Summary: Dean is only seven when he learns how to shoot a gun and how to make his dad proud.

Rating: K

Characters: Dean and John

A/N: I've been posting quite a few stories lately but don't worry, I haven't forgotten about "The Kissing Disease" or "The Hail Mary Pass"- I'm still working on those two. This is just a little something that popped into my head :)

Dean loved the heat of the afternoon sun on his head as he walked home from school. The weight of the backpack that he carried on his back was hardly felt. There was a slight spring in his step as he walked the thirty minute commute home from school. Today it felt like ten.

In his hands he clutched a piece of paper. His first report card of the second grade. His sweaty hands creating smudges, smearing the ink and crinkling the paper. He tried to smooth it back out, but he didn't care so much about what it looked like. He could hardly contain the grin that he wore on his face as he read it again.

Straight A's on every subject. Even the ones that came hard for him. He had studied, done his homework, and dad would be so proud. He couldn't wait to show him.

He let out a little shout of exhilaration as he picked up his speed and ran the rest of the way home.

Bursting through the door of the apartment that they were renting, he called out, "Dad!"

"Don't slam the door!" John called out from the back room where he was cleaning his guns.

Dean grinned at him breathlessly, "Look at my report card!" He exclaimed as he shoved it under his dad's nose.

"Stop it Dean. Calm down." John said, not completely able to hide the annoyance at the disruption from his task.

"Look at my report card, dad!" Dean repeated, still catching his breath from having run home.

"Alright, I will son. Put it on the counter and I will look at it later."

Dean deflated a little, "Aww, dad," he whined, "Read it now!"

"Why Dean? Is it going to change if I wait?"

He looked down at his feet and gave a slight shake of his head "No." He muttered.

"Good. Then go put it somewhere safe where I can look at it later."

Several days later Dean managed to get his dad to sit down long enough to read the report.

"Look dad," he pointed to one of the teacher's comments as he hovered over his dad's shoulder waiting eagerly to see his reaction.

'Dean is an exceptionally bright student and studies well.'

'Dean takes great pride in all of the work he does and always does a neat job.'

'Dean seems eager to improve.'

"Good job son." John said with slight pat on his son's head, as he turned back to the book he had been reading on werewolf lore.

SPN

"Now look son," John stood behind Dean, "This is the correct way to hold the gun." He adjusted Dean's hands around it.

Dean licked his lips and closed one eye as he aimed.

"It's going to be loud." John warned, "Are you ready?"

Dean nodded.

"Aim for the middle bottle."

Dean grunted an affirmative. Aimed. Pulled back the trigger and fired.

Bullseye.

John grinned, "Good job, Dean... Now try the second to the last."

Ready. Aim. Fire.

Bullseye.

John laughed and clapped his son on the back.

"Now you tell me, which one are you going to aim for?"

Dean paused for a moment, "The first."

"Okay, shoot."

Bullseye.

When they were finished, Dean looked up at his dad breathlessly, "How did I do?" He asked, already pretty sure of the answer.

John's eyes were shining with pride, "Wow, son! You're a natural! Hell, it took me a long time before I could aim that well!"

They both laughed, "How about we go out and get some burgers and pie to celebrate?" John suggested

Dean nodded, a wide grin spread across his face, his green eyes bright with excitement, thrilled to have earned his father's praise.

It felt good.