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He had just come to check up on you.
The schedule of a hero, but not really a hero, who worked for a technically illegal organisation dedicated to keeping world peace, was erratic at best. The first few days after you had given birth, he had given you both the luxury of being around as often as he could, but then Reaper had been sighted in London and he was gone again.
When he had arrived back at base, you were both asleep, your body clock already beginning to adjust to the sporadic naps that came with a newborn’s sleeping schedule. Hanzo was due to report back to Winston and Athena and head out again, but days apart from you and his newborn son left an odd ache in Hanzo’s chest, as if he was abandoning his supposed role as father and partner.
He just wanted this moment, this moment of watching his infant son doze in his cot.
Hanzo flinched as the small baby in front of him began to squirm, its tiny face beginning to wrinkle into the tell-tale signs of an all-out screaming fit that newborns seemed to be best at, letting the whole world know that they were unhappy about something.
He immediately looked towards you first, panic already beginning to build in him as you writhed in your state of half sleep from the comforts of the bed, already beginning to react to your baby’s noises despite your own exhaustion.
“Hanzo?”
“Darling, rest, it’s okay, I’ve got him.” He attempted to reassure you before turning back to his baby, desperately whispering something in hushed Japanese as his steady archer’s hands scooped the small infant up against him.
Support the neck, support the neck. He reminded himself as he brought his infant son close to his chest, looking down to meet his son’s eyes, the same shade of almond brown that he shared with both Hanzo and Genji. A family trait it seemed.
It was a pity. He had told you once he had hoped your son would inherit your eyes, perhaps because the eyes that he shared with Genji gave him too many painful reminders.
“Hush now, little one. See. There’s nothing wrong. Nothing wrong…” Hanzo attempted to soothe his child, gently rocking him.
Even though it was not the first time Hanzo had held his son, it was the first time he had picked him up by himself, instead of having him almost shoved into his arms. Years of archery, martial arts and various other training had taught Hanzo the patience and care needed to handle something so small and fragile, but it was clear he was awe struck and perhaps, terrified, of the small infant that now occupied the space in his arms.
The newborn gave another cautiously loud whimper and Hanzo visibly recoiled from the sound again as you cautiously pushed yourself up. “I think he just wants attention, love. He shouldn’t need a feed or a change.” You mumbled, struggling to find your bearings, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Hanzo looked back at you and it was strange to see the man you loved so distraught over something. “He won’t – “
“Just keep rocking him, love, gently, like Mercy and Ana taught you.”
Hanzo grimaced but followed your instructions and his son quietened down to a soft whimper as Hanzo carefully cradled him against him.
“See, Hanzo?” You assured him, smiling gently. “He’s just spoilt for attention,” A pause then you smirked. “Like his father.”
The archer gave you a quick scoff and an eye roll but turned his attention back to the infant, his expression not a recognisable one, some mix of fear and pride and sadness. “I was so scared.” He murmured gently, more to himself then to you.
“Of our baby crying?” You teased, a smile teasing your lips. “That’s kind of all he can do right now, Hanzo, so…”
He pulled a smile at that. “No. Well, yes, but…” His smile faded gently and you looked at him, worried.
“Hanzo?”
“I was scared he would hate me. Or, be scared of me, or…” The archer confessed, his eyes still on his son, who had finally calmed down enough to stifle out a yawn.
Your brow creased in confusion and concern. “Hanzo, he’s just a baby, why would he – “
“Because… I don’t deserve this.” He tried, shoulders slumping. “I don’t deserve you, and… I certainly don’t deserve him.” Hanzo licked his lips cautiously, trying to relieve his suddenly dry mouth. “I killed my brother. I threw any value of family I had out the window that night and I – “
His slowly raising tone caused his son to squirm in his arms, stopping Hanzo in his rant to look down at his infant child, hushing him again in whispered Japanese.
You gestured him to come over and he did, taking a seat next to you on the edge of the bed and letting you lean over to press a kiss to his temple. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked softly, your lips nuzzling that spot under his ear that made him melt against you.
“You had… enough to deal with.” He tried. “The pregnancy was hard on you. I had already placed that burden on you and now with not being here when I should be.”
You chuckled softly. “I don’t hold any of that against you, love.”
“No… But I hold it against myself.”
You shook your head and smiled, leaning against him. “We’re partners, Hanzo.” You whispered to him. “We’re supposed to talk to each other about these things, rely on each other… and not just for ourselves…” You bopped your finger against your infant’s nose. “For him too.”
Hanzo looked down at his son, the infant already calmed back to sleep in his arms and his gaze softened. He supposed being selfish with his feelings was no longer a luxury he could afford, at least not with these feelings.
“He’s not scared of you, Hanzo.” You comforted him. “And I’m sure you won’t give him reason to be. You’ll be a great father. You’ve made a lot of mistakes, but that just means you’ve got enough experience that you won’t make them again.”
Hanzo gave a tired smile and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, assured by your words. “Such a voice of reason, my love.”
You gave a sheepish grin, your cheeks heating with blush from his compliment. “Someone’s got to be if you’re going to be all melodramatic."