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Hanzo smiled.

Raising his head to the dawn, he let out a soft huff. In the calm light of the summer morning, the tendrils of mist were only barely visible. He paused for a moment, simply taking in the gentle warmth of the sunlight across his back. With a soft shake of his mane, and a flick of his tail, he bowed his head once more and nibbled at the green grass below.

It was strange, he mused. Strange how things turned out sometimes. Never, not in his wildest dreams, would he have imagined this as his life. While his previous wild life - one which now seemed aeons ago - was, at times, less than ideal, he had thought it his only choice.

When he considered all that had preceded his new life with McCree... it only became all the more incredible.

McCree.

Again, the grey horse smiled - or, at least, as close as he could manage to one in his current form. Swatting away a pesky fly, he moved forward, chewing on the juicy grass.

He had never imagined that such a kind man could touch his soul in such a significant way. He was no wild horse, true - not in the purest sense, anyway - but even so, it took time, and effort, to trust in those not like himself. Shape-shifters were not taken lightly by most. At best, they were ridiculed for their ability; at the very worst, killed. Yet, McCree... he didn't even seem to care. Never once had he declared Hanzo's ability as strange, or unnatural, or frightening.

Never once had he treated him any differently to the other horses.

Never once, more importantly, had he treated him any differently to a normal human being.

The horse continued smiling. A feeling, warm as the rising summer sun, entwined itself around his heart and filled his veins. Unprompted, a tingle snaked through his skin.

Already, he couldn't wait for McCree's visit.

..........................................................................

Arm draped casually over the fence, leather halter and lead rope in hand, McCree smiled as he looked over the grassy paddock before him.

Hanzo stood, happily grazing, right in his line of vision. Still the other horses kept their distance - though, if McCree knew Hanzo well enough by now, that was the exact opposite of a problem. In silence, the cowboy looked on. Every little movement, no matter how insignificant, caused a feeling of fondness to entwine around his heart. Every step forward, every swish of the long black tail, did not go unnoticed.

McCree's smile grew. Hanzo was a happy creature, indeed. For now, at the very least.

The sunlight practically bounced off of Hanzo's sleek coat as he continued peacefully munching on the grass. His dark mane, now quite long, fell gracefully across the far side of his neck and down past his face. There was no doubt about it, McCree found himself thinking. Hanzo was beautiful - but, even so, he was not above needing a good brush and clean. A thorough cleaning at that, not just the average rub down before and after exercise. Though he wasn't necessarily dirty - it wasn't at all likely Hanzo had engaged in much typical horse behaviour - a good currying of his coat and brush of his mane and tail wouldn't go amiss.

Plus, it was a good excuse to spend the day with Hanzo.

McCree couldn't help chuckling quietly to himself. He couldn't wait to see how this would go.

Nimbly, not bothering with the gate, he hopped the fence and entered the paddock. He took a few steps forward. Hanzo had not yet noticed him.

"Good morning, Hanzo."

McCree's eager call was greeted with a short whinny. Hanzo, ears pricked forward, now looked intently in McCree's direction, still chewing on a tuft of grass.

McCree smiled, waiting for any further movement. To his surprise, Hanzo stood stubbornly in place, making no visible effort to move. Swallowing the grass, he stood still, intently watching McCree.

McCree's smile shrank.

"Well, are ya comin' over, or what?" McCree tilted his head, gesturing to the gate behind him. "Come on."

He gave a few encouraging clicks of his tongue. Evidently unimpressed, the horse let out a loud snort, before turning his head and lowering it to the grass once more. A dismissive flick of his tail told the cowboy that he had no intention whatsoever of following.

McCree shrugged. Of course Hanzo had to go and make things difficult on him. A change of approach, it seemed, was in order. He stood, waiting, for a few more moments, before walking confidently towards the horse.

Sensing his approach, Hanzo raised his head once more. Several paces away from him, McCree stopped. Smirking just a little, he placed a hand into his pocket and fished out his trusty packet of mints, now almost depleted.

"Oh, I know what ya want. Is it... this?" He placed a single mint onto the palm of his right hand, and stretched it towards Hanzo. "Come on, Hanzo. Come get it."

The horse raised his head once more. Shaking his head, and sighing in defeat, he walked over to McCree's outstretched hand. McCree smiled as Hanzo gently lipped the sweet off of his palm. Ever so carefully, he brought his left hand, with halter and rope, to Hanzo's head, and snugly fastened the halter under Hanzo's chin.

"Good boy, Hanzo," he softly said, giving the horse's face an affectionate stroke. Taking the rope securely in both hands, he pulled on it gently. Eagerly, with a spring in both their steps, horse and rider walked towards the stables.

...........................................................................................

McCree couldn't help but smile.

Though Hanzo, by now, was no stranger to McCree's rigorous grooming, he softly huffed appreciatively at each stroke of the curry comb. McCree paused, ducking his head to the left. His smile widened. Hanzo's eyes were half-closed, his bottom lip drooping in a relaxed gesture.

