Chapter 1: Who are you?
Summary:
Meeting John Constantine for the first time, does not go as he hoped.
Chapter Text
When the phone rings at 3am, a shrill sound that involuntarily drags you from sleep, you roll over with an aggressive huff. “Someone better be dead.” You growl and blink a few times to adjust to the screen’s bright light as you pick it up.
When you see Eric Grant’s picture, you quickly push yourself up in the bed and slide to answer. “Everything alright?” You ask, all traces of sleep gone from your voice. “What’s going on?”
Your oldest friend speaks quickly into the phone, his voice rushed and enthusiastic. His Boston accent is at its strongest when he’s feeling extreme emotions- excited, exhausted, pissed off. The rest of the time it's less in your face, but always there.
The same can be said for yours, but you've taken great care to minimize your accent as best you can.
You can tell after just a few words, how excited he is. “Kid! I did it!” You can hear it in his voice, loud and tremulous in your ear. “I finally closed the Sanders murder. Would ya believe it? The husband did it. I gotta tell ya, you were right about trustin’ my instincts. Chief said ‘Good things, Grant. I see good things’!”
“Eric, it’s -” You run a hand down your face in frustration. You glance at the clock, willing the time to be incorrect.
“We gotta go get a drink to celebrate." He exclaims, interrupting you. "I can be at ya place in like ten minutes -”
“It’s 3am.” You cut in with an exhausted sigh. “I am so happy for you. Really, I am. But the only place I’m going is back to sleep.”
The line is silent and for a second, you think he may have hung up. “Aw shit, bud.” He groans apologetically. “I didn’t realize what time it was! I was just wicked excited that I made the collar.”
You flip on your bedside lamp and balance the phone on your knees. Pulling your hair into a messy bun on top of your head, you take a deep breath. You’re happy for him, exceedingly so, but the boy has no respect for sleep.
“It’s fine, Eric. I just… I'm so damn proud of you." Picking up your phone, you rest your chin on your knees. "You're the greatest detective I know. But can we celebrate after we open the Egyptian exhibit?”
“Of course!” Eric exclaims. “I’m pickin’ ya up at seven, right?”
“Yes, please.” You yawn into the back of your hand and let your eyes close for a second. “No jeans, no sneakers. Think of a party at my parents.”
“Bunch of stiffs talkin’ about old expensive artifacts while you and I hide out at the bah?”
“Mostly.” You agree, kicking off your sheets. “But after I deliver my speech and unveil the exhibit, I have to schmooze the Director at some point. Remember, I promised him that my handsome detective friend would be with me.”
Eric attempts to make a scandalized noise but laughs midway through it. “Yeah, yeah,” he teases. “Ya only keep me around because ya boss thinks I’ve got a great ass.”
“You got it.” You swing your legs over the side of the bed and put him on speakerphone. “I want this promotion, Eric. And if letting Director Connors admire your ass for a minute helps me get it?”
“Ya talent and hardwork will be enough kid, I know it. But fine.” You hear his car door shut through his side of the phone. “The things ya do for the people you love.” The sound of his dress shoes on the pavement tells you he must be home.
“Yes.” You agree with a smile as you walk down the stairs of your townhouse towards your kitchen. “Like not chewing them out when they wake you up at 3am.”
He laughs as you hear the ding of the elevator that will take him to his floor. “Point taken.” He concedes, letting out a small huff. “I’m wicked sorry I woke you up, bud. You know I’ll make it up to ya.”
You tell him you aren’t too worried about it as he jingles his keys in the front door. He’s silent as he steps through his doorway.
“What the fuck?!” He exclaims after a second, his voice full of frustration and disgust. “Fella, gotta call ya back.” He hangs up before you have a chance to argue.
Quickly you shoot him a text to make sure he’s okay. That reaction was very unlike him. You have half a mind to call Eric's partner and ask him to swing by. But you don't want to overreact. You know if there had been real trouble, Eric would have told you to call for backup.
Still, you can’t help but worry. Eric is a very capable detective; he’s been part of the Boston Police Department since he left the academy six and half years ago. But you wonder what could have caused the outburst when he walked through the door. Not much surprises him.
Until you hear back from him, you know you won’t be able to sleep again. You scan the kitchen, looking for anything to quell your anxious thoughts. You grab a spoon from the drawer and reach for the peanut butter in the cabinet.
You know that you should go back to sleep. The Egyptian exhibit opening tonight has been the result of weeks of hard work, long hours and exhaustive efforts. As Assistant Curator of the Archeology Wing, this would be your crowning achievement.
You’ve worked for the The Peabody Museum of Archeology and Ethnology for the last five years. When you graduated, you interviewed immediately for the open assistant position. You knew you had found the perfect place to let your love of ancient civilizations flourish when you first walked through the doors.
Within minutes of meeting the Director, he told you the job was yours. Since then, you’ve given your blood, sweat and tears to prove that despite your age, you’ve always been the right person for the job. It's been a challenging adventure, but you can't imagine wanting anything else more.
If everything goes as you expect it to, you will be the front runner for the vacant spot of Head Curator. You’ve wanted nothing else since the position opened up three months back.
Director Connors let you take the lead on this exhibit with the understanding that he would push your name to the front of the line, if Havard’s investors were impressed. And they will be, you’re sure of it.
But you’re gonna blow it, you think as you stick the spoon in your mouth, if you don't get back to sleep. The last thing you want is to be miserable and half asleep for the finishing touches to all your hard work. That's how you make stupid mistakes and stupid mistakes don't get you promoted.
With a sigh, you toss the spoon into your dishwasher and make your way back up the stairs. Just a few more hours, you can do it. As you tug the elastic out of your hair, you mentally curse yourself for staying up as late as you had in the first place.
You toss and turn until your alarm goes off at 6am. With a groan, you roll over and drag yourself to your shower. Once you’ve got some coffee in you, everything will be fine. At least that’s what you tell yourself.
***
“I reckon you're going to fancy fixing that, luv.” The British accent breaks the silence of the room and your concentration. The man’s rough tone is slightly mocking, making you close your eyes briefly before you attempt to respond. Not today buddy.
You shift your weight on the fifth wrung of the ladder and stare down at the man on the ground. “Excuse me?”
The accent is attached to a tall gentleman with a mop of messy blond hair. You look him over and immediately feel relieved. He's too disheveled to be an investor.
His white dress shirt and black dress pants leant to the possibility that he was from the board, but the haphazardly knotted crimson tie gives you an entirely different impression; he’s no one official.
Plus, the tan trench coat he's wearing looks like it's been a staple of his wardrobe for years. A decision out of necessity rather than fashion, you decide.
The material's thinner at the elbows and tied in the back to hide the worn pockets. He wears it well, you think begrudgingly. So you can see why he must favor it.
“That canopic jar there, luv." The man points up at the artifact you've adjusted for the fifth time. "Unless I’m wrong, and I’m not, it’s off center." He holds his chin high, wearing his arrogance confidently.
What a cocky, pompous ass. You can feel your defenses rising and you haven’t even really spoken to him yet.
He adjusts the collar of his trenchcoat and grins up at you over a pair of god awful black sunglasses that he has no business wearing inside. "So, I reckon you might fancy fixing it, unless you'd prefer the lungs of Pharaoh Ruddy-What’s-His-Face to fall off the display.”
He slides the sunglasses off his face and tucks them into the pocket of his coat. “Not that I’m not enjoying the view from down here, lass." He appraises you hungrily with dark amber eyes and a wolfish grin.
"Bloody hell, I am. But you might fancy climbing down and having a gander yourself. If you don’t believe me, of course.”
You take a step down and glance up at the jars. Is it really off center? You stare down at the man, annoyance twisting your face into a scowl. “Who are you?” You ask as you step down the rungs of the ladder.
Your high ponytail sways as you step to the marble floor. The slight headache it’s giving you makes you wish you had worn your hair down instead.
You hadn’t had the energy to do any more than a no fuss hairstyle this morning; you’re lucky you have matching shoes on with how foggy you felt.
You're exhausted and frustrated already. This man is going to test every ounce of your patience, you can feel it. You certainly don’t need the throb of a headache to go along with it.
You can feel his eyes on you as you mentally prepare yourself for whatever annoyance he’s going to cause. Taking a deep breath, you smooth out your blouse and turn to fully face him.
He grins again, letting his eyes wander over you, as he extends his hand in greeting. “Name’s John Constantine, luv.” When you don’t take his hand, he withdraws and fishes a business card from his pocket. "Surely you've heard of me? Expert in the Oc -”
“I haven't.” You cut him off and cross your arms. You quickly introduce yourself as he steps away from you and begins touching the artifacts you've yet to place.
“I'm sorry but, can I help you with something?" You ask, letting your annoyance show in your voice. "Because I’m clearly busy and you seem the type to enjoy wasting my time.”
Surprise registers on the man's face before he schools his features into a cool mask of indifference. “Already trying to get rid of me, luv?” He asks, crossing his arms. “This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
You roll your eyes at the cheesy line. Seriously? "You can stop the Bogart routine, Mr. Constantine. I'm not interested."
“Come now, sweet'eart. Call me John.” He requests lightly, flipping up the collar of his coat. “All my mates do.”
You appraise him with disdain. “We’re not mates, Mr. Constantine.” You raise an eyebrow and take a step closer. “In fact, seeing as this is a closed wing and you clearly don’t work here, I shouldn’t be calling anything but security.”
Constantine grins again and you can’t help the urge to want to slap it off his face. You’ve never met anyone so maddening in your life and you’ve only been talking for a few minutes. ‘Bloody hell’ this and ‘luv’ that, god he’s infuriating. Who does this guy think he is?
“You're bloody right about that, luv." Constantine admits, pulling another card from his pocket. "I don't work here."
He closes the distance between you and presses it into your hand. “Think of me as a private consultant. Here’s my identification, if you just take a peek, you’ll find everything’s in -”
You cut him off with a laugh. “This is a six of diamonds, Mr. Constantine. Not your ID. Care to try again?” You watch his grin falter as he snatches the card back from your fingertips.
“You’re sure that it’s not my identification?” He looks at the card, then you, incredulously. You stare at him pointedly. “Bollocks, I must’ve given you the wrong card by mistake, pet.” He raises an eyebrow, but you notice that he takes a step back. “That’s's never bloody happened before.”
“Yeah, I bet.” You snort out a laugh and grab your cell phone from the crate lid to your left. “I’m sure you could try to lie your way through the rest of this conversation."
You slide it open and start typing in the number for security. "And if I had the time, I might let you just to watch you squirm when I don’t buy any of it but -”
Constantine shifts his weight anxiously and gives you what you imagine is his flirtiest smile. “I think we got off on the wrong bloody foot, luv.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets. The action makes his trench coat fan out behind him. “I’d like to start over, maybe share a pint, get better acquainted, savvy?”
"Hard pass." You decide but hold off on pressing send. You don't exactly feel threatened by him personally, but everything about his presence seems dangerous. You don't hate it.
You push down the thought that there’s something about his cool arrogance and smartass demeanor you're starting to find intriguing.
You slide your phone into the back pocket of your dress pants and cross your arms again. Constantine meets your eyes and you watch his flash with hunger.
His tongue darts out quickly to lick his lips. It’s a calculated move, his eyes and body language letting you know exactly what’s on his mind.
“Does this whole man of mystery thing usually work for you?” You admonish, purposefully shifting your gaze back to your display. “Cause I bet you think the whole trench coat, fake accent thing is a real panty dropper, huh?”
“Oh, you wound me, pet.” You turn back to him and give him your full attention. He raises his eyebrow and smirks. “But I can assure you, everything about me is real. Sure I can’t prove it to you?”
You’re not going to deny that he’s attractive. You immediately noticed the lean lines of his legs when you first turned around. His dark eyes have an intelligence behind them that makes you want to argue with him, if only to see where you both end up.
The way his gaze darkened when he first saw you, made your cheeks flush and your heart thud rapidly in your chest. You wonder briefly what his lips would feel like against your own.
But you are definitely not going to let him know that. You know his type; if he had any indication that you weren’t entirely disgusted by him, he’d be relentless in his pursuit of you.
“You really are something, huh?” You ask, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in your tone. You push down your attraction and focus on how contemptuous you find him instead. "You honestly think this broody routine works?"
“You have no idea, luv.” He responds, rising to your challenge and enjoying every second of it. He shrugs and steps closer, attempting to close the distance between you.
You try to dodge out of it, even though the action moves you up against a column. Exactly where you don’t want to be.
When he realizes your back is pressed against the pillar, Constantine takes a few more deliberate steps in your direction. Your mouth goes dry as he draws closer to you. Feeling your heart start to race, you draw in a quick breath to steady yourself.
He presses both of his hands against the column, trapping you between them. “Wh… what are you doing?” You ask him apprehensively, hating how quickly your body reacts to his proximity.
Constantine smirks and leans in close to your ear. You shiver when he purposely lowers his voice. “I reckon I quite fancy it when you’re flustered, luv.” He grins, pulling away from you. “Especially if I’m the one who caused it.”
Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms in an attempt to put some space between you and him. When he sees your face scrunch in annoyance, Constantine’s mouth twists into a cocky grin. “Just give us a go, ay? You'll find I'm difficult to say no to."
“Mmhmm.” You glance over his shoulder and see Grace, one of the museum’s registrars walking towards you. She’s exactly the distraction you need to pull yourself together.
You lock eyes with Constantine and incline your head. “As much as I’m sure you’ve enjoyed hitting on me, no. I’m not interested.” You smirk, pushing past him to meet Grace as she approaches.
“Yet, luv.” Constantine calls out, his voice laced with curiosity and pride. “Not interested yet.”
Not interested ever. You roll your eyes and greet Grace warmly. She looks past you and points to the man you’ve been arguing with. “Is that Mr. Constantine?” She asks, lightly.
You nod and open your mouth to ask how she knows who he is but Grace calls out to him. “Director Connors is in his office now, down the hall and to the left.”
He never said anything about the Director. What does Constantine want with him?
“Cheers, luv.” He responds with a toothy grin. She blushes and tries to hide her own smile. You roll your eyes again as Constantine basks in her reaction to him. He turns his attention back to you. “And I’ll see you soon, pet.”
His fingers graze your arm as he walks by. You watch him shove his hands into the pockets of his dress pants as he slowly swaggers down the hall.
“Was he hitting on you?” Grace turns to you, reaching for your hand in excitement. “My God, he’s handsome. I’d like to climb him like a tree.”
You can’t help but laugh at her comment. “He’s all yours.” You tell her, waving your hand as you shake your head. “If you like that shady P.I. sort of thing.”
“Who the hell doesn’t?” She asks before looking up at your display. "And it's not like you can really talk. Seems to be exactly your type. Your friend is a detective. Didn’t you tell me that you and him had a fling a while back?"
You roll your eyes again but smile when you answer. "Eric? Yeah, but Grace, that was years ago and he is a legitimate, honest to God detective." You gesture towards the hallway. "That Constantine guy just screams 'I'm gonna put you through Hell'."
"When a man looks that good? Honey, I think he's worth the trouble."
"No thank you." You tell her as you walk back over to the ladder. "I've had more than my share of trouble. The only thing I'm interested in right now is this exhibit."
"Speaking of," she gestures to the shelf. "Is the middle jar off center?”
You huff and snap out your response. “If it is, feel free to climb up and fix it.”
“Someone needs a nap, huh?” She scoffs, raising her eyebrows at the irritated tone of your voice.
You sigh and lower yourself onto the wooden crate. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to snap at you, Grace.” You twist your ponytail around your fingers.
“I’m nervous about tonight, I didn’t get much sleep last night, and then that Constantine guy just...“ You trail off, feeling your cheeks flush with color again when you think of him. “It’s been a day.”
Grace smiles kindly and you’re reminded why you gravitated towards her when you first started working here five years ago. She’s an old soul, but a true sweetheart. She always had a knack of knowing when you needed a kind word or a hug.
Honestly, she's more like your mom than your actual mother. You’ve made the joke a few times that if she was in the market for a daughter, you’d happily volunteer.
“Sweetie,” she steps onto the ladder and turns her head to you. “Go home, get some rest. I can fix this and make sure everything is perfect.”
It’s tempting, but it’s your responsibility to make sure the exhibit is ready to go. You wouldn't feel right if you just left this close to the finish line, especially knowing what details need to be finished. You bite your lip and Grace can see the wheels turning in your head.
“Don’t you overthink this, honey. You’ve worked your tush off for months, you deserve this promotion.” She crosses her arms and peers at you over her glasses. “And when you look good, we look good. The team won’t let you down.”
“You sure?” You ask, letting your exhaustion creep into your voice. “I never want you to feel like you’re doing the work I don't want to do, or having to pick up my slack because I'm tired.”
She hands you your bag with a stern expression on her face. “We do not think that, you practically live here. Now go home, I’ll see you tonight.” She orders in a tone that tells you there's no arguing with her.
With one last glance at the exhibit, you slowly walk out the doors towards the elevators. When you pass Connors’s office and see that both the Director and Mr. Constantine are deep in discussion, your cheeks flush again.
‘I’ll see you soon, pet’ he had told you when he walked away. His voice had been so confident, so sure. He was making a promise, you both knew it. And you refuse to admit it out loud, but the thought of seeing him again is more enticing than you want it to be.
Chapter 2: Still not impressed.
Summary:
At the museum gala, John tries his usual tricks to flirt with you. You're not impressed.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Grace was right. You just needed to get some sleep. When your alarm wakes you at 4:15, you feel significantly more well rested. You push yourself out of bed and softly pad over to your closet.
As you shake away the last vestiges of sleepiness, your conversation with the mystery man, John Constantine, comes crashing back into your brain.
You close your eyes with a groan. I was such an ass. Constantine was obnoxious yes, but you were downright rude. You cringe as you realize you owe him an apology. Especially seeing that he had business with the Director. The last thing you need is to find out you've insulted a new investor or someone from the board.
If you see him tonight, you’ll try to make a good second impression. And if you're honest with yourself, you wouldn't mind seeing him again.
The verbal sparring you engaged in earlier was more fun than you've let yourself have in a long time. And you refuse to acknowledge how quickly your body reacted when he was close to you.
Your eyes scan your dress options. You decide on a navy blue swing dress with a slight off the shoulder neckline. The bodice has a slim fit that will accentuate your curves, should you run into him (not that you’re trying to), but still be modest enough for the investors from Harvard University’s board.
You grab a pair of cream colored heels and lay out both on your bed. You head to your bathroom to style your hair and freshen up your makeup.
When you emerge from the bathroom about forty minutes later, your hair is completely curled with one side twisted up with a small pin.
You’re pleased with your subtle but polished makeup, striking enough to match the elegance of your dress and turn a few heads. You decided on a dark red lipstick, the only accent you want to stand out, and when you look in the mirror, you feel confident and badass.
You head back into your room and slip the dress over your head. You see your cell blinking on the charging port and open it to see two texts.
One from Eric, telling you that he is wearing his dark grey suit with the navy blue dress shirt you bought him. (For luck) the text says. You smile as you type out your response, asking him for his ETA.
The second text is from your best friend, Charlotte - Charli for short, and you smile when you read it.
You went to college together in New Orleans. She still lives down there, having been offered a permanent position at the law firm where she interned. She wishes you good luck tonight and requests a picture of your finished outfit.
You toss your cell onto the bed and slip into your heels. You slide the closet door shut and stand in front of the mirror attached to it. Pleased with your look, you grab your phone and snap a photo for her. Her response is immediate.
Charlotte DuCaine:
Yes! Sugar, you look amazing!
Crush it tonight and tell me all about it tomorrow!
Can't wait to see you in a few days!
You thank her and send your love before grabbing your clutch off the nightstand and slipping your phone into it. Flipping off the light to your room, you start to head down the stairs. You feel your phone buzz as your foot hits the bottom step. Eric tells you that he’ll be there in ten. Perfect.
You run through the night in your head as you wait for him. Meet and greet the investors, thank them for their contributions, deliver the introduction speech, schmooze with Director Connors, unveil the exhibit. Wash, rinse, repeat. I’ve got this.
You hear a key jingle and pull yourself out of your thoughts. Taking a steadying breath, you walk over to the door and pull it open before Eric can.
A cloud of smoke surrounds his head. “You’re smoking?” You ask, more out of worry than anything else. You don't mind it, honestly you find it weirdly attractive, but you know he only stress-smokes. “You haven’t smoked in months. What happened?”
"I know, I know." Eric strides into your apartment and stubs out the cigarette in the sink. “I was just on the phone with my dad. Nicky happened, that’s what.”
Dominick Grant. You shudder thinking about Eric’s shithead older brother. Every time he’s in town, it’s nothing but trouble for Eric. Nicky has always made you uneasy and after an uncomfortable situation a few years back, you make a point to stay away when he’s around.
“I walked in last night to find him doin’ a line on my goddamn counter.” Eric opens your fridge and grabs a can of sprite from the shelf.
You cross your arms, letting out a low huff of annoyance. “Fuckin’ a. Seriously? Do your parents know he’s here?”
You watch him chug most of the can before he answers. “Who do ya think gave him the key to my apahtment?” Eric growls in annoyance. “My dad just said my ma gave it to him. I swear, she’s such a sweet woman but she’s got no idea what her oldest is really like.”
You walk over to him and give him a quick hug. “I’m sorry, Eric. Where's the lowlife now?”
“Who knows? I kicked him out.” He explains with a shrug when you pull away. “Ya know I woulda loved nothin’ more than to let him spend the night in the cage. But ma woulda never let me forget that I arrested my big brother.”
“I know.” You agree. “She doesn’t see how awful Nicky can be. Are you alright, otherwise?” He seems to be but until he confirms it, you’ll be worried about him. You always have.
Eric gives you a genuine smile, making his cool blue eyes crinkle at the corners. “Yeah fella, nothin’ I couldn’t handle. Sorry ya had to see me stressin’. Ya got a big night, ya don’t need my shit.”
He holds a hand out and gestures for you to spin around. “Ya look frickin’ fantastic, by the way.”
You roll your eyes, smiling at him as you slowly twirl around. “Your shit is my shit. You don’t need to apologize. You know I don’t like Nicky either.” You grab his empty can and toss it in the recycling bin. “And thank you. You look fantastic yourself.”
And he does. The suit is tailored for him, cut perfectly to fit his well defined arms. His dark hair is styled casually giving him a soft, boyish charm and thankfully, his beard is neat and trimmed close to his face.
You’ve known him for almost your entire life, since your dad and his went into law school before eventually creating their own firm. They stayed close, allowing you and Eric to grow up together.
It’s easy to have a good time with Eric and you’re grateful that your relationship has continued to evolve as you’ve grown. You love each other like siblings. You tease each other like siblings too.
“I’m glad you listened and didn’t wear jeans.” You smile as you grab your keys. “I’m running out of spare clothes that you leave here. Doesn’t leave me many options if I needed to make you change.”
“C’mon, bud.” He grins and does a slow turn. “I made sure to look good. You know I won’t let ya down.”
“And that’s why you’re my date tonight, Grant.” You flip the lights and lock your door behind you. “We need to impress every person in the building.”
As you both step out into the breezy summer night, Eric asks if you’re feeling nervous.
“Not really.” You admit after a moment. “Connors says I’m a shuin for the position if everything goes well. I’ve obsessed over every detail for months. It’s gonna be perfect. It has to be.”
“It will be.” He agrees with an easy grin, holding out his arm for you. “Your chariot awaits, M’lady.”
You glance down to the car parked in front of your townhouse. Excitement flashes across your face when you turn back to him. “Stop!” You yell, grabbing his arm. “You brought Olivia?!”
You hurry down the steps. Eric knows how much you love this car. A 1969 Z28 Camaro. Eric’s dad got her for him when he made detective. Black exterior, complete with trademark white racing stripes and a custom leather interior.
You both call her Olivia, Liv for short, after one of Eric’s favorite TV detectives. Everything about the car is beautiful, if only he’d let you drive her.
“‘Course I did.” He follows behind you and unlocks the passenger door so you can slide in. “I know you love her.” You smile up at him as he moves to shut the door. “Besides, I’ve been itchin’ to take her out. It’s no big deal.”
You’re still smiling when he slides behind the wheel. “You are the best, Eric Grant.”
He turns over the engine and grins, letting out a soft chuckle. “Oh, I know.”
Olivia roars to life as you run your fingers over the smooth leather of the dash. “Buckle in,” he advises, dropping his voice to sound like he’s letting you in on a secret. “I’m on official business, gotta deliver the new head curator to the museum in one piece.”
You shove him playfully but buckle your seatbelt. “You’re such a dork.” You laugh as he maneuvers into traffic.
“You love it.” Eric teases. “Now give us some tunes, fella. You gotta arrive in style.”
***
The gala looks perfect. Every detail is exactly what you planned when you walk up the steps and look around. Grace greets you at your table with a huge smile and a program of the events. “Connors has mentioned your name to the investors quite a few times. They’re impressed.”
“Course they are!” Eric beams, sliding his arm around your shoulders. “This kid’s the smahtest assistant curator the museum’s ever seen.” You feel your cheeks flush as Grace agrees with him.
You hear your name and turn to see the Director making his way over to you. His red hair makes him hard to miss in the crowd. “We can’t wait to unveil the exhibit!” He says with excitement.
“There’s some people that would like to meet you and extend their thanks. One consultant requested to speak with you personally. Seems you've already made an impression.”
You grin and let him lead you towards the group. “Was that Detective Grant I saw?” He asks as you walk. You nod and watch his smile grow. “I don’t mean to toss you to the wolves hun, but -"
“It’s fine. Go and say hello to Eric.” You assure him. “I want to be Curator, right? I’m not afraid to face the wolves alone.”
“Glad to hear it.” Connors stops in front of a group of well dressed business types. The wolves, so to speak. He clears his throat and the group stops talking. Once he introduces you to them, he makes his exit to look for Eric.
Dr. Ezra Morgan, a gentleman in his late forties, with greying hair at the temples, is the first to speak. “The board is quite impressed with the quality of pieces from the Paleolithic period. The MET doesn’t typically like to share it’s artifacts with other cities.”
“Thank you, Dr. Morgan,” you smile at him. “It’s all about the quality of relations I keep.” You nod and gesture around the room. “I maintain strong connections with Directors from museums around the globe. You'll notice a few familiar faces in the crowd, I'm sure.”
There’s a strong murmur of approval that encourages you to continue. “The MET understands, just as much as we do, that allowing the public access to Egypt’s burial rituals will increase attendance in museums across New England. Everyone loves mummies, right?” The group laughs and you smile, pleased at how well the evening is going.
A tall woman you don’t know tells you that the Board of Overseers, the governing body for Harvard, will be dedicating an extra 10% to the Peabody Museum for the next fiscal year.
"If this exhibit is any indication of the quality we will continue to see coming from the Peabody," she inclines her head toward you with a prim smile. "We want to ensure you have our full financial support."
You chat with and charm the museum’s investors more easily than you thought you’d be able to. You don’t realize how much time has passed until Director Connors interrupts the excited chatter.
“Darren,” Morgan exclaims, clapping his shoulder. “This young woman is going to take the museum to great places!”
“Don’t I know it.” Connors smiles warmly at you. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to borrow her for just a moment. I have someone who would very much like to speak with her.”
You say your goodbyes and let him lead you towards the bar. “We have a consultant here from London.” He explains, pointing the way. “He’s a friend of mine, I believe you met him earlier? John told me he met a pretty young thing on a ladder. I was in my office," he smirks good naturedly. "So I can only assume he meant you.”
John. “You don't mean Mr. Constantine, do you?” You ask, feeling a flutter in your stomach. The night was going so well. You had hoped to get your speech out of the way before you saw him again. But as you see him leaning against the bar, back to you, you know that's not possible.
“That he does, luv.” Constantine turns to face you, breaking into a wide smile as he walks over, drink in hand. “My, my pet.” He marvels, giving you an obvious once over.
“Don’t you clean up nice. You look bloody brilliant in that dress. If you had worn something this smashing earlier, I’d have tried a bit harder to impress you.”
“You call what you were doing earlier 'impressing’ me?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “My mistake, I thought you were making an idiot of yourself. I mean, you were doing such a good job, I assumed you were a pro.”
Connors laughs, “I told you, John. She’s quite spirited.”
“Bloody right, mate. You did.” Constantine winks at him. “You know how I like ‘em.”
You roll your eyes as Connors blushes. Really? Does this guy have no shame?
“Director?” You ask, turning to face Connors with a smile. “Is everything ready for our speeches? I know you wanted to personally check the mics after the issue last year.”
“You’re right!” He sighs, glancing towards the podium. “If you’ll excuse me.” Connors hurries away and you turn back to the infuriating man in front of you.
Constantine holds out his arm to you and you start to take it. “Angling to get me alone, were you, lass?” He wiggles his eyebrows with a wolfish grin. “I could go for a good snog if you’re up for it. I reckon there’s -”
“What is wrong with you?” You hiss, pulling your hand back. “Is everything you say some kind of pick up line?”
"I love it when you get angry." Constantine grins at you lecherously. "Those pretty eyes of yours get dark and glittery." He takes a step closer to you making you nervous all over again. The man has no consideration of personal space.
"There you go again." You roll your eyes, pushing down your jumbled feelings. "You think a little flirting is gonna get you anywhere with me? I don’t know what your endgame is here Mr. Constantine, but you’re not getting me in bed. "
Constantine shrugs and finishes off his drink. "Who said anything about a bed?" He gives you another once over, his eyes darkening as they make their way up to your face.
“Oh come now, don't get your knickers in a twist, luv. Can you blame a bloke for trying?” He brushes the curls off your shoulder and the gesture gives you butterflies for the second time tonight.
You take a step back and cross your arms. It's your turn to give a once over. He’s wearing the suit jacket that matches his pants, giving him a slightly more polished yet still rakish appearance.
But, you notice his tie is still crooked and his hair is still a mess. You hate that you want to run your fingers through it to see how soft it is.
“Still not interested." You dismiss him, swiftly. Now that's a damn lie. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a speech to deliver.”
“Ah, keep telling yourself that, luv." He holds out his empty glass, gesturing for you to take your leave. "I’ll be right here at the bar when you change your mind.”
“Shocking.” You roll your eyes again, dismissing him quickly before he can respond.
Hurrying towards the podium, you can feel his heated gaze on your back. It takes everything in you to not turn around.
Eric and Grace are deep in discussion as you stop at the table to grab your speech. You rummage through your clutch, struggling to push away all thoughts of John Constantine, until you feel Eric’s hand on your arm.
“You good, bud?” He furrows his brow as he looks you over. “Ya wicked flushed.”
You force a smile on your lips. “I’m nervous, that’s all.” And this infuriating man keeps flirting with me and pissing me off all at the same damn time. I don't know what I want to do about it. It’s fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine.
You wave your notes with a flourish, pushing down the annoying butterflies in your stomach. “It’s showtime.”
He gives you a hug for luck and as you wrap your arms around him, you spot Constantine staring at you from across the room. You lock eyes with him and deliberately hold onto Eric a moment longer than necessary.
Constantine's dark eyes flash with jealousy. It may be childish, but you can’t stop the thrill that runs through you when you realize you’re the cause of that kind of reaction.
You let go of Eric with a smirk and walk up to stand with Director Connors. Once he’s finished with his speech, he introduces you and lets you take the stage.
“Thank you, Director.” You smile and begin your speech. The crowd is enthralled as you tell them about the Curse of King Tut’s tomb and the leaps and bounds Archeology has made since then. The audience hangs on your every word.
All except one.
As you speak, John Constantine is pacing at the back of the hall, furiously talking on his phone. A part of you is relieved that he’s not watching. A slightly larger part of you is furious.
You carry on speaking and try to ignore the spark of anger you feel. Why should you let it bother you? It's not like I care what he thinks. Another lie. And it burns hot in your stomach.
***
Some time later in the evening, Constantine finds you leaning against the bar. Your responsibilities are finished; having schmoozed the entire board and every investor you’ve met, the exhibit is opened, the night has been a success. You absolutely deserve a drink.
“You know luv, 99% of that is just sugar.” He muses, gesturing to your cocktail. “Let me buy you a proper drink.”
He’s insufferable, how does this guy not know how to take a hint? “Yeah?” You raise a brow and stand straight. “99% of you is just stupid. It’s an open bar.”
He steps closer, invading your personal space. “I didn’t mean here, pet.” Constantine’s hand covers yours as he meets your eyes. His sparkle devilishly as he smiles, gesturing toward the doors. “Figure we could get out of here and have ourselves a bloody good time.”
“Do you need me to say it in another language?” You step away from him, easily pulling your hand out from under his. “Because clearly English isn’t doing it for you. Should I try Spanish? Or maybe French?”
Constantine chuckles, infuriating you further. “Now you're trying to impress me, I see.” He crosses his arms and stares at you, his eyes full of challenge. “How ‘bout a little Latin then, luv?”
Now you've got him. You smirk and close the distance you’ve just created. As you lean forward, you rest a hand on his feed arm. His eyes flit from your mouth to your eyes as he watches you with interest.
“Abimo pertore, no*.” You whisper, more smug than you know you should be.
His eyes widen in surprise as you lean back and finish off your drink without looking away from him. “Was that what you wanted to hear, love?” You ask with a cocky grin.
He tilts his head and gives you a small smirk. Well played. You know he’s thinking it. It takes everything in you to not draw an invisible check in the air.
If this is some game to him, you won this round. You both know it.
Constantine stays silent, waiting to see what you'll do next. "Don't get your knickers in a twist." You tease, handing him your empty glass. "Nobody likes a sore loser."
As you turn and walk away, you purposefully make sure your heels click on the marble floor. You can feel his eyes on your back for the second time tonight as your footsteps echo behind you.
Notes:
*From the bottom of my heart, no.
Side Charactors:
Eric Grant- that boy is Chris Evans. Think good old Boston boy, dark hair and short trimmed beard. Funny, loyal and kind. That boy is too handsome lol
Charlotte DuCaine- Think of your sassiest, fiercest friend. Protective, loyal and funny. That's her.
Chapter 3: I don't believe in coincidences.
Summary:
While enjoying a night out with Eric, John pushes his luck with you.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Saturday night, Eric takes you to dinner to celebrate what he says is a sure thing. “Darren told me you all but have the job.” He reveals in a conspiratorial tone. “He’s just gotta finish up the fine print.”
“It’s Darren now, huh?” You laugh as you point a cheesy fry at him from across the table. “You and the Director must have had quite the conversation.”
“Listen bud, I wore my tight dress pants to impress him for ya.” Eric takes a swig of beer. “Hell yeah, it’s Darren now. I spent almost an hour talking to him and his husband, Ryan. I got to meet him too. Nice guy, loves the Sox. I told Paddy that he and the hubby should double date with ‘em, hit up a game.”
You laugh, pushing the basket away from you. “I’ve met Ryan, he’s a sweetheart. Paddy and Tony would have a blast.”
You let out a small huff and look Eric directly in the eye. The anxiety you’ve been feeling over the exhibit bubbles out in your tone. You know you don’t have to pretend with him, he knows how much you want this promotion.
“Okay, but do you really think everything went well? That I nailed the opening?”
Eric picks at the fries you’ve left behind. “Ya know I do.” He smiles warmly and raises his eyebrow when you make a soft noise of disbelief.
“Fella, if you don’t get this job,” he continues, before popping a fry in his mouth. “The museum doesn’t deserve ya.”
“Let’s hope the Board shares your enthusiasm.” You turn your head when you hear the door to the pub open. Not seeing anyone, you twist around and focus your attention back on Eric. “They seemed impressed. Everyone did.”
“If not, they're crazy. Speakin’ of everyone." Eric points out, carefully stacking up the empty plates before sliding your basket over to him. “I noticed a suspicious lack of parental units there last night.”
“Yeah well, are you actually surprised?”
“I get why ya dad wasn’t there, what with the upcomin’ litigation the firm has. Ma told me that my dad hasn’t really been home since Wednesday.” He pops a fry into his mouth and looks around for something to wipe his face. “But ya mother still coulda showed her face.”
You roll your eyes at the cheese he’s somehow managed to get in his beard and hand him your napkin. “Her and I currently aren’t speaking.”
“Jesus Christ. What for this time?”
You sit up straight and do your best to imitate your mother’s high and annoyingly prim voice. “I didn’t formally invite her so she took that as she wasn’t wanted.”
The admission doesn't surprise him, it’s no secret how rocky the relationship is between you and your mother. Nothing you ever do is good enough for her. Typically, you avoid being in the same room with her if you can help it. Most people do.
He laughs and tosses his napkin on the basket in surrender. “I mean, she’s not wrong about not bein’ wanted but she shoulda been there to support you.” He leans forward, making a serious face. “My ma woulda been in the front row if you had asked. You know that.”
You appreciate the gesture. Eric’s parents are good people. They had been thrilled when you and Eric had attempted to date after high school. His mom had called you the ‘daughter she always wanted’ from the moment she met you and that had easily translated into ‘daughter-in-law’ within the first week of your brief relationship.
Even when you and Eric decided that you made much better friends than anything else, his mom made sure to tell you that she still expected to see you every Tuesday night for dinner. Like always.
Your mother however, threw a fit because you had thrown away your chance to be a Grant’s wife. You hadn’t spoken to her for a month after that one.
“You know Priscilla,” you scoff and tilt your head back to finish your bottle. “She would’ve made the entire night about her. I wouldn’t subject a woman as sweet as Linda to that.”
You make a face and mimic your mother’s voice again. “About how her only daughter decided to go to school for History rather than help her run the Copley Society of Art. That it wouldn’t have been her first choice but of course she’s still proud that I did something with my life.”
“Ooo kid, ya sounded just like her.” He laughs and glances up when the door opens again. He waves at three men that walk in and turns back to you. “Be careful or she’ll start sayin’ that ya turnin’ into her. She’s famous for that narcissistic bullshit.”
You pull your buzzing phone from your bag and stare down at it quickly. “You have no idea.”
“Trust me fella, I do. That’s why I actively avoid her.” He muses, taking another sip of his beer. “Well that and the fact that she grabs my frickin’ ass every time I’m around.”
The message is from Grace, she overheard the Director and a few of the Board members talking in his office last night. She’ll call you when she’s home. ‘All good things!’ the text says. You smile down at it, clearly distracted. “She what?” You ask, without looking up.
What did Eric just say? My mother what?
“Kid, how could ya not know?” He laughs, staring at your phone before tipping his bottle up to finish it. “She’s been doin’ it since my eighteenth birthday. Pretty sure I got a permanent bruise.”
You give him your full attention now, horrified by what he’s just said. “Jesus. I’m so sorry, Eric.”
“Nah, kid, it’s fine.” He points to your hand. “Everythin’ good?”
“Yeah, it was just Grace. She’s gonna call me later. She overheard some good news, I think.” You shake your head. “I wish you had said something to me about my mother.”
As if you needed another reason to argue with that woman. “I’ll talk to her, I promise.” He raises his eyebrow, making you smile. You both know your mother listens to no one.
“Anyway.” You laugh lightly, eager to change the subject. “Your dad really hasn’t been home in two days? How's Linda holding up with that?”
Eric smiles as another few police officers seat themselves at the bar. You wave at them when they turn. This has been a favorite pub of Eric’s since he joined the force. Local hangout for officers and the food is damn good. Plus, most of them know you by now so you’re guaranteed to have a good time.
“Yeah,” Eric explains, turning back to you. “It’s some high profile case. They’ve been pullin’ longer hours than me. As for Ma, she’s probably enjoyin’ the quiet house for once. You know how my dad gets when he’s home.”
“Oh, everyone knows.” The only person who loves Boston sports more than Eric, is his dad. Their downstairs movie room sees more Red Sox games than actual movies, and his dad gets into it.
“I feel like I should call my dad or stop by the office, just to check in. I kinda feel bad for not reaching out to my dad more but if I call him, I feel obligated to talk to my mother and no thanks.”
You stare at your hands for a moment. “She makes me feel like a bad daughter sometimes.”
“Don’t worry so much fella, you know damn well ya not.” He knows, better than anyone, how much she can get to you. "‘Sides, Bobby’s got my dad and I check in on him whenever I stop by the office.”
“I appreciate you so much.” And you do. Eric is one of the good ones. You are forever grateful he didn’t turn out to be like his older brother.
“I know.”
You give him a stern expression as you brush your hair off your shoulder. “You sure you’re gonna be okay this week on your own? I can make some meals for you if -”
“Kid, believe it or not, I am an adult.” Eric looks slightly offended. “I’m almost thirty.”
“Seriously?” You tease, wacking his arm. “Don’t give me that. I have a key to your apartment for a reason.”
“Yeah, ‘cause we’re best friends.” He moves his arm out of your reach. “I have a key to ya place too.”
You cross your arms while he stares at you. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve come in and put a blanket over you while you’re sleeping in your napping chair? Have you ever had to do that for me?”
“C’mon, respect the chair. It’s not just for nappin’. It’s my everythin’ chair.” He crosses his own arms and you smile. Not this again.
That grubby armchair has been the subject of more debate between the two of you than you care to admit. “No matter where I move, it comes with me. I will be cremated with that thing.”
“What happens when you get married?”
“Kid. That’s not happenin’, you know I don’t wanna get married.” He shrugs. “And in any case, if it came between a woman and my chair… Chair’s never let me down before. I do everythin’ in that chair. Everything.”
You crinkle your nose in disgust. “And now I’m never sitting in that again.”
“Don’t be weird, kid.” Eric points at you but the scolding inflection is gone from his voice. “Where would ya sit if I got rid of all my furniture?”
“You barely have any as it is.” You point out with a laugh. “You don’t even have curtains.”
He is entirely unphased by your accusation. “So?”
“As you said, you’re almost thirty. You should have a furnished apartment, which includes curtains. And matching bedding.”
“Well, as a man that’s almost thirty, I have the right to make the decision of what to put in my apahtment.”
“I don’t understand you, Eric Grant.” You reach across the table and grab his keys. He stares at you in horrified concern as you twirl them between your fingers. “You can keep a ‘69 Camaro in perfect condition but can’t manage to keep your fridge stocked with anything but old pizza and beer.”
Quickly, he snatches his keys from your hand. “And that’s exactly how I’ll survive for a week without you - pizza and beer.”
“Mmhmm.” You roll your eyes, knowing that you’ve just won. “I’ll be over tomorrow with food for a few days.”
“Yeah alright, thanks kid.” He rests the keys on the table, slightly out of your reach. He’s such a child. “Did I ever tell ya I love you?”
“Yeah, often.” You remind him with a wide grin. “It’s why I keep you around.”
“I thought it was for my ass.” He deadpans, shrugging his shoulders with a smile.
“Well, that too.” You smirk up at him and shrug back. “I like options.”
Eric rolls his eyes and leans back against the booth. “Wait, doesn’t Charlotte get here tomorrow?” When you tell him that she doesn’t fly in till Monday, he nods his head and leans forward. “She's a big time lawyer now, right?”
At your raised brow, he carries on quickly. “Oh, I creep her on Instagram from time to time." He smiles wide. “She’s a wicked smokeshow, I still got a crush.”
“Oh, Eric.” You can’t help the ridiculous laugh that comes out of your mouth. “I've said it before, she would eat you alive.”
He leans forward, not bothering to hide his excitement. “Is that a promise?”
“Nooo.” You can’t help but giggle at him. “You definitely couldn’t handle her.”
Charlotte is a firecracker of a woman, always has been. What she lacks in height she makes up in attitude. Honestly, it’s one of your favorite things about her.
The night you met her she had told off a Lacrosse player twice her size for grabbing her ass; literally made a grown man cry. You’d been friends ever since. “Eric, I promise you from the bottom of my heart, you would make a complete ass of yourself if you tried to pick her up now.”
“C’mon fella, I could totally handle her.” He taps the table with enthusiasm. “Just set us up, we’ll all have a few drinks and it’ll be a good time. We've been tryin' to meet for years. I feel like it's finally the time. That dick's not around anymore and I'm single as can be.”
You slap your hand on top of his to stop him. “Eric. That girl would drink you under the table and leave you with nothing but a bruised ego.”
“Me?” His voice rises in disbelief. “The BC beer pong champ three years in a row? I mean, they didn't call me the Captain for nothin'.”
"Yes, Captain. You.” You laugh. “You do know where she and I went to school, right? The entire city is known for drinking." Eric’s smirk falters for a second.
“And she grew up there. Her dad taught her how to swim in the actual bayou. That girl has zero fear and will not back down from a challenge. It’s not something you want to get into.”
“Kid, I’m not sayin’ her and I are gonna get together. Maybe she’s just lookin’ for a little fun.”
You grab your bottle and frown when you remember that your drink is empty. “Eric, trust me. She’s probably not looking for that. You know she just got out of that long ass relationship. After the engagement, the almost wedding and everything that family put her through, all Charlotte wants is a week to relax and de-stress.”
He gives you the cheesiest grin you've ever seen. “I’m good at helpin’ women de-stress.”
“I’m not listing off all the reasons why that’s so wrong without another beer.” You push your feet all the way back into your heels and slide out of the booth.
“Since you were so kind to pick me up tonight, I’ll get the next round.” You smooth out the skirt of your dress and make your way to the bar.
You nod your head as Eric’s partner, Patrick walks in with two officers you recognize from Homicide. He mouths Eric’s name in question and you thumb behind your head with a smile. Leaning against the bar, you turn to look for the bartender.
Your gaze stops when you see a familiar trench coat folded over the back of a chair near the end of the bar. You can’t help the scowl that slips onto your face once you recognize it.
Are you fucking kidding me.
With a huff, you stride over to him and slam your hand on the bar top near his glass. “You’re following me, aren’t you?”
“I got here first luv, I think you’re following me.” Constantine turns, un-phased and lifts his glass to his mouth with a smirk. “Now, can’t a bloke enjoy a pint in peace? Maybe I should alert the authorities. It seems everywhere I go, there you are.”
“By all means." You laugh, waving your arms around you. “This is a local bar, filled with law enforcement. You won’t need to go far.” He glances around as you cross your arms. For a moment, you think you see his brow furrow in concern before he takes another sip of his drink.
Three times in two days is just too much of a coincidence. You want to be angry but the alternative, the thought that he's purposefully trying to be near you, is more appealing than it should be.
“And how would you know that you got here first?” You ask, attempting to bait him.
He gestures with his glass over to the booth where Eric sits, deep in conversation with his partner. “Saw you and Handsome come in, looking awful chummy again, I might add.”
Not that you can’t handle this, you just wish Eric would look up and come over. Put his arm around your shoulders, shake the man’s hand, do anything that would allow Constantine that glittering flash of jealousy you saw in his eyes yesterday.
You turn back to Constantine and roll your eyes, choosing to be antagonistic rather than give him the satisfaction of seeing any sign of pleasure on your face at running into him again. “This is stalking. I know plenty of the officers here so I’m warning you, cut the shit.”
“Who knew something that cheeky could come from such a pretty mouth.” Constantine gives you a wolfish grin as he shamelessly appraises you. “And it’s not stalking unless you get caught.”
“Oh, it’s not?” You retort, struggling to keep the sarcasm out of your voice. “What do you call this, then?”
“Casual conversation between friends, luv.” He shrugs and motions for another drink. “Now, why don’t you invite your boyfriend over and we can make it a proper threesome?”
“First of all, he’s not my boyfriend and we’re not friends.” Your face scrunches in disgust. “And second, ew.”
He looks you over again before glancing at Eric with obvious interest. “Not from where I’m standing.”
“I’m surprised you’re still standing, with how much you’ve had to drink.” You peer at the empty glasses on the bar top. “Careful Mr. Constantine, you wouldn’t want to make an idiot of yourself again. I don't think you could handle it a third time."
He lowers his voice, taking a small step toward you. “Oh, trust me luv, you have no idea how much I can handle.” The heated, predatory stare he gives you then tells you that he’d very much like to show you. When his hand reaches for your arm, his fingers feel like ice on your flushed skin.
You gasp softly and he chuckles, knowing full well the reaction you’re having being this close to him. “Interesting.” He breathes, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. “Do I make you nervous, sweet’eart?”
Later, when you’re safe in your bed and far from the possibilities of Constantine’s hinted proposition and all the pleasures that would come with it, you’ll blame the drinks Eric kept giving you for making you nod in response. You’re too sensible to let yourself get carried away in the moment, otherwise.
You gaze up at him and notice his pupils are blown wide with lust. The amber in them, barely visible when his eyes meet yours. It’s the first time you’ve noticed the warm golden flecks in his eyes, and it’s the first time you feel like you could stare into them for hours if he let you.
It’s a heavy thing, Constantine’s gaze, like the air after a Louisiana rain storm. The intensity in his dark eyes enthralls you, rooting you in place. You shiver when you realize you don’t want to look away.
You silently will your rapidly thudding heart to relax as he pulls you closer to him. “Do you have any idea what I want to do to you, pet?”
You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. You feel your pulse quicken as he trails his fingers up your arm and gently touches your face. You let him trace his thumb over your cheek as he smirks down at you.
With a heavy sigh, he tears his eyes away from yours. “But I’d bloody ruin you.”
I don’t care. You swallow thickly and glance away from him, trying to process what’s happening. Wait, what am I doing? What is he doing? You’re too flushed to think straight.
He’s too close; the illogical part of you wants to close the distance and crash your lips to his. "I… I can’t -” You mumble and step back, trying to even out your breathing.
“Bloody hell. Wait, luv.” Constantine calls as you turn. “We keep meeting like this and each time you leave me, you’re unsatisfied.” He pulls out the same six of diamonds he flashed earlier. “Let me at least buy you and your friend the next round of pints, ay?”
You take the card from his hand, all traces of your interest in him gone as you turn it over in your palm. “You’re really trying to pull this again? Do you not realize this is a playing card?” You hand it over to him as you raise your eyebrows. “Do you think I'm blind or just stupid?”
He grabs the card back, momentarily confused by your anger. “I… Uh…”
You shake your head, letting disappointment show on your face. "Goodnight, Mr. Constantine.” You tell him softly as you begin to walk away.
You want to check if he’s staring at you. That’s how this dance with him has been ending, hasn't it? But if you check, you’ll both know he’s won this round.
You press your palm to the warm skin of your cheek as you walk. Almost… You almost let your guard down. And as interested as you might be in him, there is still something about Constantine that you don't trust.
I’d bloody ruin you. What exactly did he mean by that? You’re not sure, but you know you need to be more careful.
For a second, you were tempted to let him try. Between the way he looked at you and the way he spoke to you, you almost fell for whatever game he was running.
“Hang on Paddy. Kid, you good?” Eric scoots out of the booth and rests his hands on your shoulders. His face is lined with concern, blue eyes wide as he searches your face for any signs of something wrong. “Ya face is beet red right now and I know we haven’t had a ton to drink.”
“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little tired.” You tell them both, feeling the exact opposite of fine. You fan your face to show him you're just warm. "And hot."
“You do know ya forgot the drinks, right?”
“Shit.” You glance back at the bar. Back to Constantine. “I’ll be right back.”
“Nah, bud. Paddy's got it.” He gestures to his partner and the older man pulls out his wallet with a smile.
"I heard you had a long couple of days," Patrick commiserates. "And some jackass woke you up at 3am yesterday? So rude.”
You laugh with him and let them both head to the bar. Closing your eyes, you slide into the booth and rest your head against the back of the vinyl. Your thoughts are a frustrated jumbled mess. What is wrong with you?
Even in the beginning with Sam, you didn't feel like this. It’s confusing; one minute you want to kiss him, the next you want to punch him in his smugstupidperfect face. And you've only known the man a couple of days.
You can’t help but wonder if you have the same effect on the man that he has on you.
After a long moment, you open your eyes and watch Eric laugh with Patrick at the bar. You look around for Constantine and see him staring at Eric as he downs the last of his drink.
You can’t quite understand the expression on Constantine’s face. His eyes are narrowed like he’s angry, but the half smirk on his lips lends to his amusement.
When he turns and catches you staring, his mouth twists into a wide grin. Quickly you look away, suddenly fascinated with your phone. When you look up moments later, he's gone.
***
“Smooth, Johnny. Real bloody smooth.” John mutters angrily as he turns up the collar of his coat. Walking out of the bar, he spares one last glance through the window. "What is it about her?" And why do I bloody care?
John feels something he refuses to name, blossom in his stomach. There is something about you; he doesn't like that he wants to stick around and find out what it is.
And John certainly doesn’t like that the something is strong enough that he failed to mention you to Chas when he spoke to him yesterday.
He's curious, but John knows damn well he shouldn't bother to get involved. I bloody won't. He shouldn't care about you. I bloody don't. He's got a job to finish, then he'll get out of Dodge. Just like I always do.
That's how it has to be. John turns the corner near his hotel and pulls the cigarette from behind his ear. He quickly lights it, letting the smoke swirl around him as he walks.
People get close to me, they get hurt. But you make him want to ignore his painstakingly guarded walls and that’s going to be dangerous for both of you.
I tried to warn her, I’d ruin that poor girl. And I keep telling myself I'm not bloody interested anyway. She'd be a good shag and that's that. The only reason he keeps coming around is because you keep saying no. If it's easy, it's no fun now is it.
But John is interested. For the first time in a long time. Somehow you’ve seen through his magic, twice now. Within minutes of meeting you, he was intrigued and determined to flirt his way into bed with you.
But you weren’t impressed by his usual tricks and immediately shut him down. No matter what he’s tried so far, you haven’t caved. You’ve frustratingly shown no signs of being affected by anything he’s done.
The closest he’s come to a victory was tonight and in the end, John knows he mucked that up. This is a game John isn't used to losing.
There’s still time, isn’t there? The job's not done, John hasn't found the creature Connors called him about. Doesn’t have a bloody clue what he’s dealing with. Not yet anyway. So, John decides as he steps into his hotel, I might win this game yet. He’s just gotta play it a bit differently.
Notes:
There's so much story to tell, so enjoy the ride!
Xoxo
Chapter 4: What is a corgi wiggle?!
Summary:
For everyone wondering how your fabulous best friends first meet - here we go! Its a trip :)
Chapter Text
You haven't talked to Eric since Saturday night, an odd thing for you both. After calling him a few times, stopping by his apartment and still not seeing him, you do the only other thing you can think of beside harassing him at the precinct.
You call his mom. She picks up on the first ring, excitement in her voice when she greets you. “Hi sweetie! How is everything?”
“Hey, Linda. I’m on my way to the airport.” You explain as you climb into your Rogue. “I’m picking up a friend so, honestly? Everything's great."
You pause and let your phone connect with the audio in the car. “I just haven’t heard from Eric since Saturday night, I’m a little worried. Have you talked to him?”
“Oh honey, he’s in court today. He had to testify on that case,” she sighs into the phone. “The Davies case.”
Oh shit. The Davies Case had been a tough one for the entire precinct. Eric had been one of the first on the scene for what had been the worst homicide the city had seen in years. An entire family had been needlessly slaughtered. Eric had been the arresting detective when the evidence had pointed to the father.
You had spent many nights helping him move past what he had witnessed. You and Eric both dreaded the day he’d have to dredge it all back up and testify to what he’d seen. “I had no idea that that was today.” You admit softly. “He didn’t tell me.”
“I’m not surprised he didn’t say anything, this case has been hard on him. You know how involved he can get. But he did tell me you brought food for him. You didn’t see him?”
“No, he wasn’t home. I put everything in the fridge and left him a note.” You had wondered why Eric didn’t call you yesterday when he got back in. But now, you completely understand.
“Honestly sweetie,” You can hear her smile through the phone. “You take better care of that boy than any of his ex girlfriends.”
“Well, he doesn't and I'm happy to.” You laugh and shake your head. It’s never been something you minded. The boy is a workaholic and if you didn’t remind him to eat sometimes, you’re sure he would go days.
“You shouldn't have to,” She reasons. “I raised him to take care of himself.”
“I know you did, Linda. I think he chooses to forget.” You smile to yourself as you take the exit for Logan Airport. “I’m gonna give him a call, force that boy to come out.”
“Probably a good idea.” She agrees with a small laugh. “You do have a way with him when he gets like this. Tell him that I miss him, please.”
You promise to do so and press ‘end’ on your steering wheel. You pull into the Arrivals area at the airport and scroll to Eric’s name in your phone. With it being just before noon, he could still be in the courthouse, but you’re going to try anyway. Once Charlotte's in the car, you’ll lose track of time in your excitement.
When he doesn’t answer, you decide to text him. ‘Unless you’re still in court, answer your damn phone. You know I will keep calling until you get pissed off.’
Your phone immediately rings and you pick up with a grin. “Oh look at that, you are alive.”
“Ha ha. Ya so funny, kid.” He sighs heavily. “Whaddya want?”
“Jesus, what do you think I want? Proof of life would be nice.” You realize how bitchy you sound and soften your tone when you speak again. “Eric, I didn’t know you were testifying today. How are you?”
“I’m fine, kid.” Liar. You can hear it in his voice how not fine he is.
You know the best way to get Eric out of this funk is force him to come out with you. Being alone is not good for him when he’s had this rough a time.
“Okay, grumpy pants.” You tease lightly. “You’re coming out with Charlotte and I tonight. Figured it was time you met her… What with all your begging Saturday night.”
“Nah, I’m not. I just wanna go home.”
“Eric. You are not going home to wallow. You’ve done enough of that already this weekend. I completely understand, don’t get me wrong. But you know what happened to those kids wasn’t your fault. You did what you had to do, then and today. If everything goes the way it should, Davies is going to prison for life.”
You hear him sigh again and know you’ve won. “So you’re coming out to the bar and I promise, you’re going to have a good time. We’re gonna put this behind you.”
“...Fine.”
You grin as you shut off your car and cross your arms in victory. “Fine.”
“What time, kid?”
You pull up your reservation app to check the time you decided on. “Seven at The 21st Amendment. Dress nice,” you instruct, not unkindly. “I don’t want to see you in sweats. See you tonight!”
You can’t see him but you know he’s rolling his eyes as he hangs up.
You only have to wait a few more minutes before you see Charlotte. Her long hair fans behind her in espresso colored waves as she walks toward your car. You jump out of the driver's seat and rush toward her. “Charli!” You call out, waving your arms excitedly. “Over here!”
She readjusts her duffle and hurries to meet you. “Hi Sugar, where y’at!?” She calls out, letting her accent lilt softly into her words.
You wrap your arms around her. It’s been almost a year since you’ve seen her; it’s felt like forever. After a moment, you lean back and furrow your brow when you see how little she’s packed. Did the airline lose her luggage? “Char, is this all you brought with you?”
She stares at you in confusion. “Of course.”
You hit the unlock button on your keys and let her put her bag in the backseat of your SUV. “You do know you’re staying for a week, right?”
“I have three pairs of shoes and outfits for nearly three weeks.” She smiles and lifts her handbag. “I also have my laptop, my personal phone and my work one in here. Hell, I even have my teddy bear - but that stays between us.”
“Your work phone?” You grumble, opening your car door. “Come on, Char. You’re on vacation.”
“And?” She raises an eyebrow. “I’m not going to answer it, I just didn’t want to leave it at home.”
“You do know we’re having a beach day, right?” You ask her, letting sarcasm fill your voice. You knew she wouldn’t be able to leave the firm back at home. Another thing you have in common. You’re on vacation yourself and have checked your email four times since this morning.
“Yeah, I brought my bathing suit.”
You roll your eyes as you weave back onto the highway. “Not what I meant, but that’s cool.”
“Listen, sugar, it just feels weird for me to leave it back at Ray’s. But trust me, it’s off and it isn’t going to leave my purse.” She promises you. “This week is all about relaxing and getting away from the stress of home.”
“Alright, alright. I believe you.” You glance at her quickly. “Oh, side note, we’re going to meet one of my guy friends for drinks tonight. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Boyfriend or just friend?” You notice the interest in her voice immediately.
You roll your eyes again. “Don’t get too excited. He’s just a friend. Eric? I’ve told you about him.” Charlotte nods. “He’s having a rough day so we’re gonna cheer him up.”
You give her a little refresher about Eric and fill her in on the basics of the case he testified for today. She tells you that she remembers hearing about it when it hit the news ten months back.
She doesn’t mind at all that you’re dragging him out. In fact, she plans to buy him a drink for nailing that crazy son of a bitch.
She yawns as you pull into your driveway. “Mind if I take a nap before we go out?” She asks. “It was an early morning and I'm fixing to look good for tonight.”
“Not at all, but you always look good.” You hear your phone chime, indicating a new email. “I have a few things I need to go over anyways.”
***
As you try to decide what to wear tonight, you find yourself wondering if you’ll run into Constantine again. Since you’ve spent yesterday cleaning and running errands, you've been constantly on the go.
You haven't had more than a few moments to breathe but somehow, your thoughts have drifted to the mysterious Brit quite a few times. It’s not like you want to see him. But if you do, well, you should look your best. You refuse to admit that you enjoy the game you’ve been playing with him.
You decide on a blue and white striped sundress with a thin leather belt. Strappy sandals and red button studs make the dress more casual. You’re going for summer fun, not country club. You leave your hair loose, praying the humidity doesn't make it frizzy.
Charlotte smiles at you when she walks into your room. She’s smoothing her hands over a sleeveless navy dress that hugs every curve on her body. While she always looked great, she looks so much healthier now that she's left her ex fiance.
Nude heels and silver bangle bracelets complement her ensemble. She shakes out her dark curls in the mirror of your closet door. “Look at us.” She grins. “Boston, y'all are not prepared.”
“If New Orleans could handle us for four and a half years,” you tease her with a smile. “Boston’ll be just fine.” She laughs and motions you over so she can get a few pictures before you leave.
It’s a short drive to the bar, but you turn up the music anyway. Both of you attempt to sing along to the playlist and wind up laughing your way through instead.
This week is just what you both needed. The stress of the opening was starting to weigh on you; you’re glad you decided to take the week off now that it’s up and running.
As if reading your thoughts, Charlotte questions you about the museum as you wait for your table. “Still no word on the promotion?” She asks. You shake your head, letting your anxiety show on your face. “Well, maybe they’re waiting until you’re back from vacation?”
“I dunno, maybe.” You don’t want to stress but everyone knows how much you want this position. It’s all you’ve talked about for weeks.
“Don’t worry too much, sugar. When the firm offered me a position with them, they waited until I got back from my graduation trip. They made a big deal out of it.” She reassuringly pats your arm. “Maybe the Director wants to do the same thing for you.”
You shrug as you both follow the host to your table. “You’re probably right.”
You’re about to hop up onto the booth when you see Eric darting around a large group that’s just walked in. You wave him over and he nods once he sees you. He doesn’t look happy, but at least he listened and didn’t come in sweatpants.
He paired a light denim shirt with a pair of dark wash jeans. The contrast makes his cobalt eyes seem deeper. Black boots finish off his relaxed and yet, still polished look.
“Hey grumpy pants.” You give him a hug and roll your eyes when he half heartedly hugs you back.
“Don’t call me that, kid.” He grumbles, leaning back from you.
“Then cut it out.” You warn, attempting to keep your tone light. “We have company.”
Eric rolls his eyes and offers to grab a round of beers for the table. “Yes please!” You and Charlotte agree in unison.
“Take a deep breath.” You tell him quietly, just out of Charlotte's earshot. “Tonight’s gonna be fun.” He nods and heads up to the bar.
“You weren’t kidding, sugar.” Charlotte raises her eyebrows. “That boy definitely needs some cheering up.”
“I promise you, Char, he won’t be like this for long.” You watch as Eric chats with the bartender. “We’ll get a beer in him, he’ll be good.” He says something that makes the other man laugh and pour out two shots.
They cheer and drink them down quickly before Eric grabs three bottles of beer and heads back to you. You shake your head as you let an amused expression slide onto your face. Trust Eric to know someone everywhere he goes.
He rests the bottles on the table and turns to Charlotte. “Let me properly introduce myself. Eric Grant, it’s so nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about ya.” He extends his hand and Charlotte takes it.
You notice Eric eyeing her up and down as she greets him. “Charlotte DuCaine. If you like, you can call me Charli. It’s great to finally meet you too. I know we've danced around this day for years.”
“Charlotte's a pretty name for an even prettier gal. Didn’t mean to be a grump a few minutes ago.” He shrugs, sheepishly. “I don’t know if this one told you but I had a tough case to testify for today.”
Charlotte nods with a small smile. “She did and I’d like to buy you a drink tonight. We heard about that bastard back home, when you first made the arrest. Davies deserves to be put away for life.”
“Well, doll.” Eric smirks, lifting his bottle. “I’ll drink to that.” Charlotte’s cheeks turn pink at his praise.
Eric starts telling you both all the details of the case with a vigor you’ve never seen from him. Charlotte hangs on his every word, listening with intense interest. Both of their drinks are untouched save for the one sip they toasted to earlier. You, however, have already finished yours.
What the Hell is happening right now?
“Oh sugar,” Charlotte says suddenly, slapping your arm in excitement. “I forgot to tell y'all earlier!”
You jump at the sudden change in her tone and body language. “...Yes?”
She looks at you with a deadpan expression. “Ray has taken up knitting.”
“I’m sorry, but Raymond DuCaine, your 6’6, ‘Imma wrestle a gator’ daddy has taken up knitting?!” You can’t hide your surprised laugh. She has to be kidding.
Charlotte nods and you gesture for her to continue. “I’m going to need more information, Char.”
“Well, I was upstairs, on a video conference with my boss and all of a sudden, I heard ‘Lottie!’ so I ignored him because, you know, work.” She shrugs and you nod.
“A couple minutes later it went from ‘Lottie’ to ‘Charlotte Elizabeth’. I excused myself and ran downstairs to see what was wrong.” She stifles her laugh with the back of her hand. “And there was my daddy, sitting on the living room floor, wrapped in yarn like a kitten.”
“Stooop.” You cover your own laugh as you lean against the back of the booth. “Please tell me you got a picture of that!”
“Of course, sugar.” She grabs her phone from her purse and scrolls until she finds it. “It’s definitely my contact photo for him now.” She smirks as she slides it over to you. Eric’s eyes stay glued in Charlotte’s direction as she continues speaking. “So he asked me to teach him how -”
You have to say something. He’s staring at her like a lost puppy. “Eric, you good?” You ask him. Eric nods without taking his eyes off her and Charlotte giggles, touching his arm playfully.
“Anyway, I asked him what he was planning to make.” She gives you a conspiratory smile. “He said he wanted to make you a blanket. We both know that that’s never going to happen, but god forbid he finishes it, please pretend to be surprised.”
“Oh, I’m sure I won’t need to pretend.” You forward the picture to yourself before sliding her phone back to her. “I’m probably going to forget.”
“I wish I could.”
“Ya dad sounds like he’s a lot of fun.” Eric admits. “I mean, my dad’s a great guy. But not the kind to take up knittin’ for fun. I wish he’d get a hobby.”
He points at you with his bottle. “At least ya dad collects antique weapons. That’s wicked cool. My old man won’t even go fishin’.”
“I love my daddy more than anything, well… Almost more than anything.”
“Beau is her favorite.” You smile when you think of Charlotte’s big fluffy mutt. "I love him too."
Eric tilts his head in confusion, making both you and Charlotte laugh. “Beau?”
“Best dog in the whole world.” Charlotte shows him a few of her dozens of pictures. As he looks through them, she flags down a waitress and orders a round of shots for the table.
“Shut the front door, that dog is huge!”
Charlotte nods in approval. “He can almost look my daddy in the eye if he stands on his hind legs.”
“That’s ridiculous, I love him already.” Eric hands the waitress two twenties when she returns with your shots. “Keep the change,” he offers with a smile.
He slides a shot to each of you and lifts his towards Charlotte. “So Charlotte, someone thinks you'd be able to drink me under the table.”
“Oh, I definitely could.” Without looking away from him, she downs her shot and rests the empty glass on the table.
“Ya like, what? 5’2?” Eric snickers, downing his own shot. “There’s no way.”
“Wanna bet?” Charlotte teases, making Eric nod and you sigh. Here it comes. Charlotte never backs down from a challenge. You told him this. You shake your head knowing this won’t end the way Eric hopes. “What are the terms?”
Eric doesn’t hesitate. Clearly, he was hoping to get one of you to make a bet tonight. “I win, the three of us hit a Sox game this week.” He raises a brow. “You win, I’ll pay for a spa day for both of you?”
Charlotte glances at you before answering. You nod in approval. “Deal.”
***
Four rounds of shots later, Eric throws in the towel with disappointment in his expression. “Alright, ladies. I gotta tap out. I gotta drive later.”
“So that means,” Charlotte gently touches his cheek before raising both arms in victory. He smiles despite himself as she giggles. “I win!”
“No, no. Definitely doesn’t mean that.” He shakes his head but you notice the smile hasn’t left his face. “It means that we need to have a rematch.”
“Nah, Eric." You pipe up, shaking your head. “Charli beat you fair and square.”
That statement earns you an eye roll from him. “So not fair, kid.” He whines. “Ya supposed to be on my side.”
“Why would I bet against her?” You ask, nudging Charlotte with your shoulder. “Her daddy makes his own moonshine.”
“He what?”
“Oh yeah, daddy’s been doing it since I was young.” Charlotte confides, leaning over the table. Eric’s eyes drift down before quickly meeting her eyes again. “He had me taste testing by the time I was sixteen.”
“Well, that’s very illegal." Eric chides, crossing his arms. You can take the boy out of the precinct, but you can’t take the precinct out of the boy. “And I am a detective, probably not the smartest person to tell.”
“And I’m a lawyer, chere. Your point? Plus, it’s been over ten years.” Charlotte pushes herself out of the booth, offering to get the next round. Eric asks for a beer, making her roll her eyes. “And a water for the detective, got it.”
Once she's out of earshot, Eric gives you a cocky grin. He lays his arms on the table and leans forward. “She’s comin' home with me tonight.”
You can’t help but laugh. “No, she’s not. I seem to remember telling you she’d eat you alive.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, she is. Fella, she totally wants me.”
“Trust me, Eric. She doesn’t.”
Charlotte comes back with two more beers and a glass of water. She slides the cup to Eric as her phone buzzes on the table. Ray’s tangled in yarn photograph lights up on the screen. “Shit!” She grabs the phone and gives you both a look of apology.
“I forgot to let him know I landed. Excuse me.” She holds the phone to her ear and covers her other ear with her hand to block out the noise of the bar. “Hi, Daddy!” You hear her exclaim as she heads for the door.
Eric turns back to you, all business. “Wanna bet?”
You sigh, there's no getting away from this. However, you’d rather have this version of Eric than the depressed version that arrived earlier. “Not that I want to take your money but, what are the terms, Grant?”
“You win, I let ya drive Olivia.” He smirks when your eyes go wide. “I win, ya go on a date with my buddy, Matty.” Son of a bitch knows I want to drive that car. That’s the offer he makes me?
Nope. Not doing it. “What?! No!” You don’t have to pretend to sound scandalized. He’s been pushing you to date again for the last year. Eric just doesn’t understand. You can’t make yourself want to date again. When and if you’re ready, you’ll date.
He can read the expression on your face, see your reluctance in the stiffening of your shoulders. “Kid, ya haven’t been on a date in like three years. Sam was a total prick but I know Matty. He’s carryin’ a torch for ya. Every time you visit me he says somethin’. I promise ya, he isn’t married. He’s a good guy.”
You roll your eyes. You don’t want to agree, but maybe it won’t be so bad. And maybe Charlotte won’t actually be interested. The girl is southern, flirting is just part of her personality. “Fine.” You agree, without any excitement.
Your phone buzzes, making you flip it over and light up the screen. The waiting text is from Charlotte:
Charlotte DuCaine:
Eric’s really is cute. You said he’s single, right? How did us meeting take this long?
Fuck. You slide the phone over to Eric with an audible groan. “Well, would ya look at that.” Eric tilts his head, plastering a goofy smile on his face. “Fastest win I’ve ever got.”
“This means nothing, Eric.” You protest, glancing at the door to check for Charlotte. “She never said she’s going home with you.”
“Trust me kid, she will and you’ll love Matty.” He lifts his glass and takes a few quick sips. He may be a smart ass, but at least he’s being smart and sobering himself up.
“Eric, she drools in her sleep.”
He shrugs. “So do puppies and I love them.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “I’m sorry, did you just compare my best friend to a puppy?” If he’s trying to convince you that this is a good idea, he’s got an interesting way of showing it.
Eric pretends to be horrified. “First, I thought I was ya best friend?” He holds up his hand, gesturing toward the door. “And second, the girl’s got the best corgi wiggle I’ve evah seen.”
You let out a short quick laugh. “What the fuck is a corgi wiggle?”
He wiggles his eyebrows and leans forward. “Watch her ass next time she walks away.”
“Eric. I am not doing that.”
Charlotte makes her way back through the crowd. When she gets to the table, Eric asks her if she’d mind grabbing him another glass of water. “I’ve gotta make sure I’m good to drive. Pity if I have to arrest myself.”
She smiles and offers you another drink. You tell her you’d love a water as well. “Look, kid.” He nudges you and points at her ass.
When she walks, her hips do in fact have a sway that wiggles her ass. You can’t handle him. You refuse to acknowledge that he’s right but… he’s certainly not wrong. “Jesus Christ, Eric.”
“I know.”
Charlotte comes back, three glasses of water balanced between her fingers. Eric smiles at her and you get slightly concerned wondering what might come out of his mouth. “Our girl might have a date tomorrow night.”
Excitement lights up her caramel colored eyes. “Sugar, really?!”
You run your fingers through your hair and let your head drop onto the table top. “Ugh. Maybe.”
“You don’t sound too excited about it.” She points out, sliding back into the booth next to you. She rubs her hand on your back. You refuse to lift your head as they talk over you. “You haven’t been on a date in three years.”
“That’s what I told her.” Eric agrees. “She’s gotta get back out there, show that dick that ya moved on.”
You lift your head and glance between the two of them. “Guys, I may not date but I flirt. There’s a guy I met -”
“When?” Eric scoffs, lifting his glass to his lips. “This is the first I’m hearin’ about you meetin’ anybody. Share with the class, bud.” Charlotte nods her head in agreement. You roll your eyes when you see their excited faces.
You’re annoyed with yourself for saying something in the first place. Whatever this thing is with Constantine, may not actually be anything at all. Now you have to explain it.
“I just met him Friday, at the museum.” You explain softly. Both of them pay attention with mounting interest.
“I think he’s some kind of consultant from our sister museum in England. It probably won’t amount to anything, but we’ve kinda been hate-flirting every time we see each other.”
Eric raises his eyebrow. “Kid, what the hell is ‘hate-flirtin’?”
“It’s hard to explain, Eric but it’s like, think I want to... but then..”
“I get it, sugar.” Charlotte interrupts with a knowing smile. “You kinda want to kiss the guy but kinda want to punch him at the same time?”
“Yes! That’s exactly it!” Of course she would know what you meant. You thought of her ex-fiancé the second she agreed with you.
“You ladies are wicked strange.” Eric laughs into his glass. “Adorable, but strange.”
Charlotte shrugs before downing the rest of her glass. “Just be careful sugar, hate-flirting usually ends badly. Very rarely does it lead to something real.”
You shrug and tell them both you’ll be fine. You’re an adult, you know what you’re doing. “Of course it will be,” Eric promises you with a small shrug. “Cause Matty is great. After tomorrow, you won’t even care about ya mystery museum guy.”
The next hour passes pretty quickly after that. Eric asks you both about your plans for the week. You tell him about your planned beach day and your girls night in. Aside from that, you wanted to keep the days open so Charlotte could make suggestions as the week went on.
She nudges you and reminds Eric to hand over his credit card so you can book a spa day. She laughs when you tell her that you don’t need to ask him for it, you have it at home. Eric rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue the fact.
After a spirited protest of who should pay the bill, Eric actually sprints to the bar to pay the tab. You and Charlotte try to hand him money as you walk out, but he refuses to take anything you hand him. He hugs you quickly and smiles at Charlotte. “Thanks, ladies. I really needed this.”
“You really didn’t have to pay for everything.” Charlotte scolds him after hearing him say for the fourth time that he didn't mind paying. He was more than happy to after the way you both lifted his spirits.
She smiles and reaches out for his forearm. “Is there anything I can do to repay you?”
Eric smirks at her then and you watch him make the decision to close the deal. “Come home with me, honey.”
Oh, he’s fucking smooth. You sigh. And with that, you’ve lost the bet. You know it. And what’s worse, you realize, you did this. You invited him out, after you told him no.
Charlotte glances at you. “Sugar, do you mind?” She doesn’t need to say it, you know her too well. If you say no, she won’t go. But she wants to. “This week is supposed to be a girls thing, so I’ll understand if -”
“No, Char. Go enjoy the night.” You aren’t sure how you feel about this, but they both deserve to let off a little steam. Cause that’s all this will be. Eric isn’t the relationship type, he’s married to the job.
Charlotte broke things off with Hugh less than eight months ago and her home is fifteen hundred miles from here. This will be a one time thing. “What time do you want me to pick you up in the morning?”
“Don’t worry about it, kid.” Eric leads the way to the parking lot. “I’ll keep her busy if she’s not too sick of me by the mornin’ and I’ll drop her off after, I got a key to ya place.” At your questioning stare, he explains with a shrug. “I already sent Matty ya contact info. He’s gonna call you in the mornin’. Ya got a date tomorrow!”
You roll your eyes as you stop at his car. How the Hell did he get a spot right next to you? He was a clear twenty minutes behind you, at least. “Climb in, gorgeous.” He offers, opening Olivia’s passenger door.
“She’s yours?” Charlotte asks, running her fingers along the hood. “She’s beautiful. Can... can I drive?”
You freeze and stare at him. You can see it in his face, that boy is actually contemplating letting Charlotte drive.
You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding when he gently turns her down. “You've had too much to drink and ya don’t know where ya goin' yet. So passenger seat, please.”
Thank God. I would’ve killed him if he let Charli drive Liv before I got to. Charlotte pouts but obediently slides into the car. She blows you a kiss as Eric walks around the driver's seat. “We’ll talk to you tomorrow, bud. Ya gonna have a great time. I know we’re gonna.”
“Charli?” You call out to her. “Please don’t break him.” She laughs as Eric puts the car in reverse. You shake your head as you unlock your own car. Tonight ended a bit differently than you anticipated. You can’t say you hate it, but you love them both too much not to wonder if this was a good idea.
And now you have a date with Matty, something you’re also not sure is a good idea. Because it’s definitely not who you want to go on a date with.
Later that night, as you start to drift off to sleep, your thoughts aren’t with Charli and Eric or even the date you have tomorrow. Instead, you can only focus on one thing - the real reason you don’t want to go out with Matty.
John Constantine.
Chapter 5: Of dates and damsels.
Summary:
When a first date turns horrible, the person you least expect offers to rescue you from it.
Chapter Text
Last night was the first time you dreamt of John Constantine.
Within the margins of your dream, your meeting at the museum went very differently. You recall flashes of his cocky grin and arrogant attitude, but you didn’t mind it in this setting. You enjoyed it, enjoyed him. Letting your instant connection guide the flow of the interaction, you openly flirted back with him.
Instead of walking away from you at the end, as Constantine did the first time you met, he walked up and gently grabbed your waist, pulling you toward him. He roughly pressed your body to his, lowering his voice when he spoke.
“Trust me, luv.’” he growled, the sound making you shiver. “You have no idea how much I can handle.” As his hand moved to your arm, his fingers felt like ice on your flushed skin.
Constantine knew full well the reaction you were having to being this close to him. Your heart thudded in your chest as your pulse raced in anticipation. You gasped softly, making him chuckle.
“Do I make you nervous, sweet’eart?” He asked with amusement in his eyes.
When you stared up at him, you noticed his pupils were blown wide with lust. The amber in them barely visible through the inky dark of his irises when he peered down at you.
This time, you shook your head, encouraging him to continue. “Good, because I'm going to kiss you.” You felt your body shake with need when he trailed his fingers up your arm.
Gently, Contstantine touched your face, using his palm to cup your cheek. You let him trace his thumb over your bottom lip before you closed your eyes. His fingers threaded into your hair, resting his hand at the base of your neck and leaned forward -
You pushed yourself up in the bed, trying to even out your breathing. Your alarm clock was a vicious thing, going off when you least wanted it to. You ran your fingers through your hair and let out a shaky breath.
What the hell was that?
***
As you go through the motions of your day, you try to push all thoughts of Constantine from your mind. Your thoughts wander as you drink coffee and try to sift through emails. Memories of the almost kiss in your dream make it impossible for you to focus.
A couple of hours after your failed attempts at computer productivity, you decide to go for a run around the neighborhood to clear your head. You know you’ll need to get ready for your date with Eric’s friend when you get back.
At six on the dot, you hear a knock on your door. You smooth out the wrinkles from your skirt and take a deep breath before letting your date into your townhouse.
You’re shocked when you open your door.
Matty is… really attractive. The man is tall, with broad shoulders and a kind smile. He’s holding a small bouquet of daisies in his hand and when he holds them out to you, his smile reaches his soft green eyes.
“Wow.” Matty breathes, running his free hand through his dark hair. “You look really beautiful… I uh, these are for you.” He hands you the flowers with a small shrug.
He is not at all what you were expecting. “Thank you, Matty.” You let your fingers brush with his as you take the bouquet from him. You lean down and inhale deeply; how did he know you love daisies? “These are really pretty,” you thank him. “But you didn’t have to bring me anything.”
“‘Course I did, I couldn’t show up empty handed. Pretty sure that Detective Grant would’ve had my head.” He stares at you for a second before he speaks again. “My god, you really are gorgeous.”
You blush slightly, making sure to look up at him through your lashes as you smile. “Just let me put these in some water and we can head out.” You step away from the doorway and invite him in. He shuts the door as you walk to your kitchen and rummage for a vase.
You hope he doesn’t notice you staring as he opens the door to his truck for you. He apologizes when he stares down at your black skirt and heeled booties. “It’s not a problem,” you assure him with a chuckle and haul yourself up without an issue. “See? I’m good.”
“Yes, you are.” Matty raises a brow in surprise before walking around to the driver side. Quickly, you slide open your phone and shoot Eric a text. ‘You knocked it outta the park, Grant. Where have you been hiding this guy?’
“I was really surprised to get Detective Grant’s text last night.” Matty glances at you as he backs his truck out of the parking space. “I had no idea that you were interested.”
“Well, honestly, I didn’t know you were either.”
“Are you kidding me?” He lets out a low whistle as he shakes his head. “Every time you came by the precinct, I got so nervous that I had to walk away. For a while, I thought for sure that you were dating Detective Grant. He talks about you all the time, how brilliant you are, how funny you are. It’s an easy mistake to make.”
“Eric?” You tilt your head and chuckle. “Nah, we tried that years ago, trust me, we’re way better as friends. We drove each other nuts. We’re too much like siblings to be anything else.”
“I suppose that does get in the way of a relationship.” The streetlights illuminate Matty’s face as you pass under them, highlighting the excitement in his eyes. “Detective Grant is literally the best. The guy is such a good frickin’ cop, never met anyone else like him.”
“He’s a good guy all around.” You agree as you glance out the window. You wonder where he’s taking you but it seems like he’s heading toward the center of the city. “I’m lucky to have him.”
“Oh, I bet.” He laughs, turning onto a side road. “I’m sure he’s a fun guy to hang out with. I’d love to hit up a bar or -”
You let out a small good natured huff and raise your eyebrow. “You on this date with him or me right now?”
“I’m so sorry,” He shrugs in apology. “I didn’t mean to make this weird. He’s just… He’s what I aspire to be, ya know.”
“I get it.” You smile. “Eric was very popular in school. He was two grades above me, but everyone liked him. He’s an easy guy to get along with.”
“Promise I won’t bring him up the rest of the night.” Matty swears as he pulls into the parking lot of a gastro pub you’ve been dying to try. “This is all about you and I getting to know each other.” You nod in agreement as he looks for a spot.
Matty holds the door open for you as you hop out and then again when you walk in. He smiles at the hostess when she asks if you have a reservation. “6:30, under Evans?”
She nods and motions for you to follow. You notice that he doesn’t stare at her, at all. He only has eyes for you.
“You work at the Peabody museum, right?” Matty asks, after the waitress has left with your drink order. He had you order for him and was quite impressed when you ordered an Old Fashioned for both of you.
“That must be so exciting, being immersed in all that history? If my Dad hadn’t wanted me to be a police officer so badly, I would have wanted to be a History Professor. But being on the force is in my blood, you know? Three generations strong, it’s kinda like the family business at this point. I couldn’t disappoint him, he’s a great man.”
“I understand family obligations, trust me. My mother is constantly on me because I don’t want to help her run the Copley Society.” You roll your eyes without meaning to. There is no need for Matty to know about your less than perfect relationship with your mother.
“But yes, I’m the assistant curator. I’m hoping for the promotion to head curator. The position’s been open for months. I’d like to think that they just needed to see how I did opening the Egyptian exhibit.”
“Oh yeah! Detective Grant told me that the -” He throws his hands up in defense. “Sorry!”
You stifle a small laugh. “It’s okay, he was my date to that opening, so I’ll forgive you this time.”
After a few more minutes of easy, comfortable conversation, Matty excuses himself to the men’s room. You lean back against your chair and smile to yourself.
My god, where has Eric been hiding this guy? He’s handsome as hell, loves history and he’s super sweet? You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, because there's just no way Matty is this great.
You consider texting Eric again as you sit there. It’s only when the waitress has come by a few times do you realize that Matty has been gone about fifteen minutes. You look around and see no sign of him in the restaurant.
You’re about to call him and make sure everything is alright when you finally see him walking back toward the table. “Thought you fell in or something. Everything alright?”
“Everything would be better if you had worn a lower cut shirt.” He sits back down with a huff and raises an eyebrow at you. “Maybe a dress? Make it worth my while here.”
“Excuse me?”
“You got a decent set of tits, could’ve shown them off.” He snaps his fingers, trying to get the attention of the waitress from across the room. “First dates are awful enough, I like a little preview so I know that I’m getting what I’m paying for.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” You push yourself back from the table. “You hit your head or something?”
“No, I’m just being honest with you.” He crosses his arms and leans back, staring down his nose at you when he speaks. The gesture is arrogant and condescending, reminding you at little of your ex. “I thought that’s what the feminazis want nowadays.”
The what? You shake your head in confusion. Where the Hell did this guy come from? What happened? Did that bathroom turn Matty into some kind of pod person, because this is not the guy who picked you up.
“So I got a question for ya.” He snaps his fingers, bringing you out of your thoughts.
“Did you just snap your damn fingers at me?” You stand up quickly, ready to throw your drink in his face.
“Sit down, kitten." He scolds you without glancing up. Your eyebrows fly up in surprise, no one but Sam has called you that. You hate it as much now as you did then. "Drink your drink, you don’t want to embarrass me.”
You feel your cheeks get hot as you realize that people are staring. You sink back into your chair and hold onto your drink with a clenched fist.
“How many kids you plan on having?” He asks with a lascivious grin. “‘Cause I’m thinking like a small basketball team.”
You choke on your drink when you process what he’s actually said. “I’m sorry?”
He casually takes a sip of his. “I mean, you got the birthing hips for it.”
“The what?!”
“Yeah, look at you. Those hips were meant to carry babies.” With his cup in hand, he gestures to your lower half. “My babies.” This has to be a joke.
Matty stands up and makes a very inappropriate gesture. “With my swimmers, it won’t take long before you’re knocked up.”
He sits back down with a grin. When you reach for your phone, Matty grabs it and makes a sour face. “Who are you trying to text? You’re out with me, I’m all you need.”
What. The. Fuck. You hold your hand out angrily. “Give it back. I just wanted to make sure that my friend had a way to get back into my place. She doesn’t have a key.”
“Eric has a key to your place - something that will have to change, by the way. I don’t want random guys coming and going. Imagine what people would say about you, how bad that looks for me.” He shrugs and slides your phone into his pocket. “But for now, your friend has a way in.”
“This is completely ridiculous. Eric isn’t a random guy, you can’t just -” You’re fuming, what right does this guy think he has to say that kind of shit to you? “I’d like my phone back please.”
Matty shakes his head and just keeps talking. “You’re going to need to turn down that promotion though.” He snaps his fingers again and this time the waitress starts to make her over to your table. “No wife of mine will work when there’s babies to feed.”
“Excuse me?” His sudden mood swing is giving you whiplash. What the hell happened? If he didn’t have your phone, you would have booked it out of here when he made the comment about your birthing hips. “Matty, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“Ooh and that potty mouth of yours.” He shakes his head again. “It’s unacceptable, so unlady-like. That will have to change, you will respect your man and use appropriate language around me. And, it’s Matthew. Matty is a child’s name.”
The waitress steps up to the table and turns to you first, like she did before. Matthew clears his throat to get her attention, then orders for you both. “I’ll have the prime rib.” He demands and glares at you for a second. “And she’ll have a salad. Light on the dressing.”
He slides out his hand to swat her ass when she walks away, barely missing her. “We’re gonna have to get you in to see a trainer. Get you an ass like she has. It’s perfect, could bounce a nickel off that thing.”
You manage to grind out something of an angry reply. “My ass is fine.”
I wonder if I got up and just walked away, I could replace my phone right? You clench your fists under the table. Or I could just punch him. That would get me my phone back.
“What did I just tell you? Watch your mouth. My god, you don’t listen.” He laughs. “And, I mean, I guess it’s alright. But who doesn’t want something a bit more firm?”
“Uh. Me.” You lean forward and lower your voice, letting all your frustration bleed into your tone. “Give me my phone back, now. I’m done with whatever this shit show is.”
He chuckles and rolls his eyes. He’s enjoying this, the son of a bitch is enjoying pissing you off. “How many times do I have to tell you to watch your mouth?” He warns, leaning forward himself. “You can get it back once this date is over.”
“It is over, Matthew. Give it back.”
“It’s over when I say so. And honestly sweetcheeks, what do you even need it for? Planning on texting Eric to fake some emergency so I have to bring you home?”
He crosses his arms and continues to grin at you. “The only people you talk to are probably fucking right now so what better option do you have?”
Your mouth hangs open in shock. You need to walk away right fucking now. You push your chair back and stand.
“Good, you’re getting up. I need a new drink.” He shoos you away from the table with his hand. “Now be a good little girl and get your man a refill.”
“I’m not getting you anything.”
Matthew reaches out for your arm. “You sure about that? I know what Dominick and Sam did to you." He growls so softly, you aren’t sure you heard him correctly. There's a hard glint in his eye when he glares up at you.
“I’m sure one of their numbers is still in this phone of yours, all I gotta do is call one of them. Then I have a feeling you’ll see things my way.”
You rip your hand away and take a step back in shock. For a second, you feel like the room is spinning. “How do you know those names?” You hiss, struggling to keep your voice even.
“Eric and I talk,” he shrugs, shaking his head in amusement. “Had to know what I was working with. So I know everything about your dating life, kitten. Especially how much of a sloppy drunk you were that night. I’d kill to see pictures, wonder if they took any as keepsakes. I sure as hell would've.”
Your voice rises unsteadily as you clench your shaking fists. “Eric wouldn’t… he… he doesn’t even know…”
“Listen kitten, I'm the best you're gonna get. You know it.” When he shoos you off again, you spin on your heel, feeling your face heat with embarrassment.
Sam had said the same thing to you countless times. You feel like you’re going to throw up, you need to get out of here. “Now run along. Whiskey neat, two fingers.”
You walk away quickly, focusing on a single point ahead of you so you don’t cry. Eric wouldn’t have told Matthew about how awful Sam was and there’s no way that he could have known about what happened that night.
You never said anything, and if Dominick had bragged about it then surely Eric would have done something about it and immediately confronted you for not telling him.
You lean against the bar top and gesture to the waiter. “Old Fashioned and a whiskey neat, two fingers please.” You rest your head in your hands for a moment, letting your thoughts race uncomfortably. You need an exit strategy. You need -
A hand gingerly touches your arm and thinking it’s the bartender, you lift your head, plastering a smile on your face. “You alright, luv?” You stare up, meeting John Constantine’s intensely concerned eyes. “You look a bit off-colour.”
You take a deep breath as you push yourself up from the bar slowly. “That date looks bloody miserable.” Constantine murmurs as he leans back and runs his hands through his hair. The look he gives you then is one of pity and it makes you blink away the burning you feel in your eyes.
As grateful as you are to have a reason not to go back to the table right this second, you don’t have it in you to volley back and forth with Constantine tonight. You don’t want to argue with him, what is he doing here anyway?
“Yeah, I don’t know what’s happening.” You tell him, letting your vulnerability show in your voice for a moment.
“He went to the men’s room and came back a different person.” You admit, tucking your hair behind your ears. “Believe it or not, he’s not the worst time I’ve had on a date. I mean, he’s up there, but I’ll be fine.”
In a move that surprises you, Constantine doesn’t try to tease you, or call out your using humor as a defense mechanism. Instead he glances over at the table and raises an eyebrow. “If you need a quick exit to leg it, I’d be chuffed to help with that.”
The bartender slides him a new drink and he nods at him before turning back to you. “Rescuing a damsel in distress isn’t the worst way I could end my night, especially one as lovely as you are.”
“Thank you, but, I’m fine.” You smile when the bartender slides your drinks over to you. “And I’m not a damsel, I can take care of myself.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can, luv.” Constantine smirks, resting his hand on top of yours. “Any bird who can speak Latin off the top of her head knows her way out of a jam. But with how much of a wanker your date is, I felt like I had to offer.”
You watch him roll up the sleeves of his shirt and notice the pattern of scarring on his forearms. Where did he get those? It’s not like working at the museum has resulted in anything past a stray cut or scratch for you.
You’re momentarily distracted by them until he speaks again. “S’not my cup of tea watching you get badgered by some arsehole.”
“No one said you had to watch, Mr. Constantine.” You let out an annoyed huff. “Why are you even here?”
He grins and gestures to the bar top and the empty plate sitting on it. “Just having some supper, luv.” He’s obviously been here for a little while, how have you not noticed him?
“But why here?” Now that you’re past the shock of seeing him here, you can’t keep the annoyance out of your voice. “Do you have some kind of magical lo-jack on me?”
His eyebrows fly up in surprise as he quickly crosses his arms. The move is defensive, his fingers tightly gripping the skin of his forearms. “Come again?”
You hadn’t expected him to have any kind of reaction to what you’d said. You were only kidding. You instinctively feel the need to apologize. “I mean, I feel like you’re just following me around this damn city. I… I didn’t mean anything by it.”
He lets out a small breath but doesn’t move his hands. You’ve made him nervous, you just don’t know why. “I promise you, luv.” He swears softly. “I’m not trying to follow you.”
You roll your eyes and ask him, more sarcastically than you initially intended, if seeing him everywhere has just been a coincidence. “Suppose so,” he answers with a small shrug.
With one final eye roll, you grab the drinks from the bar top and turn away from him. “Wait, luv.” He implores you, reaching for your hand. You turn back with a sigh.
“I know you can take care of yourself.” He raises his hands in surrender. “But if the situation gets too dicey or goes pear shaped, I’m right over ‘ere. I don’t like what I’m hearing, so I’m not leaving ‘til I know you’ve handled it.”
How on earth could he know what Matthew was saying? Were you that loud?
You want to say something sarcastic, but hold your tongue. Constantine doesn’t have to stay, doesn’t have to make sure you’re alright and with what you’re walking back to, you appreciate it. You nod, giving him a genuine smile. “Thank you.”
You’re still smiling when you sit back down. Maybe Constantine isn’t as bad as - No, you do not have time to entertain that thought.
“Who the hell were you talking to?” Matthew demands as he grabs his drink from your hand.
“What?”
“At the bar.” He gives you a pointed stare. “That idiot with the bleached hair and the messy tie. Who is he?”
“He’s not -” You know you aren’t going to get anywhere trying to defend Constantine even though you want to. Just explain him away, change the subject. “He’s a consultant from the museum, that’s all.”
“Did you fuck him?” The question comes out so blunt, you can’t actually believe that he’s said it.
“Jesus, Matthew! No, I didn’t sleep with him!” You shake your head. This is ridiculous, you don’t tolerate this kind of bullshit and you’re not going to start now. “Even if I did, it’s none of your goddamn business.”
“I know I told you to watch your goddamn mouth.” You flinch from the anger in his tone. “Keep talking like that and I can promise you won’t like what happens.”
“Yeah, this is over. We’re done here.” You motion to the waitress kindly. “Get the check and let’s be done with this. Looks like you’ve finished eating anyway. I’ve lost my appetite.”
“Seems I forgot my wallet at home,” He pats his pockets, pulling out your phone but no wallet. Are you fucking kidding me? “Good thing you’re a trust fund baby, huh?”
“Not a trust fund baby, and I’ll take my phone back. Now.” You’re done arguing with him, especially when the waitress is walking up to the table.
“Either way,” Matthew smirks. “You gotta pay, kitten.” You wordlessly take the check from the girl and throw cash on the table. You’re not waiting for her to run your card and come back.
You push yourself out of the seat and quickly head to the exit. Honestly, you don’t know what to do next but you need to get away from this bastard. You’ll take a taxi or an uber, maybe you’ll walk.
You feel a hand on your lower back and you twist around quickly. “So,” Matthew grins, lowering his hand to grab your ass. “Shall we go try to put a baby in you?”
You push yourself away from him. “Uh, hard pass.”
“You want to be alone forever? You know you aren’t gonna find anyone else that will treat you like I will.” He smirks, walking toward his truck. “C’mon baby, you can’t say no to all this.” He taunts, gesturing up and down his body.
“Believe me, I can.”
Matthew unlocks the driver’s side and hops into his truck. “Well if you’re gonna be a stuck up cunt about it, you can walk home.”
He peels out of the parking lot, leaving you stunned, angry and alone.
Once he’s out of sight, you sink down onto the curb of the sidewalk and let a few tears fall. For your first foray into dating after three years, all you want to do is go home and drown your sorrows in copious amounts of wine and ice cream.
“What an asshole.” You swear, to no one in particular.
You’d like to get away from here, so before you open your taxi app, you try to call Eric. When he doesn’t answer, you sigh heavily and try Charlotte instead. She doesn’t answer either.
A spark of anger flares in your chest. You have to take a few deep breaths to quell the urge to chuck your phone into the street.
You push yourself to your feet and scroll to your taxi app. As you open it, your phone buzzes and Eric’s contact photo pops up. You press the button for FaceTime and he immediately starts talking. “Hey fella! Sorry we didn’t hear our phones, how’s the date goin’?”
“Awful.” You tell him. “Eric, it’s so loud there, what the hell are you doing?”
“We’re at a Sox game.” He grins and tilts his head down, showing you his ball cap.
“I’m sorry. You’re where? I don’t think I heard you correctly.” You walk closer to the entrance of the restaurant. If you’re going to be on your phone, you don’t want to be inches from the road.
“Fenway, fella.”
“No.” You let out a small laugh. He’s got to be kidding. “No, you’re lying. Charli would never.”
“Whaddya talkin’ about? She loves this!” He turns his phone bringing Charlotte into focus. She’s sporting a brand new Red Sox hat and she looks beyond excited.
“Look, sugar! He got me a hat, y'all weren't kidding about loving sports up here!” She tilts the brim down quickly then looks back up. “Oh! How’s your date going?”
You lean against the building and sigh. “It was awful - Wait. You’re on a date?!”
“Kid, whaddya mean awful?” Eric turns the phone back to him and tries to immediately change the subject. “Matty’s a good guy!”
“You mean Matthew?” You roll your eyes at him. “And don’t think you’re getting out of that conversation, Grant - you’re on a date?” Eric’s face scrunches into a concerned expression as Charlotte rips the phone out of his hand.
“Sugar, what happened?” She asks, her caramel colored eyes widen with worry for you.
You talk over her and shift away from the door when you hear it open. “Eric, you remember how you told me he was nothing like Sam?”
“Yeah?” You hear him warily respond.
“He was exactly like Sam. Honestly if you threw a bit of Hugh in there, it was like every horrible thing I remember from my relationship with Sam and Charli’s with Hugh all magically laid out in front of me.”
You can feel your eyes getting misty again. You tilt the phone down so you can wipe them quickly. “All that was missing was him telling me he was married.”
“What?” Eric hisses into the phone.
“Let me clarify, there were some differences from Sam.” You lean your head back against the concrete. “Sam never told me that I had birthing hips. Or called me a cunt.”
“Wha-” Eric stutters, grabbing the phone from Charlotte. “Kid, are ya sure that’s Matty?”
“Oh, I’m sure.” You lean forward and switch hands. “Aside from the condescending attitude and the nastiness, he demanded that I watch my mouth. My swearing isn't ladylike. Honestly Eric, this guy fall outta the fifties?”
“Not ladylike?” You hear Charlotte yell. “Sugar, you swear less than I do… That has nothing to do with being a lady.”
“Honestly, I don’t even really care about that. I was shocked at first, but I could handle it. I couldn’t handle...” You bring the phone closer to your face. “Eric, don’t you lie to me, did you tell him about Sam?”
When he shakes his head, Eric’s surprise is genuine. “Nah, kid. I’d never do that to you. Ya know that.”
“Well, somehow he knew way more than he should have.” More than Eric knows. “He took my phone and when I asked for it back, he told me that he’d call Sam and invite him down.”
“He took your phone?” Charlotte snaps, smacking Eric’s arm. “What kinda guys are you settin’ her up with, chere? Mais, J’mais!”
“It is what it is, Eric clearly didn’t know what type of guy Matty really was.” You glance up when the door opens and a group of college kids walk out.
“Since he left me here, I’m gonna stop by the store on the way home. Get a bottle of wine and some ice cream. Are you staying with me tonight or with Eric?”
“He left you there?!”
You run a hand through your hair. “After I told him I didn’t want to have sex with him, yeah.”
Charlotte turns away from the phone and nods, then back to you. “We’re leaving Fenway, right now. We’re going to come get you, take you out for a drink.”
You shake your head. “No, Char, I don’t want you to leave your game.”
“Jesus bud, I’m so sorry.” Eric tilts the phone back to him. He looks angrier than you are. “He and I are gonna have words. Sonova bitch’ll be on a desk for months.”
“No,” You beg him. “Please don’t, I don’t want to -.”
“Kid. I’m not gonna let him talk to ya like that.” He argues, letting his frustration bleed into his words. “It’s disrespectful and ya deserve bettah than that bullshit.”
“Eric, just drop it. I don’t want there to be any reason he reaches out or that you ever say his name again.” You can feel your anxiety bubbling out when you speak. “You do that and he’ll blame me for it. Please. I just want to forget that this night ever happened.”
“Ya want me to just pretend this never happened? That Matty wasn’t a dick to ya all night?” You nod and it takes a second before he agrees, his face softening when he sees how upset you’re getting. “Fine. But we’re seriously comin’ to pick ya up.”
“Please don’t,” You protest, making the decision easy for him. “I know you have season tickets, but Char’s never been. Enjoy your date, I think I want to be alone right now anyway. Take care of her, have fun and I'll talk to you later.”
“Promise to text us when you get home?” He asks and you nod in agreement. “‘kay, we’ll pick you up for lunch tomorrow. ‘Round noon?"
You say your goodbyes and hit the end button when they do. You let out a heavy sigh and open up the taxi app on your phone.
When you hear footsteps beside you, you glance up and see Constantine standing next to you. You jump in surprise, dropping your bag on the ground. He smiles apologetically and bends down to grab it, meeting your eyes carefully as he straightens.
How long has he been there? You think warily. How much of that did he hear?
Chapter 6: Second chance at a first impression.
Summary:
As you and John get to know each other better, you find that you enjoy his company more than you thought you would. John realizes he enjoys yours as well, more than he knows he should.
Chapter Text
"Before you get defensive, luv, I swear it. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” Constantine apologizes as you turn and push yourself off the wall. You cross your arms when he raises his. “I’m sorry your date went so pear shaped.”
“What are you doing out here?” You stare at him before glancing at the entrance of the restaurant on your left. You remember hearing the door open earlier but hadn't seen anyone come out; it must've been him. A soft, defeated sigh escapes your lips. "Nevermind, how much did you hear?"
“I didn't see you or that blighter at the table, so I came to look for you.” Shrugging, he pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He grips one with his mouth and speaks with it between his teeth. “And trust me luv, I heard enough. No one should be spoken to like that. You have my apologies.”
When he gestures to you with the pack, you shake your head. He shrugs again and shoves it back into his coat. "I have half a mind to track that useless git down myself and knock his bloody teeth out."
"You don't need to do that, Mr. Constantine." You scold softly, yet you feel a small thrill that he's so offended by Matthew's actions. You let your arms fall to your sides, no longer feeling the need for such a defensive stance. “I handled it just fine. It’s not like it’s your fault.”
“That you did, luv." He holds a lighter up, letting the flame illuminate his face as he lights the cigarette. As he tilts his head, he blows out a puff of smoke and eyes you with a grin. “And it’s John, please.”
With a decisive glint in his eye, he slips the lighter into his pocket. "Now, did you mean what you said to your mates about wanting to be alone?"
You stare at him without answering. Do I want to be left alone? Honestly, you aren't sure.
Sensing your hesitation, Constantine smirks and carries on undeterred. "How about you finally let me buy you a drink, luv? We'll make something of this mucked up night and we can head somewhere else.”
He waves his hand dismissively behind him. “Wouldn’t do to go back in there, I reckon.”
You raise an eyebrow, considering his offer. This is a catalyst, you both know it.
If you say no, you're just going to go back home and be the hostess of a one woman pity party. The flirtatious dance will stop, Constantine will finish his job, go home, and that’ll be the end of it. Whatever this could be will be over before it has a chance to start.
But if you say yes, this unspoken attraction between the two of you has the permission to become something tangible. It also becomes something with the power to shatter you if you're wrong about him, like you’ve been before.
If you say yes, like you desperately want to, you choose to allow John Constantine into your life.
Your head and heart, so often at warring odds with each other, both tell you that you're not ready for that. But there's something else in you, this small nagging feeling you can't ignore anymore, that's telling you to take this chance. It’s not like the night can get much worse.
"Yeah alright, we can grab a drink." You agree, slowly. “And no, I don’t want to go back in there.” Constantine's face lights up as he grins at you. He asks if you're serious, making you scrunch your face in annoyance. "Don't make me regret this. "
"Trust me, luv." He holds out his arm so you can slip yours through it. "Tonight will end on a much better note than it started. You have my word."
Before you take it, you stare up at him, searching his dark eyes intently. You don't see any sign of trickery there, just excitement tinged with an emotion you can't name.
"Do you have a place in mind or should I make a few suggestions?"
"You live here lass, prattle off a few and I'll tell you if I've been." You resist the urge to roll your eyes but his request seems genuine. He flicks his spent cigarette into the street and stares at you expectantly. You think for a moment, tapping your foot on the sidewalk.
“Well, there’s Cornwall’s over on Beacon, but it’s in B.U., and there’s Elephant & Castle near Faneuil Hall.” You grin at him as you slide open your phone to pull up maps. “Both of ‘em are British Pubs, I think you’ll feel right at home.”
“I don’t fancy heading to the colleges so Elephant & Castle sounds like a bloody good time, lead the way, sweet’eart.” Constantine smirks as you start walking down the street.
“Picking a British pub, eh? You wouldn’t be trying to butter me up now would you, pet?” You turn back to him and this time, you do roll your eyes. He hurries to make pace and you slow once he’s caught up. As he rests his hand on your back, you relax into his touch without meaning to.
You walk in companionable silence for a few minutes until a thought pops into your head. “So question, and I’m only asking because this has already turned into an expensive night for me.” Constantine tilts his head, moving his hand away to motion for you to continue.
“You’re not going to try and use that magical playing card to pay again, are you?” You haven’t noticed that he’s stopped walking. “Cause I mean, I have my credit card and I don’t mind if I -”
“Magical?” He interrupts. You turn and find Constantine staring at you with wide, suspicious eyes. He’s a few feet from you with his arms folded as defensively as they were in the restaurant.
“Obviously it’s not magical.” You joke with a smile. “I’m an adult, as much as I’d love it, I know that shit’s not real.” You walk back and nudge him when he doesn’t move. “Jeez, don’t take it so seriously. I was just kidding.”
“Right, of course.” He rolls his shoulders and digs another cigarette from the pack in his pocket. “You just surprised me, is all.” You watch him light it and take a deep drag before he speaks again. “Don’t worry luv, I have cash this time. I learned my bloody lesson with you.”
You want to say something; tease him maybe, but it feels like you’ve hit a sore spot somehow. So you don’t. Instead, you simply nod and turn back around. You brush your hair off your shoulders, letting it fall down your back as you walk. Even though the sun has set, the summer humidity still clings to the air.
Constantine is the first to break the silence this time. “That bloke you were with, it was a first date, ay?” He asks, after blowing out a puff of smoke.
“How did you -”
“Oh, you had the look, didn’t you?” At your confused expression, he elaborates. “Dressed up fancier than need be, awkward get-to-know-you conversation. It’s easy to figure it out now, innit?”
“I guess so,” you admit. “But I don’t know what the Hell happened. Matthew was a great guy when he picked me up. Brought me flowers, complimented me, he liked my choice of drink.” You tilt your head, recalling with annoyance Matthew's sudden change of behavior.
“He went to the bathroom and when he came back, it was like he was a different person. I swear to you, someone reached into his head and stuck in every shitty thing my ex had said and done to me. What I told my friends was honestly just the tip of the iceberg. You would’ve cringed at half the shit he was saying to me.”
You shudder just thinking about it. “If he hadn’t taken my cell phone hostage, I would’ve punched him in the face.”
A look of unease settles in Constantine’s eyes. “He took your… That’s bloody awful, luv. I had no idea how bad...” He trails off softly.
When he gently touches your arm, you look over at him, confusion flitting across your face. “But, I heard most of it when you were talking to your mates. Like I said, didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he was a dodgy prick.”
“It’s alright, I mean, it’s not like you told him to come back and verbally assault me.” You shrug your shoulders. “But, that cluster fuck was the perfect example of why I don’t do this. I guess all it takes is one bad seed and then you see the worst parts of him in every person you date.”
You shake your head, clearing the cloudy thoughts from your mind. “Enough of that, right? I’m sure you don’t want to listen to my miserable dating history. The pub’s around this corner anyway and someone promised me a better night than I had.”
He laughs and extends his arm for you to lead the way. “That I did, luv. That I did.” He smiles down at you as you walk together. “And so we’re clear? I’ll take you as you are, no need to censor yourself because you think ol’ Johnny won’t like it.” You wrap your fingers around his arm with a smile.
Once inside, his hand moves to your lower back, leading you to a small table toward the rear of the pub. You let him keep his hand where it is as he tells you to get comfortable.
“I’m gonna get us a few pints.” He grins and takes his time moving his hand. You're a little surprised to find that you miss it when he moves away.
You hop up onto the chair and watch as he walks toward the bar. The view is as great as you remember from the first time you watched him walk away. You never would have expected tonight to go like this. You look down, smiling, as you actually admit to yourself what you almost had earlier.
John Constantine isn’t as bad as you first thought. He’s charming, sure, and definitely cocky. But underneath his veneer of arrogance, you know there’s someone worth knowing. A good man with a good heart.
Not only did he offer you an exit at the restaurant, he stayed to make sure you were safe. Now he’s making it his personal mission to ensure you can salvage this awful night.
It certainly helps too, that he’s easy on the eyes. You’ve found yourself staring at him a few times tonight. There's a certain appeal found in his messy hair and sparkling dark eyes. The domineering way he carries himself intensely lends to your frustration, and his allure.
When he smiles, his eyes crinkle at the edges; it takes your breath away watching his grin light up his face. You find that you want to make him smile like that all the time. And while you initially gave him grief for the accent, you know damn well that you could listen to him talk all day and never tire of it.
You’re pulled from your thoughts as a glass softly clinks on the table. “Gin and Tonic for ol’ Johnny and an Old Fashioned for you, sweet’eart.” You raise your eyebrow but take the glass.
“I heard you order one earlier.” He explains with a shrug. You ask him how he knew it was your drink and not your date’s. “It was a lucky guess, luv.” He answers, taking a sip of his glass.
“This place is a bit over the top,” he muses, taking a good look around. “But it’s not bad for a Yankee bar mucking about as a proper London pub.”
“Hey now, remember who won the war. We can build as many fake pubs as we want.” He rolls his eyes and you giggle at the harassed expression on his face. “So, you’re from London?” You ask him, settling into your chair.
“Liverpool, actually. By way of Northampton. I do have a flat in London, though I’m rarely there.” He admits slowly, but you notice his hesitation when he takes another long sip before continuing. “Work takes me all over so usually my home is whatever posh hotel I’m put up in.”
It’s an uncomfortable topic for him, you can tell by the hard set of his shoulders and the tense lines of his mouth as he speaks. You aren’t surprised when he changes the subject. “How ‘bout you, luv?”
“Oh, I’m pretty much a Boston girl, born and raised.” You tell him proudly. “I’ve lived up here most of my life, went to school in New Orleans and came back up when I graduated. Nothing as exciting as you.”
You take another sip of your drink and lean forward a bit. “You said your work takes you all over.” He nods and rests an arm over the back of the chair next to him.
“What exactly do you do, Mr. Constantine? You’re here on business for the museum, but I suspect there’s more to it than that. You’re the one who called yourself a private consultant, which tells me nothing.”
He gives you another genuine smile, crinkling the edges of his honeyed eyes. “Sharp as a tack, you are. And please, it’s John. I hardly think we need to stay on such formal terms, luv. Aren’t we friends now?”
“We’re getting there, I’ll give you that.” You laugh, rolling your eyes as you lift your glass. “Keep these coming and I’ll call you whatever you like.” You feel your ears grow warm from embarrassment. I can’t believe I just said that.
“Now, that’s a deal I’ll take.” He says with a small laugh. “But to answer your question, I’m the bloke that gets called when something goes wrong.”
You can’t help the confused face, Director Connors had asked Constantine to come here. What could be wrong at the museum?
Constantine rushes to explain when he sees your expression. “It’s a bit dodgy to try and give it a title, luv. Let me just say, you don’t want to have to give us a ring. Whether it’s related to an artifact, a relic, or something else entirely, if something’s gotten mucked up- that’s where I come in.”
“Well, that sounds ominous.” You decide, narrowing your eyes in concern.
“It can be.” He counters, offering you no additional information. “Now you, you attended school in New Orleans? That’s a city that knows how to have a bloody party. Did you major in History then?”
You nod and finish your drink. “I had an in at Boston University when I graduated. But honestly, I wanted to get out of the state. As much as I feel comfortable here, I’ve always been fascinated by New Orleans. Couldn’t put my finger on it until I stepped foot in the Quarter.”
Constantine raises his eyebrow as he finishes his drink as well. “At risk of using that word again, the city’s magical, innit?”
“Yes!” You agree excitedly. “There’s so much history down there, so many stories that haven’t been told. And honestly, History and the Occult go hand in hand to me. I spent hours researching Voodoo rituals and the Occult History of New Orleans."
Constantine quirks his eyebrow in surprise, but doesn't say anything. Taking it as permission, you keep talking. "I know, it's an odd thing to be obsessed with, but I can't help it. The effect the paranormal has had on that city is something else."
You notice him watching you, his chin resting on his hand. For a moment, it reminds you of the way Eric stared at Charlotte yesterday. "You can't take a step without immersing yourself in it. I don't know if you’ve been to New Orleans, I have a feeling you'd love it.” He nods, encouragingly.
“Being down there made me feel like I was a part of something bigger, like I was home. It’s hard to explain. I had never been there before I started school. The closest I’d come to that feeling was going to Salem but -”
You realize that you’re rambling and you stop. If Sam had been here, he would have already told you to.
The man in front of you however, looks just as excited as you feel. “You didn’t have to stop, luv. I understand completely. You and I seem to have quite a few common interests.”
You feel butterflies when he looks at you then. He really isn’t the guy you had him pegged to be. It’s more exciting than you can put into words.
“So, you Majored in History and you obviously studied Latin.” He points out, grinning at you. “S'not everyday that a pretty bird tells me to piss off in a dead language. Color me impressed. Then you took the assistant curator position here, under dear old Darren?”
“Yep.” You absentmindedly run your finger around the rim of your glass. “But I’m gunning for the curator position. Director Connors let me plan and execute the Egyptian Exhibit as an interview of sorts. How do you know him?”
“I’ve known Darren Connors for a long time, pet.” He chuckles as you quirk your eyebrows.
“Believe it or not, we were mates once. Our shared interests kept us crossing paths as I grew up. I’ll tell you what I told him, you’re bright and bloody talented, lass. If he wants what’s best for the Peabody, he’ll give the position to you. I saw the way you charmed the suits, you deserve it.”
At first you don’t say anything, you just smile and glance down at your lap. You’re not this easy to charm, you know that. You’re not 100% sure you want him to, but his damn smile is winning you over.
“That’s very kind of you to say.” You look up and meet his eyes. “Thank you, John.” You enjoy the way his name sounds coming from your mouth and from the heat you see in his gaze, he does too.
He opens his mouth to reply and closes it, shaking his head. After staring at you for a few seconds, he stands. “I, uh, I’m gonna grab us another round, ay?” You nod and he makes his way back to the bar.
You know he was about to say something different. Maybe in some ways, John is as guarded as you are. You find that you want to know everything you can about him and when this is all over, if he’s interested, maybe you’d do it again.
As John slides another drink to you, your lips twist into a smirk. He’s definitely John now, the word replacing Constantine in your mind when you think of him. You don’t feel the need to be so formal. Aren’t we friends now? He had asked you. You suppose so.
“What are you grinning at, then?” He asks, settling back into his chair across from you.
“I’m just thinking.” You tell him as you take a sip of your drink. “Listen, John. I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch. That’s not like me, it’s just been a ridiculous -”
He raises an eyebrow as you rest your hands on the table. “Hey now," you laugh. "I can be sassy as all hell but -”
John cuts you off with a wave of his hand. “Put it outta your mind, luv. I’m gonna be honest, the fact that you immediately told me to put a sock in it was half the fun. Don’t lose that spirit.”
He raises his glass in salute, a gesture that makes you grin at him. “I keep trying to push my luck with you,” John admits, smirking back.
“Partly, because I know you’ll give it as good as you get and I love to see your reaction. I was serious about the making you angry bit. You’ve got a fire, sweet’eart, and I love to bring it out in you.”
You swat at his arm but feel your pulse race in reaction to his words. “Don’t push me, John.” You warn with a half smile. “I don’t think you’d like it if I was seriously angry.”
“Promises, promises.” John laughs and the sound makes you feel warm from your head to your toes.
“I hope you don’t take this in a weird way.” You cover his hand with your own. “But you are not what I expected. It’s very -"
“Neither are you,” John interrupts with a smile. “It’s a bloody wonder.”
***
After three more rounds and plenty more conversation, you pick up what’s left of your drink. You take another sip and glance around.
“Are you hungry?” You ask him. When John nods, you grin. “How about after this drink, we hit up the taco truck down the street?”
“The what?” He sounds mildly offended and you can’t help but laugh.
“The taco truck. A fine Boston tradition.” You bring it up on your phone and show him. Thankfully, it’s only a few minutes from where you are. “John, if you’ve never been, then we have to go.”
He rolls his eyes as he stands. “I’m gonna settle up the tab, luv and I’ll let you tell me all about it.”
You hop off the chair and head into the bathroom. You stare at yourself in the mirror, elated that you still look put together despite the few drinks you’ve had. Your hair may be a bit frizzy and your eyes a tad too bright, but otherwise you’re pleased. You touch up your lipstick and head back out.
“Ready, luv?” John asks, holding out his arm as he did earlier. You nod and make your way outside with him.
The weather’s cooled off nicely as you walk toward Faneuil Hall. Even though the shops are closed, the lights illuminate each side of the walkway, giving the illusion of daylight where you are.
John lights up a cigarette as you walk and you steal a glance at him. “Those things are gonna kill you, you know.”
“Bigger and nastier buggers have tried.” He laughs and takes a deep drag. “These things can get in line.” He gestures to a food truck parked nearby with Christmas lights lining the outside. “I take it, that's our destination?”
***
After you’ve ordered and refused to let him pay, you sit on a ledge to eat. “Once we’ve finished here, I should get you home, pet.” He looks at his watch and then at you. “It’s after 2:30 and I do believe your mates are picking you up for lunch tomorrow.”
You close your eyes briefly, remembering your lunch plans. “Shit. You’re right.” Eric won’t care if you’re running late tomorrow, but Charlotte will.
“How far away are you?” He asks, standing so he can throw his food container away. You tell him it’s about a twenty- five minute walk and he insists on seeing you home. “Let’s hop to it then, luv. If you’re finished?”
The walk home is comfortable, you and John continue to make small talk as you lead the way. His hand is an ever present warmth on the small of your back, giving you a secure, safe feeling.
Once you’re a few houses away, you point yours out to him. “The townhouse at the end.” You tell him and he nods in response.
At your address, John holds his hand out for you to climb the few steps to your door. You fumble with your keys, but eventually unlock it. Slowly, you turn to face him. “I had a really great time tonight, John. Thank you for rescuing me.”
“Aw, you didn’t need rescuing, luv.” John brushes your hair off your shoulders and runs his hand down your arm. “But I fancied doing it, all the same.” He leans forward and you think he’s going in for a kiss. You feel your pulse race and your breath hitches when he gets closer to you.
Surprisingly, he presses his lips to your forehead and steps back. “I’d like to do this again. Unless I’m wrong, and I’m usually not, you’d like to do this again too?” There it is, the cocky arrogance. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.
“Brilliant. Now, be a good girl for me and take some aspirin before you nod off, ay?" John orders, giving you a heated stare and you obediently nod again. "I’ll check on you tomorrow.”
You feel his words in the pit of your stomach. He smiles wistfully and heads down the steps. At the bottom, he turns back to glance up at you. “Goodnight, sweet’eart.”
With a small smile, you wish him a good night as well and close your door. Once it’s locked, you lean against the door and run your fingers through your hair. John could’ve properly kissed you, you could tell he wanted to. But he chose to give you a small kiss on the forehead instead.
And be a good girl, who does John think he is? But more importantly, why did you feel your stomach do flips when he said it? You've been ready to throw your drink in Matthew's face for the same words.
Just when you think you’ve figured him out, you have a whole new set of questions. You’re insanely intrigued by him, even if you don’t completely trust him yet. You could tell he was very careful with his answers when you asked about his life.
Almost like he was hiding things from you. But why would he need to? You kick your booties off with a small huff. You’re too frustrated to think about it further.
You consider ignoring John's order when you rest your foot on the bottom step. You roll your eyes and think better of it, knowing the headache you’ll have in the morning if you don’t take aspirin now.
Grabbing the aspirin from your cabinet with a huff, you turn and pull out a bottle of water from the fridge. Supplies in hand, you make your way up the stairs to your room. Stopping at the bathroom, you decide on a shower.
You turn on the hot water before you pop the caps on both bottles and take two tablets. You step out of your skirt and top, tossing everything into the hamper by the door.
As you let the hot water cascade over you, your thoughts wander to the man you’ve spent most of the night with. You shiver when you imagine what his full lips would feel like against yours. Your hands wander when you start to think about how delicious his stubble would feel against your sensitive skin.
It’s a while before you can fall asleep. Your thoughts are too keyed up, too focused on John to let you get any rest. He said he’d check on you tomorrow and that thought sends a small thrill through you.
How could someone you found infuriating work his way in so quickly? How could you have let him?
***
“This is a bad idea, Johnny,” As he walks away, John pulls a cigarette from the pack and lights it. "A bloody bad idea."
He must’ve gotten his wires crossed with that spell. It was only supposed to project the worst qualities of a past lover onto that poor bloke. He figured you’d tell the wanker to piss off after he got too drunk or handsy and John would get another chance at you.
He had no idea how much of a bastard your ex had been for the spell to come on that bloody strong. He had no idea that it would turn into the date from Hell for you. That was never his intention.
When he swooped in, John only intended to buy you a drink after that whole mess, see where the night took him. He hadn't anticipated wanting to spend that much time with you. And he certainly hadn’t anticipated wanting to do it again.
You're proving to be more disarming than John anticipated. Because of it, he found himself telling you more than he should have tonight. You’re intelligent and full of sharp wit; an excellent sparring partner for him.
Plus, you have some kind of connection to the Art. While you don't understand what your feelings mean, John does. And he wants to know more.
She's pretty too, John thinks and takes a moment to imagine what you'd look like underneath him, skin flushed from a proper snogging. You could've found out if you'd actually kissed her, you bloody wanker.
As the thought passes through his head, John shakes it away. He could've, he still wants to get you into bed.
But now, part of John wants to drag out this hunt so he doesn't have to rush through what could be a lot of fun. The other part of him screams that he should stay the bloody hell away from you. That’s the part that concerns him.
John fights through his warring thoughts as smoke wafts from his silk cut. You're both damaged; John’s not the type of bloke to try and fix anyone, he can’t even fix himself. But you don't seem like the type to want him to fix you, it must be your stubborn streak.
Still, your ex has done a number on you, he could see it immediately. And god knows, he’s made a lifetime of unforgivable mistakes. Maybe the two of you are cut from the same bloody cloth, more alike than he wants to admit.
He shouldn't get more involved, shouldn’t stick around. It's dangerous for you and a liability for him. Getting more involved could get you killed. That’ll be just another casualty John could’ve prevented if he’d been strong enough to stay away.
He should stay focused and stop thinking about you. And he certainly shouldn’t try to dig up as much information on you as he can.
John knows all of this.
But that night as he tries to sleep, his thoughts drift to you, no matter how vehemently John tries to fight it. After all, he’s never been good at listening to reason.
Chapter 7: Two birds and all that.
Summary:
As you tell Eric and Charlotte about your impromptu date from the night before, John tries to figure out what he's up against at the museum while snooping to try and figure you out.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Your head is pounding when you hear Charlotte’s voice cut through your thick haze of sleep. She seems to be right in your ear. “Sugar,” Her lilting voice is sing-song happy and it makes you groan. “Hey, time to wake up.”
You roll over and throw your hand over your eyes to shield out the offensive light of the morning sun. Obviously, she doesn’t know you were drinking last night, but did she have to open every curtain?
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Charlotte laughs and snuggles next to you. You lift your head, which by the way feels like it’s made of lead, and manage a small noise of disgust. You’re glad to see that taking aspirin before you went to bed didn’t help much. Imagine how you’d feel if you took nothing.
“What are you doing here?” You ask, pushing yourself up against your pillows and glaring at her. “Did you sleep here last night? I wasn’t especially quiet so if I woke you -”
Eric chooses that moment to launch himself onto your bed. He lands on the other side of you with a soft thud. “Nah kid, she spent the night with me.” He grins as you struggle to pull the covers over your head. “Ya told her that you wanted some time alone so I kept her busy.”
“Jesus Christ, Eric!” It feels like someone is scraping inside your head with a rusty spoon and he is so loud. “Shush! Why are you like this?”
Eric shrugs and playfully shoves you. Closing your eyes, you can tell he doesn’t feel bad at all. “I blame Linda.” He leans over and lifts one of your eyelids. “What’s a mattah? Little hungover?”
You push Eric away and roll your eyes. As you glance between Charlotte and Eric, you scrunch your face in annoyance. “What time is it?”
Charlotte laughs and sits up in the bed. “Almost noon, sugar.”
“What?!” You kick the covers off of yourself, almost knocking Eric out of the bed. You glance around wildly and look for your phone. “How?”
“Well, someone apparently felt the need to stay up half the night and not charge their phone. Don’t worry, I dug it out of ya little bag over there and threw it on the chargah.”
Eric stands from the bed and walks to the chair by your window. He grabs a towel and throws it at you with a smile. “By the way, we have reservations for one, so ya better hop in the shower.”
***
Eric and Charlotte both wait downstairs while you finish getting ready. You pull yourself together quicker than you think you’ll be able to.
As you come down the stairs, wearing an oversized pair of sunglasses, Charlotte holds a finger to her mouth, indicating silence, and you nod in wordless appreciation.
Eric offers to drive and it’s not until you’re actually outside, staring at the vintage beauty that is Olivia and her very loud engine, do you realize how horrible an idea that’s going to be. Silently, you slide into the back seat and lay across it, praying for death or the end of this hangover.
Whichever comes first.
About five minutes into the ride, ‘Sweet Caroline’ comes on the radio and despite your protests, Eric turns it up to ear-bleeding loudness. Both Charlotte and Eric sing along excitedly, while you wait in vain for the karaoke ambush to be over.
“Come on fella,” Eric laughs into the rearview. “I know ya don’t like the Sox, but that song gets you every time!”
You groan and cover your eyes, making Charlotte laugh. “Sugar, you don’t like the Sox? Isn’t that blasphemy for y’all up here?”
“Yeah, it's a character flaw.” Eric grins in her direction. “We’re workin’ on it.”
***
Charlotte waits until you’ve had most of your food before she begins her assault of questioning. “So, you gonna tell us why you didn’t text one of us?” She asks, over the edge of her coffee cup.
“Okay, to be fair, I didn’t think that I had that much to drink, otherwise I wouldn’t have forgotten.” You tell her, shrugging your shoulders. “I went out for drinks after I got off the phone with you guys.”
Eric leans forward with an interested expression as you continue to explain.
“Didn’t realize how late it was until we left the bar and by then, I needed something to eat. So by the time I actually got home, it was almost four.”
“We?” Charlotte’s neutral expression changes into one of confusion. “Sugar, I thought you said that Matthew left you there?”
You raise your eyebrows in confusion. “What?”
Honestly, you enjoyed yourself so much last night that the first half of the evening seems like a distant memory. You hadn’t thought of Matthew at all since you and John had last spoken about him. “No, he did.” You assure her with a smile. “I was talking about John.”
“Who?” Eric asks, over his glass.
“John Constantine? The consultant from the museum?” You tell him, raising your brow. Eric raises his own eyebrows as he tries to place what you’re saying. “He was at the restaurant last night and heard how Matthew was acting.”
Eric lets out a small huff of disbelief. “Wait, wait.” He throws up his hands quickly. “Kid, ya tryin’ to tell us the mystery man was real this whole time?”
You finish your coffee and rest the empty cup on the table before you answer him. “Of course he’s real.” You narrow your eyes at him. “Did you really think I made him up, Eric?”
“Well, kinda yeah.” He shrinks down at your tone and steals a glance at Charlotte. Her eyes are glued to you, so he knows he has to deal with your annoyance on his own. “I just figured ya were tryin’ to get out of goin’ on a date.”
You let out a heavy sigh. “I didn’t want to go but -”
“Sugar, ignore him.” Charlotte interrupts, smacking Eric’s arm. He makes a scandalized noise but closes his mouth. She turns her attention back to you with a wide smile. “I want to hear all about this John guy. Literally every detail. Is he cute?”
“Yes, he’s more than cute.” You admit, feeling your cheeks flush with color when you think about him. “He’s attractive in a ‘this is a very bad idea’ kind of way. He has this, I don’t know, cocky swagger that I found so god damn annoying. But I don’t hate it the way I did when I first met him. After he, you know, saved me from my date from Hell, he weaseled his way in. And his accent definitely doesn’t hurt.”
She sits up straighter in her seat, somehow more interested than she was before. “Oh?” She knows you have a thing for accents. You told her that weeks after meeting her. When she wants to get her way, the girl lays it on thick, knowing you won’t say no to her.
“He’s English.” You reveal with a smile. “It works in his favor, trust me. So when I got off the phone with you guys, he was standing right there. He said he noticed I had left and had gotten worried.”
“So, he was just there? Odd coincidence huh?” Eric asks you with skepticism written across his face. Of all times for the Detective to come out.
You pause as your waiter comes around asking about drinks. “No, but I had the same thought myself at first.”
You ask for more coffee as the pair across from you get another round of their chosen drinks. Once he walks away, you carry on, “He was having dinner at the bar and when Matthew ordered me to get him a refill, I noticed him.”
“Kid, he ordered you -” Charlotte silences Eric with a stare so you can continue.
You thank her with a smile. “Anyway, John commented about how awful the date seemed to be going and honestly?”
You raise your eyebrows, allowing yourself a moment to let the ridiculousness of last night sink in. “I didn’t disagree. He offered me an escape if I needed it and told me he’d stick around to make sure I was alright.”
“That’s very sweet of him.” Charlotte smiles softly. She’s a sucker for dramatic signs of affection, always has been. You’d never admit it to anyone aside from her, but so are you.
“It really was.” You agree. You thank the waiter as he returns with fresh coffee. Charlotte waits patiently as you add cream and sugar. Eric, however, motions for you to hurry up and continue. You roll your eyes. “So we went to the Elephant and Castle -”
Eric tilts his head, trying to place the location. “Isn’t that the British pub ovah near Faneuil Hall?”
