That's Gunn, with 2 N's

by Rabbit

~~~~~~~~~~~~ I'm in love. ~~~~~~~~~~~~

Big hands, that's the first thing I'd noticed about him- powerful, strong hands. I was used to strong; the slayer was strong after all. But her hands were so tiny when compared to his, so small and white and . . .womanly. Neither of which could ever be said about *him* is it obsessive to spend so much time fixated on someone's hands . . .

"While I appreciate the chance to practice my voice projection . . . I was trying to make a point here," Cordelia's voice cuts through my reverie.

She was saying something aboutI have no idea. I'm going to have to confess to this one and take my ridicule from her. "I'm sorry Cordelia, I was just-"

"Completely ignoring me?"

Actually, I sort of was. I bow my head and close my eyes in apology. "No- I was thinking about someone-*something* else." Damn- did I just say that out loud?

"Ha!" She points her finger at me and drops the pen she was holding in her other hand onto the table. "I knew it! You've been mooning around here like a schoolgirl with the latest issue of Tigerbeat. Who is it?"

"Cordelia, you're blowing this way out of proportion. I don't"

For a moment she looks horrified and backs up a step. "It's not me is it? I mean, you're a great boss and you've got the whole" She waves her hand in the air, tracing my outline. "Broody, mysterioso thing going on, but I think we should keep it strictly professional."

Sometimes she can be so exasperating- and conceited. "It's not *you*"

"Oh." Is that disappointment? "Ah ha, but it is *SOMEONE*?"


"Is it Wesley-'cause I saw him giving you the eye last week and I thought there was s"

"Cordelia! There isn't *anyone*"

"Oh my God!" She cries in disgust. "It's not that demon MC guy from the karaoke place is it- that is just wrong on *so* many levels"

"Cordelia! There IS NO ONE!"

I'm in love. His name is Gunn.

Squeak. (God Damned box.)

"You're trying to get us killed?"

"Gunn, if I wanted commentary from you, I'd ask for it." He's mad at me, isn't he?

"Oh I'm going to give it to you, whether you ask for it or not. You know, for a mysterious 'creature of the night'-you're kind of a klutz."

"I'm SORRY."

"Quiet, you're gonna have every demon in the neighborhood ripping off our heads and shittin' down our necks."

"That's very eloquent Gunn, is that part of your acceptance speech for humanitarian of the year?"

"I don't need this shit from some uptown, undead P.I. wannabe"

"Why do you always have to do this?"

"Sshh." He warns, holding a finger up three inches from my face.

I freeze when I realize that it's the closest he's ever come to touching me. A few more inches and

"It's nothing." Gunn shifts his position. We're hiding behind some crates on a loading dock, trying to track a Polgara demon that's been skewering homeless winos around here for the last week. It's not a very glamorous stakeout, the smell alone-ugh.

He stands up. "I don't see anything. Either this sucker called it an early night or he's seen the error of his ways and decided to join the Demons for Jesus revival down the street."

I follow his lead, standing up and scanning the bleak surroundings for final confirmation that we're not going to see our quarry tonight. And that's when I see it over his shoulder-the Polgara.

"Watch out!" I shove Gunn out of the way and run at the demon, hoping to get close enough to do maximum damage before it can impale me. It seems surprised that anyone would be stupid enough or crazy enough to come at it like this. Stupid? Crazy? I've been both.

I can hear Gunn hit the pavement to my left. I hope I didn't hurt him, I was just so worried that the Polgara would get to him I reacted without thinking first. I've got to stop doing that.

I grasp the Polgara's head between my hands and give a sharp twist. I'm strong, but I can feel the thick muscles and tendons of the demon's anatomy resisting my pressure. I'm going to have to think of something else.

I need a plan. Should I go for the eyes and blind it? Maybe I could shove its nose back into its skull with the heel of my hand. I'd have to have good aim for either of those, and with the squirming the demon's doing, plus the decided lack of room that always accompanies hand to hand combat-both could be a little tricky.

I see a hand come into my peripheral view, a hand with a gun. The black barrel jams into the Polgara's temple and a finger squeezes the trigger. There is a flash and a deafening pop. The Polgara goes down and so do I.

Wow, it's kind of heavy and it's bleeding all over me. I push at it, but my arms are trapped and I can't get enough leverage to shove the damn thing off. Shit. This is an embarrassing situation.

"I think I got him." Gunn says.

That smart-ass monotone always makes me want to kick his ass, but it is *kind of* cute. "Yeah, he looks pretty dead from this angle." How the hell am I going to get out of this without looking like an idiot?

"Um, Gunn?"

"Yeah dog, what's up?"

"Could you help me out?"

"You'll give me a ride home." (It's not a question.)

"Yeah, whatever you want."

I feel the weight of the Polgara leave me as Gunn rolls it off. Thank God. He reaches down a hand to help me up and I grab it. He's never touched me before, never in the sense that it's actually happened -in a linear reality timeframe. Of course, everyday when I toss in my bed and wait for the sun to go down, my mind wanders and that's when he *touches* me.

Gunn pulls me to my feet. "You're like a big God Damned beetle that's on its back and can't flip itself over."

"Thanks." He always gives me a hard time.

You know who he reminds me of-Spike. Spike used to love flipping shit to those he really cared about. I think Gunn's like that too. I mean I hope that's what he's doing. What if Gunn really does hate me? What if he thinks I'm some freak show?

"We work well together don't we?" God. Did that sound as whiney and desperate as I think it did?

"Yeah, we're a regular Bonnie and Clyde." He looks at me in clarification. "You're Bonnie.

Did I tell you that I'm in love? His name is Gunn. Charles Gunn-with two N's.