"You're likin' that, aren't ya?" he quietly asked, prompting another sigh. Taking that as a yes, McCree said nothing, and resumed brushing.

It didn't take long to loosen all the dust and loose hair from Hanzo's coat. Stepping back, and reaching for the bag of grooming supplies beside him, McCree paused. He brushed a hand down his shirt, causing a flurry of light grey hairs to fly loose. Grabbing the softer-bristled body brush, he made a mental note to throw his shirt in the wash later on.

Unlike the curry comb, which required some degree of vigour, the softness of the body brush enabled McCree to take his time. Slowly, gently, though still giving his all, he rubbed it down Hanzo's neck. He paused. In the midday light, the mustang's brand practically shone bright white against the steel-grey dapples. McCree tentatively reached out a finger, and settled it on the first symbol, tracing over the angular mark.

His finger had barely cleared the first symbol before it was pulled away. With a displeased grunt, Hanzo threw up his head, and pulled his neck out of McCree's reach, his ears now dangerously folded back.

"I know, I know." McCree withdrew his hand. Of course. "You don't wanna be reminded."

He should have known better. Sensing McCree's withdrawal, Hanzo's ears returned to their friendlier resting position. McCree breathed a sigh of relief. Trying to shake off the feeling of foolishness that crept up on him, he hastily resumed brushing his way down Hanzo's belly, then down to his flank and hindquarters.

Reaching the horse's hindquarters, he paused. He smiled as his eyes fell upon the top of the horse's rump. Where stark red and pink lines would have once marred the shiny dapples, now in their place stood their ever-so-faint ghosts, the thin white lines barely visible. He couldn't resist stretching out a finger and settling it upon the longest line. It was incredible, he thought. Hanzo had come so, so far from the scruffy, depressed mustang he had found on that fateful night - and not just in his present form. Resuming his work, McCree's smile increased.

Hanzo had been so strong, even in the face of adversity, and McCree would be lying if he said he wasn't damn proud of him.

It didn't take long for McCree to finish with the brush. Finishing up Hanzo's right side, he stepped back, admiring the fruits of his work. Though Hanzo had, of course, appeared surprisingly clean before, now his coat positively gleamed in the sunlight filtering through. Once more dusting himself off, McCree scraped the brush off on a spare stable door, ridding it of any loose hair, and returned to the bag of supplies. This time, he fished out the purpose-bought mane brush, as well as a small bottle of detangler.

Although, on second thoughts...

Placing the spray bottle at his feet, McCree gingerly reached out and placed a hand into Hanzo's long, sleek mane. It was just as soft as he remembered; just as similar in look and feel to Hanzo's own human hair. Long, too. It had grown so much in the past few months; with the very tips now reaching the bottom of Hanzo's neck, it was nothing at all like the scruffy mess he had started out with. McCree smiled. It was... beautiful. Slowly, he trailed his fingers through the dark strands, checking for any knots or tangles. Not that there were likely to be any, he knew, but better to find them now, than to catch them on a brush later on.

With Hanzo's mane longer than ever, McCree couldn't help but wonder how he would now look in human form. Continuing to run his fingers through the silky strands, it was again hard not to imagine them as human hair. If only they were, McCree thought. Oh, just how he longed to do that...

McCree spent several more endless moments idly stroking his fingers through the horse's mane, before another quiet huff snapped him out of his trance-like state. He looked to his right, to Hanzo's face. Once more, the look on his face described nothing short of pure contentment.

McCree's heart softened.

Cute.

"It's gotten so long, Hanzo," he said quietly, letting the ends of the mane slip through his fingers back into place. "So beautiful..."

Hanzo gave a low whicker in response, presumably tickled by McCree's compliment. Smiling once more, McCree retrieved the bottle of detangler, before spraying a generous amount into the horse's mane.

With the hair dampened, the brush glided effortlessly through the strands. McCree was right - there had been little need for detangling after all. Taking the mane piece by piece, he took his time to carefully brush out the horse's long, soft mane, withers to poll, top and underneath.

He stood back, admiring the result of his labour. If it had been beautiful before, the mustang's mane now appeared positively radiant in the soft barn light. McCree smiled. Reaching once more for the bag of supplies, he fished out the packet of small plaiting bands and a comb.

There was little need for braiding, when Hanzo's mane appeared naturally flat and tidy anyway. Surely Hanzo wouldn't mind it too much, though. If there was one thing that both looked beautiful and helped tame a long mane, braids would be it. Not wishing to dwell on this further, McCree got to work. Combing aside a section of Hanzo's mane, he deftly wove it into a simple plait. Moving his way up the mane, he repeated the procedure, until the horse's mane lay neatly against his neck in a series of eight regularly-spaced braids.

Moving on to Hanzo's forelock, McCree positioned himself in front of the horse's head. Pushing the long lock of hair into the middle of Hanzo's face, he took it in his hand.

Only one more braid to go.

