Archive of Our Own

A gunslinger wants a cigar. He's been using nicotine replacements, so it's not even that he needs the nicotine, he just wants something between his teeth. Smoking a cigar is incredibly counterproductive to remaining unseen so he bites his lip and exhales slowly though his nose as he turns down yet another office building hallway.

He lets his little pistol shot go wide by a mile since he's behind good cover and is pretending he isn't nearly as good a shot as he actually is. He hasn't been bothering to use Deadeye at all lately, but he could slip it in once or twice if needed. 

He hasn't needed to use it in months.

He walks cautiously across the green of the office building garden he's in, both hands on his shitty peashooter pistol, scanning for enemies after he downed the last. He looks up at the balcony surrounding to find an unexpected person among the fray. Holding a bow.

He doesn't think much anything about the masked archer beyond a thought that he might be fun to tussle with. Who even brings a bow to a gunfight? Reminds him of Genji with his shuriken and sword.

When the grunt that Cole clocked behind a desk chooses to aim for the masked fella on the catwalk instead of him, Cole feels a little bloom of confusion. The shot hits white metal as the archer is shoving someone off of the catwalk. 

Cole's shot hits too. The office worker goes down with a groan.

The body that was thrown off the catwalk lands with a sickening crunch and a sudden silence to shout.

Cole spares a shot for the crumpled form, a mercy kill if they are still alive, partially, but also so they stay down. Technology was so advanced these days you never knew. He points his gun at the unexpected party member at this particular menagerie.

The man's eyes are wild. Cole can see that even from down here. He stills, doesn't shoot yet, no good reason to. The archer is already wounded and clutching his side. The blood is practically cascading over his fingers.

He flees, his hand squeaks on the metal railing as he pushes himself away from the ledge and down the hall.

Cole follows, thinking for some reason that he knows the man's face.

He leaps up the stairs two at a time, careful to keep vigilant as he rounds the landing and bounds up the second set.

He finds the archer in the exact room that he'd planned on being in, pulling out the exact drive that he planned on taking.

There are two dead bodies on the ground, arrows lodged in eye sockets. Other arrows are stuck in the wall.

In his head he is thanking the higher powers that the drive is made of hardlight, cause there's thick blood coating it now, and if it was old tech then he'd have a real big problem regarding circuitry.

A left hook comes flying at his face and he has exactly zero patience for it today. He grabs it with his right hand, using the reckless, panicked swing to topple the archer's balance some. His gun is in his left hand. He doesn't want to break the archer's arm or make him break the drive.

Cole makes some kind of joke as he uses his bodyweight to shoulder check him into a wall.

He's already decided that he's a potential ally. He's dressed different then the people guarding the place. Cole has already decided that he wants to know why the man looks so damn familiar.

The man is left gasping for air, he's on the ground, unarmed, his bow and quiver off to one side. He's bleeding, and yet Cole still has to pry his fingers one by one off of the drive. 

When Cole gets him on the ground, locked in a pin, he still has to press the gun a little firmer under the man's chin before he gets a bright idea.

The man keeps trying to fight him, but Cole can feel the blooming pool of warm blood where he has pinned him. There's a miniscule weakening in his actions.

"You gonna let me administer first aid or is this drive really something ya want to die over, pardner?" Cole asks cooly. An idle threat that he doesn't even fully mean.

The man glares at him before his brows furrow in confusion. He's wearing a mask too, though it only covers his mouth. It flutters with his rapid breaths. Brown eyes look at him, dim and narrowed in confusion.

Cole releases his grip, lets those hands stay on the floor. He sees the Shimada brand and it confirms a few suspicions. Bow, weird eyebrows, similar facial features even above the mask. Checks out. 

Hanzo Shimada.

It doesn't take much to convince himself that he should spare the bastard. It is a surprise that it's so easy. He figured at least a little more debate would go into it.

He pulls the broken plane of white armor off, it comes away with a sticky peeling sound, though some pieces are left. The wound is from a pulseshot, so he doesn't have to worry about any bullet pieces being stuck in there.

He pulls off the fabric of his cape, still keeping his gun on Hanzo. 

He fucking hates this costume, so darkening the geometric patterned cape with blood is a satisfying as fuck idea. He presses the cloth into the wound. 

He doesn't need to say anything, bloody hands move to replace his, maintaining pressure in an almost exact measure despite their tremble.

It's a half of a second until he gets the nanoshot out of a pouch on his belt. Slowed by the fact that he's only using one hand.

It's like Hanzo knows the steps, cause Cole doesn't even have to warn him not to tense up. He's already closing his eyes tightly and is tilting one arm to the side so that Cole can insert the plunger into the meat of his bicep.

He could blow Hanzo's brains out, but for some reason he lines the nanoshot up. 

Hanzo lets out a tiny noise when Cole activates the second part of the nanoshot.

Cole pulls the cape away in time to see the wound starting to stitch itself together. He wishes he hadn't but really it's better to get it out of the way than deal with possible infection from accidentally keeping material stuck inside.

The wound stitches itself closed, little pieces of metal pushing out of the skin, coated in blood.

Cassidy pulls himself up and off of Hanzo; the poor man suffered enough already. He waits a few seconds to begin speaking, he knows that the rapid cycle of healing hurts even worse than getting shot does.

"You lost a lot of blood." As if the pool needed to be referenced. 

He has detonators set to go off at the press of a button. Genji wouldn't have to know. No one would know. He could leave now and all that would be left would be a fine mist of red.

Hanzo's face scrunches up in pain, his knuckles white from his clenched fists. His body is ramrod straight and Cole is a little surprised he's being so quiet despite the searing pain he is undoubtedly in.

He lets out a low grunt before falling terribly still, his eyes squeezed shut. He breathes heavily after two beats.

Cole offers out a gloved hand to the crumpling man on the floor. "Place is set to blow, grab your shit, let's move."

Hanzo takes the offered hand. He stumbles as he gets up. He grabs the piece of his armor and his bow. He doesn't raise it.

When Cole offers that he can lean on him, he takes that too. It's an allyship that is formed entirely on whim. 

His getaway car is set to autopilot, and he gets far enough away to feel comfortable blowing the joint. 

A flash of light causes the one way windows to shift darker for a moment. The outpour of dust jostles the car, pelting small debris into the door, but they are far enough away that the shockwave didn't rock them too badly.

Hanzo has one bloodied hand on the seat, and the other clutching his side.

He knows enough about Hanzo's current mercenary habits to know exactly what he's likely to do with the info about the rebuilding of the Shimada clan and their interactions with Talon, so he isn't even hesitant to share the information.

"I'll let you look at the drive if ya give me a name to call you by, gorgeous," he bargains.

He just needs a different name to use in his head. That's it.

There is the sound of a grinding jaw. Appreciating flirting wasn't an expected behavior he had of Hanzo, so he's unsurprised by the irritation.

Cole points lazily at the brand. "You've got a grudge against them Shimada, doncha?"

Those eyes hold cold fire, the bridge of his nose wrinkling in disgust.

Cole can't blame him for not being talkative, so he shrugs. "Can't say I didn't offer, my callname is Nox by the way."

He boots up the nav, they are set to a pattern that was meant to throw off pursuit or at least make pursuit more obvious. 

"Where to?" He asks, though it's half joking.

"My name is Okami," Hanzo says, breaking his oath of silence, seemingly. "Somewhere where I may look at this drive, if that offer still stands."

"I have a hotel room if that's fine with you," Cole offers. He holds a bag of synthblood out to Okami and the man takes it. 

He disinfects himself with the attached alcohol wipe, his hands shaking all the while.

Hanzo begins to peel the packaging off of the sterile needle but his hands are shaking too much so Cole does it for him. He inserts the needle into Hanzo's arm and the synthblood slowly starts draining into him.

The circuit that the AI nav is gonna take them around will be enough time for the liter bag of blood to empty. Hanzo is already looking much better and far more aware now that he's not actively dying.

Hanzo, Okami, looks up at him, almost looking unsure. If he tries Cole can separate the two identities. Always thought that Hanzo would be more of an asshole, though, cold and completely detached.

Cole clears his throat. "If I was out to kill ya I would've let you stay bleeding in a building set to explode."

"I am not concerned about you wanting me dead, I am truthfully more concerned about you wanting me alive," Okami says, dry and low. 

Cole thinks it's dangerous, like a cobra strike, but also just as anxious. A defense mechanism. He can see why Hanzo chose that name, a wolf-like growl in his tone. Cole is working really hard to call him by it in his head.

"Reasonable," he relinquishes. "You wanna hold onto the drive until we get to the hotel?"

Okami holds it up without him having reached into his back pocket yet.

Cole's mind does a quick recollection of events and tries to figure out when he'd taken it. Maybe when he'd let him lean on him. The bastard was functional even with that much bloodloss. He really should have expected it.

Hanzo was a professional after all.

"You touched my ass to get that," Cole blurts.

Okami snorts a laugh suddenly. "I suppose I did, is that the problem you have here?"

"Actually yeah, that's the only problem I have with that," Cole says sardonically and he can see Okami's mask shift with what is hopefully a smile. His eyes are smiling at least.

Okami chuckles, sounds nearly drunk, too loud and sloppy. It ends in a wince.

While he might have had the nanoshot restitch his wound, it might still be working on rebuilding the muscles fully. The rapid healing feels a lot more like having a fire burn you than the regular healing process.

"I have pain pills if ya want," Cole offers, already knowing that the offer will be rebuffed.

Okami shakes his head. "I don't need them, I am nearly fully healed."

Cole lets the conversation fade, letting Okami close his eyes. He keeps his own eyes on the man.

Wetwipes take care of some of the mess on them.

Soon enough the autopilot has completed the circuit that Cole chose. He switches to taking over driving and guides the car around to the dim, concrete parking garage.

He spares a moment as he enters the garage to cause a glitch in the camera feeds. Once he has found his parking spot, he exits the vehicle with his companion. He heads over to the employee only elevator, knowing that it has no working camera in it. Also knowing that it'll dump him closer to his room and that there will be less potential for anyone to run into him.

He fixes the camera in the parking garage before messing up the one on his hotel floor.

They sweep into the room, and Cole throws his cape onto the bathroom floor. He's kind of aware that he's saying something about blood and cleaning it off of themselves better.

Okami begins bullying him up against the door and Cole raises his eyebrows in confusion. Not a threatening action, no weapons, no real force behind it. Though the glare he fixed Cole with nearly convinces him it is one.

"You are infuriating," Okami hisses, eyes moving downwards.

Cole feels his guts begin to catch fire and tense up some.

Okami hikes the fabric of Cole's shirt up past his belt. It had come untucked sometime during the car ride. He opens Cole's legs with one of his own.

