Missing in Action || McCree x Reader x Hanzo

Chapter Six: Heart of Stone

           

The shooting range brought more nostalgia than you'd initially wanted. Your eyes wanted to well up with all the memories from your first day training here to the very last time you were here before the fall of Overwatch. How oblivious you were then...

            You realize you had left your beloved weapon back in your room, safely locked up. That was when you heard a familiar click next to you. You turn your head to see McCree unlocking a drawer and pulled out a selection of guns.

            "Pick your poison," he says slowly. His drawl seemed more prominent and it sent an odd shiver down your spine.

            "I knew where it was," you scoffed as you walked past him. You pulled out a small handheld and McCree chuckled.

            "Takin' after your old man?" he laughs as he walked away.

            "No, I just don't want something huge right now," you sigh as you inspect the clip. As soon as you loaded the handheld gun, a strip of light came to life. Its gentle blue glow distracted you long enough to not notice your second mentor behind you.

            "Such a puny weapon," Hanzo says critically. He crosses his arms as you spin around to face the archer. "You should choose a weapon more respectable. Like a bow."

            "A crossbow?" you teased as you motioned to a high-tech crossbow glowing on the wall. Hanzo scowls at it before turning back to you. You laugh as you follow McCree's steps to the targets.

            The targets were set up across from a barred area for protection. You walk up to it to aim toward the furthest target and take a shot. You accidentally blink as you pull the trigger and miss horribly. The training robot standing on the opposite end glances at the shot as though a fly had flown by.

            "You're a little rusty," McCree chuckles at you and you can feel your face turning red. "Don't close your eye this time."

            You act like you didn't hear him but aim to take another shot. You aim a little below the target's center. This time, you don't blink as the gun executed another bullet.

            You frowned as you saw the hole it made on the target. It made it on the target for once, but it was far below the intended center.

            "Oh darlin' you're aimin' wrong."

            You nearly jumped as you felt two large, warm hands comfortingly lands on your shoulders. You felt pressure on them and you slump them.

            "Relax your shoulders," McCree gently instructs. You blush as you felt his body heat invade your personal space. You wanted to shudder despite the warmth. "Keep your chin up."

            As he gave you a series of incredible but simple instructions, his hands went from joint to joint, even your chin and your arms to make sure you were positioned right for the perfect shot.

            Hanzo watched behind you, his arms sternly crossed and looking on with jealously. He didn't want to say anything; he didn't want to admit anything, especially in front of that stupid cowboy. But his chest tightened at the sight of you two. Perhaps it was because he had his arms too taught across his body.

            However, when McCree placed his hands on your hips to gently shift them, his body was immediately pulled away from yours.

            "What the--!"

            "Do not handle her like your many mistresses," Hanzo growled. McCree scoffed as he brushed himself off.

            "I was showin' her how to shoot a damn gun not seduce her," McCree snapped back. "Sounds like you got some insecure issues goin' on."

            "Guys, really?" you snap at the both of them. The two immediately stops before McCree huffs.

            "We can train tomorrow," McCree finally said. He looks at you. He seems still angry but his eyes became soft as they landed on you. "Keep workin' on that form. We can touch up on it later."

            Both you and Hanzo watched McCree leave the training room. As soon as the metallic doors slammed closed, you turn to the Japanese archer with a scowl.

            "What was that all about?" you chastised harshly. Before he could answer you huffed. "I'm getting out of here."

            You march toward the unisex locker room at the end of the hall that was perfectly in between the target range and the training grounds. Hanzo had followed you in as you went to your locker. McCree was recently there; she could smell the freshly-lit cigar.

            "I told him not to smoke indoors anymore," you grumbled as you opened your locker. Hanzo was on the other side, pulling on his locker and taking out his quiver and bow.

            "You really don't need to bring your weapons literally everywhere," you criticized. You peeled off the disgusting outer shirt you had on that was supposed to absorb sweat but did a poor job of doing so. Luckily it was tightened enough that it helped support your girls so it didn't hurt to tumble. Underneath was a low-cut tank top that prevented extra chafing.

            You huffed a sigh of relief as the tight, sticky shirt was peeled off your skin. You made a disgusted sound as you tugged on your white tank top to keep it from riding up.

            "They can clone arms and stick it on an amputee but they can't make a deodorant that actually does its damn job," you scoff.

            You look over your shoulder when you realized there was no more sound coming from Hanzo's locker. His head snapped as you looked at him and you tilted your head in confusion.

            "What?"

            "You will be thanking me when we have an emergency," Hanzo replies.

            "That's a delayed response." You take a deep breath and, after rationalizing with yourself, you turn to Hanzo with a smile.

            "Look, I'm sorry I acted out," you uttered out hesitantly. "How about we just grab some lunch and we can t—"

            "A problem has arisen and I must tend to it," Hanzo quickly interrupts and he rushes out of the room.

            You shake your head, mouthing 'what' to yourself as you watched the man storm out in a hurry. He was slightly slouched forward and his ears were slightly pink; you immediately assumed salmonella.

            Leaving you confused, you sighed and grabbed a towel so you could get cleaned up in the separate shower rooms.

            "Lunch for me, then," you shake your head.