ficpost: "No Shame" Angel/Gunn
Title: "No Shame"
Fandom: Angel: the Series
Pairing: Angel/Gunn
Rating: PG
Spoilers/timeline: post-S1.
Words: 1,018
Notes: for _elektra in the Angel ficathon
Summary: A fighting style familiar and strange
No Shame
As Angel saw it, this should have been the kind of ambush he and Buffy had done a thousand times -- the weaker fighter making a stir out front, the stronger partner sneaking up from behind to attack at the ideal moment. He'd never objected to baiting Buffy's traps.
"It's not that easy, man." Angel didn't move, adopting the expression he used to keep minions in line. "You don't just do a two-man man job if you got a whole gang wanting to kill these guys. You know?" Angel continued to menace. "And what do you mean 'weaker partner'?"
Angel shrugged. "You are. Do you want me to help you, or not?"
"Apparently not," Gunn told him, and he turned on his heel. Angel could have stopped him in an instant, but he decided against it. Gunn would be back.
Every time Gunn came to him over that summer, slipping through the darkness of the city to find the alley where Angel was spending that night (he never showed up at Cordelia's apartment, for reasons Angel was never clear on), he came alone, which, Angel eventually figured out, was because none of Gunn's friends wanted to have anything to do with him.
"So why do you come?"
Gunn shrugged. "We really do need you sometimes. No shame in that."
Angel needed Gunn, too, though he wasn't quite ready to admit it. Gunn was the strongest fighter he had, and in a city whose vampires never slept, strength was a necessity.
Gunn's strength: they were fighting a dozen demons, and Gunn closed his eyes for a moment, gathering courage, then plunged into the middle of the fray, a stake in each hand, and managed to take out four of them at once.
"Do you want to get yourself killed?"
Gunn didn't answer, but turned around and rescued Angel from yet another one of the demons. That was how they communicated.
They fought nests, mostly, groups of vampires or demons who'd clotted together for strength and companionship. The two of them wedged themselves into the groups, tearing them apart from inside. On nights when they were out together, Angel sometimes remembered the feeling he'd first had with Darla, that they were only two creatures in the world, that everyone else was the Enemy.
"You know, I'm beginning to think I'm just your call girl."
Angel blinked. "Does that have some new slangy meaning I'm not familiar with?"
"Nah. Just means I think you think I exist to serve your every need."
"If I had, uh, needs, I'd turn elsewhere." He wasn't entirely sure how true that was, but let it slide.
"Man, is everything about sex for you? I was thinking more that you want me to put my stake into every passing demon for you -- and okay, that's beginning to sound more like the traditional meaning of call girl."
"So, what you're saying is, no, you can't take out the nest on Height Street?"
"Did I say that?"
Gunn was good at lots of things: distractions were a strong point; sneak attacks were not. He flew into battle with his heart on his sleeve, relying on his strength and his invincibility. He reminded Angel of Spike, of Buffy, who'd never kept a secret or told a lie. At those times, fighting by Gunn's side was familiar and comfortable. "Slow down," he'd say, holding out an arm, and Gunn would say, "No way, man."
Other times Gunn's style was strange. When they infiltrated a nightclub frequented by an old and venerable vampire, Gunn managed his undercover role as Angel's valet for about thirty seconds; then he had his stake out and was in a deathly struggle with the vampire they could have taken out easily and inconspicuously if they'd stuck to the plan.
"Do you even know what 'plan' means?"
"Sure. I made the plan."
"You helped make the plan." (Something Spike had never done.) "Then you changed it in the middle of things."
"An opportunity presented itself. I took it. Is that bad, oh Angel the wise? Should we return to your lair to go over strategy again? Then maybe you can enlighten me about good and evil. Seems you've got some experience in that arena."
"I'm beginning to suspect you think you're in charge."
"Man, I am in charge."
Angel sighed. This was one of those things they'd never be able to resolve satisfactorily.
"Look, I'm sorry I almost got killed," Gunn scuffled his feet. "Just, let it slide, okay? Next time I'll do whatever you say."
Angel laughed. "Sure. And then we can go to the park and frolic in the sunlight."
"You're one strange vamp, you know that?"
Angel had the secret knock memorized (and next week, if he was good, he got in on the secret handshake) but he still had to wait while various valets and underlings found Gunn Saturday night.
"Hey. Got some baddies need their asses kicked?"
"Strangely enough, no. I thought we could, um, go somewhere."
"Like a date?"
Angel shook his head rapidly. "Like two guys going out on a Saturday night to spend some time together. Maybe we could go bowling or something."
"Or maybe we could retreat to the bat cave for an orgy and screw the pretense."
Angel held up his hands. "Okay, okay. Maybe that was what I had in mind. Maybe it wasn't. Are you interested?"
"'Course I am. Should I change?"
Angel shook his head. He thought about the Curse. He thought about Buffy. He thought about how this was a monumentally bad idea, and how he might wake up screaming Gunn's name moments before his soul left him. He wondered if Gunn would be able to take him if he did turn into Angelus.
"Hey, man, if you try anything funny in bed, just so you know, I got a stake right here." Gunn tapped his pocket, and Angel was relieved. Because Gunn was strong enough to stake him if the need arose, and Gunn was strong enough to live without him.