Cole has never had someone go from zero to one hundred so fast. He can feel himself filling out embarrassingly quickly.

But Okami isn't actually after anything that Cole thought he was. He's after the data reader in his front pants pocket.

Zero to one hundred to a fucking horrific crash, but Cole is still at full mast.

Upon brushing his finger against something that is not the data reader Okami stills. "My... my apologies but are you actually hard?"

Cole covers his face with his hands and an embarrassed noise escapes him. His voice is too high and thin when he responds, "Listen, I'm sorry but; you're the one that's pushing me around!"

"Wow," Okami breathes before letting out a dark chuckle, looking down at the silhouette of Cole's erection. 

Cole is feeling a little bit stupid and immensely embarrassed because none of the blood is in his brain, but Okami looks downright stupefied. Eyes wide and pupils large.

"Level with me here-" Cole tries to justify how fucking hot it was to be pushed against the door, while he is sitting there, still pressed against the door. "-it's been a hot minute since anyone's touched me, okay?"

Okami audibly swallows. "I am willing to have sex, if that is what you wish-"

Cole can't help the damning whimper that escapes him. "Fuck if you're willing then, please, by all means, continue."

Okami is a full head shorter than Cole, and it shouldn't be as arousing as it is to be put into this position by him.

They aren't even bothering to take their masks off, or any unnecessary clothes. 

Okami's hands are steadily unbuckling him and Cole can feel himself thrumming with energy.

Before he knows it, Okami is fishing his dick out of his pants and stroking him dry. The lack of lube isn't strictly unpleasant. Cole sighs into the contact because it still feels so much better when it's somebody else's hand. 

Okami has his other hand on Cole's hip bone. He ruts slowly against the thigh Cole offers up. His dick is a searing line even through clothing, hot and hard. 

It makes Cole's head spin a little, the fact that he isn't the only one affected. He leans his head down, knows that his breathing is getting needy and fast but this is good shit.

"I've got lube and condoms," Cole says, pulling a hand up to his utility belt pocket. "Do you top?"

"Do I look like I would do anything but top?" Okami grits out, shoving Cole's hand away from his belt and fishing the contents of the pouch out himself.

The cold dribble of slick on Cole's cock causes him to hiss. He presses one hand against Okami's armored chest and lets out a groan when his dick continues to be stroked.

"Didn't want to assume," he soothes, gripping at the meat of a shoulder.

He lets the statement stand alone until a groan is carefully worked out of him. "You're gonna want to... ah, fuck that feels good-"

"What exactly do you presume that I want?" Okami teases. He's gotten his other hand involved with the handjob and the tight circle he is sliding around the head of Cole's cock and the similar one around the base is fogging up Cole's brain.

"You're gonna want to let me prepare, please," Cole requests. "Wanna have you fuck me."

He lets out a needy huff when Okami lets go of his dick even though he'd been expecting it.

However, he doesn't expect to be roughly shoved further into the room. He is pushed onto the desk in the corner. Okami is pulling the pants around Cole's waist down, then gripping his hips to move him as Cole leans up on his elbows.

He's got the globe of Cole's left asscheek roughly gripped in one hand as he leans forwards, pressing his erection against Cole as he whispers, "You like this, don't you?"

Cole is quick to nod, a little too eager, perhaps, because it causes Okami to laugh behind him. The grip on his ass leaves, but the heavy heat won't leave him. He can hear thick clasps coming undone.

Okami reaches forwards to hand him the condom, still wrapped and one edge is slick with lube. "Unwrap it."

Cole lets his shirt go flush with the table in order to have the use of both hands.

His other ass cheek is being pulled to the side as a warm and slick finger traces his hole.

He struggles to unwrap it because of the distraction. Okami has just gotten a second finger in as he finally gets it open. 

He holds the unwrapped condom back, one arm reaching backwards as he props himself up again on his other forearm. Their fingers brush as Okami takes the condom from him.

The hand pulling his cheek to the side is gone, presumably so that Okami can roll it on. Instead of stilling, his thick fingers continue to scissor Cole open. 

A third finger joins and Cole groans indignantly as Okami stretches him open. He feels exposed and used, just a little, cause the only part of him without clothing is his ass and legs. His cock drips pre. He half feels like weeping for its sake because it's receiving no more attention.

"Oh, what a delicious treat," Okami praises, but his tone makes it seem like more of an insult. He presses his dick against Cole's perineum.

"You are so much quieter now that I have you bent over." His voice is just a husky whisper.

Cole can feel himself clenching around the intruding fingers in his ass, he bows his head, knows his dick just twitched because of the dirty talk. He groans half in embarrassment and half because Okami is ticking off all of his boxes right now.

Cole hears a small exclamation behind him. He can feel Okami's dick press a little firmer, hot against the crease of his thigh. It's a good reminder of what comes as the main event.

He feels about as stretched as he'll get.

"Ready," Cole pants. "I'm ready, please."

The fingers crook inside of him and rub his prostate with pinpoint accuracy. He lets out a small cry at the unexpected bullseye. 

He relaxes his back and shoulders after a second, letting himself be propped on his forearms once more.

When Okami pulls his fingers out. Cole realizes with keen embarrassment that he'd arched his back at an intense angle and pressed his hips closer.

The hot head of a cock pressing against his hole distracts him and he angles himself a little better.  There's still a tight grip being held on his ass, and Okami smacks his dick against Cole's hole a few times before Cole feels the warm, blunt head spreading him.

He's happy for wearing both his mask and scarf, cause biting down on the inner fabric of the mask keeps his groan quieter than it could've been. 

Okami lets out a noise too, presses into Cole with a stuttering thrust, like he's holding himself back. Cole presses back eagerly.

It takes a few small thrusts inwards for Okami to fuck the shape of his dick into Cole, but once he's fully seated finally he stills for a moment and switches his grip on Cole to hold onto his hips.

Cole feels so full and he knows there is precome dripping down onto the carpet and his pants. He clenches around the dick inside of him a few times and wiggles his hips to hopefully get Okami to move again.

Okami lets out a breathy laugh and pulls his hips back slowly. One hand presses between Cole's shoulder blades and all Cole can think is the word "finally".

Once Okami snaps his hips forwards, Cole can't think. 

The rythm they fall into is hard and dirty and fast. A shift from either of them and they momentarily and devastatingly ruin the movement before finding something again. It's hardly a rythym and it's closer to a desperate fuck. Jackrabbit thrusts interspersed with moments of slow, tortuous thrusts. 

Cole goes cross-eyed in pleasure when Okami reaches a hand down to pump his cock.

He's making all kinds of obscene noises and Okami is practically growling at his back, grabbing handfuls of his ass, and snaking a hand up his shirt to squeeze his chest appreciatively.

Okami rolls one of Cole's nipples with his fingers as he thrusts in particularly nicely.

Cole's back arches as he cries out. He half leans up because it feels so damn good to be filled. Okami lifts one of Cole's legs, his hand holding onto his thigh roughly, making him lean forwards just a bit. Snaps his hips a little rougher and grunts.

The angle is nice. Cole's prostate is rubbed as Okami pinches his nipples and plays with his cock.

His orgasm hits him like a freight train. He lets out a long and low groan as he covers the table and coats the hand around his dick.

His clenching causes a groan to escape Okami. He growls and it mixes with a dirty chuckle.

Cole is still full of cock and blissed from orgasm. He's tightening up in a haphazard pattern as he pants and lets out embarrassingly loud grunts. 

Okami fucks into him just as desperately, Jackrabbit thrusts that are short and deep and purposeful and it feels like he's stirring up Cole's insides. 

The hand on his cock hasn't stilled and it's nearly getting to the point of overstimulation. The one under his thigh keeps it up with a bruising grip.

His eyes water and a whine leaves him cause it's too much now. He feels Okami's hips still, hears a groan that may or may not be words as he comes.

The only sound is their heavy breathing. Cole's clothes are making him overheat and he wants to take all three parts of his mask off cause his face is sweaty. 

Okami lets him place his foot back onto the ground slowly. There's a series of thunks as they both brace their hands on the edge of the table. They sit there for a moment, still breathing heavily. 

Finally, Okami pulls out of Cole and steps back. He's left him feeling all kinds of good and satisfied.

He hears the condom plop into the nearby garbage can before the click of clasps are done up again.

Cole pulls his own pants up and laughs a little at how far he'd shot his come.

Okami, blessedly, still sticks around, heading to the bathroom. Though he's got Cole's data reader and the drive, he sets both on the dresser.

Cole closes his eyes, though the black material of his eye mask is blocking the tired gesture from having its full effect, pulling at his skin.

He's just been fucked by Genji's brother.

He feels all of that nice afterglow quickly being replaced with mortification as everything turns cold.

He shoves that thought into a box in his head. He can deal with having a moral dilemma after he gets the data and is out of Hanzo's path.

Okami exits the bathroom after a minute, looking far less disheveled and far more... relaxed in posture. Though Cole can only guess that it's from just having had sex.

Cole uses the bathroom as well, but he takes the data drive with him. He washes it of blood along with his hands and face. He notes that there's a lot of various stains on him. 

He's certain that it can't all be Okami's blood. He adjusts his scarf and mask and even waits to adjust his poker face before even thinking to exit.

"Well that was fun," he says jovially as he steps into the main room.

 The table has been cleaned up, but Cole is gonna wipe the hotel room down before he leaves anyhow. "Really wasn't expecting any of that."

Okami is looking more carefully professional now, and the blank look certainly shows in his tone. "The data."

It's unsurprising, but Cole blinks and acts as if he's deeply insulted and hiding it poorly. 

He holds the data drive out. "Of course."

"I touched your ass to get this," Okami deadpans as he takes the drive and inserts it into the data reader. He chuckles after a moment. 

Cole is so surprised by the throwback to their conversation from earlier that he starts wheezing out a laugh.

He doubles over himself, clutching his stomach. "Holy shit."

Okami arches an eyebrow and it sends him into another fit of laughter that lives mostly in his nose and in his broken breaths.

He recovers, breathing deeply. "I'm sorry, you just-"

"The sex was nice," Okami interrupts. "I do not wish for you to foolishly think it was so that I could get the data, or to think that it was any sort of repayment."

Cole is a little floored from all of the unexpected things that Okami is saying. He controls his surprise, and meets the man's gaze as the encryption is being analyzed on the data drive.

"No, uh, the thought didn't even cross my mind," he admits, "but I'm glad that you specified so I won't wonder about it later." 

Cole knows he will be wondering about it later, in all likelihood. He doesn't need to tell Okami that, however.

When the data finishes processing, Okami is quick to write the unencrypted information down on what looks like a SenseWave or something similar. The holo screen unfolding out from a small device in his palm.