You let out a small laugh. “Yeah, we shut the bar down.”
You couldn’t have predicted how much you enjoyed yourself last night. When you tell them that, Charlotte wiggles excitedly in her seat. “Clearly y'all had a good time then?”
“I haven’t had that much fun with a guy -” You stop when you see Eric's properly offended expression. You can't help but laugh and roll your eyes at him. “A guy I haven’t known most of my life, in a really long time. It was... nice.”
Charlotte laughs, stealing a quick glance at Eric. “Well, do you have a picture of this mystery man?”
“Charlotte, of course I don’t.” You shake your head. “I barely know him, that would be weird.”
“I have pictures of this one on my phone,” Charlotte gestures to Eric with a small smirk. He twists his head, making a confused face.
“My daddy wanted to know who I was spending my time with since my best friend was on a date. It’s not like I took any of you sleeping, that would be weird.”
The three of you laugh and you notice Charlotte’s phone lighting up under her napkin. You motion to it and she grabs the phone and slides it open. “No work!” You tease her and she covers the end of the phone with her hand.
“It’s Ray.” She explains with a roll of her eyes. As she excuses herself, you ask her to send Ray your love. She nods and walks toward the restrooms.
“Speakin’ of sleepin’,” Eric hisses when he’s sure Charlotte is out of earshot. “Coulda warned me that she talks in her sleep, kid.”
You let out a riotous laugh at his horrified face. You shake your head as you glance up to check for Charlotte. “No way. That’s something you had to figure out on your own.” You lean back in your seat to stare at him. “What did she say?”
“It was like 4am and I got up to take a piss, right? So I’m about to climb back into bed and she goes ‘Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?’ and fella, I fuckin’ froze. I thought I’d somehow pissed her off.”
“Oh that’s a good one!” You stifle another bout of giggles with the back of your hand. “There was this one time, we were cramming for finals and at some point, she had fallen asleep and I didn’t realize. Suddenly, she goes, ‘What’s going on here?’ and immediately followed it up with, ‘I’d like to go home now’ and honestly, I just laughed.”
Eric looks fantastically nervous. "So, this is a real thing she does? Like often?” You told him that Charlotte was something else. This is what he gets for not believing you.
“Not too often. But whenever she did, I used to talk back to her.” You lift your coffee cup and gesture to him with it. “You should try it and see what she comes back with because, let me tell you, it’s a trip.”
“Kid, I dunno if that’s somethin’ I wanna do.” There it is.
“So whatever this is, is done?” You ask him, pointedly.
“I didn’t say that.” Eric narrows his eyes at you. “I like her and the sex is wicked good.”
Seeing Charlotte making her way back over, you warn him quickly. “Just remember, I have two people that I care about, a lot, that are going to get hurt if you aren’t careful.” He nods and smiles up at Charlotte.
“Sorry about that,” she apologizes. “Daddy just likes to check in.” She glances over at you, quickly. “He says hello and he demands that you stow away in my suitcase so he can see you.”
You laugh and shake your head. Ray is a great man, very much like another father for you.
“All good, honeybee.” Eric grins and rests his arm on the back of her chair. “Our girl and I were just catchin’ up anyways.”
Charlotte whips her head around. “Do not call me that.”
Oh shit.
“Uh…” Eric shakes his head in confusion as rare, genuine anger clouds Charlotte’s face as she hops off the chair and walks away. You call out to her and without turning around, she answers that she just needs a minute.
“What the fuck did I do, kid?” Eric asks, slumping his shoulders like a scolded puppy. “I’ve called her honey a ton of times. I just thought honeybee would be cute.”
You sigh, running your fingers through your hair. “Hugh used to call her that all the time.”
“Aw, fuck.” He rubs the back of his neck anxiously. How seriously he’s reacting to this would be adorable if Charlotte weren’t so angry. You grab your phone and quickly ask her if she’s alright. “She told me a little about him last night, and it meshed up pretty well with what I remember ya sayin' about him when they were together.”
Charlotte texts back that she’s fine, the nickname just startled her. She follows up asking if Eric’s upset. You text her that he’s upset that he hurt her feelings, then you glance up at Eric. “Yeah, I'm sure I don't even know the half of it. He was fucking awful. His entire family was just - wait, Char told you about him?”
“Well yeah, she kinda had to.” He shrugs his shoulders. “The guy kept callin’ her all yesterday. It got to the point where she turned her phone off for a bit.” You’re surprised by that, she hasn’t talked to you about Hugh in the last four months, at least.
Why the Hell is he calling her now? You ask Eric if Charlotte had told him what Hugh wanted. He shakes his head with a shrug. “Nah, kid. And I wasn’t about to push.”
“So weird.” You glance over his shoulder to see Charlotte walking back, dabbing her eyes. “Let me talk to her. I mean, she ended things -”
Charlotte slides back into her seat and grabs Eric’s hand. “You had no idea why I was upset, chere. It wasn’t fair of me to -”
“It’s alright, honey.” Eric interrupts, tucking a curl behind her ear with his free hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anythin’ by it, but I’ll never call you that again.”
“I know, I just get a little worked up sometimes. It’s the southern belle in me.” You roll your eyes, but Eric just smiles at her.
She inclines her head in your direction and you know she’s ready to change the subject. “Anyway, sugar, you are going to see this John guy again, yes?”
“Uh...“ You look down at your hands for a second. “I don’t know. He was really sweet last night but I don’t know if maybe he just felt bad for me? Because the other times I’ve seen him, he’s just driven me nuts. Remember I told you about the hate-flirting?”
Charlotte nods as you elaborate. “Like, he’s so Goddamn cocky, it makes me want to punch him. Then he goes and gives me a genuine compliment, makes me feel like he’s a good guy under all the bravado.”
You can feel your own doubt creeping in. “But I think John seems to be the kinda guy whose good looks can get him whatever he wants, ya know?"
You gesture at her and she nods emphatically. “I’m afraid that last night, I had my booze goggles on.” You cross your arms in feigned frustration. “I honestly don’t know if I could stand being around him longer than one date.”
Charlotte does not believe you, at all. She gives Eric a knowing smile and turns back to you. “For someone you say you can’t stand, sugar, you sure do talk about him a lot.”
“I… I was just answering your question, Char.”
“And we’re just sayin',” Eric adds, clearly taking Charlotte’s side. “This John guy seems like ya type, fella.”
When you tell him that John is most definitely not your type, Eric laughs and raises his eyebrow. “I’m gonna have to call bullshit on ya, kid.”
You shake your head. How did we get here? “How is he my type, Eric?” You ask him, trying not to let your voice rise.
Eric ticks off his reasons on his fingers. “Cocky, good lookin’, got a sweet accent and obviously into History if he’s workin’ for a museum.” You sigh and Eric knows he’s got you.
“Sugar, just call him and give it a shot.” Charlotte smiles and pats Eric’s cheek. “I gave this one a shot and I’m having a great time. You like him, you have his phone number right?”
“I do.”
“Then what’s the problem?” She asks, flagging down the waiter for the check.
Ah, the million dollar question. Then what’s the problem? “I just… I don’t know if....”
Maybe it’s your fear that he’ll turn out to be just like Sam. Maybe it’s your nagging gut feeling that John is hiding something. You recall how careful he was with his background last night.
Maybe, just maybe, it’s got something to do with the fact that when you’re with John, you don’t care about any of that. Your doubts come after. And that scares the shit out of you.
You aren’t ready to tell either of them any of these things. Instead, you settle on “Maybe I’ll think about it.” and Charlotte nods, satisfied with your answer.
***
Chas sighs into the phone. “John, you’ve been there for almost a week. It doesn’t take you this long to get a job done. What’s different about this one?”
John knows what’s different, but refuses to acknowledge it or that he can’t stop thinking about you. Refuses to acknowledge your pretty smile and rapier wit. He knows damn well that Chas would talk him out of pursuing you further. And as much as he agrees, that's the opposite of what John wants to hear.
“I don’t know mate, I think there’s something bigger happening.” John shrugs in habit, purposely sidestepping the question. “You know Connors, he’s a touch on the dodgy side at times. I know he’s not telling me everything.”
“Alright, what've you got so far?" Chas sounds annoyed, which doesn’t shock John the way it used to, but at least he’s willing to help. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Not bloody much,” John sighs and pushes himself back from the computer in the library. What he wouldn’t give for a drink right now, he thinks absently. His flask is sitting in the pocket of his coat, behind the door at the hotel. Fat load of good it does me there.
“Connors thought it was a cursed object, brought over with the new exhibit. But when he had everything blessed, nothing happened. You know I checked every bloody thing in that museum. It’s not an object Chas, it’s an entity of some kind.”
John can hear the other man ruffling through his books as John steps out into the early afternoon sun. “You thinking demonic or what?” Chas asks, pausing his search.
“I found a symbol etched on a wall, I’m sending it to you now. Someone has to have summoned the thing.” John sends him the photograph and immediately lights a cigarette.
He takes a deep drag before he continues. “I reckon it’s a lower level demon; some nasty bugger that wants to impress the big guys, jumped at the chance to answer.”
“If that’s the case John, you have to figure out what it’s hunting. It’ll have a purpose, you know that.”
John sighs, scanning the street before he crosses. He’s got a stop to make before he can head to the museum. “There’s no signs of obvious possession, but that means nothing. Chas, you and I both know the lower level wankers take their time hunting their prey.”
"Once I find out more about the symbol, you'll have a better plan of attack." Chas promises, continuing to flip through his research.
"Give us a bell when you've got something, I’m heading into my last stop." John thanks him, as he flicks the ash off his cigarette. "You're a lifesaver, mate."
"Be careful, John."
John stares at the townhouse in front of him with a small smile. "I always am." Chas scoffs as he hangs up the phone, making John chuckle to himself. He slips his phone into his back pocket and closes his eyes.
He lets himself feel the energy in the building in front of him. Brilliant, she's not home. Not that John thought you would be, you should be at lunch with your mates.
He feels a twinge of guilt for sneaking into your home, but he pushes it down and tells himself that he’s just doing his job and being thorough. You work for the museum, he’s just checking for any signs of demonic influence.
It has nothing to do with his mounting interest in you. He jogs up the few steps to your entrance way, checking around for nosy neighbors and the like.
With the flick of his wrist and a small incantation, John slips inside without issue. He locks the door behind him and takes a step further into the room. He steps around the small pile of shoes by the couch and looks around with a smile.
Photographs of you and your friends fill the far wall, with the wall next to the doorway housing a massive bookshelf. John grins as his eyes roam over the varied titles from fiction series to occult histories of various States. A girl after my own bloody heart.
John steps closer to the wall facing the street and checks the time on the television. With it being just after one, he knows he should get a move on. The last thing he needs is to be caught.
He steps through the kitchen quickly, scanning the shelves and spice racks for anything out of the ordinary. All John can deduce from what he sees is that you can cook, he wouldn’t mind letting you show off your skills sometime.
He climbs the stairs two at a time. Once he reaches the top, he tilts his head trying to guess which room is yours. John mutters another incantation, and the door to your room creaks open.
The interior is filled with soft golds and purples, reminiscent of a London sunset. It looks cozy; a lived-in place that suits you well.
John feels an interesting twist in his gut as he climbs onto your bed. He sits cross legged, back ramrod straight as he closes his eyes and whispers the spell he needs. “Revelare arcana ut observantiam*.” He chants calmly, letting his magic fill the room.
After a few moments, John opens his eyes and pitches forward, tumbling off the bed. “Bloody hell.” He mutters, pushing himself to his feet. Just when he thinks he’s gotten the answers he wants, he’s got more questions.
How did he not see it before? No wonder his simple magic didn’t work on you. He runs his hands through his hair as he regains his bearings.
Fearing that he’s severely taking the biscuit with his luck, John quickly smoothes out your bed and leaves your room as he found it. Hurrying down the stairs, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket.
“Yeah, mate?” He answers, slipping out and locking the door behind him. “You find something?”
“Yeah, you’re not going to like it.” Chas replies. “I think you’re hunting an Akkadian parasite demon, John. Now there’s next to nothing in the Lore but that symbol looks like a match to a photo I have here, a Rabisu? That ring any bells?”
John groans as Chas continues. “The Athenæum there in the city has a manuscript that may help you vanquish the thing, but you’ll need the proper credentials to gain access to it. That shouldn’t be a problem for you.”
“No, it won’t.” John agrees, stepping into the street. “And I know just the lass to help me.”
Now that John knows a little more about you, he’s especially eager to see you again. If he asks you out, he can spend more time with you and figure out how to banish this bloody thing once and for all. Two birds and all that, John thinks with a smirk. Brilliant.
***
Hours later, you and Charlotte are four bottles of wine into the best night ever. You’ve assembled the Taj mahal of blanket forts in your living room and currently, you both sit cross legged underneath them.
“Oh my god!” Charlotte shrieks with laughter. “Sugar, do you remember that time we snuck into the hotel Monteleone and used their hot tub?”
You shove her, spilling a bit of wine onto your sleeping bag. “Yes! You flirted with that old security guard for like ten minutes before he finally let us up.” You kick your feet with enthusiasm as you recall the memory. It had been right before Jazz Fest so the city had been brimming with tourists.
“You do know that he tried to kiss me, right?” Her eyes sparkle with excitement when you shake your head.
“Shut up.” You try to stifle your giggles by taking a drink. “No, he didn’t.”
“Hand to God, sugar.” She holds her hand over her heart. “He leaned in and I turned for you to save me, you were too busy drunk texting some boy to notice.”
You roll your eyes. “It wasn’t some boy.” You had been in the middle of an argument with Sam over you spending part of your summer with Charlotte, in New Orleans. He hadn’t understood why you wouldn’t want to come home to your boyfriend and when you offered to fly him down, he was furious.
“Oh, so it was Sam?”
You finish off your glass before answering. “Yes.”
“Speaking of the cheating son of a bitch,” She grabs your phone off the couch and holds it just out of your reach. “Why do you still have his phone number?”
“Just in case.” You snap your fingers, indicating that you’d like it back. “How do you even know that?”
“Eric plugged your phone in this morning,” She shrugs, sliding open your phone to pull up Sam’s contact. “I was going to set that picture of Ray as his contact photo and saw that ‘Sam Campbell’ is still a contact in your phone. He hurt you sugar, what the hell justifies a just in case?”
You set your glass down and cross your arms. “Just in case I ever get the balls to tell him off…”
“Oh?” She quirks an eyebrow at you.
“Yeah, I mean.” God, the things you’d say to Sam if you had the guts. “I think about just calling him sometimes and just ripping him a new one.”
Charlotte sets down her glass and scoots closer to you. “What would you say to him?”
“I would tell Sam Campbell that he’s a complete asshole. He didn’t deserve me, never did. I’m much better off without him.” She grins at you, spurring you to keep going.
“Honestly, he doesn’t deserve anything but a fucking one way ticket to somewhere in the desert. That way he can’t do this shit to anyone else.”
“He really is a piece of shit for treating you like that.” She agrees with you. “And for playing his wife like that.”
“Oh, don’t even get me started on Jess. She slapped me because of all his fucking lies. She had no right.” You push yourself up onto your knees.
“I don’t even know why I went back to him. He was a shitty boyfriend the first time around and it wasn’t like the sex was the best I’ve ever had. Sometimes I got myself off better than he could.”
“Anything else you’d tell him?” Charlotte asks, lifting your phone to show you that she’s dialed Sam’s number. Nervousness flares in your stomach, making you want to giggle and possibly throw up.
Well, in for a penny right?
“That Sam was the biggest mistake of my life,” You tell her, and the phone. “And I hope that he rots in Hell.” Charlotte hits the end call button and throws the phone onto the couch with a dramatic flourish.
Nervous laughter comes bursting out of you. “I can’t believe you actually called him!”
Charlotte shrugs. “Someone needed to tell that boy off.” She makes a serious face, thinking for the first time that you might be upset with her. “How did it feel, sugar?”
“Fucking amazing, Charli. Honest.” You admit after a few deep breaths. You really do feel great. It could be the copious amounts of wine, but it felt so good to tell Sam to fuck off, even if it was just in a voicemail.
“Good!” She wipes her forehead in concern. “I didn’t want you to be upset with me but it was so overdue for him to hear what you actually think of the shit he pulled.”
You nod and crawl out of the fort. “I think we need more wine, to celebrate!” Charlotte laughs and offers to put the next movie in. She crawls out and fastens the sides of the fort open with hair clips. The girl’s a genius.
Halfway into ‘The Rescuers’, you hear your door unlock. You whack Charlotte’s arm to get her attention. You both stop giggling when Eric bursts through the door and push yourselves the rest of the way out of the fort.
“Hi!” You exclaim, climbing to your feet.
“Uh hi…” Eric glances around, hand on his hip. “Ya two okay?”
“Of course we are, chere.” Charlotte follows you to her feet and walks toward him.
“Why are you here, Eric?" You shut the door behind him and cross your arms as you walk toward your kitchen island.
“Ya called me, kid.” Eric holds up his cell and shows you a five minute call you didn’t know you had made. “All I heard was muffled screamin’ and neither of ya answered when I called Charlotte. Got a little nervous, so I stopped by to make sure everythin’ was alright.”
“Apart from running out of wine, we’re fine.” You tell him as you uncross your arms and reach for the wine bottle.
“Jeez. How much have ya ladies had?” You both giggle and shrug. “You two are gonna be hurtin’ tomorrow at the beach.”
“Noooo,” Charlotte promises, booping his nose. “We’ll be fine, chere.”
Eric shakes his head before glancing at the tv. “Are ya guys watchin’ The Rescuers?!”
Charlotte giggles, touching his shoulder before running her fingers down his arm. “Come on chere, it's set in Louisiana! It’s my favorite!”
Eric takes her hand and moves toward the couch. "Mine too!"
“Not gonna happen, Grant.” You point at him and then to the door. “Out.”
Eric pouts, turning to face you. “C’mon kid, it’s almost over and Charlotte wants me to stay.”
“Don’t care.” You shake your head, laughing at his face. “Penis free zone tonight.”
He inclines his head, thinking that he hasn’t heard you correctly. “What?”
“She’s been with you the past two nights,” You stride to the door and open it with a raised eyebrow. “Tonight is my turn. She came up here to see me.”
“Fella -” Eric’s phone rings and he glances down at it. With a sigh, he slides it open and answers. “Yeah, Paddy, I’m comin’.” He glances up at the two of you. “No, nothin’s wrong. They’re just drunk.”
“Paddy?!” You shout with excitement. “Hi!! Come in!”
“Kid, ya just called this a penis free zone.”
“So? Paddy’s different.”
“He says hi and that if he comes in, we’ll never leave, and he really wants to get the paperwork done.” Eric pauses and listens to his partner. “Yeah, alright. Look ladies, please drink some water.”
Laughing, you roll your eyes. “Yes, dad.”
“I’m serious, fella.” He rolls his eyes but you know he only means well. How many times have you had this same discussion with him?
“Water and maybe some aspirin?” He suggests. “Ya want a hangover two days in a row?” You scrunch your face in disgust as he heads to the door. He laughs when he sees your expression. “Didn’t think so. Goodnight ladies.”
“Goodnight Eric!” You both yell out in sing-song unison. You can hear his laughter outside as he walks to the cruiser.
After you’ve locked your door again, Charlotte reaches for more wine. “Sugar, that boy is too damn cute.”
“Yeah, yeah.” You smile at her, thinking for a moment of the well tailored suit he was wearing and shake your head. Charlotte’s got it bad, but if you’re honest, you can’t blame her. “I guess he isn’t too bad to look at.”
Notes:
* Reveal the secrets we keep
Chapter 8: Beach days, date nights.
Summary:
During a much needed beach day with Charlotte, you both talk about your exes and she convinces you to see John again. Meanwhile, John confronts Connors about a secret he's been keeping.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
When your alarm chimes at you, earlier than you think it has a right to, you push yourself up with an annoyed groan. Your head has a dull ache, not quite what you felt the day before. But damn it, Eric’s right, you’re hurting. You refuse to let him know that you woke up with a hangover, again.
You nudge Charlotte to wake her up, and she whines in response. “Come on, Char.” You tell her as you shimmy out of your sleeping bag. “I wanna get there before everyone else does.”
“Sugar, it’s 7 am.” She pushes herself up to her knees and starts rolling up her sleeping bag. “No one is gonna be at the beach this early.” You roll your eyes as you start dismantling the fort.
Charlotte knows you like to spend the entire day on the water. Every time you and her have a beach day down south, you don’t arrive until well after noon. It drives you crazy. So when you’re on your own turf, you start early.
You grab the bundle of blankets and throw them into your closet. “Everyone up here gets to the beach early.” You close the closet door and head into the kitchen to start coffee. “You’ll thank me when Eric sees those golden tan lines later.”
“Sugar, he’s already seen my tan lines.” Charlotte pulls her dark hair into a bun and smiles. “But trust me, I am more than happy to show him the new ones.”
You laugh and head up your stairs to change and pack. When you come back down, Charlotte has already changed, packed and filled two travel mugs with coffee. The girl is insanely efficient.
“I know how you like it,” she grins, handing you the mug. “Light and sweet, now let’s go soak up some sun.”
***
The beach is moderately crowded, exactly what you’d expect for a Wednesday in July. Charlotte pushes down her sunglasses in surprise as you park.
“Told you.” You declare, shutting off your engine. “We don’t get eight months of Summer like you do, Char. Us New Englanders take summer very seriously.”
“I guess so,” she laughs, grabbing the cooler from your trunk. “I’ll never doubt all y'all again.”
Opening the rear door, you think absently about the phone call you and Charlotte made. Your stomach does an uncomfortable flip even though you had been so sure of your actions the night before. You hadn’t said anything untrue, but you don’t know how Sam will react.
You’re nervous that your wine fueled bravado will come back to bite you in the ass. Grabbing the towels and your beach bag, you scrunch your face in concern. “Hey, you really don’t think that Sam’s mad about the voicemail, do you?”
Charlotte raises her eyebrow and pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head. “Sugar, if Sam was mad, he would’ve called already.” You know she’s not wrong but her answer doesn’t make you feel any more confident.
“Don’t you remember all the times you’d forget to text him back and he’d blow up your phone in the morning and start in with all his bullshit?” You nod, walking with her down the ramp to the beach. “Trust me, he doesn’t care.”
You point to an open spot and head in that direction, trying not to let the stress coiling in your stomach ruin your morning. “You’re probably right.”
“Or,” She suggests, sliding out of her flip flops and replying to a text on her cell. “Maybe he’s realizing that what you said last night was the truth.”
“Yeah, right.” You laugh, laying out a blanket from your bag. The warmth of the sun feels amazing on your skin. “Sam will never admit that he was in the wrong. Even when I confronted him about using me to cheat on his wife, his response was ‘So? Why can’t I have my cake and eat it too?”
“Good lord.” Her eyes widen as she drops down to lay on her towel. “What did you tell him?”
You sit, cross legged and dig out your sunscreen. “That it didn’t work that way. That even though I loved him, I deserved better than to just be something on the side.”
“And I’m assuming that he didn’t much like that?” She asks, glancing down at her cell phone with a smile.
“Nope.” You offer the bottle to her and she shakes her head. You smile, jealous of her ability to tan without burning and settle back onto the blanket. “He told me that I was never going to be the type that a man wants to settle down with.”
You turn your head and prop yourself up on your elbow. “That Jess was a good girl. You know? The type you brought home to your parents, marry and have kids with. I was just the one who he got to call when he wanted to have a good time.”
“You’re the sweetest, most understanding person I’ve ever met. What the Hell is wrong with him?” She turns her head, letting her face twist into a scowl. “Please tell me that you slapped him for that one?”
“Of course, I did.”
“Good for you, sugar!” Charlotte exclaims before laying her head back down. “With the way he used to gaslight you, he deserves way worse than a slap to the face and a nasty voicemail.”
You scoff and push down the memory of that day. She takes your silence and sits up with a raised brow.
“What aren’t you saying?” You tilt your head and sigh, almost afraid to answer her. “Did he do something to you?” She asks, softly. “Talk to me.”
“I need to know that you’re not going to repeat this to Eric.” You run your hands through your hair before you look at her. You wish you could tell her everything. She didn’t know about the party, and you aren’t sure you want to tell her about this either.
“Sugar…” She scoots closer to you and watches your face. You stay silent, making her hold up her hand in promise. “I swear I won’t say anything, but if it’s serious…”
You shake your head. “After I slapped him, Sam pushed me hard enough that I fell. I don’t think he meant to, I mean, I hope he didn't. But a couple people in the museum saw and someone had to step in to get between us.”
Her face twists in anger as you explain. “But I never told Eric. I didn’t want him getting involved. I still don't. The two of them already didn't get along.”
“He pushed you?!” She asks quietly, reaching for her phone. “Mais J’mais. Why didn’t you tell Eric? He would’ve had that connard thrown in jail.”
“Char, that’s exactly why I didn’t tell him.” You reach for her arm, imploring her to put down her phone. “I just wanted to be done with Sam. And if I told Eric, I never would've heard the end of it. Eric didn't know everything that went down between us, he doesn't even know that Jess had tracked me down. All he knows is that Sam was married and that I’m done.”
Charlotte is silent for a moment before she lets out a sigh and lowers her hand. “I don’t agree with you keeping things like this from him -”
“You and your daddy are close, but you don’t tell him everything.”
“Sugar, if you had let me finish, I was going to say that I understand it and you could trust me not to repeat anything. If you've handled it, then we leave it at that.” She stifles a laugh behind her phone. “And Ray and I talking is much different than y’all talking.”
“Oh, I’m aware.” You laugh, grabbing Chapstick from your bag. “Speaking of your daddy, you better not tell him about this either.”
“Why on Earth would I tell him?” She asks, holding out her hand for the Chapstick once you’re done. “I don’t want to have to bail my daddy out of jail for murder.”
“There won’t be a murder charge,” You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Cause let’s be real, Char. Ray is probably the one person that could get away with killing someone.”
She looks down at her phone and responds quickly. “Oh definitely,” She agrees. “He’d probably feed him to the ‘gators.”
You pull your cell phone out of your bag and slide it open. Pulling Eric up in your texts, you quickly scold him for texting Charlotte every five minutes.
‘Can you stop? We can’t have a beach day if you’re holding Charli’s attention 90% of the time.’
You slide your phone back into the bag and give her a serious expression. “But seriously, this stays between the two of us, right?”
“Of course, Sugar. My lips are sealed.” She giggles as she reads a text on her phone. “Did you really just yell at Eric?”
“Yeah, I did. He’s been hogging you.” You grab your phone and show her your text to him. “You’re my best friend.”
“Well relax, you’re prettier than he is, so stop your pouting.”
You roll your eyes as Charlotte’s phone rings. “Who's calling you?” You ask, furrowing your brows.
“Close.”
You stare down at the phone in her hand, seeing Hugh Montgomery on the caller ID. “Seriously? What in the hell does he want?” You shake your head, letting her see the disbelief in your expression. “You aren’t going to answer, are you?”
“If I don’t, he’ll just keep calling.” Charlotte answers, puts it on speaker and motions for you to get close. “Hi, Hugh.”
“Honeybee, you’ve ignored my calls for two days.” The slight tone of condescension in Hugh’s voice immediately makes you angry. Why is he calling? “What are y’all doing up there?”
“You knew I was going to be busy this week.” Charlotte rolls her eyes, but instead of hanging up, like you expect her to, she gives him an explanation. “We hung out with one of her friends and we went to a baseball game.”
“A baseball game?” Hugh laughs and you can imagine that he’s leaning back in the office of his father’s company, wasting time like he usually does. “We both know you aren’t that type of girl."
“Honestly, Hugh, it was really fun.”
“If you say so, honeybee.” Hugh scoffs into the phone. “When are you coming home? I want to pick you up, we need to talk.”
“I really don’t think we need to talk and my daddy’s planning to pick me up, I told you that already.” Charlotte reminds him.
You remember too well how this type of conversation would go. You need to help her, this is venturing into fight territory. You motion to Charlotte, pretending to need her assistance.
“Sure thing sugar, I’ll be right there.” She calls to you with a smile. “Sorry baby, I gotta go.”
She hangs up the phone with an aggressive eye roll and you’re on her immediately. “Char, what the hell was that? Honeybee? Baby? I thought you two were over?”
Charlotte shrinks her shoulders down and looks up at you over her sunglasses. “Okay so, don’t get mad at me. But I did something stupid.”
Your eyebrows fly up. “Oh god, what did you do?” She and Hugh were together for a long time, but as far as you knew, they were absolutely done.
“A few months ago, I got a delivery of two dozen calla lilies - you know they’re my favorite.” She shrugs, not looking at you. “So I got excited, thinking I had a secret admirer because there was no card with them. Then my phone rang and it was Hugh. Like an idiot, I answered.”
“What did he want?”
Charlotte fiddles with the edge of her towel as she answers you. “He wanted to take me to dinner. ‘For old times sake’ and he said he wanted to apologize.” She glances at you. “For everything.”
“And you believed it?” You ask her, your disbelief clearly evident.
She shakes her head quickly. “Honestly, I think I only went because that day would’ve been our five year anniversary.” You can’t help but roll your eyes. You aren’t judging her by any means, but she knows Hugh was never your favorite person.
“Sugar, you can’t be with someone that long and just turn off all your feelings for them. Yes, Hugh was a dick sometimes. But I really did love him.”
You soften your gaze, encouraging her to continue. “So what happened?”
“Hugh took me to Muriel’s. You know I love that restaurant. He took me on one of our first dates and you remember he proposed there. He apologized and said that he had been working on himself and all that. He sounded so sincere.”
She pushes her sunglasses back up and crosses her arms. “Before you say anything, yes, I believed him. And yes, I went home with him.”
You have nothing nice to say, so you stay silent. Charlotte carries on quickly. “We had a bit to drink, one thing led to the next… And I woke up in his bed the next morning.” She watches your face carefully. “We talked all morning and decided to give it one more try.”
You’re not angry with her for trying to talk things out with Hugh, but she shouldn’t have flirted with Eric and she certainly shouldn’t have gone home with him. “Charlotte.” You can’t keep the disappointment out of your voice. “You slept with Eric. Please -”
“Calm down, sugar, I wouldn’t dream of using Eric like that, if that was the case.” She tells you, lifting her hands in surrender. “It didn't last long... Mind you, Ray doesn’t know about it and he's not going to."
“Okay.” You nod, letting her finish explaining. “So he fucked it up, again.”
She smiles grimly. “We were watching a movie, all snuggled up on the couch and my phone rang. Hugh told me not to answer it, but since it was work, I didn’t listen to him.” You know damn well that Charlotte would answer her phone anywhere. She’s as committed to her work as Eric is.
“Once I got off the phone, it turned into the worst fight we had ever had. He told me that I loved my job more than him, that I should be happy to just be his wife. That he has more than enough money to take care of me and our future children.”
She pauses, letting out a heavy sigh. “You know how hard I worked to earn my place at the law firm. Being as young as I am, I feel like I have to prove myself all the time. Hugh’s never going to support me or understand why I love what I do.”
“So, nothing's changed then?” You ask, crossing your own arms.
“Nope. If anything, he was worse than before.” She shudders as she lifts her phone and stares at it for a second. “Since that fight, he’s called me at least four times a week, trying to apologize. But I’m not falling for that again, I am not taking him back.”
You let out a breath of relief. “Good, can’t have you breaking Eric’s heart like that.” You raise an eyebrow at her. "But why on earth did you call him baby?"
Charlotte looks away and shrugs in apology. "Force of habit, I suppose. I've been doing it for so long. That's why I got so upset when Eric called me honeybee. It was just too close for me."
She blows a few stray strands of hair from her face as she speaks. “And don't you worry sugar, I can’t imagine hurting Eric like that. He's a good man, sweet and kind."
She laughs, settling back down on her stomach. “Making him sad would be like kicking a puppy.”
“Yeah, except,” You point out, with a smile. “You don’t date puppies.”
“It wasn’t really a date,” She lifts her head off her arms and grins at you. “We were just trying to figure out something to do while you were out with Matthew. Eric suggested a baseball game.”
“You say that but when I spoke to you, you’re the one who called it a date. Are you really going to tell me that was an accident?”
Charlotte lays her head back down, letting sarcasm lace her tone when she speaks. "Do you really think I'd make the same mistake twice and jump head over heels for a man I just met?" She feigns offense, letting her eyebrows rise over her sunglasses. “Do you have that little faith in me?”
“First, I have all the faith in the world in you. It’s Eric that I worry about.” You shake your head and lay down on your stomach. “And second, you do know that I don’t care if you guys went on one date. Like it really isn’t a big deal, it’s not like you’re going to start a relationship or anything.”
Charlotte veers course, carefully sidestepping your comment. You’ll need to corner Eric later and get the rest of that story. “Speaking of relationships,” she asks casually. “Are you going to call that John guy?”
You shrug and she seizes the opening to turn this conversation to you. “Why not? You said y’all had a good time, and he didn’t just feel bad for you. So cut that out, right now. You like him, he likes you, it’s easy math.”
You purse your lips, knowing that she’s not going to rest until you give her some kind of explanation. “I don’t know. John was supposed to call me yesterday and he never did.”
You try not to let yourself look as crestfallen as you feel. “So clearly, he isn’t as interested in me as he let me believe.”
“Oh, stop that.” She lightly smacks your arm. “Of course he’s interested. You said he was here on business, so maybe he got tied up with a few things. Do you know how many times I’ve gotten into a project for work and forgot to text someone back? It happens.”
“I highly doubt that’s what happened.” You admit, letting the insecurity you’ve been feeling leak into your answer. “John Constantine seems like a man of his word.”
“Cause you know him so well.” She points out, laughing when she sees your expression. “And even men of their word lose track of time.”
But that’s not the only problem is it? You know that as much as John interests you, he’s hiding something.
After Sam, you know you’re overly cautious. But the way you see it, you’d rather be safe than sorry. Because John may be a man of his word, but he’s certainly choosy about the words he tells you.
You rest your head down again on your arms. “Fair, but if you want me to be honest, there’s something about John that I don’t know if I can trust.”
She props herself up on her elbow, looking very interested. “What do you mean?”
“He wouldn’t talk about himself much.” You tell her, turning over onto your back. “Each time I asked him about his life or his work, he’d give me a vague answer and turn it around on me. He just seemed really standoffish and that doesn’t seem trustworthy to me.”
Charlotte hands you her sunhat from her bag. “So you don’t burn your face." She smiles as you plop it onto your head. "And Sugar, you do know that sometimes you come off that way, right?”
“I do not.”
“Yes, you really do.” She laughs. “I get it, trust me. You know I understand why, you’ve been hurt and you’re just trying to protect yourself.”
You roll your eyes, knowing she’s right.
“You have no idea, maybe John’s just trying to do the same. You should give him a break, he could still text you today. You definitely have a crush, so don’t count him out. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“The worst is that I fall for a guy who is all wrong for me.” You grab your phone, intending to prove that you are the last thing from John’s mind. As you slide open your phone's screen, it tells you you have two new texts.
John Constantine:
Time got away from me yesterday, luv, sorry for not giving you a ring.
By the time I was free, it was late and I didn’t want to bother you.
John Constantine:
I hope you listened to me and didn't wake up with the mother of all hangovers. Pretty lass like you doesn't deserve that kind of headache.
“You gotta be shitting me.” You don’t know how he does it. John, somehow, has perfect timing. It’s uncanny. Charlotte asks you what’s wrong and you slide your phone toward her.
She swipes it and reads the texts. With a small chuckle, she hands it back to you. “Sugar, I should’ve bet you money. Now, what did he tell you to do?"
John doesn’t know it, but he’s won a battle here. You hate that you smile down at your phone, pleased that he texted you. “He told me to take aspirin before bed so I didn't wake up with a hangover, and no one likes a know-it-all, Charli.”
“Sure you do. That’s why you stick around.” She flips over onto her back, closes her eyes and snaps her fingers at you. “You’re going to text him back, right? He’s not Sam, sugar. He might be really good for you."
She raises an eyebrow without opening her eyes. “Besides, it's sweet that John was trying to take care of you.”
I can take care of myself you think, rolling your eyes in annoyance. But even as you think it, you have to agree with her. It is sweet. You sit up with a sigh and use the hat to shield your phone from the sun. “What should I even say?”
Without opening her eyes, she rattles off an appropriate response. “Tell him that it’s fine and that you’re happy to hear from him. Could even tell him that you’ve been thinking about him.”
You roll your eyes, but text just that and slide your phone back into the bag. “Now, just give it some time.” She assures you, motioning for you to lay back down. “He’ll text you back soon, I’m sure.”
***
You and Charlotte spend most of the day at the beach, chatting about everything under the sun. You both plan out the rest of the week, deciding what days to include Eric and where she wants to go.
You feel a little toasty from the heat and the slight sunburn you now have, but it was a day well spent.
John doesn’t answer you until much later that night, offering his apology and asking if he could take you out on a proper date. One that doesn’t start with needing an exit strategy.
You chuckle at his small joke and immediately respond ‘yes’. With a smile, you click your phone's screen off and head back downstairs to enjoy the movie with Charlotte. Maybe she was right, it couldn’t hurt to give him a chance.
***
John glances at his phone and smiles; he had a feeling you’d say yes. You couldn’t turn him down forever, especially after the night the two of you had at the bar. But he’s not sure what to make of the excitement he feels in his gut from how little hesitation you had in responding.
It’s settled then, he’ll pick you up and head to the Athenæum. John’s sure that if you’ve never been you’ll love the historic books and manuscripts. If you've been, he can pretend that he has no idea of what’s in there and let you teach him.
It’ll be interesting to see how much mystical knowledge you actually have. Either way, John's sure he'll be able to slip away for a moment and grab the text he needs. You’ll be none the wiser.
Hearing the click of dress shoes on marble, John lifts his head and slips his phone into his back pocket. “This ruddy museum is creepy enough during the day, mate.” He hisses when Director Connors walks into view.
“And I’ve been here, every bloody day. You couldn’t meet me at a bar, buy me a pint?” John crosses his arms, an impatient gesture that makes Connors roll his eyes. “Flew across the pond for you, didn’t I?”
“I know you too well, Johnny,” Connors shrugs. “Creepy is where you're most comfortable.” John rolls his eyes and makes a scoffing sound. “And in any case, I knew I’d have a late night. Hadn’t left yet, figured I’d kill two birds with one stone and see if you’d made any progress.”
“Aye mate, I have." On more than one topic, John thinks with a grim smile. "But I have a question first.”
Connors motions for John to head with him to his office. John nods and picks up his coat off the bench, silently following behind. Once settled behind his desk, Connors pours out two glasses of scotch. “Here's your drink. Shoot.” He says, lifting his glass to his lips.
“When you brought that girl on, did you know of her bloodline?" John asks, watching the other man’s eyes widen as he speaks. Clearly, Connors hadn’t been expecting this line of questioning. “Her heritage?”
As Connors finishes his drink before answering, John leans forward and impatiently crosses his arms. “Not at first,” he admits slowly. “But the more time I spent with her, the more I understood.” He sighs and leans back in his chair.
“I’d spent too much time with you and Chandler to not recognize the signs of someone born from this kind of blood. That’s part of the reason I’ve been so keen on promoting her.” Connors runs his finger around the top of his glass as John narrows his eyes at him.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Connors scoffs at the growing anger on John’s face. “I’m not the type of guy to exploit power when I find it. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, right John? I do enjoy having her here. It’s just interesting that no one else has picked up on it.”
He gestures with his glass. “What does this have to do with what you're hunting, anyway?”
John rolls his eyes in annoyance. “Does she know?” Connors looks away, confirming his suspicion. "Answer me, does she bloody know?"
When Connors finally shakes his head, John stands and starts pacing angrily. “Bollocks. She needs to be protected, mate. I think that girl is the reason this ruddy thing is here. It’s a Rabisu, ya tosspot. A demonic parasite. We’ll be lucky if it hasn’t latched onto her already.”
John gives the man a pointed glare. “And it’ll be a miracle if I can catch it without any casualties.”
“It’s not my place. Her parents should've told her when she reached the proper age. Until you've caught this thing, I think it's safer that she’s kept in the dark.” Connors sighs, staring down into his empty glass. “Unless you plan on using her as bait, let’s hope you’re as good as I remember.”
“I bloody hope so too.” John swears and storms out of the office. “For your sake and hers.”
Notes:
Next week, Johnny takes the reader on their first date! Cue the cute moments, tons of flirting and all the sexual tension 💋
Who's excited?!
Chapter 9: First date, fresh feelings.
Summary:
When John takes you on a proper first date, you're both surprised by how much you enjoy it. And by how much you want a second one.
Notes:
Here we go, I hope I did them justice and that its everything you hoped it would be 😉
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The last few days with Charlotte here, fly by. The two of you, along with Eric, hit up an amusement park on Friday and have the best time. They are cute together, holding hands while walking, and you try not to roll your eyes at the aggressive public displays of affection.
You gave in to whatever this is at your hangover lunch. If they want a casual fling, you aren’t going to stand in their way.
The week’s gone by much too quickly, you’re already planning the next vacation you can take to see her and Ray. “I could probably do Labor Day weekend,” you tell Charlotte over breakfast. “I know it’s two months out but I get the holiday off.”
She peers at you over her coffee mug. “Do you think Eric could get the weekend off too?”
You laugh at how innocently she tries to ask. “You can ask him tonight. Speaking of,” you push yourself back from the kitchen table and grab your empty plates. “Are you sure you don’t mind hanging with him today? John has this whole thing planned out and he seemed excited about it yesterday -”
Charlotte shakes her head, interrupting you quickly. “Sugar, I am more than fine with it. I like Eric's company and I love that you want to go on this date.” She pulls an elastic off her wrist and gathers her dark hair in a messy bun on her head. “I’m gonna take a nice hot shower and help you pick your outfit.”
You roll your eyes as she walks up the stairs. You’d think she’s more excited than you are, the way she’s acting. But truth be told, you’ve felt giddy excitement ever since you and John had confirmed last night that he’d pick you up here at 12:30. He wouldn’t give you any details about where you were going, only that he didn’t recommend that you wear a dress.
With a small sigh, you glance at the clock set into the oven. It’s just past 9:30, plenty of time to obsess over where you think he’ll be taking you. He hadn’t given you any details, just told you that ‘I know you well enough luv, you’ll enjoy where I’m taking you. Just trust Johnny that you’ll have a good time.’
Interesting that after a week of flirting, John thinks he’s figured you out.
You make your way up the stairs and head into your room. You stop and check your phone, just in case. Not that you think John would cancel, but years of ‘Last minute change of plans, kitten. You understand.’ tend to leave a mark. You feel a breath of relief when you see there are no notifications so you lay it back down to charge.
You walk to your closet and slide it open. As you click the light inside, you scan your options. You own more dresses and skirts than anything else, you prefer them.
“He said no dresses, right?” Charlotte inquires, startling you.
You whirl around quickly, pressing a hand to your chest. “Jesus Char, could you not?” She laughs and sits on the edge of your bed. “Gonna put a damn bell on you.”
“Be more observant,” she muses, tugging her hair out of the towel it's wrapped in. “And you’ll hear me coming.”
“I don’t need to be in my own home, nothing’s gonna get me in here.” You chuckle, turning from her to scan your closet. “But yeah, no dresses.” You pull out a pair of high waisted cigarette pants and a cute top with a sweetheart neckline.
“Your two best friends are a lawyer and a detective, that’s awfully naive, sugar.” You roll your eyes as Charlotte nods in approval of your choices. “In any case, going a little retro? I’m here for it.”
She stands and walks to your vanity. “You should do these earrings and your cute espadrilles. I'm sure John'll love it.”
You absently twirl your hair around your finger, letting your anxious thoughts overwhelm you for a second. What am I doing? You like this guy, yes. But you can’t shut your brain off. “Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe I should cancel. God, what is wrong with me?”
Charlotte calmly raises her hands. “There is nothing wrong with you. You’re nervous because the last date you went on was plumb awful and your ex was a major prick.” She wraps her arms around you as you let out a sigh of frustration. “Y'all are gonna have fun today. I promise.”
You lean back and smile. “I know I will. Honestly, half the fun will be giving John shit, I think he loves it.” You roll your eyes. “It’s like some weird, antagonistic foreplay.”
“Oh, sugar, he sounds like a challenge. I really like him already.”
You grab a towel from your closet and head into the bathroom. “That’s the problem, Char." You call over your shoulder. “I do too.”
***
Eric picked up Charlotte at noon, leaving you with nothing but your thoughts. You feel anxious and keyed up waiting for John to get here. You've fussed over your outfit more times than you can count in the half an hour you've had to wait. You're going to make yourself crazy if you keep this up.
At 12:28, you hear a knock at your door, putting you out of your misery. You let yourself have one final check in the mirror, pleased with your hair and make up, and turn the handle.
John smiles at you, stepping back to size you up and down with interest. “Bloody hell. You never disappoint, do you, luv?”
Your cheeks grow warm, pleased that you've impressed him yet again. “You don't either John, but I feel like you don’t quite understand New England weather.” You point out, gesturing to his attire.
John has on the dress pants, shirt and tie you’ve become accustomed to seeing him in, but instead of his tan trench coat, he’s wearing a black motorcycle jacket. In July. It's a good look on him, but confusing to say the least.
“I understand it pet, don’t you worry.” John smirks, crossing his arms. “But I reckoned we could take a ride. If you’re up for it?”
“A ride?” You ask, letting confusion settle on your face. Oh. You watch his smirk grow as you understand his double meaning. You shake your head with a small smile. He’s so damn cocky.
John uncrosses his arms and gestures over his shoulder. “Got us a triumph for the day. I promise I know how to ride her proper. That won’t be a problem, will it?” His dark eyes glint with the challenge he’s presenting.
“Not at all, Johnny.” You grin, standing aside to let him in. “Let me grab a jacket and we can head out.”
John shoves his hands into his pockets and follows you inside. “Nice little flat you got here, luv.” He remarks, settling himself onto your couch, like he’s been here a million times.
You pull your leather jacket out of the closet and fold it over your arm. “Thanks,” you tell him. “You know if you’re up for it, I make a wicked blanket fort. If you warrant a second date, I say we build one and -”
John laughs, cutting you off. “Already planning more dates with Ol’ Johnny, aye? I knew you’d eventually find me irresistible.”
You move to stand in front of him, crossing your arms. “I’m sorry, did you say irresistible? I think you pronounced insufferable wrong.” You hold your hand up to cup your ear. “Maybe it’s the accent, I couldn’t quite understand you.”
John looks up at you and grins lecherously. “You’re going to be a bloody handful, aren’t you, luv?”
“Maybe.” You shrug lightly, nudging his leg with yours. “Guess it’s a good thing you have two hands, huh?” You hold out your own to him. “I’m ready if you are, Johnny.”
John takes your outstretched hand and stands with you, pressing his body to yours. As you peer at him, you can feel your cheeks growing warm again. You draw in a sharp breath as he threads his fingers through yours. “Only if you keep calling me Johnny," he teases. "My name sounds like a sin coming from your lips, pet."
You swallow thickly, nodding your head, and let him lead you out. He casually holds out his free hand for your keys and reflexively, you hand them over. John locks your door and pockets them without a word. You raise your eyebrow, but don’t feel the need to argue.
As he turns, John pulls out the pair of sunglasses you first saw him in and slides them on his face. “Ladies first, luv.” He motions down the stairs and you quickly move down them to his waiting bike.
“She’s beautiful, Johnny.” You breathe, running your fingers along the body of the bike. She’s more rugged than the motorcycles you’ve seen before, with blacked out wheel rims and a matte black finish to her engine and trim.
John grins proudly and unhooks a helmet from its place on the handle bars. “Thought you’d like her.” He teases, handing you the helmet. “Beautiful piece of machinery, beautiful day, beautiful lass. Bloke couldn’t ask for more."
“Am I allowed to ask where we’re going?” You smile at his words, resting the helmet on your head. John effortlessly straddles the bike and kick starts the engine, making a show of it for you.
He shakes his head, motioning for you to climb on. “Don’t you trust me?”
Well that’s a bold question, you think when you stare at his face. You certainly want to. His mouth breaks into a genuine smile that crinkles his eyes. It leaves you breathless each time you see it.
You clip your helmet into place and can’t help the giggle that slips out of you. “Bloody hell, sweet’eart, you really know how to bruise a bloke’s ego.” John groans, pressing a hand to his heart. “Laughter was definitely not the reaction I was going for.”
You open your mouth to argue but he shakes his head. “It’s alright, luv, you may not trust me yet. But you will.” He holds out his hand, “Now be a good girl and hop on, let’s see what she’s got.”
You've never been on a motorcycle before, but instinctively you know John won't let you get hurt. You climb on, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. As you rest your head against his back, he pulls away from the curb.
You inhale deeply, reveling in the scent of him. It’s a heavy mix of tobacco, whiskey and what you think is sandalwood or incense. You aren’t exactly sure, but if John bottled it, you’d douse your sheets in it.
“You alright, luv?” John calls out over his shoulder. You nod, feeling giddy with excitement as he gives the Triumph a little more gas. You cruise through the neighborhood and head into the main part of the city.
As the wind whips around you, you realize with a smile why John wanted you to wear something other than a dress. He was being a gentleman. You squeeze him just a bit tighter, feeling butterflies in your stomach at the thought.
John turns the Triumph onto Beacon Street and slows her down. As you approach a large stone building on the left, the bike slows to a stop. He lets the engine idle as he twists around to face you with a grin. "Enjoy the ride?"
"Honestly, yes." You admit as you climb off and unclip your helmet. "I get why you didn't want me to wear a dress, that wind -”
John chuckles, killing the engine and pocketing his sunglasses. “While I don’t fancy you showing your knickers off to all of Boston, that metal piping would leave a nasty burn if your leg touched it.” He leans down and touches it before you can stop him. He hisses and pulls his hand away quickly. “It’s bloody hot.”
“Why on Earth did you do that?” You ask, reaching for his hand. John leans on the side of the bike and extends his arm. You gingerly inspect each finger and see no burns, just a bit of tender pink on his index finger. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”
John shrugs, withdrawing his hand. “Don’t worry about me luv, I do alright.” He crosses his arms, inclining his head toward the building behind you. “Now, have you ever been to the Athenæum?”
You spin around and take in the impressive structure, realizing where you are. “No!” You exclaim, whirling back around. John looks quite pleased with himself when he sees the unadulterated excitement on your face.
“I’ve always wanted to go but I’ve never had the chance. Do you know how many rare historical manuscripts are in there? God, I could spend hours just leafing through them all. This is such a great idea, Johnny! How did you know that -”
You cut yourself off, anxiously playing with your hair as you apologize. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling. I do that when I’m excited. Just tell me to shut up if I go on and on too much.”
John regards you carefully and pushes himself off the side of his bike where he’s leaning. “None of that nonsense, luv. I told you in that bar, you don’t have to apologize.” He steps up to you and rests his hand on your hip, pulling you closer to him. “Your entire face lights up when you’re excited. That’s something I want to cause, not bloody well stop.”
You’re taken aback by the intensity of his words. You look down, tucking your hair behind your ear, unsure of what to say. “I.. I didn't mean to make things weird.” You tell him as he takes your hand. “Sometimes I get in my own way.”
“You’re looking at the king of ‘getting in his own way’. I do stupid in spades.” John laughs and leads you up the stairs to the entrance. “And you’ll find I’m excellent with weird, sweet’eart. You’re in good company.”
You smile and reach for the entrance to the Library. John beats you to it and holds the door for you with a smirk. “Chivalry isn’t dead.” You smile as he rests his hand on the small of your back. It’s a firm pressure you continue to find unexpectedly grounding. He pays for both of you to have full access to the building and walks with you inside.
John chuckles when your eyes widen from the sheer enormity of the Library. How had he known that you’ve always wanted to come here? The ancient manuscripts and texts could occupy you for days. The bibliophile in you can’t wait to dive into the exhibits and take it all in.
“Where do you reckon we should go first?” He asks you softly.
“I don’t know where to start!” You admit, pulling up a digital map on your phone. “Did you know that there’s an exhibit dedicated to the correspondence between the Athenæum and the London Library? Oh! There’s Civil War and Revolutionary War diaries here!”
You glance up at the second floor and tug his arm so he'll follow you. “Supposedly, there’s a book bound in human skin. Creepy, right? I can’t wait to see it.”
John follows and lets you lead the way through each exhibit. You want to see everything and he never complains, just lets you explore until your heart's content.
Hours pass and the man doesn’t leave your side. He takes pleasure in testing your knowledge of different time periods and when he’s satisfied with that, he turns the topic to the Occult as you head into that section.
As he leads you to a pair of armchairs near the balcony, John crosses his arms casually. “Tell me about the Salem witches, luv. That seems to be a naff topic to bring up round these parts.”
You settle into the chair across from him and ask him what he wants to know. There’s so much history there, so many falsities and stories handed down over time. It’s a favorite topic of yours, you tell him as much.
“What's the truth of it?" He asks, taking your coat from your arm and draping it across the back of his chair. "From a proper historian, what do you make of it all?"
Leaning forward in your chair, you tell him everything you can on the subject. John listens, enthralled in your lesson as you talk about the wild accusations of the young girls in 1692 and the deaths caused by their lies.
"There's always been rumors, of course." You reveal, raising your eyebrow. "That there were real witches, practitioners of dark magic, living in the neighboring townships. But they were too smart to be caught.”
You grin and lower your voice. “But that’s just a bunch of make believe, right? Could you imagine if they had been real? How cool it would be to be a descendant to one of those bloodlines?”
In your retelling of your favorite history lesson, you haven’t realized how close you’ve gotten to John's face. “Indeed,” he answers, his lips inches from yours. “I reckon anytime I fancy a history lesson, I’m going to ask you.”
“I could tell you all about the Revolutionary War if you want, just to give you a little refresher.”
He laughs then and leans back a few inches. “I’m sure you could, luv.” He glances down at his watch and swears softly. “Bloody hell, it’s already six.”
“Is it?” You wonder, standing up when he does. “I feel like I’ve led you all over this place. Was there something you wanted to see? We could -”
John shakes his head, grabbing both jackets from the chair. “I fancied seeing you in your element, pet. See what you get passionate about.” He hands you yours with a crooked grin. “For the second time today, you didn’t disappoint.”
Neither have you, John. Neither have you. You don’t quite know what to make of John Constantine. He effortlessly leaps from being a lecherous flirt to a perfect gentleman, depending on the moment.
He took you here just to watch you get excited about history and old books? John's unlike any man you’ve ever met. While you still plan to be cautious, it’s an exhilarating feeling.
“How about we grab a bite?” John asks, pulling you from your thoughts. “Unless you’re sick of me?”
You laugh, shaking your head and hold out your hand for his. “I would love that, there’s a pizza place down the street from here? I don’t know if you wanted something a little fancier?”
You walk toward the stairs that will lead you back down to the lobby. “Trust me, luv. I am not a fancy bloke. Pizza sounds brilliant.” With a grin, you lead the way out and down towards the restaurant.
***
John had ordered for both of you, mirroring your failed date from earlier this week. Instead of finding offense in his actions, you sat back and enjoyed the decisions he made. Once the pizza arrived, you smiled up at him in approval.
"Reckoned as long as I stayed away from anchovies, I was spot on." He comments with a low laugh as he slides a slice onto your plate.
"Yeah, fish doesn't belong anywhere near pizza." You crinkle your nose in disgust. "Ever."
John laughs again and takes a long sip of his beer. "You're bloody right about that, luv." He agrees, leaning back to watch you. "So as far as a proper first date goes, how'd we do, ey?"
"I have zero complaints," you promise after you take a few bites. "If I did, trust that I'd tell you." You lean forward, resting on your elbows.
"Honestly,” you admit, meeting his dark eyes. “It was really nice to not have to make any real decisions and just let you plan the day. I feel like I'm constantly having to take the reigns and the directing. It's nice to just let someone else take it all so I don't have to." You peer up at him. "Does that make any sense?"
"It absolutely does." John winks at you, making your heart flutter. He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a low breath before he continues. "I had a feeling about you. You're a wonder for trusting me to plan the day without telling you. You didn't seem like a lass comfortable with that idea."
You shrug, downing the rest of your hard cider. “I’m super type A, sometimes I can’t shut it off. I wish I could.”
John nods, helping himself to another slice. “I understand that. My closest mate, Chas? He’s the same bloody way. Not a row I usually win when I go against him.” He chuckles to himself, furrowing his brow. “Reckon I'd rather pick that battle with you, feel like I’d have much more fun.”
“Oh yeah, Johnny?” You stifle your laugh with the back of your hand. As annoying as this hate flirting had been in the beginning, you’re finding that you adore it now. “What on Earth makes you think that’s a good idea?”
“Oh, I didn’t say it was a good idea, luv. I said I’d have more fun.” He lowers his voice, letting his words come out deep and gravelly as he smirks at you. “You’d have a bloody good time too, you have my word.”
You roll your eyes without meaning to. “Such a gentleman." You tease with a smile.
John’s dark eyes remain as guarded as they’ve been since you met, but they watch you now with an intensity that feels explosive.
”What can I say?” He motions to the waitress for the check and turns his heavy gaze back to you. “Reckon I’m well-versed in the art of pretending to be a gentleman.”
“That’s debatable.” You sass back, crossing your arms.
The waitress comes over and rests the check on the table. Before you can grab it, John tosses two twenties on the table and slides it out of your reach. “Ooo, too slow, pet.” You raise your eyebrow at him as he stands. “Come now, didn’t you just say you liked me taking the reins?”
You stand with him and let your lips twist into a pout.
“Careful luv, don’t you look at me like that,” he warns with a lascivious smile. “Not when I’m pretending to be a gentleman.”
***
You wander around the city for a bit, enjoying each other's company, before John suggests that he should eventually see you home. As much as you don’t want the day to end, it has gotten late.
The sun, having set hours ago, casts the sky into shades of dark cobalt and purple. You wince when you realize how early you’ll have to be up to grab Charlotte for her flight home.
As if reading your mind, John hands you your helmet and furrows his brow. “Didn’t you tell me, your mate flies home tomorrow?” You nod as he climbs onto the Triumph and starts her engine.
“Yeah, her flight’s at nine so I gotta pick her up at six.” You tell him, mounting the bike and wrapping your arms around his waist. “I’m not a morning person, Charli is. So that’ll be fun.”
“That’s bollocks, I’m sure you’re a delight, luv.” He shakes his head as he pulls out of his spot. “Waking up next to you would be a treat.”
You let your mind wander as John expertly maneuvers the Triumph through the city. You had a really great time today. You hadn’t gone into this with many expectations; you just hoped that John would be nothing like Matty or Sam.
And he wasn’t.
John is thoughtful and unexpected. You smile to yourself recalling the sheer excitement you felt knowing that he had paid attention to your questions in the Library. He was still flirty and voraciously arrogant, but you’re growing attached to the way you pick on each other and banter back and forth.
But, as he pulls the bike onto your street, you have to remind yourself that it’s just one date. You can’t get too invested, John doesn’t even live here. Be smart, you tell yourself. Be careful.
Once whatever he’s doing for the museum is completed, he’ll go home. You’ll be left with nothing but memories and -
“Let me walk you up?” John asks, pulling you from your thoughts. You nod, climbing off. As you wait for him to kill the engine, you extend your hand for him to take. His fingers thread through yours as you walk up the few steps to your door.
You turn back to face him once you’ve unlocked it. "Today was -"
You draw in a sharp breath as John’s hand snakes up your back, the roughness of his palm sending a ripple of fire through you. With a hard tug you’re chest to chest with him. Your breathing becomes slightly erratic as you feel your pulse quicken.
John’s eyes, now darkened with lust, are locked onto yours, with your lips inches from touching. “Anytime, luv.” He promises with a smirk. Tilting his head, he closes the distance between you, cupping your face with both hands.
John kisses you softly for a moment, then moves to ghost his lips over your mouth. Slowly, tortuously, he peppers quick kisses to your jaw before finally claiming your lips with his once more. You close your eyes as you melt into him, letting his mouth devour you.
One of John’s hands moves to the back of your neck as both of yours move into his hair, pulling him closer to you. You let out a soft moan, allowing his tongue to find yours, as he walks you back to press you against the wall. You hit it with a soft thud, feeling breathless and electric from the dominance behind his movements.
Opening your eyes, you move your hands from his hair to his chest to brace yourself. John chuckles darkly, low in his throat, as he effortlessly captures both your wrists in one of his hands.
Never breaking eye contact with you, John pins your hands against the wall and above your head.
When his grip tightens, trapping you in place, the desperate whimper you let slip from your mouth only encourages him. “I bloody knew it.” John murmurs, eyeing you up and down with something like satisfaction.
When John smirks again, the heavy lidded stare he gives you ignites a fire in your core. His free hand grips your chin so you're forced to meet his eyes as he leans back in to crush his lips to yours.
You savor the taste of his mouth, traces of whiskey and the sharp bite of something uniquely John, as you close your eyes again and kiss him back in earnest.
After a few moments, you open your eyes and break the kiss. You let your head slump back against the wall for support. John moves both of his hands to either side of your head, trapping you between them, and leans back in for one more quick kiss. Desire hangs heavy in the air as he steps back to catch his breath.
“Tell me, sweet’eart, did I warrant a second date?” John inquires, his voice rough with arousal. You’re too keyed up to speak, managing only a small nod as you try to even out your own breathing. “Good girl.” He praises, running his thumb along your cheek.
Your heart's racing as you open your door and back into your living room. With one final glance and murmured goodbyes, John smirks and makes his way down your steps. Touching your lips delicately, you smile at his retreating form and shut your door.
Needing a moment, you slide down against your wall and rest your head against it. Replaying what just happened in your mind, you know without a doubt, you can’t wait to see him again.
No matter how much it’ll hurt when he leaves.
***
John lights a cigarette as soon as he’s off your steps. He shakes his head, smiling to himself as he realizes that he didn’t accomplish his actual task at the Athenaeum today. He was too engrossed in the time he spent with you. He didn’t intend to have as much of a good time as he did.
John hates that his breath catches in his bloody throat whenever you tuck your hair behind your ear, an action you only do when you're concentrating. Or that when you’re explaining something you’re excited about, you talk with your hands.
Mostly, he hates that he’s noticed these things. And he definitely hates that he loves making you smile the way you did today.
At least, that’s what John tells himself.
He had a plan, use you to get into the restricted section and then try and flirt his way into your bed. Neither of those things happened. And surprisingly, John isn’t angry about it. He spent the day laughing, watching your eyes sparkle when he flirted with you.
He can get into that ruddy library another day. As for getting you into bed, he still fancies making that happen. That hasn’t changed in the slightest. Your kiss left him wanting you more than he thought probable.
And the way you reacted when he clasped your hands above your head confirmed how compatible the two of you will be. Now if only he had asked to come in...
But John can feel something shifting. He doesn’t just fancy shagging you and that’s the problem. He knows he should walk away now before you get hurt. He’s getting too close, too fast. This is going to spell disaster for both of you.
He’s not afraid of leaving a mess or a broken heart in his wake. That’s the way he operates. It’s better that way, for everyone. John ends up alone, but whoever he gets involved with stays alive.
As he hails a cab, he takes a deep drag off his cigarette and vows to himself that he’ll be more careful. Maybe try to put some separation between you. As much as he wants to fight it, he knows it would be for the best.
But as he settles into the backseat, he knows that that’s not going to be the case. You’re bloody different. There’s something about you that makes John feel, and he’s not sure what he’s going to do about it.
Notes:
Oh Johnny, we can't make this easy for you now can we?
What do you think?!
Chapter 10: Its been a hell of a week.
Summary:
After dismissing your promotion, John makes up for the miscommunication with a surprise lunch date. The next day, an unexpected visitor stops by your office, making you regret a certain voicemail from a week ago.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The next morning, you’re still thrumming with excitement from your date with John. Even though it's still dark when your alarm goes off at five, you’re wide awake and excited to tell Charlotte everything from last night. As you shower, you find that John’s taken up permanent residence in your thoughts.
You aren’t expecting a text from him so early, but when you get out of the shower, there it is; a good morning greeting mixed with his usual cocky charm.
John Constantine:
Morning Luv, hope you didn’t stay awake too late thinking of me.
You roll your eyes but smile, quickly typing your response. ‘Morning Johnny. You’d like that wouldn’t you?’ You toss your phone on your bed and head to your closet. Grabbing jean shorts and a t-shirt, you dress quickly and throw your hair into a messy bun.
Settling yourself on your bed, you throw a little makeup on and occasionally glance at your phone. You receive no message but part of you isn’t surprised. Maybe I shouldn’t have answered so quickly? Once you’re finished, you tuck your phone into your pocket and head down the stairs to grab your shoes.
As you lock your door, you can see the sun rising over the tall buildings of the city. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, making your grin. Charlotte wouldn’t text you, she knows you’re on your way. It must be John. You hop down the stairs to your car, sliding open your phone as you press the key fob to unlock your driver side door.
John Constantine:
I’d be a bloody liar if I said no.
What time is your lunch break tomorrow?
Maybe I’ll stop by, let you make an honest bloke out of me.
You press the button to turn on your engine and let the stale air vent out the open windows as you answer him. ‘I didn’t stay up too late, but I did think of you. You left quite an impression at the end of the night. I usually take lunch at 12:30. If you can, I’ll hold you to that.’
You back out of the spot with a grin on your face. Turning up your radio, you happily head down the road toward Eric’s apartment.
***
Hurrying up the steps, you feel your phone buzz again. Quickly, you enter in the code to allow you access to Eric’s building. Juggling your iced coffee, you slide open your phone as you step onto the elevator. John’s responded with three simple words but you can’t stop staring at them.
John Constantine:
I’ll be there.
Sliding your phone back into your pocket as you step out of the elevator, you fish Eric’s key from your key-ring. You slide the key in without bothering to knock and push the door open. “Morning guys!” You call out. “Char, you ready?”
“She’ll be out in a minute, kid.” Eric responds, walking out of his bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. “We just got outta the showah. Want some coffee for the road?”
“Nah.” You hold up your iced coffee as you smile. “I got Dunks on -” Something’s off here. You look around, noticing matching curtains and throw pillows? What happened? This boy has zero ability to decorate, he won’t even let you do it for him. “Eric, what the fuck is this? Were you reverse robbed?”
“What?” He asks, confusion settling on his face as he pours himself coffee.
“You did not have curtains Sunday.” You point out, twisting your body to gesture to the grey curtains in his over-sized windows. Are those tie backs?
“And I definitely would’ve noticed these.” You step over to the couch and pick up the navy and grey pillows leaning against the cushions.
“Oh,” Eric shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. “Charlotte picked them out.”
You aren't sure you’ve heard him correctly. You and Linda have tried more times than either of you can count to decorate this apartment. It’s a beautiful space, not far from Boston Common and it always drove you and his mother insane that he didn’t care to make it more hospitable. “She what?”
“Yeah, sugar, we went on Tuesday.” Charlotte calls from Eric’s bedroom. “I told him that I wouldn’t spend the night here again if he didn’t get curtains. And have sheets that match.”
“Wait… There’s matching sheets now?!” Eric rolls his eyes as you rest your coffee cup on his kitchen counter and push past him to the bedroom. She’s right. He’s got a striped navy bed set and navy curtains to match. The woman is a goddamn sorcerer. “Holy shit! How did you do this, Char. I’ve been trying to get him to do this for years!”
Charlotte winks with a smile as Eric comes up to stand behind you. “Kid, it isn’t a big deal.” He sighs as you turn to stare at him with wide eyes. He rubs at the sides of his mouth as you give him a little shove.
“Oh no.” You argue back as you head out of his room. “It’s a huge deal.”
“Ya gonna make her late for her flight, fella.” He counters, checking his watch. Clearly, he wants to change the subject. No you don’t, Grant.
When you check your phone, you realize it’s quarter till seven. He’s right, time to head out. “Got all your stuff, Char?” You ask, grabbing her purse from the counter.
“Of course, Sugar.” She nods, walking up to Eric and quickly kissing his cheek. “Bye, Eric.”
“Bye, honey.” He smiles and digs his keys out of his jacket by the door. “Oh kid, why don’t ya take Liv?” He holds up the key chain and you stop dead. He’s kidding, right?
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, why not?” Eric shrugs, tossing them to you. “I’ll take yours to the precinct. Just swing by after and we’ll switch em. Unless ya wanna keep her until I’m off and we can order takeout later tonight, at ya place?”
He’s lost his mind. He’s absolutely, completely lost his mind. He’s never let you drive that car, let alone borrow it all day. “You’re psycho about that car.” You tell him, grabbing your keys off the couch.
He shrugs, twisting his mouth into a smirk. “If ya don’t wanna take her…”
“Shut your mouth, of course I want to take her.” You make sure your own house key is still on his key ring before you open his door. “Text me when you’re off. I’ll order, you pick up.”
“Deal.” Eric agrees, heading back into his bedroom. “Be gentle with her!”
Charlotte walks with you toward Olivia. “Did he mean me or the car?”
You shake your head as you unlock the driver’s side door. “You know?” You tell her as you start the engine. “You probably don’t want me to answer that.”
You’re not even two minutes away from Eric’s building and you’re bouncing with excitement. You turn your head and glance at Charlotte with a huge grin. “I can’t believe he let me take Liv!”
“Why?” She asks, genuine curiosity making her furrow her brows.
“He doesn’t let anyone drive her.” You tell her as you maneuver the car onto the highway. It’s entirely unnecessary. You know how to get to Logan using the side and local roads but you want to give Liv a little gas. Being a passenger in this car simply doesn't do her justice. Her engine was made for long stretches of highway and vast open roads.
“Really?” Charlotte questions, turning down the radio. “He let me drive on Tuesday.”
“I’m sorry?” You sputter, hitting the brakes slightly. “He what?!”
“Yeah, he took me to lunch out in… Worchester?” She screws up her face, knowing she’s butchering the way that Worcester is pronounced. “I don’t remember the place but it was the best buffalo chicken pizza I’ve ever had. Y’all mean business up here. And on the way back home, he let me drive.”
“Jesus Christ.” You roll your eyes in annoyance. As you switch lanes to try and avoid the traffic you see, you glance at her quickly. She looks awfully proud of herself. “First he lets you drive Olivia, then he lets you put up curtains, pillows and matching sheets? What else did you convince him to do? Kick a puppy? ”
She leans forward, covering her laugh with her hand. “Well…” She starts, lowering her voice. “I may have also got him to choke me.”
You let out a heavy, resigned sigh as you lean back against the seat. “Jumped right into the aggressive stuff, huh Char?”
“Sure did. It was fantastic, sugar.” She grins, triumphantly. You raise your eyebrow in disbelief as you slow down. Traffic looks like it’ll be inevitable, you have a feeling you’ll be creeping along for the next two miles at least.
“I feel like I shouldn’t…” Part of you does not want to know how this happened. But you’re in traffic and from her face you can tell she really wants you to know about it. “But I’m going to need some details.”
“Well, it took a little convincing because he was worried about hurting me.” Charlotte smiles, clearly enjoying the memory. “But I have my ways of getting what I want. Honestly sugar, I think he enjoyed it as much as I did. Maybe more. After that first night, let me tell you - that boy picked up a lot of things.”
With the car at a full stop, you have no issue turning your head to stare at her. She lets out a soft chuckle at the expression on your face. “How did you know Eric would be into that?” You ask, shaking your head. “And how exactly did you know you were into it?”
“I just had a feeling about Eric. And Hugh was good for a few things, what can I say? Honestly, I would’ve figured it out eventually, just like I think you would.” She shrugs, twisting herself in her seat so she’s facing you. “Sugar, you are wound up tighter than a drum. You really should try it sometime. Find someone you trust and just let them -”
You glance at her quickly, rolling your eyes. “Let them what, Char?”
“Let them take control. Blindfold you, tie you up, the whole nine. I honestly think you’d love it…”
“I’ll think about it.” You tell her quietly.
In all the time you’d been with Sam, you had never trusted him enough for anything too kinky. He liked things a little rough and while you hadn’t minded it, you didn’t get much enjoyment out of it either.
Maybe, because it was always about what Sam wanted. He never once asked you if you had a fantasy or wanted to try something new.
In any case, you can’t imagine trusting anyone enough to allow them to take your carefully built control away from you.
“Speaking of things you love,” Charlotte nudges you with a grin. “How was your date? Did he spend the night?”
“The date was really nice.” You admit, letting a full smile creep onto your face. “And no, he did not spend the night.”
Charlotte pouts, crossing her arms as if you’ve offended her. “So then you have no excuse for not calling with the details last night.”
“I was a little preoccupied." Charlotte raises her eyebrow and uncrosses her arms, eagerly gesturing for you to continue. “John kissed me and holy shit Char, I’ve never been kissed like that before. He was so possessive; God it felt like he was everywhere at once. He pushed me against the wall and pinned my hands above my head. It was... “
As you shiver at the memory, your cheeks flush scarlet. Her caramel eyes widen as she stares at you. “Oh?” You merge lanes, seeing the sign for the airport up ahead. “He’s that good, huh? And here you are giving me grief about my kinks. You and I are way more alike than you think. John is going to open your eyes to a whole new world, if you let him.”
“We’ll see.” You argue with a small shrug. “But it wasn't just that. Honestly the whole date was amazing. John took me to the Athenæum and you know I’ve been dying to go there.”
“So he took you to a library for your date and then he kissed you like you belonged to him?” You nod as Charlotte starts giggling. “Sugar, you need to marry this man immediately.”
You head off the exit and stare up at the signs quickly, looking for the right terminal. “C’mon, it’s not like that. And besides, John doesn’t live here. He’ll go back to London as soon as he’s finished with his job.”
“It’s certainly like that. He took you to a library filled with old books, that you’ve been dying to go to for how long? Did you tell him you wanted to go there?” When you shake your head, she throws up her hands in exasperation. “So he just knew you’d like it? And he’s an amazing kisser?”
You nod and she gently rests her hand on your leg. “As for the distance, don’t make such a big deal out of it. Trust me, if this is something that you really want, y'all will figure out a way to make it work.” At your silence, she pushes on. “Look, just don’t count him out over a silly thing like that. You hear?”
You pull up to the curb and put Liv in park. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you slowly nod. “Alright, I promise. Just let me just get through a second date before we start picking out a wedding dress.”
You slide out of the car as she walks around to you. She wraps her arms around you as you rest your head on hers. “Make sure you text me when you land?” You ask as she leans back.
Charlotte smiles. “As long as you promise to call me after the second date.” You nod and hand her the duffel bag from the back seat. “Love you, Sugar.”
“Love you too.”
***
When you get back to work Monday, you’re called into the Director’s office. You’ve barely set your things down before you’re hurrying up the stairs to see him. This is the news you’ve been anxiously waiting for.
As you sit down, Connors smiles and tells you the Board was unanimous in their decision to promote you. At the end of opening night, they had cornered him to ensure you were the only one in the running. Doctor Morgan had been especially vocal in the decision to appoint you to the Curator’s role.
You hadn’t realized you’d made that much of an impression with him.
But you’re ecstatic at the news, jumping up and hugging him as it sinks in. “You’ll have an office down the hall. We’ve already got it ready for you. The nameplate was installed Saturday.”
You’re so happy, you could cry. When you tell him that, he hands you your paperwork. “Honestly, hun, that was another reason I was pushing for you. I’ve never met anyone so passionate about what we do here.”
“I won’t let you down, Director.” You vow, signing your name on all the forms. “I promise.”
He takes them from you and tucks the documents in his drawer. “I know you won’t and now, please call me Darren. You and I are going to be working hand in hand more than ever.”
You thank him again and head out the door to grab your things. You’re so full of enthusiastic energy that your hands are shaking as you pick up your phone. Quickly, you send off the same text to your dad, Eric, Charlotte and John telling them that you’ve gotten the promotion.
Almost every response is the same. Charlotte and your dad each express how proud they are of you, citing that they both knew you could do it, you were a shuin. Eric tells you he plans on taking you out Friday night to celebrate.
You bask in their warm words of congratulations and praise as you carry your things to your new office.
John’s response comes a few minutes later. ‘Congrats’ it says, nothing more nothing less. You’re taken by surprise at how curt he sounds. Maybe he’s in the middle of something? You shake it off, refusing to allow anything to kill your buzz right now.
Your office is a decent size with two large windows overlooking the Tozzer Library pathways. You let yourself have a few minutes to arrange the things you’ve kept at your small desk and open the curtains all the way.
Grace makes her way in with balloons and congratulates you with a big hug. “I knew you could do it, sweetie.” She gently pats your cheek before heading out.
Most of your morning is spent that way, receiving hugs and congratulations from other registrars and museum personnel. At 12:25, you head back up to your office knowing that John should be here soon. You have a waiting text message from him when you slide open your phone.
John Constantine:
Last minute change of plans. I can’t make it.
Anger flares through you, hot and irrational. You click your phone off and sink into your chair. Of course he’s cancelling.
You try not to immediately think the worst but as you stare at the text message, all you can think of is Sam. He used that excuse countless times so he could blow you off and keep you on the hook. How stupid can you be for thinking that this would be different?
You’re content to eat lunch alone in your office. In fact, now, you’d prefer it. So when the Director calls to tell you he and Doctor Morgan are taking you out to lunch to celebrate, you almost turn him down.
“Nonsense.” He remarks, with a smile in his voice. “Meet us in the lobby in five, you deserve this.”
He’s right, you think resolutely. I worked my ass off for this. John’s not going to ruin my day. “Thanks Darren, I’ll be right there.”
***
John vehemently apologized early Tuesday morning. He had called you on your drive in, sounding like he hadn’t slept in days. He told you he had gotten tied up with work; if he had left when he had wanted to it would’ve been a bloody mess.
You told him you understood, not pressing him for details. You knew you wouldn’t get them even if you asked.
“I’ll make it up to you, luv.” He had promised as you pulled into your spot. “I swear it.”
You disconnected your phone from the bluetooth in your car before answering him. “It’s alright, John. Shit happens, right?”
“Aye, it does.” He sighed, letting his exhaustion creep into his voice. “I hope that I didn’t put a damper on your day. Darren told me he took you to lunch to celebrate your promotion.”
“He and Doctor Morgan did, it was a good day.” As you had walked into the building you decided not to let your fear get the best of you. “Johnny, are you free Friday night? I thought we could do something together and then grab a drink with my friend Eric?”
John had answered immediately. “I am and I’d love to. Now, I’m not usually the bloke who plays well with others but I suppose I could make an exception."
***
You weren’t expecting to see John until Friday. You talked throughout the day all Tuesday and Wednesday, flirting through text back and forth. He had suggested dinner before he met Eric and you readily agreed to it, as well as his offer to pick the place.
So when you glance up from your acquisitions list Thursday afternoon to see John’s crooked grin, you jump up from your seat. “What are you doing here?” You ask him, feeling your heart race in delight. He smirks at you as he steps closer to your desk.
“I didn’t want to wait till tomorrow to see you, luv.” John admits, holding up a bag from the sandwich shop down the street. “And I owed you lunch now, didn’t I?”
You motion for him to sit and slide your papers into your drawer. “You didn’t have to -”
“Course I bloody did, I canceled so it's only proper that I make it up to you.” He shakes his head, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “Now, let’s pretend it’s Monday and you tell Johnny all about this promotion of yours, ay?”
You smile at him, you can’t help it. As upset as you had been, hearing John say that he hadn’t wanted to wait to see you fills you with a sense of satisfaction you can’t quite explain. You unwrap your lunch with a small smile and relive your Monday for him.
John grins again and leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. As you speak, he hangs on your every word attentively. By the time you’re finished, you’ve completely forgiven him.
After lunch, John presses a quick kiss to your forehead and takes his leave. The action is so sweet, so unexpected, that it floods you with warmth for the rest of the day.
***
You find that you don’t like shutting your door unless you’re in a meeting. It makes your office feel small and stifling. So when you hear your door creak and click shut, you speak before lifting your head. “I actually like to keep my door op-” Your words choke off as you stare into the hazel eyes of your ex- boyfriend. “What…”
“What am I doing here?” He mocks in a tone filled with derision. He steps fully into the room, letting his six foot four frame, flood the space. Panic settles in your stomach as you watch Sam turn and lock your office door, before crossing the distance to your desk.
“You should know already, seeing as you left me that voicemail trying to get my attention.”
Fuck. “I wasn't…” You stand quickly, mind racing. Your cellphone is in your bag, by the door, just out of your reach and your office phone number won’t be working until Monday.
After a week had gone by and he hadn’t reached out about that voicemail, you believed that he didn’t care. You absolutely had not expected to see him, least of all here.
“I knew you’d miss me but c’mon kitten, there’s other ways to get my attention.” Sam runs a hand through his dark hair as he stares down at you. You bristle at the nickname. Kitten. He knew you hated it when you were together and it hasn't changed.
“You didn’t have to act like a child just to see me and then make me go through hoops to find you.” He leans forward onto your desk and takes a quick glance around. “Although the privacy of your office gives me all kinds of ideas.”
You take a step back, crossing your arms defensively. He can’t be serious. “I was drunk… I really don’t -”
“Trust me. I know you were drunk, clearly that’s turning out to be a problem without me, isn’t it? It makes you sloppy. Fun, but sloppy.”
He picks up the framed photo of you and Charlotte in your graduation gowns and sneers at it. “I told you when I met that white trash friend of yours, that she would be nothing but trouble and here we are.”
“Do not speak about her like that.” You grab the frame from him and lay it back down on your desk. “Charli’s been there for me every time you weren’t.”
You take a step toward him, letting your panic turn to hot anger. It rises in the back of your throat, making you swallow and take a steadying breath. “And I don’t have a drinking problem. My only problem is you.”
“Me?” Sam laughs and settles himself against the side of your desk, effectively trapping you between the wall and him. Unless you try to jump the desk, you’re stuck.
“Kitten, don’t be like that. You called me. Obviously you're still into this, and I get it. What we had was a lot of fun for me. You’re the one who couldn’t handle sharing. I knew you’d eventually come crawling back and accept what you and I were.”
“Sam, get out.” You roll your eyes and gesture to the door. “I’m done with this conversation and most definitely done with you. I don’t regret what I said that night. You treated me like -”
“Oh kitten, you don’t get to say when we’re done. I do and let me tell you something." Sam pushes himself off the desk and steps toward you until your back is pressed against the wall. “You will never be done with me. I am the best that you’re ever gonna get, you know it. No one is going to treat you like I did. The way you know you deserve to be treated.”
“Fuck you.” You grind out venomously. How dare he?
“Still haven’t learned to watch that pretty little mouth of yours, huh?” One of his hands gently caresses your cheek while the other threads into your hair, tugging at the base so you’re forced to stare up at him. “I can think of a much better use for it; it’ll show you what happens to little girls who talk like that.”
Bile rises in your throat as you try to twist yourself out of his grip. “Get your hands off of me or I will scream.” Your voice remains calm, but you feel anything but. Sam has never hurt you, but his anger and condescension puts you on edge.
“There’s no one else up here.” He shrugs, moving his hand from your cheek to the wall near your head. “Everyone was heading out for lunch when I came up looking for you.”
You slide your eyes toward your door before settling back on Sam’s self righteously smirking face. That can’t be true.
“So, this can go the easy way or the hard way.” Sam leans closer to you, moving the hand in your hair to the back of your neck. You can feel your skin crawl from the warmth of his fingers.
When he crudely stares down at the neckline of your dress, you wish you’d worn anything else today. “It’s up to you, because I’m down for either.”
You duck down and try to shimmy away from him despite the enclosed space he’s created. “I swear to God Sam, if you put your goddamn hands on me again, you will regret it.”
“And what are you going to do about it?” He takes a step back, creating the barest distance between you. When he raises his hands nonchalantly, you resist the urge to slap him. “Kitten, let’s be honest... You’ve never been able to stop me.”
“Excuse me?”
Sam laughs, letting out a low rumble in his chest. The sound makes him seem menacing, at odds with the normal smooth timbre of his voice. “I always get what I want from you, eventually. So don’t play stupid, it isn’t a good look for you.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” You cross your arms again, twisting to the side in an attempt to put as much space between you as possible. You watch him warily as he fiddles with a pen on your desk.
“C'mon, you remember the party with Nicky? You were pretty out of it, but we were still gonna have a great time. We had you right where we wanted you.”
Sam smirks as your eyes widen. “He says hi, by the way. Says that his brother is still being a shithead. We’re surprised you’re even still friends with Eric at this point.”
You roll your eyes, in an attempt to prove to Sam you’re unbothered by him talking about that night. You don’t want to talk about it, but you’re not going to show him how much he’s making you nervous. “Nothing happened at that party, Sam.”
“Of course not, kitten. But at the end of the day, you wouldn’t have been able to say no to me. Or to Nicky.” He runs a hand down his stubble as he sighs, letting a wistful expression settle on his face. “If we just had a few more uninterrupted minutes, the three of us would’ve definitely -”
Three quick raps on your door save you from Sam finishing his comment. “Hey, kid!” Eric, you have excellent timing. “Ya good in there? Why’s ya door locked?” He jiggles the door handle and knocks again.
“Son of a bitch always had the worst timing.” Sam rolls his eyes and steps toward the door. You follow him, driven by your desire to get out the corner you ended up in. “We're far from over, kitten. Remember, you caused this.”
He opens the door and sizes Eric up before glancing over his shoulder at you. “You’ll see me again soon.”
Eric leans against the door frame, one hand holding a bag as the other moves to rest on his hip. The gesture moves his suit jacket back, revealing his side arm. A deliberate move on his part, you’re sure. “Campbell.”
Sam glances down at Eric’s hip and crosses his arms. Sam may be taller than Eric but you know he won’t risk starting a fight with him. “Grant.”
Without another word, Sam pushes past Eric and makes his way out into the hall. You lean around Eric and watch as he steps into the elevator. When Sam turns and smirks at you, you push down the shiver you feel and lean back into your office with shaking hands.
“Ya good, kid?” Eric asks as he rests a hand on your shoulder. You need a second as you let yourself sag against your desk, trying to calm your thudding heartbeat. “What was he doin’ here? I mean, ya haven’t talked to him in -”
“Three years.” You let out a heavy sigh and anxiously smooth out the skirt of your dress. “Charlotte and I got drunk, she called him and I told him off. He felt the need to respond in person.”
“Fella, I’m wicked sorry.” He shakes his head, settling into the chair next to your bag. “I’m sure she didn’t mean for this to happen.”
You push yourself off the desk and start pacing back and forth. “It’s fine. I should’ve known better.” And you should have. It was naive to assume that after your exhaustive history with him, Sam would just let something like that slide.
“Don’t do that, bud.” Eric tells you, sensing the mental spiral you’re about to go down. He always knows what you're thinking; your emotions are too easily written across your face. Sometimes you wish you could hide your expressions better. “He’s a shit. Always has been and you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”
You run your fingers through your hair as you stare out your open door. You keep waiting for Sam to stroll back through. “Not that I’m not grateful for it, but what’s with the surprise, Eric?”
He shrugs and gestures to the bag beside him. “Well, ya bring me lunch all the time so I thought I’d return the favor.”
“You really didn’t have to do that.” You smile at him, as you stop pacing and sink down into the seat next to him.
“Obviously, I did.” He points out, not unkindly. “Who knows how long dickhead woulda stayed if I hadn’t stopped by.” He’s got a point, Sam was venturing into uncomfortable territory by talking about that party. You were nervous enough with the way he was acting. If Eric hadn’t come in when he did…
He waves his hand to get your attention. “You sure ya alright, fella? Ya look wicked spooked.”
You unpack your lo mein and dig in with a nod. “I’m fine. I just didn’t expect him.” You’re not lying, you just... can’t elaborate. Eric doesn’t seem convinced but thankfully, he doesn’t push.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” You tell him, setting down your noodles. You raise an eyebrow as he peers up at you curiously. “Why would you let Charli drive Liv before me?”
He lets out a heavy sigh, knowing he’s busted and rubs the sides of his mouth anxiously. “Kid… She just… She gave me those cute puppy dog eyes she does and pouted. God and the way she talks… I could listen to it for hours. How could I say no to her?”
“Same way you told me no.” You answer, giving him a pointed stare.
“Nah, it’s different.” He protests and no matter how much you push him, he refuses to elaborate. You roll your eyes and pick up your lunch again. After a few minutes, Eric slides open his phone and glances up at you.
“Speaking of Charlotte, calla lilies are her favorite flower, yeah?” You nod and ask him why. “Cause I wanna do somethin’ nice for my girlfriend? She's been quiet since she got back and miss her.”
You cough and raise both eyebrows at him. “I’m sorry, girlfriend?”
“Shit.” Eric immediately drops his phone and sets his food aside. “Ya can’t say anythin’! She doesn’t want you knowin’ yet! We were gonna tell ya when we were all together for Labor Day.” He leans back, screwing his face up in concern.
You take a deep breath and try not to make a hasty grab for your phone. “Why doesn’t she want me knowing?”
Eric's voice comes out rushed and tight. “She wanted to make sure that this was gonna work out before we told you. Didn’t want ya freakin’ out over this if it didn’t even last that long.”
“Is this really what you want, Eric?” You ask him, placing your carton on the floor again and crossing your arms. You had decided not to butt in when they were just having a casual fling, they were both adults that knew the risks of something like that.
But this is vastly different. No wonder Charlotte pushed you to give John a shot despite the distance. She had just agreed to a relationship with a fifteen hundred mile difference.
“Kid, I’ve never felt this way with any other girl.” Eric protests desperately. He seems serious and more sincere than you’ve ever heard him. “Havin’ her at my place was just… It was so different. Like in a good way. She’s funny, wicked smaht and I swear when I look at her, I get frickin’ buttahflies in my stomach. And honestly, some of the things she’s let me do. Goddamn.”
“Eric -”
“You know me, I’m not normally into weird shit, but face fuckin’?” He groans and shakes his head. “Always wanted to try it, but no one would let me. She agreed before I even got the sentence out and I thought I was gonna pass out.”
You never minded hearing about Eric’s conquests, it’s not like there were thousands of them. But you certainly don’t want to hear one best friend talk about the things she let your other best friend do to her. It definitely borders into too much information territory.
Eric carries on as if he hasn’t heard you. “I had to stop at one point cause I thought I was hurtin’ her. Like she was cryin’ and pushin’ my legs. But then when I pulled out, she flat out asked me why I stopped. I told her that I didn’t wanna hurt her and she deadass looked me in the eye and told me that she wanted me to.” He shivers from the memory. “Never came so hard in my life.”
“Eric!”
“Oh shit… Sorry fella, this is probably really weird for you to hear.” He looks properly ashamed but if you squint, the little shit still looks proud. “I didn’t mean to make this weird for ya, we just talk about everythin’ and goddamn that girl is good. When she asked me to -”
You raise your hands to make him stop. “I heard!”
“Wait, Charlotte told you that?” Eric raises an eyebrow as you let out a small chuckle. You remind him that you and Charlotte are best friends, you also tell each other everything. He runs a hair through his dark hair and grimaces at you. “I know but I didn’t think she’d talk about that.”
“Why?” You ask him, scrunching your face in confusion. “It isn’t like it’s that big of a deal.” He cautiously asks you what it is exactly that Charlotte told you. You shrug, no longer phased by it. “That she asked you to choke her.”
Eric laughs, pressing a hand to his chest. “We are definitely not talkin’ about the same thing.” He picks up his food with a smirk. “She wanted me -”
“Grant, do not finish that sentence.”
“Fine, fine.” Eric shakes his head and takes a few more bites of his rice. “So, am I still meetin’ this mystery man later?” What he means is, are you mad at me?
You let him off the hook quickly. “Of course, I was thinking we’d probably be at your place by like ten? If you’re not out yet, I’ll let myself in.” Eric nods in agreement as he chews.
You didn’t think he’d mind if you beat him there, you just wanted to check. “John and I were just going to do dinner but honestly, I might take him to the arcade. After that bullshit, I need to fucking shoot something.”
“Ya do you, but stick to, like, zombies. I don’t need ya to get arrested.” He lets out a low whistle as you roll your eyes. “I’m not gonna explain that to ya mothah.”
“Yeah, you would. I think you’d prefer to explain to Priscilla how I ended up in police custody rather than call Charli and tell her you spilled the beans.” He presses his lips into a fine line, a tell tale sign that you’re correct. “Cause that’s all you pal.”
Notes:
Sam really is a shit. And he's right, this isn't the last we've seen of him...
Anyone else pick up on the fact that John (unsucessfully) tried to put some distance between you? He caved the literal next day. Denial ain't just a river in Egypt, Johnny.
Next week, John takes you on a second official date. Flirty banter, lots of steamy moments, sassiness and absolute adorableness ensues :)
Chapter 11: You call it teasing, I call it foreplay.
Summary:
You go on your second date with John. From the teasing and flirting back and forth, to the way he makes you feel, you're afraid to admit how much you're falling for him. Later, Eric meets John, but not before walking in on the two of you in a compromising position.
Notes:
Ah the teasing and witty banter! Literally my favorite thing to write and no one does it quite like John. I hope you love this as much as I do!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
You’re much calmer by the time five o’clock rolls around. You know you’re going out with John and then meeting Eric for a few drinks at The Bell In Hand, your favorite bar. The drinks are great but honestly, it’s the history of the place that makes you adore it.
The Bell’s been on Union Street since 1795; it’s one of the city's few remaining Revolutionary War era taverns. You smile to yourself as you put away your laptop, thinking of how much fun you’re going to have pushing John’s buttons when you get there. It’s part of the whole appeal, isn’t it?
What did I call it? you muse to yourself as you unplug your cell phone from the wall. I remember, 'weird antagonistic foreplay'. Whatever it was, you love it as much as John does.
Gathering your things, you lock up your office for the weekend and head down the stairs. Once you get in your car, you shoot Eric a quick message confirming that you’ll meet at his apartment for ten. He sends you as thumbs up as you pull out of the museum’s garage.
Once you’re home, you throw your bag on the counter and head into your room to change out of your work clothes. Kicking off your oxford heels, you quickly throw them in the closet. You stare out your door and into the bathroom, wondering if you have time for a quick shower.
It’s been humid as hell all day, you could feel it in your office. Despite the cool air of your townhouse, the mugginess still clings to you like a second skin. Grabbing a towel, you decide a quick one couldn’t hurt.
As the cool water rushes over your skin, you find yourself distracted by your thoughts. Seeing Sam today seriously threw you. The last time you were face to face with him, you had confronted him about his marriage and he had pushed you in the lobby of the museum. He had flown out of there after that and you hadn’t seen him since.
Those first few months after that were like having a broken rib. No one could see it, but the pain was unbearable every time you took a breath. It had been exhausting, trying to get yourself to a place where you could move on.
Sam was a wound that hadn't fully closed and being that near to him again disrupted any healing you had done without him.
The sheer audacity he had, slipping in and trying to intimidate you? Who the hell does Sam think he is? You have half a mind to call his wife and let her know what he’s up to. But that would further open the lines of communication, something you absolutely do not want.
It made you anxious enough that Sam could just waltz into your office the way he did. He had never made you as nervous as he did today; you’d always been able to handle him.
You could get Eric more involved, but he would deserve to know the whole truth if you asked him to step in. That would lead to questions you didn’t want to answer and lying to Eric was different than simply not telling him everything.
And then there’s John, you think as you turn off the water and step out. You need to shrug off these thoughts before he gets here. It’s your second date, third if you count the impromptu lunch from yesterday, and you’re sure he doesn’t want to hear all about your emotional baggage.
As you walk into your room, you ask your phone to play your ‘Going Out’ playlist so you can get yourself in the right head space. Knowing that you’ve got a great guy who wants to take you out, you refuse to let Sam live rent-free in your head any longer. You’re going to have a great time tonight, you just need to clear your mind.
***
At seven on the dot, John knocks on your door. When you open it, he gives you an enigmatic smile as he looks you over. From his wide eyes and steady stare, you feel confident that pairing a sleeveless button up with a high waisted skirt was the way to go. When he wolf whistles, your cheeks grow warm from his approval.
“You look absolutely smashing tonight, sweet'eart.” He tells you as you grab your purse from the counter. “I saw this scrummy little place on the way up here, thought we could pop in for dinner before we meet up with your mate. Sound good to you?”
“Actually, Johnny.” You turn to face him with a half smile. You hadn’t considered if he’d care that you wanted to completely change whatever he had planned. “I was thinking we could do something else tonight. If you don’t mind me switching things up on you?”
John grins and quickly crosses the distance to you. “Oh?” His eyes flash with excitement as he watches you bite your lip anxiously. “You want to switch things up, do you?”
“Yeah, I had a day and I want to kill something.” John’s eyes widen as he takes in what you’ve said. You stifle a laugh at the surprised expression that quickly flits across his face before you answer him. “We’re gonna hit up an arcade.”
He steps back from you, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Oh.” From his furrowed brow and the way his face fell, you could tell he’s disappointed. Shit.
“Is that alright?” You ask, trying to backpedal and put the ball back in his court. “I mean, if you’re starving, we could absolutely grab food first.” You’re rambling again, but you can’t help it. “I just figured that you hopefully wouldn’t mind if I -”
“It’s perfectly fine, luv.” John assures you with a smile and motions to the door. “Do you wanna talk about your ruddy day on the way?” His voice is soft and sincere but you don’t want to bother him with the details of today. You just want to push it from your mind and enjoy the present.
You walk with him and lock your door once you’re on the other side of it. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you about it, Johnny. I just don’t want to talk about it, period.” When he nods, you hold up your keys to him. “I’m assuming you took a taxi, do you want to drive?”
John shakes his head and raises his hands in surrender. “Normally I’d say yes, but have at it, luv.” He lets out a low chuckle as you both walk down your steps. “You lot drive on the wrong bloody side, so I don’t fancy driving stateside anyways.”
“You have no problem riding a motorcycle but you don’t like driving a car?” He shakes his head emphatically as he hops into the passenger seat.
You give him a sideways glance and laugh as you pull out onto the road. “Eventually you’re gonna have to get over the fact that we won, you know. It was over two hundred years ago.”
“I say this on behalf of all proper English folk.” John responds indignantly, leaning back into the seat with a raised brow. “No, we bloody don’t.”
When you glance at his disgruntled face, you can’t stop the fit of laughter that bubbles out of you. You nudge him until he starts to laugh too and you carry on that way until you reach the arcade.
Once you’ve parked, John lights up a cigarette as you walk side by side up the street. He threads his fingers through yours with a smirk and continues walking as he blows out a puff of smoke.
You steal a glance at him as he squeezes your hand. When he turns his head to peer down at you, John’s face has a rakish quality to it. His dark eyes gleam with a certain charm and cunning that makes them sparkle.
Somehow, he’s even more handsome under the glow of the streetlights.
As he runs his free hand through his unruly blond hair, the embers of the cigarette glow in the darkness. John smiles when he catches you staring, letting his careless grin accentuate his already striking features.
You’d been fooling yourself by thinking you weren’t interested in him from the second you met.
“This is the place, innit?” John asks, stopping when he sees the entrance to the arcade on his left. You nod and he holds open the door for you with a smile. Letting himself have one last drag of his cigarette, he flicks it into the bucket by the door.
He prepays for ninety minutes of unlimited game play, despite your offer to pick up the tab. “I’m not gonna make you pay and then wipe the floor with you, that’s bloody uncivilized.” John quips, leading you inside. “But don’t expect me to go easy on you, pet.”
“Oh c’mon, Johnny.” You laugh as you drag him over to the skee-ball machines. “That’s awfully gentlemanly of you, but you can’t beat me.”
John chuckles as he presses the button to start the game. “Oh, I’m sure I can.” You cross your arms as you watch the striped skee balls roll down the tube. “Watch and see how it’s done, luv.”
He smirks as he rolls the ball up the ramp, aiming for the ‘100 point’ hole. You politely cover your laugh when it bounces off the ball-hop and rolls into the ‘0 point’ hole instead.
Each of John’s nine turns gives him no more than a hundred points total. With a loud groan, he hands over the game card without looking at you.
“Don't feel bad, a lot of men have trouble getting it into the hole.” You tease as you pick up a ball. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
John gives you a heated stare. “I don't have that problem, trust me.” He watches you as you take aim, his dark eyes keeping a steady gaze on your back.
You throw your arms up when your ball flies into the ‘50 point hole’ twice in a row. “You sure?” You laugh, turning to see John’s raised eyebrows. “Cause your score said otherwise, Johnny.”
“I exceed at other games luv, I’ll happily show you.” You raise your eyebrow at his thinly veiled come on. “And call me a smarmy bloke if you like, but when I’m done with you, you won’t want to play with anyone else.” You pause, momentarily unable to speak. You swallow thickly and let your flushed cheeks respond for you.
When you win with over triple John’s score, he pulls you to him and rests his hand on the small of your back. He leans in, quickly closing the distance between you. You close your eyes, anticipating a kiss. “Alright, luv,” he whispers, his lips grazing yours. “Best two out of three.”
That’s the game he wants to play? Alright. You open your eyes and step back from him. “I mean, if you insist.” You smile, making a show of letting your hips sway as you roll the ball up the ramp. You feel his eyes on you as you rack up your score, ball after ball after ball.
After the fifth round, you spin around excitedly. You’ve won every time, despite John’s best efforts. “Are you ready to admit defeat, Johnny?” You ask him, running your fingers up his arm. “Maybe we should try something else, something easier. Then maybe you’d be able to beat me.”
You smirk up at him through your lashes, watching his eyes darken as you tease him. “Though I highly doubt there’s a game in here where I couldn’t wipe the floor with you.”
John straightens his spine and looks around quickly, smiling when he settles on a two player game across the room.
“You know pet, you really shouldn’t tease me.” He warns, taking your hand. “You’ll get yourself into trouble that way.”
You giggle and let him swipe the card to start the game. "Come on, I thought you liked my teasing?" You smile and rest your hands on the joystick. "And you were clearly teasing when you said you weren’t gonna go easy on me, cause I’m pretty sure I -”
"Oh, I wasn’t teasing you, luv.” John interrupts, leveling his dark gaze on you. It roots you to the spot as he tucks your hair behind your ear. “Wait til I get you alone pet, then you’ll beg me to tease you.”
You roll your eyes despite feeling warmth pool in your stomach. “Promises, promises.” You murmur, biting your lip.
You love this, the flirty banter back and forth. You never would have pegged yourself to be the type of girl who would be so brazen with a man you were just getting to know. But John gets under your skin in the best way. He surprises you into surprising yourself, something you’re not used to.
After three rounds of this game, you pull out another victory. John crosses his arms and lifts his chin, trying his best not to look disappointed. “No one likes a sore loser, Johnny.” You point out with a laugh. “But you can pick the next game too, if it makes you feel better.”
To his credit, John smiles good-naturedly. You had worried that he wasn’t enjoying himself but from the mischievous glint in his eyes, you banish the thought. “Alright, luv.” He points to a zombie game across the room. “But just remember, you asked for it.”
You roll your eyes and start walking toward the survival game. “It’s adorable that you think you’re just going to start magically beating me.” You don’t see the crooked grin he gives you as he follows behind.
John swipes the card and mutters something unintelligible as he picks up the plastic gun. “What did you say?” You ask, raising your eyebrow in confusion.
He shrugs with a smile, telling you he was just talking to himself. “If you say so,” you laugh, aiming the gun at the screen. “Preparing yourself to lose, again?”
John doesn’t respond, just takes aim and hits the zombie square in the forehead. “Lucky shot.” You tell him, rolling your eyes. “Do it again and I’ll be impressed.”
“Luck’s got nothing to do with it, sweet’eart.” He fires off three more rounds, perfect scores each time. You aren’t a bad shot, but every round you fire off narrowly misses its target. John smiles each time his score increases. “Impressed yet?”
He pumps the air triumphantly when he sees the final score. Now it’s your turn to get close to him. “Best two out of three?” You give John a coy smile, holding up the plastic gun. “If you really think it wasn’t luck.”
“It wasn’t.” He promises. “But if you insist, I aim to please.”
Two more rounds and John wipes the floor with you each time. It’s like you’ve lost the ability to aim. Eric would be so disappointed in you if he were to witness this atrocity. “Where have you been hiding this ability?” You ask as John bows dramatically when he wins again.
“I was lulling you into a false sense of security, paying attention to your weaknesses.” John smirks, gesturing toward the bar. “That way, it's much more satisfying when I take you down.”
“I’d like to see you try.” You glance at your phone, knowing you have a little bit of time until you head to Eric’s. Smiling up at him, you motion for him to lead the way. “I don’t call beating me at one game taking me down.”
He rests his hand on the small of your back as you walk. “I don’t either, pet.” He admits, pulling you closer to him. “I call it foreplay.”
You motion to the bartender before turning back to John. He watches you with a raised brow and a slight tight lipped smile. “You’re feeling pretty damn smug right now huh, Johnny?” You ask as the bartender leans over and asks what you’ll have.
Before John can open his mouth, you answer for him. “Gin and tonic and a diet coke, please.” At his surprised expression, you cross your arms, feeling a bit smug yourself. “What? You’re not the only one who pays attention.”
***
You let yourself into Eric’s apartment just before ten. Before John can even ask why you have a key, you begin to explain as you drop your bag onto the couch.
“Eric’s dad and my dad have been friends since college.” You tell him as you head over to the bar and make yourself a drink. You start pouring whiskey into the glass and lift the bottle in question, asking if he wants the same drink you’re making.
When he nods, you grab another glass and motion for him to sit. “The two went to law school together and now they run a firm here in the city. I’ve been friends with Eric since I was a little kid. Practically grew up together. We have a key to each other’s places, just in case.”
John settles onto the couch, getting comfortable as you finish your story. “He’s not always great about eating and all that, so -”
“So you make sure he doesn’t let himself fall apart.” John smiles, crossing his leg over his knee. “He’s lucky to have someone like you in his life. The world’s a bloody rubbish place if a bloke doesn’t have someone he can trust.”
You hand John his drink and settle down beside him. “You sound like you speak from experience, John.” He doesn’t answer, just takes a long sip of his drink and meets your eyes.
You watch him as you take a small sip of your own. His shoulders are set in a hard line, his brow furrowed defensively. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“You’re alright, luv. I opened that door now, didn’t I?” John plasters a smile on his face and uncrosses his leg, scooting closer to you. “I usually end up working alone, is all. Just the hand I was dealt, so now I choose it.” He looks down, carefully inspecting his glass.
Setting your drink on Eric’s side table, you lean in and stare at him intently. “That sounds like a lonely life.” You decide as he glances up at you.
“Maybe, but it’s easier that way.” John sighs and runs his knuckles across your cheek. “Less chance of someone getting hurt.”
You can’t help but lean into his touch as you answer him. “Easier doesn’t always equal better, Johnny.” His dark eyes bore into yours, staring at you as if you’ve just spoken Latin again.
But even as you argue with him, you completely understand what he’s saying. You push everyone away to protect your own feelings, especially after Sam.
But John’s been different. John’s been so forward with you, and it’s been so fun. You can’t imagine that he’s the type to have to shut people out to protect himself.
Your thoughts scatter when John presses his lips to yours. The action is so unexpected, that when you gasp in surprise, he smiles against your mouth.
His lips are gentle but sure as he moves his hand into your hair. He pulls back for a moment, staring at your lips before glancing up to your eyes with an ardent expression.
Your fingers wrap around his tie and use it to pull him closer to you. As you close your eyes, John pushes you back on the couch, settling himself between your legs as one hand moves under your skirt.
When he bites your lower lip, you can’t help the moan that slips out of you. Your other hand cups the back of his neck and he groans into your mouth, savoring the fact that you want more of him.
You let out a soft sigh and part your lips slightly, allowing John the control he’s asking for. He deepens the kiss, moving more insistently and moves his hand to start unbuttoning your shirt.
He moves his lips to your neck, placing small kisses down the column of your throat. Desire rushes through you as he expertly slips a hand under the lace of your bra. John rolls your nipple between his fingers, making you hiss in pleasure. As you arch your back up, with a sharp intake of breath, you hear keys jingle in the door.
Wait, what? Keys? As flustered as you are, it takes you a moment to remember that you’re in your friend’s apartment. Waiting for him to come home. Shit.
As quick as you’re able, you push John off of you and move back into a sitting position. John’s look of confusion is short lived when he hears Eric’s keys too.
Both of you are out of breath and in various states of undress. Not the impression you wanted to make when the guy you’re seeing meets Eric for the first time. As the door slides open, you gingerly touch your swollen lips and grin back at John.
Your lipstick must be smudged, he’s got traces of it on his lower lip. His eyes are still heavy-lidded and dark. You’re pleased to see you had the same effect on him that he has on you.
Quickly, you use the edge of his tie to wipe away any evidence from his lip as he tries to button your top. “Sorry, fella!” Eric apologizes, shrugging out of his suit jacket. “Finally caught the break I needed for this case and I just lost track of time.”
“It’s fine, Eric. I figured if something had come up, you would’ve texted me. We didn’t mind the wait.” You stand up and anxiously smooth the lines of your skirt. Quickly, you gesture to the bar behind you. “We did dip into your good stuff though.”
“All good, kid.” Eric shrugs, running a hand through his hair as he glances at the two of you. Loosening his tie, he walks over to his counter and tosses it over his head. His wallet, badge, and keys all land in a pile next to it.
You watch Eric pull his 9mm off his belt and head into his room. “So, tell me about this break.” You call out to him, taking a step in his direction.
“Oh, I’m gonna.” Eric laughs from his room. “Just lemme get changed first.”
John wraps his fingers around your wrist and you twist around with a furrowed brow. “You didn’t tell me your friend was a bobbie.” He hisses, glancing behind you. At your confused expression, he rolls his eyes. “A bobbie, a bloody cop.”
“He’s a detective. Why does it matter?” You ask him, crossing your arms. “Do you have issues with law enforcement?”
John lets out a heavy sigh and leans back into the cushions. “No, they just tend to complicate things in my line of work.”
“Okay, maybe they do things differently in England,” you argue, settling back down on the couch. “But you and I are basically in the same line of work. I’ve never had an issue with the police.” He stays silent for a second, regarding you carefully. “Is this going to be a problem?”
John shakes his head and walks over to the bar. “No, of course not, luv. I just wasn’t expecting it. You surprise me daily.” He pushes his shirt sleeves further up his arms and starts making a fresh round of drinks.
You watch his shoulders tense up like they had minutes before and have a moment of unease. It’s concerning how his kiss makes you forget the things that made you wary of John in the first place.
You’re not going to push this right now, not with Eric feet away, but you will get answers from him. You turn your head as you hear Eric’s footsteps coming from the small hallway.
“Okay, so.” He raises both hands in excitement as he hops into his chair. “We had this guy in custody, right?” You nod, twisting your body to give him your full attention.
“Questioned him for hours and he kept swearin’ up and down that he was innocent. But his DNA was such a close match! Even Paddy thought it was him and you know how Paddy is about collars.”
You laugh when Eric does. Patrick isn’t the type to jump the gun; you don’t jump to rash decisions when you’ve been on the force for over twenty five years. “So we’re talkin’ and talkin’ and suddenly, I’m like ‘Grant, you fuckin’ meatball! He has an identical twin brother!’ and we booked the guy.”
You smile at how pleased with himself he is. “You closed the case then?” You ask as John hands you your drink.
“Oh yeah. He confessed everythin’ the second the cuffs were on.” Eric stands and steps forward. “I’m wicked sorry, I’m Eric.” He holds out his hand for John to take. With a disarming smile, John takes it and offers Eric a drink with his free hand. “You gotta be the infamous John she’s told me nothin’ about.”
John shrugs casually and lets out a small chuckle. “Guilty, mate.”
Eric laughs and takes a sip of his drink. “How’d ya know?” He asks, widening his eyes. Before John can ask what he means, Eric turns to you and shoves his drink in your face. “Try this fella, it’s a perfect Sazerac. Like, perfect.”
You take the glass and have a small sip. Eric’s right, it is perfect. You glance up at John, raising an eyebrow.
“I saw the absinthe, knew we have a mutual friend who’s spent some time in New Orleans.” He winks at you and turns back to Eric. “Her drink is an Old Fashioned. You don’t seem to be the type of bloke to straight chase the green fairy. So it was just a lucky guess, really. ”
Eric nods, clearly impressed. “Alright, man. I’m pickin’ up what ya puttin’ down.” He gestures for John to sit down and does the same, leaning forward to continue the conversation. “It’s great to finally meet ya, John.” He gestures to you with a sly grin. “Kid talks about ya all the time -”
“Eric!” You hiss with a laugh, feeling embarrassment color your cheeks.
“Does she now?” John scoots closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “Alright big man, fill me in then.”
Eric’s eyes sparkle with animation as he opens his mouth. John’s pocket buzzes, interrupting the conversation. He apologizes and reaches back to grab it. Glancing at the name, he sighs and lifts his arm from your shoulders. “I have to take this luv, it’s work. I’ll make it quick, I apologize.” You nod as he stands.
“My rooms down there.” Eric thumbs in the direction. “Feel free if ya need some privacy.”
“Cheers, mate.” John nods, hurrying down the hall. “All right, Chas.” John answers, speaking into his phone. “Tell me you’ve bloody got something I can use.”
“I like him, bud.” Eric smiles and rubs the sides of his beard with his free hand. Moving from his chair to the empty edge of the couch, he lowers his voice. “So uh, ya need me to fuck off for a little bit?”
You’re so startled, you almost choke on your drink. “What?” You ask, confused by the sudden change in his tone.
“Do you, need me, to fuck off?” He repeats, letting humor inflect his tone. “Like, let ya finish whatever you were in the middle of? Charlotte’s still awake, I could go outside and call her back, she won’t mind.”
“Eric, we weren’t -”
“Yeah, you were.” He grins, lifting his hand and ticking off on his fingers. “Come on. One, John’s got a bit of lipstick on his cheek. Two, ya’s hair a mess and three, the buttons on ya shirt are done up wrong.” He gives you a self satisfied smirk. “I’m a detective. It’s my job to notice this kinda stuff.”
You run your fingers through your hair anxiously. You should’ve known that Eric would notice. At least he’s saying something to just you. It could’ve been a lot worse.
Eric takes a sip of his drink and rests his hand on his chest. “Listen fella, get it. Nothin’ to be embarrassed about.” He raises his glass to you. “Honestly, it’s about damn time. So like I said, I can -”
“Eric, no.”
He rolls his eyes, setting his glass down and pushing himself off the couch. “How long you think he needs? Twenty minutes? Half hour?” At your horrified expression, Eric shakes his head. “Ya know what, I’ll just ask him.”
When you both hear John’s footsteps in the hall, you stand quickly. “Hey John, do you -” You wrap your fingers around his arm in warning. “Want pizza?”
You dig your nails into Eric’s arm, making him wince as he speaks. “Ow! I figured since I was wicked late, I’d grab a couple of pizzas and we could stay in. Unless ya were hell bent on goin’ out?” He shrugs out of your grip and shakes his arm. You roll your eyes and offer John his drink.
He takes his glass with a warm smile. Wrapping his arm around you again, John nods at Eric. “You’ve got the good stuff mate, staying in sounds like a bloody good time to me.” Eric grins and pulls up a delivery app on his phone.
You look up at John as he finishes off his drink. “All good?” You ask softly. You didn’t know exactly what his work involved at the museum, only that Director Connors had hired him and the job required a certain confidentiality that only John could assure.
“My business associate thinks he’s found something.” He nods, leaning down to rest the empty glass on the side table. “So this job will be wrapped up nice and tidy in no time.”
“That’s great, Johnny.” You tell him, trying not look disappointed. Once his job is finished, he’s got no real reason to stay in the states. Despite Charlotte and Eric assuring you that long distance is a realistic thing to do, you know the reality of the situation.
And honestly, you’re not actually dating, you’ve been on a few dates. There’s a difference, one that you’re sure John will point out to you as he leaves.
John furrows his brow as he stares down at you but says nothing. Eric slides his phone into his pocket with a small huff. “Thirty minutes, give or take.” He shrugs, sitting on the edge of his chair. “Wish I could just say some magic words and poof, pizza appears at my door. I hate waitin’.”
“I can’t make pizza appear.” John smirks and steps away from you. He reaches his hand behind Eric’s ear and pulls out a silver coin. “But, I can make a coin appear!” Eric’s eyes widen as he watches John show off the coin and wave his hand. “And disappear.”
You stare at his hands before grabbing them despite yourself. There’s nothing there. You check his pockets and find nothing. “How did you -”
“That’s so fuckin’ cool.” Eric whispers in awe. You raise an eyebrow at him in disbelief. Since when has Eric had a thing for sleight of hand magic?
“Kid, don’t make fun of me. I love magic tricks, they’re wicked cool! Evah since I was little, I wanted to learn. They had a magician at Paddy’s youngest’s birthday last year? I swear, I was more into it than the kids. Like I know it’s all fake, but it's so cool.” His sits back down and motions for you both to sit. “Can you do another one?”
John nods, “Aye, I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” He turns to you with a soft smile. “If it pleases the audience?” You smile and let out a soft laugh. John takes that as a yes and proceeds to show Eric every other parlor trick he knows. You lean back into the couch, content to watch them get along.
***
Long after the pizza has arrived, the three of you are still laughing from story after story of Eric’s adventures working the night shift. John’s fully relaxed, arm around you and a genuine smile on his face. You couldn’t ask for a better night.
Eventually however, you have to let Eric go to sleep. You may not work Saturdays but he definitely does. You’ve had plenty to drink so when John offers to grab the car from down the street, you don’t object to him driving home. John tries not to be surprised when Eric pulls him in for a hug as he heads out the door.
Eric lets you lean on him as you follow John out toward the elevator. “Did ya say anythin’ to him about Sam?” He asks you as you lean against the wall. “I know it was tough seein’ him today.”
“Honestly, I didn’t even think about Sam all night.” You confess with a grin. “I had such a good time with John, and then you guys got along so great. That happens with him, I tend not to focus on anything else when we’re together. I, uh, I really like him, Eric.”
Eric nods, crossing his arms. “Yeah bud, I can tell. Don’t worry, I like him too. And Charlotte will love him, so will ya dad.” He kisses the top of your head as you both walk out of the elevator.
“Just promise me you’ll be smart, huh?" He cautions, as you both watch John pull up. "It’s been a long time since I’ve seen ya like this. I’m just afraid if ya not careful, you’ll get ya heart broke."
You nod, not trusting yourself to answer him. That’s exactly what you’re afraid of too.
Notes:
Next week, the creature stalking the museum decides to involve you when it makes a move... Is it a coincidence or is something bigger happening here?
Chapter 12: The break-in
Summary:
A break in at your place leaves you reeling, especially after having words with John and Eric about how serious it is. John knows he can't tell you what's truly happened, but the intrusion calls into focus more than he's comfortable with.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Over the next few weeks, John is surprised to find how much he enjoys spending his time in Boston. The Rabisu is proving more difficult to catch than he anticipated, but it’s given him plenty of opportunities to see you.
You’ve been on multiple dates, each one more fun than the last. You surprise him in the best way; your brazen personality charging each interaction with sexual tension, leaving John wanting more of you the moment he’s away.
You present him with a challenge John hadn’t been prepared to enjoy. The more time he spends with you, the more he wants to seal the deal, as it were.
When I finally get her in bed, John grins to himself. It’s going to be a bloody good time.
Tonight, there's a punk band playing at a dive bar in the city. John knows that when he makes a plan, you tend to go along with it, no question. He’d like to think you’re starting to trust him and that’s why you put your faith in him so easily.
He’d also like to think you like when he tells you what to do. He certainly does.
John opens his phone to text you the plan with a smile on his face. He knows he should be concerned by how little he wants to push away the feelings of warmth he gets when he thinks about your face. John knows, but he doesn’t care.
When he talked to him last week, Chas had already scolded John for allowing such a distraction to happen in the first place.
“What’s wrong with you?” Chas asked, letting disappointment color his tone. “Is this girl the reason you’ve dragged this job out so long?”
John had sighed, taking a deep drag from his cigarette before answering. “Of course not, mate.” He rolled his eyes, a gesture he was glad Chas couldn’t see. “I’m just having a touch of fun while I hunt the blighter down.”
“Johnny.” Chas sounded exasperated. “It’s too dangerous for you to ‘have a touch of fun’. This sounds like more than that and that girl can’t afford for you to catch feelings. You damn well know that.”
“Bloody hell, Chas. I don’t intend to catch feelings. She’s just time that I’m wasting. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”
That had gotten a small chuckle out of his oldest friend. “If you say so. But sometimes, I just feel like I need to remind you how dangerous you are, to everyone you interact with. Be careful.”
“I know, mate. And in any case, the lass is too bloody bright to put up with any of my rubbish.”
“Ah, so you’ve gotta chase her? Now, I understand the appeal.” Chas laughed. “But at least you’ve got the book, yes?”
John had stubbed out his cigarette and stepped into the lobby of his hotel. “Aye. According to the Malleus Maleficarum, sea salt repels it. But I need to track down the proper spell, or charm rather, to banish it back to Hell. That’s gonna be the tricky bit.”
“And you don’t know who summoned the thing?”
“If I knew that, mate,” John snapped, pacing in the lobby. “I’d've already bloody killed it.”
Chas sighed; John could imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “I’ll see what I can do about the spell. Just stay on task, John. Don’t get distracted.”
John chuckles to himself as his phone buzzes. He slides it open to see your response, ‘Sounds like a plan, Johnny. You haven’t shown me a bad time yet.’
He smiles and tells you he’ll be by your place at seven. That gives him a few hours to stop by Darren’s and ask him a few more questions before he picks you up. Don’t get distracted, indeed.
***
“No, I have no idea where he’s taking me.” You confess to Charlotte as you turn onto your street. “He said there was a local band that we should check out, I usually let him do all the planning, unless I want to do something specific. He likes to make all the decisions, and to be honest, I enjoy letting him.”
“So what you’re saying is, you let him take control.” She laughs softly. “‘About time you listened to me, I knew I was right.”
You turn into your spot and roll your eyes. “No, it’s not like that, Char. He’s been a perfect gentleman.”
“Mmhmm.” Charlotte sounds like she doesn’t believe you. “I’m sure he has. John wants you to trust him so you’ll be willing to let him have control in the bedroom. I’m not wrong. And it’s been what? Two months?”
“Yeah, but we haven’t done anything other than make out a few times and I mean, trust me, that alone is amazing.” You point out as you turn off your Rogue. “But he hasn’t said anything to me that would -”
“Sugar, you really are so naïve sometimes. Take it from someone who enjoys this type of thing, there’s been signs. I knew the first time he kissed you. But he’s not just gonna come out in the middle of dinner and tell you he’s going to tie you to the bed, now is he?”
“Charlotte!”
She laughs again, her soft voice echoing through your car. “What? Come on, from what you’ve told me, John is absolutely dominant.”
Un-linking your blue tooth, you press the speakerphone button and grab your bag. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do, sugar. You’ve told me plenty. John keeps his hand on the small of your back when you’re walking. He tells you’re a ‘good girl’ when you’ve done something that pleases him. Goodness, the banter alone! And I’m sure you’ve only told me half the flirty stuff he’s said to you.”
Before you can interrupt, Charlotte continues enthusiastically. “He takes your keys and locks your door, he orders for you. I mean, do you need me to continue?”
You feel your cheeks flush in response. “No.”
“Exactly. This is John’s casual way of showing his dominance. He’s subtly letting you know what he likes and if I had to guess, John’s very good at what he does. When you’re ready, he’s going to blow your mind, sugar.”
You aren’t sure what to say to that. Everything you’ve told her makes sense with what she’s saying. You and John haven’t actually discussed having sex but you’ve absolutely had a few times where if you’d allowed it, sex definitely would’ve happened. He’s never pushed, never pressured you.
Even when you’ve kissed him, he always flips it around on you and takes control. You don’t mind it as much as you initially thought you would. Maybe she’s right.
“This is a good thing, Sugar, trust me. And if I’m wrong, fine. But I know I’m not. I think John is exactly what you need. I’ve said it a hundred times, you’re wound too tight. You need someone you can trust to just let go with.”
You unlock the door to your place and step in, dropping your bag on the couch. “Maybe, but we haven’t even actually established that we’re dating. We’ve just been going on dates. It’s not the same thing.”
You head up your stairs and let out a soft sigh as she responds. “So you haven’t had the DTR conversation?” You can hear the disbelief in her voice when she asks. “Mais J’Mais! Just talk to him, sugar! John seems like a reasonable man.”
“Charli, you know why I haven’t had that talk.”
“No, I don’t. I told you, if you’re serious about him, the distance won’t matter none.”
You know exactly why she’s saying that. She doesn’t think distance matters because her boyfriend is currently fifteen hundred miles from her. But you’re not Charlotte.
And as much as you’d like to let yourself believe that you and John could make it work, you know what that kind of thinking gets you. As much as you may like him, you’re afraid John isn't as serious as you’re becoming about this thing you’ve got going on.
“Don’t you go getting in your own head.” She warns you, gently. “Have the talk with John when you’re ready. But I know when my best friend is head over heels and sugar, I’m pretty sure you’re there.”
If she could see you roll your eyes, she’d smack your arm. She might be right, but she doesn’t have to be so damn smug about it. “I’d tell you that I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you giggle as you let yourself drop onto your bed. “But I know you won’t believe me.”
“You’re right, I won’t.” She laughs. “Now get ready for tonight, and call me tomorrow so I can hear all about it.”
***
“You look good enough to eat, sweet'eart.” John grins as he leans against your doorway. You smile back as he looks you up and down. You opted for a black skirt and a fitted t-shirt, figuring that if you’d be going to a dive bar, you’d be functional, but still cute.
You stand aside to let him in, closing your eyes as he presses his lips to yours in greeting. “Just let me get my bag and I’m good to go,'' you tell him, walking back toward the stairs.
You turn around to see him watching you with a raised brow. “What?” You laugh when he realizes you’ve caught him.
“Nothing, luv.” Crossing his arms, John leans against the couch. “Just admiring the view is all.”
You roll your eyes as you quickly climb and head into your room to grab your clutch. You double check yourself in the mirror, fluffing your curls so they lay over your shoulder.
With a satisfied grin, you hop back down the stairs and find John laying down on the couch. You walk around it and stop near his shoulder. Leaning down, you giggle when he opens one eye. “I was gone for like five minutes, Johnny. If you’re this tired, maybe we should skip the band and just stay in.”
You let out a small yelp as John reaches up and pulls you down on top of him. You quickly right yourself, straddling him with ease. He smirks up at you as you thread your fingers through his hair.
“If you want to stay in sweet’eart, I won’t bloody argue.” John slides his hands under your skirt and onto your thighs, the warmth of his fingers pressing firmly to hold you in place. “But we won’t be doing much sleeping.”
You lean down, lowering your lips to his quickly. “I mean, you’re the one who’s excited to see this band so…”
With a small laugh, John scoots himself up a few inches and raises an eyebrow. “Oh, the cheek on you, luv. I have half a mind to…” He lets himself trail off, lowering his gaze to your body before meeting your eyes again.
“But when you’re right, you’re right.” As he lets out a heavy sigh, you wonder what he was going to say. You climb off of him and extend your hand to help him stand.
Once he’s upright, he grins lecherously. “Now don’t misunderstand me, luv.” John rests his hand on the small of your back, pulling you to him. “I would happily stay in with you, but I am properly chuffed to see these blokes.”
“I’m not worried, Johnny.” You promise, gently fixing his tie. You step away from him, picking up your bag from the floor. “You're excited, I’m excited.”
He holds out his hand for your keys and you let him lead you outside. “That’s my girl.” Threading your fingers through his, you walk with him down the steps to your SUV.
***
You enjoyed the band more than you thought you would. Neither of you knew any of the songs they were singing, but that didn’t stop you from jumping up and dancing in time with the music. You could see the happiness on John’s face from knowing that you were enjoying yourself.
John wrapped his arm around you, keeping it there most of the night. It felt wonderful being by his side, your body fit with his like a half of a whole. You felt warmth spread through you each time he nuzzled into your neck. You knew you could’ve stayed like that forever if you were able to.
God, you really like him. No matter what you tell yourself, you know when he leaves it’s going to hurt like hell. As you let John lead you up the steps to your home, you wonder if you should just call things off now. End whatever this is before you let yourself really fall for him.
Unless. Unless you take Charlotte’s advice and just talk to him. Let the chips fall where they may and see what happens. “Johnny, do you want to come in?” You ask softly. “I was hoping we could talk.”
John turns back and smirks at you. “I’d love to, sweet’eart.”
When you glance past him, you notice that your front door is open slightly. “Did you forget to lock my door?” When John shakes his head, you feel a small sliver of dread slide down your spine.
“It’s open.” You whisper, reaching for his arm. “Shit, Johnny. I… I think someone broke in.” You can feel your hands shaking as you start to panic.
You had a break in, years ago. You still remember how scared you were then. They'd trashed the place, and even though nothing was stolen, Eric made you stay with him for the better part of a week til you had all new locks installed.
John takes one look at the expression on your face and gently cups your cheek. “Stay here, luv.” He orders as he carefully opens your door. You hear him murmur something before he steps over the threshold, holding out what you think is his phone to use the light.
With trembling fingers, you pull out your own phone and scroll to Eric’s number. You press his name, trying to steady your breathing as the line rings.
He answers on the third ring. “Hey kid,” you can hear his smile through the phone. “How was the band? I know punk’s not typically ya thing but -”
“Eric,” you whisper, interrupting him. You let out a shaky breath and lean against the wall, gripping your phone to your ear.
“What’s wrong?” He demands, all traces of a smile gone from his voice. “Are ya alright? Can ya talk? Where are you, is ya GPS on?”
You shake your head and realize that he can’t see it. “No, no. Eric, someone broke into my house. The door was open when we got back and John went in to investigate.”
“Shit. Alright, you stay outside. Do not go in.” He tells you firmly, slipping into full Detective Grant mode. “Paddy and I’ll be there in three minutes. I’m sendin’ a squad cah over too.”
“Thanks, Eric.” You press the end call button and cross your arms nervously. You want to call for John, make sure that he’s okay but Eric specifically told you not to go inside. You tap your foot against the floor anxiously. You haven’t heard any sound from inside but that doesn’t mean anything. What if John’s hurt?
Making the decision to see if John’s okay, you push yourself off the wall and tiptoe carefully into the doorway. You’re about to call out to him when you see him hurry down your stairs. “Did you find anything?” You hiss, stepping back when he gets closer to you.
“I don’t think it’s anything to worry about, luv.” John shrugs his shoulders, making a show of acting calm for your benefit. “Maybe I didn’t close the door proper like I thought. No need to get in a tizzy about it.”
You lean back against the wall. “No, I watched you lock it, John.” You argue, glancing at the door. You’re always very cautious; ever since that first time, you double check your locks before you leave. “I called Eric, he’s on his way. I was afraid that -”
“Bloody hell, what did you go and do that for?” He rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed. “You should’ve just waited for me to come back out and -”
You immediately argue back, stepping closer to him. “I called Eric because he’s a police officer and someone broke into my fucking house, John. And I didn’t want to wait for you to come out because what if we weren’t alone? You could've been hurt and I was…” You stare up and meet his dark eyes. “I was worried about you.”
John’s expression softens as he tilts his head. “You needn’t worry about ol’ Johnny. I’m right as rain.” He holds out his arm and you let yourself slip underneath it. “Believe me when I tell you that a ruddy burglar wouldn’t be an issue for someone like me.”
“Still, this happened once before and I...” You hate how small your voice sounds right now. “I got scared.” You lean your head against his chest. When you both hear a car door slam, you look up to see Eric jogging up the sidewalk to you. John moves his arm and you both walk down the steps to meet him.
“Everyone alright?” He asks, checking you both over as Patrick closes the passenger side door.
John steps in front of you, taking over quickly. “She’s alright, big man. I didn’t let her go inside. Sorry you came all the way, I’ve already checked the house. There’s nothing there but I’ll tell you, I’d feel better if she didn’t stay here tonight.”
What?
“But you just said that you didn’t think it was anything -” Eric nods, cutting you off, and you know he completely agrees with John. Narrowing your eyes, you shake your head. “No. No, this is my place and I’m not leaving.”
Eric rolls his eyes. “Fella -”
Patrick steps in then, diffusing the quickly mounting tension. “Eric, how about you and I go take a look. The uni’s will be here any minute and they can take her statement. Then we can figure out what to do from there.”
