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Hanzo comes to his senses, his mind blooming into slow wakefulness as sunlit warmth fills him from the inside. The small weight of their daughter draped across his chest rises and falls along with his breaths, and it makes him smile as he drowsily thinks about all the other early mornings he woke up exactly like this.
He hears a soft croon as their daughter shuffles around on his chest. It is followed by incoherent babbling as she pushes herself against him, her father’s wide chest giving her enough space to move around. Her tiny nails dig into his sides, surely leaving behind welts in their wake. He adds a mental note to trim them later, an experience that would take Cole and his full patience and attention.
He feels Cole’s arm wrapped around him further down his torso as his husband squeezes him in his sleep. If experience is anything to go by, the alarm would be ringing in a few minutes. Hanzo’s body had a habit of waking itself awake a few minutes before their alarm went off - it was one of his body’s subconscious behaviors that he disliked the most.
In his youth, a time that felt almost a lifetime ago, he never had to rely on alarms of any kind to start the day. He had prided himself for his immaculate internal clock back then; it was a small gesture but like everything else in his life, it reflected the needle-thin edge of his training. Now though, his subconscious insisted that he had to start his day with the incessant trilling of Cole’s phone alarm going off.
Over the months, their daughter had somehow developed a sixth sense where she woke up right along with Hanzo; no matter the time of day, her sleep schedule was intrinsically tied to his. She could be having the time of her little life in the arms of her other father, surrounded by the attention of everyone else in the room, but the moment Hanzo himself felt the tendrils of sleep tugging at him, his little daughter would start yawning too. Her eyes would start drooping, her round head lolling to the side as she looked around for Hanzo. It was a habit that forced him to have a better sleep schedule for the sake of their daughter.
Predictably, this morning was no different. She nuzzles into his skin, her open mouth leaving behind a wet patch - it is a small point of discomfort that Hanzo immediately ignores in favor of having her so close to him.
The warmth in his chest settles even deeper, the tides tapping deep into the ocean of love he housed inside him for his little family. He floats halfway between sleep and full wakefulness, his mind ruminating over how the rest of the day could go.
They had the base to themselves for the day. It was a rare occurrence with everyone either back to their home countries or out on missions. They went to bed last night with tentative plans to head out to the Gibraltar beach - Athena confirmed a pleasant, sunny day, perfect for making memories with their daughter for the distant days in the future when they were old and gray.
He thinks about the lunches and snacks they would have to pack, along with child-safe sunscreen for their daughter, and extra sets of clothes, towels, toys, diapers, disinfecting wipes, utensils, bottles, formula - the initial idea might have been sweet to think of, but simply thinking about the never-ending list already exhausts him.
Maybe they would have a day in, he thinks next. An entire base to themselves meant letting their daughter explore around to her heart’s content while she crawled on safe surfaces with her chubby hands and knees, a steady stream of burble keeping her fathers company. The kitchen would be empty, and Cole could whip up ciabatta sandwiches and homemade vegetable puree while Hanzo hovered around with their daughter in his arms.
The tides overflow, and he feels awash with love for the little human who was still crawling around on top of him. Every time he looked into her eyes, Hanzo saw her pure, undiluted love for him shining jewel bright. She came into the world, heartbeat small and fluttering like a bird, with no choice but to blindingly trust Hanzo, leaving her life at the palm of his hands.
The thought of failing her terrified him - she was still so tiny, easily swallowed by the swells of his arms. it also angered him; he too was an infant once - someone must have felt even a fraction of love and joy he felt for his little girl. He was also helpless back then, completely at the mercy of everyone who towered over. They saw a boy swaddled in his mother’s arms, and painted his future full of seclusion and misery for him.
Years of training to mold him to be a weapon, never letting anything but stoicism and isolation fester inside him; it was a tower built on rotten foundations that crumbled in on itself. If they had done their job right, the sight of Genji’s blood at the edge of his sword would not have shattered him. The cards toppled over and Hanzo was left flayed, his training doing nothing.
Despite it all, he managed to be the nest that cocooned his daughter within. Cole stood guard, his ever present vigil adding to the security Hanzo wanted to weave into their baby’s life.
