Moderate Romance Warning: There's going to be some more intense romance in the chapter— no smut— but if that stuff makes you uncomfortable, there's warnings before and after so you can skip it :)

You stir awake as the sun hits your eyes. You blink a few times to try to rid the sleep from your eyes. You turn to see Jesse also in the reclined position, snoring softly. You unbuckle and sit up to find that you're in a McDonald's parking lot underneath a street light. You pull the blanket off and unlock the door. You get out and stretch, letting the warm sunlight wash over you.

You grab your phone and check the destination. You'll be there in the late afternoon— just enough time for you to get there for dinner. You slide back into the truck and readjust the chair for sitting.

This seems to stir Jesse awake. He blinks a few times before looking up at you, hair in his face.

"Good morning darlin'. " He says, sitting up and stretching.

"Hey. How late did you drive last night?"

"I don't remember. Until I couldn't. You were out like a light. I was surprised." He readjusts his chair.

"Well, while we're here, you wanna stretch our legs and get some breakfast?"

"I would kill for a coffee." You both grab your wallets, adjust your hair so it's not a total mess, and walk inside.

When you return to the car, you're full on coffee and (Y/favorite breakfast food). You get on the road again shortly after, you driving until noon again. You have loud exhaustion induced karaoke battles, long talks about nothing in particular, and listening to music way too loudly.

At noon, Jesse swaps over. You only have five hours to go. Jesse takes a deep breath, clearly nervous, when he slides into the driver's seat.

"You still up for it?" You ask, putting your hand on his.

He takes a deep breath, and says, "yes. Let's do this. Worst comes to worst they aren't there and we get to spend a weekend at a crappy motel in rural Texas."

"That's the spirit," you say through a laugh.

He smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes, and takes your hand.

The next five hours are quieter. You watch the sun slowly begin to sink after it had made its peak. Jesse doesn't say much. Neither do you. You put headphones in and listen to your own music, not wanting to be a bother. He drums his fingers nervously as you get closer and closer. His fidgeting gets more intense as you reach an area he finds familiar. You watch his gaze flicker from storefront to storefront, and to an open dirt road.

He turns without referencing the GPS, which said to go straight.

"Uh, Jesse?"

"Trust me. You can turn it off now. I know where I'm goin'."

"All right."

You wind down dirt road after dirt road, passing ranches, farms, big open stretches of nothing accompanied with painful silence in the car. You can almost hear his heart beating out of his chest. After a half an hour of winding through roads, there's a dead end. A long stretch of road that leads to a single farmhouse and barn surrounded by a stretch of field. The lights in the house are on, and there's a single truck in the driveway.

Jesse parks the car, and sits and stares for a few seconds. You put your hand on his. "You ready?"

He pauses for a moment, gaze flickering and brows furrowed, before grabbing his coat from the back seat and pulling it on. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

You get out of the car and pull your coat closer around you. It's not terribly cold, but there's enough of a temperature difference between the truck and the outside air to make you shiver. You walk over to the other side of the truck, and outstretch a hand. He takes it, and the two of you walk up the rest of the stretch. When you get to the stretch of path leading up to the steps, Jesse lets go of your hand and walks up the steps. Out of habit, it seems, he nearly opens the door, but stops.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and knocks. You stay off of the porch entirely. You don't want to get in the way.

There's a brief moment of terror where the world stands still, and you fear the door won't open. Then, you hear the sound of the door creak open, and risk a glance up. A woman, more diminutive in stature but full in figure opens the door. She has his same mousy brown hair that's begun to grey, and you could recognize those eyes from anywhere, even at a distance.

There's a moment of pause, of pregnant silence, where the two figures on the porch just stand and look at one another. Then, the woman reaches out with both hands, hesitating for only a moment, and cradles Jesse's face. You watch as tears stream down her face and she smiles with such heartache and relief.

"Jesse," she says with a whisper, as if speaking too loudly will blow him away, before pulling him in for a hug. Jesse stands in stunned silence, before you watch him wrap his arms around his mother.

"Ma," you hear him say, voice breaking.

She pulls away and kisses him on the cheek. She stares into his eyes, just holding him, before saying, "you've gotten so big— and your arm! What happened baby?"

