Chapter Text
The first time Jesse saw Genji Shimada, he thought the man was a stripper. To be fair, the Japanese man was indeed on a stage, clad only in tight silver shorts, black latex fingerless gloves, a skimpy top matching the shorts and with frayed black strands all over, and to top it all off what looked like a ninja mask covering the lower half of his face.
And that’s not to mention the shock of neon green-dyed hair and the huge green dragon tattoo covering the man’s entire back, and the fact that he was actually performing some –admittedly impressive– moves around a pole. That same night, as he asked his new boss what the hell was going on, Reyes just replied with a shrug:
“That’s also part of your job as a security guard, by the way.” He said, nodding towards the stage, “This ain’t a strip joint, so no touching the performers. Especially the popular acrobats from the high-class dance studio.”
Acrobats. That explains a lot, McCree mused, as he watched, mouth agape, the dancer on stage climb well into three meters up the pole and then hang sideways by his hands, body horizontal and legs in a perfect split forming an ‘X’ with his arms.
If that was just the first chorus, the rest of the performance could only get crazier.
Now, a few days into his new job at Watchpoint, he can see what his new boss meant. The place is quite the exclusive club in the heart of LA, and all the live events see professional pieces put together, more often than not by international names as well.
When Jesse meets Hanzo Shimada, instead, his first impression is anything but a pole dancer. It starts the following Tuesday, when he sees Genji “Cyborg Ninja” Shimada again on the night another performance from the Dragon Flight Dance Studio takes place. He’s doing his patrol around the bar, still grumpy that he can’t wear his Stetson with the dark security uniform, checking back towards the stage every couple of minutes or so, where now a pretty girl introduced as “The D.Va” is making her entrance as the third performer for the night, right at the same time a familiar green head makes its appearance at the bar.
“You look different with clothes on.” He immediately regrets his stupid, no-filter mouth, and he would have blushed, had he been a lesser man, but the dancer doesn’t seem offended as he just throws his head back with a laugh.
The man beside Genji frowns slightly, posture visibly more stiff than his counterpart’s and looking every bit like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“No worries, I hear that a lot.” Genji says, extending his hand, “I don’t believe we have been properly introduced. I’m Genji Shimada, and this is my brother Hanzo.”
Reassured by the man’s friendly attitude, Jesse relaxes into his usual self. “Name’s Jesse McCree. I’m the new security guard.” His extended hand gets enthusiastically shaken by the green haired ‘ninja’ –and boy that’s a firm shake if he ever felt one– the brother hesitates slightly, but eventually takes his hand as well and goddamn, Jesse swears the man could have broken some fingers if he was any stronger.
The polite nod and the simple “Greetings.” give McCree a chance to actually study the duo. Genji is fully clothed, but not any less attention-demanding, with his tight denims full of decorative zippers here and there that kind of follow the lines of muscle mass and a tight neon green tank top, only partially covered by a baggy grey hoodie that had massive holes on the sides, where the sleeves should have been –he has to admit, up close and personal, Genji sure is a looker… except from the strange sinewy scars marring the right side of his face, from the cheekbone all the way down to the neck.
It doesn’t make him any less attractive, but it does prompt the question of what the hell happened. Still, McCree knows when not to ask, and instead focuses on the second Shimada he sees.
Hanzo looks a lot like him –or maybe he should say that Genji looks like his brother, since by the looks of it the other is at the very least slightly older, with the barest hint of lines around his eyes and a cleanly trimmed beard dissolving into a rather drastic-looking undercut, showed off by the way the top part of his hair has been tied neatly in a bun. The bridge piercing coupled with the skin-tight sleeveless black top showing off a blue dragon tattoo not unlike Genji’s green has the security guard staring.
Goddamn, those cheekbones could sink the Titanic.
Before Jesse can even realize he’s blatantly ogling a man he only just met, Genji misreads the situation and points at his own cheek “Don’t mind the pudding-face, I had a little accident when I was 24.” He says casually, as if something that leaves you half-disfigured for life is actually a ‘little’ anything. “I usually keep it covered while performing to avoid upsetting the audience, but honestly I don’t give a fuck.”
“Ah, no, that ain’t—” he gets interrupted before he can try and explain himself, when Hanzo baps his brother over the head and hisses something in Japanese at him, probably telling him to shut the fuck up.
