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They bring less of Jesse back from London than Gabe expects.
Angela doesn't tell him how bad it is, on the comms, just that it's not good, and he's waiting in the hangar (with the medics, and the biotics, and the stretcher) for their transport when they return. The medics swarm the transport when they touch down, and Jesse is wheeled past Gabe on the stretcher, groaning, pale, his left arm ending abruptly at a blood-soaked bandage at his elbow.
Gabe feels his stomach drop. For the first time in a very long time, he doesn't know what to do; he stands, rooted to the spot, and watches them go. He goes over the mission-that-wasn't-a-mission in his head, trying to figure out what he could have plausibly done differently, what he could have implausibly done--he should've told Jesse to meet up with the Overwatch strike team, he should've sent more backup with Jesse, he should have left Jack's office and gone directly to London himself, he should've should've should've--
A hand touches his arm. He turns to find Angela, looking tired, covered in what's presumably Jesse's blood--the rest of the Overwatch strike team seems relatively unscathed.
"He'll be okay," Angela says. "We've rebuilt far worse injuries than that."
Gabe tries to unclench his fists and jaw to answer.
.
"They want to give me a new arm," Jesse tells him a day or so into his recovery. "Like Genji has, I guess, but y'know, without the throwing stars. Doc says I'll be back to a hundred and ten percent before you know it."
"Do you believe her?" Gabe asks. He's pretty sure Jesse doesn't.
"Does it matter? Whatever she's got for me is better than the alternatives, trying to shoot with only one arm or, god forbid, whatever the hell O'Deorain is cooking up for me."
Gabe takes a moment to collect his thoughts before answering. "You know that you can--you don't have to be able to shoot. There are plenty of other things you could do for Blackwatch, or even--you could even get out, if you wanted."
Jesse looks a little stunned, but Gabe presses ahead before he can think better of it.
"You've more than done your time, Jesse, and things here are only going to get worse before they get better. Nobody would blame you if you got out now. Not even me."
Jesse laughs shakily. "You want rid of me that badly? Or are you willing to come with me, if I go?"
"Neither, I'm afraid." Gabe smiles an apology.
"Guess I'm sticking around, then," Jesse says, and he squeezes Gabe's hand.
.
Jesse's new arm takes some... getting used to. Angela tells them both that it should be just like Jesse's old arm--all the same nerves are hooked up in all the same places--but they still run into problems. He shatters a cup in the mess, and goes in for recalibration. He nearly drops a suspect during an interrogation, and goes in for recalibration again.
He and Gabe spar, Gabe having assured Jesse that all the improvements they've made to him over the years means Jesse really can't hurt him, and Jesse throws him clear across the room and into the wall. The world is spinning for Gabe, but he's not hurt badly enough to not notice how quiet the room has gone.
Gabe climbs to his feet, shakes his head to clear it, and says, "Again."
(Nobody's manhandled him like that since at least the Crisis, maybe before. It hurt, sure, but he'd be lying if he said there wasn't some part of him that liked it.)
They recalibrate it twice more. Jesse takes to wearing the cape on his Blackwatch uniform wrapped so that it covers most of his new arm, spending a lot of his free time in the shooting range, and sleeping in his own bed again.
.
"I miss you," Gabe whispers against Jesse's neck.
Jesse laughs sourly. "You shouldn't."
.
"Do you want to leave?" Gabe asks him.
Jesse's mouth twists up. "Where would I go?"
.
Gabe actually likes Jesse's new arm, that's the thing. Jesse was strong, but now he's stronger. He was fast, but now he's faster. It's hard to explain, but it's like what Gabe appreciates about the work that Moira does, taking something and making it into a more functional, more useful, better version of itself. The metal arm doesn't make him less, it makes him more.
(He feels guilty that he'd sent Jesse out on the mission to London where this had happened to him, sure, but it had happened and there was nothing they could do to change that now.)
The arm had saved their lives on an unapproved mission in Irkutsk, when he'd busted his way out of the too-flimsy handcuffs and then straight out the side of the van they were being transported in, Gabe still handcuffed and slung over Jesse's shoulder as they disappeared into an alleyway and then into the night amidst a hail of bullets.
Most and best of all, the arm is part of Jesse, who Gabe also likes very much.
They spar, and Jesse tosses him across the room, and the other agents laugh a little--they're all used to this now. Gabe grins at Jesse, and Jesse smiles back at him and lets Gabe lead them back to his quarters when they're through, like they used to, bypassing the communal showers for the private one Gabe had.
