Haunted House (McCree x Reader)
“Jesse McCree, stop that right now!” you ordered.
The cowboy stopped waving the old, cracked porcelain doll in your face and pulled it against his chest with a pout.
“You scared, pumpkin? Afraid it's haunted?” he teased.
“No, I'm afraid you'll catch a disease off that thing,” you replied while rolling your eyes.
“It'll take more than some dust to get ol’ Jesse,” he scoffed. Though he still dropped the frightening old thing and wiped his digits on his trousers before grabbing your hand and pulling you further into the creepy ancient house. No matter how careful he was, his heavy boots made the floorboards creek below him.
“Isn't breaking and entering illegal?” you whispered.
McCree made no such attempt to keep quiet. His hearty laugh spread some much needed warmth into your shivering body. You weren't sure was it the actual temperature or the spooky aura of the building that chilled you to the bone.
“Oh I've done much more illegal crap, sugar. Don't you worry your pretty little head, this place has been abandoned for years!”
He was cut off by a loud clatter from the next room. The blood rushed from his face and his hand tightened on yours. You tugged at him to try and leave this cursed place but his curiosity drove him further. As he stepped through the doorway he pushed you behind him, hand slowly moving to pull out his trusty peacekeeper. You were covered in goosebumps, your pounding heart the only thing now audible to you. Dust burned your eyes and tickled your nose, threatening to make you sneeze but you managed to hold it in.
“If it's been abandoned then what the hell was that?!” you hissed.
The noise came again and before you had a chance to whip your head around to the source of it, six shots rang had out as he fanned the hammer. Your ears were ringing while McCree reloaded his revolver. You could have been wrong, but was that a tremor in his hand?
“I know you can't shoot a ghost, but I'm sure as hell going to try. Stand back darlin’!”
You slowly stood up, clutching the cause of the commotion against your chest. McCree’s eyebrows shot up when a tiny mewl reached his ears. The kitten stared up at him with wide eyes when you turned and presented it to him. He visibly loosened as relief washed over him. He tucked the gun away and tipped his hat down slightly in an attempt to cover his blush.
“Truly an evil spirit,” you joked, “Maybe we should call it ‘Ghost’, eh?”
“Call it a heart attack, because that's what it gave me,” he chuckled. The bright sound was cut off by a soft knocking from above.
“Do you...wanna leave?” you suggest, a shiver running up your spine.
“Damn right I do,” he replied quickly, wrapping an arm around you and promptly escorting you and your new companion from the decrepit building.
You made a mental note to stick to apple bobbing next year.