Work Text:
It is foolish to play make-believe. Some would say childish even, knowing they are men decorated by muscles and rocking in their late 30s to early 40s.
Yet, they continue to play. Imagining scenarios they wish that happened or are happening to them. Wherever and whenever their mission takes them, Cole and Hanzo do not fail to indulge in fantasies.
Cole points into a restaurant too fancy for their budget and appearance, “Remember that Le- uh- Les De- dos“
“Les Deux Escargots, dear,” Hanzo corrects him.
”Yea, Les Dos Escargo. Our first date,” Cole smiles.
”And where you spilled our wine all over the table and through our pants. It is quite an interesting first impression,” Hanzo teases.
Cole snickers, “Yet, you stay with me.”
“And yet, I did,” Hanzo giggles.
They know it is cheesy, cringeworthy as Genji and Hana coins it, but it brings them comfort. A significant contrast to their non-stop action of a life. A life that started as them being young criminals, to mercenaries trying to survive, to vigilantes fighting for the greater good. None that describes a peaceful life.
Normality always appeals to them. Similar to moths with lamps, all attracted to the bright light. Envy grows to their veins from the mere sight of bystanders, romanticizing their innocence and clean slates. They project themselves in couples walking in the streets and not sneaking in pungent alleyways, to couples sitting by the park benches and not tending wounds by a random wall.
By pretending they are not a couple fighting in an undying battle field, they have a universe of their own. A universe that is more forgiving, tranquilizing, and freeing. One where every word in their imagination is true, their makeshift paradise.
Though the closest paradise they have outside their minds is the Watchpoint: Gibraltar’s roof deck. The cooling breeze carries the sea salt air from below. While the crashing waves rustle the sands. Time is irrelevant in this place of theirs. Staying up and lost in the hours, they gaze through its lapis skies with cotton clouds until to its charcoal space with stellar stars.
Now, they continue to sit there side by side—feeling the cold metal floor below them. Gibraltar's sun sets, with the sky contouring itself with purple and pink shades. Ships that have been sailed are now in the dock. Leaning on each other's shoulders, they gaze at the skies.
Pointing towards the half sun’s horizon with his hat, Cole imagines, “See, over there?”
Hanzo hums, agreeing.
”There’s our ranch, filled with allllll the farm animals we need.” Cole continues, putting his hat down beside him, “Cows, sheeps, and o’course, horses!”
“Ah yes, the ranch, as you like to call it, ‘Casa de Cassidy’,” Hanzo adds.
“Casa de Shimada-Cassidy, darling,” Cole corrects, holding Hanzo’s hand. “Shimada-Cassidy.”
Hanzo exhales through his nose, offering a smile to Cole, “Oh look. Now, your favorite cow, Bessie, is eating my plants. I told you my plants are not to be eaten.”
Cole chuckles, “Oh yeah? Well, yer beautiful horse, Hanabusago, is galloping in circles at this time.” Cole looks at Hanzo, “I wonder who feeds her fuel to race in this hour again.”
”She was looking over the kitchen window with those large pitiful eyes. The one that looks like yours, I cannot help it,” Hanzo replies.
“Like this?” Cole lifts his eyebrows, widening his brown eyes as he moves closer to Hanzo’s face.
Hanzo snorts, “Exactly, almost picture perfect. You are just lacking her neighs.”
Cole neighs, or tries to. It is more like a voice crack from a prepubescent horse or a failed auto-tuned impression by Athena.
Both of them roar from laughter, clutching their bellies. Echoing through the skies as birds flock from the East to the West. Hanzo nudges Cole’s shoulders, while Cole wipes a tear from his eyes.
Cole tugs down his serape and rests it behind them like a picnic blanket. Laying down on it, he offers to Hanzo, “Lay with me here, Han.” He pats the other side, “The couch we found in some rando’s garage sale.”
Hanzo presses their make-pretend couch, fluffing its so-called cushions, “It still hurts to see the color of this couch. How can a green assemble so much like a barf, at least the flowers compensate for it.”
“Thought ya like it? Ye ‘even said it's comfy,” Cole questions.
“Since when?” Hanzo crinkles his eyebrows as he lays down.
“Since now,” Cole answers.
Hanzo rolls his eyes.
The previous magenta skies turn into a navy ombré as their eyes glance upwards. Buildings from afar start to twinkle their lights on with the lighthouse gleaming over them.
Cole’s robotic hand crawls towards Hanzo’s stomach, “Yuki the naughty lil’ Shiba wants some attention.” Making a hand-puppet, he barks. “What ya want sweetheart?” he asks his hand-puppet hand. The hand-puppet barks back with Cole nodding.
“What does she want?” Hanzo questions.
