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The sounds of Brigitte groaning in pain dampens as Hanzo carefully shuts the creaking door to their safehouse. He leans against the door, eyes closed, and lets out a heavy breath. He may as well try to find some peace as they wait for evac, and he won’t find it sitting around his wounded teammates. A sliver of guilt over him not staying in to keep his allies company threatens to rise up, and Hanzo does his best to push it down. Everyone inside is either exhausted and resting or administering medical treatment—something he is not trained to do. He’s not needed, so there is no use trapping himself amidst the misery.
When he opens his eyes, he sees Cassidy leaning against the dilapidated wooden fence lining the safehouse, facing out towards the sinking sun, cigarillo in hand. So that’s where he went.
Hanzo sidles up to Cassidy and leans against the fence beside him, shoulders just barely touching. Silently, Cassidy pulls out another cigarillo and hands it to Hanzo, lighting it once he slides it between his lips. Times like these Hanzo is thankful for Cassidy’s vices. They bode terribly for Cassidy, but it’s nice to know he can always find a smoke if he needs one. He has his own cigarettes at base that he indulges in occasionally, but he rarely brings them on missions. An attempt to create boundaries has him reserving them for home and longer deployments.
The cigarillos aren’t Hanzo’s favorite—the notes of cedar, pepper, brown sugar, and spice too much for Hanzo’s lighter tastes—but they’re decent quality and do the job of helping him destress. As he holds the smoke in his mouth, he can feel the edge of the day just barely begin to crumble. Warmth floods his insides, and who is Hanzo to say if it’s from the smoke or the sentimentality of Cassidy always being so willing to give a precious smoke up to him.
After letting out a mouthful of smoke, Hanzo glances up at Cassidy. He winces at the bruise on his cheek; it has deepened since he last saw it. Maybe he should have had the foresight to bring a bag of ice out for him.
“Are you feeling alright?”
Cassidy nods, blowing a stream of smoke out away from Hanzo’s face. “Better than most folks in there.” He looks at Hanzo and his face softens, almost as if some of the stress he is holding lifts. “You?”
Hanzo lets his next puff of smoke out slowly. “I feel much the same as you.”
His head pounds with a headache that only threatens to continue to bloom and his side is freshly stitched. The painkillers he was given have managed to dull the pain of his gash, at least. It’s nothing compared to what it could be. They’re stable and able to freely move around. What more could he ask for?
As they settle into a companionable silence, Cassidy leans closer into Hanzo. The sky blazes orange in front of them, distant hills and tall cacti poking through the horizon. Tendrils of smoke swirl up into the sky, a cruel grey against the brilliant skies. Hanzo pretends each cloud of smoke carries away a bit of his stress, disappearing as the smoke melds with the atmosphere. No longer are they his problems. Now the universe’s, or God’s. Perhaps now no one’s problems.
The sky is so vibrant, almost violently so. Radiant orange stretches across the landscape, illuminating the wispy clouds and washed-out sands. Gentle pinks and blues hide among the sky’s orange, overshadowed. The beauty of it all almost feels like it mocks them. Such a beautiful scene plastered around them after such a gruesome day. They saw so many die today. Their team had its own close calls. Some of the injuries they sustained today will take months to heal. Hanzo resents that the sky can be so stunning when so much is wrong in the world.
“What’d the sunset ever do to you?” Cassidy asks, startling Hanzo. The question grazes eerily close to his thoughts. “You were looking out there like you’re trying to cast it away or something. Real intense eyes.” Oh.
He bites the inside of his cheek. It feels all too ridiculous when he considers how it will sound voicing his thoughts. The sky isn’t sentient, of course. But it’s Cassidy, so why not share anyway. He finds that sharing his stream of consciousness with Cassidy more often brings good than bad.
Cassidy listens attentively as he bares his musings, responding with a thoughtful hum when he finishes.
“Does feel a bit unbefitting of the theme, huh? S’real nice regardless, though. All the folks who had a crummy day get this small treat, at least. Might not be much, but it’s something.”
Hanzo ashes his cigarillo, gaze trained downwards. “I suppose so.” It still feels wrong. Maybe he’s being selfish, or too pessimistic. It’s not like he’s known to trend towards optimism.
