Mchanzo and 12 for the “I love you” prompts!

cibeeeeee:

12. When we lay together on the fresh spring grass

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There was a gentle slope outside the back door of their small rented cottage. It was so small that every window in the house was in view of that little patch of grass they’d spend every morning and evening on.

Morning: McCree would get up early to prepare coffee and breakfasts. Hanzo would come in later, soft with sleep, grumpy with wake, softened again when McCree turned just so to place a kiss on his shoulder.

Evening: Hanzo would settle in the kitchen with ingredients, preparing a meal with whatever suited his fancy that night. McCree would sit behind him at the shaky, cramp table, humming A Summer Place – temping Hanzo to join in with his rumbling voice that shook Hanzo to his heart. They never played music, the space around them too full to fit in anything else.

And each morning and every night, they bring their meals outside, on the same gentle slope, sharing the same drink, same food, same insidious sweetness.

They would be lying if they said they haven’t fallen asleep like that, out in the open, pressed against each other in an embrace, completely disregarding the dangers of forgetting who they were for twenty minutes – but doing so nonetheless.

It has been a month already, and two more weeks left. Still, they share breakfast, wandered around the small country they choose to hide themselves in, and return each evening, to their rented small house, out of view from anyone.

They probably wouldn’t disclose that this was how they chose to spend their vacation.

Sun-soaked air wrapped around them as they lay on their gentle green slope. Hanzo turned his head just so, his nose brushed against McCree’s with each breath they take. Their gaze rising to meet each other’s, under the promise of three – gentle – words…