Cole waits. His own data reader is dead to him now that he's left it out of his line of sight. So he has to transfer the info to his computer some other way.

Okami leaves with a wave and a very awkward goodbye.

Cole sits on his hotel bed. 

Everything is in its place now for him to figure out just how bad the emotional damage is from his newest set of foolish actions.

He lets his head hang, wraps his hands over the back of his neck almost as if he's trying to cover himself from rubble.

It doesn't take long for the ceiling to feel like it's falling on him. Feels like everything is crumbling around him. The guilt is starting to gnaw at his insides like a hungry dog. His leg bounces rapidly.

He shouldn't have done that. Shouldn't have done that, shouldn't have let himself enjoy it.

He lets out a wretched choking sound and pulls his hands off of the back of his head. He folds them together in front of him as if he's praying.

He shouldn't have betrayed Genji like that, even though he knew that he had forgiven Hanzo. 

This was unforgivable. There was a line that he crossed, fucking your friend's estranged and murderous brother was a horrible thing to do.

But the deed is done, and he can't go back in time to tell his stupid, impulsive self not to do it.

He's consumed by how sorry he is for his actions. He's sorry to Genji, most of all. But the guilt of having betrayed his own morals tears him up too.

A panicked chorus repeats in his head of "I fucked up, how do I fix this? How do I tell him that I met his brother and did him?"

He hasn't been in contact with Genji in a few months. He knows that he offered Hanzo some kinda redemption.

Maybe he wouldn't be too mad? That's a stupid thought, he decides, Genji would feel really hurt by this.

He lets himself slide off of the bed and onto his knees and he sobs out a fraction of a broken confession.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Poland is abnormally lovely this time of year. It should be snowy and bitter, but it's not too cold and the air feels different surrounding the local festivities.

Cole is too deep in self loathing to appreciate it. 

He's been on and off sober since he first met Hanzo, and he's had so many bad headaches that could be put up on the list of "The worst things Cole Cassidy has ever felt." Each new headache seems to top the list.

He can't even masturbate; any time he gets aroused it feels like someone is trying to crush his skull. He's stressed as shit.

He kind of wants to die, but it's just a passing thought.

His costume looks like something straight out of a comic book, and that's part of his character this time.

Brennon Sharp is his "true" identity if anyone bothers to try and find him

Brennon has more money than common sense and is only dangerous with a gun. None of it really suits Cole much, but to pretend to be upper middle class and bored is kind of entertaining. He bought a tiny bit of overpriced organic fruit last week and the humor of it has lasted too long for how small it was.

He's been doing his contracts as "Nox". It's a stupid reference to a ridiculously old childhood idea of his, but it's the only good part about this deep cover.

Hates the cover name Brennon, hates the costume, hates the shitty gun, hates the limitations he's imposed on himself.

He hates his haircut, hates his stupid mustache, he wants to feel like himself again, rough beard and flannels and all. He's been sober this week, though not willingly. He had a mission that just finished up.

Yesterday, he called Genji and told him that he met his brother two months ago.

He has apologized but he didn't explain what for. Genji thought that Cole was apologizing because he and Hanzo fought.

Cole didn't have the heart to correct him. He'll beg forgiveness later, in person where Genji can properly smack him for how stupid he is.

He's returning to his safehouse, safe and tired.

He hates this cover, but Brennon Sharp isn't internationally wanted like Cole Cassidy is. It's safer to be only known as a general nuisance to foreigners in a few big cities in the Eastern part of the world.

He sees a shadow shift on the edge of a building, and his hackles raise. He walks steady, trying not to notify them that he's seen them, and the shadow follows in his peripheral vision.

He walks past an alleyway that has a fire escape. The man appears at the top of the series of ladders. Cole can see Hanzo clearly now.

Still in the same getup as before, large planes of white armor, loose pants. Orange details. He looks so much like Genji that it grips Cole's heart painfully to think about it.

His guilt claws at him.

"We met last in Dublin, correct?" 

Cole doesn't understand why Okami would ask him that, but perhaps Okami goes about fucking every dangerous person he meets. 

He appreciates that Okami hasn't shouted the name Cole gave him.

"That we did," Cole responds, keeping the aching hurt and guilt out of his voice. "Didn't expect to ever see you again."

"I did not expect it either," Okami admits. 

It takes all of two seconds for him to jump down the sides of the buildings.

On ground level he's just as imposing as Cole remembers. A full head shorter still but he's got a presence that commands attention when he wants it.

His eyes watch Cole predatorially.

Cole tucks his emotions away entirely when Okami reaches out to him. He could fight it, but something in him makes him freeze as Okami picks up the end of his scarf and examines it.

"I do not think blue suits you," Okami states ruefully.

Cole feels like he's being scolded. His breath is coming faster just from the simple contact, just from his memories of what happened last time.

"Is that right?" he asks.

"It makes you look sad."

Cole snarls under his mask before stamping it down with a tired huff. "I might just look that way anyhow."

"Perhaps." Okami hums and lets go of the scarf, pats it against Cole's chest. 

Cole waits, doesn't know if this is some sorta game or not, doesn't know if he wants to even play.

"It has been a while since last," Okami says finally, and it's almost apologetic. "Has no one been treating you well?"

Cole nods. 

"Come with me," Okami offers. "It'll be similar to last time."

He feels like the best and worst person on the face of the earth. Even considering Hanzo's proposition causes him more internal conflict and glee than he's felt in a long time.

"I don't know if that's safe," Cole says, holding eye contact with a lot of difficulty.

Okami balks. "I do not want you dead."

"I'm more concerned about you wanting me alive," Cole references last time, but now the positions are reversed.

"All I want-" Okami's voice drips with arousal, low and smooth. "-is you stuffed with my cock."

Cole closes his eyes for a brief moment, wills the emotions back into the box. "Are we really doing this again?"

"Only if you want to," Okami amends, stepping back.

Tiny shudders work their way up the sides of Cole's ribs. "I want to."

/It's the most incriminating sentence he's ever said. It takes first place over "Yeah, I robbed that hypertrain, what of it?"

Takes first place over, "Killed four men today but you'll be angrier to hear that I fucked one."/

They hail a driverless taxi, and Cole messes with the camera before they hop in.

Okami is on him in an instant, and Cole moves around helpfully to accommodate. He's touching Cole's arms and torso, spares a moment to  touch his chest over his clothes.

He pulls Cole onto his lap facing him, running a trail down his back with a hand before a firm set of hands go to Cole's ass.

Cole sighs. It feels really nice to just be touched. He shoves the contents of the guilt box down a little harder as he touches Hanzo, his hand covering where he knows the brand is.

"You got so much armor and layers on," he complains, "I wanna touch you too."

Okami places one of Cole's hands  onto his chest armor. "You will keep your hands here or to yourself."

Cole swallows and slides his hand over the space where the Archer's pecs would be, where he's been told to.

"Good." Okami is watching his eyes.

His dick is being palmed through his pants and it feels good. However Cole can feel the start of that headache feeling coming on, and the two sensations are at war with each other in the worst possible way.

Okami presses up into him. A gasp escapes before it turns into a growl, it's hard to say which one of them made the noise.

Cole bounces on the lap as if he's riding dick, wants to be riding, but the movement of them grinding together causes a fresh tendril of hurt to unfurl.

He lets out a small exclamation of his pain without realising it and Okami's hands pause. One is up Cole's shirt and the other is on his thigh.

"What is the matter?" Okami pulls his hands away, looking at Cole with concern. 

Cole feels like he's being closed in. The muscles all throughout his neck and temples feel tight and his head is pounding a little. 

"Hurting, I'm real sorry," he explains while massaging the back of his neck. "We can continue, it won't be an issue."

"What is hurting you?" Okami looks at him in such a commanding way. 

Cole knows he won't take any bullshit lies or reassurance. He folds.

"It's this awful headache that's been coming on when I'm horny, it's not you or anything you did," he explains, trying to ease the tension at the base of his neck.

"Is it possible for me to help?"

Cole must look surprised, he certainly feels it. "I dunno."

Okami gestures for him to turn around, and Cole does so with a lot of wariness to his movements. He's sitting on Okami's lap with the man behind him now, his ass flush with his crotch. 

He could be choked out at any moment.

Leather gloves are laid across his thigh. Cole is kind of fond of how they feel like a feather light touch, stares down at them for a second before gathering his hurt brain back to worrying about being choked.

Okami's hands run across his shoulders slowly, they touch his neck and he tenses involuntarily. 

The grip is warm and light. It's also unmistakably human since Okami has taken off his gloves. Skin to skin for once. He's massaging under the scarf, his thumbs pressing gently.

Cole slows his breathing purposefully, eyes staring ahead, one hand on the knife in his pocket. 

He hasn't been choked yet. He lets himself relax a fraction, and is met with an encouraging noise from Okami.

He feels like a piece of clay being moulded, it makes him feel some kind of breed of fragile and warm. His headache is dissipating some.

He's losing his hard on but to just be touched is comfortable. It appeals to the starved, desperate part of Cole's brain. He wiggles back in his comfortable seat, inspiring a small huff from Okami.

"I'm really sorry about this headache of mine." He doesn't want it to end. 

Even though the sex left him feeling guilty as shit last time, he still craves it, still wants to be touched. He stomps on the guilt box a little harder.

Okami grumbles, "It is no wonder why you are in pain."

He hums appreciatively in response.

It continues for a few minutes. His head feels much more clear once they've nearly reached their destination.

"Better?" Okami asks from behind him, hands on his arms rather than his neck. "I understand if you do not wish to continue."

"I'm a lot better now," he assures. "Thank you so much, sugar."

Cole watches Okami pull his gloves back on in front of him. He then pulls himself off of his lap and out of the car.

Okami pulls a key out and Cole crowds behind him in the alley, hands on his chest, roaming appreciatively. He tilts his mask into the less armored portion of Okami's neck.

He huffs, short and also short tempered but Cole is allowed to bracket him regardless as he begins to unlock the door. 

"I do not bottom," Okami reminds.

"Wasn't expecting you to and don't want you to," he assures, voice low and gravelly as he pulls back. "I just wanted to touch you as well. That’s all-- is this okay?"

He feels the armor under his hand jump slightly with a sharp inhale and for a moment he worries that there is something nearby. He can see the flush high on Okami's cheek when he turns to look. 

It's a sight he accidentally commits to memory, because somehow this is the most human he thinks Hanzo will ever be to him. Even when he was bleeding out he'd been haughty and distant and angrier than a snake. Even when they last fucked he was distant.

The door opens, and Cole is gently grabbed and pushed against the nearby wall inside. The hands leave him and he feels cold and alone. The lights come on, dim blue bulbs that are probably Cole's age. Antique looking.