"I can explain, Ma, all in time," he says with a smile wider than you've ever seen.

"Who's at the door?" You hear a voice call from inside the house. You almost mistake it for Jesse's for a moment, though it sounds more mature.

"Clint... it's Jesse." She calls back into the house. You hear a clatter and something break before you hear nothing but footsteps rush toward the door.

A man stands there, thin and tall, with greying hair, and a beard to rival Jesse's. He wears thin-rimmed glasses that he peers over, and he uses a cane to walk. It takes him a moment to get to the door.

There's a moment of tension between the two. They stare at each other, as if to size one another up. Jesse exhales in what looks to be resignation, and extends his hand. His father pushes past Jesse's outstretched hand and envelops him in a hug. Jesse returns the gesture far quicker than he had before, and when his father pulls back, you can see tears welling in his eyes. His smile, similarly to his wife's, wrinkles his eyes.

"Jesse, we're so glad you're home," she says, taking his hand. Then her gaze flickers over to you. For a moment, it's as if she doesn't register that this can be happening, but then she exclaims, "and you brought a girl, oh Jesse. Come on now, don't be shy!" Her southern drawl is vaguely reminiscent of Jesse's, but her voice is much sweeter, and her smile is wide.

"Hi," you say as you ascend the porch steps, "I'm (Y/N). I'm a friend—"

"Ma, this is my girlfriend."

You had never put a label on it before, but hearing him say that makes your heart swell.

"Oh, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Delilah, but you can call me Ma."

"Alright, it's a pleasure to meet you," you say.

"I'm Clint," Jesse's father says with an outstretched hand, "but please, call me Pa." You take his hand and shake it. His voice is eerily similar to Jesse's. Looking at the both of them you can picture Jesse in old age.

"Well," Delilah says, "we certainly didn't expect any company, so we might be a bit short on food."

"We know," Jesse says, "and we're sorry to come with no warning, but we couldn't find a way to contact you. We brought our own snacks for the trip, and we restocked at a stop today, so it's no trouble—"

"Jesse, baby, please. It's Thanksgiving. You and (Y/N) here are going to eat your fill. Your Pa and I have enough to be thankful for already." His mother takes him by the arm and leads him into the house. Clint gives an eerily familiar 'after you' motion, and you step into the house.

It's cluttered in a way that makes you feel instantly at home. Nicknacks and personal items adorn every shelf, mantle, and wall. There's a fireplace that is currently unused, and a couch with several pillows and blankets thrown over it. Directly after the living room is the dining room, but a particular object catches your eye before you make your way further into the home.

There's a framed photo on the mantle of the fireplace of a young boy, just a toddler, in a cowboy costume.

You gasp, "Jesse... is this you?" You turn and present the photo.

He's still in the process of wiping his tear-stained face when he grins and takes it from you. "I knew what I would be in for bringing you here and somehow I let you convince me."

"You were so adorable! Look at that face!" You peer around him to get a better look at the photo.

Delilah calls from the dining room, "oh, (Y/N), I can show you the scrapbooks later. You'll get a kick out of those."

"Yes please," you say, before giving Jesse a smile. His eyes meet yours. You can't quite read them, but his smile is brief, before he turns. Clint follows behind the three of you at a slower pace, but reaches the living room and says, "please, go sit down at the table. Delilah, dear, do we have any sweet tea left?"

"Of course we do, Hell would have to freeze over before I let this house run out of sweet tea. (Y/N), dear, would you like some?"

"Yes please," you say as Jesse pulls a chair out for you.

"Ma, you didn't ask me if I wanted any."

"I may be old, but I ain't stupid. I know what your answer is."

Jesse clears his throat before sitting in the chair next to yours. "Fair. Point taken."

Delilah returns from the kitchen after a moment with two glasses of sweet tea. She sets them down in front of you, and then says, "I'm goin' to make sure everything's done. It might be another half hour. Please, make yourselves at home. Jesse, dear, why don't you show her around?" 

"Sure thing, Ma." He stands and extends a hand to you.

"I can sit up by myself," you say with mock indignation.