Nimbly, his fingers worked at the hair, once more creating an intricate plait. McCree smiled. He was right. Hanzo didn't seem to mind -

He was unprepared for the swift nudge that followed. Before he knew it, he had fallen backwards into the stable door behind him. Pushing his hat out of his eyes, he looked up. Hanzo gave an amused whinny, throwing back his head as if he were laughing. McCree smirked, then full-on laughed himself. If that wasn't typical of Hanzo. He picked himself up off the ground. Dusting himself off, he walked back over to the horse.

"Oh, Hanzo," he said softly, stroking Hanzo's nose. The forelock braid still mostly intact, McCree reached up and quickly finished it, tying it off. "Jus' what am I gonna do with ya?"

The horse gave another soft whicker in response. McCree moved his hand back to Hanzo's nose, where he was met with the velvety muzzle being gently pushed into his open palm. For a heartbeat, he simply gazed into the animal's deep brown eyes.

"Ya really are somethin' else," he whispered, after a few moments. "Never change, Hanzo. Never change..."

Pulling himself reluctantly away from Hanzo's entrancing gaze, he moved down to the horse's long tail, once more taking up the hair brush. Taking the tail in his hand, taking care to stand out of the way of Hanzo's rear hooves, he started brushing his way through the ebony-black strands.

He was greeted by the firm stamp of a hoof. McCree looked up. The horse's head was turned towards him, a strange, almost human, look in his eyes.

McCree paused, then chuckled to himself, remembering what he had just said.

"Unless it's into human form, of course." Still smiling, he glanced around, double-checking the others weren't within earshot. "Ya know what I meant."

......................................................................................

"Hello, Jesse."

Though Hanzo's nightly visits were, by now, a regular occurrence, McCree couldn't help but stare.

Gone was the familiar red serape favoured by the man to preserve his modesty. (Not a bad thing, McCree thought; at least it was now back in his possession.) Instead, McCree's black button-down shirt now graced Hanzo's chest and abdomen; top button loosened just enough for the tiniest fraction of the man's tattoo to peek through. On his legs, Hanzo now wore a pair of faded blue jeans; on his feet, a spare pair of brown leather boots. Altogether, it was a ravishing look. The last night, McCree had never imagined that all his cast-off clothes could combine to form... this, yet here Hanzo stood, proving him wrong.

His heartbeat quickened.

"Hey there, Hanzo." He tried to sound casual, in spite of the annoying yet all-too-familiar heat which crept into his cheeks. "Lookin' good, if I may say so."

Hanzo froze, halfway between the window and McCree.

"...Thank you." A quiet chuckle punctuated his words. McCree felt his heart soar.

It wasn't much, but it was the happiest he had heard Hanzo since they had met.

"No problem." McCree gave a wide smile. Involuntarily, his eyes moved from Hanzo's face to his long, dark hair. It was now just as long as his own; slightly longer, even. And inexplicably... wavy. McCree stifled a chuckle. Of course. The neat braids he had woven into Hanzo's mane earlier must have stayed put after his transformation; evidently, he had only just pulled them out. Oddly, though, it was not a bad look. He still, more than ever, longed to trail his fingers through the soft strands. Doing it to a horse's mane was one thing, but what he wouldn't give to do it now...

"...Jesse?"

"Hmm?"

"What are you staring at?"

McCree blinked, rapidly averting his eyes. Instead, they drifted down to Hanzo's shirt and jeans. He had been too enraptured by the man's stunning appearance in the moonlight a few moments ago to give it much thought, but on further inspection... there was quite a sizeable height difference between them. Though Hanzo had regained a lot of muscle since they had first met, and though he had a similarly well-built frame to his own, McCree's shirt appeared to almost hang off of the man's broad shoulders, the ends of the jeans obscuring half a boot each.

"Nothin'," he replied, looking back to Hanzo's face. At least, he thought, Hanzo looked mildly amused this time; had it been several months before, he would have looked virtually displeased. "It's just... those clothes are a bit... big, ain't they?"

"...Hmm." Hanzo's brows furrowed. Intently, he looked down at the shirt. Taking a piece of the fabric in his hand, he turned it around, twisting it this way and that, before letting it fall back against his skin. "I suppose you are right. But unless you have anything better to offer, they will simply have to do."

McCree frowned. Sure, they were flattering on him, but surely he deserved better...

"Not if I can help it," he said, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Hanzo raised an eyebrow, confused, before McCree continued, "Sure, they're all I've got, but there's absolutely nothin' to say ya can't get some fresh new clothes of your own, Hanzo."

Hanzo glanced around the room, his eyes darting past McCree to the wardrobe behind him, then to the door, then back to McCree.

"But how? I can't let myself be seen in this form, Jesse. You know that." The man paused. "It would be foolish for me to consider even trying to achieve any more human luxuries than is practical right now."

He let out a sigh. Once more casting his gaze to the floor, he lowered his head, his thick dark hair falling across his cheek and obscuring his face from view.

"I... I feel so stuck, Jesse. I still feel so trapped..."