Okami closes the door, locking it slowly and with an air of nervousness.  It's like he's afraid of spooking Cole. Cole, who hadn't the faintest idea what a sense of self-preservation was, remained firmly un-spooked.

Okami passes by as he goes to move further into the windowless room, he takes a stutter step back and strokes at Cole's chest before pressing him more firmly against the wall. 

Cole reads it as a reassurance that he will not be left hanging for long. He lets himself lean against the wall, content to let Okami do his thing.

Okami releases a scanning Wasp that flirts with different fixtures around the room, using a blue light net to inspect all of them. It buzzes near Cole and makes a low droning beep as it turns red and stays still.

Okami doesn't raise an eyebrow at it but he clacks at something on the computer. The hornet gives a small apologetic duck in its flight path as it makes a bell sound.

He's assuming Hanzo just decided that his electronics were safe. He did have a tracker and a bug on him, but there is no fight, no hands grabbing at him or demanding any explanation.

Cole stays where he was left, watching Okami moving about the room to tuck his own electronics away. The blue light that comes from the scanner Hornet lights up the dimly lit room further, and then it chirps out "safe!".

Okami reaches over, grabs, and then tucks the Hornet into a pouch on his belt.

He faces Cole, walking towards him, just as intimidating and enticing as before. He pulls Cole's hat off and tosses it to the side. The fedora lands expertly, spinning for a half second on the back of a chair before coming to rest.

"Shoes off," Okami commands as he pulls his gloves off once more.

Cole notices now that he had slipped his own sandals off without him noticing, and they are in a neat line squared with one of the floor tiles.

Cole half bends down as he pulls his shoes off. He puts them in a neat-ish set, but it's not nearly as precise as Okami's. He follows suit with the gloves, resting them on top of his spats and his boots.

He's being pushed back now.

Okami's eyes are like wild fire when he meets his gaze. "You may protest at any time."

"I don't reckon I'll need to." Cole places a hand on Okami's shoulder. "But thank you."

He closes his eyes when the ridge on his cape digs slightly into his shoulder, reminding him again why he hates this costume with a burning passion.

"Can I take some more of my gear off?" He asks, already reaching for the cape.

Hanzo nods. Cole can't help the stab of awareness and of guilt at how wrong it is to be doing this again with Genji's brother. 

He tosses his cape to the floor. Then he unclips his holster belt and lets it fall to the floor. He removes the knife from his pocket and wiggles it slightly while maintaining eye contact with Okami.

There is an inhale that says Okami didn't expect the direct challenge. He still tugs his quiver off and places it down gently on a nearby folding table, along with his bow.

Cole starts tugging his scarf off.

Okami looks deeply worried for a moment before laughing when Cole's second mask is revealed. "You have many layers."

"I get cold," Cole flusters out behind the fabric of his inner mask. "And it helps hide my identity, I hate the eye mask part, though."

"You may take it off if you wish to," Okami offers. "I don't care about your identity."

Cole pauses before recovering. Okami wasn't wearing an eye mask.

"I might later if it's still bothering me," he lies.

Okami starts pulling off his own clothing. His chest armor folds away quickly, but it leaves the portion around his neck and face still there. The rest of it seems to be made out of nano tech, nearly dissolving off of his skin. It forms into a cube at his sternum that he grabs once it finishes.

He thunks the palm sized cube down onto the table where his bow is laid down as Cole is shucking off his vest and pulling his tie undone. He tosses them to the floor with the rest. 

Okami has an undershirt on that looks to have been a black long sleeve muscle shirt that he removed one arm from. The remaining sleeve covers his tattoo. A dragon tattoo, Cole knows the pattern, knows it's there.

He looks away from the arm as if it could blind him.

He can't help but chuckle when he notices the frayed edge where the other sleeve was removed. "Don't know how to sew?"

"Do you really wish to mock me?" Okami growls.

"Sorry," Cole mutters, running his finger under the edge of the cut fabric, poor fella didn't know how to make a simple seam. "It's honestly kinda charming."

"Incompetence is not charming," he says, loud and pouty.

"I think I'm proof that that ain't true," he jokes. "I'm plenty incompetent."

Okami laughs, it drips with liquid darkness and gunsmoke. "You are absolutely frustrating."

He reaches out and tugs at Cole's belt, dragging his hips towards him a little. Okami starts to roughly unbuckle him. 

"The good kind of frustrating?" Cole asks coyly and he only gets a woodsmoke chuckle in return.

Somehow it feels like they are naked, but Cole is down to only having a shirt, his pants, and his underwear on. As well as his socks. He doubts that they'll get much more undressed than this though.

Okami's hand slides up his neck and gently tugs at his hair as he presses into Cole.

He is made aware of the fact that Okami is a lot harder than he is, and it makes him catch up pretty quickly.

Cole wishes his hair was longer just so there would be more for Okami to play with. He usually likes his hair longer than it is right now.

Skillful hands are working on his shirt buttons as he grinds against Okami's leg.

"Darling," he breathes out without stopping himself.

Okami peers up at him from where he's paused unbuttoning his shirt.

He tries to come up with a good reason to have stopped, in truth he was just making noise.

"I've got a prosthetic arm," he warns, deciding that's a reasonable enough topic. "The junction where real meets fake is kinda gruesome."

"It does not bother me," Okami states, running a finger tip across the line of Cole's collar bone and then up his neck until just before his mask blocks it. His hand draws away then.

Cole can't help but think that the path he'd just traced would be where Okami would like to kiss if either of them were brave or stupid enough to have more than half of their faces uncovered.

"My lower legs are prosthetic." 

It really shouldn't be as surprising as it is, considering the fact that the armor is still there on his lower legs. Cole wasn't expecting it, though.

Okami reaches down and starts messing with his pant leg, pulling it from where it was tucked in just above the kneecap. He does the same with the other one.

Cole finishes unbuttoning his shirt and pulls it off.

"I will not be removing my shirt," Okami says as he reaches for Cole's belt, theres a spark in his eyes challenging him to question it.

"Perfectly fine." Cole shivers as a calloused hand runs up the plane of his stomach, demanding and warm.

Okami moves a small toolbox to the side and he grabs something that is very clearly labeled as lube. Personal lube, not mechanical.

The garbage can and tissue box nearby the workbench make a lot more sense now. Never expected him to be the type to masturbate where he works.

Okami reaches out and gently squeezes Cole's dick through his pants. "Bed. Now."

Cole only gets a split second of warning before Okami shifts his hold to his bicep and starts pushing.

"Yessir, I'm moving," Cole snipes.

He's walking into a rundown motel. He reaches to check that his mask is on, even though he knows it is. He shaved under it about a week ago, got rid of his horrendous mustache entirely.

The instructions were clear, and the room actually is left unlocked. His employer's liaison, Ward, is sitting there exactly as expected.

Her clothes are rumpled and she looks up, startling at Cole's entrance.

"Howdy."

Ward's eyes are wide, sitting surrounded by glittering gold jewelry and dark purple eye makeup. Her ochre skin is sweaty.

"Uh." The papers nearby are gathered up a little more neatly. "Hello, sorry, give me one moment."

She begins frantically writing words onto the paper nearest to them in a dark blue pen.

Something clunks in the bathroom. Cole has a hand on his gun, his back to the wall. Ward doesn't look surprised.

He considers the possibility of a trap for a second, and then rationalizes that Ward is too important to be sent if it is one, and that a professional wouldn't have made noise beforehand.

Ward stands to his right side and the bathroom to his left nearer to the door.

She offers the notepad out to Cole and it takes a quarter of a second for him to even begin to read her neat handwriting.

"The other mercenary is checking the restroom for bugs, apparently there was one in this room, neither me or Cath knew about this, so accept my deepest apologies."

Cole eyes the flustered underling. "No problems here." 

She nods, but takes the notebook and flips to a pre-written page.

"Another location is being selected by my employer as we speak, and we will re-meet tomorrow. Information will be delivered over more secure channels going forwards. However, we do not think the surveillance is related to our dealings."

The door to the bathroom opens and Okami emerges with a small bit of electronics in his hand.

He nods at Cole, then at Ward.

"My deepest apologies for our... misunderstanding... earlier, Ward," he says, neither a drop of sarcasm or sincerity to be found in the tone. It's bland and performative.

Ward jumps a bit when Okami first speaks, but then nods, rubbing at her throat. 

Cole takes note of it, his eyes sliding to Okami.

"Apology accepted," Ward says, her voice steady and chin up. "I would prefer you don't do it again."

He turns to leave. Cole watches him go.

Ward rubs her face and stares at the door.

Once Okami is out of the room, Cole stops Ward with a gentle touch of the backs of his fingers to her upper arm.

"Did he try to choke you out after he found the first?" 

Ward nods desperately, tears coming to her dark green eyes.

Cole has worked with her a few times before, always thought that she was too professional and proper to work with mercenaries, but she had a pretty good grasp of de-escalation techniques, which usually helped her to avoid conflicts.

She also is pretty good with weapons, and could take on most mid level mercenaries as far as Cole could tell.

Not this time.

Ward let out a sniffle, wiping her eyes on her coat sleeve.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, holding his hand out.

She gave him both of their hands, clasping around his palm as if the contact soothed.

"Would you like a hug or would you like some distance?" He asks. "It sounds like it was scary."

"Hug."

He wraps his arms around her. Her hands are trapped against his chest, something he purposefully set up.

"You were very brave," he soothes. "You're alive and safe right now, you did good."

A wail is let out into the muscle of his pec. He sways a little, moving them both in the gentle motion.

The threat of death had a way of stripping the unprepared down. Ward was so young, barely 23, just a cousin to Cole's employer who wanted to join the family business.

She and Cole's employer had both made it clear to Cole that Ward wasn't forced to interact with the mercenaries. She could choose a different job, but this was the one she was usually good at.

Ward starts peeling away and Cole lets her.

Her eye makeup has hardly streaked but it is certainly visible that she had been crying.

Cole waits for her to gather composure. He offers water to her and watches as she rights herself in the aftermath.

"You good to get to your vehicle?"

She nods and he walks out before she does.

Okami is waiting on the other side of the door. He steps out behind Cole, following.

Cole doesn't turn around to look at him, only keeps walking towards his vehicle, away from where Ward was headed.

"Bold of you to turn your back on me."

"That it is, partner," Cole agrees as the predator starts walking besides him. "Figured you'd like the view though."

A noise of appreciation Okami lets out causes Cole to chuckle a bit before he remembers what he was meaning to say.

"You scared the daylights out of Ward," he says, low and purposeful. "That apology wasn't a very good one."

Okami's steps are so silent that Cole has to turn to check to make sure he is still beside him. His body language looks displeased.

"I will not offer a second one."  

