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Cole swallowed a wild giggle that tried to bubble up from his stomach as Hanzo trailed wet kisses along his throat. He fought off another when broad archer's hands tugged at his shirt where it was tucked into his jeans, tentative as if asking permission, until Cole gathered enough brain cells to help.
Cole Cassidy isn’t like this. He’s known for being unflappable in the most trying circumstances, for maintaining his devil-may-care persona even with a gun to his head. He doesn’t get nervous , not outwardly anyway, and he for damn sure isn’t shy . So how Shimada Hanzo could inspire this sort of reaction in him was, to say the least, unexpected, and in all honesty embarrassing. And Hanzo was shrewd enough that any moment now he’d notice.
The worst part was, Cole couldn’t for the life of him figure out exactly what he was embarrassed about. And Hanzo wasn’t helping him think, what with the kisses, the touching from someone who made it a point to be untouchable. When warm, calloused fingers brushed the skin of his hip he couldn't fully stifle the puff of nervous laughter, couldn’t stop his toes from curling in his socks.
Hanzo smacked another open mouthed kiss against Cole's neck. His lips didn't break contact as he spoke.
"And what is so funny?"
Hands continued to roam, short nails dragging lightly, reverently along Cole's sides, caressing his soft belly, petting at the fuzz there. Cole was dizzy with it.
“It’s nothin’.”
Hanzo hummed, clearly unconvinced, but gave in when Cole leaned down for another kiss in an attempt to distract him. Their kisses up to this point had been slow, exploratory, still learning what the other liked best, how to please and be pleased at once. Cole found that kissing Hanzo made his stomach swoop the same way that looking out the window of the Orca mid-flight sometimes did. Made him feel giddy, half-wild. Made him wonder whether Hanzo felt the same way, kissing him. When their lips parted with a wet sound, Hanzo gave him a moment to breathe before speaking again.
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
Damn.
Cole sighed, tried to organize his thoughts even as Hanzo dragged his fingertips distractedly along the waistband of his jeans, teasing. The bastard. "Just, ah, can't believe we're here, I guess."
Hanzo made a show of looking around Cole's cluttered dormitory with an arched brow.
"In your room?"
Another half aborted laugh. "Naw, I mean, here, doing this. You 'n me." It was as close to the truth as he could figure. The two of them hadn’t necessarily started off on the right foot; it took months for them to be able to share a civil word with each other outside of sims and missions, and months on top of that to be able to carry out full-on conversations. Cole’s more than glad they finally got to that point, though, because as it turns out, he and Shimada Hanzo have a lot in common—not to mention that the archer is as sharp and funny as he is damn fine. Cole never stood a chance.
There was a soft sound of understanding, and then, "It was only a matter of time."
The statement was delivered with such confidence it startled Cole into looking up, meeting Hanzo's steady gaze. "How do you mean?"
A crinkle appeared on Hanzo's brow, his lips pursing slightly in thought as he struggled with phrasing. The expression was one Cole had seen on him before, when the archer faced a puzzle or problem that needed solving. In this context it struck Cole as incredibly endearing. "We simply... complement each other, so well. On the field, and off. This," and he curled his fingers briefly where they still rested on Cole's hips, "always seemed to me like a natural progression for the both of us." At the halting admission, Cole let his gaze fall with a bashful smile.
"Maybe you’re right. Can't say I'm complainin' any."
Hanzo seemed to sense that Cole had more to say and pulled back, though he did not remove his hands, thumbs brushing back and forth as if to soothe; or perhaps the motion was done unconsciously. That, along with Hanzo's patient silence, encouraged Cole to overcome his natural reservation. "Guess you also always seemed way outta my league. Way outta everyone's league, what with your..." Jesse gestured vaguely in Hanzo's direction, fluttering his hand as if to indicate his general everything . Hanzo had opted for the black muscle T today, which was as douchy as it was regrettably, powerfully attractive.
A short, barked laugh undercut Cole's thoughts.
"If anything, it is you who are out of my mine, Cassidy."
"Well, I don't know about all that, Shimada—"
"But I do. You are a good man. An excellent man, and you would do well to remember. Competent, brilliant, moraled. Kind, in the ways that matter, to those who deserve your kindness—kind even to some lucky few who do not. Do not disparage yourself to me, or to anyone, Cole Cassidy. You are, by all accounts, unparalleled."
As Hanzo spoke, Cole felt a new flush climb his chest and face, gulped down the emotion that climbed with it. This late into his thirties he had perfected the art of camouflaging his self-effacing tendency with blasé deflection, displays meant to make him appear easy-going instead of embarrassed. He got the feeling, suddenly, that these displays wouldn’t work here. Not this time. Not on Hanzo.
"O-oh," was all he could come up with in reply. Nice one, Cassidy. Thick, calloused fingers came up to pet at Cole's jaw and smooth out his beard, applying gentle pressure until Cole raised his head enough to meet Hanzo's dark eyes.
"It also does not hurt that you are exceptionally attractive. I must admit that I have been looking forward to this since the day we met."
Cole smiled, distracted finally from his own bald vulnerability with a sudden memory.
"Honey, I drew Peacekeeper on you the day we met."
"I do not see how that conflicts at all with what I said."
This time Cole gave in fully to his laughter, felt his whole body loosen with it, some unseen weight dislodged. Hanzo allowed himself a lopsided grin that revealed one sharp canine. Pleased. Cole had been used to bludgeoning the quiet voice that told him maybe, this time, he really was deserving with countless reasons his mind could draw up for why he wasn't, actually. But here, in the face of Hanzo's stern admiration, he felt tired—too tired to hide, or to fight, or to do anything but let the words wash over him, to accept them for what they were.
When they kissed again they were both still smiling.