Chapter Text
Cole Cassidy takes a drag of the cigar perched between his fingers, relishing in the earthy smoke that leaves his lungs. He glances around while tapping his foot against the barstool, eyes scanning for their target.
"That's a nasty habit, vaquero," comes Gabriel Reyes' voice, unnaturally calm with only a hint of agitation mixed in. A cigarette is twirled between calloused hands as the two wait.
Cassidy nearly snorts. "The tappin' or th' smokin'? Because if it's th' latter, you're one to talk, jefe."
Reyes shoots him a glare, a warning evident on his face. "Both. You're making me antsy. Cut it out."
"If I recall, Commander Reyes—" Cassidy's tone is playful, enunciating each syllable in mock sympathy. "—you're th' one who gave me this beauty." He motions to the many cigars littering a nearby ashtray. "And her friends."
Reyes huffs, a headache lurking behind his tired eyes. "Only because we're on a mission. I knew you'd need something to do with your hands. Your fidgeting was bound to blow our cover."
Cassidy gives the comment some thought. It's true, he has a nervous habit of being unable to sit still for more than ten minutes. Meanwhile, their target hasn't revealed himself in three hours of scoping out the nasty, grime-ridden bar.
"Could be the intel was fishy," Cassidy supplies after a moment. The nicotine buzzing through his system leaves his hands shaky as he reaches for his whiskey. Reyes allowed him one glass, a "treat" to mark the 1-year anniversary of his time in Blackwatch, despite his ill-fitted age of 18.
Reyes stirs, back suddenly straight and cigarette thoroughly crushed in his grip. Its tobacco falls into the ashtray beneath his hands, leaving minimal debris on the bartop.
His tone is authoritative, yet casual. "Target at three o'clock coming this way. Act natural."
Sure enough, all 180 pounds of tall, dark, and handsome comes sauntering over to Cassidy's position. Cassidy steals a glance, observing the man's deeply tanned skin, piercing hazel eyes, and goatee tinged with looselets of gray hair.
"Act natural," he repeats quietly before a rough hand latches onto his shoulder. Out of instinct, he shrugs it off and turns to face the culprit.
"My, my, an honest-to-God cowboy," the man, notorious leader of an underground drug ring, tsks. "Aren't you a looker?" His voice is smooth, yet holds an unnerving edge that sends shudders up Cassidy's spine.
Cassidy stubs out his cigar and replies, voice as sweet as honey, laying it on thick for the mission, but also his entertainment. If there's one thing he knows how to do, it's flirt with a good-looking guy.
"Well, thank you, sweetheart. Any reason you're so dolled up on this fine evenin'? I must reckon, you look the part to be my next drink." He shoots the man a lopsided grin, one he's pulled many times on his commander when in trouble.
To no surprise, the man beams, all smile lines and scrunched nose. It's light, and airy, but presents as an act for his mischievous intentions. What those intentions are, Cassidy is unaware.
The man slowly leans against the bar. "I like you, cowboy. What's to say we take this to the bathroom, hmm? I'll show you a good time."
Cassidy flushes, if only for show, and then downs the rest of his whiskey. "It'd be my pleasure, darlin'."
The man practically drags Cassidy by the wrist, eagerness present behind those vibrant eyes. Reyes crackles to life in his ear.
"Confirm the name, Agent Cassidy. We need to know for sure this is our target before we move on him. Don't forget the signal."
Cassidy rolls his eyes at his boss, instead focusing on the back of the target's head as they near the bathroom. It's a single stall with a dusty floor mucked with bootprints in compromising angles.
Once inside, uneasiness threatens to topple him over. Perhaps it's the glint in the man's eye and the way he stares predatorily at Cassidy, or perhaps it's the alcohol. He's always been a lightweight.
"So," Cassidy drawls to break the silence. "What's your name, hot stuff?"
"Jean Lassic," he returns breathlessly while fishing in his coat pocket. "And yours, cowboy?"
Cassidy combats the dread seeping through his veins with a flirtatious smirk. "Cassidy. Cole Cassidy, that is."
The man's face suddenly grows serious, calculated as if he's sizing Cassidy up, ready to pounce. "Before we begin, I need to make sure you aren't one of those mercenaries hired to kill me."
Cassidy's throat clogs, but he responds effortlessly, a feat only capable due to his years of practiced deflection in the Deadlock Rebels.
"Oh, so you're a wanted man?" Cassidy licks his chapped lips seductively, then shoots a wink Jean's way. "I like my men with a little danger attached to them."
Jean smiles coyly before wrapping a soft hand around Cassidy's neck, bringing their faces impossibly close. The hand travels around to Cassidy's chin and tilts it toward the left where Jean brandishes a baggie of unknown powder.
