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Genji sprung awake, sitting up like a flash. He grabbed his sword, which had been leaning against the nightstand. His heart raced and his visor sputtered on. The shape that had been climbing through his window squacked in surprise at the sudden movement and tumbled to the ground.
The shadowy figure moaned.
“Hanzo!?” asked Genji. He reached to his back and unclipped the charging cord. The sword was returned to its place as he moved to his brother’s side. “Why are you—are you alright?”
Hanzo managed to sit up with Genji’s help. He was wobbly and uncoordinated, and his breath smelled of alcohol.
“I am sorry,” said Hanzo. He was still dressed in day clothes. “I did not mean to wake you.”
“You must be losing your edge,” said Genji, squatting beside him. Hanzo chuckled dryly, pushing playfully into the hand on his shoulder. “How much did you drink, brother?”
Genji brushed back Hanzo’s sweaty hair from his forehead. Hanzo hissed in discomfort at the cool metal.
“Enough that it was tricky climbing down to your room,” said Hanzo. He tried to stand, but instead fell forward and ended up on his hands and knees.
A lot, then. More than usual. “Why are you here,” said Genji.
“I do not want to be alone right now,” said Hanzo. He sat back on his heels and arched his neck. “I thought I would come sleep on your couch. I am sorry to have woken you.”
Genji sighed, leaving his brother to go find extra blankets.
“Have you had any water?” he asked. Hanzo grunted noncommittally behind him. Genji looked back to scowl, but he supposed the look would go unappreciated.
He dug through the closet to find his second pair of sheets and blankets. They were made for a full size bed, but he could make them work on a couch for the night.
“There’s a bottle on the nightstand. Get yourself water,” said Genji, lifting the couch cushions to tuck the sheet under. It probably wouldn't be very comfy, but it was better than sleeping on cold leather. He heard shuffling behind him as his brother stumbled to his feet.
Hanzo flipped the light on in the bathroom. Genji squinted momentarily as his visor adjusted to the change. Hanzo was standing still behind him, a hand blocking his squinted eyes.
“Nevermind, I’ll get it for you,” said Genji. As he steered Hanzo to the couch, he noticed that Hanzo hadn’t actually grabbed the bottle. Genji clucked his tongue.
He could never tell if these nights were becoming more or less common. Thankfully, Hanzo had become much more inclined to actually seek people out during them instead of hiding in his own locked room. Genji, McCree, and Zenyatta had all grown accustomed to late night visits.
Hanzo flopped onto the couch. Genji made him drink a few mouthfuls of water, which Hanzo grudgingly cooperated with, before grabbing him a pillow. Hanzo sat for a few moments, holding it in his hands. His gaze was distant and watery.
“Thank you,” said Hanzo, his voice raw, reaching out to brush his fingers over Genji’s cheek. Genji held his hand there for a few moments before pulling away.
“Get some sleep.”
Once he was lying down, Hanzo was out in seconds. Genji turned the bathroom light off and refilled the water bottle, putting it on the ground beside Hanzo. He wondered if his brother would remember this in the morning.
The window was still open. Genji sighed and pushed it up all of the way, making room for himself to sit comfortably on the sill. Across the room from him, his brother’s breathing was calm and slowing.
The night was empty and the breeze was cool. The sky above was clear, though Genji couldn’t see any stars. It was a welcome break from the sticky summer heat. Built-in cooling could only do so much.
He glanced over at his brother one more time just to make sure he was asleep before taking off the visor.
Immediately, everything seemed darker and hazier. The distinct shapes of the buildings blended into the black of the night sky, and he couldn’t separate his brother from the couch. Genji closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window frame, enjoying the sensation of moving air against his skin.
When Hanzo had first arrived at the watchpoint, Genji had been scared his brother wouldn’t accept him. The fear had been quickly proven wrong; it had taken all of two days at the watchpoint before Hanzo’s suspicious distance was replaced by weepy smiles and reverent hugs whenever he saw his brother. (Hanzo later admitted to Genji that he hadn’t been entirely sure it was him until he had banged his head against a table and Genji had laughed.)
Now, Genji worried his brother wouldn’t accept himself. Genji being alive and as well as could be expected didn’t seem to change anything. Hanzo’s words still carried an undercurrent of self-hatred and fury. He found ways to make everything his own fault. The casual nonchalance with which he discussed his own death at times was awful. Genji hated the jolt of terror when Hanzo was late for breakfast, or got separated during missions.
He had just found his brother again; he didn’t want to lose him.
Genji took one last deep breath before snapping his visor back in place and getting back into bed. He left the window open; the breeze was pleasant, and he would be awake early enough to close it before the heat.
Beside him, Hanzo snored.
He always seemed so much more peaceful in his sleep; the fear and anger were washed away. His shoulders weren’t as tense, and his face softened. Seeing Hanzo as vulnerable as he had been when they were boys, before he had built himself an emotional cocoon from the world, was a welcome blessing.
Genji slept easy knowing that, at least for tonight, his brother was safe.