Cole hums. "Didn't expect you would."

"What is that informant to you?" Okami asks cooly.

Cole rubs at his mask, still wanting a cigar but willing to wait until he gets back to his safehouse. 

He thinks he knows what Okami is asking, but he's not sure though. So he asks. "What do you mean by that, partner?"

"Are you interested in them?" Okami is pressed close to Cole's arm. "Romantically, sexually, what have you."

"God, no." Cole shudders. "She's so young."

The hum in response is affirmative, but still contemplative. 

"I have a whole damn day to kill now," Cole complains before stopping short, eyeing the uninhabited motel pool.

He could go swimming at his own hotel, float in the water or enjoy a few minutes in the hot tub.

Okami stops too, and Cole catches him looking at the pool as well. "I may offer my company, if you wish it."

Cole lets out a short huff of air, half to stave off his want of a cigar and half to stave off how guilty it makes him feel to want what Okami is offering.

"I can't rightly get fucked today," he rebuffs, eyes scanning around them before stopping again on those gorgeous, sharp eyes.

He's being glared at, though he can't say he minds. "I am not so lustful as to be unable to enjoy someone's company another way."

Cole nods, his hand coming to rest over his nicotine patch on his bicep. He wonders how long until he has to replace it. "I don't have much to go on,  sorry for jumping to conclusions- last two times we did."

Okami seems to sober then, all the rage slipping off his skin like a discarded coat.

Cole feels one side of his mouth rise in a smile under his mask. "How're we doing this?" 

"Would you like to come to my safehouse?"

Cole follows Okami's car, parks nearby him once they get to the location.

He thinks it might be a trap, but Okami's body language is oddly reassuring as he undoes his locks and enters first.

"Tadaima," Okami says quietly to seemingly no one as he enters. He sets the Wasp to fly after pressing on its back for a second.

Cole pauses for a moment, trying to remember which phrase he should use, as a guest, upon entering. He goes for one of the ones he remembers best.

"O-" he clears his throat. "Ojama shimasu."

Okami stops lining his sandals up and looks at him, and embarrassment flashes in his eyes before cold analysis and amusement.

He straightens up, standing fully. "It was reflex for me to say tadaima."

Cole feels like his ears and face are burning. "Thought I needed to say something, my Japanese is poor at best, sorry."

His brain catches up and he remembers that the literal meaning of the phrase he said is "I'm going to get in your way." Though culturally it sounded less deprecating and more polite.

He slides off his shoes, tucking his spats into them.

Okami hums. "This way, please." 

He guides them to a table outfitted with two chairs. Cole sits hesitantly. 

The Wasp dives towards his face and he nearly smacks it, having been surprised by it.

"Jesus," he exclaims under his breath, while the thing drones a low tone, wings skittering in the air. A red net of light is cast across his lap all the way up to his head.

Okami chuckles as he crosses the room and opens his laptop. "I had forgotten that it does not like you, my apologies."

"It's nothing," Cole says. "Surprised me a bit, I thought it was an actual bug flying at me."

"Afraid of insects?" Okami asks, a curious tilt to his voice as he clacks at his computer pointedly.

"Trying to analyze me for weaknesses?" Cole asks, followed by a nearly soundless chuckle. "I was just spooked by it diving for my face."

The wasp quietly beeps and does a little dip in its flight path.

Cole is reminded of a question he had when he'd first seen the very same thing. "Why does it do that little apology beep?"

Okami turns to him, defense written in the line of his shoulders. "He does it because he is very polite." 

Cole can feel his smile all the way in the back of his throat. "Very." 

There is a moment where Okami just continues to clack away at his keyboard.

"Are you able to drink through your mask?" Okami closes his computer and steps towards the kitchenette looking area that Cole was in. "Or should I not offer any refreshments?"

"I can drink," Cole says. "I'd like to smoke sometime soon, so I may step outside for that."

Okami raises an eyebrow. "Can you smoke through your mask?"

"I can." 

"You may smoke in here then." It was said so finally and so assuredly that Cole knew he'd take the offer.

He could feel his surprised and grateful look tug against his eye mask.

He wanted as much time as possible tucked inside, away from the cold night outside.

"Is ice water adequate?" Okami steps around him. "Or would you prefer something else?"

Cole instinctively follows his movements. "Water sounds good, thank you."

Okami plants two glasses of ice onto the table along with an insulated-looking carafe of water. He then sits down, holding up a pack of cards pointedly before placing them nearby.

Cole pulls one of the glasses slightly towards himself, his left hand goes to pick up the carafe.

Okami picks it up first and moves it towards Cole's drink. Cole remembers then that he is a guest, and that it is etiquette causing the behaviour, and not an attempt to poison him.

"You don't gotta do that, I ain't used to it," Cole reminds, voice soft and warm.

Okami blinks, staring at him. "It has been some time since I've had any interactions that are not strictly business."

Cole still lifts his glass slightly as water is being poured into it by another set of hands. It feels like far too much care. Feels odd to him, to be served like this. 

"Heh." Cole smiles. "I guess 'not strictly business' isn't a bad description for what we've been doing-- let me get your glass."

Okami pauses where he's been pulling the water back to himself. "It is fine, it's not something you are used to, as you said, and we are not even anywhere near Japan."

He reaches out for it anyways. "Let me get your glass?" 

The sensors in his prosthetic don't register the carafe as very cold, which either means the water is room temperature or it is insulated.

It feels a little more natural to be the one pouring, and Okami repeats the gesture of lifting his glass a little.

"Thank you," Okami says once his glass is full. 

Cole thinks to the card deck tucked away in his belt.

"Do you know any card games?"

"I am familiar with how to play a few two player games," he says, standing once more and walking to a duffle bag. "I do not know anything that would suit a child like yourself, so don't ask me to play go-fish."

Cole snorts. "I resent that- you know Texas Hold'em for two players then?

"Yes." Okami crosses his arms, the deck tucked against his bicep. "Are we betting?"

"Would betting cash work or would it just open up the potential of us being spiteful tomorrow when we're actually working?"

He can see a sparkle in the brown eyes across from him. "Are you a sore loser?" 

Okami hands him the deck when he reaches for it.

The pack has been opened a few times, but it is by no means well used.

They slide out, crisp, clean, none are dog eared or even the slightest bit worn. They're sorted by suit and numerically, which makes his checking to see if they are all there easier. They've never been used, most likely.

The backing of the cards is a deep blue, with a Japanese scale design on them. They were probably custom made.

On one of the Jokers, there is bubbly, round Japanese written in Sharpie. He looks away from it quickly, though he can remember the shapes on it.

"I just know that the dominant, prideful, handsome man-" Cole begins, trying to recall how he knows the handwriting- "who is sitting across from me... he won't like it if my charming, poor, dainty little self-"

He recognizes it finally as Genji's handwriting after he recalls enough about the final few characters on it.

"-beats him in poker and steals his money," he finishes, finally looking up from the cards.

/Hanzo/ is watching him from across the table, all lethal and cold. It practically drips-

as dark as obsidian-

off of his shoulders. He looks half ready to strike.

He keenly recalls that Hanzo did have a spat with Ward earlier. Short fuse plus deadly artillery.

Cole could see someone being affected by it, but he's never been blessed with any sort of self-preservation instinct. Besides, it's kinda a bit hot.

He taps the joker that has writing on it. The pair are the only two to not have the traditional suits on them, instead boasting a koi.

"Sorry, I was admiring the cute handwriting, I can't even read it- I didn't mean to intrude." He doesn't bother to lie.

"I am more insulted that you think you may beat me," Hanzo gruffs as he slides the two jokers towards himself and places them face down.

It's a lie and Cole knows it.

"Are you up for making non-monetary bets?" He begins to shuffle, and the cards make a pleasant chittering sound. 

It may just be his imagination but they sound louder and a little higher since he's gotten his prosthetic.

"Favors?" Okami leans in. "How would we determine the blind values?"

"Have you ever bet just for the hell of it like this before? No blinds." Cole is unfairly impacted just by the small movement and the tiny flex of Okami's biceps. 

There is a slow look given to him, like all of the harsh edges of Okami have melted. His eyes are half lidded, one forearm rests on the table. 

The look draws Cole in like it is magnetized.

He swallows. "Doesn't necessarily have to be sexual but I would be up for it if you are."

"What limitations are there?" Okami sounds worried as he says it.

"Well, I would say that the bets can't actually be binding," Cole swallows the ending of the last word.

There is a foot crawling its way up the inside of his legs. 

"If someone wants to back out while the bet is placed or after they definitely can, no ifs, or buts," he says his terms.

Okami looks relieved as he nods. 

Cole stares down at his hands as he realizes he was about to do a trick shuffle to show off. The cards still look nice, and aren't damaged much at all, but they were a little stiffer than he'd expected at first. Brand new cards, it seemed his early analysis was right. 

"I'm sorry, I've just been sitting over here manhandling your nice deck," he apologizes, though he knows for a fact he hasn't fucked the cards too much. "Did you want to shuffle? I should have asked."

Okami shakes his head. "I'm afraid I have only played at casinos, and do not know how to shuffle as well as you."

He tries to channel all of his charm as he bumps his foot against Okami's leg. "You've never played outside of a pristine casino, have rarely shuffled yourself, and you've never bet for anything fun?"

Okami's mouth moves pointedly under his mask or he says a word so quietly that Cole can't hear.

"You've never done dirty?" Cole asks, but it's not at all close to a question. 

"I have done /you/," Okami says, in a joking tone. "You're dirty enough between the two of us."

Cole doesn't stop the laugh that slips out of him.

"I'll deal," he announces. "I want to teach you how to shuffle some time today, if you're willing to learn."

Okami nods.

"Cut the deck for me, darling," he requests.

Okami takes a portion out of the middle, places it on top of the deck, and then cuts the deck normally. Scarne's cut beforehand- how /incredibly/ kind of him to accuse Cole of being a cheating dealer.

Cole deals them both two cards. Okami takes his. 

Cole checks his own cards. A ten and a queen, both hearts. Nothing to write home about in his opinion, but it was still pre-flop. Unlikely he could make a Straight Flush, but not impossible. The flop should determine if he folds. He moreso wants to scope out how Okami plays this round.

Cole catches the tail end of Okami looking at his own cards before he intertwines his fingers above them passively and stares at Cole.

Lucky for Cole that the bridge of the nose and the eyes are uncovered on Okami's face. There was something tiny that looked a bit like smiling showing in the outer corners of Okami's brown eyes.

Okami's cards aren't bad at all, most likely.

Cole's prosthetic has come to lay face down on his cards. Standard position, he is careful not to move it.

"When I win the hand, I'd like it if you used your mean mouth on me," Cole says.