"If you're not one of them, then surely you won't mind taking a bump with me, hmm?" That same devilish light flickers behind Jean's eyes as Cassidy inhales sharply. "I find it to make my sexual prowess more...exponential."
A mirage of images flicker through Cassidy's head, memories from his drug abuse in Deadlock clawing from the recesses of his mind into the limelight. Countless nights he spent passed out under the blaring sun in a drug-induced coma, waiting for the vultures to pick apart his bowels.
Jean senses the wariness and pulls back, suspicion making him kiss his teeth in distrust. Cassidy fumbles to recover from the images and in a desperate attempt to not to blow his cover mumbles, "Of course, I don't mind. Anything for you."
In his ear: "Agent Cassidy, is the target secure? Give the signal when you're ready."
Cassidy knows deep down that he should give the signal and capture this target, snuff out the urges bubbling up his throat.
Yet, he can't.
"Cocaine?" Cassidy asks instead, pushing Reyes out of his head altogether.
Jean nods while laying a thin line on his knuckle. Once satisfied, he gestures to Cassidy, who cautiously snorts the powder, his nose burning ferociously as the paraphanelia is absorbed into his nasal membrane. Jean squeezes Cassidy's hand reassuringly before laying a line for himself and following suit.
Anxiety floods Cassidy, a torrential downpour washing away his lax facade. Jean pulls Cassidy in for a kiss, soft lips on cracked ones. It's feverish the way Cassidy clings to Jean like a lifeline. It melts his worries away, and leaves his brain fuzzy and confidence raised.
"Cole. Cole! Give the signal," Reyes all but growls over comms.
Suddenly, Cassidy is thrust into the present with such force that it gives him mental whiplash. Through groans of pleasure, he mumbles, "Why don't we take this back to my place?" with a hand activating his comms.
The cacophony to follow is meticulously planned.
Reyes bursts through the door wielding two short-barrel shotguns, clad in tactical gear and annoyance furrowed between his brows.
Jean stumbles back, alarmed, nearly tripping over himself on the way.
Reyes is pissed, and nearly yells, "Jean Lassic, you are hereby under arrest by Overwatch on countless charges of drug trafficking and smuggling."
Cassidy withdraws Peacekeeper from her holster and aims it at the white of Jean's sclera as the man trembles. Reyes clasps a pair of handcuffs over Jean's wrists upon pinning him to the ground before hauling him to his feet, all while the man grumbles obscenities.
"Curse you, cowboy."
Cassidy's heart rate kicks into overdrive as the drugs kick in, and he casts Reyes a goofy grin. Reyes nearly snarls at the playful action, muttering, "Couldn't have waited any longer, vaquero?"
They haul Jean to Overwatch's armored vehicle a few blocks down, earning many worried glances from civilians on the way. Reyes simply flashes his Overwatch insignia to those who try to intervene.
It's five minutes later when Jean is safely secured in custody of Blackwatch and Reyes and Cassidy are piling into the vehicle in search of headquarters.
A thoroughly high Cole Cassidy babbles endlessly the whole drive to the base while Reyes sits in disturbed silence. At last, he catches a glance at Cassidy's dumb grin and pulls the vehicle over to grab him by the collar of his shirt.
"You have three seconds to tell me why your eyes are so goddamn dilated before I put you in the back with the fugitive," Reyes barks.
Cassidy writhes in excitement while struggling to pull away, face permanently etched into a smile.
"One."
Cassidy shrinks under Reyes' stare.
"Two."
He offers his commander a guilty expression.
"Thr-"
"Okay, fine, s'fine," Cassidy caves. His frown doesn't last long, as a bout of energy surges through him. "The fugitive as you called 'em made me do cocaine to prove I weren't no traitor."
Reyes stills, likely absorbing the information.
Cassidy manages to free himself of Reyes' firm grasp and settles lower in his seat, an intoxicating vibration overwhelming his senses. His words are mottled. "Couldn't blow my cover, jefe."
Reyes clenches a fist, then takes a few deep breaths. They begin their drive again, this time while Reyes has a death grip on the steering wheel, ready to strangle the young cowboy the first chance he gets.
When they arrive on base, Reyes orders his team to deal with the capture before dragging Cassidy to Med-Bay by his ear, chastising him the whole way.
"Ahh, Commander Reyes, and young Cassidy, to whom do I owe the pleasure?" greets Dr. Angela Ziegler upon their arrival.
Reyes is cold in return. "Agent Cassidy here was spiked with an unknown drug during our Covert Ops mission. Would you see to him until it wears off?"
The lie startles Cassidy, but he simply adds a giddy laugh to the conversation. Dr. Ziegler frowns as she ushers Cassidy into an empty room and settles him in with IVs and vital checks.