“Yeah, ya right.” Eric rests his hand on his side holster and makes his way up your stairs. Patrick follows close behind, after you’ve mouthed ‘thank you’ to him with a smile.
You whirl around, crossing your arms angrily. “So which is it John, nothing I need to worry about, why did I bother to call the police or clearly there’s something so wrong that I should stay at a goddamn hotel?”
For a second, John is speechless. You assume that he wasn’t prepared for you to be so argumentative. But you have a right to know what’s going on. He shifts his feet, carefully weighing his words before he speaks. “Sweet’eart, I’m not exactly sure what’s happening. But I could handle it, I didn’t want to involve -”
“Who? Eric?! It’s his job.” You feel anger bubbling out of you. “I don’t know what kind of alpha male bullshit you’re trying to pull right now, but I’m not some scared little damsel who -” You stop yourself before you can say anything else. Jesus Christ, calm down. He’s probably just as freaked out as I am.
You take a deep breath and uncross your arms. You know you’re tired and that’s not helping matters. “You know what? I’m sorry, I think I’m overreacting. I got nervous and it’s late...” You stare down at the ground for a second until John murmurs your name.
“I didn’t mean to go all alpha male, luv.” John chuckles, runs his fingers down your arm. “I can’t bloody help it sometimes.” He rests his free hand on the back of his neck. “I feel… very protective of you, and I just reacted without thinking on it properly.”
Hearing John admit that he wants to protect you, melts the anger you felt moments before. It’s a bit archaic for sure, you’ve been taking care of yourself your whole life, but there’s a little part of you that enjoys the feeling that he wants to keep you safe. It gives you a bit of hope that you may be able to make some kind of relationship work when John has to go home.
The arrival of the squad car pulls you from your thoughts. John squeezes your hand as a uniformed officer gets out and makes his way over to you. “Will you be alright? Give me just one second, luv. I need to nip away and make a quick call. I’ll be right back.”
One officer stays with you and the other heads inside to check with Eric. Stifling a yawn, you nod and turn when the officer left behind directly addresses you.
***
“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” John mutters angrily, digging his cigarettes out of his pocket. When Chas’s phone goes to voicemail, he kicks the wall beside him. “Bloody hell, Chas.” He waits for the beep then lets his frustration bleed through his voice.
“Oi. Hell of a bloody time for you to not pick up, mate. That ruddy thing broke into her house tonight. I could tell what it was the moment I walked through her door. I don’t know what it wants, but I need that bloody charm so I can send this wanker back to Hell. Give us a bell when you’ve got something.”
John lights the cigarette, taking a deep drag of it to calm his nerves. He knows the demon is drawn to your blood, he's sure of it. He just doesn’t know why the Rabisu waited this long to make a move. And in your home no less? It doesn’t add up. If he could just get everyone out of the house, he could investigate further.
John knows it has to have something to do with whoever summoned the bloody thing. It is acting on its own? Or is it trying to draw him out? What's he missing here?
He also knows how much this complicates matters. The second John let it slip that he felt protective of you, he knew that he meant it. He also knew that admitting it out loud irrevocably changed something between you both.
He hadn’t meant to make you that angry, but in John’s defense, he certainly hadn’t expected you to put up that much of a fight regarding your own safety. You’ve got a healthy dose of cheek, but you’ve always seemed to have a head for self-preservation. If only he was able to tell you what was truly happening.
As he makes his way back toward you, he grins when he realizes how much he does actually like your cheekiness. He has from the beginning. You give John a run for his money and despite what he promised Chas, he knows that you’re not just time that he’s wasting. He wants to be around you, wants to keep you safe. Most of all, he wants the feeling of contentment he gets when he makes you smile.
You grin over the officer’s shoulder when you see him coming. He feels his stomach do a flip when you reach out your hand for his. John’s not exactly willing to admit that he has feelings for you yet, but there’s definitely something there. And he's not sure how much longer he can hide the truth from himself.
***
Once Eric and Patrick have cleared the area, the other officers leave with John’s statement as well as yours. You shut your door and lean against it with a small huff. “Both officers said there wasn’t any physical sign of a break in, so I’m guessing I’m good to sleep here.”
“I don’t know, kid.” Eric slides his phone shut and glances up at you. “Ya said nothin's missin’ but just cause there’s no sign, doesn't mean a break in didn’t happen. Ya door looks like it wasn't opened by force. So I gotta assume whoever broke in had a key. This is different than the first time it happened."
Eric stares around your living room. “Ya shouldn’t stay here until ya can change the locks. Think we might have a bit of a stalker situation happenin’ here?”
John leans on the back of the couch, listening to Eric intently. He’s not saying anything but you know that he agrees.
You cross your arms in annoyance. The only people that have a key to your place are Eric, Linda, your father and Charlotte. “I don’t have a stalker, Eric.” You huff out as you sit on the edge of the chair nearest the door.
“Listen fella, can ya think of anyone that would want to scare you? Anyone that could potentially mean ya harm?” You meet his eyes and know that he immediately means Sam. He is not bringing up Sam right now. Directly in front of John.
You violently shake your head at him. “No, I can’t.” When he opens his mouth to argue with you, Patrick slips in through the door. You jump up and immediately address him. “Paddy, do you think it’s safe for me to say here tonight?”
Patrick crosses his arms and stares at the three of you for a moment before answering. “Kiddo, you aren’t going to listen to my professional opinion cause you’re stubborn as a mule. But I suppose if you weren’t alone, you’d be fine. The uni’s didn’t find anything.”
Eric and John answer at the same time. “I’ll stay.”
You roll your eyes but don’t argue, it won’t be worth it. You’re a little frustrated with both of them right now. If they want a sleepover, they can have one. You just won’t be a part of it.
Patrick tells Eric that he’ll cover the rest of the shift, he’s only got two more hours left anyway. With a quick hug and a “be safe, kiddo,” he’s out the door, leaving you with Eric and John staring at you like they’re waiting for you to fall apart.
You don’t plan to. You are freaked out and you have a right to be, but you’re certainly not going to fall to pieces. You’re made of stronger stuff than that and you wish they would give you some credit. “I’m fine, guys. I promise.” You tell them both as you move to the chair near the couch.
“Either way, I’m glad we’re both stayin'.” Eric stands, moving toward your fridge for a drink. “I feel better knowin' that you’ll be protected if anything else happens.”
“Listen big man, you don’t have to stay.” John crosses his arms, watching you out of the corner of his eye. “I can handle this, you have my word, mate.”
Eric raises his brow as he shuts your refrigerator door, water bottle in hand. “I know I don’t have to stay, John. But I’m gonna.”
You roll your eyes. They’re both being such men right now, it’s ridiculous. “Boys, no need to fight about it. I have a guest room and a couch. Or you two can snuggle, I’m fine with either option.”
You let out a small chuckle when John smirks in Eric’s direction. “I’d rather cuddle with you, luv. But for him I wouldn’t mind being the little spoon. What do you say, handsome?”
Eric raises an eyebrow flirtatiously. “Temptin', but ya couldn’t handle me.”
Notes:
With John AND Eric spending the night, there's bound to be all sorts of interesting conversation. Eric's not afraid to make sure John knows not to hurt your feelings. It's gonna be so good :)
And the break in definitely has some complications...
Stay tuned!
Chapter 13: The aftermath
Summary:
After a revealing conversation with Eric, and a calm morning he could get used to, John helps you deal with the aftermath of the break in. As he discovers what really happened last night, he's left with more questions than answers.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Once you’ve gotten yourself settled in the knowledge that you’ll have two house guests tonight, you head into the kitchen to grab yourself, and them, a snack. You watch them as John settles into the corner of the couch and Eric crosses one leg over the other in your chair.
You feel your phone buzzing in your pocket. When you pull it out, you let out a heavy sigh.
Charlotte DuCaine:
Eric told me someone broke in! Are you alright? Call me ASAP!
“Really, Eric? You told Charlotte?” You grind out, turning yourself around. You hold up your phone angrily and feel a small sense of satisfaction from the way Eric shrinks in his seat. “I would have called her tomorrow. For christ’s sake, do you tell her everything?”
He crosses his arms defensively. “Not everythin’,” he pouts when your expression doesn’t soften. ”Just the important stuff. I was textin’ her when ya called me and I wasn’t just not gonna say anythin’.”
You walk around your island and lean on the back of the couch. “And? You never used to tell your other girlfriends everything.”
“Kid, she’s different.” You raise your eyebrow in disbelief. “Like I’m not bored - honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever get bored.” You watch as he motions to get John’s attention. “Ya get it, right, bud?”
John turns and meets your eyes. His expression is gentle and altogether something you can’t quite define. It fills you with a warmth you weren’t prepared for. “Yeah, I do. I get that, mate.”
“What’s the big deal anyways, kid?” Eric asks, pulling your attention away from John’s heavy stare. “She was gonna find out one way or another. Are ya uncomfortable with her and I? Ya said you were fine with it.”
“I didn’t want her to know tonight. I’m still processing it.” You tell him, staring down at the worried text. “And you know that’s not it, relax.”
“Charlotte woulda worried if I just stopped textin’ her without a good reason.” He argues back, leaning forward in his seat. You roll your eyes, knowing he’s right. You just hadn’t wanted to get into details this late.
Plus, Charlotte would have questions about the conversation you didn’t get to have with John and you weren’t prepared for that either.
“Then what is it, kid?” He presses, refusing to back down. “Do you not want ya two best friends to be happy together?”
You pinch the bridge of your nose with two fingers. “Eric, I can’t believe that I’m having this conversation right now. I’m obviously happy for the two of you. I just want to make sure that you both are doing this for the right reasons. When you told her that you let it slip, she called to apologize for keeping it from me. I had the same conversation with her.”
He carefully sidesteps your annoyance about their relationship being kept from you. He instead chooses to focus on the part you want to talk about the least. “What reasons do ya think I’m doing this for?”
You let out a heavy sigh as you sit down on the couch. “I just wanted to make sure Charlotte wasn’t a passing conquest, Eric. I love her the same as I love you. And if this is real and you want to pursue this relationship, then have at it. I just see two people that I care about that can get really hurt if you aren’t sure this is what you want.”
“Kid. I’ve never been more sure of anythin’ in my life. She’s literally the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last thing at night. Ya know I've dated a lot of women… But none of them can even compare to her.”
John leans back and crosses his arms, watching you intently. He knows exactly how Eric feels. Thankfully for him, you’re so focused on Eric and the fact that he’s all but admitting that he loves Charlotte, that you don’t notice the way John is smiling at you.
“Well, then.” You visibly relax. “That’s very different.”
“She could be the one, kid.” Eric confesses, smiling wistfully. “And I know what ya gonna say,” he raises his voice, attempting to imitate yours. “Thought you didn’t wanna get married. It’s different with her.”
You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you as you lean your elbows on your upper thighs and rest your chin in your hands. “Listen, if that’s your end game, fine. But be careful. You break Charlotte’s heart, her daddy will break you."
When John snickers, Eric turns his focus to him, clearly not wanting to be the center of attention any longer. “What about you, Johnny? Ya ever think about settlin’ down? Gettin’ married, havin’ a couple rugrats?”
John lets out a low whistle. “Oh, I highly doubt anyone wants to see little Johnny’s running around.” You can tell by the tense set of his shoulders that Eric’s making him uncomfortable.
You don’t have a way to butt in that won’t make things awkward for everyone but you think you should try. You certainly don’t want John to feel like he has to defend his decision to not want children. You don’t and Eric’s never hassled you about it.
John continues, meeting your eyes with a tight smile. “And in my line of work mate, it’s hard to… settle down. Even if the right one came along.”
“Aw, come on. A little you wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Just gotta find the right girl, fella.” Eric gives you a knowing smile. “Ya can ask her, I never wanted to think about settlin’ down before. Different girl every couple months - thought it was better than gettin’ attached. Boy, was I wrong.”
“My old man hated having two little rugrats running around. I’m sure I’d feel the same.” John shrugs but you can tell it’s a purposefully calm action. “Bounced us around, sent us to family for a bit. And that’s no proper life for a kid. Let’s say I found the right lass, she wouldn’t stick around, anyway. It’s too bloody dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” Eric raises his eyebrow as he leans forward. “John, ya collect old shit for the museum, don’tcha? My job is more dangerous. Fuck, Charlotte’s job is more dangerous.”
John tenses as he speaks, as if he’s realized he’s made a mistake. “You’re right, mate. You both have bloody dangerous jobs. I’m not trying to say that you don’t. What I deal with isn’t the bad bit. It’s the people and locations I deal with. They’re the bits that can get dodgy.”
“Maybe it’s time to get outta that line of work then, bud. Pick somethin’ that involves less travel.”
John glances at you with a soft smile. “Oh, I don’t mind the travel. Sometimes, if I’m jammy, I get great views that way.”
Eric laughs, apparently understanding exactly what John means. You lean back and tilt your head. Views? How did we get here? “Jammy meaning lucky, right?” John nods as Eric continues. “Yeah, that’s why I’ve gone down to New Orleans twice now.”
“So, I’d wager you understand where I’m coming from.” John rests his hand on your upper thigh, making you raise an eyebrow in confusion. “I bloody well enjoy my view.”
“Don’t blame ya.” Eric hums out his approval, staring down at John’s hand on your leg. “Boston has a pretty good view.”
“That it does, mate.” John sighs, gently squeezing his fingers. “That it does. Best view I’ve ever had, I reckon.”
Eric finishes off his water bottle and points the tip of it in John’s direction. “Just make sure ya don’t ruin the view.” He warns gently. His voice is light, but you can hear the distinct undercurrent of Detective Grant when he speaks again.
“Seen a couple guys decide not to treat Boston the way they should’ve. The city took it pretty damn hard when they fucked off and I really don’t want that for ya.”
Ah. Eric, you are not subtle.
You roll your eyes and resist the urge to cut in. You have to assume that neither of them think you’ve caught on. But now that you know what they’re actually talking about, part of you wants to hear how John intends to answer.
John tries to shrug off the clearly veiled warning with a smile. “I really don’t want to ruin the view. But I have a feeling that Boston will get sick of Johnny long before I get sick of her. That’s usually how this story goes for blokes like me.”
You have no intention of getting sick of him. Could he possibly not know that? “If I may speak for the highly intelligent and not oblivious city,” you interrupt, with a wave of your hand. “I highly doubt Boston would get sick of you. You’ve got a certain something that the city really -”
You feel your phone buzz again and stare down to see another text from Charlotte. “Oh, Jesus, okay. I’m gonna call Charli before she has a heart attack.” You push yourself up and stare at both of them. “Play nice.” You tell them with a laugh.
***
Once Eric’s sure you're out of earshot, he stands and moves to the couch. He doesn’t want to be overheard, especially with you in the next room. You'd be furious if you found out what he’s about to say.
“I don’t know, Johnny. I think Boston likes ya a lot. You got a good view going. Don’t fuck it up, cause ya don’t wanna get on the bad side of the Boston PD.”
“Not planning on it, big man.” John nods his head. He had a feeling this conversation would happen at some point. He wasn’t exactly prepared for it. But at least he and Eric are on good terms. It shouldn’t be too bad.
“Glad to see we’re on the same page. She’s like a little sister to me and to be honest, one or two of the men she’s dated have been awful so I’m pretty protective over her.”
He gives John an obvious once over. “Ya accent and good looks will only get ya so far. If ya break her heart… So help me… There isn’t anywhere ya could hide that I wouldn’t find ya.”
“I have no doubt about that, mate. Truth be told, I really do care about her.” More than I bloody well intended to. “I don’t fancy breaking her heart.” John promises, attempting to be as truthful as he’s able given the circumstances around all of this.
“I don’t do this type of thing but there’s something about her that makes me want to. Every bloody thing about that little lass is different for me.” John shrugs casually. “I break all my rules with her.”
Eric glances back, over his shoulder, to make sure you’re still on the phone. “Yeah John, I need ya to understand that that kinda talk makes me nervous. I’ve been there to pick up the pieces when she’s been left behind. I’m not sayin' ya gonna do that but ya not exactly helpin' ya case here.”
He watches John carefully, trying to gauge the blond’s reaction. “She’s a strong kid, but sometimes she doesn’t look before she leaps. So maybe, ya make sure that she completely understands where ya heads at. Cause for her, introducin’ her friends to someone is a big deal.”
“I don’t mean to make you nervous, mate.” John answers, staring down the empty hall. “I won’t let it get that bloody far. She’s too good a person to love a bastard like me. I wouldn’t worry. She’ll be the one to kick me to the curb and I’ll be out of your hair in a few months time.”
“Yeah, somehow, I highly doubt that.” Eric scoffs, crossing his arms. “Ya all she can talk about. Johnny taught me this, Johnny took me to this great bar. I know her and I know when she’s fallin’ for someone.”
Eric isn’t trying to hassle him, he just needs to make John understand. He’s known you most of his life, knows you better than almost anyone else. And even if you weren’t able to articulate it, Eric knows you’ve definitely got feelings for the guy. He’s just trying to suss out what John feels for you.
Something close to heartbreak crosses John’s features for a moment. Before Eric can comment on it, John shakes his head, pushing it down. “No, she’s too smart to fall for a nasty bloke like me. I warned her.”
And he warned himself too. But that didn’t stop John from pursuing you, flirting with you, and ignoring all of Chas’s warnings. Now look where he is. He most definitely has some kind of feeling for you and he’s having this uncomfortable conversation because of it.
“Trust me, John. When she falls, she’s blind to all the flaws.” Eric smacks John's arm lightly. “Her ex, Sam, was a real asshole towards the end but that didn’t stop her.”
John stares expectantly. You’ve never mentioned a Sam. “He was great in the beginnin’. We went to high school together, the three of us. Sweetest guy, theater nerd like we were. They broke up before she went off to college after a fight of epic proportions. I didn’t push for details, but she was wicked upset for months.”
John clenches his fists as he pushes down a protective urge he wasn’t expecting. He wants Eric to finish his story, tell him what happened. Of course you’ve had a bad break up, it’s only human, and he’s sure you bounced back just fine. He just didn’t think he’d react so viscerally just hearing about it.
“So they were broken up for a decent amount of time.” Eric explains. “She was in a good place, I think she had just started talkin’ to someone new down at school. Friend of a friend, ya know how it is.”
John can hear the edge of anger in Eric’s voice now. “Then he came crawlin’ back just when I thought she was over him, apparently apologized for whatever made them break up in the first place. I told her not to, but she gave it another try… And that’s when she found out about his wife. And his kids.”
“Are you off your bloody rocker, Eric?” John has to fight to keep his voice even. To think that anyone would want to manipulate you like that makes his blood boil. “That girl is brilliant. Why the Hell would she let that arsehole back into her life?”
Eric shrugs, clearly not understanding either. “I told ya man, when she’s in love, she doesn’t think things through. So please, if ya aren’t serious about her… make sure she knows that before she can’t come back from this.”
John takes a second to gather his jumbled thoughts before he answers. “I’m not sure what it is mate, but there is something about her for me. She’s bloody fantastic, keeps me on my toes, and for some reason, she enjoys my dodgy company. I really don’t want to hurt her.”
“Buddy, I get that. Trust me, I really do.” He lowers his voice when he hears a door open. “Just know that when she falls, she falls hard. So just be prepared.”
“She’s not the only one, big man.” John admits, giving Eric as much truth as he dares to. “Trust me on that.”
Even though it’s a horrible idea, John is more than aware that he’s already in too deep. This conversation just confirmed it. He’s not strong enough to walk away. The time for that passed the first night he kissed you.
Whatever this emotion is that he feels for you, the one he refuses to name, is too bloody strong to deny.
***
You wake up before both Eric and John do. Confusion furrows your brow as the events of the previous night come slamming into focus.
You tiptoe into your guest room and find Eric still sound asleep, with an arm over his head. Looking around, you realize John must’ve ended up on the couch. You had made sure to leave out extra pillows and a blanket when you went to bed.
Both of them were enjoying each other’s company, deep in conversation and you hadn’t wanted to interrupt to make one of them lay claim to the guest room. They were adults, they could figure it out. Apparently, Eric won.
Taking care not to make too much noise, you get the coffee pot going and gingerly make your way to the couch. Leaning over, you smile at John’s sleeping form. His shirt and tie are draped over the side chair with his watch sitting on the coffee table.
Despite sleeping on the couch, John looks incredibly comfortable. He’s propped himself up on the pillows with the blanket half covering him. You watch his chest rise and fall as he snores lightly. You notice more scarring on his chest and upper arms, along with a few tattoos of symbols you don’t recognize.
As you stare at him, you take in the soft planes of his face, admiring the way his dark lashes lay against his cheekbones. If John was awake, you might’ve teased him that he was about a day late for a shave. But the more you watch him sleep, the more you enjoy the way the dark shadow on his face emphasizes his strong jawline.
You let out a soft sigh of contentment and push yourself up to check on the coffee.
Reaching up into the cabinet, you grab three mugs. You rinse the third one out in the sink before you set them all down onto the counter. You feel arms circle your waist and before you can jump, you hear John behind you. “Now that’s a sight a bloke could get used to every morning.” He chuckles into your ear.
You whirl around with a raised brow. “Jesus, Johnny! You startled me.” You lean your back against the counter and grin up at him. “You’re lucky I didn’t punch you.”
“I wasn’t worried,” he laughs, resting his hands against the counter on either side of you, trapping you between them. “I heard you come downstairs and waited until you were done ogling me to get up.”
You shrink down in embarrassment. “I didn’t know you were awake. I’m sorry if I creeped you out. I had just come down to start coffee but you distracted me; you’re easy on the eyes, you know.”
John laughs softly, moving his hand to run his thumb over your cheek. “You’re stealing my best lines, luv. But you’re alright; thought it was rather charming.” He takes a deep breath, inhaling the smell of the coffee behind you. “And truth be told, I didn’t much sleep anyhow. I kept waking up to check in on you.”
You’re taken aback by how protective he can be. He continues before you can comment on it. “I didn’t mean to start a row with you last night, sweet’eart. The break-in took me by surprise and trust me when I say that not much does that. I wanted to ensure you were safe and you can’t blame a bloke for wanting to look chivalrous in front of the lass he fancies, now can you?”
You slide your hands up his arms before resting them against his bare chest. “You fancy me, do you?” You glance up into his eyes, feeling strangely shy when he doesn’t answer right away.
“I do.” John replies softly, lifting your chin with his finger. “I don’t let just anyone bugger me at arcade games.”
The laugh that comes out of you, makes him laugh too. “I didn’t just bugger you Johnny, I kicked your ass.”
He pulls you to him, wrapping his arms tightly around you. Resting your head against John’s chest, you smile to yourself. You could seriously get used to this. “It wasn’t a fair fight.” You feel his laugh rumble through his chest. “You distracted me, sweet’eart.”
He kisses the top of your head as you pull back. “You’re the one who said I was going to be handful.” You tease as you turn back to switch off the coffee.
You feel his hands on your hips, pressing into your skin. “I did, luv. And it’s a good bloody thing that I like a challenge.”
He lowers his voice, speaking directly into your ear. “Now, be a good girl and get me a cup of that, ay?” You nod, filling his cup and let him kiss your cheek when he passes to grab sugar from the counter.
“Tell me you made a whole pot of that?” Eric grins, walking down the stairs. When you nod again, he hops down the last two. “You’re the best, fella. What’s for breakfast?”
“I can do eggs and toast?” You ask both of them, shrugging your shoulders. “If that’s cool?” Both men nod and lean against the counter as you start to grab what you’ll need.
You feel a little self conscious as you go through the motions of collecting ingredients for breakfast. You’ve made food for Eric easily a hundred times over, usually with one of you hungover, but you’re so comfortable with him there that you effortlessly move around him.
John, on the other hand, is a different story entirely. You can feel his eyes on you as you rest the pan on top of the stove. You know that you’re good at this, but you find yourself concentrating on not making a mistake. You’re hyper aware that he’s watching you, a fact that you wouldn’t mind if Eric wasn’t there too.
Knowing you as well as he does, Eric pushes himself away from the counter with a low chuckle. “As fun as it is to watch you two actin’ nervous around each other, I’m gonna check in with the station quick.”
With his foot on the bottom step, he turns and grins at you. “Betcha I’ll be done with my call before ya even start breakfast.”
You roll your eyes, letting your lips twist into a smirk. Everything is a bet with the two of you. “You’re on, Grant.”
John laughs and watches him head back up the stairs. "I'm making you nervous again, am I?" He chuckles over his coffee cup. You roll your eyes but turn around so he can't see your embarrassment. "S'not my intention, luv. But I won't deny how smashing you look with your cheeks flushed pink like that."
"You don't make me nervous." When you plug in the toaster, you spin around to find him inches from you. His eyebrow is raised, lending his face a playful expression. Every time he looks at you like that, you can feel your pulse speed up. You hope you never get tired of it.
You lean back against the counter, feeling the cool marble against your palms as your heart beats wildly. "You say that, pet." His eyes sparkle with lust, making them darken as he stares down at you. "But the way your body reacts when I'm close, tells me otherwise."
You glance over to the stove top and then back to him with a smile. "Keep teasing me," you laugh, resting your hands on John’s hips so you can move him back. "You'll make me burn breakfast."
"I can't help it," he pulls away, shrugging his shoulders casually. "You're bloody gorgeous." He opens the refrigerator and grabs the eggs and butter from the shelf. “Besides, it would be a tad difficult to burn anything when the stove’s off. Don’t think I didn’t notice that bluff.”
You roll your eyes as you head over to the range and turn on the heat. “You’re such a charmer, Johnny.”
“Isn’t he though?” Eric laughs as he comes back down the stairs. You grab a spatula from your drawer and ask if there’s been any news from last night. He shakes his head as you throw a pad of butter in the pan. “We had a cah stay in the area last night, but no one saw anythin’ suspicious.”
“We have no idea what time this happened,” you point out as you crack eggs into the pan. “It could’ve been right after we left. So, unfortunately, I’m not shocked.” You set about frying the eggs as they exchange a smile. “And yes I know, you won that bet. It’s not my fault, John distracted me!”
“I shoulda bet money on it.” Eric grins, elbowing John in the side. “Usually she wipes the floor with me when we make a bet. Woulda been nice to win one.”
John and Eric make small talk as you finish cooking. Over the sound of their conversation, your mind drifts. It’s been almost two months since Sam cornered you in your office. When he left, he warned you that this wasn’t over. It made you nervous then, but you hadn’t thought about it since.
Would he really stoop that low and break into your place to scare you? You don’t remember if you’d gotten your key back from him when you left him. Now, you feel like an idiot for not immediately changing your locks. That’s a mistake you plan to rectify today.
“I need to get the locks changed today,” you tell them as you plate the food. “John, you’re more than welcome to stay. I know it won’t be a lot of fun, but if you don’t have to leave?”
John accepts his plate graciously. “I’m chuffed to stay, luv. I just need to nip over to the hotel and change my clothes.” He lets out a soft noise of pleasure as he takes a bite. “Bloody hell lass, they’re just eggs. How do they taste so...” He gestures with his hand to find the word he wants.
“Delicious?” Eric offers, shoveling his food into his mouth. “My nana and my ma taught her everythin' they knew, that’s how.” John tilts his head as he chews, silently questioning Eric.
“The Grant’s are a family full of men. Six generations, no daughters. With how close our families are, when the kid was born, my ma was so damn excited. Practically adopted her after seein’ how nasty her mo-”
You shoot him a warning glare, cutting him off quickly. “How nasty my mother’s cooking was.” John raises his eyebrow in your direction, but wisely takes another sip of his coffee instead of commenting.
You have enough to deal with. Explaining your mother to John is not on the list of things you want to do today. Or ever, if you’re being honest.
***
After breakfast, Eric offers to drive John over to his hotel for a fresh change of clothes while you get dressed. Your foot is on the step as you realize that you’re currently the only one in the house that has a car here.
“You’ll have to take mine,” you tell them over your shoulder. “The keys are on the hook by the door!”
“Thanks!” You hear Eric call out, followed by a quick “Cheers!” from John. Once you hear the door lock, you head upstairs to change and freshen up.
Your upstairs is colder than your living area, a quirk of the townhouse being in an older part of Boston. Out of habit, you reach on your chair for your college hoodie. When you don’t find it, you furrow your brow and move the things off the chair to double check. Where is it?
You check your closet and hamper in the bathroom, feeling a bit unsettled when it doesn’t turn up. Strange, but you figure you must've just misplaced it. You change out of your pj's and into a navy tank top and denim cut offs.
Piling your hair into a messy bun on the top of your head, you walk to your dresser to grab your earrings and the opal necklace you always wear.
You feel the seeds of panic plant themselves in the pit of your stomach. You didn’t wear the necklace yesterday, you were afraid you’d lose it at the dive bar.
You know, without a doubt, that you had left it on your dresser. Taking a deep breath to quell your nerves, you get on the floor and check around, making sure that it didn’t fall.
Pushing yourself up onto the side of the bed, you feel tightness in your chest. You know you didn’t lose your hoodie and your necklace. Someone was definitely here last night and now you know they weren’t just randomly breaking in.
You’ve had that hoodie since your sophomore year of college and the necklace was a gift from your parents when you got the job at the museum. They’re sentimental things for you so you have to believe that they were taken on purpose.
Maybe it was Sam. Although, you feel like he’d be more direct if he planned on retaliating for the way your last conversation ended. That thought sends a new, terrifying notion into the foreground. What if it’s someone else, what if it was an actual stalker?
You let yourself have a moment, feeling the stress of last night and your lingering anxiety overwhelm you. A few tears slip down your cheeks and you wipe them away quickly. Grabbing your phone off the charging port, you scroll to John’s number and press to connect.
He picks up on the first ring. “Miss me already?” He answers in lieu of a greeting. “We’re just about to head back, luv.”
“Stuff’s missing.” You blurt out, blowing out an anxious breath. “They’re not worth a lot of money, but it’s stuff that’s important to me, John. I don’t know what to do…” You trail off softly, afraid that if you keep talking you’ll cry again.
“We’ll get you sorted out, we’re on the way. Already in the car, luv.” John swears and repeats what you’ve said to Eric. You hear him murmuring in the background as John tries to calm your nerves. “He needs to know what was taken, I’m putting you on speaker.”
You tell Eric about the sweatshirt and your necklace, keeping your sentences short and steady. It’s the best you can do given how freaked out you are. “I’m callin' the station now,” Eric promises. “You and I are gonna head down there when we get back.”
“Take a deep breath and go downstairs, I’m going to stay on the line till we get there.” John orders softly, his voice a soothing balm over your frayed nerves. “Whoever this tosser is, we’ll get him.”
You head downstairs and fold your knees up on the couch. You and John don’t say much more of anything, you just listen to his breathing and Eric’s insistent commands in the background. When you hear your door unlock, you jump up.
John walks in first, takes one look at the anxious expression on your face and crosses the distance to you. He wraps his arms around you, murmuring softly into your hair. “You’ll be alright, sweet’eart.”
You nod, trusting what he says. “Thank you,” you tell him, peering up at him through your lashes. “This doesn’t have to be your problem, I mean we’ve only known each other a couple months. I don’t blame you if you don’t want to deal with this.”
John leans back, siding his hands down your arms to squeeze yours. He meets your eyes with a soft smile. “Come now, it doesn’t matter if I’d known only you a fortnight. If it’s your problem, pet? It’s my problem too.”
You squeeze his hands in response, feeling truly grateful for his existence in your life. No matter how fleeting it may be.
Eric slides his phone into his pocket as he comes in. “I got a few shirts in the spare bedroom, yeah? Just lemme grab a clean one and we’ll head out.” He runs up your stairs two at a time before you can answer him.
“I’ll call the locksmith and get that sorted out while you’re at the station.” John tells you reassuringly. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
You lean up on your toes and press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, for everything.”
John’s smiles, but you notice it doesn’t quite meet his dark eyes. “Anytime, luv.”
***
Once you and Eric have left, John gets to work. He finds whatever candles you have laying around the house and lights them in a circle. As he sits, he murmurs an incantation that will reveal any demonic energy in the house. Once he’s said it, he watches a trail of onyx dust start at the door and move upstairs.
John follows the trail, fury coursing through him with each step. The bastard made its way throughout the bloody house. But something doesn’t add up. The lower level tosspots usually need to possess a human form. That’s the only way it could’ve made off with your things.
But then, it wouldn't have had to have broken in, now would it?
Unless. Unless, the demon let the human that controls it into the house. John has to know for certain, but he’s got a sinking suspicion that he’s right. Bloody hell.
John rushes back down the stairs and rummages through your cabinet for the herbs he’ll need. He quickly crushes and swallows them. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes. “Memoriam vestri revelare tenebris.*”
When he opens his eyes, John can see the evening pass in reverse. He watches himself pace anxiously, sees his conversation with Eric, his conversations with you and then after a few minutes he finds exactly what he’s looking for.
The rabisu makes its way through the house after letting in it’s very human master. The man has some kind of cloaking spell on his face, obscuring it from John’s view. Even with his powerful magic, John’s unable to see who controls the creature.
John watches, enraged, as both demon and master head upstairs and return with your sweatshirt wrapped under the man’s arm. Your necklace must be in there too.
The man stops at your wall of photos and gently runs his fingers down a picture of you at your graduation. “I’ll have you, soon enough.” The man growls before slipping out the door.
“Son of a bitch.” John swears, pushing himself to his feet. He knows it’s your blood that draws the creature to you, but what exactly does it’s master want with you?
Now more than ever, he needs that bloody spell from Chas. John rolls his shoulders back to release the building tension there.
There may have been a time where John would have just let the chips fall where they may. But when the demon’s master decided to entangle you in this mess, he guaranteed that John would stay involved. That bastard is going to bloody well wish he hadn’t.
Notes:
*Your memories to reveal the dark
And the plot thickens....
Be prepared, because next week, you're going to discover EVERYTHING ;)
Chapter 14: It's all starting to make sense
Summary:
When he saves your life in the museum, everything about John and his reason for being here starts to make sense to you. At the same time, John discovers how capable and determined you are, even in the face of danger.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The week following the break in, you want to keep your life as normal as possible. But you go to work and come home. Having John as a constant companion to and from both locations is the only indication that something happened. You know he’s just being protective, but you find it wholly unnecessary.
If you only knew what had really broken in, you wouldn’t give him as much grief.
As you drive in on Friday morning, you and Eric are excitedly talking over Bluetooth. You leave for New Orleans the next afternoon to meet him and Charlotte for Labor Day weekend.
“It’s shitty that ya basically pullin’ a double.” He commiserates with you as he gets ready. “Especially since ya got an earlyish flight.”
“Yeah, but you know I’m working late tonight,” you remind him as you pull out of your parking spot. “So I can take the Tuesday after Labor Day off and honestly, I don’t mind. There’s a list of artifacts from the exhibit that have to be cataloged and overseen. They go back to the MET next week. I’d prefer to be the one to do it.”
Eric laughs over the sound of his electric razor. “Yeah, yeah. I get it, gotta impress the big guys. Just wish you were flyin’ down with me.”
“I promise, I’ll be there before you know it.” You grin as you turn onto the main road. “You and Charli are gonna want a little alone time before I get there anyway.”
“Ya right,” he agrees after a brief pause. “Especially since I got my own big guy to impress. I’m meetin’ Ray tomorrow and I don’t want anythin’ to go wrong.”
You smile as you think of Charlotte’s dad. He’s a great man; sweet and protective. When you lived down there for school, you came to think of him as a second father. You spent many a weekend at his house with Charlotte; swimming at the lake, running with Beau, and watching Ray cook.
“You’re going to love him.” You happily promise. “Just be yourself and you’ll be fine. Ray’s simple like that.”
“I hope so.” You can hear Eric’s nervousness through the phone. You really should text Ray and tell him to go easy on Eric. He’s nothing like Hugh. “You gonna see John before ya leave?” Eric asks, pulling you from your thoughts.
You drive into the garage and let out a small sigh. “We had dinner last night because he has some business to take care of tonight. I would’ve invited him but I didn’t want to make it weird, you know? We aren’t exactly…”
“I get it, ya don’t have to explain. Charlotte may have said something about ya current situation.” Eric sighs and you can just picture him rolling his eyes. “I agree with her, ya know. I think you should talk to him. He likes ya, a lot. I told ya, I could tell.”
“I will.” You promise again, pulling into a spot. “As soon as we get back.”
He lets out another sigh. “Fine. Alright, kid. I got a few things to take care of at the station before I sign off. I’ll let ya know when I get to the airport and when I land.”
You exchange goodbyes and hang up, locking your SUV as you head into the museum. Once you’ve dropped your bag off in your own office, you head over to Director Connors. You can hear the arguing before you even walk in the room.
“- power I have at my disposal. You have no idea the damage I could inflict if I chose to. It would be unwise to be on the wrong side of my employers.” Is that Doctor Morgan? What is he talking about, employers? He works for the board.
“Are you really threatening me, Ezra?” Connors snarls. Your eyes widen, you’ve never heard him use that tone before. “Because you know how unwise that would be. And you had to know I’d never help you harm him.”
Doctor Morgan laughs, the sound coming out harsh and vicious. “I don’t threaten, Darren. I promise. Now, this doesn’t have to end badly for you. But if you insist on fighting me, I’ll ensure no one walks away from this.”
When Morgan pauses, you press your ear closer to the door, wishing you could see what was happening. “I know you want to keep that girl safe, too. Did you really think you could keep her a secret forever? I’ll use her against both of you if I must.”
“Try whatever you want, you son of a bitch.” Connors snaps back as you hear something hit the wall near the door. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” Morgan hisses. “The con man is here, Darren. So whether you like it or not, my plan is already working. I am curious though, does he know about her?”
“She has nothing to do with this.”
Your head is spinning. What the Hell are they talking about? Why would Doctor Morgan threaten him? Who are they arguing about? You lift your hand to knock, hoping to diffuse the tension and save Connors from any more arguments when Morgan snaps again. “This conversation is no longer private.”
He throws the door open and settles his eyes on you. “Well, well. Hello, there.” He smiles, wide and predatory. It seems so at odds with the soft kindness you’re used to seeing on his face.
Morgan turns back to Connors and gestures with his hand for you to come inside. “Last chance.” He growls, narrowing his eyes.
Connors crosses his arms, his jaw clenched furiously. His eyes flick to you for a moment before turning back to Morgan. “Get out.”
Morgan makes an unimpressed sound in the back of his throat. “You’ll regret this.” He hisses before storming out of the office. You furrow your brow at his retreating form.
“Is everything alright, Darren?” You ask softly, stepping further into the room. “I can come back if -”
“No, no, hun. You’re fine.” Connors plasters a smile on his face and moves to sit behind his desk. “Did you need me for something?”
You wave the acquisitions list you’ve been holding. “Yes, if you’re not too busy I just wanted to finalize what's going back to New York next week.”
“Of course.” He replies smoothly. He runs a hand down his face and reaches for his reading glasses off the desk. “If you’ll leave it for me, I’ll have it for you before lunch.”
Without a word, you smile and place the clipboard on the desk. Before you walk out, you turn hesitantly. “Darren, I uh… I have a call with the board in thirty minutes. To discuss funding? Will Doctor Morgan...” You let yourself trail off, unsure of how much you should say you heard.
Connors beats you to it. With a heavy sigh, he pushes himself up from his desk. “How much did you hear?” He asks, motioning for you to shut the door. You do and lean against his desk with crossed arms.
“Doctor Morgan threatened you.” You keep your voice as calm as you can. “I walked over just about then. We should tell the police, Darren. I can call my friend’s partner. He’ll come right down and -”
“That won’t be necessary.” Connors shakes his head, motioning for you to sit. “There’s quite a bit more going on here that I can’t explain to you just yet. But I need you to trust me when I say that I've got Morgan handled.”
You raise an eyebrow in disbelief. “Who was he talking about? Keep who a secret?’” Confusion furrows your brows as you sit and stare at your boss, your friend, who is obviously hiding something. “What kind of power was at his disposal?”
Connors is silent for a moment. You’re sure he’s figuring out just how much he wants to tell you. “When I’m at liberty to speak about it, I will tell you everything. For now, if you could keep this between us?”
You run your hand through your hair anxiously. “I uh…” Leaning back in your seat, you eye him cautiously. Connors has always been so up front with you; he’s never given you a reason to not trust him. “As long as you’re okay?”
“I am.” He promises, crossing his arms. “You don’t need to concern yourself with this. Now if you’ll excuse me, hun. I have a call to make.”
You nod, rising from the chair and smile as innocently as you can. “Of course.” You walk to the door and call over your shoulder. “Before lunch?”
Connors has his phone in his hand, ready to press send as soon as you leave the room. “Before lunch.”
You slip out, shutting the door behind you. Purposely, you let your shoes click on the marble as you walk away. Once you’ve reached your office, you slip them off and hurry back to Connors’ door.
Leaning near the door frame, your strain to hear what he’s saying. Connors’ voice is hushed and nervous. “- you heard me, John. He barged in here and threatened my life and hers. I think there’s more to this than I initially thought when I asked you to come here.”
He pauses and you have to cover your mouth with your hand. John? What does he have to do with this? “I know, I know. What did you want me to do? At least we know you were right about what you saw, even if we don’t understand why.”
You hear the elevator ping and as much as you want to hear more, you don’t dare risk getting caught. With a frustrated sigh, you take off back down the hall to your office.
Your head is spinning as you shut your office door and lean against the desk. You have no idea what’s going on but Connors is lying to you. You’re sure of it. And John? Somehow he’s involved.
***
You have a non-stop day after that. You don’t have much of a chance to talk with Director Connors and by the time you finally stop to take a breather, it’s well after nine o’clock. How did your entire day get away from you?
You feel like your eyes are going to fall out of your head from how long you’ve been staring at your screen. Blearily blinking your eyes, you shake your head and roll your chair away from the desk. Your cell phone, long forgotten on the charging port, is blinking frantically.
With an exhausted sigh, you stand and walk over to it. Two missed calls from John and one from Eric. You’ve got a few text messages as well. Eric telling you he landed safely and John just checking in.
You answer Eric first, telling him that you’re glad he arrived alright. Then you let John know that you’re still, unfortunately, at the museum.
Your rumbling stomach reminds you that you skipped lunch earlier. If you’re going to be here much longer, you’ve got to eat something. Resting your phone on the desk, you grab a five from your wallet and make your way downstairs.
The museum is usually peaceful this time of night but as you wander through the hallway, you feel uneasy. Anxiety blooms in your chest and you’re not sure why. You’ve been here countless times after hours, you’ve never felt this way before.
When you see the vending machine ahead, you hurry your steps, feeling eternally grateful that you changed into flats earlier in the day. The echo of your own footsteps seems innocuous enough, until you stop moving and the sound continues. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves and slowly walk in the direction of the elevator.
You know you shouldn’t do it, but you turn and glance over your shoulder. Something skitters into the shadows behind the pillar on your left. “What the fuck.” You whisper as your hand flies to your mouth.
You squint your eyes, struggling to see in the dim light of the museum. You take a tentative step towards the Great Hall, your fight or flight instincts warring inside you.
Your heart hammers in your chest as you carefully step into the room. The shadow cast by the fossilized triceratops in the center gives the room an eerie stillness. You know better than to call out and ask if anyone is there; you’ve seen enough horror movies, thank you very much.
Instead, you carefully scan the room and freeze when you hear a rattling whistle in front of you. Your eyes focus on where you think the sound came from and swallow back a scream when some thing steps from the shadows.
Whatever it is, it’s tall - easily seven or eight feet. It’s pallid yellow skin stretches over its distorted body as it steps towards you. When you let out a panicked gasp, it smiles at you, revealing jagged curved teeth. Run, your brain screams at you. Fucking run.
When the creature hisses your name, clear as day, you do.
Spinning on your heel, you bolt from the room, hearing its footfalls behind you. You rush towards the employee exit, thinking if you can just make it to your car, you’ll be fine. As you glance back over your shoulder, you slam into someone. “Shit.” You swear, stumbling backward.
You lift your eyes and meet John’s concerned ones. “Woah, easy luv.” He grabs your shoulders to steady you. “Why the bloody hell are you still here?”
“Johnny, thank god it’s you.” His question goes unanswered as you let your body sag with relief. Then you remember why you were running in the first place. You both hear it, the low rattle on the other side of the wall. You turn to him with frightened eyes.
“We need to get out of here!” You exclaim, grabbing him by the shirt. “There’s someone or... something following me. I don’t know. It… it knew my name, it -”
John pushes you back against the wall, covering your mouth with his hand. You shake your head, lifting your own arm to push against him. Pure fear snakes down your spine when you try to pry his hand away and you can’t.
John’s stronger than you expected and for a horrible moment, you’re afraid you’ve made a mistake in trusting him. You make a muffled frightened noise under his palm, furrowing your brow as panic overrides your logical thinking. He wouldn’t hurt you, right?
“Shh, luv. You must listen to me.” John’s face is inches from yours, his dark eyes imploring you to understand. “I’m going to keep you safe, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”
You nod your head, too nervous to do anything else. “I’m going to move my hand,” John whispers, holding a finger to his lips. “But I need you to promise me that you won’t scream. I don’t fancy drawing it over here.”
You nod again, breathing deeply through your nose to calm yourself. When John moves his hand, you swallow thickly and cross your arms to keep from shivering. “Who the hell -”
“You’ve the right idea before, it’s more of a what than a who, luv. A demon to be exact and I reckon that thing is after you.” John leans around the corner before straightening himself so he can meet your eyes. You raise an eyebrow at him in disbelief. “I will explain everything, I swear it. Just let me get you out of here.”
You both hear a loud yelp come from the Great Hall. That’s Darren. What's he doing here? You push yourself away from the wall and attempt to round the corner. John grabs your arm, shaking his head. “That’s out of the bloody question, luv.”
Giving John a hard stare, you yank your arm back. “Look, I’m gonna be completely honest with you. I’m freaking the fuck out right now. But Darren is my friend and you’re too calm for this to be the first time you’ve ever seen something like that. So, you have to have some kind of plan.”
He opens his mouth to argue and you shake your head. “No, John. Whatever you’re going to do, I can handle it. You told me before that you’re excellent with weird? Well same, so now you trust me.”
John stares at you like he’s truly seeing you for the first time. You’re utterly different than anyone he’s ever met. He’s worked with grown men who couldn’t handle the barest of what he’s told you so far. There’s a tiny part of him that swells with irrational pride. That’s my girl, he marvels as he stares down at you.
“You’re going to let me help you.” You start around the corner, pushing down your fear. His mouth hangs open in disbelief when you smile back at him. “So, are you coming or?”
After a moment, John shakes his head as he walks to you. “You follow my lead, do I make myself clear? Or none of us walk out of here alive.” Nodding, you fall behind him as he walks. “You’re going to see me do some dodgy work, you just need to -”
“Trust you.” You finish, rolling your eyes. “I know.”
John lets out a noise of frustration as he runs a hand down his face. He holds it out to pause when you both hear the strangled yelp again. “This way,” he hisses, pointing down a side corridor. “Praetexo.*”
You freeze when the air around you shimmers. What just happened? You tilt your head in confusion. “Simple concealment charm.” John explains, watching for your reaction. “The rabisu, that’s what’s after you, won’t be able to smell you now.”
Charm? Smell me? Jesus Christ, what is happening. You let out a low steadying breath as you stare at him. You told John you could handle this. Do not freak out. “Okay.” You start slowly. “Okay, what do you need me to do?”
“Not get killed.” John deadpans, folding up the sleeves of his dress shirt. He meets your eyes quickly as you pull your hair into a ponytail to keep it out of your face. “I don’t need that on my conscience as well.”
You follow suit, peeking around the corner and stifle a scream when you see Connors laying face down on the floor in the Great Hall. You turn back to John with wild eyes. “You’re alright, luv.” He promises, thinking that you’re about to crack. “Everything's going to be fine.”
“I know that.” You tell him, glancing between his face and your friend in the Great Hall. “I’m not worried about me. I have you to protect me, right?” His face softens when you smile. “I’m worried about Darren. If that thing is after me, why did it hurt him?”
“That a brilliant question, innit?” John crouches down behind the pillar near the entrance and mutters something under his breath. You aren’t sure what he’s done but you can feel the air, it’s changed somehow.
As you look around, John whispers to you. “Darren’s alive, only just. I called his aura to me so I could be certain.”
He meets your eyes carefully. “I’m going to go over and see just how bad it is. Stay here. It’s too bloody dangerous for you to be out there in the open like that. I’m sure it’s trying to draw you out.” John’s voice is soft but insistent. “If it sees you and I can’t get to you in time…”
“I’ll stay here.” You promise quietly. “But what if it tries to hurt you?”
John presses his lips to your forehead so quickly that if you'd blinked, you'd've missed it. “Don’t worry about ol’ Johnny. Bigger things have tried and they always fail.”
You know that he’s trying to reassure you, but that just makes you understand how dangerous this really is. With one final smile, and before you can comment, he darts across the room as quick as he’s able.
***
“Come on mate,” John whispers as he carefully turns Connors to the side. There doesn’t seem to be a scratch on him, but his breathing is too shallow for comfort. “Talk to me, come on.”
John gently pats his cheek, attempting to bring Connors around. “You’ll be fine, big man, just open your eyes. Talk to me.”
Connors coughs weakly, attempting to push himself up. “J… Johnny, we played this wrong.” His eyes move wildly. John rests his hand on his friend's chest, shaking his head so he’ll stay down.
“Listen.” Connors hisses insistently. “I thought Morgan wanted her, but I… I was wrong.”
Hearing the rattling whistle coming from the next room, John lifts his head to scan for the Rabisu. “What are you going on about, mate?” He asks, glancing back down to the ground. He lifts Connors head with one hand, cradling the back of his neck carefully.
“He’s after you.” Connors groans, coughing up blood. “I tried to… God, John, I’m sorry. I led you right to him. When Morgan saw her, he thought he’d take advantage of the situation… I don’t know who he’s working for...” He trails off as his eyes roll to the back of his head.
Panicking, John mutters an incantation under his breath to try and keep Connors alive just a few moments longer.
In his concentration, John doesn’t notice that the Rabisu has come back into the room. He’s too focused on trying to save his friend to pay attention, even as the demon zeros in on them both.
***
The demon, rabisu, or whatever John called it, creeps back into the Great Hall soundlessly. You narrow your eyes as you push yourself up to your feet. John doesn’t see it.
You wave your arms, trying to get his attention but it’s useless. Unless you step away from the safety of the pillar and call attention to yourself, John is in big trouble.
Do I risk my safety or his life? Shaking your head, you know you’ve made the decision the second you have the thought.
Stepping out from behind the column, you take a deep breath to steady your nerves. “John! Look out!” He whips his head up and stares at you for a split second in confusion.
You frantically gesture behind him, making him turn and look up in alarm. John scrambles to his feet quickly and steps away from Connors.
As he claps his hands together with force, a small golden rune appears in front of John’s chest. When he pulls them apart, he twists his hands counterclockwise and makes a fist with each one. The rune grows as he murmurs something in what you think is Latin. He pushes the symbol outward and it flies into the demon’s chest.
The demon staggers backward a few steps before lunging forward again to lash out with its claws. He throws another rune before somersaulting away to avoid being hit. When they move their fight into the hall, you dart forward to check on Connors. More than anything, you wish you had your damn phone to call for help.
“Darren,” you whisper, gently cradling his head. “Open your eyes, you’re going to be alright.” You gently touch his cheek to rouse him. “I won’t let you die like this, come on. Ryan is going to be so mad at you. You gotta open your eyes.”
Connors eyes flutter open slightly. “Hun, I'm so… sorry.” You try to help him sit but he only shakes his head. “No… no. It’s okay. Tell Ryan I love… him.” You nod as you blink back tears. “I should’ve told y… you before. Don’t trust M… You’re stronger… blood’s....”
You furrow your brow in confusion, having no idea what he’s saying. “Shhh, Darren. You’re going to be alright.”
He lets out a barking laugh that turns into a cough. Your eyes widen in horror at the blood you see tricking out of the corner of his mouth. “I’m not, you know th…that. Be safe -” Connors lets out a final rattling breath before going still.
“Darren?” When you gently shake his shoulders and he doesn’t wake, you press two fingers to his neck to feel for a pulse. Finding none, you can’t help the sob that slips out of you. He can’t be dead, he can’t be. Wiping your eyes, you push yourself to your feet and stare into the darkness.
A shiver runs through you when you hear a sound coming from the hallway. You could run, but you know you won’t get far. Instead, you steel your nerves and brace yourself for whatever is going to come stepping from the shadows.
“Are you daft, woman?” John hisses, wiping blood from a cut on his cheek. “I tell you to bloody well stay hidden and you deliberately disobeyed me. You could’ve been -”
“Killed. I’m aware." You narrow your eyes at him. "You clearly didn’t see it coming, so I had to warn you. Excuse me for not wanting you to be demon chow.”
You cross your arms defensively. “I mean, I didn’t want to get eaten either, but I couldn't let you get hurt.” He gives you a soft smile that makes your heart skip a beat, a tender gesture at odds with the tense situation.
Tearing your eyes away from his, you glance over his shoulder. “Is it dead?” You ask, hating that your voice sounds so uncertain.
“Not yet, it’s a bugger to kill. I hurt it, but now it’s hiding.” John stares down at the floor, at Connors’ still form. “Bollocks."
He drops to the ground, pressing his finger to Connors’ pulse. After a moment, he turns back up to you. “He wasn’t alone, yeah? You were with him at the end?”
“I was.” You promise him softly. “But John, Darren didn’t look injured.” You extend your hand to help him to his feet. “How did this happen? What the fuck is that thing? A Rabisu?”
When John faces you, his expression is guarded. “The rabisu is a parasite demon, sort of what you lot could compare to an energy vampire, I reckon? Now that it has permission from it's master, the bloody thing can rip your life force from you. That’s what it did to Darren. I wasn’t fast enough to… blimey, I didn’t think he would make a move so bloody quick."
“We need to kill it.”
“I’m bloody well aware of that, luv.” John swears, giving you a pointed stare. “And unless you’re planning on letting me use you as bait to trap the ruddy thing, I’m running out of ideas.”
You narrow your eyes, taking in what he’s just said. He told you, not fifteen minutes ago that he thought the thing was after you and now he wants to use you as bait? But, this thing killed your friend and you’ve already risked your life once tonight. Might as well make it even.
“Alright.” You hear yourself say, your agreement surprising you both. “It killed my friend, I want it destroyed. What do you need from me?”
John shakes his head, surprise registering on his features for a moment before he schools his face back into it’s usual indifferent smirk. “You’re as mad as I am.” He grins wide as he raises an eyebrow. “Now, how squeamish are you with a touch of blood?”
“Not at all.” You assure him, stepping closer to him so he can explain what he’s thinking. John creates a slim dagger out of thin air and hands it to you with a smug smile.
Once you understand the part you’re playing, you take a deep breath and let John remove the protection charm that’s kept you safe. You drag the knife across the skin of your arm, careful not to slice too deep. As a thin line of crimson beads on your skin, you lift your head and wait.
John stands out of the way, half hidden in the shadows when the Rabisu steps back into the room. The demon lifts its head to sniff the air. Your blood trickles down your arm, filling the room with a sharp coppery tang. “I’m right here, you son of a bitch.” You call out. “Come and get me!”
Before it can touch you, John steps out of the shadows, throwing two fire blasts in the demon’s direction. It turns as the blasts hit it’s stomach. John begins to chant, stepping in front of you and closing the distance between him and the Rabisu. “Looja nimel antakse teile käsk lahkuda sellest kohast. Naasmise juurde tagasi!”
The words cause the demon to shudder and fall to the ground. When John throws the same rune he did earlier, it engulfs the creature and reduces it to ash. John drops to his knees in exhaustion.
You rush to him as he wipes the sweat off his face. “That was incredible.” You exclaim, helping him to his feet. “You were incredible. I can’t believe I just witnessed that.”
“It was nothing.” John groans, dusting off his trench coat. When he catches your dazzled expression, he lets out a small huff. “Now, don’t go looking at ol’ Johnny like he’s a hero.” He watches you, gauging your reaction. “You’ll only disappoint yourself, luv.”
But it’s not nothing. John did magic, right in front of you, and you helped him to kill that thing. Your mind spins with all the possibilities of what can happen now. You want to learn magic and he’s going to teach you. You just have to get him to agree.
John gestures up the stairs, toward your office, clearly indicating that he wants to wrap things up. It’s now or never.
Before he can open his mouth, you interrupt him as your words come out in a rush. “Okay so, clearly I can handle this. Everything about you is starting to make sense.”
You smirk at him when he furrows his brows. “The whole broody, anti-hero thing? I get it. But now, you don’t have to go it alone. I want you to teach me how to do what you do.”
“You’re off your rocker, lass.” John snorts, dismissing you. “I bloody well told you, I work alone. I don’t need your blood on my hands.”
“Nope. You’re not shutting me out after that, John.” You step in front of him, angrily. “We’re in a dark museum, with a body. You’re the only one who shouldn’t be here after hours. So you teach me or so help me God, I scream.”
John widens his eyes at the threat. He certainly wasn’t expecting that. Just when he thinks you’re done surprising him, you prove him wrong.
“And if you think I won’t, clearly, you’ve underestimated me.” You raise your eyebrow, knowing that you’re going to win this. “Remember, Eric is a detective. I’m friends with half of the Boston -”
John lets out an exasperated sigh. “Alright, alright. Keep your hair on, huh?” You let a smug smile twist onto your lips.
He lifts his eyes to meet yours, the dark amber in his bore into you but you refuse to back down. You can do this, you want to do this. Nothing has ever seemed to make more sense than this, right now.
Sure, in the beginning, you were terrified. But you pushed it down and were able to help John. Twice. He has to see what an asset you’d be to him. You’ve never been more sure of anything before. You’re going to learn magic and you’re going to be good at it.
John crosses the distance and softens his gaze. “This is dangerous.” He warns you softly. “It isn’t for everyone, sweet’eart.”
“Clearly, the same can be said for you, Johnny.” You answer honestly, resting your hand on his arm. “But I’m in, either way.”
John remains silent for a moment, seeming to consider his options. Something you can’t explain crosses his face, making him smile. “Fine.” He responds finally. “Grab your things, I need to get down to the security room, then move Darren. We need to have never been here.”
When you tilt your head in question, John shoos you up the stairs. “I’ll add it to the bloody list of things I’ve got to explain, yeah?”
You nod as you turn on your heel and head up the staircase. “I’ll be back down in a minute.”
Your thoughts race as you climb. You have so many questions and a part of you is still in disbelief of what you saw tonight. But you were right, everything is starting to make sense now.
All the bits of John that you didn’t quite trust, fall right into place with the knowledge of what he can do. You’re sure you haven’t even scratched the surface of what he’s capable of. Maybe you should be afraid, someone that skilled at hiding who he really is isn’t someone you should be involving yourself with.
The word dangerous comes to mind again. But you throw that thought away the second you have it. It’s too late to walk away now. And if you’re honest with yourself, you don’t want to anyway.
***
As John watches you walk up the steps, a small smirk finds its way onto his lips. This evening most definitely did not go as planned. He had no way of knowing you weren’t actually the intended target. You weren’t even supposed to be here.
But in the end, he was glad you were. Your ability to handle everything he told you just confirmed for him that you were different. Maybe you could handle the hidden world.
John wasn’t lying, what he does is bloody dangerous. He hadn’t anticipated agreeing to teaching you, never in a million years did he think you’d have the stones to ask him to. But you showed zero fear when you yelled for him, warning him that the Rabisu was closing in.
He should have known. You amazed him more than once tonight. And he knows he wouldn’t have been able to say no to you, even if he truly wanted to.
Letting you into this life would be like throwing you into the line of fire, indefinitely. But the masochistic side of John urges him to allow it, even though he’s sure he knows how this will inevitably end; you hurt (or worse) and John alone with nothing but a whiskey bottle and his self loathing.
It always ends the same.
“I need a bloody drink.” John mutters, rummaging into his pocket for his flask. All of this is giving him a headache. Connors had been a casualty that he wasn't expecting and Morgan was still out there. Chas is going to go off his bloody rocker when he finds out how badly John’s mucked this up.
The questions in John’s mind claw at him as he walks. What the hell did Morgan want with him? Who was he working for?
John has no shortage of enemies. In his line of work, it’s impossible to not. He’s managed to piss off some high level bastards, the likes of which would love to see him suffer for eternity.
His soul is bound for hell anyway, maybe someone wants to speed up the process? Get to the back of the bloody line, he thinks as he rolls his eyes.
As he approaches the security room, John downs the contents of his flask quickly. He needs to spell the footage, make it seem like neither of you were there tonight. Then he needs to move Connors, stage the accident the security tape is going to see.
Then John will need to deal with you. He has a lot of explaining to do and he’s sure at some point, it’s going to be too much for you and you’re going to run. That’ll be the end of whatever the two of you are. And he’d rather not be stone cold sober for that.
Notes:
*Conceal
*On behalf of the Creator, you are commanded to leave this place. Return from whence you came.Next week: You have a thousand questions. And John has a lot of explaining to do, doesn't he?
Chapter 15: This life isn't for everyone
Summary:
John contemplates his options moving forward before he gives you a much needed explanation. Once you understand how complicated John’s life truly is, you’re determined to prove you belong by his side.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Your mind races as you push open your office door with trembling fingers. Magic is real. Magic is real and John is…
You pause, hand on your chest as you find you’re unable to finish your thought. John is what exactly? A magician? A wizard? You roll your eyes as soon as the thoughts start to cross your mind.
But another thought slithers in, the same you had as you climbed the stairs. It’s unwanted, but you’re unable to stop it. John is dangerous.
It should matter to you. You should want to find out exactly what he is, determine whether or not John’s a good man. You saw him do incredible things tonight, but he’s been lying about, well, possibly everything.
But as you grab your things, you realize with a start that it doesn’t matter. Even if he’s the bad guy, John’s been nothing but good to you.
That demon would have killed you too if John hadn’t intervened. You shiver, thinking that the fate that befell Darren could have been yours. At that realization, you allow yourself a few quick tears for your fallen friend. He didn’t deserve to die like that; what was he even doing here this late?
Your hand hovers over the door knob as your mind runs through the repercussions of Darren’s death. There’s no demonic body for the police to find, only his.
No matter what John thinks he’s going to do, there’s no way this isn’t going to be clocked as a homicide. Your heart races when you realize you’ll be questioned about this, possibly implicated.
You’re a horrible liar, you’re sure you’ll cave under interrogation. You can’t imagine what Eric is going to think, what your dad will think.
You wipe away your tears and take a deep, steadying breath as you flip off the light and head back down the stairs to face him. Everything is going to be alright, somehow. It has to be. John will fill in the blanks and you’ll get through this, together.
In this moment, you have no way of knowing just how much your life will change after tonight. But it will, and there’ll be no turning back.
***
John looks up from his phone as your foot hits the final marble step. “Alright, yeah?” He asks as he starts walking to you. When you nod, John must take your silence as you feeling overwhelmed. He carefully rests his palms flat on your shoulders and meets your eyes.
There's wary nervousness reflected in his eyes when he stares at you. Tension settles into his shoulders as you both remain silent for another moment. From the way his jaw's clenched, he’s preparing himself for the worst.
But if John’s waiting for you to break down into a sobbing mess, he’s got the wrong girl.
“What did you do with Darren?” You ask, proud of how even your voice sounds. “How are we supposed to hide what really happened from the Police? I don’t know if I can lie to them, to Eric. I’ve never been any good at it.”
“I used a spell to alter the videos.” John shrugs casually, as if he’s telling you the time. “We were never here after sundown. The videos will show you saying goodnight to him, then you leave the building around seven. Darren will have an accident an hour after you leave. Poor bloke, fell right down the ruddy stairs.”
You swallow down the rising bile in your throat as John callously feeds you the lie that you’ll have to live with. Does this not affect him the way it’s affecting you? Your friend, his friend, died tonight. What the hell is wrong with him?
John shakes his head slowly when you open your mouth to ask him just that. “This is quite a bit to process, luv. I understand that. Now, I won’t be offended if you want me to try to uh, addle your memory.”
He eyes you regretfully when you stare up at him, a confused expression overtaking your features. “It hasn’t been too long since we met and I’ve no idea if it’ll stick, but I can try to make it as if you never bloody laid eyes on me. You’d have no memory of tonight and -”
“Are you crazy?” You roll your eyes, cutting him off quickly. You understand that this is probably just as exhausting for him as it is for you. But John can’t just decide for you that this is something you don't want to be involved in.
“Johnny, what I saw tonight was incredible. What you did was....” You shrug, at a loss for the right word. “I have a thousand questions but magic is real. You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”
He slides his hands down your arms. “I’m not trying to be rid of you, luv. I just reckoned you might be in shock. And that after you took a deep breath, what happened tonight was going to be too bloody much for you.”
John pulls a silver flask from his coat pocket and takes a swig from it. “I half expected you to go off your trolley and get as bloody far from me and this rubbish as you could.”
You can hear an undercurrent of nervousness in the tone of his voice. So when he extends the flask to you, you take a long sip and hand it back with a smile. The whiskey has a pleasant burn to it as you step away and head in the direction of the employee corridor.
“Why would you think that?” You ask over your shoulder. “Honestly, have I ever given you any reason to indicate that I can’t handle whatever you throw at me?”
His silence makes you wonder for a moment how many people have had the opportunity to see this side of him. He seems apprehensive and yet, so sure that you’re going to explode at him. You stop and take a deep breath. “You saved my life, John -”
“Well now, an argument can be made that you saved mine first, sweet’eart.” He haughtily chuckles from behind you. “I was just returning the favor, ay?”
Crossing your arms, you turn back to face him. “Let me finish, please.” You scold him softly. “You saved me from that thing, I know you tried to save Darren. There is no part of me that wants to just abandon you, uh.. this, now.”
You lift your chin defiantly. “Whether you like it or not, I’m in this with you.”
There's despair weighing heavily in his amber eyes when he stares at you. If you could see into his head, you’d understand just how badly his self control is spiraling away from him as the seconds tick by.
“I work better alone.” John murmurs, his voice subdued, almost vulnerable; a stark contrast to the arrogance you heard just moments before. “In the end, no one stays.”
“I’ll stay,” You promise, a little shocked by how vehemently you mean what you’re saying. “No matter what.” When you hold out your hand, the gesture itself is a promise you hope he’ll accept.
After a second, John takes it, walking with you to the parking lot. “Ah, we both know that’s not true, luv.” He replies quietly. You almost don’t hear him as you fish out your keys to unlock your SUV.
John tells you to hand him the keys and given what’s transpired earlier, you don’t question it or try to argue with him. You obediently hand them over and slide into the passenger seat.
As he pulls away from the garage, murmuring softly in latin, you twist your body in the seat so you can watch him. Once he’s done, he smiles lazily in your direction before turning onto Cambridge street. "Locking the doors, luv." He explains with a smile.
You’re both silent for a moment as he drives, until the questions in your head start bubbling over.
“So magic is real?” You blurt out, making his jaw tick in response. “I mean, you do call it magic, right? Are you a wizard? Like Harry Potter!”
John turns to you quickly, rolling his eyes. “Yes, but not a wizard, luv.” He scoffs lightly. “I’m more like a mage, or a warlock.”
“Definitely a wizard.” You parry back, waiting for him to argue. When he shakes his head and insists again that he’s a warlock, you can’t help but roll your eyes right back at him. “John, that’s the same thing.”
He gives you a sideways glance, his brow furrowed in contemplation. “A wizard dabbles in general spell work based on light magic.” John’s eyes slide back to the road ahead. “Warlocks deal more with dark magic or the Dark Arts as they’re rightly called.”
Dark magic. The only dark magic you’ve heard about is in the movies. Things like black magic, Voodoo and Necromancy come to mind. But there has to be more to it. The spell he cast to destroy that Rabisu didn’t seem dark. But then, you’re keenly aware that you don’t understand him as well as you thought.
“How many others can do magic? You can’t be the only one especially if you’re going to teach me.” Recognition settles in your eyes as you remember the playing card John tried to give you when you first met. “God, that card you keep trying to give everyone, is that magic too? How does it work?”
John doesn’t answer you, spurning you to continue your line of questioning. Your eyes widen when you think back to the night that you first introduced him to Eric. “Wait. So that magic you did in front of Eric… That was real, wasn’t it?” He smiles but remains frustratingly silent.
“And you used magic to win that zombie game, didn’t you?” You can’t stop the giggle that escapes you. “Cause there’s no way you would've won otherwise.”
John pulls your SUV into your spot and kills the engine. Instead of answering, he turns to face you and you interrupt him again before he can speak. “How much did Darren know? Was he a Warlock like you? Oh god, his poor husband…”
You’re aware that you’re babbling but once you’ve started asking questions, you can’t stop. “Will that thing come back? Are there others like it? How do we stop them? I don’t want anything like that to ever happen again.”
“You weren’t bloody joking when you said you had a thousand questions.” John remarks, as he slides out of his seat.
“I’m sorry, I...,” You let out a frustrated groan. “I know that was a lot, Johnny. I... it’s just… it’s a lot to process and I want to know everything.” You push open your door to find him suddenly on the other side of it. You shake your head in bewilderment. How did he get over so fast?
You feel a rush of heat to your cheeks when he quirks an eyebrow, his eyes shining in the moonlight. “It’s alright. It is quite a bit to process, which I must say you’re holding all your bobs and bits together better than I thought possible.” He extends his hand as you step out.
Once John’s locked the doors, you both make your way up the steps and into your townhouse. “I know I owe you answers, luv.” He kicks off his shoes by your doorway, clearly making himself at home. “And I intend to give them to you, but I’m downright knackered and I don’t think a kip is gonna cut it.”
You drop your bag on the table and let yourself sink into your couch. You feel like you’ve been running on pure adrenaline since John showed up at the museum. Now that you’ve stopped; now that you’re home and safe within its walls, you can sense the exhaustion creeping into your bones. Your eyes do have a heaviness to them that didn’t exist on the way home.
“I get that.” You nod, yawning into your raised palm. You watch him shrug out of his coat and hang it on the hook by your door. “We can sleep, as long as you explain everything in the morning.”
John smiles as he helps you to your feet. “Aye, I will. Tomorrow morning.” He lets you wrap your arms around him and rest your head against his chest. “I make a bloody good English breakfast as well.” When he chuckles, you can feel the rumble against your cheek.
You lean back and look up to face him. “Thank you.” The words aren’t enough, you know it. But you aren’t sure what else you can say to the man who saved your life. It’s such a strange situation you’ve found yourself in but you feel safer knowing he’s here.
John leans down to brush his lips against yours quickly. “Anytime, sweet’eart.”
***
John stays with you, leaning back against your pillows, as you try to fall asleep. As he gently threads his fingers through your hair, you let out a soft sigh of contentment and close your eyes. You listen to his rhythmic breathing while taking in the whiskey and tobacco scent of him, and find yourself snuggling up to his side as you finally start to drift off.
Once he’s sure you’re asleep, John gently shifts you and slides from your bed. He covers you with a blanket from your chair and crosses his arms. He desperately needs a smoke and he’s got to call Chas.
As John silently slips out of your room, he smiles to himself. Both of those things are deadly, so it’s a coin toss really, which of those decisions is worse for him at the moment.
John turns around, fingers grazing the knob of your door. He gazes at you for a moment, sleeping peacefully where he left you. He watches with something like adoration in his eyes as you shift, your hair falling over your face. It takes everything in him not to walk back in and push it away.
You seem perfectly at peace in your sleep, nothing marring the soft features of your face. That will all change, John swears to himself as he turns back. Your entire life will bloody change when he explains everything.
John shakes his head as he hurries silently down the stairs. It doesn’t have to change. He could just leave. It’s not like he hasn’t done it before. Someone gets too close for his comfort and he bolts before there’s another casualty to add to his list.
You’d be upset about it, sure. But with time, you’d come to understand that the ‘smarmy English bloke just wasn’t right for you’. Or maybe John could just try to alter your memory, making you forget that he ever existed. He’s not certain it’ll work on you, but he could try.
It’s the move of a proper bastard, John knows it. And he can’t deny that it would be easier. No witnesses to what transpired in the museum, no loose ends to have to tie up. He’d nurse his regret with a few bottles, but you’d be safe and none the wiser to the danger you would’ve come up against.
It’s the smart move, the logical move. The right move.
But as he slips on his shoes and opens your front door, he knows it’s not the move he’s going to make. John knows he’s pretty damn good at what he does. He’s strong enough now, smart enough to keep you safe. This is very different from Astra.
It’s a selfish, arrogant thought that’s been proven wrong more times than John can count. People that trust him tend to wind up dead, often by his own miscalculations.
But John is selfish enough to want to keep someone as brilliant as you in his life. And he’s arrogant enough to think there’ll be no repercussions that he can’t handle.
You’ve got a spark in you that draws John in like no one else has before. You didn’t lose your marbles in the face of the Rabisu, even offered yourself up as bait so he could kill the bloody thing. That has to mean something.
You’re strong enough to stomach this. John has to believe that, because if he doesn’t, he knows that by teaching you about the Dark Arts, he’s signing your death warrant.
***
Once outside, John lights a silk cut and inhales deeply. He takes a few drags, each hit of nicotine calming his jittery mind. After a minute, John pulls his phone from his pocket and scrolls to Chas’s number. He connects the call and taps his foot anxiously until his friend picks up.
“John, do you know what time it is?” Chas snaps by way of greeting. “What’s happened? You and Connors’ alright?”
John exhales before answering. “You want the rubbish news or the less rubbish news, mate?”
Chas lets out an annoyed sigh. John can hear the man’s frustration channeled through the exhalation of breath. “If you’re setting it up like that, John, it's going to all be awful. Just spill it.”
He slides down on your bottom step, running his free hand through his hair. “The Rabisu attacked. I found out who controlled the bloody thing but it’s master, Morgan, was gone by the time I got there. That lass I told you about, the one I thought was involved? She was working late, got caught in the crosshairs. I was worried it was after her but it was apparently after ol’ Johnny. And it put up a hell of a fight.”
John takes another drag before stubbing out the cigarette on the concrete beside his leg. “I saved her but I wasn’t bloody quick enough to get to Darren. I’m sorry, mate. I sent the ruddy thing back to Hell but the damage was already done.”
Chas is silent for a moment but John knows better than to ask if he’s still there. The man is, he’s just compartmentalizing his grief so he can focus on what John’s next steps should be. “Why was it after you?” He asks, voice gruff with emotion. “What does this Morgan want?”
“That’s the bloody question, innit?” John admits, glancing around the street. “When we chatted earlier, Darren was only just starting to put it together. He tried to give me more right before he died but…” He hangs his head, not bothering to finish the sentence.
“You did what you could, John.” Chas tells him, the words hollow after hearing them so many times, in situations just like this one. John swallows thickly, wishing his flask weren’t in his bloody coat pocket. “So, I’m assuming you’re sticking around?” Chas asks, bringing him back to the moment.
“Looks like it, mate.” John concedes, shoving down his own grief and pushing himself to his feet. “I need to find this nasty git, send him to Hell along with his pet. I’ll keep the lass safe while I’m at it. She may not be the one Morgan was after, but she’s still a target. Especially now.”
Especially since he wants me and I’m choosing to be involved with her.
“I agree.” Chas says, softly. “Be careful, John. I’m a thousand miles away and I can tell you've caught feelings for this girl. Make sure this Morgan fellow doesn’t use her against you.”
John walks up the steps to your door, not bothering to deny or argue with his friend’s warning. “I’ll be careful,” he promises as he slips inside. “I always am.”
Once inside, John raises his palms and presses them against your locked door. “Qui hanc a malo et damno*.” He murmurs, as soft golden waves shimmer around the room. Content in the knowledge that nothing with evil intentions can pass through the walls, he climbs the stairs.
When his weight settles in the bed next to you, you stir but not fully wake. John kicks his shoes off as he throws his tie over his head. Leaning against your pillows, he settles back to get comfortable.
You turn your body to his, draping your arm over his chest. He chuckles softly as you snuggle closer. When John rests his hand on top of yours, he falls asleep himself.
***
You wake early to an empty bed. If it weren’t for the delicious smell of bacon cooking, you might have thought that last night was a crazy dream. When you roll over and pick up your phone, you’ve got a missed call from both Eric and the Peabody. You take a deep breath and decide to call the museum back first.
It goes smoother than anticipated. You’re shocked by how easily you feign surprise when Doctor Morgan informs you that, unfortunately, Director Connors had an accident last night.
You hadn’t anticipated speaking to him, but from the tone of his voice, he regrets the argument he had with Darren yesterday. You listen silently as he tells you the details, agreeing happily to stop in later in the day to do what you can to help him.
When you call Eric, he puts you on speakerphone so Charlotte can hear as well. “Jesus, fella. I’m wicked sorry.” He apologizes instead of greeting you. “Paddy called me ‘bout an hour ago. What a crazy accident, huh?”
You can hear the sound of a hand smacking Eric’s arm, followed by Charlotte’s annoyed voice. “Have some sympathy, chere! Her boss, her friend just died. Are you alright, sugar?”
“Honestly, I’m a little freaked out.” You admit, swinging your legs over the side of your bed. “It’s almost unbelievable to think that Darren is dead. I had just talked to him a few hours before.”
You head over to your closet and throw a sweatshirt over your head as you hear Eric apologize. “It’s fine, Eric. I'm going to head over to the museum in a few hours, everything is a mess. The registrars need direction and I’m the only one with Darren’s passwords.”
You walk back to your nightstand and smack your hand on your forehead. “Shit, guys. I… I’m gonna have to miss my flight. There’s no way I can come down now. I’m so sorry.”
“We understand, sugar.” Charlotte promises. “Listen, I’ll let Ray know and see if I can’t get you your money back on the flight.” You thank her and exchange ‘I love you’s’ as she hands the phone back to Eric.
“Listen, kid.” Eric whispers after a second. “I gotta tell ya somethin’.” You giggle and ask him why he’s whispering. “Cause I don’t want Charlotte to think I’m more excited than I already am.”
You set your phone down on the bed and gather your hair into a messy bun on the top of your head. “You’re always excited, why specifically this time?”
“Okay, so last night, Charlotte got stuck at the office. Ray picked me up from the airport, that’s why I called ya.” You attempt to interrupt but he carries on enthusiastically. “So we got to chattin’ and he’s just great. I mean, a wicked stand up guy. He took me to a bah in the quartah and we had a great time. So great, Charlotte beat us home!”
“That’s great, Eric.” You laugh as you open the door to your room. “But I don’t see why you’re -”
Eric laughs into the phone. “Lemme finish, kid.” You let out a soft sigh as he continues.
“So Ray goes to take Beau for a walk and Charlotte tries to apologize for her dad being a lot. And I told her, ‘nah don’t worry about it. I love Ray, he’s great’. And fella, she kinda just stared at me for a second before she told me that she loved me! I said it right back. I’m wicked happy, you have no idea.”
“Eric, that's amazing!” You exclaim as you hop down the stairs. “I’m so happy for both of you, really. I wish I could be there with you guys.”
You meet John’s eyes as you step into the kitchen. He mouths ‘good morning’ when you smile at him. He’s studiously cooking breakfast, but furrows his brow as he listens to the rest of your conversation.
Once you’ve promised to check in with Eric after you leave the museum, he lets you hang up. You set the phone down on the kitchen island and rest your head on the cool marble.
“That was easier than I thought it would be.” You tell John without lifting your head. “The museum thinks it was an accident, so does Eric, but I don’t like lying to him.”
John steps closer to you and rests his hand on the back of your neck. You find the action reassuring as your anxiety starts to melt away.
“Unfortunately, luv,” he cautions, gently moving his fingers in a circular motion. “Lying comes with the territory. Can’t exactly go blabbing about magic without getting thrown in a loony bin, now can ya?”
He moves his hand when you lift your head, allowing you to stand up straight. “I suppose not.” You agree, giving him a hard stare. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Your stomach grumbles in appreciation as you take in the sight of two plates heaped with food. “I may have had bacon in the freezer, but I definitely didn’t have fresh tomatoes or baked beans? Johnny, how did -”
John cuts you off with a chuckle. “I woke up ages ago, found a market close to your flat and grabbed a few things.” He hands you a plate with a smile. “I promised you breakfast, with a side of answers.”
He walks with you to the table and sets his plate down. He sits once you do, watching carefully as you take a bite. Clearly, you’re not the only one who can cook. When you tell him that, he beams with pride.
“It’s nothing, really. You pick up a few things along the way.” He shrugs, taking a bite himself. “Now then, about those answers.”
You lean back in your chair as he starts to speak. “I’m not the only one who dabbles in the Dark Arts, my best mate is pretty damn good at it too. There’s a few of us, but it’s not like we have meetings. We stick to the shadows and try not to call attention to what we do.”
John grins, pointing at you with his fork. “Now, that card I use is enchanted to turn into whatever I need it to be; an ID, a credit card, even a bloody badge if that’s what we need.” That’s why he was worried about Eric being an officer.
As if reading your mind, he grins and continues. “When I met your mate, I did a few parlour tricks to impress him, throw him off guard. Now that was in good fun, but the charm I performed to show his intentions was pure magic. He’s a good bloke, that Eric is. Protective of you too, and as someone who feels the same, I can appreciate that.”
You’re not sure which of those statements makes you smile more.
“That thing last night was just a type of demon,” John tells you somberly. “It shouldn’t come back because I banished it proper. But there are plenty more where that came from. You asked how do we stop them? That’s the other bit of what I do.”
He hands you a card from his back pocket. You read the words as he says them. “Exorcist, Demonologist, and Master of the Dark Arts. All those bloody things that go bump in the night? I send them back to Hell.”
Somehow, that just makes perfect sense. Your lips quirk up when you realize that he didn’t exactly lie that night in the pub, he just sidestepped the details.
“Still with me, luv?” When you nod, he smiles. “Now, about that zombie game.” John chuckles, crossing his arms. “You were kicking my arse, pet. I had to beat you at something . Couldn’t imagine that I’d be sitting here justifying it to you months later.”
“So, you cheated.” When you smack his arm, he raises an eyebrow playfully, making you giggle in response.
It’s a lot to take in, but somehow everything seems to click further into place for you. And none of it makes you want to run for the hills. “Alright, I’m feeling pretty good about all this. When will you teach me?” You ask excitedly, resisting the urge to bounce in your seat. “Oh my God, I can’t wait to tell Eric. And Charli! And my dad!”
“That’s out of the bloody question, luv.” John scolds you, a stern expression rooting itself on his face. “You cannot tell anyone what we do. Anyone.”
When you open your mouth to protest, he silences you with a look. “What I’m going to teach you is dangerous. There is always a price to be paid and more often than not, the people we care about tend to pay it.”
You feel a bit uneasy knowing that you can’t confide in anyone but John, but you don’t want to change your mind; part of you thinks that’s what he’s trying to do. “When you do what I do, it puts a target on your back. There’s quite a few nasty buggers that would do anything to stop you. So anyone else you involve? Puts them right in the line of fire as well.”
“What about me?” You ask him, knowing the answer before he says it.
“You’ve got a target now, too.” He nods warily. “I warned you, this life isn’t for everyone.” In the end, no one stays. You remember the statement, clear as day. “Choosing a life of magic never leads to a happy ending.”
Taking a deep breath, you hold out your hand to him. He doesn’t take it. Instead, he drags it down his face in frustration. “I should just bloody leave, go home. You don’t want this.”
Rolling your eyes, you grab his hand. “Listen to me, Johnny. For so much of my life, I did what I was supposed to do. I was a dutiful daughter, I went to school and got a degree. I built a career because that was what you did. And then you happened.” John looks up at you, startled and a little offended.
You push on, your voice soft but filled with urgency. “You crashed into my life and for the first time John, I knew what it felt like to want. I want this, I want you… to stay. This finally feels right. I meant it when I said I wasn’t a damsel. So give me a little bit of credit, I haven’t freaked out and I’m not going to. Don’t tell me what I want. Not when I’m so sure of this.”
John tilts his head, considering what you’ve said. “You truly mean that, don’t you?” When you squeeze his hand and vehemently tell him you do, he lets out a soft huff of resignation.
When he lifts his eyes to meet yours, he gives you a smile so raw and happy, your breath catches in your throat. “Well then, sweet’eart? We’ve got work to do.”
***
“The Art is all about intent, luv.” John instructs you as he quickly creates a burst of flame in each of his palms. “Know what you want, and let yourself have it.” You watch in awe as the flames dissipate when he closes his fists.
When he mutters an incantation in a language you don’t recognize, you find him suddenly standing behind you. “That is so cool.” You grin at him. “Come on Johnny, let me try something.”
John opens the small bag he’s placed on the table in his hotel room and pulls out a scroll of paper. He hands it to you with a small smirk. “If you can’t pick it up, don’t force it, luv. But I want you to light the top of this and say the incantation. If done correctly, you’ll see a memory of this room from the last point of activity.”
You take the scroll and John’s offered lighter. “Repeat after me,” he commands, meeting your eyes. “Ximbatik kaajal ak bin-ka-aak-abtal.”
Slowly and more clear than you should be able to, you recite the spell and set the scroll on fire. The room casts a grey haze as smoke drifts from the burning paper. You both watch as blurred versions of you and John walk through the door and drop your things.
You smile when you turn to him and catch the look of pride on John’s face. As the smoke fades, you cross your arms triumphantly. “How'd I do?” You ask him, trying unsuccessfully to keep the elation out of your voice.
“Not bad, luv.” He remarks, igniting his palms again. “Not bad.” He raises an eyebrow as he advances on you. “Now, let’s test your memory. You paid attention to the bit about defensive magic, yeah?” You nod, furrowing your brow.
John winds a hand back, his expression smug and full of unwavering confidence, and throws the fire toward you. “Then stop me.”
You’ve got no time to think, you can only react.
Crossing your arms quickly, you recite the spell to create a defensive shield. You’re able to throw it up with a second to spare, smiling when the fire ball dissolves into nothing in front of you. As John throws the second blast, you remember a spell you read earlier in one of his books.
Muttering it quickly, you stop the fire mid air and watch it grow. Once it’s tripled in size, you twist your fingers, sending it careening toward John’s chest. He’s not fast enough to dodge it completely and the blast knocks him over the couch and onto his ass.
“Oh shit, Johnny!” You rush over to him to help him to his feet. “I’m sorry! I just -”
John pushes himself to his feet and holds up a hand. “Bloody hell. Where did you learn that, luv?” He asks incredulously. When you tell him you got it from the book in his bag, his mouth hangs open as if he’s just had an epiphany. “You shouldn’t be able to do that.”
You shake your head and cast your eyes to the floor, afraid that you’ve made him angry. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I -”
“No, no.” He stands and pushes his sleeves further up his arms with a grin. “You’ve gobsmacked me, is all. That’s advanced magic, that is. Book’s full of it. That spell took me a bloody minute to get it right.” You lift your head to peer up at him with a shy smile. “That was abso-bloody-lutely brilliant.”
You can’t understand the expression on John’s face, all his smug arrogance is gone, replaced with a gentle almost admiration. His smile is so soft that you don’t want to look away; the man’s staring at you like he’s never seen you before.
His dark eyes have a warmth in them that makes you feel so flushed you have to step back. After a moment, John clears his throat and gestures to the stack of books on the floor. “I uh… I need a smoke, luv. Start on those books, I’ll be back in a jiff.”
You watch him walk away, not seeing the growing grin on his face as he steps onto the balcony.
***
“You shouldn’t be able to do that.” The second John uttered those words in awe to you, he knew he was completely and utterly bollocked. You literally knocked him on his ass and he was not prepared for how much he had wanted to praise you, then kiss you for doing so.
But if anyone asked, he doesn’t go in for any of that love nonsense; it’s a load of rubbish for school girls and Romeo’s that want to get their heart broken. The softness that comes with having feelings for someone has certainly never been useful for a bloke as jaded and cynical as John is.
But somehow, your sass, smarts and complete lack of knowing what’s good for you, marched into his bitter, useless heart and woke it right up.
He didn’t just catch feelings, he caught the most dangerous one of all. He’s not sure how long exactly he’s been fighting it, but he can’t deny it anymore.
John Constantine is in love.
You know what John is, what he does and you don’t care. He doesn’t know if you feel the same, how could you? He’s a nasty piece of work, a soul damned to Hell. And you don’t even know the full truth of it. But in the deep recesses of his heart, in a space long thought abandoned, he hopes that in time you might feel something close to what he feels for you.
If teaching you magic, keeps you by his side for a touch longer? Well then, John will take whatever fleeting bit of bliss he can have.
You’re better at this than John thought possible. In the coming weeks, you’ll continue to astound him with how much natural talent you have for the Arts. It shouldn’t surprise him, given your blood, but he takes great pride in the fact that he’s the one who gets to teach you. The smile you give him when you nail a spell on the first try, makes his heart skip a beat.
There’s plenty still you need to know but you’ve taken each bit of information he’s given you and just kept going. Every time he thinks he’s said something that will make you change your mind, you fire back a response and literally knock him on his ass.
And yet, there’s that persistent voice in the back of his head that tells John this is all only temporary. John’s sure that if you knew the whole truth of how he learned magic in the first place, knew about the innocent people he’s hurt along the way, you’d kick him to the bloody curb.
John can’t risk telling you, can’t risk the way your face would twist in disgust when you realize what an absolute tosser he is. So he’ll keep you in the dark, keep you as safe as he can and pray you never find out the truth.
That’s his bloody problem with having these feelings for you. It puts you in more than one kind of danger and if anything happens to you, John will have no one to blame but himself.
Notes:
*Let no harm pass through
Who knew you'd be so damn good at magic?
And can we talk about how John's feeling right now? That boy is IN LOVE.
Let's discuss :)Next week, Eric goes down memory lane and slips up about your ex. When John sees your reaction, he doesn't back down until you talk to him.
Chapter 16: Emotional Baggage
Summary:
When Eric slips up in front of John, it forces you to confront your past with Sam. John sees your panicked reaction and refuses to back down until you talk to him. Until now, he had no idea how much of an ass Sam really was.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Boston is not an especially loud city, it’s not quiet, that’s for sure. But it doesn’t hold a candle to the ridiculous chaos that New Orleans manages to produce within its small city borders.
So as you and John step out of the elevator to Eric’s apartment and hear music at a decibel that rivals Bourbon St on a Saturday, you turn to John with a frown and wonder if you’ve suddenly transported yourself there.
“Is he having a proper rager in there?” John laughs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I could hear the music in the bloody lift.”
“Apparently.” Rolling your eyes, you shrug at him. “I wish I could tell you I was surprised.” You laugh as you slide your key in the door.
When you push the door open, you’re immediately assaulted by 'Old Time Rock and Roll' pumping through Eric’s surround sound. Before you can walk to the system and turn it down, Eric slides out of his room, backwards, and into the hall.
At the same time, John’s eyebrows fly up and you have to restrain yourself from giggling. With his back to you both, Eric dances along to the music, clad only in a white dress shirt, sunglasses, socks and navy boxer briefs. You whip out your phone and immediately begin recording him.
John clears his throat to announce your arrival and you reach up with your right hand to cover his mouth. He indignantly glares down at you as you shush him. You hold your phone out as Eric keeps singing into a hairbrush too polka-dotted to be his.
You can’t help but wonder how he hasn’t felt your presence in the room. It’s been over a minute, at least. Your body shakes with silent laughter as he uses the brush to mimic an air guitar, dancing exciting through his living room.
“Don’t try to take me to a disco! You’ll never even get -” Eric freezes as he turns, making eye contact with you for the first time since you got there. He clutches the brush to his side and just stares.
“Not bad, Grant.” You chuckle, sliding your phone back into your bag. “You got a little pitchy towards the end there. But over all, I’d say 7/10?” You shrug as you watch his ears turn scarlet. “I would’ve given you full marks if you had the pink shirt. You gotta go full Risky Business or go home. Right, Johnny?”
John laughs softly, crossing his arms, but wisely doesn’t say anything. Good man.
Pushing up his sunglasses, Eric coughs and steps toward the side table. “You do realize,” he deadpans, picking up the remote to turn off the music. “That now I’m going to have to kill you both.”
“You won’t,” you smile as you settle onto the couch. You glance around quickly, wondering what’s different about Eric’s living room. “One,” you tick off your fingers. “Too much paperwork and two, I have an insurance policy. You kill us, I send the video to Charli.”
Eric huffs in annoyance but he knows you’re right.
Staring around the room once more, you realize something’s missing. That’s it! You stand abruptly, startling both him and John. “Eric?” He tilts his head. “Where the hell is your chair?”
He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I, uh, moved it.” He answers, keeping his tone purposely light.
“You moved it?” You exclaim, not bothering to hide your surprise. Eric would never. Every time you’ve brought it up, that damn chair has been at the core of more debates than you can count. “Where? Why?”
John chuckles as he makes his way over to Eric’s bar. “Oi, mate, I’ve heard all about this bloody chair. She told me the first night we were here that you’d be buried with it.”
Eric perches on the edge of the couch and shrugs casually. “When Charlotte was here this past weekend, she suggested I turn my spare room into an office and that maybe it was time to toss my chair. Obviously, I wasn’t havin’ that.”
Obviously. You roll your eyes as he excitedly continues. “So after some debatin’ and an hour of me showin’ her the benefits of keepin’ it,” he wiggles his eyebrows. “She caved and made the not-so-subtle suggestion that my chair would look better in the office.”
“Oh god,” you lean over and smack his leg. “I didn’t need all the details, just a ‘it’s in my new office’ would've been fine.”
When John settles beside you, he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Oh I don’t know, luv, I rather like the color of your cheeks right now.” He muses, winking at Eric. “What other scrummy details have you got for us, big man?”
You roll your eyes and grab his drink before he can take a sip. “What’s this, then?” John pouts as he reaches for his cup. You smile sweetly at the scandalized expression on his face.
“Ooo too slow, Johnny.” You giggle as you press the glass to your lips. After you take a sip, you raise your eyebrow in Eric’s direction. “So, why didn’t you tell me you moved the chair, that’s definitely noteworthy.”
“Because,” he scowls, his shoulders sulking petulantly. “You've been so busy with ya boyfriend that yesterday was the first time I’ve seen ya for more than five minutes in the last month.”
You tense up slightly at the mention of the ‘b’ word. Neither you or John have really talked about it, despite being inseparable since the museum incident. Every moment you could, you’ve spent it with him; learning spell work, practicing offensive and defensive magic, memorizing useful incantations and charms.
You hadn’t realized how serious whatever this is would look to someone like Eric, someone who had no clue what you were really up to.
But then, while there have been plenty of late nights learning about the hidden world, there've also been plenty of dinners, drinks, and hours spent enjoying John’s company. You know you like each other; the way he kisses you is plenty of indication. And since he’s indefinitely extended his stay at The Charles, you know this is more than just a fleeting fancy for him now.
Does John consider himself your boyfriend? What are you to him? You glance over at him, hoping he’s not uncomfortable by Eric’s assumption.
John’s arm tightens around your shoulders. “Sorry about that, mate.” He shrugs with a grin. “Feel free to blame Ol’ Johnny, I keep my girl pretty busy.”
With a boisterous laugh, Eric pushes himself up. “It’s all good, buddy. I’m glad the kid has ya. Ya good for each other.” You duck your head into the crook of John’s arm and smile.
“Listen,” Eric holds up a hand. “Lemme throw on some pants and we can head out.”
“Wait!” You lean forward and gesture at his lower half. “You never told us why you went all Tom Cruise.”
Eric’s grins then, wide and exuberant. “Oh yeah! So I just got off the phone with Charlotte, right? Wanted to make sure she got home safe. Ray couldn’t pick her up at the airport, ya know?”
You nod as Eric unbuttons the dress shirt as he tells his story. Your eyes move to the tattoos he’s got on his chest. A quote in memory of a college friend who had died and a small symbol to commemorate his graduation from the police academy are visible when he shrugs out if it.
You glance over at John, smiling when he, too, notices the rest of the artwork on Eric’s upper arms and side. Linda hated that he had them, but they were important to him so you happily agreed to accompany him each time he got a new one.
You remind yourself to ask John what his tattoos mean. The wording and symbols you saw on his body, that morning in your apartment, were in languages and patterns you couldn’t decipher. You wonder now if they’re spells or protections of some kind.
You’re pulled from your train of thought when both Eric and John laugh at something you’ve completely missed. “Anyway, she told me that she could see herself buildin’ a future with me. Like marriage, kids, the whole deal! Fella, she’s the one, I’m tellin’ ya.”
Before you can reply, he takes off down the hall to his room. You snuggle back against John’s side, feeling content and happy for both of them. All your earlier trepidation over Eric and Charli's relationship vanished the first time they exchanged ‘I love you’s. They’re good for each other.
“Eric thinks I’m your boyfriend now, does he?” The question grinds your thoughts to a halt. You turn your head, peering up at John cautiously.
He watches your brain short circuit for a few seconds before mercifully putting you out of your misery. “If you’ll have me, sweet’eart, I'd be honored. You’ve certainly proved you have the stomach for being with a bloke like me.” He grins as he tucks your hair behind your ear. “Might as well make it official, ay?”
When you nod, he leans down to capture your lips with his. You push yourself up, climbing onto his lap to straddle him. As his tongue finds yours, you close your eyes and wrap your hands around the back of his neck. Whiskey and tobacco invades your senses, sending a shudder through your body.
One of John’s hands wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him as the other winds into your hair. He gives a sharp tug, arching your head back and a soft strangled moan escapes your lips.
John smirks, his breath hot on your already flushed skin. He’s clearly pleased with your reaction; rewarding you by pressing light kisses to the column of your throat.
“Shh. Quiet, pet.” John warns, tightening his grip in your hair. His other hand moves to cover your mouth, stifling whatever sound you were about to make. “Don’t want Eric to hear, now do we?” His voice is dark and dangerous, sending a ripple of fire right to your core.
You shake your head, too distracted by the hardness of his body against yours to form a coherent sentence. Eric’s almost caught you once before; the memory of it warms your cheeks further as you let John’s lips claim yours again.
Hearing footsteps, John pulls away with a groan. Your gaze lingers on the soft curve of his full lips as you rest your hands against his chest and slide your eyes up to meet his. The hunger you see reflected in them ignites a flame in your belly that makes you want to lean back in.
“Where do ya wanna go?” Eric calls from the hall, making you both freeze. “I know technically we celebrated ya birthday yesterday but I figured since John was home I’d see if we wanted to do somethin’ tonight too.”
Pulling back, John quirks an eyebrow. “Birthday?” He asks, voice still rough with desire. “Luv, when was your birthday?”
John had been in New York for the last few days. Supernatural business, he’d called it. He had felt bad not taking you but with Charlotte up for the weekend, you had assured him you didn’t mind. You had also assured him that nothing exciting was happening.
In your defense, you hadn’t wanted to go out. You’d been dragged, kicking and screaming to a small party Eric and Charlotte had arranged for you. You tell John that as you slide off his lap and settle back down beside him.
John leans away from you when you avoid the question, honeyed eyes darting between the empty hallway and your face. He narrows his eyes slightly at whatever implication he’s creating in his head. “When was your birthday, luv?” He repeats, his voice filled with suspicion.
Eric strolls out of his room, holding a stack of books. “It’s tomorrow. I should’ve told ya myself, the kid hates celebratin’ her birthday. She'd avoid it entirely if we’d let her.” He sets the books on his coffee table.
“Growin’ up, her mothah made everythin’ ‘bout her so after a while -”
“Eric.” You hiss, twisting your face into a scowl.
“What?” He laughs, lifting his shoulders into a shrug. “Come on, fella. Priscilla’s somethin’ else. Ya know damn well that if Charlotte and I hadn’t dragged ya out, you woulda just stayed in with a book.” He crosses his arms as he walks to his kitchen. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
John stays guardedly silent as you watch Eric lean into the fridge. Your eyes slide to his nervously. “You really don’t like your birthday?” He asks softly, resting his hand on your leg. You shake your head, making him sigh. “Just another bloody thing we have in common, innit?”
You open your mouth to question him when Eric slides into the new armchair beside the couch. “Are ya mad at me?” He asks, nudging your shoe with his. “Didn’t mean to start anythin’.”
“Not a problem, mate. The lass is allowed her privacy.” John assures him with a disarming smile. “Now, what’s all this then?” He gestures to the books on the table before wrapping his arm around your shoulders again.
“Those are yearbooks.” You eye them with disdain. “The one on top is my sophomore and Eric’s senior year. Which I do not want to relive.” You raise an eyebrow in Eric’s direction. “What did I do to you to deserve this kind of cruel and unusual punishment?”
Eric lets out a barking laugh. “Come on kid, these are our golden years! I found ‘em while I was settin’ up my office. I, for one, think that it would be cute for John to see the shenanigans his girlfriend got up to in high school.”
“I hardly think that theatre and debate club are shenanigans, Eric.” You laugh, rolling your eyes. You cross your arms petulantly, but when John softly assures you that he’s excited to see it, you relax. “But please, by all means, embarrass away.”
Eric picks the top book up off the table and starts flipping through it. He stops when he sees pictures from your class’s production of Little Shop of Horrors. Standing quickly, he moves to perch himself on the edge of the coffee table so John can see.
“This one can sing, don’t let her tell ya she can’t. Beat out four seniors for that part, she was that good.” Eric grins proudly. “It was wicked fun, my favorite musical we’ve done.” It had been your favorite role, easily the best musical the school had produced in your time there.
Eric had gotten a thrill out of playing the Dentist, a role he’d coveted since you had first learned the lyrics to the songs as kids. You had played Audrey, to perfection you’d like to think. And Sam... shit, Sam had been Seymour, the hapless shop keep in love with your character.
“What do we have here, luv?” John asks, leaning down to grin at a photograph of opening night. You and Sam were facing each other, standing in front of Audrey II and singing ‘Suddenly Seymour.’
You remember it vividly; after the show, Sam told you he loved you for the first time. Now, having those memories thrust in your face like this turns your stomach.
Quickly, you slide your fingers underneath to turn the page. “It’s nothing.” You shake your head with a nervous laugh. “Just a stupid play we were in.”
“Who’s that bloke?” John rests his palm flat on the page, stopping you from turning it. “The tall drink of water you’re singing with?”
“That’s the ex boyfriend.” Eric nods, raising an eyebrow.
No. Dread settles in your stomach. No, this discussion is not happening tonight.
“Eric.” You hiss angrily, covering the page with your hand. You know it doesn’t hide the picture but you’ll do anything to cut him off and stop the frantic thudding of your heart. “Shut your -”
John cuts you off as he meets Eric’s eyes cautiously. “So that’s Sam.” Your stomach flips uncomfortably as you stare between them. How does John know who Sam is? He squeezes your leg reassuringly as he leans back on the couch. “Smashing to finally put a face to that bloody wanker’s name.”
“What?” Eric shrugs innocently. “Was I not supposed to tell him who it was?” You can tell from the way he’s staring at you, brow furrowed and lips turned down in a frown, that he knows he’s made a mistake.
“I’d rather you didn’t.” You snap at him, letting your anger rise above the surface. “It’s none of your damn business.”
You know Eric isn’t used to you snapping at him, you’re usually more composed than you are now. “Listen, kid.” He sighs in defeat. “I just answered a question. What did you expect? Me to be rude and just ignore him? Ya know Linda raised me bettah than that.”
Sensing the mounting tension, John jumps in to meditate. It’s a role he’s sure he’d never need to play. “It’s alright, luv.” He assures you, raising both of his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m sure you have your reasons for not saying anything. I knew you’d tell Johnny when you were ready.”
“I didn’t tell him everythin’ ya told me, fella.” Eric offers, sliding the book out from under your fingers. “But I mean, with the shit that dickhead pulled, someone outta. You didn’t deserve that. How could a man treat a woman they say they love like -”
“Jesus Christ, Eric!” You exclaim, pushing John’s hand off your leg. As you stand abruptly, you ball your shaking hands into fists. Both men stare up at you in surprise. “You need to learn to keep your mouth shut about things that don’t involve you.”
Before Eric can defend himself, you take off down the hall toward his guest room. If you didn’t walk away, you were afraid you’d accidentally let something slip that you wouldn't be able to cover up or take back. There’s so much he doesn’t know and you have no intention of changing that.
With your stomach churning and your heart beating wildly, you just need a minute to get yourself back under control. “Sweet’eart!” John calls after you, his voice full of concern. He and Eric both stand to go after you, neither of them exactly sure what just happened.
“I should go talk to her,” Eric rubs the back of his neck anxiously. “I didn’t think that would set her off like this, she was pissed at me. Kid’s pretty chill, all the damn time.”
John shakes his head, staring down the hallway. “I got it.” Rolling up his sleeves, he lets out a deep sigh. “I don’t think she’s pissed at you, old son. I reckon you took her by surprise, is all.”
He nods, gesturing in your direction. “The lass wasn’t prepared for those emotions tonight. Give her some space, she’ll be right as rain in no time.”
***
Your hand shakes as you close the door behind you. You knew it was entirely unreasonable to assume that you’d never have to mention Sam; the ex talk was bound to happen at some point. And a healthy relationship doesn’t shy away from the ugly parts of your partner’s past. You know that.
But you intended to be better prepared than you are right now and you didn’t want John to see you like that. You wanted to have that talk on your terms, not in Eric’s living room with you scrambling to regain control of yourself and the conversation.
You flip on the lamp by the door and sink onto the futon across from Eric’s desk. Resting your head in your hands, you try to steady your breathing and calm your racing pulse.
Your thoughts are still racing when John knocks softly. When you don’t respond, he pokes his head into the spare room. “Fuck off, John.” You warn without looking up. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Don’t be like that, luv.” As John sits beside you on the futon, he reaches for your hand. “You don’t actually want me to piss off.” You let him thread his fingers through yours as you stare up at him. John’s right, you don’t want him to leave. His presence comforts you, grounds you just by being near.
Your anxious heartbeat calms as you both sit in silence for a few minutes. John doesn’t move, just holds your hand and lets you lay your head on his shoulder. “When did he tell you about Sam?” You finally ask, shifting your body to face him. “It… it wasn’t his place.”
“Come now, luv. You’re bloody family to him, he didn’t do it to hurt you.” John’s expression is soft as he attempts to keep his tone light. “The night of the break in, we had good old chinwag. He was only trying to make certain I knew you had people that cared about you. People that wouldn’t allow another wanker to put you through hell.”
Running your hands through your hair, you let out a soft huff of aggravation. “I just want to forget about Sam and the shit he did. But I can’t - not with Eric running his mouth like that.” You move to stand but John’s hand on your arm stops you. You tilt your head in question.
“Sweet’eart,” John murmurs, meeting your eyes. “You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to, god knows I won’t push you. I’m in no position to judge you for your past when mine is a mess. But I reckon it might be a good idea to get it all nice and out in the open.”
You give him a hard stare, momentarily perplexed by the statement about his past. Your expression softens when you see nothing but affection and concern for you on his face. “I just… I wish Eric hadn’t said anything, I was fine.” You mumble, folding your arms over your chest.
It sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud, you know that. But you can’t help how uncomfortable talking about Sam makes you feel, regardless of how patient John is with you. “I told you I’m not a damsel, and this just makes me sound so…”
“It’s been eating you up inside, sweet’eart.” John runs the back of his knuckles along your cheek. “Even someone as thick as me can see that.” He explains, scratching at his stubble with his free hand. “I get you wanted Eric to put a sock in it. But I’m not gonna leg it because you had a bad ex. S’not like I’d get far, you could track me now.”
Your lips twist into a smile at his small attempt to make you laugh. “You’ve got no idea, Johnny. Bad ex is putting it mildly.”
He nudges you with his arm. “Go on then, Johnny’s all ears.”
“Sam and I dated in high school.” You start softly. “We broke up my freshman year of college after this fight of epic proportions. And -”
“Eric said it was a fight of epic proportions. Same bloody words, actually.” John quirks an eyebrow at you, hearing the carefully placed lie in your words. “Something else happened.” He doesn’t phrase it as a question, he doesn’t need to. “What did he do to you?”
The party. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
John shakes his head while sighing heavily, “Sweet’eart…”
“I do not want to talk about that, John.” You can see from the hard set of his jaw that he's not going to give up without more information. Tilting your head down, you press your forehead to the heels of your palms.
“Please. It was nothing, I promise.” You assure him, letting out a small and shaky breath.
Sam occasionally made you nervous but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. The only reason he shoved you at the museum was because you slapped him. Even a few months back, he left you feeling frightened and unsettled when he showed up, but he hadn’t hurt you.
And the party? You’d rather not think about that. You saw a side of Sam that night you’d never seen before. You tried to explain it away so you could justify his actions to yourself. He and Nicky had been drinking; that had never made for a good combination.
You lift your head, pushing your hair back with your hands. “But, Sam isolated me from people I cared about, made me think awful things about Eric and my other friends. God, he wrote the goddamn book on gaslighting. Made me feel like I didn’t deserve anything better than what he was offering. The way he spoke to me, I never questioned him. Even when I should have.”
You blink away the stinging in your eyes. “When he and I... had sex, it was never about what I wanted. It was always on Sam’s terms- how he wanted it, when he felt like it. I can’t even say I enjoyed myself.”
Pulling in another shaky breath, you play with your hair anxiously. “That’s why I haven’t jumped into bed with you, Johnny. It’s not that I don’t want to, trust me I do. I just had such a bad experience that it’s turned into a trust thing for me. I know it’s stupid, but -”
“It’s not stupid, sweet’eart.” John assures you, lifting your chin with his finger. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait until you’re ready.”
You nod, looking up at John’s face and see a mask of calm plastered on his features. The fury you see simmering in his dark amber eyes is the only tell that he’s anything but.
Sitting up straight, you rest your hand on his knee. “So, I ran into him the summer of my Junior year. He took me for coffee, and we talked. He convinced me that he had grown up and wanted to try again.”
John furrows his brow as you speak. The anger in his eyes grows and settles into his shoulders, setting them into a hard line.
“But now,” you roll your eyes, letting sarcasm lace your tone. “I see it for what it really was. Sam convinced me that because I walked away the first time, I should have been the one to say sorry. I believed him, Johnny. It was dumb, but once I did, he promised that this time would be different so I gave him another chance.”
This time it’s John who rolls his eyes. You nod in agreement. “Things were fine all through the rest of college, he would occasionally come down and see me. Or I’d come up for a weekend.” You shrug with a disheartened expression. “When I finally moved home, I found out that he had been using me to cheat on his wife.”
“Bloody hell, luv.” John leans back, rubbing the back of his neck. “Eric said that, but I didn’t want to believe it. What happened then?”
“She cornered me at the museum.” Your voice wavers as you force yourself to continue. “I had no idea about her or their two kids until she told me. I tried to defend myself, tell her I didn’t know. That I would never, but it didn’t matter. At the end of day, I was just the homewrecking trash that lured her doting husband away from her.”
When you feel your eyes starting to water, you blink furiously to keep from crying. “When I confronted Sam, he said that I was never the girl you brought home to mom, just the girl that you have fun with. That he wanted to have his cake and eat it too and if I wanted him, it shouldn’t matter.”
John furiously narrows his eyes. “Of course it bloody matters. You can’t just toy with someone’s emotions like that. He’s off his trolley, is what he is.”
“I was so pissed at him, I couldn’t stop myself and I… I slapped him. God, he was pissed, he sho- caused a scene.” You catch yourself quickly and redirect. If John noticed, he doesn’t say anything. “I had security escort him out.” You cast your eyes down toward the floor. “I was young and stupid.”
“You weren’t stupid, sweet’eart.” John takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, making you look into his eyes. “You were in love. I reckon logic tends to go out the bloody window when you’re in that deep, doesn’t it?”
Folding your arms over your chest, you huff angrily. “Sounds stupid to me; I put up with it longer that I should’ve.”
While you appreciate what John’s trying to do, you know you only have yourself to blame for how long you let Sam manipulate you. “I cut Sam out of my life after that.” You promise him. “I want nothing to do with him, ever again.”
Either John knows you better than you think or you’ve got a terrible poker face. “But?” He asks gently, raising his eyebrow.
You lean your head back, letting out a deep sigh. “But something like that doesn’t just leave because you don’t want to think about it anymore. Sam was such a huge part of my life that I don’t… I haven’t had the easiest time pushing it all down. And Eric…” You trail off, unsure how much more you want to say.
“You haven’t told him all of this, have you?” His gaze pins you in place when you stare at him. When you shake your head, he pulls you closer to him, pressing his forehead to yours. “You should, you know, let him help you.”
Leaning back, you smirk at him. “I can handle it, don’t worry.”
“Oh luv, I’ve no bloody doubt about that.” John grins, extending his hand to help you up. “But if anything ever happens that you can’t handle, talk to him. He’s a bobbie, he’s got connections.”
When you promise to do so, John seems pleased with you. “I know it wasn’t easy for you to have no control out there, then have to explain it to me.” He acknowledges, meeting your eyes. “I'm proud of you for telling me.”
With a crooked grin, he shrugs casually. “But trust me, I’m the bloody master of not being able to be rid of my past, so I’d never judge you for yours.”
“You said that, feel free to elaborate anytime you like.” You push yourself up and wrap your arms around his waist. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, by the way.”
“It’s alright, luv.” John rests his chin on your shoulder. “S’not the first time and certainly won’t be the last.” He shrugs, making you pull away and giggle at the smirk on his lips.
With a small shake of your head, you stand on your toes and kiss him quickly, more grateful for him than you can put into words.
Eric knocks before poking his head in. “I heard laughin’, so either you’re plottin’ my murder or we’re good? Cause I ordered pizza and made drinks. Think of it as a peace offerin’?”
“Yeah, we’re good.” You nod your head, pulling John with you back into the hallway. “I didn’t mean to get crazy on you, Eric. Thanks for...” You let yourself trail off as you twist your lips into a sheepish grin.
Eric playfully whacks your shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I'm just lookin’ out for ya, kid.” He gives you a quick, one armed hug and lets you lead the way down the hall. Behind you, you hear a soft “I owe ya one, buddy” from Eric, followed by a soft laugh you know belongs to John.
The rest of the evening passes without further incident. At midnight on the dot, Charlotte texts you happy birthday, making you smile.
When you look up from your phone, Eric’s pulled a rainbow sprinkle cupcake from his fridge. As he sings happy birthday to you, horribly, you cover your face with embarrassment.
“Make a wish, luv.” John grins, as you lean forward.
When he kisses your cheek, you close your eyes and blow out the candle.
Notes:
Sam just keeps getting worse, doesn't he? Let me tell you, the moment where John finally gets to meet Sam? It's coming. And it's so damn satisfying.
Next week: an exorcism, a swordfight, and the two of you get steamy in the museum's acquisitions room :)
Chapter 17: Having things well in hand.
Summary:
After your first successful exorcism, you find yourself frustrated when you discover John is still keeping things from you. When he’s forced to (mostly) explain, you agree to let him snoop around the museum, hoping to figure out Doctor Morgan's true intentions. Later, when you have a steamy moment with John, you discover something unexpected about yourself.
Notes:
Updated the tags a bit, and I promise- these moments between you and John will only get more exciting from here on out ;) Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
John flicks his cigarette in the demon’s face, eliciting a low growl from it’s chest. He grins and does it again. “In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit, fuck off.”
You watch the lights in the room flicker menacingly as he continues to taunt the possessed man writhing on the bed. “John,” you scold, glancing around the room. “Stop pissing it off. Before it does actual damage.”
“C’mon luv,” John laughs as he douses the man with holy water. “I have him where we want him. This is a piece of -” Before he can finish his sentence, the demon mutters something under its breath that sends John flying backwards.
You want to run to him but you stand your ground, as you were taught, letting only your eyes flick to him. “Are you alright?” You ask, keeping your voice light despite the chill of fear you felt. John pushes himself up with an aggravated groan. When he laughs it off, swearing he’s fine, you roll your eyes and step back.
Sliding in front of you, John turns to the shaking figure in front of him with a smirk. “Alright, enough fun.” He narrows his eyes, leaning down to the bag at his feet. “Time to send you back down.”
When he mutters a spell that freezes the demon, its eyes flash black in warning. From what John’s taught you, black is a lower level creature. Hard to kill, but with the right incantation, you can banish it to Hell. “Ladies first.” He motions to you with a smile, retrieving a small book from the bag.
“Don’t need it.” You swiftly walk to the bed and press the medallion John gave you to the man’s forehead. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adoramus te.”
The demon shudders, struggling to keep control of its host. Gritting your teeth, you repeat the incantation, louder this time and watch as smoke oozes from his mouth and nose. Taking a step back, you swallow in disgust as it pools on the ground in a smoldering puddle.
The lights resume their steady illumination as the temperature in the room returns to normal. John grins at you as he walks toward the bed. The now human, very confused, man on it leans over, drenched in sweat, and retches onto the floor.
“Alright, mate?” John asks, crouching down to look into his eyes. “Your wife will be wanting to know if you’re right as rain.”
Gasping for air, the man pushes himself into a sitting position. “Wh… What happened? Where am I? Where’s -”
“You’re home, Mr. Cameron.” You assure him gently, carefully resting your hand on his back. “She’s downstairs. Everything is going to be alright. Now tell me, what do you remember of the last forty-eighty hours?”
***
“That was a brilliant job, luv.” John praises you as you walk down the driveway of the Cameron estate. “But keep in mind those Saints medallions don’t always work. Keep practicing your voice projection. Any exorcist worth their salt, only needs to say it once. It’s best to have a back up plan if things go pear shaped.”
He glances down at the check in your hand then meets your eyes seriously. “It wouldn’t do for you to get cocky, that's how you get hurt.”
“Like you?” Your face scrunches into an incredulous expression. “Johnny, you were purposely antagonizing it, what if it was stronger than you thought?” You reach for his arm. “What if it went pear shaped? It flung you across the damn room.”
John shrugs, pulling a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. “I had it well in hand, sweet’eart. You weren’t in any danger.”
As he lights it and takes a deep drag, you let out an exasperated huff. “While that’s great to know, I wasn’t exactly worried about me. I didn’t take the express trip to the other side of the bedroom.” You stare up at him. “Look, I know you’ve been doing this forever but -”
He waves off your concern with a flourish of his hand. “I’ve been in worse scrapes before. And if it looked like it was about to get dodgy, I’d’ve been less snarky. S’not the bloody same as cocky.”
As John unlocks the car and opens the drivers side for you, you roll your eyes. “It certainly sounds the same.” You mutter under your breath. Once you’re both settled, you unfold the check and stare at it with wide eyes. “Does every exorcism pay this well?”
John holds out his hand with a toothy grin. “I bloody wish. Mrs. Cameron is an old friend of an old friend. I owed the family a favor. The payday is welcome but I don’t expect it. When it comes, I save it as much as possible. A pint is good enough for Ol’ Johnny.”
With a small laugh, you pull your car away from the property. “This is a year's salary worth of pints, John.”
“What can I say?” He shrugs with a low chuckle. “Fighting the forces of evil is a bloody full time job.”
Rolling your eyes, you maneuver the car onto the main road. You want to argue but knowing that half of the payday is yours, you can’t help but agree with him. This is like a full time job. Now that your eyes have been opened to what’s really out there, you feel like the fight against darkness is never done.
You love your job at the museum; it’s all you ever wanted. But seeing the relief in Mrs. Cameron’s eyes when you were able to tell her that her husband was safe, caused something to blossom in your chest that you weren’t expecting. You were helping people and it felt amazing. It makes you want to reconsider everything.
“Johnny,” you begin carefully, sliding your eyes to his face. “You said I’m good at this.” It’s not a question. Knowing there’s more coming, he stays silent, motioning for you to continue. “What if instead of just teaching me? What if I was your partner when I was finished? I could leave the museum and -”
“No.” The finality in his tone surprises you. “You should stay at the museum for now.” At your raised eyebrow and mildly hurt expression, John scrambles to explain.
“You are good at this, sweet’eart.” He turns to face you, running a hand through his already messy hair. “But I think until you’re fully trained, you should stay where you are. One of us in this relationship should be gainfully employed.”
John’s tone is light, making you want to believe him, take him at face value, but there’s an edge to it you don’t like. “Come on, John,” you tilt your head playfully. “We’ve been doing this for two and a half months. What do you consider fully trained?”
John leans back in the passenger seat and crosses his arms. “I’ve been doing this for almost two decades now. Mistakes in this line of work cost innocent lives.” You can see the pain, barely hidden on his face as he speaks. “You don’t want that blackness on your conscience, neither do I.”
You want to ask him to elaborate, tell you a bit of his well guarded history, because there is clearly a story hidden behind his dark eyes. Every time you’ve asked, John makes a wisecrack and changes the subject. But when you slide your eyes to the passenger seat and watch his visage of calm shake for a moment, you change your mind.
From the haunted look in his eyes, it’s clear to you that there’s more than one type of demon. John seems like he’s had his fair share of battling them all and unfortunately for him, he hasn’t always won.
***
“Doctor Morgan?” You step into the meeting room cautiously. “You wanted to see me?” Your mind races anxiously; to you, meeting with Morgan lately is reminiscent of being sent to the principal's office. You’re not sure why, but being near him now makes your skin crawl.
Morgan grins, gesturing to the chair next to him. You step further into the room, folding your arms across your chest. “I sent you the acquisition reports yesterday. I plan on staying late tomorrow to finish cataloging the seventeenth century weapons archive -”
“Dear, please sit.” Morgan requests. When you do, he smiles at you in a deliberately slow manner. “You are doing a remarkable job as interim Director. The board was concerned that business would take some time to return to normal, in the wake of Darren’s accident.”
You nod, feeling tightness in your chest when he mentions Darren’s name. “The registrars and the staff respond well to your charm.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” You visibly relax once you’re sure you’re not in any kind of trouble. “But I highly doubt my charm had anything to do with it. I think the team needed a leader and they trust me to work alongside them. It’s been a rewarding if not time-consuming experience.”
Morgan grins, showing his teeth. “Of course, my dear. You must be exhausted.” He reaches his hand out to cover yours for a moment. “Tell me, are you still able to maintain a work life balance? I’ve seen that blond fellow around quite a bit. He seems to make you happy.”
You smile politely, feeling uncomfortable once again. “John? He’s wonderful, thank you. But I’m sure my boyfriend isn’t the reason you asked me to come here.”
“Your boyfriend? No, of course not. Silly me.” He purses his lips, smiling so it doesn’t meet his eyes. “The board is prepared to make your interim position permanent.”
You raise an eyebrow. “What’s the catch?” While you know you’ve proven yourself, you’re still young. The board wouldn’t just hand you this position. There must be some kind of Devil’s Bargain.
“No catch.” Morgan assures you, showing you the proposal. “But I must confess that the discussion to promote you was at my insistence. You’re a brilliant young woman, I’ve always said it. I am most excited to work with you, side by side, more intimately than we have before.”
“As a board member, you don’t have extensive dealings with the museum director.” You point out, briefly glancing at the paperwork. “That’s a job reserved for the board president.”
Morgan stands, towering over you. “Right again, my dear.” He laughs through his nose. “Your promotion would mean one for me as well. It would be quite a coup for you and I. And about time, if I may say so myself. ”
Confused, you shake your head. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
“Well, how could you, my dear?” He shrugs as you push yourself to your feet. “Darren did not see your potential, not like I did. I’m the one who pushed for your promotion over the summer, just as I'm doing now. I see the greatness you are capable of, under the right guidance.”
His smile takes on a sinister shadow as he speaks. “Not to speak ill of the dead, but I believe that Darren did not want you to overshadow him. With your gifts, you would’ve eclipsed him within the year.”
“But he was happy to promote me, I -”
Morgan adjusts his glasses, lowering them so he can peer at you over the rim. “After I threatened to pull funding from his various side projects. We went back and forth for weeks.” He watches your eyes widen with a predatory stare. “In the end, my will was greater and you were given the title.”
You’re stunned into silence. Could you have been what Darren and Doctor Morgan were arguing about the day he died? Had he really been against you taking the position?
You’re frustratingly confused; you’d known Darren for almost five years. He didn’t seem the type to keep you from advancing. Right?
“Take a few days.” Morgan offers. “You have my cell number. Call me when the answer is yes.” As you begin to walk out, he calls your name. “I know it’s quite a bit to process. Darren hid his true self from you very well. Remember, there are often wolves amongst the sheep, my dear.”
You quickly thank him and hurry back to your office, your thoughts continuing to race as you walk.
***
After work, you rush to John’s hotel to see him. As soon as he opens the door, his face twists into something of a scowl. “What’s the matter, luv?” He asks, knowing from the worried expression on your face that something’s wrong.
Once he stands aside to let you in, you hurriedly explain everything. You pace back and forth as you tell him about Doctor Morgan’s offer, his cryptic warning about Darren, even the uncomfortable way he asked about John. Setting your coat and bag down on the chair, you wait for him to process the exhaustive amount of information you’ve given him.
John blinks slowly and turns from you, muttering “bollocks” under his breath. He pulls his flask from the pocket of his coat and takes a long drink from it. You raise your eyebrow, confused by his reaction.
“So, I don’t know what to think.” You continue when he doesn’t say anything. “Because I trusted Darren. I always thought he was on my side. But what if he was truly trying to keep me from growing? I don’t want to believe what Morgan was saying is true, but -”
“It’s not.” John cuts you off suddenly, crossing the distance to you in three steps. “It’s not true, sweet’eart.” Resting his hand on your arm, he squeezes gently and meets your eyes. “Darren was a good man, believe that. Don’t trust that blighter.”
Shrugging away from him, you narrow your eyes. “Why?” When he stays silent for another moment, you whack his arm. “Why, John? Why shouldn’t I trust Morgan?”
John stares at the anger marring the soft planes of your face and swallows. He doesn’t want to hide all this from you, but he can’t risk telling you the truth. Not yet. Not until he’s certain what Morgan wants with him.
With a sigh, John sinks down onto the sofa and gestures for you to join him. Hesitantly, you walk over and sit on the edge, crossing your arms as you wait for him to explain. “You shouldn’t trust him,” he cautions, fiddling with the lid of his flask. “Since I’m bloody well certain he was involved in Darren’s death.”
“What?”
John raises his hand before you can interrupt him. “My mate and I weren’t sure, but there’s something dodgy, dangerous even, about the good Doctor. We know he’s involved, we just don’t know how.”
The hard set of your shoulders relaxes as you stare at him, making you let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Okay.” You murmur softly, struggling to make your thoughts catch up. “We’re gonna put a pin in why you didn’t tell me this before now. But I’ll just turn him down. Stay the fuck away from him. Right? I’m assuming that's what you’re about to tell me to do.”
John smirks, the wheels in his head turning rapidly. If you take the promotion, Morgan will want to be near you, to get to him. John can use that, exploit that to his advantage. You’ll be safe because you don’t have any information you could accidentally let slip. And John can use your clearance to get closer to Morgan. In his opinion, it’ll be a win-win.
“Quite the contrary. I think you should take the promotion, luv.” John insists, making you lean away from him in shock. That’s not what you anticipated to come out of his mouth.
Crossing your arms defensively, you tilt your head. “Have you lost your mind? Didn’t you just say he was dangerous? I can’t work side by side with some deranged -”
“You can.” John assures you, squeezing your knee gently. “You can sweet’eart and you will. You’re going to get close to him, get him to bloody trust you and let me work my magic to suss out the part he played in Darren’s death.”
At your slight panicked reaction, he moves his hand from your knee to cup your cheek. “With your wiles, sweet’eart? It’ll be as easy as smiling for you.”
Taking a deep breath, you let your eyes shut for a second and try to relax. “Johnny, if he really was involved, I can’t… I’m not a good liar, you know that. I don’t think I’ll be able to -”
“You said you could handle this life.” He points out, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “Part of it requires a touch of detective work. What better way to spy on him? And if you ever want to finish your training…”
You narrow your eyes. He’s got you and he knows it. Damnit, John. “Fine, we’ll do it your way.” You twist your face into a scowl. “But you’re going to have to add lying to my curriculum.”
“I can do that.” John laughs, pulling you closer to him. “Johnny is the master at quite a few arts.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, as you let yourself be moved so you’re straddling his lap.
“Oh really.” You giggle, all anger forgotten, as you lean down to kiss him. “Bet you’re glad I was already good at this.” Before he can answer, you silence him with your lips on his.
***
The next morning, you accept Doctor Morgan’s proposal with a grin plastered on your face. “You and I are going to accomplish a great many things together, my dear.” He tells you when he shakes your hand. When he smiles, you’re reminded of his words from the day before. There are often wolves amongst sheep.
It’s going to be a shock for Morgan when he finds out how much of a wolf you plan to be. He’s going to regret whatever part he played in Darren’s death. And if you’re smart about it, he won’t see you coming.
***
“Bloody hell, luv.” John swears, staring down at the fifteen boxes of 17th Century Spanish acquisitions in front of you. “You have to do all of this tonight?”
You bite your lip, glancing up from the tablet screen in your hands. “No, but I really should get it started. And you should take a look around.”
“Alright, alright. Keep your hair on, would ya.” You stare at him with a raised eyebrow, before bursting into a fit of giggles. “What?” He asks, shrugging out of his coat. “When you asked me to come help you, I reckoned we’d be snooping as a bloody pair.”
You set the tablet down and cross your arms. “One of us has to be gainfully employed.” You tease, throwing his comment right back at him. “Your words, Johnny, not mine. So I figured while it’s just me here, it would be the perfect time for you to do some snooping. Go do your thing with the cameras and check out Morgan’s office while I do this.”
Pointing to the stairwell, you watch him groan and start to make his way out. “I don’t reckon I much like it when you use my logic against me.” John smirks from the doorway. “It makes you cheeky.”
Rolling your eyes, you turn your back to him and slide open the first box. “When you use flawed logic, I get to be chee- Ahh!” You shout in surprise when strong hands suddenly wrap around you from behind. “Jesus Johnny, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that trick.” You laugh softly, pressing a hand to your heart.
“I should bloody hope not.” John laughs, nuzzling your neck. His stubble against your skin makes you feel weak at the knees. “It’s one of my best moves.”
For a moment, you lean into the comfort of his embrace. It’s so surreal, you’ve only known him a little over four months but already, you feel safer with him than you ever thought you could.
John is funny and charming, He stares at you in a way that makes you feel like you’re the only one that matters to him; he makes you feel seen. He’s talked you through your anxious moments, witnessed first hand your sarcastic and self deprecating humor and he hasn’t made you feel like you’re flawed. When you babble or droll on excitedly, he smiles at you with a warmth that floods your very being.
You knew when John agreed to teach you magic, it would change your life. You just hadn’t expected how important a part of that life he’d become. You wonder if he did.
With a soft sigh, you pull away from him. “You’ll have to show me the rest of them sometime.” You smile softly as you spin around and meet his sparkling eyes.
John presses his lips to the top of your forehead. “Aye, when you’re ready.” He murmurs and turns towards the stairs. “Now get to work, I’ll give you a ring if I find something of import.”
You settle yourself amongst the boxes, half paying attention to your task and half wondering if he’ll find anything.
***
John does find something, a medallion etched with a series of overlapping triangles. He’s never seen anything like it, and he’s seen plenty. If he looked quickly, he’d sworn it was a double pentagram. Before he places it back in the false bottom of the drawer he pulled it from, he takes a photo of it with his phone.
Scrolling to Chas’s number, he attaches the picture and asks him if he’s ever seen the symbol before. As he waits for Chas to reply, he carefully puts back up every ward and protection spell that was in place.
Leaning against the desk, John runs his hand through his hair in aggravation. Not only could this blighter summon and control a demon, but he knows decently advanced warding magic. John’s furious, he’s never had this difficult a time closing a job. What the hell is he missing?
He prides himself on knowing quite a few practitioners of The Arts. Now, they may not like him but he knows them. John doesn’t know Ezra Morgan; never heard of him until he and Darren started to put it together.
John wants answers but he needs more time. This symbol is just another rubbish piece of the puzzle. Morgan has been radio silent for eight weeks then he comes out of nowhere and promotes you, placing you directly in the crosshairs.
It’s a deliberate move to draw attention back on him; a trap Morgan is sure John will fall for. Clearly, the man doesn’t understand who he’s really up against.
“Who the bloody Hell are you?” He asks the room. “And what do you want with me?”
Pocketing his phone, John slips out and heads back down to the Preservation room. There’s not much more he can accomplish until Chas answers him, the least he can do is keep you company.
***
When you hear John’s gait on the stairs, you set down the cutlass you’re holding and spin around. He’d been up there over an hour, hopefully that’s a good sign. “What did you find out?” You ask, expectantly.
