Overwatch x Reader

McCree x Reader: The Argument

The McCree Saga Continues...

Narrator POV:

She was the opposite of the gunslinger. She followed the rules and lived on the safe side. He lived his life as a rebel that lived by his own rules, doing whatever felt right. He was a retired criminal, she was a simple wanderer who was handy with a gun. An unlikely pair to say the least. 

They were both on a mission and there she was looking all over for him. Didn't help that he didn't have a phone. Her mind went to one place where he would be: The Bar. Running faster than the wind, she found an old looking bar that had McCree written all over it. As she opened the wooden doors, there she saw the cowboy himself sipping Whiskey from a tall glass. Stomping her feet, she sat right beside him.

"McCree what are you doing here? We're supposed to be on a mission!" She whispered.

"Oh hello to you too, Y/N. Thanks for asking how I've been." He said sarcastically.

"You still haven't answered my question. This is important for us to do, we need the money."

McCree didn't look at Y/N as if he was pretending she didn't say anything.

"Hey, Bartender, give me two Whiskeys on the rocks!" He smirked.

The bartender looked at McCree a bit surprised but shrugged it off as he went back to pulling out two more glasses to fill with the light brown beverage.

"McCree this isn't time for drinking, our work is going to be even more delayed since you're drunk."

"First off : It's always happy hour somewhere in the world. Second: There's no due date in stopping a bunch of illegal weapons being delivered. We have plenty of time, might as well take a break. And lastly, I know how to handle my liquor."

The bartender put down the two drinks in front of them.

"McCree there's six empty glasses of Whiskey behind you. You're drunk and I'm taking you back to the hotel."

Y/N pulls McCree's metal arm to get up but he refuses.

"No you're not because I'm not drunk."

"Stop being so stubborn about this and let me take care of you."

Y/N pulls him up again but he doesn't get up.

"You're not the boss of me, Y/N. You can't tell me what to do."
"Someone has to." Y/N mumbled under her breath.

"If you're gonna say something, you better speak clearly." The anger was rising in his southern voice. Y/N felt fear crawling up her back. Her heart felt like it was punched in the face. She put her head down.

"Sorry for caring." 

She walked out of the bar, walking then turned into fast walking. All she wanted to do was leave this cowboy behind because he didn't care like she did. Everyday Y/N had to make sure that McCree didn't get too drunk or bring a lady to the hotel. It's not like she knew much about him to ask why he did this. They both were complete strangers, yet she felt that she knew him all too well. She kept walking away without any sense of where she was going. A wanderer once again. She didn't want to hear his apology or what he had to say and she didn't want him following her either. He probably wouldn't, maybe hook up with someone at the bar. Some hot chic who looked like she came from a whore house. Or get wasted on the counter of the bar and eventually fall asleep.

Doesn't matter now what he does. He wants to live like that.

Where to go? The hotel? No, he'd end up there at the end of the night. There was the train station, best bet to getting out of here. So the hotel it is. Just a quick stop at least.