pullmeoutalive | Ramey

[ Genji really doesn’t waste a second. Given the ninja’s apparent issues with his appearance, he expected them to dance around this one for a bit. That he just up and takes the faceplate off is a surprise, though not an unwelcome one. He’d heard stories, of course, rumors that started flying around when Genji was under Doc Ziegler’s care about the state he was in. How much work the doc had to put in to put him back together. McCree would admit that he had been curious, but only idly so. Even that stopped after a while as they got to know each other. Genji was just Genji, and the mask and the metal and the little glowy bits were a part of that.

He doesn’t recognize the feeling coiling in his gut as anxiousness until Genji looks at him. He’d been bracing himself, keeping his expression carefully neutral out of fear of scaring the ninja away. Genji is scarred, yes, and for a second it strikes him just how much he must have been through, but McCree finds his gaze drawn to Genji’s eyes, dark and lovely and full of uncertainty.

His expression gentles and the corners of his mouth curve upward in a small smile. ]

You never mentioned you were hidin’ such pretty eyes under that visor all this time.

[He'd been building up the nerve to do this all day. He and McCree had known each other long enough that it felt wrong to take a step like this without at least showing him this much, no matter how nervewracking it was. He manages to keep his attention on McCree, but his hands are curled tight in his lap in a way that would have turned his knuckles white, were they still flesh and blood and bone.

It's obvious that whatever Genji had been expecting out of McCree, it wasn't that. His eyes widen before darting away from McCree's, face flushing. One of his hands twitches toward his face but hangs midway. It's odd, having his embarrassment being so easy to see, only serves to fluster him further knowing that McCree is witness to every reaction.]

Flatterer. [Genji's voice is softer, shyer, but his eyes find McCree's again. His mouth twitches at the corners before solidifying into a tiny smile of his own.]

[ He watches Genji’s expression run through a gamut of emotions- most of them somehow embarrassed, and McCree guesses it must be odd to be laid bare like this after hiding behind that mask for so long- before settling into that small little smile. It’s a nice smile, he thinks, and he’d really like to see more of it. ]

Ain’t flattery if it’s true, is it?

[ The smile on his own face shifts into something more like a smirk, though far more subdued than his usual. Now that he can see Genji’s face, his first impulse is to lean in for a kiss, but he’s not so stupid as to forget that this wasn’t something Genji did lightly. He wants to make sure he doesn’t do anything the other man wouldn’t want him to. He is a gentleman, after all.

He lifts the brim of his ever-present hat with a finger, and says, ] I reckon I oughta make good on that kiss I promised. If that’s all right with you.

[Genji can't help a laugh at the comment about flattery, even as the mention of the kiss has the color of his face deepening. He reaches out, risks taking one of McCree's hands with his own, lacing his fingers between the gunman's. Lets the contact ground him. His eyes stay on McCree's, and as he settles, Genji's smile steadies and grows from its smaller, more tentative state.]

Yes. I would like that.

[For longer than he'd care to admit, but then again, he supposes he tipped his hand about that last night. Not that he can bring himself to feel too much regret about it.]

[ God, this is cute. Genji is cute.

And maybe this was a long time coming. Since the team- such as it was- came back together, the familiar faces were surprisingly few in number, so maybe they just gravitated toward one another. The years had changed them both, true, but they seemed to get along better now. They just… clicked, and he was glad for it.

Now that he has permission, he brings his free hand up under Genji’s chin to tilt his head up a little. ]

I was hopin’ you’d say that.

[ With that, he brings their lips together. It’s a soft, chaste little kiss, but he lets it linger for a moment before pulling away. ]

[The touch of fingers against his chin prompts Genji to close his eyes, still smiling against McCree's mouth as they kiss.

Then McCree pulls back, and Genji watches him for a second before:]

That was a kiss? I thought a bird pecked me.

[With that tease out of the way, Genji reaches up and curls his free hand over the back of McCree's neck, leaning up to chase his mouth for another kiss. He keeps it as chaste as the first kiss, but he lets it linger longer, lets himself enjoy the press of McCree's lips against his own.

He pulls away once he's had his fill, fingers sliding into McCree's hair.]

There.

[Genji's smile has disappeared in favor of a grin, bright and pleased.]

[ He's letting Genji set the pace on this one, so he lets the jab slide without comment. Besides, kissing is a much better use of his mouth anyway.

Once they part, he grins in return, enjoying the feeling of Genji's fingers in his hair. ]

I could get used t'seein' that look on your face.

I suppose I could get used to you seeing my face.

[It's... going to be a work in progress, Genji can already tell. Even now he's a bit jittery about McCree being able to see every minute shift of expression on his face. For the longest time, Angela was the only one who knew what he looked like under the mask, and he's adjusted to hiding behind it in front of others. But,]

Kissing is a good incentive.

[What can he say? It'd always been one of his favorite things when he was younger. And kissing McCree is already nice.]