McCree's heart twisted as Hanzo's words sank in. Hanzo had been through so much - perhaps too much. Being positively imprisoned, not just once but twice, then being forcibly enslaved and treated as not only an animal, but property... there was really no telling how deep Hanzo's scars ran. Metaphorical or otherwise. Not all, it seemed, could be treated with some antiseptic lotion and bandages.

Still, it had been foolish of McCree not to realise that, no matter how much comfort he could give the horse while in the appropriate form, the fact still stood - Hanzo's human life had not, and possibly would not, ever be the same since.

It couldn't be much fun being a horse all the time. Even a well looked-after horse.

There was no doubt about it. Hanzo still deserved better. Much, much better.

Before he could stop himself, McCree reached out and gently pushed a lock of hair out of Hanzo's face. The man looked up, as McCree gently laid a hand upon his partially-clothed shoulder. Surprisingly, he did not even flinch. Hanzo's skin was pleasantly warm and soft; beneath his palm, McCree could faintly feel the pulse running through Hanzo's veins. A fiery tingle simultaneously snaked its way through his own skin at the close contact.

"You're not trapped, Hanzo," he began, in a soothing voice. "You're safe here. I know it mustn't be nice sometimes, bein' stuck as a horse. But if there's one thing I'd really like for ya, more than anythin'... it'd be for you to feel more human again."

Despite the knot of pity still palpable in his throat, he managed a small smile.

"You deserve nice things, Hanzo, an' I'll be damned if I don't give them to ya. So, tomorrow... how's about we do some shoppin', just you an' me? Go to the nearest town, and buy ya some nice brand new clothes and, I dunno, other stuff you might need?"

There was a pause. Hanzo momentarily looked away, as he considered McCree's offer. For a brief moment, McCree wondered if his invitation had been too forward. Instead of a dismissive frown, however, his invitation was met with a smile. An eager smile, even. The man's face creased up in a way McCree had never seen before - his cheeks lifting, his eyes practically sparkling in the moonlight, as he once more met McCree's gaze.

"Thank you, Jesse. That would be nice. But..." Hanzo's smile vanished. Anxiously, he looked to the open window, then back to the cowboy. "...How am I going to leave this place? I can't have anyone knowing who I am."

McCree smiled, already prepared for that question.

"You're a fiery wild horse, ain't ya?" His smile turned to a confident, almost playful, smirk. "How fast can ya go?"

A virtual switch seemed to flick on inside the other man's head. To McCree's delight, Hanzo's smile returned, as he nodded slowly.

"Then I will go. Consider it done." To McCree's surprise, Hanzo extended his hand. Ignoring the ever-annoying flush of heat that prickled at the back of his neck, McCree reached out and took it. A gentle yet firm shake followed.

"I will gladly take you wherever you request," Hanzo continued, firmly looking McCree in the eye. His expression had again grown more serious, yet this time, without any trace of coldness. "Provided you get up early enough."

McCree chuckled.

"Of course, Hanzo." Regrettably, the man had unclasped their hands. Instead, McCree let his arm fall back to his side, unsure what to do next. All he could do was smile. "I can jus' tell Ana and Jack an' the other folks that I've gone out ridin'. That ain't a problem. Ain't exactly a lie, either."

Hanzo nodded.

"Very well."

McCree watched as Hanzo turned on his heel and walked towards the window. The swish of the serape, folded carefully around his body, was replaced by the slight sway of his loose jeans. Try as he might, McCree simply couldn't tear his eyes away, utterly transfixed by the movement of the man's shapely legs and hips.

Damn it, McCree. You got it bad.

"Hey," McCree called, keeping his voice low. Hanzo looked over his shoulder. "I'll get up extra early for ya, give ya a good cleanin' up before we hit the town. Say..." He glanced at his bedside clock. 2.45, as per Hanzo's usual visiting hours. As it stood, he had but three hours of sleep, at the very least, remaining, but consequences be damned. Hanzo damn well needed this. "...Say, 5.30 or so? Gives us both time for breakfast, then we can get ready an' go. How's that?"

Hanzo nodded, still smiling.

"It sounds wonderful." He paused, looking up at the open window. The faint night breeze ruffled through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He threw a smirk in McCree's direction.

"I look forward to it."

All McCree could do was nod.

"Sleep well, Jesse. Get some rest."

"You too, Hanzo," McCree replied, as Hanzo gripped the edge of the window frame. Just as before - though faster with both hands available - he wasted no time in flipping himself over and through the gap. He cleanly landed, knees bent, on the other side. Before walking away, however, McCree saw him throw another glance over his shoulder. Without thinking, McCree raised his hand, waving goodbye. Acknowledging the cowboy with a nod, Hanzo turned and disappeared around the corner.

McCree exhaled, long and slow. Awkwardly, he rubbed at the back of his neck. Just as he had thought - it, too, felt afire. And not through pain, either.

Withdrawing his hand, walking back to bed, he shook his head. Rolling back under the light blankets, he took the alarm clock in his hands and set it for the designated time.

Placing it down, he contentedly flopped down onto the pillow, closing his eyes.

It wasn't a date. Not conventionally. But even so, it was damn close.

He couldn't wait.

