You’re at an empty field range. Dean’s behind you, helping you adjust your grip on the shotgun. His hands are very hands-on.]

Dean’s voice is low, right at your ear. “You’re holding it too tight. Relax your shoulders.”

You adjust slightly, and he steps even closer, chest almost brushing your back. His hand slides over yours, steadying it. “Like this.”

You glance over your shoulder. “You always this touchy when you teach?”

Dean smirks. “Only when the student’s this distracting.”

You fire. The shot rings out, smooth and clean.

He leans in again, lips close enough to graze your skin. “See? Told you I was good at this.”

You turn slightly, catching his eye. “Mm. Not bad. Bit handsy, though.”

Dean grins. “You complaining?”

You let your gaze drop to his mouth for just a second. “Not yet.”

He tilts his head, his voice dropping. “Then maybe we should keep going."