You used to be clumsy with weaponry. You couldn’t for the life of you, work out reloading a gun. It was sadly ironic considering you were a hunter, but irony aside—you needed to fix it. You just needed time to sit down and fiddle with it.

Watching Sam and Dean work their way around a gun so easily, you started to pick up on how they maneuvered parts. You realize you really were overthinking it, you just needed to do it. Finally, you manage to figure it out (with lots and lots of practice). Still, you haven’t found a chance to demonstrate your newfound skill.

Until you and the brothers get set on a hunt a few states over.

You and Dean are packing up in the same room, sitting down on the motel bed, you reload your gun. Your fingers move dexterously over the weapon, swiftly sliding out the mag and popping a new one in.

You don’t think twice about it until you look up at Dean.

He is watching you with undivided attention. He shifts in his seat, eyes as wide as saucers. “When the hell did you learn to do that?” He doesn’t bother looking away from your hands, he’s never seen you so…casually skilled. Skilled with your hands. Handy. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.