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Cole Cassidy has always been full of love, even when he was a bitter and resentful teenager who had nowhere else to go but further down. Love never had a proper home amongst a group of people who only ever rightfully cared about themselves. Deadlock was all he had until Commander Reyes gave him a chance at freedom, the opportunity to change himself into a man worth living.
When Cassidy truly loves someone, he finds ways to share tidbits of his life with them. Small sentiments throughout his time, the rare happy ones that he has never forgotten.
He shows Reyes a stretch that his mother had taught him when his muscles were close to almost tearing. Genji had watched from a distance, eyed Cassidy as he reprimanded their commander for almost pulling a muscle. He shows Dr. Ziegler how to make a stew, perfect for sick folks he had said, that runs in his family. He shows Genji how to change a tire at one point. They had stolen a not so state-of-the-art car on one of their Blackwatch missions. The tire had collapsed on itself about a quarter into their ride. During Cassidy’s lesson, which involved quite a bit of flirting and a lot of the cowboy’s hand on Genji’s waist, they had gotten ambushed. It was peaceful, nice even, while it lasted.
The man was a constant in Genji’s life, and he had a knack for showing up whenever Genji was at his lowest—whenever he needed him.
He knows about Cassidy’s bad habits, tendencies that he picked up during his time with Deadlock. He’d often start fights with other soldiers, perhaps at least four times a week when he had first joined Blackwatch. He’d end up bruised and bloody with both the Commander and Dr. Ziegler by his bedside. He’d often skip out on meals in the cafeteria, knowing he didn’t have the cash for them but never knowing he had a right to food. Cassidy has always lived a life where he had to fend for himself. If anyone got too close, they would find either a fist in their face or, in worse cases, the barrel of a gun against their back.
Cole Cassidy is not an open book nor is he an entirely good man, but he is terribly sentimental, and it only gets worse with age. When they are older, a little grey around the edges and a little worse for wear, they find themselves back where they had first started together: back at Overwatch.
On the rooftop of Watchpoint Gibraltar, Genji watches Cole light another cigar. The waves below them lap at the shore as the sun sets in front of them. Warm colours that remind Genji of the man beside him paint the sky, and he smiles underneath his helmet.
“It’s beautiful here,” he remembers saying to Zenyatta. “I could never appreciate it before.”
He had tilted his head at Genji, his own way of smiling. Zenyatta placed a hand on his shoulder and admired the scenery with him; to this day, it remains an important memory to Genji, proof that he has always been human and is no longer trapped in a mindset that only convinced him that he was nothing but a weapon for Overwatch. His master had said, “One’s eyes only ever truly open when one achieves true, inner peace.”
Genji looks over at Cole again, eyes hidden by his visor. He admires the sharp curve of his jaw and the opposing soft curve of his smile. He marvels at the new crow’s feet around sweet, brown eyes. He didn’t have those before, not when he was visiting Cassidy in the medbay after a fight, and he would be sporting black eyes and split lips. Before Cassidy could even see him standing in the doorway, Genji noticed the guilt and shame that hung over him. Sometimes, on the bad days, there were even tears; whether they were out of frustration, anger, or sadness, Genji wanted to be there and sit while Cassidy talked, pretending he was anything but a kid that’s been hurt far too many times.
Now, Cole doesn’t have to hide anymore.
Feeling a little mischievous, Genji reaches over and snatches the cigar out of his hand before Cole can take his first drag. Cole snaps around, eyebrow raised. A smile tugs at his lips, handsome face lit up with amusement.
“Now what’d you do that for?” he asks, good-natured.
“I wanted to see your face.”
“Did you now?”
Genji leans into his space, smile on his face though it is hidden by his faceplate, and says, “I like your face.”
“Yeah? Well, I’d love it if you could show me a little appreciation,” Cole says. He reaches behind Genji’s head, already finding the clasps of his helmet. He waits for permission, always does. Genji nods. His helmet comes off with a familiar hiss of steam. They place it aside, visor facing the sunset.