In the lobby, Reyes rubs at his temple and sighs. "Cole, you idiot."
~~~
Cassidy sits idly on his bed, staring into the vast nothingness that lies just beyond the barred window of his room. Nowadays, he feels more like a prisoner than a person. The stunt from a week prior landed him in hot shit with Commander Reyes, who all but beat the life out of him during a sparring session the next day.
To rub salt in the wound, Reyes himself made a surprise visit to Cassidy's room and rummaged through his short list of belongings. Needless to say, the cigarettes he keeps stashed under the bed are lost to the void that is the Blackwatch incinerator.
"To protect you, Agent Cassidy," Reyes had affirmed. "If that incident or this contraband got on your oh-so pristine record, Jack would kill both you and me."
Cassidy is relatively sure that the bit pertaining to his "pristine record" was sarcastic.
Ever since the mission, a certain emptiness resonates through to his core. It's indicative of a problem intertwined with a portion of his life that seems so distant yet so near. In the good old days, way before Reyes, when Cassidy would party and shoot God knows what into his veins as if counteracting an influenza, the times seemed simpler.
Happier.
Said memories are what spur him to shrug on his coat, plop his hat onto his head, and tighten his belt buckle before heading into town. It's late, so nobody will miss him.
For whatever reason, Cassidy is drawn to the Murky Lantern, the bar where Jean Lassic was captured. A small part of him feels wrong, is ashamed, even, by how meek he feels walking back into its midst.
A foreign feeling simmers in his chest as he sits down at the bar, ordering a Coke and relishing in the taste of freedom from the walls that confine him back on the base.
Not thirty minutes into his self-depravement from alcohol, a lanky man, mid-to-late thirties, strolls to the bar beside Cassidy, casting him a curious look.
To much surprise, the man tilts his head and laughs at nothing in particular, then eyes Cassidy so hard that he's afraid his legs might give out if he were on foot.
"You look like you could use a pick-me-up," the man states in a matter-of-fact tone, eyes raking over Cassidy with a fervor akin to that of a coyote stalking its prey.
Cassidy casts a tired glance at the man's figure, tall and muscular, before locking eyes with him, retorting with, "I feel like I could use a pick-me-up."
The man smiles at that, beckoning Cassidy to follow. So, he does. Together they trudge to the bathroom where Cassidy's life went to shit. Where the euphoria overtook him and nearly got him kicked out of Blackwatch.
"Now, listen. I don't do favors for free." The man licks his lips, keen on eyeing Cassidy's muscles through his shirt. "But I have something you may like if you're up for it."
Cassidy's lips are on the man's in an instant, leaving no time for rebuttals. It's hungry, passionate, and nearly leaves Cassidy drooling when they part. Both breathe heavily, eyes entranced in the other's until the man gropes at Cassidy's ass and he has to suppress a moan.
It's been so long since he's been intimate with anybody. He yearns for warmth and almost needs the contact. It sets a fire ablaze in his heart that kindles enticingly from the core of his chest up to the tips of his ears.
Their next kiss is packed with all the more passion, sloppy and slow. Cassidy grinds his tongue against the man's lip, asking for an invitation. The man grants him access as Cassidy pins him to the wall, hands sweeping across his hips in a soothing fashion.
When they distance themselves for a second time, the man's eyes are full of sparks, shiny as the twinkling stars in the sky. He laughs melodically, lowly, and Cassidy can't seem to bring himself to care about the predicament he's found himself in.
"Here." The man tosses a baggie Cassidy's way. "Meet me back here in a week, same time. I'll top you off."
With a wink, the man is gone, practically a figment of Cassidy's imagination. There's a bulge in his pants from the interaction and a fine powder coating the inside of his nose mere seconds later.
The rush.
He craves the rush.
~~~
Cassidy is on his knees, nearly bowing to the man in front of him. A saliva-coated kiss is placed on the tip of the man's cock before his length is in Cassidy's mouth.
"Same time next week, pretty boy."
A baggie is catapulted his way.
~~~
Cassidy moans in pleasure, stars dancing at the corners of his vision. He's high as a kite and being sucked off by the man he's come to know as Tarro. His tongue flicks around Cassidy's tip, leaving the cowboy to whine in desperation.
"Can't wait for me, hmm?" Tarro pouts.
"I- please, I need you, please," Cassidy mumbles, a man possessed with pleasure so insurmountable it leaves his knees wobbly.
"Speak up, pretty boy," Tarro orders, though his tone is gentle, inviting, even.
"I need you, please!" Cassidy nearly shouts, eyes fluttering closed as Tarro strokes his cock.
"That's better."
~~~
Cassidy waits anxiously at the bar, Tarro's lack of presence frying his nerves. He nurses water as he waits, though the liquid does little to quench the thirst that only a fine white powder can tame.