He's already slipped into his poker face, so his jovial, undisturbed air is only disturbed when the only response he gets is-

"You are going to have to be more specific."

Okami has a perfectly neutral face and relaxed posture. The mask confiscates most mouth micro-expressions, and that is where around a third of any expression comes from.

Jovial and unaffected is not what Cole should use for his response, so he has to adjust. He breaks his poker face with difficulty after reminding himself of who the fuck he's sitting across. How he is a trained assassin and knows how to read people.

He feels like he's back to when he was first learning poker. Too open and honest while playing against a stonewall of a nearly expression-less partner.

He has a suspicion that losing in this would be just the same as winning anyways, so he doesn't feel too bad about showing more than he needs to.

"/When/ I win this hand, I'd like you to suck my dick," Cole repeats, emphasis on the 'when' part. His sock clad foot is pressed against a strong, cold calf under the table. "If that's alright with you.

Okami seems to break his poker face then too- or at the very least, he can't help how his eyes dilate and widen in interest.

He nods, Cole thinks it's intended to mean that he'll meet.

"I see you and I will raise," Okami counters, and his voice keeps the unaffected air for only a short while after. "When I win, I want you to suck my dick- and allow me to gag you on my cock."

"I'll meet your raise," Cole mutters, wondering for the first time why he is doing this. "When I win and you suck my dick- you'll let me come without doing any of that edging nonsense."

"Not into that?" Okami asks conversationally, fingers still folded over his cards neatly.

Cole burns a card off of the top of the deck before laying out the three cards for the flop. A small accusation of its own, accusing Okami of counting cards.

"Don't ever particularly like someone hurting their jaw on my account- hands are okay for long work like that."

He really hopes it doesn't come off as bragging about his dick size. He's just been in the reverse position and is sympathetic. He hates how he can sometimes get his jaw to click when he chews because of it.

He flips the cards of the flop fluidly, like someone who has been a casino dealer for years.

Within a split second of looking at Okami's face as he revealed the first card of the flop-

he knows that-

he /should/ probably fold. Hasn't even looked at the cards yet.

His eyes dart down to confirm what he suspects. A Jack. Okami has got something that works with a Jack of Hearts. 

Jack of hearts, eight of spades, queen of diamonds.

Cole only got one pair of Queens set up postflop, and he doubts he can get anything better in the turn and river cards. 

He isn't trying to trick Okami too much, but his poker face does slip back into place, a smug smile forming to confuse things.

Okami has had something really good since even before the flop. A pair of something, if he's right.

He kind of wants the bets to continue.

And then-

A blaring nuclear alarm sound comes on. It's too quiet, however.

Cole doesn't startle, but he does go deathly still, his eyes scanning the room before locking on the device.

Time is odd. Hanzo's hand snatches the phone and he flips it over to read the screen. He is the definition of icy and irritated as he stands. 

"I unfortunately must take this call, my apologies- I fold."

"I'll just go take a smoke break, leave ya to it," Cole assures, his voice a facsimile of its normal warmth.

Okami's cards hit the muck, and Cole doesn't feel like he's won at all.

He stands and dons his hat. He pulls a container of cigarettes out from a pouch on his belt.

A small sliver of him feels like dashing out the door and just running, because it was the characters of Genji's name he saw on the screen.

He toes his shoes on, tucking his spats into his pocket instead of putting them on.

He steps out of the door, just to give some privacy to the private call.

He had a half chub before terror and the increased distance from Okami wiped it away.

He pulls his mask down to smoke, checking both ways of the concrete hallway frequently. The feeling of nicotine settles over him and he feels a lot better.

After his cigarette is nearly finished, Okami's door to his left clicks with a telltale sign that it's going to open.

He debates putting his mask back on, but ultimately decides against it. He snuffs his cigarette and slides it back into his packet and then back into his pouch.

Okami isn't looking at him, is just holding the door open and waiting while checking his phone.

Cole slides back into the room, catches Okami's gaze on the exposed stubble of his jaw, and gives a smile. Nothing is going wrong from the reveal, however.

Doesn't mean that nothing /won't/ go wrong.

Okami moves further into the room. Cole pulls his shoes off again, places the spats back on top of them.

A snap gains his attention.

Okami repeats the gesture, and Cole notices that his gloves are off. He points at Cole and then at the bed.

He's aware he's being bossed around. Quite arrogantly, might he add. And it rushes to him, his face is hot and he feels indignant-

and very quietly- 

-aroused.

He sits on the bed and waits. 

Okami finishes with whatever he was doing on his phone, tosses it into his bag. "There will be no more disturbances."

Cole hums in response, watches long fingers hook around the mechanics of the mask near Okami's ears.

The piece comes off all at once, and Cole is blessed with the sight of a dark, well-trimmed goatee that was slightly mussed by having worn the mask.

Okami runs his hand down his face, doing a fairly good job of taming the hair again.

"I lost the hand," Okami says once they lock eyes again. "What was it that you requested?"

It's not actually a question, so Cole doesn't answer.

Okami moves closer, bullying his way between Cole's legs. He towers above him like this, with Cole sitting and his standing.

"Oh, yes." A small smile forms, Okami's eyes sharp in comparison. "You wanted me to use my 'mean mouth' on you."

Cole can feel something fluttering its wings against the inside of his ribcage. "Yessir, that I did."

A hand cups his jaw gently before the movement of it turns into a calloused pad of a warm thumb over his lips. He opens his mouth for it at the slightest pressure, allowing the warm intrusion.

He closes his mouth around the thumb and flicks his eyes up to meet Okami's gaze. He's aware of his willingness to yield, but it doesn't matter to him as he smooths his tongue across the digit in his mouth.

Okami stares, eyes clouded. In a bad way, like he's not home inside his own head. It's not just the fog of arousal- he doesn't look like he's enjoying himself at all.

A crack in a mask. Cole should have recognized how 'off' he was sooner. That particular strain of arrogance that had definitely been put on just before Cole entered the room.

He hums and pulls back, the thumb slipping from his lips with a wet sucking sound. "You alright there, boss?"

Okami blinks at him, his hand retreating as if burnt. "I am fine."

"Ain't fooling me." Cole reaches out to place a steading hand on Okami's hip to keep him in place. "It's more than okay if you don't want to do this right now."

Okami huffs. "I received upsetting news during that call."

"Do you want me to leave?"

When the morning comes, Cole bolts awake to his alarm. He sits up all at once, a little dizzy by the snap into alertness.

Only for a moment- then he pulls himself the rest of the way out of bed. His feet touch the floor and it's all work from there.

He fishes a heavy, palm-sized foil packet of coffee grounds out of his duffle bag. He sets the little coffee pot the hotel gave him to run after dumping his own grounds in.

He could never trust hotels to provide good coffee, always tastes like boiled dirt.

His gear slides over skin.

The peashooter that he's been using slips into its holster, and it's a comfortable weight at his side. Not nearly as heavy as Peacekeeper, but it is pleasant to be armed.

His burner phone displays one message from a number he doesn't recognize. 

As soon as our job is over, I would like to talk with you about another opportunity- Okami

"You look like a fool like that."

Cole is reclining on his back and has his head hanging just slightly off the bed, lounging in his fancy button up shirt and dress pants that he plans to take off soon now that he no longer needs them. 

Okami does not seem to actually care too much about Cole's state and instead is complaining for the sake of complaining.

"Would ya believe I'm comfortable like this?" Cole asks.

Okami tugs off his tie. "I would believe that a fool could find comfort anywhere."

"This is a character assassination," Cole responds simply, shaking his head side to side. 

His hair moves weightlessly as he does. It's grown out to be around three fourths of the length that he usually likes. Soon his beard will start growing back beyond just being scratchy. 

"You are a man with no name as far as I know, you have no character to destroy or slander-" Okami tugs at his shirt cuffs- "and you are using the word assassination wrong."

"The perks of being a masked vigilante, huh, not having a character to assassinate," Cole mutters.

He's half considering rolling over onto his stomach, but instead he continues watching Okami dress. He's upside down and beginning to get a little blood-dizzy.

"What do you know about assassination anyhow?" he asks.

"I only have executed it myself once or twice."

Cole hums in response, eyes trailing over straight lines of muscle. He has a wicked idea, and he lets it show on his face. Shifts a leg up, rests a hand on his lower abdomen.

"You wanna know what this position makes me think of, darling?" Cole muses. He tilts his voice lower, lets it come out more coarse and syrupy. He can't really hide all of the amusement in his tone, because Okami is certainly going to fall for this.

Okami's gaze on his mouth is, quite frankly, salacious. "What are you thinking of?"

Cole would never deny how much that smoky voice affected him. He was lucky that the blood in his body was gathering in his brain just a little, otherwise he'd get hard and his brain would stop working and ruin the joke he just lined up.

Okami slinks closer, just by a foot or so.

"College keg stands."

He can't help the snicker that forms as Okami looks a little disheartened.

He's fully choking on his own laughter when Okami finally begins to look closer to being insulted. He sits up, coughing.

"You are an incorrigible tease," Okami growls. 

The bed dips behind Cole.

Cole is still coughing, and he thumps his chest twice. He nods, and can't feel sorry for the trick, because Okami had fallen for it so beautifully.

Okami shuffles across the bed on his knees, not particularly graceful, one hand settling on Cole's forearm. He waits for a few moments until Cole stops coughing and catches his breath.

The sharp grip on Cole's chin wasn't fully anticipated, but he doesn't mind it. He expects the kiss, leans into it.

The next kiss is more electric. He is guided down onto the bed, his hands coming up to clasp together behind Okami's neck, the kisses deepening naturally with each one.

Okami licks Cole's bottom lip.

Cole opens his mouth a little wider, figuring that he knows what Okami wants to get at, since he's so fond of french kisses.

The tip of Okami's tongue slides under his own, a small swipe and then a retreat.

Cole goes to follow, tapping Okami's tongue twice, humming into the kiss.

His face is pushed away gently the same moment that Okami's other hand rises, two fingers pressing gently against Cole's bottom lip.

He gives them a tentative lick, eyes meeting Okami's own. Cole coaxes the digits further into his mouth by bobbing his head a little.

Okami seems content to let him suck on his fingers, and does not push or move them.

Cole's lips tingle slightly already.

"What a beautiful sight," Okami praises. "You love sucking on things like this, don't you?"

Cole hums an agreement that turns jagged when Okami reaches down and kneads at Cole's cock through his black dress pants.

"If you were not joking," Okami begins, voice rough and breath hot over the shell of Cole's ear. "I believe that you would have loved to suck my cock."

Okami is toying with Cole's belt buckle. Cole sucks the fingers with enthusiasm, moaning happily around them.

His hips buck up slightly when he's unzipped, and he swallows reflexively.