Small toes dig into the muscles of his abdomen, making him groan out a laugh at his daughter’s maneuvering. He hears an answering giggle as she tries to burrow into him even further, her feet kicking him as she pushes herself upwards, finally resting her head against his chin. The soft curls at the crown of her head tickle his throat, the feather soft touches making him laugh.
An impulse to feel the soft skin under her hair fires through his consciousness, making his fingers twitch with anticipation. His sleep-addled brain adds weight to his limbs as he shakes them awake, bringing his hand out from under the blanket that covered them throughout the night. He cups his fingers preemptively to rest them against the back of her head, his lips stretching into a smile at the thought of making his baby bird of a daughter chirp with excitement at her father’s antics.
His fingers come to rest on his chest, the empty expanse of his chest feeling cold under the tips. A beat passes, the length of it long as a lifetime. A tiny corner of his mind registers something lightning quick while the rest of him fumbles to catch up. He chooses to ignore whatever his mind was trying to tell him as a sense of wrongness creeps in. The smog thick gloom rapidly eclipses the sweet, love filled calm he was floating on just a few moments ago. His eyes fly open as a heart stopping terror clenches his chest. He sputters wide awake, his mind frantically struggling to pinpoint the cause of such heartbreaking anxiety.
He sits upright on their bed as he whips his head around, his heart itself apart at the sight of his missing daughter. He slaps around the mattress, desperately trying to find the small huddled figure of his baby girl. The morning sunlight peeking through the curtains is no longer comforting - all it does is highlight, with glaring clarity, how his senses are deceiving him.
With everything falling apart, he resorts to his voice. “Baby?” Hanzo calls out, using the simple endearing term Cole resorted to when they were still debating on what name to settle on for their few days old infant daughter.
A few beats of eternities pass, and Hanzo grows even more desperate. “Sweetheart?” He croaks out while patting around their blanket for the third time. “Can you say hi to daddy for me?” He asks out with a voice that is nowhere near steady. She was still a few months away from babbling her first word but the concept of hide and seek was nothing new. It was a game Cole played with her often to tire her out - the excitement of finding her father giving away into giggles until she was too tired for anything other than a gummy smile.
The silence stretches on with not a peep from his daughter, and Hanzo finds him to the point of no return as the panic crests over a hill, tethering on a threshold that feels growlingly unstable with each passing second.
He claws at his mind as he rips it apart trying to figure what to do next. He feels alone, trapped in a room that somehow took away a piece of him he needed more than honor and redemption. Everything else in his life paled to nothingness next to his daughter and here he was wasting precious seconds while his body betrayed him by clenching with terror.
Something clicks inside him and Hanzo violently chastises himself for not doing it sooner. His lips curve around his daughter’s name, his tongue ready to expel it into the room but nothing happens. He swallows down the bewilderment and tries again as he shakes his brain to dislodge his memory.
It does not work - his daughter’s name escapes him. He tugs at his hair, the pain managing to ground him a bit but it still is not enough. A low moan escapes out instead as he feels close to tears at the thought of forgetting something so monumental to him.
He heaves out his breaths, the continued silence around him turning oppressive as it presses into eardrums until the ringing is all he can hear.
Through it all, he finds his mind rattling against its cage. In his hurried attempts to look for his daughter, he comes to realize that he had been ignoring his life’s training in favor of listening to his body over mind.
A battle calm envelops him as he physically pulls his limbs back to himself. He straightens his back and folds his hands into his lap and stops breathing all together to start over. This time he completely gives in to the training that used to define his life’s worth.
Hanzo’s mind yields to his control, all thoughts and emotions skittering away to leave behind clarity and a second passes before reality crashes into him. Understanding blooms bright and he realizes what his subconscious was trying to inform him earlier while he was so focused on his fears.
There is no name for his daughter - he now knows that he never really had a name to begin with. A part of him feels baffled at how far his brain decided to run with a dream. It played out like a reel, emotions and feelings in full technicolor that left Hanzo living a lifetime in his head.
While the realization brings a sense of normalcy back, the weight does not leave his chest. He knows what he felt - she was a living, breathing being that held his heart inside her. Hanzo did not think it was possible to feel so loved. She was his everything; it really felt like everything in his life - all the blood and trials and pain - was shaping him to be a man worthy to be her father.
