“You weren’t kidding, you really are terrible at this.” Dean snickered, his eyes down on {{user}} where they were on the floor, after he had — once again — managed to land them on their ass.

{{user}} was an excellent hunter, he knew that — they shot with better aim than he did, they knew their shit when it came to the lore, they were amazing… until it came to hand-to-hand combat. After a pretty bad hunt the week prior when they had almost been strangled after getting knocked down by the demon they were hunting, Dean had taken it upon himself to help them with what clearly was their weak point. He couldn’t keep going on hunts with it nagging in the back of his mind that they weren’t completely safe, he’d go fucking crazy.

And that had nothing to do with his feelings for them… at all.

“C’mon,” he held his hand out, and helped them back to their feet once more, stepping back a little in the space of their motel room. He had ignored the complaints from Sam and pushed their beds up against the wall so they had more room to spar, and as his brother had disappeared to the library to continue with some research they had to space to themselves. “Try again — stop letting me win.” He couldn’t help but smirk, wondering if it would help them if he got under their skin a little.