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Hanzo smiled.

Raising his head to the dawn, he let out a soft huff. In the calm light of the summer morning, the tendrils of mist were only barely visible. He paused for a moment, simply taking in the gentle warmth of the sunlight across his back. With a soft shake of his mane, and a flick of his tail, he bowed his head once more and nibbled at the green grass below.

It was strange, he mused. Strange how things turned out sometimes. Never, not in his wildest dreams, would he have imagined this as his life. While his previous wild life - one which now seemed aeons ago - was, at times, less than ideal, he had thought it his only choice.

When he considered all that had preceded his new life with McCree... it only became all the more incredible.

McCree.

Again, the grey horse smiled - or, at least, as close as he could manage to one in his current form. Swatting away a pesky fly, he moved forward, chewing on the juicy grass.

He had never imagined that such a kind man could touch his soul in such a significant way. He was no wild horse, true - not in the purest sense, anyway - but even so, it took time, and effort, to trust in those not like himself. Shape-shifters were not taken lightly by most. At best, they were ridiculed for their ability; at the very worst, killed. Yet, McCree... he didn't even seem to care. Never once had he declared Hanzo's ability as strange, or unnatural, or frightening.

Never once had he treated him any differently to the other horses.

Never once, more importantly, had he treated him any differently to a normal human being.

The horse continued smiling. A feeling, warm as the rising summer sun, entwined itself around his heart and filled his veins. Unprompted, a tingle snaked through his skin.

Already, he couldn't wait for McCree's visit.

..........................................................................

Arm draped casually over the fence, leather halter and lead rope in hand, McCree smiled as he looked over the grassy paddock before him.

Hanzo stood, happily grazing, right in his line of vision. Still the other horses kept their distance - though, if McCree knew Hanzo well enough by now, that was the exact opposite of a problem. In silence, the cowboy looked on. Every little movement, no matter how insignificant, caused a feeling of fondness to entwine around his heart. Every step forward, every swish of the long black tail, did not go unnoticed.

McCree's smile grew. Hanzo was a happy creature, indeed. For now, at the very least.

The sunlight practically bounced off of Hanzo's sleek coat as he continued peacefully munching on the grass. His dark mane, now quite long, fell gracefully across the far side of his neck and down past his face. There was no doubt about it, McCree found himself thinking. Hanzo was beautiful - but, even so, he was not above needing a good brush and clean. A thorough cleaning at that, not just the average rub down before and after exercise. Though he wasn't necessarily dirty - it wasn't at all likely Hanzo had engaged in much typical horse behaviour - a good currying of his coat and brush of his mane and tail wouldn't go amiss.

Plus, it was a good excuse to spend the day with Hanzo.

McCree couldn't help chuckling quietly to himself. He couldn't wait to see how this would go.

Nimbly, not bothering with the gate, he hopped the fence and entered the paddock. He took a few steps forward. Hanzo had not yet noticed him.

"Good morning, Hanzo."

McCree's eager call was greeted with a short whinny. Hanzo, ears pricked forward, now looked intently in McCree's direction, still chewing on a tuft of grass.

McCree smiled, waiting for any further movement. To his surprise, Hanzo stood stubbornly in place, making no visible effort to move. Swallowing the grass, he stood still, intently watching McCree.

McCree's smile shrank.

"Well, are ya comin' over, or what?" McCree tilted his head, gesturing to the gate behind him. "Come on."

He gave a few encouraging clicks of his tongue. Evidently unimpressed, the horse let out a loud snort, before turning his head and lowering it to the grass once more. A dismissive flick of his tail told the cowboy that he had no intention whatsoever of following.

McCree shrugged. Of course Hanzo had to go and make things difficult on him. A change of approach, it seemed, was in order. He stood, waiting, for a few more moments, before walking confidently towards the horse.

Sensing his approach, Hanzo raised his head once more. Several paces away from him, McCree stopped. Smirking just a little, he placed a hand into his pocket and fished out his trusty packet of mints, now almost depleted.

"Oh, I know what ya want. Is it... this?" He placed a single mint onto the palm of his right hand, and stretched it towards Hanzo. "Come on, Hanzo. Come get it."

The horse raised his head once more. Shaking his head, and sighing in defeat, he walked over to McCree's outstretched hand. McCree smiled as Hanzo gently lipped the sweet off of his palm. Ever so carefully, he brought his left hand, with halter and rope, to Hanzo's head, and snugly fastened the halter under Hanzo's chin.

"Good boy, Hanzo," he softly said, giving the horse's face an affectionate stroke. Taking the rope securely in both hands, he pulled on it gently. Eagerly, with a spring in both their steps, horse and rider walked towards the stables.

...........................................................................................

McCree couldn't help but smile.

Though Hanzo, by now, was no stranger to McCree's rigorous grooming, he softly huffed appreciatively at each stroke of the curry comb. McCree paused, ducking his head to the left. His smile widened. Hanzo's eyes were half-closed, his bottom lip drooping in a relaxed gesture.

