#i painted this fucker and it took days so idc

[squibbles-gubwee]

The wine of those cast aside and cursed to suffer tastes sweeter than that of a god's.

Aaa I can finally post this yaaaay!!

[lovebunnie]

this is stupid and has no plot and is just kinda here idc if no one reads these i just need to get them out of my brain before i mcfrickin Die

“What do you think is the definition of happiness?” Hanzo finds himself asking his drinking partner. The cowboy seated beside him takes a long drink of his liquor, face contemplating and hands still as a stagnant river. It was a question that Hanzo did not need an answer to; a question that was meant to live in the clouds and just float while life went on beneath it. It was never supposed to be addressed.

But McCree always did that; he always surprised Hanzo. First by replying, then by the answer.

Jesse chuckled suddenly. “I’d say the true definition of happiness is... an ol’ red door.”

Hanzo searched Jesse’s face for a speck of humor but found nothing other than happiness and a bit of alcohol tinting his cheeks.

“...A red door?”

“Yeah, ya know, like one o’ those door ya see on suburban Americana houses. Bakesales, block parties, the whole shabang.”

The archer took a drink and gave McCree a raised eyebrow. “Just a red door?”

“Yessiree, a good ol’ fashioned red door. Blood red.” Jesse smiled at Hanzo like it was an easy concept to understand, much to the Shimada’s annoyance. He expected something like “everlasting tap” or “a family and kids.” Not something so bland, especially for someone so bold as McCree.

“Forgive me,” Hanzo begins, “I don’t quite follow.”

Beside him, Jesse sets his drink down and sits back in the chair, getting a faraway look in his eye. “Ya know when yer a kid, and ya see somethin’ that’s so stupid and dumb, and yet ya find yerself infatuated with it? That was my mama’s red door. It was stupidly bright against the grey of the house and stuck out like a sore thumb. In retrospect, that made us a huge target for Deadlock and whatnot, but I fuckin’ loved that door. Every splinter it gave me, every creak of the hinges, every hole and every dent, I had that fucker memorized. Used to hang on the knobs and sing ol’ country tunes til my mama either told me to keep it down or joined in with me.”

Jesse ran a hand through his hair while Hanzo leaned forward, invested in the story, The silence let McCree continue.

“When I got taken into Deadlock, I kept thinkin’ about my mama and my family, but I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about that door. There was somethin’ about it I can’t qite put my finger on it. But I couldn’t go back to it, since it’d lead those fucks directly to my family.

“Went back one day while I was carryin’ that bounty over my head, and saw the new folks painted it dark grey, just like the rest of the damn neighborhood.” 

Jesse took another drink, pausing. “I think I might’ve cried.”

Hanzo gave Jesse a moment before clasping his fingers and looking at the cowboy. “Do you associate the door with your mother?”

McCree grips the glass a bit tighter then losens his grip almost limp. “That’s the thing; Every time I see some shcmuck with his red door and flowers growin’ I get so damn jealous, no matter who they are.”

“But why?” Hanzo asks finally, desperate for clarification. 

Jesse locks eyes with Hanzo, and the archer sees tears welling in Jesse’s eyes. Before he can apologize for snapping, McCree talks over him.

“Those red door, don’t mean much. Sure, they’re nice lookin’, but the real magic is what lies inside. The picket fence, the stability and work, the legal paycheck and the comfy bed to lay your head each night.” Jesse looks away and wipes one eye seeming nonchalantly.

“Life don’t just hand ya red doors. Ya gotta earn them. And one day, I’ll get mine.”

As the cowboy takes a sip of his drink, Hanzo sits and reflects.

Red door, ey....