 |
|
|
|
|
Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: PG-13, mostly for twisted humor. Happier gunkink.
Pairing: Sands/El
Disclaimer: Never mine.
Feedback: Yes, please. Whatever you can spare.
Notes: For roadparty in return for the icon.
Summary: Hint that Sands may have had a slightly unusual childhood.
***
"…and then Mommy gun says to Daddy hand-cannon-" Sands froze, then carefully put the pistols back into the case and turned himself around on the floor. "What?"
"What are you doing?" El sounded like he was trying to strangle his sense of humor.
"I'm bored, all right? We haven't done anything in days, because you keep going out and killing people when I'm asleep. Selfish bastard." Sands huffily flopped back to the case and grabbed a gun, but before he could do anything, an arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him back.
El caught Sands' gun hand and kept the pistol aimed in the opposite direction. "Then do something useful. Learn to play the guitar."
In response, Sands slurped noisily along the side of the gun. "Fuck off, you lousy-"
He hit the bed, and then he was very much not bored.
***