"You're likin' that, aren't ya?" he quietly asked, prompting another sigh. Taking that as a yes, McCree said nothing, and resumed brushing.

It didn't take long to loosen all the dust and loose hair from Hanzo's coat. Stepping back, and reaching for the bag of grooming supplies beside him, McCree paused. He brushed a hand down his shirt, causing a flurry of light grey hairs to fly loose. Grabbing the softer-bristled body brush, he made a mental note to throw his shirt in the wash later on.

Unlike the curry comb, which required some degree of vigour, the softness of the body brush enabled McCree to take his time. Slowly, gently, though still giving his all, he rubbed it down Hanzo's neck. He paused. In the midday light, the mustang's brand practically shone bright white against the steel-grey dapples. McCree tentatively reached out a finger, and settled it on the first symbol, tracing over the angular mark.

His finger had barely cleared the first symbol before it was pulled away. With a displeased grunt, Hanzo threw up his head, and pulled his neck out of McCree's reach, his ears now dangerously folded back.

"I know, I know." McCree withdrew his hand. Of course. "You don't wanna be reminded."

He should have known better. Sensing McCree's withdrawal, Hanzo's ears returned to their friendlier resting position. McCree breathed a sigh of relief. Trying to shake off the feeling of foolishness that crept up on him, he hastily resumed brushing his way down Hanzo's belly, then down to his flank and hindquarters.

Reaching the horse's hindquarters, he paused. He smiled as his eyes fell upon the top of the horse's rump. Where stark red and pink lines would have once marred the shiny dapples, now in their place stood their ever-so-faint ghosts, the thin white lines barely visible. He couldn't resist stretching out a finger and settling it upon the longest line. It was incredible, he thought. Hanzo had come so, so far from the scruffy, depressed mustang he had found on that fateful night - and not just in his present form. Resuming his work, McCree's smile increased.

Hanzo had been so strong, even in the face of adversity, and McCree would be lying if he said he wasn't damn proud of him.

It didn't take long for McCree to finish with the brush. Finishing up Hanzo's right side, he stepped back, admiring the fruits of his work. Though Hanzo had, of course, appeared surprisingly clean before, now his coat positively gleamed in the sunlight filtering through. Once more dusting himself off, McCree scraped the brush off on a spare stable door, ridding it of any loose hair, and returned to the bag of supplies. This time, he fished out the purpose-bought mane brush, as well as a small bottle of detangler.

Although, on second thoughts...

Placing the spray bottle at his feet, McCree gingerly reached out and placed a hand into Hanzo's long, sleek mane. It was just as soft as he remembered; just as similar in look and feel to Hanzo's own human hair. Long, too. It had grown so much in the past few months; with the very tips now reaching the bottom of Hanzo's neck, it was nothing at all like the scruffy mess he had started out with. McCree smiled. It was... beautiful. Slowly, he trailed his fingers through the dark strands, checking for any knots or tangles. Not that there were likely to be any, he knew, but better to find them now, than to catch them on a brush later on.

With Hanzo's mane longer than ever, McCree couldn't help but wonder how he would now look in human form. Continuing to run his fingers through the silky strands, it was again hard not to imagine them as human hair. If only they were, McCree thought. Oh, just how he longed to do that...

McCree spent several more endless moments idly stroking his fingers through the horse's mane, before another quiet huff snapped him out of his trance-like state. He looked to his right, to Hanzo's face. Once more, the look on his face described nothing short of pure contentment.

McCree's heart softened.

Cute.

"It's gotten so long, Hanzo," he said quietly, letting the ends of the mane slip through his fingers back into place. "So beautiful..."

Hanzo gave a low whicker in response, presumably tickled by McCree's compliment. Smiling once more, McCree retrieved the bottle of detangler, before spraying a generous amount into the horse's mane.

With the hair dampened, the brush glided effortlessly through the strands. McCree was right - there had been little need for detangling after all. Taking the mane piece by piece, he took his time to carefully brush out the horse's long, soft mane, withers to poll, top and underneath.

He stood back, admiring the result of his labour. If it had been beautiful before, the mustang's mane now appeared positively radiant in the soft barn light. McCree smiled. Reaching once more for the bag of supplies, he fished out the packet of small plaiting bands and a comb.

There was little need for braiding, when Hanzo's mane appeared naturally flat and tidy anyway. Surely Hanzo wouldn't mind it too much, though. If there was one thing that both looked beautiful and helped tame a long mane, braids would be it. Not wishing to dwell on this further, McCree got to work. Combing aside a section of Hanzo's mane, he deftly wove it into a simple plait. Moving his way up the mane, he repeated the procedure, until the horse's mane lay neatly against his neck in a series of eight regularly-spaced braids.

Moving on to Hanzo's forelock, McCree positioned himself in front of the horse's head. Pushing the long lock of hair into the middle of Hanzo's face, he took it in his hand.

Only one more braid to go.

