Can I have McCree flirting with a bounty hunter after him?
He was here.
You knew he was here.
Your gloved hand hurridly brushed away a droplet of sweat trickling down your forehead. The blazing sun had already caught you out; pink singed your arms. You were thankful for the light serape and brimmed hat you had managed to pick up a few towns back. Your footsteps crunched quietly on the dirty floor, stones and sand littered the tiles in the abandoned diner. Glad to be out of the sun, you took off the hat and gingerly placed it on top of the counter whilst trying not to make any noise. You ruffled your fingers through your hair in a vain attempt to untangle the sweaty knots. The air was hot and dry. No breeze had passed through this place in a long time.
He had though.
Your lowered your hand to hover on top of your holstered pistol, the other resting on top of your hat on the counter. You tilted your head back, closing your eyes you took a deep breath. All you had to do was wait.
“Y'know, doll, this place ain’t been servin’ for a while.”
Looks like you didn’t have to wait long. You spun around at the voice, quickly drawing your gun and steadying it with both hands.
He tilted his hat with his prosthetic hand in acknowledgement. His eyes locked onto yours, before stalking forward towards you. You took a step backwards, your hip hitting a scratched up leather stool. He slowed when he was about two foot in front of you, leaning his forearms onto the bartop. The position made it so he had to jut his backside out. The outlaw pulled a cigarello from one of his many hidden pockets and bit the tip, lighting the end with a zippo before taking a puff.
He took no notice of the weapon in your hands still pointed at him.
He gestured to the outdated drink machines precariously perched on a table against the wall.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t drink the coffee. Always tasted like boiled dirt.”
You frowned at his casualness.
Why was he so calm? You’d heard rumours about what he had been through. About Deadlock. Blackwatch. Was he used to being in danger? What a shit feeling to get used to.
You sighed, essentially chucking your gun onto the counter and hoisting yourself up onto one of the seats. It had split open, part of the padding had fallen out and the tough leather was digging into your backside. You placed your hands in your lap and your back was slouched. You stared ahead at the ‘artwork’ on the walls, clearly showing a simpler time when everything hadn’t gone to pot.
“Given up already?”
He turned his torso so he could face you properly, now only leaning on one elbow. The other hand had taken ahold of the cigar, the metal fingers slightly glinting from the ashen embers.
“You’re obviously used to this.”
His brow raised.
“What? Bein’ on the run?”
You nodded. You pressed your lips together.
“You ain’t used to this though, are ya’?”
You shook your head. Why lie? Your right leg was jigging up and down in a repetitive motion. It was a bad habit. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him reach between his legs to clasp onto the edge of the stool, shimmying himself up onto the seat so he was at the same height as you.
“What’re you doin’ chasin’ after someone like me?”
You glanced over at him. Your eyes were drawn to his inquisitive chocolate ones.
He huffed out a chuckle.
“Strangest reason I heard so far.”
A cloud of smoke drifted across your vision.
“So what’s with your ‘curiosity’ then?”
A slight furrow of his brows and shift in his position made you explain more.
“I’m not curious as to what would happen to me if I didn’t come after you.”
He raised his head up slightly at your whisper, the grim realisation showing plainly on his face.
“Ya’ bein’ forced.”
“I had to try. Turns out I don’t have it in me to shoot someone.”
He broke contact when you said that. He puffed out another cloud of smoke, tapping the ash from the cigar onto the counter.
“So whatta ya’ g'na do?”
Creases framed his pools, a sign of spending too long in the sun and frowning too much. He was side-eyeing you.
“I don’t know.”
You faced forwards, bringing up your hand to wipe at your forehead again. You sighed, irritated at your gloves. You pulled them off and laid them on top of your hat.
“What d'ya want to do?”
A moment passed from your hesitation.
A deep chuckle from him reverberated around the empty diner. Your ears twitched at the sound. You hadn’t heard something like that in a long time. It was pleasant.
“Yeah, I could say the same. You’ve done well t'find me. Not many come this far and live.”
You pushed your hands in between your thighs, seeking a safe place in this unnatural situation. He took one last drag and stubbed out the end on the countertop, leaving a flurry of ash in its wake.
“Considerin’ you ain’t a bounty hunter-”
“No. I am.”
He physically faultered.
“But ya’ just said you weren’t.”
“I said I wasn’t used to it. Not the big guys, anyway. I know when I can win a fight, and I know when to back down. It was stupid of me to even try and track you down.”
A smirk flashed across his lips. It was gone in an instant.
“Like I said. Not many even pass the threshhold of this place.”
You sucked in a breath of the stagnant air.
“Why am I different? Why am I not lying in a pool of blood at the entrance?”
Your jaw tensed, a sudden burst of anger filling you with confidence.
“Calm down, pecan.”
McCree’s metal hand patted your thigh gently before coming to rest on top of it. The coolness was comforting.
“I knew ya’ wouldn’t kill me.”
“You saying I’m weak?”
“Absolutely not. Jus’ sayin’ you brought that to try an’ take me down. I’m a bit offended, if I’m honest, doll. It’ll take a lot more for me to come willingly.”
He was referring to your six shooter lying pathetically on the bartop. Your face had heatened; whether it was from the pet name and physical contact, or anger that he had just insulted your trusty weapon, you don’t know.
“What would it take?”
He removed his hand from your thigh and raised his shoulders in a shrug.
“I’d rather die than become tied down again.”
“And seein’ as you clearly ain’t g'na be doin’ that today..”
You huffed. Another laugh escaped from him. Clearly your frustration was entertaining him. You pouted at him.
“Chin up. It ain’t all bad.”
“Mm. Coming from an outlaw.”
“What’s that s'posed t'mean?”
His eyes sparkled with amusement. A corner of your lips tugged up in a half smile.
“You can technically do what you want; you already have a price on your head. I don’t.”
“D'you have people after you?”
“If I don’t bring you in.”
“Well then. Looks like there’s another ‘outlaw’ joinin’ the party.”
“We’re both on the run now, (Y/N).”
You blinked forcefully, the smirk wiped off your face. The moment of banter was clearly over.
“How do you know my name?”
“Kept tabs on ya’. Figured it was only a matter o’ time before you turned up on my doorstep. Surprised y'ain’t questionin’ that I’ve made you jobless now.”
You straightened your back, a temporary relief from being hunched over.
“So you knew who I was all this time?”
“Mmhm. We’re similar. People know the name, the face. Once they see us for real it’s usually the last thing they see.”
Your teeth nipped at your bottom lip. It was true.
“How can I trust that you won’t just shoot me the moment I turn my back?”
“I may be on th'other side o’ the law, but I’m still a gentleman.”
You pursed your lips.
“You didn’t aswer my question.”
He raised a questioning eyebrow.
“I wanna be the next Bonnie and Clyde.”
He dramatically rolled his eyes at you.
“Partners in crime?”
“I’ll have t'teach ya’.”
“Will you now?”
“Mmhm. Nobody’s g'na mess with us, doll.”
The easy banter was back, and you felt your ears burn at the now obvious flirting. He grinned at you, knowing the exact effect he was having.
“C'mon, lemme show ya’ around.”
He slid off of his seat and held out a hand in your direction. You stared down at the dark skin, calloused from probably years of hardened training. It was your choice. You took his offer and there was no turning back. You met his gaze.
He seemed eager. Eager to teach you. Eager to have company. Eager to not be alone.
You were too.
Looking back, placing your hand in his was the best decision you ever made.