5 and 1 drabble: McHanzo and the Weird Western idioms
5 idioms that made Hanzo question McCrees sanity, and one that made him question his own.
A little drabble born from a plot bunny that quickly spawned, as bunnies do.
"It's colder than a witch's tit in a brass bra." McCree remarked.
Hanzo's head turned slowly as he processed the idiom and it's implications, staring down McCree incredulously. It was true that it was cold, standing outside the Russian factory in December, but that didn't mitigate Hanzo's confusion.
"Where on EARTH did you hear such a ridiculous phrase? And why did you feel the need to REPEAT IT?" He questioned. Sure, every language uses idioms, but he had never heard such nonsensical phrases before, and coming from the mouth of a cowboy no less left even more questions. "Why would ANYONE wear a brass bra, why particularly a witch, and why use this analogy for the cold when there are plenty more SENSIBLE--"
"McCree, Hanzo! Focus!" Called Winston's voice over the comms. "Talk about it later, you've got Talon forces approaching the facility from the west!"
Hanzo wondered if it was wise to be working alongside McCree after all, deadly aim or not.
"I'm just saying!" Lena argued, "It's really not as weird as it sounds! Bangers and beans are great for breakfast!"
"It does not sound appetizing at all. I have had many different types of breakfasts, but so much protein so early in the day? Not to mention the grease..." Hanzo mused. "Eggs, fine, but it is better with rice, i think.
"Aw rubbish!" She crossed her arms.
As they sat there, Morrison entered the room and went straight for the coffee machine. The two watched him mixing up his signature sludge of espresso.
"At least we can agree that tea is superior..." Hanzo mused.
"You got that right. Don't know how he does it." She hummed. "Where's McCree already? It's his turn to make breakfast! If he doesn't turn up soon I'm going to start it for him!"
"I'm here." He responded. He rubbed his eyes and yawned as he walked in the room, plopping himself into the chair next to Hanzo. "Sorry y'all. Between jetlag and those celebratory drinks last night, I overslept. Still could use a few hours sleep."
"You want coffee?" Morrison asked from across the room.
"Not if you're fixing it." He grimaced. "Sorry Lena, I'm gonna have to pass the buck."
She nodded. "No worries, luv! I happen to have on good authority that the perfect hangover and jetlag cure is a protein and grease loaded brekky! I'll even get you a coffee to top it off!" She winked. "Gotta convince Hanzo here anyway!"
"You're a doll." He smiled.
"Pass the buck?" Hanzo asked. He had no idea how to translate this idiom. Contextually he grasped it meant giving someone else responsibility, based on Lena's reaction, but how those words meant that had him stumped.
McCree looked over at Hanzo and sae his questioning look. It took him a few seconds, where the two stared at each other in mutual confusion, before he clued in. "Oh, it's slang from poker." He responded. "The buck is the chip that shows whose turn it is to deal."
Hanzo paused taking the information in. He shook his head. "And why is it called a buck?"
"Good question." McCree responded. He didn't elaborate.
Lena slid a large coffee mug in front of McCree, and went back to the stove, the sound of sizzling beginning.
Hanzo turned back to his own cup of matcha and considered looking up English idioms just to keep up.
Hanzo walked into the rec room, noting what appeared to be a game of poker. He noted that the buck-- now that he knew what it was called-- was in front of Hana, but there seemed to be a dispute between McCree and Genji.
"Just take the damn mask off!" Jesse argued.
"There are no rules that say your face has to be visible!" Genji argued back.
"That's putting lipstick on a pig! You've still got an unfair advantage when we can't see your face!"
The strange image that accompanied the phrase made Hanzo snort out loud. The table all turned to look at him.
" 'Lipstick on a pig'? Seriously? You have to have made that one up." He responded.
"I did no such thing! While you're here though, tell your cheating brother to take his damn mask off! He can't go hiding his tells like that, the rest of us aren't hiding our faces!"
Hanzo looked at the group. Angela, Fareeha, and even a maskless Jack Morrison were all sitting at the table, on top of a hatless McCree and a bubblegum-popping Hana.
"I support Genji wearing his mask, actually." He replied, earning a splutter of indignation and scoffs from around the table.
Genji cheered. "I knew you would agree with me, brother!"
Hanzo smirked. "Genji is obviously the worst player at the table, absolutely no poker face at all. He needs every advantage he can get."
"Hey!" His brother retorted. Everyone else snickered.
As they continued to bicker, inviting Hanzo to come join, he wondered at the strange cowboy, his odd, nonsensical phrases, and his almost imperceptible tells; would he have any notice before this man turned on him?
They disembarked the Orca, heading towards the abandoned ecopoint. It had taken a long time for Mei to be willing to return here, her need for her equipment increasing until she could no longer put it off. McCree and Hanzo, two of the best survivalists on the team, with their share of experience about returning to places full of memories - both good and nightmare-inducing - had opted to escort her, and talk her down from those bad memories when they inevitably caught up with her.
McCree immediately started shivering. While they all bundled up appropriately for the weather, his homeland of deserts and heat had made him ill equipped for the cold.
They worked quickly, locating an entrance and getting Mei to the required sections. As they loaded the last of the equipment into the orca, McCree spoke.
"I'll be glad to leave this behind. Creepy, and cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey."
Hanzo had a strong sense of deja vu.
"How many idioms for the cold, involving brass and sexual characteristics do you have?" He asked incredulously. Between brass bras and monkey balls, he was beginning to think McCree was deliberately pulling out the weirdest phrases he could think of.
