[OVW] Fic sneak peek "The Father, the Child"

Surprise little bit of a YeeHan fic I've been working on for a while, and I'm at almost 3k words because it kind of got away from me! 

Rating is Mature (might go up after it's done), and it's mostly to satisfy one of my cravings for dad!Cassidy, but it's not heavily kidfic-y, and I'm going for awkward more than anything lol.

Enjoy this snippet!

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Cole frowns down at his comm, and Hanzo notices.

They’re packing up after a brief recon mission at Cole’s old Deadlock haunting grounds, and it went as well as expected: no evidence of any significant Talon activity. Cole had been pleased to pass along their report to Winston, but the severe lack of action had him—and certainly Hanzo—wishing for something, anything, to shoot at.

As Cole rereads the email he has just received a third time, Hanzo enters his field of vision from the side, having abandoned his half-packed duffle.

“What is it.”

“Don’t know what to make of this,” Cole says, scratching his head, “Winston forwarded a message from a county official not too far from here, claiming an urgent need to meet up. Personal matter.”

Hanzo peers at Cole’s comm in confusion. “Why would Winston be fielding your personal messages?”

“Security. Since I started going by Cassidy again, I got folks tryin’ to get a hold of me. Mostly to ask for money, people from where I came from who think I made it big and can spare it, but I also get a bunch of weirdos who want to fuck me or kill me or both.”

Hanzo hums in response. “But this one must have seemed legitimate enough to pass along.”

“Yeah...it’s from a sheriff at my—” Cole hesitates for a split second, “uh, a place I used to live. Went to school with her, actually.”

Hanzo raises an eyebrow at the poorly executed misdirection but says nothing.

“Does she say what this is all about?”

“Somethin’ to do with social services. Doesn’t really say much, just that it’s important I go there personally. Maybe they got records on me, I don’t know.”

“It would be prudent to ensure these documents, should they exist, cannot be traced back to you in a way that puts you in danger. I shall go as well,” Hanzo says decisively.

“You think it could be some kind of trap?”

Hanzo lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “More sordid things have happened.”

Cole sits down heavily on the foot of his bed with a groan. “Well...hope you don’t mind staying an extra couple nights.”

“I do not,” Hanzo replies and goes to unpack his bag again. Just like that.

Cole shoots off a text to Winston and pockets his comm, doing his best not to let his eagerness to spend a little more time with Hanzo show in his body language. He has been very good at (mostly) keeping his eyes to himself, but the problem with being deeply attracted to your friend and teammate is hiding the signs while staying in a tiny room together.

At least we got twin beds, Cole thinks. Still, he represses a memory from just this morning of waking up and staring at Hanzo’s sleeping face—or what was visible of it, as Hanzo tended to pull his bedsheets up to his ears even if the temperature reached sweltering.

After staring for longer than decently necessary at the stretch of Hanzo’s black t-shirt over his muscular back, Cole blinks to the present and slips his comm out of his pocket again, dials a number and waits.

“Sheriff Katie Townsend, it’s been a while,” he says when there’s an answer, “It’s Cassidy. You said you wanted to meet?”

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“Mr Cassidy, you’re all grown up.”

“Yes indeed. Congratulations on becoming sheriff.”

“Hm, well, we can’t all be outlaws turned Overwatch agents,” Sheriff Townsend says with a disapproving sniff. She hadn't changed much since he last saw her, maybe a few more greys in her dark hair and aged by the harsh sun. Still short and stocky but fierce enough to seem seven feet tall.

Sometime after lunch, they arrived at the county jail, and Cole didn’t know how to feel about being back here after nearly a decade. He had sworn the last time was his last time.

The building was looking perhaps a little more miserable than when he was here years before, and Katie—then a deputy—had thrown him in a cell for being drunk and disorderly. Inside wasn’t much better. Hanzo stayed by his side, taking in the surroundings with bemused curiosity. Cole had introduced him as his partner and ignored the stupid little flutter of his stomach at the word choice.