You don’t see him check his phone and slide it back into his pocket again. “Not a bloody thing.” He huffs dramatically, the lie slipping out as easy as blinking and slumps down in the office chair nearest to you. You watch as he tilts his head back, tapping his foot anxiously on the ground.
Misinterpreting John’s fidgeting, you walk over and lean against the desk. “Should I be doing something different? Asking questions or something?” You rake your fingers through his hair in an effort to calm him. “I want to help.”
“You are, luv.” He reassures you. “Just by doing your job, you’re allowing me the unfettered access I’d otherwise have to use unsavory methods to obtain.” Inclining his head, he gestures to the boxes. “Can I help you? You’ve been at this all day, sweet’eart. You must be knackered.”
As he says it, you do feel the tell tale weariness that comes from pulling a double. “I am kinda tired.” You admit, pushing yourself up from the desk. “If you help me catalog these, we can get going?”
“Lets have at it then.” John smiles, rolling the chair closer to the remaining boxes. “Just tell Johnny what you need me to do.”
Once you’ve explained the cataloging process, you both set to work. After about forty-five minutes, you hear John clear his throat. “Yeah?” You ask softly, not bothering to look up from your list.
“Duel with me, luv.”
The statement takes you completely off guard. As you turn, he holds one of the swords he’s checked in, aiming it at you with a smirk. The other is still in its sheath, hilt towards you.
“John, those are 17th century Spanish cutlasses. Put them down.” When he doesn't, you huff and roll your eyes. “Come on, you offered to help catalog the artifacts, not damage them.”
Stepping forward, John’s smirk grows as he sets your cutlass on the ground. “Are you afraid you’d lose?”
With a laugh, you raise your eyebrow before staring down at it. “Oh, I never said that.”
“Then pick up your sword, lass and fight me.” John shrugs his shoulders, preparing himself. “If you’re not afraid, that is.”
Bending down, you retrieve your weapon without ever taking your eyes off him. “No magic, Johnny.” You warn, pulling your sword from its sheath. “Pure skill. Deal?”
“Aside from enchanting them to ensure no damage, deal.” John grins, watching you plant your feet carefully. “What are the terms?”
Quickly, you mutter an incantation to send a gust of air around the room, clearing the space for you both to move. “First to disarm their opponent, wins.” You inform him, holding out your sword in the ‘ready’ position.
“Then I’m going to enjoy beating you, sweet’eart.”
Before he can tease you further, you lunge at him. “You’re going to enjoy trying.”
The surprise on John’s face as he raises his sword to stop your blow, fills you with confidence. There’s no way he could know you took fencing lessons as an elective in college. Your dad loves antique weaponry, you wanted to bond with him. Fencing had let you meet in the middle. And you were exceptional at it.
Taking a step back, you use your blade to strike John’s. It slides along his as your feet sidestep around him. “What was that about beating me?” You tease as he tilts his head in excitement, letting his grin widen.
“I’m just getting started, luv.” He warns, his feet moving him forward quickly. His blade flips back and forth, matching yours hit for hit. You’re forced to take two steps back as he keeps up his relentless pace.
As John winds back to swing, you go for an evasive maneuver. Effortlessly, you drop your body beneath his weapon, balancing your right hand on the ground for support. John smirks, as he looms over you, thinking that you’ve made a mistake. When he’s close enough, you straighten your left arm and thrust your sword up to knock his out of his hand.
John’s eyes widen as he just barely blocks your blow. “Bloody hell, how’d you do that?” He asks, with an impressed grin as he tries to catch his breath. Instead of answering him, you spin around and feint to the left. He’s quick to block, catching on to your moves faster than you’d like.
With a low chuckle, John uses his cutlass to push you back toward the wall. When he swings to the left, you swing yours to the right. Over and over he counters until you’re feet from the wall. When your right foot hits the baseboard, you know you need a countermeasure and fast or you’re going to lose.
You’ve been studying John’s movements since the first swing of his cutlass. If you parry his next move, you can turn it into an attack and disarm him. As if on cue, John moves to attack you. You redirect his hit by pushing his sword out of the way with yours.
Clearly, he wasn’t expecting you to recover so quickly, let alone go from defending to attacking in a matter of seconds. With a triumphant laugh, you whack the guard of John’s cutlass, making him look down in surprise.
You move close to him, pointing the end of your sword under John’s chin. When you use the blade to lift his head up, an ardent combination of fear and arousal simmers in his amber eyes. “Drop your sword.” You command him, watching him swallow hard before lowering his weapon.
“I win.” You smirk indulgently, closing the distance and wrapping your fingers around the guard of his cutlass. The look hasn’t left John’s eyes, if anything it’s gotten more intense since you’ve stepped closer.
“Where’d you learn to sword fight like that?” John asks, his voice low and rough, chest still huffing from exertion.
You smirk up at him, exalted that you had such an effect on him. “There’s plenty you don’t know about me, Johnny. A girl has to maintain some kind of mystery when she’s dating a Master of the Dark Arts." At his laugh, you spin around to lay the cutlasses in the crate nearest you.
When John’s hand snakes around your waist, you let yourself be pulled backward. He whirls you around and to say things escalate quickly, is the understatement of the year.
John walks you to the desk and you feel your upper thighs hit the edge. His free hand rests against the back of your neck as he kicks your legs apart and moves to stand between them.
Your breath catches in your throat as you watch his eyes darken in lust. Your skin feels heated and flushed, nerve endings standing to attention, wanting, waiting, for John to make a move.
You want to form a coherent sentence, plead with him to kiss you. All that comes out is a soft whimper, “Please -” and he complies, crashing his lips down on yours.
The exquisite feeling of his body pressing yours into the desk is eclipsed only by the way his mouth commandingly claims yours. You feel him everywhere; the hand at the back of your neck pulls you closer to him as his free hand moves to cup and knead your breasts through your shirt. When he finds and rolls your nipple with his finger, you gasp, the sound swallowed by his mouth.
This is heaven, you think, rather incoherently, as your hands move into his hair. John’s lips are so easy to give in to, especially when he knows how to move them as well as he does. The way he kisses you is possessive, hungry, desperate; making you wish he’d never stop. When the hand at the back of your neck moves under your jaw, John uses it to tilt your head upwards.
Something uncoils in your stomach as you surrender to his actions, taking what he gives you without question. You lean away, breathlessly breaking the kiss and move your hands to his chest. “Sit.” You murmur, gesturing with your head to the chair next to him.
With visible effort, John steps away from you, confused by your sudden actions. When he settles into the chair, you push yourself off the desk and sink to your knees in front of him. “What are you doing there, pet?” He asks, understanding and desire in his eyes as you push his legs apart.
“Rewarding you for letting me beat you fair and square.” You meet his already half- lidded eyes as your fingers undo his belt buckle. As you unzip his pants, you can see the fabric of his briefs straining over his impressive hard on. Your fingers ghost over the material, barely touching him, earning a hiss from him in response.
“You won and I get the prize?” John smirks, gripping the arms of the chair. “I like the way your mind works, luv.” You hum out your approval as your fingers deftly slip under the waistband of his briefs and pull out his cock. His length is thick and hot in your hand; making you shiver in anticipation of all the things John could do to you with it.
You give him a few quick strokes, enjoying the way he bites his lip to keep from making a sound. When you twist your hand around the base, John lets out a low growl. “It’s dangerous to tease me, pet.” He warns, attempting to keep his voice even.
“I know.” You breathe out softly, before running your tongue around the tip of his cock. You watch him, John’s heavy lust dark eyes fixed on your face, as you slowly slide your tongue down the shaft. “But this is my prize.”
“Please,” John groans, echoing your soft plea from moments ago. Wanting him as much as he wants you, you let out a soft moan and push your lips around the head of his cock. Your tongue swirls and runs over the ridges of his flesh as you slowly take more of him into your mouth. Each swirl of your tongue, makes John buck his hips upward.
The gasping sounds coming from the man above you only encourage you to continue. Hollowing out your cheeks, you suck harder, bobbing your head up and down. One of your hands fills in where your mouth can’t, twisting and stroking in sync with your movements. The other squeezes his thigh, eliciting another growl from him.
When John’s hand fists in your hair, he tugs your head closer to him, forcing you to take more of him into your mouth than you were expecting. You momentarily choke when the head of his cock hits the back of your throat.
In your surprise, you pause and push back, pulling away with an audible ‘pop’. What John had done to you uncoiled an intense thrum of pleasure, low in your stomach. You hadn’t foreseen that. And you certainly hadn’t foreseen that you’d want him to do it again.
“Bloody hell, pet.” John pants, staring down at you, his pupils blown wide. “You’re so... I… I’m sorry, I..”
Settling back between his legs, you purposely grab his wrist and rest his hand on your head. “Don't be.” You breathe out, staring up at him through your lashes. “Do it again.”
John smirks, nodding as his fingers tighten in your hair. You lean forward and take him in your mouth again. When he pushes his hips forward, you carefully angle yourself to take every inch of his cock down your throat.
John shifts forward and when you try to pull back, he holds you still. You gag as he completely fills your throat, blocking your airway. He lets out a gravely moan, muttering a string of curses as he flexes his fingers tighter in your hair to hold you there.
After a few seconds he relaxes his hips, settling back down onto the chair. You cough and sputter, blinking away a stray tear before it can fall. "That's my good girl." John murmurs, caressing your cheek, making you smile up at him and bask in his praise.
His hips jerk slowly, pushing his way back in. You whine in encouragement when he doesn't move. At that, he thrusts in slowly; once, twice at a maddening pace. Your tongue lays flat along the underside of his cock, your jaw feeling the weight of him as he moves.
John's hips snap forward again, giving you only a moment's warning of what's coming. His free hand, previously gripping the arm of the chair, moves to the back of your neck as he begins thrusting as a bruising pace.
Your hands move from your sides to his thighs, desperate to push back and take a breath. "Hands behind your back, pet." John orders as he pulls out. “Don’t you dare move them.”
His eyes darken at the trail of spit connecting your mouth to his cock. Sucking in quick bursts of air, you obey without hesitation, locking your fingers around your wrists.
John thrusts again, a mess of hard, fast strokes, each one hitting the back of your throat. With each choking sound you’re forced to make, he grins darkly. You’re more turned on than you should be at the sight of it.
Arousal pools, deep in your belly as your nails dig into your own skin. You close your eyes, struggling to draw air into your lungs. “Look at me.” John commands, his voice dark and dangerous. You obey again, feeling evidence of your own excitement start to build between your legs.
Never in a million years did you think you'd want this, enjoy this. But you do; each snap of John’s hips, each groan he lets out when he holds you in place and cuts off your air, spurns you on, your desire to please him running like a mantra in your head.
You’re desperate to breathe but you can’t deny how intensely your body reacts to what he’s doing to you.
He pushes himself down, somehow further than before, making you swallow desperately, more by reflex than anything else. John swears above you, shoving your head down until your nose brushes against his groin. He holds you there as you feel him pulse in your throat.
You swallow everything he gives you, and stare up at him, blinking back tears until John lets you breathe. When he does, he nods, giving you permission to move your hands and rest them against his legs.
Sucking in air, you lean back on your heels and wipe at the corner of your mouth in satisfaction. John surprises you by reaching down and crashing his lips to yours. You kiss him back ardently, breaking the kiss only to take a breath.
“That was bloody fantastic, sweet’eart.” John applauds you as he tucks himself back into his pants. “I should let you win more often.”
“You should.” You agree, as he helps you to your feet. With a smirk, you rise on your tiptoes and kiss him again. When you lean back, John’s eyes are warm and full of affection for you.
“If you don’t mind,” you giggle softly. “Will you spell the cameras for us? I just got this job, you know. I may be the Director now but I’m pretty sure the board would frown on me giving you a blow job in the Preservation Room.”
John nods with a low chuckle. “Aye. It’s a bloody shame to erase such a spectacular display but -”
“One of us should be gainfully employed.” You finish with him, making you both laugh all the way up the stairs.
Notes:
That was an absolute blast to write. I really hope you loved it, dear readers ;) More fun like that to come, and soon <3
Next week: When you accidentally cast a spell on John, it renders him completely unable to lie. And you can imagine how much he's going to love THAT.
Chapter 18: The spell of lover's truth
Summary:
John learns more about Morgan and what the man might want with him. Later, when you inadvertently cast a spell on John that forces him to speak only the truth, you learn about the past he tries to keep so carefully hidden and realize how much you’ve fallen for him despite what you find out.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Hang on, luv.” John murmurs, interrupting his own lesson with a raised hand. His brow furrows, momentarily distracted by the new notification on his phone. “My mate’s just sent me something, I need to give him a ring.”
You set down the notes you’ve been studiously taking, flashing him a quick smile as you glance up. “Go for it. I think I need a break anyway, everything you’re saying is starting to blur.”
John nods, stepping over to the sofa and retrieving his trench coat. “I’ll just be a moment.” He promises, quickly pulling his arms through. As he steps out onto his balcony, he presses his phone to his ear. “Oi, Chas. Whatcha got for me, mate?”
Pushing yourself off the couch, you reach over into John’s leather bag, hoping to find the book you’ve been memorizing spells from. You were excited when you first saw it; charms and incantations from all over, handwritten in John's loopy scrawl.
John’s told you he collects magic wherever he can. He'd called his brain a 'bloody patchwork quilt.' You had laughed when he said it, not thinking he was serious. But once you looked inside the book and saw magic written in countless languages, you colored yourself impressed.
You smile, wondering if you can memorize enough to be just as skilled a mage as John is. Once your fingers close around the worn leather, you pull it out of the bag and settle back against the cushions, determined to surprise him by the time he gets off the phone.
***
“What do you know about the Order of Nine Angles?” Chas asks, a tight edge to his voice.
John exhales a puff of smoke into the early evening sky. “Not a thing, mate. Sounds like a rubbish rock group if you ask me.” He laughs, leaning back in the chair. “We would know, ay?”
Chas laughs with him, his deep tone resonating through the phone line. “Yeah, we would.” He agrees, leaning forward in his office chair.
“But no, it’s a Satanic occult group back home; their symbol is the one you found on the coin." He whistles low, making a noise of disbelief. "Now, they’re mostly small time, neo-nazi garbage, but there’s the extremists who live on the fringe. They’re the ones we gotta worry about.”
“What’s that supposed to mean then?”
“Christ, Johnny. These people are something else.” Chas murmurs, flipping through pages quickly. “There’s so much to get through here, once you know where to look. But from what I’ve got so far, the true believers use aggressive methods of human sacrifice and sexual assault to curry favor with the Devil.”
John takes a final deep drag of his silk cut before flicking it to the sidewalk below. “I know the bloody Devil, mate. He doesn’t go in for all that rubbish.”
“That’s not my point.” Chas sighs impatiently. “I’m saying if these idiots think that pulling stunts like this will grant them favors, what happens when one of them gets lucky and something answers. The wrong kind of something. Knowing what we know, and how many dicks down there hate you, John -”
“Bloody fucking hell.” John swears, dragging a hand down his face as the pieces of this puzzle slowly start to move into place for him. “So you think that Morgan is one of those extremist blokes and maybe something that wants my arse answered him?”
Chas makes a noise through his teeth. “Obviously, we need to know for sure but I think this is more than a maybe. Which is -”
“Problematic.” John finishes, tapping his foot anxiously. “Half the wankers in Hell want a piece of me. And for different ruddy reasons.” He crosses his leg over his other knee as he leans back. “This is rubbish, Chas. There’s a bloody line a mile long, we’ve no clue where to start.”
“Like I said, we need more information. Darren had to have no idea what this guy was into. I mean, he thought it was a cursed object at first, yeah?”
When John confirms, he can hear Chas’s office chair squeak. “I’m going to keep doing research, see if we can find anything more about Morgan and his connections to this group.”
Chas pauses before letting out a deep breath; it’s the only indication given that John's not going to enjoy the next question. “You still keeping watch over that girl?" He asks. "The one you swear you’re just messing around with?”
John glances through the glass of the balcony door. You’re nestled on the couch, eyes glued to the book in your lap. You’re mouthing something repeatedly, trying to memorize an incantation. John smiles, more to himself than anything else, and turns away to stare out at the Charles River in the distance.
“I am.” He confirms quietly, not rising to the bait. “She’s with me now. Listen mate, the lass has handled this better than I reckoned she would. I’ve been… tutoring her in the Arts. Just some elementary charms and the like to protect herself.”
Chas makes a disapproving sound, low in the back of his throat. “John.” He growls. “You’ve never wanted to teach anyone to do what we do. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“I wasn’t at first.” John rolls his eyes. “But she’s a determined little lass, quick study too. Knocked me on my arse a few times. And,” he hesitates, glancing through the glass again. “She’s going to help us. Spy on Morgan, tell Johnny what she finds out. I've told her just enough so she can get closer to the tosspot -”
“Oh, now I get it. Jesus Christ, John.” Chas swears loudly, making John flinch. “What the Hell are you thinking? Teaching her to defend herself is one thing. Involving her in this? Letting her think you care about her when you’re just using her as bait for this psycho? That’s low, even for you. One fuck up and this is Gary all over again.”
John recoils from the phone as if Chas reached through it and hit him. “S’not like that, I do care about her. Gaz was bloody different and you know it. I didn’t have a choice, I did -”
“What I had to do.” Chas finishes for him, making John go silent. “Like you always do.” He scoffs, sounding more aggravated than John’s heard him. “God knows you’re not going to listen to me, you didn't then. This is a bad idea. You’re going to get her killed if you’re not careful, and you’re never careful.”
“I bloody well know that, mate.” John insists, pushing himself to his feet. “But this is different. She’s bloody brilliant, Chas. She can take care of herself; I don’t intend for anything to happen to her, I’m in lo-” John stops himself before he lets slip the words he doesn’t want to admit to anyone but himself.
The noise Chas lets out is somewhere between a growl and a sound of pity. “I knew it. I knew you caught feelings for her. Shit, John. Now, you’ve made it dangerous. In this line of work, love is a liability. Isn’t that what you told me the first time Renee and I split? That’s why I try to stay minimally involved. For my family’s sake.”
“Well, I don’t have a family, now do I?” John snaps, rolling his eyes. “So I’ve no one to worry about but myself.”
“And the girl. When you get her killed.” Chas sighs, heavy and exhausted through the phone. “Johnny, I’m not trying to give you shit. I just... I don’t like this. You and I both know how this goes and now, you’ve got this Order to deal with... You should leave her out of this, that’s all I’m going to say on it. I’d tell you to be careful but -”
“I always am, mate. Don’t worry about it, you’ll go gray.” John responds, cutting Chas off before he can throw any more painful truth in his face. “Give us a ring when you’ve got something.”
As he hangs up the phone, John leans his head back and groans. That conversation didn’t go the way he’d expected at all. Chas knows him better than anyone else; knows his history and habits. So there’s no one better qualified to call John out for potentially endangering another innocent life. Again.
John stands, resting his arms on the railing of the balcony. The worst part of it is that it's not like anything Chas said wasn’t true. Gaz‘s sacrifice had been John’s fault. He told himself that in that moment, he hadn’t had a choice; convincing Gaz to give himself to that hunger demon was the only way to stop it.
But there’s always a bloody choice, isn’t there, John thinks bitterly. He just makes the wrong one consistently and people that trust him, end up dead. Or worse.
He doesn’t want you to be another one. If John was a better man, a stronger man, he'd have left months ago. He thought about it.
John refuses to compare himself to the nasty git that was his father, but sometimes there’s too much of Thomas in him to be ignored. His self destructive streak is just one of the many rubbish habits he picked up from the old man.
Using you as bait was the usual bastard move for John to pull. He knows he considered it early on when the rabisu attacked. Things may be different now, but Chas knows him too well and had every right to call him out.
But Chas has it wrong this time, you want to help. He’s not manipulating you, not intentionally. Withholding information isn’t the same as manipulation and he’s doing it to keep you safe.
At least, that’s what John tells himself as he slides open the door to face you.
***
“What did Chas need?” You ask, barely glancing up at him as he slides the glass shut.
When John sinks down onto the couch next to you, you tilt your head and wait for him to answer. “How did you know -”
Rolling your eyes, you set the book onto your lap and turn to him. “You’ve mentioned him more than once, so you must be close.” You point out, smirking at the startled expression on his face. “I’d like to think he’s not your only friend, but he’s the only one I’ve heard.”
“Quick study, you are.” John grins, leaning back against the cushions. “Yeah, we’re close. He’s the only one that I trust in this line of work. I’ve known him for ages.”
He hesitates, making you wonder if he’s deciding how much more to tell you. “We were mates as teenagers; he got married, had a daughter. I didn’t.” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Chas is brilliant with all this, I give him a ring when I need the back up.”
“I’d love to meet him sometime.” You grin, sliding your fingers back between the pages of the book. “Hear all about you when you were younger.”
Instead of commenting further, John clears his throat and swiftly changes the subject. “What have you been reading?” He asks, glancing down to your lap before pulling out his phone and rolling his eyes. “Learn anything fun?”
“Tracking spells, incantations to slow and freeze time, astral projection - that seems awesome, and this one here sounds interesting but I don’t understand...”
You run your fingers over the words slowly. “Hasta que tu boca toque la mía, la verdad se derramara de la tuya como el vino* ?”
You close the book with a sigh. “But I don’t know how that helps catch a cheating -" John’s wide-eyed stare cuts you off. “What? Johnny, why are you staring at me like that?”
“Because I’ve just never met anyone like you before, you look absolutely smashing when you do magic.” John abruptly lifts his hand to his mouth. “Dunno why I bloody said that.”
Snatching the book quickly, John’s eyes scan the page. Panic blossoms on his face, spreading throughout the rest of his body like wildfire. “Nonono, what have you done, luv?” He whispers, with growing dread.
John's body language and panicked reaction, set your nerves on edge. “I uh, I just muttered it really, I didn’t say it with purpose. Usually there’s more to it than that -”
“Not with this bloody spell there isn’t.” John closes the book and runs a hand down his face. “All you have to do is utter it and it’s done.”
Your brain scrambles to catch up. “What does it do, John?” You ask, almost afraid of his answer. “All you did was compliment me. It’s not a secret you have a thing for me, we’re dating.”
“Oh, it’s more than a thing, luv.” At that, he pushes himself to his feet abruptly. “Bollocks, I have got to stop yammering before I say something I don’t want to.”
More than a thing, huh? That thought almost derails you completely. “What?” You stand, following him quickly to the kitchen. “John, talk to me. What is this spell? What does it do?”
With visible effort, John turns around. Every inch of his body is fully rigid with tension now. “El hechizo de la verdad del amante, the spell of lover’s truth. It forces one to tell the absolute truth until the caster is satisfied enough to allow you to kiss them."
John’s lips twist into a half smirk. "Useful, if you’re trying to prove that your husband is snogging another bird, decidedly not useful if -”
“Oh, fuck. Johnny, I’m so sorry.” Leaning forward, you hug him in apology. “Well, c’mere, let’s fix this." You mumble against his chest. "I didn’t mean to -”
John pulls away from you, reaching for the bottle on the counter beside him. “It doesn’t work like that.” He takes a quick sip and stares down at you. “Your heart must be satisfied, the magic of the spell knows. And for it to have worked in the first place, it’s bloody well not, now is it?”
“Okay, so I just have to figure out how to make my heart satisfied. How difficult could that be?”
John makes a scoffing sound. “Real bloody difficult considering how many secrets I keep from you.” At that, he closes his eyes and takes another long pull. When he opens them again, he watches you carefully.
“Listen, luv, I think it’s in our best interest if you head on home until I can find a countermeasure. It’s dangerous to have you here.”
“Our best interest? You can’t honestly think it’s better to be all alone under the influence of a spell.” You argue, feeling a flash of anger at his instinctual decision to push you away. “I care about you, John. I’m not going to do anything to you.”
You exhale harshly through your nose. “And yeah, I know there’s shit you don’t tell me, and I’d love to know what it all is. But I’m not gonna force you. Everyone has secrets.”
John pushes past you and perches on the edge of the bed, running his hands through his messy hair. “I can’t control my words around you right now, sweet’eart.” He explains, his eyes glaring at you defiantly. “I lie for a living, don’t I? This is not gonna end well for ol’ Johnny.”
“Okay but, and hear me out, if you’re worried about that, you shouldn’t be lying to me.” You snark, feeling your hackles rise as John throws his defensive walls up.
“I just don’t understand why you have to lie to everybody all the time.” Folding your arms across your chest, you step closer to him. “You have magic, you could just charm your way in everywhere.”
The look John gives you is a painful display of frustration and alarm. Sensing his panic and what could be the start of a fight, you huff softly. “John, do you want me to leave?”
“Aye.” His reply holds no hesitation, making you spin on your heel and wordlessly grab your coat and bag.
“Why do you do that?” You ask, not bothering to hide the ache in your voice. You turn back to John once you’re near the door and watch his cognac eyes wage a war under his furrowed brow. “Why do you feel like you have to push people away?”
John’s harsh voice stops your fingers from turning the handle. “I push people away because with my history, caring is a bloody liability. I let you get too close to me and something happens, that’s on me. Or I make a mistake and you get killed. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
You drop your bag and stare at John’s face. His brow is still furrowed as he examines the bottle in his hands. You were going to leave. But his expression and the fear you see on it, makes you shrug back out of your coat and cross the distance to crouch down in front of him.
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” You argue gently. “It’s my choice to work with you, be involved with you. If something happens, that’s on me.”
“It’s on me.” John shakes his head, daring to meet your eyes. “There's so much I haven't told you, luv. And at first, I was doing it to protect you. It’s so bloody hard to let anyone in and I didn’t want you to get hurt. I’ve lost so many people due to my own negligence and now with this Morgan blighter, I -”
When John chokes himself off, you rise and narrow your eyes. “What about Morgan?” you ask, feeling anger blossom in your chest again. John had unpacked quite a bit there but the second he mentioned Dr. Morgan, that’s all you could focus on.
“Johnny, I'm sorry. I said I wouldn't do this but you need to talk to me.” You grind out, making the decision to get the answers out of him, no matter how mad he gets with you. "Tell me everything about Doctor Morgan."
John eyes you with resignation before he lets out a low, deep breath. “Morgan summoned the Demon that offed Darren. We reckoned the creature was after you, but we were wrong. Before he died, Darren confirmed Morgan was after me. The demon was just bait to get me here. Once Morgan caught wind of you, he reckoned he could use you against me as well.”
Dragging in a sharp breath through your nose, you wait for him to continue. “Chas and I checked out a coin I found in Morgan’s drawer.” John shrugs apologetically, knowing he had lied to your face when you first asked, only days before.
“We need to learn more, but I’d wager Morgan’s part of a bigger organization, that he’s trying to snuff me out to get some high ranking demon bugger to owe him a favor.” You suck in a quick breath and reach for his hand.
“I’m worth more to those nasty gits dead than alive.” He murmurs in a subdued voice. “Either way, my damned soul is bound for Hell. It’ll just be easier to torture if there’s no fight left in me.”
What?
You want to be furious with John for lying to you, furious that he chose to only give you just enough information to make you think he wasn’t withholding anything. Furious for making you think that he was being honest with you; counting you an asset, a partner in this mess.
And you are angry. But when you look at John and see the tension furrowing his brow, you know that no matter what he says, he doesn’t want you to leave. But in his mind, you're going to walk away from this. From him. Because no one ever stays. They’d be crazy to want to.
John has been broken; splintered into hundreds of pieces, countless times. It doesn’t take a truth spell to see the visible effects of the damage John wields like a shield. While he’s taped himself back up enough to function, you can see the cracks in moments like this.
You wonder if that’s part of his appeal; you recognize some of the same brokenness in you. Because you don't trust easily either.
Sam made sure to leave all sorts of cracks in your armor before you finally gathered up the mental fortitude to be done with him. So you have every right to walk away. But that doesn't mean you want to. John's got to start giving you a bit of credit.
You knew what you were getting involved with. You knew he had secrets. And still, you persisted. Having feelings for John may make you vulnerable, but it won't break you. And you need to make him see that.
There's a million things you want to say. You want to yell at him, scream even, just to feel better about all of this. But you don't. Instead, you take a deep breath and meet his eyes.
“John, why didn’t you tell me this?” You ask softly as you attempt to keep your voice steady and free of anger. “Why did you choose to lie to me?”
“I thought, the less you bloody knew, the safer you’d be; if anything did happen, then Chas wouldn’t be right about death following me every bloody place I go. He doesn’t like this thing between us. He knows me; swears I’m gonna get you killed. I didn’t want your blood on my hands because I was too ruddy selfish to stay away.”
You push yourself to your feet and start pacing back and forth. John watches you warily, waiting for you to grab your coat and go. You should. You put up with Sam’s lying and you vowed never to do that again.
But John wasn’t trying to hurt you, his methods were flawed but his heart was in the right place. Turning to face him, you hesitate before opening your mouth. You’re almost afraid of the answer but you have to know. “Death follows you? What’s that supposed to mean, Johnny?”
“Come with me,” he asks, standing and heading towards the balcony. “I need a smoke for this bit.”
You follow him outside, grabbing his trench coat off the chair by the bed as you go. You’re wrapping it around your shoulders when he starts talking.
“My mum died giving birth to me.” John sighs, leaning over the railing. “My dad used to call me ‘killer', never let me forget what I did.”
Resting your hand between John’s shoulder blades, you rub circles in the center of his back. “Oh, Johnny.” You murmur softly, blinking away the tears along your lash line. “What kind of man… You’re not to blame for that. It was a tragic accident.”
John scoffs but doesn’t shrug you off. Instead, you watch the tension in his shoulders lesson a bit. “Didn’t seem to matter none to Tommy Constantine.” He shrugs, letting out a small huff.
“Drunk himself to a bloody stupor when he wasn’t taking his anger out on me. Eventually, he got tired of pretending to be a parent, got himself locked up. My sister and I got shipped to an aunt.”
“You told me that.” You answer softly, flexing your fingers on his back as comfortingly as you can. “Do you still see your sister?”
John shakes his head, turning his body so he can face you. “Cheryl’s dead.” He tells you, folding his arms defensively. “Murdered by her possessed husband, who couldn’t live with the guilt of what he’d done and offed himself right after.”
Your eyes widen in shock as your fingers run through your hair anxiously. “Jesus, Johnny. I… I’m so sorry.” You had no idea the trauma that John carried on his shoulders, no wonder he told you everyone leaves. No wonder he keeps this all bottled up.
“I’ve lost mates, people I let myself care for because I had to make a choice and that ended their lives. It always ends the same for Ol’Johnny. I let you in my life and when it goes all to pot, I walk away full of bloody guilt and you… you don’t walk away at all.”
He runs a hand down his face, absently scratching at his stubble. “I’m always to blame. No matter the why.” In his eyes, you see every bit of pain he so carefully hides. “This loneliness and guilt is a poison that I’ve been drinking for so bloody long, that I don’t think there’s an antidote out there that could save my soul. Even if it wasn’t already damned.”
When his eyes meet yours, you want to forget all your anger and frustration and just hold him, tell him everything will be alright.
“I can only imagine what you must think of me, luv.” He mumbles, moving to sit on the edge of the metal chair. He makes a scoffing sound as you take a step back. “Some sort of monster that kills every bloody thing I touch.”
“I don’t think anything like that.” You grab the other chair and drag it across the small space. When you settle into it, you rest your hand on his knee and gently squeeze it so he’ll look at you.
“I think you’ve been dealt a real shitty hand in life and you’ve made the best of it. I know you believe that being alone is easier, I argued that with you months ago. I think because of that and because you're the guy who makes the tough decisions that no one else can, you carry a lot of guilt from what you’ve had to deal with. And what you think you've done. But none of that makes you a monster.”
John laughs bitterly, pulling out the cigarette he keeps from behind his ear. “Don’t make me a saint though, does it now? I got into magic to find an escape from all the pain and utter rubbish I dealt with as a boy. Even that was a mistake.”
You watch him pull his lighter from his back pocket and cover it with his hand. Smoke curls around his head as he takes a deep drag from his cigarette. “You saved my life.” You smile softly. “Magic helped you do that. I don’t see how that was a mistake.”
“You will.” He leans back, raw vulnerability rooting you in place when he locks eyes with you again. “There was a little girl, Astra Logue. Her father was some satanic cult leader in Newcastle. My band was playing his club and -”
“You had a band?” You ask, raising an eyebrow in interest as John takes another drag, the ruby embers illuminating his tired face.
“I was the lead, yeah.” He nods, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “Mucus Membrane, the best worst punk band the London Underground’s ever seen.”
You open your mouth to comment and he gently cuts you off. “Let me finish, luv. S’not an easy thing for me to have a chat about.” You purse your lips, letting him continue.
“Chas and I walked in on some ritual. I thought the bloke was off his rocker, involving his own bloody daughter. The useless git was going to sacrifice her to call a demon for his bidding.”
Your eyes widen as your hand flies to cover your audible gasp. John nods, his voice filled with regret. “I thought I could just do a spell and banish the ruddy thing but I… I mucked it up and the demon killed the lot of them, save for me and Chas, and dragged Astra to Hell with him.”
He drops his head onto his chest, letting his shoulders slump in shame. “Chas and I barely speak of it. Checked myself into a bloody hospital for that one. After eight years, I still can’t get her screams outta my head. I suppose it’s what I deserve after everything I’ve cocked up.”
Wrapping his coat tighter around you, you let a few tears fall onto it. “John, I…”
You don’t know what to say. Nothing you do can make this better for him, especially since you’ve just forced him to admit to you his worst secrets after you told him you wouldn’t. “I'm sorry I made you do this and I… I’m sorry that you really believe you don’t deserve to be forgiven for any of it. No one should carry that much weight on their shoulders.”
He looks away, eyes glassy and wet as he stares out into the Boston skyline. After a couple long drags, he stubs the cigarette out on the ground beside him and stares at you, his expression unreadable in the soft darkness.
“Well, now you know all Johnny’s nasty little secrets,” he growls, bitterly. “There’s a reason I prefer to walk this bloody path alone, it’s so I don’t have to share with anyone how lost I really am. Most people can’t handle it, I wouldn't blame you if you can't either.”
“I think you know by now, I’m not most people.” You push back, shrugging his jacket off when you see him start to shiver from the cold.
"I also think you should give me the agency to choose for myself what I can and can't handle. Trusting you wasn't easy for me, you know. Sam may be ancient history but those scars haven't fully healed. I chose to let you into my heart. I chose to give you the ability to hurt me and trust you not to."
“I’m not certain that’s a brilliant idea, sweet’eart.” John laughs bitterly. “I'm not an easy man to be with. Eventually, I hurt everyone I care about.”
You roll your eyes, not willing to let him push you away. “Okay, well, I'm not an easy woman to be with.”
“I lie. Cheat. Manipulate.” John argues, looking out into the darkness. The glow of the city illuminates his face, casting red and yellow hues onto his pale skin. “I’m a nasty piece of work.”
“I have trust issues, I'm insecure and prone to self sabotage.” You point out. “So why don’t we go inside? Argue over which of us is worse for the other, in the warmth of your room.” You move to stand and wrap the trench coat around him. “Because you’re freezing.”
When you hold your hand out to him, he reluctantly takes it. “I know I don’t deserve forgiveness for all I’ve done.” His fingers feel warm around yours, despite the cold. “But I fancy the notion that some people think I might.”
“We all have sins to pay penance for, one way or the other.” You glide the glass shut once you’re both through. “It doesn’t make you less deserving of happiness because of it.”
John doesn’t say a word, just stares at you with a soft quizzical expression. Like you’re a puzzle he so desperately wants to solve but doesn’t have all the pieces.
“Did you really want me to leave?” You ask, leaning on the edge of the sofa cushions. “Or were you afraid that if I found out everything, I’d run before you could tell me to?”
“You really are too brilliant for your own good, sweet’eart.” John admits, a bitter edge to his voice. “I should want you to leave. I should tell you to go and leg it as far from me as you can, tell you I never should’ve chased you in the first place.”
He shakes his head, grinning softly to himself. “But I’m not a good enough man to do that. I want to ruin you for anyone else, be the only bloke to ever touch you again. Never had much luck with impulse control and I’m stubborn as a bloody mule.”
“Trust me, you’re not the only one who feels that way.” You give him a soft smile. “I might be just as stubborn as you are.”
Running hand down his face, he sits himself inches from you on the sofa. “But I’ve nothing to offer you, sweet’eart.” The sentence comes out ragged and heartbroken, making your throat constrict from the anguish on his face.
For him, the words are the truth, at least he believes them to be. Otherwise, John wouldn’t be able to speak them aloud. For you, it’s confirmation that his tragic past cuts him deeper than maybe even he knows. You reach out and close the distance to him, smiling fondly as you cup his cheek.
John leans into your touch, letting out a soft noise of contentment then falls quiet. In the silence, you feel the broken edges of your heart reaching out to stitch themselves to his. You know can’t fix him, that’s not your responsibility.
But you want to ease his furrowed brow and assure him that he’s wrong. That you’re smart enough to see the good man he keeps buried down so deep, that even John’s forgotten he’s in there.
“I thought you couldn’t lie.” You tease softly, pushing sandy blond strands off his forehead.
“You bloody well know I can’t.”
You lift the edge of your lips into a smirk. “Then give me some credit, John. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. No matter how tenacious you think you are. And I certainly wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t think you were worth it.” Lifting his chin, you roll your eyes. “Don’t you believe me?”
Without hesitation John answers, his voice soft but sure. “Aye, luv. I do.” Before you can second guess yourself, you lean in and press your lips to his. John doesn’t stop you, doesn’t move as you scoot yourself closer to him.
When you lean away for a fraction of a second, John tilts his head and smiles. He closes the distance this time, threading his fingers through your hair to rest his hand on the back of your neck. When he kisses you back in earnest, you part your lips, letting him pull your bottom lip into his mouth.
You let out a soft whimper, making him pull back and ardently search your eyes. “Sweet’eart, I want to be… you need a better...” He trails off, closing his eyes.
You knit your eyebrows in confusion. “John, look at me. Please.” You implore him, sliding your thumb over his stubbled cheek. When he raises his eyes to yours, guarded insecurity sits heavy on his face.
“I don’t need you to be anything except who you are.” You let your mouth twist into a small grin. “But you need to start trusting me, afford me the same faith I have in you. I told you, I’m not some damsel. I’m here, I’m part of all this with you.” You watch his eyes glisten in the lamplight. “Respect me enough to not lie to me.”
At that, John grins and pulls your face close to his to kiss you again. He touches you softly, hesitantly, as if he’s afraid he’s about to wake from a dream and find you’re not actually here. You wrap your hand in his tie to further press his body to yours.
Taking that as permission, he leans you back against the couch and straddles your hips, groaning into your mouth. The feel of his lips on yours breaks down every wall, every defense, you’ve ever had to build up. You let bricks of insecurity and doubt shatter, tumbling around you into dust.
As John whispers your name against your lips with the same devotion as a prayer he’s been waiting a lifetime to deliver, you realize that you’re falling without fear of hitting the ground. You think you may have been falling from the moment you met him, but this is the first time you’ve acknowledged the weightless, intoxicating feeling.
And the first time you haven’t been afraid of it.
When John confesses how much he wants you to be his, you know it’s not the spell, but the absolute truth pouring from his lips. With that knowledge, you choose to absolve him of all his self- proclaimed sins by threading your fingers in his hair and kissing him so fervently that your entire being curves to his.
You won’t realize what this revelation means to you until long after you’ve gone home that night. You’ll lay in your bed, letting the way he said your name echo in your mind. In this moment and for the rest of your life, you want your name to be the only word John speaks with such devout reverence. The only word he utters as a precursor to the way his heart worships yours.
Notes:
*Until your mouth touches mine, truth will spill from yours like wine
Well, you both survived the truth spell. Hopefully, I surprised y’all with how that turned out :)
Next week, John finally meets Sam. Let me tell you, it’s worth the wait. And speaking of worth the wait… after that, you finally decide to let John have his wicked way with you.A week’s never felt so long, am I right? ;)
Chapter 19: A proper thank you.
Summary:
After your first real fight with John, you nurse your wounds by going out for a drink. Unfortunately for you, you’re not alone and things get a bit frightening. Fortunately for you, John has impeccable timing and once he’s certain you’re safe, you decide to finally thank him properly.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
As you stumble, you watch John take the hit with wild, terrified eyes. The blow connects with his jaw, knocking his head to the side. John stumbles back, letting out a pained groan as he slams against the concrete wall. He crumples to the ground without a word.
“John!” You shout, rushing to his side. You’re pulled back by strong fingers encircling your upper arm. Trying to twist out of it only tightens your attackers grip. “Let go of me!” You snap, whipping your head to glare as he looms over both of you.
He harshly pulls you away, successfully shoving you to the other side of the alley. Your back collides against the cement, knocking the wind out of you. “Stay out of this, kitten.” Your attacker warns with a low growl. “You don’t want to get hurt again while I’m teaching this little shit a lesson.”
“Fuck you.” You snarl, pushing yourself back from the wall. He rolls his eyes with a grin, a patronizing gesture you’re used to seeing on his face, before turning back to advance on John’s slumped over body. You scream for him again, panicking when he doesn’t immediately rise from the ground.
***
The day before:
John’s waiting outside the hotel when you pull up. His trench coat is wrapped tightly around his body to keep out the early December chill as he waves you over. Shifting your car into park, you twist your upper body as he hops in. “Hey.” You greet softly, watching him set his bag on the backseat.
“Hullo, sweet’eart.” John replies, leaning over to kiss your cheek. The action makes you smile, pleased that even after the truth spell incident, nothing seems to have changed with you. “How was everything today?” He asks, entering the address of the job you’re helping him with into your phone’s GPS.
With a small huff, you fill him in on your meeting with Morgan. “It was uncomfortable, as usual.” You roll your eyes. “Morgan, clearly, has no idea how much of the hidden world I know about. He just keeps making suggestive comments about how much power he and I will have and I have to pretend he’s talking about the museum.”
John gives you a tight lipped smile. “You're becoming as brilliant a liar as I am. Just keep at him, sweet’eart. He’ll give us something eventually.”
“I don’t know if that’s a compliment, but thank you?” You laugh softly, grinning at him. “So, just your run o’the mill demon evicting milk run in -” you glance at the address as you shift into drive. “Dedham?”
John shakes his head, a faint smirk sliding onto his face. “Not this time.” He sighs, scratching at his stubble.
“This one is a nasty bugger, it’s got its claws deep in some suburban housewife. The husband found me through his local priest, begged for my help. Said his wife went mental, going after their kids and I…”
“I get it.” You assure him, turning onto the highway. “Whatever you need, I’m here to help.”
“The stronger the demon, the smarter they are.” John warns, lighting up a cigarette. “You’ll need to stay focused on the task at hand, do not listen to a bloody word it says. Demons lie, the wankers will do and say anything to stay inside their host.”
You nod, glancing at him quickly. The information is nothing new, you’re read as much in one of John’s books. “Eye color is important too, right?” You ask, remembering your notes. “This guy probably doesn’t have black eyes.”
“Right you are, luv.” He smiles again, taking a deep drag from his silk cut. “Most likely red. So your goal isn’t to kill it, though I’d bloody well love to. Our goal is to get it out of Mrs. Richmond with both our spines intact. Hers too, if we’re jammy.”
For a moment you think he’s kidding. But when you glance over again and see John’s solemn expression, you aggressively fight down the urge to shiver. “Jesus John, that didn’t exactly inspire confidence.”
He rolls his eyes as he takes a quick pull from his flask. “Not every exorcism is an easy one, luv. These nasty buggers don’t want to leave their hosts; but if you do exactly as I tell you, it’ll be over nice and quick.”
You nod your head in silent understanding. Everything will be fine. John’s done this hundreds of times and even though you haven’t, you trust that he knows what he’s doing.
***
“Hold her down, luv.” John orders you as he scrambles down off the bed. “We may need to restrain her.” You hurry to grab Mrs. Richmond’s arm as she snarls at you, letting her eyes flash crimson.
The demon inside is stronger than either of you expected, sending you flying back into the wall with just a flick of her hand. When your body connects with a dull thud, you momentarily see stars.
“Alright?” John shouts, glancing at you quickly before attempting to secure her wrists to the bedpost. You push yourself onto your feet with a nod and hurry to help him.
“What do we do?” You demand as the lights in the room flicker before going out completely. “This thing is too strong. Why is it here?”
Muttering an incantation, John creates soft white light from the moonstone ring on your left hand. “I don’t bloody know, but that won’t last.” He motions to his bag on the floor. “Hurry, grab a flashlight and aim it at the bed.”
You knit your brows together in confusion but do as you’re asked. When your fingers touch the bag, John starts chanting. You whirl around to see him standing over Mrs. Richmond, his eyes glowing a radiant gold.
“I’m addressing the entity inside.” John’s voice is firm, commanding over the static of the broken radio flung at your head when you first walked in. “Who are you?” He demands. “Tell me your name.”
The demon screeches and kicks upwards, knocking John off the bed. He hits the ground with a thud. “You don’t know me, but I know you.” It hisses in a sing-song voice. “Know as sure as I know your name, John Constantine, you’ll fail this night. You won’t save her, either of them."
As John scrambles to his feet, the demon rises, lifting itself feet into the air. John swears softly and continues the ritual. “In the name of the creator, you are hereby -”
Afraid that the demon is going to do more damage to John if it gets the chance again, you start inching closer to the bed, speaking your own exorcism chant over John’s. “Adjure te, spiritus nequissime -.” Your words are quickly choked off when the demon’s eyes flash at you. When it suddenly closes its fist, you can’t breathe.
You fall to your knees, clawing desperately at nothing but air. Over the dim light of the flashlight and the static filling the room, it takes John a few seconds to notice you’re in trouble. His eyes widen, understanding the demon’s threat from moments ago and lets his eyes flicker between you and the demon for a second too long.
Swearing under his breath, John turns and focuses on helping you. You know without hesitation, he regrets bringing you along. This was too advanced for someone as new to this as you are. And now, if something happens to Mrs. Richmond, it’s your fault because John had to stop and save you.
Shaking your head, you try to motion towards the bed, indicating for him to save her first. John ignores your frantic gesturing to crouch in front of you. “Te libero de esta magia.” He murmurs, helping you to your feet.
You suck in gulpfuls of air as you try to get your bearings. “Thank you.” You croak out, coughing and using his arm for balance. “What do we -”
“You’ve done enough. Get out of here.” John snaps, stepping away from you. You can’t hide the hurt on your face as he climbs back onto the bed. When he turns back around, his eyes narrow in fury. “Get the bloody hell out of here. Now!”
Spinning on your heel, you book it from the room before John can see your face crumble. As you slam the door, you hear Mrs. Richmond scream. You hurry down the stairs, wiping away tears as you go.
You contemplate running towards your car, doing exactly what John says. But from the shouting you hear upstairs and the worry you feel clawing at your chest, you stand your ground and wait.
After ten long minutes, you hear a loud crash then silence. You fly up the stairs, stopping on the top step when the door to the bedroom creaks open. John walks out with his bag, calm but covered in a spray of blood. “What happened in there?” You gasp, peering around him.
“Where’s the husband?” John growls, grabbing your arm and moving down the stairs with you.
“I’m here.” Mr. Richmond offers, stepping through the front door. “I… I waited outside. I just couldn’t bear to hear it. Is my wife…”
John steps away from you, wiping his hands on a rag from his back pocket. “She’s alright, mate.” He assures the husband, resting a stained hand on his shoulder. “It got a touch dodgy in the middle there. She’s got a broken leg, thrashing about like she was and a few nasty cuts. You’re going to want to call an ambulance, get that bone set. And your priest as well, I reckon.”
“Thank you.” Mr. Richmond exclaims, shaking John’s hand profusely. “How can I ever repay you?”
“It’s on me, give your kids a good Christmas.” John murmurs, motioning for you to follow him through the front door. Knowing how upset he is, you don’t argue.
He rounds on you the second you’re both outside. “What the bloody hell were you thinking?” John’s dark eyes narrow into angry slits; his shoulders are as tense as you are. “You can’t just throw any old chant out there, that bugger could’ve killed you!”
“I was trying to protect you.” You protest weakly. Crossing your arms over your chest, you stare down at the ground. “I’m sorry you had to step in and save me, I shouldn’t have -”
“Did you not hear me? You almost got yourself killed,” John snaps, throwing his hands in the air. “I had it well in hand. And you’re lucky that lass in there walked away with only a few broken bones.”
John closes the distance between you, lifting your head with his fingers. “This is why I work alone. One mistake, one hesitation, and you’ve got an innocent’s blood on your hands. You reckon you could live with yourself after that?”
Dragging in a shaky breath, you slowly shake your head. “I’m sorry, John.” You whisper, meeting his eyes.
“So am I. Your blood could’ve been on mine.” He growls, pulling his flask from his pocket. You watch him finish it off before gesturing to your SUV. “People like me are bloody hell for people like you. Go home.” He orders, making you flinch from the derision in his voice.
“I don’t believe that.”
“You should. Now go home, lass.” John snarls, dismissing you. “This was a bloody mistake.”
You bite your lip to keep it from trembling as you feel your own anger simmering beneath the surface, alongside your fear that he’s going to stay furious. Spinning on your heel, you march over and get in.
You keep it together until you reach the city limits. The second you’re out of Dedham, you pull over to the side of the road and let a few tears slide down your face. It’s just a fight, you tell yourself. All couples have them.
You slide open your phone to call Charlotte but stop yourself before you press her contact photo.
You want to vent but what the Hell could you even say? ‘Sorry to wake you, Char. I had a fight with my exorcist/ demon hunting boyfriend because I pissed off the demon we were trying to send back to Hell.’
Yeah, that just rolls off the tongue.
Angrily, you slam your hands on the steering wheel, resigning yourself to just go home and have another good cry.
***
You toss and turn all night, making you a complete zombie at work the next day. At least it’s Friday, you think miserably. I can sleep in tomorrow.
But you know that’s not the problem. Not really. Anxiety has been an oppressive weight on your chest since you and John fought last night. You tried to call him this morning and it went to voicemail; your afternoon text has gone unanswered as well.
He has every right to be angry. You know you fucked up. Attempting a different exorcism rite was a risky move and yet, you still tried it. Mrs. Richmond could have gotten severely injured. John could have been injured. If the situation were reversed, you’d be just as furious.
Hoping that he just needs some time to cool off, you attempt to focus on the new exhibit you’re planning for next summer, instead of panicking. Not an easy task when your mind keeps wandering to all the ways last night could have gone wrong.
By the time 6:30 rolls around, you know you won’t be able to focus any longer. You’ve been working on the same proposal for the last two hours. With a huff of defeat, you close your laptop and collect your things.
With Eric at a training seminar and your best friend over 1500 miles away, you decide to go home, change into something pretty, and take yourself out for a drink. Sure, you’re licking your wounds a little bit, but it won’t do you any good to sit at home with your own spiraling thoughts.
It’s a short walk, even with the chill in the December air, and once inside, you confidently stride up to the bar to order your drink. You glance around quickly, enjoying the soft lighting and ambiance. You picked a bar you’ve never been to before, hoping for a change of scenery. After the strength of your first sip, you’re pleased by your decision.
After making mindless small talk with the handsome bartender, you lean back in your chair and consider showing up at John’s hotel after you’ve finished your second drink. With the dress you’re wearing showing off all your curves, you hope he’ll see you and forget that he was ever angry in the first place.
When you reach for your clutch on the bar top, a hand extends from behind you, covering yours completely. Indignantly, you twist your head up, ready to tell off the drunk idiot that decided to make a move.
You freeze when you realize it’s not a drunk idiot. It’s Sam.
“Hey, kitten.” He tilts his head, eyes flickering to the empty seat next to you. “You alone?”
“I’m trying to be.” Comes your snarky reply as you tug your hand away from his. “So if you could leave, that would be great.”
Sam slides onto the chair next to you, appraising you with a dark stare that makes you uncomfortable. “Don’t be like that.” He admonishes, wrapping his arm around you.
“Sitting here, drinking by yourself, looking desperate and needy? You’re practically begging for the wrong kind of attention. Let me buy you a few drinks. If you’re good, I’ll let you beg for something else later.”
Shrugging out of his grip, you narrow your eyes in fury. “Absolutely not. I don’t need your attention, Sam.” You motion to the bartender for the check. “Fuck off, go home to your wife.”
Sam stands, anger crossing his features. “You’re going to regret that -” He cuts himself off as your check is laid in front of you.
With Sam here, you want to be anywhere but. Laying cash on the counter, you step back and motion for Sam to leave. He gives you a look of disgust but backs away and heads to his table.
Grabbing your coat and bag, you make you way outside. You could call an Uber but when unease settles in the pit of your stomach, you decide to call Paddy and see if he wouldn’t mind escorting you home.
Stepping away from the entrance, you pull out your phone and slide it open. Before you can do anything else, your phone is ripped from your hands. You whirl around angrily to find Sam smirking down at you.
“What the fuck, Sam?” You protest loudly, staring up at the dangerous expression on his face.
With a small shrug, Sam pockets your phone and moves closer to you, invading your personal space. “Who you gonna call, kitten?” He mocks, waving his arms around. “Your knight in shining armor seems to have ditched you for your friend. Again. You're all alone.”
You realize a few seconds later than you should have, that Sam’s backed you into the dimly lit alleyway. “What are you talking about? No one ditched me.” You hiss, crossing your arms. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Sam chuckles, low in his throat, as he reaches out to run his fingers along your collarbone. “Eric isn’t here to save you.” He smirks. “So honestly, whatever the Hell I want.”
You shiver at the unwanted touch. Sam has to have been drinking, that’s the only logical explanation you can think of for his behavior. Swallowing down the fear clawing its way up your throat, you push both of your palms against his chest to put some distance between you and try to appeal to him rationally.
“Let’s talk about this, Sam. Okay? Just… Just give me my phone back and we can talk.” You fight to keep your voice steady as he moves a hand into your hair. When he forces you to look up at him, you swallow hard. “You don’t want to do something we’re both going to regret.”
Sam inclines his head, giving you a predatory stare. “Oh, I won’t regret it.” He tightens his grip in your hair and walks you backward. “And you won’t either. So no need for talking, your mouth is gonna be too full for that anyway. ”
Before you can protest or try to pull away, you find yourself pressed against the wall. “Sam, can you just… just fuck off? Please? I… I want nothing to do with you.” You hate that you sound so shaky and unsteady, but with the disadvantage you’re at now, you’re actually afraid of what he’ll do.
When he doesn’t back off, you ball your hands into fists against his chest and try to push him away from you. He seems amused at your attempts to free yourself from him, his hazel eyes darkening in lust as you fight him. The sight makes fresh terror rear up inside you.
“I swear to God, Sam. Get away from me or I’ll scream. I’m -”
Sam’s free hand clamps over your mouth, cutting you off. “No, you won’t.” He drawls, pressing you further against the wall. “Come on, kitten, you know you want this.” Leaning down, he runs his nose along the column of your throat, making you shudder. “You may have been playing hard to get inside, but I know you. I know what you need.”
Your hands fly to your mouth as you attempt to pry him off of you. You stare up at him helplessly, with wide panicked eyes as your muffled attempts at screaming only make him smirk.
When he moves the hand covering your mouth and presses his lips to yours, you freeze in surprise. As soon as you recover, you try to turn your head in disgust. “Sam, stop.” You gasp out, pushing against him. “Please, stop.”
As Sam grabs your chin to force your head back, you hear a bellowing voice from the top of the alleyway. “The lass asked you to stop. If you don’t, I won’t be as sweet about it.”
John. It takes everything in you not to sag in relief.
Using John’s arrival as a distraction, you knee Sam in the groin and push him away from you. It only takes a second for him to recover, but it's enough for you to get away. “Who the fuck are you?” Sam snarls as you scramble next to John, terror making your breath come out in hurried gasps.
Sam stands and steps closer until he’s inches from you. John smiles at him, cool and condescending. “John. Constantine.” He replies, stepping in front of you like a shield.
“I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you Sam, but I’m afraid even I’m not that brilliant a liar.” John glances back to you with a tight smile. “Are you alright, sweet’eart?”
When you nod and thread your fingers through his, Sam takes it all in and glares silently. You have to fight the urge to smile. Seeing Sam speechless is a once in a lifetime opportunity.
It doesn’t last long however, and soon enough he turns his head to you with a smug grin. “Kitten, you’re not with this loser, are you?” He crosses his arms as he appraises John with narrowed eyes. “What’s he got that I don’t?”
“Oh, I dunno, big man.” John shrugs out of his coat, his eyes never leaving Sam’s face. “To start, I don’t have a wife and I certainly don’t need to trap my exes in an alley or force them into snogging me.” Sam’s face twists into a snarl and winds his fist back too fast for John to do anything but push you out of the way.
As you stumble, you watch John take the hit with wild terrified eyes. The blow connects with his jaw, knocking his head to the side. He stumbles back, letting out a pained groan as he slams against the concrete wall. He crumples to the ground without a word.
“John!” You shout, rushing to his side. You’re pulled back by strong fingers encircling your upper arm. Trying to twist out of it only tightens your attackers grip. “Let go of me!” You snap, whipping your head to stare up as Sam looms over both of you.
He harshly pulls you away, successfully shoving you to the other side of the alley. Your back collides against the cement, knocking the wind out of you. “Stay out of this, kitten.” He warns with a low growl. “You don’t want to get hurt again while I’m teaching this little shit a lesson.”
“Fuck you.” You snarl, pushing yourself back from the wall. He rolls his eyes with a grin, a patronizing gesture you’re used to seeing on his face, before turning back to advance on John’s slumped over body. You scream for him again, panicking when he doesn’t immediately rise from the ground.
When Sam leans down to grab John’s collar, John opens his eyes and rolls himself to the side. Using his legs, he knocks Sam to the ground. As John smirks, Sam’s body hits the pavement with a satisfying thud. “You’re gonna wish you’d never touched her, mate.” John warns, dusting himself off as he climbs to his feet.
You're afraid to use any defensive magic that John’s taught you for fear that Sam will see it, but you need to try and help him. As you start to twist your fingers, he meets your eyes with a quick shake of his head. “I’ve got this, sweet’eart.” He promises. “He’ll never lay a bloody finger on you again.”
John murmurs something under his breath and this time when Sam swings, he dodges it easily. He winds back his fist, hitting Sam square in the jaw. You’re frozen in shock as John delivers blow, after blow, after blow.
Despite Sam’s size and obvious advantage, he’s unable to get another hit in. Wiping blood from his mouth, Sam stumbles back after John kicks him in the stomach.
Breathing heavily, Sam starts to back out of the alleyway. “You know what, kitten?” He rasps, eyes flickering to you as he digs your phone out of his pocket and tosses it at you. “Not worth it, you weren’t that good a fuck.”
“Get out of here, ya plunker.” John growls, reaching for his trench coat. “And good luck explaining those bruises to the missus.” Sam spares you one last glance before taking off down the street.
Once he’s slid back into his coat, John turns to you with a half smile. “While I don’t reckon you should use the Arts to cheat during a row, and I did knock him down without it, I couldn’t allow him to hurt you like that.”
John closes the distance between you, his expression warm and reassuring despite the hardness you see in his eyes. “You sure you’re alright, luv?” He asks, pulling you into his arms. “I don’t want to think about what that wanker would’ve tried if I’d gotten here a minute later.”
“But you didn’t.” You assure him with a soft smile. Leaning into his touch, you rest your head against his chest and feel the stress of the moment start to leave your body. “You had perfect timing, John.”
There’s a million things you want to say. You want to apologize, promise to never pull a stunt like the other night again, promise whatever he asks of you so long as the fight is over. “Thank you.” You murmur instead and when John smiles at you, you know he’s forgiven you.
“Anytime, sweet’eart.”
You lean back and stare up at him, taking in the slight bruise blossoming on John’s jaw and his messy strands falling onto his forehead. When your hand reaches up to gently cup his cheek, his dark amber eyes soften as they bore into yours. Carefully, you use your thumb to wipe away the bit of blood at the corner on his lip.
As you peer into his eyes, you come to understand two things.
One. Being with John Constantine means you have a dangerous road ahead of you. John is a complicated man with more demons than you know how to fight. Because of this, you fought with him and surely will again.
But without hesitation, he protected you from Sam. He willingly put himself in harm's way to keep you safe.
And two. Your feelings for him have ensnared both your heart and mind. It happened steadily and slowly, the way ivy creeps up the wall of your parent’s house. The night of El hechizo de la verdad del amante, you wondered if this was what love actually felt like.
And seeing John now, bloodied but fiercely protective of you, you know it is with absolute certainty.
You’re completely and undeniably in love with him.
Without a word, you rise up on your tiptoes and press your lips to his. Both of your hands cup John’s face and after a moment, one of his snakes back around your waist to pull you closer to him. He kisses you back fiercely, his tongue slipping into your mouth with ease.
When you pull back, John tilts his head, his honeyed eyes sparkling. “What was that for, then?” Instead of answering him, you smile and take his hand, leading him out of the alley and in the direction of home. He chuckles, letting you pull him along. “Where are we going, pet?”
“To thank you properly.” You explain, twisting your head up to smirk at him.
“You mean, that kiss wasn’t my thank you?” He asks, matching your smile as you walk.
You shake your head with a mischievous grin. “Definitely not.”
***
You keep your fingers threaded through his until you’re inside your townhouse. The second the door is shut, John’s mouth is on you. His lips press along your jaw and work their way down to your collarbone.
Desire pooling in your belly, you shrug him out of his coat as you both clumsily climb the stairs to your room.
You step into the room first, kicking your shoes off quickly. John pushes your door shut with his foot as his hand snakes around your waist, holding you still. You let out a soft moan as his stubble brushes against your neck. He kisses the skin there, making you shiver from the gentle way he ghosts his lips over your body.
You lean your head back against his chest as John’s right hand moves across your stomach. You inhale sharply, making him chuckle, as his left hand grips onto your hip and pulls you flush against his body. As his right hand moves along your inner thigh, you can feel the evidence of John’s arousal pressing into you.
“Please.” You whimper, not entirely sure what you’re asking for. “Please, Johnny.” Your brain is fuzzy with arousal, reducing your normally extensive vocabulary to single words and small noises.
John spins you around, pressing your back against the wall near your door. He leans back for a moment, his eyes already half lidded with desire. He searches your face for any sign that you don’t want this, want him.
"Are you sure about this?” He asks, his breath coming out erratic. You know he’s restraining himself, keeping a tight lid over his control in case you need to change your mind. “We can -”
You cup his cheek and smirk up at him. “Absolutely sure.” He nods and leans down to kiss you again.
He lifts your dress over your head and slips his hand under the waistband of your panties. He smirks in satisfaction when a swipe of his fingers tells him how wet you already are. “Such a good girl for Johnny, you’re already bloody soaked.”
You bite your lip as John sinks two fingers inside. As they slide in and out of you, he tortuously brushes against your clit. When you gasp from the shock of it, he covers your lips with his own. As his tongue expertly slips into your mouth, you move your hands to bury them in his hair.
Your body thrums with excitement as your nerves wake up and stand at attention. You feel desperate, bucking your hips against his hand to chase the electricity starting to build each time he gently thumbs your clit. John groans against your mouth as your arousal coats his fingers.
When you tug at his hair, he chuckles and pulls back. He withdraws his fingers, leaving you flushed and aching. “None of that, pet.” He shakes his head as his lips twist into a wicked grin. “Hands above your head, now.”
Without question, you lift your hands up, crossing them at the wrists. John's free hand holds yours against the wall as he slowly sinks his fingers back into you. When his mouth moves down your collarbone and along the curves of your breasts, you arch your back at the incredible sensation of his cool lips against your heated, flushed skin.
His thumb starts moving in slow circles around your clit as his fingers continue his tortuously slow place. You can’t help but squirm under his touch; he’s moving too slow on purpose. It’s driving you crazy knowing that there isn’t enough friction to push you over.
John chuckles when you let out a soft whimper, knowing how much he’s teasing you. He builds you up over and over, only to slow down when you’re just about to cum.
When you push your hips up, his fingers tighten on your wrists. The feeling sends a ripple of fire down to your core, making you wish he’d do it again.
At the same time, he begins circling your clit with his thumb at a quicker pace, sliding and twisting his fingers at the same time. You can feel tension building in the pit of your stomach, you’re so close.
“Do you want to cum, sweet’eart?” God, his voice is rough with desire. Just the sound of it is enough to send you over the edge. “All you have to do is ask.”
You nod your head, too lost in the moment, in him, to properly answer. When his thumb slows, you whine desperately. John smirks, ghosting his lips over yours. “Use your words.” He teases, nipping at your bottom lip.
“Yes. Yes.” You gasp out, feeling his thumb press again. “Johnny, please.”
John grins and moves in quick, small circles until you feel the tension building again, ready to explode and crash over you. You let out a few quick breaths as the nerves in your body light up. Your orgasm leaves you shaking, washing over you in waves until your body sags against his.
John releases his grip on your wrists and your arms fall onto his shoulders. As your chest heaves with exertion, his hands cup your ass. He lifts you up and carries you to the bed, laying you down with a grin. You unhook your bra as he helps you out of your panties.
You scoot forward to unbuckle his belt, smirking up at him through your lashes. John unzips his pants with a dark expression that overwhelms you with desire. You slip your hand under the waistband of his briefs and pull out his erection.
You stroke and tease him, relishing every moan and growl that comes from John’s mouth. After a few minutes, he smirks down at you and orders you to lay back. When you do, he climbs onto the bed, settling himself between your legs.
You're keenly aware that while he’s completely stripped you, John’s still fully clothed. There is something about that knowledge and the sheer power imbalance of the situation that makes you feel owned and so very his. With you vulnerable like this, he can do whatever he wants with you. The thought sends a welcome shiver down your spine.
The weight of John’s body grounds you as he slowly sinks himself into your warmth. You let out a soft moan as you adjust to the fullness of his cock inside you as he starts up a slow pace. You wrap a leg around him, urging him in deeper. He smirks in response, more than happy to oblige.
He growls as he slips out, then buries himself to the hilt back into you with a quick snap of his hips. Without realizing you’ve done it, you lift your hands above your head and cross them. “Good girl.” John murmurs in praise, glancing up to meet your eyes. “You know the rules, luv. Don’t move them.”
John leans down, pulling one of your nipples into his mouth as he continues his steady, languid pace. His tongue traces circles around your hardening bud, making you gasp and arch your back. A hand on your stomach pushes you back down onto the bed as he turns his attention to your other nipple.
You close your eyes, savoring the sensation of his cock inside you and his mouth on your breasts. He lets out a groan as his hips begin to quicken their pace. Lost in the moment, you start to move your hands so you can thread them in John’s hair. You don’t get far.
One of his hands slams down to collar both of yours, pressing them into the mattress as his other begins to rub your clit. “What did I just say?” John growls, his voice rough and gravelly with arousal.
The way he pins you to the bed with his hands and his voice, makes your body ache with a hunger you didn’t realize was inside of you.
The more you squirm, the tighter John squeezes your wrists. You feel helpless in his grip, at his mercy, and some deep part of you that you’ve never let see the light of day, has never been more turned on. He seems to know it too; keeping his grip just on the right side of painful as he moves inside you.
You can feel the pulse and warmth of your own need building once more as John continuously thrusts into you. He strokes his thumb across your clit with increasing pressure, teasing you until you feel your second orgasm starting to build.
“Cum for me, pet.” He locks eyes with you and commands with a low growl. The tension in your body coils and snaps, crashing over you again.
Your breath comes out in shaky gasps as you moan out John’s name over and over. His hips continue snapping against you until you feel him pulse inside your walls. John groans again as he collapses onto you, pressing his lips to the space between your breasts.
When John allows you to, you move your hands into his hair. You wrap your hand around his tie, pulling you down to him. “That was incredible.” You confess with a small smile. “I encourage you to save me more often if it always ends like that.”
John rolls off of you with a huff. “You’ve proven you don’t need me to save you, luv. But I’m always chuffed to play the hero for you when you need it.” He pushes himself up onto one elbow and meets your eyes. “The bit with your hands, that wasn’t too much? I didn’t want to hurt you -”
You shake your head emphatically. You hadn’t minded it, in fact, having John hold your wrists down was more of a turn on than you expected. “No, I… I wanted you to, Johnny. I…” You feel your cheeks grow warm. “I really liked it. A lot.”
John chuckles as you push yourself up off the bed. “I bloody thought you would. In that case, I’ll tie you down next time. It’s more fun when you can't get away and I can use both hands.”
That could be fun. You turn back to him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Promises, promises.”
As he watches you walk away to the bathroom, John can’t help but smile. In every way, you’re a perfect match for him. How the hell did a devious tosser like himself get so lucky?
Notes:
I hope Sam's introduction to John was as SATISFYING for you to read as it was for me to write. But, you didn't think we'd seen the the last of that bastard, did you? That would be too easy.
And I promised you that John would get to have his wicked way with you. I certainly hope I delivered. And trust me, I intend for John to show you a whole new world of wicked fun as this progresses. Let's be real, he's a kinky guy and he knows how to push your buttons ;)
Next week, you and John have a few more adorable firsts in your relationship and Morgan finally shows you his true colors when he attempts to threaten you into helping him hurt the man you love.
Chapter 20: Falling into place.
Summary:
John is surprisingly forthcoming after your incredible night. That conversation leads to you making an important decision and him admitting how he feels, in the most John way possible. Your happiness is interrupted however, when Morgan discovers how much you know and tries to threaten you into helping him.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Freshly ground coffee fills your nose when you roll over and push yourself up onto one elbow. John had to have gone out, you know you don’t currently have fresh coffee in the house or much food for that matter. And every time he’s stayed over you’ve woken up to breakfast that has no right to be as delicious as it is.
A girl could get used to being taken care of like this.
Taking a deep breath, you let the previous night’s activities wash over you. If sex is going to be like that with John, you want to kick yourself for waiting so long. You’ve never been able to enjoy yourself the way you did last night.
And he was so… possessive, in control; playing your body like a finely crafted instrument. You had been convinced it was nothing but a broken and misused thing; left behind when it wasn’t wanted anymore.
But John knew every button to push, including a couple that you didn’t know existed. As you glance down at your sore wrists, you’re sure he’s only just scratched the surface of what he could bring out in you.
Damn her, Charlotte was right. Last night wasn’t enough, you want more of it.
Sitting up in the bed, you reach for your phone on the nightstand to call her. She picks up on the first ring, like she does every time. “Mornin’, sugar!” She greets you brightly. “You’re up early, aren't you?”
You glance at the edge of the bed to see John’s dress shirt hanging over the side. Pressing the speakerphone button, you slide out from under the sheets and grab it. “Yeah, I was afraid that I’d woke you up.”
“Not at all. It may be December 20th, but it’s still warm enough down here. Just got back from a run with Beau.” At that you can hear barking in the background. “He says he misses you. What’s up?”
“So…” You smile wide as you do up a few buttons on his shirt. “John spent the night.”
Charlotte makes a sound that’s somewhere between a snort and a laugh. “Okay? Doesn’t he do that normally?”
“Yes, but no.” You jump back onto the bed and rest your chin on your hand. “This was different. He spent the night and Char, it was… oh my God.” You let out a soft laugh. “You know my anxiety about sex. But I didn’t know that it could be so… so amazing.”
“Oh!” When you hear her shuffle into her room and close the door, you wonder if Ray’s home. “It was that good, huh? Sugar, you tell me everything.”
Your eyes flick to the open door for just a second. Muting Charlotte, you murmur "Claudere" and with a quick flick of your fingers, your door silently shuts. You unmute her and smile to yourself.
"Well, it started last night at the bar.” You explain, leaning back onto the pillows. “I was out having a couple drinks and Sam showed up. He wouldn't leave me alone so I got a little mean and I thought that had given him the hint.”
You roll your eyes, letting annoyance slip into your tone for a moment. "He followed me outside, got creepy and real fucking handsy. I was a little worried for a second but then, John stepped in. Literally kicked Sam’s ass. I’ve never needed that white knight, you know? But he just... saved me.” You realize how doe-eyed you probably sound, but you can't bring yourself to mind.
“I tell you Char, I don't know how I didn't see Sam for what he really is, before now."
“Because when you fall, you fall hard." Charlotte sympathizes with a small chuckle. "No one could point out his flaws until you were ready to see them. I'm the same way, look at Hugh. And honestly, good for John. It’s about time that someone put that ex of yours in his place.”
“Speaking of putting people in their place,” you murmur, biting your bottom lip. “I wanted to properly thank John for showing up when he did. And we barely got in the door before things got heated.”
You feel color creep into your cheeks as you vividly recall how John made you feel. “He pushed me up against the wall, and he was everywhere at once. He basically ordered me to put my hands above my head, even held my wrists there when I tried to move them. Then he did it again when he had me on the bed. And the things he said to me, I didn’t think I could be as turned on as I was.”
“Good.” You can hear the smile in her voice. “I knew when you trusted someone enough, you’d have a phenomenal time. Told you John was going to be good for you.”
You’re glad that she can’t see you roll your eyes. “Charli, sometimes I just don’t want to admit that you’re right. But yeah, I really liked it.” You let out a small huff as you run your fingers through your hair. “Honestly, it was better than when I gave him a blowjob in the museum.”
“You what?”
Stifling a laugh, you bite at the edge of your thumb. “Oh… Well, John offered to help with some cataloging and he may have challenged me to a swordfight. Completely friendly sword fight!” You assure her when you hear a gasp through the phone. “No one was hurt, I mean, maybe John’s pride. Cause I wiped the floor with him.”
Charlotte lets out a small giggle. “Of course you did.”
“We started making out and when he backed me into a desk, I don’t know what came over me but I wanted to uh, reward him for being a good sport.” You smile to yourself as you explain.
“I was doing my thing and he put his hands on my head and shoved me down by accident. I choked and I absolutely liked that more than I should have. So I put his hands back on my head and let him dictate my movements.” You shiver at the memory, recalling with pleasure what happened next.
“When he got more aggressive, I tried to pull away so I could breathe and John told me to put my hands behind my back and not move them. I did as I was told and he did what he wanted with me. Until that night, I didn’t think I could enjoy something like that as much as I did.”
Charlotte lets out a low hum of approval. “That wasn’t just a blowjob. You let John face fuck you.”
Your face heats up at how blunt she is. “Charlotte, that’s not what happened.”
“Sugar, yes it is.” Her tone is so matter of fact it makes you pause. When you try to protest again, you hear her sigh through the phone. “He used your mouth for his own pleasure and you enjoyed it. Now, there is no shame in that, but he absolutely face fucked you.”
Your huff makes her laugh. “Don’t believe me, go ask Eric what he does to me. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to give you details.”
You scrunch your nose, remembering your awkward conversation with him in your office a few months back. “I’d rather not.”
“Fine, fine.” Charlotte concedes. “But now that you’ve gotten a taste, you’re going to talk to John about more, right? Cause there is so much more.”
You definitely want to, that’s not a question. But just the thought of it makes you a little anxious. You’d sworn up and down that you’d never entertain the idea of letting John take away your control, but you have. And you love it.
“Char, I don’t know if I can do that.” You explain, glancing at your door. “He clearly knows way more about this than I do, I’d feel like an idiot.”
“You can and stop, he won’t make you feel like that. I have a feeling he’ll enjoy teaching you.” You can tell from her tone she’s talking from experience. Then you remember Hugh taught her. “If you can’t, I’ll do it for you. Put John on the phone, I know he’s still there.”
That’s a tempting idea, you even entertain it for a moment. But if you want more, you have to ask for it. You know John, he’ll want to hear it from you. “No, I’ll do it.” You say firmly, rising from the bed.
“It’ll be fine.” Charlotte promises. “And once you do, call me back. I want all the details.”
***
After brushing your teeth, you head down the stairs to find John plating breakfast for the both of you. He lets out a low growl when he realizes you’re in his shirt and sets the pan on the stove to lean over for a kiss.
“I could get used to this.” You laugh, copying his words from the first time he saw you making him breakfast.
“And I could get used to seeing you wearing my clothes, sweet’eart.” John smirks, gesturing to the coffee pot. “Now pour us some coffee while I plate these. You remember how I like mine? Dark, just a touch sweet.”
With a nod, you reach up into your cabinet to grab two mugs. You yelp when John swats your ass with the spatula, making you turn around with narrowed eyes and a pout. He raises an eyebrow in response.
“Don’t you pout like that, luv. It'll make Ol' Johnny want to do all sorts of devious things to you.” He grins, sliding eggs out of the pan. You roll your eyes to suppress the shiver that runs through you, pouring his coffee into the bigger of the two mugs.
“Speaking of," you begin casually. John glances up at you with interest as he carries both plates to your small table. "Last night was..." You trail off, feeling warmth in your cheeks.
You follow him, resting his coffee mug down near his plate before settling into your seat. He leans back in the chair with a triumphant grin. “Glad you enjoyed yourself.”
“Honestly, I enjoyed it much more than I expected.”
John presses his right hand to his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, pet.” He gestures to the table. “You should’ve known I’d take care of you, even cooked you a proper breakfast.”
You sit up straight and reach for your fork with a laugh. “No, not that, Johnny. Never doubted your abilities.” You let out a soft huff as color rises to your cheeks again. “More, the way we went about it.”
“Ah.” John raises his coffee mug to his lips and peers at you over it. “Never done something like that before? From the way you react to me, I could’ve sworn you’re a natural.”
“No, well, I um... I didn’t trust Sam enough to really enjoy myself. He had certain preferences that made me nervous, so I didn’t want to explore them when he asked.” You nervously tuck your hair behind your ear. “But with you… I think I want to do more.”
“Oh?”
You can feel your anxiety rising, but you told Charlotte you could handle this. And if you want more from John, you need to be able to talk about it. “Yeah, I mean… I’m not really sure what to ask for, or what I’d even like, besides what we did last night. But I’d like to explore more. With you.”
“Oh, that was just the tip of the iceberg, sweet’eart. Practically vanilla in comparison to what I think you’ll like. There’s a whole bloody world of things I’m going to teach you.”
When you smile and admit that he is a good teacher, John smirks and crosses his arms. “Good. Now, tell me what you liked about what we did last night, be as specific as you like. It’ll just help me, help you.”
Again, your cheeks feel flush. You cross your legs unintentionally, feeling warmth start to ripple through you. You take a deep breath and lift your head to peer at him. “I liked when you told me what to do, how uh, you ordered me to lift my hands up. I really liked that you held them down, when I tried to move them.”
John watches intently as you squirm a little in your seat.
“I wanted you to hold them tighter, actually. They’re a little sore this morning and I like the feeling. And the teasing, Jesus, I thought I was going to shatter. I mean, I practically had to beg you. You made me feel helpless, like you were going to do whatever you wanted to me and I have never been more turned on in my life.”
You glance down at your hands. “I love it when you call me a ‘good girl’ or 'my girl'. I don’t think I’ve told you that before. But I do. And you remember the other night in the museum?"
It's John's turn to squirm. "Fondly." He smirks, shifting his legs under the table.
"I loved everything about what we did. More than I could’ve imagined."
“I’m chuffed to hear that, luv.” John meets your eyes, the amber of his darkening as he speaks. “Now, mark my words. Every time we do this, I intend to do whatever I want to you. I want you to want to do as I say, to let me have control over you and your pleasure. I’ll push you and use you until you’re begging me to let you cum.”
He shakes his head slowly. “But never without knowing and being mindful of your limits. That’s why we’re having this little chin wag, right now. If you aren’t having fun, neither is Johnny.”
You’re taken aback by how honest and straightforward John is with you about this. You feel like you could actually let your guard down with him, enjoy what he has to offer.
Taking another deep breath, you give him a slow smile. “I appreciate that. I really do, you have no idea.”
John’s expression hardens. “Trust me, after coming face to face with that wanker last night? I completely understand your hesitation. Sam is a rubbish excuse for a man.”
His jaw unclenches as he lets out a slow breath. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that, sweet’eart. You’re too good for him, too good for me.”
"Don't sell yourself short, Johnny. I trust you in a way that even after four years, I never trusted Sam. Having a conversation like this with him? Yeah, it never would’ve happened. That’s why I always said no. I didn’t trust him to know when to stop."
You roll your shoulders back, feeling much more comfortable now that you’re both talking openly. “I want you to show me everything, I just hope I don’t disappoint you with how little I know.”
His heavy lidded stare roots you in place. "You could never disappoint me, and don’t worry, luv, I’m going to enjoy figuring out exactly what you like and what your limits are.”
“How do we go about all that?”
John lowers his voice as he rests his elbows on the table and leans closer to you. “To start, I'm going to gag you when I tie you up to your bed. Maybe wrap my hand, tight, around that pretty little neck of yours. See what that does to you.”
Your breath hitches, making you press your thighs together in anticipation. Your mouth runs dry, reducing you to a small excited nod.
John leans back, taking in the way you reacted to what he’s said. He smirks in triumph, knowing how much you enjoyed it. “Good girl.”
You raise your coffee cup to your lips with a smile. “Start sleeping with a demon hunter and suddenly I want him to choke me.”
“Come off it, sweet’eart.” John laughs, over his own cup. “I reckon you were into it before I showed up. You just didn’t have someone you trusted who knew what they were doing. I don’t take your faith in me lightly.”
***
When you get back from your traditional pre-Christmas lunch with your dad on Sunday, you find John making himself a snack in your kitchen. As you kick off your shoes, you roll your eyes at the mess he’s made on the counter. “You know, you could have just come with me if you were hungry.”
John turns to you with a wide grin as you step into the kitchen and start cleaning up. “It’s alright luv, you said you don’t get much alone time with your dad. Figured I’d just relax here ‘til you got back.” He grabs his bowl and settles himself at your table. “I know my way around enough, don’t I?”
“By now you should. You’ve made yourself at home.” You point out, placing the cutting board in the dishwasher. You straighten and walk over to him with a soft smile. “Honestly, you’re here more than The Charles.”
John holds up his fork for you to try what he’s made. “Well, you’re here, sweet’eart.” He shrugs by way of explanation. “A bloke would be mental to want to spend more time at his hotel than with the lovely lass he fancies.”
Once you’ve swallowed the rice you were chewing, you pull out the chair next to him and fidget with the moonstone ring on your middle finger. You’ve been thinking about this for weeks but haven’t had the guts to say something until now. “Maybe you should just check out of the hotel then.”
John sets down his fork and tilts his head up at you. “What are you saying, luv?”
“Stay. Here with me.” You glance at him anxiously, taking in John’s surprised expression.
When he doesn’t say anything, you start to nervously babble. “I… I mean, I know you have a place in London so this isn’t really home for you, but if you wanted to, you could live here with me. I like having you here and I… I want you to move in. I know it’s not conventional but nothing about you and I is convention-”
John pushes himself up and silences you with a kiss. “If you’ll have me, sweet’eart.” He murmurs, pulling back. “The flat in London is just that. It’s never really been home for ol’ Johnny. I’d be chuffed to stay if you wanted me to.”
“I do.” You answer, your voice full of conviction.
“Then I’m all yours.” John smiles, pulling you onto his lap. “As long as you want me.”
***
That night, as the movie credits roll, John stretches out and chuckles softly. “You were right, sweet’eart. I did like it. Though, I could’ve done without those R.O.U.S’s. They were bloody horrifying.”
He shifts slightly and nudges your arm, draped across his stomach. “I reckon we should go to sleep, you’ve got yourself an early morning.”
When you don’t answer, John glances down at you. You’ve fallen asleep already, using him as your pillow. Your head rests on his chest; soft strands of your hair fall in messy tendrils over your face from the loose waves you had it in today. He smiles, quietly observing the steady rise and fall of your chest as you lay on him.
John gently tucks your hair behind your ear as you stir but don’t wake. “I don’t bloody well know what I’ve done to deserve you, luv.” He whispers, softly running his thumb over your cheek. “But you’ve no idea what you mean to me.”
He carefully studies the soft lines of your face, memorizing the flush of your cheeks and the gentle flutter of your eyelids as you sleep. You’re perfect, the only woman John trusts with the secrets in his life and in this moment, he couldn’t be happier.
You sigh softly, parting your lips slightly when you snuggle closer to him. There’s something about you that makes John’s heart skip a beat whenever you say his name. Your smile fills in the empty spaces in his heart and your self conscious ‘too loud’ laugh is a sound he could play on repeat in his head for the rest of his life.
For too long, John had tried to fight off this feeling, telling himself that he didn’t need it. Didn’t need the liability that came with caring so deeply about another person that his heart ached when they weren’t near him.
Until you came along.
Whisper a dangerous secret to someone you care about. Now they have the power to destroy you, but they won’t. This is what love is, Johnny. When you find it, you’ll know. An old friend of his had told him that once. While he’s never forgotten it, John never understood what he meant until now.
Because John’s never felt this way about anyone before.
He wishes he could just say it, tell you how he feels. But those three little words hold a weight John isn’t used to carrying, and he’s afraid of how many mistakes he’ll make if he lets himself be as vulnerable with you as he feels right now.
So instead of telling you that he loves you when you’re awake, John cautiously speaks the words out loud; testing their weight on his tongue for the first time in the soft darkness of your living room.
“I love you, sweet’eart.” John whispers, safe in the knowledge that you can’t hear him. “I’m so in love with you, it bloody well terrifies me.”
You mumble, making him lean over to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Hmmm.” You stir at his touch, readjusting yourself and lifting your head to stare at him with sleepy, heavy lidded eyes.
“Johnny?” Your voice may be thick with sleep but he can’t imagine a moment where you’ve looked more endearing. You stifle a yawn with the back of your hand and push yourself up. “I’m sorry I fell asleep, did you say something?”
“You’re alright, luv.” John yawns himself, lifting his arm so you can stand. “Just said you were right about the film. But those bloody massive rats are the stuff of nightmares.”
You laugh softly, holding out your hand for him. “I told you, there’s a little something for everyone in The Princess Bride. It’s the perfect movie.”
“They got one thing wrong though, didn’t they?” John comments as he shuts the TV off. At your tilted head, he undoes his tie and slips it over his head. “Buttercup is not the most beautiful lass in the world.”
You roll your eyes with a smile. “You don’t need to suck up to me, Johnny. I’m already yours.” Walking over to the light switch, you turn the dimmer off and yawn again. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”
John nods and follows you up the stairs, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. “As you wish.”
***
The state of bliss you’ve been in all weekend shatters Monday afternoon when Dr. Morgan steps into your office. He shuts your door behind him as you glance up from your laptop in question. “Ezra? Did I miss a meeting?” You ask, closing the document you’re working on.
“No, no. I’m here off the books, my dear.” Morgan eyes you with a tight smile. “Because I think it’s time you and I were honest with each other.”
You tilt your head in confusion. “Honest with each other? I’m sorry, I… I don’t understand.” As you watch him settle into the chair across from you, you can feel the thudding of your panicked heartbeat against your ribcage.
When Morgan makes a show of trying to calm himself, you know you need to get on the defensive. Whatever he’s been planning, he’s making a move now. Straightening your spine, you keep your gaze steady on him.
“I haven’t been exactly forthcoming about my intentions here.” Morgan admits. You don’t say. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes as he continues speaking. “I’ve come to care for you and I feel you deserve to know the truth about the monster you’re sleeping with.”
You aren’t fast enough to hide the shock that slips onto your face. “Excuse me?” You narrow your eyes as you rock back in your chair. Of all the things you thought he was going to say, this is not one of them.
Morgan leans forward, resting his elbows on your desk. “John Constantine is a dangerous man.” He meets your eyes with a calm and calculated expression. “He’s done terrible things and I intend to see him pay for his transgressions. My organization -”
“Ezra, what the hell are you talking about?” You snap, rising angrily from your seat.
Morgan stands, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I don’t want to upset you dear, but I needed you to understand the danger you’re in. Constantine messes with dark forces and if you’re not careful -”
You hold a hand up yourself. Feeling anger climbing up your throat, you take a deep breath and try to remember everything John’s taught you. You needed Morgan to trust you, obviously now he does, but you need to figure out his angle and fast.
“John’s never given me a reason to not trust him.” You explain calmly. “Would you like to be a bit less cryptic and elaborate?”
Morgan motions for you to sit and after a moment's deliberation, you do. With a heavy sigh, you rest your arms on your desk and incline your head. He settles back down and steeples his fingers in front of him.
“My dear girl.” Morgan gives you a sympathetic smile. “I want to tell you the truth, and while you’re not going to like it, you deserve to hear it. Your boyfriend murdered Director Connors, and I’m afraid you may be next.”
Liar.
Anger courses through you, hot and irrational. How dare he try to pull this? Did he really think that you’d believe him? “John didn’t kill Darren.” You growl, balling your hands into fists. “You did.”
As Morgan’s face twists into a scowl, all his pretense drops. You realize the slip of your tongue a moment too late.
“Well, well. The magician’s told you the truth, has he?” The kindness you saw in his eyes slips away, leaving behind a venomous stare. “What else have you been hiding from me?”
“Everything.” You clench your jaw, knowing it won’t do you any good to lie. “We’ve known what you did to Darren this entire time. I was there the night he died.”
When you push yourself to your feet, Morgan lifts his right hand, snaps his fingers and points down. Involuntarily, your body crashes back into your chair. Panic floods your system when you try to stand again but find you’re unable to move.
You realize your hands are stuck on the arm rests; every part of your body is frozen. As he rises and moves to lean right next to you, you stare at him in horror. He can do magic?
“Surprise.” Morgan grins, showing off his teeth in a way that sets yours on edge.
Your mind races; you hadn’t meant to slip up, but you were so furious that he would try to turn you against John. Thinking you could handle the situation, you reacted on impulse. You just hadn’t planned on him knowing magic. You hope this miscalculation won’t be deadly. If Morgan hurts you, you’ll have no way to warn John.
“Now, Connors was an unfortunate casualty.” He sneers, crossing his arms as he stares down at you with disgust in his eyes. “I tried to make him see he was on the wrong side of this but he wouldn’t listen. He got in my way and I had no choice but to eliminate him.”
He shrugs casually. “Well, my pet did. But the effect was the same.”
You open your mouth to argue and Morgan mutters something under his breath. Your mouth snaps shut, silencing you before you can utter a word.
“None of that.” Morgan chuckles as you narrow your eyes in fury. When he reaches down to gently caress your cheek, your stomach turns as his fingers touch your skin.
“Your Johnny has made some very important, very dangerous, enemies. They’ve granted me certain abilities in exchange for delivering the magician to them. Preferably alive; they want to have fun with him before they end his miserable life.”
The feeling of dread coils in your stomach at Morgan’s words. You hate that all you can do is glare at him as he continues.
“He’s a slippery one to catch, I’ll give him that. I had to bring my pet to this Earthly plane, bid it to draw enough attention to itself so Darren would need to call in an old friend to be rid of it. For his part, Darren didn’t disappoint.”
He eyes you with something like disdain. “But then you got involved and complicated things for me. I guess you only have Johnny to blame for what happens now. You weren’t even on my radar, but the second he showed interest in you? I had to see for myself and ensure we’d be able to spend time together.”
You try to furrow your brow in confusion. “You don’t know how valuable you are, do you dear?” He asks, settling back against the desk. “Why do you think I worked so hard to ensure your promotions? Did you think you actually earned them?” The harsh laugh that erupts out of him makes you blink back tears.
“Now, I wanted to do this differently. I hoped I could gain your trust, make you see what kind of man Constantine is so you’d be willing to help me. Turn the tide of this, with you on our side. As much as I’d like to keep you for myself, the people I work for would love to get their hands on you. The rewards they would have bestowed upon you for your part in this would have been immeasurable.”
Morgan shakes his head in mock pity. “But now, I see the way to go about this. You’re too infatuated with him to help me willingly.” He laughs when you audibly swallow in fear. “But you will help me, even if I have to force your hand. John trusts you, he’d never see your betrayal coming.”
Morgan’s fingers dig into your jaw as he speaks. “They want your boyfriend’s soul and I plan to give it to them. But I will deliver you as a contingency, if I must. Your precious Johnny will want to keep you safe, I can use that to my advantage.”
Unable to pull away from him, you close your eyes and try to focus on keeping your breathing as even as possible. Morgan’s not going to kill you. You’re going to get out of this. You just have to get to John, tell him everything Morgan is planning. He’ll know what to do, it’s going to be -
Morgan moves and fists his hand into your hair, yanking your head up to look at him. You let out a pained gasp through your teeth, surprise flitting across your face when the sound comes out. “I won’t help you hurt him.” You’re able to growl out, your voice a harsh whisper.
“I’d think carefully about that.” Morgan threatens, pulling your hair so the chair you’re in leans back. “I’ll get what I want. Mark my words little girl, you will assist me. And I can’t allow you to go running to your precious boyfriend to warn him. This stays between us or I will ensure your fate will be more painful than you can imagine.”
“I don’t care what you do to me.”
Morgan laughs, low in his chest. “You may have no concern for yourself, but let’s see what happens to the people you care about when you make me angry. How long do you think the Detective would last subjected to sadistic torture?”
He watches your eyes widen in horror. “Or how about your pretty southern friend, then? Do you think she’d enjoy having her skin flayed from her bones while you watch?”
You can’t stop the shudder that runs through you. You refuse to let him involve Eric and Charlotte. John’s warning flashes through your mind. There is always a price to be paid and more often than not, the people we care about tend to pay it. “You wouldn’t dare."
“To ensure your compliance? You have no comprehension of what I’m capable of. I killed the director, didn’t I? And once, I considered him a friend.” Morgan viciously grins at you. “I think you can be of great use to me, that’s the only reason you’re still breathing.”
You struggle in the chair, trying desperately to push yourself up. “You’re insane.” You swear, narrowing your eyes in fury. “You can’t just threaten me and the people I love so I’ll help you hurt the man I -”
“I can, my dear. And if you try to warn John in any way, or involve anyone you think will help you? I’ll know and I will murder both of your friends. Without hesitation. I know where to find them, how to get them alone and vulnerable. Detective Grant’s shield won’t protect him, neither will Miss DuCaine’s distance.”
Your breath hitches as your eyes fill with furious tears. “Please, don’t hurt them.” You plead softly, gripping the edge of your chair. “Jesus, Ezra. You can’t do this.”
Morgan waves his hand, allowing you to scramble up from your seat. “I can and I will. And you will carry on, seemingly none the wiser. You’ll continue to put your best foot forward, we’ll be watching you closely.”
Morgan cocks his head to the side. “Now this little conversation? It never happened. When the time comes, I’ll fetch you and we will bring about John Constantine’s demise.” He steps closer to the door, glaring at you pointedly. “Let’s hope you’re a good little actress, your friend’s lives depend on it.”
Once he’s shut the door behind him, you whisper “cincinno” and sag against your desk. Your door locks on it’s own and the second it does, your body starts to shake as tears stream down your face.
Eric and Charlotte don’t stand a chance against Morgan, he knows that. That’s why he’s using them against you. At least you and John could fight back with magic of your own. They’d be defenseless.
You and John severely underestimated Doctor Morgan, and now he’s backed you into a corner. John needs to know the threat but you’re terrified of what will happen if you tell him.
You let a few frustrated tears slide down your cheeks. Then with a deep breath, you lean against the wall of your office and attempt to form some kind of plan.
John was right, this life is more dangerous than you could possibly comprehend. But you can’t back away now. You have to face this head on and you have to do it alone. Do what you can to protect your friends, and keep John safe. You screwed up by letting Morgan know you were on to him, you won’t let the people you love pay for that mistake.
Notes:
Lets be real about this, John can absolutely be a subby sub when he wants to be, but I like to think that he doesn't like to yield easily. And so being dominant just suits him here. And he's well versed and smart about it. We'll give him that.
And I wanted to give him so fluff, the boy deserves it sometimes lol. I say sometimes because only John would say 'I love you' while his girl is asleep...
Next week: Sam retaliates- in an aggressive way. Later when John gets hurt, you panic, as you realize it was a planned demonic attack. How do you think John's going to react when he realizes you've hidden Morgan's threat from him?
Chapter 21: Retaliation
Summary:
When Sam corners you in your office, you find you’re unable to defend yourself against him. John arrives almost too late, prompting you to finally tell Eric how much trouble Sam’s been causing. Later, when an exorcism goes wrong and John gets hurt, you realize Morgan was behind it.
Notes:
Sorry for the super late posting, guys! Busy day!! But I definitely wanted to make sure you got this before I went to sleep!
xoxo
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Your weeks have become frustratingly busy as the museum charges forward planning it's next exhibit. Doctor Morgan has made himself scarce since the day he threatened you. You’re not sure what to make of that; surely he would have come in just to ensure you know that he’s always watching.
Unless he is, and you just can’t see him. That makes you more nervous than you’re willing to admit.
Right now, you don’t really have time to dwell on those thoughts; you’re too focused on your ever growing stack of paperwork. Looks like you’ll be working through lunch again.
As you hang up the phone with a vendor for an event next month, your office door slams open. Thinking it must be Morgan, you flinch.
Your mouth runs dry as you meet hardened hazel eyes instead. “It’s not easy to get you alone nowadays.” Sam sneers, locking your door behind him. “It’s like you enjoy making this difficult for me.”
You push yourself away from your desk and fold your arms across your chest defensively. “What the fuck are you doing here, Sam?” Your defiant, flippant tone masks the fear paralyzing you.
Your eyes dart between the locked door and the small space beside your desk before settling on his face. You’re positive Security has been informed that Sam is not allowed in the building. Especially after the shit he pulled last time. “You can’t be here.”
“Clearly, I can.” Sam crosses the distance and before you can slip through the space you’ve purposely left, he shoves the desk with his hands, forcing it against the wall with a sickening thud.
A chill runs down your spine when you realize your escape route has just been rendered useless. “How -”
Sam shrugs, giving you a hard smile that makes your skin crawl. “I figured Nicky and his shithead little brother would’ve taught you by now,” he grins, swiping the contents of your desk onto the floor. “Money gets you everywhere.”
You stare as picture frames, papers, and your phone go tumbling to the floor. You step back against the window, feeling the color drain from your face as he advances on you. “Get out, Sam.”
“Now, kitten, that’s no way to treat your first love.” His patronizing tone makes you narrow your eyes in annoyance. “And you did love me once, didn’t you?”
You swallow down your frustration, barely keeping your anger in check. “I don’t give a fuck about you. Get. Out.”
“Or what?” Sam steps closer to you, leaning against your desk. The situation is too reminiscent of the way he cornered you a few months back. “What are you gonna do about it? Call in your attack dog?”
John had offered to stop by today for lunch. You hate that you told him you’d have to take a raincheck. This situation would never have happened. “John’s on his way,” you grind out, hoping Sam doesn't detect the lie. “I’m sure he’d love to give you a repeat performance.”
He rolls his eyes, the ghost of a smile playing at the edges of his mouth. “Yeah, I let that loser win.” He says, crossing his arms.
“Oh sure, I bet you did.” Venom laces your sarcastic tone as you push away from the window. You aren’t sure what comes over you when you step closer to him, invading his space. “Just like I’m sure Jess believed whatever lie you told her when you went home that night.”
Sam’s hazel eyes brim with hostility. “You have no idea the shit show that little asshole of yours caused for me. But I promise you this, kitten.” Unfolding his arms, he points a finger in your direction. You hate that he makes you flinch again.
“If I ever see him again,” Sam threatens, his voice low and dangerous. “He won’t make it out alive. I’ve got friends in high places, you know that. I’ll have John taken out, before you even blink. No matter what you or Eric do to try and stop me.”
“Don’t you dare threaten him.” You snap, slapping his hand away. “John doesn’t need either of us to help kick your fucking ass. He’s ten times the man you wish you could be.”
A visible wave of fury crosses Sam’s features. You realize your mistake the second his shoulders roll back. In a flash, his arm lashes out and he wraps his fingers around your upper arm. You watch the anger in his eyes rise like the tide as he pulls you to him. “Listen here, you little bitch -”
“Get the fuck off of me!” Your free hand connects with his cheek, slapping him across the face. “I’ll scream.”
Sam doesn’t flinch, only squeezes your arm tighter. “You keep making that threat, so go ahead. No one’s gonna come check on you. It’s lunch time and everyone but you seems to enjoy getting out of this godforsaken place.”
“That’s not true.” There’s got to be someone in the building, you can’t be all alone. With Sam. The pressure of his fingers on your arm makes you wince in pain; he only smiles and pushes himself off the desk.
“Of course it is.” He walks you backward until you’re flush against the wall near the window. “And now, there’s no one to interrupt us. So you’re going to be a good little girl and stop fighting me.”
You glare up at him defiantly, despite the shiver running through you at knowing that he’s got you trapped. “Don’t call me that.”
“Oh, what’s the matter?” He lecherously stares down your body before grabbing your jaw with his right hand. “Afraid I’m gonna put you in your place? That you might like it?”
Adrenaline courses through you, igniting your fight or flight instincts. “Sam, I’m not afraid of you.” You try to meet his eyes, hoping he doesn’t see the lie in that statement either.
The laugh Sam lets out sends a shiver down your spine as his fingers tighten on your jaw. “Trust me, I can and I will change that.” He promises, moving the hand gripping your arm to caress your cheek.
“You know I like a challenge. And I’m starting to think that’s the only way I’m gonna get what I want from you. I mean, you used to give it up so easily. You'd do almost anything as long as it made me happy.”
When Sam slides the hand on your cheek down your neck, he moves the collar of your dress. You watch his eyes flicker down to the pattern of hickeys John left a few nights ago. He puts the pieces together; painfully squeezing your jaw again as he pushes your head back further.
“What’s this shit? You’ll let that little prick get rough with you? Christ, you are such a fucking cock tease, kitten.” He shakes his head, clicking his teeth in disappointment. “You used to shy away from me every time I wanted to get rough. What’s so special about him?’
“I trust John not to hurt me.” You gasp out, as his face twists into a snarl. Fresh terror rears up inside you as Sam kicks your legs apart with his knee.
“Well, from the looks of it, you already like getting hurt.” He chuckles, slapping you hard across the face. You blink away tears as your hand flies up to stop the sting. “And I am more than happy to oblige.”
Sam fists his hand in your hair, using his leverage over you to push you down to your knees. “So, here’s what's gonna happen now, kitten. You’re gonna let me do whatever I want, whenever I want. I know you don’t have the balls to tell Eric about any of this, let alone that new boyfriend of yours. I know how embarrassing that would be for you.”
He grins callously, enjoying the horror frozen on your face. “Although, based on those bruises, John might be into it. The prick may just want to watch and he’ll let me work you over; who knows?”
“Sam, please -”
“Jess is sweet and all, but she’s just too vanilla for me.” He shrugs as he cuts you off. “Can’t rough up the mother of my kids, but you... shit, you’re just begging me for it, aren’t you, kitten? This certainly changes things. You know damn well that I’m the only man who’ll treat you the way you really deserve.”
Sam never treated you right. You are so much better off without him, you know that now. You know it as sure as you know your own name. You also know you should do some kind of magic; send an energy blast back and knock him on his ass. You’d deal with the consequences of what you’ve done after, but at least you’d be away from him.
But you’re too afraid, too frozen in panic, to will your brain to form the spell you’d need.
“I always knew there was a slut in there somewhere.” He smirks, his free hand going to his belt. “You just lacked the right incentive. I was just gonna bend you over the desk, remind you who you really belong to, but now I’m thinking of all kinds of nasty shit to do to you.”
He unzips his jeans, grinning down at your horrified face. “Oh, just wait 'til Nicky hears about this. He tells me all the time, he’s still dying to get his hands on you.” He reaches for his phone in his pocket, sliding it open to start scrolling through his contacts. “He’s gonna want to see for himself what a little whore you’ve become.”
Renewed panic surges through your body. “Sam, don’t. Please!” Your voice is thick with fear at the mention of Eric’s brother. You feel sick to your stomach knowing that not only are he and Sam still close, but they must talk about you, about that night. “Let’s just keep this be- between us, okay? You don’t have to… please, don’t -”
“Aww, don’t what?” Sam tucks his phone away before fisting his hand at the base of your skull. Your fingers try to pry him off of you but he’s always been stronger. And he knows it. He grabs your wrists with a dark grin and yanks them behind your head, holding them at an awkward, painful angle.
“You don’t want to share me? I get that. Maybe if you beg me nice and pretty and if I feel like it, I’ll keep you to myself.” He smirks when you can’t find your voice to argue with him. “Now open wide, kitten. If I feel teeth, you’re gonna regret it.”
As Sam shoves your head forward, your office door blasts open. The sound resonates throughout the small space making him jump, releasing your hands to hastily pull up his jeans. Sam recovers quickly, staring over his shoulder at the open door. He digs his knees into your chest, pinning you in place.
John steps into the room, his trench coat flaring out behind him as he walks. His normally warm amber eyes are masked with icy fury as he quickly assesses the situation.
“This is a private party, shithead.” Sam snarls. You shake your head, trying to push him away when he covers your mouth with his free hand. “Not like either of us want you here. I can promise you that she’s always had more fun with me. Especially when I know just how to shut her filthy mouth right up.”
At that, you attempt to scratch at the hand over your mouth. He pulls your hair, forcing your head up to meet his eyes. “Don’t even try it." Sam growls, making you blink back the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Now, why don’t you tell John that you don’t need him here,” he slowly lifts his fingers. “Before someone gets hurt.”
“Everything’s f- fine, John.” You whisper in a shaky voice as you watch John’s eyes start to glow. “Sam and I are just… just talking.” You hate how small and frightened you sound, but for the life of you, you can’t stop the tremble in your voice.
“Forced to your bloody knees like that?” John blinks, visibly struggling to control his anger as his eyes dart between you and the man standing over you. “Like Hell it’s fine.”
John steps forward, rolling his shoulders back. “Get the fuck away from her.” He threatens, raising both of his palms. “You don’t take the bloody hint, do you? You’re just itching for me to kick your arse again.”
Sam rolls his eyes, but doesn’t back away from you. “That’s cute. I let you win that night. Let’s see who walks away this time. Winner gets to do what they want to her seeing as you turned her into such a slut.”
Fury lights up John’s eyes as he murmurs under his breath, sending Sam flying backward. Before Sam can process what’s happened, John is on him, fists connecting with the soft tissue of his face. You scramble away, swallowing back a sob as you readjust the collar of your dress and wrap your arms around yourself.
John pulls back, knuckles bloodied as he glares down at Sam. “Stay away from her, do you hear me? If I ever see your bloody face again, you nasty git, I’m gonna put you in the hospital. I reckon you’ll have a lot more to explain to that wife of yours after that.”
Sam wipes the blood from his face as he pushes himself to his feet. He barges from the room, not bothering to spare a glance at either of you as he goes.
John spins around, wrapping his arms around you as you scramble up from the floor. “I knew something was wrong.” He apologizes, pushing your hair out of your face. “I just had a bad bloody feeling. I’m sorry I wasn’t quicker.”
John cups your face gently, searching your eyes as you try to even out your erratic breathing. “Are you alright, sweet’eart?”
“I… I need a minute.” You admit, letting a few tears slip down your cheeks as you wrap your arms protectively around yourself again. John nods, stepping back to give you some space.
You hate that you let Sam get the upper hand and you hate that you were actually scared of him this time. You should have pushed him away, you should’ve used your magic. You need to be better prepared; you’re smarter than this. “I was af- afraid. I c-couldn’t stop him. I… I’m sorry that I let him -”
“You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing.” John leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “Sam’s more of a bastard than I expected. He got past security?” You nod, letting John wipe away your tears with his thumb. “Fucking hell.”
He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, causing you to sag in relief as your mind catches up with your body’s exhausted response. “You can be cross with me all you like, sweet’eart, but now you tell Eric. You let him bloody well help you, or I’ll take care of Sam myself. And if I do, well, I don’t exactly have to abide by any laws, now do I?”
“Johnny, I don’t think -”
“No, sweet’eart. Don’t you fight me on this. Not after that.” John gestures toward the door before pulling you into his arms. “That wanker has hurt you for the last bloody time. What if I hadn’t gotten here before he?" He shakes his head in disgust. "I won’t allow him to keep treating you this way. You mean too much to me.”
You have nothing to say to that. No push back, no snappy comment. You just nod your head and bury yourself in the comfort of his arms.
***
You let John drive to the precinct, knowing you’re still too shaky to get behind the wheel. His anger hasn’t dissolved, you can see it in the hard line of his shoulders and the way his fingers tightly grip the steering wheel. His expression only softens when he looks at you and still sees panic written across your face as you exit the car.
“I’ll be with you the entire time, unless you don’t want me to be.” He assures you as you walk up the stone steps. “I hate these bloody places, but I won’t leave your side, luv.” You squeeze John’s hand as you push through the doors.
Eric is at his desk, listening to Patrick tell some kind of story. Despite his laughter, he’s no doubt attempting to do his stack of paperwork before his next day off. He jumps up when he sees you.
“Hey, kid! Johnny! Whatcha doin’ down here?” He glances down at his cell before furrowing his brow. “Did we have lunch plans?”
John shakes his head with a grim smile. “That’s a negative, big man. But if you’ve got a minute, we need to have a bit of a chat.” When Eric gestures to his chair and tells you to listen to Patrick’s story first, you take a deep breath and shake your own head.
“Eric, it’s important.” You meet his eyes carefully. “I need Detective Grant for this.”
Eric stares at you, a confused expression written on his face. “Yeah, of course. Follow me.” He leads you and John to a small briefing room just off the main hallway. “Are ya alright? What’s up?”
You’re silent for a moment, having no idea how to start. “Go ahead, sweet’eart.” John urges you softly. “You can do this.”
You take a deep breath, blowing it out slowly before you start to speak. “Sam attacked me, just now in my office. If John hadn’t stepped in when he did, I’m afraid I’d be here reporting something entirely different.”
“Even still, it took everything in me to not leave behind a body. The wanker doesn’t know how jammy he is that I allowed him to leg it.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Eric throws his hands up as the three of you settle into metal folding chairs. “Campbell attacked you? Outta the blue? I mean he’s a piece of shit, but -”
John tugs a cigarette from behind his ear and goes to light it. He rolls his eyes when Eric tells him no, sticking it back behind his ear with a sigh. “Sweet’eart, you’re going to have to start at the beginning. With what you told me.”
You swallow back the anxiety threatening to overwhelm you and take a deep breath. “Eric, there’s a lot I haven’t told you. And I didn’t because I was sure I could handle it. Handle him.” Leaning back in your chair, you fold your arms. “But it’s escalated and I’m smart enough to know that I need help.”
“Kid,” Eric furrows his brow. “Ya makin’ me nervous.”
“I’m not trying to.” You promise him. “But I’m going to need you to just let me get it all out and try not to get upset. Please.”
Eric nods as John reassuringly squeezes your leg. “When I found out about Sam’s wife and his kids, I broke it off immediately. You know that. But I didn’t find out the way I said I did.” You fidget in your seat, running your fingers absently through your hair.
“I didn’t see them out. Sam was always so careful. Jess found me at the museum. She accused me of making Sam cheat on her and when I tried to tell her that I didn’t know she existed, she slapped me. Sam showed up a few days later and started a fight with me.”
Eric nods his head. “So you told me half of it.”
You huff softly, tapping your fingers on the table anxiously. “Well, Sam and I got into it, right in the lobby. Literally steps from where Jess had slapped me.” You let out a bitter laugh. “He actually didn’t see the problem with keeping me on the side. And I didn’t mean to, but I was just so angry that I slapped him.”
Eric’s grins, surely pleased that you’d slapped Sam for what he did. “Well, that pissed him off.” You glance down as Eric’s proud smile slips off his face. Your fingers move to fiddle with the hem of your dress.
“He shoved me, so hard that I fell backwards. He leaned down and I don’t know if it was to help me up or…” You shrug as you bite your lip anxiously. “Someone stepped in to check on me and Sam took off. I didn’t see him again for three years.”
John pushes himself up and stands behind your chair. “You know the next bit, mate.” He inclines his head with a tight smile. “Been meaning to thank you for that one. She told me about you stepping in a while back.”
“No thanks needed, like I said before, she’s family. Sam’s lucky I didn’t punch him that day.” Eric leans back and crosses his arms. “Wouldn’ta been the first time.”
What? When you whip your head back down to face him, he raises an eyebrow. “What? Ya really think I didn’t knock him on his ass for the shit he pulled with ya? And obviously, I didn’t even know that half of it.”
“You should’ve told me you hit him, Eric.” You want to be angry but the second the words have left your mouth, you know you don’t have a right in the world to be upset with him. From the incredulous expression on his face, he knows it too.
Eric runs his fingers through his beard as he levels his gaze at you. “Knew Sam was an ass; but till now, never thought he was a violent ass. If I had’ve known, I woulda arrested him instead of just throwin’ a right hook.”
You shake your head, eyes darting between John and Eric. “I didn’t think he was violent. He just always had a…” You trail off with a shrug.
“A bloody mean streak?” John supplies, gently squeezing your shoulders. “I’ve seen it first hand, haven’t I?”
Eric’s face twists into a scowl. “Whaddya mean by that?”
John tilts his head down to meet your eyes and you take a deep breath. “John and I had a disagreement about a month or so ago.” You tilt your head forward to peer at Eric. “When you were at your seminar? Anyway, I went out for a drink by myself and ran into Sam at the bar. He was nasty, so I got just as nasty.”
You pause when you realize your hands are shaking. You try to steady them under the table, hiding the trembling so neither man can see. “And he didn’t like that.”
Eric’s face twists again, this time into an expression of disbelief. “Kid, what happened?” He asks, his voice heavy with warning.
“I tried to call Paddy, so he could escort me home but Sam followed me outside. He ripped my phone out of my hand and backed me into the alley.” You suppress a shudder. “The shit he said to me? God, it was vulgar. He grabbed me by the hair and shoved me against the wall when I tried to fight him off.”
Your hands ball into fists as you remember that night with more clarity than you’d like. “I’d never been afraid of him, not really. I mean, sometimes he made me nervous but… this was different. He… he grabbed my chin, forced me to… to kiss him.”
Eric stands abruptly, knocking his chair back. “That son of a bitch. He assaulted ya and you didn’t say anythin’ about it? I’ll kick his ass.”
“I already did that, mate.” John interrupts with a smug grin. “Once I was there, I took a swing. Went down like a sack of potatoes, he did. He’s lucky I didn’t do worse for touching my girl.” You smile at him, as grateful that John is here now, as you were that night.
“He ran away, tail between his legs.” John smirks, pushing up the sleeves of his coat as he sits back down. “Bloody well serves him right.”
Eric runs a hand through his hair and then through his beard before he speaks again. “Kid, how could ya not tell me? I woulda done somethin’ about him when he shoved ya.”
You knew Eric would be upset, how could he not be? You’ve known him longer than anyone else; you know how much he hates being lied to and here you are, admitting that you’ve been keeping something from him for three years. Something that spiraled out of control when you chose again to lie to him about how bad things were when he walked in on it.
“Everything was quiet for well over a month.” You explain, deliberately sidestepping Eric’s accusation. “But then Sam showed up in my office today. Got past security, cornered me, and threatened me. He pushed me to my knees and I was stupid, Eric… I froze… I should’ve fought him off -”
“Sweet’eart, no.” John interrupts, gripping your upper thigh. “I bloody well told you, this isn’t your fault. Put that thought out of your mind.”
“Did he?” Eric asks, his anger barely controlled in the tone of his voice. He doesn’t need to finish his sentence for you to know what he’s asking you. You turn your head to face him and suck in a quick breath at the fury you see building in his eyes.
You shake your head, surprised when a few tears fall onto your lap. “No.” You quickly wipe your face. “John stopped him before he could make me…” Drawing in a shaky breath, you trail off for a moment.
“But I’m afraid he’ll try to retaliate. That’s what this was, payback for that night outside the bar. I’m sure of it.”
You watch as Eric paces back and forth silently. “I’m sorry, Eric.” You push yourself to your feet and walk around the table. “I know I should’ve told you three years ago. But I never thought he would get like this.”
Eric blows out a breath through his teeth, loosening his tie as he pointedly stares at you. “Can you say something?” You plead, keeping your eyes trained on him. “Please?”
“Keepin’ somethin’ like this from me was reckless and stupid, kid.” Eric leans his palms on the table, focusing on a spot on the metal instead of you. “If this is really what Sam’s like; violent, controllin’ and manipulative, then who’s to say he hasn’t done shit like this to his wife? To his kids.”
You shake your head, letting your voice take on a bitter edge. “Because he told me that he would never ‘rough up’ the mother of his children’.”
You don’t see the incredulous face Eric makes when his head snaps up. “But me? Apparently, I was begging for it and he knew I wouldn’t have the balls to tell either of you what he was doing to me.”
Eric smacks the chair away from him, sending it tumbling backwards. “Jesus Christ, kid.” He growls, making both you and John flinch. “Imma fuckin’ kill him.”
Cautiously, you step closer to him, holding your hands out in front of you. “I don’t need you to kill him, Eric.” You force out a small laugh. “But maybe I file a restraining order?”
Eric shrugs off his suit jacket and leans down to pick up the chair. Once it’s righted, he rests his jacket over the back. “Yeah, ya should probably start with a restrainin’ order.”
He glares at you, actually glares, and you take a step back. “What is it kid, did ya not trust me enough to tell me everythin’? Cause if ya had told me about this shit when it happened, I woulda -”
“Come off it, mate. Don’t be a prat.” John challenges, letting his voice mirror the hard edge found in Eric’s. “Course she trusts you. She’s telling you now, isn’t she? I want to bloody well kill that wanker for what he's done to her, but we came to you. To deal with it nice and proper.”
He moves from his spot on the other side of the table to stand right next to you. “No need to make her feel worse about it.”
Eric lets out an angry sigh before scratching at his beard. “I’m not tryin’ to make her feel worse.” Could have fooled me. You watch his hands go to his hips, his tell that he’s annoyed and aggravated. “But she knows I hate bein’ lied to.”
You furrow your brow, feigning frustration so he doesn’t see how upset you are. “Eric, I wasn’t trying to lie to you. I just thought I could handle him on my own.”
“That worked out real well, didn’t it?” Eric snaps. “At least she had you to drill some common sense into her, John. Otherwise, I woulda found out after he really hurt her.”
You blink back fresh tears, unable to hide them. His expression instantly softens, realizing the mistake of his outburst. He steps closer and rests his hands on your upper arms. “All this makes Sam seem dangerous, fella. Ya didn’t have to handle him alone.”
You pull back, ready to argue when John cuts you off from beside you. “She’s more than capable, big man. But after this last incident, where I was almost too late, I insisted she let you help. S’not an easy thing for her to chat about, especially to us.”
Casting his eyes down, Eric grabs his jacket off the chair and heads toward the door. “I’m gonna grab a uni, we’ll make it all official. Just sit tight.” With one last glance, Eric steps out of the room. Once the door clicks, you sag against the table and squeeze the edges so your hands don’t shake.
“You’re alright, sweet’eart.” John assures you, gently touching your cheek. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I know.” You huff out, biting the edge of your thumb anxiously. “But I knew he’d be upset, he’s pissed at me. That’s why I didn’t tell him. I didn’t want him to risk his career out of anger. And honestly, if I knew it wouldn’t get back to him, I’d have kept him out of it now, as well.”
“Eric Grant is not pissed at you, he’s worried for you, sweet’eart. That’s all. He’ll get over it.” John gives you a crooked grin, the one he usually reserves for when you’ve done something extraordinary. “And look at you, taking a page out of Johnny’s book. Sometimes, you have to make the call not to tell them the truth. Keep 'em in the dark to keep 'em safe."
You don’t like it, but he’s right. Now, you’ve done that to both of them. Kept them in the dark, in hopes that you can keep them safe. With how well it worked with Eric, you’re afraid of what’s going to happen when you figure out a way to tell John the truth about Morgan. You hope he’ll understand.
***
Early Saturday morning, John asks if you want to accompany him to Providence for an exorcism. Given your exhaustion from the week, you shake your head and tell him that unless he thinks he needs you, you’d rather just stay in.
John had smiled in understanding, and with a quick kiss and a “be back in a bit, sweet’eart, I’ll bring lunch” he was out the door.
That was ten hours ago.
Normally, you wouldn’t panic. John is very capable, but he hasn’t returned any of your texts or phone calls. In your heart, you know something is wrong.
You consider calling Eric. He held his tongue about Sam once you started talking to the officer but the two of you weren’t on the best terms. You haven’t really spoken to him in the last week. And John isn’t exactly missing, so you doubt there’s anything Eric could do anyway.
When you cast a tracking spell, you realize that either John has cloaked himself, or something has cloaked him. You don’t even have Chas’ number to ask for help. There’s nothing you can do but wait and panic.
You pace back and forth anxiously, unable to form any logical thoughts. You’ve never felt this way before; your fear for him paralyzing you, your heart pounding and stomach heavy with a dread you can’t quite explain.
You know John’s in danger. What if he’s hurt or... You can’t allow yourself to finish that thought.
You tug your coat on, determined to drive through every street in that city if you have to until you find him. As you step out into the chill of mid February’s air, you pull out your cell phone to try him one more time. You hurry down your steps as the line connects.
You freeze when you faintly hear John’s ringtone on the other side of your car. Your head whips in that direction and you take off running. Panic and adrenaline course through you as you stop abruptly at the driver’s side tire and look down.
Your throat tightens in horror at the sight of him. John is slumped over, his dress shirt caked with dried blood. His coat is a mess, splattered in dirt and what you also think is blood; it’s too dark to tell.
Crouching down, you carefully lift his head. John’s breathing is slow and shallow but, thankfully, steady. Pushing matted hair off his forehead, you shake his shoulders to gently try and wake him.
“Johnny, what's happened?” You ask softly, your breath whisping like smoke above your head. “Come on sweetheart, let’s get you inside, huh? You’re freezing.”
John lets out a low groan and has a visible moment of panic when he opens and tries to focus his eyes. He scrambles back in confusion, knocking you back onto the ground in his hurry.
Quickly, you push yourself to your knees, grateful for the decision to wear jeans today, and hold your hands out in front of you.
“It’s alright, John.” His amber eyes find yours and in them you see a war raging as his brain struggles for clarity. “You’re home, you’re safe. I promise.” You pull in a shaky breath as you see the cuts and scrapes marring his handsome face. “Let me clean you up, okay?”
John nods slowly, whispering your name in confusion, as you gingerly help him into the house.
You set him down on the couch and hurry to your bathroom to get antiseptic, bandages and gauze. Once back down the stairs, you set to work on getting him cleaned up.
You help him shrug out of his coat and tattered shirt, then slowly clean the cuts you see there. You swallow back tears, determined to be strong enough to help him.
John stays silent, letting you whisper soothing words of comfort and reassurance as you work. After about thirty minutes, he’s properly bandaged and as clean as you can get him without dragging him into the shower. You wipe your brow as you give him one last once over and settle yourself on the chair near the couch.
As you let your body sag against the cushions, John shifts, tucking in his fresh shirt and tries to crack a smile. “Never had somebody to patch me up before. A bloke could get used to this kind of treatment.”
You give him a soft smile, grateful that he feels well enough to make a joke. “What happened, Johnny?”
“Don’t bloody know.” John admits bitterly. “Done that rites of exorcism easily a hundred times. It didn’t take, and the bugger turned it round on me. Starting throwing blasts quicker than I could keep up.” He gestures to his body. “Don’t know how I got out of there.”
Fear trickles down your spine. “What?”
He shakes his head, leaning over for his flask in the tattered remains of his trench coat. “I’m a sneaky bastard, easily the greatest sorcerer that ever lived, but I was getting my bloody arse kicked.”
John takes a deep pull from the flask, wincing as the alcohol burns his throat. “That demon had more juice than he should’ve and I must’ve blacked out when I took a hit to the noggin, because I could’ve sworn it said something about ‘ignoring orders to injure, not kill’. I woke up outside your flat, just couldn’t make my bloody fingers work to give you a ring.”
You push yourself up, feeling your lip tremble as you sit closer to him on the couch. “I’m sorry, Johnny.” Tears spill from your eyes, collecting along your lashes and down your cheeks. “This is my fault.”
John leans back, confusion furrowing his brow. “How is my mucked up exorcism your fault, sweet’eart?”
The kindness in his voice makes your breath hitch and suddenly, you’re spilling everything you’ve hidden from him. “Because if I had been smarter, then I would have found a way to warn you and you wouldn’t have just walked into that trap.”
“What are you going on about?”
You bite your lower lip anxiously. “A month ago, Morgan cornered me, and I didn’t mean to, I swear Johnny, but the second he tried to convince me that you had killed Darren, I let it slip that we knew. We knew everything and I wasn't going to let him turn me against you.”
You hastily wipe your tears from your cheeks, as you stare at the floor of your living room. “He’s got this awful plan to destroy you and he wants my compliance. He said Darren was collateral damage because he wouldn’t help Morgan hurt you.”
From the look on his face, John is putting the fragmented pieces of what he already knows, together with your new and condemning knowledge.
“The people Morgan truly works for? They want your soul, and he… he wants me to help him betray you. But I won’t. I absolutely won’t. God, he was so furious when I shut him down.”
You look up and reach for his hand. “He can do magic, John and he’s strong. I didn’t expect it and I wasn’t prepared to fight back.”
John runs his free hand through his hair, eyes trained on you. He knows this, has known it since he discovered the medallion. But you didn’t. He shudders to think of what Morgan could’ve done to you.
“How strong?” He asks, much calmer than he feels. “What did he do to you?”
“He’s possibly as strong as you.” You pull in a shaky breath. “I went to kick him out and he used his magic to pin me to the chair. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, and he... he tried to threaten me into helping him by saying that he’d take me instead, if he had to. That his employers would be very interested in me?”
John shifts in his seat uncomfortably. You’re sure this is what he meant when he said those close to him tend to get hurt. You push on, hoping he’ll see that you weren’t afraid for yourself. Just for him and your two closest friends.
“When I told him I wasn’t afraid of him and that I didn’t care what he did to me, he threatened to hurt Eric and Charlotte. He said they wouldn’t survive if he chose to go after them and Johnny, you have to trust me on this, I believe him.”
Your scalp prickles in fear as you remember Morgan’s words. “If I warned you in any way, or tried to protect you, he'd kill them both. He said they’d be watching and they’d know if I told you. I won’t help him hurt you, but I couldn’t let Morgan hurt them either.”
John stares at you, eyes wide with disbelief and frustration. Your hand has grown clammy in his as fresh tears slide down your cheeks. From the set of his shoulders, you can see how tense he is, and how furious he’s about to be.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, Johnny. I didn’t know how, I.. I didn’t know what to do. But I was terrified that he would make good on his threat.” Your breath hitches again and John’s expression hardens.
“So the second I could, I placed a protection spell on the St. Michael necklace that Eric always wears and I had Ray send me a ring of Charlotte's. After I spelled that and sent it back to her, I made her promise not to take it off. Once I had them squared away, I kept my eye on you.”
You had been proud of what you’d done. The protection spells were advanced magic and you’d done both without a hitch. It made you believe that you were capable of handling Morgan.
But you realize now, this is just Sam all over again. You thought you could handle this, but it blew up in your face and almost got John killed.
“I kept waiting for him to make some kind of move against you and when he didn’t, I hoped that he was just bluffing. I haven't seen him in weeks.”
You squeeze his hand; dread settling in the pit of your stomach when he doesn’t squeeze back. “But then, you were missing and I called and called, I was so afraid that I'd gotten you killed.”
You watch him carefully, gesturing with your free hand to the bandages underneath his shirt. “And then you come back, beaten and bloody, and with what you just said? I know this is my fault. I was stupid to think I could protect all of you.”
John is silent for too long. He lifts his hand, unthreading his fingers from yours and runs both hands through his hair in frustration. When he finally meets your eyes again, you see anger simmering just below the surface.
“Can you please say something?” You beg softly, the words an echo of when you asked Eric the same thing, for a lie so similar in it’s betrayal of trust. With a long, harsh breath through his nose, he pushes himself to his feet and limps into your kitchen.
You watch as he reaches into your cabinet and pulls down the bottle of whiskey you keep there. He takes three long pulls, emptying what’s left of it. Without a word, he grabs his tattered coat from the floor and shrugs into it.
“Johnny, you’re hurt.” You protest softly, pushing yourself up from the couch. “Where are you going?”
John turns as he opens the door. His eyes are no longer angry, but filled with something like regret instead. Your heart is uneasy seeing the pain reflected there. Pain that you helped to cause.
“Out,” comes his harsh reply. “I need to bloody think.”
Notes:
Raise your hand if you hate Sam. Hopefully he stays away for a bit, huh?
Little bit of a cliffy this week! For someone whose entire career is based on being able to lie and do it well, John doesn’t handle being lied to, does he?
Next week: Chas is the voice of reason for John, prompting him to apologize to you in the best way he knows how ;) (some pretty hot and heavy stuff coming up right there) and on vacation in New Orleans, you finally get to meet Chas! Hopefully, that goes well :)
Chapter 22: Earned trust.
Summary:
After he’s cooled off, John comes back home and properly apologizes to you. Soon after, you and John head down to New Orleans, giving you your first opportunity to meet Chas. When John gets a call from Papa Midnite, you have a chance to get to know Chas a little better and you’re not disappointed.
Notes:
I've updated the tags so you know what you're in for.
Enjoy ;)Also, giving you lovelies the link to the Playlist I've created for this series! I update it often as the story unfolds. Check it out if you feel like immersing yourself into this world some more :)
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4wpeLfmogi8K6Sh0EpfEVt?si=S9IxjKO6T4WTNdFvIlBuAw
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It’s been hours since John left you standing in your living room; tears running down your face, and heartbreak warring in your eyes. He’s found his way to the bar where he kicked your ex’s ass and is halfway through a bottle of gin before his mind starts spinning. He knows he’ll have to face you, he just doesn’t have it in him yet.
That son of a bitch tried to use you against him. When Morgan realized you weren’t concerned about your own safety, he threatened the very people you cared about most to ensure your silence and obedience.
And what would John have done if he were in your situation? The same bloody thing he’s done countless times. Minimize the fallout, make the sacrifice to get the job done.
In the end, it always goes the same way for him. Why did he think you’d be different?
But as soon as he slammed the door, John regretted it. He was angry and irrational; he knew damn well he shouldn’t have stormed out the way he did. John just couldn’t keep watching the way your face crumbled as you explained what he knew was only inevitable.
He remembers warning you that this would happen. But that damn stubborn streak of yours, a trait John found more endearing than he should’ve, put you in the crosshairs and he didn’t even know about it. You’re too much like him for his own comfort.
Chas says the same thing when he calls on the way back to your house. “I think you’ve met you match there, Johnny. She’s more like you than you care to admit.” He sighs into the phone. “Can’t blame her for trying to protect the people she loves.”
“I know mate,” John argues, pulling a silk cut from the pack in his coat pocket. “But she shouldn’t have hid the truth from me.”
The laugh John hears through the phone makes him roll his eyes. “Jesus, John. That’s rich coming from you. All you do is lie.”
Chas makes a sound of disbelief. “And you wouldn’t have been honest with her if she hadn’t cast that truth spell by accident. I seem to recall you telling me that she didn’t need to know everything that’s happening. You’d give her just enough to let her help.”
John stays silent as he walks and lets Chas continue, derision dripping in his voice. “You can’t take some high moral ground here. You know I was never on board with this but you insisted on involving her in this life. You insisted on being with her. Did you really not think -” Chas stops mid sentence and takes a deep breath.
“Of course you didn’t think, look who I’m talking to.” Chas pauses and John can imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"Look, all I’m saying is, she seems as bull headed as you are. And knowing she couldn’t go to you with this, in that moment, she did what she thought was right. She’s going to protect the people she cares about at any cost. And that includes you, you know.”
John lights the cigarette between his teeth, blowing out a puff of smoke before attempting to respond. “That’s what I’m worried about, Chas. She knew the consequences, what it meant for her mates if she warned me.”
“And?”
"And?” John parrots back incredulously. “She took one bloody look at my face and spilled everything. Even if it meant putting her mates in danger, she couldn’t bear seeing me hurt. It was stupid of her and that kind of feeling is a dangerous liability in this life.”
Chas lets out an annoyed sigh. “Come on, John. She was afraid that you’d gotten killed. You can’t fault her for that. Now, be honest for once. Are you angry that she cares about you so much that she’d risk everything to tell you the truth? Or are you angry because you’ve realized you feel the same way about her?”
John doesn’t answer; he doesn’t have to. His uncomfortable silence is enough.
***
When John lets himself into the house, you’re asleep; wrapped up on the couch in a blanket. He gingerly locks the door behind him and settles down next to you. When his weight on the cushion makes you stir, you slowly push yourself up.
At the sight of him, you blink your eyes in the dim lighting and warily wait for him to say something. He lets out a soft huff as you carefully reach out to him, resting your hand on his folded leg.
