles. "What a corrupt system."

Jesse's just finished murdering someone. He's done it before. He's been getting paid to do it for a few years now. Soon he'll get a raise to teach men just as bad, if not worse than him how to point their guns at the right face, back at people just like them, and when he's done he'll go back to one of his many rooms in some fancy base, and he'll drink expensive booze and make out with his boss. What a crazy world he lives in. 

He finishes his meal ten minutes later, and spends half that amount of time looking at the files Gabriel handed him, before gong back to fantasizing about the date they never get to enjoy because of work and Overwatch and everything else.

"Let's get out of here."

At 0300 hours, a medium sized carrier lands on Swiss territory. Jesse and Gabriel do not exit it. The doors remained locked, and the power on minimal capacity, just enough so they can keep warm. 

They roll over on the floor together. Jesse kicks off his boots and lets his hands slide up Gabriel's shirt, smiling into the older man's neck when he feels the warm skin under his fingers retract at his cool touch. Gabriel's shirt comes off and Jesse helps himself to delectable hot flesh.  

His tongue dips into the soft curve under Gabriel's neck. Jesse kisses Gabriel's chest. His hands cling to the man's belt. "Wonder what should I do to you," he mulls with a heaving pant.  

The light from the outside is hardly enough to make out Gabriel's form. The white of his eyes are hard to make out, and Jesse's hands have to feel his way across the pants, his lips down the firm breasts and abdomen. Jesse undoes the belt, thinking he's on top of some warm, sexy phantom. Gabriel breathes barely audible words that are muffled by their combined fervor. 

Jesse lifts himself up. "I can't hear you." 

Warm finger tips settle under his chin and guide Jesse forward. "Get over here," Gabriel's low voice demands. Jesse can't possibly refuse such a tone, so distinct and sharp and rough and belonging to Gabriel. It tightens the pants and has Jesse crawling on top of him, awaiting new orders. He's welcomed into an embrace, and then fine, round lips. Jesse sinks in, closes his eyes and feels the sharp bristles of Gabriel's beard, turns a little and wrinkles his face against the tickle from long eyelashes. His lower back arches when Gabriel's hands slide down it, pry between the space and find their way into his pants. 

Jesse pulls away, moves into the space between Gabriel's neck and shoulder and whines into his ear. "I want you so bad."

"Always in a rush," Gabriel complains through a sinister grin. 

"Can you blame me?" Jesse asks, then kisses the older man's jawline.  "I got all this for myself, hard to keep from diving right in." 

"Flattery won't get you any farther, McCree."

Gabriel's taunt sinks right between Jesse's legs. Never has a challenge been so inviting.  

"We'll see about that," Jesse says.  

He pushes forward and Gabriel lets him, only providing some mild hesitation, if only to rile Jesse up some more. And how Jesse loves Gabriel setting up tiny roadblocks. It's nice to have a reason to hold such a large, powerful body down, even better when he knows Gabriel's also getting off it. They rest on their sides, hands reaching into the other, fondling and stroking while they try to remain connected though sloppy kisses. Bites from one mouth, and stuttering moans from the other make it hard to keep things together, yet under the occasional jerk, the shaking hand looking to cradle the the other, is clockwork movement that can only exist through intimacy. Jesse knows exactly where to go, how firm of a grip he has to maintain around Gabriel in order to get what he wants, and Gabriel does exactly what he needs in order for Jesse to properly forget their ranking, and take control of this wonderful situation. 

The air inside condenses with heat. Delightfully thick brown legs dance up into the air as Jesse positions himself between them. He rests the side of his face on one as he sets his sight on the shadowed figure beneath him, the hardly visible eyes silently pleading for fulfillment. Jesse's happy to deliver. Although he envisioned going at it rough, Jesse finds himself holding to Gabriel, looking to make it last for as long as he can, to milk out each raspy moan under him until all he gets are airy gasps of delight. Jesse buries his face into Gabriel's neck, right as the ball of Gabriel's shaking feet fall on top of his lower back, greedy legs squeezing to keep him trapped inside. 

It's not the crazy hot sex Jesse thought he'd be having. He pushes his face into wet skin, feeling his racing heart hurt so good right as his body shivers into a orgasm. It's something else entirely.

Of course, Jesse's too hesitant to call it what it is. It doesn't stop him from sinking next to Gabriel when the first part's over, and gladly wraps his sweaty arms around Gabriel, excuses their messiness with the swim of endorphins. He knows Gabriel sure as hell ain't going to mention it either. It just isn't their steeze to bring up love in a conversation, not even after the fact. It sure felt good though, and Jesse lets it end at that, flops his head next to Gabriel and lets the man kiss him on the forehead.  

They open the doors and air the carrier out as best they can, but leave once the cold starts to reach into their bones. Jesse, the less tolerant of the two when it came to the weather, huddles close to Gabriel and takes longer drags from their shared cigarette as they make their way inside. 

Since their rooms are in two different wings, they take their time before splitting up. Strangely enough it's not wasted on lip-locking, but in togetherness, if such a thing exists. Jesse's hands nestle in the pockets of Gabriel's hooded jacket, and he rest his forehead on top of Gabriel, thinking about the long day ahead, and the swell of feelings inside of him. Jesse can feel the words at the tip of his tongue, but he stops himself and tells Gabriel to watch out for bed bugs instead. 

Later, for sure, he tells himself. Just not tonight. 

At precisely 1200 hours the meeting begins, and Jesse shocks the world when he shows up on time, ready to see the latest designs sent from above. Beautiful posters showing off Overwatch and its most recognized members, with the handsome Strike Commander and stunning Captain at the center. Jesse's impressed by the work, and says more than enough to make up for Gabriel's silence, to get Jack blushing and the design team fishing for more compliments. 

More than two years of being part of this grand organization, and Jesse's face is nowhere to be seen on any of the concept posters. He understands why and, frankly, doesn't really care. Blackwatch is its own thing, and Jesse respects it. He's being promoted, and will get to train his own squadron soon. So much cooler than a poster. And there's more, he thinks, giving a side glance to Gabriel who's busy checking out some of the promotional artwork. Jesse leans back in his seat, kicks a leg up-much to Jack's disapproval-and lets Overwatch bask in their glory for while he attends to his thoughts. 

What a crazy, spectacular world he lives in.