15 shots, 30 seconds
Disclaimer: Not mine, will never be mine, should we do this again?
:: It's a drabble. As for the timeline, let's say somewhere between Eagle Two and Between Heartbeats.
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"15 shots, 30 seconds. You don't get to miss," Jules said and pulled the Smith & Wesson from her holster. If Spike had his Babycakes then she had her own toy too, an eight year old handgun she affectionately called Ole Bessie.
"You don't get to miss," Sam emphasized, glancing her way. In normal condition he would gladly reach for the moon and the stars if that could make the toughie Julianna Callaghan smile, which was exactly why he would put this under not so normal condition.
It was ten thirty and everyone had headed back-- relieved that there's no psycho holding them from going home--, and the shooting range was neatly deserted. Every bit of sound and movement seemed to be amplified by the area itself.
"Ole Bessie doesn't miss," Jules replied with a smile that was almost too sweet for his liking.
"Fine,"
"Fine,"
And so it began.
Sam fired his first shot, grinning like a madman when his bullet burst through the 9 ring. One, two, three… They would surely have their asses handed to them if Ed knew that two of his snipers were 'violating' the place. Four, five, six… bang, bang, bang! But we were practicing, sort of. We just tried to make the best of the facility. Ed –should- be proud. Seven, eight, nine, ten…
His paper target was crumpling fast. He would win, of that he had no doubt. He was born to shoot. He just had to keep his concentration. Did 30 seconds always feel this slow? Eleven- bang!, twelve – bang!, thirteen – bang!, fourteen – bang!
"Hey Sam!"
He shouldn't have looked. Shouldn't even have –thought- to look. Yet he did anyway.
Jules was holding her so called Ole Bessie in one hand; the other lifted her shirt up, generously giving him an eyeful of her lacy lavender bra.
Bang!
And that was fifteen.
"Ole Bessie doesn't miss," Jules admired her paper target after fixing her clothes. There's a considerable hole on ring 7 and that's that. "Don't say I didn't warn you,"
"That's cheating," Sam remarked, shaking his head in disbelief while Jules was practically beaming with delight looking at his target. There's a lone hole looking out of place in between ring 6 and 7. "That's called cheating, Jules,"
One eyebrow rose. "You complaining?"
"Well…,"
Jules rolled her eyes and mumbled something that suspiciously sounded like 'typical' under her breath. "I won. Chicken Roti. No arguments,"
"But you're cheating!"
"Don't be such a sore loser, Sam. I won, ring 7 for chicken roti, 9 for your burritos. 15 shots, 30 seconds. That's the agreement." As if to soothe his ego just a little bit, she rose on her toes and pecked his stubble cheek. "I'll wait outside,"
A bittersweet grin finally appeared. Life with Jules would never be boring for sure.
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:: I hope you enjoy, cos I sure did writing this. Reviews are appreciated :)