Missing in Action || McCree x Reader x Hanzo

Chapter Five: Back Into Shape

           

The air had a stale scent to it, but you didn't really mind.

            The training room was much larger than you last remembered it. However, you rolled up your sleeves and set yourself in the middle of it. You began to meditate, to center yourself; you haven't intensely exercised in a while, after all.

            Even as you relaxed into your meditation, you felt your thoughts pull in a certain direction; the memory of getting up even earlier before work or on your rare days off to go out for a jog. People would wave at you though you had forced yourself to not learn their name if you had to uproot quickly.

            However, you couldn't help but remember a young mother sitting alone in front of the café you stopped by in the afternoons. As you munched on your lunch, you glanced over. You couldn't help but try to remember your own bother, if she smiled at you that way. If she seemed so tired every day and you had just failed to notice.

            "Hey," a voice interrupted your meditation. You cracked an eye open to see McCree smirking down at you.

            "I was meditating," you respond smartly. McCree shrugged.

            "Sorry to interrupt you, Princess," he scoffed. But then, he smiled. "I was wonderin' if you needed a sparring buddy. Lookin' at your credentials there's no doubt you're a little out of shape."

            You shoot up to your feet and cross your arms, hoping your well-toned muscles provided some visual leverage against this bulk of a man. He chuckled at your attempt. He looked down at you as though he was gazing on a growling pup.

            "I dare you to say that again," you snarled.

            "You're a little out of shape," McCree repeated.

            With one fell swoop, you grab his arm. You hook your leg behind his and with a quick snap, you shove him down. McCree laughed as he rolled out of your grasp right before his back hit the ground. He twisted himself out of your grasp and pushed you down on one knee with an arm twisted up your back.

            "Want to have a sparring match?" McCree offered. You pulled yourself out of his grasp as he raised his arms in surrender.

            "What's in it for me?" you huffed, dusting yourself off.

            "You get to get back into shape," he responded too quickly. You stared at him and he merely smiled charmingly. You shook your head.

            "What's in it for you?"

            "To watch you fail miserably," he says. You glare. "It's not every day that I can watch one of Overwatch's most powerful fighters fall to their knees so easily."

            You sigh. He's always roped you into stupid things like this. Stupid bets. But you always fell for it. This time, you made a conscious effort to not fall for it.

            'There's nothing to gain from this. He just wants to ruffle you up like the old times. Next thing you know, you're losing money to this guy. You are not going to fall for this!'

            "I'll buy you food," was the last thing you heard before shaking the man's hand.

            'Damn it.'

            You stood on each side of the mats from each other. McCree had his arms out as though he was ready for a Mexican showdown. You crack your knuckles.

            "Your move, cowboy," you smirked. You could've sworn you saw him blush but he pulled his brim lower. You assumed to prepare himself for attack.

            You dodged as he lunged toward you. However, your attempt at side-stepping him was met with a leg sweep. You almost went down but you caught yourself with an arm and shoved yourself back up.

            As you stood straight up, you were face-to-face with the cowboy. Close enough to smell the recent cigar from his breath. You took the opportunity and threw your left fist in front of you in perfect form.

            McCree twisted his head so you barely missed and he grabbed your wrist. He flipped you over his back, expecting you to land on your spine heavily. However, you used the momentum against him and tossed him back over your shoulder.

            The large man went down, laughing as you heard the wind get knocked out of him. He huffed, trying to catch his breath. If this were a real combat moment, you would've taken him out with a shot in the head or a kick to the throat.

            But considering it was sparring, you plopped yourself on his abdomen and shoved a forearm at his neck and had his non-bionic arm pinned above his head, away from his Peacekeeper.

            Much to your dismay, McCree smirked under you. That was when you really realized how close your faces were. How close both of you were.

            "Haven't had a nice sparring match in a while," the man under you chuckled. He gave no resistance to your pin. Your shoulder started to ache, awkwardly pinning the much-larger human down.

            "You didn't give it your all," you said almost cynically. He smiled back up at you.

            "If I did, I wouldn't be under here," was your response.

            "You willingly fell under me."

            "I let you win."

            You frown down at him as he stares up at you. But the longer you sit no top of his torso, the more you felt awkward about this.

            Basking in your victory, you stared back. He smiled at you, but this time the smile was much softer. You went completely rigid as you felt his bionic arm creep its way from his side and to your calf. You felt his fingers wrap gently around your leg, almost as if he wanted to keep you there.

            "[Y-Y/N], I..." he whispered huskily. He hesitated before continuing and you felt the grip relax as it traveled further up your calf and toward your thigh. When you didn't make a move to stop him, he continued. "...I didn't want to say this at a time like this but I really want—"

            "Call it a match," a new voice interrupted.

            You immediately get off McCree and straighten yourself. McCree simply sits up and glares at the intruder.

            "Hanzo," you greet him.

            "What an interesting technique." The Japanese archer approached the two of you. He stared with a heavily judgmental aura.

            "It was that or shoot him," you defended.

            "What do you want?" McCree groaned as he got up to his feet.

            "I was intrigued by the noises," Hanzo responded smoothly. "When I saw the spar, I wished to ask [Y/N] a question."

            "What question?" you asked, but your voice was matched by McCree's. The two of you exchanged glances. He smirked at you.

            "Cute," Hanzo sighed. He crossed his arms. "[Y/N] must not only train physically. I can expect her marksmanship to be less than...up-to-par." He seemed to be searching for a way to end the sentence without sounding insulting. You glared at him with disbelief, anyway.

            "Shooting range," you offered to the marksman. "McCree, you can come with us to practice."

            Deep down you felt like it was a bad idea to get McCree to come with you, considering Hanzo didn't invite him and you specifically.

            As you marched your way out of the training room and toward the shooting range, you felt your gut tighten. You thought of McCree's wandering bionic hand. You wondered if he did it intentionally. You wondered why you didn't stop him.

            And the most bothersome question of all; why did you want more?