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Hanzo fell into a sleep so deep that he knew the only thing that could wake him would be the object of his affections and the subject of his dream: Jesse McCree. In his dream, he was lying with Jesse in a manner quite similar to how they were currently snuggled up beneath the blankets, but in his dream, they were awake. It was sweet and warm, and they were somewhere that looked and felt like a mix between Hanamura and Santa Fe, the sun bright, but a cherry-scented breeze rustling their hair. Daisies and other wildflowers swayed in the wind, and somewhere distant, a wind chime twinkled harmonically.
Hanzo was carding his fingers through Jesse's forever unruly locks, humming quietly and smiling sweetly, more than content to laze the day away out in the sun of their mixed home atop a quilt with familiar patterns on it. The pattern of the heavy blanket draped under them sat in a square next to a block of the silk of Hanzo's hair tie, and next to that, the well worn fabric of the cacti boxers he wore. Next, a square of plaid flannel, and a cut of Hanzo's turtleneck. The pieces that followed after that were new, fabrics and patterns he had yet to associate with anything yet, and that excited him.
He leaned forward, pressed them forehead to forehead, and just stared into the deep wells of Jesse's pretty amber eyes. He could spend an eternity and a day gazing into those lovely irises, would never tire of picking out the new flecks of auburn and gold out of their honeyed depths. He sighed when Dream Jesse laid a sun-warmed metal palm on his cheek, steel thumb caressing the skin just below his eye with an ease that suggested he'd done it a thousand times before, and a steadiness that said he'd do it a thousand times more. He woke up just as Dream Jesse began to speak, and when his lids fluttered open, he found that he already knew what he'd have said; but he didn't dare entertain the thought. They were impatient, sure, and they had fallen hard and fast, but that was a little too soon, Hanzo thought.
He found he rather liked waking up like this, bodies still pressed together, so warm he could swear he and his boyfriend would melt. He spent a good amount of time just watching. He made constellations in his freckles, found beauty marks and dimples in spots he'd never noticed before. He traced his eyes over the way his lips pouted as he slept, thought about kissing them, then acted on it, pressing his own lips to Jesse's warm, dry ones. He looked lower, raked his eyes over the hairy chest he loved to nuzzle into so much, continued further still until he could see Jesse's belly button. He loved all of McCree, and his chub just meant there was more of the fantastic man to show his affections to. He shimmied down slowly, careful not to wake Jesse, and pressed a soft, long kiss to his tummy. His lips trailed up, smiling with each new press, and he rubbed his fingers into the softness of his hips, rolled countless shapes into the pudge there.
Such a handsome man he'd manged to keep.
He didn't think he'd ever let go.