“I’m furious.” His voice suddenly cuts through the silence of the room, making you jump. “I’m furious with myself for putting you in this position. I’m furious for thinking that the wanker wouldn’t pull a stunt like this.”
He rests his hand on top of yours and squeezes gently. “But I’m not furious at you, luv.”
“But you were,” you push back, shaking your head to clear the fogginess of sleep. “You left, practically stormed out of here. Without bothering to talk to me.”
John softly murmurs “inluminent” making the lights in the room brighten, instantly. He stares at you with a soft expression that you weren’t expecting to see on his face.
“Aye, I did.” He nods, twisting his mouth into a half smile. “But I shouldn’t’ve and I apologize. Can't blame you for trying to go it alone and protect the people you love. That's what I do now, innit?”
John shakes his head when you open your mouth to comment. “Let me get this out, sweet’eart.” He implores softly.
“I overreacted, I'll give you that. But you’ve got to understand, I don’t do this; have a partner, rely on someone else to patch me up. You know that. So when something goes pear shaped, s’not like I need to consider anyone else’s feelings.”
Twisting in his seat, he shrugs himself out of his coat. “You complicate things for me, in ways I never expect. On one hand, I want to praise you for the protection spells you did on your mates. Taking on Morgan alone like that, to protect your loved ones, is something you should be bloody proud of, sweet’eart.”
John’s expression takes on a hardened edge, his honeyed eyes glittering in the light. “On the other hand, you shouldn’t have had to carry that knowledge by yourself. I would've found a way around that plunker’s threat. I want to bend you over my knee for thinking you had no choice but to go it alone.”
You fold your arms across your chest, decidedly ignoring the flip in your stomach at his words; his desire to punish you. Now, is decidedly not the time for that. “I know that, John. I do. I just… I panicked.”
“I understand that, sweet’eart.” John takes a breath then rises, extending his hand down to you. “Chas is already working on a way to help us get rid of this nasty git. He’s gonna meet us in New Orleans next week, go over what he’s found. We’ll be alright, won’t we.”
When his expression softens, you let out a breath of relief.
“Now c’mon.” John’s usual smirk has found its way back to his face. “Let us take some of that weight off your shoulders, eh? Unless I’m wrong and I’m usually not,” he meets your eyes, “you and I both need it.”
Rolling your eyes, you take his hand and let him lead you up the stairs.
***
Standing in the middle of your bedroom, you watch eagerly as John uses his magic to dim the lights. Your body is already thrumming with anticipation and he's yet to touch you. When he steps closer, smirking dangerously, it takes every inch of your self control not to beg him to do so.
“Don’t move.” He commands, his mouth inches from yours. “Hands at your sides until I tell you otherwise.”
John disappears into your shared closet. You hear him moving things around but you don't dare turn to see what he’s doing. Excitement traces goosebumps over your skin, making you shiver as you wonder what he plans to do to you.
“Look at me.” John orders as he steps in front of you again. You obediently lift your gaze to meet his dark, lust filled eyes. “Tell me your safe words, pet.” Even in a whisper, his demanding tone sends a thrill down your spine.
Your throat works hard as you swallow audibly, feeling arousal simmering in the pit of your stomach. “Yellow is 'slow down' and Boston is 'stop'.”
“Good girl.” John praises as he slowly circles around you, every bit the predator. “Now, I am going to push you tonight sweet’eart, but you are going to enjoy this as much as I am.”
When you nod in response, John stops directly behind you. “Use your words, pet.” He chuckles, his voice dropping low and dark. “Are you going to be a good girl for Johnny?”
You know John needs this as much as you do. Needs to feel like he has some semblance of power after the mess with that Exorcism. He desperately craves control; you know the most satisfying way for him to take it back is to exert dominance over the one aspect of his life that makes him spiral outward.
You.
And you don't want to shoulder the burden you've been carrying. Allowing John to take control; to claim you, consume you, will give you both what you need. And so you surrender willingly. Eagerly. Without hesitation.
“Yes, Sir.”
John hums his approval as he wraps one of his ties around you as a blindfold. “As much as I love your eyes pleading up at me when I fuck your mouth, pet. I don’t want you to see what I’m planning to do to you. Not yet.”
Once he’s sure the blindfold is secure and you can’t see a thing, John steps away from you. You whine at the loss of contact, making him chuckle from somewhere to your left.
“How you’re feeling right now? Desperate, aching to please me? That’s how I like you, sweet’eart; how I plan to keep you until I’m satisfied.”
You swallow and press your thighs together, his words sending shivers through you. “God, Johnny. You can’t -” A sharp slap to your ass makes you jump and stop mid sentence. “I’m… I’m sorry, Sir.”
“Careful, sweet’eart.” You can hear the smile in his voice as he steps in front of you. “Don’t make me have to punish you.”
His fingers trace along your cheek and jaw, making you lean into his touch. When his thumb runs along your bottom lip, you obediently open your mouth and let him rest it on your tongue.
With his permission, you gently swirl the tip of your tongue around his finger, smiling as he lets out a low groan. “I reckon I can think of a much better use for this pretty little mouth.” John murmurs after a few moments, in a voice so low you can feel it between your legs.
“On your knees, luv.” He orders and with a smirk, you comply; settling yourself down at his feet.
“Good girl.” He murmurs, running his fingers through your hair. He tugs at the crown, making your lift your head. “You know what I want; hands behind your back and open up for Johnny.”
You nod as you hear rustling, then the sound of John’s dress pants being unzipped. He runs his cock along your lips, teasing you for a moment, before pushing himself into your waiting mouth. You relax your jaw as much as you can to accommodate him, resting your tongue on the underside of his cock as you wait for him to move.
When you swallow around him, John groans and pulls himself back a bit. You know that’s all the warning you’re going to get.
When his hips snap forward, his cock hits the back of your throat. He stays still for a moment; one hand fisted in your hair, the other holding tight to your chin. “You look so bloody beautiful like this; on your knees, my cock in your mouth.”
You gag and struggle to breathe around the hardness blocking your airway. When John chuckles above you, you feel your cheeks heat as desire pulses in your core.
The seconds drag by at a maddening pace as you wait for him to pull back. You enjoy every moment; your nails digging into your own wrists, the wetness gathering in your panties. Your thighs clench together at what John’ll think when he helps you out of them.
You let out a gasp, greedily sucking in air when John steps back. “Such a good girl for me.” He praises, moving the hand on your chin to quickly slap your cheek. The sting of it immediately aches between your legs.
“Now, take a deep breath, pet.” He advises, moving his other hand to your hair. “I’m going to fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”
You let out a soft moan, angling your head to take as much of him as you can, as he pushes forward. He begins a steady pace, shoving your head down further than you thought you could on your own. You can hear his low groans of approval over the choking sounds coming out of your throat.
Spit trails out of the corners of your mouth as he repeatedly thrusts into it. When you feel him pulse down your throat, you swallow everything and wait for him to let you up. He doesn’t.
John holds you down on his cock, your nose pressed against his groin until your eyes start to water. Blinking against the blindfold, you make a desperate noise in the back of your throat.
You try to lean your head back but his hands in your hair keep you from moving. One moves to rip off the blindfold, making you blink furiously to clear your vision. When you shake your head, indicating that you need air, John smirks from above you, his eyes dark and dangerous.
“I’m a simple bloke, really.” John shrugs, carefully wiping your tears away. “I fancy watching you struggle more than I fancy letting you breathe.” That sends a ripple of fire to your core and when he finally pulls away, you let yourself fall forward to drag air into your lungs.
After you’ve caught your breath, John holds out a hand to help you stand. You wipe at the corners of your mouth and smirk at him. “Well, I’m a simple girl, and I like letting you do that to me more than I probably should.”
“That’s why you’re brilliant and all mine.” He growls, his gaze darkening as he looks you over. “Aren’t you, pet?”
“Yes.” You whisper hoarsely, your throat sore from his treatment of it. “Yours.”
“Good girl. Now, I reckon you’re rather overdressed, sweet’eart.” He gestures to your shirt and jeans. “Let’s change that, shall we?” When you nod, he pulls your top over your head and crouches down to help you out of your pants.
When John’s hand grazes over your panties to pull them down, he smirks up at you. “You’re soaked, luv, and I’ve barely touched you.” Your cheeks flush as he stands and reaches behind you to unhook your bra. “So desperate for Johnny, aren’t you?”
When you can only nod, he yanks you to him, pulling you in for a bruising kiss. After a moment, he pulls away, leaving your legs feeling weak. “Bed.” He orders and you walk yourself backward, maintaining eye contact until your legs hit the mattress.
You sit on the edge and make yourself scoot backward until you’re at the headboard. For a moment, John remains standing as it’s your turn to look him over. His muscles stretch over broad shoulders underneath his dress shirt. Despite the cuts marring his face, he’s still devastatingly handsome.
A dangerous glint in John’s eyes makes you shiver as he slowly climbs onto the mattress, burgundy tie in hand. “Hands above your head.” He requests lightly, as he straddles your chest.
You comply without hesitation and John sets to work, looping the tie through the metal of the headboard and around your wrists tight enough that you’re not escaping until he lets you.
Testing the knot, you tug down and gasp when the material tightens a bit. John chuckles as he leans back to inspect his handiwork. “Fucking hell, sweet’eart. You’ve no bloody idea what seeing you like this does to a devious tosser like myself.”
John twists his upper half and murmurs something under his breath. Your legs move on their own as invisible bonds lash your ankles to the footboard. You couldn’t move them if you wanted to. When he turns back, he grins down at you. You swallow back your nervousness as you realize you’re completely at his mercy.
“So now that I've got you all trussed up, what will I do with you?” John rests one hand at the base of your throat, pressing down just enough for you to feel the weight of his hand with each swallow. “Maybe, I'll just take what I want. I reckon you'd fancy that. Wouldn't you, sweet’eart?”
You nod as best as you can with his hand where it is. “I thought so.” John chuckles, moving his fingers to run them lightly over your breasts. You gasp and arch your back when he rolls a nipple between his fingers. He continues to pinch and play with your breasts until you’re whimpering under his hands.
Once he’s satisfied, John scoots backward and pulls out his cock. He gives it a few quick strokes and presses it against your entrance. You squirm anxiously as he runs the tip through your slick folds, teasing you until you’re reduced to whimpers and pleading. “Please, J- Sir.”
“Oh, please what? Sweet’eart, what do you need?”
You meet his eyes, letting John see just how blown you know your pupils are. “Fuck me, Johnny. Please.” With a dark grin, he obliges, sinking himself into your warmth.
John hisses with pleasure as his hips move back and forth torturously slow. “Please, God, I can’t...” You plead, arching your hips against his.
“Good girl,” he groans, “you feel so good around me, luv. So bloody tight.” John pulls back, before snapping his hips forward again. He hits your G spot dead on, making you fight back the urge to scream in pleasure as he relentlessly repeats the action.
John’s left hand collars your throat, pressing down and squeezing hard enough to make it difficult to breathe. He fucks into you with an almost brutal pace, squeezing off your air in rhythm with the snapping of his hips. You tug against your restraints, feeling the stress in your wrists as you pull against his tie.
“Bloody hell.” he groans as he begins rubbing maddeningly quick circles on your clit with his free hand. He snaps his hips forward one more time and you can feel John’s cock pulse inside you as he cums.
John slows his motions but doesn’t fully pull out of you. “Keep me warm, will you darlin’?” He smirks wickedly. When you nod, he sinks himself back into you with a low groan.
You can’t help but moan and whimper underneath him as you feel your body start to tense up. As electricity builds in your core, you pull hard on your wrists until they ache. Between John’s hand around your throat and his other rubbing your clit, you know your own orgasm is about to crash over you.
When his hand stills, hovering just before your release, you whine desperately. If you were able to move your legs, you would have squeezed them together, desperate for the friction you’d create.
“Wha- please, don’t stop. Don't stop.” You beg, earning only a smirk from him in response. “Please, please let me cum.”
John tilts his head, flexing the fingers around your throat. “Uh uh uh, do you want to cum, sweet’eart, or do you want to breathe?” His thumb brushes softly against your clit as he shifts inside you, making you whimper at how full you feel. “I won’t allow both.”
What? He can’t be serious. You tug at your wrists again, glaring up at how they’re expertly bound above your head, before peering back at him. You’re heatedly aware that it’s futile to try to escape, to try to do anything else, but give him an answer.
John’s sandy hair falls onto his forehead, sticking to his skin as he watches you with sinister interest. Sweat has dampened the chest of his dress shirt, making you wish you could peel him out of it. He shifts his body, allowing him a stronger grip on your neck and you whimper again without meaning to.
The amber of John’s eyes bores into yours when you nod, and he squeezes your throat in clear warning. “Come on now, use your words, luv.” His tone is slightly mocking, further igniting the arousal in your belly. “What'll it be then?”
The desperate ache between your thighs makes logical thinking impossible. You try to shake your head, but his hand won’t allow it.
This is out of your comfort zone; the thought of allowing John this much control over you is a little frightening. But you do trust him and know you can halt everything with one word if it’s too much.
“I…” You swallow, feeling the heavy weight of his hand against your skin. “I want to cum.”
John grins wickedly, pleased by your decision. “I was hoping you’d say that.” The look in his eyes makes you shiver as he leans forward and presses down. You let out a strangled moan as your air is choked off.
“Sweet’eart, you’ve no bloody idea how good you look with my hand around your throat.” John groans, pushing himself further inside you, as his dark honeyed eyes meet yours. “If I had my way, I reckon I’d keep you like this forever.”
The idea that John wants to keep you like this, tied up, helpless and at the mercy of his wicked desires, sends a shiver down your spine that goes right to your core. He knows exactly what to say to push you to your breaking point each time.
As you gasp for air, the hand between your legs makes quick circles until you start to feel familiar pressure coiling in your stomach. You arch off the bed when his thumb grazes harshly over your clit. “Johnny, please." You choke out, but he only grins, refusing to lessen his grip.
You trust John completely, but still have to fight off a moment of panic as you’re truly unable to pull in any air when your lungs start to ache for it. You subconsciously tug at your wrists and squirm under him; your stomach clenching with unbridled need for both air and for him.
The loss of air, the sheer helplessness of your situation, makes everything John’s doing to you more intense. Each graze of his fingers, each filthy thing he murmurs as he watches you struggle under him pushes you closer and closer to the orgasm he denied you earlier.
John knows it too, as he leans down and whispers “Let go. Cum for me, pet” into your ear. Blackness blooms across your vision as you feel your orgasm crash through you at his command. It’s unlike any you’ve previously experienced; sharper, electric at the edges and you gasp against his fingers, shivering as you ride out the aftershocks.
John releases his grip on your throat and as he works at the knot keeping your wrists lashed to the head board, he murmurs a spell to free you legs. You greedily pull air into your lungs and try to steady your thundering heartbeat.
“That’s my good girl.” He praises, pulling you close to him and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “You did so good for Johnny. I’m so bloody proud of you.”
You bask in the warmth of his words as he quickly steps out to grab a towel. You lean your head back against the pillows and let out a soft sigh. Your wrists will be bruised in the morning, you’re sure of it. Possibly your neck too. You’re surprised to discover that you don’t mind having him mark you like that.
John knows exactly how to shut off your racing brain. You were right, you both needed this. As he cleans you up, you close your eyes and relax into his touch. Once he’s satisfied, he pulls your blanket over you and softly plays with your hair until your eyes start to grow heavy.
“That was ‘mazing.” You mumble, resting your head against his chest.
“You were amazing, sweet’eart. Bloody brilliant.”
Being with John is more complicated than you could have imagined. There’s still so much that he hides from you, and so much that he never would’ve told you if he had the choice. But right now, none of that matters. All you can manage to concentrate on is how weightless and blissful you feel lying next to him.
You’ll get John to understand that he can trust you as much as you trust him. You just need time.
***
“All I’m saying is, I don’t understand how someone who literally wears the same outfit everyday, could take so long to pack.” You roll your eyes in John’s direction as he scans the carousel for both of your bags. “You can’t take that long the night before we leave.”
John reaches out to grab your brightly colored suitcase, heaving it onto the floor of the airport. “Well, I don’t think you needed a bag this bloody big for a five day holiday, but here we are.”
“You’re just jealous that you don’t have a red polka dotted suitcase to stuff your twenty seven ties into.”
“You see right through me, luv.” John laughs as he grabs his own smaller and black suitcase. “But I reckon I don’t hear you complaining about those twenty seven ties when I truss you up with them.”
You smirk at him as you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. When you glance down at it, you see Charlotte’s photo and slide it open. “Hey!” You greet her happily. “You almost here? It’s a nut house this close to Mardi -”
“I’m so sorry, sugar.” She interrupts, her tone frustrated and tired. “I’m stuck here for another few hours, at least. I’m having a car sent to you so you can get settled at the Monteleone. Should be there any minute, I’ll text you the license plate. Everything should be all set at the hotel, mine and Eric’s room should be next to y’alls. I’ll either meet y’all there or at the bar.”
You motion to John as you take a step toward the exit. “Don’t work yourself too hard, Char. You promised. This is the first Mardi Gras we’ve been together for since our senior year.”
“I know.” She sighs as you hear keys clicking on her laptop. “It was a pipe dream thinking I could get out early the Friday before Carnival. But sugar, I promise, I’m leaving here before seven and my phone stays at Rays until Tuesday night.”
Through the window, your eyes scan for the car from Charlotte’s firm. “I still don’t understand how you got two suites at the Monteleone but I’m pretty damn excited. You know I’ve always wanted to actually stay there, not just sneak up to the pool.”
Charlotte laughs softly. “I didn’t do a damn thing. The day manager owed Ray a favor and he called this one in so we wouldn’t have to drive back and forth into the city while he’s away.”
“Bloody hell, it’s humid out here.” John swears as he steps with you out into the waiting area.
You raise one arm into a shrugging gesture and knit your eyebrows together to stare at John incredulously. “I gotta go, Char. John’s apparently just discovered Louisiana weather.” At that, he crosses his arms stubbornly.
Charlotte lets out another soft peal of laughter. “Hasn't he been here before?”
“Yeah.” You roll your eyes as you scan the row of waiting cars. “A few times. I think he just likes to complain.”
“I bloody well do not.” John snorts, resting his suitcase against yours on the curb.
You hear someone calling for Charlotte and with a resigned huff, she has to let you go. Before you hang up, you ask her to text you when she’s on her way back into the city. “Of course, sugar.” She promises. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”
You lift your arm and start waving as a black town car with the plate number Charlotte sent you slows down and stops in front of you. The driver steps out with a smile and once he’s asked your name, he quickly loads your bags into the trunk.
“Welcome back to the Big Easy.” The driver smiles once you’re settled. “Miss DuCaine has requested that I bring you to the hotel Monteleone. Did you require any stops along the way?”
As you tell him no, John casually wraps his arm around your shoulders and inclines his head. “You bet, big man. There’s gonna be a drive through daiquiri bar along the way, yeah? Cause that’s a required stop for Ol’ Johnny.” You roll your eyes, settling back into the seat. When in Rome.
***
“This bloody room is huge!” John exclaims as he throws open the French doors to the bedroom. “Your mate’s got all the right connections, eh?”
“More Charli’s dad does, but yeah.” You agree as you take a look around. The Vieux Carre suite has its own spacious living room separate from the bed and bathroom. The bedroom itself is gorgeous and the king sized bed in the center looks more comfy than it should. You immediately want to jump on it.
You giggle as you launch yourself onto the pillow top mattress and laugh again as you bounce on top of it. John peeks in from outside and grins at you. “Having fun?”
He closes the balcony door a bit as you pat the bed next to you. “The most fun you can have on a bed.” You respond as you push yourself up onto one elbow. John shakes his head, his eyes glittering with amusement.
“Is that so?” He asks, perching just out of your reach. He folds his arms with a smirk. “I can think of at least a dozen things I’d rather do on a bed than jump on it.”
“And that is why you need me, Johnny.” You sit yourself up and scoot close enough to whack his arm. “I gotta teach you how to have fun.”
John leans over and tilts his head. “I know how to have fun, luv.” He rests his hand on your upper thigh. “I’m more than chuffed to show you.”
You bite your lower lip as you pull in a deep breath. Everything John does makes your heart flutter wildly. The way his dark eyes shine when he smiles at you, the way his hair always seems to look like you’ve just run your fingers through it. You hope you never grow tired of the electric way he makes you feel.
“And I have half a mind to let you.” You smirk, sliding off the bed. “But if I do that, then we’ll be late meeting Chas and I want to make a good impression.”
John lets out a disappointed huff, reassuring you that Chas will adore you, as you search through your suitcase for a change of clothes. You pull out a navy sun dress and hold it in front of you. When he nods, you pull your tee-shirt off your head and shimmy out of your jeans. “Zip me up?” You ask innocently, as you slide the dress up all the way and move your hair to one side.
John walks over to you and as he slides the zipper up your back, he presses a kiss to the side of your neck. You lean into him as he slides his arms around your waist. You stay there for a few minutes, wrapped in his arms, swaying to the sultry music drifting in from Royal Street.
***
Napoleon House is one of your favorite restaurants in the Quarter. The building, like so many around it, is ancient and consistently looks like it's on the verge of falling apart. The interior bar’s walls are filled with photographs and eccentric artwork; you’ve marveled at them for hours. Music always drifts in from the streets; you love it.
When Chas suggested it to John, you’d immediately agreed. This put you on familiar ground with the one person you were nervous about meeting. You need to make Chas see that you’re good for John. The entire walk from the hotel to the restaurant, you had to keep telling yourself that everything would be fine.
But now that you’re sitting here, anxiously awaiting his arrival, doubt creeps in like an oppressive fog. Chas’s opinion matters; you can hear it in the way that John talks about him. And you already know that he doesn’t approve of your relationship. If he doesn’t grow to like you after this, will that change the way John feels?
When John stands and waves, you pull yourself back to the present and glance at the doorway. A tall gentleman with dark wavy hair walks in your direction. He’s got a few years on John, based on the lines around his eyes, but his eyes themselves are soft and kind. Immediately, you can see why John trusts him.
John claps him on the shoulder and turns to make proper introductions. After he’s introduced you, John turns with a smile. “And this crazy bugger,” he laughs, “is Chas Chandler, my best mate.”
“It’s so good to finally meet you.” You shake his hand with a smirk. “John’s told me how incredible you are; you’re the only person he talks about.”
“Well, now that’s not true.” Chas laughs as you all settle into your chairs. “John talks about you all the time.”
You turn to John with an easy smile. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we? But I suppose that’s our burden to bear. Maybe we should make a support group.”
Chas laughs as John indignantly scowls at the both of you. “Hey now, what’s all this then? Wanted you to meet, not team up.”
You lean over to kiss his cheek as Chas pushes back his chair. “Well, as proposed chairman of that group,” he sighs. “I’ll drink to that notion. Let me grab the first round.”
“Absolutely not.” You argue, rushing to your feet. “I’m buying this one, I’ll let you boys catch up.”
As John slides the six of diamonds across the table, you shake your head. “That’s no good here, the bartender is an old friend from school. She’ll take care of me.” With a nod in that direction, you head over to the bar.
Once you’re out of earshot, Chas folds his arms across his chest and inclines his head. “I see the appeal, John. She does hold her own with you, doesn’t she? Easy on the eyes too.” His lips twist into a half smile. “I like her.”
“Glad to hear it. You’re right on both accounts, mate.” John agrees, happily. “And like I told you, she’s brilliant with The Arts. Never seen anyone pick it up as quickly as she does.”
“Speaking of, what ended up happening when you got home the other night?” Chas asks with interest. “You didn’t say anything else about it after.”
John rests his chin on his hand; eyes darting to where you stand, deep in conversation with the girl at the bar. “We had a chat, I apologized for overreacting. The truth of it? Told her a lot of what you told me. Then, we were alright.”
He scratches at his stubble absently. “S’not something I’m used to, having someone that wants to protect me. ‘Cept you, of course.”
“You actually apologized?” Chas’s eyebrows fly up in surprise. “Jesus, you are in love with her. Pretty sure -”
“Oi, come off it, mate.” John scoffs, sitting up straight. “Don’t be a wanker, I know how to apologize.”
Chas raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Yes,” he agrees slowly. “But you also know how to run. And we both know which one you're better at.”
Glancing up, he sees you balancing a tray of drinks. “You know I had my reservations. But I think she could be a good match for you, Johnny. Don’t mess it up, don’t hurt her.”
“I don’t plan to.” John responds without hesitation, before you set the tray down on the table.
You dish out the drinks, sliding each glass to its respective owner. “A round of shots on the house and quite possibly the best cocktails in the French Quarter.” The three of you raise your shot glasses in a toast and drink them down.
Pretty quickly after that, Chas starts explaining what he’s discovered about Doctor Morgan, how the Order of Nine Angles may only be a front for whoever Morgan actually works for.
When you hear buzzing coming from John’s coat, you nudge him and point to his pocket. John digs out his phone and sighs at the name. “Not even in town for four bloody hours and Midnite knows about it.”
“Thought he lived in New York now?” Chas asks, mild concern in his voice.
“He does,” John agrees, rising from his chair. “But this is one of his homes, innit? He bloody well knows when I’m here. Bastard can feel it.” He flips open his phone. “I’ll just be a minute.”
As John steps outside, you raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Midnite?” You take a quick drink. “Why do I know that name?”
“Papa Midnite is an associate of ours.” Chas answers over his glass, his soft brown eyes regarding you cautiously. “Powerful Voodoo priest; now, depending on the day, he’s a great ally or a pain in John’s ass. Remains to be seen what he’ll be this time.”
You nod, finishing your drink quickly. “Gotcha. I feel like I’ve seen him in one of John’s books. He collects magical artifacts, doesn’t he?”
“Good eye.” Chas praises, setting his glass on the table. “John said you were a quick study. And he hates teaching magic, so I know you’re talented and clearly special to him.”
With a deep breath, you sit up straight in the chair. “Chas?”
He inclines his head in response but stays otherwise silent.
“I know that you don’t approve of John and I, it’s alright, I... I understand completely. Bringing an outsider into this life is dangerous. I’ve seen that first hand. But I want to assure you, I would never do anything to hurt John. I… I love him, I haven't told him that but no matter what happens, I won't betray him. You don’t have to worry.”
Chas shakes his head and you lift a hand to make him pause. “And before you try to warn me, because I know that you’ve seen the damage John can do, I can take care of myself. I’m sure you’ve heard that before, but I didn’t go into this with my eyes closed. I know who John is, what he’s done.”
Your mouth twists into a small smile. “But it doesn't matter to me, Chas. I know his past haunts him, but I’m not afraid of a few skeletons. Literal or figurative.”
“Huh.” Chas smiles as he folds his arms across his chest. “You really are perfect for him.”
That’s not the reaction you were expecting. He must see the startled expression on your face because he softens his gaze and glances out the door before settling his eyes back on you.
Running a hand through his hair, Chas lets out a soft huff. “I like you, kiddo. I do. Because while I’ve known John for half of his life, I’ve never seen him like this, like he is with you.” You feel your heart flutter at that.
“This won’t be easy, John's a mess on a good day. But I think if anyone can handle him, you can. You’re strong, defiant, and you push him.” At your raised brow, he shrugs. “I told you, he talks about you all the time. You’re like his own personal ray of sunshine. I hope to God he realizes that.”
His face takes on a stern expression. At once, he reminds you of your dad.
“But be careful, sunshine.” He warns, lowering his voice. “Don’t lose yourself in this life, in him. It wasn’t that I disapproved of you, I just didn’t want to see some poor, naïve girl get hurt while John uses her and then leaves. But I think I underestimated you and I won’t do it again. You’re not what I expected and I’m glad for that.”
“Thanks, Chas.” You can’t help but sigh in relief. You wanted his approval, but you hadn’t realized how much you needed it until now. “I know how much John cares about you, and respects your opinion. So, I’m relieved to know that you don’t hate me.”
“I never hated you.” Chas promises, tilting his head as John makes his way back to the table. “I just know John too damn well and I’m afraid this will end badly. I hope he can prove me wrong.”
“He will.” You smile, leaning back in your chair. “Because I’ve never felt about anyone, the way I feel about him and I hope he feels the same.”
Chas’s expression appears wistful, sad even. “John’s not good at saying it, never has been, but I believe he feels the same about you. That’s why I’m worried.”
Notes:
I really loved writing that scene, hopefully you guys loved it as well ;) I've said it before, there is a place for Dominant John and I really like exploring that side of him.
Next week, Chas gives you some uncomfortable advice on your way to pick up Eric. Midnite makes a casual threat, prompting John to have a bit too much to drink. That does NOT bode well for him when he meets Charlotte for the first time :)
Chapter 23: Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler.
Summary:
Before fixing things with Eric, your car ride with Chas helps you understand John a little bit better. John's favor for Papa Midnite leads to a complication he wasn't expecting. He doesn't handle complications well, especially where you're concerned. To quell his anxiety, John has a few too many and gets off on the wrong foot with your best friend.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
You force a smile onto your face as John slides back into his seat. “What did Papa Midnite want?” You ask, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach and focusing instead on the surprise that settles onto his features.
“You might as well tell her, John.” Chas laughs, enjoying the reaction you’ve gotten out of his best friend. “You know she’ll figure it out on her own anyway.”
When John furrows his brow, you can see the wheels turning in his head. “There’s a job uptown. I owe him so I told him I’d take care of it tonight, get it out of the way. You’re welcome to come along, luv. If you like. It’ll be good for you to see proper voodoo at work.”
You feel your phone buzz in your pocket. As you slide your fingers into your dress to retrieve it, you quirk an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, you know voodoo?”
John taps his temple with a wolfish grin. “Patchwork quilt in there, luv. Handy bit of magic, voodoo is and it’s quite strong, especially down here.”
When you nod, he carries on enthusiastically. “Of course, the leylines that run through the city enhance all magic. But Voodoo has strong roots in New Orleans, doesn’t it?”
Chas lifts his glass to his lips. “Has John told you about all that?”
“Leylines? No.” You shake your head, feeling a bit smug. “But I know all about them anyway. I’ve been fascinated with the paranormal and the occult for most of my life. I’ve done plenty of research on my own.”
“Course you have.” Chas snorts. “Out of curiosity, how many notes have you taken since John started teaching you? Because I feel like the answer is a lot.”
“She’s got her own book at this point, mate. Told you she’s bloody brilliant.” John praises, turning to smirk at you. “Sweet’eart, could you feel the shift in energy when you got off the plane? The magic flowing through you should be able to sense the leylines.”
You furrow your brow, remembering the subtle thrum of electricity you felt in your body once you’d landed. You hadn’t known the cause but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, just new. “Yeah.” You agree, slowly. “It was odd, but I figured I was just so excited to be back.”
“You’re connected to the Arts, luv. You can tell when a place is seeped in magicks.” John gestures around. “And this city’s chock full of it. Much like Ol’ Johnny, New Orleans is a melting pot for the supernatural. Different cultures all came together in the shadows of this city. Multiple bloodlines, spanning centuries. Even your Salem witches made their way down here for a time.”
It makes sense now, your intense attraction to the city you’ve spent so much time in. You remember telling John months ago that you felt a connection here that you couldn’t explain.
“So as you can imagine, Voodoo is intense without the city’s help.” Chas adds, absently running his fingers along the rim of his glass. “I insisted John educate himself in the rituals of it given how supernaturally active the American South tends to be. I’ve lived over here for a while now, I’m used to it. But the amplified energy can be jarring.”
It did take you a few minutes to get used to it, but you wouldn't exactly call it jarring. Maybe it affects everyone differently? You want to ask, but when your phone buzzes again, you sigh and glance down at it. Charlotte’s texted you twice.
Eric’s flight lands in an hour and with her stuck at the firm; she can’t pick him up. Your stomach flips uncomfortably. You and Eric are still in a weird place. Even though the Sam incident was two weeks ago, neither of you have really made the effort to communicate.
You start typing, asking if the car service can get him and she sends another before you can even hit send.
Charlotte DuCaine:
And no, before you ask, I’m not sending a car. I just sent you a rental confirmation. You pick him up. While you’re at it, fix this and stop being stupid with each other. Y'all have been friends too damn long to fight over the likes of Sam Campbell.
You should have known Charlotte wouldn’t stand for the two of you being at odds. John tilts his head as you type your agreement. “What’s wrong, luv?” He asks, staring expectantly at your phone.
“Charli’s still stuck at work so she can’t pick up Eric.” You make an annoyed face, as you set your phone on the table. “She asked me to get him and then told me to stop being stupid. So while I want to, I can’t go with you.”
“There’ll be plenty of time for you to see a proper voodoo ritual in action.” John assures you. “Go get your mate, it didn’t sit right with me that you two were still having a row, as it were.”
You grab your phone and petulantly shove it into your pocket. You hate that they’re both right.
“Did you want company?” Chas asks, making John’s eyebrows fly up in surprise. “What?” He laughs at John’s face. “You won’t want me coming with you, John, and I’m sure she wouldn't mind the buffer for the ride back if things get awkward.”
“You’re absolutely welcome to come along.” You smile, grateful for the company. “You can tell me all about John as a teenager.”
John scowls, pushing himself away from the table. “Oh, I reckon I don’t bloody like this. Having the both of you, thick as thieves? That’s going to spell trouble.”
You stand, collecting the empty glasses as you let out a small laugh. “Please, what kind of trouble could we get into? We’re the most responsible people you know.”
Chas grins, throwing money on the table for a generous tip. “She’s got a point, John. It’s about time that I’m not the only responsible one. Have I told you yet that I like her?”
John rolls his eyes but you can see the ghost of a satisfied smile find its way onto his face.
After a kiss and a promise to be careful, John heads out to ‘see a woman about a curse’, leaving you and Chas to pick up the rental and head to the airport.
***
“So you fought about a shitty ex?” Chas sounds surprised at your explanation. “Sounds like that should be John’s territory. Not this Eric fellow.”
You nod, turning the rental onto the 610. “Well, I think we both know that John wouldn’t have needed the police if I let him handle Sam the way he wanted to. And after that last time, I almost let him.” When Chas nods solemnly, you know he agrees.
“But Eric and I grew up together, practically family. So, he was around for all the mess with my ex. I shouldn’t have tried to hide it from him, that’s why he was mad.”
“He doesn’t like dishonesty.”
You huff out a breath in frustration. “No, he does not.”
As Chas folds his arms across his chest, you steal a glance at him. His face isn’t disapproving, just scrunched in contemplation. “You do know that lying is a huge part of this life.”
“I do.” You agree softly. “But I also understand how dangerous it would be for him, for anyone, if they knew what John and I can do.” You smile, more to yourself than anything. “And I’m helping people. So while I don’t like keeping secrets, I know it’s part of the job and I refuse to give that up.”
“I was right.” Chas laughs after a moment. “I told John you’re as stubborn as he is.”
You let out a quick laugh as you switch lanes. “Possibly more so, neither of you have seen me argue with my mother. I don’t back down.”
“Oh sunshine, that’s a good thing, trust me. You need to have a strong spine around John.”
You thrum your fingers on the steering wheel as you grin at him. “Don’t worry, that won’t be a problem.” The two of you fall silent for a few minutes until a question rises in your mind that’s been eating away at you for months.
“Hey Chas, can I ask you a question?” You keep your voice purposely light and almost disinterested. He inclines his head, giving you the go ahead to continue. “I’m sure John told you about my accident with the truth spell.”
“He did.”
You swallow, not sure why your hands feel all at once clammy on the wheel. “That night, he told me that you’ve said ‘death follows him’. And he explained about his family and that he’s had to make the tough calls that have ended lives.” Your hands tighten nervously. “Then he told me about Astra.”
Chas shifts in his seat, one hand raking through his dark hair anxiously. “Did he?” His awestruck tone betrays the face he’s trying to keep schooled in a neutral expression.
You tilt your head, vividly remembering John’s words and the haunted stare in his eyes when you made him tell you. “I mean, he didn’t really have a choice, and believe me, I felt awful. But I think he may have been relieved once he started talking.”
You pull off the highway, carefully glancing at Chas to see his reaction. “That’s not a question.” Comes his guarded reply.
With a decisive nod, you turn to him quickly. “Right.” You pull your bottom lip between your teeth. “Um, why don’t you and John talk about it, about what happened? He checked himself into a hospital after and I’m not saying just talking fixes everything, but he’s your best friend, so I guess I just don’t -”
“Listen, sunshine.” Chas folds his arms defensively. “You need to understand something. For everything John Constantine tells you, there’s two things he doesn’t. So, I’ve learned to not talk about the shit that goes wrong because I’ll never get the truth out of him. I love him like a brother, but he’s irresponsible and careless; dangerous qualities to have when you’re as powerful as he is.”
You aren’t sure what to say to that. It doesn’t exactly answer your question but it’s a telling response just the same. You turn to him, then quickly focus back on the road. You're sure your confusion shows on your face.
“I’m glad you know about Astra, even if you had to find out under less than ideal conditions.” Chas admits, leaning his head back on the seat. “So I hope you understand why I said this isn’t an easy path you chose. With him, I mean. John has a hard time trusting and an even harder time relying on others.”
“It’s fine, Chas.” You assure him with a small smile. “I know how guarded John is, and why. So I don’t expect him to... I don’t know. I guess…” You let out a deep sigh. “I just want him to see that he doesn’t have to do this alone. That I can handle this. I'd be his partner if he’d let me.”
Chas pats your knee, smiling at you fondly. “John thinks the world rests on his shoulders, and going at it alone is the only way to atone for everything he’s done.” He furrows his brow, concern etching deeply on the soft planes of his face.
“I’d like to believe it’s different with you, because he certainly says it is. But I’m not naïve enough to think that he’s going to miraculously change. So just promise me that you won’t do anything reckless. You can’t afford to be irresponsible around John. Especially when you get home and deal with Morgan.”
“Me? Reckless?” You echo softly. Your eyes scan the signs above you, searching for the exit to the airport. “I’m sure you’ve figured this out already, but I’m the opposite of reckless.”
Chas laughs, the sound booming in the small space. “I get that. But, and he would tell you this himself, John’s a nasty piece of work. I mean it, I like you, sunshine. And with your talent, I think you can do a lot of good out there. But when push comes to shove, John’s the type to throw someone else on the grenade if he thought he didn't have another choice. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“I trust him, Chas.” You push back, your hackles rising defensively. “With my life.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, letting out a heavy sigh before he speaks again. “I’m not saying that you shouldn’t. John’s my closest friend; I'm glad he has your trust. I’m just saying, trust yourself more. Listen to your gut and if something doesn't feel right, it probably isn’t. Call him out on it, before someone winds up hurt.”
Before you wind up hurt. He doesn’t say it, but you could tell from his tone that’s what Chas meant.
“Didn’t you say you weren’t going to underestimate me again?” You ask lightly, pushing away the uncomfortable anxiety settling in your chest.
Chas smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. “I won’t, just think of it as friendly advice.”
***
Your stomach continues to flutter uncomfortably as you pull into the arrivals lane. Chas offers to keep the car idling so you can meet Eric at the door. Knowing that you want a minute alone with him anyway, you readily agree.
You breathe in the sticky, humid air as you quickly hurry across the pathway to the airport. The icy blast of the air conditioner hits you like a brick wall, the second sliding doors allow you entrance inside.
Now, as you lean against a pillar, you try not to let your mind wander to Chas’s well intended warning. You knew being with John would be complicated. It’s just, sometimes, when your warning bells go off, you have to wonder if you’re being an idiot for pushing them aside.
John wouldn’t hurt you, you have no doubt about that. But you can’t help but wonder what he would do if he was forced into an impossible choice in the middle of a job. Was Chas right? Or was it different with you, like John had told him?
You hope you never have to find out.
When you see Eric walking towards you, you take a deep breath and force a smile onto your face. You push yourself off the column and head in his direction.
One problem at a time.
Eric smiles softly when he sees you, something you weren’t expecting, and quickens his pace just a bit. You look him over, happier to see him than you thought you’d be. He looks good; tired, but excited, and sometime in the last two weeks, he’s gotten a buzz cut. That coupled with his dimples when he smiles, makes him look younger, like he did in college.
You stop just in front of each other; neither of you sure how to begin.
“I like your hair.” You point up sheepishly. “Or lack of, rather.”
“Yeah.” He runs a hand over his head with a grin. “I wanted somethin’ a little different. Charlotte said she loves it.”
You nod encouragingly, sliding your hands into the pockets of your dress. “Definitely saves you time in the mornings.”
When Eric shrugs, you both look away and fall into silence. Before either of you can take a step, you both sigh and blurt out “I’m sorry” at the same time. You both laugh, realizing how silly and ridiculous this has been.
“I’m sorry I hid all that shit from you.” You scrunch up your face in embarrassment. “It was stupid of me, especially with it being about Sam.”
Eric lets go of his suitcase handle and pulls you in for a hug. “Nah, kid.” He huffs, resting his chin on your head. “I’m sorry I reacted like that. Ya needed me to be supportive and I just yelled at ya like an ass.”
“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have waited so long or tried to take on Sam alone.”
“No, ya shouldn’t of.” He laughs, stepping back. “But you did get me before he could really hurt ya and now, that asshole’s gotta stay at least three hundred feet away. So it all worked out in the end.”
You both make your way towards the exit when Eric laughs to himself. “Wish ya coulda seen the look on Campbell’s face when he got handed the papers.” Your eyebrows fly up as he grins at you. “Cause fella, it was somethin’.”
“I would have paid to see it.” You admit, imagining the angry, indignant expression that must have found its way onto Sam’s face. “But you definitely shouldn’t have been the officer to serve him.”
This time Eric laughs so hard he doubles over. “Oh, I wasn't, I just so happened to be on the ride along with the officer who did.” He shrugs with a wide smile. “Perfect timin’, I guess.”
You roll your eyes, waving the rental down as you near the curb. “That ain’t John.” Eric points out as Chas turns on the hazards and steps out of the car.
“You’re correct.” You grin, watching Chas extend his hand in greeting. “Eric, meet Chas Chandler. John’s best friend. Chas meet Eric Grant, one of my best friends.”
Both of them exchange pleasantries as Chas helps get the bags in the trunk. You feel a buzz in your pocket and pull out your phone. John must be finished with his job, he’s asking for your ETA. You send back your answer, telling him forty minutes and move to slide into the driver's seat.
“She’s driving.” Chas smiles at you warmly before turning to Eric. “So I can sit in the back if you like.”
“Nah, it’s all good.” Eric replies, already sliding into the backseat. “Kid’s used to me bein’ a backseat driver. She’ll feel right at home.”
You open your mouth to sass him back when ‘She’s Country’ comes from Eric’s phone. With your foot on the break, you turn back to him with an incredulous expression.
“Hi, honey.” Eric smiles, hitting the speakerphone button.
Charlotte sighs heavily. “Oh, good. You’re alive.”
You glance at him through the rearview, watching him shrink down in his seat. “Yeah, I landed, it’s all good. Sorry, we got side tracked.”
“So, does that mean y’all are done being stupid to each other?” She asks, her tone too amused to truly be angry. “‘Cause I can’t have my best friend and my boyfriend fighting during our first Mardi Gras together.”
“We’re fine, Char.” You jump in. “Eric and I hugged it out, like the functioning adults we are.” Chas snorts from the passenger seat, making you shrug in his direction.
When Charlotte giggles, you realize that she planned this. When she texted you earlier, she was probably leaving for the day. You call her out on it, and she laughs again, but doesn’t bother to deny it.
“Like I said, I couldn’t have two of my favorite people not talking to each other for something silly like that. Sam isn’t worth the breath y’all wasted huffing at each other. Now, I’m walking into the bar, so hurry up or I’ll start without you.”
Your roll your eyes as Eric makes a scandalized noise from the backseat. “We’ll be there soon.” You promise. “I love you.”
“Love you too, sugar.”
Eric pulls the phone close to him. “I love you, honey.” He murmurs softly, smiling as he leans back in his seat.
“Yeah.” Charlotte laughs. “I only like you a little.”
At that, the car erupts into laughter when Eric hangs up. You nudge Chas with your elbow. “Well, you can’t say you’re going to be bored.”
“No, I can’t.” He agrees. “I’m already having more fun than I probably should. If John had told me how entertaining you were, I’d’ve made an effort to come up.”
Eric leans forward and starts messing with the radio controls. “So, where is Johnny?” He asks, settling on a local country station. “Not that you aren’t great, Chas. Just curious.”
“John had some business to take care of so he’ll meet us at the bar. He’s like you, knows people everywhere he goes.” You raise an eyebrow at him through the rearview. “I’m sorry, are you listening to country? Mr. ‘Kid, change the channel, I hate country ’ is choosing to listen to this?”
“Listen.” Eric raises his hands in self defense.
You give him a deadpan expression. “Oh, I’m listening.”
“Charlotte makes me all the time and I mean, some of it’s not bad. Probably should’ve listened to ya, fella.”
You press a hand to your chest indignantly as you turn onto the 610 toward the city. “Well, now I only like you a little.”
***
“It’s done, Midnite. We’re square.” John growls into the phone as he rounds the corner onto Toulouse street. He angrily pushes past groups of drunk tourists, trying to calm his racing pulse. “The next bloody time one of your acolytes pisses off Maman Brigitte, you’re on your own. I don’t need another angry -”
“We’ll never be even, Constantine.” Papa Midnite laughs, making John slow down and roll his eyes. “But you can walk the streets of my city knowing no harm will befall you.”
John pulls a cigarette from the pack and lights it, taking a deep drag as his eyes scan the busy street suspiciously. “Didn’t reckon I still had reason to worry.”
“You’ve been a thorn in my side since we met.” Midnite snaps, his native accent peeking through certain words as he speaks. John leans against a wrought iron lamp light, ready to argue back when he’s got the chance. “If I could remove you from the playing field, I would. But you do have your usefulness.”
John takes another drag and lets the smoke billow around him as he exhales. “Yeah well, I could say the same about you, mate and s’not like you haven't bloody tried. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go and enjoy a pint.”
When John moves the phone away from his ear to snap it shut, he hears Midnite laugh through the tiny speaker. “With your girl? Your petite amie?” He asks, his rough voice holding more amusement than it should.
A chill runs through him as John glances around wildly, dropping the cigarette from his mouth in shock. He stubs it out under his shoe and turns away from a group wandering in his direction. “What in the bloody hell are you going on about?” John hisses, gripping tightly to his cellphone.
“Oh, come now, Constantine.” Midnite mocks lightly. “Just because you stay on the fringe doesn’t mean your name isn’t mentioned. You know our circles, word spreads quickly. I hear the Loa; they speak in whispers of la belle-fille with great gifts that you keep hidden away in Boston.”
Dragging his free hand down his face, John feels his jaw clench in anger. He takes a deep breath to steady the thundering of his heart. “Midnite, she’s not -”
“There is no need for you to worry. I don’t want her. Now, I cannot say the same for the enemies you’ve made along the way, but I mean her no harm.” Papa Midnite sucks his teeth sympathetically. “But imagine the leverage she would grant those that would see you dead. You’d do well to keep her close.”
John lets out a low growl of annoyance. “I’ll keep that under advisement.”
“See that you do, John Constantine.” Midnite warns with a smirk in his voice. “Enjoy that drink.”
Without another word, John snaps his phone shut, ending the call. “Bollocks.” He swears, shoving his phone and his fists into his pockets. The last thing he wants to do right now is go to this bar and pretend to have a good time with your mates. If he had his way, he’d drag you back to the hotel and lock you in there with him until it’s time to fly home.
He’s not trying to hide you but being told that the Loa themselves know about you and what you can do? If the ancient deities of Papa Midnite’s religion know who you are to him, John’s afraid to think about what else could know of your existence.
It leaves a sour taste in John’s mouth that not even whiskey can fix. But, he thinks as he nears the bar, doesn’t mean I can’t bloody try.
Standing in front of One Eyed Jacks, John drags in another deep breath and stares at the doorway. Before he walks in, he pulls out his phone again and sends you a text asking your ETA. When you respond, telling him you’ll be there in about forty minutes, he sends his reply and makes for the bar.
“Whiskey,” he asks, leaning against the wood. “Make it a double, mate.”
The bartender nods, filling his glass with the amber liquid John knows will drown out the demons roaring his head. He knocks the glass back, desperate for the burn in his throat and tell-tale warmth in his stomach that makes all his problems seem manageable.
“I’ll have another.” He remarks, scratching absently at his stubble. Surely you won’t mind that he’s started without you. John knows he should try to enjoy tonight and he can’t do that if he just sits here waiting, with Midnite’s words circling in his head like vultures.
So by the time you get here with your mates, John will have had enough to drink to dull the buzzing in his brain. No need to worry you, or anyone for that matter, with the details. Everything’s right as rain.
***
When Charlotte gets off the phone with you, she smiles as she tucks it away. It’s about time you and Eric apologized to each other. It was a stupid fight in the first place; you’d been friends for far too long to let Sam come between you.
Charlotte never liked Sam anyway, so she’s more than happy that he’s finally been properly dealt with. That restraining order was long overdue. She would’ve preferred he get fed to the gators, but she’ll take whatever victory she can get for you.
As she crosses the street, she reminds herself to thank John when she meets him. You’re a stubborn thing and she’s glad he was able to make you see reason. Honestly, there’s a few things she’d like to thank John for. From everything you’ve told her, he seems like the perfect man for you. He makes you laugh, he supports you and she knows he satisfies your needs.
Charlotte waves at one of the waiters when she steps through the doorway. One Eyed Jacks may not be the biggest or the best known bar in the Quarter, but the drinks are strong and the staff is friendly and competent. So to her, it’s the perfect spot.
She smiles when she recognizes the bartender and slides up to the bar with an amused expression. “What’s a guy like you, doing in a nice joint like this?” She asks, leaning on the wood.
The bartender, Mark, turns and rolls his eyes. “Oh, they’ll let just anybody in this bar now, huh? The standards of this place have gone right out the window.”
“Ha. Very funny.” Charlotte smirks. “The standards dropped the second they hired you.” She glances around, pleased to see how busy it is the weekend before Mardi Gras.
Mark slides a napkin over to her and rests a glass on top of it. “French 75, your usual, hun. I’ll check on you in a few.” She wraps her fingers around her glass and lifts it to her lips.
“Now that’s a proper drink, luv.” An accented voice remarks. “Why don’t you let me buy it for you.”
Charlotte rolls her eyes, ready to tell off whatever tourist feels like making a fool of themselves tonight. But when she turns to stare at the owner of the new voice to her left, she recognizes him instantly. From the shock of messy blonde hair, to the arrogant smirk on his face, she knows exactly who she’s staring at.
“Oh, you really don’t have to do that.” She smiles, fully turning so she can introduce herself. In the soft light of the bar, she can see why you fell for him so quickly. He’s not exactly Charlotte’s type, but his dark eyes and cocky charm do have a certain appeal.
John smirks as he meets Charlotte’s eyes with a hungry stare. “Can’t let a lass that looks as smashing as you do, pay for her own drinks, now can I?”
“Honestly, Jo-”
He steps forward, sliding his hand over to cover Charlotte’s on the bar top. “Come now, luv. I insist.” His thumb traces circles over the back of her hand and for a second, she suppresses the urge to hit him.
Charlotte narrows her eyes. Surely, John isn't flirting with her. He must recognize her, right? She knows you have pictures of the two of you all over your house.
“I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t like it too much if you went around buying drinks for other women.” She retorts, attempting to give him an out before he does something truly embarrassing.
He doesn’t take it. Instead, John presses on and Charlotte’s annoyance with him grows with each passing second. “She won’t mind.” He shrugs his shoulders, taking a sip of his own drink. “My girl’s great like that.”
“So you do have a girlfriend then?” Charlotte tugs her hand away and folds her arms across her chest.
“Aye, and she loves when I do this, luv. I get cheeky with everyone. It’s a game to us, really.” John takes a step closer, drawing himself up to full height. “So don’t you worry about her.” He chuckles, motioning to the bartender for another drink.
“Wow.” Charlotte shakes her head, fury building inside of her. “Who the Hell do you think you are?”
Clearly, this is a side of John he hasn’t let you see. But you will after tonight, if she has anything to say about it. The way he’s coming on to her right now, reminds her too much of the way Sam acted when he’d had a few drinks. And from the empty glasses at his side of the bar, John’s had plenty.
John slips his hand into the pocket of his trench coat to pull out an old business card. “John Constantine, luv.” He grins, holding it out for her to take.
Charlotte scoffs and rolls her eyes so hard they may fall out of her head. Come on, she thinks as disgust rises in her throat. This guy is not who you think he is, she’s sure of it.
“Don’t be like that, pet.” John counters, withdrawing his hand to pocket the card. He stares down at her and flashes a wolfish smile. “I promise you a good time.”
Charlotte’s mouth presses into a thin line as she inhales deeply through her nose. John is trying every bit of her patience. He’s not going to like it when she snaps. “I think I’ll pass, Mr. Constantine.”
John lifts his glass to his lips and takes a slow, deliberate sip. “Call me John, luv.”
“I’d rather call you an ambulance, because I doubt that my boyfriend would be comfortable with what you’re trying to do here.”
John’s eyes rake over her, making her scrunch her nose in disgust. By the end of the night, this guy is gone. Charlotte isn’t going to allow another piece of shit guy to take advantage of you. And she’s sure Eric will agree.
“Judging by how fit you are,” John points his finger in her direction. “I can only imagine what this boyfriend looks like. You invite him to this party and I’ll show you both a night you’ll never forget.”
“I think you keep forgetting, Mr. Constantine, that you have a girlfriend.” For now, Charlotte surmises. Just keep digging that hole, John.
“Oh, I’d never forget about her, she’s something special.” John’s eyes gleam with excitement as he seems to come up with an idea in his head. “Which is why I’m positive that she won’t object to the two of you joining us later.”
What the hell is he trying to pull? Does John actually know who she is or does he really think you’re suddenly going to jump into bed with two complete strangers? “Somehow, I doubt that.” She argues, resting an elbow on the bar top.
When John leans forward to touch her arm, she pulls away with narrowed, furious eyes. “Touch me again and I’ll break your fingers.”
John laughs and slides his hands into his pockets. “Well, I love a lass with some fighting spirit; my girl is full of it. I’d be chuffed to see the two of you get to know each other better.”
“Yeah, I bet you would.” Charlotte snaps. “Unfortunately for you, I’m going to make sure that never happens.”
***
John laughs and glances over her shoulder. He doesn’t see you, but he sees Eric making his way through the small crowd. He’s sure you and Chas aren’t far behind. Perfect timing.
He turns his attention back to the pretty lass in front of him with a slow smile. He’ll introduce you to her and see where it goes. If you’re not up for it, then it was just a harmless chin wag with a lass he’ll never have to see again.
This could be fun. And if there’s a party in your room tonight, he’ll have no time to dwell on Midnite’s warning.
That thought shatters however, when Eric grins at him and holds a finger to his lips. John furrows his brow as Eric leans over the lass’s shoulder and presses a kiss to her cheek. “Ma’am? Have you been drinkin’ tonight?” He asks with a grin. “I’m gonna need to see some identification.”
“I’m sorry, chere. Did you just call me ma’am?” The lass turns to smile up at Eric, her eyes full of affection, and John feels like he might be sick. He wasn’t just chatting up some fit lass at the bar. He’s been overly cheeky and chatting up Charlotte. Your best friend. He looks away, feeling his face heat with embarrassment.
There’s no way this ends well for him now.
Eric laughs, seemingly not noticing John’s sudden discomfort. “No reason to be nervous.” He rests his hands on his hips. “Don’t let the badge intimidate ya.”
Charlotte rolls her eyes and wraps her hands around Eric’s waist. “Oh, don’t worry.” She promises, rising up on her tiptoes to kiss him hello. “It doesn’t.”
After a moment, Charlotte pulls away and Eric meets John’s eyes with a content expression. “Kid’s just on the phone with her dad. She and Chas’ll be right in.” He gestures between John and Charlotte. “I see you two are already gettin’ acquainted?”
“Something like that.” Charlotte grinds out, glowering in John’s direction. “I didn’t get to give my name, but John made sure I knew all about him.”
John lets out an annoyed sigh. “It was harmless sport, really. If you’d just let me explain -”
“Oh no. I’m not interested.” Charlotte cuts him off. When she sees you leading another man through the crowd toward the group, she folds her arms angrily and inclines her head so John will turn and look. “But I can’t wait for you to try to explain it to her.”
John turns to see your smiling, radiant expression falter as your eyes dart between his and Charlotte’s faces. You have no idea what’s happened, but if the look on your face tells him anything, he’s going to need a lot more to drink when he tells you.
Notes:
Oh Johnny... He just digs his own grave doesn't he? Hopefully you don't react the way Charlotte thinks you're going to.
Next week, Charlotte overhears a whole lot of something she shouldn't. How do we think she's going to react to knowing you can do magic? And that John's the one who taught you?
Chapter 24: I'm choosing to let you in.
Summary:
Charlotte attempts to show you what kind of man John really is. When you talk her out of her anger and ask her to give him another chance, she agrees. Only to overhear you and John talking about magic. That's a conversation no one was prepared to have. Later, while helping John to bed, he lets something slip that you're sure he hadn't meant to. And when Chas goes home, John takes you on the perfect outing to properly apologize for the way he acted at the bar.
Notes:
Just to give you guys, my fabulous readers, a heads up:
With next Thursday being Thanksgiving me being in the retail and service industry (oh, Black Friday) I won't be posting next week. Between attempting to safely see my family and prep for the exhausting few days that will be Black Friday weekend, I won't have time for more than sleeping and grabbing a quick bite. Rest assured, the following Thursday, I will be right back on schedule giving you the next chapter of this story y'all have come to love as much as I do.I love you guys, thanks for understanding and being amazing! <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chas tilts his head down towards you, his lip twisted into a frown. “Why does John look like someone just pissed in his beer?”
“I’m not sure.” You admit, pushing past a waitress to try and see what happening. “But it looks like Charlotte’s got the same expression on her face.”
Chas squints to better see the unfolding scene in front of you. Charlotte steps away from Eric and starts walking in your direction, arms folded furiously in front of her. John starts after her immediately, leaving a confused Eric standing by the bar.
“Hey, Char.” You greet warily when she stops in front of you. “Uh, everything alright?”
She shakes her head, dark curls whipping around her shoulders. “No, it’s not.” She snaps, grabbing your hand. “Your boyfriend is a sleazy son of a bitch, sugar and you need to know the shit he pulls when you’re not around.”
Your eyes dart quickly to John’s face, bewildered and eyes downcast in embarrassment, before focusing on Charlotte again. “Outside. Now, please.” She insists, tugging at your arm.
“Sweet’eart,” John cuts in, resting his hand on top of Charlotte’s. “I was just being cheeky, didn’t recognize her until Eric popped in and -”
“Jesus John, really?” Chas rolls his eyes. “Couldn’t go one night without starting something?”
John whips his head around and opens his mouth to argue with him when you pull away and step back in frustration.
“Enough.” You grind out, glaring at all three of them. “Chas, I’m sorry but would you mind keeping Eric company? He’s staring at us like a lost puppy.”
“Sure thing, sunshine. I’ll buy us the first round.” Chas smiles and starts off in the direction of the bar. “Good luck, John. I think you’re gonna need it.”
You turn back to the pair standing in front of you and fold your arms defensively. “Char, can you give John and I a second, please?”
She shakes her head, using her free hand to pry John’s fingers off of hers. “Absolutely not. He can wait.” John raises his hands in surrender as he meets your eyes. When you shake your head, he nods and follows Chas to the bar.
Charlotte drags you out onto the sidewalk, muttering a string of curses in French. “You’re not serious about this guy, right?” She hisses as she whirls around. “He’s a joke, trying to flirt with me, get me and Eric to go back to the hotel with him. Have you lost your mind?”
You lean against the brick building, arms crossed as her anger tumbles out of her. “He’s rude and down right nasty, sugar. You can do so much better.”
Pushing yourself off the building, you run your fingers through your hair. “Char, that’s just John. He flirts with everyone. I… I don’t mind it, I know it’s harmless. He’d never cheat on me. I’m sorry if he came on strong, but I know he didn’t mean anything by it.”
“That is the most ridiculous thing I ever heard.” She exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. “There’s a difference between flirting and suggesting we have an orgy.”
You close your eyes in frustration. Of course John took it too far. You wonder for a moment if the job went badly because John seemed to have already had a few drinks. Trying to diffuse Charlotte’s anger, you attempt humor. “Well, an orgy is five or more people, so, unless John planned on adding someone else…”
Charlotte’s head snaps up. “I know you didn’t know that before him! Mais J’mais!! What’s he put in your brain?”
You let out a humorless laugh as you stare at her. “Char, I’m sorry he made a bad first impression. But John’s good to me and he makes me happy.” You shrug your shoulders innocently. “He probably just had too much to drink.”
Charlotte aggressively rolls her eyes. “So, he’s an alcoholic too. That’s good to know.”
“He’s not. John…” is a demon hunting Master of the Dark Arts. Yeah, you definitely can’t say that. You shift your weight from one foot to the other. John certainly hasn’t made this easy for you. “Had a business meeting before this. I don’t think it went well.”
“That’s not an excuse for him to act like a complete connard.”* She points to the inside of the bar. “Cause that man in there? The second he started hitting on me, he reminded me of Sam. And what do you mean business meeting? Isn’t he a consultant for the London Museum? What kind of business could he have?”
You feel an irrational bubble of anger rise in your chest. “John’s nothing like Sam. How can you say that to me?”
“Sugar, have you not heard what I’ve been saying?” She starts pacing back and forth, her hands flying wildly. “He admitted to having a girlfriend and still tried to pick me up. You can’t want to be with a man like that.”
“Charlotte, please.” You reach out your hand to stop her. “I hear you, now hear me. I’m sorry for the way you met him, but he didn’t mean anything by it. I know he flirts, I do it as well. If you had given him time, he probably would have hit on the bartender too. We make bets on it all the time. It’s okay. I swear, he really does make me happy.”
She stops and turns to face you, sympathy filling her soft eyes when she frowns. “He makes you happy for now. What happens when he fucks off, because let’s be real, he’s going to. He’s the type.”
“You don’t even know him!” You shout, letting your carefully controlled anger break through.
“Sugar, I’m not trying to upset you. I’m only looking out for you. I’ve dated men like him, you know that. I don’t trust him. I know how this is going to end; you crying on my doorstep and John fucking off somewhere.”
Shoving your hands into your pockets, you press your lips into a thin line. You’ve always admired Charlotte for speaking her mind, even when she knows you won’t like it. But right now, you think she’s judging John unfairly. Sure, he didn’t behave the way he should’ve, but John doesn’t do anything the way he should.
You slide your hands back out of your pockets and lift your chin defiantly. “John is different, Char. I need you to trust me. You know that I’m not stupid, I’m not irresponsible. I love you for looking out for me but please, just give him another chance.”
She raises her eyebrow, considering your words. When she lets out a resigned sigh, you know you’ve won. “Fine,” she concedes. “But he should be asking me, not you.”
“I was about to,” John interrupts from the right of you. He’s leaning against the doorway, hands shoved into his pockets as he meets your eyes. “But you wouldn’t let me get a word in, Lottie.”
“It’s Charlotte.” She snaps, whirling to face him. “And if you think -”
John steps down off the stair as he cuts her off. “Charlotte then. I didn’t intend to offend you, luv. I had a touch too much to drink and I -”
“I was told.” She rolls her eyes. “Is that a common problem for you, John?” Your annoyed sigh makes her close her eyes and gesture for him to continue. “Sorry, go ahead.”
“I was chatting you up and it got out of hand. I’d never be unfaithful. The truth of it is, I’m more possessive than the cheating type.” John shrugs, stepping closer to both of you. “You have my apologies. Now how about you give me a moment alone with my girl and let me get the next round for everyone so we can get on properly?”
You watch Charlotte’s face soften as you thread your fingers through John’s. “You and I? Not okay.” She says slowly, staring down at your hands. “But if I’m going inside, I’m opening up a tab.”
“We’ll be right in, Char.” You tell her with a smile while John hands her the six of diamonds. “Order me an Old Fashioned?” She nods and heads back inside.
The second you’re alone, you slowly turn back and fold your arms across your chest. “John, what the Hell were you thinking? Are you trying to make this difficult for me? I wanted you to meet Charlotte. Not try to sleep with her. Did that get lost in translation?” You narrow your eyes, letting your calm expression turn into one of disapproval.
“No, it didn’t, luv.” John swears, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I meant what I said. I had a touch too much to drink and I overstepped. Placating an ancient Voodoo deity takes a lot out of a bloke. I almost lost my bloody head. Having a small rave in our room wouldn’t be a bad way to forget about it.”
Your expression softens immediately. “Are you alright?” You ask, unfolding your arms to reach up and cup his face. “I should have sent a car for Eric or... Or told Chas to go with you. I knew you’d need backup. Everything I’ve read about Papa Midnite in your spell books made me nervous.”
John tilts his head, leaning into your touch. “I’m fine, sweet’eart.” He assures you. “Midnite has tried to be rid of me more times than I can bloody count. But, as he so eloquently stated, I have my usefulness.”
He lets out a bitter laugh at your widened eyes. He pulls you closer to him and lowers his voice so he’s not overheard. You may be off to the side of the bar, but you’re smack dab in the middle of the French Quarter. You can’t throw a penny without hitting a group of people. Especially this time of year.
“And you’ve only been practicing magic for the better part of eight months.” John reminds you with a tight smile. “I’d never ask you to square off against something so powerful without being properly prepared.”
“You say that,” you push back, attempting to tease him so he doesn’t see how worried you are. “But I seem to recall being quite useful that night in the museum. I saved your life and I didn't even know magic existed then.”
John rolls his eyes, but you can see the smile in them when he agrees with you. “Yes, you did, luv. And I seem to recall this spitfire of a lass, who had been bloody well terrified only moments before, blackmailing Ol’ Johnny into teaching her magic after I saved her life. Round and round we go, though I reckon I should’ve known not to underestimate you.”
Your soft giggle is interrupted by an aggressive “What?” from behind you.
You and John turn, shoulders hunched like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t. Charlotte stands inches from both of you, a furious expression in her dark eyes.
“Shit.” You clear your throat anxiously. “Uh, Charlotte, uh… how- how much did you hear?”
“Apparently, not enough.” She fumes, glaring at you. She’s angrier than you’ve ever seen her; her eyes glinting dangerously in the dim gas light of the street. “Y’all better start talking, now.”
John sighs, pointing to the alleyway between the bar and another building. “Not here.” He takes your hand and pulls you with him into the alley.
“Bloody hell.” He swears as Charlotte brings up the rear. “This is going to be a disaster.”
“I’m sorry? Magic?” Charlotte hisses, once you’re far enough in. “And how exactly did he save your life? Why did he have to save it in the first place?”
You stare at John helplessly, not knowing what to say. “This is a bad idea, luv.” He presses his fingers to his forehead before dropping his hands at his sides. “I reckon I should just spell her, take her memories and start the bloody night over.”
Charlotte raises her hands, pointing both fingers at John to keep him an arms length away. “You come any closer to me and I’ll scream.”
You get in between them, palms up. “No one is doing anything that they’re going to regret.” You meet John’s eyes first. “Let’s just take a deep breath and calm down.” You turn to Charlotte. “What were you doing out here?”
“I asked you a question first.” She argues, crossing her arms over her chest.
John digs in his pocket for his lighter as you start to explain a condensed version of that night’s events in the museum. As you tell her, John smokes through silk cuts at record speed while anxiously pacing back and forth. Charlotte remains silent, listening with wide eyes.
“It was terrifying,” you shudder at the memory of the Rabisu and it’s grotesque skin stretched over misshapen bones. “But I’m very lucky John was there.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Charlotte whispers as she plays with the ends of her hair. You know she only does that when she's tired or overwhelmed. You hate that you’re the cause of it now. “You could’ve been killed.”
“I had it handled, didn’t I?” John cuts in, blowing out a puff of smoke. “I wouldn’t’ve let anything happen to her.”
Charlotte drops her hand and glowers at him. “Tais-toi.”**
You shake your head, letting out an exhausted sigh. “Charlotte, please. Don’t snap at him. He did keep me safe and I.. I didn’t want to worry you. I wasn’t trying to keep it from you. It was just so... I mean, I literally couldn’t believe what’d happened. I saw it myself and I just…”
You trail off when you see her curious expression. “What?” You ask softly.
You see the suspicion on her face, turning her lips down into a hard line and furrowing her brow. “So, how is it you can do magic?”
“Well, after he’d banished the thing, I sort of, black mailed John into teaching me. I’ve been doing it for almost a year now.” You smirk at her, proudly. “I’m really good at it too. John said he’s never seen anyone pick up the arts as fast as I have.”
You glance around to make sure you won’t be seen and lay your palm open in front of her. You tell her to watch as you say “Incendia” in a soft but clear voice.
When a small flame erupts from your hand, she jumps back in shock. When you close your fingers over the flame, slowly extinguishing it, she blinks warily; something like fear crossing her features.
Charlotte narrows her eyes and stares at your hands like they’ve suddenly become weapons. Letting your lips twist into a soft, disarming smile, you fold your arms across your chest so she can feel more at ease.
“I’m still me, Char. I’m just… a little enhanced. I’ve learned spells and incantations, I can create illusions and track just about anyone or thing. I mean, I’m still working on astral projection and invisibility.” You smile in John’s direction. “But I’ll get there; right, Johnny?”
John nods as he leans back against the bricks. You know he’s not happy about this; you can’t blame him either, but you can’t deny that part of you is thrilled to have someone else to talk to about all this besides John and his best friend.
Charlotte folds her arms and pointedly glares in John’s direction. “So, you clearly don’t work for the museum.” It’s an accusation, not a question; you can hear the skepticism in her voice.
“I do not.” John agrees, fishing out his business card from his pocket. “Exorcist, Demonologist, and Master of the Dark Arts." He hands it to her with a shrug. “It’s like I told her, all the nasties that go bump in the night? I get rid of them.”
Charlotte takes the card, staring at it for a moment as she processes everything you’ve told her. “How could you keep something like this from me?” She asks, when she finally finds her voice. “I mean, sugar, we tell each other everything.”
You let your arms fall to your sides and lean against the wall yourself. “Char, don’t be like that, please. I… It wasn’t... It was just -”
“She wanted to tell you, Lottie.” John cuts in, running a hand through his sandy hair. “I told her she couldn’t. The morning after, she wanted to tell you and your boyfriend what happened. But it’s dangerous, this life. The more who know, the more chance we have that they’ll be used against us. I wouldn’t let her say anything. So, I reckon if you want to bloody well blame someone, blame Johnny. Not her.”
“Oh, trust me.” Charlotte scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I do blame you for all of this. You’re all wrong for her. You’re changing her, I don’t like it. I mean, you almost got her killed!”
As John rolls his eyes right back at her, he flicks his spent cigarette onto the cobblestones. “You reckon I don’t know that?” He murmurs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You’ve no bloody idea how much I didn’t want to do this. Any of this. But I didn’t ‘almost get her killed’. I saved her life and -”
“With you, there probably isn’t a fucking difference. You’re the reason that thing was in the museum in the first place. And now she’s lying to the people that love her. Does Eric know any of this? Because if he did -”
“Stop it.” You push yourself up and get between them. This has gone on long enough. “Stop. Please, don’t do this. You are two of the most important people in my life. I don’t want you constantly at each other's throats.”
Turning to John first, you raise your eyebrow. “This was my choice, you damn well know that. I could’ve pushed you away, let you make me forget after that night. But I didn’t. I want this. I want you. End of story.”
You turn to your best friend. “And you? I could make you forget all about this, because Eric doesn’t know. He can’t. It’s too goddamn dangerous. Neither of you should know, but since you heard us, I’m choosing to trust you, Charlotte. This is a huge responsibility, carrying this knowledge. Can you handle that?”
Charlotte’s silent for a moment. She takes a few deep breaths before she looks up at you. The earlier anger you saw in her coffee colored eyes has melted away, leaving behind the soft affection you’re used to seeing.
“Of course I can, sugar. Look at the man who raised me, I’m good with weird shit. Now, I don’t like lying to Eric, but if that's what it takes so you’ll tell me everything, then I will.”
Pulling her to you, you wrap your arms around her in a hug. You let your body sag in relief when she rests her head on your shoulder. “Are we okay?” You ask softly. “Cause I don’t want to fight with you.”
She leans back and smiles. “Yeah, sugar. You and I are okay.” She inclines her head to where John stands, watching you both with a disapproving frown on his face. “Can’t say your boyfriend and I are gonna be besties anytime soon. I still wanna knock him out, maybe feed him to the gators.”
“Well, aren’t I the luckiest bloke in the bloody world.” John closes the distance to you and presses a kiss to your temple. “I need a drink, I’m going inside before Chas and Eric come looking for us.”
You nod, motioning for him to go ahead. “We’ll be right in, Johnny.”
Once it’s just the two of you, in the safety of a darkened New Orleans alley way, you tell Charlotte everything. The full details about that night, everything John’s taught you, Morgan’s threat. All of it.
She takes it in surprisingly well.
When you’re done, she runs her fingers through her hair and gently takes hold of one of your hands. “John must have other people that could do this. Why does it have to be you?” She asks, her voice full of sympathy. “Why didn’t you just walk away?”
“Because there are things out there that people can’t or won’t see. Now that I’ve seen them? I’m not just gonna walk away. I can’t.” You hold your head up high and meet her eyes. “Char, I’m good at this, I’m helping people. I know it’s a lot, but -”
“This is a lot, sugar.” She squeezes your fingers. “How are you doing with all of this? You haven’t been able to tell anyone about what’s happening for almost a year? And now you have some psycho coming at you and John, for something that has nothing to really do with you?”
You shrug your shoulders. “Don’t worry about me, I’m handling it just fine. I know you won’t believe me, but John has been so supportive through this; he’s a phenomenal teacher. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
At her dry laugh, you whack her arm. “I mean it. This new world is dangerous and intense; I’m grateful that I’ve got him. He’s… John’s very important to me.”
“Are you in love with him?”
You are, you haven’t told him that, but you know you're in love with him. Have been for some time. “Yes.” You admit, stepping backward. It’s a welcome thing, saying it out loud; especially since it’s the first time you’ve admitted it.
Charlotte nods, as if you’ve just confirmed her suspicions. “Is it because of magic that you love him?” You tilt your head, confusion furrowing your brow. “What I mean is, if magic wasn’t a thing and he’d never agreed to teach you, would you still be where you are right now? In love with him?”
That question takes you completely off guard. But that’s part of the reason you love her so much. She calls you out when she feels she needs to. You think about it and nod your head slowly.
“Yes, I think so. You knew I had feelings for John, and that was before he saved me. I just didn’t really understand my feelings at the time. And after, when everything he’d had to hide was out in the open, I knew for sure. I think this was inevitable, like how you feel about Eric.”
“Okay then.” She seems more than satisfied with your answer. “Look, I don’t trust him. I can’t promise I’m ever going to. But I can tell that he does care about you, I can see it in his eyes. And if you say he’s nothing like Sam, then I can at least be civil.”
You laugh, knowing that with Charlotte feeling the way she does, that’s the best you can hope for. “I can live with that.” You concede, grabbing her hand to head back into the bar.
When you glance down at her fingers in yours, you notice that the ring you’ve spelled isn’t on her. You ask her where it is, feeling your anxiety start to rise.
“Oh sugar, I do love that ring, but I don’t wear it all the time.” She shrugs carelessly. “Why?”
“There’s a powerful protection spell on it, Char. I told you that Doctor Morgan threatened you and Eric.”
You rest your hands on her shoulders. “Please put it back on and don’t take it off. I can’t be around you all the time, so I need to know that you’re safe the only way I can. Eric’s necklace is spelled. And he’s never without that thing. So, promise me.”
Charlotte nods, understanding the gravity of what you’re telling her. “Okay, it’s in my bag. I’ll put it back on. You think Morgan would really try to hurt us?”
You bite your lower lip. “I want to think it’s an empty threat so that I won’t fight what he wants me to do. But, he’s already sent a demon after John and he got pretty banged up. So, I can’t take any chances, especially…” You trail off, balling your hands into fists when you feel a sting in your eyes.
“Hey, hey.” She shakes her head, giving you a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, sugar. I know that you’re gonna do whatever it takes to keep us safe. I’m not worried.”
When you smile back, she starts pulling you out of the alley. “Now, let’s get inside. Those boys already have too much of a head start. We’re gonna have to double fist it to catch up.”
***
When you get back inside, John and Eric are laughing at something Chas has said. Eric inclines his head as you slip under John’s outstretched arm. “All good, ladies?” He asks, handing Charlotte a glass.
“All good.” You confirm, stealing John’s cup from the high-top. “What’s not good is how far ahead of us you guys are.”
“Don’t worry, sugar.” Charlotte giggles as she rests the empty glass down onto the table. “You and I are gonna catch up just fine. John’s got an open tab.”
Chas lets out a loud laugh and slaps his hand on your shoulder. “Oh I tell you, sunshine. I love these two. Charlotte is a spitfire and Eric is a real stand up guy.”
Eric and Charlotte beam at the praise as you smile up at Chas. “Yeah, they’re my favorites. I think I’ll keep ‘em.” Once your drink is empty, John asks if you’d like another.
“Yes, please.” You nod, handing him the glass. “Surprise me.” With a smirk, he gestures to the group and heads to grab the next round.
Charlotte follows him to help grab the rest of the drinks, making you raise an eyebrow in concern. “I’ll behave.” She mouths as she hurries after him.
“Charlotte told me that John was hittin’ on her. That’s why she got pissed off.” Eric says, once they’re out of earshot. “I wasn’t mad cause he flirts with me all the time. But, I warned him that if he did it again, I’d let her take a swing at him. Ya know that girl don’t miss.”
You bite your lip, tucking your hair behind your ears anxiously. “Eric, I’m sorry -”
He shakes his head and raises his palms to stop you. “Kid, ya don’t need to apologize for ya boyfriend. He already did. And we’re good. Unless he does it again.”
“Not with Charlotte, he won’t.” Chas promises, watching John at the bar. “John is a flirt, but once he’s caught, he tucks his tail and behaves. Who knew someone so small could be so scary when she’s angry.”
“Me.” Comes the reply from both you and Eric at the same time. At that, Chas laughs riotously, grabbing Eric’s arm for support so he doesn’t double over.
***
“Come now, Lottie.” John smirks, signaling the bartender to come over to their side of the bar. “You could at least look like you’re having a good time. I said I was bloody sorry now, didn’t I?”
Charlotte wrinkles her nose in disgust. “Don’t push it, Johnathan.” She drawls, letting a satisfied smile creep onto her face.
John raises an eyebrow. “Oh, it’s just John, luv.”
“Then stop calling me, Lottie.” Charlotte retorts, folding her arms across her chest. “The only person that calls me that is my father.”
John turns to face her, his expression passive as he runs a hand through his hair. “I’m just trying to get to know you, luv.”
He gestures to you as you laugh with Eric and Chas. “I truly fancy that lass so I reckon I should make amends for chatting you up earlier. S’not my cup of tea, you know.”
“What?” Charlotte asks, rolling her eyes. “Having to apologize?”
Mark comes over to take their order and John holds his tongue until the man’s walked away. He gives Charlotte an easy smile to hide his mounting anger. “No. Upsetting her.”
“You could've fooled me.” Charlotte pushes back, eyes glittering with anger. “Because the way you acted with me earlier reminded me more of her ex than I’m comfortable with and I’ll be damned if I let another bastard treat her the way he did.”
John’s mouth pinches into a sour expression. “I’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting that bloody wanker and I swear it, I am nothing like him.”
As Mark slides the drinks onto the bar, Charlotte grabs three glasses and turns to face John with a dangerous look in her eyes. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
***
The rest of the night passes without further incident. Charlotte grumbles about not liking how close John and Eric are, but it’s a half hearted complaint at best. You know she doesn’t mean it, at least where Eric is concerned. The guys make each other laugh so you’re glad they at least get along.
You all have far too much to drink, but knowing that you can walk back to the hotel, none of you stress about it. You’re probably the most sober of the five of you and once you’ve dropped Chas off at his hotel, you begin the short trek to the Monteleone. You’re grateful that you had the foresight to park the rental in the garage before you got to the bar.
Saying good night to your best friends, you shut their door and help John to his feet. You fish the key card to your room out of your wallet, letting John lean on you as you slide it in. “Come on, Mister.” You laugh as you kick your booties off once inside. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“‘M not sleepy, luv.” John murmurs, sitting on the edge of the comforter. “There’s better things to do on a bed.” He falls back with a soft thud making you let out a dry laugh. When you try to pull him back up, he grumbles and covers his face with his arm.
“Johnny, you gotta help me undress you.” You chuckle, pressing the heel of your palm to your forehead. You reach down and pull his shoes and socks off, tossing them by the closet. You lean over him to tug his tie off his head and work on the buttons of his shirt.
John moves his hand and stares at you with a slow smile. “That's the ticket. C’mere, sweet’eart.” He slurs, pulling you on top of him. You struggle for a second to not topple off the bed and find yourself straddling his hips.
“Johnny,” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. “We’re drunk, we should get some sleep.” You undo his buttons and pull his arms out of his shirt as he drifts off to sleep. Climbing off him carefully, you undo his belt and pants, pulling them off as well.
You try to scoot him up as best you can, a difficult thing to do when he’s half awake and barely listening to you. Once you’re satisfied that he won’t fall off, you slip out of your dress and bra and tug his shirt on instead of your pajama top.
Plugging in his phone and yours, you switch on the lamp by your bed and walk over to the wall to hit the overhead light. You gently slide under the sheet and next to John, turning off the bedside light once you're settled.
John turns and pulls you closer to him. “I won’t let them, sweet’eart.” He mumbles, resting his head on your chest. You ask him what he means as you absently play with his hair in the darkness of your hotel room.
“I won’t let them hurt you.” He says again, softer this time. “I promise.”
Your chest tightens as your lips twist into a wistful smile. “I know, Johnny. I know.” You whisper, knowing he means it, even in this state. You aren’t sure who John’s talking about; Morgan or a new enemy. But if it bothers John enough to admit it while he’s drunk, you know he’s been keeping it bottled up.
You want to press him further, but his soft snoring stops you. Lately, John seems like he’s only a few hours away from exhaustion. So for now, you allow him to just rest. As for you, you’re content to sleep with John's head on your chest and the sultry smell of magnolias drifting in through the open window.
***
Chas arms the two of you with a few strong protection spells he thinks will be useful against Morgan and after lunch on Sunday, he gets ready to drive back to Atlanta. John offers to pick up the check as you and Chas step outside into the hazy overcast afternoon.
“When’s the next time we’ll see you?” You ask, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. “You’re welcome to stay with us, anytime.”
As Chas hugs you back, you feel his chest rumble when he speaks. “I’d say John’s birthday, but lord knows that he hates doing anything for it. So how about we say this? Before you make a serious move on Morgan, you call me and I’ll be your backup.” You tell him it’s a deal as he leans back.
“Remember what I said Friday night, sunshine.” He warns softly, as John steps out into the sidewalk and slips his sunglasses on his face. Chas grins at John before peering down at you. “Take care of yourself, trust your gut.”
“I will.” You promise, slipping your hands into your pockets. “But you don’t have to worry about me, Chas.”
He rolls his eyes as he chuckles softly. “You’re in a relationship with John. I’m always going to worry about you.”
John comes up beside you and shrugs in Chas’s direction. “That makes two of us, mate.” When he shakes Chas’s hand, Chas slips a folded piece of paper to him. John nods, stuffing the note into his pocket. “Give us a bell when you’re home, yeah? Give Renee my best.”
Chas slides into his car, an older model taxi, and starts her engine. “Yeah,” he drawls, winding down the window. “You know I’m not going to do that.” With a wave, he starts to pull away from the curb. “I don’t want to fight with my wife over you, again.”
John’s mouth cracks into a wide grin as he wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Do I want to ask?” You tilt your head up to halfheartedly glare at him.
“No, luv.” John shakes his head. “You don’t. Renee and I don’t see eye to eye when it comes to Chas. She wants him out of this life, but I know her husband better than she does. He can’t stay away from all this for long.”
You let out a soft huff and fold your arms across your chest. “I understand that.” After a beat, you carefully slip your hand into the pocket of his coat. “What did Chas give you?” You ask, feeling your fingers close around the paper.
“You told me that in all the years you spent down here, you never once made it to St. Louis No 1.” John smirks, leading you up Conti Street. “Chas knows a bloke, who knows another bloke. Anyway, Bob's your uncle, Fanny’s your aunt and now the two of us have a private tour.”
Paper forgotten, you spin out from under his arm. With your love of history and the paranormal, you’ve always wanted to go. You and Charlotte had made plans countless times when you’d gone to school here but something always came up.
“Really?!?” You exclaim, making John laugh when you can’t hide the excitement on your face. “It’s Mardi Gras! How on earth did the two of you swing this? The cemetery should be packed!”
John nods, reaching out for your hand. He slides his fingers through yours and brings your hand to his lips. “We have our ways, and I reckoned you deserved something special after how royally I mucked up at the bar. Chas was chuffed to bits when I asked him to help.” He raises an eyebrow. “He really likes you, luv.”
“I like him too, I’m glad you have him in your life. But, you didn’t have to do anything, Johnny.” You stop walking, making him turn back to you. “I told you, I’m not angry about what happened. Sure, Charli will take some time to get over it but I know that squaring off against Maman Brigitte took a lot out of you.” You take a deep breath, reaching up to pull his sunglasses off his face.
“And hey, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but something spooked you that night. I know it did. You were mumbling right before you fell asleep.” John’s eyes widen imperceptibly but he doesn’t deny it. Instead, his shoulders tense up as his brow furrows.
“I’m not going to push,” you assure him with a soft smile. “But I’m always here. I want to help you.”
“And you do, sweet’eart.” John starts walking again, holding up his arm for you to slide back under it. As you cross N. Rampart Street, you can see the blinding white walls that encircle St. Louis No 1.
“But enough worrying about Ol’ Johnny, we have this massive City of the Dead all to ourselves. And I know you’re chuffed to tell me all about it.” John is too good at distracting you, and he knows it. The smug grin on his face as you pull him across the street is proof of that.
John smiles and hands the attendant the paper Chas slipped him. The elderly man nods and stands aside to allow you both entrance inside. You walk in first, excitement making your heart thud quickly in your chest.
“Alright, sweet’eart.” John gestures to the path in front of you. “It’s your turn to teach Johnny.”
“With pleasure.” You grin, keeping eye contact with him as you bow your head. “St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 is the oldest and most famous cemetery in the city. It was opened in 1789. St. Louis No. 2 and 3 came a bit later.”
You walk with him along the guided path, pointing to the wall vaults that line the cemetery.
“These tombs stack graves one above the other. They border the cemetery, on all the walls. Take a look at the ground, Johnny. Some graves are only partially visible.”
You crouch and point to the half visible names along the grass. “The rest are below the earth, evidence that New Orleans is slowly sinking.”
John squints, pushing down his sunglasses to stare at the names etched in the walls. “The same goes for the crypts, eh? Unique to the city, the lot of them. Aren’t they all above ground?”
“Yes, but unfortunately they don’t exist solely for the sake of being unique. The city is entirely below sea level and that makes in-ground burials impossible.”
At John’s furrowed brow, you further explain with a shrug. “During a heavy rain storm, if there was flooding, a coffin buried underground would just float back up to the top. Good for our business, I suppose. But not for theirs.”
John gives you a coy smile, making your pulse speed up. “Have I told you how proud I am that you’re mine? And how utterly brilliant you are?”
“A few times.” You quirk an eyebrow playfully. “But I never get tired of hearing it.”
As you and John wander the aisles, he listens intently to everything you tell him about the city and it’s burial culture. You’re sure he’s got some knowledge, he can’t have worked jobs down here and know nothing about it. But you love that he lets you ramble excitedly and never once makes you feel like he’s uninterested.
“There are thousands of restless spirits in this place.” John murmurs after a moment, touching the crumbling crypt closest to him. “Can you feel them?”
You close your eyes and inhale deeply. When you open them again, you body thrums with the energy you felt when you first got off the plane. “Now that I’m paying attention, I can.” You nod, meeting his eyes.
“But I’m not surprised.” You admit, lifting your hand to shield your eyes from the afternoon’s emerging sun. “New Orleans is one the country's most haunted cities. I’ve felt the energy the entire time I’ve been here. Honestly, it feels like I’m truly experiencing the city for the first time.”
You smile as he steps closer to you. “I’m happy it’s with you, Johnny; happy that you’re here with me.”
John rests his hand on the small of your back as you walk. “As am I, sweet’eart. I’ve been here quite a few times in this line of work and I’ve never enjoyed it as much as I have with you.”
You rest your head on his shoulder as he moves his hand to circle your waist. “I wish we could just stay down here; exploring the city, no demons, no Morgan, nothing that actively wants to kill us.”
“Did you forget your mate?” John laughs, twisting his lips into a smirk when you peer up at him. “Cause I reckon she still wants my head on a bloody platter.”
“Charlotte will come around, eventually.” You promise, turning a corner with him to another row of crypts. “She knows I’m pretty attached to you.”
John laughs as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “One can only hope because trust me, luv. The feeling’s mutual.”
Notes:
Charlotte's french:
Asshole*
Shut up**You gotta give the girl credit, Charlotte may want to punch John in the face, but she's willing to at least be civil to him because she knows you love him. We'll see how that goes... Personally, I think she handled herself rather well. And you've gotta be relieved that you can talk to someone about all this, besides John.
And John certainly knows how to make you not angry with him, doesn't he? The boy may be wrapped up in the mess that is his life, but he has a hell of a soft spot for you.
Next (next) week is pretty action packed: You feel drawn to a certain spot in the city and don't know why. John has an idea, but he's certainly not going to tell you. Your last night in New Orleans, a fortune teller delivers a cryptic and terrifying message about your relationship with John that sticks with you long after you've gone home. And when following a lead on Morgan has unexpected consequences, John fears for your safety and once he knows you're alight, he has to have his way with you.
See you guys after Thanksgiving!! xoxo
Chapter 25: Warning Signs.
Summary:
Your last night in New Orleans, you feel drawn to a certain spot in the city and are terrified that you don't know why. John might know, but that's just another secret he's keeping, isn't it? Later, a fortune teller delivers a cryptic and frightening message about your relationship with him that sticks with you long after you've gone home. And when following a lead on Morgan leads to a civilian casualty, John fears for your safety until he has you in his arms.
Notes:
And I'm back! Thank y'all for being awesome and letting me have the week so I could get through the Holiday in one piece. I hope the wait was well worth it :)
Thank you guys for supporting me and this story and just being completely awesome <3 <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Your last night in the city, Charlotte surprises the group with dinner at Commander’s Palace. With Carnival in full swing, reservations there are almost impossible to come by. So by the time you transfer from the Canal St streetcar to the one running along St. Charles Ave, you’re both bubbling with excitement.
As you settle into the crowded bench of the car, Charlotte sits next to you before John can. Smirking up at the boys, you lean back in your seat. “You’re going to love Commander’s Palace.” You assure them. “It’s the best food in the city.”
Eric grips the handle strap as the street car lurches forward. “I don’t think I’ve seen ya this excited since I let ya drive Olivia.” He raises his eyebrow at you and Charlotte. “Restaurant really that good?”
You tilt your head, a mildly offended expression on your face. “It’s not just a restaurant, guys. It’s -”
“An experience.” Charlotte finishes with you. The two of you giggle as Eric and John both roll their eyes.
“Apparently, it’s the bloody crown jewel of New Orleans, mate.” John grins at you, arms folded casually. “This one’s been prattling on about it since we got here.” Despite the lurching and shifting of the car, he stays perfectly balanced. He raises an eyebrow playfully when he catches you staring.
If you close your eyes, you can imagine that everything is fine. You’re a normal girl with a normal boyfriend. Neither of you have an incredible gift that could hurt the people you love. There’s no murderous psycho waiting for you at home. At that moment, you’re just a girl on vacation, in your favorite place with your three favorite people.
When the street car slows to a stop, a group steps off, interrupting your thoughts and allowing for the boys to have a seat with you. Charlotte slides to the left, giving John room enough to sit next to you. She winks, giving you hope that her opinion of him will eventually change for the better.
John settles against the wooden seat, resting his palm flat on your thigh. “I quite fancy this, by the way.”
His thumb rubs circles over the material covering your leg. It’s a vintage style black swing dress with a fitted bodice and burgundy piping at the bottom. You bought it just before you left Boston, knowing John would love it.
“I don’t reckon I saw you pack it, but I rather look forward to helping you out of it.” He comments, his eyes flashing darkly.
With a smirk, you gesture at the black suit jacket John’s wearing. “You also didn’t see me pack that jacket for you, but here we are.” He loosens his tie as you roll your eyes, grateful that you were able to at least get him to straighten it in the first place.
“Good thing too, since a suit jacket is required for dinner. I’d hate to have to leave you outside, John.” Charlotte comments, smoothing out the navy skirt covering her upper thighs; she’s wearing a tight off the shoulder dress, perfectly her style.
John scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. “Oh, the cheek on you, Lottie.”
“Yeah, well, I told her to pack something fancy for both of y’all,” Charlotte continues with a giggle. “And I knew she wouldn’t disappoint me. She rarely does. Eric has no problem dressing up, you shouldn’t either.” She inclines her head in Eric’s direction. He gestures to his suit, navy and white striped with a complimenting tie and pocket square and winks at you.
“Exactly. And Johnny, you basically have a suit on anyway, I just added the jacket and- wait.” You force out a dry laugh. “Charlotte, when have I ever?”
Charlotte lowers her head to stare at you through her lashes. “Oh, I can think of at least once.” She smirks, making direct eye contact now with John.
You move one of your hands on top of John’s protectively, before smiling wickedly at your best friend. “If you really want to go there, Char, so can I.”
“Down, ladies.” Eric laughs, folding his leg over his knee. “I love the both of ya, but there is too much sass in this tiny streetcar. I can’t handle it.”
Charlotte lets out a soft peal of laughter as Eric shifts to pull out his buzzing phone. “Oh hush, chere.” She tilts her head up to kiss his cheek. “We’re best friends for a reason. No one handles our sass quite like the other.”
John moves his hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders. “Oh, I don’t know about that, Lottie.” He smirks down at you, his fingers squeezing your arm playfully. “I think I handle my girl’s sass rather brilliantly. And she quite enjoys it. Don’t you, luv?”
As your cheeks flush with embarrassment, Charlotte raises an eyebrow and allows a begrudgingly impressed expression to settle on her face. “Yeah, I’ve heard. And seen pictures. I suppose you’re allowed to have one redeeming quality.”
“Charlotte.” You hiss, tenting your palms over your eyes. “Could you not? This is hardly an appropriate conversation for public transportation.”
“Come now, sweet’eart. The rest of the car’s none the wiser to our topic of conversation.” John chuckles and when your face doesn’t lose it’s embarrassment, he leans down to whisper in your ear. “The lot of them needn’t know the deviant things you let me do to you.”
When you cross your legs at the sound of his lowered voice, you smack his arm and laugh when his eyebrows fly up. “Can you just be good and behave?” You ask lightly, struggling to regain your composure.
Charlotte absently runs her fingers over Eric’s arm as he replies to a text on his cell. “Sugar, shouldn’t you be the one doing that?"
As she raises an eyebrow in John’s direction, her lips twist into an indulgent smirk. “Or is it more exciting for y’all if she’s doesn’t? Punishment does get more fun when you grow up.”
Eric looks up, suddenly interested in the topic of conversation as your mouth hangs open in shock. “Jesus, guys!” You hiss, eyes widening in utter disbelief. “This conversation is not happening here.”
“Would you prefer to have it somewhere else, then?” John asks, making you shiver when his hand moves to rest on the back of your neck. “In private, when we get back to the hotel? I reckon we both share Lottie’s sentiment, my brand of punishment is much more fun.”
Eric grins, resting his phone on his lap. “I knew it. I just had a feelin’ about ya, Johnny. Kid’s been in such a better mood since ya handled her.” He points back and forth between John and himself. “Honestly, we should compare notes.”
“Agreed.” You and Charlotte remark at the same time, resulting in a bout of laughter from the four of you.
When the streetcar slows again, Charlotte taps Eric’s leg and pushes herself to her feet. “We get off here.” She nods in the direction of Washington Avenue. “Then it’s just a block to the restaurant.”
John takes your hand as you step off the car with him. The sultry evening air sweeps through the trees and ruffles your hair off your shoulder. You spin and can’t help the laugh that slips out of you. You love it here, you’ve never felt more at home. Especially now, that you’re attuned to the hidden world.
As you take a look around, you smile to yourself. The neighborhoods of New Orleans are so vastly different; it’s almost as if the small areas are their own individual cities.
While the French Quarter is compact and filled with creole style cottages, ornamented by intricate wrought iron railings and fences, the Garden District is sprawling and elaborate.
The houses here are more like mansions; grand staircases and Greek revival columns. One of your favorite things about going to school near this part of the city was being able to hop off the streetcar and just wander the neighborhood for hours.
The French Quarter will always be your favorite part of the city. There’s something so satisfying to your heart in letting yourself be lost in the maze of ancient buildings. Even more so when the soft waves of the Mississippi River mingle with the sound of jazz pouring into the streets.
But the Garden District called to you in a way you never quite understood. You always felt it; a deep seeded yearning in your bones that only felt at peace when you stepped onto these streets.
You feel it now, manifesting as the thrum of energy that’s no longer soft, but lancing unpleasantly through your body as you walk along Washington Avenue. It’s stronger the closer you get to Lafayette Cemetery. You’ve never felt the yearning like this before; it raises the hairs on the back of your neck with each step.
Feeling something like pins and needles shooting along your skin, you let out a pained gasp and grip John’s arm. “Sweet’eart? Are you alright?” He asks, crouching in front of you.
When you shake your head, a shiver runs through your body. You’re trying to drag in short bursts of air through your nose, but nothing seems to quell the pain. Charlotte and Eric, having walked a few beats ahead, come rushing back when they turn and see the intense discomfort overtaking your face.
The two of them stop inches from your hunched over form. Eric rubs his beard, anxiously, unsure how to help as he steps closer to you. “Kid, ya feel sick? What’s the matter?”
“Sugar? What’s happened?” Charlotte asks, her hands hovering inches above your shoulders. “What the hell did you do?” She hisses at John, soft enough that Eric can’t hear.
You lean forward, resting your hands on your legs and close your eyes for a moment. “It’s not John.” You pull in a sharp intake of breath. “I don’t know… I can’t…”
Get a grip, your brain screams at you. You whip your head up and take a deep breath before you slowly stare at them. “I’m alright, guys.” You grind out, more for Eric’s benefit than anything else. “It was just a stitch in my side or something.”
You meet John’s eyes briefly before turning back to your friends. “We’re coming, you go ahead.” You shoo them with your hand. “We can’t be late for the reservation.” Eric opens his mouth to argue and you force out a laugh. “I’m fine, I promise.”
John helps you back into a standing position as he throws an easy smile on his face. “She’s right, go on. I’ll see to it she’s right as rain.” Charlotte narrows her eyes, but doesn’t push as she leads Eric away.
Once they’re far enough away from you, you brace yourself with your hands on John’s chest. “Do you sense it?” You gasp, sagging against him. “The energy, is it this strong for you too? I feel like I can’t breathe.”
John’s face twists into a scowl before shifting to complete confusion. “It’s no stronger here than it’s been anywhere else in the city.” He cups your face with his hands. “Tell Johnny what you’re feeling. Describe it if you can.”
You drag in a shaky breath and unintentionally take a step closer to the cemetery gates. “Um, I felt a pull, like the weird pins and needles I’ve had all week? But normally, I can just completely tune it out; I forget it’s there. But the second I got off the streetcar, it was more noticeable. Painful. The closer I got to Lafayette, the stronger it was.”
“I didn’t feel any shift in the mystical energies.” John glances around, his suspicion filled eyes taking everything in for any sign of danger. “Do you still feel it as strongly as you did?”
Nodding, you take another step towards the gates. “Yes, but -” You cut yourself off and reach back for his hand. “There’s something telling me I need to be inside there. Can’t you hear it? It’s… it’s calling me. But, at the same time, my brain is telling me to get as far from here as I can. I can’t focus, John. It’s overwhelming.”
When fear flashes in the darkness of his eyes, it worries you more than the pain does. You stare at him, confusion and worry on your face, as he protectively steps in front of you, shielding you from view of the cemetery.
He closes his eyes, muttering a spell in Romanian. You watch a shadow like visage spread away from him and glide along the ground inside the gates.
As John takes your hands, you watch his face age and grow gaunt and tired. The blond of his hair turns wispy and white, making your eyes widen in horror. What is he doing to himself? After about a minute, life returns to his skin and when he opens his eyes, his handsome face is back to the way it should be.
“I’m all for trusting your magic, sweet’eart. But I reckon for now, we listen to that brain of yours.” John tugs you away from the entrance. “I just sent my aura in there. There’s not a single living soul in that place, but there’s more than a few angry ones. I don’t fancy a stroll through that, especially when I’m not feeling what you are.”
“Maybe you’re right.” You agree, taking a few steps away. “I just can’t shake the feeling that something wants me to go in there.”
“And that’s why we’re bloody well not.” John keeps his hand on your lower back as you walk closer to the familiar blue and white awnings of Commander’s Palace. “Have you ever been in that one before?” He asks, his overly curious eyes betraying the calm in his tone.
“Only once.” You admit, turning back to stare at it over your shoulder. “But I only got a few steps in and I had to get the Hell out of there. At the time, it was such an uncomfortable feeling. I felt it now too, but I’ve never felt the pull like that. It's like there were different parts of me fighting and if you weren’t there, I don’t … I don’t know which side would’ve won.”
“I reckon I don’t either.” John nods, using his free hand to gesture to the restaurant up ahead. “You going to be alright, then? To go inside? Lottie already thinks I don’t -”
“I’ll be fine.” You promise him, flashing a reassuring smile. “I can push it down. It’s our last night here. Tomorrow we fly back to whatever mess we left up North. So, I want to enjoy tonight with my boyfriend and my best friends.”
John tilts his head down and grins at you, all previous concern erased from his face but not his eyes. “Then enjoy it is exactly what we’ll do.”
***
After dinner, you suggest walking around the Quarter. With John’s jacket wrapped around your shoulders, the two of you trail behind Eric and Charlotte at a casual pace, watching various parties spill out onto the streets. When you sigh and squeeze his hand, John languidly smiles down at you. “How’re you feeling, luv?”
“Much better,” you promise, moving your hand to wrap it around his arm. “I wish I could tell you why that happened to me.”
“You’ve no bloody idea how much I wish I could explain it.” John runs his free hand through his hair, mussing it up carelessly. You suppress a giggle so he’ll keep talking. “The Art is strong down here, but I’ve never seen anyone have that kind of reaction.”
That makes you more nervous than you can convey. John’s been doing this for quite some time. What could be wrong with you if he’s never come across this before? Your thoughts are thankfully interrupted when you see Eric waving at you from in front of St. Louis Cathedral.
John pauses, lighting a cigarette and motions for you to go ahead. Holding onto the lapels of his jacket, you hurry down Chartres Street. “Where’s Charlotte?” You ask Eric as you step onto the stone laid walkway that surrounds Jackson Square. “And where’s your jacket?”
“Charlotte got cold so she’s got it. Apparently this is like their winter down here. It’s nice and breezy to me.” Eric points to the left of him, near the Pontalba buildings and shrugs. “And she’s gettin’ her palm read.”
When you let out a small sound of disbelief and ask why, he smiles wide. “Cause I got mine read and she wanted to see what the woman would say to her.”
You walk with him to where Charlotte sits, talking excitedly with an older woman. The woman’s dressed in a deep colored shawl, her arms adorned with gold and silver bangles. She looks every part the New Orleans palm reader.
Charlotte’s pushed up the sleeves of Eric’s jacket as she lets out a loud peal of laughter. Her dark eyes light up when she turns and sees you. “Sugar!” She calls out, motioning you over. “You gotta hear this!”
You turn your head to see John a few feet behind Eric, speaking angrily into his phone. You turn your heel to check on him when Charlotte yells for you again. You’ll have to ask him about the call after.
Rolling your eyes, you sit in the extra chair next to your best friend. “Listen to this sugar,” Charlotte gestures to Eric, who’s standing right next to her. “Madam Sylvia told me I’m going to marry a man who wears loyalty like a shield. That it seems like we’ve known each other forever because we share a connection that binds us together.”
You don’t want to be rude, so you just nod in response and fold your arms across your chest. For everything you believe about the hidden world, you don’t believe in this. Palm readers use tells and subconscious gestures and changes in your body language to guide their ‘predictions’.
You know that Charlotte is rational and logical; how she’s buying into this is utterly astounding. The woman probably guessed that Eric was a police officer and just made assumptions until Charlotte started reacting.
Without meaning to, you roll your eyes. Before you say something you shouldn’t, you push yourself to your feet.
Letting Charlotte have her fun, you meet Eric’s eyes and make a phone gesture with one hand and point to John with the other. You take a single step away from the table and the palm reader stops mid sentence and calls your full name.
Bewildered, you spin on your heel and narrow your eyes at your friends, then the woman.
“How did you know my name? Did either of them tell you?” Eric and Charlotte shake their heads as the woman stands, jostling all of her things on the table.
“I’m sorry to startle you, dear. But I must speak with you.” Her eyes dart between Eric and Charlotte, then over your shoulder to where John is pacing. “In private.”
You shake your head, raising your palms to put distance between you. “I’m not interested in -”
“Please, there’s no charge.” She insists, pulling a twenty from her bag. She hands it to Charlotte with sorrowful eyes. “It is imperative that I speak with your friend, here’s your money back for interrupting your reading.”
Charlotte refuses to take the money but stands anyway, furrowing her brow at you in confusion. “Want us to get John?” She asks, thumbing behind her. When you nod, she and Eric step away and walk over to get John’s attention.
You turn back towards the older woman and cross your arms. She motions for you to sit as she does. Perching on the edge of the chair, you incline your head as she reaches for your hand.
“Magic users can sense each other’s auras.” Madam Sylvia murmurs, holding your hand in both of hers. “We’re drawn to it like moths to a flame.”
Her eyes move over your shoulder as she lowers her voice. “You stumbled upon this life by chance. But you were drawn to the arts by fate itself. You’ve a powerful gift. That’s why the mage was drawn to you.”
She meets your eyes and as much as you want to, you can’t look away. “But you, my dear girl, chose to walk in the path of danger and darkness. That choice bears a terrible burden and it will take its toll on those closest to you.”
Your eyes widen; you want to think she’s just reading your body language but you know she had no way of knowing that you practice magic. She shushes you before you can open your mouth to argue.
“You will save many lives down this road but mark my words. If you continue down it with him, you’ll willingly bring about your own death.”
You whip your hand from hers, cradling it protectively. “Who the Hell are you to say something like that to me?” You hiss angrily, shivering as a chill from the Mississippi drifts over you. “You don’t know me, know us.”
“But I know of you.” She carefully lays out cards in front of her on the table. “The other side called to me; you have allies there that refused to give me peace unless I warned you of the dangers the mage will bring to your life.”
You shake your head. “But John’s not -”
She holds a finger to her lips. “You must understand, the damned do not easily find redemption. But in your eyes, he sees his absolution. I fear what you’ll find when you search his. Your path is touched by both light and dark. Choose the light, walk away. While there’s still time.”
When you scoff and fold your arms defensively, Madam Sylvia reaches for your arm. “Repeat not what I’ve told you, my dear, for you must decide on your own. And you may still choose to ignore my warning, most do. But for the sake of your soul, I pray you heed it. You do not deserve the fate that will befall you otherwise.”
You find yourself shocked into silence and when John snakes a hand around your waist, you jump in surprise. Madam Sylvia glares as you mumble a quick ‘thank you’ and let him lead you away.
“What was all that about then?” He asks, glancing back over his shoulder. “Lottie said that nutter of a woman insisted on chatting with you?”
“Oh, you know.” You force a smile onto your face and stare straight ahead, trying desperately to ignore the anxious pit in your stomach. “She tried to give me career advice, told me no white after labor day, honestly a whole bunch of nonsense.”
There’s no need for you to tell him what she’s said. John already has his doubts that he can keep you safe. He’s so quick to blame himself for what’s happened in his past; you don’t want to give him any reason to believe he’s putting you in harm's way simply by being with you. Especially since you don’t believe any of it yourself.
You link your arm through his as you walk. “Who were you on the phone with?”
“Chas.” When John smiles, you notice it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “He said he’d do some digging for us.” When you nod and suggest popping into Lafitte’s for a drink, his smile grows into something more genuine. You force yourself to push the warning out of your head and try to have a good time.
The rest of the night, Madam Sylvia’s warning plays on repeat in your head. No matter how many drinks you let John buy you, and no matter how many times Charlotte asks, you refuse to elaborate.
You barely sleep that night, tossing and turning until John wakes up and asks if you’re alright. Assuring him that it’s just preflight jitters, you let yourself snuggle against him and eventually drift off.
But even as the three of you say your goodbyes to Charlotte at the airport the next morning, it’s still all you can think about.
***
Once you’re home, the rest of March and the whole of April pass quickly. You and John fortify every protection spell you’ve placed on the people you care about as well as build up your skills with defensive magic. While he’s stayed away from the museum, whatever Doctor Morgan plans to do, you both want to be prepared.
That last night in New Orleans becomes more and more a blur; a dream you’ve pushed down so you don’t have to face it. You tell yourself you’ve more important things to focus on than a palm reader’s prediction anyway.
It’s not until the night before John’s birthday, that you end up telling Charlotte what Madam Sylvia told you. With John following up on a lead from Chas, you’re going over quarterly financials for the Peabody when she calls.
Without missing a line on your spreadsheet, you pick up and hit the speakerphone button. “Hey, you.” You answer distractedly. “What’s up?”
“So, the funniest thing happened today.” Charlotte says by way of greeting. “I was meeting a client for lunch, at Stanley in Jackson Square? You know the spot.” You hum in response, writing a note to yourself to follow up with Grace about an irregularity you see.
Charlotte carries on, unconcerned by your non verbal reply. “Anyway, as I was walking over to PJ’s for a coffee, I ran into Madam Sylvia. She remembered me, more importantly, remembered you. Wanted to know if you chose to heed her warning and left John.”
You freeze, fingers hovering over your keyboard. “Now sugar, why would she ask me a thing like that?” She asks, her voice settling somewhere between suspicious and angry. “You ready to let me know what she told you that night?”
Closing your laptop, you run a hand through your hair. “Char, it’s noth-”
“I swear to all that is holy, if you try to tell me it’s nothing, I will get on a plane right now and slap some sense into you. In person.” Pressing your fingers to the middle of your forehead in defeat, you sigh heavily and start to explain.
Charlotte stays completely silent, save for a few gasps and well placed curses in French. When you’re done, you briefly close your eyes and wait for her to explode.
“Sugar,” her voice is surprisingly soft, not angry like you expected. “I know you love him, you’re in love with him. But maybe she’s right. Fate may have brought you this gift but John’s not who you’re meant to be with. And I ain’t just saying that cause I don’t like him. If being with him could lead to your death, you need to run.”
“I don’t believe that, Charlotte.” You argue back, rising from the table to move onto the couch. You curl up at one end, balancing the phone on your knees. “That woman made it sound like I never had a choice. John tried to keep me at arm's length, I wouldn’t let him. This has always been my decision. To learn magic. To be with him. To bear this burden."
Rolling your eyes, you rest your head on your palm, trying to wrest away the sudden pain you’re feeling in your forehead. “Please don’t insult me by trying to convince me I don’t know what I’m doing. John’s done nothing but keep me safe since we met, he’s certainly not going to be the cause of my death.” You suppress a shudder. “God, it sounds so fucking morbid.”
“Exactly my point.” Charlotte sighs. “Imagine having to hear that from someone I hardly know. Mais J’mais, every time you go out there and work a job or you tell me more about Morgan, I’m so afraid that’s the last time I’ll ever talk to you. And now you tell me that John’s presence in your life is fated to kill you? What am I supposed to do with that?”
“You’re supposed to trust me, Charlotte.” You whisper, leaning your head against the cushion. “Trust that I won’t let anything happen.”
Charlotte scoffs and when she answers you, she sounds older than her years. “It’s not you I don’t trust.”
Before you can reply, your phone lights up, indicating another call. When you glance down at it, you see Chas’s name flash on the screen. It’s not exactly odd for Chas to call you now, but he usually texts and with John chasing down a lead on Doctor Morgan, you’re worried that something’s gone wrong.
“Chas is on the other line, Char. I gotta go. Not a word about this to anyone, please.” Once she’s made you agree to finish this conversation after, you click over to answer. “Chas, what’s going on?” You ask, feeling your pulse speed up. “Is John okay?”
“John’s on his way back, sunshine.” Chas’s rough voice speaks through the phone. “But he's in a bad way. The job went sideways. Two victims, he couldn’t save them in time. The demon killed the husband and forced the wife it was possessing to almost kill one of the kids before stabbing herself.”
You cover your mouth in shock. “Jesus Christ, Chas. I thought John said he was chasing a lead. How did it come to this?”
“He was.” Chas lets out a heavy sigh. “For the last month, we’ve been hunting one of the demons that’s been feeding Morgan information. We knew he had to have an inside man to know so much about John and your friends. Once he tracked one of 'em down, he thought he could take this thing on, but he didn’t realize how deep it had it’s hooks into the woman it was possessing -”
“What?” You hiss, feeling anger bubble up in your chest. “John didn’t tell me that. Any of that.”
“I know he didn’t,” Chas agrees, and you can hear irritation in his tone. “And you can take that up with him after, because I told him he should’ve. He shouldn’t have gone in alone. But you need to know, this demon knew your name; told John he knew how to find you, how to hurt you.”
You gasp, fighting down the rising panic in your heart. Hearing your concern, Chas softens his tone. “It spooked him, threw him off his game. And before he could stop the thing, it -”
You stand quickly when you hear your car park in front of the building. Rushing to the window, you pull back your curtain and see John grabbing his bag from the passenger seat. “He’s here,” you tell Chas. “I’ll call you after, I promise. I’ll help him, whatever he needs.”
Throwing open your door, you meet John’s eyes as he climbs the steps. There’s blood splattered on his shirt and coat with smears of it dried across his cheek. Before you can even say hello, his bag is on the floor and his arms are wrapped tightly around you as he pushes through the door.
“Sweet’eart,” he whispers, voice too rough with an emotion you can’t name. You kick your door shut with your foot as you wrap your arms around his back.
John pulls in a few deep breaths and you let your eyes close, breathing deeply yourself. He smells of incense and the metallic tang of blood, a visceral reminder of the danger he was in.
But he’s here now. He’s safe.
“Johnny, hey, look at me.” You breathe out, attempting to lean back and get a good look at him.
He ignores you, purposely walking you backward until you hit your living room wall. John pins you there, and only then, does he pull back just enough so he can carefully check you over.
“I’m okay,” you promise, gently running your fingers along his trembling arms. “Chas called me. I was in the house, safe, all day.”
“That bastard, he -” John chokes himself off as he uses one hand to cup your face. His other palm presses firmly against your chest, his fingers resting above the frantic thumping of your heart. “The demon said he’d cut out your bloody heart while I watched. He said I wouldn’t be able to keep you safe forever.”
“He was lying.” You assure him, moving a hand to push his hair from his forehead. “Johnny, sweetheart, the demon didn't have me. I’m here, I’m safe. It’s okay.”
Your words seem to release some of the tension in John’s shoulders but he doesn’t move away from you. Instead, his hands carefully run over your body, checking every inch of you until he’s satisfied.
John’s never had this kind of reaction to a job before so you’re not sure what else to do to calm him, except whisper reassurances and allow him the time he needs to be sure you’re alright. You let him touch and gently press his lips along your skin until his breathing has evened out.
Chas told you this one had been bad, and judging by the still frantic look in John’s dark eyes, the fear he felt from this won’t be leaving his mind for some time. Your anger is forgotten as you watch him; your only desire now is to help him through this. You can talk about what happened once he’s himself again.
“Sweet’eart, I...” John begs, his voice still shaky and uncertain. He trails off, unsure what he needs from you. Unsure what he’s begging you for. But you know him; you know what he needs, how to help him.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” you promise, letting John’s hands collar your wrists at your sides. He grips forcefully, needing the contact and the control you’re offering him. “I’m here, whatever you need.”
John’s blood streaked, panicked face stares down at you, confused and yet somehow determined. You smile at him, reassuringly, and relax in his grip.
John cocks his head as you nod, allowing him the permission he needs. In a swift motion, he pushes your captured wrists above your head with one hand and pulls you into a harsh kiss by threading his fingers into your hair.
You yield to him easily; John’s mouth overpowering yours as you submit. You can’t stop the whimper that slips out of you as you tug your arms, savoring the feeling of being unable to move, trapped exactly where John wants you, needs you to be.
His kiss is bruising, punishing even, as John pours all his frustration and fear into the way his lips assault yours. John nips at your lower lip, biting hard enough for you to wonder if he’s going to draw blood. His hips keep you pinned in place, and when you shift your feet, you feel his cock hardening through his dress pants.
Feverishly, John’s free hand works to lift your dress. He lets go of your wrists just long enough to tug it over your head. As it falls to the floor beside you, his hand collars your wrists back against the wall.
When he leans back, his lips press along your collarbone. You arch into his touch as he moves along your throat, shivering with each nip of his teeth on your skin.
“Don’t move,” John growls low in your ear, sending a shiver through your body. You keep your wrists crossed above your head, desire coiling in your stomach as he undoes his belt. Your eyes move to watch him unzip his pants and when he tugs himself free, you look up to see raw need and desire in his lust heavy eyes.
John moves both of his hands to your hips, pressing hard enough to leave bruises. You rise onto your tiptoes, as his hands snake underneath the curves of your ass so he can lift you. When you wrap your legs around him, he tugs your panties to the side and lines himself up along your entrance.
“You’re mine,” John whispers as he sinks into you, resting his forehead against your own.
“Yours.” Your voice comes out cracked as you stretch around him and resist the urge to move your hands down to touch his face.
John thrusts into you, fast and messy. Each snap of his hips, each whimper you let escape, grounds him in this moment. You’re here, and you’re safe from the dangers of his world. He presses into you, keeping you locked against the wall. Your hips rock together, rough and relentless, each of you chasing something you won’t speak aloud once this is done.
One of his hands grips your still-raised wrists, and the other holds firm at your hip, holding you steady as he chases his building release. He growls something unintelligible, then crushes his lips against yours once more. His mouth stifles your moans, claiming you and regaining control in the way you know he needs.
You’re giving John something he’s never had before. You’re allowing him the ability to fall apart, to crumble without feeling weak or powerless. You’re bringing him back from the brink, back from the horrors of what he’s seen today.
John thrusts up a final time, chasing his orgasm, and his hand moves from your wrists to between your legs. Your legs slip from around him to the floor as he pulls out of you, spent and breathless.
When John’s fingers brush against your clit, he nods and allows you to move your hands to clutch at his shoulders. You moan and throw your head back as he expertly circles your sensitive nub until your own orgasm crashes through you.
You float, coming down from the high of feeling safe and used in the best way, while John held you where he wanted and took what he needed from you. When he gently presses his lips to your cheek, you know he’s fully come back to you.
“You’re bloody perfect.” John murmurs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. When he pulls back after a moment, the frenzied stare you saw in his eyes earlier is gone, replaced by his usual mischievous smirk. “And you’re safe.” He says, searching your face.
“I’m safe, Johnny.” You repeat back to him, gently running your fingers through his hair. “I promise.”
***
Once you’ve gotten yourselves cleaned up, you lead John to the couch and ask him to explain what happened. “It was nothing, luv.” He shakes his head. “I had it well in hand.”
“Bullshit, I saw you when you came back, John.” You argue. “The panic in your eyes, the fear on your face.” John’s eyes widen, and you know he’s regretting that he let himself be that vulnerable.
You shake your head, determined to make him understand that you don’t consider vulnerability a weakness; even if he does. “No, don’t do that. Don’t put your walls up. I’m never going to use your humanity against you.”
You run your hand through his already messy hair. “You can trust me, you know that. Let me in, talk to me about these things.” Your lips twist into a playful smile. “I’ll happily let you vent your frustrations the way we just did, but I hear talking helps too. I’m not going anywhere.”
He stares at the floor, unable to meet your eyes as he tells you that he underestimated how strong the demon was. How, without its name, he couldn’t control it or stop it in time before it hurt the kid. Then, when John got close enough to leave a mark on the thing, it threatened your life.
“You know I can take care of myself.” You push back, resting your hand on his knee. “These bastards will say whatever they can to throw you off, John. You taught me that.”
“I know, luv.” John lifts his head to meet your eyes. “Demons are nasty buggers and this one was trickier than I reckoned it’d be.”
He leans over and wraps his arm around you, then settles back against the cushions. “This is becoming a habit with that Morgan blighter. I wish he’d just show his bloody face instead of sending his demonic pets to do his bidding.”
“Maybe we go about this a different way?” You suggest, reaching up to squeeze his hand. “Maybe we go to him? So we can end Morgan and whatever demons he thinks he has control over, before he can get to you. But you have to tell me when you’re making a move, John. Stop hiding things, trying to protect me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s happening.”
John eyes you carefully. “I don’t know why you choose to throw your lot in with a nasty git like me, but I’m grateful that you do.” It’s not the agreement you’re looking for, but you’ll take the victory where you can get it.
You both stay there, snuggled on the couch until John drifts off into an exhausted sleep. You want to let him rest, deciding to rouse him at midnight to wish him a happy birthday.
When you check in with Chas later, you fill him in on what John told you and the state he was in when he came home. Chas assures you you handled John better than he could’ve and expresses how impressed he is at the way you took care of the man you both deeply care for.
“I love him.” You say simply, glancing at John’s sleeping form on the couch. “He’s not alone in this.”
“I know he knows, sunshine. He’s just used to thinking the opposite.” Chas swears softly. “Wish him happy birthday from me, will you?”
“I will.” You promise, a soft smile finding its way onto your face.
You know John hates his birthday, but when you wake him at midnight on the dot and he squints at you with sleepy confused eyes, you press your lips to his. “Happy birthday, Johnny.” You whisper with a smile.
“Cheers, but you know I don’t fancy birthdays, luv.” He grumbles, pushing himself up. “Never had a good one, have I?”
You shake your head, resting your palm on his chest and settle down between his legs. “Yeah, I’m gonna change that.” You meet his lust filled stare as you start to undo his belt. With a smirk, you proceed to show him all the reasons he should start to love it.
Especially with you around.
Notes:
Oo boy. Considering what happened to you in RM, the fortune teller really was on the money, wasn't she?
Interesting about being drawn to that cemetery. I wonder what's so special about it, so special about you?
And who doesn't love life affirming sex? Because I definitely feel like John's the type to need just that after a situation where you're threatened.
The stakes are getting higher with Morgan now. He's not content to just sit in the shadows, he wants in on the action; forcing your and John's hands into openly fighting him. Pretty soon, that's going to put you in some serious danger....
Next week: Something tragic happens to one of your close friends and it brings everything to a screeching halt. When they almost die, you scramble to keep yourself from falling apart in the wake of what's happened. John doesn't react to the situation the way you thought he would, causing an argument when he should be by your side.
Chapter 26: He could've died.
Summary:
When a close call almost costs Eric his life, you and Charlotte rush to the hospital to be by his side. Fearing magic was involved, you leave John to handle a job alone, something you find he isn't happy with.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Your day starts off your favorite way; with John’s arm wrapped around your waist and your legs tangled with his under the covers. You wake a few minutes before your alarm does, tired eyes blinking as you adjust to the bright sunlight filtering into your room.
When you hear John start to stir behind you, you playfully wiggle against him until his arm pulls you closer. “Good mornin’.” You giggle, clicking off your alarm before it’s shrill cry assaults you.
“It is now.” John laughs softly, his voice still rough with sleep. As you twist yourself around to face him, he untangles his legs from you and the sheets. He props himself up on his elbow, watching you as you push yourself up into a sitting position against the pillows.
“What time do we have to leave?” You ask him as you stretch out.
“Well, this Shtriga hasn’t been following a bloody pattern.” John grabs his watch off the nightstand behind him before twisting back to face you. “So, I reckon we should leave in a few hours to get there before dark. It’s quite a drive.”
“A few hours, hmm?” You raise an eyebrow playfully as you slide back down into the bed. “So we don’t have to get ready yet, do we?”
John runs his nose along your jaw and purposefully lowers his voice. “No, we don’t.” He chuckles. “What did you have in mind, luv?”
In response, you put your leg over John and push your hips forward. He lays flat and presses his fingers into your hips as you move. Once you’ve righted yourself, you easily straddle his lower stomach.
With your hands on John’s chest, you lean down until you're inches apart; eye to eye, nose to nose, lips barely touching. You feel a sense of pride at the way you make his breath hitch. “Something like this.” You smirk before closing the distance and kissing him.
“I fancy the way you think.” John tilts his head as he stares up at you, his amber eyes glittering with lust at the edges. “Always have.”
“As you should.” You laugh as you slide backward to climb off of him. When John whines in the back of his throat, you fold your arms across your chest. “I was going to suggest a shower, but if you don’t want to…”
John lunges forward, making you shriek when he grabs your hips so you fall forward on top of him. “The cheek on you, luv.” He shakes his head. “I reckon you fancy being a handful.”
“And I reckon you like the challenge.” You push back, threading your fingers through his hair. He growls softly when you tug just below the crown of his head. You smirk and raise your eyebrow playfully.
“You’re bloody right about that.” John grins as he scoots with you back off the bed. “Now, be a good girl, sweet’eart and go get the shower nice and piping hot.”
When you roll your eyes as you stand, John swats your ass. You scrunch your nose, but can’t stop the smile that creeps onto your face. “Don’t tell me what to do, Mister.” You call over your shoulder as you head to the bathroom.
“Ah, but you love it when I do.” John chuckles, watching you walk away with adoration in his eyes.
Once in the bathroom, you start the shower with a grin still plastered on your face. You wish everyday could be like this. But if only you knew how it would end, you’d be a bit more careful with what you wish for.
***
Hours later, when the phone call from Eric’s dad comes through, your heart skips a beat in your chest. You stare at the name for a moment, one hand frozen on the handle of your car door, as you hit accept and press the phone to your ear. Tommy never calls you, unless it’s an emergency.
“Hey Uncle Tom,” you greet as steady as you can. “What’s up? Everything alright?”
Tommy takes a deep breath, an immediate indication that something’s wrong. You glance up at your doorway as John jogs down the steps towards you with a furrowed brow. You hold up a hand to stop him from getting into the car.
“You need to get to Mass General.” Tommy informs you, his voice shaky and uneven. “Eric’s been,” he hesitates, making fear root you in place. “Eric’s been shot.”
Your hand flies up to cover your mouth, tears already stinging the corners of your eyes. “Wha- how?” You feel your knees wobble beneath you as your stomach lurches. “Is he… What happened?”
“We don’t know.” He admits, and from the shuffling you hear through the phone, you can tell he’s already in his car. “The hospital just called me, he’s goin' into surgery.”
“I… I’m on my way.” You promise, wiping the tears from your eyes. “Do, uh, do you need me to get Linda or… Oh my god, Charlotte, we need to tell Charlotte!”
As you open your door, Tommy says something away from the speaker before responding. “I’ve got Linda with me and I just got off the phone with Charlotte. She’s on her way to the airport now. We’ll be there in eighteen minutes, kiddo. Patrick is already there.”
“Eric’s gonna be okay, right?” You ask, fingers gripping the sides of your phone.
“Yeah.” Tommy’s voice wavers through the speaker. “He has to be.”
Panic tightens in your chest as you end the call and slide your phone into your bag. You can feel yourself spiraling as John walks around the car. You need to get yourself together, you need to get to the hospital, you need -
John’s hand on your arm harshly pulls you from your thoughts. “What’s the matter, luv?” He asks, taking in your panicked eyes and trembling fingers.
You blink back tears as you meet his eyes. “Eric’s been shot, I… I’m sorry, I gotta go, Johnny. I…” Without waiting for his response, you open your door and slide into the driver's seat.
John stares at you for a moment like you’ve grown a third arm. “Keep your head on. That’s not the best idea. There’s nothing you can do for him, luv. The hospital -”
“I don’t care. I’m going, John.” You snap, cutting him off. “If it was Chas, you’d do the same damn thing. Wouldn’t you?”
Hurt quickly passes through his eyes before his face settles back into its normal calm. He nods, accepting defeat as you start your engine. “I’ll be at Mass General.” You tell him as you back out. “I’ll text you when I know more.”
As you drive, you can’t help the way your thoughts race. Eric’s never had an accident like this before. You know it’s always been a possibility with him being an officer but he’s so careful.
For a moment, you doubt your own abilities - you can’t help it. You were so sure that the protection spell you placed on his necklace would keep him safe. What had you done wrong? Maybe you were fooling yourself into thinking your magic would be enough.
Right now, you have no way of knowing what’s even happened. Was it truly an accident or something more sinister, and ultimately, your fault?
Tears fill your eyes again, making your vision temporarily blurry. You blink rapidly to clear your line of sight and take a deep breath. Eric will be okay, he has to be. You’ll never be able to forgive yourself if he’s not.
***
As you lock your car, Linda’s Audi pulls in next to you. Tommy and Linda step out quickly as you rush to their side. Linda wraps her arms around you and for a moment, you let yourself be buried in the older woman’s hug.
Her dark hair is pulled back hastily and she seems out of sorts in jeans and a polo. With her being a private school teacher, you’re used to her being consistently dressed up. Tommy is still in his suit, the only indications of how quickly they left the house are his missing tie and disheveled silver hair.
Tommy rests his hand on your shoulder before he nods and gestures for the three of you to head inside.
You see Patrick before they do and sprint up ahead to check on him. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows but you can still see the blood stains on the folded material. Eric’s blood. He drags a hand down his face as he meets your eyes.
“Paddy, are you alright?” You ask, your voice wavering as you reach him. When he nods, you let out a breath of relief and lean against the hospital wall.
Tommy and Linda come up behind you as Patrick extends a hand. “Thomas, I’m more sorry than I can say.” He apologizes, casting his eyes to the floor. “It happened so goddamn fast.”
Tommy pulls Patrick in for a hug. “Don’t apologize, Paddy. I’m sure your actions are why Eric’s in surgery and not layin'…” He trails off, unable to finish. “And for the hundredth time, please call me Tommy.”
“Wh… What happened?” Linda asks, sagging against the wall next to you.
Patrick folds his arms across his chest, trying as best as he can to hide the blood. “We shouldn’t have even been there. Domestic disturbances aren’t our type of call anymore but when it came over the radio, Eric and I were the closest to the area. We swung by, knowing we could take care of whatever was happening so a Uni didn’t have to come out.”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “We heard the yelling as we climbed the stairs. We knocked and a little girl opened, couldn’t have been more than six. She told us ‘daddy hit mommy’ and we went inside. I found the younger sister hiding under the kitchen table. Eric told me to get them out and he’d be right behind me.”
He’d wanted to get his partner and the children to safety. You’re sure that Eric must’ve sensed a bigger threat. Patrick confirms your thoughts as he runs his hand through his hair and looks away. “I got the kids into the car when I heard the gunshot.”
His voice comes out softer now, as he closes his eyes to the memory. “Like I said, it all happened so damn fast. I no sooner turned around to head back up the stairs and Eric came flying out the second floor window with the son of a bitch who shot him. I saw the blood on him and immediately called a bus.”
Linda lets out a sob as fresh tears slide down her cheeks. Your hand reaches for hers and you squeeze it reassuringly. You want to break down yourself but you feel like you should be strong for her.
“Where did he get hit?” You ask, your own eyes watering, as you watch Tommy drag in a deep breath and close his eyes for a brief moment.
“It looked like his left shoulder but,” Patrick visibly shudders. “There was so much blood. He wasn’t conscious. I’m sorry -”
“You did what ya could, we know that.” Tommy interrupts in a voice calmer than you expected. “This isn’t ya fault.”
Patrick nods and even though he and Tommy are close to the same age, the relief on his face takes years from it. When Tommy’s phone rings, he smiles at you and shows you the screen; your dad is calling. You shoo him away to allow him to answer.
Knowing that surgery could take hours, the three of you settle into the chairs in the waiting room.