Playing along, Genji places a hand on Cole’s cheek and leans in to brush their mouths together. He doesn’t miss the way Cole’s breath hitches in excitement, despite how many kisses they’ve shared, before he pulls back with a chuckle. Genji slips the cigar between his lips, taking a drag. The smoke fills his lungs, that familiar sweet burn from years ago rolling over his body in waves, and the moment ends when he finally exhales without a single cough. Out of the corner of his eye, Cole seems almost out of breath. His face is beet red. His mouth is agape, and Genji almost giggles when Cole clears his throat to try and save the last remaining pieces of his dignity.
“You’re gonna kill me, Genji, god damn.”
Genji laughs now, almost curling over from delight. He leans forward and takes the cigar out of his mouth. Holding it in between two fingers, he presses a sweet kiss to Cole’s mouth. When he pulls away, he selfishly lingers. Cole tastes like smoke and ash, and Genji is sure he is the exact same; the idea makes his head spin.
“There,” Genji says, flirtatious, but he is almost dizzy with the thought of being so close to him. “Better?”
Cole hums and places his hand on Genji’s waist, running dangerously low below his hips. He presses forward and kisses Genji properly. The latter’s lips part, a sign for Cole to surge forward, and he does almost immediately. Metal fingers thread through Genji’s hair, black with remnants of green, and Cole holds himself back from tugging on the strands when Genji lets out a happy sound, almost a moan, against his mouth.
Pulling away, Genji laughs again, especially at the sight of Cole red and breathless.
“Yeah,” Cole says, out of breath. “Better.”
Genji gently pats his cheek. “We are lucky that nobody comes up here.”
“Don’t you like that sorta stuff, darlin’?”
“Ah, don’t get me started.”
Cole smiles, still blushing, as he takes his cigar back. He takes a drag, chest rising and falling with the motion. Genji watches him with a pout on his face, purposely being a brat, and Cole winks at him. Anyone else would have rolled their eyes, wouldn’t have been stupid enough to be charmed by a winking cowboy in the late 21st century.
Genji is charmed anyway.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” Cole remarks. “Thought you’d start coughin’ up a storm after the first hit.”
“I used to when I was younger. Hanzo hated it.”
“Can’t say I’m too surprised. Guy walks around with a stick up his ass.”
Genji bumps Cole’s shoulder with his own and with enough force to jostle the other man; he laughs. “Be nice,” Genji chides with a click of his tongue. “I don’t smoke anymore though. Besides, it does not feel the same.”
“‘Cause of your filter?”
Genji nods, propping his arms up on his knees. “Without it though, I could have done the same. No coughing.”
“Y’know, I did hear things back in our Blackwatch days. When Reyes was still around and you were still new, he told me some rumours about ya. Before everythin’ happened.”
“Good things I hope.”
“Somethin’ like that,” Cole laughs. “You don’t really talk about your past that much.”
Genji rests his head on his arms, still looking at Cole with a smile. “Is it worth even mentioning? I am a different man now.”
“Sure are, and that smile looks especially good on ya too,” Cole says and leans over to kiss his forehead. “Not that I wasn’t still head over heels for you when you were nothin’ but sharp edges.”
Genji sticks his tongue out at him. “I guess it is only fair that I tell you some things. You’ve taken me to so many places.”
On the rare occasion that they find themselves on Route 66, Cole would take him to Panorama diner or would tell him stories while keeping their distance from Deadlock Gorge. Genji would listen fondly, asking his own questions and laughing at a young Cole Cassidy who accidentally sat his ass on a cactus way too many times.
Genji has far too many stories too. As a reckless youth, he would wander the streets of Hanamura, looking for anything that would take his mind off how, ever so slowly, he would be forced to be a part of something he never believed in or supported in the first place. Ever so slowly, he had drifted from the only person who understood him or at least tried his best to have some semblance of understanding. Eventually, as they grew older, Hanzo was taken from him, and he had taken Genji’s life with him. Parties and clubs were never important to him, merely ways to distract himself. When he returned home, drunk and miserable, Hanzo was always there waiting for him. His most important memories were, believe it or not, shared with his brother in the comfort of a local ramen shop.
“Next time we are in Hanamura, we’ll go to Rikimaru. A place I used to go to a lot when I was younger,” Genji suggests. “Have you had ramen before?”
“Ramen?” Cole repeats, the word unfamiliar on his tongue.
Laughing, Genji places his hand on the back of Cole’s neck. He brings him closer and kisses him, soft and sweet, as he mumbles, “I have a lot to show you.”