Dean Imagine

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"You know how to use salt and holy water and silver blades...You know how to fight, but.. No offense, shooting is not really your strong point.", Dean says with a smirk on his lips. 
You know he is right. You never really learned shooting. Even though you know – technically – how to use a gun, you often miss the target. 
Since you don't answer, Dean realizes, he embarrassed you. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to embarrass you. It's just..." You see him struggle, try to catch his look. "I want to know that you are safe. If I can't keep you from hunting-" "You can't!", you interrupt him. 
Dean nods. "I know. But I want to know that you can defend yourself. And I will do my best to keep you safe!"
You smile and with a few steps you cross the distance between the two of you. You step on tiptoe and reach out to lay your arm around his neck. He kisses you softly. Just for a moment. Then he takes his lips from yours and looks into your eyes. "C'mon now, you need a lot of training!" It's just a joke, you know that. But you have to punch him anyway. "Hey! Rule number one: Never hit the teacher!" Dean leads you away from Bobbys home, to a little space with tin cans standing on logs of different heights. You lift your eyebrows. "Really?", you ask, suddenly laughing. "It's the best place to learn. Like in the wild wild west." You comment that with a shake of the head. Dean takes out his gun and gives it to you. He stands so close that you can feel the warmth of his body. You can smell him. The sweaty-masculine smell. The danger. You unlock the gun, raise your hands and aim for the first can. You shoot – and miss the target again. "Damn it!" "Hey, hey, hey..." Dean stands right behind you, but now he is taking your hand. You feel your heart bump faster. "Okay, Y/N. Take your right foot back. Now breath..." He shows you. "Next time when you breath in, you lay your finger onto the trigger. Aim. And when you breath out... fire." You are not sure whether that would work. And it was definitely not good that he was standing right behind you. It makes you nervous. Also, you can't imagine that he always did that when he was hunting. But you do exactly as he told you. Just one time. For Dean. You breath in. You aim and lay your finger onto the trigger. You breath out and shoot. With a loud noise, the projectile enters the can. It falls. You turn around cheering and Dean grins. His green eyes are shining. He is proud of you. You fall around his neck. "I love you, Dean...", you whisper. "I love you, too, Y/N."

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