Cole clears his throat. “So, Sheriff…here I am. What’s this about?”

Sheriff Townsend seems to brace herself, hands resting on her gunbelt for a moment. “Follow me.”

She leads them to a small, cluttered archive room, filled from floor to ceiling with boxes of evidence and physical files that likely had no digital existence. Like stepping back in time, Cole muses, before he notices a young girl, maybe nine or ten years old, sitting at a rickety desk on this side of the cordoned-off shelves, head bowed over the back of a blank police report, scribbling with a pen.

Sheriff Townsend approaches the desk, and the girl’s head snaps up at the interruption.

“Now, I’d like you to meet young Jenny here. Jenny Mae Cassidy.”

Cole tilts his head inquisitively. “Cassidy too? Only a couple folks have that last name up in these parts.”

“Well, that’s the name she has on her birth certificate, on account of it belonging to her daddy.”

Cole chokes on his startled inhale, and Hanzo’s brows shoot up so high they almost disappear into his hairline.

“Now wait one damn minute,” Cole gasps, “that—”

“She’s your daughter.”

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Cole tries to make sense of this new development in a shaded corner of the dusty county jail parking lot that he let Hanzo drag him to—who muttered apologies on his behalf to Sheriff Townsend and something about needing some air.

Hanzo waits more patiently for an answer than Cole expects for someone as blindsided by the recent news as he was.

“It ain’t physically impossible,” Cole finally says, “I sometimes came back here for the holidays, last time was about a decade ago, but I was so wasted I can’t remember most of it. Slept with folks, sure.”

He finds himself a little embarrassed to admit this and wonders why he’s even telling Hanzo in the first place. Cole watches Hanzo digest this information, hoping that he’d have some kind of logical solution.

“There is definitely…a resemblance,” Hanzo begins slowly, “but you would know if she should stay here or come with us to the base where we have the resources to help her and, in doing so, you. Winston can procure necessary testing to confirm you are her…relative.”

Cole straightens up from where he was leaning against the whitewashed wall. “You think she looks like me? Shit,” he says at Hanzo’s emphatic nod, “I guess we better bring her along, at least until we know for sure. If she’s here at the county jail, it means the poor kid’s been abandoned by everybody, and I ain’t adding myself to that list.”

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At least Sheriff Townsend approves of his decision if the frown marks that no longer look as deeply set were any indication. She has some paperwork for him to sign, which he lets Hanzo read first since Cole’s brain seems to have given up processing anything else for the day.

As he waits for Hanzo to finish, he takes the opportunity to get a good look at Jenny Mae, standing by the rickety desk she had been placed at and who was now observing the proceedings.

She’s scrawny, gangly like he was at that age, all stretched limbs and large extremities. Her eyes are the exact shade of deep amber as his, the colour of sweet tea. Her hair was a little darker, a rich chestnut, hanging in waves to just below her ears. There’s a smattering of freckles across her nose from spending a childhood under the same sun he had. He doesn’t know if she has dimples or not—hard to tell while she’s scowling like that—but the set of her mouth and the slight squint as she looks up at him with mistrust—it’s like seeing himself reflected.

Dread sits like a stone in his stomach.

“Her mama ran off with some pretty boy ‘bout ten years younger while Jenny was at school,” Sheriff Townsend comments, “she’s been stayin’ with me since then, but I can’t keep takin’ care of her.”

Cole lowers his voice. “You know the kind of work I do, the folks I associate with.” Sheriff Townsend’s gaze flickers to the side at Hanzo and his unique tattoo.  A few deputies are staring, some familiar faces among them.

“Oh, the whole town knows all about you, James Cole Cassidy. Thought you’d turn out just like your pa, and it took you ‘bout twenty years to prove us wrong, huh.”

Cole opens his mouth to reply, but Hanzo announces that the document is adequate enough for a signature. Cole knows it doesn’t matter. Katie was almost eager to unburden herself of the responsibility, and anything he put his name to was just a formality.