Linda takes a few minutes to try and contact Dominick; while you don’t want to see him, the man has a right to know his brother’s been injured. With Patrick speaking to his husband and then his Captain, you pull out your phone to text John.
You give him a brief explanation of what’s happened and tell him that Eric’s in surgery. Once you do that, you ask him how the job is going and apologize for snapping at him.
After twenty minutes, you receive no response. Blinking back tears of frustration, you slide your phone into your bag and do the only thing any of you can do now - wait.
***
You’re curled up next to Patrick when you hear your name from the end of the hall. Hearing Charlotte’s panicked voice, you scramble out of your seat and round the corner. She’s got nothing with her, just her purse and a terrified expression on her face.
“Sugar, where’s Eric?” She asks, her voice nothing more than a frightened whisper. “Is he, please tell me he’s not -”
You shake your head, pulling her into a hug. “He’s in surgery. Tommy was assured the doctors would let us know as soon as he’s out.” You lean back, resting your hands on her shoulders. “He’s gonna be alright, he has to be. Come on, Linda’s here too and Eric’s partner.”
The second Linda sees her, she rises and wraps her arms around Charlotte. They both have a moment before Linda cups her cheek and smiles warmly. “Charlotte, sweetie, you got here so fast. Eric’s going to be so happy to see you.”
“Mrs. Grant, how are you doing?” Charlotte asks, setting her bag on the ground to look Linda over. “Is there anything I can get you?”
Linda shakes her head, glancing between you and your best friend. “You know it’s Linda and not a thing. Knowing that my baby has the two women he loves most here for him? I’ll be alright.” When you smile and tell her that you love her as well, Charlotte rests her head against your shoulder and agrees.
As you make your way back to the sitting area, a surgeon passes through the doors and walks up to Tommy. You, Charlotte, Patrick and Linda rush over to hear what he’s saying. Tommy shakes the man's hand and when he turns to address the group, his eyes are glassy and wet.
“Eric’s outta the woods.” He whispers, reaching for Linda’s hand. “It was touch and go for the first couple of hours, the bullet was centimeters from his heart. The surgeon said Eric must’ve turned himself so it landed above, otherwise the bullet would have...” He swallows, and blinks rapidly for a second. “It, uh, it woulda killed him.”
You sag in relief as Charlotte lets herself fall into Linda’s arms. Patrick swears softly as he wipes his eyes and pulls out his phone. “I’m gonna call the precinct, let them know to come down. Is he awake?”
Tommy shakes his head. “Not fully, he broke his collarbone and his left arm in the fall. So, he’s on a morphine drip right now. We can see him but he’s probably too groggy to notice us.”
“If it’s all the same to you, Mr. Grant, I still want to see him.” Charlotte wipes her eyes as she sniffles. “I need to see that he’s safe. That he’s breathing.”
Tommy smiles for the first time all night. “Of course, Charli. We’re glad ya here, Eric will be glad ya here.”
“I know I am.” You tell her, clasping tightly onto Charlotte’s hand. “Now, let’s go see him, huh? Let him know he’s going to be alright.”
***
Tommy and Linda go in first, seeing to it that their son is safe and as well as he can be. You and Charlotte wait patiently until they both come back out, wanting to give them a moment of privacy. “He’s pretty out of it, but he’s asking for the two of you.” Linda says, holding up a hand to make you pause. “But take a deep breath. He's a mess, but he’s going to be okay.”
You nod and pull Charlotte in with you. A mess is an understatement. When you see him, you cover your mouth with your hands as tears sting the corners of your eyes.
Eric’s left shoulder is heavily bandaged with his arm cast to the elbow. From the cuts and stitches on his face, the window did a Hell of a number on him. You glance quickly at Charlotte and squeeze her hand to help keep her calm.
It looks like he’s half awake, but he smiles when he sees you. Charlotte steps forward and reaches for his free hand to kiss it. “Oh Eric, I… I was so worried.”
He blinks lazily, trying to focus on her face. The pain medication must be making everything fuzzy. “Ya wicked pretty ma’am, but I got a girlfriend and she’d be so pissed if she knew ya were flirtin’ with me.”
Charlotte smiles, despite the tears sliding down her face. “Eric, chere, I am your girlfriend.”
“Seriously?” Eric tilts his head in your direction, a wide smile on his face. “Damn kid, I did good, huh?”
“Yeah.” You sniffle, letting out a relieved laugh. “Yeah, you did.” He nods, closing his eyes and you both watch as he drifts back off to sleep. Charlotte moves to sit at the edge of the bed. The love she has for him fills you with happiness for both of them. It makes you wish more than anything that John was here with you now.
You step back out and grab Tommy and Linda, motioning Patrick over while you speak. “He’s drifting in and out, do you want to come back in and sit with us?”
Tommy nods, a small smile on his face. When the four of you head back in, you each settle onto a chair to wait for Eric to be lucid enough to talk. While Charlotte falls asleep with her head inches from Eric’s hand, you listen to Tommy tell you about the latest ridiculousness your mother has started with your dad. You’re happy he has Tommy, your dad needs someone to vent to besides you.
Around midnight, Patrick steps out to the waiting room when more of the precinct arrives to see Eric. Linda presses her hand to her stomach as it growls, making you giggle at the sound of it. “Why don’t you guys go grab food.” You suggest, gesturing to the door. “I’ll text you when he wakes back up.” Tommy leans over and presses a quick kiss to the top of your head.
“Ya a good kid, you know that?” He extends his hand to Linda to help her stand, her legs stiff from the folded position they’ve been in. “We won’t be gone long.” You nod and settle back into your seat.
Another twenty minutes goes by and when you hear Eric make a pained noise of frustration, you push yourself to your feet. Charlotte jumps awake, eyes frantically settling on his face.
“H...hey, fella.” Eric groans as he attempts to push himself up in the bed. His eyes slide to Charlotte as she sits up; he attempts a small smile when he sees the fear on her face. “Hi honey, this, uh, this wasn’t what I meant when I said I wished ya could come up here. But I’m glad -”
Charlotte lets out a small sob and carefully leans her head on his chest. “Don’t you ever do this to me again, chere.” His unbandaged hand slowly moves to rest it on her head. “You scared the Devil outta me.”
You lean on the edge of the bed and let your lips form a relieved smile. “Yeah, Eric, you really know how to spice up a Wednesday night.” Eric lets out a pained chuckle as Charlotte straightens and grabs the chair by his bed. “I know you’ve probably been asked this a hundred times tonight, but what happened?”
Eric’s eyes close for a second, as if he’s struggling to recall the memory. But when he opens then, the blue in them is crystal clear and alert. “Paddy and I responded to a 911 call. Domestic disturbance. There were little kids there so Paddy got ‘em out. I heard the guy hit his wife and I went to check.”
He shakes his head. “It’s fuzzy, he had clearly been drinkin’ but he pulled his gun, I remember gettin’ hit and I grabbed at him. The sidewalk hit me and that’s that.”
Charlotte brushes his hair from his forehead as she leans forward to kiss his cheek. “How are you feeling?”
“Everythin’ hurts, but the morphine is helpin’ with that.” He rolls his eyes. “And I’m gonna have a scar over my tattoo now. Pain in the ass.”
“But you’re alive, Eric.” You squeeze his leg. “Tattoos can be replaced. You can’t.”
“Get your priorities straight, chere.” Charlotte admonishes. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d lost you.”
Eric attempts to shrug but gives up when the action makes him wince. “I knew I'd be fine. Honestly, I’m more annoyed about this tattoo and the fact that I’ll be ridin’ a desk for weeks.”
You roll your eyes but don’t push him. You know Eric won't be honest until you get him alone anyway.
When Charlotte yawns, you offer to grab her a coffee from downstairs. She shakes her head, and tells you she needs to stretch her legs and call Ray to let him know Eric’s awake. She leans over and gently kisses him before excusing herself from the room.
You move to the chair and meet Eric’s eyes. He gives you an easy smile, your main indication that he’s not as okay as he seems. “Eric, I won’t judge -”
“Ya know, this is the second time I put my face through glass and broke somethin’.” He muses, cutting you off as he leans his head back. “Hated it just as much the first time. Though, we were shitfaced when I fell outta the treehouse. Wish I had a few tonight. Might not of hurt so damn bad.”
You shake your head and sigh. “You know, you’re pulling a page outta my book, deflecting with humor. I see right through you. How’re you really doing?”
He looks away from you, eyes too focused on the end of his bed. “I’m fine, kid.”
“Eric Thomas Grant.” You scoff, folding your arms across your chest. “You are the worst liar I’ve ever met. You’re not fine, you almost died.”
Eric half smiles, attempting to lighten the situation. “Nah. I mean, like I said, I hurt all ovah, but I’m good. I told Linda the same thing.”
“And that’s exactly why I don’t believe you.” You point out softly. “I know you, Eric. It’s okay, just get it out now while it’s just me here. Cause I’m gonna be honest, I was terrified when Tommy called me. And when we got here? No one knew anything, we just…” you swallow hard, feeling your throat constrict with emotion. “We had to wait. I was so afraid we’d lose you.”
You wipe away a few tears that fall onto your cheeks but keep your gaze steady. Eric stays silent for a few moments, unable to meet your eyes. When he sniffles, you reach over and run your thumb over his arm reassuringly.
“So was I.” He admits, glancing over at you. “Kid, I… I didn’t even have time to fire my gun. I thought…” He looks up, dragging in a shaky breath. “Christ, my only thoughts when he was comin’ at me were of Charlotte, you and my parents. How I was nevah gonna get to see any of you again.”
He wipes his eyes with the heel of his hand and lets out a shuddery breath. “All of a sudden, I was out the window and then… nothin’. When I woke up, Doc told me how lucky I was that I got quick reflexes. Cause that sonova bitch shot to kill. And he almost did.”
He swallows hard, scratching the side of his beard with his free hand. “Never been more scared in my life.”
“Same here, you’ve never had a close call like this.” You lean back in the chair. “Guess St. Michael really was looking out for you, huh?”
Eric rolls his eyes and lets out a small huff. “Nah, fella. It was all me this time. The chain broke this mornin’ so couldn’t’ve been him.”
“What?” You freeze in your seat, feeling cold dread slide down your spine. The chain broke? So it’s not that your magic wasn’t strong enough, it wasn’t there with Eric at all. He was completely unprotected.
He shrugs as best he can. “Yeah the chain broke. I was in the showah and it just kinda snapped and fell. It’s old so I’m not surprised.” When your eyes flood with tears that you can’t stop, Eric’s brow furrows in concern. You apologize and tell him you’ve got to get him a new chain immediately. “It’s just a necklace, relax kid. It’s not like it woulda actually protected me.”
You sniffle and wipe your eyes. “C’mon,” you say, forcing a laugh from your lips. “You know how superstitious I am. Just let me replace the chain. I’ll feel better.”
“Yeah, I know.” Eric chuckles, inclining his head as Charlotte walks back into the room. “And don’t worry about it. Charlotte already ordered one for me.”
You glance at her as she gives you a knowing smile, then back to Eric. “Good, that’s good.” You let out a visible sigh of relief.
“Don’t you worry, sugar.” Charlotte assures you as she leans against your side. “I took care of it already, ordered one as soon as he told me this morning. You remember I’m just as superstitious as you.”
She remembers you telling her about the charm. You can tell from the intensity in her eyes when they meet yours. It eases the panic in your chest to know that while she may not have been thrilled that you hid your magic from her, she believes in you and your ability to keep both her and Eric safe.
***
Around 3 am, Tommy offers to let Charlotte stay with them if she’s not sure where she should go. Eric immediately protests, shaking his head at his father. “Dad, she’s got a key to my place, both girls do. It’s fine.”
Charlotte nods in agreement. “I appreciate you Tommy, but I’m gonna stay right here til the morning then head to Eric’s for a shower. Then I’m gonna call my firm, tell them I’ll be taking calls from up here for the next week or so and come right back.”
You smile at the determination in her voice. “It’s silly to argue with her,” you tell Tommy with a small laugh. “Charli might be more stubborn than I am.” When you yawn, it betrays your exhaustion. “And she’s always welcome at my house.”
“Sugar, you know I love you but I won’t be staying at your house. Not with -” She cuts herself off with a shake of her head. “I’ll stay at Eric’s.”
You’re not going to argue with her, not when you’re both emotionally and physically exhausted. Instead, you throw your hands up in surrender. You don’t exactly know what you’re walking into when you get home anyway.
Tommy and Linda say their goodbyes before they head home to get a few hours of sleep themselves. Linda kisses Eric's cheek, her eyes shining when she straightens back up. “I’m good, Ma. I promise,” he murmurs as she ruffles his hair. “Charlotte's gonna take good care of me. I’ll see ya in a few hours.”
You push yourself to your feet and fold your arms across your chest. “I’m gonna head out too, if you guys are alright. Get some sleep and a shower.” When Eric nods, you cross the distance and rest your hand on his leg. “I’m really glad you’re okay. Well, not okay but -”
“Me too, kid.”
Shaking your head, you force a smile onto your face. “I’m kinda attached to you, Grant. I don’t want to think about what could’ve happened if...” You trail off, not willing to finish your sentence.
“Yeah, I love ya too.” Eric smiles, resting back against his pillows. As you head out of the doorway, he calls your name. When you turn, you tilt your head in question. “Paddy and a few others are still in the waitin’ room. Ya wanna tell ‘em to go home and get some sleep? I feel bad that they’re out there.”
“I can.” You offer, leaning against the doorframe. “But they love you as much as we do. I don’t think they’re gonna want to leave.”
***
On your drive home, you try to call John. The phone goes right to voicemail, making your eyes burn in frustration. You hadn’t really expected him to show up at the hospital but you did expect him to check in. Especially since you had reached out to him a few times.
You just needed to hear John’s voice, have him reassure you that Eric’s accident had nothing to do with magic. It was just a crazy coincidence, nothing more. Because every time you had a lull in conversation at the hospital, your mind drifted to the broken necklace and you couldn’t stop yourself from letting doubt creep in.
The chain breaks and that night, Eric and Patrick answer a call that they normally wouldn’t and Eric gets hurt because of it? What were the odds?
As you pull into your spot, you see all the lights out inside your townhouse. You furrow your brow as you shut off your engine and step out. Could John not be home yet? That sends an unwelcome wave of panic through you.
In all the chaos, you didn’t stop to think about the fact that you abandoned John to do this job alone. Your only thought had been getting to the hospital to ensure Eric was alright. What if, while you were angry at him for not answering you, John had gotten hurt hunting the Shtriga?
If anything’s happened to him…
You hurry up your steps to get inside. Locking your door behind you, you drop your keys and flip on the living room light. “John?” You call out, your voice laced with panic. “John, are you home?”
When you hear nothing, fear lances through you. You climb your stairs two at a time until you reach the top. Your door is shut and unless John went back inside after you left, you hadn’t closed it. With fingers shakier than you’d like them to be, you turn the handle to push it open.
Your fear quickly turns to anger, burning white hot through you. John’s sound asleep in your bed. By the soft light coming through your window, there’s not a visible scratch or injury on him. With a huff, you turn on the light to your room and step inside.
John groans, shielding his eyes from the light on your ceiling. “It’s too bloody bright,” he complains, pulling up the blanket over his head.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” You exclaim, stepping over the empty Jack Daniel’s bottle on the ground.
You stop inches from the bed when he pushes the blanket back and sits himself up. “What are you shouting and going on about?” He asks, shaking his head to clear the fogginess of sleep from it.
“For a second, I was worried that you had gotten hurt on the job, but now I can tell you were just too drunk to answer the goddamn phone.” You fold your arms defensively across your chest. “Stupid me, right? For worrying about your well being.”
Running a hand down his face, John narrows his eyes at you. “You couldn’t have been that bloody worried about Ol’ Johnny. You took right off for the hospital now, didn’t you?”
You step backward as if he’s slapped you. “I can’t believe you just said that to me.” You grind out, tears of anger stinging the corners of your eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing’s wrong with me. I handled the Shtriga alone, came home, had a few drinks to erase all that rubbish and nastiness from my head.” He pushes himself up from the bed, crossing his arms in a defensive stance mirroring yours. “I reckoned going to the hospital wouldn’t help you, you should’ve bloody well stayed with me.”
“I should’ve stayed with you?” Pulling in a deep breath, you attempt to lower your voice and not sound as defensive as you feel. “John, one of my best friends was shot tonight. He almost died. The bullet was centimeters from his heart. I had no information, only that he was in surgery. I was a distracted fucking mess. What good would I have been to you?”
You wipe your eyes before any more tears can slip down your cheeks. “And I’m sorry but with Morgan making those threats and then slipping into the wind, can you blame me for panicking, dropping everything, and needing to make sure that magic wasn't involved?”
John sucks in a quick breath. You’re sure he hadn’t thought of that. “He’s sent demon after fucking demon after you, and those have been close calls, just like this was. I… I was afraid that he had gotten bored of playing cat and mouse with you, and decided to force one of us into reacting. I’m not as strong as you, he knows that.”
John says nothing, but the anger you saw on his face when he first woke up has started to dissipate, leaving behind something like shame burning in the darkness of his eyes.
“I needed you tonight, Johnny. And I understand you had to get the job done to stop that monster from hurting more children. I’d never get in the way of you doing that. But then you chose not to answer your phone, or your texts from me. You chose to ignore me. When I needed you. When Eric needed you.” You turn away from him, resting your arms on your dresser.
“Eric didn’t need me there, he’s not my bloody mate.”
“But I did.” You whirl around angrily. “And that’s bullshit. You care about him the same way I care about Chas. I’m just not afraid of admitting it.” You walk over to the bed and grab a pillow from his side.
“God John, I hate that you do this. You get irrational and lash out, every time things get tough. You keep pushing and pushing, what are you hoping to accomplish, huh? Are you trying to shut me out -”
You cut yourself off as you toss the pillow at him in frustration and raise your hands in surrender. When he catches it, he stares at you warily. “You know what? It’s almost 5 am. I’m exhausted John, and so angry at you. So, I’m going to sleep before I say something I don’t really mean. There’s extra blankets in the hall closet.”
“Where do you want me to-”
You shake your head, letting out a heavy sigh as your arms fall to their sides. “The couch, the spare room, the floor. I literally don’t care. But you’re not sleeping in this bed with me until I’ve cooled down and you’ve pulled your head out of your ass.”
John clenches his jaw and for a moment, you think he’s going to argue with you. You stand your ground, clenching your own jaw so you don’t cry. With a small nod, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding when you hear his footsteps on the stairs, then the soft squeak of your couch.
Tension bleeds from your shoulders as you let yourself flop down onto the bed. You want to cry. Waking up tangled with John in bed seems like it was years ago, not this morning. So much has happened since then and honestly, the last thing you want is to be going to sleep alone. But you can’t justify John’s behavior.
With a sniffle, you pull the covers over yourself and curl into a ball.
***
After tossing and turning for a few hours, you feel John’s side of the bed dip. You don’t turn around, but you don’t tell him to get out either. You don’t have it in you to fight with him again.
When John rests his hand on your side, you let the sob you’ve been holding in for hours burst out of you. It’s your fear for him, for Eric, for all the situations you have no control over, that comes out in the silent shaking of your shoulders.
John pulls you flush against him, resting his stubbled chin in the crook of your neck. “Let it all out.” He presses his lips to your cheek, offering this as his way of apology. “I should’ve been by your side tonight, sweet’eart. You needed me and I just, I was a nasty piece of work. I had no bloody right.”
You wipe your eyes and with a small huff, turn yourself around to face him. “Listen to me, caring about people doesn’t make you vulnerable, John.” You furrow your brow at the surprise on his face. “A support system makes you stronger. So you don’t collapse under the weight of everything you choose to carry.”
Resting your hand on his chest, you flex your fingers against his bare skin. “And you carry a lot, but it’s not an excuse for acting like a complete dick earlier. You don’t have to be afraid of letting people in, afraid that I’m choosing them over you. Because I know that’s what it is. It’s what it always is with you.”
“No, luv.” John shakes his head. “But -”
“No. No buts, Johnny.” You press your head against his chest. “You’re not in this alone anymore, so you need to stop making me feel like I am.”
John tilts your head up with his fingers, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Wasn’t my intention, sweet’eart.” When John wraps his arms around you, you don’t fight him. You want to push back, argue that while it wasn’t his intention, it happened, just the same.
But you feel the allure of sleep finally catching up with you, making your eyes and your limbs heavy. The anger in your heart is a dull pain now, but it’s still there. So instead of telling him that, you just listen to the steady beat of his heart until you fall asleep.
Notes:
Yikes, right? Glad to see that Eric's alright. You and John though...
Next week, with you and John still on shaky ground, you and Charlotte decide to throw a still injured Eric a surprise birthday party. John discovers a way to gain the upper hand against Morgan but underestimates how far the man is willing to go to get what he wants. That miscalculation puts you right in the Doctor's crosshairs and almost gets you killed.
Chapter 27: A close call.
Summary:
With you and John still on shaky ground, you and Charlotte decide to throw a still injured Eric a surprise birthday party, despite his protests that he doesn't want one. After you patch things up, John discovers a way to gain the upper hand against Morgan but underestimates how far the man is willing to go to get what he wants. That miscalculation puts you right in the Doctor's crosshairs and almost gets you killed.
Notes:
Y'all are the absolute best and I love you! Thank you for supporting me and this little story of mine <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
John plops down into the seat in front of your desk with a wide grin on his face. You look up from your seating chart for the gala next month with a raised brow. “You look like the cat that ate the canary.” You muse, tapping your pen against the paper.
John leans back, threading his hands behind his neck, triumphantly. “I got in.”
You push yourself up from your chair. John’s been trying, unsuccessfully, to get back into Morgan’s office. Ever since the first time he broke in, he’s found himself magically barred from setting foot inside. “Really?” You ask, excitement in your voice. “Undetected?”
John nods and reaches into the inner pocket of his coat. “Undetected, though I reckon he’ll know this is missing when he needs it.”
When he sets a small leather bound book down on your desk, you raise an eyebrow in concern before looking up at him. “What the Hell is that?”
“Morgan’s grimoire.” He opens the book, leafing through it with care. “Some Hell bastard gave this to him, I’m certain of it. This is how he’s been summoning demons I’ve never bloody heard of. Reckoned he must be pulling them from depths I’ve not had the pleasure of visiting.”
Your lips turn down in a frown. “If he’s going to know it’s missing, don’t you think he’ll retaliate?”
John closes the book and grins up at you with his usual cocky expression. “He can try, but without this?” He slips the book back into his pocket. “He won’t get far and now that we’ve got it, under no circumstances can he get it back. We can finally turn the bloody tide with this thing.”
You wish that inspired more confidence that it does. You trust John’s abilities, as well as your own, but Morgan’s been one step ahead of you for months. The demons that John’s gone up against have been stronger and more intelligent than they should’ve been. And you’ve been making yourself crazy trying to fortify the protection spells on Eric, Charlotte and your parents.
When you rest against your desk and let out a small huff, John leans forward in his chair to stare up at you. “Did you find anything else?” You ask, folding your arms across your chest. “Anything we can use to find him?”
“Not a bloody thing.” He admits, furrowing his brow. “The nasty git’s smarter than we’ve given him credit for, I’d reckon. By your guess, he hasn’t been here when you are in almost three months. But there’s evidence of him in his office and your team said they’ve seen him, yeah? He must be skulking about, biding his time to make a move.”
You nod your head. “Grace has had a handful of meetings with him, and I get the occasional memo from her, about him, on my desk when I come in. I’ve done my own tracking spells, but it’s like he’s a goddamn ghost.”
“So he doesn’t want us to find him, luv.” John stands, running his hands through his hair. “It’s been seven bloody months and all we have to show for it is a handful of vanquished demons, a few close calls and the name of an occult group that Chas can’t track down.”
“But now that we have the book, you think we can force him into acting? All he’s done is make backhanded attempts to hurt you.” You anxiously play with the belt on your dress. “Do we really think this is the best course of action?”
John shrugs as he begins to pace. “Not the best, but we’ve got to force his hand for a change, don’t we?” His hand rests on top of yours, stilling your actions. “You’re right. So far, he’s only tried to target Ol’ Johnny, but I don’t want him to change course and go after you.”
You roll your eyes and smirk at him. “He knows I’m not afraid of him. But I understand your reasoning. Maybe with the gala in a few weeks we can -”
“Oh, I’ll be expecting the wanker to make a move that night.” John interrupts you as he settles back into his chair. “We’ll be prepared.”
Your office phone interrupts your next thought. With a sigh, you twist your upper body and pick up the receiver. Charlotte’s annoyed lilt comes through the phone. “Oh sugar, Eric was in a mood when I brought him home. I certainly hope this party puts him in better spirits. I’ve never seen him like this.”
You settle back down into your seat and put her on speakerphone. “Well, he’s never been in a situation like this before. He’s been in the hospital for three days, eating crappy food and sleeping in a stiff bed. But we can’t let his thirtieth birthday just pass without something happening.”
John raises his eyebrow but doesn't comment. You rest your chin on your hands and grin as Charlotte agrees into the phone. “I know,” she sighs, “and originally, I wasn’t going to be up here at all so...”
“So we had to do something for him. Tommy and Linda agree.” Linda, in fact, had been ecstatic that you and Charlotte were planning a party for Eric. They had already informed you of their plans to pick him up tomorrow and take him out. Tonight would be for his friends. “Just make sure to have him at my place tonight by six.”
“Can do, sugar.” You hear her car slow, followed by the sound of it being shut off. “Do you need me to grab anything? I just ran to the store.”
You pull up your list on your phone. “Nah, I think we got everything last night. We should be good.”
After you’ve said your goodbyes, John crosses one leg over the other and tilts his head. “You reckon it’s a good idea to have this party if he doesn’t want one? You know I bloody well despise my birthday on a good day. So, imagine how he’s going to feel.”
“Oh shush,” you laugh. “Eric loves birthdays. He’s just upset because he’s in a cast and can’t do anything fun right now. It’ll be good for him to be around people that care.”
John sinks back into his chair and gives you a pointed stare. “Are you still on this, then?”
You narrow your eyes and feel your hackles rise at the accusation held in his tone. That’s not what you meant at all just now. But clearly, John still feels guilty for the argument you had four days ago.
You hadn’t talked about it again after he climbed into bed that night, so you let your frustration drop. But if he wants to push you on this now, he’s not going to like what you have to say.
“I’m not still on this John, because that would imply that I was wrong for getting upset about it in the first place. I’m still frustrated with the way you handled things the other night because I know you. You told me what I wanted to hear, when you knew I was exhausted, and you never brought it up again.”
“Come off it, luv. I bloody hate when you get cross like this.” John scoffs, rolling his eyes as he looks away from you. “Especially when you know how difficult this all is for me.”
Rising from your desk, you throw your arms into the air in complete frustration. You hadn’t wanted to really get into this with him here, but if he’s going to try and down play how angry he made you, then you don’t have a choice.
“Jesus, John. I’m not cross with you. You go on and on about how you’re not used to this, you know, someone caring about you.” You glare at him as your fingers thread through your hair. “Which is bullshit, by the way, because Chas does.”
You hold up a hand before he protests. “So you’re trying, but you don’t always know how to care back. I get it. But, maybe if you used actions rather than words to show you’re trying?” You sigh in defeat. “We wouldn't have to keep having these types of conversations.”
John drags in an annoyed breath through his nose. “I try more with you.” He mutters, pushing himself to his feet.
“I know you do, Johnny.” You answer just as softly. “That’s why I’m not angry with you. I just… I wish you could see where I'm coming from because sometimes I feel like we go around and - ”
With his right hand, he motions you over to him. For a moment, you consider it. Consider letting him call you sweetheart and kiss your anger away. But now, you’re not ready to let him have that victory. Not yet. You sigh and shake your head as you walk back around your desk.
At John’s sulky expression, you raise your eyebrow as you settle back down in your seat. “Don’t do that, John. I just told you, I’m not angry. But you can’t fix everything with that silver tongue of yours.”
John rolls his eyes as he backs out of your office. “I’ll leave you to it then. I’ll see you back at the house.” Before you can say anything else, he’s gone and you’re left with the hollow feeling in your stomach that you should have just given in.
***
“Shhhh!” You lower your palms, indicating for everyone in your living room to grow quiet and get down. “They’re here!”
Everyone in the room laughs and quickly crouches down. Patrick, the closest to the door, dims the lights and stands flush against your bookcase. You hear Charlotte’s lilt, unintelligible from this distance, become clear as she leads Eric up the stairs.
“Why are the lights out in there?” Eric asks, sounding confused and just a bit annoyed. “She said she was gonna be home.”
Charlotte giggles as she turns the handle of your door. “I’m sure she’s home. Girl’s got a thousand candles, she’s probably got them lit.” She steps aside to let Eric in first.
“Hey fella?” Eric calls out. “Ya home?”
At that, Patrick flips on the lights as everyone rises to their feet. Eric barely gets one foot in the door before the group shouts “Surprise!” He takes a step back, aggravation warring with excitement on his face. Everyone in the room gets closer to him, patting him on the back or pulling him in for a hug before he can react further.
When he’s able to, Eric’s eyes dart around the room until they settle on your face. He steps past one of his buddies from the precinct and wraps his good arm around your shoulders. “Ya threw me a surprise party, kid?” He lowers his voice and shrugs as best he can. “Ya knew I didn’t want anythin’ this year.”
“Oh hush, chere. It was both our ideas.” Charlotte confesses with a smile. She leans over and kisses his cheek. “With what you just went through, we weren’t letting your thirtieth birthday go by without a little celebration. We almost lost you.” Eric rolls his eyes, but you notice he doesn’t push back.
Patrick and his husband, Anthony step over, nodding in simultaneous agreement. “Your girl’s right.” Patrick lifts his drink as he pulls Eric over to him. “That was a hell of a close call, partner.”
Anthony, a handsome man with dark hair, dark eyes and an attitude to rival Charlotte’s, smiles kindly at Eric and his husband. “Pat doesn't like to get too emotional, but he was more worried than he’ll ever let on. Scared the shit out of him when he heard the shot.”
Patrick elbows Anthony, but smiles despite his furrowed brow. “Yeah, I just didn’t want to have to find a new partner, especially now. There’s so much paperwork, and you’re probably the only one who gets my coffee order right.” That leads to a chorus of laughter from the group.
After a few minutes of talking, Patrick and Anthony’s oldest son, Spencer comes up to the group. He addresses Eric directly with a grin. “So, Grant. You think now I’ll finally be able to take you in Pong? Cause I got a game set up on the island over there.”
You glance over at your kitchen island and sure enough, there’s a full game of beer pong set and ready to go. Eric lets out a loud belly laugh. “Oh, I think ya gonna be disappointed again, Spence. I didn’t get shot in my throwin’ shoulder.”
Charlotte grins in Spencer’s direction. “You need a teammate, cherie?” At Eric’s scandalized expression, she laughs and runs her fingers over his good arm. “If you’re that good at the game, I want to even the playing field.” She leans away from him. “Unless you don’t think you’re up for a little competition?”
“Oh, I’m up for it. I don’t think you are.” Eric grins, sliding his eyes to you. “Kid, ya wanna help me teach ‘em how it’s done?”
“Oh, as much fun as that would be,” you raise your hands in surrender. “I’m going to bow out and find my missing boyfriend. You kids have at it, but please don’t break my kitchen.”
Spencer nods, promising to be careful as Anthony volunteers to be Eric’s teammate, despite Patrick’s disapproval. “Come on babe,” Anthony laughs as you all head to the island. “Eric needs a second and it’s a party. Live a little.”
“Yeah, Paddy. Live a little.” Eric hands Anthony the ping pong ball with a wide, exuberant grin. “I’m injured, buddy. Ya gotta let me have fun somewhere.” Patrick rolls his eyes, but gestures with his hand for them to get moving.
You watch Anthony throw the ball, narrowly missing the cup he was aiming for. Spencer lets out a riotous laugh, running his fingers through his golden hair as he leans forward. “Come on, dad. You can do better than that.”
Your eyes scan the living room, taking in a few more of Eric’s detective friends as well as Patrick and Anthony’s other kids, Sawyer and Sophie. Everyone seems to be having a good time; snacking, playing cards and listening to music. But John is nowhere to be found.
Feeling anger starting to simmer in your veins, you take a deep breath and make yourself a drink. Sophie taps your arm as you pour coke into a cup. You smile down in response to her silent question. “Do you know how to make a Shirley Temple?” She asks after a moment, fidgeting with the sleeves of her shirt.
“Course I do.” You tell her, grabbing the grenadine and sprite from under the cart. “While I make you one, I have an important question for you. Do you remember the tall blond man that I was sitting with before Eric got here? With the red tie?” When she nods slowly, you press on. “Do you know where he went? I can’t find him anywhere.”
Sophie laughs and points to your patio door. “I think he’s playing hide and seek. Cause he’s been out there since we yelled surprise. But he’s not very good at it. You’re ‘posed to let someone else know that you’re playing. I don’t think he told anyone.”
“Right you are, Soph.” You giggle. “I bet you’re much better at it. You’ll have to teach him sometime.”
You hand her the drink and when she tells you that she’s going to go watch Eric play, you stand aside to let her go. You've thought she has a crush on him since the first time you met her. The way she blushed when she said his name confirms it. As you make your way to the patio, you wonder if Eric knows, then you decide it’s cuter if he doesn’t.
You find John leaning against your railing, smoke billowing above his head. You shut the door behind you, making him look up from his thoughts. “Have you been hiding out here this whole time?” You ask, attempting to keep your voice light.
John pulls in another deep drag before he pushes himself back up all the way. “Can’t very well smoke in the house, now can I?”
You feel irritation flash across your face, making you glad he’s not currently turned toward you. “Me telling you not to, has never stopped you before.” You close the distance between you, resting your hand on his upper arm. “Will you come inside and enjoy the party? I’m really not upset with you, John. I promise.”
He quirks an eyebrow at you. “Who said anything about being upset? I’m just having a smoke.”
You don’t know if you believe him. You want to, but the almost annoyed glint in his eye makes you pause. “When you’re finished you’ll come in?’ John takes a deep drag of his cigarette then nods with a half smile. “Okay.” You rub your thumb on his arm reassuringly. “I’ll see you inside.”
As you shut the patio door behind you, you pull in a deep breath. When you let it out, you smile and head over to see how badly Charlotte’s kicking Eric’s ass. Surprisingly, Eric’s about to pull out a victory.
When he sinks the ball into Charlotte’s last cup, he lifts his good arm in victory. “Hell yeah!” He shouts, making everyone glance in his direction. “Even with one arm, I still got it! They didn’t call me the Captain for nothin’!”
Charlotte rolls her eyes as she walks around the island but smiles when she presses her lips to his. “Alright, Captain. You can have this victory. Just this once.”
“I’m sorry I missed such a spectacular takedown.” You apologize, grabbing your forgotten drink off the cart. “I had to find John.”
Looping her arm around yours, Charlotte steals your drink with her free hand. “And did you find our favorite ray of sunshine?”
John’s voice behind you, makes you both jump. “I was having a smoke, but if you missed me that much Lottie, you were welcome to come looking for me.”
Charlotte’s lip curls as you watch her visibly stamp down her irritation. “Oh, I missed you as much as I miss the mosquitos come the winter.”
You tilt your head suspiciously. “Char, you don’t.”
“Exactly.” She smirks. When John scoffs in response, she downs your drink and quirks an eyebrow in his direction. “Manger de la merde*, John.”
John rolls his eyes and heads over to get Eric’s attention. “Oh, ladies first, Lottie.” He calls out over his shoulder.
While Eric and John talk, Anthony slides over and wraps his arm around you. “So that’s John, huh?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “Handsome as hell, but I think a little too broody for my taste.” He grins as he squeezes your shoulder. “Let me guess, he’s a demon in the bedroom?”
“Something like that.” You grin right back. “He is a great guy. John’s just got a lot on his mind right now.”
Charlotte stares at you pointedly. “It’s always something with John, isn’t it?” You force out a laugh, but can’t find it in you to disagree.
***
After you all sing Happy Birthday to a blushing, embarrassed Eric, the rest of the evening passes by pretty quickly. Charlotte and Eric offer to hang back and help you clean, but you assure them you won’t be attempting it until the morning.
“Thanks kid, I really needed tonight.” Eric hugs you with his good arm. “Even if I did grumble about it.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll see you guys tomorrow?” You ask, as you hold open the door for them. They both nod, grins filling up their faces. Behind you, John gives his goodbyes as well, before you close the door and lock it.
Flipping off the light, the two of you climb the stairs to your room. Once inside, John sits at the edge of the bed and watches you slide your dress down your arms.
“I uh, I reckon I can sleep in the guest room if you like.” He offers; his apparent apology for being moody and petulant most of the night. You grab your pajamas off your chair and turn to face him.
“No, I don’t want that.” You purse your lips as you pull up your sleep shorts. “I want us to move past whatever this is.” You crouch down, resting your elbows on his knees. “There’s a psycho out there that wants us dead. We need to stick together, Johnny.”
“Technically, he wants me dead, doesn’t he?”
Pushing yourself to your feet, you let out a huff of annoyance. “John.”
When he smirks and grabs your hand, your heart skips a beat in your chest. “Ah, you’re right, sweet’eart. It’s dangerous to be at odds right now, but you have every right to want to be. I’m sorry. I was a prat tonight, sulking about like a bloody teenager. I’ve no bloody clue how you didn’t slap me.”
Tucking your hair behind your ear, he meets your eyes. “If it were you, I would’ve properly put you in your place.”
With a smile, you tug his tie over his head. “Well, that would’ve been highly inappropriate with a house full of guests.”
“Ahh, but it’s empty now.” John points out while you unbutton his shirt. His low growl slides over your skin, making you shiver. “Innit, sweet’eart?”
“It is.” You agree, your mouth running dry as his heated stare rakes over you. “So what are you gonna do about it.” With a shake of his head and his trademark smirk, John pulls you down with him onto the bed.
***
The night of the Exhibit gala, you and John assume you’ve thought of everything. Your parents won’t be attending, Charlotte has long since gone home and Eric has your protection as well as John’s. If Morgan should decide to retaliate, John’s sure that you’ll both be prepared.
You aren’t. And when it all goes wrong, John’s assumption almost costs you your life.
***
You’re a bundle of nerves, as you stand on your podium and introduce the Pacific Islands Hall exhibit. John’s steady gaze keeps watch over you and Eric, ready and waiting should Doctor Morgan decide to show up and make a move. One of the director’s explained away his absence; a sabbatical in South America, but you don’t believe them for a second.
You’re certain he’s just going to waltz into the exhibit hall and attack.
After the opening, John remains a constant fixture at your side. You both appear to be the picture of a normal couple; John in his suit jacket and pants, hair as styled and tame as you could get it before you left and you in your tea-length navy gown, locks carefully styled into a twist at the base of your neck. But you know you’re anything but.
Despite your fears and John’s concern, the exhibit opening does go off without a hitch. The board of Directors are beyond pleased with the quality of artifacts from Boston’s maritime merchants and you bask in their praise for most of the night. Morgan never shows, although your nerves stay on high alert. They will be until you’re home and safe again.
Eric doesn’t seem to notice your anxiety until the end of the night; a sure fire sign that you’re starting to fray from being on edge for hours. The guests have left, as well as the board members. All that remains are you and John, Eric, and a few museum employees.
“Kid, the hall’s open. Everyone loved it! Take a deep breath and relax, huh?” Eric nudges John with a smile. “She been like this all day?”
“Ah big man, you know she has.” John wraps his arm around you, all smiles and lighthearted humor. “But that’s my girl, innit? She’s all hard work and grit ‘til the job’s done.” Your cheek flush at his honest praise and let yourself relax for just a moment in his arms.
“You know how I used to get before we’d go on stage. I was a mess until I actually got up there.” You laugh, rolling your eyes to assure him. “Same principal here. Once I knew everyone was pleased with the opening, I was good.”
Eric lifts an eyebrow in disbelief. “Ya say that but ya still look like ya could use a stiff drink.” He turns to John with a grin. “Once ya finished and all that, wanna stop by my apartment and have a few drinks? I got the good stuff.”
John nods emphatically. “Sounds like a bloody good time, mate.” His eyes dart around the empty banquet hall. “As soon as we’ve got this lot buttoned up here, we’ll come to you.”
Eric leans forward to hug you as best as he can with the cast on his arm. He’s only got a couple of weeks left of the thing, but you know he’s insanely sick of it. “See ya in a little bit?” He asks, attempting to lift his jacket off the table.
John meets your eyes before he grabs the coat and helps Eric into it. “Let me help you, big man. Make sure you get to your car alright.”
Eric shakes his head before glancing at the doorway. “Nah, John. I got it. I parked in the garage across the street. You don’t want to have to walk back by yaself.”
“We insist.” You jump in, forcing a calm smile onto your face. “It would give me some peace of mind. You know, the cast and all.” He rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue further. With a gesture of John’s hand, the pair make their way out of the museum.
You direct the clean up crew on where to start before beginning the ascent up the stairs toward your office. You’ve just got a few things to cross off your list before you and John can leave.
You no sooner round the corner to the hallway when a hand sharply fists itself in your hair and shoves you into the alcove of the closest doorway.
When you try to pull your hair free, your attacker grabs your left hand and twists it harshly behind your back. Your heart races as your free hand flies out to stop your face from connecting with the closed door in front of you.
With his weight bearing down on you, your right hand is trapped between your chest and the door. Twisting your head to the side, you realize with growing dread that you can’t gain enough leverage to push yourself up. The arm behind your back twists even further, making you hiss out in pain.
You swallow back the terror stopping you from crying out and kick backward at your attacker hoping to hit something soft. When you miss, a deep chuckle in your ear makes you freeze. You feel the color drain from your face as your mind scrambles to recognize its owner.
Morgan’s hand snakes around to cover your mouth, keeping you from screaming for help and you realize your only movement comes now from the panicked and erratic, rise and fall of your chest.
“That was a Hell of a party, my dear.” He whispers in your ear, gripping tightly to your arm. “Shame you didn’t invite me, you’ve hurt my feelings.” You let out a muffled yelp as he pushes you harder against the door. “Where is it?” He hisses, lifting his fingers just enough for you to answer.
Morgan wants the book, the grimoire. You knew that he would come for it and be furious when it wasn’t in his office. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You gasp out, your breath hot against his hand.
“You do, my dear.” Morgan snaps, moving his hand into your hair. He yanks your head back, exposing your throat. “He has it, doesn’t he?”
When you shake your head to try to deny it, he presses his face into your hair and breathes deeply. “I can smell your fear and still you’re willing to lie for him. Johnny boy has no idea how lucky he truly is.”
What? What is he talking about, how can he smell fear? Your blood runs cold when you hear rustling behind you. What the fuck is he doing?
Keeping one hand enclosed around the wrist at the small of your back, his other hand snakes down your front and tugs free the hand that’s trapped. He yanks it back behind you, making you whimper in pain. You can’t see what he’s doing but when you hear the click of metal close around your wrists, fresh terror blossoms in your chest.
Quickly, you pull at the cuffs, desperately twisting your fingers to create flame in your palm. Your stomach plummets when nothing happens. Morgan spins you around, a sadistic smile creeping onto his face at the confusion on yours.
“I’ve enchanted these to suppress magic.” He explains as his hand threads back into your hair, pulling your twist loose when he yanks your head up. “I’ve been watching you; knew that the magician had been teaching you the Arts. I thought it best to come prepared. I need leverage to get my book back, you’ll do nicely."
Despite the pain in your scalp from his fingers, you struggle to pull away from him. “Let me go, you son of a bitch.” You hiss, attempting to quell the fear surging through your body. “I’m not afraid of you.”
Morgan pulls you to him, until your face is inches from his. “I want the grimoire back in my possession. If I don’t get it, you won’t enjoy what happens.”
“I said I’m not -”
Morgan’s hand covers your mouth again, his fingernails digging harshly into the sides of your jaw. “It’s a shame about the Detective, hmm? I hear the bullet was mere centimeters from his heart.” He shrugs callously. “Just another case of wrong place, wrong time?” Your eyes widen in terror at his implication.
Fury mingles with the panic, overriding your logic, as you try to shake your head. “He chose such a dangerous career, didn’t he?” Morgan taunts. “It’s only a matter of time before the Detective’s luck runs out. You can’t protect him forever.”
His eyes linger over your heaving chest and when they meet yours, something entirely different flashes in the darkness there. “Maybe I could be tempted to spare him, spare your useless boyfriend as well.” His free hand ghosts over the bodice of your dress, making you shudder. “For a price.”
You’re about to stomp your heel on his foot, when movement over Morgan’s shoulder catches your eye. John winds his arm back, ready to throw a fire blast at Morgan’s head. For a wild moment, you think this will be over; John will neutralize him and you’ll both be safe.
Morgan shatters that as he whirls himself around, with you in front of him as a shield. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He snarls, wrapping his arm tight around your throat. “Take the shot, Johnny and you risk hitting your precious girlfriend to get to me. Although,” he leans down to your ear. “That does seem to be something he’s capable of, doesn’t it?”
“Let the lass go.” John orders, stepping back but keeping his hands raised to strike. “She’s of no use to you.”
Morgan pulls you closer to him, chuckling when a flex of his forearm causes you to let out a strangled gasp. “You don’t know how wrong you are, Constantine. Because you have something that belongs to me and now, I have something that belongs to you. You can see the predicament we’re in, can’t you?”
John’s eyes flicker to your terrified face before narrowing them furiously.
Morgan continues with glee, tightening his grip as you struggle. “I’m a man of my word and I’ve promised to deliver your soul to a very important group of individuals. I can’t do that without the right spell. So you understand why I will stop at nothing to get my book back. And as important as she is, I won’t hesitate to kill her if I don’t get what I want.”
“You’re not getting that bloody book, ya nasty git so let her go and deal with me.”
“No. Just, please, get out of here, John.” You force out, attempting to buy him enough time to think of a backup plan. You try to turn your head. “Ezra, please. Please don’t do this.”
When you watch John’s eyes widen in panic, you tilt your head in confusion as best you can. You need him to get out of here, get to safety, get - You audibly swallow when you feel the unforgiving sting of a metal blade against your neck. Fuck.
You're terrified to move, terrified to even breathe. Especially if doing so causes his hand to slip or waver a fraction of an inch.
“She can’t work her magic, Johnny boy. I've made sure of that.” Your eyes water when Morgan presses the dagger so it bites into your flesh. “And if you continue to defy me, I’ll ensure she bleeds out before you can get the cuffs off of her.”
John steps forward, fury twisting his lips into a snarl. “You don’t have the stones, mate.”
Your breath catches in your throat. Is he really taunting the bastard threatening to murder you? He can’t be that stupid. Morgan killed Darren without a second thought, if John thinks he won’t do the same to you...
“Don’t I?” Morgan laughs, moving the blade to dig it into your side enough for blood to stain your dress. You drag in a shaky breath through your nose as you uselessly tug at your bound wrists. “Give me the grimoire. Now. Or she dies.”
You can’t stop the tears that side down your face. You don’t want John to give him the book, but you’re afraid. Afraid of Morgan, afraid that John is going to get hurt, or that he won't choose to give up his one bit of leverage in this fight.
“No, Johnny.” You whisper, hating yourself for the way your voice shakes. “Go.”
John’s eyes slide to yours, and his expression softens a fraction of an inch. Morgan sees it too, laughing when he realizes he’s going to win this round. His hand turns, causing you to let out a sob. “Come on Johnny,” he taunts. “We both know you don’t want her dead. Now, be a good boy and do as you’re told.”
John’s dark eyes burn with rage as he murmurs something under his breath. The leather book materializes from thin air to his palm. He lets out a heavy sigh as he closes the distance. “I give you this bloody thing and you’ll let her go?”
“No!” You shout, struggling in his grip. “John, he’ll kill y-
“Shhh.” Morgan’s arm tightens around your neck, silencing you. “Women should be seen and not heard. Don’t you agree, Constantine?” You squeeze your eyes shut to stop tears from falling as he leans down to your ear. “Get the book for me, girl. Do it now, or you’re right, I’ll kill him where he stands.”
When he moves his hand, Morgan shoves you forward, making you stumble to catch your footing. By instinct, you try to shift your hands so you can brace yourself, making the wound in your side pull. John lunges forward to stop you from falling, withdrawing his hand when it comes away tinged with red at the fingertips.
John takes in the blood on his hand and the trembling of your lower lip. “I’m sorry,” he whispers as his eyes turn a dangerous shade of gold. He straightens and glares over your shoulder. “You bastard -”
Morgan cuts him off with a laugh. “I was right.” As you turn, the grin you see on his face terrifies you. “She is your weak spot, Constantine. She’ll be the death of you, I’ll see to that.” He snaps his fingers impatiently. “The grimoire. Now.”
With barely contained rage, John presses the book into your hands and lets you walk back to where Morgan waits. Once you’re close enough, you turn around so he can grab the book. You hear him hum with pleasure as he pulls the leather from your hands.
“Let me go.” You beg him, twisting your wrists in the cuffs. “Please.”
Morgan lets out a laugh that makes your blood run cold. “I don’t think so.” He snarls, reaching for your arm.
Before you can turn your upper body to protest, an energy blast knocks both you and Doctor Morgan to the floor. The dagger that was in his hand, clatters to the ground beside him as John winds back and sends out another blast. When you push yourself up with your shoulder, you watch Morgan scramble towards you and reach out for the metal.
“You try to touch her again and I’ll kill you.” John growls, blasting the dagger out of reach.
Morgan directs an energy bolt toward John as he rises to his feet. “If you could kill me, you would have already.” John sidesteps the blast as Morgan makes a pattern in the air with his fingers. “But I so love watching you try.”
He grins at you as he starts to disappear. “Till next time, my dear girl. You won’t be this lucky twice.”
John rushes to your side and cups your face in his hands. “Sweet’eart! Fucking hell,” he swears, pulling you onto his lap. “You’re alright, you’re safe.”
“I’m sorry, Johnny. I’m so sorry.” You’re sure that adrenaline is making your words come out quick and jumbled but you can’t make yourself stop.
“I... I didn’t want him to have it. You shouldn’t’ve....he just.. I couldn’t fight back and I... he was going to… he would’ve…” Tears sting the edges of your eyes as your lower lip trembles violently. “I wasn’t expecting these stupid cuffs… wasn’t expecting him. And then he -”
“Shhh… it’s alright, sweet’eart. Don’t you apologize. I’ve got you now.” He pushes your hair out of your face as his eyes slide down to the wound in your right side.
“Let’s see how bad that cut is, yeah? Get you out of these ruddy things. Bloody hell, you were almost...” He trails off unable to finish his sentence. "Reckon I'll need to give Eric a ring, we won't be joining him for a pint after this."
You pull in a shaky breath, ignoring his soft attempt at humor. “John, he was going to kill you. Now that he has the book again, he's not going to stop.”
You glance around the hallway wildly. “We have to get out of here, please -” John’s fingers press near the edge of the cut and you cut yourself off by clenching your teeth.
“Sorry, luv. Stop fretting over Johnny for a minute. I’m alright. Let me worry about you, ey?” He carefully moves the ripped part of your dress. “S’not deep and the blood’s already stopping. Your dress might not make it, but you will. A couple stitches and you’ll be right as rain.” Gingerly, he wraps an arm around you and helps you to your feet.
Lifting your chin with his fingers, he carefully inspects the scratch just under your jaw. Satisfied that there’s no lasting damage, he nods slowly. “Now, on to these.”
At your widened, pain filled eyes, he gently touches your cheek to ground you. “Stay with me, luv. I can’t walk you downstairs trussed up like this.”
You stand as still as you can while John attempts every spell and charm he can think of to unfasten the metal collaring your wrists. “I’ve never seen magic like this before.” He huffs, ushering you into the safety of your office. “They won’t bloody come off.”
“Well, he said they were enchanted to suppress magic, so maybe...” You wince, leaning against your desk. “Maybe… I don’t know.. Could we call Chas? Because at this point, I’m not above amputation. I just want them off.”
John raises an eyebrow, but pulls out his phone. After giving him the quick rundown, and assuring him that you’ll call back once you’re home, Chas digs into his archives to find something that can help.
As you wait, John paces back and forth and your mind races uncomfortably. “He’s got the upper hand now.” You sigh, trying to ignore the dull ache in your side and the burn in your shoulders. “You shouldn’t have given him the grimoire. You should have just let him -”
“Sweet’eart, don’t even say it.” John holds up a hand and turns toward you. He crosses the room and cups your face. “I couldn’t let him hurt you, now could I?” He steps closer to you, his eyes burning with the same intensity you saw in them the day you knocked him on his ass.
You open your mouth to tell him just how much you love him. You’ve known it for some time, it’s only fair that he knows too. Especially after what he just lost to save you. Chas comes through the speaker before you can get your sentence out.
“Don’t ask how I found this,” he huffs. “Cause honestly, I couldn't do it again if I tried. But I’ve just sent you a counter spell strong enough to deactivate them. Now, you two get home safe and then you call me. That's not a request, John. I want to know how this happened.”
***
Once you’re home, John tends to your wounded side, stitching a clean line that should heal in no time. You toss your ruined dress in the trash; you don’t need another reminder of the danger you were in tonight and the terror that ran through you. The scar will be enough.
“I’ve faced off against worse buggars than this. He’s just a bloke with an overinflated sense of self importance.” John promises, as he hands you a cup of tea and sits with you on the couch. “We’ll get him, luv. I won’t let him use you again.”
“I know, John. I’m fine now, really.” You rest your head on John’s shoulder, pulling in a deep breath as you close your eyes. “I’m not afraid of him.” This time the sentence tastes bitter when you speak it out loud.
It’s a lie, and you both know it.
Notes:
* eat shit, John. (oh, charlotte. You sassy little thing)
Glad you're not fighting with John anymore, neither of you love it when you're at odds. But Morgan though- this is the first time that he's actually hurt you. You and John need to figure out what he's hiding and fast, because it's pretty big and it's dangerous.Next week: John reaches out to a colleague for help and when he hears something he's not prepared for, he tries to drink his troubles away when he's supposed to be meeting your parents. When he shows up, things go from bad to worse when your mother viciously brings up how much she wishes your old fling with Eric had lasted. A fling that John doesn't know about.
Chapter 28: From Bad to Worse.
Summary:
You're guilted into bringing John over for dinner, but not before he reaches out to a colleague for help with Morgan. When he hears something he's not prepared for, he tries to drink his troubles away when he's supposed to be on his way to meet your parents. When he does show up, things go from bad to worse as your mother viciously brings up how much she wishes your old fling with Eric had lasted. A fling that John doesn't know about. That's going to go over exactly how you expect.
Notes:
And I'm back!!
Thank you so much for being amazing and supportive while I was transitioning to a new job in the middle of holiday madness! You guys are so great and I missed you all!!
Hope I didn't let y'all down and this is well worth the wait!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
As you pull up the driveway to your parent’s house, you drag in a calming breath and quickly glance down at the clock on your dashboard. It’s just after noon; with any luck, Priscilla won’t be home. With it being Sunday, she’s usually attending lunch with her ‘friends’ from the Copley.
If you had your way, you wouldn’t be here at all. But in an effort to protect you from Morgan, Chas hunted down an old Hungarian protection charm that needs a treasured object from your infancy. And your parents kept everything. So, the journey home was an unfortunate necessity.
Your hopes of a quick getaway are dashed when you see your mother’s car in front of the garage. Pulling up next to it, you briefly close your eyes before you get out. For a moment, you actually contemplate leaving empty handed. Maybe this will be painless and you’ll get in and out without having words with her. Maybe.
You let yourself in, grateful that your dad gave you the ever changing access code, and set your keys on the side table. Glancing around at the sterile white walls, you can’t help but wonder why Priscilla had children in the first place. This house was always too organized, too breakable for a little kid to grow up in. Time hasn’t changed that.
Everything on the main floor looks like it’s on loan from the Museum of Fine Arts; beautiful but off limits. You never truly felt like you belonged here; your room and your dad’s study were the only spaces you didn’t feel like you were walking on eggshells.
When you hear heels clicking on the hardwood, you snap yourself out of your thoughts and throw up every mental wall of protection you can. Your mother stops a few feet from you, one delicate eyebrow arched expectantly.
“I didn’t know you were coming, did your father?” She asks, looking you over. “To what do we owe this unexpected surprise?”
Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you force a smile onto your face. “Hello, mother.” You greet her, ignoring her subtle jab. “You look well. New haircut?”
Your mother gently touches her hair and launches into a story about her new stylist and how dissatisfied with the last one she was. You smile and nod politely, knowing if you keep the conversation centered on her, her abrasive questions will be a minimum.
After she goes on for a few minutes, you take the lull in her story to ask her if she’s moved all your baby things into storage. “Why?” She asks, her voice taking on a suspicious edge. “What do you need any of that for?”
“Well, we’re doing a thing at the museum.” You lie, shrugging nonchalantly. You need to be as vague as possible. “We need ‘artifacts’ from our childhood. As director, I couldn’t say no and it’s really good for employee engagement that everyone participates.”
“What are you looking for exactly?” She asks again, absentmindedly fiddling with her diamond pendant. “I didn’t keep much from before you were two.” That takes you aback for a moment. Why did she not have much from before that? You wonder again why she bothered to have a kid; she’s the least maternal person you’ve ever met.
Swallowing back your frustration, you glance around the room before settling on her slightly pinched face. “I don’t know, uh, I’ve seen pictures of me with that old brown teddy bear. Do you have that packed away somewhere?”
She scrunches her mouth as she thinks on it. “I believe so.” She offers slowly, seeming to be visibly relieved. You walk with her into the kitchen and lean on the marble island top while she grabs two wine glasses from the cabinet.
“I’ll just have water, if you don’t mind.” With Priscilla, wine turns into an all day event and you don’t want that. With a sigh, she grabs a bottle of water from the refrigerator and sets it on the counter along with an ice filled glass.
“Linda tells me that Eric just got out of his cast.” Taking a sip of her wine, your mother settles onto the bar stool across from you. “He’s so lucky that the bullet missed his heart.” She comments dramatically. “The Grant’s would’ve - oh, I just can’t imagine the horror of it. Their handsome boy laying in a hospital bed like that.”
You pour your water into the glass and bring it to your lips. “Yeah, Eric didn’t say anything about you checking in on him, for someone so concerned about his well being. And I was there at least once a day, I would’ve seen you.”
She shakes her head, her lips twisting into a frown. “I was so busy, angel. There was simply no way I could’ve gone. And I didn’t want to intrude on, oh what’s her name, Candice? I don’t think she’d want someone else competing for her boyfriend’s attention. I’m surprised she didn’t say something to you, given your history with Eric.”
She sighs theatrically. “Honestly, you let that boy slip right through your fingers.”
“Don’t.” You warn her, setting your glass down harsher than you intended. “One, that’s Charlotte, my best friend. So watch what you say about her. Two, I did not let him slip through my fingers. Eric and I are much better as friends. Honestly mother, it was like dating my brother. It was never going to work.”
As you lean back, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You pull it out discreetly, furrowing your brow at a text from Eric. Speak of the devil. He’s convinced that someone is tailing the Explorer; he’s running the plates. You roll your eyes and respond quickly, telling him that he’s just being paranoid after weeks riding a desk.
Your mother scoffs as she takes another sip. “What about Dominick?” She asks, out of the blue. “He’s a good man; so charming and charitable. You’d do well if you went after him.”
“Nicky is the last person I want to end up with, mother.” You roll your eyes, stifling a shudder. “He’s not the man everyone thinks he is. Promise.”
“Oh, stop.” She admonishes, waving her hand at you. “He’s a wonderful man. How no woman has scooped him up yet is beyond my comprehension.”
Because he’s a nasty, controlling, manipulative dickhead, you think hotly. “Because,” you offer instead, “he doesn’t hang onto women for more than a month. I would choose to be alone the rest of my life than ever entertain the idea of Dominick Grant.”
She pushes herself away from the island. “You don’t mean that.” Your mother grins at you then, all teeth and no kindness. “I should call him, have him take you out the next time he’s in town. He’d show you a good time, I’m sure of it. Doesn’t he usually fly home in time for the holidays?”
“Mother, don’t you dare. I have zero interest in that man.” You shake your head, refusing to let her see how uncomfortable this conversation is becoming for you. “You call him and I’ll refuse to let him in. He’s nothing but trouble when he’s home.”
“He is not trouble, Dominick is a perfect gentleman. What’s the harm of one date?” Perfect gentleman, my ass. If your mother notices how you’ve tensed up, she doesn’t comment on it. “You don’t know what could happen, he could be the one but you refuse to try. It’s not like you’re getting any younger, my dear.”
You stand and bring your glass to the sink. “Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence, mother. It doesn’t matter anyway, I’ve been seeing someone for a while now. So no need for you to play matchmaker.”
When you turn and see the curious glint in her eyes, you bite your tongue, realizing your mistake. “You’ve been seeing someone?” She accuses with a raised brow. “And your father and I didn’t know?”
Well, your dad knew about John. But he’d never pressure you into meeting him. Bobby was great like that; as long as you were happy, so was he. “Uh, well I’ve been so busy with the museum and all of my new responsibilities, I just -”
“If you had time to find a boyfriend, you couldn’t have been that busy.” She smirks, thinking she’s got you cornered. “But I know you don’t like involving me in your life.”
You fold your arms across your chest, feeling the familiar burn of defensiveness creeping onto your cheeks. “Please mother, I don’t want to argue with you.”
“And you’re not going to.” She points out, fiddling again with her necklace. “But what you’re going to do is bring him to dinner next Friday. Let your parents meet the boy that’s taking up all your time.”
“John isn’t some boy.” You push back, pulling out your phone to check your calendar. “And I don’t know if he’s even free, but I can, uh, I can ask.”
Priscilla smiles, satisfied that she’s getting her way. “That’s perfect. Now, you wait here, I’ll see about that silly bear.”
***
“Eric, I uh, I need a favor.” You resist the urge to slam your head against the steering wheel as you drive away from your parent’s. “And cause I know you love me and care about my well-being you’re going to say yes.”
You hear Eric laugh through your car's speaker. “Yeah, but you gotta hear this first. Ya remember when I texted ya earlier and told ya that I thought someone was tailin’ me and Paddy?”
You furrow your brow, recalling the text conversation from inside your parent’s kitchen. “And I told you that you were crazy?”
“Well, I was right, kid.” You can hear the annoyance in his voice. “And ya never gonna guess who it was.”
“Who?”
Eric sighs, letting all his frustration become evident in his forced exhalation of breath. “Fuckin’ close.”
“Wha-” You let out a dry laugh. “Hugh?! How? What the hell is he doing up here? I have so many questions; did you confront him? Does Charlotte know? Oh God, did you hit him? Tell me you didn’t hit him.”
As you turn onto the highway, you hit the volume button on your steering wheel to hear him better as he explains. “So I told Paddy I thought this SUV was followin’ us and I made him run the plates, right? Turns out, it’s a rental. After a coupla stops, Paddy suggests we get a coffee cause it’s still on our asses. So I pulled into a Starbucks on Mass Ave.”
“You got out.” You know he can’t see the ‘hurry up’ gesture you make with your hand, but you do it anyway. You’re more invested in this than you’d like to admit. It’s no secret you hated Hugh, so any excuse to hear about him being knocked down a peg or two, thrills you.
“We both did.” Eric confirms and you can hear the grin in his voice. “We didn’t even get inside before dick got out too, got in my goddamn face about how I was sleepin’ with his woman and how she’d never choose a ‘civil servant’ over him. I was just a phase for her until she missed havin’ a real man again.”
You let out a shocked gasp. “What the fuck?”
“Kid, I wish I was makin’ this up. I ain’t. I told him to back the fuck off; he didn’t want to get in a Detective’s face. But he just kept on goin’, he called out my parents - he actually said I used my dad’s name to get this job! Like the guy's whole life ain’t based off who his father is.”
You run your free hand through your hair. “Jesus, Eric. I’m so sorry. Tell me that you arrested him.”
Eric drags in a deep breath. “Nah, I warned him if he didn’t back off I would and then we’d see whose last name held more weight up here, mine or his. I felt gross just sayin’ it, but ya know Grant means somethin’ up here. He looked wicked pissed, but when he saw that I wasn’t gonna back down, he fucked off.”
“All this bullshit on your first shift back out?” You ask, chewing on your bottom lip anxiously. “What was he even doing up here?”
“I’m assumin’ business. I mean, Ray said the same thing when I called him.”
You knit your brows in confusion. “Eric, you called Ray before you called Charlotte?”
“I told Ray because I wasn’t sure how Charlotte would take it.” He admits, sounding a little nervous. “I mean, she was with the guy for almost five years. They were engaged.” When you point out that they’ve been together a year at this point, he just sighs. “Yeah, I know, I just got in my own head. I didn’t want her to get pissed at me for callin’ him out like that.”
“Why?” You ask, rolling your eyes in disbelief. “You’re a better man, a hundred times over, than Hugh Montgomery ever will be.”
Eric laughs, his deep chuckle echoing through your car’s speakers. “Thanks, kid. Ya know? Ray basically said the same thing. He really hated the guy, huh? So he told me I could call her or just tell her when I come down for Labor Day. I’m gonna call her as soon as I get off the phone with you.”
“Ah, fuck.” You swear as you exhale deeply. “I forgot you weren’t going to be home next weekend.”
“Yeah, I fly down Friday, home Monday night. Why?”
You scrunch your face in disappointment as you merge lanes on the highway. “Because I’m trying to spare John the indignity of having to meet my mother, so I was gonna ask you to come with me to my parents next Friday for dinner. But if you won’t be home, I don’t have a choice.”
When he asks how Priscilla even became part of the equation, you give him the same basic explanation you gave her; you needed the teddy bear for work, hoped you could slip in and out quickly. When you tell him that Priscilla suggested you go after Nicky after letting Eric ‘slip through your fingers’, you hear him shudder.
“Ya mother’s nuts, fella. I swear, she was more upset over the break up than we were. And I mean listen, we had a good run, you and I. Aside from Charlotte, longest relationship I’ve evah had. But we are much better as friends.”
“Exactly.” You laugh. “So to get her off my case, I told her I was already dating someone so I didn’t need her to fix me up. That prompted her to guilt trip me into bringing John to dinner next Friday. Seeing as the woman likes you more than she likes me, I was going to have you come and -”
“Be a buffer?” He guesses with a laugh.
Something like that, you think. It’s not that you want to keep John away from your parents. You aren’t embarrassed by him, it’s the opposite in fact. What John does, what you do now, is incredible. But you can’t say anything about it. And you don’t want to have to defend your choices when they hear whatever lie you both make up about what John does. Because John is so much more than some museum consultant.
“Kid?” Eric calls out. “Ya still there?” When you sigh in response, he continues talking, this time in his detective voice.
“Listen, you and John have been togetha for almost a year too. If ya parents don’t approve, lemme clarify, if ya motha doesn’t approve, that’s on her. Ya love him, he loves you; I just know it. Even if you haven't said it to each other yet. Bobby’s gonna love him, and Priscilla will get over it. Everything's gonna be great. Try not to get too stressed about it.”
You let out an exasperated huff. “Have you met me?”
“Yeah, once or twice. Which is why I gotta tell ya not to get in ya own head. Just tell John now, ya got over a week to prep him. It’s gonna be fine.”
Famous last words, you think, rolling your eyes in annoyance.
***
John’s on your laptop when you get home, eyes narrowed in frustration as he researches the Order. “Find anything new?” You ask as you lean over the couch to kiss his hair. At your touch, he sets his drink down on the table and sighs.
“Not as much as I’d bloody like.” John tilts his head back as you rest your hands on his shoulders. “Chas reckoned I should reach out to another colleague across the pond, but Zed told me she'd rather go to Hell than see my nasty mug again.”
“You really are a charmer, huh Johnny?” You smile as you walk around the couch and settle down beside him. “It’s a wonder I stick around,” you sigh dramatically, throwing your arm over your face. “But then, I’m a glutton for punishment, I suppose.”
When you feel him stiffen and tense up beside you, you turn to face him with a soft expression. “Hey,” you grab his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m kidding, John. Really. You know I want all of this, all of you. I promise.”
John makes a small noise of disapproval in the back of his throat. “Yeah, and you’re a bloody wonder for it too. Being with me is hazardous to your health, luv. And yet -”
“And yet, there’s no place I’d rather be.” You shove his shoulder playfully. “I mean, I got stabbed and I still didn’t run for the hills. If that doesn’t tell you I’m committed, I don’t know what will.”
That makes him crack a small smile. “Oh come off it, you didn’t get stabbed. It was more like a tiny prick, I’d reckon.”
“He’s a tiny prick, that’s for damn sure.” You giggle, leaning forward to shut your laptop.
At his quirked brow, you rest both hands on your lap. “So, I went and got a teddy bear from my parents house. I’ve seen pictures of myself holding it when I was little. That should work for the spell, right?” When he nods, you bite your lip and turn away from him, dreading the next part of the conversation.
“Anyway, my mother was home and I was really hoping she wouldn’t be.” You swallow down your anxiety as you meet his eyes. “She got on me about how I should be looking for a husband and ‘you’re not getting any younger, you know’ and I didn’t mean to but, she just gets me so angry, I told her I was already with someone. So next Friday -”
“Should I break out the suit jacket?” He asks, cutting you off with a grin. “Somehow, I reckon I should be a touch more dressed up if I’m to meet your mum.”
At your incredulous expression, John folds his arms and leans back with a chuckle. “Don’t get me wrong, sweet’eart. If I could go our entire bloody relationship not meeting your folks, I would. But I’m not going to make you face ‘em alone, now am I? Especially with how bloody awful your mum seems.”
“Really?” You were absolutely expecting him to give you some pushback or a bullshit ‘I don’t do meeting the parents, luv’ line. Anything but this.
“Of course.” John unfolds his arms and motions for you to get closer to him. “Well, you said it, didn’t you? You got yourself stabbed for me. The least I can bloody well do is spend the evening making sure you don’t off yourself at your folk’s house.”
Running your thumb over his upper thigh, you let out a deep sigh of relief. “Thanks, Johnny. It, uh, it seriously means a lot to me.”
“Anytime, sweet’eart.” He smirks, pulling you close to him. “For tonight, you feel like some take away or you want Ol’ Johnny to cook us a right proper meal?”
“Oh, I’m never going to tell you not to make dinner. You look so damn cute when you’re dancing around the kitchen.” You pat his leg with a soft laugh. “I’ve actually been thinking about getting you your own frilly apron so you'll stop stealing mine.”
John pushes himself to his feet. “Only if I get to be utterly starkers under the thing.” He comments, his tone full of sass. “And if it’s to be frilly, it best be pink.”
“Well, that’s the only way to do it.” You stifle your giggle with the back of your hand. “Would you expect me to pick anything but?”
***
The line rings three times, making John think that she won’t answer. It’s not like she’s going to be chuffed to see his name pop up on the line, anyway. But if anyone could get him the information he’s looking for, on both subjects, Zed can. When she does pick up, he sucks in a quick breath and holds it until she speaks.
“You’ve got a pair of stones calling me, Constantine.” Zed sighs, irritation heavy in her voice. “What could you possibly want?”
Twisting his lips into a smirk, John lets out a quick laugh. “Come now, luv. I’m sure you missed Ol’ Johnny.” When she scoffs, he rolls his eyes. “Alright, I need a favor. Just a touch of information if you have it. There’s a group in London, The Order of Nine Angles? Having trouble with it; Chas and I can’t find a bloody thing in the books about it.”
“I’ve heard of it. But you don’t need me to help you with that. I’m sensing that’s not the only reason you picked up the bloody phone, is it?” Zed comments, her voice laced with caution. “There’s been whispers, John. Even someone as far removed as me, can tell. You’ve been looking into that mess in Newcastle again, haven’t ya?”
John's breath catches in his throat. He hasn’t even told Chas what he’s been doing on the side. He shifts his weight uncomfortably. “That’s not why I gave you a ring.”
“So you’re calling me a liar then, ya sorry excuse for a scouser. I shouldn't've answered -”
An exhausted sigh escapes his lips. “Alright alright, keep ya bloody hair on. You’re not a liar. I just haven’t even told Chas that I’ve been searching for that nasty wanker. He’d have a bloody cow if he knew.”
“As he damn well should.” She points out. “That road is gonna lead to nothing but blood, despair and death. Ya know I can see it. That little girl is dead, her soul’s already damned; you saw to that. There’s nothing ya can do to fix it now.”
Shame burns hot in his stomach. “Zed -”
“No.” She cuts him off viciously. “Drop your search. God forbid that demon finds you, it’ll destroy you and anyone else ya drag down that road with you. You’re toxic, John. I’m sorry, but ya know you are. I reckon ya don’t care about many others, but this lass you're with isn’t just anyone, now is she? She may be gifted, I’m sure ya don’t want her to pay for your fuck up.”
John attempts to protest and Zed talks over him, her voice angry and annoyed. “Shut your trap and listen to me. You want to damn her to Hell? Cause that’s what’ll bloody well happen. You’ll get her killed; like Astra, like Gary, like how many others that dare to give a shit about you. I count my stars that I walked away when I did; saved my own skin, I’m bloody sure of it.”
John doesn’t bother to ask how she knows about you, Zed just knows. But having his mistakes thrown in his face like this bears the sting of pouring alcohol onto an open wound; often necessary, but hurts like Hell. He shouldn’t have called.
When John stays silent, she sighs softly. “Listen, ya want me to look into that Order, I will. But when it comes to Newcastle, leave well enough alone. Nothing good is going to come from this.”
John agrees, hanging up the phone. That conversation left him itching for a cigarette and drink. “Bloody Hell.”
Zed can’t see everything, no matter what she thinks. He’s being careful; he hasn’t said anything to you about what he’s been doing, all the exorcisms he’s been conducting behind your back. But he’s going to redeem himself for what he allowed to happen to Astra. He has to, no matter the consequences.
With a quick text to you to buy a bit of time to pull himself together, he slides his phone into his pocket and heads inside to drown his frustration in alcohol.
***
He’s late.
Of all the days for John to lose track of time, today was not the one you’d pick. He promised he’d be finished with the job he was doing in plenty of time so you could leave together.
His last text had told you he’d stopped at the Bell ‘for a quick pint’ and that was two hours ago. Your palms are sweaty with anxiety and your chest feels impossibly tight; John swore he wouldn’t fuck this up.
You know if you don’t leave now, you’ll be stuck in traffic and at that point, who knows what time you’ll arrive. Nothing makes Priscilla more annoyed than someone being late. Swallowing back your rising anger, you grab your keys, smooth out the skirt of your dress and murmur “delumine” to extinguish the lights in your living room.
Once you’re in the car, you connect your Bluetooth and try John one more time. When it goes to voicemail, you angrily shift into reverse and clench your jaw so your lower lip doesn’t tremble.
“I don’t know what you’re doing,” you snap as you head down your street. “But you promised me that you were okay with tonight. If you didn’t want to do this, you should have been honest with me. I… I would have made something up and cancelled. Now I have to make an excuse for you and deal with them alone.”
You drag in a breath as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. “I hope everything’s okay, otherwise you better have a damn good reason for bailing on me, John.”
***
The knock on your car window makes you jump. Your hand flies to your heart as your dad opens the door to your Rogue. “You gonna come inside, kiddo? Or just sit out here all night? I mean, I get it. Your mother isn’t out here, but I figured you’d at least want the free dinner. Maybe say hi to your old man.”
Rolling your eyes, you turn off the engine, decidedly ignoring the knot in your belly and the uncomfortable tightness in your chest. “Hi, dad.” You let a dry smirk find its way onto your lips as he pulls you in for a quick hug. “And please, with Priscilla, nothing is free.”
“Don’t I know it.” He agrees with a quick laugh. He dips his head low, letting the silver in his salt and pepper hair glint under the security light. “Where’s John?” He asks, his eyes roaming your empty car.
“He, uh, he got tied up with work.” You smile, hoping your dad doesn't hear the lie in the shake of your voice. “I’m not sure if he’ll be able to make it.”
As you shut your door, your dad nods and gives you his ‘I’m an attorney, I can smell a lie’ smile. You silently follow him into the house, chewing on the edge of your thumb as you silently will the erratic beating of your heart to slow down.
At the door, your mother stands with her arms crossed in distaste. “Where’s this mysterious boyfriend of yours?” She asks, not bothering to say hello.
“Come on, Cil.” Your dad cuts in, taking to your defense immediately. “John got stuck at work, but I think we should be happy that our ardently busy, successful daughter, took time out of her schedule to have dinner with us. She could’ve cancelled.”
For a moment, your mother looks as though she's stepped in something foul. Her nose crinkles as a frown twists on her lips. “Well Robert, I suppose I’ll just remove his place setting.” She stares down her nose at you as she turns to walk away.
“Study?” He asks, gesturing up the stairs. “Let’s catch up, have a drink before dinner. I haven’t seen you for more than a few minutes since the 4th of July.” You nod and follow him up.
Your dad’s study is probably your favorite place in the entire house. It always smells of his old leather chair with subtle hints of tobacco. You remember coming in here to contentedly do your homework in high school, sitting at the other side of his massive wooden desk, as he worked on a deposition or proposal for the firm.
Even now, as you settle into the high back chair that’s become more yours than anyone else’s, you feel more content here than you have since you walked in the house. As your dad mixes drinks for the two of you as you, you quickly check your phone to see if there’s any update from John. You sigh when your screen shows no notifications.
Your dad grins as he leans against the desk. “How’s life, everything good? John’s making you happy?”
“Yes,” you reply easily. “My relationship with John is complicated but I promise you that I've never been happier than I am with him.” It’s not a lie, John is complicated but the way you feel when you’re with him is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. Even if you, right now, want to knock him out.
“That’s good.” He nods, taking another drink. “I just want to see you happy, kiddo. Your mother wants that too, even if she’s got an odd way of showing it.” You smile in response, letting a comfortable silence wash over you for a few moments.
Once you’ve finished your drinks, your conversation ranges from the firm, to Eric’s close call, to what you plan to do for your birthday next month. It’s so easy to talk to him; you don't even realize an hour has passed since you first arrived.
When he pushes away from the desk and tells you dinner should be done, you both head back downstairs and make your way into the dining room.
The doorbell rings when you’re about to sit down. Your mother sighs in aggravation, making you volunteer to answer it. You hurry to the foyer and pull open the door.
John leans against the doorway, eyes glazed over as he struggles to focus on your face. His shirt is bed rumpled and untucked, with his tie more undone than normal. “Sweet’eart,” he slurs softly, “I’m ‘ere. Late, but I’m ‘ere.”
You narrow your eyes furiously as you slip out the door and quietly close it behind you. When he leans forward to kiss you, you’re overwhelmed by the smell of alcohol on his breath. Your hands fly out in front of you to stop him.
“What the fuck, John.” You hiss angrily, shoving him back. “You’re shitfaced.”
“Don’t be like that,” he pouts, righting himself by leaning on your parent’s porch railing. “So I had a few pints. Got it all sorted out, didn't I? You won’t even know about it.”
Grabbing at his arm, you scrunch your face in confusion. Got what all sorted out? “What the Hell are you talking about?” You ask, using your free hand to push his hair out of his face. “John, what’s going on?”
His eyes stare past you, unable to focus as you let out a sharp sigh of frustration. Something’s happened. The last time he had gotten this drunk, he’d done that job for Papa Midnite. Chewing on your bottom lip, you hastily run through your options.
You don’t want your parents to see him like this. But it’s going to be impossible for you to get your things and get him out of here without being noticed. Before you can process another thought, the front door swings open behind you.
“What on Earth is taking you so long?” Your mother asks, sounding more annoyed than you’ve ever heard her. “Your dinner is going to get cold.”
You whirl around to face her, trying to shield John from view. She peers over your shoulder and smiles. “You must be John. We were informed that you wouldn’t be making it this evening.”
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist there, luv.” John laughs, stepping past you. “Ol’ Johnny got caught up. But I’m here now, we can go and get properly knees up, can’t we?”
Your cheeks burn with embarrassment when your mother folds her arms across her chest. You clear your throat and step forward. “John was just apologizing. He can’t stay and he’s going to take a cab home so -”
“Nonsense, angel.” Your mother interrupts, a vicious smile forming on her lips. “I’m sure he would love to stay.” She shifts her gaze to the side of you. “Wouldn’t you, John? Please, do come in. The dining room is straight ahead.”
John grins and with a mumbly “cheers,” he strides into the house. Your heart thuds in your chest as you watch him walk on unsteady feet; you think you might actually get sick. No matter what happened, how could he do this to you? He knows how tenuous your relationship was with your mother. She’s never going to let this go.
As if on cue, she raises an eyebrow and shakes her head, disapproval weighing heavily on her face. “Honestly, an alcoholic? He was the best you could do?” She clicks her tongue. “I’m disappointed. Though I shouldn’t be surprised, you were always a defiant child. Never did what I asked. Embarrassing us is just par for the course now, hmm?”
You bite your lip to keep it from trembling. “I wasn’t trying to embarrass you, mother.” You exhale slowly. “This isn’t like him, it must’ve been a long day.” Your mother makes a small noise of annoyance in the back of her throat as you follow her back into the house.
When you reach it, the scene in the living room makes your temples throb angrily. Your dad’s leaning against the table with his arms crossed as John fixes himself a drink he doesn’t need. Your dad meets your eyes almost sympathetically as you step up to John and rest your hand on his lower arm to stop him.
Before you can say anything, your dad motions to the kitchen. “Kiddo, could I get some help in there for a minute?” You fold your arms, knowing how unwise it is to leave John alone with your mother, but nod at the stern look on your dad’s face.
You push past the swinging door as you dad sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "That’s the boyfriend you’ve been hiding for the past year? He seems like he’s got a dri-”
“Dad, I swear it’s not like that.” You glance back over your shoulder. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him but...” You shift your weight back and forth uncomfortably. “I… don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”
He rolls his eyes as he leans against the kitchen island. “You don't have to apologize. I mean, I was only with the man for two minutes. But it’s good to know I’m your favorite parent.”
Your stomach drops. “Jesus Christ, what else did he say?”
“Nothing of substance, believe me.” He reaches out and rests a hand on your shoulder. “I just want to make sure that you’re really happy, kiddo. I know you’ve told me you love him, but as your father, I just need to know that you’re using your head here.”
Your dad truly does have your best interests at heart. You wish that you could tell him what John actually does; what he is. Because if you could, you'd be able to properly explain that something has to have gone wrong tonight. John knew how important this meeting was to you and he promised to make a decent impression.
But you can’t tell him any of this. If you did, you’d put him at risk and you already worry that your magic isn't strong enough to keep Eric and Charlotte safe. So instead, you blink away the burning at the corners of your eyes and force a smile onto your face. “I am using my head, I promise. You trust my judgement, right? I mean, I did get it from you.”
As your dad lets out a soft chuckle, his shoulders visibly relax. “Alright, as long as you let me be a dad for a sec, we’re good. You’re always so responsible, so independent. I just worry.” When he pulls you in for a quick hug, you know you should be able to salvage the rest of the night with your dad on your side.
You and your dad sit at opposite ends of the table; him beside Priscilla, you beside John. Your mother makes a small comment about how rude it was to leave her with the guest and you can’t help but close your eyes and sigh at the condescension in her tone.
John rolls his eyes as he wraps spaghetti around his fork. “With an uptight biddy like this one for your mum, it’s a bloody wonder you didn’t turn out as prudish as she is.” He gives you a slight smile. “I can see why you avoid her, I’m not getting on with her either.”
You freeze for a moment, unable to comprehend that he’s actually just said that, then recover enough to kick him under the table. When your foot connects with the side of his calf, he yelps and leans down to rub his leg. “Fucking hell, what’d you go and do that for?”
“Can you shut up?” You hiss, stealing a glance at your mother’s furious expression.
“Maybe if she were more like me,” your mother snaps, “we wouldn’t have to be subjected to you. Eric would be sitting where you are and she wouldn’t have let that wonderful boy slip right through her fingers.”
As your mouth hangs open in shock, John furrows his brow at you in confusion. “What’s she going on about, then?”
“Is she hiding things from you?” Your mother clucks her tongue in disapproval. “That’s not a very healthy relationship now, is it?”
You let out an exasperated huff. “Mother, stop. Eric and I… Jesus, it was forever ago and… and it only lasted like a couple of months. It was no big deal. John, I would have told you if I felt -”
“Well, you didn’t give it enough time.” Your mother cuts in angrily. “Eric Grant is a much more suitable match for you; always has been and you let him end up with some backwoods trash. You know how well off that family is, you and your children would’ve been taken care of.”
You slam your hand down on the table, making your fork clatter to the ground. “What children?!” You shout, feeling anger thrumming through your veins. “I don’t want them. Mother, Eric and I were never going to work out. Leave Charlotte out of this, they are perfect for each other. I don’t understand why you won’t let this go.”
Your dad, in a hopeful act of redirection, clears his throat to call attention to himself. Your mother ignores him as John pushes his chair away from the table in frustration. He gives you a pointed glare to hide the hurt you see in his eyes. “And I don’t bloody well understand why you hid this from me.”
“Because John,” your mother interjects with a mocking inflection. “She must’ve realized she made a mistake in choosing you over him. You’re an embarrassment; all wrong for her. I’m sure you can see that. You’ll never be able to give her the life she deserves -”
“Mother, stop. I never would’ve chosen Eric. You wanted that more than we did. We knew that we weren’t meant to be together, we just knew.”
This is spiraling out of control.
You weren’t hiding the fact that you and Eric had dated; it was just so unimportant to either of you that it never came up. And now, when you have every right to be furious with John for arriving drunk and throwing comments out there that incited your mother, you feel like you’re the one in the wrong. You find yourself scrambling to de escalate this so he doesn’t storm out.
She scoffs, shaking her head in disgust. “And you think you’re meant to be with this drunken mess? If this is who you choose to associate yourself with, then maybe you did Eric a favor in letting him go. Because if you had any sense, you’d be on your hands and knees begging him to give it another shot.”
Rising from the table, you throw your hands in the air. “Oh, for fuck’s sake -”
“Maybe your mother has a bloody point.” John snaps from beside you, making your eyes widen incredulously when you turn to him.
This was exactly what you were afraid of; John letting his own insecurities come between what he knows is the truth and the bullshit your mother is throwing at him. And you ending up angry at John for doing this to you, angry at her for not leaving well enough alone, and angry with yourself for allowing this to happen in the first place.
“No. She fucking doesn’t, John.” You reach for his hand, feeling the sharp sting of hurt when he pulls away from you. “Come on, don’t do this.”
John steps back, narrowing his eyes furiously. “Don’t do what?” He hisses venomously. “Stand here and let her shove my shortcomings in my bloody face? Or don’t get upset that you hid this from me.”
“Okay,” your dad cuts in before you have a chance to argue back. “You know what,” he exclaims, clasping his hands together. “I think we should call it a night. We should attempt this again, when everyone’s in a better headspace.”
John pulls the cigarette from behind his ear, using it to point in your dad’s direction. “That won’t be necessary, mate. I doubt you’ll be seeing my mug again.” Without another word, he grabs his trench coat from the side table and heads to the door. “I never should’ve agreed to this, it was a bloody mistake.”
Your mother rolls her eyes as she lets out a dry laugh. “Well, that’s the first promising thing I’ve heard come out of your mouth, all night.”
“Jesus, Cil.” Your dad pushes back. “Leave him alone, you’ve caused enough damage.”
Your lip trembles, threatening to allow tears to spill as you watch John storm off.
“Well mother, I hope you’re happy now. I honestly don’t know how I’m related to you.” You wipe your eyes with the heel of your hand. “And you know what? John may not be perfect, but he would never hurt me the way you just did.”
Before she can reply, you spin on your heel to chase after him.
Notes:
John can't seem to get out of his own way, can he? To be fair, your mother (and Zed) certainly didn't help. And John's never been the type to handle stuff like this well. Especially when someone threatens you.
Next week: You chase after John and he pushes back, throwing every insecurity he has at you. You get so frustrated, that you say something you hadn't meant to and storm out of your own house. After both of you cool off, and coincidentally talk to Chas, John shows up where you are, determined to fix what he thinks he's broken.
Chapter 29: You left or left him?
Summary:
You chase after John and he pushes back, throwing every insecurity he has at you. When the two of you fight, you get so frustrated that you say something you hadn't meant to and storm out of your own house.
After both of you cool off, and coincidentally talk to Chas, John shows up where you are, determined to fix what he thinks he's broken. You don't want to forgive him, but he does have his ways of making you do just that.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Your pulse thuds angrily in your ears as you run out into the foyer. You catch up to John in the doorway, as he hastily shoves his arms through his sleeves. “Johnny, wait.” You grab onto his shoulder, forcing him to turn and look at you. “Can I explain, please?”
John curtly shakes his head, letting frustration and hostility simmer in the darkness of his eyes. “There’s no need, luv. Your mother didn't say anything that wasn't true.”
“No. No, you don’t get to do this, be mad at me like you are.” You fold your arms defensively. “What the Hell happened? Because you were fine when I talked to you before you got to the Bell.”
“It doesn't bloody well matter.” He growls, throwing open your parents’ front door. “I can’t change it now so -”
“Of course it matters.” You growl out, narrowing your eyes. “Tonight wasn’t supposed to go like this, it blew up in our faces. Jesus John, this never would have happened if you’d just shown up sober.”
When he steps through the door, you follow on his heels. He scoffs as it slams behind you. “You mean you never would’ve admitted that you’d had an entire bloody relationship with Eric Grant? And that you’ve conveniently hidden it from me?”
Letting out an angry huff, you roll your eyes aggressively. “Christ, that’s not what I mean and you know it.”
“Don’t I now?” John lets out a dry, humorless laugh. The sound scrapes along the back of his throat, making you cringe from the harshness of it. “Seems I’m not the only bloody one who keeps secrets around here.”
When he keeps walking down the steps, you hurry down them and grab the belt of his coat to stop him. “It wasn’t a secret, John. It just wasn’t important.” You tug on the material so he’ll turn around and face you. “Listen to me, I don’t still have feelings for Eric. I'm telling you the truth.”
When John meets your eyes, you expect to see the same hostility in his that you saw just a few minutes ago. You’d even settle for raw anger. What you see, however, is mistrust tangled up in shame and discomfort. It roots you in place, making you unable to move.
“Look at you, sweet’eart.” John’s lip twist into a tight smile as he turns on his heel. “You ended up being a much better liar than you gave yourself credit for.”
You process his words too slowly. He’s already at the end of the driveway by the time you understand his meaning. “Shit.” You run back in the house to grab your bag and keys, praying you're quick enough to catch him before he’s gone.
When you get back outside, John is nowhere to be found. He couldn’t even wait so you could talk about this. Throwing your bag into your front seat, you reverse out of your parents’ driveway and head down the road.
Your frustration only grows as you fly down the darkened highway. How dare he accuse you of still having feelings for Eric. Doesn't John understand how much you care about him? How much you're willing to risk for him?
John's phone goes right to voicemail when you call, only inciting your fury further. If he wanted to get out of going to dinner tonight, there were a thousand other ways he could’ve gone about it. So by the time you pull into your spot outside your home, your anger is a bright, blinding thing; consuming you with each passing second.
When you get into the house, John's leaning back against the kitchen island; the fingers of one hand gripping tightly to the counter behind him while he takes a deep drag of a cigarette.
“John, what the Hell?” You drop your bag on the couch and step up to him. “After you make that ridiculous accusation, you fuck off before I can get my keys, so we can't even talk about what happened. And now, you're smoking in my kitchen. What are you trying to do?”
Pulling in a deep drag of his silk cut, he reluctantly lifts his eyes to meet yours. “Just delaying the inevitable sweet’eart.”
“Delaying the - John, I can't…” you press the heels of your palms to your forehead. “You tell me to trust you, which I do - with my life, then you pull this shit. You got drunk and I know you’re hiding something from me.”
You tug your fingers through your hair, feeling your chest tighten with something close to dread when John stays frustratingly silent. “God damnit, it's like one step forward, six steps back with you. I don’t still have feelings for him!”
John stubs out his spent cigarette in the empty glass behind him. Folding his arms defensively in front of himself, he’s the picture of silent hostility; shoulders tense, jaw clenched and back ramrod straight. Venomous eyes watch you as you lean yourself against the back of the couch and huff out a soft sigh.
“How can you think that I'd lie to you about that?” You scrunch your face, desperate to keep tears of frustration at bay. “Why don't you trust me?”
“Come off it, I do.” John snaps, his tone dark and full of malice. “But I reckon we need to admit it’s like I said, we’re just delaying the inevitable. This was never going to work, I should have known better. I don't go in for all this relationship nonsense; I'm bloody toxic. You're trying to turn me into something I'm not and clearly your folks could see that.”
“You trust me?” You laugh bitterly, eyeing the open bottle of whiskey next to him. “I told you that you didn't have to be anyone but who you were. That was enough for me.” You press your fingers to your forehead as you sigh. “But after I’ve told you so many times that you don’t need to keep things from me, and you still do, that makes me think you don't trust me.”
John rolls his eyes, igniting the angry flame in your chest. “What?” You growl, lifting both hands in an irritated shrug. He presses his lips into a thin line as he silently raises an eyebrow, letting you fill in your own blanks.
Closing the distance between the two of you, you grab his shoulders and level your gaze on him. “For fuck’s sake. Listen to me, Eric and I are much better as friends. He's in love with my best friend, who by the way, I choose to ignore when she tells me that you're a horrible idea.” When he scoffs and turns away from you, you know he still doesn’t believe you.
“Maybe you shouldn’t.” John insists, shrugging out of your grip. “I'm not built to give you a proper life. You won't be happy with me. You mother knows it, I know it, even bloody Lottie knows it.”
“Shouldn't that be my decision?” You whisper, blinking furiously as tears burn the edges of your eyes. “I'm already happy.”
John tugs a cigarette from the box in his pocket, lighting it quickly. “Did you not bloody well hear me?” He hisses angrily, sliding the silk cut between his lips. “I'm a toxic bastard; you stay with me and I'll ruin you. I’ll get you killed.”
Your breath hitches audibly. “You won’t.” Cupping his cheek, you lift his head and beg him to look at you. “Johnny, I can ignore Charlotte. I can ignore my mother. But I can't ignore you or pretend it doesn't break my heart when you say shit like that.”
John stares down at the floor, inhaling deeply as he hunches his shoulders. “You're every bloody thing I’ve ever dared to want.” He admits, reluctantly dragging his eyes up to meet yours. “And I don’t deserve you.”
Something cold and dangerous slithers down your spine. His tone has a kind of finality to it that terrifies you. Tears of frustration finally start to fall, sliding down your cheeks as you helplessly watch John's defenses rise and close off any hope you have of salvaging this.
Your throat works hard for a second, swallowing anxiously, before you can force your words past dry lips. “That’s not true, I need you to see that. I willingly put all of my faith, my trust, in you; every time you ask. I wouldn’t do that if...” You trail off, dragging in a shuddering breath.
“What happened after the job, John? Huh? Cause something did. And rather than tell me about it, talking to me, like I’ve begged you to do, you… you go and make the decision to get plastered. You knew tonight was important to me.”
Giving him a pointed stare, you feel irritation burning hot on your cheeks. “And I told you, Priscilla is... Christ, she’s difficult to deal with on a good day. But I need you to hear me on this, my goddamn mother was trying to start a fight. And you let her.”
John rolls his eyes, twisting his upper body to grab the whiskey bottle off the counter. Your eyes follow his movement, anger coiling tightly in your stomach at the almost empty bottle. “Well,” he snaps, bringing it to his lips. “Priscilla seems to think you'd be better off with that bloody Kennedy than me and she's not wrong.”
Your head snaps up, eyes narrowing on him furiously. “What the Hell is that supposed to mean, John?”
A dry, cracked chuckle forces its way past his lips. “Grant comes from good stock, old money. I’m a nasty piece of work from a rubbish, good for nothing family. She was right, luv. He would’ve taken care of you. Far better than a blighter like me, anyhow.”
He takes a long pull from the bottle before setting it down beside him on the counter. “You can’t bloody tell me you don't still have feelings for the bloke. You might not even realize that they’re there, but you do. You dropped all and legged it right to him when he got hurt.”
Your bottom lip trembles as his accusation all but slaps you. “Because he got shot! Jesus Christ, I thought we were well past this shit.” A hysterical laugh rips from your throat. “Eric’s my oldest friend; we grew up together. Yes, we dated but it was almost a decade ago! I wasn't even old enough to drink!”
When he shakes his head, you let out a frustrated sound from the back of your throat. “And for the record, if it had been you that had gotten shot? I would’ve been out of my fucking mind. You’ve seen how I’ve reacted each time you’ve gotten hurt and you’ve told me those are all scrapes compared to what you’re used to. It would have killed me if anything like that happened to you.”
“It doesn’t bloody matter, does it?” John grinds out, scrubbing a hand down his stubbled face. “You still would’ve been better off with him.”
Grabbing the bottle from him, you glare at his stunned face as you finish it off. When you toss it into the trash, the force of your throw breaks the glass. “No, I fucking wouldn’t.” You hiss, throwing your hands in the air.
“You know what? I can't do this with you anymore...” you trail off, forcing yourself to stop before you say something you don’t mean. Thinking on it quickly, you grab your bag off the couch and stride toward your front door.
“See? There you go. Legging it to -”
“Fuck you, John.” You whirl around, letting all your anger, exhaustion and utter defeat bleed into your voice. “What is wrong with you? I don't want to be with Eric. I want to be with you. I love you. I’m in love with you.”
You wipe the tears from your face, taking in the shock written on his. “And if you don’t trust that, then I don't know what to tell you.”
***
The moment the door slams behind you, your face crumbles. Feeling exhaustion overwhelm you, you force yourself to keep your emotions from fully spilling over until you’re inside your car. Tears track down your cheeks as you stare up at your living room windows. There’s no movement inside, just eerie silence.
As you back out of your spot and aimlessly drive down the bustling city streets, your mind drifts.
John didn’t follow you. He just let you leave; like he didn't care how viciously his words had cut into you. For a moment, you’re not sure what to do next. Not sure where you stand. Did you break up with him? You don’t want that but if what transpired back there was any indication, John thinks it’s what you should do.
And you told him that you loved him. That you were in love with him. That wasn’t how you wanted to say it for the first time; rushed and out of anger driven sadness, but you can’t take it back. Although you feel like an idiot now for saying it when he clearly doesn’t feel the same.
You’re on Eric’s street before you realize it; the familiar brownstones offering a comfort you didn’t expect. You pull into his spot and turn off your car. He’s not home, you know that, but that doesn’t mean you can’t go inside and find solace in the soothing silence of his apartment.
You let yourself in and grab a newly acquired throw blanket from the chair near the window. Thank you Charli. Wrapping yourself in it, you curl up on Eric's couch and rest your head on the heel of your hands. Your temples throb mercilessly as you breathe out slowly to try and release the tension weighing on your shoulders.
You should let Eric know you’re here. He won’t care, but if you’re being honest with yourself, you just need to talk to someone. Reaching over for your bag, you pull your phone from it. Your heart skips when you see the notification for a text message. Maybe John pulled his head out of his ass and -
Chas Chandler:
John’s not picking up his phone. Everything good?
He was supposed to call me after the job in Quincy.
Yeah, he got shitfaced instead, you think angrily. With a huff, you slide open your phone and begin typing your reply.
'He’s home. I don’t know why he’s not answering, I’m not his babysitter. Call him again. I’m sure he’s not doing anything useful.’
The second you hit send, you close your eyes for a moment and mentally curse yourself for the tone you took. The fight wasn’t Chas’s fault. But before you can text him again, Chas is calling you.
“What did he do?” He asks by way of greeting when you answer your phone.
“Nothing, I - I didn’t mean to sound so bitchy. I can call him if -”
Chas cuts you off with a frustrated sigh. “While I applaud your loyalty, don’t give me that, sunshine. You know you can talk to me. What’s going on?”
Since you first met him down in New Orleans, Chas had become a sounding board for you; a logical voice when everything with John got too much. He’s been a good friend; someone who understands the life you lead and the struggle of trying to hide what you do to protect those you love.
Chas has a job and a family; if he can have those while practicing magic, it gives you hope that you’ll be able to find balance between your worlds.
Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you feel your eyes sting. Blinking away the tears you don’t want to fall, you let out an unsteady breath knowing that he’s right. “We got into a huge fight,” you tell him, feeling the weight of the words as you speak them aloud. “And I left.”
“Left or left him?” He asks calmly.
“I, uh, I don’t know, Chas.” You admit, hugging your knees to your chest. “I didn’t want that but then he didn’t follow me and I thought... John was pissed about Eric and I, but he got so drunk before he met my parents. And he knew, he fucking knew and I don’t love Eric, not the way I love him but he… he wouldn’t listen-”
Chas clears his throat and you abruptly stop babbling. “Okay,” he starts, keeping his voice light. “So the two of you fought. He found out that you and Eric had a thing, a while ago I’d assume, and then picked a fight with you about it. He was shitty, probably threw all kinds of wild accusations at you, and you left so you didn’t say something you didn’t mean.”
At your stunned silence, he laughs softly. “How close am I?”
“Uh…” You struggle to form the right words. “How did, you didn’t… you didn’t talk to him, did you? You said he didn’t answer.”
“No, I didn’t. But I know John better than anyone else. This sounds like him; a small thing snowballs into something massive because he can’t properly use his damn words or accept when something is good for him.” He pulls in a deep breath. “The only thing that matters now is, do you?”
You furrow your brow. “Do I what?”
“Do you still have feelings for Eric?”
Dropping your head back against the cushions, you groan in annoyance. “How did you? Nevermind. Absolutely not. I’ve never felt about Eric the way I feel about John. I was a kid, Chas. Eighteen. We tried it for a summer because we grew up together and our parents expected it. I had just broken up with Sam a couple months before.”
You make an exasperated sound in the back of your throat as you lift your head. “It was weird. Like an uncomfortable kind of familiar. We were watching a movie on the couch one night and Eric nudged my shoulder to ask if we could just go back to the way things were. I swear, Chas, I couldn’t get ‘yes, thank God’ out fast enough.”
“I’m sorry, sunshine.” He sounds just as frustrated as you are. “You tell John this?”
Pushing the blanket off your raised legs, you slide off the couch and head to the kitchen. “Course I did.” Flipping on the light, you dig around for the teapot you know Charlotte bought for when she’s here. “It didn’t seem to matter, kept telling me that I was better off with Eric. Even though that’s the last thing I wanted.”
“Jesus Christ.” Chas groans. You can imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “So, where are you now? The museum’s not a safe place to crash, not with what just happened to you.”
“I’m not at the museum.” You assure him, pulling the teapot out of the cabinet and filling it with tap water. “I went to Eric’s. And before you say anything, he’s not home. And John knows I have a key. I just -” You pause, leaning against the counter. “I couldn’t stay there and I didn’t want to go back to my parents.”
Chas softly hums his agreement. “I’m gonna call him again, keep calling till he picks up. I won’t tell him we talked but, that boy and I are gonna have a chat. He doesn’t think he deserves you, hasn’t from the start. Doesn’t understand what someone as kind and warm and smart as you is doing, messing around with somebody like him.”
“I don’t see it that way.” You push back. “John’s sweet and funny and so -” Your breath hitches in your throat when you try to inhale. “He’s good to me, Chas, but I can’t keep fighting for this if he doesn’t believe me.”
“You see something in John that he doesn’t know how to see in himself and that scares the shit out of him. It’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth. He’ll fix this; he doesn’t want to lose you, sunshine.”
Turning on the stove, you let out a shaky breath. “I hope so.” You manage to croak out. You want to tell him how much you appreciate him being the steadfast, loyal pillar you needed but you can’t form the words. Not with your chest as tight as it is; constricted from too many emotions you refuse to name until the cause of them is in front of you.
“I know so.” Chas answers, his voice full of warmth. “You’re good for each other, he just needs someone to drill that into his head sometimes.”
Once you’ve hung up, you pull down a mug from the cabinet and wait for the water to boil. As you unwrap the peppermint teabag, you breathe in the calming aroma in hopes that it will release some of the stress and tension that refuses to leave your shoulders.
***
John can’t believe the words even though he’s just heard them with his own two ears. You love him. You’re in love with him.
He should’ve gone after you. The second the door slammed, John knows he should’ve chased after you and stopped you before you got into your car. He should’ve taken you in his arms, kissed you, and apologized for every rubbish thing he said inside. But he didn't.
John knows he has no one else to blame but himself for whatever happens now. Because he let you walk away. Because he's a bloody idiot who deserves nothing more than to be alone for the rest of his miserable existence.
Running his hands down his face, he pulls his buzzing phone from his pocket. “Sorry, mate.” He murmurs, silencing Chas's call. “Don't have it in me for you right now.”
Glancing around the room, he lets out a deep sigh and heads toward the small patio off the living room. His phone buzzes again, this time with two text messages from Chas. Ignoring them in favor of the promise of fresh air, he opens the French doors and steps outside.
The cool air grounds him, letting John take a moment to think through the night's events. Zed’s words still haunt him, but he’s not going to stop. It’s a handy bit of magic, demon names. If he can just dig deep enough, one of those nasty blighters will know something about the demon that took Astra’s soul.
Trying to take this on while being hunted by a wanker with some kind of grudge may not have been the best idea, but he’s always been one for having his own agenda. And if John can make amends for what he’s done, then everything will work itself out. Everything but you, that is.
John scratches at his stubble as he pulls another cigarette from his pocket. Once it’s lit, he pulls in a deep drag, letting it calm the jittery feeling running across his skin. He cocked up tonight in a royal way; he knows it. He hadn’t planned on getting that pissed but once he started, he didn’t stop until Zed was a soft buzz in the back of his head that he could ignore.
The right thing would’ve been to cancel, reschedule with your folks; save you both the indignity he caused. “But when does Johnny ever do the right bloody thing?” John mutters angrily around the silk cut between his teeth. And he intended to apologize, make it up to you, when that damnable woman made the comment about Eric bloody Grant.
Leaning forward, John rests his elbows on the metal railing. It could’ve been anyone honestly, he’s not got a problem with Eric. The bloke comes from a good family, he’s impossible to not like. Of course you’d have been better off with him instead.
Still, John just can't wrap his head around why you would choose a nasty piece of work like himself over someone like Eric. It just doesn't make any bloody sense.
You’ve always been too good for him; everyone can see it. And if his goddamn self loathing wasn't so strong, and wasn't so deeply ingrained in his very being, John would tell everyone that ever doubted his intentions to shove it.
But he knows what they must think when the two of you are out together. That lass is too brilliant to walk about with someone as broken and troublesome as him.
And John doesn’t disagree, even though he wants you more than he’s ever wanted anything. But, at his core, John’s selfish; he’s known from the start that he should’ve been the one to leg it. He just didn’t have the strength.
Maybe now that you’ve seen what he’s really like, you’ll kick him out and end up with someone good. Not necessarily Eric, but someone like him. Someone who won’t hide things from you because he’s so filled with self hatred that it eats him away. Someone who can love you properly, the way you deserve.
Someone better than John knows he ever will be.
When his phone buzzes again, John has a fleeting moment of hope that you’re calling. When he sees that it’s Chas again, he considers sending it to voicemail. But Chas will just keep calling if he doesn't pick up and get it over with.
“Oi.” John greets, letting his voice fill with his trademark attitude rather than the pain he feels blossoming outward from his chest. “You’re impatient, ain’t ya?’
“Well, if you answered me when I called you the first time,” Chas pushes back, “I wouldn't have to keep calling. How’d everything go? The job, dinner with the folks, calling Zed?”
John’s heart leaps into his throat. “What are you going on about?” He asks, forcing a laugh out of his frozen chest. “Calling -”
“Don’t bullshit me, John. She called me as soon as you hung up with her. You had to know she would, you screwed her over and you thought she wouldn’t tell me you reached out? I mean, I know I suggested it but I didn’t think you’d actually call her. You’re crazier than I thought.”
John groans as he steps into the living room. “Chas, mate, I -”
“Asking her to look into the Order is going to be a waste of time. I told you, I think it’s a red herring. Or a front at best. I think whoever Morgan works for, is a bit more south. If you catch my drift.”
John tilts his head as he locks the French door behind him. Zed didn’t tell him about Newcastle. Interesting. “That’s a fair point mate, but we have to consider everything. And she can see, can’t she? I reckoned it couldn’t hurt.”
“Yeah, and how did the rest of the night go?” Chas’s voice is light, airy and John knows at once that you’ve already talked to him.
“Bollocks.” John swears, sitting on the edge of the couch. “She gave you a ring then, did she?”
Chas sighs, his disapproval evident even through the phone. “No, I called her when you didn’t answer. She’s a mess, John. Now, I’m not gonna give you shit for drinking. I should, but I know that sometimes even whiskey doesn’t chase the demons away. But how could you accuse her of still being in love with one of her best friends? She’s head over heels for you.”
John leans back against the cushions, one hand holding the phone, the other running anxiously through his hair. “You didn't hear what her mother said. Just threw it all in my face how inadequate I bloody well was.”
“And I’m sure she defended you to her mother, even though you were drunk and probably embarrassed her. Then you go and side with the woman, who you know she doesn’t like. Then you pick a fight with her when you’re home? John, I don’t understand why you make this so hard for yourself. She cares about you -”
“She loves me.” John interrupts plaintively, blowing out a breath. “Told me she was in love with me before she left. Look, I reckon I mucked this up, but I never deserved her. We both know it. Maybe this is -”
Chas makes a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “John Constantine, if you’re about to tell me that ‘maybe this is for the best’ I will personally fly up to Boston and kick your ass. You fought to have her by your side, told her all about this life. You’ve taught her magic for Christ’s sake. You don’t get to walk away because of a fight that is undoubtedly your fault.”
“But -”
“No buts.” Chas snaps, and John can hear just how frustrated he is through the phone. “From the start, I’ve had my concerns, but I like her. You know that. And she loves you. Despite everything you don’t tell her. And despite the secrets about her that you refuse to let see the light of day, I know you love her too. So go and fix this.”
Chas’s voice softens as the anger bleeds from it. “She’s good for you, John. Don’t push away someone who sees your flaws and loves you because of them. It’s rare. Especially for people like us. This life takes so much from you, don’t let it take her too.”
***
You’re on the phone with Charlotte when three loud raps on Eric’s front door startle you. You tell her you’ve gotta go and end the call, laying your phone on the couch as you stand. Feeling your heart race as you near the door, you take a steadying breath and rise onto your toes to peer through the peephole.
When your eyes focus on disheveled blond hair, you close your eyes and hate that your stomach flips in excitement. Stepping back, you unlock the door and pull it open. “How’d you know I was here?” You ask, your voice scratchy from your time spent crying.
John leans against the doorway, making no more to step inside. “I always know how to find you.” He chuckles, folding his arms across his chest. “But I reckoned you wouldn’t go back to your folks and there was an arsehole in our flat, so this seemed to be the safest bet.”
You roll your eyes at his attempted joke, but can't stop the ghost of a smile that creeps onto your lips. Our flat. When he falls silent, you fold your own arms defensively across your chest and press your lips into a thin line. “What do you want?” You ask him, you voice barely above a whisper.
“You.” He replies simply, pushing himself off the doorframe.
When you raise your eyebrow in disapproval, John gives you a tight smile. “I was an utter bastard, luv. I should never have said any of those things to you. I’m more sorry than I can say. I was pissed and a complete tosspot.”
He steps closer, inclining with his head for you to let him inside. You don’t move, not yet. “Yeah, you were.” You agree, focusing on his chest instead of his eyes. You know if you look up into them, you’ll cave and you’re not ready to just forgive him for how he made you feel.
“You let me walk away, John.” You sigh, completely turning away from him. “I can’t believe how easy that was for you.”
When he reaches out for your hand, you flinch away without meaning to. “Suppose I deserve that,” John remarks, withdrawing his hand to let it drop by his side.
“But it wasn’t easy, sweet’eart. Watching you storm out that bloody door was more difficult than I reckoned it would be. I just needed a minute and as soon as you were gone, I was kicking myself for letting you go.”
As you stand aside to let him in, your expression softens when he scrubs a hand down his face. Shutting the door behind him, you turn and gesture toward Eric’s kitchen. “Do you honestly think I would’ve been better off with Eric?” You ask, walking in front of him. “That I’m still in love with him?”
“Not anymore. Not after what you said to me.” When you turn, the expression on John’s face startles you. His eyes are bright, burning with an intensity that makes you unable to look away from him. “And ‘course I think you’d be better off with absolutely any bloke beside me. But I want you and despite my better judgement, you belong by my side.”
You swallow audibly, bracing yourself against the kitchen counter behind you. “That’s not what you were telling me at home, John. You keep trying to push me away like that, eventually it’s going to work.”
John shrugs, closing the distance between you. “I was a nasty git.” He rests his hand on your upper arm. “I don’t always see what I have until it’s walking out the bloody door, but I’m hoping you’ll give us another go.”
Casting your gaze to the ground, you close your eyes for a moment and will your heart to stop pounding in your ears. You let out a frustrated sigh. How many times are you going to do this with him?
When John’s hand moves under your chin, you let him lift your head up. You narrow your eyes, letting him see the lingering hostility simmering underneath the surface. His free hand snakes around your back, pulling you flush against him.
“John,” you protest softly, “if you think you can just -”
His lips press against yours, silencing you with an ardent kiss you weren’t expecting. When he grins against your mouth, you part your lips and allow his tongue to slip in. Your soft moan encourages him to deepen the kiss, allowing a bright spark of arousal to uncoil in your stomach.
Even though you kiss him back, you lift your hands and rest them against John’s chest, unwilling to fully give in to him just yet. Your resolve crumbles when he threads his fingers into your hair, trapping you between his body and the marble countertop.
“I’m sorry, sweet’eart.” John whispers against your lips. “I cocked up tonight, but I never meant to hurt you.” You pull back, startled by the sincerity you hear in his voice. When you look up, searching in the darkness of his eyes, you find nothing but affection in them.
John dips his head and kisses you again. This time, he pours his apology into the way his lips move against yours; consuming and insistent, like he knows he won’t get this chance again to make things right. Your legs feel weak when you pull away, both of you breathless and flushed.
As your hands wrap around the back of his neck, he snakes his under you to lift you up onto the countertop. With a smirk, you wrap your legs around him and pull him close to you. You let out a soft whimper when he leans in and pulls your bottom lip between his teeth.
“You’re not completely off the hook,” you gasp as you lean back to playfully narrow your eyes. You shiver when his hand slips under your dress, his rough hands gently caressing your skin. “But I’ll tell you Johnny, you’re on your way to it.”
“When I’m done with you, sweet’eart, that bloody row will just be a fading memory.” John chuckles and pulls the fabric up and away from your thighs. “Now, let me see to it my girl’s taken care of.”
As his fingers ghost over your legs, goosebumps follow their path. You lean your head back against the cabinet and let out a soft hum from the back of your throat. When his hand grazes your sex over the soft cotton of your panties, John grins. Your arousal is already starting to soak through.
His fingers easily move the material to one side, slipping inside of you with a low groan. You buck your hips at his touch, letting out soft gasps as he expertly moves and causes desire to unfurl in your core.
Your hands press against John’s chest, driven by your desire to touch him and ground yourself in this moment. His skin is warm underneath his dress shirt, making you tug it from his pants and slip your fingers under the material. He hisses when your cool fingers move along the heated skin of his stomach.
When his fingers curl, you bite your lip to swallow back another moan. John smiles dangerously and threads the fingers of his free hand through your hair again, sharply tugging your head back to expose your throat.
You shiver as pleasure, glittering with pain at the edges, spikes through you. He presses soft kisses along your collarbone and up the skin to your jaw while his hand tightens in your hair.
John crashes his lips to yours once more as his fingers continue to expertly twist and move inside you. His mouth stifles your moans, smiling against your lips as he continues to bring you closer to the crash of your impending orgasm.
Your nails dig into his chest, producing a soft growl from John’s mouth. His thumb brushes against your clit, making you jerk up to buck against his hand. You grip him tightly as his thumb starts to move in steady circles, rocking back and forth along your sensitive bundle of nerves.
As you feel the coiling pressure in your core start to build, John lets go of your hair to allow your head to fall forward against his chest. Your hips rise, rocking back and forth to allow his thumb the pressure it needs to send your orgasm crashing through you.
You let out a shuddering breath once you come back down. “Johnny, that was -”
“Oh, I’m not done, sweet’eart.” He growls, as he drops to his knees and lifts one of your legs over his shoulder. He thumbs your clit and you gasp loudly, shocked that pleasure could spike through you so quickly.
His stubble scratches your inner thigh as he runs his nose along the sensitive skin. You bite your lower lip as you meet his dark half lidded eyes, watching as he pulls his fingers from you and runs them across his tongue. The groan that comes from him causes heat to rush to your cheeks. Never in your life did you think you’d find that as arousing as you do.
John’s tongue slips through your folds, making you arch your back and dig your heel into his shoulder blade. He hums with appreciation, resting his hands on your thighs to push them further apart. Your fingers find their way into his hair as you let yourself concentrate on the feeling of his mouth and what he’s doing to you.
You cover your mouth with one hand to stifle your cry as his tongue deftly circles your clit. “I want to hear you, sweet’eart.” He murmurs, motioning for you to move your fingers. “Tell Johnny how he makes you feel. Because you taste,” he growls, diving back in, “so bloody sweet.”
The hunger in his voice sends electricity straight between your legs. “God Johnny, please please.” You pant, throwing your head back. “Feels so good, please.” Your fingers tighten in his hair and you can feel him smirk. “Please, don’t stop.”
Each gasping breath that escapes your lips only spurns him on. He circles and sucks on your clit, chuckling when you shudder under him. Quicker than you’d like, you can feel your orgasm building again. John knows it too; quickly flicking his tongue up and down as he slips two fingers back inside you.
When he does, your orgasm rips through you, making your body feel like it’s spiraling out of control to chase that electric feeling. John doesn’t move from his spot between your legs until they’ve stopped shaking. Slowly, he drags his head up and smirks at you. “Let’s move this to the bedroom, ey? I’m not through apologizing.”
For a moment, you’re heatedly aware that this is Eric’s apartment and not yours. You’re sure John is quite aware of the fact as well. If this is some kind of territorial thing… You shake your head, too blissed out in your post orgasmic haze to honestly care. You can always wash the sheets.
When you nod, he rises and helps you to your feet so you can both make your way to the bedroom. You never had any doubt, but you find you enjoy John’s desire to prove himself to you, especially when it results in your third orgasm of the night.
***
When the sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon, you roll over and run your thumb absently across John’s cheek. You slept for a few good hours, waking when you felt him move beside you. Now, he opens one eye lazily; confused for a moment that this isn’t the room you’re used to sleeping in.
He pushes himself up into a sitting position, lifting his arm for you to curl under it. You get comfortable, resting your head on his chest. Running his fingers through your hair, he lets out a soft hum of contentment.
“We’re alright, you and I?” He asks, pausing his movements. “Cause I don’t much like being at odds with you, luv. You mean too much to me for that.”
You lift your head, letting him see the weariness found in your eyes. “I don’t want to be fighting anymore either, Johnny. But we’ve still got a few things we need to talk through.” You yawn deeply, feeling the pull of sleep start to drag you down again. “What happened? Because you were fine when I talked to you and then suddenly, you weren’t.”
“Nothing that you need to worry about.” He laughs for your benefit, letting the sound rumble through his chest. “Just had a chat with an old mate about something that happened before I even knew you. Coupled with the good Doctor still hunting us, I went and got myself piss drunk. I reckon you know the rest.”
You’re both silent for a beat before John sighs and lightly taps the top of your head. “Now, you said something before you legged it last night. Something I reckoned I'd never hear anyone say to a devious tosser like me.”
“I told you that I love you.” You move yourself closer to him. “That I was in love with you. Even if you don’t feel the same, I mean it. That’s not how I wanted to tell you but...”
When he sighs you hear the weight of the world in that exhalation of breath. “I do feel the same, sweet’eart. I do. Never felt this way about anyone before, I just...”
John kisses the top of your head. “Those three bloody words… I can’t.... Dear old dad did a number on us; those words were... I learned to resent them. They were something I reckoned I didn’t deserve to hear.”
“They’re just words unless you back them up.” You interrupt him, reaching across his chest for his hand. “Love isn’t about how much you say ‘I love you’, but how much you prove it’s true. I’m not gonna to lie to you and tell you that I never want to hear it, but until you can, just keep showing me. And that’ll be enough.”
Pulling his hand close, you press your lips to it and close your eyes again. John’s throat works hard, fighting past an emotion too uncomfortable for him to name. “I don’t bloody well know what I did to deserve someone like you, sweet’eart. I reckon I’ll never understand it.”
“You don’t have to understand it.” You say softly, opening your eyes in the darkness. “You just have to believe it and please, don’t shut me out. Don’t pick a fight with me instead of talking things through. I don’t want to change you; I just want you to be a bit more honest, at least with me.”
You lift your head and turn it towards him. “I love you Johnny, but I won’t keep doing this.”
John kisses the top of your head before dropping his back against the pillow. “I know.”
“And for the record,” you murmur, listening to the steady thumping of his heart against your ear. “You do deserve to hear those words. I’m sorry you were ever made to feel differently. Your dad was a shitty person, not capable of real love. And I know you’re afraid of turning into him, but you won’t. I see the way you are with Chas, with me. Someone incapable of love wouldn’t care as fiercely as you do.”
John doesn’t answer, just drags in a deep breath and wraps his arms tighter around you.
Notes:
When you and John fight, you FIGHT. But you're determined to call him on his shit and stand your ground. You're not a wilting flower by any means. But he really does know how to make it up to you...
Next week: John may believe you that you don't have feelings but that doesn't mean he trusts Eric. Suddenly it seems that everything he does, annoys John. Charlotte comes up to spend time with you and Eric and notices the weirdness. If you think she won't call you on it, we aren't talking about the same girl.
Chapter 30: A different kind of possession.
Summary:
John may believe you that you don't have feelings for your friend, but that doesn't mean he trusts Eric. And even though he's been fine, when he catches Eric hugging you, suddenly it seems that everything Eric does, annoys John. When Charlotte comes up to spend time with you and Eric, she notices the weirdness immediately. If you think she won't call you on it, we aren't talking about the same girl. Cause she's not afraid to call bullshit.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Oh, sugar!” Charlotte exclaims as you’re about to end your call. “Before I forget…” You press the speakerphone button as you toss your cell onto your bed. “Eric has a surprise for you.” You can hear the sigh in her voice as she speaks. “He made me promise not to say anything but I can’t, in good faith, just let you go in there blind.”
Sliding your cable knit over your head, you let out a small noise of concern. “Char, what is that supposed to mean?”
Charlotte laughs at the nervous edge in your voice. “Nope, that’s all I’m gonna say. Honestly, part of me wanted to keep quiet because I can’t wait for your reaction. But I love you too much to not warn you.” Before you can say anything to argue, she quickly cuts you off. “I’ll see y’all in a few hours, this was a quick layover. I’ll be the one with the suitcase.”
You smile as you tug your skirt up over your hips. “And I’ll be the one standing next to your overexcited, golden retriever boyfriend.”
“I know, he’s just great isn’t he?” Charlotte sighs, making a soft sound of contentment as you laugh and hang up the phone.
In the end, you’re glad you lost that damn bet. Their relationship is good for both of them; a sense of normalcy and calm in their hectic lives. Charlotte centers Eric, gives him a stronger direction and Eric supports her, makes her so incredibly happy. You adore the way they fit together.
John makes you incredibly happy too, happy in a way you didn’t know you could be. He makes you laugh and accepts the parts of you that you never learned to love the way you should. John’s never tried to turn you into anyone else; he supports and encourages you, makes you feel whole. It’s just one of the many reasons you love him.
The familiar comfort of your relationship makes it feel like you’ve known him your whole life.
There’s the lazy Sundays spent in bed, wrapped in just the sheets and each other. Movie nights on the couch, arguing over which Monty Python movie is arguably the best. (The Holy Grail. Obviously, sweet’eart.) Walks through Boston Common, bundled up with his arm tight around you as you excitedly tell him some random bit of history.
These moments in your life pass by like a highlight reel. They’re over too quickly. But when you think back on them, you remember only the way John made you feel; safe, wanted and loved.
But Chas was right; sometimes, this isn’t easy.
Sometimes when you’re patching John up or when he has to teach you a new defensive spell because you got knocked on your ass harder than you were expecting, you wish that things were a little less complicated. You wish you were a normal couple and there wasn’t a psychotic madman trying to hurt the man you love and use your closest friends to make you help him.
You know what you signed on for but sometimes, you just want a breather.
“I wish I could give you that.” John remarks, startling you from your thoughts as he steps into the room. It makes you wonder for the thousandth time if, on top of everything else he’s capable of, he can read minds as well.
You lift your brow in question, waiting for John to continue, as he ruffles his hair with his hands. His words come out tight, too casual; they betray his attempt at hiding his apprehension. “Easy, effortless; what your mates have.”
Turning around you let yourself enjoy the sight of him still damp from the shower, his towel hung low on his hips. John smirks when he catches you staring. “Though I reckon it’s good to know that your questionable taste in blokes led to me then, ey?”
Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms as he makes his way over to you. “I don’t know about questionable. I mean, I think I’m a decent judge of character, but I’m pleased with the result either way.”
John rests his hands on your hips. “I do mean it, luv.” He comments, pressing a quick kiss to your mouth. “I reckon you could do with a touch more easy and effortless.”
You hum, low in the back of your throat, resisting the urge to chase his lips as he leans back. He tastes of spearmint, coffee and the lingering bite of tobacco; an intoxicating mix you’ll never get enough of.
You smile at him then, acknowledging just how much effort he’s putting into showing you how he feels. In the few short months since the big fight, things have been great between the two of you. You’ve gone on more jobs with him; John’s even let you handle a few exorcisms alone. You’re getting stronger, more confident, and you know that he’s proud of what he’s taught you.
The two of you have even hung out with Eric a handful of times since then and John’s gotten along with him just fine. They’ve laughed, made jokes; exactly the way they were before John found out about the ‘relationship’. It’s a big step for him; a show of trust and as you’ve told him, it means more to you than you can say.
So, yes, sometimes you wished for a relationship with a bit less complication. Something more normal, simple. But if that meant changing anything you have with John, then you’d take the mess as long as he came with it.
There is a thrill of danger with John, but at the same time, you’ve never felt more safe than you do with him. And if you’re being honest with yourself, you live for the sense of pleasure you get from being near him and the way your heart skips a beat when he says your name.
With a smile, you reach up and card your fingers through the dampness of John’s hair. “You do give me that, but too much easy and effortless is boring.” You assure him, pulling him down to rest his forehead against yours. “I don’t need it all the time, I just need you.”
When John leans back, his dark eyes search yours; finding in them the truth of your words, the admission of your happiness that he's often so unsure of. “Well, you’ve got me then, don’t you.” He murmurs, his lips slowly twisting into his usual cocky smirk.
“I better.” You grin, lightly smacking his ass as he steps away and walks to the closet. “Now hurry up and get dressed, huh?”
John turns around, one hand resting on the closet door. “Oh, are you giving me orders then, luv?” He raises an eyebrow, staring at you in a way that makes your cheeks grow warm. “Go ahead, get cheeky. You know what that does to me. We’ll be late picking up your mates and you best believe I'll make you explain why.”
Rolling your eyes, you turn around and take a step towards your door. You feel the air shift and when you turn your head, John’s disappeared. Before you can ask where he’s gone off to, his hands are cupping your face and turning you to face him.
“I’ll never get tired of that trick.” You smile softly, as your arms move to wrap around the back of his neck.
John tilts his head, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “I should bloody well hope not, it’s -”
“Your best move.” You finish for him as one of his hands moves into your hair. With a smirk, his mouth is on yours, devouring your resolve. You part your lips with a soft sigh and let him back you into your door.
You’re going to be late getting to Eric's and you're sure there'll be questions. But as John presses his hand firmly against the base of your throat, arousal awakens in your core. When he runs his nose along your jaw, your logical thoughts scatter and you find you don't give a damn about punctuality.
***
“Sorry we’re late!” You call out, letting yourself into Eric’s apartment. “I uh, I got a little tied up by something at the house.”
“More like someone, eh, sweet’eart?” John snickers from behind you. You turn your head to give him a dirty look, but let it fall flat at the smug grin on his face. He's not wrong, but he doesn't have to look so damn proud about it. As it is, you feel the urge to tug down your sleeves to hide the marks left on your wrists from his restraints.
Rolling your eyes, you set your bag down on the couch and flip on the light. “Eric, you're still here right?”
Eric comes out of his room, pulling his Henley over his head. “Yeah, I’m here. It’s all good, fella.” He answers, his voice muffled slightly by the fabric. “I couldn’t decide what to wear anyways. Feel like I haven't seen her in forever and I wanted to look good."
When he pulls his head through, you immediately notice that Eric’s clean shaven. Well, almost. Right above his lip is the most offensive patch of hair you’ve ever seen.
Pointing to it with narrowed eyes, you let out a disgusted squeak. “What is that?”
Eric freezes for a second before lifting his hand up to his mouth. “Oh yeah, ya like it?” He asks before turning into the kitchen. “I think it suits me.”
You stifle a giggle as your eyebrows fly into the air. “Yeah, if you’re planning on breaking into porn, maybe.”
With a smirk, he runs his fingers through the mustache. “C’mon kid, whaddya talkin’ about? It looks so good.”
“Yeah, on Ron Jeremy.” You retort as he pulls open his refrigerator door.
John rests his arm on your shoulder and chuckles softly. “Oh, I don’t know, luv. I reckon it might be growing on me. Maybe I’ll give myself one of those.”
Spinning to face him, you point in his direction. “Johnny, you grow one of those caterpillars on your face and I will leave your British ass so fast. No matter how much I like it."
John grins, tightening his arm on your shoulders. “I reckon it might be worth the risk, sweet’eart. Especially for a Magnum like that.”
Eric emerges from the fridge, creamer in hand. “My mustache has a name? Kid, how frickin’ cool is that?”
John slides his hands into the pockets on his coat. “That it does, mate. It’s -”
“Hold up,” you interrupt, raising your hands to pause their conversation. “Eric, this better not be my surprise.”
He furrows his brow as he gestures to the pot of coffee. “I was supposed to give ya somethin’?”
You shrug as you walk to his cabinet and grab two mugs. “Charlotte told me you had a surprise for me. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t offensive facial hair. What on earth possessed you to shave your beard?”
John leans across the counter as you pour him a cup, adding only a bit of sugar. Dark, a touch sweet, just the way he likes it. He hums appreciatively as you hand it to him.
Eric smiles at the exchange before taking a sip from his own mug. “I was facetimin’ Charlotte the other day and I told her it’d be gone when she gets up here. I have to, ya know Nonna Grant doesn’t like the beard.”
“That doesn’t explain the tea strainer on your face, mate.” John points out, gesturing with his mug.
“I was gettin’ to that.” Eric grins, setting his mug down on the counter. “So, I’m buzzin’ it off last night and the damn thing dies, right when I get to the top of my lip.” He touches his face as he turns to the side. “I didn’t hate it, so I cleaned it up and figured I could keep it for a few days.”
Raising an eyebrow, you can't help but let out a dry laugh. "Uh huh, and have you asked your girlfriend what she thinks of it?"
John nods at you as he takes another sip. “Lottie hates it, doesn’t she?’
Eric laughs as he leans back against his counter. “I mean, she hasn't exactly said she hates it, but I don’t think it's her favorite look on me.”
“I know my best friend, Eric. She hates it.” Eric shakes his head, visibly disagreeing with you as he takes another sip.
John sets his mug on the counter with a grin. “I reckon we should leg it to the airport or we’ll be late getting her. I’m gonna have a smoke while you lot finish up, then we should go.”
You watch him walk away with a warm smile on your face. When the door shuts, Eric clears his throat, pulling you out of your inappropriate thoughts. “So uh, before we go. I feel like we should probably talk about somethin’ seein’ as ya not gonna bring it up on ya own. And trust me, I waited to see if ya would.”
Slowly turn to face him, your mind races through what he could possibly want to talk to you about. “Wh- what’s up?”
“So, were you really not gonna tell me that you had sex with ya boyfriend in my bed? Just gonna let me do my thing with my girlfriend and not say a word.” He laughs when your eyes widen, caught like a deer in headlights. “Kid, I thought we were closer than that.”
