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Peace, at last.
Already the outside world had vanished beneath the low rumble of the filling bath as it resounded from every wall in a soft cocoon of sound. Up from the roiling water came great, hot drifts of steam that kissed bare skin and soothed bruises, permeated by the heady scent of lavender and neroli- a counterpoint to the incense smoking steadily away in the corner, low and bitter and exotic.
If he kept his eyes closed Hanzo could almost imagine that he sat in the middle of the finest bathhouse in Hanamura, and not the sorry, Spartan affair that alleged to serve the same purpose at Watchpoint: Gibraltar.
There was, however, one more difference.
“Allow me.”
With a soft clink of metal on tile, Zenyatta settled onto his knees behind him and gathered Hanzo’s hair up from his neck and into a clip.
That in itself was not unusual. Omnic attendants were a staple of many of the most exclusive resorts he’d visited in his past life. But no mere attendant would chuckle at his pleased little huff, much less pet his neck without expecting to have their hand snapped clean off. Later on, Zenyatta would carefully brush it through from root to tip and smooth camellia oil into the ends while he perched on the end of his bed and struggled to stay awake beneath such gentle ministrations, his scalp tingling at each careful stroke of the comb.
Hanzo suspected that Zenyatta would tuck him into bed, too, given half a chance. Sometimes he had half a mind to let him anyway.
The tell-tale slosh of a washcloth pulled him back to the present, and on instinct he tensed as Zenyatta worked it in broad, loose circles across his back- gentle at first, but soon Hanzo felt the press of his fingertips too as they sought out each knot and ache with almost eerie precision.
This time he did not so much huff as groan, sinking back into the omnic’s touch. “How do you know me so well already?” he grumbled. “It is suspicious .”
Zenyatta answered with his usual musical laugh. “Then shall I take my leave?”
Hanzo’s heart rose and swelled, and crushed the last vestiges of resistance from his voice. “Idiot.” And then, just as warmly: “Thank you.”
“Think nothing of it,” the omnic answered. Hanzo could hear him shuffling closer beneath the soft thrum of his voice; the cool, round surface of his brow coming to rest between his shoulders came as a relief rather than a surprise. “There is nowhere I would rather be than here with you.”
Impossible , Hanzo wanted to say. But that kind of thinking did not seem to linger for as long as it used to, and already it was beginning to fade, like the shadows of a nightmare before the morning sun. When Zenyatta’s arms wound around his waist he simply sank back into them, knowing- trusting , against all instinct- that they would not let him fall.
The bath, though. By the time Hanzo had lowered himself into the steaming water, hissing with satisfaction, it was practically overflowing. Doubtless someone would complain about such a frivolous use of resources while the Watchpoint was still only just functional, but that was a challenge for another time.
Heady, fragrant heat soaked Hanzo to the bone, muscles flexing and then relaxing beneath the surface of the water as he stretched… but, somehow, he could not quite settle. Hanzo opened his eyes again.
It was hardly a hot tub, but surely the bath could manage a second occupant, particularly when one of them was a slight little thing. Silently, Hanzo thanked the Overwatch of years gone by for going out of their way to accommodate a gorilla.
“You said that you are fully waterproof..?”
“I am.”
Zenyatta’s head tilted, and into the angle Hanzo thought he read a careful kind of anticipation. At times he seemed to be tempering himself; I do not want to rush you , he’d said once, and though he had been grateful it had made him, ache, too, to know that his fear was what held them back.
It did not have to be so. Water spilled over the side of the bath as Hanzo edged forwards. Try though he might to keep his tone neutral, there was no concealing the note of uncertainty in his voice or the thud of his heart from such finely-tuned sensors. “Then join me?”
And Zenyatta’s array burst into bright, fluttering light. “I thought you would never ask.”
Graceful as he was in his daily life, there was something unearthly about Zenyatta when he was laid bare, a moonbeam of a creature, all silver and gold and streaked through with the blood-red of every exposed wire.
He stepped into the opposite end of the bath, their bodies slotting side by side with jigsaw precision, and Hanzo finally let himself sink back and relax. Just.
In truth a part of Hanzo had hoped that Zenyatta would select his side and bracket him with those long, long legs- or, better yet, that the omnic would curl into his lap with his head pillowed on his chest and his feet dangling over the edge of the bath, the picture of tranquil satisfaction. He would curl around Zenyatta like Ryujin about his jewels and disappear into the mist together, as far from the rest of the world as the bottom of the ocean.
Another time. It was, he knew, still early days for them both, even if it seemed in these moments that every atom of his body demanded contact, as if each wasted opportunity to touch Zenyatta- so wonderfully, blessedly real , so his - would be his last. As if, with too much space, Zenyatta himself would realise the terrible mistake he had made in sharing even a fraction of his light with a fractured shadow of a man.
Patience. Trust. Hope. All virtues Hanzo had never been given reason to practise until now.
He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the edge of the bath in some half-hearted attempt to refocus, but it must have shown on his face. A moment later the blunt edge of Zenyatta’s foot nudged him in the rib.
“Where are you going?” The omnic’s head was cocked- playful, rather than accusatory. “ Stay , Hanzo.”
Hanzo . There was a time when just hearing his own name had made his heart quicken like that of some hunted creature, ready to turn and fight for his life. A curse. But in that soft, sonorous voice, the true blue of Zenyatta’s jieba like glimpses of an endless sky opening before him…
As Hanzo exhaled the water rippled beneath his breath, and the reflection of Zenyatta’s array splintered and tripped, scattering light first across its surface and then the steam-cloudy chrome of his chassis.
I don’t deserve this, Hanzo wanted to say. Or, you blind me, my star.
Hanzo swallowed. He turned his eyes squarely upon Zenyatta- upon his dents and scuffs and the way his body curved towards him with sheer, fearless affection- and found that, in spite of himself, he was smiling.
“I am not going anywhere.”