sam winchester (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} bornunder) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} portland_logs,@ 2014-04-06 21:27:00 |
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What: bro-talk.
When: Sunday afternoon
Where: the Gun Shack
Warnings: TBD
There were many things Sam missed about the bunker, and having their own gun range was definitely one of them. It wasn't the same thing to practice somewhere outside; he felt strangely claustrophobic here in Portland, as if the mere sound of a gunshot might be the thing that brought trouble down on top of them. Which was fine for him, because he'd had a lifetime of practice that had drilled the skill into him so hard it took being burned from the inside out to make his aim falter even a little bit, but he'd been intending to teach Adam how to shoot.
Again, for him. Though the first time hadn't been real, it had been the ghoul that had originally eaten his brother. He knew that, but still, showing him the mechanics of the gun, how to aim, how to brace for the recoil-- all of it gave him a weird sense of deja vu. It was made weirder still when, in much the same manner as the fake version of him had, Adam picked it up quickly. But then again, he was a Winchester-- maybe this sort of thing was bred in their genes, whether they liked it or not.
"Not bad," he said, congratulatory pride obvious in his voice, when Adam had hit the mark consistently enough that it seemed like a good stopping point. "Want to take a break and get a hot dog or something? My treat."
He'd probably go for the 'or something', himself, depending on what else was available, but Adam's palate seemed more similar to Dean's than his own. If his younger brother considered hot dogs a proper congratulatory food, then that was fine by Sam.