Archive of Our Own ^beta

Hanzo slammed down the newly empty shot glass with a grin. That was six down for the night. Or was he at seven? Hazily, he looked around at the party going on around him. Red, white, and blue decorations were strewn haphazardly around the common room, and he took a moment to try to remember what exactly they were celebrating. “Something American” was all he could come up with.

“Hey, what’s this party for, Cole!?” he half-shouted over the music. He didn’t know when his feet had found their way to where the cowboy was lounging casually in an armchair, but he sobered up for a second as twinkling brown eyes looked up at him. Cole’s mouth moved, but Hanzo could only focus on the light dancing around in his pupils, like there was some hidden treasure buried deep within.

“Heyyy, cowboy. Steady there,” said Cole as Hanzo began to tilt into him. Cole reached out a calloused hand and gently pushed Hanzo back by the hip. Hanzo looked down at the hand and decided he needed to talk about something. Anything.

“What did you say, Cole? I couldn’t hear you!” he yelled. The man laughed and Hanzo felt the hand on his hip laugh with it. He tried to focus on anything else. “I said it’s the Fourth of July, hon!” Cole shouted. “American Independence Day!”

Hanzo pulled the hand off his hip (he couldn’t take it anymore) and planted a kiss on the back of it. “Thanks, Cole! Happy…Independence.” And with that, he tore his eyes off the angelic figure in front of him and went to find something to drink.

•••

It was an hour later…maybe two? Probably three, if Hanzo was being honest. He was pretty sure he was hammered, but the fiery feeling in the pit of his stomach was from something else. Something that grew every time he looked over and saw those eyes looking at someone else.

Of course, he’d been silly to think that Cole saw him differently. The man had only noticed Hanzo when he’d literally stumbled into him, screamed into his ear, and then kissed him on the hand. Shit, had he really kissed him on the hand? His thoughts were not processing very well.

Carefully, discreetly, he glanced across the room to look again. Maybe this time he’d be looking back. But sure enough, Cole was chatting amicably with Ashe, laughing and gesturing with the beer in his hand.

“Hey, pretty thing,” someone whispered in his ear, and he turned to see one of the soldiers from this base. The guy was attractive, and they’d been making eye contact all night, but Hanzo wasn’t really feeling it at the moment.

“Maybe later, man,” he mumbled, but the guy continued, putting a hand on his chest. “Come on, beautiful. My room’s right down the hall.” Hanzo felt himself being pushed toward the door, but all he could muster was a mumble again. “No…I don’t….”

Suddenly, a body shoved between him and the soldier, and Hanzo found himself face to face with Cole. A hand slid down his side and found purchase at his waist. “Sorry, fella, this one’s mine,” the cowboy spat over his shoulder as he guided Hanzo back towards the party.

Hanzo didn’t protest as he was led back to the armchair. Cole sank into it, his hand still gripping the fabric of Hanzo’s shirt. “You’re staying right where I can fucking see you, cowboy,” breathed Cole. Hanzo had no problem with that. Wordlessly, he plopped down onto Cole’s lap. Hanzo could feel himself waiting for a word of disapproval, but all he felt was an arm being wrapped protectively around his waist. Hanzo pulled his legs up to his chest and fell asleep against the shoulder under him.

•••

Cole shifted uncomfortably. He’d been cradling the 200-pound man in his lap for over an hour while still making conversation, but that wasn’t really what was making him uncomfortable. Actually, he was a little too comfortable.

He groaned internally and prayed for it to go away. Hanzo seemed pretty dead to the world, but the last thing Cole needed was for the gorgeous guy in his lap to wake up to a boner under him.

Five minutes passed and his prayers remained unanswered. Could he really blame himself? Hanzo, ever the stoic hero on the battlefield, was breathing gently on his neck and, every so often, attempting to burrow deeper into his chest.

Another five minutes passed and Cole gave up. He was quickly losing the ability to focus on his conversations. He chugged down the rest of his beer in a second and then scooped Hanzo up, rising abruptly from the chair with the fair maiden in his arms.

“I’m gonna turn in, y’all,” he said to the people he’d been talking to. “I think this one could use a better bed than my lap.”

Cole carried Hanzo through the corridors, willing his foggy brain to remember the way back to his room. All of the private quarters, which were reserved for heroes, were locked by a pin pad, so Hanzo would have to stay with him that night.

