CCL FIC: Angels on the Rooftops (Human Target - Chance/Guerrero - FRT - 1/1)
Title: Angels on the Rootops
Author: Sam
Fandom: Human Target
Pairing: Chance/Guerrero
Rating: FRT - slash, angels, schmoop but just a little
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Disclaimer: Not mine no money made.
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Summary: After the Apocalypse, Guerrero decides what he wants to do with his life.
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A/N: Set in my Supernatural Hunters!universe, back in the day Guerrero had once been known as the angel Abbaddon.
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Christmas Eve on the rooftop of the warehouse with the lights of San Francisco shining around the city in the dark was a little crisp - okay more like cold, very cold, with the air whipping off the Bay. He was going to have to get used to this now; this being human. Angels didn't feel the cold, but Guerrero wasn't exactly an angel anymore and cold was definitely cold, dude.
But he had needed the space. Time to think. Not about his decision; no, keeping the demons away from the Spear of Destiny and therefore having a shot at killing God (or any angel in the field for that matter) had definitely been the right one. The fact that Guerrero had been the only thing standing between those same demons and Chance had been a no brainer.
Still...there would be no more saving Chance using what little of his Grace
that had survived, whittled down from centuries of walking the Earth; that had been used up in the fight. No more popping around the world without a plane to visit contacts in person; though the way he had it figured, that past ability would serve to keep them all looking over their shoulders for a few years yet.
No more stabilizing freight airplanes in mid-flight with just his wings, either, so the next time he and Winston were on a backup plan sailing through the Devil's Mouth, they had better have the right pilot.
As the wind picked up, whipping around him, a purely human shiver caught him by surprise, sending him huddling down in his button up with a curse. *Damn* it was cold. How did Chance do this?
Suddenly he was wrapped in warmth; Winston's coat judging by the smell, Chance standing over his shoulder, his nose nudging just under his ear as he asked, "You miss it?"
Silence reigned for a moment though since he had already thought this all through, he was able to answer the question honestly, balancing Chance's chin on his shoulder as he shrugged. "Nah."
He could feel Chance smile; could hear the humor in the warm breath ghosting over his ear as Chance challenged, "Nah?"
Smirk in place, Guerrero told him, "Nah. I made my choice, Chance; live as an angel or save the world as a human." Staring out over the city, he could just make out the glint of moonlight on the Bay in the distance from this angle with his purely human eyes. "I'm where I choose to be. Heaven - my brothers, sisters - they have Castiel, Gabriel and the Winchesters. They don't need me."
"And I do, is that it?"
A short glare over his shoulder told Chance what he thought about Winston's ability to keep Chance out of trouble. "Dude."
He could feel Chance's smile as he turned back around, and he should *not* be able to do that. Should he?
"Too many Tricksters already in the mix, or they afraid you'll come in and take over?" Chance asked innocently. An elbow jammed back into his ribs had the bigger man grunting out a chuckle.
"Shut up."
"That's not a denial," Chance accused.
"Dude, angel or not, I will kick your ass."
"Looking forward to it. Come on, it's time to cut the turkey. "
He felt Chance place a quick press of lips to the top of his head before letting go, mourning the loss of body heat already.
The former angel arched an eyebrow in surprise. "We have turkey?"
"We have pizza."
Laughing at the quirky grin, Guerrero smiled, anticipating the warmth that he knew would be waiting downstairs, and not just the very reliable heating system. His family, as incredible as it may sound. Winston, Ilsa, Layla, Carmine, Chance - even Ames, as annoying as the thief could be at times; his new, chosen, *human* family. Well, except for the mutt...
Sounded about right.
"Cool."
Turning to head back inside, Guerrero was forced to stop as Chance took his hand; his frozen fingers aching in the warm grip. Looking back at the man he had ultimately given his wings for, he rolled his eyes at the sappy look Chance wore, reaching up for a not so sappy kiss before Chance could say anything.
Pulling back, he smirked as Chance opened his eyes, a dazed look having replaced the beginnings of the self-blame that Guerrero knew from past experience would have followed the sappy. "Wow."
"Yeah, I know. Merry Christmas, Chance," he told him. "Now let's eat, I'm starving."
Neither man said anything when, as they headed for the stairs that would take them back inside, Guerrero never let go of Chance's hand.
End