Okami's warm, calloused hand pulls Cole's dick out and tucks the band of his briefs behind his balls.

He can feel his dick pulse when Okami grabs hold of it. He takes a moment to breathe, ceasing to suck and lick the fingers in his mouth before he steadies himself and starts lavishing attention to the intrusion in his mouth again.

The hand around his dick squeezes once before Okami lets go. He spits into his palm and takes Cole in hand again.

Cole groans quietly when he feels a bead of precome being swiped from his slit. The fingers slipped from his mouth where he had been lazily sucking on them.

The movement of the hand on his dick is driving Cole crazy. There's a small twist and he sucks a breath in through his teeth.

"Hnng-- darling, sugar."

Okami leans in and bites at his ear before whispering, "It is unfortunate that you had to tease."

There is the barest release of pressure but it makes Cole jolt.

"I'm sorry," he says, devolving into blubbering when Okami leans back. "Please, I want you, I'm sorry."

If Okami stops touching him he's pretty sure he might cry with frustration.

 "I will only tease you a little," Okami promises. "Do you think you can be good for me?"

"Yes," it comes out as a hiss.

[Hanzo gifts Cole the wasp in this chapter]

"Can't do this."

Hanzo looks confused, steps back from him.

Cole is hating himself and the way he can feel the blush on his own cheeks.

"Please don't kill me for saying this," he requests.

Murderous and curious is the only way he can describe Hanzo's gaze. Better to rip the band-aid off. 

"I know what you did to Genji."

Hanzo has a knife in hand before Cole can blink.

Time slows. The blade gleams as Hanzo turns it slightly. Cole makes no moves. Not even to breathe.

"Did you intend to kill me?"

"Years ago, maybe," Cole replies, eyeing the knife.

Hanzo stares at him impassively, like a god of death staring down at a body.

"I knew your brother, worked with him," Cole explains.

"You knew?" Hanzo steps back. "You knew this whole time?"

"Please, please don't think that he had anything to do with... he doesn't know about anything we've done," Cole says.

Hanzo looks like Cole had just told him his dog died. Something cold and blue comes to his eyes and he looks furious.

"Cole Cassidy," Hanzo states coldly, as if there is vapor coming off of his frozen form.

Cole closes his eyes for a spilt second. "I'm sorry."

Hanzo gathers his things and walks out. Simple, no shouting, mechanical. Dangerous. A man who can turn off all emotion is dangerous.

Cole would know, with how he's already tucking his emotions away to deal with later.

The door doesn't slam, doesn't close. Cole follows. 

"You can hate me all you want, but if you hurt anyone for my mistakes I'll find you," Cole announces. 

Hanzo looks at him, venomous and surprised, but controlled. Controlled and sharp.

"Very well," Hanzo says, his voice rough. "I should not have fallen in love, my apologies."

Cole recoils. "Love?" He blinks.

"Do not attempt to tell me you didn't know."

Cole squints in confusion, trying to figure out when the fuck Hanzo Goddamn Shimada had fallen in love.

A barking laugh that isn't his floats around Cole's ears, too loud, and then it creaks into a sob before cutting off abruptly.

Cole is just left reeling. His brain is still rebooting, he can't sort out that information into a box fast enough. Doesn't know which to sort it in and the two existing ones regarding Hanzo and Okami shouldn't be tainted by it. He'd get stupid ideas then.

Hanzo is in the rental car and Cole is falling apart over what could very well be a lie.

His last contract found his pockets padded with a reasonable bit of money, but then he had been an idiot and lost his best employer.

The money transfer was clean, to the point where even Cole couldn't tell where exactly it came from. He still  transferred it around, confusing the trail a bit more.

His gas station meal sat ignored in his hotel mini fridge.

He stared at his burner phone, at the messages on it.

He'd used the word "darling" three separate times during their short work together. Real professional of him.

He's finally back to his little shack, his little slice of heaven, his home.

He shucks his duffle bag off onto a chair. His bones are heavy with relief, and quite frankly, he's about two seconds away from collapsing face first onto his couch without securing the premises.

His boots are heavy as he stomps, tracking some dirt into the house. He's gotta sweep. Sweeping for safety right now is important, he can do the other kind of sweeping later.

The wasp, Hanzo's wasp, sits in his pocket. He didn't worry about it being bugged until now. It would be ironic. 

The part of him that isn't anxious about security thinks it is funny, how he's managed to make it this far and hasn't worried about the wasp once.

He walks into the living room. He checks the vents, peering into them.

He moves from room to room, checking for any signs of disturbances or critters. He checks for bugs too, listening or otherwise. His strands of string are undisturbed, his alarms un-tripped.

He'll have to buy groceries, but he has some MREs undoubtedly tucked away somewhere in his duffle.

He peers out his bedroom window, checking his driveway for any vehicles pulling in.

No one.

He feels safe enough to go and turn his water back on. As he's coming back from his control panel he grabs his duffle bag.

He tosses it just within the doorway of his bedroom, not blocking the path, but close to the door.

The linen closet has already been thrown open in his search. He pulls a bag out and the vacuum seal makes a strange pop as he tries to get at his towels.

They still smell like laundry detergent, despite not having been washed in nearly a year.

He hops into the shower after making sure that there are no insects lurking in there. The walls could use a good scrub and a re-caulking.

The water is hot, and luxurious, and it feels like coming home all over again.

He scrubs his skin, washes his hair with an intense focus.

His gun sits on the dusty bathroom countertop, he reminds himself, fighting the moment of worry that consumes him when he closes his eyes to wash the lather out of his hair.

He palms himself absentmindedly but  it's just a quick touch before he remembers that he's supposed to be conserving water. Drought season... and all that.

He steps out, runs the towel over his hair for a quick second to make it stop dripping all over, then he wraps it around his waist, tucking it so that he doesn't have to hold it.

His gun slides into his water plumped palm easily. The cool, smooth grip of contrasting his warm skin.

He plods into his bedroom, telling himself he'll pick his clothing up soon.

He places peacekeeper on his bedside table and fishes his lube out from the drawer.

He lays across his bed, the comforter sticking to his skin as he lays perpendicular to how he's supposed to. The lube is next to his hip, capped and there for when he'll need it.

The towel comes off easily, his hand wraps around himself even easier. He pulls one leg up, because somehow it's more comfortable.

When he closes his eyes, he can imagine the low, rough intonations of Okami praising him. 

And then immediately comes the cold, hurt look, chasing the fuzzy warmth away. The anger burns. The confession pulls Cole under an ice cold lake.

Cole swallows, opens his eyes. He can't help the breathy, broken chuckle that bubbles up.

"G-man, heavenly father," he croaks. "God, I'm sorry for all my bullshit."

He feels for all the world like he's just been chewed up and spat back out.

His throat feels tight and sour. He rolls to sit up, covering himself with his towel again, feeling ten times more exhausted than he should.

"I can't even masturbate," he chuckles to himself. "Guess I done fucked up too bad this time."

In three minutes he is standing fully clothed in a soft green flannel and a pair of blue jeans in his kitchen. Peacekeeper is heavy against his thigh.

He is pacing around, knows he should be going through his cabinets and taking inventory and making a grocery list.

He knows that being home and being in his own comfy style should be comforting.

He feels like there should be someone else in the room. He hadn't actually expected to be hung up like this. An alien little part of his mind wonders if Hanzo saying that he loved him had caused it.

His mouth twitches unpleasantly, his teeth clench and he can feel his ears popping with the tension of it. 

The thought that it'd all just been a thought planted to make Cole weaker, to hurt him as revenge, has him rightly pissed.

He considers drinking for a bit so that he doesn't have to think about it and can instead be productive like he's supposed to. Then, distractedly, he wonders if thinking through it will actually help.

He opens his cabinet and pulls his clipboard down to begin his inventory. He'll do a grocery list later if he has the energy.

Hanzo didn't seem like he was trying to get revenge by saying it. Either way, he should have worded it differently if he meant it to hurt.

Maybe the statement was meant to guilt him, he considers the possibility of it being false, his mouth pinching down at the edges. 

He tugs a bag out of his lower cabinet, opening it.

What would the motivation be? Hanzo was leaving when he had said it. Was he trying to bait Cole into following? 

The pen cap finds itself between his teeth where he can chew on it, and he scribbles to make his shitty pen write better again.

Cole hadn't followed. So if that was the case, his plan had failed.

What would the motivation even be to state something to make Cole follow, though? Hanzo could have killed him then and there if he wanted, but he left. Left willingly at that.

If he wanted to manipulate Cole- for whatever reason, he should have left something of his and then tried to ask for it back. Should have withheld the money transfer, or messaged him instead of providing radio silence.

Things we're adding up, but they weren't making sense.

It just seemed like a statement once he analyzed it to the best of his ability. He could only think it was meant truthfully and would provide only what was at face value.

He'd apologized for it.

Cole's pen pauses on the paper as he is scribbling down his check of the beans he's got in front of him.

Hanzo had apologized to him for falling in love, and that was the saddest, most heartbreaking thing Cole could think of.

He takes a deep, rattling breath, finally holds down the wave of sorrow after a few steadying moments.

Hanzo's life is far more of a tragedy than Cole had accounted for-

He thinks he's killed his brother, believes it for the better part of a decade, has found out he hasn't, has developed a fuck-buddies relationship with a fella, has fallen in love with the fella, has found out that the fella used to work with his not-dead brother. 

Apologizes for basic human emotions. Exits stage left, pursued by tears.

Cole can't say he relates, but he can understand. He needs to stop feeling sympathetic for Hanzo. Needs to stop analyzing their interaction.

Yet he hopes that Hanzo is okay. It is visceral how much he doesn't want to find out that he got injured... or worse. He knows Genji would be devastated.

He opens up his messaging app, sends off a message to Genji asking if he's talked to Hanzo in a while.

Cole's phone buzzes shortly after but he's halfway through writing down that his dried food supply is looking good.

He finishes his sentence, puts away the box he'd just checked, puts away his clipboard, then stares at his phone like it might bite him.

He opens his messaging app finally.

Genji: Not even a week ago he asked me if I knew you and if I had talked to you recently. He wouldn't explain why he asked. What's going on? 

Cole: Have you talked to him within the past 48 hours?

He feels like he has heartburn, but also like he's got a twenty five pounds weight on his sternum.

Genji: Why? please don't be cryptic too. that is the least valid thing.

He let the conversation die there. A week was a good timeframe, and Genji would most likely check up on his brother after getting a message like that.

He breathed a little easier. Hanzo would likely be okay.

If he could sort this damn feeling in his chest out it'd be nice. He had managed to figure out how to differentiate Okami and Hanzo. 

