rogueinladysclothing | Hunting 101 [Tagging Dean]

How she ended up deciding to go into hunting wasn't very interesting. Dead relatives and friends get most people who aren't born into the profession involved without any qualifications. Amelia came into with an extra set of skills, being of the cliche rogue-type even in a modern era, and that only made her more determined to get everything she was learning from the elder Winchester right the first time.

Which is, perhaps, why it frustrated her so much more when she didn't get it right and Dean got on her case about it. Sure, he was well meaning, but that didn't make his teasing and snarky attitude any better received.

Today they're at an abandoned shooting range in the Middle of Nowhere Tennessee. Amelia may have gotten the hang of handguns and the shotgun in the trunk of the Impala, but she always needed practice. And, if Dean would allow it, the chance to try her hand at other weapons that weren't her mostly useless knives and daggers.

"So, we starting light today?" she asks as Dean opens the trunk. A beat, and then she adds, "Better question: do we have enough ammunition to start light today?" The corner of her lips tug up into a smirk, but it's a decidedly important question.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The smile that spreads across Dean's face is part impressed and part amused by her reaction. He remembered hitting his first target and how his Dad treated him to a nice, juicy burger from a dive of a place in the nearest town. That's where Dean's love for weapons and food came together.

"Nice!" He said, "High five!" He holds up a hand.

"...do I have to?"

It's not him, really. It's the touching that gets her. Couldn't he just say 'nice job' and tell her to shoot again? That seems a lot more practical than this high five thing. She stares at him for a long moment as she debates turning around to take another few practice shots ...but he looks so pathetic with his hand in the air like that, so she can't not give him a high five, right?

She sighs heavily. "Fine." She sounds like a whiny teenager, but he's getting his high five with her free hand so he should be happy.

"Uh..."

Dean just stares at her, hand up in the air, frozen. Unsure of what to do. He knew she was a bit iffy on the whole touching thing, and certainly Dean didn't want to force her into any of it but...He sighed when she gave him a weak high five, eyes rolling just a bit.

"Thanks. Shoot again." Saying that, he picks up his own ivory handled pistol and fires 5 perfect rounds in the wooden painted targets 'head'.

Touching is such a strange thing. Where she's from, no one just touches another person without reason. There's affection or comfort or some kind of meaning behind it. It's a pragmatic world she's from and that's made Amelia into the pragmatic woman that stands next to him now. Dean may not understand it - or like it when it deflates his ego like this - but she's not about to stop being this way any time soon.

With a nod, she removes the magazine from the shotgun and reloads it as Dean fires off his rounds at the target. Although guns are still a relatively new thing to her, she's not one to be easily rattled by loud noises or things that could hurt her (she has many scars to prove that) and so she doesn't look up as he shoots. It's less of a struggle to reload this time and when she finishes, she tries to focus her energy and attention into hitting the target with her shots. They all have varying degrees of success, but are, for the most part, on point. It'll still be a while before she masters this, but the small step forward today will be a big help in the long run.

"So," she begins after firing off the last round, "what am I shooting next today?" A beat, and then she clarifies, "What other kind of gun am I shooting today?" No need for him to worry that she's about to turn and shoot him.

Overlooking where she is from, because honestly, that whole situation makes his brain hurt in so many different ways. He's pretty sure Sammy would totally get it, and you'd think after what Dean has been through, he would too. Watching her reload and fire, Dean is impressed. Wherever she's from, she's learned to learn quickly and efficiently.

Filling up his own handgun, Dean shrugs nonchalantly. "Uh. Go pick whatever you want to learn." He lines up his shot and pounds 5 rounds center mass into a target. "Just...not the explosives. Please." Last time he did that, he almost lost his eyebrows.

The fact that where she comes from is so damn complicated is one of the reasons she doesn't talk about it much. Not being able to go home is one thing, but not fully understanding the 'this is a completely different universe' thing has its own set of issues. Amelia can't go home and wherever she came from, she's adapting quickly to Dean's world and way of life. Did it really matter past that so long as she slept enough that the daily nightmares didn't distract from their work?

"We'll leave those for a day when I feel like risking my fingers," she agrees easily. She's heard enough stories about singed eyebrows and missing digits that she's been shying away from the explosives so far. If they really need them, they can find someone else to help, right?

After setting aside the shotgun, Amelia looks over the assorted handguns on the table and settles on the most practical looking one - a standard issue police 9 mm. It's not as useful as the Colt Dean offers her every time they're on a job, but it's something she doesn't know and it seems best to learn how to use it in a safe space like this. Loading it is much easier than loading the shotgun and she soon turns to the target and squeezes the trigger a few times in rapid succession to test it out.

...only nothing happens, because she doesn't know that this kind of gun has a safety on it. "Dreams, what now? Did I break it just by loading it?"

"Cute."

Dean cracks a joke when she returns with the small 9mm that he had lifted from a police station evidence locker almost a decade ago. He's pretty sure he only got away with it because they were such a small town department with a rookie handling the evidence locker. Either way, Dean just needed a new gun to add to his collection, something small and easy to conceal carry.

"The safety, genius." He scoffs, although playfully, as he leans over to flick the safety off. "Now shoot."

"Safe--" A beat as he flicks it off, her cheeks flushing a deep red in embarrassment. "...right."

Nope. Not thanking him. She would've figured it out eventually. Eventually might have come after another almost tantrum and more knife throwing, but details! She takes a breath and squares her shoulders at the target, holding the gun horribly with just her right hand as she aims and then squeezes the trigger. The entire clips hit the target, but the shots are all over. There's no grouping or pattern whatsoever.

Slowly, she lowers the gun and pops out the magazine. What a waste of bullets. "I'll get it next time," she says without prompt as she steps over to the table to grab a new clip. "It can't be that hard." Oh how little she still understands about guns.

Hunting 101 [Tagging Dean]

no subject

no subject

MY LAPTOP BROKE. Can I get a break.

Apparently not ;-;

no subject

no subject

im so sorry <3

Don't even worry about it. <3