"Alright, I know. You can handle yourself." He smiles and proceeds to walk down the hallway toward the kitchen. He looks lost in thought. He seems to be more so lost in nostalgia than showing you anything, but it still warms your heart.

"Alright, so straight on down is the kitchen, those stairs," he gestures to the right, "lead to the second floor which is just Ma and Pa's bedroom and bathroom. This door," he swings it open, "is a bathroom. Back there's the living room, and then..." his voice catches for a brief moment, "my room is to the right of the front door. There's a small hallway that leads back there. Basically connects to the living room."

"Wow. You grew up here?"

"All 17 years."

"It's lovely."

"It hasn't changed. Everything is just how I remember."

You hear Clint clear his throat and say ,"that's because your Ma thought if everything stayed the same you'd find your way back here. If we pretended like everything was normal, it could be."

Jesse turns to face his father, who is currently reading a book in a lounge chair in the living room.

Jesse's lips pull into a small, sad smile and says, "I'm sorry."

"I always knew that you'd find your way back eventually. Every person, let alone every man, has to go out and make mistakes."

Jesse sighs and says, "you don't even know the half of it."

You walk over to the dining room table, grab your glass of sweet tea, and make your way to the kitchen. Delilah is busy double checking everything when you enter, and she turns as you knock softly on the entryway. She wipes tears from her face and says, "oh, (Y/N), how can I help you?"

"I was wondering if you needed any help, actually. I'm not much of a cook but I can read directions."

"Oh, sure. That would be great, darlin'. Why don't you help with these mashed potatoes and we'll go from there?"

"Sounds great."

You spend the next half hour helping Delilah finish making dinner. You can hear Jesse and Clint's laughter from the other room, and you and Delilah share a knowing smile.

"Did they get along when Jesse was a kid?"

"Clint was Jesse's world when he was a boy, but right before he left they had a falling out." She pauses for a moment and then turns to face you. "I suppose you were the one to make him come home." You nod. She takes your hands and says, "thank you so much. I know we've only just met, but there's something in his eyes and the way he holds himself now that was different from when he left. Thank you. I hope one day to call you daughter." She gives you a wink.

You smile.

"Come on, let's get the table set. I'm hungry!" She says with a big smile. The two of you begin bringing things from the kitchen to the table, and Jesse joins you. Clint looks as if he's coming to help, but Delilah insists that he rests his leg.

Everyone sits down at the table. Delilah says a very quick prayer, and then gestures for you both to dish up. 

Not much conversation happens around the table. Everyone gets firsts, then seconds, and somehow, with the unfortunate issue of there being no leftovers, everyone eats their fill.

"This is a nice change," Clint says, "normally we're eating turkey, ham, and potatoes for weeks after Thanksgiving."

You all, spare Clint, work to clear the table. Once that's done, Delilah ushers you back into the dining room and instructs you to wait. 

After a few moment, she brings out two pies and a cannister of whipped cream. You watch Jesse's eyes light up as she sets the pumpkin pie in front of him, and then to your surprise, you find (y/favorite) pie set down right next to it. (And if you don't like pie— are you human??)

"So," Delilah says after she sets down the pie, "how did you two meet?" She hasn't asked anything specifically about Jesse this evening. You get the feeling that she's trying to include you.

"She was my mentee at Overwatch."

"Overwatch?" Delilah asks, astounded. 

"Yeah. Saving people is my job now." He takes a deep breath and says, "I went from gang member, to bounty hunter, to saving people. I've tried all this time to redeem myself from all of the hurt I've caused people... and quite honestly I don't think I would've ever forgiven myself if she hadn't forced me to."

You interject, "we've had a rocky relationship. We went from friends, to enemies, to allies, and now we're here."

"Son," Clint says, "I think you've more than made up for it. We were just scared for you, scared that you'd died, or that you'd lost yourself."

"We both have nearly lost ourselves, but she was there for me, and I for her," he says before taking a bite of pie. 

The tension in the air is thick. You shouldn't be here, not for the conversations that they'd really like to have. You think for a moment, before excusing yourself. "I'm going to take a quick walk and call my dad and brother. Is there anywhere I can't walk around out here?"