Now that the jig is up they should fully become the same person in his mind. It doesn't matter anymore and he fucked it up when he told Hanzo he knew.

He should let those categories fully lapse into each other.

Hanzo and Okami were the same person. Angry, prideful, sleek, dangerous. Genji's brother. Sad, commanding, sometimes sweet. Short tempered. Sharp angles, deadly with a bow. Hilariously witty-

-Cole misses him. 

It snaps him fully into the present as he is tugging an MRE out of his pack.

Oh.

/Oh,/ oh no, fucking hell.

That's why Cole has been thinking about him so much. He's caught some kind of feelings too.

He huffs and wishes that the scraped out mess of his insides would go away as he busies his hands with warming up water.

After sitting on the counter for a minute and a half, he's now pouring warm water into his packet and fishing out a spoon. His mind is absolutely calm, blessedly. His heart aches.

Lonely is a feeling that is above his ability to contain. Horrified isn't, hurt isn't, sad isn't, but loneliness is too big. He can't strap down the concept of absence.

He spoons food into his mouth without tasting it.

He decides that he's getting nowhere with his ruminating, he can do more of it later, but for right now he needs to be distracted.

He finishes eating, slides off his counter while tossing his spoon in the sink. 

Masturbating is off the table, so off to work it is.

[Expand work, ]

When his eyes begin to get scratchy halfway through reading someone's analysis of tech, he pauses.

He knows it's important to eventually stop suppressing, but it's easy to get negligent and forget to do that part.

He's spiraling- he just didn't want to admit it had gotten that bad.

He uncaps his bottle of whiskey, steps away from his computer. He pours himself a glass that is no less than two generous fingers.

And he feels. 

He coaxes the first few tears out while battling the tightness in his throat. He covers his face before he slips down onto his couch.

The whiskey burns his raw throat. Feels like righteous fury stripping away the insides of him.

If there was anything inside of him in the first place.

His house is an empty vacuum, and he sits at the center and weeps, silent to everyone but himself. 

He sniffs, wiping at his eyes.

He drinks a little more. Figures that this has been a long time coming.

He's made it a little ways through the bottle, and has gone from hopeless to somewhat okay back to deeply sad.

He sinks into the cushions of his couch, throws his arm over his eyes, and sleeps, numbed a bit by his drinking. 

He wakes with a splitting headache, and his first thought is "Oh God I have to piss".

He's not so hungover that he's out for the count, but he does consider swearing off alcohol and becoming a monk.

Maybe Genji would help him become a monk.

He groans as he sits up. His hand comes to the table and he hears something metal clack against the wood. He grunts in confusion, because it was his right hand that he'd put down and that one wasn't suppose to make that noise.

He lifts his palm and the quarter sits there on the wood, as innocent as it can be, face up, staring at him.

He doesn't remember putting it there, but the open bottle of whiskey nearby says that he probably didn't stop drinking.

He goes to the bathroom, pisses, washes his hands.

He grabs his toothbrush and brushes his teeth, the mint cuts through his awful dry mouth.

He takes a Tylenol, and resolves himself to a plan to drink at least two big cups of water before he even thinks about coffee.

He's jetlagged, upset, and hungover, so he knows it's gonna make him miserable for a while, but that doesn't stop him from wanting even more to crawl in a dark hole for a week so that he doesn't have to feel miserable. So that he doesn't have to feel anything.

He steps out into his living room, absolutely uncertain to the time. He thinks he should invest in a wall clock. He opens his laptop, and checks his messages on his burner.

Hanzo is tired.

He's been tricked. Lied to.

He slowly lowers the cup of warm sake away from himself, pushes it half heartedly across the lacquered top of the table.

He focuses on simply pushing it as far as he could with only his pinky finger. A display of diligence and control.

He wasn't drunk- he was not even the slightest bit close. This is his second? fourth? Fifth glass. Somewhere around there.

Yuuto acknowledges him only with warmth and silence as he enters, taking a place next to his brother at the kotastu.

The cupped hand around Ren's ear does nothing to prevent Hanzo from listening to the concerned question.

"No, Hanzo has not stopped moping yet," he replies viciously before Ren can answer.

To both of their credit they don't respond to his outburst with fear. 

Yuuto peers into Hanzo's cooling sake glass, the decanter poised to be able to pour. Upon finding the glass full, and Hanzo's hand snapping out to cover it, he goes to pour himself some instead.

Yuuto shrugs with one shoulder in his direction. "It is not every day that you see someone so strong and so worn down." 

Hanzo lets himself slouch downwards, his forehead kissing against his folded arm.

"A broken heart-" 

Hanzo startles back up and watches Ren lift his sake glass to his lips. A sip; before the scratchy voice resumes.

"-is what he likely suffers from." 

Hanzo scowls. "Is that so?"

"Why else would you be so sad and drinking with us?" Yuuto smirks.

Ren adjusts the cannula in his nose slightly. "You always were a traditionalist, and now you mope, like a traditionalist."

Hanzo nods in confusion, throat constricting around a poisonous phrase until it dies and he can say something else. Ren is strange.

He realizes that no one has spoken in a few moments. He clears his throat. "It is... difficult to talk about."

"But you are not unable?" Yuuto asks, fully aware of how dangerous Hanzo's work is and how certain things were kept secret from them for a reason. "You are not unwilling?"

Hanzo pulls his lukewarm sake closer to himself. Drinking is easier than talking, and lucky for him his friends drank plenty.

"I perhaps should not tell you," he mutters into the now empty glass.

Yuuto refills the glass. "Perhaps you should." 

The comfort in the room did nothing significant to soothe him, it only further reminded him of how lonely he was.

Hanzo sighed. "I fell in love with a man."

Yuuto shifted to slide under the kotastu as well. "Was he in your line of work?"

"In a similar one." Hanzo reached to grab an orange out of the center. "It wasn't an issue."

Yuuto watched him with curiosity before grabbing two oranges himself.

"The issue was that he revealed to me something that made it difficult to stay with him any longer," Hanzo explained, looking down at his hands

He had fully unwrapped his orange before he continued.

"We had been working together well until that point, and he just stopped, turned to me, and told me that it was not going to work because-"

He pulled off a segment, clasping his hand around it loosely. "He knows of what I did to my brother, he was friends with him."

Yuuto makes a noise, sucking in air through clenched teeth, like finding a scraped knee. "What are the odds; ouch."

"I cannot return, as I made a fool of myself when leaving," Hanzo grumbles, finally plopping the orange piece into his mouth. "I cannot believe that I wanted to have this, to have something that was not tainted by my past, to move on."

"It was foolish." Hanzo goes to slouch again. He is too tired to drink more, he is warm and safe and sad. He just wants to fall asleep under the kotatsu.

"Hanzo." Ren clears his throat. "Consider my cup for a moment."

His eyes land upon the jade green cup, cut through with many veins of gold. The break was his fault. Then he looks into Ren's eyes, uncertain-

"You have apologized for it already," Ren says. "That is not what this is about."

Hanzo raises his eyebrows slightly, prompting him to continue.

"You," he taps the side of his cup - "are like this."

Hanzo blinks. He's never been compared to a cup before.

"You carry the story of your transgression in the gray hairs at your temples, in the tired look you had when we first became friends, and in this self indulgent sadness there is no strength."

Hanzo sighs, his face flushing. "I do not need a metaphor or a reminder of my inadequacy, I will do better."

"You have some golden mending already, Hanzo." Ren holds Hanzo's gaze pointedly, his one cloudy eye unfocused and looking past Hanzo the other eye holds a smile.

"Fractured previously, and although you are mending, still it is evident." Ren taps his slender fingers against the table. "But you are functional, yes?"

Hanzo nods. He /was/ functional, at the very least.

Ren raises his bushy eyebrows. "And overall you are a very nice cup that continues to be a cup and is not secretly a dagger, yes?"

A dagger was far closer to what he was, perhaps. He was too warm to really try to understand Ren. He used such convoluted metaphors. Ren liked weird poetry and weird art, and Hanzo blamed this fact for why Ren spoke so strangely.

"Would you prefer that all who look at the glass pretend not to know of the gold?" Ren asks as he reaches again for his sake.

"Maybe?" Hanzo says. "I do not know."

"Would you prefer him to pretend that it had never happened-" Ren takes a rasping breath- "or for him to pretend that you are still of the same mindset after eight years, sharp and vicious?"

The whistle of his teeth on his "s" sounds muddled the impact of the message a bit. 

Hanzo sits up and drinks more sake. His glass is immediately refilled by Yuuto, who is distracted.

"It would be better if he had been angrier at me," Hanzo says, his mouth feeling numb and small.

"Would it have solved anything?"

"No." Hanzo slides the rest of the way down, pressing his chin against his forearm childishly.

"Then it is not so bad that he knows of your past." Ren held his hand out for Yuuto to hand him an orange. "It is not so bad at all."

The windup was comical, the throw choRengraphed. Hanzo hadn't actually expected frail Ren to be able to summon the strength needed to throw so hard.

The fruit gave a dull thump as it struck against the floor. Hanzo rubbed his forehead. His reflexes suffered from the drinking, from the sake and the whiskey he had drank before coming here.

"Do not be so mopey." 

Ren's rough, wheezing chuckle made the corners of Hanzo's mouth tick up as he reached back and collected the thrown orange from the floor.

Hanzo ate his own orange segments in relative silence, perking up only when Yuuto brought out his kalimba and began to play some music.

High and sweet and slow, lulling Hanzo as knobby fingers plucked short strips of metal on top of a box.  A sick feeling settled in his stomach. The music reminded him of a home he had not found yet.

He breathed out through his nose heavily. "Perhaps I am being unreasonable."

"Perhaps." Yuuto smirked as he continued to pluck a wistful, dreamy stream of notes on his instrument. His bandaged thumbs meeting in the center of his kalimba to pause before starting another piece.

"Yuuto," Ren rasped, interrupting the song. "I think that my air filter has to be changed soon, we'll have to order a new one."

"I'll go check, Brother," Yuuto said. Groaning deeply as he rose, he dropped one wrinkled hand to massage his knee temporarily.

Yuuto left, waddling into the other room, the one that housed Ren's air purifier and oxygen concentrator.

Ren fiddled with his cannula. "He'll probably want to replace this in a moment, it always makes him so fussy when I mention it."

"He is simply trying to be a good brother," Hanzo said idly, sipping his warm sake. The taste was dry and bright. The oranges complimented well.

"Yes, sixty five years old and taking care of his sickly older brother." Ren frowned, placing his forearms on the table. "He deserves better than to play nurse."

Hanzo grunted. "Have you asked him what he thinks?"

Ren looked to the other room. "I have, once or twice, I do not believe he is happy like this but he will not say it."

"Perhaps not."