When they get back to Gabe's room and Gabe starts stripping down for the shower, Jesse hesitates. Gabe sees the way his eyes flick to the door, and it occurs to him suddenly that he's not sure when was the last time he saw Jesse fully naked--surely it hasn't been since before the mission to London? But now that he thinks about it, Jesse's been wearing shirts with long sleeves pretty regularly. Even when they have had sex, Jesse would grin easily at him and unbutton the front of his shirt and his sleeves would stay on.
Now that he's thinking about it, he's not sure if, outside of their sparring sessions, Jesse has touched him with the metal arm at all.
Gabe goes for the hem of Jesse's shirt now, and Jesse grabs his hands. He says Gabe's name, and it sounds a little like a warning.
"I love you," Gabe whispers, "No matter what. You know that, right?"
Jesse's sour expression cracks into something even more sour, and he fumbles with the shirt himself, peeling himself out of it so that he stands, bare-chested, red-faced, in front of Gabe.
"No matter what? Really? You sure?"
Gabe steps forward to look at what Jesse's been hiding: an ugly patchwork of scarred skin where his new arm connects with his flesh. He's sure Angela had done her best, but the injury was bad, and Jesse had been stubborn about it.
He reaches out to touch the connection point, where the metal arm meets the skin, and Jesse flinches away from him. Gabe doesn't stop, though, keeps reaching, runs his fingers tenderly over the skin and the metal and then down Jesse's forearm to grab his hand. He tugs at Jesse's metal hand, raises it to his lips and presses a kiss into its palm.
"I'm sure," he says. "We've all got scars, and you're still you."
"Am I?" Jesse's metal fingers curl against Gabe's face; Gabe feels the drag of them, cool against his skin and through his beard.
"Of course."
Jesse pulls his hand away, flexes the metal fingers again. The movement is a little menacing, but the shiver that runs through Gabe is not fear, not in the slightest.
They strip down and make their way into the shower, where Gabe turns the water up hot and lets Jesse stand under it while the bathroom fogs up. Jesse's head tilts back and his eyes go closed as the water cascades through his hair, and Gabe moves in close, kissing his neck, his collarbone, his shoulders, down his arm to where the skin meets the metal.
"You don't have to do this," Jesse says. Gabe glances up; his head is still tilted back, and his eyes are squeezed shut.
"What do I have to do to prove to you it isn't like that?" Gabe says.
Jesse opens his eyes now, stares down at Gabe through eyelashes beaded with water droplets. Gabe surges up to kiss him, and Jesse kisses back hungrily, even as Gabe notices that his right hand comes up to hold Gabe's face and his left one falls back to brace against the wall.
"You know you can touch me with it, right?" he says breathlessly against Jesse's lips. "I don't mind. I want you to."
Jesse pushes him back far enough that he can look him squarely in the eye. "You're not scared of me."
"You're not going to hurt me, Jesse, and even if you did--" Gabe stops, looks away. What exactly does he want to admit to right now? "Even if you did, it wouldn't be anything I couldn't take--didn't want to take."
"You sound pretty sure of that." Jesse's voice is low, the same sort of menacing his flexing fingers had been earlier. "I could really hurt you. I have, when we're sparring."
"I...like that," Gabe says, forcing himself to meet Jesse's eyes. "I trust you." He reaches for Jesse's left hand, grabs it, and presses it firmly to his own throat. The metal is smooth, warm from the water. The knuckle joints, when Jesse moves his fingers carefully, don't pinch like Gabe almost expects them to.
Gabe expects Jesse to protest. He does not expect Jesse to raise an eyebrow, quirk a corner of his mouth up, and gently squeeze.
He feels his dick twitch with interest.
"Is this what you want?" Jesse asks him. When Gabe nods, he squeezes a little more, a little tighter. Gabe leans into it, trusting that Jesse can take the weight he uses to press his neck more firmly against Jesse's hand.
Jesse grins at him, and his other hand goes for Gabe's dick, which is suddenly intensely hard. Gabe gasps when Jesse grabs him--or tries to, the pressure on his neck is already making it difficult. Stars dance across his vision. Jesse strokes him fast and hard, Gabe's view getting dim around the edges as he gets close, even better than he'd imagined, when he'd let himself imagine this. It had always seemed out of reach somehow, too much to ask of Jesse--and then Jesse pushes him back, shoves them both until Gabe's back is against the wall of the shower. His vision goes dark for a moment, and he's not even sure if Jesse is touching him anymore, but he's coming, the impact and the lack of air and the feeling of Jesse's metal fingers on his neck all he needs.