"Everything for acres and acres is ours, dear, just don't get lost in the fields." Delilah says as you walk toward the door.

"Alright, thank you ma'am." Just as you're heading out the door, you hear Delilah say, "so Jesse, dear, about that arm—" and then the thunk of the door shutting behind you. You smile to yourself. Something about Delilah distantly reminds you of your own mother. You can't put your finger on it exactly, it's a quality that's evasive and comforting. You walk out into the darkness around you, and breathe in the cool night air. 

You wish you hadn't left your jacket inside, but you decide that slight discomfort for a half hour or so would be better than interrupting those conversations. You glance up at the sky, which is full of bright stars. You've never seen so many all at once, at least not in recent memory. Most places are so full of light pollution that it's hard to see even one. But here, you glance up at the stars and allow yourself to get lost in thought for a moment or two. 

Finally, you pull out your phone and dial your father's number. 

A familiar voice picks up, "Hello, Raymond speaking."

"Hi dad."

"(Y/N), how are you? How are Jesse's parents?"

"I'm good— they're great. I think they all needed this. Can you believe it's nearly been two decades since they've seen him?"

"He's that much older than you?"

"Dad. He's in his thirties, calm down— hell, so am I."

Your dad chuckles. "Hearing you say that makes me feel old. I'm glad for them. I'm assuming you left them to rehash some stuff?"

"Yes... how did you know?"

"It's exactly what your mother would've done. Jo and I on the other hand... we always like to get a word in."

You smile sadly, before saying, "I miss her."

"Don't we all. So, the food good over there?"

"Not nearly as good as home. I'll always miss your cooking coping mechanism."

"Cooking comping mechanism? What do you say that is?"

"Butter and bacon."

He laughs heartily from the other end and you smile sadly. You miss being home. "Okay, you're right. No need to call me out on it though!"

"How are Beth and Mark?"

"They're good. Jo and Mark nearly got into politics arguments several times, but they managed to be adults and avoid the topic once it got to be too much. If you were here you would've gotten a kick out of it."

You walk over to Jesse's truck and lean up against it. "I miss you, Dad."

"We miss you here too. Remember, you have to bring him for Christmas. Unless his parents want him home— but I want to actually meet the guy. You hear about him for three years in varying degrees of love and disgust and your daughter won't even bring him around."

You laugh and say, "don't worry, he already agreed. And if he does change his mind, I'll bring him around the next time we both get a break."

"Alright. That had better be a promise. Oh— I gotta go. The game's on, and Jo won't stop nagging me."

You hear a smattering of faint 'hello's from the other end and smile. "They say hi," your dad says. 

"Alright Dad. I love you."

"Love you too. Have a good night, and be safe."

"Okay. Goodnight Dad."

"Goodnight." 

He hangs up, and you're left with nothing but darkness and the stars. You decide to give them some more time, so you spend nearly an hour just walking, lost in thought. Eventually, you make your way back to the drive, and you see Jesse standing on the porch. 

"There you are," he says, walking out toward you. "I was starting to get nervous."

"I'm fine. Just wanted to give you all space."

"Well come on, it's getting late, and it's freezing out here. Where's your coat?"

"I forgot it. Hey," you stop him before he goes inside, "is everything alright? Did you all talk?"

He smiles and says, "yeah, we talked. It's pretty late though, and they're tired. They might head to bed soon, and they wanted to talk to you."

"Me?"

"Yes you! You convinced their son to come home after almost 20 years. Come on, in with ya."

"Okay, okay," you say as he pushes you into the house again. You see Delilah and Clint now sitting in the living room. Clint sits in a large chair that looks like it could easily lull someone to sleep, and Delilah is sitting on the couch. 

"(Y/N), dear, you were out so long and you left your jacket!" Delilah says, handing it to you as you sit down opposite to her on the couch.

"Oh, thank you Delilah,"

"Please, call me Ma."

"Thanks Ma," you say. This seems to cheer her up. 

"Dear, you look ice cold. Do you want a blanket?" She asks, gesturing to a large basket that appears to be stuffed full of them. 

"Sure, thank you." You turn to Jesse, bewildered, and he just gives you a warm smile. He