He does it anyway. Sheriff Townsend nods in approval and grabs the girl’s things. At this apparently immediate hand-off, Cole tries not to give in to the hysteria bubbling beneath the surface.

The sheriff gives Jenny a look. “You know how to contact me if you’re in trouble.” Jenny nods solemnly. Oddly, Cole feels relief at the caution. He wouldn’t have wholly trusted him either.

She then gives Cole the brunt of her unyielding gaze. “Here’s your chance to keep provin’ us wrong.”

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On the short walk from their vehicle to the motel they’re staying in, Cole notices the hand-me-down clothes that hang off Jenny’s thin frame, the peeling soles of her dirty, too-small sneakers, the rucksack that looks almost concave from the sheer lack of possessions, and his heart gives a painful clench.

Jenny is enjoying an ice cream in their room after accepting it suspiciously. Cole rests against the side of the motel building overlooking the highway, and Hanzo is facing that way also, arms folded across his chest.

Hanzo sighs. “We must alert Winston.”

Cole raises his head. “Hanzo, we can’t keep her on base forever—”

“Temporarily,” Hanzo interrupts, turning to him, “she has nowhere else unless there is another family member you trust to take care of her?”

It’s Cole’s turn to sigh. “Nope.”

After a prolonged silence, Cole quietly asks, “Why are you doing this?”

Hanzo replies just as quietly, “because we must never abandon family.”

Cole swallows the “alleged family” he was about to retort back with because he remembers that Hanzo had grown up surrounded by uncles, aunties, brothers and sisters who were not of his blood. He imagined that had Jenny been dumped at his feet, Hanzo would have found a place for her and demanded complete loyalty in exchange for the protection his name provided. Cole felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise at the notion because he knows Hanzo and his ferocious defence of loved ones quite well now.

And Jenny needed defending. She had likely been passed from home to home, made herself too troublesome to keep. Just like Cole had. He rubs the sore centre of his chest as unwelcome memories revisit him. Hanzo suggests going back inside to call Winston and Cole agrees. It’s time to get this rolling.

When they return to their room, it’s clear Jenny has been poking through their belongings.

Hanzo faces her sternly. “If you are determined to violate our privacy, do a better job of concealing your efforts.”

She scowls at him, cheeks ruddy with embarrassment. Hanzo holds out his hand. into it, Jenny reluctantly drops a keychain of a silly little horse that Cole had bought as a joke and that he didn’t think Hanzo would ever keep, much less use.

“Alright, kid, we’re gonna set some ground rules. First: you need to tell me—us,” he amends, glancing towards Hanzo, “if you don’t like something. You can be your own person, and I don’t want you forcing yourself to do something you don’t want to. Okay?”

Jenny chews on her bottom lip, hesitant.

“Spit it out, kid.”

“Don’t call me kid. It’s Jenny.”

Cole smiles. “Well then. Good start.”

He sticks an unlit cigarillo between his teeth. “Second: I don’t want you calling me ‘dad’ or ‘pa’ or ‘sir’ or nothin’. I know what the Sheriff said, but you ain’t obligated to call me anything other than Cole, or Cassidy if you’re feeling formal.”

“Third: you let us know if you wanna head back home. I mean it; if you need your mama or just feel like you had enough, we’ll bring you right back—”

Jenny is shaking her head vehemently. “I ain’t ever wanna go back. This room is already better than livin’ with mama.”

Hanzo speaks this time. “Did she mistreat you?”

“She had a lot of boyfriends. They didn’t really like me. A couple of ‘em liked me too much,” she says with a sneer.

Cole feels a rush of anger, not realizing he’d clenched his fists until Hanzo places a grounding hand between his shoulder blades. He takes a deep breath.

“Alright, well you don’t gotta worry about that anymore.” He turns to Hanzo. “Why don’t you give Winston a heads up, I’m gonna get us some dinner.”

He stalks out of the room without waiting for a reply, and hopes the short walk to the diner will help him cool off.

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Thank you for reading!