Cole blinked.

There was no way, that this sweet, darling angel wanted him. No way, in hell. A chuckle almost escaped his lips, before he realized– oh. You were serious.

The chuckle died in his throat, replaced by a slight grimace that tugged at the corners of his weathered face. He took a step back, letting his eyes travel over you, taking in every detail. You were so youthful, so full of life and brightness, it almost hurt to look at you. There was an innocence about you, a light that shone too brightly for someone like him, someone who had seen and done too much.

He sighed, the weight of the years settling on his shoulders, and took a drag of his cigar—an old habit, one he knew you hated. The taste of smoke filled his lungs, a familiar burn, a comfort he didn’t quite deserve. He let his head drop, the brim of his hat casting a shadow over his face as he thought long and hard about the two of you—together.

You were so, so sweet. Almost too sweet for this world. You worried about him in ways no one else did, fussed over him when he came back from those long, grueling missions. Missions that were nothing new to Cassidy, but you always seemed to care about his well-being in a way that made him feel… something he couldn’t quite put a name to.

He remembered the countless times you’d scolded him for staying up late, for pushing himself too hard. You had this way of looking at him, this mix of exasperation and concern that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, someone actually gave a damn whether he lived or died. But that was the thing— Cassidy wasn’t like you. He didn’t think about forever. He thought about the now, about living fast and burning out before the world could take anything else from him.

He preferred it that way, if he was honest. The late-night missions, the pain that came with them, the nights he spent in some dingy bar, whiskey in hand, drowning out the noise in his head until he fell into bed.

In this world, he'll take his whiskey neat, his coffee black and his bed at three.