Feeling your stomach drop, you swallow hard and let a soft huff of nervousness slip past your lips. It’s been almost three months, you were sure that you’d gotten away with it. And since you hadn’t told Eric every detail of the fight, he didn’t have any reason to think that you’d done anything except crash here.
“Uhh.. I’m so- how the hell did you know?” You ask apprehensively, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I… I changed the sheets and -”
“Yeah, that's how I knew.” Eric rolls his eyes, but his smile stays firmly planted on his face.
“That and the fact that my headboard was inches away from the wall. Ya must’ve been pretty aggressive to move my whole damn bed. Trust me, I know how hard ya gotta go to move that thing. Plus, a picture of Charlotte that was on my nightstand must’ve fallen and ya didn’t see it. It was on the floor, underneath.”
Shaking your head, you shield your eyes with your hand in embarrassment. “Eric, I… I’m sorry. It just happened. You know that John and I had a fight, I came here -”
When Eric lets out a deep belly laugh, you abruptly stop talking and furrow your brow. “Are you mad at me?” You ask, looking down at the floor.
“Nah kid, I figured when ya told me that you and John made up, ya didn’t go all the way home. I just thought it was funny that ya tried like Hell to fix everythin’ so I wouldn’t notice.” You look up at him and roll your eyes. “Oh c’mon, I’m just givin’ ya shit. Ya know I don’t care, that’s why we got a key to each other’s places.”
His grin fades for a moment as he glances over your shoulder to the door. “But everythin’s cool, right? With you and John? Like we’ve gone out a coupla times and ya seemed fine but, I noticed a little tension at first. So ya know, I’m checkin’ in. I didn’t wanna invade ya privacy and really get into what happened, but...”
Your lips press into a tight smile. “You know, sometimes I wish you weren’t so observant. But things are great now.” You assure him with a nod. “All couples fight. We just agreed to be better communicators going forward.”
Eric wraps his arms around you, pulling you in for a quick hug. “That’s my girl.” He chuckles, his chest rumbling against your cheek. “I just wanna see ya happy, fella and I don’t know if you know this, but I’m a detective? Kind of a good one too, I notice everythin’.”
Not everything, you think as you lean back. If only he knew what the rest of the argument was about. Or half of the other things you can’t tell him. He’d be angrier than when you finally told him about Sam.
John clears his throat as he steps back in the door. “Don’t mean to interrupt the moment, but we should get a move on. Shouldn’t be late picking up your girl, eh?”
You can feel his narrowed eyes on you as you step away to grab your bag off the couch. You hadn’t heard the door open, but there’s nothing for John to get annoyed with anyway; he’s been fine around Eric. You’re just being paranoid.
“Nah, ya good buddy.” Eric grins, quickly collecting the mugs and placing them in the sink. He claps John on the shoulder as he passes by to grab his keys. “But ya right, I wanna get goin’. Somehow you and I ended up with the best girls on the planet and I can’t wait to see mine. We’re friggin' lucky they love us, huh?”
John pulls you to him, wrapping his arm tighter around your side than you think is necessary. “Mmhmm.”
***
At first, when you see Charlotte frown, you think that she’s annoyed with you. Your fears are quickly assuaged when she drops her bags beside Eric’s explorer and wraps her arms around you first instead of her boyfriend. When she pulls back, Eric swoops in for a kiss, only to be disappointed when she turns her head so he lands on her cheek instead.
“What’s a matter, honey?” Eric asks, confusion and disappointment warring on his face. “Ya tired?”
Charlotte raises an eyebrow as she stoops to pick up her discarded bag off the floor. “No.” She sighs, shrugging it onto her shoulder. “I’m not kissing you until that awful thing is off your face.”
“Yeah, Char, I don’t blame you.” You can’t help but giggle at Eric’s scandalized face as John pushes himself off the side of the car to stub out his cigarette. “It’s awful.” You continue, holding out your hand for his. “I wouldn’t go near him either.”
Sliding up the sleeves of his coat, John steps onto the sidewalk and wraps his fingers around yours. “If I grew one of those, you truly mean to say that you wouldn’t even kiss Ol’ Johnny?” When you shake your head, he aggressively rolls his eyes. “Well, that’s bloody rude, luv.”
“So is that mustache.” Charlotte laughs, popping open the trunk of the Explorer to throw her bags inside. Eric reaches up to close it as she walks around to the passenger side door.
“Aw come on, honey.” He begs, following behind her. “I haven’t seen ya in like three months and ya really not gonna kiss me hello?” When she climbs in and shuts the door, you watch his lips twist into a pout. “Please?”
She ignores him and Eric slinks around the Explorer. When he climbs into the driver's seat, he’s wearing the most pitiful expression you’ve ever seen. Without another word, he starts the car and pulls away from the curb.
The ride starts off silent and, in a word, awkward. After a minute or two of Charlotte blatantly avoiding Eric’s attempts to even kiss her hand, John rolls his eyes and sighs loudly from the seat beside you. “Lottie, take pity on him, ey? Just kiss the poor bloke, he looks gutted that you won’t bloody touch him.”
Charlotte scoffs and twists her upper body around. “Why don’t you? Because I already told him that I can’t stand mustaches and as long as he has that, I’m not kissing him.”
John smirks, his dark eyes meeting Eric’s in the rearview. “Oh, that’s not something I’d be against. But your boyfriend doesn’t swing both ways, does he? As much as I'd bloody well encourage it. And I don’t mind the facial hair, was considering growing one myself.”
“No, you’re not.” You lightly slap his arm. “I swear, you grow one of those things and I won’t let you touch me.”
John moves his hand to rest on your upper thigh. “Oh no?” When his fingers squeeze in warning, you let out a soft whimper of protest as you shift in your seat to pull away from him. The grin he gives you is feral, dangerous even, as his fingers tighten to keep you still.
“John,” you hiss softly, covering his hand with yours. You don’t pull away from him but your plea is clear. This isn’t the place for that. “Let go?” You beg, meeting his dark eyes. “I didn’t mean it.”
When his grip lessens, you lean back with a furrowed brow. What is wrong with him? It’s like he flipped a switch at Eric's house.
Unaware of what John’s doing to you in the back seat, Eric lets out an exaggerated sigh from the front. “At this point, maybe I would settle for ya John. Glad that someone doesn’t hate the ‘stache.”
Keeping his hand firmly planted on your thigh, John chuckles softly in response. “I could show you a good time, big man. None of this settling rubbish needed, though I reckon you might change your mind about needing Miss DuCaine when we’re through.”
Turning your head, you let your mouth hang open incredulously. When John shrugs, you pull your lower lip between your teeth and tilt your head. If that’s the game he wants to play, then fine. He won’t win. “Well, Char, that would leave you and I to our own devices. Think we could make ‘em jealous? That certainly sounds like what they’re trying to do to us.”
“Oh, sugar, I’m sure we’d make them more than jealous.” Charlotte giggles, sitting herself sideways in the passenger seat. “We’ve known each other much longer; in the end, we wouldn’t even need these boys.”
“Wait wait wait.” Eric jumps in, lifting a hand into the air. “No, whatever you two are thinkin’, stop it right now. John ain’t gonna kiss me and you two aren’t gonna be makin’ anyone jealous.”
Folding your arms, you meet his eyes in the mirror. “I think it’s too late for that. Come on, Eric. Are you afraid that your girlfriend might like me better in the end? Remember, we like the same things and I’d never grow a mustache.”
“And what about you, John?” Charlotte asks playfully before Eric can process your taunt. “You’re being awfully quiet back there. Worried that I’d be better at pleasing your girlfriend than you are?”
“She’s never complained. Have you, sweet’eart?” John replies darkly, sparing you the barest hint of a glance as his fingers flex against the material of your skirt. “But you should know, you’re both playing with fire. It wouldn’t do to keep making us jealous like you are.”
Charlotte glances down at his hand and frowns slightly. “Sugar, your boyfriend’s getting a little hot under the collar. What’s the matter, John? You really are the possessive type, aren’t you?”
“Only when it comes to her.” He answers, his dark eyes glittering dangerously.
“Good.” Charlotte raises an eyebrow as she settles back against the seat. “And you should know that we did live together for awhile. Just think of all the trouble we could’ve gotten into. I would happily remind her that she doesn’t need a boyfriend. Especially one like you.”
When John tenses up beside you, you know you’ve got to cut in. Charlotte must be hungry on top of being annoyed about the mustache because now, this conversation seems to have taken a turn. What started as teasing Eric has twisted into her purposely trying to push John’s buttons and it’s gone on long enough.
Before you can dismiss her comment and reassure John that you are, in fact, quite happy to have him, Eric cuts in with a laugh. “Nah, I’m callin’ bullshit ladies. You two didn’t do shit. I woulda heard about it already.”
“Please, y’all wouldn’t know anything unless we wanted to tell you.” Charlotte scoffs, her eyes narrowed at John. “Guess it's good for you boys that we don’t like keeping things from our partners.”
“Watch yourself, Lottie.” John replies under his breath, his tone taking on a hint of hostility. You shoot him a glare as you squeeze his hand, this time you’re warning him. You’re aware she’s antagonizing him, but John should know she’s only teasing. His tone said otherwise.
“You know, jealousy isn’t a bad look for you, John.” Charlotte pushes back, unfazed by John’s thinly veiled warning. “My best friend’s a Hell of a catch and it’s high time you realized how lucky you are that she puts up with you.”
“Alright,” you cut in, raising your voice in the confines of the Explorer. “That’s enough, guys. I love you and you’re both pretty, so can we not?”
Charlotte nods with a laugh and turns back to the front. John doesn’t lessen his grip on your leg, but you watch him take a visible breath and roll back his shoulders. “Sure thing, sweet’eart.”
Leaning over, you reassuringly press a kiss to John’s cheek and incline your head toward the front seat. “So uh, Eric? Can we get this girl dunkin'? Maybe Starbucks? Cause I feel like if we don’t, none of us are making it to the Holiday party tomorrow, alive.”
John makes a soft noise of amusement from beside you as Charlotte turns her head and smiles at Eric. “She’s right, chere. Starbucks? Then maybe I’ll consider kissing you.” The explorer charges forward as he presses his foot to the gas pedal.
***
After lunch, your group heads back to Eric’s to let Charlotte get settled in for her two week stay. You’re both excited; aside from a random winter break or two, this is the longest she’s been able to stay up here. It feels incredible to have your three favorite people in the same state again.
Once her bags are inside, Eric excuses himself to take a call from the precinct. As he heads to his office, John ducks outside for a cigarette. With a smile, Charlotte dumps the old coffee from the pot and sets up a fresh one.
“So.” she starts, as you climb onto one of Eric’s barstools. “Why is John being so damn weird around Eric? And before you say he’s not, he’s been all over you since we left the airport. Don’t think I didn’t catch that stunt he pulled in the car.”
At your widened eyes, she folds her arms and delicately raises an eyebrow. “And that boy clearly isn’t shy about PDA, never has been; I could see that the first time I saw y’all together. But today, he’s all but peed on you. What’s his problem?”
“Peed on me?” You laugh incredulously. “What do you mean by that?”
“Marking his territory.” She elaborates with a shrug. “Claiming you as his? John does know that Eric and I are together, right? He doesn’t need to worry.”
Glancing down the hall to Eric’s office and then to the front door, you run your hands through your hair and sigh. “You remember the fight I told you about from a couple months ago?”
When Charlotte nods, you press on. “He, well, my mother -”
“Mais J’ Mais.” Charlotte interrupts, rolling her eyes. “That high falutin’, uppity woman is nothing but trouble. What’d she do?”
You lean forward on your elbows and raise an eyebrow. “My mother, not so nicely, let it slip that Eric and I had dated. You know that it was nothing, just a couple of awkward months and when we came to our senses, everything went back to normal.”
Charlotte’s mouth drops as she begins to understand what you’re alluding to. “Oh no.” She murmurs, her espresso eyes filling with concern as she rests against the counter. “You told me it was a bad fight but…”
“Yeah,” you laugh bitterly. “Well, she kept going on about how stupid I was for letting Eric go and how I was choosing someone who didn’t deserve me. John took that as a sign that Eric was obviously the better man and that my mother was right. So, of course I still had feelings for Eric.” You roll your eyes. “How could I not?”
“Oh, sugar.” She shakes her head. “So he thought you still loved Eric? I’m sorry, I was pushing and pushing in the car. I didn’t realize I was just reminding him of what Priscilla had said to him. But John knows you love him. Didn’t you say you said it then?”
You let out a soft huff through your pursed lips. “Yeah, as I was storming out. But I swear to God, Char, it was awful. It was like every insecurity he had about us being together was just laid out for him and he felt like he couldn’t argue with it.”
“He had been drinking, right?” She asks, turning around to wash the mugs in the sink. “So, I’m sure that didn’t help.”
“No, it didn’t.” With a heavy sigh, you slide off the stool and walk over to the cabinet. “I wasn’t happy about it, believe me. But I can’t give him shit about the drinking, as much as I want to, because some of the things I’ve seen give me nightmares and I’ve only been doing this for a little over a year. I can’t imagine how difficult it is to compartmentalize two decades of evil.”
Charlotte turns, reaching for a dish towel. “So, whatever your mother was trying to do -”
“She almost succeeded.” You admit, pulling down another mug. “John seriously took it the wrong way and it caused the biggest fight I’ve ever had with him. I thought for sure we were going to break up. He didn’t come after me when I left and I…” You clear your throat to hide the emotion in your voice. “But he apologized, made it up to me that night. I thought we were fine.”
Silently, Charlotte gestures for you to walk over to her her. With a soft smile, you cross the distance and let her pull you in for a hug. “Sugar, you’ve got it bad. You really are plumb head over heels for that boy, ain’t ya?”
Resting your chin on her head, you let out a soft sigh. “Yeah, I am.” A smile creeps onto your face. “This is different, Char. How I feel about him? I don’t think I’ve ever been so in love with someone, not like this. I don’t want to argue with him again. I know there’s a lot of danger involved with what we do, but when I’m with John, I feel safe. Safe in a way I’ve never felt before.”
“I promise I wasn’t fixin’ to start another fight.” Charlotte laughs softly as she looks up. “And I know I give John a lot of grief, but I don’t hate him. I just want what’s best for you and if you think it’s him, then you’ve got to talk to that boy, make him okay with you and Eric being close.”
Pulling away from her, you let your lips twist into a wry grin. “I don’t ask John for much, but Eric’s important to me, so you're right, I need him to get past this. I can’t not have one of my best friends in my life because John’s worried that Eric will try to blur that line. He wouldn’t, I wouldn’t.”
“I think at least part of him knows that, sugar. But, oh shoot, what’d you just say?” She snaps her fingers. “John’s been living with years of evil. Chas told me that that boy of yours doesn’t trust easy. I betcha he thinks y’all got an expiration date and things like this are just proof that he doesn’t deserve you.” Your eyebrows fly up in surprise. “Now, I’m not defending him, but that’s my two cents on it.”
You lift your head in confusion. “Chas?” You ask, stepping away to grab the creamer from the fridge. “When do you talk to Chas?”
She waves her hand carelessly. “Oh, all the time. Made sure we had each other’s numbers before he went home. He called me up a few months back with a legal question, now we get lunch every once in a while. He’s a good one, gives me lots of insight into the man you fell in love with.”
“I’m glad you’re friends with him.” You tell her, setting the creamer on the counter. “I’ve become pretty close with him too.”
Charlotte nods as if she’s pleased with your answer. “So, what are you going to do about John? Cause the possessive thing is kinda hot, but if he’s gonna be in a mood at Tommy and Linda’s, you know one of them will say something.”
Hearing Eric’s door open, you sigh and pour coffee into your cup. “I know,” you remark, lowering your voice. “And honestly, I care more about what they think than my own mother, so I’ll talk to him when we get home.”
“Good.” She agrees, pouring herself a cup of coffee, then adding some cream and sugar to it. “I don’t want to see something stupid get in the way of you being happy.”
“Thanks, Char. I love you, you know.” Walking the pot back to the coffee maker, you spin around and squint your eyes. “You really think the possessive thing is hot?”
Charlotte rolls her eyes. “Sugar, you don’t? Sure, it’s a little old fashioned, but there is just something about your man wanting everyone to know that you’re his. And the way John looks at you? La bonte*, when Eric gets that look in his eyes, he’s gonna have his way with me and we're both going to love it.”
“Yeah,” you hum appreciatively. “I definitely do. I was concerned that I was weird for finding it attractive, glad to know that I’m not alone. And trust me, John is very good at showing me that I’m his. I just wish he understood it’s unnecessary around Eric.”
Before Charlotte can respond, the door opens behind you, making a flush creep up your neck. “It’s bloody freezing out there.” John swears, hanging up his coat on the hook by the door. Rubbing his hands together to get warm, he walks over and rests his chin in the crook of your neck.
When his hands snakes around your waist, you start to relax. It’s only when Eric walks into the room, calling your name, does John tense up again. Charlotte makes a sympathetic face and walks over to wrap her arms around Eric, leading him to the couch and away from you.
***
Charlotte’s deep into a spreadsheet she offered to check for you when her mind slips. Without looking up from your tablet, she motions as Eric and John pass by towards the living room. “Hugh, while you’re up, could you get me another glass of wine?”
She scrolls down, zooming in on the bottom of the page. “There it is, sugar, Morgan’s using his signature to move this into a false account. Those discrepancies you’ve told me about are probably all connected because if you weren’t looking for it, you’d never find it. The sneaky son of a bitch is good.”
Eric takes a tentative step towards the couch, his blue eyes wide and confused. “Kid, did she just -”
You cut him off with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, she fucking did.”
Charlotte lifts her head, tucking her curls behind her ear. “What?” She asks, setting the tablet down beside her. “What’d I do?”
Eric stares, eyes darting between you and Charlotte as he folds his arms defensively. “Hugh?” You can’t help but wince at his tone; he sounds offended and more than a little hurt.
When Charlotte lets out a concerned ‘excuse me?’, you shift back to face her. “Char, you called him Hugh.”
“No, I didn’t.” She protests, letting her voice rise an octave. “Why on Earth would I call him Hugh?”
John pushes himself away from where he was leaning against the counter. “Lottie, not to incur your wrath,” he remarks, resting against a barstool. “But you most decidedly did.”
“Why would I ever call him that?” She argues, folding her arms across her chest. “That doesn’t make sense.”
Eric perches on the edge of the table, stroking his mustache before he takes her hand. “Honey, ya called me Hugh. Trust me, it’s not somethin’ I’d ever wanna hear come outta ya mouth. I didn’t mistake it.”
Well shit. “Uh, Char?” You gesture toward Eric’s face. “Didn’t Hugh have a mustache once? Maybe that’s why.”
She looks up at Eric, her face full of apology. “Oh, chere, I’m so sorry. I swear to you, I didn’t mean anything by it. It must’ve just slipped out. Hugh had a damn mustache for months and I hated the thing, but he refused to shave it.”
Eric lets out an exasperated sigh as he rises from the couch arm. “That’s it, this thing is gone. John, ya wanna run to the store with me? Cause I need to remove this thing off my face. Charlotte, honey, I’m never givin’ ya a chance to call me Hugh again.”
“So that’s all it took, huh?” You laugh. “Your girlfriend calling you her ex's name?”
“Kid, ya met him.” Eric argues, grabbing his jacket off the chair. “I’ve met him, heard the way he talks down to her and it’s disgustin'. So trust me, it’s enough.”
He turns to John with a tight smile. “Johnny, if ya girl called ya by an ex’s name, you wouldn’t like it, right?”
Tilting your head, you watch John’s shoulders roll back, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “Bloody course not. But I reckon I’d never do something to remind her of an ex.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Eric presses on, blissfully unaware of how quickly John’s control is slipping. “And I’m sure since ya met the guy, you’d have a similar reaction if it happened to you.”
“I’d imagine I would.” John murmurs quietly. “And then I’d reckon it’d do for my girl and I to have a nice chat after as to why a name that wasn’t mine slipped past her lips.”
Rising from the couch, you quickly cross into the kitchen and wrap your arms around him. “Well, that’s something you don’t have to worry about.” You turn your head towards Eric, quickly attempting to change the subject. “Didn’t you say you were going out?”
Eric pats his jeans for his wallet before stepping over to kiss Charlotte’s cheek. “Yeah, I’ll be right back. You two stayin’ for the movie after dinner?”
John’s face remains impassive when you tilt your head up to confer with him. He doesn’t argue, but you know he doesn’t want to stay. It’s fine, you need to speak with him anyway. Sooner, rather than later. “As tempting as that is,” you smile, “once you shave, Charlotte is going to be all over you.”
Charlotte rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue.
***
John’s quiet through dinner, watching through suspicious eyes when Eric starts picking the sausage out of your jambalaya. The two of you bicker back and forth, making Charlotte laugh when you whack the fork out of Eric’s hand. Each time your eyes meet, you swear John’s narrow slightly.
You don’t want this to be another fight, but you don’t see how it can go any other way. Being possessive is one thing, this unnecessary jealousy just angers you. It’s an unfounded accusation; silent, but no less damaging in the effect it's having on your relationship.
When it’s time to leave, John says his goodbyes quickly before heading out to have a smoke. “All good, kid?” Eric asks, leaning away from you. “Johnny’s been kinda off all night.”
You wave away his concern. “Yeah, I think John’s just tired. He’ll get some sleep and be bright eyed for the party tomorrow. Promise.”
When Eric raises an eyebrow in disbelief, Charlotte laughs and slips under his arm. “Let the girl go home, Detective. You’ve got something to take care of.” Red creeps up Eric’s neck as he grins at you.
Rolling your eyes, you wish them both a good night and shut the door behind you.
***
"Can we talk?" You ask hesitantly, over the hum of your car’s engine.
John tilts his head, raising an eyebrow at the uncertainty in your voice. "About what, luv?"
About what? He can't be serious. There's no way you're imagining how John's been acting. Not when Eric and Charlotte have both commented on it tonight.
"Come on, Johnny." You slow the car at a stop sign and turn to face him while a couple, bundled up from the cold, hurries across Beacon Street. "I thought we were past this. You've been weird all night and we've been good for months. What gives?"
John presses the button to slide down your window as he pulls out a cigarette from his coat pocket. Without looking up, he lights it and inhales deeply. As he blows the smoke out the window, he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "You and I are fine. Just got a lot on my mind, wouldn't do for you to worry about it."
Maybe his problem isn't with you and Eric, as you were worried it was. Maybe it's something else entirely. Which, if you're being honest, worries you more. You don't want him jealous over Eric, but at least you know how to handle that if you have to. If it’s something else, you’ll need to figure out how to navigate that.
"But you know I'm gonna worry." You push back, turning your car down the side street near your townhouse. "Kinda my job as your girlfriend, right?"
John lets out a soft huff and allows a forced smile onto his face. "No need. You’re good and I do just fine on my own, don't I?"
"Yeah, but -"
"Drop it, luv." John snaps, flicking ash out the opened window. “I said we’re fine, didn’t I?”
The rest of the car ride passes by in silence. Once you’re home, you unlock your door and immediately make your way upstairs.
“I’ll be up in a minute.” John calls out as you walk into your room; his voice is calm, so at odds with the way he snapped at you in the car. Hoping you can get to the bottom of the situation before you go to bed, you change into your PJs and wait for him to come up.
After an hour, you fall asleep alone.
Notes:
Sometimes it breaks my heart that it's so easy for John to think so damn little of himself. And you'd think he'd actually listen to you, you've never given him a reason to think otherwise.
Next week: You reflect on your relationship with John; how someone so frustrating can be so important in your life. At the same time, John has similar thoughts about you, until Zed calls with some dangerous information. When he gets home, John snaps at you, worrying you as to what's really going on and his attitude later at the Grant's Christmas party doesn't make you feel any better. When he disappears at the party, you step in to defend Charlotte from a shitty uncle of Eric's and later come face to face with the one person you'd hoped to never see again - Dominick Grant.
Chapter 31: The danger of vulnerability.
Summary:
You reflect on your relationship with John; how someone so frustrating can be so important in your life. At the same time, John has similar thoughts about you, until Zed calls with some dangerous information. When he gets home, John snaps at you, worrying you as to what's really going on and his attitude later at the Grant's Christmas party doesn't make you feel any better. When John goes with Eric's dad to get a drink, you step in to defend Charlotte from a shitty uncle of Eric's. As Eric reassures her that she's the only for him, you come face to face with the one person you'd hoped to never see again - Dominick Grant.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
You sleep fitfully at first, waking every couple of hours to see if John’s come to bed. By the time 3 am rolls around, he still hasn’t. He said he wasn’t mad at you. But what else could it be?
The creak of your door wakes you around 4:30. You don’t move, keeping your back to him as his weight dips his side of the bed. When the blankets shift, John’s arm snakes around your waist; whether it’s an act of comfort or apology, you aren’t sure.
Either way, you let him pull you to him, John’s bare chest pressing flush against your back. He sighs as he nestles his chin in the crook of your neck. His stubble scratches, but the feeling of his skin on yours has never been more comforting. You let yourself relax against him, closing your eyes when his breathing slowly evens out.
You drift off shortly after that, staying asleep until the sunlight filters through your curtains and into your eyes. With a low groan, you squeeze them shut and turn away from the light to stare at John’s face.
In the soft light of the morning, his expression’s unmarred by the burdens he carries when he’s awake. Your fingers gently ghost over the darkness under his eyes and the lush skin of his lips. When the pad of your thumb runs along his cheek, John murmurs softly and leans into your touch.
You’ve never met someone who frustrates you the way John does, but at the same time, the way you love him consumes you from the inside. It’s easy to do; he’s charming, funny and despite the hurdles you face together, he feels like home. More so than anyone you’ve ever known.
Admitting to yourself that you were in love with him the night of the truth spell was terrifying. You felt like you were jumping without being able to see the bottom; hoping beyond all else that there wouldn’t be jagged rocks when you landed.
You hate that falling in love feels a lot like flying; weightless and incredible. Until the bone crush that inevitably comes with hitting those rocks, the ones you never expect.
It’s strange and a little frightening, how someone who started off as an infuriating stranger could quickly become one of the most important people in your life. You thought you had it all figured out before you met John. You had your path, but fate seemed to have other plans.
Now, you can’t imagine ever wanting anything more than this life with him. Smiling softly to yourself, you lean forward and gently kiss his nose. When his face scrunches in sleepy confusion, you giggle and push yourself up.
If you’re quiet, you can slip out and grab breakfast for the both of you before he wakes. Then, you and John can talk. You have to. John has to understand the way you feel about him dwarfs your feelings of any previous relationship you’ve had.
You asked him to show you how he felt about you if he wasn't able to tell you. Petty jealousy towards one of your best friends is not the way to go about that.
You trust him, even though you know there’s still things he chooses to hide from you. Is it too much to ask that he gives you the same respect?
Determined to hurry back and set things right, you slip out of bed and dress quickly. After leaving him a note that you’ll be right back, you jog down the stairs and pull your hair into a messy bun on the top of your head.
You grab your coat and purse and slip out the door. The chilly wind of mid December assaults you as you climb down your steps. The coffee place isn’t too far; you wish it were warmer, the walk would clear your head.
As you slide into your Rouge, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out, you open your screen to see a text from Eric.
Eric Grant:
Meant to show you last night. What do you think of these? Cute, right?
The incoming photo is two bracelets with coordinates on them. Pinching the screen to zoom in, you only have a second to really look at them before he’s calling you.
Rolling your eyes, you hit accept and back out of your spot. “Relax, man. Could I look at them first? I’m half awake.” You laugh, turning onto the main road. “What are the coordinates even for?”
“The place Charlotte and I met.” Eric answers, excitedly. “Didn’t think ya’d actually answer, it’s wicked early.”
“I didn’t sleep well, so -” You cut yourself off as you furrow your brow in confusion. “Wait, you guys met in a bar.”
Eric laughs, as if you’ve just stated the obvious. “Yeah, and? It’s the place we met, kid. That night changed my life. Wouldn’t ya like it if John got you somethin’ with the coordinates where you met, even though it’s where ya work?”
Your lips twist into a soft smile. “Yeah, I guess I would. It’s sweet.” You swoon whenever John cooks you dinner, or surprises you with a date night to see a live show. You never thought he’d be such a romantic, but you love that he is. Eric, apparently, is the same way. “Didn’t peg you for such a sap, Grant.”
“Blame Tommy and Linda. Ya seen how fuckin’ cute they are. Dad brings my ma flowers all the time.”
“Yeah, I know.” You roll your eyes. “Wouldn’t know what a healthy relationship was if it weren’t for them. God knows my parents suck at it.”
Eric laughs and when he tells you that he doesn’t understand how Nicky came from his sweet, kind parents, you laugh with him. You aren’t their child and you're more like them than even Eric is.
“Sometimes, I like to think I was adopted.” You admit wistfully. “When I was a kid, I actually pretended that I was.” You let out a soft huff as you slow to a stop at a red light. “But I look too much like Bobby.”
Eric hums in agreement. “Yeah, but Bobby’s a good lookin’ guy. At least ya don’t have Priscilla’s sour face. She constantly looks like she stepped in somethin’.” You can’t argue, her perpetually narrowed eyes make her seem miserable all the time. “And ya basically are adopted. My mothah treats you like ya her kid.”
Which you’re incredibly grateful for. You’ve been close with Linda for as long as you can remember. And Eric’s not wrong, she treats you more like family than Priscilla does. You sarcastically tell him that and he immediately responds with a few colorful words about the woman that you find you can’t disagree with.
“No one likes her as it is.” He points out with a chuckle. “Hopefully she won’t show up tonight. Or! Maybe she’ll be too drunk to stand like last year. Ya boyfriend makes pretty strong drinks, I’m sure he’d volunteer for a little payback. Especially after how much of a bitch she was to him.” Pressing your lips together, you shake your head. He doesn't know that half of it.
Eric pauses for a moment. “Yeah, I dunno if we’ll be able to sell Linda on the idea, though. Not after Priscilla throwin’ up on Judge last year.”
You don’t mean to, but you giggle at the memory. That had been such an argument between your parents. Your mother had a bit too much champagne and ended up getting sick. Unfortunately, she had gotten sick on Tommy’s very sweet, very old, golden retriever. You and your dad still laugh about it.
“See, that’s exactly how we sell her on it.” You grin, turning onto the street you need. “It’s payback. Charlotte and I will talk to her. If anyone can get her to agree, it’s her two favorite non biological children.”
“Ya know, that’s not fair. My ma loves the two of you. Ya could get away with murder in her eyes.” When you laugh, asking him to deny the fact that he loves it, he can’t.
Instead, when he answers, you can hear the pout on his face. “What I love is that my mothah loves my best friend and my girlfriend. But not that she loves you guys more than me. Cause, ya know… I am her actual child.”
You shrug as you scan the street for a parking spot. “I don’t know what to tell you, Grant. You’ve been replaced.”
“I betcha if I get hurt again, I’d be the favorite. You and Charlotte would come in third, like it should be.”
Before you can even respond to that ridiculous statement, Charlotte cuts in with an incredulous, “Chere, what is wrong with you? Mon dieu. Were you dropped on your head as a child?”
“Not that I know of, but Dominick tried to drown me. Does that count?”
“You never told me that.” Your brows knit together angrily. “Like, dunked your head under water?”
“Nah, he kept me under for a bit.” He leans away from the phone. You aren't sure what's going on, but you can hear papers rustling in the background. You turn up the speaker in the car so you can hear him. “He held me under every time ma would go inside. That’s why I don’t like not bein’ able to see the bottom of pools and stuff. Drownin’ freaks me out.”
You knew that Eric had an almost irrational fear of the ocean; he’d been afraid as long as you’ve known him. You’d just never asked why. “Jesus Christ, Eric.” You swear, shaking your head. “Your brother is psychotic. He could’ve killed you. I hope he isn’t there tonight.”
“Ma never believed me either. Nicky would start cryin’ and she’d cave. Tell me that he was just playin’ around.” He sighs in frustration. “Same kid, but you know he’ll probably be there. Gotta always pretend to be the golden boy.”
“She’s got such a blind spot for him.” You roll your eyes. Linda is the sweetest woman, how she doesn’t see what Dominick is really like, is beyond you.
“I really don’t wanna see him. At least John is coming. He’s still a little moody, but I’d take him on his worst day, rather than Nicky on his best. So between Charlotte and him, we can successfully avoid the dickhead all night.”
“Somehow, I’ve managed to avoid meeting him entirely.” Charlotte quips. “I’m fixing to keep it that way. And regardless of his ridiculous attitude, I’m sure John would agree with me. Neither of us deserve to have to be in the same room as Dominick, but we all make sacrifices for the people we love. Don’t we?”
You pull into an open spot with a sour expression. Charlotte knows you won’t want her to talk about John’s attitude with Eric right there. With a small huff, you open your mouth to change the subject before she can say anything else. Without meaning to, Eric beats you to it.
“Or…” He suggests, more seriously than you’d expect. “We just kill him and make it look like an accident.”
“Says the cop.” Charlotte admonishes with a laugh.
Eric lets out a loud, boisterous laugh of his own. “Ya mean, the homicide detective that could cover it up?”
Shutting off your car, you whistle low as you shake your head. “You’d risk your career to murder that asshole brother of yours?”
He laughs again, when you hear Charlotte smack his arm. “Kid, is that even a question?”
“That’s fair.” You step out and look quickly before you cross the road. “So what time will you be there tonight?” You ask, stopping directly in front of the coffee shop’s door.
“Ma wants Charlotte and I early. Don’t know why, but I don’t question her. So, we’re going over for noonish but the party isn’t until like 5:30.”
“So John and I’ll plan to be there then. Linda probably wants to spend time with your adorable girlfriend. She doesn’t get to see her often as we do.” You hear Charlotte giggle as you slip inside. “Where were you anyways, Char? This wasn’t a weird conversation to start, you just jumped in as Eric was about to make it weird.”
Eric makes a scandalized noise when Charlotte starts to talk over his attempt to argue with you. “I was wrapping presents. You think this boy can make a Christmas gift look presentable?”
“Oh, I know he can’t.” You agree, squinting up at the menu. “Who do you think wrapped all his gifts before you? Me.”
“Hey, hey.” Eric protests. “Give me a break, huh? I was a perpetual bachelor, uneducated in the ways of civilized gift wrappin’.”
“Listen, there’s no shame.” You assure him. “It takes a real man to admit the only thing you can make look presentable is yourself.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Eric says petulantly. “I’ll let ya go kid, I gotta jump in the showah. But ya think she’ll like it?”
You furrow your brow in confusion. “Wha- oh, yeah. It is cute, she’ll love it.”
“Love what?” Charlotte asks, trying to grab the phone. “Sugar, what’ll I love?” Eric laughs and through the tiny speaker you hear him tell her it’s not important. Before she can question you further, you tell them both good bye and hang up with a smile.
Once it’s your turn, you order coffee, a few muffins and text John to see if he’s up yet. It’s not even nine, he’s probably still sleeping. At least, you hope that’s why he's not answering.
***
When you get back to the house and let yourself in, there's no movement inside. Calling out John’s name, you set the bag and coffee on the kitchen island. The answering silence makes you quirk an eyebrow and lay your hand on the railing.
“Johnny?” You call again, slowly climbing the stairs. “Sweetheart, you still sleeping?” Pushing open your door, your eyes scan the room, finding it frustratingly empty.
A note on the dresser catches your attention. Crossing the room, you lift the paper carefully and stare at John’s loopy scrawl. He apparently caught a job but promised to be back by three. Sober.
John’s clearly sarcastic comment makes you smile. If he’s making jokes, surely everything’s fine. He promised to be back in time and you know neither of you want a repeat of the last time you introduced him to family.
Now, you just have to kill some time until you have to get ready. With a sigh, you head into your closet to start grabbing the Christmas presents you’re bringing tonight. Unlike Eric, you don’t wait until the last minute to wrap gifts. The fact that you can wrap them with magic, has nothing to do with it.
***
When the smoke clears, the demon is dead and John is still pissed. It had no information, nothing he could use. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to stop. This business with Morgan has gone on for far too bloody long.
It’s been over a year. The fact that he’s no closer to ending this mess and getting this colossal target off his back drives him mental.
Every bit of information he and Chas have dredged up has led nowhere. Nothing on that ruddy Order, nothing on Morgan and nothing on why the bastard thinks serving up John’s soul is going to get him untold power. Demon's don't make deals with humans unless they know they’ll come out better in the end.
At wit’s end and more exhausted than he could imagine, John picks up his coat from the floor, pulls it on with a huff and takes a good look around.
Blood and God knows what else splatters the walls behind him as he lights a cigarette and takes a deep drag. The amount of time he spends in dirty back alleys and seedy no-tell motels, with paint and various unknown substances peeling off the walls, is frankly unsettling.
At least when he leaves this place and the frustrations of his situation, John gets to go home to you. Minor issues aside, the likes of which he doesn't want to bloody think about, you’re the bright spot in his otherwise rubbish existence. The calm in a stormy sea of lies, treachery and mistakes he was almost drowning in.
John never expected to find someone like you; someone brilliant and good, someone worth sticking around for. But, to say you complicate things for him is a bloody understatement.
Having some nasty git gunning for him is nothing new. The fact that he hasn’t legged it across the pond by now, is. John knows how he feels about you; and yet despite how dangerous it is for you both that he’s become so involved in your life here, he doesn’t want to leave.
As he steps outside, John can't help but roll his eyes. Chas would call this realization, growth on John's part. But John's still afraid it'll be his greatest liability. Because you're changing him and they both know it.
Going to the Holiday party of a man he's still not certain he can trust around his girl, isn’t his idea of a good time. And yet, John readily agreed. If only to see the way your eyes light up when you smile, like that - all soft and sweet, just for him.
He's said it a million times. He doesn't go in for any of that true love rubbish. John's never cared. But that's what this is, innit? True bloody love. Because you, with your dry humor and your no nonsense attitude toward his bullshit, make him feel.
You make him angry when you run head first into danger. And jealous when Eric steals food off your plate, making you grin at the bloke like he’s your favorite person. But you also leave John breathless when you nail a spell on the first go. And proud when you perform an exorcism on your own.
He trusts you, he truly does. Perhaps more than he's ever trusted anyone, aside from Chas. He's just gotta get out of his own head, make certain you know how much you have his trust and his heart.
Because John saw the hurt flash across your face last night when he snapped at you in the car. He hadn't meant to. But he's never been one to talk about his feelings, especially -
John's phone, insistently buzzing in his back pocket, interrupts his train of thought. Pulling it out quickly, he flips it open without looking at the name. "Yeah?"
"Could’ve at least said 'ello. Not like you don't enjoy hearing yaself talk."
"Zed." John’s eyes dart around him as he heads down the street. "Do you have anything for me?"
She laughs through the phone. "Ya think this is a bloody social call? Course I do. But you're not gonna like what I've found."
And she's right, he doesn’t. By the time he’s hung up the phone, John’s furious.
Zed's information makes him thankful that he didn't eat anything before he left the house this morning. Because once he’s processed what she had to say, not only does John want to throw up, he wants to drag you halfway across the world. Even if he has to drag you kicking and screaming. It might be the only way to keep the both of you safe.
***
When the front door slams shut, you rise from your vanity and poke your head out into the hallway. “John?” You call out, fastening your earring in place. “How’d it go?”
After a moment, only silence greets you, so you jog down the stairs and glance around. John’s tugging his tie over his head when his eyes meet yours from across the kitchen. You spy the open bottle of whiskey on the counter and unconsciously cross your arms. “You alright?” You ask, leaning against the wall. “Job go okay?”
John nods, lifting his glass to his lips. “S’fine.” He finishes it off, only to reach for the bottle and pour out another. “When do you reckon we need to leave?” He asks, without a hint of emotion. When he looks up and downs the second drink, his eyes peer right through you; something’s wrong.
“About an hour.” You reply, furrowing your brow as you look him over. His shirts torn at the hem and dirty as Hell. The exorcism must’ve been a rough one. “You have time to shower.” You assure him. “I’ll grab a fresh shirt and iron it for you, if you want?”
John nods again, fingers working to undo the dress shirt's buttons. As he passes, you reach out for his arm. He stops when you slide your fingers down to his hand and furrow your brow again. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Running his free hand down his face, he sighs with exhaustion. “You need to let me get ready or we’ll be late for this bloody party.”
Withdrawing your hand at the venom in his voice, you clench your jaw furiously. “If you’re going to be like this, we don’t have to go.”
Halfway up the stairs, he pauses. “If I had my way, we wouldn’t be.”
It takes you a moment to process what he’s said before you’re flying up the stairs. Without thinking, you grab his shoulder and try to turn him around. “What the fuck is your problem? You’ve been a total dick for the last day and a half and I’m not -”
John grabs your hand off his shoulder and before you can even blink, he’s pushed you up against the wall. His forearm presses firmly against your chest, keeping you from shoving him off.
“My problem,” he hisses, his furious eyes only inches from yours. “Is that there’s a million bloody things going on and the last thing we ought to be doing is going to this party.”
Freezing at the anger you see written on his face, you attempt to take a steadying breath; you know it’s not directed at you. Your hands, that were previously balled into fists against his chest, fall uselessly to your side.
“What happened?” You ask, forcing the hostility out of your voice. “You don’t snap at me like this. Please talk to me.”
As John’s weight bears down on you, you lift your hand to his face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
He sighs, searching your eyes before leaning back. “Ezra Morgan doesn’t exist.”
“What?” You tilt your head, confusion marring your expression as John moves his hands to the wall on either side of your head. “Of course he does, I have the scar to prove it.”
“No, listen to me.” He insists, moving a hand to scrub it down his face. “A colleague of mine did a touch of research. The blighter doesn’t exist. There’s never bloody been a Doctor Ezra Morgan, anywhere in the last fifty years.”
Pushing yourself off the wall, you stare him down, ignoring the dread snaking up your spine. “So, who, or what the fuck is he?”
“Don’t bloody know.” He swears, leaning away and shrugging. “But I’ve no idea what we’re up against now. Didn’t reckon I’d be jammy enough to go up against just any old bloke, but this is a new bloody level of dangerous and I don’t reckon going to this rubbish holiday to-do is a brilliant idea.”
Your eyes widen when you realize that John's afraid. You heard it in his voice and you can see it now in the way his shoulders hold tension, in the clenching of his jaw, and the hard set of his narrowed eyes.
“John, let’s be reasonable. We’ll be perfectly safe at the party.” You fold your arms defensively. “I can't hide inside this house and wait for that asshole to hurt me again or… Or kill you. That’s what he wants. For us to be afraid. We can’t let him do that to us.”
When you sigh and make your way to your room to finish getting dressed, John follows, hot on your heels. “Have you no bloody sense of self preservation? I reckoned it was safe in the museum and you have the scar to prove it wasn’t.” Whirling around, you find him only inches from you. “You’re the most bullheaded, frustrating lass I’ve ever met.” He snaps, throwing his hands in the air. “I’ve half a mind to -”
“To what?” You push back, voice trembling with mounting anger. “Not really in the mood for you to bend me over right now. No matter what you may think, you can’t fix everything with sex.”
John rolls his eyes. “Half a mind to cuff you to me and hightail it back to London.” His words hit you like a bucket of ice water, making you stumble backward and away from him. He wants to run? “Remove ourselves from the equation entirely until -”
“I… You can’t… We’re not leaving, John.” You argue, fear and irrational anger lancing white hot through you. “We disappear and Morgan will just hurt everyone we care about until we come back. You know that. We’d be half a world away and too late to do anything to save them.”
John’s face twists in rage, his jaw clenching furiously. “If leaving keeps this wanker off my arse -”
“Then I’m not stopping you.” You grind out, grabbing a towel off the chair and tossing it at him. “But I’m done fighting with you. So please, take a shower and be ready by 4:30. Or don’t. I can’t take this ‘you and me against the whole world ' thing, not after the way you’ve been since yesterday.”
***
The car ride to Tommy and Linda’s is silent and awkward. Each time you attempt to open the line of conversation, John makes a non committal noise and lights another cigarette.
When you begin down the long stretch of road towards the massive farmhouse you practically grew up in, John finally sits up and arches his brow at the long line of trees leading up to it.
“The snow’s pretty up here.” You comment, slowing the car around the long curve. “Didn’t think it’d stick cause it didn’t in the city.” John turns to stare at you, his face illuminated by the glow of his silk cut.
“Look.” You murmur, slowing to a stop. “We can talk about our options in the morning. Okay? Can we just try to have a nice night? Pretend to be a normal couple? Christmas is only a few days away and -”
John smiles ruefully before opening the passenger door. “Course I can pretend. But nothing about us is normal, is it?”
***
Eric’s back is to you when you and John walk in the front door. When he turns and meets your eyes with his usual warm smile, you find yourself needing a minute for the first time in a long time. Now completely clean shaven, his grin takes over his whole face.
Fuck, you forgot how handsome Eric is. The thought crosses your mind before you can stop it. But from the slicked back hair to the impeccably tailored, coffee colored three piece suit, there’s no denying it. He and Charlotte quickly cross the room as your eyes stay locked on him.
John watches you and the way your breath hitches when Eric turns around. Even he can’t deny how handsome the man is, but he’s never seen you react so viscerally to it. You’ve spent months asking him to trust you, trust that you don’t have feelings for Eric Grant. So what is John supposed to do when he can see the way you’re looking at him?
Jealousy roars through him; vicious and almost uncontrollable. It takes everything in him not to grab you and furiously press his lips to yours; prove to Eric and you that you’re his. Regardless of who can see it. Instead, he takes a deep breath and wills this ridiculous feeling away.
John inclines his head in Charlotte’s direction then turns back to you and Eric. “Hey fella,” Eric laughs, pulling you in for a hug. “We clean up nice, huh?”
“I’ll say.” Charlotte giggles, looking you over. “I love the dress, sugar.”
You pull away from Eric, twirling yourself around to show off the plaid swing dress you bought just for tonight. “Oh, this old thing?” You smirk at her as you toss your curls over your shoulder. “I definitely didn’t just buy it.”
“I absolutely approve. Even you look decent, John.” Charlotte smirks, raising her brow. “Change out the tie for a black one, add a suit jacket; it’s almost like you’re a respectable human being.”
“Honey. Don’t listen to her, Johnny. Ya look great.” Eric laughs, waving over your shoulder. “Linda’s been lookin’ for ya kid. She’s wicked excited to meet ya mysterious boyfriend.”
Turning to face John, you gently wrap your arm around his. “You’ll love Linda and Tommy. Eric’s parents are nothing like mine.”
He cracks a hint of a smile down at you. “We’ll see about that then, won’t we?”
Eric claps his hand on John’s shoulder. “Yeah, my ma’s nothin’ like hers. Scout’s honor.” Wrapping his arm around Charlotte’s waist, he nods at his dad. “Aight well, gonna keep introducin’ my future wife to the rest of the family. Catch up later?”
You nod as Linda closes the distance to pull you in for a hug. “Merry Christmas, sweetie.” She turns to John with a warm smile. “And you must be John, it’s so good to finally meet you.”
When he extends his hand to shake hers, she laughs and pulls him into her arms. “None of that,” she chastises. “We’re practically family. I’m Linda and this is my husband, Tommy.”
John stiffens for a moment before relaxing. “Don’t scare the boy, Lin.” Tommy laughs, exuberantly, shaking John’s hand. “Don’t mind my wife; she’s, we’re thrilled to meet ya. Eric’s told us just how happy ya make our girl. She’s like a daughter to us. Smarter and prettier than both our sons.” He winks at you. “She gets that from me.”
You blush and roll your eyes. “Don’t let my dad hear you say that. He’s gotta have something going for him.”
Tommy laughs riotously, using John’s shoulder for support. When he straightens he meets John’s eyes. “In all seriousness, John, it’s a pleasure. We’ve heard a great deal about ya.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” John replies smoothly, making Linda crack another wide smile. The four of you carry on conversation for a few minutes until Tommy makes a joke about wanting a drink. John offers to go for the walk and with a slight nod in your direction, they both head into the other room.
Once the men are out of earshot, Linda spins around and gently whacks your arm. “He’s so handsome! And the accent, I can’t!” She gushes. “Why did it take us over a year to meet him?”
You shrink your shoulders in apology. “We both work a lot.” You explain, cursing yourself for not thinking of this beforehand. “John travels; there just hasn’t been time and when he met -”
“Oh, I heard.” Linda interrupts, grabbing a glass of champagne off of a passing tray. “Bobby told Tommy, Tommy told me. They gossip like boyfriends.”
“They basically are.” You giggle, glancing around the room. “But after the way meeting my dad and Priscilla went, I wasn’t exactly in a rush for a repeat outing.”
Linda offers her drink to you and you take it with a smile. “For the record, we won’t judge John for that night. We weren’t there and the two of you seem to have bounced back just fine. Priscilla didn’t make the night easy on him and Eric said he’s never seen anyone look at you the way that boy does. So if he treats you right, then nothing else matters to us.”
Your lips twist into a happy smirk. “My relationship with John is the most complicated thing I’ve ever experienced. But I love him; no one has ever made me feel the way he does.” You finish off the drink and set the glass down on the table near you. “He frustrates me to no end sometimes, but… He’s worth it.”
“Oh, sweetie, that’s what true love is. You think your uncle and I always see eye to eye?”
You can't help but snort. “Well, yeah.”
Linda laughs, walking with you to find where Tommy and John have disappeared to. “God, no. Sometimes I want to smother him with a pillow. But I don’t, because I have never loved someone as much as I love him.” Now that, you smile to yourself, you understand completely.
As you walk, Linda sees one of Tommy’s brothers across the room and with a quick kiss on the cheek, excuses herself to talk to him. You scan the room, searching for John, but furrow your brow when you see Charlotte standing stock still, arms folded across her chest. You step up to her and tilt your head. “Why do you look so mad?”
“Because Eric doesn’t have a right to look that damn attractive, holding a baby.”
Stifling a laugh, you turn your gaze toward her point of frustration. Eric’s rocking one of his baby cousins in his arms. The little one’s laughing while Eric excitedly talks to both the baby and his aunt. “Okay, I thought you wanted kids?”
Charlotte shakes her head. “Oh sugar, I do. But not right this second.” She pulls her lower lip between her teeth. “Right now though, I’m tempted to -” She cuts herself off as Eric laughs and starts talking to the baby in fluent, flawless, Italian. You hiss in pain when her nails dig into your arm. "Merde. You didn't tell me he could do that.”
You shrug as you both watch the exchange. “I dunno what you want me to tell you, it’s never come up.” Prying your arm out of her grip, you playfully narrow your eyes. “You mean to tell me that in the middle of sex he’s never said anything to you in Italian? Cause I know you start swearing in French, I lived with you.”
“No.” She pouts, folding her arms again. “But he’s gonna start.” You both start giggling and neither of you notice when Eric’s uncle Frank makes his way over to you. You’re pulled into a bear hug before you even register that it’s him.
“Hey, gorgeous!” He grins, setting you back down to leer at you. “Look at you, all dressed up. Prettiest girl in the room.” His lecherous smile makes you take a step back; the man’s harmless, but he never knew how to keep his hands to himself.
Rolling your eyes, you laugh politely and cover the bust of your dress with your arms. “Hey, Uncle Frank. How’ve you been?” You glance at Charlotte as you speak. "Frank's a State Police officer, part of the reason Eric joined the force."
“Oh, come on, you don’t want to hear about that.” He turns his small, glittering eyes toward Charlotte and sizes her up with interest. “But you could introduce me to your sexy little friend, you know I’m newly single and ready to mingle.” He opens his arms to move in for a hug.
Charlotte scoffs and you just know she’s about to put Frank in his place, no matter how innocent you’re sure he is. Resting your hand on her arm, you smile up at him. “This is Eric’s girlfriend, and my best friend, Charlotte.”
Frank withdraws his arms, folding them across his chest. “Ahh, so you’re the backwoods badge bunny I’ve heard so much about. You’re exactly what I pictured.”
You whip your head in his direction as Charlotte hisses out an outraged “excuse me?”
Frank laughs at the harassed expression on both of your faces. “Whole family’s been going on and on about the little southern thing Eric’s been sleeping with. Honestly, I’m shocked you’ve lasted longer than the stripper. Nicky said she knew how to please a man. You trashy, uneducated types are really only good for one thing.”
“Frank.” You warn, dropping your voice low. “Charlotte isn't -”
“A badge bunny? Sure she is. Trust me, I know the type. Look at her; decent rack, pretty mouth. But not really made for the long term, if you catch my drift.” He elbows you with a lascivious grin.
Charlotte raises an eyebrow, swallowing back her rage enough to exhale slowly. “I don’t. Maybe you explain it to me. Even with my law degree, I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Frank rolls his eyes as he gestures to Charlotte’s tight burgundy dress. “You aren’t the marrying type, toots. Eric’s gonna have his fun with you and eventually, he’s gonna settle down with a nice local girl. Someone he can be proud to have on his arm.”
Charlotte’s eyes are wide and horrified; for a second, you think she’s going to cry. Frank glances over your shoulder when he hears Tommy calling his name. “Duty calls,” he holds up a finger to his brother. “I’ll see you around, gorgeous. But you, Charlotte, I probably won’t.”
Shaking your head, you turn and immediately start to apologize. “Char, I swear Frank isn’t normally like that. I thought he and Eric were close, I don’t -” You cut yourself off when you see Charlotte dashing toward the hall.
You sprint after her and into Tommy’s study. Shutting the door behind you, you turn to see her hastily wiping her eyes. “Hey, you’re okay. That was shitty of him, Frank doesn’t -”
“He’s right.” She turns around to face you, tears sliding down her face. “I’m not going to be enough. Eric will eventually get tired of the distance, tired of the fact that my career is so important to me, tired of how anxious I get sometimes. I.. I get snappy when I’m stressed. And he… he doesn’t want children and I do. This isn’t going to work.”
“Charlotte, don’t say that.” You reach out for her, taking care to move slowly so you don't spook her. You’ve haven't had to see this side of her since she was with Hugh; so uncertain and unsure of Eric and the depth of his feelings for her. “Eric loves you exactly as you are.” You assure her, gently resting your hands on her shoulders.
“Right now.” She sobs quietly, running her fingers anxiously through her hair. “What happens when he starts listening to everyone else?” At your confused expression, she folds her arms across her chest and sniffles.
“Hugh’s family wanted me to be someone I wasn’t and I tried so goddamned hard to be the perfect wife for him. I let Hugh dictate what I wore, what I said… I just… I wanted them to... I told myself that if I changed who I was, if his family approved of me, then it wouldn’t matter none what my background was. But it wasn't enough. I wasn’t enough.”
You attempt to interrupt her and she shakes her head. “Eric may not tell me what to say or wear, but his family is just as affluent as the Montgomery’s are. I should’ve known better. They're never going to let some backwoods trash stay with their son.”
“Good thing that’s not what ya are.” Eric drawls from behind you. You both spin around to find him leaning, arms crossed, in the doorway. The soft blue of his eyes is barely visible through narrowed, angry slits. “Honey, that’s not how I see you. Why would ya ever think that?”
Charlotte stares down at the floor. “Because your uncle… because it’s true.”
Eric pushes himself off the door frame and closes the distance in three steps. “No, it’s not.” He argues, lifting her chin with his index finger.
“Charlotte, honey, I love you so much. Ya the girl I’m gonna marry, told ya that on our second date. My parents adore you, my whole family does. And honestly, if anyone else thinks differently, fuck ‘em. Cause all that matters is how we feel about each other.”
“Chere, I don’t -”
He gently wraps his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head. “You are enough, you’ll always be enough for me. There won’t ever be anyone else, you’re it. Don’t ya ever think otherwise, alright?” He leans away to peer down at her. “Hugh was a fuckin’ prick. I’d never ask ya to change, ya perfect exactly as ya are.”
“I told her that.” You assure him, walking toward the door. “But I think she might need a little reminder. So, I’m gonna give you guys some privacy, let you take it from here. Char, you’ll be okay?”
When she nods, you smile and incline your head in Eric’s direction. “When you come back out, we should talk about Frank.” He nods, narrowing his eyes. As you slip out, you hear him murmur followed by the distinct sound of Charlotte giggling. She’ll be alright. Eric will see to that.
You’re about to turn the corner into the main room when the study door opens behind you. Eric takes off toward the stairs, Charlotte’s hand firmly clasped in his. You wonder for a second where they’re going, but smirk when you hear Charlotte say something about having ‘already seen Eric’s room’.
Shaking your head, you round the corner and scan the room for your own boyfriend. After seeing the gentle way Eric was with Charlotte, all you want is John’s arms around you. You want to hear his rich timbre reassuring you that everything will be alright and that even though you two were arguing, there’s no one else he’d rather be with.
The pair of eyes you meet at the bar however, aren’t John’s, though you desperately wish they were. Instead of the man you love, you find yourself trapped by the gaze of the one person you hoped to avoid tonight.
Dominick Grant.
Notes:
Hopefully this gives a little insight into what's going on in John's head. He does love you, he's just afraid of what that means for you. And what it means for him. Vulnerability is a weakness to him, remember. And he doesn't understand that the love he has for you can make him strong. Not yet, anyway.
Next week: Nicky gets in your face and you remember just how afraid of him you actually are. Eric, unknowingly, interrupts and rescues you, prompting the two of you to get real about what's going on with John. When you look for John, Eric finds him first and their words turn physical. Just as you arrive.
Chapter 32: Something of an ultimatum.
Summary:
Nicky gets in your face and gets a little too aggressive, enjoying how uncomfortable he makes you. When you're alone with him, you remember just how afraid of him you actually are. Eric, unknowingly, interrupts and rescues you, prompting the two of you to get real about what's going on with John. After chatting with your dad, you look for John, hoping to put all of this to rest. Eric finds him first and their words turn physical. Just as you arrive.
Notes:
Hey guys! Thanks for being understanding about needing to post tonight instead of last night. It's been a crazy week and it's only getting crazier.
I'm working to open my new store and it's been insanely demanding. So, until I'm done and have a better idea of my new work load, I need to give myself a bit more time to write. For the time being, I'll be moving to post every other Thursday. This isn't permanent; I just don't have the down time I want right now.
Thank you so much for understanding, you guys are AMAZING and I love you!
This chapter is extra long to make up for the gap :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
With his ridiculous playboy, jet setting lifestyle, you haven’t had the pleasure of seeing Dominick in almost five years. Not since the weeks following the frat party. Each event the Grants have held, you’d either just missed him or he hadn’t bothered to show at all. You desperately wish that was the case now.
Dominick grins viciously when he sees you and slides off the high top stool. Your eyes dart around wildly, hoping that John’s just around the corner. Not that you can’t handle Eric’s brother, you’re sure you can. You just don’t want to handle him alone. Now, as he crosses the room, you realize you aren’t going to be that lucky.
He was always incredibly good looking; both Grant boys are. Even now, as Dominick stalks toward you like a hunter moving in for the kill, you can appreciate the broad lines of his shoulders underneath the expensive material of his sweater.
But there’s a darkness rippling under the surface in Dominick that, thankfully, hasn’t been passed down to his brother. His dark, swept back hair and sharp jawline helps to keep his bed constantly occupied, but his misogynistic tendencies and callous behavior ensure that no one wants to stay.
You wonder for a moment who was unfortunate enough to be his arm candy tonight, then you realize he’s alone; a situation that never bodes well for you.
Spinning on your heel, you make the decision to beeline it to the kitchen. You hope it’ll be full of people and Dominick won’t want to bother with you. You only make it to the butler's pantry before his fingers close around your upper arm.
“Where’s the fire, dollface?” Dominick chuckles, spinning you around to face him. “If you wanted to get me alone, all ya had to do was ask. Didn’t have to do this in the closet. My old bedroom, at least, has a lock.”
Your bravado all but evaporates and you hate yourself for it. Swallowing hard, you look up into the deep blue of his eyes and stumble over your words. “Nicky, I… I wasn’t trying to...I have a boyfriend.”
With a cocky smirk, he steps closer to you until you’ve backed yourself into the wall next to the door. You realize your mistake when he leans forward, extending his arms to cage you between them.
Dominick raises an eyebrow in response when you press your hands against his chest. “Yeah, I heard. Like I give a shit; Sammy says this guy’s a little prick anyway. Ya just down gradin’ all around, aren't you?"
The cologne he’s wearing is so strong, it’s making your head spin. Turning it to the side, you inhale through your nose to steady yourself. “Back up, please.”
Dominick grips your chin and forces your head back to face him. You meet his eyes unwillingly. “Come on, doll. Sammy told me all about the shit ya into. If I had known that years ago, I'd’a tried harder to put you in ya place. Had no clue you'd get off on it too."
You suck in a quick, shuddery breath. Even when you had nothing to do with Sam, you still couldn't get away from him. "Nicky, please." You whisper, trying not to let him bait you into reacting.
"Aww, throwin’ yourself at me’s awfully desperate, kitten." He chuckles, his breath blowing hot into your face. "But hearin’ you beg is doin’ all the right things."
"Don’t call me that.” Despite your utter disgust, you know better than to get too snarky with him. Dominick has a temper; you'd seen it growing up, each time he fought with Eric.
He leans in further, pushing against your hands. When his weight presses into you, you can feel evidence of how much he's enjoying himself. God, you hate him. He's possibly the most vile human you've ever met.
Reeling yourself back, you keep your voice and your request light, but jerk your head out of his grip. “Nicky, back up."
Dominick tuts sarcastically, eyes glinting with excitement as his hand moves to rest on the back of your neck. “Oh, what’s a matter, kitten? We both know that my little brother won’t slap a restrainin’ order on me. I can do whatever I fuckin’ want when I got the entire Boston PD behind me.”
“None of them would help you." You snap, finally losing your temper. "They all know what you’re really like.”
His eyes narrow at your tone; at what you're implying. “And what am I really like, huh?” His fingers move into your hair; tightening in warning. "Why don't ya tell me, make Daddy nice and angry."
Your hands drop as your mouth falls open in surprise. “Ugh, get off me. You’re disgusting.” Dominick doesn't move, only smirks down at you in perceived triumph.
“Hey, fella!” Eric calls out from behind the other side of the door. “Paddy said he thought ya went in -” He stops abruptly, eyes narrowing when he pushes the door open to see his brother’s larger frame covering yours.
Dominick closes his eyes as he lets out a sigh of disappointment. "Interrupted again." He murmurs in annoyance.
You shove at his chest, renewed panic coursing through you. You don't need to be a detective to know what this looks like. "Eric, this isn't what it - I can explain!" You swear, praying that John isn't with him; you don't want to have to explain this to him.
"You don't have to kid, I know it's not." Eric assures you before fully stepping into the pantry. “What the fuck are ya doin’, Nicky?” He asks angrily, his right hand moving reflexively down to his hip.
Dominick rolls his eyes as he turns around. “Relax, Nancy Drew. We’re just havin’ a conversation. No need to get ya panties in a bunch.” When Eric’s expression doesn’t soften, his brother huffs and steps away from you. “I’m leavin’ anyway, just wanted to make sure I saw my favorite almost siblin’. I’ve missed her.”
Before you can say anything, he turns quickly, grazing your cheek with his knuckles. “See ya around, kitten.”
Your stomach churns as he chuckles and shoves past his brother out of the pantry. You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and grip the counter top for support.
“What did that shithead want with ya?” Eric asks, looking you over. When you don’t answer right away, he frowns and rests his hands on his hips. “Hey, ya good? He didn’t get fresh with ya, did he?”
Schooling your face back into an expression of indifference, you shake your head. “No, of course not.” The lie slips out easily as you scramble to plaster a smile onto your lips. “He was just his usual garbage self; being snarky and giving me shit about Sam’s restraining order.”
“Wish I could just ban him from the Goddamn state.” He growls, glancing over his shoulder as he crosses his arms. “I’m just sayin’, kid, blink and I’ll go punch him. My ma won’t be happy, but I doubt that Tommy’ll try to stop me.” When you laugh, Eric raises his eyebrow. “I’m not hearin’ ya say no.”
“No, it’s fine, Eric.” You assure him, walking with him towards the door. “I haven’t had to see Nicky in a few years. I could deal with ten minutes.”
Eric wraps his arm around your shoulders. ”Ya sure you're alright?” He asks, letting concern work it’s way into his voice. “You don’t look it.”
“I’m sure.” You twist out from under his arm and peer up at him. “Don’t worry about me, I know how to handle a douchebag. I mean, after Sam, I’m kind of a pro.” When he laughs and agrees with you, you fall back into step with him. "How’s Charli? She doing alright now?”
He grins as he folds up the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows. “Yeah, we spent a little quality time in my old room. Got her acquainted with some of my childhood toys.” He shrugs easily. “She’s a big fan of my old jump rope. Turns out, I am too.”
“How’d you manage that with your headboard?” You ask, stifling a laugh.
Eric raises his eyebrow playfully as he pushes the door open. “Who said anything about the headboard? She’s flexible, I’m creative. It was a good time.”
“She’s completely corrupted you.” You laugh, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Yeah, and?” Eric laughs, snagging two drinks off a passing tray. “Could say the same about John. Before him, you weren’t into half of what ya are now.” He hands you a glass with a smirk. “I’m tellin’ ya, fall in love with an accent and ya find yaself into all kinds of kinky shit.”
Bringing the glass to your lips, you can’t help but smile. “Yeah, well, what can I say? The kinky shit is fun." When he makes a small sound of agreement, you spin and stop in front of him. "She’s good for you, you know. You’re a kind of happy with Charlotte that I don’t think you’ve ever been before.”
He downs his drink quickly and shrugs. “She’s the one, kid. Don’t think I’ve ever thanked ya for, well, everythin'. You coulda fought it, I know havin’ ya best friends together was probably awkward at first. But it means a lot to me that you were so chill about it.”
Eric smiles over your shoulder and when you turn, you see Charlotte laughing with Linda and Anthony. Despite her earlier worry, she fits right in here. “I’d never get in the way of what you have.” You assure him fondly. “You guys are perfect for each other.”
“So are you and John.” He points out kindly. When you roll your eyes and make an annoyed sound in the back of your throat, Eric smiles and gently nudges your shoulder. “Yeah, I know he’s bein’ ridiculous right now, but he’ll get over it. He's completely in love with ya, fella.”
You whip your head around to stare at him with widened, incredulous eyes. “How the -”
“Detective.” It’s Eric’s turn to roll his eyes as he points to himself. “I think ya forget and I’m pretty damn good at my job. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how weird he’s been for the last coupla months. For the most part, he’s tried to hide it. But I can tell and that bullshit with ya mother didn’t help, I’m sure.”
Your stomach drops; you didn’t get into the specifics of the fight with Eric, especially since he was a major part of why you and John had argued in the first place. And after the first night the three of you went out again and John was fine, you tried to let it go. But Eric’s knowing expression when you look up at him in shock, tells you that he’s probably known the truth of the situation this entire time.
“Listen, kid.” He rests a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I’ve never seen anyone look at you the way Johnny does. So whatever’s goin’ on, and I’m not gonna pry, it’ll pass. Never been so sure of anythin’ in my life… ‘Cept for how I feel about Charlotte.”
“I hope you’re right.” You confess, in a voice softer than you'd like. “John’s an idiot sometimes, but I really do love him.”
As Charlotte makes her way over, you smirk at Eric quickly. “And you better let me go with you when you pick out the ring, I know what she likes.”
“Scouts' honor.” Eric agrees as Charlotte slips under his outstretched arm. When she tilts her head up, lips twisted into a frown and comments that she didn’t think he was ever a scout, he grins down at her. “Sure, I was. How do ya think I got so good at tyin’ knots?”
Charlotte’s cheeks turn pink as she smacks his chest. Eric doesn’t flinch, just lets his lips twitch playfully as you roll your eyes.
With a grin, you set your empty glass down on the table near you. “I’m gonna go find John.” You tell them both, gesturing with your hands into the crowd. “I’m sure he’s hiding out at the bar with your dad.”
“I was just there, talking to Tommy.” Charlotte says, leaning against Eric’s chest. “I didn’t see him, but check in the game room. He’s probably cleaning all Eric’s uncles outta their poker money.”
You nod and start to head in that direction when Eric calls your name. Spinning on your heel, you turn back and incline your head. “By the way, Frank’s not my favorite uncle,” he clarifies, “He’s Nicky’s. And Tommy’s gonna have words with him.”
“Good.” You smile. “After what he said to Charlotte, I hope your dad kicks his ass.”
Eric tilts his head to kiss the top of Charlotte’s. “Same, kid. Or I will.”
***
After a few rounds of drinks with the first Tommy John finds he doesn't hate, the older man excuses himself and leaves John to nurse his whiskey alone.
Over the sounds of glasses clinking around him, John's mind races through his conversation with Zed again. If Morgan doesn't exist, then John has to face the uncomfortable reality that this bloke might be more than just some uppity wanker looking to get in good with the big guys downstairs.
He could be directly working with them.
And that, John thinks bitterly, is exactly the kind of rubbish he needs to avoid now that you're involved. Especially with you being as bloody stubborn as you are. You'll run headfirst into trouble if you thought it would help.
But still, John shouldn't have snapped at you the way he did. He knew it the second he opened his mouth.
But it’s everything, innit? His insecurities sting with unfamiliar fear at the edges and the sharp bite of jealousy that John can't seem to shake whenever Eric’s around, lances through him like a hot iron.
All of it came flooding out when you asked him what was wrong. John took it out on you, lashed out when he hadn't meant to. You’re the one person he doesn’t want to snap at; despite whatever feelings of inadequacy John has regarding Eric Grant, you chose him. Even if you did look at Eric tonight like he was something to eat.
With a sigh, he tips the glass back as the bright, familiar burn of Johnnie Walker hits his stomach. Zed was right, he's in over his head here. He wants to keep you safe, but the time for that has long since passed. Especially since the secrets he's hiding from you keep mounting and the Morgan situation becomes more dire each day.
It's selfish, he knows. But he can't tell you everything; the secrets he's discovered about your family and your lineage and everything he's been researching about Newcastle. Because if you knew, John’s certain he'd lose you. And he's a nasty piece of work, but he wants you by his side. He just has to be careful.
You're the first bit of happiness John's allowed himself to have in a very long time. And not a cheap thrill found at the bottom of a bottle, while he's wrapped in the arms of a nightly conquest, kind of happy. But a genuine, can't believe his luck, shout it from the bloody rooftops, sense of unadulterated elation. He feels the way he was convinced a bloke like himself didn't deserve to be.
So as he sets the empty glass down on the countertop, John knows, without a doubt, that he'll do whatever he has to do to keep you from finding out the truth. He'll tell you everything he knows about Morgan, everything Zed's told him. Keep you occupied with that, so you never think he's lying about the rest.
He tells himself it's to keep you safe; the less you know the better. But this lie, unlike all the others John weaves into his own personal web of deceit and protection, feels heavy on his tongue and tastes of cigarette ash when he says it out loud.
Pushing himself off the stool, John raises an eyebrow in contemplation. He can’t back down now, not when he’s riding the knife's edge of figuring out a way to save Astra. He'll lie, cheat, do whatever he needs to do to get this job done. He'll screw over anyone he has to if that's what it takes.
But when he sees you across the room, laughing with your mates, John freezes with his hands shoved into his pockets and sucks in a quick breath. You're not just anyone; he's known that for a long time. Zed called him out on it nearly two months ago. John doesn't want to hurt you, doesn't want to see the wounded, glassy look in your eyes when you realize that he's lying to you. Again.
But lying is what he does. Hurting people is what he does. It's what John’s good at, even if he doesn't want to be. Eventually, you'll see that and he’ll have to prepare himself for what that loss will feel like.
***
As you make your way toward the game room, you poke your head into Tommy’s study to find him and your dad, deep in conversation. Neither of them notice you with their back facing the doorway. You back out quickly, figuring that whatever they're talking about is work related and you don’t want to disturb them.
When you hear John's name, you freeze. Icy anxiety claws its way into your chest as you listen at the edge of the door. Fingers gripping tight to the dark wood; leaning close enough to hear, but not enough to be seen.
“- no, he's a good guy Bobby.” Tommy assures him, setting his glass down on the desk. The ice sloshes the liquid inside and you will it to stop, if only so you can hear the conversation without getting closer.
“A little rough around the edges sure, but he really seems to love our girl. Couldn't stop talkin’ about her actually; it's like his sun rises and sets on her.”
Your dad makes a small sound of disapproval. “I don’t know, Tom. She told me she's keeping her head, but I always worry. Campbell put her through Hell and she still won't really talk to me about that. I just want to be certain that this guy is different.”
“I get that ya first impression was a rough one.” Tommy laughs. “But lookin’ at the situation objectively, Cil didn't make it easy on him. And when I spoke to John earlier he seemed to really like you. So, maybe you trust ya kid, huh? She's got ya brain. She knows what she's doin’.”
“Thank God for that.” You can hear the smile in your dad's voice. “Let's hope she's not as impulsive as her mother was when I met her.”
Tommy chuckles, sounding at least twenty years younger than he is when the deep rumble washes over you. “I don’t know if impulsive is the right word. Crazy maybe, for fallin’ in love with you. But like I said, kid’s got ya brain. Just trust her.”
You roll your eyes; you and Priscilla are nothing alike. According to Eric, you don’t even look like her. And you wouldn't exactly call her impulsive, but you’re sure Tommy and your dad saw a side of her that you’ll never see; the side that made your dad marry her.
When both of them fall silent you rap your knuckles against the doorframe and knock as if you've just arrived. When you poke your head around the wood, your dad pushes himself off the desk and reaches out to pull you in for a hug. “Hey, kiddo.” He smiles warmly as you close this distance. "You look good; that dress is nice."
"Thanks Dad, just got it. Like I need an excuse to buy a new dress." You wrap your arms around him and inhale the comforting scent of clove cigars clinging to his suit jacket. "Have either of you seen John? Charlotte said he might be in the game room?"
"Lost ‘em already?" Tommy smirks, walking around his desk. "I know it's a big house, but come on, kiddo. He's a little hard to lose with that accent."
"It's not my fault.” You laugh, folding your arms across your chest. "You took him to the bar and I haven't seen him since. Mind you, I was distracted by Frank. And that was fun, but I haven't had a chance to track him down."
Tommy scowls as your dad raises an eyebrow in question. "Charlotte told me. My brother is somethin’ else, I wish I could say he was adopted. I'm sorry you both had to deal with him." He turns to Bobby with an apologetic expression. "Frank was -"
"A dick." You finish with a shrug of your shoulders as you roll your eyes. "Sorry, Uncle Tommy, but he is."
It's your dad's turn to laugh. "You're not wrong, pumpkin. Frank has always been my least favorite Grant." Tommy rolls his eyes, muttering the word 'same' under his breath.
After a quick round of comfortable small talk, you excuse yourself from the room in search of your errant boyfriend. Your thoughts wander as you do, filtering through the events of the last few hours.
You hate fighting with John. He's just so vastly different than anyone you've ever been with before. He tests every ounce of your patience; but even though you feel you face a new hurdle every week, he's the first person you've wanted to fight for.
Whatever his colleague told him, spooked John enough that he snapped at you. The only other time he's done that, you had endangered your life and his by attempting a different Rite of Exorcism than the one he was in the middle of.
You wonder what the Hell they said to him to make him react like that. Then frustration washes over you anew. If he just talked to you about what was happening then he wouldn't have to shoulder it alone.
How many damn times have you had this thought? How many times have you told him this?
Chas told you that John's so used to the Lone Ranger routine that he doesn't know how to be any other way. Years of patterned behavior is difficult to break. Especially for someone like John, who's had to harden his exterior and throw up emotional walls to protect himself because of what he does.
You suppose you should cut him a little bit of slack, he's trying to be open with you. You know that. The fact that he even told you about Morgan, instead of hiding it, is a huge step. Because you're sure he didn't want to.
You're sure that this development terrifies him, because if Morgan isn't real then who the fuck have you been dealing with? Is he even human? You've had that thought before; he's more powerful than he should be.
And John's told you he has no shortage of enemies. No shortage of beings that want him dead. That kind of target weighs heavily on him, you're sure. It weighs heavily on you and you haven't been doing this as long as he has.
But as dangerous as it all is, you intrinsically know that you wouldn't have it any other way. Some aspects of this life have been terrifying, but you can't imagine not being a part of it. Especially since you have John by your side.
If only you could find him now.
You're about to give up and get yourself a drink to drown your stress in, when you hear shouting from the back porch. Raising an eyebrow in concern, you unlatch the French door and step out into the chilly evening air.
***
His parents' holiday party is an event Eric looks forward to every year. He loves seeing family from across the country, catching up with them, having a great time. Until of course, he gets overwhelmed with the sheer amount of people Tommy and Linda know and their endless parade of ‘when are you going to settle down, give us some little ones to spoil?’
Usually when that happens, you and Eric would sneak off to the pool house halfway through the night and break into Tommy's good scotch. This year, however, has been surprisingly different. The two of you were in serious relationships now. Serious enough to bring them around family and show your significant others off with pride.
With that same sense of pride shining in his eyes now, he watches Charlotte charm her way around the room. Despite her worries, she fits right in. Eric's family loves her, he loves her. Everything is finally as it should be.
It's crazy to think he could feel this happy; he didn’t know what he was missing until this short, sassy, southern belle waltzed into his life and made it all make sense. Now, he can’t imagine living without her.
Once you get this mess with John squared away, you'll be just as happy too.
Scanning the room for the accented source of your frustration, Eric wonders for the dozenth time, if he should just step in and say something to John. The way he's been acting sets Eric's teeth on edge.
The guy is much better for you than Sam, but this jealousy has a familiar burn to it and Eric will be damned if he lets another boyfriend try to ruin the healthy friendship the two of you have maintained since you were kids.
But this situation aside, you've been much stronger, more confident, with John by your side. He’s good for you and Eric doesn't want to infringe on that, make you feel like he's overstepping. He knows you can handle your business, he’s watched you put John in his place more than once.
So, as he grabs a drink off a passing tray, Eric decides won't say anything. Unless, it gets out of hand.
With a happy grin, Eric makes his way over to Charlotte, offering her a sip of his drink when he gets to her. “And you were really worried ya wouldn't fit in here?” He asks, kissing the top of her head. “Honey, everyone that matters, loves you. Ya know that, right?”
Charlotte beams up at him, coffee colored eyes sparkling. “I just get in my own head sometimes, chere.” She assures him, wrapping her fingers around his glass. “And your uncle -”
“Doesn’t matter and will be dealt with.” He assures her softly. “You won't have to see him again. Tommy feels about Frank the way I feel about Dominick. Must run in the family.”
Peering out to the crowd, he spots one of his aunts aggressively flirting with Patrick. “I'm gonna get some air for a second, ya mind rescuin’ Paddy? My aunt’s got her claws in him.”
“I'd love to.” Charlotte smirks, cupping his cheek before taking off into the living room. Eric spins on his heel and heads for the kitchen and his hidden pack of cigarettes.
Dealing with Dominick has left him itching for a smoke and hopefully no one's found the stash he hides in the bottom drawer of the island. Ducking down, he grabs his lighter and feels around for the old crumpled pack. His lips form a small grin as he finds what he's looking for and steps out through the French doors to the porch.
With his cigarette between his teeth, Eric lights it, feeling at once like a teenager hiding contraband from his parents. Taking a quick glance around, he inhales deeply, letting the nicotine rush his system. He knows he shouldn’t, but Dominick brings out the worst in him.
The chilly night air envelops him, making him shove his free hand into the pocket of his dress pants as he moves from side to side to keep warm. He stills at the soft click of the door behind him and turns slowly, stubbing out his cigarette in the snow dusting the railing. He blows out a breath of relief at John’s face and inclines his head in greeting.
“Where ya been all night?” Eric asks, leaning against the side of the porch. “Kid’s been lookin’ for you. She ran into my shithead of a brother. I mean, I handled it, but -” Eric cuts himself off as John huffs, lighting his own cigarette and silently moves to the other side of the porch.
Eric shakes his head and starts back into the house when John’s voice cuts through the night. “Then I reckon she didn’t need me.”
Irritation flashes across Eric's face and before he can stop himself, turns back to fully face the blond behind him. “Ya know, I wasn't gonna say anythin’ cuz ya both adults, and it's not my relationship. But dude, what the Hell is ya problem?”
John takes a deep drag of his cigarette before flicking it out into the snow. When he turns, Eric sees the hostility in John's eyes but closes the distance anyway. This bullshit has gone on long enough.
“Don’t have a bloody problem.” John snaps, folding his arms across his chest. “But I saw the way she looked at you tonight. I've got enough on my plate, I don't need you adding to it, mate.”
Eric raises an eyebrow, letting out a deep breath to keep his annoyance in check. “Really?” He steps closer until he and John are inches apart. “Do you see the way she looks at you? All the fuckin’ time? You blink and the kid swoons. She wants you, Johnny. Not me.”
John scoffs, rolling his eyes in disbelief. The dismissal ignites something in Eric, and his hands ball into fists. He leans down into John's face, his anger now barely controlled. “Yeah, we tried. But it didn't work. This is a non-issue.” His eyes narrow dangerously; the blue in them, small angry slits. “Figure out ya shit.”
John leans back, unfolding his hands slowly. “You'd do well to back up, mate.” He warns, flexing his fingers slowly.
“Yeah? And you'd do well to hear what I'm sayin’.” Eric counters, dragging in a deep breath through his nose. He doesn’t want to hit John; you’d be pissed when you found out. But the guy’s not making it easy on him. “She's in love with you. But with the way ya actin’ lately, I don’t get why.”
At that remark, John’s face twists with bright anger. Before either of them can process what's happened, John's shoved Eric hard enough that he stumbles backward. If Eric had slower reflexes, he might’ve fallen on his ass.
He recovers quickly, lunging at John to grab him by the collar of his shirt and spin him around. Before John even has a moment to regret his actions, Eric shoves him face-first against the side of the house. Keeping one hand trapped between John's body and the wall, Eric twists John’s other arm behind his back.
“Listen to me.” Eric growls, kicking John's legs apart with his knee. “I'm always gonna be in her life, John. So you can be cool with that or you can get gone. Your choice. Cuz if ya come at me like that again, I will lay you the fuck out. Her boyfriend or not.”
“Get off of me, ya plunker.” John shouts, struggling to push Eric off, but his grip remains firm.
“Then get control of yaself.” Eric warns, pushing John further into the siding of the house with an aggressive ‘oof’. “I'm on ya side, have been from the start. But I'm not gonna just sit here and watch ya pull this jealousy crap like Campbell did. Cause it wrecked her then and I won’t put up with it a second time.”
“What do you want me to stay, then?” John hisses, his voice strained by the way Eric’s twisting his arm. “That I’m sorry? That I don't reckon I know what to do with these bloody feelings? I've never felt this way about anyone in my life. It's irrational and complete rubbish but -”
Eric lessons his grip slightly, understanding now that John’s ridiculous attitude has been born entirely out of his own insecurity. It doesn’t really have anything to do with Eric, per se. More the threat of someone like him, taking his best friend away from the man who loves her.
“Yeah, I get that, bud.” Eric sighs, cutting John off. “Cause bein’ in love with someone is scary as Hell. But you gotta trust her. Cause that girl is so damn in love with you, she’d never do anythin’ to fuck that up. And neither would I. She's happy, John. You make her happy. Leave it be, huh?”
Before John can respond, the door to the right of them pushes open making both him and Eric freeze at the fury in your voice. “What the fuck, Eric?”
***
Your widened eyes take in the site before you. Eric has John shoved up against the side of the house, his face and body pressed painfully against the siding. You rush over to Eric and grab his forearm. “Jesus Christ, let go of him!”
“Look at that, John.” Eric rolls his eyes, pulling John away from the wall. “Even though you started this and ya been a dick to her for days, it's not me she's defendin’. What does that tell ya?”
Stepping back, you furrow your brow and glance between both men in utter confusion. “John, what's he talking about?” You’re met with infuriating silence. “Is someone going to tell me what the Hell’s going on?”
Eric lets John go, throwing his hands into the air as he starts to walk past you. “I’m sorry for my part in this. Wasn't tryin’ to start shit, fella. Just needed to get the point across about my relationship with you.”
Before you can say anything in response, he sighs, resting his hands on his hips as he walks toward the door. “Johnny and I are good,” He calls over his shoulder. “So long as we stay on the same page. But I think he’s got some explainin’ to do, right?”
John dusts off the front of his shirt and nods in Eric's direction, looking slightly harassed but otherwise, fine. “Right.” Comes his subdued reply.
“Good.” Eric turns, moving his hand to the door’s handle. “If ya gonna talk, I suggest goin’ into the pool house. It should be unlocked and the heat’s on. Cause it's freakin’ freezin’ out here.”
He glances at John before meeting your eyes. “And when you both come back inside, I hope everythin’s all good. We can put this behind us and enjoy the party.”
Once Eric shuts the door behind him, you grab John's hand and pull him down the few steps toward the pool house. You pull in deep breaths as you walk, unsure who you want to be angry with; Eric for hurting John, John pushing him into it, as you’re sure he did, or yourself for thinking that John wasn’t still upset about this.
As you open the door, the familiar smell of chlorine lingers in the small space, despite the pool being closed for the season. Clicking on the small lamp by the door, your eyes scan the furniture and bar before you turn and settle on John’s cautious face.
“What just happened?” You ask, in a voice surprisingly calm considering the anger you feel simmering just beneath the surface of your skin. “Were you really arguing about my friendship with Eric? Again?”
John sighs, walking past you to perch on the edge of the wicker couch in the center of the room. “Aye, but Eric and I sorted it out, didn't we? No need for you to worry about it.”
“Bullshit.” You hiss, folding your legs under you on the couch so you can scoot close to him. “Eric went full-on cop; I half expected him to pull out a pair of handcuffs and drag you off. If I hadn’t walked out when I did, what would’ve happened?”
John scrubs a hand down his face; appearing frustrated and ashamed at the same time. “Nothing, luv. He just called me out for my rubbish attitude of late and I shoved him when he said something I reckoned I didn't want to hear.”
He meets your eyes carefully. “He wasn’t wrong, I’ve been a right bastard. Just didn’t fancy having it thrown in my bloody face.”
He shakes his head, dropping it back against the cushions of the couch. “I should be bloody well past this. I’ve no reason to... I do trust you, luv.”
“You’re right. You need to get over this, please.” You reach out and cup his face. “John, look at me. There is enough shit out there that wants us dead. I can't have you jealous over someone who is always going to be in my life, on top of all of that mess. We can’t keep fighting about this."
Running your thumb across his cheek, you smile wistfully. "I love Eric, but not in the same way I love you. I've never loved anyone the way I love you. So please don't make this a ‘him or me ’ situation. Don’t give me an ultimatum, I can't take it.”
John shakes his head as if he’s going to argue with you. “Nope, you say you trust me? So listen to me. Cause I’m only going to say this once. It’s you, John. Just you. There’s no one else, there never will be anyone else for me.” You roll your eyes with a playful grin. “You’ve literally ruined me for anyone else.”
He leans back, letting out a heavy sigh. “But -”
“No but’s, Johnny.” You move closer to him, your knee touching his upper thigh. “Believe me, I know there’s a lot going on. I know this thing about Morgan has got you spooked. I get that. But you don’t have to worry about this. About me.”
John’s eyes soften as you run a hand through his hair. He turns toward you, leaning into your touch. “I promise you, you have me completely.”
John eyes you warily, like he’s not willing to believe that you could be so sure of this. Of him.
"I don't want to have to rehash this over and over." You warn him, hiking up the skirt of your dress to straddle his lap. "When we walk out of here, that's it. It never comes up again; you never question Eric's intentions. Or mine. You go back to flirting with everyone in sight, Eric included, and I go back to not worrying that if I'm nice to my best friend, you're gonna try to blow him up."
John stares silently, the wheels in his head turning as they take in what you've said. "I wouldn't have blown him up." He says finally, petulantly rolling his eyes.
"Oh no?" You push back, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck. "Cause if he hadn't pinned you, I feel like you would've tried."
He grins then, slow and mischievous. "Let me tell you, luv. Any other situation, I reckon I'd fancy getting pinned by that bloke. Bloody hell, the strength on him is something else, innit?"
You let out a soft laugh, feeling like with his attempt at humor, you can finally put this behind you. "There he is." You whisper in relief, pressing your forehead to his. "Thought I lost you for a second."
"I do trust you." John murmurs as he leans back just a bit. "You've never given me a reason to doubt you. I'd do well to remember that."
Your fingers tug the hair at the crown of his head. "Yeah, you would." You bite your lip when he hisses at the sudden sting you've caused. "Because I'm yours, Johnny. Only yours."
Where there was frustration and disbelief moments before, there's now only softness in his eyes, glittering with something darker at the edges. "Say that again, sweet’eart." He orders quietly, pulling you flush against him.
"Oh, we're back to sweetheart, are we?" You ask in a teasing voice. "Good, I missed it. Missed that tone too."
You gave him shit earlier in the day for trying to fix everything with sex. But right now, you understand that this is what he needs. And if you can give him this piece of mind; give him this possession of you so that he finally puts the issue to bed, so be it.
He silently raises an eyebrow as he winds the fingers of his right hand into your hair. You briefly close your eyes, letting a shiver of arousal run through you before you speak again. "Are you really gonna go full possessive alpha male on me right now?"
John's hand tugs your hair back, exposing your throat. "Aye, I am." He answers darkly, running his nose along your skin. "Now, say that again, sweet’eart."
Your throat works hard for a moment as you struggle to form a coherent thought. "I uh," you bite back a moan when his teeth nip the spot where your neck and shoulder meet. "I'm yours."
"Bloody right you are." John chuckles, his warm breath on your neck making goosebumps run along your flesh. He slips his hand into your dress; ghosting over the lace of your bra and under the fabric. Your nipple pebbles at his careful touch, dragging a ragged breath from your lips.
The skylight above you is covered by snow, letting only a few streaks of hazy moonlight filter through. John’s face is cast in shadows; all sharp edges and dark angles as his mouth works at the skin of your collarbone. You watch him carefully, your pulse racing as he lifts his head to meet your steady stare.
The heat you find there, in the darkness of his eyes, renders you helpless; a victim to the immovable force that is John Constantine. He smiles under your gaze, surefire and confident, and you know in that moment, you’ve already forgiven him.
When he tightens his grip in your hair, your mouth falls open, slack jawed with growing pleasure and John uses that opportunity to claim what he knows is his.
His lips press against yours as he deftly undoes his dress pants. Pushing your panties aside, he slides into you with a low hiss. His hips move up as you start to slowly ride him; your soft moan’s caught in his mouth as he tilts his hips just right, slow and steady. “Mine.” He murmurs, leaning back. “All mine.”
Yours. Yours. Yours. The admission runs through your mind like a liturgy of promises; driven home by each purposeful movement John makes to claim you.
“Yes, yours.” You want to let your head fall back, but the hand in your hair keeps you still. John’s free hand digs into your waist, pushing your further down; his cock stretching you as he moves. Your heart leaps when he rises suddenly and repositions both of you on the couch; him on top, you pinned under him.
He hovers for a moment before sinking himself back inside you. When you look up, waiting for him to move, John’s heady gaze is territorial, almost predatory in its intensity. You move your hands above your head by instinct, letting them fall over the edge of the couch. Heat rushes up from your core and travels along your skin from the way he’s watching you fall apart under his hands.
John’s fingers move from your hair and slide down your jaw. “This is mine.” He growls, wrapping his hand around your throat. When you nod, he moves down to the heat between your legs.
“This is mine.” He repeats, slipping his fingers in to brush against your clit. You let out a sharp yelp as he starts to move his fingers in time with the sudden snapping of his hips.
John balances with his free hand collaring your throat as he drives himself deeper into your warmth. You arch your back, pushing against his hand when his teeth nip at your breasts. He’s everywhere; your body thrums from the feeling of being rendered completely bare and owned by the unyielding force of him.
When your orgasm hits, it blindsides you; an electric force tearing through your nerves and crashing like a tidal wave. The strangled gasp wrought from your lips is held tight by John’s hand; your body trembling as you ride out the aftershocks with him still inside you.
When he shifts, John’s hand moves down to cover your heart. He smirks at the frantic hummingbird beat he feels through the fabric of your dress. “This is mine.” He murmurs, softer and warmer this time.
He moves the same hand to cover his own heart as you stare up at him. “As this is eternally yours.” With a smile, you close your eyes in contentment as John gently presses his lips to your forehead.
He always knows what to say to make you forgive him. And you do, because it was a fight born out of insecurity; the feeling that he was unworthy of your love. You hope he knows now, there will never be anyone else for you but him. You know it in your heart.
***
Once back inside, John pulls you onto his lap in front of Eric and Charlotte, pressing his lips to your neck while you're mid sentence. It all prompts an eye roll from Charlotte, but brings a smile to Eric's face, content in the knowledge that things are finally back to normal.
Everything John does makes her roll her eyes. But you don't care; the man you love isn't fighting with your friends or hiding things from you.
You spend the rest of the night close to John, enjoying his shift in attitude. He laughs with your father and Eric’s parents at whatever jokes they tell. He impresses them with how well traveled he is and vows to take you with him on his next venture across the pond.
Your dad smiles, nodding his renewed approval in your choice of boyfriend. At the end of the night, you leave the party with John’s hand in yours. Despite the threat looming over both of your heads, things are actually alright for once.
Notes:
I loved jumping perspectives like this. We've seen inside reader's mind, as well as John's. But Eric is always a real treat. Eric doesn't snap often, but when he does, he gets his point across. Hopefully now, this ridiculousness can be put to rest. Of all the things John can question, how you feel about him, shouldn't be one of them.
And let me tell you, the whole "This is mine, this is mine." is so hot. And then then "as this is eternally yours"? Ugh, it just kills me. I love shit like that. But I'll never admit it to anyone but you guys <3
Next week: On New Years, your mother pops in and surprises John. He FINALLY gets to speak his mind about what she said to him that fateful night and prove just how much he really does care about you. Later on, while you're out with Eric and Charlotte, she and John bicker again until he lets it slip that you were hurt the last time you squared off against Morgan. As expected, she's furious; making John promise to do everything in his power to keep you safe. When she sees that he was afraid for you that night, she gets it. He loves you, he's just got a funny way of showing it.
Chapter 33: An unexpected truce.
Summary:
Christmas Day, John gives you a very specific gift. On New Years, your mother pops in and surprises both of you. John FINALLY gets to speak his mind about what she said to him that fateful night and prove just how much he really does care about you. Later on, while you're out for drinks, Charlotte and John argue over nothing. When he lets it slip that you were hurt the last time you squared off against Morgan, she gets furious. Charlotte makes John promise to do everything in his power to keep you safe. When she sees how afraid he actually was that night, she gets it. John loves you, he's just got a funny way of showing it.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
John’s never been one for presents, and honestly, you’ve never minded. Growing up, your mother cared too much for the value of the gift rather than the meaning behind it. She didn’t appreciate anything you got her, so you always hated getting gifts in return.
So Christmas morning, when John surprises you with a small necklace box, your eyes light up with unexpected excitement. “The chain itself is mine, but the pendant’s new and enchanted.” He explains, fastening the delicate chain around your neck as you lift your hair.
"As long as you’re wearing this, sweet’eart, it'll keep you safe and I reckon I don't hate seeing you wear something everyday that belongs to me.” He shrugs too casually. “Someone close to my heart, wearing something of Johnny’s close to theirs.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything.” You protest, lifting the small pearlescent stone up with your fingers to admire it. “You know that.”
The stone itself is similar to the moonstone you wear on your finger, but it shimmers in shades of blue, purple and gold when you move it. Set into antique scrollwork, it’s really the most stunning piece of jewelry you’ve ever owned. You love it immediately.
“But I wanted to, didn’t I.” John smiles, a sense of smug satisfaction about him as he watches you. “It’d do for me to treat my girl right. And believe you me, for the rubbish you put up with, you deserve far more than just a small trinket.”
He shrugs casually. "Sides, we never were able to get your old one back. I reckon s'not the same, but this one'll protect you when you aren't with ol’ Johnny."
You stare down at it, then at him, before launching yourself into his lap. Your fingers thread in his hair and for a second, you’re a tangled mess of tongues until you both fall back on the couch, laughing. “I reckon you fancy it then?” He asks, a bit breathless as he wraps his arms around you.
“I love it, Johnny.” You let the necklace settle back down between your collar bones. “Thank you.” Tucking your hair behind your ear, you give him a shy smile. “Merry Christmas.”
He kisses you back then, soft and slow as your hands slide back up into his hair. “Happy Christmas, sweet’eart.” He whispers against your mouth.
***
As you’re getting out of the shower on New Year’s Eve, chaos erupts in your living room.
After getting off a call with Chas, confirming that the Order of Nine Angles is indeed just a red herring, you and John are left feeling frustrated and tense. The Order is mostly defunct now, only a few fringe members exist and those few that John’s other colleague has spoken with, have never seen Morgan’s picture before. The coin in his office must've been a ruse to make John think he was actually on to something.
At this point, you feel like you’re running near a cliff in the dark; no clue how much danger you're in because you can’t see two damn feet in front of you.
When you tell him you’re going to jump in the shower, John heads downstairs for a bit of yoga to clear his head before you go out tonight. You shake your head, stifling a laugh, as he playfully tosses his shirt at you from the top of the stairs. He can see that you’re worried; you give him credit for trying to hide how worried he is.
Once the hot water hits you, you close your eyes and try to wash away your anxiety. You feel like you’re missing something; a piece of the puzzle to figuring out what’s really going on here. Morgan has been going after you and John for the better part of fifteen months. Aside from the situation in the museum over the summer, nothing he’s done has been definitive. There has to be a reason.
Once the hot water starts to cool, you step foot on the bath mat and reach for the towel folded on the sink. When you hear a shriek from downstairs, you freeze. Knowing that the sound is too high pitched to be John, you hastily wrap it around your damp body and fly down the stairs in panic.
As you step into the living area, John turns, hearing your startled gasp, and grins. He’s as naked as the day he was born, normal for him when he’s doing yoga, and your mother is standing across from him, shielding her eyes in horror.
Silently, John grabs a blanket from the couch and secures it around his waist. You stifle a laugh as you glance between the two of them and gesture for someone to speak.
“You… You…” Your mother’s eyes are wide as saucers as she points at John angrily. “Your boyfriend is completely nude! Just flaunting his nakedness for anyone to see and -”
“Why are you here, mother?” You ask, ignoring her and folding your arms across your chest. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
Priscilla glances between you and John, trying to decide what to say next. You watch her cheeks turn pink as the silence stretches. “Your father asked me to…” She narrows her eyes in John’s direction. “Excuse me, could you give us a private moment?” She waves up the stairs. “While you’re gone, maybe put some pants on?”
When John turns to head up the stairs, you stop him by threading your fingers through his. “John lives here, he doesn’t have to leave and quite honestly, I think you’d said enough the last time I was in your house. I don’t know what you could possibly say to me that would make what you did better.”
She rolls her eyes, disgust over taking her already sour features. “Your father wanted me to apologize, even though I still believe you’re making a mistake. He didn’t enjoy his wife and his daughter not speaking, so I was willing to wave an olive branch for his sake. But I can see that no matter what I say, you’re never going to see reason.”
You open your mouth to argue as Priscilla barrels on furiously. “You’re determined to disappoint this family and if he’s who you choose, then you are on the right path.”
She knows she's hurting your feelings; she has to. She isn't blind. As she steps closer to you, your anger, torn and frayed since you last came face to face with her, finally snaps. “Mother, get out. You have no fucking right -”
John’s hand on your cheek stops your verbal onslaught mid sentence. “She’s not bloody worth it, sweet’eart.” He murmurs, his voice calm yet firm. “Go on upstairs for me, yeah? Get dressed and I’ll see her out.”
Dragging in a deep breath through your nose, you briefly close your eyes to let the warmth of his touch relax you. When you open them again, you give him a soft smile and head up the stairs without so much as a glance in your mother’s direction.
Your foot hovers on the top step when you hear John’s voice, low and angry. Ignoring the feeling that you shouldn’t disregard what John’s asked you to do, you quickly murmur a spell to amplify the sound downstairs. You wrap your arms around yourself and listen in, too curious about what’s being said to care about the ethics of eavesdropping on your boyfriend.
“I don’t rightly care what you think of me, Priscilla.” John growls. “But your daughter is bloody brilliant. You’ve no reason to speak to her the way you do. She’s a wonder; you’ve no clue what she deals with everyday and she handles it with a competence that gobsmacks me.”
“That silly girl doesn’t involve me in her life so -”
“Can you bloody well blame her?” John snaps incredulously. “You take no interest in her life, her accomplishments! And when you do speak to her, you’re putting her down! It’s like all that matters to you is how she makes you look. She’s not silly, she’s incredible.”
Your mother sputters, clearly taken aback by how defensive John’s being. “You can’t speak to me like that, I simply won’t tolerate it.”
John scoffs, and when he speaks again, his voice is filled with derision and contempt. “And you bloody well can’t speak to my girl like that. So I reckon, you’d do well to listen to her. Get your things and get out. If you’re going to treat your daughter like she’s rubbish, then I reckon she’s better off without you in her life.”
When there’s a pause in the conversation, you can’t hide your smile. John could’ve turned this into his moment to kiss your mother’s ass after the debacle over the summer. Instead, he unabashedly defended you; choosing to irrevocably destroy whatever relationship he could have built and you love him for it.
Sure, you’ve stood up to your mother on your own. It’s practically an artform for you at this point, but you’ve never had your significant other defend you to her face. Priscilla loved Sam; he never bothered to say anything when she’d start a fight with you. In fact, he usually made you feel guilty for arguing with her, even when she was the one who started it.
You won’t compare John to Sam. John is a better man a thousand times over. But John’s the only one you’ve ever been with that has enough nerve to knock Priscilla down a peg. You don’t know how to begin to explain the unadulterated happiness that's filling your chest.
His hushed voice makes you refocus and listen in to the end of their conversation. You haven’t heard what your mother spit at him, but John’s response is furious.
“Well I reckon if you can’t see how extraordinary that lass is,” he hisses venomously. “Then that’s your bloody problem, innit? Because I can.” The door slams, making you jump and hastily push yourself to your feet.
Hurrying to your room, you grab panties and your bra from the drawer. You don’t exactly want John to know that you were eavesdropping, just in case. You’re fastening your bra into place when he steps into the doorway.
At your soft smile, he rolls his eyes, knowing immediately that you heard what he said. “How much did you hear, then?” He asks, folding his arms over his chest.
“All of it.” You smirk, letting your hips sway as you walk over to him. “And I gotta say, Johnny, I don’t know what’s turned me on more; the things you were saying about me or the way you just kicked my mother out on her snobby ass.”
John chuckles as he guides your hands up to wrap your arms around him. “Well, I reckon your mum ain’t gonna fancy me any time soon, so I’m going to defend my girl’s honor and go down swinging. I’ve said it before, s’not my cuppa tea seeing someone treat you like that.”
Pressing your cheek against his bare chest, you let out a soft sigh of contentment. “I love you, you know that?”
“Aye.” John kisses the top of your head. “You know that I feel the same…” He trails off, the confidence in his voice wavering.
You look up at him with a soft smile. “I know you do, sweetheart. You wouldn’t have defended me to Priscilla if you didn’t. She’s kind of like a snake and you just went in there, no fear. Consider me incredibly impressed.”
Sensing his anxiety that's yet to dissipate, you pull away from him; your hands moving down to linger just at the curve of his ass. “And you have the nicest ass this side of the Atlantic? I clearly won the lottery.” Before he can respond, you tug the blanket off his hips and giggle as you jump onto the bed.
“Oh, the cheek on you, luv.” John teases, stepping over the fallen blanket and climbing onto the bed after you. "Reckon I ought to do something about that."
***
After the night in the pool house, John falls back into the flirty banter he’d first adopted with Eric, over a year ago. Eric doesn't miss a beat either; he’s sarcastic and flirty right back. Neither of them bring up the argument and you’re grateful for it. And if Eric’s told Charlotte about it, she’s kept silent.
So you find yourself beyond pleased when John suggests going out with the two of them for New Years. Charlotte goes home tomorrow and you won’t see her until she comes back up at the beginning of April.
John’s in high spirits, laughing with you as you drive to Eric’s. “I just wish I could’ve seen her face.” You giggle, biting at the edge of your thumb. “I’d’ve paid money to see Priscilla actually speechless.”
John pulls in a deep drag of his cigarette. “Oi, she pinched up like a rotten fruit. It would’ve been a riot if she wasn’t verbally attacking you like that. I’m sorry that you had to grow up with her, luv. It’s a bloody wonder you’re not as posh and high brow as she is then.”
“Because my dad is too normal, too down to earth, to let me turn out like her. He made sure I kept both feet firmly on the ground and my head out of the clouds.” You answer, turning the corner onto Eric’s street. “So did the Grants.”
“Cheers to that.” John laughs, moving his hand from his own upper thigh to yours. “Speaking of the Grants…” You smile as his fingers gently squeeze your leg. “You don’t reckon your mates will take offense to us arriving an hour early?”
Shaking your head, you maneuver the car into a parallel spot. “Can’t see why they would. Charlotte likes to be early for everything so she can’t give me crap when I am. She enjoys giving Eric and I shit if we’re not early. Plus, you know damn well if we didn’t leave the house when we did, we would’ve been late.”
John raises an eyebrow as he opens the passenger door. “Don’t I know it. I almost had you where I wanted you.” You give him a smirk as you open your own door. “And I reckon Lottie just enjoys giving you lot a hard time to see your reaction.” He mutters, sliding out and flipping up the collar or his coat.
“Nah,” You tease, holding out your hand for his as you walk around. “Just you.” John rolls his eyes in response and makes his way up the steps towards Eric’s apartment.
You hand him your keys as you step off the elevator, already shrugging yourself out of your coat. Eric’s building is newer than your entire block; the heating system’s not only efficient, it’s aggressive.
When John opens the door, you let yourselves in and toss your coat on the couch. Turning your head at the familiar creaky floorboard in the hallway, your mouth, and John’s, falls open in shock as Eric struts out of his room, completely naked.
Eric freezes, his eyes sliding from John’s to yours. “Well, you’re early.” He comments mildly, resting his hands on his hips.
“And you’re naked.” You reply, completely mortified. “Could you wrap a towel or something around yourself?” You tent a palm over your eyes in embarrassment.
“Relax, fella.” He laughs, making no move toward the blanket on the back of the couch. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” Your head whips up at that. Seriously, Eric?
You jerk your thumb to the side of you. “John hasn’t.”
Without tearing his eyes away from Eric, John folds his arms and smirks. “I, uh, I reckon I don’t mind the view.” He raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “Lottie is quite the jammy lass, isn’t she?” At that, Eric shrugs, folding his hands across his chest.
Turning your head back to Eric, you raise your own brow in question. “Speaking of, where is Charlotte?”
“Like I said, kid,” Eric explains, nodding his head back toward his room. “Ya early. By like an hour. Charlotte’s a little tied up at the moment.”
Rolling your eyes, you incline your head and call to her down the hall. “Char, you wanna tell your boyfriend to put some damn clothes on?”
“Yeah, she can’t answer ya either.” Eric smirks, a smug expression on his face. “So, Imma get back to her before she starts freakin’ out and hurts herself tryin’ to get outta my cuffs. Ya gonna have to give us a few.”
With a knowing smirk, John offers for the two of you to pick up coffee for the group. Eric thanks him with a nod and gestures to his wallet on the island. “Dunks should still be open. Fella, you know our order?” Quickly, you grab his card from the counter as John ushers you out the door.
***
By the time you’ve returned, Eric at least has pants on and Charlotte is finishing her hair in the bathroom. “How can you just walk out completely naked?” You ask him, handing him his cup with a slightly sheepish expression. “I could have been anyone.”
After a long sip of coffee, Eric sets his cup on the counter and casually runs a hand through his hair. “One,” he laughs, holding up a finger. “It’s not like the two of ya haven’t seen a penis before. And two, I didn’t know ya were out here. I was gettin’ somethin’ from the kitchen and ya know, there ya were.”
“Naked?” You ask incredulously. “You just walk around naked?”
“I don’t have to have clothes on in my own house, kid. And clearly I was in the middle of somethin’.” Eric points out, settling himself on the edge of the chair near the door. “Maybe ya shouldn’t be lettin’ yaselves in like that.”
“You've never minded before.” Rolling your eyes, you walk around the couch and settle next to John. “And by that logic, I’ll just walk around my house naked then. You have a key.”
“Ah, but sweet’eart, your logic is flawed, innit?” John interrupts, resting his hand casually on your leg. “I live with you and I already walk around utterly starkers, don’t I? Since you fancy my arse so much, I reckon it’s clothing optional.”
Eric lifts an eyebrow as he tilts his head in John’s direction. “Johnny, she give you this much attitude?”
“All the time, mate.” John chuckles, moving his hand from your leg to rest it on the back of your neck. “It’s usually how she ends up in a similar predicament to the one you put Lottie in earlier.”
You dip your head so neither of them can see your cheeks grow warm. John catches it, casually tightening his grip and leaning into your ear. “Though, I reckon that’s half the fun, innit, sweet’eart?” Biting your lip, you nod and he gives you a cocky grin in response.
“Oi, Eric.” John gestures into the air with his free hand. “I gotta say, if this one didn’t make me so bloody happy, after that impressive display I’d really be barking up your tree.”
“You’d be barking up the wrong tree, John.” Charlotte calls from the hallway, annoyance and a hint of pride in her voice. “Cause, I sure as hell don’t share.”
Eric grins and pushes himself up off the edge of the chair he was perched on. “She really doesn’t and neither does that one.” He grins at you as he claps a hand on John’s shoulder. “But I’ll take that as a compliment. Lemme grab a shirt and make sure Charlotte's good, ‘kay?”
“Sure thing, mate.” John nods, settling further into the couch. He lets out a sigh of contentment as he rests his head against yours.
After a moment of silence, you tilt your head up and kiss John’s cheek. “What’s that for then?” He asks with a smile, turning his head to squint at you suspiciously.
“Because I missed this, John.” You admit with a small shrug. “My John. The John that isn’t weird about flirting with Eric because he knows that he’s the only one for me. And he’s right, I don’t share.”
“Well, you did a smashing job reminding me of that, didn’t you, pet?” John runs a hand through his hair, staring down at you like you’ve surprised him. You swear he gives you that look at least twice a day. “I’d be mad to forget it again.”
***
“So, John, looking at the future here. How do you feel about children?” Charlotte asks, tilting her beer bottle in John’s direction.
The noise in the bar makes her raise her voice louder than normal and you choke on your cider, coughing aggressively to clear your throat. Subtlety has never been one of her strong suits, but you still can’t believe she just asked that.
John grunts quietly as he pushes himself up in the booth, clearly taken off guard by the question. “Uh, I reckon they’re alright. I mean, if I saw one, I reckon I wouldn’t throw a rock or anything at it.”
When Eric bursts out laughing, Charlotte shoots him a dirty look and zeros back in on John. “Why would you throw a rock at a child?” She asks incredulously, her eyes widening in horror.
“I just said I wouldn’t, didn’t I?” John shrugs, casting his gaze on you for help. “Sweet’eart, back me up, ey?” He asks with laughter in his voice.
Rolling your eyes, you let out a sound of disbelief. “Char, we don’t - eh, kids aren’t...” You stumble over your words for a moment; you hate being put on the spot about kids. “Children are fine. But neither of us want them, so it’s a non issue.”
“Correct.” John chimes in, visibly relieved that you’re so consistently on the same page. “Honestly, Lottie. We travel too much anyway to ever consider little nippers. How about you lot, then?”
Charlotte inhales deeply as Eric moves his arm around her shoulder. “My best friend knows that I’m fixing to have a big family.” She glances nervously up at him. “But I know that -”
“Our careers are important to us, same as you guys.” Eric cuts in with a wide smile. “And ya know that I don’t particularly want ‘em. But if this girl wants a family? I love her and I'm gonna make that happen. Figure we should probably be married first though.” He winks at her. “And maybe live in the same state.”
“Oh, chere, you’ll love Louisiana.” Charlotte smiles, grabbing her bottle and lifting it to her lips. “It’s nice and hot, you’ve seen how fun Mardi Gras is, and the Saints are just fixing to make a comeback. In a year's time, you won’t even remember the Patriots.”
Eric lifts his arm and leans away from her, the expression on his face, one of horror and betrayal. “Is that how you think it’s gonna be? I was ready to move for you, ya know. All the way down there, but then ya gotta go an insult my home team? In Boston?” He shakes his head. “Sorry, honey, but ya gonna be the one who moves now.”
When you and John start laughing over the matching faces of mock betrayal on your best friends’ faces, Eric turns and slaps his hand down on the table. “Alright, alright.” He points with his free hand at the both of you. “If either of ya had to move, who’d win? Are ya goin’ to England or ya stayin’ in Boston?”
You turn to John with a small shrug. “I don’t know, I suppose I wouldn’t mind London if we had to move. I mean, John basically left everything behind to move in with me here when I asked him to. So if he asked, I guess -”
“You’d move halfway across the world?” Charlotte snaps, all traces of humor erased from her face. “With him?”
John whips his head back toward her, his eyes narrowed slightly. “She’s an adult, free to make her own choices.” He flexes his fingers on your leg before taking a calming breath. “Anyway, it’s just hypothetical, innit? I’m chuffed to live here. Reckon I don’t care where as long as she’s with me.”
When Charlotte rolls her eyes, you reach out for your bottle; you need another drink if this is how the night’s going to go. “Relax, Char. I’m not going anywhere.” You assure her, and John with a smile. “But I would love London; all the accents, the history. Hell, even the rain. I’d adore all of it.”
It’s Eric’s turn to roll his eyes and John cuts him off before he can open his mouth. “It wouldn’t do for you lot to worry. I wouldn't ask that of her.” He assures the group, sensing the hostility mounting. “So why don’t I get us another round, then, ey? And we move onto a different subject?”
Eric lets out a low breath, pushing himself up from the table. “It’s all good, Johnny. But I’ll go, the bartender’s a buddy and he’s got this black licorice beer he wants me to try.” Before any of you can comment on that, Eric’s already halfway across the room.
“Black licorice beer?” John asks, tilting his head in confusion. “Don’t reckon I’ve ever heard of a candy beer. Root beer, birch beer, but not that rubbish.” He scrunches his nose in apparent disgust. “Does he fancy the candy, then?”
Charlotte lets out a humorless laugh as she runs her hand through her curls. “I don’t understand it, but yes. He’s obsessed and it’s disgusting.” She lifts her hand into the air, palm up. “I mean, who even likes black licorice?”
“Every man in the Grant family, apparently. They all like it, I don’t get it.” You deadpan as you see Eric carrying your drinks back. “And he’s the worst one. Eric’s relationship with that candy is bizarre and strange.”
He stiffens as he sets the drinks down on the table, squaring back his shoulders as he turns to face you. When your eyes meet his, a mildly hostile expression you weren’t expecting overtakes his face. “Kid,” he warns, his voice low and angry. “Ya not tellin’ them about Candie.”
Taken aback, your eyebrows fly up in surprise. You certainly weren’t about to tell the Candie story; but he’s the one who brought it up. Not you. It wasn’t a big deal; they only lasted a month anyway. “I wasn’t going to.” You protest, folding your arms across your chest. “You just brought her up, not me.”
He wraps his hand around your upper arm. “I swear to God, don’t you -”
Charlotte cuts him off with a raised hand. “Wait, y’all aren’t talking about sweets now, are you? Who’s this Candy?”
Eric covers your mouth before you can answer her. “Nuh uh.” He growls out. “I’ll kill ya kid, and ya know I know where to hide the body. So don’t make me.”
Rolling your eyes, you tug his hand away and playfully shove his shoulder. “You know, I think I’m willing to risk death and dismemberment because it’s too ridiculous a story.” You turn to Charlotte with a serious expression. “Candie, with an i-e, was the stripper that Eric dated right after he graduated from the Police Academy.”
Charlotte’s eyes go as wide as saucers but she stays otherwise silent. John, on the other hand, lets out a deep boisterous laugh. “Oi mate, I haven’t even done that. And I’ve had some questionable bedfellows.”
Eric slides into the booth next to Charlotte and takes her hand. “I was young!” He exclaims, sounding more panicked than you’d thought he’d be. “I never meant to date her, honest. It was just gonna be a hook up and that’s it. But I was young and stupid.”
She stays silent and the seconds drag by like hours. Eric looks furious with you; his shoulders are tense and his lips are set in a hard line. You haven’t seen him this angry since the two of you fought about Sam. You thought you were just going to embarrass him a little and you’d all have a laugh. He usually takes everything in stride.
Charlotte breaks the tension by rolling her eyes and letting out another humorless laugh. “Glad to see you’ve moved up the ladder, chere. If you had been hanging around strippers when I met you, I wouldn’t have gone home with you. Then where would you be?”
Eric’s eyes widen incredulously. “Definitely wasn’t expectin’ you to be cool with it, honey. My ma nearly lost her mind when she met Candie.”
“That’s because you brought this 40 year old stripper to your mom’s beautiful farm house and the two of you started drinking the second you got in the door.” You fold your arms across your chest again. “Besides, you were kinda a shitty person with her.”
Eric’s eyebrows fly up. “I was not. I was just -”
“Young and stupid. Yeah, you said that.” You take a long pull of your hard cider. “And you were hanging around your brother. God, I couldn’t stand you when you were acting like him. Char, you would’ve taken one look at him and gave him a hard pass. I swear to God, I wouldn’t have introduced you.”
“Yeah, well, guess my brother was shitty for a couple things then. Seein’ as he’s also the reason I left her.” You, John and Charlotte furrow your brows in confusion. “Oh,” Eric elaborates, gripping his own bottle tightly. “I walked in on him fuckin’ her in my bed.“
“Wait, what?” You reach across the table, immediately regretting dragging this all up. “You never told me that.”
Eric folds his arms on the table as he leans forward. “Yeah well, didn’t exactly want everyone knowin’. It wasn’t a great time in my life; I was drinkin’ all the time, my parents were pissed at me, you and I hardly talked.”
Sensing Eric’s discomfort, Charlotte sides her hand under his arm and rests her head on his shoulder. “It’s alright, chere. You’re not that person anymore; the two of you are good, you’ve got a great relationship with your parents, and my daddy loves you. You’re practically Ray’s favorite non-biological child.”
“Hey!” You protest, throwing your hands up. “I’m Ray’s favorite non-biological child.”
Charlotte smirks at you. “Not anymore you’re not. Because when I told him that John hit on me when we first met, and how drunk he was, Ray was not impressed. With either of you.”
John, who’s kept largely silent for most of this conversation, leans forward with a raised brow. “Lottie, I’d hoped we were past this. I was nothing but hospitable all week. And I haven’t been cheeky once since then.”
“Honey, he makes ya best friend happy.” Eric scrubs a hand down his bare face. “I think Ray would like John.”
“Yeah, Char. Lay off him, please.”
“Listen, I wasn’t gonna lie to my daddy. He asked how meeting John went and if I liked him. So I was honest.” She glares at John with mild contempt in her dark eyes before she turns her gaze to you. “Sugar, I’m nicer to John than you ever were to Hugh, just remember that.”
You narrow your eyes, feeling a bright spark of anger in your stomach. “Hugh was an absolute asshole to me. You just refused to see that.”
“Yeah well, at least Hugh didn't involve me in anything dangerous.” She snaps, her tone laced with venom. “I’m sure that one day, John’ll get you hurt. If he doesn’t do the deed himself. And I don’t mean your heart, sugar. Don’t you pretend you don’t know why either.”
John stiffens beside you, squeezing your upper thigh until you wince. Eric may not see that, but he certainly sees the way your face twists. “Kid, what’s she talkin’ ‘bout?”
Thinking quickly, you shrug and take another casual sip of your drink. “Uh, John likes to hunt and he’s been teaching me. And Charlotte knows how good a shot I am. So really, that’s an insult to me. Because I can handle myself and she knows it.”
The corner of John’s mouth quirks up. You can tell he’s impressed by the lie. “Yeah big man, just small game. Got permits and the lot.” His eyes flick to Charlotte with the barest hint of hostility. “Lottie, I would never let her get hurt.”
Charlotte looks entirely unconvinced. “Yeah, John. We’ll see.”
“We should go sometime!” Eric exclaims, full of excitement. If he can sense the uneasiness in the air, he doesn’t comment on it. “My old man’s got a great place he likes to hunt.”
“I’d love to.” John agrees, wrapping his arm around your shoulder in an attempt to seem unaffected by Charlotte’s accusation. “But I reckon I’m not much of a shot. She’s got all the skills, mate. Bollocks, she impressed me that first time.”
Eric grins, not at all shocked by your apparent abilities. If he only knew. Turning to Charlotte, he tilts his head to question her. “Honey, why are ya so convinced that Johnny’s gonna get her hurt? Sounds like she’s good.”
“Don’t worry about it, chere. Just know that I have my reasons.”
John presses his lips together with a stern expression. “Lottie, come with me to get the next round, ey?” Before she can protest, he’s already out of the booth with his arm extended in her direction. You watch them walk away with anxiety blooming in your chest.
***
The second the two of them are away from the table, John whirls around furiously. “You think you see right through me, don’t you?” He hisses, nodding back toward the table. “And what are you thinking, ey? Dropping bloody hints like that. You want something to happen to him? Because knowing about this rubbish is dangerous.”
Charlotte rolls her eyes as she leans against the bar top. “Please,” she growls out. “I love that man more than anything, but unless someone tells him about magic, he’s not figuring it out.”
Her gaze narrows on John now. “And don’t you think for one damn second that I won’t let it be known I don’t trust you. You’ve got my best friend so wrapped up in you and this dangerous life. She’d jump off a cliff if you asked her. You may love her; I say may, because I know you won’t fucking say it, but I don’t like this. I never did.”
John steps closer until he’s inches from Charlotte’s face. “That lass back there is everything to me.” He hisses, dropping his head low. “So don’t you assume how I feel about her.”
Charlotte scoffs, with another roll of her eyes but doesn’t push back.
“Neither of us want to put Eric in danger by telling him any of this.” John points out. “You bloody well know how much I didn’t want you to know. But I reckon having you to talk to helps her. You don’t have to trust me, Lottie. Hell, you don’t even have to bloody like me. But civility might do you well. Don’t make this harder on that lass. I, at least, try to get on with you.”
He huffs out a heavy sigh. “I don’t take any of this lightly. I know she’s told you about the bastard of a git that’s gunning for me. He’s used her against me and he’d do the same to the two of you if he thought it’d get him what he fancies.”
John runs a hand through his hair as he glances back to you, carrying on without knowing what he’s let slip. “Danger is part of this life and believe you me, I’ve tried to dissuade her from wanting it. But she wants to stand by my side and even though I don’t deserve it, I want her.”
“He what?!” Charlotte snaps, shoving him hard against his chest. “Merde! John, what happened? And if you don’t tell me the whole truth, I can promise you that you’ll never be found.”
“What?” John shakes his head, realizing his mistake. “Oh, bloody hell. It was nothing, Lottie. She was fine. It was just a small nick, really. Was more the shock of the situation that got us, as it were.”
Charlotte grabs him by the tie, dragging him off to the side. John knows you can see the exchange but can’t risk getting up to interfere or Eric will learn a lot more than you want him to.
“So I was fucking right!” She gasps, folding her arms across her chest. “She’s gotten hurt because of you and neither of y’all were fixing to say anything. I honestly can’t believe you. Dragging her into your shit is so irresponsible. You don’t do that to people you love!”
As he leans against the wall, John rolls his eyes. “Oh, if you only bloody well knew how much I didn’t want to drag her into my shit. That bastard got the drop on her, but we sorted it out. I stopped him before he did any serious damage. Then I got her all sorted out, she barely needed stitches.”
“Mais j’mais! She shouldn’t have needed stitches at all, John.” She hisses furiously. “You say stopped, so can I assume he’s dead? Or is he going to come back?” John shakes his head, knowing that whatever he says, she’s still going to be furious. “So what’s your plan then? Because this guy isn’t going to stop.”
“I reckon I don’t know. Chas and I are working on that.”
Charlotte smacks his arm again and despite the nine inch height difference, John knows she’d keep hitting him if she thought it would knock some sense into him. “That’s not good enough.” She argues, fear creeping into her voice. “Why didn’t you kill him then? If you’re so powerful? What happened that you couldn’t finish him off that night, huh?”
His resolve snaps as she taunts him and John doesn’t mean to, but his words come out harsh and angry. “What do you want me to say, Lottie, ey? You fancy knowing all the bloody details? How he had magic weakening cuffs on her so she couldn’t defend herself? You fancy hearing how he used her helplessness against me? How he held a knife to her throat and threatened to kill her if I didn't give in to his bloody demands?”
As Charlotte’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes fill with horror. His furious tone makes her flinch; despite not wanting to, she takes a step back and away from him. This was exactly what she was afraid of; John’s mess would become yours and in the end, you’d pay for it with your life.
“I could’ve finished him,” John admits, lowering his voice at the sight of her frightened face and visible flinch. “I reckon I could’ve thrown a fire blast and… But I would’ve risked hitting her and I’ll be honest with you, if it had been anyone else, I would’ve done it.”
John scrubs a hand down his face, then runs it absently through his hair. “In the past, I’d’ve just done the deed to end the bastard. Even if someone else paid the bloody price for it. But with her, I wouldn’t risk her life. So I gave him what he fancied because I lo- and he stabbed her anyway.”
He shoves up the sleeves of his shirt, frustration clear on his face. “Before he could do it again, I blasted him. He got away, because I reckon he knew I wouldn’t go after him if she was hurt. Believe me when I say, I’ve no fucking clue how to stop him. I wish I bloody did.”
Charlotte opens her mouth then closes it, silently glaring daggers. After a few seconds of letting her thoughts race, her face softens. She’s not sure if it’s the fear she sees on John’s face or the honesty she hears in the waver of his voice when he started to say he loves you, but he was afraid for you that night. He does truly love you, she decides, even if she wishes he didn’t.
“I believe you.” She concedes, shrugging her shoulders delicately. “I just… I need to be kept in the loop, John. Especially for shit like this. I need to know that she’s safe while she’s with you. And if you can do that for me, I…” She sighs, her eyes searching his for a moment. “I can promise you that I won’t be as hard on you. For her. Don’t expect us to be best friends any time soon, but I’ll try harder.”
“Fine, Lottie.” John lets a dry smile creep onto his face. “Believe me, she’s as safe as I can manage. She is brilliant with all this, better than I could’ve imagined.”
He turns his head to stare at your worried face. “But I’ll talk to her, make certain she’s keeping you aware of what’s happening then. Between us and Chas, you have my word that she won’t keep a thing from you.”
“I'll hold you to that because trust me, I know she’s more than capable. But you need to understand that she's incredibly important to me. That girl is like my sister and I just need to know that this isn't going to get her killed. That you won't get her killed.”
John's grin falters for a moment. He's afraid of the same damn thing. Unwilling to voice that concern, he gestures for Charlotte to walk ahead of him, back toward the table. “You’re important to her as well. You must know that. And she wasn’t keeping it from you because she doesn’t care. I reckon she didn't want you to worry. "
Charlotte lifts an eyebrow, as they walk. "John, I'm sorry but with ghosts and demons involved, I'm always going to worry about her." She lets out a huff of annoyance. "Both of you really. She'd be destroyed if anything happened to you. And I don't want that for her."
"Lottie, I'm touched." John laughs, pressing a hand to his chest. "And I reckon it would be a lot easier on her if we at least got along, since I don't intend to go anywhere. Now, don’t go running to her and tell her that you bloody well know she got stabbed. She’ll have my head.”
She shakes her head slowly. “Oh, I didn’t plan on telling her that I knew anything about this. That fact stays between you and I. As far as she knows, we just came to some agreement to get along.”
“That’s some real magic now, innit?" He says with an aggressive eye roll. "I reckon she's gonna think I hexed you."
***
Later that night, long after you've kissed John to ring in the New Year, you prop an elbow up in bed and ask him what the conversation was about. Because fifteen minutes was too long to scold Charlotte for deliberately dropping a hint about what they do. There had to be more to it.
"Lottie and I came to a mutual agreement." John explains, running his thumb along your arm. "We both care about you a great deal, sweet’eart. And we reckoned it was high time we put aside our differences and made something of an alliance. Because I made it clear I'm not going anywhere."
You nod, snuggling closer to him as you fall silent.
You don't know why, but this soft admission means more to you than you thought it could. You know how little they get along, but the fact that they're willing to put that aside for your sake makes warmth spread from your chest, outward.
And John’s "Because I made it clear I'm not going anywhere," sounds like an "I love you" from his lips. It plays on repeat in your head until you fall asleep.
Notes:
Anyone recognize the necklace? :)
Letting John put Priscilla in her place was so satisfying. And that blow up between him and Charlotte was overdue. Now that he knows she's not someone to be messed with, the two of them do fall into something of a truce. Because John doesn't INTEND on going anywhere...Next week: Valentines day does not go the way either of you planned. There's a speeding train, two deadly ghosts and a frustrating moment in the shower. Top that off with you getting to save the day? It's going to be a hell of night.
Two weeks will be here before you know it <3
Chapter 34: A Hell of a night.
Summary:
Valentine's Day does not go the way either of you planned, but surprisingly, you don't mind. John gets to see first hand that you're more powerful than you look and after spending the evening trying to frustrate the other, you take a last minute case. One that proves to be more difficult than you expected when John gets hurt and you've got to deal with it on your own. It's going to be a hell of night.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Now that you know for sure Morgan isn’t who he says he is, you want to make certain that he can’t corner you like he did a few months back. That was too close a call and you never want to feel that powerless again.
You and John talk about your options, rationally deciding that leaving won’t do any of you a lick of good. Now that he’s got a level head, it’s easier for you to help him see reason. If you ran, Morgan wouldn’t stop; he’d rip his way through the people you love until you were forced to do as he asked. That’s not a position either of you want to be in.
At Chas’s insistence as well as your own, John continues your training. You’re powerful, they’ve both said it since the first time you knocked John on his ass. But thankfully, they understand that you need to plan for every eventuality you can. You can’t rely on either of them to step in and save you.
As you stand in the middle of an empty street near the woods, your breath comes out quick and harsh from exertion. You and John have been flinging energy blasts back and forth for the last hour. No matter the speed or combination, you’ve dodged and sent back whatever John’s thrown at you.
Before John, you’d never believe this was how you’d prefer to spend the morning of Valentine’s Day. Funny how things change.
“Very good, luv.” He praises, extinguishing the flames in his palm as you try to even out your breathing against the cold. “You’re able to give as good as you get now. Morgan doesn't have a bloody chance.” He steps closer to you, a smirk sliding into his face. “How ‘bout we try something a bit different then, yeah?”
You raise an eyebrow in confusion as John locks his hand around your wrists. His heated fingers burn against your skin in the brisk air. When you try to pull back, he holds onto you tighter. “What are you doing?” You ask, narrowing your eyes at him as he walks you backwards a few feet.
“Testing out a theory.” John replies, matter of fact. You both hear the warning signal from the train tracks you’re now standing on. You meet his eyes, feeling panic crawl across your skin.
“Trains coming.” He explains with a smile. “Reckon you and I are about to be in trouble. You’ll need to do something to keep us safe.”
“John, let go of me.” You crane your neck to see the commuter rail less than a mile away. “I’ve only just started to mess with phasing! I can barely push my hand through a wall!”
John remains frustratingly calm as you frantically try to tug out of his grip. “Relax.” He orders you, meeting your eyes. “Close your eyes and focus on your magic. Let it course through you. I know you can do this. You’re going to phase us right through the train.”
Your eyes are wild with mounting terror. You’ve never done this part before; you can’t make your brain focus on what he’s asking. “I can’t! John, I -“
“Sweet’eart.” He assures you, squeezing your arms. “You can. Imagine the train passing right bloody through us, we're nothing but mist.” He closes his eyes, raising his eyebrows so you’ll do the same. “I trust you. You’ll keep us safe. Don’t you trust that I won’t let anything happen to you?”
You suck in a deep breath through your nose. “Of course I do.” Your shaky voice answers.
“Then close your eyes and concentrate. Phase us through it, ey?” John glances behind you as the train approaches. “I know you can do it, luv.”
Locking your fingers around Johns wrists, you do as you’re told and will your very being to allow the train to pass through you both. You picture both of you being as tangible as air, having no solid form. You don’t focus on the train or yourself, you block out everything but your desire to keep John alive and safe.
You feel a slight tingling in your feet and your nose, making you scrunch your face at the strange sensation. Once it’s passed, you dare to open one eye.
The train barrels along the track, pushing itself further from you with each passing second. Holy shit, you realize in exaltation. I did it! You feel drained and incredibly tired, but you did it.
