"Teenage Mutant Ninja Tuuuurtles, Teenage Mutant Ninja Tuuuurtles," Dean sung to himself, polishing his pistols. The guns were gleaming black, their bullets shining on the table, catching the Doctor's eye as he entered the kitchen. He wrinkled his nose.
"I understand that your guns are important in your line of work, but could you at least polish them in your room?" he asked the hunter, grabbing a bottle of apple juice and pouring himself a glass. Dean frowned.
"What do you mean? Why can't I just do it here?" he questioned.
"I don't like guns."
"So?"
"So all I'm asking is a little decency. It's not too hard to just do it in your room."
"It's easier to do it here."
"But it's rude. Just do it in your room," the Doctor snapped.
"What is your problem? Why do you hate guns so much?"
"They're weapons of death and destruction. No good has ever come of them."
"I disagree wholeheartedly with that statement. These beauties have saved my life more than once."
"And how many more lives have they taken?"
"Don't take the high road with me, Doctor. You're the one who blew up your planet."
A tense silence followed. Dean's eyes widened as he realised what he'd said, his face a mask of horror. He opened his mouth, then closed it, lost for words. The Doctor's eyes hardened to sharp flint, a wrathful expression that was quite frightening on his usually gentle face.
"Watch your tongue, boy."
His kind voice was a snarl, and suddenly he was a different person. He wasn't a comedic, excitable child. He was a powerful, ancient being, a creature of wisdom and passion and rage.
"I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" Dean stuttered, cowed by the Doctor's warning.
"I may dislike violence, but that doesn't mean I haven't partook in my fair share of it," the Gallifreyan downed his drink, slamming the glass on the table and stalking out the room.
————————————————————
After the incident, the bunker seemed to be cleansed of guns. Dean's pistols could no longer be found scattered on the table, rifles no longer adorned the walls, and the gory war paintings mysteriously disappeared.
"What happened in here?" Sam enquired of his brother, his ever watchful eyes immediately noticing the differences in their home. Dean shrugged.
"Just because we have to use guns doesn't mean we should celebrate them. They've hurt a lot of people," he answered earnestly.
The Doctor smiled to himself.
Maybe he'd taught Dean something after all.
A/N: sorry this is so bad. And short. I just realised I'd never completed this and wanted to get it out there as quickly as possible. Any more requests are welcome.
Question of the Week:
Who's your favourite character in this story?
Stay cool my peeps 🤟🏻
YOU ARE READING
Superwholock- Broken Wings
FanfictionSam and Dean hunt the Supernatural. They've seen a lot, but there's always been one thing they know for certain. Aliens do NOT exist. So how do they cope when one turns up in a magic blue box? Who are the ex-army medic and the stuck-up detective? An...
