Roan Training Grounds
Tactical Field
Mid Afternoon
As they moved to the center of the field, Dean positioned himself behind Sheva, guiding her through the basics of stance and grip. "Okay, first things first." He said, his voice low and steady as he adjusted her hold on the weapon. "You want to feel comfortable. This is an extension of you, not just a tool."
Sheva nodded, absorbing his words as she shifted her weight. The closeness of Dean behind her sent a thrill through her, but she forced herself to concentrate. She could entertain a stray thought about bending over, and giving him full access but she pushed that dirty thought to the back of her mind.
"Just like that." Dean encouraged, his breath warm against her ear. "Feel the weight, find your balance... But before you shoot..." He gently grasped her dark hair, pulling her back against him. A soft moan slipped out. He twisted her curls into a Celtic knot clip, securing them deftly before releasing her.
"For protection." He added, his tone serious yet playful.
Sam watched, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he observed the chemistry between them. It was unmistakable; his brother had it bad. Something he never thought he'd witness. Dean, the relentless flirt, seemed to be falling for someone—and hard.
"Alright, time for some target practice." Sam announced, leading them to a row of targets set up in the distance.
Sheva felt a rush of excitement mixed with a hint of apprehension. "You think I can do this?"
Dean stepped beside her, his presence grounding. "You'll do great. Just remember to breathe, take your time."
As she lined up her shot, she could feel Dean's supportive gaze on her. With each pull of the trigger, the tension began to fade, replaced by a sense of empowerment.
"Nice shot!" Dean cheered as she hit her target squarely.
"I did it!" she exclaimed, a thrill of joy in her voice.
"Of course you did, baby girl! I told you, you've got this!" Dean said, a proud smile lighting up his face.
"Alright, let's get moving." Sam said, breaking the moment. "We'll start with some agility drills. Sheva, follow my lead."
As they began, Sheva found herself falling into a rhythm, adrenaline coursing through her.
"Good! Keep it up!" Sam shouted, clapping as she executed a manoeuvre perfectly.
Dean stepped back, observing her with pride. "See? You're a natural."
Sheva beamed at Dean's praise, her nerves melting away as she focused on the task at hand. They spent the next hour moving through various drills. Sheva did it all in a dress—she felt unstoppable.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Dean, Sam, and Sheva piled into the Impala, their bodies tired from a long day of training. The air was filled with the smell of sweat and the faint scent of gunpowder.
"Alright, who's starving?" Dean asked, his eyes gleaming in the rearview mirror as he glanced back at Sheva.
"Me!" Sheva replied, a playful grin spreading across her face. "I could eat a horse right now."
"I hope that's not a literal request." Sam quipped, chuckling as he settled into the passenger seat. "I don't think they serve horse at the diner."
Dean laughed, the sound warm and infectious. "Well, let's not rule it out. But I'm thinking burgers and fries. How does that sound?"
"Perfect." Sheva said, her stomach rumbling in agreement. The thought of juicy burgers and crispy fries made her mouth water.
As they drove, the city lights began to twinkle in the distance, the streets led them to their favorite diner. The neon sign flickered cheerily, and Dean parked the Impala with practiced ease. They climbed out into the cool air.