Nimbly, his fingers worked at the hair, once more creating an intricate plait. McCree smiled. He was right. Hanzo didn't seem to mind -

He was unprepared for the swift nudge that followed. Before he knew it, he had fallen backwards into the stable door behind him. Pushing his hat out of his eyes, he looked up. Hanzo gave an amused whinny, throwing back his head as if he were laughing. McCree smirked, then full-on laughed himself. If that wasn't typical of Hanzo. He picked himself up off the ground. Dusting himself off, he walked back over to the horse.

"Oh, Hanzo," he said softly, stroking Hanzo's nose. The forelock braid still mostly intact, McCree reached up and quickly finished it, tying it off. "Jus' what am I gonna do with ya?"

The horse gave another soft whicker in response. McCree moved his hand back to Hanzo's nose, where he was met with the velvety muzzle being gently pushed into his open palm. For a heartbeat, he simply gazed into the animal's deep brown eyes.

"Ya really are somethin' else," he whispered, after a few moments. "Never change, Hanzo. Never change..."

Pulling himself reluctantly away from Hanzo's entrancing gaze, he moved down to the horse's long tail, once more taking up the hair brush. Taking the tail in his hand, taking care to stand out of the way of Hanzo's rear hooves, he started brushing his way through the ebony-black strands.

He was greeted by the firm stamp of a hoof. McCree looked up. The horse's head was turned towards him, a strange, almost human, look in his eyes.

McCree paused, then chuckled to himself, remembering what he had just said.

"Unless it's into human form, of course." Still smiling, he glanced around, double-checking the others weren't within earshot. "Ya know what I meant."

......................................................................................

"Hello, Jesse."

Though Hanzo's nightly visits were, by now, a regular occurrence, McCree couldn't help but stare.

Gone was the familiar red serape favoured by the man to preserve his modesty. (Not a bad thing, McCree thought; at least it was now back in his possession.) Instead, McCree's black button-down shirt now graced Hanzo's chest and abdomen; top button loosened just enough for the tiniest fraction of the man's tattoo to peek through. On his legs, Hanzo now wore a pair of faded blue jeans; on his feet, a spare pair of brown leather boots. Altogether, it was a ravishing look. The last night, McCree had never imagined that all his cast-off clothes could combine to form... this, yet here Hanzo stood, proving him wrong.

His heartbeat quickened.

"Hey there, Hanzo." He tried to sound casual, in spite of the annoying yet all-too-familiar heat which crept into his cheeks. "Lookin' good, if I may say so."

Hanzo froze, halfway between the window and McCree.

"...Thank you." A quiet chuckle punctuated his words. McCree felt his heart soar.

It wasn't much, but it was the happiest he had heard Hanzo since they had met.

"No problem." McCree gave a wide smile. Involuntarily, his eyes moved from Hanzo's face to his long, dark hair. It was now just as long as his own; slightly longer, even. And inexplicably... wavy. McCree stifled a chuckle. Of course. The neat braids he had woven into Hanzo's mane earlier must have stayed put after his transformation; evidently, he had only just pulled them out. Oddly, though, it was not a bad look. He still, more than ever, longed to trail his fingers through the soft strands. Doing it to a horse's mane was one thing, but what he wouldn't give to do it now...

"...Jesse?"

"Hmm?"

"What are you staring at?"

McCree blinked, rapidly averting his eyes. Instead, they drifted down to Hanzo's shirt and jeans. He had been too enraptured by the man's stunning appearance in the moonlight a few moments ago to give it much thought, but on further inspection... there was quite a sizeable height difference between them. Though Hanzo had regained a lot of muscle since they had first met, and though he had a similarly well-built frame to his own, McCree's shirt appeared to almost hang off of the man's broad shoulders, the ends of the jeans obscuring half a boot each.

"Nothin'," he replied, looking back to Hanzo's face. At least, he thought, Hanzo looked mildly amused this time; had it been several months before, he would have looked virtually displeased. "It's just... those clothes are a bit... big, ain't they?"

"...Hmm." Hanzo's brows furrowed. Intently, he looked down at the shirt. Taking a piece of the fabric in his hand, he turned it around, twisting it this way and that, before letting it fall back against his skin. "I suppose you are right. But unless you have anything better to offer, they will simply have to do."

McCree frowned. Sure, they were flattering on him, but surely he deserved better...

"Not if I can help it," he said, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Hanzo raised an eyebrow, confused, before McCree continued, "Sure, they're all I've got, but there's absolutely nothin' to say ya can't get some fresh new clothes of your own, Hanzo."

Hanzo glanced around the room, his eyes darting past McCree to the wardrobe behind him, then to the door, then back to McCree.

"But how? I can't let myself be seen in this form, Jesse. You know that." The man paused. "It would be foolish for me to consider even trying to achieve any more human luxuries than is practical right now."

He let out a sigh. Once more casting his gaze to the floor, he lowered his head, his thick dark hair falling across his cheek and obscuring his face from view.

"I... I feel so stuck, Jesse. I still feel so trapped..."