“Please excuse my brother.” The man then says to Jesse, voice firm and detached but velvet smooth, “And apologies in advance for all the time he will make your job hell.”
“Hey!” Genji immediately protests, though he’s smiling with a mischievous air about him that makes Jesse worry, “Don’t mind him, he’s just grumpy because he’s an apprehensive pole-dad.” The ‘ninja’ adds, nodding towards the stage.
The girl performing tonight, in an elaborate turquoise body decorated with leaves that makes her look something out of a fairy tale, is pretty and petite, but also amazingly strong and flexible, judging by some of her evolutions along the epic music.
“She your daughter?” he innocently asks…
…prompting another heartfelt laugh from Genji and a deeper scowl from Hanzo. Damn it he just can’t seem to keep his charm for more than two seconds, with these two.
“Nah, not at all…” the younger of the two finally gasps out, in between giggles, “Well, not really. She’s his pole-daughter, his most beloved pupil. Well, after me. Hanzo is the head teacher for the pole section of our academy, we train and perform together.”
In hindsight, the man’s clothing choices should have given it away: the tight shirt is clearly very elastic as to not hinder his movements, and the trousers, while much simpler than Genji’s flashy denims, are still form-fitting and made to provide the maximum freedom of movement a pair of jeans can offer. That, and aside from the face piercing there’s no jewellery on Hanzo’s hands or arms.
Still, it’s hard for Jesse to think that this stiff, visibly uncomfortable man would be at ease spinning around a pole in skimpy shorts.
Possibly feeling self-conscious under the scrutiny, Hanzo bristles slightly, and clears his throat. “I teach acrobatic pole fitness and perform in championships and theatres. Genji is the head teacher for exotic pole dance.” He explains, and since this Jesse McCree is new at the club he might as well go the full mile: “Then we have studio teachers for aerial silks, aerial hoop, aerial yoga and belly dance. Genji and I partake in all the aerial sports and can even assist-teach in most of them.”
Coming to think of it, Reyes had mentioned the “famous Dance Studio”, so he’s guessing these guys are regular performers at the Watchpoint, possibly by popular demand.
“Also, I’m not a grumpy pole-dad.” The man clarifies, quoting his brother with such a disdain for the words that it’s almost too funny. “I just worry. Technically Hana is not even legal to be here.”
“Correction!” Genji pipes in, “She’s not legal to order drinks here as a customer, but as a performer she’s perfectly fine as long as her appointed chaperone is here!” the handclap that descends ‘gracefully’ on Hanzo’s shoulder blades has McCree flinch in a sympathy wince.
Something that sounds suspiciously like “Damnit, Genji!” escapes Hanzo’s lips, but is mostly drowned out by the other’s scream of “Woo! You go, giiiirl!!!”
Which is understandable, considering that D.Va was hanging by one knee on the pole, her other leg stretched behind her and body coiled around it so that the opposite armpit to the knee was nestled against the metal, but then brought her other leg forward in a swift kick and uncoiled her torso from the pole, briefly falling into empty air before both shoulder and knee got switched, and know she was hanging in a position mirroring the previous one, but a good half meter lower.
The split-second of falling nearly gave Jesse a heart attack, but the other two were seemingly perfectly fine with it.
“That is called a Suicide Back Hook.” Hanzo supplies, in the hopes of clearing to the guard why they didn’t bat an eyelash- it wouldn’t do if the person who’s supposed to keep his students safe thinks they’re all assholes. To be fair, it does help a little.
The Shimada brothers end up hanging around McCree for most of the show, and he still can’t quite picture the stoic and reserved man around the pole. He says as much to Genji, when Hanzo leaves them to go meet Hana backstage and escort her out.
With a mischievous grin that has Jesse think the so-called Cyborg Ninja really is the troublemaker his brother makes him out to be, Genji chuckles secretively. “Oh, you’d be surprised.” He comments, foreign lilt making it sound even more cheeky, “What is it that American saying? It’s always the quiet ones?”
McCree would be a liar if he said that doesn’t make him curious. Sadly, he doesn’t get the chance to ask, because the older brother comes right back, minute ballerina in tow, still clad in her full costume and make up but with an oversized cardigan haphazardly thrown over the getup. Up close, she can’t be more than nineteen, and if anything it’s impressive that she’s already that good an athlete. Jesse whistles and almost goes to tip his hat, before realizing he doesn’t have one.
“Why hello there, miss D.va.” he says instead with a big smile, “That was some amazing gymnastics you did there.”