The sounds of the party began to fade behind him and he breathed in the relief of silence. He looked down at the serene face in his arms as he stalked through the quiet corridors. His eyes had roved over that same face a million times before, but never had it been this close.

Cole found his door and unconsciously punched in his code, his gaze never leaving Hanzo’s face. He pushed in and stumbled to the bed, not bothering to turn on a light. The moonlight through the window was enough to catch the sharp angles of Hanzo’s strong nose and cheekbones.

Cole kicked back the covers, then gently laid the limp figure into his bed. He pulled off Hanzo’s shoes, then drew the covers over him. It was a king bed, but Cole had always slept on this side. Whatever. He was happy to share tonight.

He delicately turned Hanzo’s head to the side, then pulled out his ponytail, being careful not to disturb the man. Cole watched in awe as the dark hair fell down to Hanzo’s neck, realizing that this was the first time he’d seen it free.

Carefully, slowly, Cole reached forward and stroked a stray strand of hair out of Hanzo’s face. Then, as if pushed by an unseen force, he leaned forward and kissed the moonlit forehead.

With a sigh, Cole removed his jacket and shoes, then slid into the other side of the bed. As he drew the covers around himself, he turned to face what was now the first person he had ever brought back to this bed. His eyes traced the silhouette of a nose, lips, and chin illuminated by the window, and he fell asleep dreaming of a pretty face.

•••

Hanzo awoke to the first rays of sunlight peeking in. He opened his eyes to see an unfamiliar window framing the sunrise. He blinked, then began to look around the rest of the darkened room. He only made it halfway before his eyes landed on a metal hand on his chest.

With a start, he followed the hand to a metal arm that was attached to a very human body. Next to him, Cole was sleeping peacefully, a respectable distance away save for a left arm completely extended to find Hanzo.

Hanzo breathed in and out, watching metal fingers rise and fall on top of him. They were warm, indicating that the hand had been in this spot for a while. Hanzo racked his brain, trying to remember what had happened the night before. The last memory he could grasp was dancing with Brigitte and Kiriko. But somehow, he had ended up in what he presumed was Cole’s bed, the two of them completely clothed and almost completely separated. Cole must have just brought him here because he passed out. He wouldn’t try anything, then.

Still, his hand found its way to the one on his chest, and he gently covered the metal fingers with his own. With a sigh of contentment, he fell asleep once again.

•••

Cole opened his eyes to sunlight streaming in. The bright blue sky outside the window was almost enough to distract him from the fact that he was death gripping something. He looked down to find his metal hand fisting the fabric of Hanzo’s shirt, twisting the material like he was hanging on for dear life. Cole was beginning to untangle his fingers when he realized that a warm hand was holding them in place. Hanzo’s own fingers were splayed protectively over the lifeless metal, and an indescribable feeling ran down Cole’s spine.

He’d had plenty of partners in his life, but every one of them had been deliberate about avoiding his prosthetic arm. Cole had become conscious of the thing, making sure not to touch with it no matter how close he was with someone. But here was Hanzo, human fingers curled around the ball of metal that was digging into his own chest.

Something broke deep inside of Cole, some feeling he’d been keeping locked away. All of a sudden he was so, so tired, more tired than he’d ever been. He moved forward and the front of his body met the side of Hanzo’s. He buried his face into Hanzo’s chest, his head finding a spot like it had been here a million times before. His left leg hooked Hanzo’s, nestling itself in the space it found between two calves. Something washed over him, like this was where he was supposed to be.

•••

Hanzo awoke to the feeling of a body pressing against his. He kept his eyes shut, willing his breathing to remain even. A face pressed into his chest, and Hanzo shifted ever-so-slightly to help it find the softest spot. A leg snaked between his, and he split them to let it get comfortable. When he was sure Cole must be sleeping, he let his eyes open and took in the scene before him.

In the sunlight, auburn-tinged hair fell across Hanzo’s chest. Under his hand, Cole’s metal hand dug into Hanzo’s ribs, holding as much of his shirt as it could. The usually easygoing cowboy clung to Hanzo desperately, every inch of two large bodies pressing against each other.

Hesitantly, Hanzo raised his left hand and found Cole’s back. His fingertips traced the muscles up and down, and he felt Cole shiver under his touch. “It’s okay, baby,” he breathed. He began to rub Cole’s back and felt the cowboy melt into him. “You’re okay.”