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Shimada Hanzo’s body was his own. His own to share as he wished, show as he wished. Even if it made Genji roll his eyes, he was a grown man, for God’s sake, and it’s not like they were in Hanamura any more.
And it’s not like it’s a secret that he has to hide, the scars across his chest - marking what was once there and taken away.
Despite Sojiro’s lack of skill in general as a father, he’d taken his eldest child’s assertion that he was, in fact, his son rather well - cutting down more than a few clan members who had dared disagree with Sojiro’s acceptance of Hanzo.
But he’d been embraced as the first son, and the most responsible, and - of course, when the time had come, Sojiro had found the requisite paperwork to get his name changed legally, and even found a surgeon who would alter his body without excessive need for nonsense like therapists and insurance. The work had been - fine, if not perfect, and Hanzo had spent many years despising - and loving - the twin scars across his chest, for the comfort they brought him, and the secrecy they necessitated .
They did nothing to curb the pain and bad decisions that he made, but - at least he loathed himself in a body that felt like his.
He shared them - his body, his history - with no one for years, and even kept them to himself when he reunited with his brother and joined Overwatch.
The attitudes towards gender with his new friends was drastically different than what he’d grown up with - he had been raised that it was a secret, not one to be ashamed of but one that was to be kept carefully to his chest. The individuals of Overwatch clearly did not feel the same.
Hanzo had been with Overwatch no more than two weeks when he had snuck his way into the kitchen to find some sort of snack and overheard a most surprising conversation.
Lúcio and Hana were sitting cross-legged at one of the tables, having an animated conversation about - he must have been misunderstanding, maybe it was the English, but were they talking about - hormone injections?
“Angela says there’s been a huuuuge debate about the effectiveness of subcutaneous versus intramuscular T injections,” Lúcio had groaned, “And I told her that’s great and all, but I’ll be more interested when they can find one that will give me more face hair and less ass hair.”
Hana had giggled and poked at his chest, singsonging contentedly. “Can’t relate, my friend. I told her, if she ever figures out how to take someone else’s boobs and give them to someone else I’m first on the list.”
Hanzo had choked on his own spit - attracting the attention of both of the extremely loud children.
“Oh, hey Hanzo!” Lúcio called, raising a hand to wave. “How’s it hanging?”
Hanzo nodded stiffly - decisively not looking at either of them.
“It is hanging fine, Lúcio, thank you. I am here looking for something to eat,” Hanzo’s voice was tense - and not just because it was always tense. Because he desperately wanted to hear more of this conversation.
“Mei made cupcakes! They’re for my birthday, so they’re strawberry with blue frosting and pink and white sparkles. Since it’s my birthday, you’re legally required to eat one, or I’ll have to shoot you with my mech suit next time we’re testing.” Hana looked at him in a way that Hanzo genuinely couldn’t determine if it meant he was in actual danger, smiling brightly.
He nodded - slowly, precisely. “Yes. I will take the cupcake.” Even if it hurts his teeth.
“Good. I wouldn’t want to have to shoot you, Hanzo.”
“That… that was a threat?”
“Only a little bit,” Hana smiled. “I would only shoot you if you really, really earned it. But sharing my cupcakes means I like you. Only the cool Overwatch members get the trans cupcakes.”
He blinked a few times, but recovered quickly.
“Who - who does not get the cupcakes?”
“No one yet. But if I didn’t offer you one, it would mean I think you’re not cool.”
Head swimming, Hanzo carefully nodded, gingerly taking the sparkling cupcake in his hand and making his way back to his room.
He stared at the cupcake for a long while before eating it, feeling - a strange envy, alongside the kinship he felt with Hana and Lúcio. He imagined - being a teenager - a child, like Hana really is, and talking so openly about - bodies and gender and hormones and - god, he was a man of 38 years and he didn’t know what the difference between intramuscular and subcutaneous injections was! And - hair in the back region? He had thought he was a sasquatch! It had taken him years to grow the hair on his face, but the - “ass hair”, as Lúcio called it, was immediate!
He resolved to catch up with Angela soon about it, as he tucked into his cupcake gratefully.
----
Catching up with Angela about it soon brought more confusion for Hanzo.
When he had asked if - by chance - there were other individuals whose genders had involved a transcendence of some sort, as Zenyatta would call it, in Overwatch, she had smiled widely and taken his hand excitedly.
“Of course, Hanzo! I had assumed your brother would tell you. There are many of us here. I obviously can’t out anyone without their permission, but - you are far from the only one. This is a safe place to talk about your experiences openly - and not feel you need to hide any of your story, if you feel you can share it.”
Hanzo had not missed the “us”, and when he left the clinic that day, it was with a considerably lighter step. Not that he could tell Angela that, but - he felt it all the same.