Closing the space between them, Cole rests sideways, “She said…” He looks at Hanzo, “She wants to tickle you!”
With Cole using both of his hands to tickle, Hanzo struggles to breathe from laughing. He slaps Cole’s tickling hands and calls out his name in an attempt to make him cease his shenanigans. While Hanzo’s feet kick towards his chest, Cole does not stop—giggling at Hanzo’s predicament.
Filled with laughter, they catch their breaths—feeling one another’s exhales. Cole lowers his forehead into Hanzo’s, with their arms intertwining around each other’s body. Exchanging a toothy smile and wiggling their noses at one another's, they press their lips together. Their hearts still flutter, even if they have played the same song a million times. Not able to get enough of their lips’ soft touch and warmth.
Though, Hanzo pulls away with Cole’s eyes staring down on his being. He holds Cole’s soft cheeks, “When will any of these be truly true?”
“Which one, darling?” Cole asks.
“This. All of this,” Hanzo waves his hand. “Our home. Our pets…” he whispers.
Cole remains to stare at Hanzo. His eyes bore into Cole’s heart. How can a look of yearning be so profound? Like a fox watering for hanging grapes in a tree. All Cole can do is to witness it as he aches.
“You know, Cole… I wish I had- no. have children,” Hanzo adds. He traces Cole’s freckles with his thumb, grounding the cowboy out of his aches.
“Did ya get yer brains smash in? I thought ya don’t like kids?” Cole teases.
“Silly thing isn’t it?” Hanzo chuckles. “I used to think I only wanted children to continue the clan’s legacy. What a naïve way to think, really. So selfish, so shallow-minded,” he squints his eyes with his bitter tongue hissing. “Only wanting children to groom them as the new scion of a criminal empire that they never consent to joining in. I am not even mentioning marrying someone that I have no interest in and only marrying them for duty’s sake.”
Hanzo inhales deeply as he exhales the air out his mouth, “…But, I have you now. And I cannot get rid of the idea of having our own beloved tiny ones. Imagine our Cole Junior.”
Cole wrinkles his nose.
“Perhaps, another name,” Hanzo snickers. “However, that is besides the point I want to convey. A tiny one who you love unconditionally through their firsts to their angsty rebelling stage to their independence and finding who they are. You are their entire world and yours back. Seeing how they grow up to the kindest, smartest, and prettiest person you will ever meet is the most satisfying thing a human can experience… Especially, knowing you are the one who nurtured them.”
Cole tilts his lips toward Hanzo’s tracing hand. “That all sounds lovely, Hannybee. Really lovely,” he murmurs through the hand, leaving a smooch on its palm.
Grabbing his pumpkin’s hand, Cole massages his knuckles. He sighs, “But, it’s easier said than done… I mean, you see people like Reinhardt and Vivian and Ana, especially Ana... All of ‘em tried to be like any other folk and keep a low profile. But look at them now, continue to fight the fight 'cause it follows 'em, crawling back to them beyond their prime and even their supposed ‘grave’.”
Gulping a big stone in his throat, Cole pains, “Then add to the fact that our names are always being hunted by god knows what. I’m sure one of us alone is a pretty bounty.”
Once eyes full of yearning, Hanzo’s eyes narrow into a frown and pout his lips. A usual sight for anyone due to his stoic nature. But, this is different, concerningly different. Cole never sees such a drain of hope fading in a flash, irking his soul.
Cole tucks his darling’s sticking bangs to his ear, “Don’t get me wrong, darling. I wish, I pray, I hope everyday that we can settle down. Have a simple life with a simple home with a simple family.” He shakes his head, “It’s just- it's just hard and we both know that... I don’t wanna be a deadbeat dad, doing a half-assed job, who left his kids behind ‘cause there’s a crisis overseas that no one else can solve other than me or escape a bounty hunter that can absolutely rip me and my family into shreds.
As much as I want to spend my entire life waking up knowing I have a caring husband, a healthy kid, and loving animals, I know we won’t be safe ‘cause the world labels us as dangerous men,” Cole ends.
Hanzo shoves his head into Cole’s chest. Fisting a handful of Cole’s shirt, his tears flow into the cowboy’s shirt like a never-ending river. He grumbles through his dear’s chest.
Cole lowers his head into Hanzo’s raven hair as he tightens his cuddle. He mumbles, “Maybe… In another universe…”
The lighthouse still glimmers into them as their shadows mimic the heavy air. The stars now shimmer in the skies, but they did not glance up.
They know they are moths, star-struck by the light. But that certain light is too far to reach. No matter how much they persevere, it may burn them in the end. And, as much as they desire normality, they are not naïve to know the ordinary is water while they are both oil.