... even if that beard of yours itches. [He laughs, soft but genuine as he reaches up to tug lightly on the beard in question.] I almost wonder if you are trying to rival Reinhardt.

You call the shots on this one, Genji. I’m not gonna demand ta see your face 24/7.

[ He didn’t need to see it before, and while the kissing has already been quite nice, he would prefer that Genji be comfortable. It wouldn’t be all that good of a relationship if he wasn’t. They can figure things out as they go.

When the cyborg tugs on his beard, he lets out a startled, ] Hey! I’m attemptin’ to look older an’ more sophisticated.

[ McCree, you are a scruffy mess. ]

I don't know if I would call this - [There's another teasing little tug at the facial hair in question,] 'sophisticated'. Rugged, perhaps.

[It's handsome, in a super scruffy way. Just own it McCree.

But he lets go of McCree's beard in favor of leaning up for another kiss, this time dropping it against McCree's cheek. And yes, it's the very same that he 'kissed' when McCree rescued him from the roof last night.]

I know you wouldn't, and I appreciate that. But it is something I'd like to work on. At my own pace, of course.

I'll accept rugged.

[ Yeah. Yeah, he's rapidly getting used to this- the affection and Genji's little smiles. He wonders if he's stopped smiling since they kissed. Probably not. ]

Of course. Like I said, you call the shots.

[ He returns the favor, pressing a kiss to Genji's cheek. And then, just because he likes being a little shit sometimes, he nuzzles against him with that apparently itchy beard of his. ]

[The kiss is nice. The nuzzle with intentional beard rub? Less so. Genji's reaction is near instantaneous: he bursts out into laughter, quick to jerk away and swat at McCree's arm with reproach that's at odds with the how he's trying to stifle his giggling.]

Awful. [He rubs at the skin McCree rubbed against, still tingling.] If you give me beard burn, I will make you regret it.

[There's absolutely no heat behind that threat.]

[ He really loves that laugh, it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard and he's going to love drawing it out of Genji whenever he can. His smile takes on a mischievous edge. ]

Oh yeah? What are you gonna do?

[Oh, he's being challenged. A hum for that, and then...

Ninja reflexes are useful for a myriad of things. Here? They allow Genji to steal the hat off McCree's head, placing it on his own before the cowboy can stop him, his grin sharp with mischief of his own.]

I could hide this for a week.

Hey! [ He makes a grab for that hat, but of course Genji has him more than beat on speed. In contrast to Genji's mischievous grin, McCree looks downright scandalized ]

You would't dare.

[His grin only gets sharper at that. Genji could give a shark a run for its money with the way he looks right now.] Are you confident in that, Jesse? Willing to test me?

[Genji's hand stays firmly planted on the hat to keep McCree from trying to grab it off his head. He can only imagine how ridiculous he must look with it on, but he's not about to relinquish it before he claims victory.]

[ That grin doesn’t promise anything good, and now he has a visual to accompany Genji’s mischievous tone. He makes a token grab for his hat, but it’s pretty clear that it’s not going anywhere. ]

Come on. I ain’t even done anything yet!

[Nuh-uh! He leans back to avoid that grab.]

And that is the only reason I am not running off with it right now.

[But he laughs, the mischief and wolf grin easing into something kinder as he pulls the hat off his head and places it back on McCree's. And then proceeds to tug it down over McCree's face as he pulls his hand away.]

[ He’s in the middle of a thank-you when Genji shoves the hat over his face, so it comes out more like, ]

Much obli-- ack! Genji!

[ He lifts his hat from his face, and gives Genji the most over the top pout he can muster. ] You’re a little brat, ya know that?

[He only grins in response to McCree's pout, moving to take one of his hands again. Whether it's a tactic to soften any blows or Genji genuinely seeking contact (or both?) is hard to say.]

That seems to be what you go for.

[ He wrinkles his nose at the jab, but the way he laces his fingers with Genji's and the way he leans against his shoulder a little show that he's really not all that bothered. ]

You're just lucky you're so cute.

[ In the time Peter spends living in the Griffonix, he saves a few more Talented girls – and maybe it’s the gravity of it all, or maybe it’s knowing there’s another life on the line aside from his own, or maybe it’s just that he doesn’t want to let Madigan down, but whatever it is, he seems to actually improve at it. He’s more careful. He’s quieter. He sneaks in and out like a ghost. When it can’t be helped, though, and the girl ends up having a hefty security detail, the help of Griff’s feather, tucked securely away in his pocket, keeps him safe and unharmed.

And with the help of Madigan’s connections, he starts taking up the odd job every now and again, other contracts – generally more legitimate work than the stuff he was getting back with York and his merry men, which means a slightly lower payout, but it keeps Peter busy, makes him feel like he’s actually doing shit.