Now here he was bereft of her presence, the entirety of all the love and tenderness he felt just something his dreaming subconscious conjured up to torment him with. The weight of longing in his chest accumulates mass and it yawns open into a hole, filling him with sadness that feels unwarranted. She didn’t exist - there is no reason to let the ensuing panic of not being able to find a creation of his imagination cloud his thoughts.
He looks around and sees his sleeping husband beside him, his arm still wrapped around Hanzo securely. He grasps Cole’s sleep warm hand and gently pries it off of him, making his husband shuffle in his sleep. Hanzo stares at his husband’s face, his eyes drinking in the thick brows and the straight ridge of his nose. He wants to nestle back against Cole to leech away any form of comfort he can but ultimately decides against it.
He swings his legs and plants them on the floor, his toes curling is as the cold seeps into his skin. He quietly makes his way to their room’s attached bathroom, his body finally registering the full bladder that was now digging at him from the inside.
The bathroom was small with a glass walled standing shower at the corner and the usual amenities. The door locks on its own behind him as Hanzo steps inside. He pulls on the drawstrings of his pajama pants and lets it drop down and pool at his feet. He steps out from them, his naked skin breaking out in goosebumps when it comes in contact with the cold air.
He steps up to the sink first to brush off his stale breath first. The mirror above the sink reflects back his hollow cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes a testament of the tiredness that felt like it was oozing out of his bones. Despite being cleaned the day before, his hair now limply frames his face, the normal shine of it now appearing greasy.
He locks eyes with his reflection, the cold cut of his gaze not surprising him. Cole had always sang praises about how much he loved Hanzo’s eyes - he went on and on about how both erotic and loved it was whenever he had is gaze on him but it always astonished Hanzo to hear it. He only ever saw the flat stare of a killer with no hint of the warmth his husband apparently adored.
A muffled trill reaches him as Cole’s alarm goes off and it pushes him into moving as he forces his mind to stay clear of all thoughts that would only serve to throw him off.
By the time he steps out of the bathroom Cole is still dozing off on their bed. Hanzo silently pads his way to their wardrobe and pulls out a plain white shirt and a pair of sweatpants that at first glance appear to be his. He pulls the shirt over, the fabric stretching over his wide shoulders. He unties the knot of the towel wrapped around his waist and letting it fall before he puts on the sweatpants. The legs hug his heels and he realizes that it was one of Cole’s grey pair. After a few seconds of debating, he decides against finding a pair of his own - Cole would hardly complain.
He hears movement behind him as he is rubbing the towel over his head in a half hearted attempt to get rid of the access water dampening his hair.
“Mornin’ Han,” Cole greets him with a yawn. “You’re up early. Winston call in a meeting?” The mattress squeaks as Cole moves about to start his day.
Hanzo places the damp towel at the back of the only chair in their room and before he can answer, Hanzo feels his husband’s strong arms circle him from behind as he is pulled against Cole’s chest.
He immediately settles against him, resting all his weight for Cole to hold him upright in his embrace. In that exact moment, Hanzo is reminded again of the power Cole has over him. With just a simple gesture, without even knowing the whirlwind of emotions Hanzo had went through in the last half an hour, Cole manages to provide the exact thing he needed.
Hanzo closes his eyes and rests his head on Cole’s shoulders, prompting his husband to lean in and press his nose to the crown of his head. He tries to give in and enjoy the closeness but he finds his muscles unwilling to relax. With a silent groan, he lightly pushes off of Cole to turn himself around and smothers his face into Cole’s neck. His smells faintly of cigars and bergamot - it’s a scent so familiar and dear to him that Hanzo finds himself taking a deep lungful of it, the motion immediately calming him for the first time since he woke up.
Hanzo’s antics must have surprised Cole because he stays still for a beat before bringing his arms back around him and pressing Hanzo deeper into his chest.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Cole asks, his voice barely above a whisper, as he brings his lips close to Hanzo’s ear. He places a gentle kiss on the lobe, his beard slightly tickling Hanzo who lets out a huffed laugh despite everything.