The man snorted. "Only the two, I swear. Though it's not what it sounds like in this case." He took one last drag of his cigarillo before throwing it in the snow and climbing the ramp. "A brass monkey is an old tool for holding cannon balls. If it got cold enough, it'd warp suddenly, throwing the balls all over the place. And I ONLY know that because I had a similar reaction to yours when I first heard it. Had to look it up, but thought it was pretty funny." He smirked.
Hanzo just rolled his eyes. He had begun to realize McCree used these just to get a laugh or a scoff out of people. He must have an arsenal ready to go at all times, to throw them out especially when someone will question him on it.
McCree and Hanzo had been sitting in the rec room watching a cheesy western when Ana came by and dropped off a sizeable package. "Give it to my daughter when you see her." Leaving no other context, except a note on the top of the box that said "For you and Angie."
So when Fareeha walked in later chatting with the doctor, McCree waved her down and handed her the box.
She began unwrapping it, her curiosity evident in how she basically ripped it apart. She looked into the box and half-pulled something out, before shrieking and dropping it back in. She covered her face with her hands, but what could be seen of it was bright red.
Angela slowly pulled out the contents, and turned just as beet red as everyone watching realized the item that had made Fareeha screech was bright pink, roughly cyllindrical, ridged, and came with a remote control. Angela put it back in the box and shuffled around, pulling out packets of dental dams and lube as well.
Fareeha had regained enough composure at this point to ask Athena a question. "Where is my mother right now?"
"Ana Amari has gone on a mission, and will be back tomorrow."
"Please notify her that when she returns, I would like to speak to her about the package she left for me." Her tone got increasingly angry as she spoke.
"Acknowledged, Miss Amari."
Hanzo cleared his throat. "As tempting as it may be, might I suggest AGAINST murdering kin?"
She stared at him blankly, still red faced as ever.
"I'm going to second that motion, ReeRee." McCree added. "You heard it straight from the horses mouth about how that goes, but at least she does have your best interests at heart?"
"Indeed." Hanzo added. "I was not aware of you and Angela dating, but my congratulations, nonetheless."
McCree groaned. Fareeha stormed out of the room. Angela picked up the box and followed Fareeha, struggling to keep up.
Hanzo watched, confused. "Was it something i said?" He turned to McCree.
"Uhhh... yeah um, Fareeha keeps chickening out about asking out Angie. Last night was another big failure."
The two sat there for a moment, before something occured to Hanzo. "What was that you said about horses and mouths?"
"Oh? 'Heard it straight from the horses mouth' you mean?" Hanzo nodded. "I was referring to what you said, about you knowing all the downsides to... well... kinslaying and all that."
Hanzo was even more confused.
"You're the horse. You said it. She heard the advice and information from someone whose been there." He elaborated.
"But why a horse? There are many better animals to have chosen for me than a horse." He questioned.
"Just... nevermind. I ain't explaining it. Look it up."
Hanzo shook his head slowly as he retrieved his holopad from his pocket, pulling up a search engine.
It had been a long night. Jetlagged, no time to sleep, and a new mission briefing with all hands on deck because of a sudden, massive amount of Talon activity.
Throw in that his last mission had ended up with him getting darted with some paralyzing darts that he had a mild hallucinogenic response to- previously unknown allergies, Angela told him- and Hanzo was absolutely brain-fried.
So as McCree proposed a battle strategy over the holographic maps, Hanzo could only half pay attention. Angela had forbid caffeine for him, saying it would have bad interactions with the drugs she put him on to get the dart-juice out of his system.
"--Hanzo as sniper on this rooftop, tanks pushing them through the alleyway here--" Jesse pointed out "-- and have Jack and Torb over here at the other end as they come streaming out to pick off the rest. Have Lucio down to blast em back in if too many come at once, and keep everyone healthy. Once thats done, collect Hanzo." McCree looked over at him. Usually a great strategist, Hanzo would voice criticisms and suggest weaknesses until they had all eventualities taken care of. Seeing no contest in his eyes, McCree nodded. "Bob's your Uncle, Sally's your aunt."
Hanzo's brain did not compute that phrase properly. Instead, he imagined himself, a very traditional Japanese man, having uncles and aunts with such bland sounding white people as family. An uncle named Bob and an Aunt named Sally. Were they married in? Were they some atrange attempt at being cool with western names?
The thought was, to his very tired and drug-riddled mind, absolutely hilarious.
Hanzo began with a snicker, then a guffaw, and soon he was grasping his sides, trying to breathe properly. Everyone was confused, but they quickly decided that Hanzo was in no state to snipe for them.
When his laughter showed no signs of letting up and he began to complain of his belly hurting, McCree escorted him to his room, apologizing on his behalf.
Hanzo tried to speak between chuckles "What you said Jesse...Me.. an aunt named Sally... or an uncle named Bob! ... Can you imagine! 'Hanzo, you must drive off these low-class dealers!' 'Sure thing Uncle Bob!' " He broke out in laughter again, tears streaming down his face.
Jesse shook his head laughing. "You sure are something else, sugar. How about you get some sleep, and when you wake up, report to Winston, yeah? I think you need some time to recover before we put you on mission again."
Hanzo nodded, still giggling, and McCree left. As his giggles finally started to subside, he got comfy in his bed. As he drifted off, he wondered at his own sanity, from finding one of McCrees idioms so silly. If anyone were the kind to have an Uncle Bob and an Aunt Sally, it would be Jesse.
'Hmmmm...' He mused. 'Perhaps THAT is how I obtain an Aunt and Uncle with those names... by marrying the cowboy....'