McCree's heart twisted as Hanzo's words sank in. Hanzo had been through so much - perhaps too much. Being positively imprisoned, not just once but twice, then being forcibly enslaved and treated as not only an animal, but property... there was really no telling how deep Hanzo's scars ran. Metaphorical or otherwise. Not all, it seemed, could be treated with some antiseptic lotion and bandages.

Still, it had been foolish of McCree not to realise that, no matter how much comfort he could give the horse while in the appropriate form, the fact still stood - Hanzo's human life had not, and possibly would not, ever be the same since.

It couldn't be much fun being a horse all the time. Even a well looked-after horse.

There was no doubt about it. Hanzo still deserved better. Much, much better.

Before he could stop himself, McCree reached out and gently pushed a lock of hair out of Hanzo's face. The man looked up, as McCree gently laid a hand upon his partially-clothed shoulder. Surprisingly, he did not even flinch. Hanzo's skin was pleasantly warm and soft; beneath his palm, McCree could faintly feel the pulse running through Hanzo's veins. A fiery tingle simultaneously snaked its way through his own skin at the close contact.

"You're not trapped, Hanzo," he began, in a soothing voice. "You're safe here. I know it mustn't be nice sometimes, bein' stuck as a horse. But if there's one thing I'd really like for ya, more than anythin'... it'd be for you to feel more human again."

Despite the knot of pity still palpable in his throat, he managed a small smile.

"You deserve nice things, Hanzo, an' I'll be damned if I don't give them to ya. So, tomorrow... how's about we do some shoppin', just you an' me? Go to the nearest town, and buy ya some nice brand new clothes and, I dunno, other stuff you might need?"

There was a pause. Hanzo momentarily looked away, as he considered McCree's offer. For a brief moment, McCree wondered if his invitation had been too forward. Instead of a dismissive frown, however, his invitation was met with a smile. An eager smile, even. The man's face creased up in a way McCree had never seen before - his cheeks lifting, his eyes practically sparkling in the moonlight, as he once more met McCree's gaze.

"Thank you, Jesse. That would be nice. But..." Hanzo's smile vanished. Anxiously, he looked to the open window, then back to the cowboy. "...How am I going to leave this place? I can't have anyone knowing who I am."

McCree smiled, already prepared for that question.

"You're a fiery wild horse, ain't ya?" His smile turned to a confident, almost playful, smirk. "How fast can ya go?"

A virtual switch seemed to flick on inside the other man's head. To McCree's delight, Hanzo's smile returned, as he nodded slowly.

"Then I will go. Consider it done." To McCree's surprise, Hanzo extended his hand. Ignoring the ever-annoying flush of heat that prickled at the back of his neck, McCree reached out and took it. A gentle yet firm shake followed.

"I will gladly take you wherever you request," Hanzo continued, firmly looking McCree in the eye. His expression had again grown more serious, yet this time, without any trace of coldness. "Provided you get up early enough."

McCree chuckled.

"Of course, Hanzo." Regrettably, the man had unclasped their hands. Instead, McCree let his arm fall back to his side, unsure what to do next. All he could do was smile. "I can jus' tell Ana and Jack an' the other folks that I've gone out ridin'. That ain't a problem. Ain't exactly a lie, either."

Hanzo nodded.

"Very well."

McCree watched as Hanzo turned on his heel and walked towards the window. The swish of the serape, folded carefully around his body, was replaced by the slight sway of his loose jeans. Try as he might, McCree simply couldn't tear his eyes away, utterly transfixed by the movement of the man's shapely legs and hips.

Damn it, McCree. You got it bad.

"Hey," McCree called, keeping his voice low. Hanzo looked over his shoulder. "I'll get up extra early for ya, give ya a good cleanin' up before we hit the town. Say..." He glanced at his bedside clock. 2.45, as per Hanzo's usual visiting hours. As it stood, he had but three hours of sleep, at the very least, remaining, but consequences be damned. Hanzo damn well needed this. "...Say, 5.30 or so? Gives us both time for breakfast, then we can get ready an' go. How's that?"

Hanzo nodded, still smiling.

"It sounds wonderful." He paused, looking up at the open window. The faint night breeze ruffled through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He threw a smirk in McCree's direction.

"I look forward to it."

All McCree could do was nod.

"Sleep well, Jesse. Get some rest."

"You too, Hanzo," McCree replied, as Hanzo gripped the edge of the window frame. Just as before - though faster with both hands available - he wasted no time in flipping himself over and through the gap. He cleanly landed, knees bent, on the other side. Before walking away, however, McCree saw him throw another glance over his shoulder. Without thinking, McCree raised his hand, waving goodbye. Acknowledging the cowboy with a nod, Hanzo turned and disappeared around the corner.

McCree exhaled, long and slow. Awkwardly, he rubbed at the back of his neck. Just as he had thought - it, too, felt afire. And not through pain, either.

Withdrawing his hand, walking back to bed, he shook his head. Rolling back under the light blankets, he took the alarm clock in his hands and set it for the designated time.

Placing it down, he contentedly flopped down onto the pillow, closing his eyes.

It wasn't a date. Not conventionally. But even so, it was damn close.

He couldn't wait.