Hanzo was not a very affectionate person, you knew this. It took some time to win his trust as a comrade-in-arms, even more to be considered a friend, and ages to have him consent to something the two of you could call a proper ‘relationship’.
“–the villain of the story is this guy, Bill, a floating triangle with one eye…”
The talking was a regular thing–it was more of a one-sided dialogue, where you spoke and Hanzo just listened, contributing to the conversation whenever he felt it was appropriate. As much as he hated excessive noise, he grew fond of your animated chatter, and would silently urge you to speak of your favorite things.
Today, it was cartoons.
The two of you sat side-by-side, legs and hands that could brush each other if either of you just moved a touch.
In the middle of your monologue, you absentmindedly began to rub your thumb over the back of his hand, completely unaware of how Hanzo’s spine snaps up straight, goosebumps coat his skin in waves, and the way his hand curls just so beneath your touch. It isn’t until you looked over did you see his gaze transfixed on you.
“Something on my face?”
You looked inquisitively at him, your full attention invested in his thoughts, everything becoming still, including your hand.
He made a slight noise that you’re not quite sure you’ve heard before, and he looked away.
“No, it’s…”
The lines above his brow deepened, and he gritted his teeth. It was a look you have often seen on him, but over the course of your friendship together, you recognized it not as one of anger, but more out of frustration at himself. (Frustration at others was usually accompanied by a particular set of lines at the corner of his mouth and a red that starts from his neck, you have learned.)
Every few seconds was punctuated by an attempt to speak the words that evade him. But you waited patiently, your thumb still brushed against his hand every once in a while in your idleness. He turned to look at it with a tiny hint of a smile crinkling his eyes.
“Pleasant,” he said finally, quietly, the beginnings of a gentle blush forming around his nose and ears. “The…touching. It is pleasant.”
Your face broke into a grin instantly, and he immediately averted his eyes. Giddiness that bubbled up in your chest commanded that you take his hand and just give it the sweetest kiss you could, but your rationale vetoed the motion–Hanzo was not a very affectionate person, and those boundaries had to be respected.
“I’m glad,” you said simply, and you continued the soothing motion against his hand, encouraged by his confession. He did not speak nor turn to look at you, but he nodded to show he at least heard you.
“So, anyway, the main characters are these two kids…”
You continued your story with the same fervor as before. He, in turn, continued to listen, the tension slowly dissipating as you went on, relieved that his emotions were no longer under your focus, and just perhaps because he was able to admit to himself that this was nice, and might not mind it as much as he thought.
The next time you two have a moment together, you definitely notice the subtle brush of his hand against yours and have to repress the urge to just grab his hand when he swipes his thumb across the back of yours.
Dorks.
I was reading a thread on reddit where they asked the men of reddit what melts their hearts, and some of the answers included affection, hand-holding, and genuine compassion. So, here you go. This is my sin.
AWWWW! Cute! Yes, men are more affectionate and cute then are given credit for if you ask me!
demialwrites 