She beams at him while Hanzo orders something non-alcoholic for her to drink to recover from her efforts. “Thank you!” she exclaims, bouncing on the balls of her feet –they had been bare for the choreography, while now they’re tucked into tiny but comfy-looking flats. “It’s my first big charity event, I really wanted to be perfect!”
“Charity?” the guard’s eyes shift to Genji, who shrugs, before explaining.
“Once per semester we pick a cause that we think needs to be noticed more and organize a performance while backing it. The proceedings from the admission fee all go to the charity in question. Tonight’s cause is Charity: Water.”
Would you look at that, Jesse thinks. So they’re athletic, good looking, smart as a whip and do charity? It almost makes him want to find reasons to hate them –then he chuckles at his own stupid thoughts, and uses his mouth for something useful: “Really now? Is there a website for it?”
D.Va, or Hana as she introduces herself off-stage sometime later, excitedly intercepts, all but shoving her phone in his face: “Here! It’s a really great charity, they provide clean water to places where the living conditions are so bad people can’t afford it. They were there when there was the water crisis in Haiti back in 2013 and they make all their transactions public!” it would seem that once you get the D.Va going, it’s really hard to stop her, “This is the donation page instead! If you want to save it or participate or something. It doesn’t have to be anything big!” she hastily assures, “Every little bit helps.”
Really, a girl after Jesse’s own heart. He really should stop being a sucker for this kind of thing. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Hanzo moving.
“The break is almost over.” He mutters, almost more to himself than his current companions. “Genji, I leave Hana to you. Behave.”
The green-haired man waves him off with a nonchalant hand. “Oh, come on brother, you know me!”
“…Precisely.” McCree snorts into his drink, while he subtly does another once-over of the area before nodding at the guy on the other corner, the one who has the iPad with the camera feed. Just because he looks relaxed and he’s sitting at a bar doesn’t mean he’s not doing his job. Hanzo turns towards him last. “Please keep Hana safe, McCree-san.”
It takes a moment for everything to click. The announcer is back on center-stage, possibly to announce the continuation of the show, and two people –‘pole-cleaners’, Genji supplies– rapidly climb the length of the poles swiping at them with what looks like some kind of cloth, barely visible in the shadows of the unlit stage.
Genji settles beside him. “Aren’t you excited?” he asks, “You’re finally going to see what I was talking about.” Then he seems to reconsider. “Well, not all of it –my brother tends to be very… technical, when he performs alone. The only times I can actually get him to be any fun is when we duet. Still, he’s been slaving over this choreo, so let’s show some support, hm?”
Hana is already clapping her hands excitedly, as the announcer starts to talk: “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for attending this charity event, you’ve all been wonderful tonight! Now, for the moment many of us were waiting for, as it’s a rare treat…”
There’s already a chorus of ‘wooo’s and ‘aaaah’s. The announcer gives a strategic pause to let the voices subside and then continues: “Performing tonight, for Charity: Water, the one and only head pole teacher of the Dragon Flight Studio! Give it up for Hanzo ‘Dragon Ninja’ Shimada!!!”
Jesse’s eyes briefly move sideways towards Genji with a raised eyebrow because Really? Cyborg Ninja and Dragon Ninja? Is it still racist if you do it to yourself?
But the performer doesn’t appear to give a single fuck, and instead just uses his hand to poke at Jesse’s cheek in order to force his gaze back to the stage. Where apparently Hanzo begins his choreography already on the pole, considering the lights flare up and there he is, tucked into himself in an almost fetal position, upside down, already spinning, hair now loose and swept to the side while he's wearing in a full, neck to ankle bodysuit complete with black visor covering his eyes.
Or what would be a full bodysuit, if it wasn’t for the massive holes everywhere on his legs, arms and abdomen, surely freeing the skin to allow grip on the pole. He looks like he could be a character from the latest Tron… or a sexy version of Tron, considering the gaps in the suit on his thigs and calves are big enough that the ‘trouser’ portion is little more than tiny straps along his legs, same for his arms –the tattoo is partially hidden but still very much there, especially considering the dragon’s head is right on the back of his hand. The entire lower back is also exposed, lumbar to shoulder blades, and holy crap is he ripped.
While spinning, Hanzo slowly disentangles himself and descends into one of those knee hooks, but it doesn’t stop there –his hands move, one grabbing the pole far below his head and the other resting behind his back, somehow giving him the support needed to completely remove his legs from the pole and arch out.