“Mm. Nothing fills my heart quite like a desert sunset,” Cassidy says, not deterred by Hanzo’s half-hearted response. “Feels like home. Which is kinda bittersweet, since home is bittersweet… watched a lotta desert sunsets while feeling lost and hopeless. But it’s hard to overshadow the familiar comfort of home.”
Hanzo has heard ramblings of Cassidy’s nostalgia for home and its beauties countless times, but he never tires of listening.
“I suppose I feel similarly when viewing a hazy city sunset. Those are much like the ones I witnessed back home,” Hanzo says. Many evenings of his youth were spent sitting on railings or rooftops watching the sun slip below the cityscape. It hardly worked to soothe him at the end of those difficult days.
“Least we get to see so many good sunsets now.”
Hanzo nods. “Still too many bittersweet ones. But yes.”
“Yeah. But, personally, there’s a lot more sweet in them now than before. Especially when I have company like this,” Cassidy drawls, nudging Hanzo.
Hanzo pulls his cigarillo out of his mouth so he can properly smile. Cassidy’s right. He should let himself have this. It’s definitely a better sunset than any he experienced in his first few decades of life. “It’s the best company I could ask for.”
Cassidy grins around his cigarillo, mouth stretched impossibly wide. The kind of smile he gives only when Hanzo just barely dances around his affection. One day he’ll take the plunge. Who knows how big that smile could grow then.
“We’re lucky it’s such a nice sunset. Near perfect. Hate when the day ends in a dull grey sky. Or even when the blue just kinda fades into the nothingness of night. What a waste,” Cassidy rants, stretching an arm out to the skies.
Hanzo thinks he understands. “It does feel like a waste when the day could end in such a grand way but does not.”
“Exactly! Feels like a taunt. The sky could so easily give us this small treasure day to day, but it still denies us sometimes.”
“Constants are important. We need all the constants we can get,” Hanzo murmurs. Years of nothing but instability has taught him to cling onto what little stability he can find.
Cassidy smiles down at him; not as big as last time, but something about it is just as joyful. Just tinged with something else Hanzo can’t pin. Something private.
Hanzo regrets being so cruel to the sky. He should have known it was giving a gift to special people like Cassidy. A small treasure to nourish Cassidy’s soul, his big heart. As he deserves. Beautiful skies for a beautiful man.
“Got me a nice constant in the form of you, at least,” Cassidy says, terribly soft and warm. Tender in a way he’ll never get used to hearing aimed at him, even though he has increasingly received such tenderness from the cowboy. It’s still difficult to not deflect when complimented, but Cassidy deserves better than that, so he faces him with his own softness.
“As I do in you.”
He nearly winces at himself, wishing he could have said something grander. It’s much too short and formal. But Cassidy knows how much weight is behind his words—of course he does. He wears that impossibly wide grin again, blessedly bare-hearted.
A pair of spotted ground squirrels pop out of the ground ahead of them and hop around, foraging and bouncing into one another. Hanzo thinks about how they must have a whole crew of allies burrowed in the ground below them. Awaiting their return into the den. It’s strangely comforting to think about the way these little creatures have one another. He finds himself not unlike them. His loved ones—and he supposes he can almost call his teammates that at this point—await he and Cassidy just inside. Where they’ll share a meal and check up on one another. Make sure everyone’s bandages are dry, their wounds clean. Keep each other pleasantly distracted so no one is left alone with their thoughts for too long.
Orange light blankets all who dare observe the evening skies. Though the sun isn’t harsh as in the daytime, Hanzo feels hypnotized with warmth from it like never before. He enjoys it with renewed perspective, letting the beauty of it all wash over him. He allows himself indulgent glances at Cassidy’s dazed face, drinking in the sight of the light like he’s never seen it before. The warm rays of the sun always divinely suit Cassidy’s complexion.
They watch the skies, blissfully pressed against one another, as the serene radiance slips into twilight. A chill settles in all too fast and Cassidy wraps a solid arm around him, suggesting they go inside and check on everyone. Hanzo sends a silent prayer up to the skies that they’ll grant Cassidy another delightful sunset to enjoy over the Gibraltar waters tomorrow.