“Nothing,” Hanzo says back, both unable and unwilling to delve into everything. Cole squeezes him at his reply, somehow managing to bring the two even closer than before.
“Bullshit,” Cole says with a chuckle. The laugh starts deep in his chest and it expands outwards, making Hanzo shake along with it. The unwitting image of his daughter draped across his chest flashes behind his lid for a second and then its gone, just as quick as it appeared.
“Too early in the mornin’ for it but did Genji say somethin’ to get on your nerves?” Cole asks next in a second attempt to get the truth out. His husband’s constant vigil to keep him safe from brotherly spats breaks him from his melancholy and before he can stop it, Hanzo lets out a barked laugh.
“No, he did not,” he murmurs into Cole’s neck with a smile. “My brother remains firmly in his place.”
“That’s good,” his husband says back and he doesn’t have to look to know that he is smiling. “If it ain’t him, what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Hanzo repeats for the second time but it feels too close to punishing the man he loves so much. Cole had a habit of taking on the burdens of trying to fix everything for Hanzo and this time was no different. “You made it better,” he adds to lessen the push Cole must be feeling to fix his problem. “I am better now.” He plants a kiss on Cole’s neck simply because he can and he wants to.
They stay wrapped into each other in a corner of their room for a bit, the frantic morning slowly fading from his mind. In its wake, Hanzo feels slightly absurd at letting a dream cloud so much of his psyche. Here he was with something in his grasp that in his previous life he never thought he could have.
Cole was brash, flirty, sweet talking, full of laughs, kisses, and hugs. Above all, Cole was brave with his love for Hanzo - his husband everything he was taught not to be. Affection was for behind the door, exchanged only under the cover of the dark but here he was, getting drunk on an endless supply of everything that filled Hanzo to the brim and more.
It felt silly to think there could be more. Hanzo was sated and happy - even on his worst days, Cole was his North Star, a steadfast point that always signaled the way to home. It felt selfish to expect more.
He moves his head from where he kept it hiding and blindly lifts his face, knowing that Cole would meet him halfway. Cole’s lips land tenderly against his, making him hum with the contentedness that swam through his veins.
He pulls back with opened eyes to catch the pure joy that lighted up Cole’s face every time they shared something even remotely intimate. Like always, his lips are stretched wide, the smile bright and radiating even at the simplest display of affection. Hanzo raises a hand and brings it up to his husband’s face as he traces the crinkles around his eyes with his fingertips.
Cole’s face goes slack for a split second before filling with joy, as if every expression of fondness from Hanzo was always a surprise he couldn’t believe he got to receive and enjoy. His husband’s warm brown eyes gazed down at him and he stares back with open adoration, taking in everything that was so readily given to him.
Without any preamble Hanzo is reminded of something, the sudden image of the remainder leaving him reeling. His daughter had looked back at him earlier that morning with eyes that shone with the same adoration Cole’s radiated with now.
Like a flip of a switch it all comes rushing back, the intensity of it refusing to stay confined within Hanzo. It was like his subconscious felt it necessary to taunt him with the exact minute details that would leave his soul feeling raw and shredded. He didn’t have a daughter but he also had a daughter no matter how brief and imaginary their time was. Hanzo knew he could never hold her but less than an hour ago, her laugh rang clear in his ears. She wasn’t real but she also was an amalgamation of everything he loved about Cole.
With no control over himself, his face must have reflected the turmoil boiling inside him because Cole’s mirrors it with confusion and raising concern. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He asks Hanzo, his worry bright and clear in his tone.
He can do nothing but push himself away from Cole. He takes a few wide strides their room’s door and stops in front of it to shove his feet into the first pair of sneakers that was neatly tucked against the wall. He twists the door handle open just as Cole’s voice reaches him again. “Han, wait…” Cole starts off but it is cut of as Hanzo exists their room, leaving the door to close itself behind him.
He heedlessly starts walking towards the first direction he sees, not thinking at all of where he was heading. His chest clenches with pain as his throat burns with sorrow for something he never could have. With no immediate way to mitigate the ache, his eyes start burning with the burden of unshed tears.
He carries on with his directionless walking, knowing full well that his cheeks would remain dry while his heart ravaged itself with longing and despair.