[Orig] Flickering this Lamp (31days)
Title: Flickering this Lamp
Day/Theme: September 7 - the light of our armistice
Series: Original - Stockholm Syndrome
Pairing: Dean/Andrew
Rating: PG
Word Count: 556
A/N: I have no idea. But I have the feeling this is going to be put as is into Naked Truth’s later chapters.
Flickering this Lamp
31_days, September 7
“I have no idea how it came to this, so please don’t ask.”
“Don’t be so sure of that, love!” Dean yells to his lover over the sound of exploding columns and falling roof. He fires another round of bullet before the gun clicked empty. Cursing out of habit, he quickly rolls over and dives for Andrew’s side of the hallway.
He almost laughs aloud when he sees Andrew floundering helplessly with his own empty gun on hand.
“Don’t you dare, Dean Anderson!” His lover hisses at him, finally chucking the gun at his head. It’s not like either of them had any more spare clips anyway. Well, at least not for the 9mm.
“Use this,” Dean hands Andrew the last Colt. 45 he have as he slaps in a new clip. “And don’t waste the bullets. I only have 10 left.”
“Do you actually think I don’t know how to use a gun?”
“Well, you’re a rich, spoiled brat. What else should I expect?”
“That I’m not a crime lord for nothing,” Andrew growls and ducks down instinctively when something blasts off the cherubim statue above his head. “Seriously, do you think that low of me?”
“Of course not, love,” Dean answers, one hand looking for his emergency Firestar before remembering he has actually given it to Andrew before their escape from the detaining station and that Andrew has somehow used up all of its bullets in just one seating.
Should he even call this a seating?
“Dean!”
Andrew suddenly throws himself at him, their bodies a tangle of limbs rolling down the church’s marble floors as a chandelier from above crashes against the spot they’re at previously.
“And here I thought you’re being so inappropriate.”
“Shut up, you moron.”
They hide behind the stone altar, and oddly enough, Dean finds the crucified figure of the Christ in front of them morbidly funny. Inappropriate, alright. Here they are, two gay men who also happen to be the world’s current public enemy number one. Just number one, though Dean has the feeling it should be number one and two. Andrew is the reason why they’re wanted men now, or that he’s a federal agent turned criminal mastermind.
Sweet Little Mikhail isn’t going to be happy if he finds out his honorable big brother is a wanted man all over America and Europe now. Wait till tomorrow then it’ll include Asia as well.
“Dean, I don’t really think now’s the right time to be hugging me and being melodramatic.”
He snorts amusedly, an arm over Andrew’s neck as he presses the younger man backward against his chest.
“For Christ’s sake, humor me at least just this once.”
“When do I not?”
“Andrew, please,” because this may be the last time, he silently tells himself. But he quickly shoves that thought out of his mind as he suddenly throws Andrew away, his partner landing ten feet away from him, guarded safely by a solid granite wall.
“DEAN!”
And he ignores the agonized scream as he pulls his two guns-last two, he reminds himself with a wry smile-and faces the line of fire on his own.
Whatever happens beyond this point, he’ll leave it to Andrew. This is where his path ends, and he’s going to make sure this life is worth all these drama and stupidity.
Day/Theme: September 7 - the light of our armistice
Series: Original - Stockholm Syndrome
Pairing: Dean/Andrew
Rating: PG
Word Count: 556
A/N: I have no idea. But I have the feeling this is going to be put as is into Naked Truth’s later chapters.
Flickering this Lamp
31_days, September 7
“I have no idea how it came to this, so please don’t ask.”
“Don’t be so sure of that, love!” Dean yells to his lover over the sound of exploding columns and falling roof. He fires another round of bullet before the gun clicked empty. Cursing out of habit, he quickly rolls over and dives for Andrew’s side of the hallway.
He almost laughs aloud when he sees Andrew floundering helplessly with his own empty gun on hand.
“Don’t you dare, Dean Anderson!” His lover hisses at him, finally chucking the gun at his head. It’s not like either of them had any more spare clips anyway. Well, at least not for the 9mm.
“Use this,” Dean hands Andrew the last Colt. 45 he have as he slaps in a new clip. “And don’t waste the bullets. I only have 10 left.”
“Do you actually think I don’t know how to use a gun?”
“Well, you’re a rich, spoiled brat. What else should I expect?”
“That I’m not a crime lord for nothing,” Andrew growls and ducks down instinctively when something blasts off the cherubim statue above his head. “Seriously, do you think that low of me?”
“Of course not, love,” Dean answers, one hand looking for his emergency Firestar before remembering he has actually given it to Andrew before their escape from the detaining station and that Andrew has somehow used up all of its bullets in just one seating.
Should he even call this a seating?
“Dean!”
Andrew suddenly throws himself at him, their bodies a tangle of limbs rolling down the church’s marble floors as a chandelier from above crashes against the spot they’re at previously.
“And here I thought you’re being so inappropriate.”
“Shut up, you moron.”
They hide behind the stone altar, and oddly enough, Dean finds the crucified figure of the Christ in front of them morbidly funny. Inappropriate, alright. Here they are, two gay men who also happen to be the world’s current public enemy number one. Just number one, though Dean has the feeling it should be number one and two. Andrew is the reason why they’re wanted men now, or that he’s a federal agent turned criminal mastermind.
Sweet Little Mikhail isn’t going to be happy if he finds out his honorable big brother is a wanted man all over America and Europe now. Wait till tomorrow then it’ll include Asia as well.
“Dean, I don’t really think now’s the right time to be hugging me and being melodramatic.”
He snorts amusedly, an arm over Andrew’s neck as he presses the younger man backward against his chest.
“For Christ’s sake, humor me at least just this once.”
“When do I not?”
“Andrew, please,” because this may be the last time, he silently tells himself. But he quickly shoves that thought out of his mind as he suddenly throws Andrew away, his partner landing ten feet away from him, guarded safely by a solid granite wall.
“DEAN!”
And he ignores the agonized scream as he pulls his two guns-last two, he reminds himself with a wry smile-and faces the line of fire on his own.
Whatever happens beyond this point, he’ll leave it to Andrew. This is where his path ends, and he’s going to make sure this life is worth all these drama and stupidity.