"Good," he said. "I was counting on that."
Fandom: Angel: the Series
Pairing: Angel/Gunn
Rating: PG
Spoilers/timeline: post-S1.
Words: 1,018
Notes: for _elektra in the Angel ficathon
Summary: A fighting style familiar and strange
No Shame
As Angel saw it, this should have been the kind of ambush he and Buffy had done a thousand times -- the weaker fighter making a stir out front, the stronger partner sneaking up from behind to attack at the ideal moment. He'd never objected to baiting Buffy's traps.
"It's not that easy, man." Angel didn't move, adopting the expression he used to keep minions in line. "You don't just do a two-man man job if you got a whole gang wanting to kill these guys. You know?" Angel continued to menace. "And what do you mean 'weaker partner'?"
Angel shrugged. "You are. Do you want me to help you, or not?"
"Apparently not," Gunn told him, and he turned on his heel. Angel could have stopped him in an instant, but he decided against it. Gunn would be back.
Every time Gunn came to him over that summer, slipping through the darkness of the city to find the alley where Angel was spending that night (he never showed up at Cordelia's apartment, for reasons Angel was never clear on), he came alone, which, Angel eventually figured out, was because none of Gunn's friends wanted to have anything to do with him.
"So why do you come?"
Gunn shrugged. "We really do need you sometimes. No shame in that."
Angel needed Gunn, too, though he wasn't quite ready to admit it. Gunn was the strongest fighter he had, and in a city whose vampires never slept, strength was a necessity.
Gunn's strength: they were fighting a dozen demons, and Gunn closed his eyes for a moment, gathering courage, then plunged into the middle of the fray, a stake in each hand, and managed to take out four of them at once.
"Do you want to get yourself killed?"
Gunn didn't answer, but turned around and rescued Angel from yet another one of the demons. That was how they communicated.
They fought nests, mostly, groups of vampires or demons who'd clotted together for strength and companionship. The two of them wedged themselves into the groups, tearing them apart from inside. On nights when they were out together, Angel sometimes remembered the feeling he'd first had with Darla, that they were only two creatures in the world, that everyone else was the Enemy.
"You know, I'm beginning to think I'm just your call girl."
Angel blinked. "Does that have some new slangy meaning I'm not familiar with?"
"Nah. Just means I think you think I exist to serve your every need."
"If I had, uh, needs, I'd turn elsewhere." He wasn't entirely sure how true that was, but let it slide.
"Man, is everything about sex for you? I was thinking more that you want me to put my stake into every passing demon for you -- and okay, that's beginning to sound more like the traditional meaning of call girl."
"So, what you're saying is, no, you can't take out the nest on Height Street?"
"Did I say that?"
Gunn was good at lots of things: distractions were a strong point; sneak attacks were not. He flew into battle with his heart on his sleeve, relying on his strength and his invincibility. He reminded Angel of Spike, of Buffy, who'd never kept a secret or told a lie. At those times, fighting by Gunn's side was familiar and comfortable. "Slow down," he'd say, holding out an arm, and Gunn would say, "No way, man."
Other times Gunn's style was strange. When they infiltrated a nightclub frequented by an old and venerable vampire, Gunn managed his undercover role as Angel's valet for about thirty seconds; then he had his stake out and was in a deathly struggle with the vampire they could have taken out easily and inconspicuously if they'd stuck to the plan.
"Do you even know what 'plan' means?"
"Sure. I made the plan."
"You helped make the plan." (Something Spike had never done.) "Then you changed it in the middle of things."
"An opportunity presented itself. I took it. Is that bad, oh Angel the wise? Should we return to your lair to go over strategy again? Then maybe you can enlighten me about good and evil. Seems you've got some experience in that arena."
"I'm beginning to suspect you think you're in charge."
"Man, I am in charge."
Angel sighed. This was one of those things they'd never be able to resolve satisfactorily.
"Look, I'm sorry I almost got killed," Gunn scuffled his feet. "Just, let it slide, okay? Next time I'll do whatever you say."
Angel laughed. "Sure. And then we can go to the park and frolic in the sunlight."
"You're one strange vamp, you know that?"
Angel had the secret knock memorized (and next week, if he was good, he got in on the secret handshake) but he still had to wait while various valets and underlings found Gunn Saturday night.
"Hey. Got some baddies need their asses kicked?"
"Strangely enough, no. I thought we could, um, go somewhere."
"Like a date?"
Angel shook his head rapidly. "Like two guys going out on a Saturday night to spend some time together. Maybe we could go bowling or something."
"Or maybe we could retreat to the bat cave for an orgy and screw the pretense."
Angel held up his hands. "Okay, okay. Maybe that was what I had in mind. Maybe it wasn't. Are you interested?"
"'Course I am. Should I change?"
Angel shook his head. He thought about the Curse. He thought about Buffy. He thought about how this was a monumentally bad idea, and how he might wake up screaming Gunn's name moments before his soul left him. He wondered if Gunn would be able to take him if he did turn into Angelus.
"Hey, man, if you try anything funny in bed, just so you know, I got a stake right here." Gunn tapped his pocket, and Angel was relieved. Because Gunn was strong enough to stake him if the need arose, and Gunn was strong enough to live without him.
"Good," he said. "I was counting on that."