Summary: Gunn fulfills a request. Drabble.
Disclaimers: Oh Joss, you came and you gave without taking... I hope.
Spoilers: Nope. But this doesn't have a prayer of making any kind of sense at all unless you've seen The Shroud of Rahmon.

by Sitnah

Gunn is muttering aloud. "Sweater -- right. What he gon' use it for?" Alonna's needles dip and flash in his hands, hooking through the dark wool. (Charcoal heather. Not black.) "Ain't like he got to keep warm…"

Every night for two months. And then --


"You make this?"


Angel doesn't move to take it. Gunn swallows. Then Angel shrugs out of his coat, lets it pool on the floor. Strips off his jersey.

Stands there in his bare chest.

Reaches for the sweater and pulls it over his head. "Thanks."

"Uh… yeah."

Gunn has trouble moving his feet to leave.