It's been three days since Cassidy's run out, and his shakes are starting to be noticed by members of Blackwatch. His frazzled, distracted mind distant on missions. The only person who hasn't noticed is Reyes himself, which Cassidy figures could be a blessing in disguise.
Little does he know, Reyes is more keen on his agents than they know.
"Pretty boy?" Tarro waves a pale hand in front of Cassidy's face. He glances up, mood brightening at the prospect of what's to come.
"Finish your water and meet me in the bathroom," Tarro says, then treks in that direction.
Cassidy does as told, eager to get his hands on his guilty pleasure. When he enters, Tarro is leaning against the sink with a devilish smirk on his face.
"Come kiss me, hmm?"
Cassidy obliges, and their lips meet in a dizzying blur of skin on skin. Cassidy gnaws at Tarro's bottom lip while the man moans in pleasure.
A distant pain takes hold in the rear of Cassidy's head, but he ignores it in favor of deepening the kiss. It's only when his world tilts that he clings to Tarro's coat in search of solid footing.
"Wha-" Cassidy slurs, head spinning.
"Shh, pretty boy. Let's take this back to my place, yeah?" Tarro coos reassuringly.
For the credit Cassidy is given, he says no. Tries to pry away from Tarro's deathly-tight grip and walk down the street to safety.
Tarro doesn't let him.
~~~
Cassidy stumbles back on base, three bumps in and a vicious pain emanating from his rear. He laughs raucously, worries cast away in a sea of lightheadedness.
Gabriel Reyes smokes a cigarette outside the base and watches with rage as Cassidy wobbles closer, unsteady on his feet. When he's near enough, Reyes offers him an unimpressed scowl and lights into him.
"Cole Cassidy, co-founder of the Deadlock Rebels reduced to dry ash in the wind. What is it this time? Heroin, ketamine?"
The giggle that Cassidy lets out is borderline broken, hiccuped with sobs unshed behind an exterior of pure ecstasy.
Reyes frowns as Cassidy tumbles into him, and notices the hickeys on his neck and the bruising around his wrists. The anger flares.
"Did you get yourself knocked up out there? Get fucked by someone with a pain kink?" Reyes spits, venom in his words.
Cassidy laughs again, but it comes out choppy. "Jefe, jefe, r'lax," he slurs. "I told 'em no, he jus' kept on comin'."
Dread pools in the pit of Reyes's stomach as Cassidy's words sink to their full extent.
"Cole, do you know what you're saying?" Reyes asks cautiously while eyeing the man, searching for evidence of any deceit or malintent.
"Swears it, jefe. Swears it," Cassidy responds, a goofy grin on his face. His breathing is slow and ragged. Reyes gingerly grabs Cassidy's bruised wrist and checks his pulse. It's slow. Too slow.
Concern etches onto Reyes' face and his heart twinges in his chest. Something is wrong, completely wrong. Carefully, he mutters a "come here" and picks up Cassidy, who continues to take laborious breaths.
"It hurts, Gabe," Cassidy whines slowly, syllables pulled out and stretched thin.
"I know, kid. I know," Reyes says gently.
He carries Cassidy to his room, past inquiring eyes and empty halls alike. It's a sorrowful sight to see the rise and fall of Cassidy's chest as he struggles to intake the correct amount of oxygen.
If SEP taught Reyes one thing, it's not to panic.
Despite this, he tears apart his drawers desperately in such of any leftover biotic fields, his hands finally bumping into one as Cassidy lays on the couch staring into the ceiling, still smiling.
Reyes sets the device up and is pleasantly surprised to find that it still works. Its warmth encompasses the two in a mind-numbing shell of peace, if only for a moment.
Reyes lifts Cassidy's head off of the couch to rest it carefully in his lap, then runs his calloused fingers through the younger's matted hair. They sit like this for a long time, until Cassidy's breath evens out and Reyes is sure that the field is working.
Cassidy stirs for a moment before cuddling further into his commander's lap, nestled safely between the man's thighs.
"Jefe?" he asks shyly, voice hoarse from choked-back sobs.
Reyes hums in response.
Cassidy's words are slow, carefully thought out, and characterized by the drug-induced slur still present in his speech: "I- I had a pro'lem back in Deadlock. Sub'tances an' the like."
Reyes hums again.
"I- I jus'. I tried so hard notta fall back innu it."
"We all have our vices, Cole."
Cassidy sits up briefly, only to be pushed back down by a firm hand. "I- I jus' don't feel happy witout it, jefe."
The two sit in silence for a long while.
When Cassidy is finally overcome by sleep, Reyes lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
"I promise you, kid. I'm going to find the man that did this to you, and I'll make him pay."