---
Which is why, after a few weeks, when Hanzo had been approached about what he would feel most comfortable going on missions wearing - he felt comfortable choosing something that exposed his chest - one of the long, pale scars visible under the draped kimono. He had approached Genji about it, who had given him excited approval, and - Angela felt it was no danger to his scar tissue to be exposed, so - he went with it.
On the first mission, he had expected more than a few stares for his - less than traditional apparel. Lúcio had given him a nod at the sight of his scars, and Hana had let out an excited whoop, mentioning something to Lúcio that sounded suspiciously like him owing her five dollars. No one had given him more than a passing glance - except for Cassidy.
He’d always been an anomaly to Hanzo - the coldness with which he had treated him was not surprising or undeserved, knowing the American’s relationship with his brother, but it had been strange to watch him interact with such laughter and jokes with the other members, then suddenly go silent whenever Hanzo appeared.
And the staring - he had assumed it was just a simple issue of protectiveness over Genji, but even after he had settled in, it hadn’t stopped.
But the staring was nothing compared to what he experienced in the plane approaching the drop site for their next job. It was constant for the whole ride, not even stopping when Genji or Hana had attempted to engage him in some friendly ribbing. Decidedly unlike the cowboy, but - he figured it was just a recalibration. A reaction to discovering that there was a different part of Hanzo that he had never seen.
Good, he had thought. He’ll notice the scars, understand that there were more differences between himself and Genji than met the eye, and go back to ignoring him, if not for the occasional staring.
And outside of the battle, it was the same. Cole ignored Hanzo, except for the occasional stare when Genji wasn’t around, and Hanzo slowly found connection with the other members of Overwatch.
Lunches with Mei, Hana, and Lúcio became more frequent, and there were more than a few discussions about the trials and tribulations of growing up transgender in an “older generation,” as Hana put it oh so delicately.
For the first time, Hanzo felt - a sense of being just another person in a group. That this deep secret he’d held onto for nearly 30 years wasn’t so bad at all, not when Lúcio was talking about comparing scars and Hana joked about technologically-improved gender affirming gear. At least he thought she was joking. He wasn’t sure he was ready for, as she explained, “a robo-dick that you can make any color you’d like and magnetize to you.” No, he’d stick to the familiar harness he’d grown attached to - not that it was getting any use. That idea still made him blush, which made Lúcio and Hana laugh, which made Mei defend him, and - it was nice.
Except for combat encounters, where - again, and again, and again, he found Cassidy staring at him. And not just at him. At his chest.
He hadn’t minded it too much the first time. He had been vaguely irritated by the second time, and by the fourth time, he had been irritated enough that he felt he needed to discuss it with his brother to try and get some insight into the sharpshooter’s head.
Genji had looked at him blankly, when Hanzo had asked if he had noticed that Cassidy stared at him when they were in uniform.
“I’m not focused on watching him watch you, anija, I’m more concerned about watching your ass and making sure you don’t get killed,” Genji had joked, but Hanzo’s face was serious.
“Genji, does Cassidy have an issue with - people like me?”
“Ninjas? Attempters of fratricide? Trans people?”
Hanzo pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Okay, middle one was too much. Sorry. But - anija, I can tell you with absolute certainty, although I can’t tell you why, that Cole Cassidy does not have any problems with transgender people.” His face looks - uncommonly tense. “So, I don’t know what to tell you, bro.”
Frustrated, and with more questions unanswered - what would make him certain that he could not explain - Hanzo told himself he simply had to get used to those striking brown eyes staring at him.
Not that they were striking. He just - he made Hanzo feel something when he looked at him, and - he needed to stop it.
Just like Hanzo needed to stop thinking about his damned eyes.
----
Hanzo was able to tolerate it for five more missions. It always went the same.
From when they boarded the plane to when they landed in their destination, Cassidy stared at him. Hanzo believed his eyesight was primarily focused on his scars, which just made him frustrated and self-conscious. Sure, his weren’t as flat or uniformly-colored as Lúcio’s (he had shown them to Hanzo excitedly after several beers one night, but Hanzo doubted Lúcio would have needed the alcohol to do it), but they weren’t ugly. Plus, it wasn’t like Cassidy had anything to talk about himself in the realm of his scars - Hanzo was sure there was something particularly brutal below his prosthetic arm, but that was none of his business, and he didn’t stare at his arm, now did he?
After a particularly exhausting trip to Rio de Janiero, Hanzo decided enough was enough. He had stared the whole ride back too, and Hanzo simply couldn’t handle it any more.
As they deplaned, Hanzo waited until everyone else had left, leaving just him and Cassidy in the hangar.
That was when he made his stand.
“Cole Cassidy,” he called firmly, eyes aflame. “I need to have a conversation with you.”
Cole turned, brown eyes full of confusion. It was - almost kind of - endearing?