It doesn’t really look physically possible, to McCree, but it’s happening. Hanzo folds back into the pole, passing briefly through a split before repositioning.
Jesse can only watch in amazement the man’s evolutions around the pole. If Genji is talented, Hanzo is weightless. Somehow he makes it look like it takes no effort at all, to lift and relocate his entire body weight time and time again. Then it gets to the floorwork, and the guard has to not-so-subtly cross his legs to avoid his reaction being more prominent than it already is.
Hanzo doesn’t seem to be making an effort to be particularly sensual, what with the visor cutting of his eyes from the audience, but the way he sinuously flips and slithers around to the electronic instrumental beat, managing to end up with his shoulders on the floor and the bulk of his body lifted up by one ankle hooked around the pole, then back up into more flips and then climbing again… Jesse can’t help but wonder how many other ways the man can bend.
Jesus Christ, cowboy, hold your friggin’ horses you just met the fella!
Somewhere along the various tricks and figures there’s a quick succession of changes that once again fools Jesse into thinking the performer is falling, from the moment Hanzo was stacked against the pole by his hands and one shoulder, legs folded back to the sides of his head, to a quick twist and drop of his torso where his hands reposition and his legs swing down, forcefully enough to give him the momentum to swing back towards starting position but changing it last minute, hugging the pole with the arm closest to it and flexing his body sideways, bending enough to let his hips rest on the bent elbow.
“Shoulder Mount, to Brass Monkey, to Janeiro.” Genji whispers by McCree’s side, and while the names alone don’t explain much, the impressed tone in the younger Shimada’s voice tells enough of the pride of a little brother seeing his big bro up stage and being awesome.
It would be almost cute, if it wasn’t for the fact that Hanzo looks downright sinful, now that he got back to the floorwork to travel alongside the stage and switch poles again to the spinning one on the left. If the way he goes into a perfect split after climbing, by kicking a leg up and just ‘casually’ resting his foot on the wrist holding the pole, was impressive, what happens after the next figure is absurd: hanging upside down, holding the pole behind the small of his back with his hands, Hanzo mimics a walk, mid-air and upside down, stopping in a perfectly horizontal position while still spinning around and around.
Genji gets unreasonably excited at the next bit of floorwork, muttering along “He did it! He did it, he left it in!!!” in such a happy way that it’s impossible to not catch on the fact that it probably was his suggestion.
McCree practically feels second-hand pride. He really is too much of a sucker for this mushy crap.
Back on the stage, Hanzo climbs again, coils and uncoils in ways that really don’t seem naturally possible for normal human bodies, especially when he grabs an ankle and then passes the other leg through the circle created by his limbs, without separating them and exiting into yet another perfect split.
The performance ends with Hanzo hooking one ankle back around the pole and arching his chest against it, reaching far behind to grasp his other foot and create a figure reminiscent of a scorpion.
The lights dim on his still spinning body and the music fades out; but the audience is stunned into silence for a full ten seconds, before the roar of applause comes.
It’s almost enough to make Jesse forget he’s working.
Only almost, though, because he’s a professional and there’s a reason someone with his track record got hired so quickly at such a high-end place –he’s got the keenest eye this side of the states, and immediately spots the creep trying to make a pass at miss D.Va.
“Howdy, pardner.” He greets, slightly hoarse and very much menacing, hand already painfully clapped on the shoulder of the man who was just about to grope a nineteen year old even after her polite refusal of whatever it was the man asked her and her plea to please leave her alone. “I think you should be on yer way.”
“Who the fuck do you think you—”
The molester doesn’t even have time to protest, as McCree taps his radio. “Channel four, this is the counter. Got a code Harry that tried to get close to miss D.Va. Check the camera feed while I escort ‘em out.”
‘Harry’ being the code word for suspicious customer in the club’s communication lines –they have several. Harry for molesters and suspicious but not threatening individuals, Dakota for out-of-control drunk patrons, and Red Pepper for high alert, on the off chance someone snuck a weapon into the establishment or something. Back to the task at hand, Jesse receives the response he wants from the radio and just shifts his hold on the man to grab him by the wrist and twist the arm behind his back, in order to make him stop struggling. He’s pretty sure he pulled something with the effort, but he’ll be damned before he lets this squirmy son of a bitch go. “I’d go quietly if I were you, pal.” He says, hauling his charge away. “Just be glad you’re dealing with me and not with one o’ the ninjas. They’d crush yer dumb skull with their bare hands.
