"Where's the paper targets?" Tucker crouched down to the blanket and searched around. "These can go on the trees." Three or four tall oaks were a good bit of distance away.
Chance jogged to the trees and fastened the targets, then returned and squinted at them. "Good enough?"
"Yep. Tucker, go for it. Make Kentucky proud." Tor leaned against the truck to watch, liking the sun on his shoulders. "Chance, are you good with handguns?"
He nodded. "Better than with a shotgun, actually. I never shot a rifle until a few years ago. The ones you have are nicer than anything I've used."
Tor stage whispered, "Jake can be a little tight, but he invests in good guns." He ignored the dirty look he got for that. "You're doing fine. Shoulder it again for me, let me see your stance. Just don't try Jake's. It won't work for anyone but him."
Chance did as requested. He brought the gun to his shoulder, and Tor was amused to note that Chance had a stance that, if not identical to Jake's, was strangely similar. Then he realized why.
"Okay, surfer boy. I'm going to get up close and personal." He smiled and slotted himself behind Chance, hands on Chance's hips. "No wonder Jake didn't suck on a surfboard. Okay, move your hips back, like this, and let your lead foot come on back." He used his hands to square Chance's hips a bit and pulled him back tight to his own body. "Oh, hello there. Jake's right -- you smell good."
Chance turned his head to the right and looked over his shoulder at Tor. Their eyes were just about level, although Chance may have been slightly taller. Jake had also been right about Chance's eyes changing color, Tor noted. They'd been a soft hazel this morning, but now they matched the bright green of the patchy grass around them. "Jake put some stuff in our shower. It says it smells like ocean, but I don't think whoever made the soap has actually been to the beach."
"Well, whatever it is, it smells good on you." Tor winked at him and went on. "Now, hips back here, feet firm on the ground. Rifle to shoulder. How does that feel?" He didn't step back. The sun was warm on his back, and Chance was warm on his front.
Chance cleared his throat. "Good. It feels… good." He didn't move either. "But I feel like I could step off balance as soon as the gun kicks. Should I try a shot?"
"Go for it, I've got you." Tor was braced, mirrored like Chance, hands still on Chance's hips. "Just aim and squeeze."
Tor felt Chance tense a moment before pulling the trigger. The blast was loud in his ears. The back kick of the barrel rocked both of them, and Chance nearly took a step to the side. He managed to keep his balance at the last second, but in doing so, pressed himself even more firmly against Tor's chest. He lowered the rifle and stared straight ahead at the target. "Like that?" he asked, his voice low.
"Mmhmm. More or less. Want to try again? Find your balance?" Tor was feeling more than a little off balance himself. He took a breath and tightened his grip on Chance's hips. "Careful now." He might have been talking to himself.