“Well, hey there darlin’,” he hummed, “Something I can help you with?”
“Yes,” he snapped. “I need to know why you have a problem with my scars. I can assure you that I’m not less of a man just because of them, and I find it extremely disrespectful that you won’t stop staring at them.”
Cassidy looked like he was doing an incredibly complex math problem in his head. Which was rich, because Hanzo sometimes doubted he could do math at all. He could almost see the steam from his ears.
“Hanzo,” he began slowly. “I - I don’t have any problem with your scars. Or your gender identity, Christ.”
“Then why are you staring at me so god damned much?” Hanzo interrupted, fists clenched at his side. “You didn’t do it before I started dressing like this, so - clearly that’s the only explanation.”
Cassidy laughed, the kind of deep, resonant laugh that made Hanzo’s heart flutter as much as it made him even more irritated.
“Hanzo. I don’t know how to tell you this gently, but I’m staring at you because I think you’re really fuckin’ hot, and it’s distracting me to see how beautiful you are, and every time you show that fuckin’ chest off I think about how it would look covered in bite marks,” Cassidy’s voice wasn’t gentle any more, and - Hanzo stumbled back, looking at him angrily.
“You don’t have to be a jerk about it, Cole Cassidy,” he pointed a finger at him, enraged. “Why would you joke about something like that? Did Genji put you up to this?”
He knew it was a mistake to tell his brother that he’d had some - thoughts about Cassidy after his first few weeks with Overwatch, but the sake and Genji’s gentle ribbing had led to Hanzo’s first moment of vulnerability since - since before Genji died.
“I wouldn’t joke about something like this, darlin’,” Cole’s voice is almost sultry now. “Christ, is the idea that someone would find you handsome enough to fantasize about that out of nowhere for you? Your brother wasn’t joking about how the all the self-confidence in the family went directly to him.” He moves a step closer, closing the distance Hanzo had made, and reaches out for him, metal fingers tracing gently over the scar on his chest.
Hanzo should run. Should punch him. Should - scream.
But he doesn’t. He just stands there, entranced, as the cowboy keeps speaking.
“Once I got over the weirdness of havin’ the hots for my best friend’s brother, it’s been - on my mind. But when I saw - well, this,” he pokes at his pecs for a moment, “I realized, damn, not only is this man absolutely beautiful, but - he’s like me.”
His breath catches as Hanzo pulls down his serape - exposing two - admittedly perfect-looking - pectorals - with matching scars.
“But I didn’t have the - pardon the pun - balls to talk to you about it, so I figured I’d just settle for pining from afar and - I figured you knew already. Fuck, Genji’s known about me since his second weekend here - he didn’t warn me that sake can be nasty, and it came out rather quickly, and god knows keeping secrets is far from his strongest skill, so - I figured you knew, and just weren’t interested in talking about it. But then you started hangin’ out with Hana and Lúcio and Mei all the time and I guess I just felt a little - excluded? Like y’all had a club I wasn’t welcome in, so - I settled for starin’. Which wasn’t gentleman-like of me, and I’m sure my Mama would be real disappointed, but - I mean, hey, it got you to talk to me. So. No, Shimada Hanzo, eldest of the former Shimada clan, who could easily kill me with his hands tied behind his back - I do not have a problem with your fuckin’ scars, and the only disrespect I have shown you is the highly inappropriate thoughts I have had in the back of my mind for the past, what, six months?”
Hanzo blinked rapidly.
“You thought I was handsome and that was why you looked at me like that?” Hanzo stumbled through the words.
“Of fuckin’ course, man. And not thought. Think. I still think you’re handsome as hell, and the list of things I would like to do to you is excessively long. But I’m a proper gentleman and if you’re not interested, I won’t push on it, but at least I put it on the table and-”
Hanzo put a solid end to Cole’s rambling by grabbing his hands and pushing him into the wall, and interlocking their lips, hard and passionate.
He was beautiful when he talked, of course, but - Hanzo thought he liked him a lot better this way, eyes shocked, soft lips pressed against his.
“So I take it that I didn’t just make everything real awkward,” Cassidy mumbled once they pulled apart, both breathing heavily.
“No,” Hanzo smiled, resting his hand on Cassidy’s chest. “But you are much prettier with your mouth closed, cowman.” He pressed another chaste kiss to his cheek before pulling back entirely. “Now come on. I think I’m going to need a little sake before I’m ready to tell my brother about this one.”
“I like it when you’re mean,” Cole teased, reaching for Hanzo’s hands as they made their way out of the hangar.
“You’ll like me even more later, then,” Hanzo had smiled wickedly, and - he swore he could hear the gulp Cassidy tried to hold in. “Come on. Let’s go eat.”
Hanzo’s body was his own - but he would be damned if he wasn’t excited to share it with one Cole Cassidy…