Author: Kay Tee maybeshedoes@yahoo.com
Website: http://www.oocities.org/maybeshedoes//front.html
Distribution: Take it, but tell me where so I can visit.
Rated: PG-13, for pre-marital sex, because that's just immoral
Spoiler: Urm, general season three Ats stuff, but this is pretty much AU, or in the near future or something.
Pairing: Gunn...
Disclaimer: In my dreams I'm Joss, but during the day I have to face the cold hard truth-- I'm a hack who steals characters. But I'm not giving them back! Or I am, just don't sue me, all I have are speeding tickets and student loans.
Summary: Some post-Fred relief for Gunn.
Author's notes: I am *powerfully* bored at the moment, and also very tired, so this is the genius thing I came up with-- it's a page and a half burplet. Just read it.
You may have been slightly inebriated, but that was the way you got when your girlfriend-- the only girl you ever loved-- dumped you for her former physics professor.
So you went out to get drunk, that was your only goal for the evening.
Nice bar, full of nice guys. And you found yourself sitting next to a pretty blond, telling your story of hurt and betrayal. The blond had been hurt and betrayed too, used too many times to count, and had finally run away to L.A..
You swore, "We gotta take care of each other."
And the blond said, "I'll drink to that."
So you both got incredibly, sliding-around-the-floor-instead-of-walking drunk. And you said, "Sweetie, why don't you come home with me."
The blond thought that sounded good, but said, "Only if you never call me 'sweetie' again."
And because you were drunk and hurt and the blond wasn't the type you had ever wanted for more than a one-night-stand, you replied, "Okay, I won't call you that for the whole rest of the night."
The two of you went back to your place, and proceeded to get very sweaty, and have lots of nice, nasty sex.
**
The next day, you wake up with a powerful hangover, and the blond still in your bed. After some consideration, you take a handful of Advil and leave for work without waking your guest-- you don't have anything worth stealing anyway, besides your truck, and you're taking that with you.
You amble up to the front desk of Angel Investigations, where Cordy, Angel, Wesley, Lorne, and Groo are making Thursday morning smalltalk. Fred's nowhere in sight, which is fine by you.
Cordelia looks at you sympathetically and asks, "You feeling better or worse today?"
Your head is feeling much much worse, and your heart, where ever it is, is still shredded, but getting laid helped a *lot*, and you're doing all right. Don't want to explain all this, so you just shrug at Cordelia, who smiles very understandingly, though she doesn't actually understand shit.
Lorne does though, 'cause he's got a look on his face that's absolutely priceless-- must have read your aura or something.
And Angel... Angel is sniffing you.
"Hey, Angel, no offense or anything, but get off," you say.
Angel's face is completely blank as he announces-- to the whole friggin' world-- "You had sex with a bleached-blond last night."
Cordelia's eyes just about pop outta their sockets, and she says, "Oh my God, Gunn, I didn't think blonds were your type."
You just shrug again, because it's always worked for you before, and it hurts your head less than actually speaking.
"Wait," Wesley says, which is sort of nice, because since he's been back he's been awfully reticent, so you're glad to hear him speak up. "*The* bleached-blond? My bleached-blond?"
You're a little confused here, and also really not wanting to talk about your sex life with these people, friends or no, but before you can ask what's up, Angel says, "*Your* bleached-blond?" Like Wesley was talking about Darla or something.
And Cordelia, exasperated, interrupts. "Geez! Has everybody had sex with Spike?"
Completely confused now, you ask, "Wait, you know him?" Which is clearly the wrong thing to say, because suddenly everybody is talking over each other, and you're pretty sure your head's about to explode, so you just walk right outta there and home to the best lay you've had in a long while.
Whatever, you'll find out what the deal is tomorrow.