Hardly Glamorous - Angel the Series/Supernatural - Gunn/Dean
Title: Hardly Glamorous
Pairing: Charles Gunn/Dean Winchester (pre-slash)
Word Count: 275
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for comment_fic
Summary: Going back to the warehouse home of the vampire hunter that had saved him, Dean starts to appreciate just how much he already has.
"Shit, you really live like this?"
It sounds even ruder when Dean says it aloud than it did inside his head - and he receives a dark glare from the young man walking beside him. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all, but when Gunn had offered to take him back to 'his place' Dean had expected something a little more permanent than a damn warehouse.
"Better than on the streets." Gunn shrugs like it doesn't matter and he throws the long, wooden weapon he'd saved Dean's life with into a large crate stuffed full with others.
"That's what hotels are for, dude."
"No one ever said fighting evil was glamorous."
Dean doesn't want to call the feeling that surges through him pity as he looks around and as Gunn tells him to grab a blanket and find a spot to sleep. Yeah, this definitely isn't how he'd envisioned his evening would go. He'd been thinking something more along the lines of him, Gunn, a bed, and trading war stories, comparing scars.
But this, man, this is poverty. Gunn's street gang is the ultimate fucking sacrifice in the fight. It makes Dean damn appreciative of what his father had been able to offer him and Sam when they were growing up. Maybe a glance around this place would stop Sam from getting his panties in a twist when he talks about their childhood.
He spends the night on a cold floor beneath a dirty blanket, looking forward to finding something better tomorrow - and he promises himself that one of these days he's going to show Gunn the slightly more glamorous side of hunting.
Pairing: Charles Gunn/Dean Winchester (pre-slash)
Word Count: 275
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for comment_fic
Summary: Going back to the warehouse home of the vampire hunter that had saved him, Dean starts to appreciate just how much he already has.
"Shit, you really live like this?"
It sounds even ruder when Dean says it aloud than it did inside his head - and he receives a dark glare from the young man walking beside him. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all, but when Gunn had offered to take him back to 'his place' Dean had expected something a little more permanent than a damn warehouse.
"Better than on the streets." Gunn shrugs like it doesn't matter and he throws the long, wooden weapon he'd saved Dean's life with into a large crate stuffed full with others.
"That's what hotels are for, dude."
"No one ever said fighting evil was glamorous."
Dean doesn't want to call the feeling that surges through him pity as he looks around and as Gunn tells him to grab a blanket and find a spot to sleep. Yeah, this definitely isn't how he'd envisioned his evening would go. He'd been thinking something more along the lines of him, Gunn, a bed, and trading war stories, comparing scars.
But this, man, this is poverty. Gunn's street gang is the ultimate fucking sacrifice in the fight. It makes Dean damn appreciative of what his father had been able to offer him and Sam when they were growing up. Maybe a glance around this place would stop Sam from getting his panties in a twist when he talks about their childhood.
He spends the night on a cold floor beneath a dirty blanket, looking forward to finding something better tomorrow - and he promises himself that one of these days he's going to show Gunn the slightly more glamorous side of hunting.