Wilhelm, the massive guard by the door, intercepts him and they take the offender to Reyes, who jots down the men’s details for future banning and further restraining action should it be warranted, before he has the two other security guards throw him out.
Back at the bar, Hanzo returns from his performance, trousers back on but shirt discarded in the changing room probably, performance bodysuit still there underneath the clothes; and despite nodding his thanks to the complments of his brother and protégé with a smile, he knows Genji caught his wandering eyes.
“You just missed the American scaring away a creep who was trying to put moves on Hana!” it’s out of his little brother’s mouth before he can even ask. “It was so awesome. He even said ‘howdy’ to the dude. Do you think he’s a cowboy?”
Hanzo fights a blush at the question. He should never have divulged one particular secret to his hellion of a brother. By their side, Hana fumes slightly. “This is such bullshit.” She grumbles, crossing her arms, “I could have totally clocked that asshole in the face, but I can’t because I’m on the job and I have to be nice. Ugh.”
“You could always start making a reputation for yourself, like fully embracing the bitchy D.Va persona so that no one would bat an eye if you socked some creeps.”
“That’s a fantastic idea, Genji! You’re my favourite!”
“Eeh, nice try, but I’m pretty sure your favourite performed three acts ago and is just about finished with the sound design for us.” Predictably, Hana blushes at the mention of her boyfriend, Lúcio, who on top of being an amazing breakdancer also does music for the Studio and acts as a sound technician for them whenever he doesn’t have to perform.
Hanzo takes pity on her, and nods towards the backstage. “You can go meet him, I’m sure Morrison can take you. We can all meet back up at the stage exit in half an hour.”
Hana doesn’t need to be told twice.
Left alone with his brother, Hanzo heaves one deep breath, chest rising and falling slowly before he meets Genji’s gaze. “So.”
“So.” The other echoes, biting his lower lip to refrain from smirking too much.
“What do you think of the new security guy?”
So predictable, brother. Genji can’t rightly keep the amusement from his tone. “I think he’s alright.” He concedes –Jesse is not his type in the slightest, but he seems like a kind dude and he does his job well, as his impeccable protection of Hana just minutes ago showed. Also, he’s been immediately smitten with Hanzo upon first contact, and anyone who can recognize that his big brother is hot stuff is alright in Genji’s books. “He’s competent and a friendly enough guy.”
“I too think so.” Hanzo agrees, returning his attention to the drink Genji graciously saved for him.
“Who knows…” the hellion then says, mischief dripping from his voice, “Maybe this will be the time you actually get some.”
“Genji!”
“What?” the innocent batting of eyelashes would be far more convincing if only Genji could keep his mouth shut. “From the way he was watching the performance, I can tell he’s very interested in becoming really friendly with you.”
Hanzo huffs, exasperated. “Genji, we’re pole dancers. Our performances get every living being in a 50 meter radius ‘interested’, probably along some souls that haven’t been getting any in the afterlife lately.”
“True…” his brother seems to concede, turning in his stool to splay his back against the counter and stretch his arms upwards, arching back like a cat before settling back down and continuing. “Still doesn’t explain why he didn’t make googly eyes at Hana or me.”
Touché, brother. Despite his countenance, Hanzo stutters. “W-well, I barely know him.”
Genji watches his older brother, imperceptibly curling into himself a little, as if doing so would physically shield him from the embarrassment. If only the public knew… for some ungodly reason, Hanzo doesn’t consider himself any sexier or more attractive than an average person, and is incredibly self-conscious, thinking that all anyone can find attractive in him is the way he can dance.
He finishes his drink and stands back up. “We should go get Hana and Lúcio.”
Genji shakes himself out of his musings. “Don’t you want to say bye to the American?” he has seen McCree’s hesitation in their hello, he’s seen the shift in looks and the way he absolutely lost it during the performance.
Fighting down a blush, Hanzo relents. “…maybe. If we happen across him.” This can be very good.
Provided this Jesse McCree person really is a decent guy –he’s not about to just throw his big bro into any random asshole’s arms, now, is he?
At the very least though, he thinks, performance nights at Watchpoint are about to get a whole lot more exciting.
He can’t wait for the next Exotic Night.