You wish! A McCree reader insert

Five

An exasperated laugh escapes my throat and I mutter about him really being serious. I take a deep breath and I digress, "Alright, you get one redo. Next time impress me."

"I won't disappoint cha, sweetheart," he said with a wink and ran off.

After that my day continued on normally. Reyes and a few others asked for coffee, specialty food, and other items not already at the watchpoint. Angela ran fresh out of migraine medicine this morning. The poor woman has to deal with so much bullshit on a daily basis, especially since Torbjorn is prone to suggestion, if you catch my drift. When the Ebola virus hit the news he ran to Dr. Ziegler claiming he had caught it on one of his missions. The man wouldn't stop badgering her perform lab tests on him for over a month.

With my list in hand, I walked to my car. A few people waved at me as I pass the reception desk. I keep walking as I dig into my purse for my car key. My keys in hand I hop in the car. I notice a bright pink sticky note on my steering wheel. The handwriting is barely legible.

"When you get back follow the string"

The hell does that mean? I crumpled up the note and pull out of my spot. The drive is no different than it was this morning, same scenery lit by more sun. The rolling hills, the local radio, and the gentle hum of the engine. I arrive in town and collect the what's asked of me, getting the food items last.

Then the boring ride back. I think about the note. It was in my car. On my steering wheel. How'd he get in my car, what in hell? I shook the thought from my head and calmed down. I'll ask later. I pull into the facility and into my spot where I see a bright pink string that matches the post it note. This has Jesse written all over it, but I said I'd let him start over and I'm a lady of my word.

I grab my bags, cup trays, and other request items, including take out from a small burger joint that Commander Morrison always orders a double bacon cheeseburger with no mustard on every other Tuesday, and climb out my car. My hands are quite full, so I decide the little scavenger hunt string can wait until later. Going into the facilities I see that the string stretches on for a while. Some desk agents are struggling to get around it, and even a few seem to have tripped over it. I sigh. This is going to be a long day.

After dropping off all the items, and writing down some of the new requests, I decided to go back to the beginning or the string. Arriving back at the garage is begin to wrap up the yarn around my hand to keep it tidy. I pass the pencil pushers, the cafeteria, through the lounge area, and even through Commander Reyes office before I find the end of the string on the door of the training area. With the string bundled in my hands I open the door.

The familiar sounds of gunshots, sparring grunts, and idle chatter fill the air. The air smells of sweat and gunpowder as the agents practice all methods of combat. I easily spot my target lounging around the shooting range. His relaxed demeanor seeming out of place compared to all of the hustle and bustle. He notices me walking up to him and he straightens up.

"Howdy stranger!" He shouts from his spot waving an arm in the air. I don't respond as he keeps waving; a stupid smile seemingly glued unto his face. I stop in front of him before I speak.

"Hey Jesse," I offer a small awkward wave. And he pouts, which brings a confused look across my features.

"No darlin' we're startin' all the way over," he says. "It's okay let's just try it again." He brightened up, extending his hand and winking, "Jesse McCree, at your service little lady."

"(F/N) (L/N)" I politely take his hand and give it a gentle shake. That is before he dipped down onto one knee and placed a small kiss onto my knuckles.

"A pleasure," his low voice rumbled while his big brown eyes looked up at me. I deadpanned.

"You do know how unsanitary and unprofessional that was, right?"

"Well what'll you do? Report me to the HR department?" He jokes, rising up to a standing position.

"I just might," I quip with a smirk. He rolls his eyes.

"Anyway the point here bein' that I brought you here to impress you."

"Oh really? And how do you intend on doin that, Mr. McCree?"

He smirks as he unholsters his six shooter and gives it a few twirls. He takes a few seconds to look at the targets before pulling his hat down over his eyes and turning away from them.

"Jesse that doesn't seem li-" I was cut off by six consecutive gunshots. Looking back to the range I see each target has a bullet between where their eyes would be. He takes his hat off and assesses the range.

"Was a little off on the fourth one, but I hope that was impressive enough," he remarks smiling over his shoulder at me. I raise my eyebrows at him.

"That's not bad," I take my time responding trying to play my cards to take advantage of the situation. "But I do think I'd be more impressed by some mean cooking skills."

Smiling, he takes my hand again. "That's good 'cause breakfast was my specialty back out West!"

Not letting go of my hand, he pulls me towards the kitchen.