AN: FYI, being a Brit, I really have no idea how guns and shooting ranges work. If anyone would like to educate me, please send me a PM! Things are hotting up for Tim and G and the baseball cap makes an appearance!

Since she'd first thought it this morning, G couldn't stop thinking it. Tim Gutterson was sexy. The way he moved, graceful but purposeful, his mind always a step ahead. The cutting sarcasm that dripped from smirking, pink lips. The Southern Drawl that was just a fraction too slow but made her feel…strange.

All G knew was that this was not good. She tried to shake it as they walked. She could freely admit Raylan was sexy, why not Tim? Not like anything was going to happen. No siree. Didn't stop her from checking out his ass as he walked in front of her though.

She managed perfectly well for a while. They got their ammo and went to the 100m section. Tim agreed that she should test her guns first; after all, he came here all the time. G was well acquainted with the Glock .40S&W as it was the same weapon she'd used with the Bureau. She had been very fond of her own gun, though she'd had to relinquish it with her badge when she left DC. This one, though the exact same make and model, felt somewhat alien in her hands. Nevertheless, she shrugged off her jacket, loaded, aimed and fired six shots within a minute. She hit the recall button and the swinging sheet of paper with the mock body on it flew over to her.

Two in the chest. Two in the head. Two in the stomach.

She could feel Tim lurking behind her. Clearly the range brought him out of his shell. G pulled off the earmuffs and eye protection and flicked the safety onto the gun, switching the sheet up.

'Got something to say, Gutterson? Or are you just going to hover?' G flicked a look over her right shoulder. Tim had taken his own leather jacket off and was leaning casually against the side of her cubicle, trying to look unimpressed.

'Alright. I guess.' He smirked. G opened her mouth in mock outrage and he chuckled. Tim hesitated for a second, smile dropping before he pushed off the wall and walked closer. He hit the button to send the sheet back to the firing line and stood just behind G, slightly to the right. She put her safety equipment back on and gave him a questioning look.

'Take your position.' He could be quite commanding too. G tried to pretend like that wasn't sexy either.

His touch was so light, she almost didn't feel it. He nudged her right elbow ever-so-slightly and then pushed her left hip a tiny bit so her knee was angled differently. All contact was completely minimal but she was glad he was standing behind her and couldn't see her face.

'Try now.' He whispered.

Six shots later, Tim recalled the sheet. There was only one, large hole through which all the shots had penetrated. Directly through the middle of the forehead.

G turned to face him, an incredulous look on her face. Tim didn't wait for a question, he just shrugged, smirked and glided away. He didn't teach anyone to shoot, didn't help anyone at the range either. As long as they didn't talk about it, he hadn't broken any of his own rules.

It was when he flipped his baseball cap backwards on his head that G knew she was in trouble. She didn't know where the cap had even come from, but after an hour or so of shooting individually, they'd meandered towards the 800m range and it had suddenly appeared on Tim's head, along with the rifle he was now carrying. This was obviously Tim's baby, he'd brought it from home (along with a veritable smorgasbord of guns) and he caressed it like he loved it. G ribbed him for it a bit. He just smiled and stroked the barrel amorously. She ribbed him for that too.

They reached the firing line and Tim knelt, assembling the gun in 30 seconds flat. Somehow he managed to make that look sexy too, all long, nimble fingers and furrowed brow. G knelt beside him, straining to even see the target.

'Alright, Gutterson. Impress me.'

He fixed her with his standard, bored, why-would-you-even-say-that look. But there was some underlying emotion she couldn't place, his blue-grey eyes vast and broiling. Tim didn't talk much, but G realised her first impression of him had been wrong. His face wasn't blank. The more she looked at it, the more she saw.

With another smirk, Tim flipped the hat round. A tuft of shiny, blondish hair poked out from underneath it, framing his forehead. Something caught in G's throat. He looked adorable, his youthful face appearing even younger. He flopped down on his stomach, pressed his right cheek tightly to the butt of the gun and fired. She saw the recoil, saw him get up, but she didn't need to see the target to know exactly where the bullet had gone.