The light dives in through the window, lazily. It has nowhere better to be, and McCree appreciates the sun rising in the distance. He finishes making the latte, topping it off with chile powder after mixing some in as well, tasting the foam on his pinkie finger, adding the white chocolate syrup he can’t believe they’ve kept stocked at the Watchpoint. McCree places the mug down on the counter, lifting his own to sip the caramel concoction he’s created; he likes the caffeine, doesn’t need it but appreciates the warm feeling spreading to his toes, the awake sensation buzzing in his brain.
The night before they’d returned late, the sound of the rain pounding across the roof of the Watchpoint, audible everywhere indoors, no escape from the sound except Genji pressing soft kisses to his neck, pulling him into the shower to warm up. The mission had been long, and he needed to sleep, but their night after returning had been all too short. Genji’s wet hair tucked against his chest, lips pressed quickly to the top of his head - McCree was ready for sleep. He’d woken up that morning with their legs tangled, and with light slowly meandering through the curtains, as if hesitant to wake Genji. McCree was the same - hesitant, always - when Genji was sleeping well. He deserved to be at peace, and he was absolutely not a morning person.
He smiles against the rim of the mug, thinking of Genji strolling into the kitchen to find the latte. He’s unsure if Genji will even wake before its cold, or know that McCree thinks of him first in the morning beyond the fact that it’s literally impossible for him not to, not when they’re pressed together beneath the blankets, not when Genji breathes softly through his nose - through the vents, puffs of air against McCree’s skin.
He loves him, more than anything. It’s kinda scary, really - how much he feels for Genji.
He lives for him, and he knows he’d die for him - not something he really likes to think about in the morning, but something he knows is true.
His mug is almost entirely empty when Genji enters the kitchen, bleary look in his eyes. He approaches McCree slowly, languidly, syrup in his movements and honey in his eyes. McCree thinks he’s the best thing he’s ever seen. He’s always the best thing he’s ever seen.
Genji walks into him, arms at his sides. He makes no motion to wrap his arms around McCree, only leaning into him, head pressed into his chest as Jesse’s arms come up to wrap around his shoulders, hands rubbing across a small area of his back - lips pressed to the top of his head, words muffled in Genji’s hair.
“Mornin’, sugar. Made you some coffee.”
Genji hums, leaning back to look at him with that same dazed expression. “You are far too good to me.”
He then steps away, going for the mug he promptly pops in the microwave. McCree finishes his off, setting it down on the counter to wrap his arms around Genji from behind as he waits for the coffee to finish heating up.
McCree drops his voice, low. His mind momentarily strays from the path of the light, away from the one it’s taking through the window. “I dunno, darlin’. I could be even better, if ya let me.”
“Mmm, Jesse. This is not talk for the kitchen.” Genji takes his mug from the microwave but McCree doesn’t release him, pressing small kisses to the back of his neck, head tilted down to do so. “And it would be a shame to waste this drink.”
He finally releases him, smiling as he does. “Finish it up so I can be better to ya, Genji.”
Genji’s laughter dives into McCree’s chest, lazily - speeding it up all the same.