Jesse doesn't let go of Gabe's neck until he's spent. Gabe gasps, the air reaching his lungs again, and he stumbles forward into Jesse's arms, where he stays for a long minute, just breathing.
"You okay?" Jesse asks quietly.
Gabe nods against his chest. He makes sure to turn his face up towards Jesse, so Jesse can see his smile. "Are you?"
And Jesse, tentatively, nods back.
.
When they're both cleaned up, dried off, and in Gabe's bed, Jesse rolls over to face Gabe. "So I'd always sort of known that Blackwatch was turning us into weapons, that we were the most useful that way--it should've been obvious, look at Genji--but it wasn't until I got the new arm that it really sank in. When I was with you, I'd started feeling like I wasn't a weapon, like I was a person, and now..."
Gabe stares at him, a little shocked. "You're not a weapon, Jesse--never just a weapon, any more than I am. Even Genji's not just a weapon; even though he asked for the throwing stars and the ankle knives, if he wanted to leave, to never hurt anybody again, he's free to do so. I couldn't stop him. You're a person first, arm or not, and you're worth more to me than what you can do with it."
Jesse makes a helpless noise, rolling onto his back, and Gabe props himself up on an elbow to keep eye contact.
"You don't have to use your arm to hurt people," he says, and he takes Jesse's left hand and sets it against his bare chest, above his heart.
Jesse smiles, a little wry. "I'm not supposed to be able to feel that," he says. "Your heartbeat, it's a quieter vibration than my arm is supposed to be calibrated for--keep it high, so it doesn't feel too weird when I use my gun."
Gabe winces. "I'm sorry, I didn't--"
"No, no, it's okay, I lied to Angela and the techs at my last calibration. I... I didn't want to lose this." Jesse sits up now; he turns to face Gabe, who's still lying down. He presses Gabe back down to the mattress and runs his metal hand over Gabe's torso. It's gentle--not just gentle for a prosthesis, but gentle, period--and Gabe feels himself relax under Jesse's touch.
Could a weapon do this?
"Will you touch me with it?" Gabe asks quietly, and Jesse smiles.
"Greedy today, aren't you," he says, his tone teasing, as he goes for the bedside drawer with the lube. Gabe splutters, but Jesse just keeps smiling, spreading Gabe's legs and settling between them. He opens the lube, then pauses, his smile faltering. "Is this--you're sure this is okay?"
"Yes, absolutely, as long as you're okay with it."
"What's the worst that could happen?" Jesse says, a grin in his shrug, and Gabe grins back. "Although if I end up having to go to Angela to get the lube out of my joints--"
Gabe laughs. "Jesus--" he starts, but anything else he was going to say leaves his brain entirely as Jesse presses one metal finger inside of him. The feeling is new, entirely different than his flesh fingers, curves and ridges moving and rubbing in good and unexpected ways.
He looks up at Jesse, who looks delighted. "Well, this is new," Jesse says. He moves his fingers just so, and Gabe twists around, the sensation almost too good to bear.
Jesse works him open, one metal finger, then two, then three, until Gabe is a babbling mess, at which point he pulls out, leaving Gabe gasping as he leans down to kiss the corner of his mouth.
"I did this to you," Jesse says, a low whisper in Gabe's ear, and Gabe laughs, delighted. He did.
Then Jesse asks, "Can I fuck you?" and Gabe nods so quickly and so desperately that he's surprised he doesn't give himself whiplash.
Jesse slicks himself up and presses slowly, slowly into Gabe, the stretch of him delicious even after how much he'd worked Gabe open. Gabe hisses with pleasure as Jesse moves all the way in, holding still for a moment as he grips tight to Gabe's thighs, and then snapping his hips back and forward suddenly.
If Gabe had been close to losing himself before, he loses himself completely now in the feeling of Jesse inside of him, the sound of skin on skin, the way Jesse says his name. He didn't think he had it in him, but he feels Jesse's metal fingers catch hold of his dick and he's coming again, almost more intensely than he had in the shower. Above him, Jesse shudders, and he feels Jesse coming too, filling him up.
They collapse in a heap on the bed. Words escape Gabe for the moment, but he kisses Jesse's neck, laces his fingers through Jesse's metal ones, the gesture saying everything he needs it to.
.
"I really like your new arm," Gabe says afterwards, coming up behind Jesse to kiss his shoulder, letting his hand rest on the broad metal forearm.
Jesse turns in place, one hand on Gabe's hip, the other ghosting over the bruises that are just starting to form on Gabe's neck. He smiles, a little wickedly. "Y'know, I do too."