He helps out around the club when he can, too, doing some heavy lifting – literally – and standing in the corner, looking intimidating during the late night rush during business hours. Not that Peter’s presence is necessary, considering the Griffonix’s wards and enchantments are designed to prevent any violence, but having some muscle scowl from the shadows adds an extra deterrent. That, and he kind of likes keeping an eye on the club. A lot of the employees here have become his friends – and a couple of them were women he personally fished out of their shitty situations – so he feels an obligation to watch out for them.

It helps, too, that playing bouncer means he gets to hang around Madigan. Which, you know. Is nice. He likes talking to her. He, uh. Likes being around her. But, you know, that’s only because she’s so easy to talk to and so fun to be around, in general. She’s— she’s become a pretty good friend, and he can’t even remember the last time he’s had one of those. (Probably not since he was a child. How fucking sad is that?)

So things are… surprisingly good. Much better than he could have imagined for himself even half a year ago.

And then, like flipping a switch, things are not good. In retrospect, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

The Griffonix boasts a varied clientele. For the most part, its customers tend to come from money. Powerful people with loaded wallets and designer suits and an itches in dire need of scratching. Sometimes, though, customers tend to come in the form of people giving themselves a rare treat.

And sometimes, they’re a handful of mercenaries, splurging as a reward for themselves after a successful job, drunk on cheap vodka and shouting and barking with laughter as they wander into the room, just a couple of hours shy of closing time. And sometimes, they wear remarkably familiar red leather jackets adorned with flame emblems. And sometimes, as he’s patrolling the club, they lock eyes with a certain disgraced, runaway thief, and all of them freeze where they stand.

The air disappears from the room. One second passes. Then two. Then—

—they charge forward. Someone should probably remind them of the no violence rule. ]

[ So having Peter around has been really great. He's doing such good work, in that he's doing it well and that he is actually doing good things by saving those girls. His presence is a staple around the club these days, and many of Madigan's girls like him as well. He's effectively become part of the family.

And for Madigan's part, she just... really likes hanging out with him. He's got a quick with and an easy smile and they both just sort of compliment each other. She catches his gaze often on the nights where he patrols around the club, offering him a quick smile and sometimes a drink.

In this instance, however, she's looking but he's distracted by something- or someone- else, and by his expression and the sudden tension in his posture, it can't be anything good. She's already moving out from behind the bar and across the room as the two men charge at Peter. Thankfully, the wards are as strong as ever and the pair of men are thrown backwards, essentially tacking themselves as the magic turns their own force back on them.

Madigan moves to stand between them and Peter, towering over them in five inch heels, and glaring down. ]

Is there a problem here?

[ Apparently Peter forgot about the no violence rule too, however briefly, because as the men threw themselves at him with the help of the Enhancements tattooed into their legs, Peter shrank back, splaying a hand to call up his barrier.

Ultimately unnecessary, thankfully, and he should laugh as the wards launch the two men back onto their asses, except his brain has switched over into panic mode, only sees four angry men against his lonely one. It might’ve been the flash of red that set him off, or it might’ve been the shock of meeting familiar faces after these months of freedom, or it might’ve been that he sees McKenna picking himself up off the floor back there, and he remembers the guy kicking his ass on the regular back in the day, but regardless, Peter’s not thinking straight, is desperately mapping out the exits and his odds of getting there. (Peter Quill is unavailable right now, but your call is appreciated. Please leave a message after the tone.)

The remaining two men stalk forward, faces twisted into sneers, and Peter backs away with his hands up. His mouth moves faster than his mind, babbling some nonsense about needing to take it easy, or just calm down, okay? or let’s not do anything stupid—

Madigan’s abrupt presence seems to take everyone by surprise, though, and Peter has a brief, surreal second to wonder where the hell she came from before he remembers, oh, right. she runs the place. Thanks to her heels, the merc in front of her – a chubby guy who wears most of his weight in his gut, with a thick beard and graying hair – tops out at about her chin, and he scowls up at her. Wickman. And the guy behind him – a thin, greasy-looking guy with dark, thin hair tied back into a ponytail – Rivera. Both of them pretty high up on the totem pole, as far as their gang went. ]

Problem? There’s no problem. [ Despite his words, Wickman says it with acid in his already gravelly voice – the voice of someone who either eats nails for breakfast or smokes three packs a day. His gaze shifts over to Peter, who tries not to flinch at the fire in his eyes. ] Us and the guy cowerin’ behind you, we’re old friends. Been such a long time since we talked. We was just gonna invite him outside to catch up.

[ Madigan makes no move to get out of the way, nor does she seem intimidated by these men- no matter how rough looking, no matter how tough or dangerous, the laws of her club are absolute. She is in charge here. ]

Uh-huh. I'm not buying it for a second. You attempted to accost someone in my club, which means you're on dangerously thin ice. One more misstep and I'll make sure that the doors of the Griffonix remain closed to you and to everyone who wears your emblem.

Pick up your friends and walk away.

Ramey > open rp

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marvin gaye plays softly in the distance

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