“Bloody fucking hell.” John swears, letting you go and spinning himself around. “I can’t believe you did it, luv!” You step back, narrowing your eyes angrily. Did he think you couldn’t? Then why would he let you try?
John raises his hands in surrender before cracking a small smile. “I told you, I was testing a theory. Phasing is exhaustive, advanced magic. I only use it in extreme measures, and even then, it takes a lot out of me. We needed to see how strong you were on your own, didn’t we? You never disappoint.”
Feeling hot anger ripple through your chest, you spin on your heel and start walking back towards your car. “And what if I couldn’t have done it?” You yell over your shoulder. “What if no matter how much I willed it, I couldn’t phase both of us? What if you had gotten hurt -“
“Sweet’eart, look at me.” John jogs up behind you and rests his hand on your shoulder. “I wouldn’t have let any harm come to you.” You don’t turn around, but you can feel your anger dissolving at his touch. “And I knew you wouldn’t let anything happen.”
You sigh and roll your eyes. “John, I was worried about you. I’d never done that before; phasing more than just my hand.” Turning around to face him, you try to soften your expression. “You can’t just throw us in front of a train and hope for the fucking best. What if I wasn’t strong enough? How could you know I wouldn't get you killed?“
John rakes a hand through his sandy hair. You can tell he hadn’t thought about how you’d react to this. “Alright, back up, luv. What were you feeling just then?” He asks, resting his hand at the back of his neck. “What was going through your mind?”
The question takes you completely off guard. What were you feeling? You were pissed off, angry that you’d been taken off guard like that. But underneath it, you were terrified. But not for you. You hadn’t been worried about yourself. You were so afraid that you’d make a mistake and John would pay for it.
When you tell him that, you find yourself staring down at your boots, you breath puffing out in the February air. You glance up and watch his face twist into a wistful expression.
“That’s how I knew, sweet’eart.” John walks with you to the drivers side and opens it for you. “Every time I underestimate you, you see fit to remind me how bloody capable you are. Believe me when I say that means something to a bloke like me.”
He squeezes your hand, making you softly smile at him. “You are growing stronger by the day, it’s incredible.”
He loves you, you know that. So why does everything with John have to be some backwards test? Why can’t he just come right out and say what he means? It drives you insane. “What am I going to do with you?” You huff quietly, sliding into the car.
John is in the passenger seat before you can blink. “I ask myself the same bloody question.” He laughs, pulling the cigarette from behind his ear. As he lights it, he turns to you, his voice soft in the stillness of the car. “Wasn’t my intention to scare you, luv. Are we alright?”
As you pull away and head back towards the main road, you slowly nod your head. “We’re alright, Johnny.” You assure him, reaching out for his free hand. John's hand squeezes yours back. “Just don’t do that to me again. Don’t throw yourself in front of a train to prove that you trust me.”
Because that’s what this was, an exercise in trust. Not only for you, but for John as well. He knew you’d been practicing it, he said it himself. But he couldn't possibly know that you’d be able to phase the both of you.
John trusted you to not make a mistake and ensure his safety. That definitely means something, especially now. Weeks ago, in the dim light of the Grant’s pool house, he promised you that he trusted you, that he didn’t doubt you. After this, you unconditionally believe him.
***
“We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to.” John offers, poking his head in the bathroom while you’re showering. “I reckon phasing took a lot out of you.”
Moving the wet curtain, you peek around it and roll your eyes. “I’m fine. A little sore, but fine. You’re the one who insisted on taking me out, mister. You’re not getting out of it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, luv.” John chuckles, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him to halt the escaping steam. “So let us get in there then, eh? Help you along.”
You sigh and step back, watching with interest as John sheds his shirt and pants. “You get in here with me and we’re definitely gonna be late.” You warn as he steps in and under the hot spray. “We’ll miss our reservations and end up eating Valentine’s Day dinner at some random pizza place.”
Not that you care. In fact, you’d told John that you didn’t have to go out when he suggested it last week. Last year, Valentine’s Day was quiet; the two of you curled up on the couch with a bad movie and some Chinese takeout. It was perfect for you. But John insisted on making a night of it this year.
“Oh, don’t I know it, luv.” John smirks as he runs his hands through his dampening hair. “It’s all part of my devious plan, innit?”
He steps forward, shaking his head to clear the water from his face and roughly pulls you to him through it. You giggle as you look up to see his hair sticking out messily. “What are you laughing at then?” John asks, raising his eyebrow.
Scrunching your nose, you playfully bite your lip. “You.”
John growls, the sound rumbling through the enclosed space. With more finesse than you thought possible, he spins you around so your back is pressed against his front. His hand snakes under your jaw, tilting your head back.
“Such a bloody troublemaker.” He whispers into your ear. “Whatever am I going to do with you, pet?”
Your eyes flutter closed as your body reacts to the heat in his words. “Whatever you want, Johnny.” Comes your raspy reply. “You know that.”
“Good girl.” John answers, and the shiver that runs through you has nothing to do with the cooling water temperature.
His free hand palms your breasts, gliding over them until your core is aching. When his mouth finds the sensitive spot on your neck that makes you melt, you grind back against him. You want to spin around and face him, but John hasn’t lessened his grip under your jaw. He has you exactly where he wants you and it’s not fair.
Your hands reach back to try and allow yourself some leverage over him. John tuts when a small whine escapes your lips. “I know what you’re trying to do, luv.” He growls into your ear. “You’re not in charge here, I am. Reckon Johnny's gonna have to punish you if you keep at it.”
You suck in quick breath at the way your stomach lurches in anticipation. Your head falls back against his chest as you pull your lower lip between your teeth. “That’s not what you say to me if you want me to stop.” You push back, your face flushed with heat at how much you don’t want him to.
“I know.” John answers, his voice rough and dark with desire. He releases you and turns you to face him. Confusion floods your system; your brain struggles to catch your body up to the loss of contact.
“That’s why I’m stopping. We’ll see how desperate you are by the time we get back tonight. If you’re good for Johnny, I’ll finish what I started.”
Your mouth drops open in shock for a moment before it twists into a small pout. John’s such a bastard. A glorious, beautiful bastard. He chuckles, sensing your frustration, as he grabs the loofah from the shower caddy. “Reckon we’ll see how bad you want it.”
***
Your stomach flips anxiously as you smooth out the fabric of your skirt. The last time you were in a navy swing dress like this one, your life was in grave danger. You can’t help but remember the way the blade had sliced into your skin through the dress. But tonight is different, tonight won’t end the same way.
Taking a reassuring breath, you give yourself one last once over in the mirror and head down stairs. Your hair is curled perfectly, pinned in a vintage style twist and from your wings to your crimson lipstick, your makeup is on point.
John’s waiting at the base of the stairs, grinning at you like a kid on Christmas morning. He’s managed to style his hair in a way that looks rather dashing; gelled so there’s a small flip in front. His black suit jacket has come out of hiding, giving him a distinguished academic air about him that makes you smirk.
John whistles appreciatively when your heels hit the bottom step. “Bloody hell, sweet’eart. You look smashing.” When he meets your eyes, you suck in a quick breath. The flip in your stomach now, reminds you that even after a year and a half, he can still take your breath away.
He holds his hand up and spins his finger, indicating for you to show off. With a soft giggle, you do and your full skirt flares out as you move. “I am the luckiest bloke in the world.” He murmurs, smiling at you. “I’ve got this brilliant, beautiful lass by my side. I reckon she might not be right in the head for wanting to stand with me. But I’ll not complain.”
“Hey!” You smack his outstretched arm. “That’s your girlfriend you’re talking about there. I think she's pretty awesome.”
“Don’t I know it.” He chuckles, eyeing you up and down with excitement. “Now, let’s get a move on, ey? I was hungry, but I reckon the more I stare at you in that dress, the less I want to go out and eat.”
Smiling flirtatiously at him, you shrug and turn to grab your coat. “You should’ve thought about that before you did what you did to me in the shower. Cause I can’t wait to go out.”
You take great pleasure in the way John’s eyebrows raise in disbelief. “Now, if you play your cards right, I’ll let you peel me out of this later. Only if you’re good.”
“Topping from the bottom, ey?” John laughs. Your silence confirms it. “You think you can turn this around on me and get what you want, then?”
You smirk up at him as you button your coat. “If I play my cards right.”
***
Pushing yourself up off the floor, your eyes frantically scan the darkened room for any sign of your mysterious assailant. Quietly, you murmur a spell to bring light to the ring on your hand and reach up for the wall.
“John.” You hiss, feeling your way towards the stairs. “John, where are you?”
When you’re met with silence and the clack of your shoes on the cement, you sigh and wish, for the third time in the last thirty minutes that you hadn’t worn heels. To be fair, your night wasn’t supposed to end with banishing this damned ghost and cleansing the basement it haunted. But here you are.
You and John kept exchanging heated stares all through dinner; both of you anxious to get back home. You’d been flirting with him all night, pushing his buttons because you knew he’d do something about it the second you were alone. Then, his phone rang.
His contact in the local church had an emergency, if John had the time for it. A haunting not too far from where you were had left the parents shaken and a little boy with a broken arm. You’d watched the battle rage on John’s face; torn between wanting to help and not wanting to ruin the night. You weren’t going to let him hesitate.
Without a second thought, you’d grabbed the phone and asked Father Vitale for the address. John had stood, frozen in wonderment, as you called and instructed the family how to keep themselves safe until you both could get there.
Inclining your head towards your car, you’d started walking as you’d continued to issue soft reassurances to the man on the other end of the phone. When you’d hung up, John had stepped up behind you and dropped his head into the crook of your neck.
“You’re bloody incredible.” He murmured in awe. “You know that?”
“I do.” You’d tilted your head back. “But feel free to tell me again, after we’ve cast that thing out. Tell me, show me. Whichever floats your boat.”
***
Once you’d gotten there, the father had told you that he was taking his son, daughter and wife to a hotel. You’d assured him that between John and yourself, the spirit would be taken care of.
After John had smudged the four corners of the house and sent out a wave of cleaning energy, you’d both still felt the oppressive weight of the infestation. Of course the ghost wasn’t your standard run of the mill spook. Why would it be easy? It had it’s claws in the very foundation of the house.
“Reckon I’m gonna have to go off the bloody book.” He’d sworn, rounding the corner to the kitchen. “Can you feel it’s point of origin?”
Closing your eyes, you’d let your own energy fill the room. When a wave of nausea passed over you, your eyes had narrowed on the basement door. “There.” You told him confidently. “The basement.”
“Bollocks.” John groaned, rolling his eyes. “It’s always the bloody basement, innit? Can’t be a bright and sunny kitchen, can it? Creepy ruddy basement.”
You’d rolled your eyes right back as you’d opened the basement door. “Thought you liked creepy?” Before John could reply, you’d both been flung down the stairs and plunged into darkness.
You’d landed with a thud, your arms twisted underneath you. John yelped from somewhere to your left and the air shifted around you. Whatever this thing was, it was pissed.
You heard John start to call your name, only for his voice to be choked off half way through. It all went to Hell after that.
***
Now, as you continue to fumble about in the dim light, you hiss John’s name until your leg hits something soft. Leaning down, you shine your hand on his face.
Crouching low, you carefully touch the cut on his cheek and wipe blood from his lip. Gently shaking his shoulders, you try to wake him, dread uncoiling in your stomach when his head just lolls to the side. He’s out cold and that sends an unwelcome shiver down your spine.
Swearing softly, you push yourself to your feet and glance around for any source of actual light. You see one; an old light bulb, yellowed by time, hanging in the center of the ceiling.
The soft glow emitting from your ring is starting to dim. Knowing you've got just seconds until you're plunged into darkness again, you lift your eyes and murmur “Inluminent.” The bulb comes to life as your ring’s light dies.
You take a deep breath and spin around. John's still out; but aside from that cut on his cheek, he doesn't look too bad off. You know you'll have to deal with this alone.
When your next deep breath puffs out visibly in front of you, you push down the chill in your chest and face the source of it. Mist swirls in front of you, slowly becoming tangible. Your brain, logical in every sense, tells you to run, but you're determined to stand your ground. Whatever this thing is, it's gotta go.
Your heart skips a beat when a small girl, no older than ten steps forward. She looks waterlogged and frightened; a lost soul that just needs to be directed so she can move on. She giggles when she sees you, leaving behind a wet footprint when she steps forward.
“Come play with me.” Her voice is a whisper, yet you can hear it clear as day. She holds out her hand to you impatiently, narrowing her eyes angrily when you shake your head.
“Why not?” She howls, letting wind whip violently around her small body. “I didn't want to play. The river was scary, but no one saved me." She opens her mouth, unnaturally wide, to scream again. “No one will save you!”
You barely dodge the saw from the nearby tool bench when she flings it in your direction. Tumbling to the ground, you kick off your useless heels, plant your feet and throw an energy blast at her. She disappears from view, giggling as she moves.
“Not today, Casper.” You growl angrily. Hands outstretched, you turn slowly as you prepare to strike again. “Time for you to go.”
You fling fire and energy blasts at her, praying that you’ll tire her out. She responds in kind, flinging you up against the wall. As she stalks closer to you, you close your eyes and focus. “Spiritus ire.”* You grind out and unceremoniously collapse to the ground.
The girl freezes, confused when she can’t hold you back against the wall. “I don’t want to hurt you.” You assure her, slowly rising to your feet. “I’m sorry for what was done to you, but you can’t hurt innocent people. That little boy you pushed? He didn’t do anything wrong.”
You point to yourself and then to John. “Me? My friend? We just want to help you get home.”
“I can't go home.” She cries, letting the wind die around her. “He won’t let me.”
“Who?” You ask, pushing your hair from your face and glancing around wildly. “Who won’t let you?”
The girl shudders, before pointing over your shoulder. “The bad man.”
Suddenly, you're knocked down from behind and before you can push yourself up, your head is invaded by flashes of memories. A shadowy man shoving your head under bone-chillingly cold water, your arms pushing against his, but you know you aren't strong enough to breach the surface.
The man grins sadistically, gaining a sick satisfaction from his actions, and you know you're reliving the girl’s last moments. You feel all her terror, her panic. It consumes you from the inside and for a moment you’re afraid that he’s going to take your life next.
With a startling moment of realization, you understand that this man is the real cause of the infestation. He’s the oppressive force haunting the house, not her.
"I'm sorry!" You gasp out, desperate to take a full breath. "I didn’t know. Please, let me help you! I swear I’ll get you home!"
Through your panic, your mind begins to form a spell you’ve never uttered out loud. You’re not sure how you know, but this will banish the ghost and cleanse the house. You’re certain of it.
Mustering all your strength, you lock your elbows and roll over onto your back. “Auferte malum.” You chant, forcing out the words through shuddering breaths. “Fluens abluere spatium.” The shadowy man materializes in front of you, holding tight to the little girl. “Let her go, be gone from this place!”
When he laughs, a cracked maniacal sound, it fuels your anger further. Quickly, you get up and take a deep breath. “Auferte malum. Fluens abluere spatium.”** You repeat, holding out your hands in front of you steadily as he starts stalking toward John’s unconscious form.
“No!” You shout, eyes widening in horror. “Me! Come and get me!” The spell is making you weak, you can feel weariness creep in your bones, but you won’t give up. “Auferte malum! Fluens abluere spatium !”
This time, the force of your words knocks the strength from you. Dropping to your knees, you growl out the spell one last time. The man stops, inches from John's face and slowly starts to dissolve into mist. The air in the room becomes lighter, less oppressive and you’re able to drag in a steady breath.
Soft light fills the room as the girl, now dry and smiling, holds tight to an older woman’s hand. "Thank you for bringing my little girl back to me.” The woman whispers, leading the girl away into the light. You fall back to the floor, drawing up your knees to wrap your arms around them.
You aren’t sure where exactly the spell came from, but you’re grateful it worked. The house is clean; the oppressive weight of the shadow man is gone and the little girl, his unwilling victim, was set free. A groan beside you makes you twist your upper body and let out a breath of relief.
John’s eyelids flutter as you scramble over to him, grabbing your shoes quickly. Hooking your arms under his, you help him to his feet. He’s groggy and disoriented, but slowly you make your way toward the stairs and out of the house.
***
By the time he’s fully lucid again, you’ve tended to the cut on his cheek, ordered a pizza for the two of you and changed into comfier clothes. Not exactly how you thought Valentine’s Day would end, but you can't make yourself mind. You got to banish an evil spirit, save a lost soul and get John to safety. On your own. It felt incredible.
You grin to yourself as you zip up your sweatshirt on the stairs. John pushes himself into a sitting position on the couch, eyeing your warily. “What the hell happened, luv?” He asks, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. “I can’t recall a bloody lick of it.”
“There were two spirits. A little girl and the bastard that murdered her.” You tell him, climbing onto the couch next to him. “We couldn’t have known, Johnny. And you got knocked out by the nasty one when we went flying down the stairs.” You push his hair from his eyes. “How are you feeling, should we get you checked out?”
“Bloody hell.” He shakes his head, running a hand down his face. When he looks up, his dark eyes are troubled, nervous. “I’m fine, luv. My bloody grapefruit’s pounding like I’ve just come off a three day rager, but it’ll pass. Did you get hurt? Reckon I was as useless as a stone.”
You shake your head, fiddling with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “No, I handled it. There was a moment when the son of a bitch had me, I was reliving how much he enjoyed murdering his victims. I panicked because I felt like I was drowning.”
When you lower your voice, remembering the moment you were able to break free of the spirit’s hold, John tenses up. “But something in my head started whispering a spell I had never heard of before. I spoke it out loud and the thing froze. I kept saying it until it disappeared.”
You peer up at him. “I had no idea that it would work, but somehow I knew it was the right incantation.”
“You just made up a bloody spell and it worked?” John laughs, his eyes shining with pride. “Oh sweet’eart, you keep this up and you’ll be better at the Dark Arts than ol’ Johnny is.”
You wack his arm playfully. “Stop that, I don’t wanna be better than you. It’s just nice that I can save you every once in a while. It’s been horribly unbalanced lately, you know I don’t like being a damsel.”
John narrows his eyes, but his wide grin is reassuring. “Ah, you like me being the damsel then, eh? Shame I don't look as good in a dress as you do, luv.”
He glances down at your pajama shorts and his grin disappears. “I’m more sorry than I can say that tonight wasn’t a normal Valentine’s Day. Reckon you deserved a good one.”
“Are you kidding?” You exclaim, lifting your hand to tick off your fingers as you count. “One, I took on two ghosts and got rid of them, by myself. Two, I created a spell. And three, I saved you.”
The doorbell rings as you watch John’s expression change from bewilderment to pure affection. “To top it all off, our favorite pizza place has free delivery tonight. This was the best Valentine’s Day ever.”
You reach for your bag as John’s mouth falls open. “So I want you to pick a movie, we’re gonna eat pizza, and if you’re good and you’re feeling up to it later, I’ll let you do dirty things to me.”
As you walk to the door, you turn back with a smile. “And for the record, that’s how you top from the bottom.”
***
Long after the pizza is gone, you’re snuggled up to John on the couch. Your head's on his chest with your arm draped casually across his stomach. His breathing is slow, steady, and you think he might be asleep. Getting hurt the way he did probably took a lot out of him.
You’re not certain if you should let him sleep; he didn’t seem like he had a concussion, but you know he’d never admit to you how badly hurt he really was if he did.
Carefully, you push yourself up, only for him to move the arm he has wrapped around your shoulder. He tightens it so you can’t pull away and you let yourself fall back against him. You let out a huff when he grumbles that he doesn’t want you to move.
“I’m not going far.” You protest, with a small laugh. “I’m just grabbing a drink, thought you were sleeping.”
“M'not sleeping.” He offers, shifting so you both can sit up. “Just content.”
“Then I'll be right back then.” You push yourself into the standing position and make your way over to the kitchen. “How’s your head by the way?” You reach up into the cabinet for ibuprofen.
John shakes his head slowly, wincing as his hand moves to press against the back of it. “Still feels like the mother of all hangovers. Give me a day, I’ll be right as rain.”
Grabbing three pills from the bottle, you open your fridge to get something to drink. You walk back over the couch and press the painkillers into his hand.
“Here, take these.” You order softly, unscrewing the cap of the water bottle. “And drink all of this. You don’t want to go to the hospital, so you're just gonna have to let me fuss over you.”
With a dutiful nod, John pops the pills into his mouth and downs most of the water. “As you wish.” Satisfied that he didn’t fight you on this, you sit down next to him, resting your head on the heel of your hand.
John watches you, a soft expression taking over his features. “I’m so proud of you, sweet’eart.” He says, meeting your eyes. “For everything you did today. I pushed you into phasing, and you didn’t let me down. Never do.”
He gestures to his head. “And you saved my life. Though, I reckon you’ve been doing that long before tonight. I know I’ve said it, but I’m a truly lucky bloke. Tosspots like me don’t usually get chances at happiness like this.”
“You’re too hard on yourself, Johnny. You do more good in this world than you think.” You lean forward and kiss his cheek. “You’ve taught me everything I know. Even if your methods are sometimes unorthodox.”
“Every bloody thing about me is unorthodox, sweet’eart.” He laughs, lifting his arm so you can snuggle back underneath it. “You reckon we should take this upstairs then? Seems I owe you for the shower bit earlier.”
“If it’s all the same to you,” you slip your hand under his shirt to draw lazy circles on his chest. “I’m honestly good right here.” Your hand covers his heart. “This is the perfect way to end tonight.”
John grins down at you as his hand moves to play with your hair. “I couldn’t agree more, then.”
Notes:
*Begone, spirit!
**Take away the hurt, cleanse this space.This is exactly my kind of Valentine's Day. Hope you enjoyed the bit of action mixed with the tenderness here :) I like to give them cute moments, almost like a normal couple lol
Next week: You meet Zed, not knowing at first that she and John had a romantic history. She has a purpose for visiting; Zed's discovered a very important clue in the mystery that is Morgan and neither you nor John saw this twist coming. When you see a tender moment exchanged between the two of them, you can't help the flare of jealously that rips through you. Especially considering the harsh words she had about John when it was just you girls talking. Later on, you show John that he's not the only one who can get jealous and possessive around an old flame 😈
Chapter 35: The Green Monster.
Summary:
You meet Zed, not knowing at first that she and John had a romantic history. Zed's discovered a very important clue in the mystery that is Morgan and John did not see this twist coming. When you see a tender moment exchanged between the two of them, you can't help the flare of jealously that rips through you. Especially considering the harsh words she had about John when it was just you girls talking. Later on, you show John that he's not the only one who can get jealous and possessive around an old flame. He's not prepared for you to want to have your way with him.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“I’ve done some digging into your little problem, and I’m happy to share what I know.” Zed greets, sounding suspiciously more cheerful than John’s ever heard her. “But there’s a catch.”
John rolls his eyes as he steps out onto the small balcony off the living room. “Zed, I reckon with you, there’s always a catch.”
“Oh, sod off.” She snaps through the phone. “I’m stateside. Following up on a few things of my own and I reckoned I’d look into Morgan while I’m here. I've got some information for you. But I want to meet her first.”
John freezes, his fingers tightly gripping the old metal railing. “What?” He breathes, swallowing hard. He glances over his shoulder knowing that you’ll be home from work any minute. “Why?
“She’s powerful John, Chas thinks potentially more powerful than you. So, I want to meet her. See exactly what it is about this lass, beside her magic, that’s got you so bloody well whipped.”
“Her abilities have nothing to do with why I’m with her.” John growls, watching your car pull into your spot from his position on the balcony. “You can’t possibly understand how I feel.”
Zed scoffs through the phone. “Sure I bloody well can. I used to feel the same about you. Now it’s simple, Johnny boy. You want my information, you let me meet this mysterious lass. Chas tells me you’ve finally met your match with her. Just want to see how true it is. I won’t start trouble.”
John scrubs a hand down his face in frustration. “Zed, you are trouble.” He sighs heavily, pulling his flask from his pocket. “But if I have your word that you won’t upset her or -”
“I always keep my word and remember, you involved me.” Zed replies, cutting him off easily. “So tomorrow night, you pick the place. Reckon I don’t care about that. And we’ll see what's so special about your bonny lass.”
John hangs up, struggling to ignore the pit in his stomach that tells him this is a bad idea. He pushes the thought away when he hears your keys jingle in the front door. You’ve handled everything he’s thrown at you with confidence. Why should this be any different?
Maybe he'll just leave out the bit about Zed being an ex. Just in case.
***
The next day, John stops by your office for lunch. The gesture isn’t unusual; he spends most afternoons in the museum with you. But the way he’s fidgeting and touching everything within reach, is. He’s normally the picture of smug calmness. This jitteriness unsettles you to the bone.
When he finally tells you he needs a favor, you furrow your brow and glance over at him. “Jesus, John. When you ask like that, it sounds ominous. Should I be concerned?” Closing the filing cabinet, you fold your arms across your chest.
“Of course not.” He laughs, settling down into your office chair. “But my colleague from across the pond? She’s stateside and she wants to meet you. Wouldn’t let up until I bloody well agreed to it.”
Despite the casual tone he’s affected, you can see how much her request has unsettled him. “But you don’t have to, of course.” He adds with a shrug pulling his flask out of his pocket.
Wanting to put him at ease, you give him a soft smile and walk around your desk. John’s slouched in your chair, legs spread languidly. When you roll your eyes at him, he matches your grin, slow and wide.
You kick his foot and lean against the edge of your desk. “I’d never say no to meeting friends of yours, Johnny. You know that.”
He pushes himself up quickly, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he straightens. “Less of a mate at this point, I’d reckon. But that’s splitting hairs, innit?” He smirks at you. “You’re a wonder, sweet’eart.”
You pat his ass as he starts to walk by. “Oh, I know.”
John narrows his eyes playfully. “Don’t you get cheeky, luv. You’re at work, ain’t ya? And bloody well can’t finish what you’ve started. S’not like last time, we’re not here after hours.”
You hold up your hands in surrender, making him smirk again. “Good girl.” He praises, pulling a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and tucking it behind his ear. “We’ll head out once you’re home. Then I reckon I'll fancy making you finish when we get back.”
***
Zed Martin isn’t what you were expecting.
“You’re a pretty thing, ain’t ya?” She chimes, in a soft accent that may have once been English. “It’s good to meetcha.” She watches you shrewdly, her espresso eyes shining brightly with interest.
“If I hadn’t seen ya, I’d’ve thought you were made up. Johnny- boy doesn’t get this lucky.”
“Seen me? What on earth do you mean by that?” You ask nervously. She seems nice enough; but you know better than to make that assumption. Dr. Morgan seemed like a nice guy and look where that thought’s gotten you.
John, who’s been tense since you both walked in the door, lets out a soft huff of annoyance. “Zed’s gifted, she can see flashes of what’s coming.” His eyes narrow slightly. “Now, she’s not always on, but -”
“I’m right about what counts.” She interrupts, gesturing for you to have a seat. “S’not my fault you don’t fancy what’s in my grapefruit.”
John gives her a dangerous glare as you slide under his outstretched arm. “I’m shocked Johnny actually agreed to let me meet you.” She carries on, settling into the booth across from him. “Usually, he likes to keep his valuables away from prying eyes.”
“Zed.” John warns, moving his arm to fold both of his across his chest. “She’s not -”
"Oh, hush." She chastises with a smirk, tucking white strands of her hair behind her ears. "Ya wanna be useful and grab us a fresh round of drinks then? Us gals are gonna get to know each other."
Rolling your shoulders, you glance up at John and nod before settling your eyes back on her. Your eyes track his movements toward the bar before you turn back with a raised brow. “Johnny asked me if I wanted to meet you. I could’ve said no.”
You reach for your glass without tearing your gaze from hers. “Jury’s still out on whether or not I regret that decision.”
Zed laughs, either impressed or unprepared for your immediate snark. “Oo little birdie, I like you. Ya got some bite. Reckon you put him in his place when he needs it.”
From where she’s sitting she can easily reach your face. She smirks as she runs her thumb along your cheek. “You lot just might last then. Longer than he and I did, anyhow.”
She glances down at your necklace with a curious expression. Her fingers hover over the stone, making you want to pull away. "Because let me tell you. John Constantine never gave me jewelry like that, that's for sure."
You suck in a quick breath as your brain catches up to her words. John and Zed dated? You want to think she’s just being antagonistic, but from the way he’s been acting in regard to her, they clearly have history. Why didn’t he say something?
“I didn’t know you dated John.” You try to keep your voice light, despite your mounting anxiety. “How long were the two of you, you know, together?”
“Oh, it was ages ago now and only a few months. I was fresh out of Uni and he was still with his rubbish band.” She laughs, finishing off her drink. “I was head over heels of course, but Johnny was never the relationship type. Barely called me his girlfriend. Screw ‘em and screw ‘em over; that’s his game. Until...”
You tilt your chin up in a mind gesture of defiance. “Until me.”
She raises an eyebrow speculatively. “Exactly. That's why I was so keen to meet you. See what was so special about this lass across the pond. The one who tamed John Constantine.”
You don’t rise to her taunt about taming him, that was never your intention. John knows you’ve never asked him to be anyone other than himself. You don’t need to justify that to her. “And did I live up to your expectations?” You ask, letting a hint of hostility creep into your voice.
She shifts in her seat, her face scrunched in contemplation. “I reckon so. Seems it’s not just your power he’s interested in.” She answers finally, leaning back to really look at you.
"I should hope not." You snap back, rolling your eyes. "Seeing as I couldn't even do magic when he first met me. Didn't even know it existed. I didn't learn until I blackmailed him into teaching me. After we started dating."
“Interesting.” Zed raises an eyebrow at your response. “You’re not what I expected, then. That’s good to know. Now listen lass, I don't say this as a bitter ex, so try not to take it as such, ey?”
You incline your head, attempting to keep an open mind despite the anger you feel blossoming in your chest. "Well, that depends on what you say."
“Leave him.” She warns quietly, glancing over your shoulder to make sure John isn't walking back over. “Johnny's mucking about with some dangerous shit. If he's not careful, and he never is, you're going to find yourself in a whole heap of trouble. Trust me, I’ve seen it. You seem like a nice lass, this isn’t something you want to get involved with.”
You hold up a hand to make her pause. “Zed, with all due respect to you and your gifts, you're not telling me anything I don't already know. Chas and I have had this conversation, ad nauseum. I’m not leaving him. I trust John with my life and that's not going to change.”
Zed’s face clouds over with worry. “It bloody well should. You don't know half of what he's done. He’ll use you and leave. I know from experience. You’ll have nothing; if you’re still alive, that is. He leaves a body count when he walks away, reckon I don’t want yours on my conscience.”
Now, she’s sounding like a bitter ex.
"You made it out alright." You point out, folding your arms across your chest. "And John’s not using me. I told you, I couldn’t do magic before him. He taught me everything. So, I’m sorry you had such a bad experience, but you were both young and John - "
Zed clicks her tongue as annoyance floods the darkness of her eyes. "Bollocks, you're a stubborn one. Do you have any idea how powerful you are, then? He'll use it to his advantage, he will. And leg it when the going gets too tough."
Narrowing your eyes, you push yourself up from the table. “You may have dated him, Zed, but that doesn't mean you can assume he's still the same man he was over a decade ago. You don’t know what he’s like with me. He hates it when I put myself in danger, when I’m reckless with my magic. John’s a good man, he wouldn’t hurt me."
Zed rolls her eyes as she audibly scoffs. You open your mouth to continue John’s defense when your phone buzzes in your pocket. You let it go to voicemail and glare down at her.
“You have a history with him. I get that.” You pull in a slow steadying breath. “But I love him and I know he loves me. So, if you thought you were gonna come here and plant doubt, you’ve got another thing coming. I can make an excuse for you and you can leave.”
“Do you know about Astra Logue, then?” She asks, taking you by surprise at the shift in conversation. “Has John told you about what happened to her?”
“Of course he has.” You push back. “I know every attempt he's made to save her has failed. And I know that it eats him up inside, living with the guilt of that little girl’s fate. If he’d let me, I’d help him find a way to save her. Or at least help to get her soul out of Hell. Nice try though.”
Zed lifts her hands in surrender. “Bloody hell. Reckon I can see why John chose you. You’re fiery and don’t put up with any rubbish. I won’t push, and I do have information for you both about your little problem. Didn't cross the ocean for nothing. Just consider yourself warned, eh? Then my conscious is clear.”
“Duly noted and consider yourself off the hook. I don’t do anything I don’t want to.” Your phone buzzes again and this time, you pull it out. There’s two missed calls from Charlotte. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to take this.” You step away from the table with a tight smile.
John’s walking over as you hit send on your phone. “Five minutes.” You mouth, shaking your head and pointing to the door. He nods at you as you head outside.
***
“Impressive.” Zed leans back, folding her arms across her chest. She mirrors your stance from earlier, only she’s filled with reluctant respect instead of defensiveness. “Chas was right then. That girl is more than meets the eye, ain’t she?”
John slides into his seat, eyeing her warily. “She is.” He responds, tightly gripping his whiskey glass. “So you’ve met her, what did you need to tell me?”
She shakes her head. “I could’ve told you in a phone call, but I reckon this is an in person bit of news.” John furrows his brow as he tilts his head. “I’ve got unsavory contacts, same as you. They’re just more willing to chat with little ol’ me. I don’t send ‘em back when I’m done; live and let live, ey?”
The uncomfortable feeling that’s resided in John’s stomach since you first told him Morgan cornered you in your office, rears its ugly head. Morgan was too skilled with magic; knew too much to just be a pathetic sycophant clutching at some low level demon’s skirt for a hint of power.
Zed confirms his thoughts with her next words. “Anyway, one of the bottom feeders owed me a favor and I cashed it in. Your problem is about to get bigger, Johnny. Ezra Morgan doesn’t exist because he isn't a bloody human. The wanker’s a demon; goes by the name of Beroul. Apparently, a real upstart in Hell; high ranking, friendly with them if you catch my drift.”
John’s jaw ticks angrily, he knows them. And he knew there was more to the puzzle. A missing piece that he couldn’t quite figure out.
“What in the bloody hell does he want then?” He asks, knowing the answer before she says it. His soul. Beroul wants his soul.
John had sold it, years ago, in a bid to save Astra. He’d failed and all he’d managed to do was piss off them, the Triumvirate. Made up of the three most formidable beings in all the Underworld, the Triumvirate ruled over Hell with an iron first. Any deals, any favors? It all went through them.
Belial, Beelzebub, and Lucifer each laid claim to the ownership of John's soul. He had tricked them into betting against each other; something he knew they hadn't forgotten and knew meant that he was in for an eternity of torture from whoever got their claws in him first.
This Beroul was clearly trying to help one of them along.
Once Zed confirms it, John asks if she’s told you this. When she shakes her head, John makes her swear to keep her trap shut. “She doesn’t need to know this bugger’s reasoning. We’ll take him out and if I can keep her in the dark about my soul, then bob’s your uncle, ey? She’ll go mental if she finds out that bit.”
“Don’t you trust her? She’s awful protective of you then, isn’t she? And she’s no bloody idea how much you’re planning to hide from her, how much you’re already hiding from her.”
She gestures toward her own chest. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that stone hanging round her neck, ya sneaky bastard. She knows about Astra, but doesn’t know what that thing can do, does she?”
He glances over her shoulder towards the door. “Zed.” He warns as he settles his hostel gaze back on her. “Don’t you bloody start, of course I trust her. I don’t trust myself not to allow her to pay for my mistakes.”
“I ain’t starting nothing.” She laughs, raising her hands in surrender for the second time tonight. “You’re the one who stuck a Pearl of Hades around that girl’s neck. You’re still doing it, ain’t ya, looking into New Castle? That’s a treacherous road and you damn well know that. Especially now, with this demon on your heels.”
John shifts uncomfortably, but remains otherwise silent.
“So, I’m right. She doesn’t know then, does she?” Zed leans forward, eyes narrowed. “I bloody well warned her that you’re meddling in dangerous shit. Told her she should run before -”
“You what?” He hisses angrily. “The less she knows, the better. I don’t fancy involving her in any of that rubbish. She isn’t a part of it and I don’t want her to get hurt. It's bad enough that she even knows about Astra. Lord knows I didn't want to tell her."
Zed downs the last of John’s drink. “Then why’d you give her the bloody necklace then? Bollocks, you involved her in all this the moment you took an interest in her.”
She sets the glass on the table and rolls her eyes. “And I already bloody warned ya, I saw it. You keep at this, you’ll get her killed. Just like -”
“I won’t.” John growls, cutting her off. “Your visions aren’t always accurate, are they? She's different. She’s been fearless in the face of what we’ve already gone up against. Trust me when I tell you, she can hold her own.”
At the angry expression on Zed’s face, John sighs and scrubs a hand down his own. "This has nothing to do with her. I gave her the necklace because I reckoned she’d keep it safe for me. And if I can help it, she won’t have to face the consequences of my actions. But I have to do this, don’t you get that? What happened to Astra was my fault. I need to right what I cocked up.”
Zed’s expression softens as she leans back in the booth. “Johnny, you’re gonna get so deep in that hole, it’ll destroy ya. And your girl, no matter what you say.”
“You said it, didn’t you? I’m a sneaky tosser. We’ll be fine. And should anything happen to me, it’ll be no less than what I bloody deserve for what I’ve done.”
Her hand reaches out to cover his on the table. "Ya don’t mean that. You’re a tosser, sure. And I reckon ya don’t care much for anyone, yourself included, but you care about her, don’t ya? Imagine what your lovely lass would think if she heard ya talking like that.”
John gives her a soft smile. “She bloody well has already and believe it or not, she still wants me. Reckon I don’t know how a git like me got so jammy.” He stares down at Zed’s hand before lifting his gaze to meet her eyes. “So you understand why I can’t tell her, why I don’t want to involve her. I don’t want to lose her.”
Zed squints her eyes at John as if she’s trying to see something just under the surface. The way he’s talking sounds like he has real feelings for you. And that worries her. “You reckon lying to her is the smartest decision?”
“If it keeps her safe?” John raises his eyebrows. “Absolutely.”
Zed runs her fingers over the back of John’s hand. “And her power has nothing to do with it then?” She asks, skeptically. “Because the safest thing for her would be for you to leg it across the pond.”
“I bloody well know that. But I’m strong enough to keep her safe.” It’s the same lie he told himself in the beginning; that he could protect her from the ghosts of his past. If he keeps saying, eventually, he’ll believe it.
“And she’s got no idea how powerful she is.” He admits. “No clue who she is and I reckon unless her folks tell her, she won’t know. She doesn’t need another target on her back. Being with me is enough. I'll not damn her by letting her get caught up in the middle.”
Zed rolls her eyes, but wisely doesn’t argue. John’s not wrong. She knows she’s one of the lucky ones; leaving John meant leaving alive.
But from the way you spoke about him; the defensive stand you took in regards to Zed’s pushing, she can’t help but feel you won’t be as lucky. Her visions are rarely wrong.
“Do you love her, then?” Zed asks softly, glancing up to see you weaving back through the crowded restaurant. “Truly love her?”
John leans back, pulling his hand away to fold his arms across his chest. “Aye.” He smiles then; it pulls tightly at his lips. “More than I bloody well planned to.”
“Then whether you planned it or not,” Zed meets your eyes as you approach, lowering her voice carefully. “She’s already damned, Johnny.”
***
Charlotte’s mom died when she was five; breast cancer that was found too late to do anything about it. She doesn’t remember much of her, but Ray’s always managed to keep the memory of Elizabeth DuCaine alive. He never remarried, claiming that he had had his great love; he didn’t need to find another.
With the cancer that had taken Charlotte’s mom being hereditary, she took it upon herself to be proactive. She didn’t want to ever succumb to the same fate as Elizabeth; didn’t want to watch her father lose another girl he loved.
Charlotte went for screenings twice a year, and as requested, she always called you with the results. It was always an anxious week for her, waiting, and if you could’ve been down there for her, you would’ve. This time, she’s the same age her mom was when she died.
After apologizing for not answering right away, you’d listened intently as she gave you the good news that the doctor’s had found nothing out of the ordinary. Charlotte was healthy as can be. You’d told her you knew she’d be alright and you both seemed to let out the breaths you were holding.
After catching up for a bit, you’d told her that you couldn’t wait to see her in a few weeks and then you’d celebrate the news, as well as her birthday, in style. You’d exchanged ‘I love you’s’ and hung up the phone.
You’d been grateful for the distraction away from your current situation. You don’t know what it is, but you don’t like Zed. She may have had real feelings for John once, but they’ve twisted into something bitter and rotten. And from the way she tried to turn you against him, you just don’t trust her intentions.
As you walk closer, you can see John in deep conversation with her. You freeze, feet from the table, and narrow your eyes when her hand covers his. Jealousy stirs in your stomach, hot and sour, when John’s face softens into an affectionate expression.
He doesn’t pull his hand away and somehow that infuriates you; he clearly has no idea the awful things she was saying about him. Zed runs her fingers over the back of his hand and you resist the urge to rush over and tear hers away. Instead, you grit your teeth and calmly walk to the table.
You reach them as Zed meets your eyes over John’s shoulder. Her gaze is almost sympathetic as you slide in next to him. Their conversation stopped as soon as you got there, making you quirk an eyebrow.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt the two of you.” You gesture back and forth. “Please, don’t stop on my account.”
John lifts his arm so you can slip under it. “Who gave you a bell, then?” He asks instead. “Not work, I hope. Can’t bloody well let you have the night to yourself, eh?”
Shaking your head, you reach for your glass; your fingers moving carefully around the condensation beading on the outside. “No, it was Charlotte. I’ll tell you about it later.” You take a deliberate sip. “What were you talking about? It looked important.”
John blows out a slow breath. “Oh, nothing for you to worry yourself with, luv.” When you shift out from under his arm, he raises an eyebrow in confusion.
“Yeah, Johnny and I were just reminiscing about the good old days, sweetheart.” Zed offers with a condescending smile. “Put it outta ya mind.”
Your lip curls in disgust at her use of John’s term of endearment for you. “Yeah, don’t call me that.” You snap, sitting ramrod straight as you eye her up and down with disapproval. “I’m not your sweetheart.”
***
At first, John didn’t understand why you’d come back to the table so annoyed. He thought maybe work was giving you a hard time about the exhibit; they were already trying to push the opening date.
But now he understands your clenched jaw and stiffened spine. The way you’re staring at Zed with narrowed eyes, like she’s kicked a bloody puppy.
You’re jealous.
You had to have seen the way Zed grabbed John’s hand across the table. Couple that with the soft look the two of them exchanged as you were walking over? It must’ve sparked irrational jealousy in you.
John knows he should immediately assure you that you’ve nothing to worry about. Zed’s softness only existed because she was listening to John speak about you. But he’s never seen you jealous and annoyed like this. It stirs something in his gut that he wasn’t prepared for.
And at his core, John’s a devious bastard. He can’t deny how much he fancies the thought of you being jealous of an old girlfriend. No matter how baseless it is. What’s the harm in playing right into this and seeing what happens?
***
“Come on, luv.” John grins, not taking your anger seriously. “Don’t take that tone now, Zed’s just being chummy.” You huff out an annoyed sound and glare in Zed’s direction. Deliberately, you wrap your arm around John’s and rest your head on his shoulder.
“Didn’t mean any offense.” She agrees, glancing between the two of you. “Just trying to break the tension, you seemed downright cross about something.”
John moves his free hand to grab for his empty glass; his fingers grazing hers as he pulls it to him. “She’s got quite a temper in her, don’t you, pet?” He murmurs a spell that refills his drink and takes a sip as he leans back.
“You should see her when we’re working a job; something gets in my face, and she’s quick to take it out. Zero hesitation.”
“Well,” you shrug casually as you meet Zed’s eyes. “I’m not afraid to eliminate a threat when I see one. I cover your back, the same way you cover mine.”
Zed’s lips twitch playfully. “Reckon I wouldn’t fancy being on the receiving end of one of your spells then, little birdie.”
You raise your eyebrow as she does; both of you understanding the true context of the conversation you’re having. “No, you wouldn’t.”
John doesn’t seem to notice the shift in your tone, or in the way you keep moving your body to remain in contact with him the rest of the night. He seems oblivious to the fact that anytime he touches her arm and laughs at anything Zed’s said, you simmer with jealousy.
Logically, you’re a thousand times more rational than this. You love watching John flirt; it's harmless and grounded in the fact that he’d never go home with anyone but you.
But he had something with Zed and no matter the fact that it only lasted a few months, she had real feelings for him. And with the way she spoke to you earlier? You want to whisk him out of here and away from her.
You’re overreacting, you know that. And you know you gave John shit for getting unnecessarily jealous over Eric, but you can't help it. Can’t help this feeling. Watching him flirt with an old girlfriend, no matter what happened between them, just hits differently. She’s pretty, and knew about his life long before you did.
With a soft huff of annoyance, you understand why John got so insecure around Eric. Because it’s how you feel right now.
***
At the end of the night, John pays the bill and guides the two of you out of the bar. Your patience snaps when he leans over to kiss her cheek as she says goodbye to both of you. Ignoring her, you all but drag him toward where you parked.
John quirks his brow as you slide into the driver’s side of the car. “What’s gotten into you tonight, sweet’eart?” He asks, twisting his lips into a slow, wolfish grin. “You all but pounced on Zed when you got back to the table.”
“Because when you asked me to meet an old friend,” you answer, with a tight edge to your voice. “You didn’t tell me she was an old girlfriend.”
John runs a hand through his already messy hair as you turn onto the main road. “Didn’t reckon I had to. We’re not together anymore and it was ages ago, really. Nothing for you to worry yourself with.”
He turns slightly, tilting his head in question. “You’re not jealous of Zed, are you, pet?”
“Of course not.” You switch lanes, paying close attention to the road. Almost too much attention; focusing on anything else instead of how hot your cheeks feel right now. “Why would you think that?”
“Because you were all over me, from the moment you sat back down to when you dragged me to the bloody car.” He rests a hand on your upper thigh and you quickly glance down at it. “If I’d’ve known it was this easy to get you all possessive and jealous, you would’ve met her sooner.”
You turn onto your road and what he’s just said processes through your mind. “Excuse me? You were trying to make me jealous?” You whip into your parking spot and turn off the engine.
“And possessive.” John grins, opening the door. “And you didn’t disappoint.”
Slamming the car door, you sigh in disbelief. You almost shout at him that you can’t believe he’d do something like this. But, somehow this is exactly the type of shit he’d pull. You’re just angry that you didn’t catch onto it sooner.
“What the Hell is wrong with you?” You hiss, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”
John starts to walk over to you, still wearing the same stupid, smug grin on his face. Ignoring him, you go around the back of the car to head toward the entrance. He calls your first name, asking you to wait, and you don’t. You hurry up the steps and unlock your door.
As you’re slamming it shut, John stops the door with a wave of his hand. “Come on, luv. Don’t be like that.”
You whirl around to face him as he locks the door. “Don't be like what? Angry that you purposely tried to make me jealous or annoyed that once I was, you let it go on all goddamn night?”
John reaches for you, running his fingers down your arms. Easily, he spins you so you’re pressed against the wall and he’s leaning over you.
“I get that you’re cross.” He says, lifting your chin so you’ll meet his eyes. “But sweet’eart, I’ve never seen you react like that when I flirt. It wasn’t my intention but, it was bloody well more attractive than I reckoned it should be. You didn't let go of me all night.”
John’s eyes flash with lust as you watch him. “What's a bloke supposed to do when a gorgeous lass can't keep her hands off you? You were possessive, and bloody hell it was something.”
He shrugs, letting his hand fall to the side. “You know that my heart belongs to you, I just fancied watching you show her the rest of me did too.”
You tilt your head as you stare at him. Before you even realize what’s happening, you push yourself up on your tiptoes and kiss him. Damn it, John. He’s literally the most frustrating man you’ve ever met. Only he would make you jealous as some weird type of foreplay.
You wonder what that says about you that it works.
Your hands wrap around the back of his neck as you use your hips to push the both of you away from the wall. John groans as your tongue slips into his mouth. You know he wasn’t expecting you to take the lead, you’ve never wanted to. You both prefer it when he is. But tonight? Tonight is different.
Tonight you’re going to show John that he’s yours, just as much as you’re his.
Pulling away, you break the kiss and walk him backward toward the dining room chairs. You make quick work of his coat, tugging him out of it and tossing it on the couch.
“Sit.” You order, pushing him into the chair. He crashes down, lust filled eyes attempting to filter through the haze and make sense of what you’re doing.
You undo his tie and pull it out from under his collar. “Do you trust me?” You ask him, unbuttoning the top of your dress with your free hand. After he lifts his gaze from the lace of your bra, he swallows hard and nods. You lift the tie into the air and smirk.
“Inhebeo.” You murmur and watch with hungry eyes as the tie moves on its own and snakes around the back of the chair. The spell forces John’s hands behind his back and lashes them together, trapping him where he sits.
John quirks an eyebrow and attempts to shift, his grin faltering when he discovers just how secure his restraints are. “Where’d you learn that?” He asks, his voice shaky and rough at the same time.
“Shh.” You press your lips to John’s quickly to silence him. Your fingers reach into his hair and tug his head up. “You’re not in control tonight, Johnny. I am. You’re mine. So no talking, unless you’re begging me for me to go easy on you. And with the way you acted tonight, I don't think you deserve that.”
John shivers and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. When he opens them again, the dark of his eyes are blown wide with arousal. You hadn’t been sure that this was something he’d go for; but from the erection tenting in his dress pants, you know you made the right call.
Slowly, you sink to your knees in front of him and gently palm him through the fabric. You meet his eyes as you slowly undo his belt and unzip his pants. Pulling down his briefs, his cock springs free. He’s already leaking as you wrap your hand around the base.
“You thought that you'd get me all possessive and I’d do nothing about it?” John bucks his hips, making you tut softly. “Come on, Johnny. I learned all my best tricks from you. You’ve brought this on yourself.”
At once, you take him into your mouth and run the flat of your tongue along the underside of his cock. You hum your approval and see John’s arms straining against their bonds from the corner of your eye. You pull back with an audible pop and rest on your heels.
There’s something to be said for this; the way he’s starting to unravel under your touch. The way he can’t seem to get words out when he’s normally so skilled with them, the way he’s shaking and sweating from just your mouth on him. You understand why John loves control the way he does; it’s a heady feeling.
Maintaining eye contact, you swirl your tongue around the tip, teasing him until his shoulders are pulling and his breathing comes out ragged.
You take him back into your mouth, twisting your hand around the base in time with the movements of your tongue. You swallow and John's hips push upwards, making you choke. It’s a move you expect from him; you both like it. But he's trying to regain control and that’s not going to happen.
He doesn’t get to lead in this, he’s yours tonight. Not the other way around. You quite enjoy having him at your mercy for once.
“Bloody hell,” he lets out a low groan. “You’re playing a dangerous game, pet. When I get untied, I swear -”
You pull back again with a grin. “You swear what, exactly? Because from where I am, Johnny, I have you right where I want you.”
As his eyes lock with yours, his coffee eyes flash in warning. You’re playing with fire, you know that. But you also know that if John really wanted to, he could untie himself and get free. He’s enjoying this as much as you are.
Descending again, you swirl your tongue around the tip before hollowing your cheeks and sucking. John's head falls back as his hips move up to thrust into your mouth. You raise an eyebrow and press your palm flat against his thigh to hold him in place.
You know from your teasing just how on edge he is, so you pick up speed and push yourself down as far as you can. You gag around him, making a show of looking up to see if he’s watching you.
He is. His dark eyes are unable to tear themselves away from the way yours are watering.
When you feel his cock twitch in warning, you pull off and lean back. You squeeze the base of his cock, strangling his impending orgasm with a satisfied expression on your face. John's hips jerk and he whines at the sudden loss of contact.
“Wha- don’t bloody stop!” His chest is heaving and on his face is a mottled mix of desperation and confusion. “Just what in the bloody hell are you trying to do me?” He grinds out, shaking his head. “Don’t leave me like this. You want me to beg, sweet’eart? I’ll beg.”
Pushing yourself up to your feet, you slowly lift your dress and you hook your fingers into the waistband of your panties. “This is what happens when you purposely try to frustrate and make me jealous.” Sliding them to the floor, you step out and toss the fabric onto his lap. “I return the favor.”
“Where are you going?” John asks, struggling in the chair. “My bloody hands are tied behind my back. How do you expect me to -”
“You have magic.” You shrug, your foot hovering on the bottom step. “Figure it out, I’ll be waiting upstairs.”
***
John pounces on you when you go to open your bedroom door. One hand snakes around your waist as the other wraps around your neck.
“You’re a naughty thing, ain’t ya? Thinking you could turn the tables on Johnny like that.” He chuckles in your ear when you gasp in his grip. “Now, I’ve got you where I want you.”
He tilts your head back, letting it fall against his chest. “So you do. Like we both want.” You shiver when John moves his hand from your waist and slips under the lace of your bra. “But you can’t fault me for trying to get one up on you for that stunt in the restaurant.”
“Seems we know how to push each other’s buttons then, ey?” John moves your head to the side and presses a kiss to your jaw. “Though I didn’t anticipate enjoying you taking the reins like you did. Brilliant job with that spell, luv; took me a second to work it out.”
You twist around to face him, a small pout playing on your lips. “You know, I could’ve left you stuck down there. I should’ve -”
He silences you with a kiss and backs you against the wall, mirroring his play from earlier tonight. You allow him to take control easily; his mouth moving against yours with aggressive purpose. You may have had fun taking control for a bit, but this is where you and John both prefer you to be; surrendering to him, at his mercy.
You chase his lips when he eventually leans back. “Told you, sweet’eart." He smirks dangerously. "I didn’t reckon I could find you getting possessive over me so bloody well attractive. But I do.”
One hand rests against the wall as his other hand moves along your collarbone. “So how about I make it up to you, and promise never to pull a stunt like that again?”
Your lips twist into a smirk as you stare up at him. “You better.” Matching your grin, John gestures to the bedroom and swats your ass when you walk in.
***
You’re thoroughly distracted the rest of the night and don’t even realize until hours later that neither of you have talked about what Zed told him. You roll over in the bed and watch him sleep. It couldn’t have been anything too important, you’ll just ask him about it in the morning.
If it was important, then John would have made a point to tell you the second you got in the car. He wouldn’t keep something big from you; especially if it affected you as well as him. Not now, not that you’re certain he trusts you.
Notes:
There's a time and a place for the subby!John. I like to make him pop up from time to time :) And I think you properly put him in his place, until he got the upper hand of course. And who saw that twist about Morgan coming? Cause this bastard is definitely playing the long game here. It's shame John didn't tell you... Hope this doesn't bite him in the ass...
Next week: You and Charlotte get up close and personal with a not sober Nicky and that spells danger for both of you. Eric and John are almost too late. Almost.
'Til then...
Chapter 36: A dangerous mentality.
Summary:
You and Charlotte get up close and personal with a not sober Nicky and that spells danger for both of you. Eric and John are almost too late. Almost. In the aftermath, Charlotte's reaction to the situation calls into question her previous relationship, making you, John, and Eric worry about the things she doesn't tell you.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
With some careful negotiating, Charlotte’s able to fly up for the weekend of her birthday. Something she was afraid she wouldn't be able to do on short notice. You and Eric had both wanted to fly down, but he found it impossible to take the time off. Charlotte agreed it was just easier to fly up, having already secured the time.
That Friday morning, you pick her up at the airport and treat her to lunch and a spa day while the boys are each at their respective jobs. John’s sitting in on a possession consultation at the church and Eric’s on the day shift. Both will get back to his place by about seven, giving you and your best friend plenty of time to catch up and just relax.
After your massage, the two of you languidly climb into your car so you can head to Eric’s. “I’m going to get myself one of those every month.” Charlotte vows, settling into the seat with a smile. “I get so damn tense lately with all my workload.”
“Ya know,” you grin, pulling out onto the street. “It’s not a bad idea. Between the museum and all the side work I do with John, I’m tense and exhausted all the time. Not that I’m complaining, I’ve gotten pretty damn good, but it’s like juggling two full time jobs.”
Charlotte bites the edge of her thumb as she watches you. “We haven’t talked about John all day.” She points out carefully. “Now, either you’re having so much fun with me that you plumb forgot or you’ve purposely avoided the subject. How are things?”
“No, no. Char, everything’s fine between us.” You assure her, giving her a half hearted smile. “There's just been a lot going on and I try to separate myself from it all when I can."
When she silently lifts an eyebrow, you lean your head back and sigh. "I told you about Morgan, right? He’s left the board. It’s like he's just a memory; the guy took a long sabbatical and they’ve already replaced him. One of John’s colleagues tried to track him down and I’m telling you, nothing.”
You shrug absently, your fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “I used to get this weird, I don't know, almost comforting feeling from knowing he’d be at the museum. Like if we knew where he’d be, he couldn’t sneak up and hurt us.”
Charlotte nods, adjusting herself in the passenger seat so she can face you. With another sigh, you continue. “Now with him gone, I’m afraid he’s just going to jump out and stab me when I’m alone. John’s just as nervous; he’d prefer it if I just up and left myself, but until my work with magic is steadier, I want to keep busy. He hates that he can’t be around me all the time.”
Charlotte pulls her lower lip between her teeth; you can see her mind working to decide whether or not to voice her opinion. You let out an annoyed sigh; from the look on her face, she's been holding out on you. “You know something, don’t you?”
She nods slowly, glancing down at her hands. “You remember a few months back? I uh, I cornered John; we had words about how little I trusted him. I made him promise that he’d keep you safe if he refused to fuck off. One thing led to another and he let it slip that you’d gotten hurt. That Morgan had gotten his hands on you and he almost…”
She stares up at you with worry in the dark espresso of her eyes. “I was furious and John kinda freaked out when I accused him of not doing everything in his power to protect you.”
You tilt your head in confusion. “What do you mean, freaked out?”
“Well,” Charlotte shrugs. “I kept pushing him, telling him that he obviously didn't care about you and I don’t remember exactly what I said that did it, but he snapped at me. Told me if it had been anyone else, he would've just fired at Morgan and been done with it. But he wouldn’t risk hurting you, sugar. He couldn’t.”
She absently twirls the end of her ponytail around her finger. “In that moment, I could see it on his face; John does love you. Don’t think he’s ever loved someone this much and that scares him. Scares me too.”
Her lips twist into an amused smirk. “You couldn’t fall in love with an accountant, huh? Historian, maybe? Had to go for the dangerous exorcist?”
“Says the girl in love with the homicide detective.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly, but your mind is reeling. That must’ve been New Years Eve; you remember them coming back to the booth with almost a reluctant respect for each other. John had assured you both that he wasn’t going anywhere. Now, you understand why.
Charlotte laughs and settles back against the seat. “Guess we both have things for dangerous men. It’s fine. We can handle them. Ain’t that right, sugar?”
Her expression turns shrewd, worry clouding her soft features. “But I just worry about when John thinks he’s got no other choice. What happens to you then?”
“It won’t come to that.” You say softly, pulling into an open spot. “I’m strong enough to defend myself. And John, if he needs it. I’ve done it before.”
Charlotte nods before squeezing your hand on the gear shift. “I hope so, sugar. Don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”
***
While waiting for the boys, Charlotte decides to take a quick shower. “It’s going to be a comfy kinda night,” she announces as she heads into the bathroom with pjs and a towel. “Hope John brought a change of clothes.”
You roll your eyes as you text him, thanking him for picking up the pizza, and head over to the bar to make you and Charlotte a drink. You hear the door click behind you as you’re pouring your mixture into a glass. “You're a little early. Char’s in the shower.”
Before you can spin around, strong arms encircle your waist. You relax into John's touch, content and safe in his arms. “Sorry sweetheart, I thought you were Eric. Did he give you a key? You want me to -”
A deep chuckle in your ear makes you freeze; your blood pulses through your veins like ice water. You glance down, eyes narrowing at the signet ring on his left pinky, and realize a second too late that the arms around you aren’t John’s.
They’re Dominick’s.
“Make me a drink?” He finishes for you, nuzzling into your neck. “How kind of you, kitten. Then I’ve got somethin’ for you to put in your mouth.”
His proximity makes your skin crawl, but you’ve got to think quickly. If you make a scene, Charlotte will come running and you don’t want Dominick to have any reason to stay.
You drop your glass and immediately move your hands to pry his from off of you. “Nicky, get off - How… how did you even get in?” He doesn’t answer, only tightens his grip. “Nicky, let go of me.”
“Little brother has the best scotch.” He murmurs in your ear, his smug voice full of amusement. “He’s got our family’s taste for expensive liquor, but he never quite got the hang of women though, did he? That stripper, the southern slut he’s bangin’, and you.”
You scratch at his arm and Dominick moves a hand up to squeeze your jaw in warning. “Careful now, you know I’ve got a temper.” He laughs when your fingers uncurl from around his wrist. “Eric never knew how to break you. But I know I can.”
Fear roots you in place; snaking down your spine and coiling in your stomach until it threatens to spill out of you. “Nicky.” You whisper, raising your hands in surrender. “You shouldn’t be here. Please, let go of me. Go before Eric gets home. I won't even tell him you were here.”
“Come on, babydoll.” Dominick grinds his hips against your ass. “Don’t be like that. We practically grew up together, you don’t get to tell me no. I mean, you certainly didn’t push me off right away, so obviously ya not as disinterested as ya lettin’ on.”
“You’re disgusting, Nicky.” You hiss angrily, attempting to turn around. “I didn’t know it was you. I’d never cheat on John.”
Dominick steps backward, dragging you with him towards the couch. “You tell yaself that. Meantime, come over and sit on Daddy’s lap, let me show ya what a real man feels like.”
Disgust rolls off of you in waves and before you can stop yourself, your eyes narrow and “no, you keep telling yourself that” comes out of your mouth.
He stops and whirls you around to face him. “You don’t tell me no, kitten.” He growls, his lips twisting into a sneer. “Not like I take that for an answer anyway.”
Now that you’re facing him, you take all of him in. His dress shirt is untucked from his pants and wrinkled all over. There’s a glassiness in the blue of his eyes that sends fresh fear down your spine. Whether he’s drunk or he’s high, you can’t tell.
But he’s clearly not sober and an impaired Dominick Grant spells trouble for you and possibly for Charlotte. You need to do something to get him out of here. You need to be better, think quicker before -
“Who the fuck are you?” Charlotte asks from the hallway. “And why are your hands on her?”
Dominick grins, like a kid on Christmas morning, as he grabs your arm, turning you as he does. One arm traps both of yours by your side as the other grabs the back of your neck. It’s a warning, to you and to her. Behave, I have the power here.
“I’m Dominick.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “Everyone calls me Nicky. But you, sweet thing, can call me Sir. Or Daddy. Whatever gets ya panties wet.”
Charlotte, clad in pjs with water still dripping from her hair, folds her arms as she steps closer to the two of you. “The only thing I’m gonna call you is an asshole. Why are you in my boyfriend’s house?”
“Oh, so you’re the southern slut my baby brother’s bangin’?”
Your head snaps back as you violently attempt to wrestle out of his grip. “Nicky, don’t you fucking -”
Dominick quickly covers your mouth with his free hand. “Shh, baby. You’ll get a turn, but Daddy’s talkin’ right now.”
“Let go of her, this fucking instant.” Charlotte snaps, narrowing her eyes. “Dominick? You’re Eric’s brother? Yeah, I know you’re not welcome here.”
Her eyes flicker to yours; she can see just how afraid of Dominick you are when he grinds into you again and you shudder. “You best get outta here before you do something stupid.”
“Baby, this party's just gettin’ started. Maybe I underestimated my little brother. He’s not so innocent, not so fuckin’ perfect. Maybe he could handle this one, but he wanted more, huh?”
He hums lecherously, the sound making you shiver. “Look at you, and that damn mouth. He might know a thing or two after all.”
Charlotte closes the distance, her eyes narrowed furiously. You can’t recall the last time you saw her this livid, not even with John.
“Clearly,” she snaps, “neither of us want you here, I damn well know Eric doesn’t. And I, for one, am not gonna stand for you acting like a misogynistic pig and speaking to us like that. Now let her go and get the fuck out.”
Dominick shoves you away from him, the force of it knocking you to the ground. He stalks toward Charlotte and she instinctively backs away from him. “Oh baby,” he sneers, looking her up and down. “I don’t need you to stand. I think kneelin’ will suit you just fine.”
Despite Charlotte’s eyes widening at the comment, she stands her ground. “Fuck off.”
“Char,” you warn quietly, scrambling to your feet. “Please, don’t make him angry.” You know she has absolutely no idea why you’ve turned into a terrified caricature of yourself, but the last thing you want to do is give Dominick cause to escalate. It doesn’t take much.
“Oh no, sweet thing. Keep goin’. I love a girl with some fight in her. My brother and I must have that in common.” He glances back at you and despite his smile, you can hear the aggression underneath the veneer of amusement. “He doesn’t have it in him to break ‘em down, make them good girls. But I do.”
Charlotte laughs, actually laughs, and steps until she’s inches from Dominick’s chest. “No, you fucking don’t. I can’t imagine that any woman would have the good sense to want to sleep with you. Your brother is the best man I’ve ever met and after spending five minutes with you, I can see why he’s kept you away from me.”
“Keep tellin’ me no, babydoll. Ya gonna get Daddy nice and hard.” Dominick grabs his crotch, making Charlotte scoff in disgust. “Then one of you’s gonna have to do somethin’ about that.”
You know you should do something. Say something. Charlotte shouldn’t have to fend Nicky off on her own. But you can’t make your heartbeat stop thudding in your chest or make your throat work to form a damn spell.
You’ve squared off against demons and ghosts, even Sam fucking Campbell. But you just can’t get past your irrational fear of Eric’s older brother.
Charlotte nods slightly as her eyes reassuringly meet yours. She rises to her full height and shoves him hard with the flat of her palms. “You’re disgusting. Now, I’m not gonna say this again, Dominick. Get away from her, from me. Get out.”
Dominick grins down at her, his hands grabbing her wrists tightly. “Why the hell should I? If ya both here, my brother must have one Hell of a night planned. Maybe I wanna stay and watch.”
Something in you clicks into place the second he puts his hands on Charlotte. Manhandling you is one thing, but you’ll be damned if he touches your best friend. Your feet take you across the room before you realize it. “Nicky, leave. No one fucking wants you here.”
“She’s right.” Charlotte grins, nodding at you. “Let go of me and leave, before we fucking make you.”
No. Charlotte, no. Let me handle this.
Dominick twists, with Charlotte still in his grip. “I’d love to see you fucking try.” He growls into her ear, using one of his hands to hold both of hers down against her stomach. “Either of you think you can go up against me? That I’d let you tell me no? That by the time I’m done, you’d be in any condition to?”
When he raises his voice in mounting anger, Charlotte visibly flinches. The girl’s fearless; seeing her like this sets you on edge. You’re sure it’s from how aggressive Dominick’s become, but it turns your stomach just the same.
You want to blast the son of a bitch across the room. But with Charlotte that close, you’re afraid of hitting her should you attempt to do anything. “Nicky, don’t do something you’re gonna regret.” You warn him, stepping closer. “Let Charlotte go, get the fuck out.”
“No, I don’t think I will. So, here’s what's gonna happen now.” He hisses, walking forward with Charlotte still trapped in his grip. “You talk a big game, little girl. All fiery and full of anger,” he growls into her ear. “But I think when it comes down to it, ya just as much of a pushover as she is.”
Dominick lifts his head in your direction. “And you, babydoll, ya gonna do whatever I say. Because baby brother isn’t home to interrupt us again and you don’t want anythin’ to happen to ya sweet little friend here. Cause I wanna rip her apart. Then I’ll come for you, make ya forget how useless ya boyfriend is.”
Charlotte’s face twists furiously. “You slimy son of a b-”
Dominick cuts off her insult by clamping his free hand over her mouth. The size of his hand allows his pinky to curl under her jaw and tilt her head back. “Shhh. That pretty mouth of yours is gonna have a much better use in a minute, but I got no need for it right now.”
When your back hits the wall, you swallow hard and glare up into his icy eyes. You can’t bear to see the wild, frightened look in Charlotte’s. It’s too much like your own. “Nicky, please. Eric will be home any minute. You don’t want to do this.”
“Yeah, I fuckin’ do.” The hand holding Charlotte down moves quickly, grabbing at your jaw. “The two of you are gonna be a shit ton of fun.”
Now that her arms are free, Charlotte’s hands fly up to pry his from her mouth. Your eyes flick to your hands, praying that she understands what you’re going to attempt to do. Nodding, she twists to the left, just as you’re about to push an energy blast out towards Dominick.
The front door opens and you freeze.
Dominick’s mouth twists into a gleeful smile. He turns, keeping one hand secured over Charlotte’s mouth and the other moving quickly to your hair.
“Hey, little brother.” He smirks, chuckling as Eric’s brow furrows in confusion. “Ya know, if you were gonna have a party, ya coulda invited me. I can get my hands on the good shit and my girls know not to tell me no.”
Eric recovers quickly, his hands moving to his hip as he fully steps into the living room. “What the fuck are ya doin’ here?” His eyes dart to you and Charlotte. “Let go of them, Dominick.” He orders, his voice low and deadly. “Now.”
He’s furious; you can see it in his eyes, narrowed into icy slits. “Ya not welcome in my house and ya clearly high on somethin’. I’m a fuckin’ cop, ya idiot. What did you think was gonna happen here, huh?”
“Not a damn thing.” Dominick answers, stepping away from the wall with both you and Charlotte. “Cause we both know you aren’t gonna arrest me, little brother. It would break ma’s heart. And these two were gonna show me a good time; they were practically beggin’ for it.”
Despite her words coming out muffled, you can hear Charlotte growl “fuck you” as she tries to scratch Dominick’s hand away.
His fingers keep a vice-like grip at the base of your skull, despite your own trying to pull them away. “We wouldn’t touch you,” you hiss angrily, “if you were the last fucking man -”
Dominick violently shakes his fist in your hair, stopping you mid sentence. “Shut ya mouth, kitten. Deep down, you’ve always wanted all of this.”
Eric’s eyes narrow furiously. “Promise ya, she doesn't. Let go of ‘em. I’m not gonna ask ya again.”
“You won’t have to, mate.” John cuts in, tossing the pizza box on the table as he storms in. His furious eyes scan the situation as he lifts his hands offensively. “Because if this wanker doesn’t step off, he’s going to bloody regret it.”
Dominick nudges his head towards John, a vicious smile on his face. “Ya finally puttin’ all that money to good use? Got yaself a ‘propa butla’ to do ya dirty work.”
John scoffs at Dominick’s fake accent as the dark of his eyes begin to brighten. You shake your head slightly, moving your hands from your hair to in front of you to make him pause. No, you try to tell him. Not here. Not in front of Eric.
John narrows his eyes as he pulls in a steadying breath. Good, he understands. His hands fall to his sides as he, too, shakes his head slowly.
You know he’s not pleased, but you can't risk using magic in front of Eric. You don't want to mess with his memory or have to use it on him so he doesn’t find out what you can do.
“I’m not the bloody butler. I’m with her, the lass you’re assaulting.” John slowly steps until he’s side by side with Eric. “Now, I’ve no reason to be as chummy as Eric’s been. Let the ladies go or I’ll knock you on your arse.”
Dominick makes a show of rolling his eyes. “So, you’re the boyfriend, huh?” He looks John over with obvious disdain. “Couldn’t nail a Grant, so ya the best she could do? Not impressed. And neither is she. Clearly.”
He tilts his head toward you. “Cause ya certainly didn’t push me off right away, now did ya, kitten? If you really wanted me to get off, ya should’ve let me first. I mean, the best way to get ovah someone, is to get under someone else.”
He grins viciously when John’s eyes narrow. “Honestly buddy, are you not properly takin’ care of our girl here? From what Sammy’s told me, you knew how to put her in her place. But if you aren’t doin’ it right, I’m more than willin’. Wouldn't be the first - ”
“Enough.” John sees the panic mingling with disgust on your face. “She’s not yours.” He snarls, cutting Dominick off and taking a step forward. “Now, I reckon you’ve said quite enough, mate.”
“You’re insane.” You twist your head to face him. “I’m not your girl. I’ve never wanted you, Nicky. I had no idea it was you, I thought you were John. You disgust -”
When Dominick yanks your head back angrily, you’re forced to cut yourself off as a pained whimper slips out. Charlotte uses that moment to back kick him in the shin. He shifts, letting go of you to shove you away and in the moment of confusion Charlotte bites down on his hand.
“You fuckin’ bitch.” He howls, stumbling backward. “Ya gonna pay for that.”
“No, she’s not.” Eric snaps, reaching out to pull Charlotte to safety. “Get the fuck out.” He wraps his arm around her just as John reaches you. You bury your head in his chest, mumbling your apologies.
“You don’t have to apologize or explain yourself, luv.” John assures you, guiding you to stand behind him. Normally, you’d want to stand right next to him, but your heart’s still racing and if you balled your fists, you’re sure they’d be shaking.
John squeezes your hand and nods at Eric. “Now listen well, dick. Eric here has made it plain as day that he wants you gone. You’ve put your hands on his girl and mine. I reckon you don't understand the concept of no, but if you don’t get out of here, you’re going to understand the concept of getting your bloody arse kicked.”
Dominick steps forward, his eyes darting between the four of you before settling on his brother. “You gonna let some British asshole speak to me that way? Ya own flesh and blood? Ya family?”
“Yeah, I fuckin’ am.” Eric says, moving Charlotte behind him. “Because I completely agree with him. Ya may be my flesh and blood Nicky, but ya sure as shit not family.”
“And he is?” Dominick asks incredulously. “C’mon, he’s probably only fuckin’ her for the green card.”
Before you can open your mouth, John’s flipped Dominick off. “Sod off, ya bloody prick.”
Dominick leans in until he’s right in John’s face. “Talk to me like that again and I promise, you’ll never get back to the country, never get to touch her again. I’ll make sure of it. Ya got that?”
Quickly, you step in front, putting yourself between the other three and Dominick. “You’re the fucking asshole, you know that? Don’t you dare threaten him.”
“I’m a lawyer, connard. And a damn good one. I’d never let that happen.” Charlotte jumps in, surprising you by how quickly she comes to John’s defense.
“Neither would I.” Eric swears, pulling Charlotte back behind him. “So it’s up to you, Nick. You can walk away. I don’t wanna arrest ya, but I will.”
“Wanna bet?” Dominick shoves you out of the way, making you stumble. When you throw your hands out to catch yourself on the back of the couch, things escalate quickly.
Dominick's fist goes flying, heading straight for Eric. John throws his arm up, stopping the brunette from hitting his brother. He feigns to the left and comes back with an uppercut.
The blow hits Dominick’s jaw; while he staggers back for a second, he recovers quickly and swings his fist at John's face. Eric cuts in, shoving John out of the way, as Charlotte scrambles over to you.
“You alright?” You ask her softly, your wild eyes staring into hers. “I’m sorry I didn’t... I was... I wanted to -”
"It's alright, sugar." She assures you, squeezing your hand. "He got the upper hand with both of us."
You both turn, horror on both your faces as Dominick swings and hits Eric square in the mouth. Eric’s always been faster, but Dominick has the strength behind him to win. He wipes his lip, glaring at his older brother when his fingers come away red.
John’s picking himself off the floor as Dominick uses Eric’s slowed reaction time to reach for his gun. “Eric!” you shout, lunging forward. “Your gun!” He twists away to the side, just as his brother's fingers graze the grip of his firearm.
“Don’t fucking move.” Patrick’s voice from the doorway stops everything. “Touch that gun and I will shoot.” He stalks forward, his weapon drawn and pointed at Dominick.
Dominick lifts his hands, a bored expression on his face. Patrick hauls him to his feet with one hand and grabs his cuffs with the other. Securing Dominick’s hands behind his back, he glances at Eric quickly, seeking approval to continue with the arrest.
“Yeah, go ahead Paddy, get him outta here.” Eric growls, pushing himself to his feet as he wipes more blood from his lip. Patrick nods, reading Dominick his rights as he drags him outside.
“Johnny, ya good?” He asks, holding out a hand to help him up. “Thanks for backin’ me up, buddy.”
“Of course, mate. Don’t worry about me, reckon I’ll live. But I wasn’t about to let him keep his hands on them.” John grimaces, wiping blood from his own mouth, before turning to face you and Charlotte.
“Are you lot alright, then?” His eyes soften when he sees how shaken the both of you are. “What exactly happened here?”
Charlotte sinks onto the couch, dragging you with her. She lets out a heavy sigh as her hands run through her hair. “I was in the shower; I heard yelling and when I came out to check, that prick had his hands all over her.”
“He came in and I was making drinks. He put his arms around me and for a minute, I… I thought he was you, Johnny.” You cut in quickly, staring down at your hands. “I tried to push him off the second I realized...”
“I know, sweet’eart.” John waves away your worry with a tight smile. “Put it outta your mind. That bloody wanker is to blame for this mess. Not you.”
“I agree with John.” Charlotte comments, suppressing a shudder. “Your brother is a pig, chere. I mean, if you hadn’t come home when you did…”
Eric visibly shudders. “Did he hurt ya?” He asks warily. “Either of you?”
“Not really.” You offer, suppressing a shudder of your own. “I’m just glad you came in when you did. I wasn’t expecting him, scared the shit outta me and when he grabbed Charlotte, she flinch-”
Charlotte glances at you quickly. “He didn’t hurt us, just frightened the hell out of us.” She squeezes your hand. “Y’all warned me, but I had no idea just how plumb awful Dominick was.”
Eric opens his mouth to agree when Patrick walks back through the open door. “Sorry to interrupt. Uni’s here, they wanna grab everyone’s statements. If you ladies are up for that?”
You move to stand, but Charlotte beats you to it. “I’ll go, Paddy.” She offers. “Anything to put that shithead in a cell for the night.” She stops at the doorway, slipping into her sneakers and follows Patrick towards the waiting officer.
Eric turns to go with her and you ask him to wait. With a raised eyebrow, he tilts his head towards you. “You alright, fella?”
“Yeah, it’s just… After we’ve all given our statements, and it’s just the two of you, check on Charlotte for me?” Even John furrows his brow at that. “She held her own against Nicky, we both did. But at one point, when he’d grabbed her, he was getting pretty aggressive. He yelled Eric, and she flinched like -”
You pause, unsure of how to phrase your concern so it won't make Eric upset.
“Like she's used to something worse coming after?" John offers, settling beside you on the couch. You nod in response.
Eric rubs his beard anxiously, seemingly lost in thought. “Ya know… That’s not the first time she’s flinched like that.” He chews his bottom lip for a moment. “Few months back, we had an argument about Hugh. Ya remember when he came up here and tailed me and Paddy?”
“Yeah?”
He shrugs, sitting on the edge of the couch. “We had words after she picked me up. She was pissed that I’d gone to Ray first, instead of talkin’ to her. I didn’t get why she was reactin’ like that and after goin’ round and round, I’d finally just had it. So, I’m not proud of it, but I slammed the drawer shut and yelled. She flinched hard, shut right down and I swear it, kid… The fight was over so fast.”
John furrows his brow and rests a careful hand on your knee. “Sweet’eart, you knew him. Did Lottie’s ex… Do you reckon he hit her, then?”
You glance between Eric’s concerned face and John’s tense expression. “Hugh was a prick, and I mean, they fought sometimes. But he adored her.” You chew the edge of your thumb as you think on it.
“I… I never saw him get physical with her. I’d seen marks on her, but Charli always told me it was from rough sex. I had no reason to think she was lying. I mean, if he was really hurting her, she would have told me.”
You shrug helplessly. “And I don’t think she wouldn’t have stayed in an abusive relationship.”
“Did ya ever say anythin’ when they fought?” Eric asks, glancing over his shoulder. “Like ask her if Hugh was -”
“Of course I did, Eric. Come on, she’s my best friend.” You fold your arms across your chest defensively. “And I got in Hugh’s face every time he raised his voice. He hated me for it, but I just hated him in general, so.”
Sagging against John, you let out a shuddery breath. “And don’t you think if I knew something was happening, that I wouldn’t have done something about it?” You glance over at Eric’s face. “Just promise me that you’ll check in on her, make sure she’s alright. Maybe she’d be comfortable talking to you?”
You shrug again and give him a tight smile. “Cause seeing her panic like that tonight, on top of trying to deal with my own? It was, it was too much like when I had to square off with Sam. Your brother needs to be... I don't know, Eric, put away."
Eric runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Yeah, I know, kid. I’m sorry. I didn’t know Nicky had a key. Christ, I didn’t know he was even still in town. He was high outta his mind, you two should never have had to deal with that.”
John clears his throat as he pushes himself to his feet. “You’re right, they shouldn’t’ve. Because I reckon that’s a different sort of dangerous, innit? Now, you asked if he’d hurt either of them… You reckon he would?”
Eric shrugs as he rises and starts to pace. “He’s a dick and I really can’t stand the guy, but I’d like to hope that he really wouldn't have done anythin’. I can’t imagine that sober, he’d risk jail time.”
You suppress a shiver, knowing full well what Dominick’s capable of. What he would’ve done if given the chance.
“You hope,” you say, soft and unsteady. “But you don’t know for sure. He assaulted both me and Charlotte. What would've happened if he’d gotten your gun, Eric? If Paddy hadn’t been there?”
Eric pauses, his face twisted with worry. “I dunno, kid. I don’t fuckin’ know.”
“Good thing your partner arrived then, eh? And stepped in before we had a real row. Saved all our skins. So why don’t you tend to your girl, mate.” John suggests, inclining his head toward the door. “While I see to it that mine is alright.”
Eric spares a quick, sympathetic glance in your direction. “Fella, ya gonna be okay?” You nod, in no way willing to let him see just how not alright you actually are. “Alright. I’ll send Paddy back when he’s ready for ya statement.”
You’re silent, a frozen pillar of anxiety, until Eric shuts the front door. Once he’s gone, you sag back against the cushions and close your eyes tightly. “I’m sorry, Johnny.” You say softly, afraid of how disappointed he must be in you that you didn’t use your magic to fight off Eric's brother.
“I should’ve stopped Nicky before things escalated. I just… I froze. And when I could fight, I was afraid of hitting Charli. I couldn’t risk it.”
The cushion next to you dips with John’s weight and his arms are around you in seconds. The comforting strength of him surrounds you and while you don’t want to, a few tears slip down your cheeks. You press your face to his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat until he speaks.
“Look at me, sweet’eart.” John orders softly. With a small sniffle, you obediently lift your head and meet his dark eyes. “You’ve not a bloody thing to apologize for. I reckon I know a thing or two about not risking the life of someone you care for. And the bastard took you both by surprise, so I’ll not fault you for freezing.”
You shake your head in frustration. “I know but, Johnny, you’ve taught me that freezing like that gets you killed. With everything I know how to do, I should’ve knocked him out the second I realized he wasn’t you.”
“Aye, freezing like that can get you killed, luv.” John agrees, pushing your hair from your face. “But I reckon you did what you had to to stay safe. Sometimes playing dead, keeps you breathing. And in that moment, if that was the best option, then -”
“But -”
John raises an eyebrow. “No but’s, you listen to me. You grew up with the wanker, ey?” You nod slowly. “So, you’ve got some kind of history and you know better than Lottie, the kind of bloke he is.” You nod again. John’s got no idea the history you have with Nicky. No one does. And if you’re honest with yourself, you still aren’t exactly sure what happened that night. There are parts that are still fuzzy. You only know that you absolutely do not trust him and it's dangerous to be alone with him.
“Then sweet’eart, I reckon, if he’s as nasty a git now as he was then, you did alright.” He grins as he cups your cheek. “Don’t beat yourself up. That type of behavior is reserved for Ol’ Johnny. Can’t have both of us acting like that, now can we? We’d get nothing done.”
Rolling your eyes, you playfully shove his shoulder. But his understanding puts you more at ease than you expected. You’d been worried that John would be frustrated that you’d done nothing; that you’d allowed Nicky to hurt you and Charlotte the way he had.
“I should’ve blown him up.” You laugh softly. “But then there’d be so many questions to answer -”
“Plus a load of bloody paperwork to fill out.” John finishes with a grin. “It’d be a ruddy mess. And neither of us want to deal with that.”
You smile up at him, knowing that his humor has calmed your erratic heartbeat. “Thanks, Johnny.” You lean over and kiss his cheek.
He doesn’t ask for what, he doesn’t have to. He just wraps his arm around you as your head leans against his shoulder. “Anytime, sweet’eart.”
***
After you’ve gone out and given your statement, Patrick walks you back inside. “Not that we aren’t grateful,” you remark, opening the door. “Cause, we are. But what made you come back?”
Patrick gestures to the coffee table and the cake now sitting on it. “Eric forgot Charlotte’s cake. The boy can remember countless case numbers, directions all over the city. But a cake in the backseat? That escapes him.”
You roll your eyes and let out a small giggle. “Yeah, well pick your battles with Eric. And I for one am real grateful he forgot.”
“Same here.” Charlotte says, pressing a wet cloth to Eric’s split lip. “Paddy, you had great timing.”
“I reckon I agree, Detective MacDermot.” John agrees, crossing his leg over his knee on the couch. “Bloody well perfect, mate.”
“It’s Paddy, please.” Patrick smirks. “You’ve been around long enough; no need for formalities.” He glances around, meeting your eyes, then Charlotte’s. “Dominick’s going to spend the night in holding. You can decide what you want to do in the morning. I’d get some rest if I were you. It’s been quite a night.”
Eric pulls the cloth away from his lip with a groan. “Yeah, I’m gonna have to tell my ma about this. Before Nicky does.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m gonna go call my dad and warn him that Charlotte and I are headin’ over. See if he can lessen the blow before we get there.”
“You ladies will be alright?” Patrick asks, grabbing his jacket from the chair. When you both nod, he gives you a tight smile and makes his exit.
“Do you think Linda’s going to hate us?” Charlotte asks, an undercurrent of nervousness in her voice. “Cause we know she’s got a soft spot for that connard.”
“My ma could never hate either of ya.” Eric calls out as he walks back from his room. “Just lemme get outta this suit and we can get goin’. Not how you wanted to spend ya evenin’, honey, I know. So, we can try and make it quick.”
You, Charlotte and John can’t help but stare as he shrugs out of his suit jacket. “Bloody hell.” John swears, raising his eyebrows in surprise.
Eric’s bulletproof vest, previously hidden by his buttoned navy suit jacket, is on full display. His white dress shirt is still splattered with his blood on the collar, but the whole view is wonderful.
“What?” He asks, hands smoothing over the front of the vest. “Still got blood on me or somethin’?”
“Uh mate,” John stammers. “Don’t reckon I’ve had the pleasure of seeing you in that vest.”
You and Charlotte answer in unison, matching grins plastered on your faces. “I have.”
Eric stares down at it and shrugs. “Sorry, I completely forgot I had it on. It got crazy with Nicky and ya know, I never took that damn thing off.” He starts pulling at the velcro. “It looks a little intimidatin’, lemme just -”
“Oh no, mate.” John lifts a hand to make him stop. “Reckon you don’t have to take it off.”
Charlotte grins in John’s direction. “You know, chere. I have to agree with John. I need to get dressed anyway, what’s the harm in leaving it on for a few more minutes?”
Eric narrows his eyes in bewildered amusement. You’re sure he’s coming to his own conclusions as to why no one wants him to take the vest off. He turns his gaze to you. “Kid, ya awful quiet over there. Penny for ya thoughts?”
Shit. “Uhhh, I mean. You could keep it on for a few. For uh…”
“For science.” Charlotte pipes up with a soft laugh.
Eric sighs, velcroing it back in place. “For science. Right. Well, since I’m doin’ this for all of ya, can I at least get a beer while you throw clothes on? It’s been a Hell of a night.”
John grins, rising to his feet before either you or Charlotte can react. “You keep that vest on, big man,” he laughs, walking to the kitchen. “You can have any bloody thing you fancy.”
***
After Charlotte's gotten herself changed, she lets out a soft sigh and glances around the living room. “Where’ve the boys gone off to?” She asks, reaching down to slip on her shoes.
“Eric went outside to start the Explorer.” You grab your coat off the couch. “John too.” Opening the front door, you turn back to her with a serious expression. “Char?” She lifts her head in question. “You sure you're alright?”
“Of course I am.” She answers, her face a mask of calm. “Why wouldn't I be? Are you okay? That bastard gave you a hell of a scare. And some of the things he was saying to you -”
“Nicky is the worst kind of asshole.” You cut her off. “He doesn't think anything he does is wrong.” You follow her out the door and into the elevator. “He's entitled and arrogant; that mentality is dangerous when you’ve got the mean streak that he has.”
“Yeah, I completely understand that.” Charlotte nods chewing on her thumb nail. Before you step out, she gently grabs the sleeve of your coat. “Sugar, if something happened in the past that made you afraid of him, you’d tell me right?”
“I could say the same thing to you.” You point out, walking in tandem towards the door as she knits her brows in confusion. She turns and points out that while this time may have been frightening, she’s not scared of Dominick Grant.
"Not who I was talking about.” You mutter under your breath. She doesn't hear you, only hums low in the back of your throat as she pushes open the outside door. “What?" You ask, peering around her shoulder. All you can see is John coming up the steps.
Stepping in front of Charlotte, you watch her pull her lower lip between her teeth. “Merde.” She murmurs appreciatively. “I didn't know I found that attractive.”
John whistles as he grins up at you. “Neither did I, I’d reckon. But here we are, ain’t we?”
When he nods back toward Eric, your eyes follow him. Eric’s leaning against the Explorer, cell phone pressed to his ear and a lit cigarette between his lips. He’s smoking furiously in between arguing on the phone.
You raise an eyebrow at John and then at Charlotte. “Yeah, I knew that that was attractive. Why do you think I really don't give you shit for smoking, Johnny?”
He gives you a cocky grin, he wraps an arm around both of you. “I reckoned you’d just accepted all of Johnny’s quirks.”
“Like talking about yourself in the third person?” Charlotte laughs. John rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to respond when Eric calls from the bottom of the steps. The three of you glance at him, all of you confused by the anger on his face.
“What’s wrong, chere?” Charlotte asks, slipping out from under John’s arm.
“One of Nicky’s buddies fuckin’ called Linda.” Eric swears, running his hand down his beard anxiously. “My dad’s tryin’ to cool her off. But she wanted to go right down to the station and bail him out. We gotta get goin’ before she drives down here. He told her I fuckin’ started it.”
You hurry down the steps as John reaches into his pocket for a cigarette. “We’ll follow, right behind you. Reckon you’ll need all the help you can get.” No one argues the fact, not even Charlotte. But you notice that she smiles appreciatively in John’s direction as she climbs into Eric’s passenger seat.
“We could still blow him up.” John suggests, after a few minutes of driving. “Fuck the bloody paperwork, honestly.” He grins, flicking ash from his cigarette out the window.
“We’ll see how this goes.” You say, leaning your head back against the seat. “But I’m not saying no.”
Notes:
Nicky is the worst kind of dangerous. And it makes sense that he and Sam are friends. This won't be the last time we see him; I couldn't make it that easy for us.
I'm trying something a little different- giving y'all an excerpt from next chapter. Cause it's a another intense one. Morgan decides that he's had enough time to plan. He finally makes a move.
Next week:
As you’re finally packing up your laptop and paperwork, you see your phone light up on the top of your bag. Hurrying over, you slide to answer when you see Eric’s name and photo. “Hey,” you greet happily. “What’s up?”“The detective should really know better than to walk around the city alone and unarmed. Just anyone with a little bit of magic could pluck him right off the street.” Morgan chuckles and the sound sends shivers down your spine. “He’d be rendered helpless, completely unable to defend himself.”
Your heart leaps into your throat as your fingers grip the phone. Nonono. “Ezra.” You whisper, fear reducing your voice to nothing. “Please don’t hurt him.”
Morgan tsks in faux sympathy. “I told you that you couldn’t protect him forever. Now look what you’ve done, you’ve gotten him killed.”
Let's hope nothing happens to him... or to you...
Chapter 37: A clever ruse.
Summary:
Morgan finally makes a move against you and John, but he has more than a few tricks up his sleeve... Turns out, so do you..
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Despite solid protest from his brother, Dominick manages to weasel his way out of any real consequences. He doesn’t even spend the full night in jail. You didn’t think he would, but there was still a small part of you that hoped he’d finally bitten off more than he could chew.
Once Eric and Charlotte have convinced Linda not to freak out, his parents follow them down to the station. By the time they get there, with you and John right behind them, Dominick’s already smooth talked his way out and is chatting with one of his lawyer friends.
Yours and Charlotte’s versions of events line up with Dominick’s in the fact that yes, he came at you both. But according to him, he’s the victim here. He took something that had unintended side effects; he was blameless, out of control.
The tale he’s spun is something; he admits to drug use and the fact that it’s gotten out of hand. But assuming that no one is going to press charges, which he says while looking right at you and Charlotte, he intends to go right into rehab. He convinces Linda that he’d never act so aggressive or violent on his own.
That’s rich coming from him. Aggression and violence are the cornerstones of Dominick’s personality.
From the look on Linda’s face, you know she simply thinks Dominick is a good man who made a mistake. After watching the way she reacts to what he’s saying, you and Charlotte agree; despite wanting to, pressing charges would only create drama in a family you both care about.
Eric and John are annoyed by your collective decision; you can see it in the way Eric’s jaw is set and in the way John’s smoking through silk cuts one after the other.
While Charlotte says goodbye to Tommy and Linda, you try to explain to Eric that you don’t want to start a fight. But he throws his hands up and steps away just the same. You jog after him as he walks towards the car. “Eric!” You call after him. “Wait! You don’t understand.”
Eric spins on his heel; eyes narrowed furiously, hands resting on his hips. “Kid, ya know he’s not gonna fuckin’ go to rehab. He does this every time he gets in trouble, he cries to Linda and he gets away with it. C’mon, ya smarter than this.”
You stop inches from him, with John right behind you, your arms folded defensively against your chest. “You think I don’t know that? That Charlotte doesn’t know that? Because trust us, we do. But we refuse to wage a war with your brother.”
“What do you mean by that, luv?” John asks, touching the sleeve of your dress so you’ll spin around to face him. “Wage a war?”
“She means that making a move on Dominick, no matter how much he deserves it, is a non starter. Eric’s mama doesn’t see what kind of a man her oldest is. It would fracture their families." Charlotte folds her arms and leans against your side. “And neither of us are willing to do that.”
Eric’s face softens instantly. “Honey, my ma would get over it and my dad already thinks Nicky’s an ass. Ya wouldn’t be startin’ anything. You’d be finishin’ it.”
“Eric’s right, Lottie.” John adds, stubbing out a cigarette under his shoe. “That wanker deserves to have the bloody book thrown at him.”
“We don’t disagree with you, but y’all need to respect our decision.” She begs, glancing between him and John. “He is an ass, but he didn’t hurt either one of us. Not really. He just gave us a good scare.”
Eric narrows his eyes; he doesn't believe a word of that lie. “You and I uphold the law for a livin’.” He protests, meeting Charlotte’s gaze. “And if we don’t take him down, who’s gonna have the balls? Guys like my brother get away with murder and it’s gotta stop.”
Charlotte leans away from you and crosses the small distance quickly. “You’re right, chere. Dominick will get his, but I won’t break your mama’s heart like that.”
“Neither will I.” You agree, ignoring the frustration on Eric’s face.
John shakes his head, but doesn’t press either of you. He knows you don’t change your mind once it’s made up. He’s seen that first hand.
“Listen, mate,” he offers in an attempt to lessen the mounting tension. “It’s been a bugger of a night. I reckon we could still salvage it if you’re up for a pint or three? Cause I could use a bloody drink.”
“Only if ya buyin’.” Eric scrubs a hand down his face. “‘Cause that’s somethin’ I’d go for. I need more than a few damn drinks after this.”
John nods, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Aye, it’s on me. It’s about to be Lottie’s birthday in an hour anyway, innit?”
Charlotte grins for the first time all night. “You bet your British tush it is.” She turns to Eric and softly touches his arm. “Let’s drop off a car and make something of this almost ruined evening. Huh, chere?”
Eric tilts his head and smiles down at her. “Yeah, alright. I literally can’t say no to you. Especially on ya birthday.”
Charlotte beams at him and spins on her heel to face you. “Meet y’all back at Eric’s?”
***
“Thanks for backing me up.” Your lips twist into a small smile as you drive. “I get that you agree with Eric, and don’t get me wrong, I do too. It’s just…”
John exhales smoke out the open window while reaching for your hand and squeezing it. “You pick your battles, luv. Reckon I can understand that.”
He raises an eyebrow in contemplation. “Although, if the offer still stands to blow the tosser to Kingdom come, I’d be chuffed to take care of that for you. He’d never see Ol’ Johnny coming.”
“I appreciate you.” You laugh, turning the car down Eric’s side street. “I really, really do.”
John turns himself in the passenger seat, brow furrowing as he lets go to push up the sleeves of his trench coat. “Look, even if I don’t understand your reasons, I’ll always take your side, sweet’eart. You take mine all the bloody time, don’t you.”
Nodding, you slow the car to a stop and push the gearshift. In the soft light of the street lamp above you, John’s golden hair glistens like a halo on his head. His dark eyes smile when he stares at you, and the way your heart flutters at his words makes you realize how much you believe him.
Maybe you could explain to John about that night at the party. He was so understanding when you told him about Sam; he didn’t blame you, he took your side. So, even though your details of that night are fuzzy, John would finally understand why you really froze around Dominick and why, as much as you want to, you won’t press charges.
You tuck your hair behind your ear and glance down at your lap. “Johnny, I -”
Charlotte whips open the passenger door and leans in with a grin. “Boys in the back. I call shotgun.” At John’s scandalized expression, she lets out a loud giggle. “Come on, John, it is my birthday.”
“Yeah, alright, Lottie. Keep your hair on.” He starts to slide out of the passenger seat when he turns and tilts his head. “What were you going to say, luv?”
Anxiously, you run your fingers through your hair, eyes darting between John and Charlotte. “Nothing important.” You hear yourself lie. “Promise.”
John nods and obediently slides out, gesturing grandly to the front seat. Charlotte hops in with an exuberant smile. “Where to?” You ask, pushing down any lingering anxiety so she doesn't see it.
“Lottie’s choice.” John sighs dramatically, sliding into the back seat next to Eric. “It is her birthday. Just make sure the drinks are strong.”
***
About two months after Charlotte’s birthday and the incident with Eric’s brother, you and John are having dinner at a small restaurant just outside of the city. It’s been a good day; no demons, no life or death situation. It’s been easy to forget that there’s a dangerous threat looming over your heads.
The two of you have been talking about John’s upcoming travel plans. Chas asked the both of you to come down for his daughter’s birthday. With the new exhibit opening, and you running the show, you couldn’t go. But you wouldn’t let John back out.
“I wish you’d reconsider and just come with me.” He sighs, finishing off his beer. “We both know it’s not Ol’ Johnny that Chas wants to see and I reckon dealing with Renee alone is hazardous to my health.”
Rolling your eyes, you use your spoon to point at him. “Just be nice to her. Don’t blow anything up or start trouble and it’ll be fine. With the opening next week, I have to be here to make sure everything goes according to plan. You know I’d go if I could.”
John reaches across the table and snatches a tortilla off your plate. With a grin, he dips it into your chili and pops it into his mouth. “Reckon I only have myself to blame for you sticking steadfast to your work then.”
“Yep.” You grin at him. “That and if I up and quit, I’d have to explain to my kept-in-the-dark detective friend why I don’t need a full time job anymore. That raises questions you don’t want me to answer. Doesn’t it?”
Before John can come up with some smart ass reply, you push on. “Plus, how could you sneak all those artifacts you need for your spell work in and out if you didn’t have a way to go about undetected?”
“Ah, now you’ve figured me out, pet.” John teases, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms. “Buggering the boss does have it’s perks.”
Making a scandalized noise in the back of your throat, you turn your head playfully. With a chuckle, John carries on. “Don’t be cross now. We both know if I wanted into the archives, I’d be in. I just like seeing you work. You’re bloody talented at whatever you put your mind to.”
You narrow your eyes, but there’s no real anger in them. “So are you. Cause I was definitely about to get annoyed just now. Then you go and say something sweet, like the silver tongued devil you are.”
John shrugs, letting his eyes dart around for the waiter. “It’s a gift, luv. And I never hear your complaints about my tongue.”
He smirks when he catches you casting your head down; your face flushed and hot. “Bloody hell, sweet’eart. All the deviant things you let me do to you and something like that gets you all pink in the cheeks?”
“All those deviant things you do to me aren’t done in public.” You point out with a raised eyebrow.
John fiddles with the end of his tie before grinning up at you. “Alas, all Johnny’s bad influences and you still have some sense of propriety about you. Don’t reckon I know where it all went to pot.”
You pull your lower lip between your teeth. “No idea, huh?” Glancing at the crooked tie then back at his face, you slowly run your fingers along the collar of your dress. “If I had to guess, I’d say it was when you tied me -”
“Ah, ah.” John scolds you, his dark eyes flashing dangerously as he glances around. “Now which of us has the silver tongue, ey?”
You smile innocently as the waiter drops off the check. “I’ve said it before, I learned all my tricks from you, Johnny.”
Pulling cash from his wallet, John stands and steps close to you. “Aye, you did. Though sometimes, I reckon I’ve created a monster.”
You flash him a mischievous grin. “You love it.”
John smiles then, wide and genuine. “I do, sweet’eart. I bloody well do.”
***
The next morning, you push yourself up in bed as John’s toweling off from the shower. You chew on the edge of your thumb as you watch him, his muscles still glistening with lingering water as he moves. His skin may be covered with runes and scarring, but you know without a doubt he’s completely perfect to you.
He smirks when he catches you staring. “Enjoying the view?” He asks, tossing his towel onto your chair. When you nod, he reaches for his dress pants and rolls his eyes. “Got a bloody voyeur on my hands then.”
When you giggle, John smiles back then makes a serious face, his brow furrowing in concern. “You reckon you’ll be alright, luv? It’ll only be a few days, but -”
“Johnny,” you fold your arms across your chest as he buttons his pants. “I’ve been taking care of myself for almost three decades before you came along. I think I can manage a few days without John Constantine’s protection.”
John rolls his eyes and climbs onto the bed. “Oh, the cheek on you, luv.” He comments with a grin.
You scoot forward just a bit and pull your lower lip between your teeth. “Yup.” You shrug playfully. “Lucky for you, huh.”
He inches closer until you can feel his warm breath on your face. “Don’t you bloody start.” He warns, leaning back on his heels. “I’ve got a plane to catch.”
“Yes, you do.” You lift your chin defiantly. “So, you better get a move on.”
You let yourself be moved as his hands push you down. He straddles you, caging your arms on either side of your body with his thighs. “If you think I won’t put you in your place and still be on time for that bloody plane…”
You squirm underneath him, feeling rooted in place by his heavy stare. “I’m counting on it.” You whisper. Your breath hitches when he curls his fingers under your jaw and kisses you.
You try to shift and free your hands, but John only smirks against your mouth and tsks softly. “None of that, pet.” He growls, moving his free hand into your hair. “Now be a good girl and let Johnny have his wicked way with you.”
Your mouth runs dry as you swallow hard and meet his eyes; the dark amber in them barely visible as he stares at you. John’s fingers tighten in your hair, making him smirk and you gasp in surprise. His mouth claims yours a second time, earning your willing compliance.
When you break the kiss and John pulls away, you’re both a bit breathless. He slides back, allowing you the use of your hands. You rest them on his upper thighs and gently squeeze. “Hurry home, okay? I miss you already.”
John smiles softly and gently touches your cheek. “Aye. Now, you stay safe, sweet’eart. Don’t do anything reckless while I’m gone. Promise me, then?”
Scooting back, you sit up further and lean forward to wrap your arms around him. “I promise. I’ll be bored to tears 'til you get back. But you be careful, huh?”
He climbs off you, reaching for his shirt on the dresser. “Don’t worry, luv. I always am.”
***
You’re forced to break that promise the day before John’s due to come home.
It’s a busy day; back to back meetings with museum investors and hours spent pouring over finalized floor plans has left you longing for the comfort and quiet of home. The Peabody has been closed for a few hours; at this rate, you’ll be the last person to leave tonight.
As you’re finally packing up your laptop and paperwork, you see your phone light up on the top of your bag. Hurrying over, you slide to answer when you see Eric’s name and photo. “Hey,” you greet happily. “What’s up?”
“The detective should really know better than to walk around the city alone and unarmed. Just anyone with a little bit of magic could pluck him right off the street.”
Morgan chuckles and the sound sends shivers down your spine. “He’d be rendered helpless, completely unable to defend himself.”
Your heart leaps into your throat as your fingers grip the phone. Nonono. “Ezra.” You whisper, fear reducing your voice to nothing. “Please don’t hurt him.”
Morgan tsks in faux sympathy. “I told you that you couldn’t protect him forever. Now look what you’ve done, you’ve gotten him killed.”
You hear muffled shouting, like someone’s yelling through a gag. The voice is unmistakably Eric’s and the panic you can hear in his voice makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
Tears immediately well in your eyes. You should have known better; the quiet that you and John had experienced for the last few months was just Morgan’s way of lulling you into a false sense of security.
He was waiting, biding his time until you’d let your guard down. And you had. Now, whatever the cost, you can’t let Eric pay for your carelessness.
The room spins as your heart hammers in your chest. “Please, Ezra.” You beg, choking back a sob. “Eric’s not a part of this. He… He’s innocent. Just… Just let him go. I… I’ll do whatever you want.”
“There it is.” Morgan sighs. “Your compliance. The compliance I told you in the beginning you’d give me. I just had to find your weakness, force your hand. Now, I could be persuaded to let Detective Grant live, but you’re going to have to give me something in return.”
You swallow hard, blinking rapidly to clear the tears from your eyes. “What do you want?” You hiss, wiping your face with your free hand.
“You.” Comes his biting response. “I can’t touch the magician and he’s cloaked the two of you so well that I can’t track you down. But if you came to me? Well, my dear, that’s very different.”
Your eyes dart around the room, knowing full well there's nothing in your office that can help you. “If I… if I surrender, you’ll let Eric go? You’ll let him walk away, unharmed?”
“You have my word that the detective will be completely unharmed.” Morgan vows, venom dripping from his tone. “I’m going to text you an address, just outside the city. You have one hour. But if you arrive with backup, or if you tell Johnny what you’re doing, I’ll slit the detective’s throat. Do you understand me?”
Before you can respond, the line goes dead. The phone slips from your hands and lands on the floor near your foot. Your hands cover your mouth as you start to sob. How could you have let this happen? How can you live with yourself if anything happens to one of your best friends because of your mistake?
Your breath comes out quick and uneven. The buzz of the phone makes you glance down at the waiting text message. With shaking fingers, you reach down and pick it up.
Morgan’s sent you an address in Watertown. Glancing at the time, you know you can get there in twenty minutes. And do what, exactly? You’re strong, good at magic, but you’re not John.
All you know is you have to act quickly. Eric’s life depends on it.
As you hurry down the steps you decide to call Chas. Maybe he knows a spell strong enough to render Morgan useless. Or at least, he’ll have something you can use to better defend yourself. You can’t call John; you’re not sure how you know, but Morgan will find out if you do.
Chas picks up as you start your engine. “Hey, sunshine.” He answers, the warmth in his voice soothing your frayed nerves. “John leave his phone in the hotel?”
You shake your head and try to keep your voice even. “No, but listen, Chas, is John near you?”
“Uh, no, but you want me to get him? Hang on a -”
“No!” You shout, panic making your voice high and almost hysterical. “Please, don’t. Just listen, don't call him over. Please, Chas, please.”
His sharp intake of breath lets you know he understands your distress. “What’s wrong?” He asks urgently, all friendly pretense gone from his voice. “Are you in danger?”
Words spill from your mouth before you can make sense of them. “No. I don’t know. I need a spell, something strong enough to stop him. He has Eric and I.. I have to go, I'm sure it's a trap. Why wouldn’t it be? But I have to, I... I can’t let Eric die. I -”
“Sunshine, stop.” Chas firmly cuts you off. “Who’s got Eric? Morgan?”
A sob bubbles out of your chest. “Yes, I could hear him yelling. He sounded terrified. Morgan said if I surrendered, he’d let Eric go. That he... He had to do it this way, force my hand because John hid us too well.”
You blow through a red light without meaning to. “I have to do this, Chas. I… I have to save him.”
There’s a shuffling sound through the line. You’re about to hang up when you hear John ask for the phone. He must have heard everything. “Give us the phone, mate.” He orders quietly. “Let me speak to my girl.”
Shit.
“Sweet’eart, listen to me.” John murmurs, calm and steady. “Take a deep breath. Do not go to him alone. You have no idea what you’re up against. Wait for me and -”
You hastily wipe away the tears slipping down your cheeks. You want to wait for him, let him help you. But you can’t. Not if you want Eric to walk away from this. Morgan was very clear what would happen if you got help. And you don’t want the man you love to walk into a trap.
“No.” You shake your head. “Please, Johnny, you have to understand. If I involve you or… or if I wait, Morgan will kill… god, he’ll slit Eric’s throat.”
“And if you don’t bloody well wait for me,” John argues, letting panic creep into his voice. “That bastard will kill you.”
“I can defend myself.” You snap, turning onto a side street. “Eric can’t. Not against magic. I’m sorry, I… I shouldn’t have called. Stay away, Morgan’ll just use me to get to you. But I can stop him.”
“No! Sweet’eart, just think this through.” John shouts, slamming his hand onto something hard. “Bollocks, you don’t know what he is -”
Before he finishes his sentence, you’ve already hung up and tossed your phone onto the seat beside you. It was a mistake to call, you know that. Now that John knows, your fuck up will cost Eric his life.
Sure enough, your phone begins to incessantly buzz. Your eyes dart over to see John’s photo light up your screen. “I’m sorry, Johnny.” You whisper and press your foot down on the gas pedal. “I can’t wait, I’ll be fine.”
***
The address is an old mill building at the end of a dead end street. As you pull up to the imposing, decaying structure, you suppress a shudder. This is a trap, you’re sure of it. But you’re stronger than Morgan thinks and, after all, he’s just a man. You should be able to take him out.
With a slow, steadying breath, you shut off your engine and step out. You can do this. You can get Eric out of here and figure out a way to keep yourself from being the reason John gets killed.
After you’ve rolled up the sleeves of your jacket, you defensively position a hand in front of you. You don’t see any cars or signs of life, for that matter. Pulling your phone out, you see nine missed calls from John and a handful of texts. You don’t bother looking at them; they’d serve no purpose in steeling your nerves.
You push open the door and let your eyes dart around the open space. It’s dark and musty, filled with cobwebs and decaying furniture. Muffled yelling from above makes you hurry up the stairs you see down the hall. You have no idea what you’re going to do when you get up there, but all you can focus on is getting Eric out safely.
At the top of the step, you suck in a deep breath and glance down the darkened corridor. There’s no sense in trying for the element of surprise, you’re sure Morgan knows you’re here. “Where are you?” You shout, letting your voice echo in the darkness. “Come out and face me, you bastard!”
Morgan’s voice floods your very being, freezing you in place as he speaks. “You came alone. That was a smart decision, girl. Seems that while you’ve learned from the magician, you just might be smarter than he is.”
Whirling around, you search frantically for the source of the voice in the shadows. “Where. Are. You?” You grind out, fury coursing through your veins. “I’m here. Like you wanted. Let Eric go.”
Morgan lets out a deep, throaty chuckle and you spin around to find him leaning against the wall. His greying hair is longer now; it’s swept back and away from his face and given the rumpled appearance of his suit, he’s been in hiding this entire time.
You suppress the shiver that threatens to tear through you as he pushes himself up and bows. “Well done, my dear.” He smiles, all teeth and malice. “Right through here.”
He gestures toward the door to his left and you don’t hesitate. You take off running, pushing past him to get into the room. You stop quickly when you take in the sight before you.
Eric’s deep blue eyes are wide and terrified when they meet yours. He’s on the floor, hands cuffed tightly behind his back. A rag has been stuffed into his mouth and duct taped over, reducing him to muffled yelling. His plaid shirt’s ripped at the shoulder and he’s got the makings of a black eye blooming near his left cheekbone.
He shakes his head violently as you approach. “You’re alright.” You assure him, your trembling fingers working at removing the tape without pulling at his beard. “I know I have a lot to explain to you, but let me get you out of here first.” You toss the tape and the rag to the side. “I… I’m so sorry, Eric. I -”
“Behind you.” Eric says calmly, inclining his head over your shoulder. Tilting your head in confusion, you turn around only to be knocked to the ground by the back of Morgan’s hand. When you scramble upright and onto your knees, fresh panic washes over you.
Eric’s gone.
A hand fists in your hair and yanks your head back. “While I do love the theatrics, isn’t this easier?” Morgan questions, while hauling you to your feet.
“What did you do to Eric?” You growl, tugging and attempting to free yourself of his grip. “Where is he?”
“Was I mistaken?” He grins, tossing you back against the wall. “Perhaps you’re not as smart as I’d thought.”
By throwing your hands out behind you, you’re able to stop yourself from colliding with the concrete. “What the Hell are you talking about?” You hiss, rolling your shoulders back. “What did you do to him?”
Morgan folds his arms across his chest. “He was never here, you stupid girl.”
Your throat tightens as you try to catch your breath. “What? I… yes, he was. I just saw him. I...” Your eyes track to the spot where Eric was just kneeling, only moments ago. “What game are you playing?”
Morgan closes the distance between you, wrapping his slender fingers back in your hair. “Like I said, I enjoy the theatrics. You give up your life to save your friend’s and I use you to get to dear old Johnny. Except. The detective was never here. I merely made you think he was. I simply cut out the middle man, so to speak.”
He grins down at the horror written across your face. “This was simple, yet effective. You knew I’d harm the detective or that lawyer if given the chance. All I needed to do was supply a little sound effect and smoke, then you had the incentive to come right to me. It was child’s play, honestly and you walked right into it.”
Eric was never here, never in danger. Morgan tricked you into thinking he was. And you, like an idiot, fell for it. He knew you’d panic and do whatever you had to keep your friends alive. And what’s worse, he had to know you’d call for help despite the threat not to. So now, John is inevitably walking right into a trap that you helped lead him to.
Your hands fly up to pry him off you. When he doesn’t loosen his grip, you push your fingers against his chest and send out an energy blast. Morgan stumbles back, but doesn’t fall.
“You're dead.” You hiss furiously, throwing flame directly at his head. He opens his mouth, letting his jaw unhinge and devours what you’ve sent at him. You throw another, stronger flame, and this time he catches it and snuffs it out before it can do any damage.
“Ladies first.” He grins viciously, letting his eyes glow red. You shake your head, terror rooting you in place. Red eyes, supernaturally enhanced abilities. What the fuck?
Seeing the confusion on your face, Morgan tsks and folds his arms across his chest. “Oh, you’re in so far over your head, little girl. I’m going to take great pleasure watching you drown.”
You lean forward, resting your hands on your thighs and drag in a quick breath. You know he’s got magic, but even he shouldn’t be able to stop your onslaught the way he just did.
“What are you?” You ask, hating that your voice has gotten high and frightened. You’re afraid you know that answer, but you’ve never wanted to be wrong more than right now.
“That’s exactly the right question, dear girl.” Morgan smirks, lifting his hand. He flicks it toward you and you’re tossed against the wall like you’re made of paper and rendered still. “What am I indeed? Certainly not human.”
While you struggle to move, he tilts his head in contemplation. “I wonder if Johnny’s figured it out yet. Figured out why he can’t stop me. His little tricks didn’t work in the beginning. You see, he was only trying to track the creature. Not the demon who controlled it.”
“No.” If he wasn’t keeping you against the wall, your knees would’ve buckled. A demon? Dr. Morgan is a demon. You’d hoped he was just a human with an inflated ego. You didn’t want your suspicions to be correct. And now you know you’re completely screwed.
There’s no way John knew what he was up against. No way he’d figured it out or he would have done something about it. But as you glare at Morgan’s smug face, John’s words pass through your head. In your panic, you’d cut him off. But you process them clearly now. You don’t know what he is.
Did John know? And he’d kept it from you? The thought stings as it passes through your head. But as furious as you are, you don’t have time to deal with that right now. You can argue with John over the secrets he’s kept from you after you get yourself out of this mess.
Morgan steps close to you, curling his fingers under your jaw. “Oh, yes. The more powerful demons can control others, and leave Hell without needing to take on a host. I am one such demon. I was telling you the truth that day in your office. I was given a task by a very powerful group of entities. I want your boyfriend’s soul and if I deliver on my promise, I’ll be rewarded beyond my darkest dreams.”
He tightens his fingers until you whimper in pain. “But Johnny is rather difficult to trace. So, I needed to create a persona that would allow me to find him. It took some time, and I fell deep into this human existence. But eventually, I did find him. Though, I never intended to find something as sweet as you.”
He leans close and inhales deeply. “Lucifer’s crown, you smell delicious. Your fear is thick, yet you’re still defiant. I’m going to enjoy ripping you apart in front of your precious Johnny. Once you’ve played your part in all this, that is.”
Leaning back, his lips ghost along the shell of your ear. You squeeze your eyes shut and bite your lower lip to keep it from trembling. You wish to God you could run, do anything to get away from him.
“Now that you’ve come to me willingly,” he whispers, his breath hot on your ear. “His cloaking spells no longer work to hide you. Magic has such wonderful loopholes. I can make you do whatever I want and together, we’ll destroy him.”
“Fuck you.” You spit, hitting him in the cheek. “You’re gonna have to kill me before I ever help you.”
His hand slides down to your throat. “Not ideal, but that can be arranged." He grins as his fingers tighten, choking off your airway. "Letting John find your body will break him the same way, I suppose.”
Gasping at your sudden loss of air, you scratch and claw at his forearm in an attempt to loosen his grip. He only laughs and grins down at you like you’re a child he’s going to punish. He's much stronger than you anticipated; freeing yourself before you go out seems impossible and that terrifies you.
“Now, now.” He patronizes, running his fingers along your cheek with his free hand. “I thought you’d rather die than do as you’re told?” You try to argue with him, but with his right hand wrapped tightly around your throat, all that comes out is strained gasping.
He laughs, watching your face turn shades of red as you struggle to pull in air. “It would be so simple for me, you see.” He muses, digging his nails into your flesh. “If I squeezed just a little longer, cut off your air just a minute more, you’d be dead and Johnny would lose his fight. Just another casualty he wasn’t smart enough to save.”
Letting your hands drop, you manipulate your fingers to build a big enough energy blast before he succeeds in killing you. You pull all your energy into its creation, praying that it’s strong enough to save your life. The action leaves you feeling strangely calm and for a wild moment, you’re afraid of what you’re doing.
Your lungs are burning and the pressure in your head is making it hard to focus. Your vision is already starting to tunnel; the small bursts of air you’re dragging in aren’t enough to keep you awake for long. If this doesn’t work, you’re dead.
When you push the blast outward, you’re both shocked by how strong it is. Morgan releases you as he tumbles back. You crumble to the floor, coughing and sucking in as much air as your abused lungs will allow.
He glances down, mildly surprised to find black blood oozing from his side. “Clever girl, using soul magic.” He muses, falling down to his knees. “You are smarter than he is, but you’re not stronger. Not yet.”
You push yourself to your feet. Your legs are shaky, but you refuse to let him see your fear. This has gone on long enough; now that you know what he is, you know how to kill him. “I’m strong enough to send you back where you belong.” You snap, coughing to clear your raspy throat.
Raising both hands in front of you, you being to chant. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adoramus te."
Morgan shudders as the Rite of Exorcism rips through him. He attempts to stand, only to fall back down to his knees. When he hisses in pain, you think you may have done enough damage to defeat him. If you perform it one more time -
Your thoughts scatter when Morgan’s hand lashes out and a fresh wave of dark energy knocks you to the ground. He may be wounded, but he’s still stronger than you thought he’d be. Christ, what kind of a demon is he?
You throw another energy blast in Morgan’s direction, then another, using as much of your power as you can muster. You know if you keep doing this, you’ll end up too exhausted and drained to defend yourself again when he inevitably regains his strength.
As much as you want to finish him off, you’ve got to get out of here. If he gets his hands on you again, you won’t survive it.
One more blast knocks him to the ground and you don’t wait to see if he gets back up. You haul ass down the stairs and out of the building. As you start your car, you glance up toward the windows of the second floor. Morgan stands, eyes narrowed furiously as he clutches his side.
“This is the last time you get away from me, girl.” His voice echoes in your head, as clear as if he was sitting right next to you. “When I come for you again, you aren’t going to see me coming. You can’t hide from me now.”
You hold it together until you hit Boston’s city limits. Once you’re back in familiar territory, you pull into the first well lit parking lot you can find and completely break down.
That was too damn close. You went there, thinking that Morgan was completely human and the truth of what he was, the truth that you know John kept from you, almost got you killed. Did he not tell you because he didn’t think he could trust you with it? Or did he think he could handle it without involving you further?
Either way, you should have known.
You close your eyes and lean your head back against the seat, crying until your breathing evens out. Morgan said that since you’d willingly come to him, John’s cloaking spells wouldn’t work on you anymore. What if he really can make you do whatever he wants?
What if he tries to force you into hurting Eric, or Charlotte? What if he can make you hurt John? You know now that you’re not strong enough to do more than wound Morgan, or whatever his name really is. The realization of how helpless the situation seems, overwhelms you.
When you push yourself up in the driver’s seat, your body aches. Your shoulder’s sore from slamming it against the wall, and your throat burns when you swallow. But you need to make sure Eric’s safe before you can go home and tend to your wounds. With a deep breath, you pull out of the lot and head toward his apartment.
Once you pull up outside, you pull your phone from it’s forgotten spot in your pocket. It’s completely dead, something you never let happen. You sigh and lean over the steering wheel. From your vantage point, you do see Eric; he’s pacing back and forth in front of the window while animatedly talking on his phone.
He must be facetiming with Charlotte. As soon as you’re home, you’ll plug your phone in and call both of them. Just to check in. They don’t need to know what happened, you just want to hear their voices.
With a trembling breath, you allow a few more stray tears to slip down your cheeks.
You’re still shaken; your body’s running on empty and you’re completely exhausted. You knew it was a trap, but you didn’t hesitate if it meant keeping the people you loved safe.
As you drive home, your fingers still shaking on the steering wheel, you can’t stop the still panicked thoughts that run through your head. You could have died tonight. And because of yet another secret, you almost did.
Notes:
Let me know what you think, this chapter and that little twist was pretty damn fun to write :) But I told you it would be an intense one... And we haven't even gotten John's reaction... We know he doesn't do well with feeling scared or vulnerable.
Here's a hint for you to speculate over:
"What the fuck, John." Gripping the edge of the comforter, you pull it with you as you slide off the bed. Wrapping it protectively around your body, you narrow your eyes and let him see all your hurt and betrayal laid bare before him. "That wasn’t an apology, that was punishment."He's not going to handle this properly.
Til next time <3
Chapter 38: Not an apology.
Summary:
John's home just in time for the two of you to argue over what happened. And after a fitful night's sleep, Eric convinces you to talk to John, makes things right. Then John goes too far in trying to prove that he was in the right when he told you to wait, causing you to do something you've never done with John before...
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Once you’re home, you fortify every protection spell you know before you even walk in the door. But as soon as you step in, your lingering adrenaline drains from your body. You’re more exhausted than you thought you were.
Before you let sleep claim you, you need to plug your phone in. Then you need to check on Eric, check on Charlotte and then, then you need to call John. He needs to know that you made it out safely. But after that, you need to have a serious conversation.
You were stupid, charging into a trap without a plan. But John should have told you that Morgan wasn’t human. He should have armed you with all the information you’d need to defend yourself. You wouldn't have gone in there so blindly if you’d known.
Your phone restarts once it’s plugged in and as you're sliding the unlock button, your front door slams behind you. Whirling around, you lock eyes with John as he throws his bag onto the couch.
His trench coat is rumpled and dirty, his dress shirt half untucked. He must've stopped whatever he was doing and booked it home. The relief you see in John’s amber eyes is palpable, but it mingles with the fury and fear you see simmering just under the surface.
“Your bloody phone went dead.” He whispers, crossing the room in three long strides. “Fucking Hell, I thought…” He trails off once he reaches you; his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you close.
You inhale the comforting scent that is so uniquely John; traces of tobacco, incense and whiskey and lean yourself back to peer up at him. “Johnny, I…"
“How could you be so reckless with your own life?" He growls, cutting you off as his features twist with anger. “Charging into a trap like that, what the bloody Hell were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself killed.”
Well, this wasn’t the approach you wanted to take, you’re exhausted and beyond frustrated, but it's clearly the only one available to you.
“Yeah, because he was a demon, John.” You snap, stepping away from him. He can’t hide his surprise fast enough. “Lets start there, before you try to scold me like a child. How could you hide that from me?”
John furiously runs a hand through his hair as he walks toward you, refusing to let you back away from him. “I told you to wait.” He insists, ignoring your accusation and backing you up against the wall. “I told you not to go until I could get there.”
You hit the wall with a soft thud and stare up at him. You don't think you've ever seen him so angry. When he narrows his eyes and leans down close to you, you let out a shaky breath to steady yourself.
The rage you see etched on his face would have frozen you in place if you weren't so furious yourself. Part of you wants to back down, you always do when it comes to him. But the part of you that’s still running on adrenaline from your near miss in the mill building, refuses to let him take charge here.
“Oh and that’s supposed to excuse it?” You yell, shoving your hands against his chest. “Because you told me to wait? I thought Morgan had taken Eric. He was going to… to kill someone I loved. I couldn’t let that happen.”
John leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “So you charged in with no plan, made me metal worrying about you?” His voice softens a fraction of an inch. “I told you, he could’ve killed you.”
“You’re damn right I did.” You push yourself off the wall and walk over to lean against the back of your couch. “And honestly, I’d do it again. But if I had known, I would have been better prepared. Eric wasn't even there. It was a fucking illusion. And if I had known he could do that, I wouldn’t have gone in there thinking I stood a chance against the son of a bitch.”
You shake your head, closing your eyes to the memory of how powerless you felt. “Because he had me pinned to the wall before I even realized what the Hell was happening. I couldn’t move. And I mean, I’m strong, John. I tried to hold my own, but -”
John turns away from you, pacing back and forth angrily. “I’m stronger than you are! I would’ve kept you safe.” He rests his hands on his hips. “You need to learn to bloody well trust me.”
“Jesus John, I do! But you make it so hard when you pull shit like this!” Running your fingers through your hair, you move around and sink into the cushions of the couch. Your head leans back and your eyes track him as he follows you.
“You keep saying I could’ve been killed.” You fold your hands behind your head. “Do you have any idea how close I came?”
John opens his mouth to comment and you raise your hand to make him pause. “So you’re right, I was reckless by choosing to not wait for you. Now, I know I should’ve."
Your eyes well with frustrated, overwhelmed tears and you blink them away. "But do you honestly think the outcome would have been any better if I had? I’m nothing to Morgan, or whoever he really is. I’m just a bargaining chip for him. It’s you he wants. Imagine if you were there, neither of us -”
You flinch when he slams his hand against the wall. “You reckon I don’t bloody well know that?” He closes his eyes for a moment, dragging in a deep breath through his nose. “That’s why I wanted you to wait. If anything were to happen to you -”
“What? You’d do what?” You throw your hands in the air, rolling your eyes when he doesn’t finish. “You can’t keep me safe by hiding shit from me. How do you not see that? You knew he was a demon and you chose not to tell me.”
He walks to the couch and sits on the edge of it. “Were you ever going to?” You ask angrily. “Or were you hoping that you’d be able to deal with it alone? That it would just go away and you’d never have to involve me?”
John meets your eyes, but doesn't say anything. His silence speaks volumes.
“I can’t fucking believe you.” You blink rapidly to clear more tears that threaten to fall down your face. “I can't believe that you still don't trust me with all of this. And I really can't believe that you let me go in there completely unprepared."
"I didn't let you do anything of the bloody sort. You went on your own and I magicked myself here as quick as I could to make certain you'd be safe."
Your hands ball into fists to keep from shaking. "You can’t protect me twenty- four seven, John. You can’t control what happens when you’re not around. I get that you hate that; hate the feeling that you can't control the situation. But you can control what you choose to not tell me.”
You push yourself away from the couch and walk toward the stairs, bowing your head so he doesn’t see how much you've let yourself cry. "Just like I control how much longer I want to put up with this."
John calls out your first name as he stands to go after you. "What in the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" He asks when you start to take the steps two at a time. Despite his calling your name again, you don’t turn around.
***
While you shower and move around your townhouse, John acts as your silent shadow. You make no effort to speak to him or even acknowledge his presence. His eyes track you as you throw your stained clothes into the washing machine and climb back up your stairs. He leans, arms folded, in your doorway as you change and slide under the covers.
Without a word, John sighs and pushes himself off the door frame. He walks to your guest room and when you hear the door shut next to yours, you curl up and hug the pillow. Despite your earlier anger, you don’t want to be alone. But your pride and your frustration keep you from caving and calling out to him.
Sleep doesn’t come easy; you wake up every few hours and stare at your open door. You’re still angry, but you want to feel the warmth of John's body next to yours. You want to feel like what you went through today was worth it. And sleeping alone feels a lot like it wasn’t.
***
You wake up before John does and call Eric to see if he’s working. Charlotte comes back up in a few weeks for the annual fundraiser Tommy and Bobby host, so you know he’s raking in all the hours he can. He’ll want a few days off to spend with her.
He’s working later today, so you offer to treat him to lunch. You just want to see Eric’s face; know for sure that he’s safe and whole. “Sure, fella.” He agrees with a laugh. “I’ll never turn down free food.”
When you meet him outside the restaurant, you wrap your arms around him a little tighter than you usually do. Eric doesn’t say anything, just hugs you back in earnest. He’s grinning when you lean away from him; his soft blue eyes shining and happy.
“Everythin’ good with you and Johnny?” He asks, once you’ve both ordered your food. He raises an eyebrow at your surprised expression. “Come on fella, I’ve known ya longer than anyone else. And ya know, detective.”
He shrugs, rolling up the sleeves of his navy dress shirt. “You sounded off this mornin’. Like you'd been cryin'. Ya think I wouldn't ask?"
“Yeah, everything’s…” You shake your head, wanting to be as honest as you can. You’ve told enough lies; you don’t want to add this to the pile. “No.” You huff softly. “We had a fight. But it’s fine. We’ll be fine. Couples fight, it happens.”
Eric sets his phone down, as he folds his arms on the table. “Who ya tryin’ to convince here, kid? You or me?”
“Both, I guess. I don’t know.” Rolling your eyes, you take a sip of your water. You hadn’t really intended to vent to Eric, but he’s so easy to talk to. And with him, you don’t have to get into specifics. For a second, you can just be a girl complaining about your boyfriend to one of your best friends.
“Why is this so hard sometimes?” Tugging your fingers through your hair, you glance down at the table. “I love him, Eric. I really do. But there are times when… John’s got a lot of baggage from his past. And I’m not saying I don’t because,” you point to your head, “I got a lot happening up here.”
When Eric laughs, you look up and shrug, then laugh half heartedly. “What? I do. It’s not a secret; I have major trust issues from Sam and my mother is a selfish gargoyle. So, in that department, we could each stand to lose some luggage.”
You glance down at your hands. “But, it’s just a lot sometimes. You know?”
“I do.” Eric agrees, leaning back in the chair. “I mean, ya think that my relationship with Charlotte is perfect all the time? It ain’t. We fight. Montgomery gave her all kinds of trust issues. And I flirt; I can’t help it, I just do it. Charlotte hates it, gets all weird when I swear I’m just bein’ nice.”
He takes a sip of his drink as he shrugs. “And the long distance thing sucks. I mean, we make it work. But I’ve had to cancel trips, you know that. And so has she. Shit happens, and we both agreed that our careers were too important to us to put them on the backburner.”
Eric leans forward, deliberately meeting your eyes. “But kid, at the end of the day? We’re in love with each other. We don’t ever want anyone else. So all the rest, all the tiny shit that gets in the way sometimes? That’s just noise. We apologize and move on.”
You attempt to cut in and he holds up a hand. “You and John love each other; ya endgame, like me and Charlotte. I could tell from the moment I met him. You light up when ya with him; confident in a way I’ve never seen ya.”
When you roll your eyes, Eric raises an eyebrow. “Just listen, fella. Whatever this is, and ya know I don’t wanna pry, you just gotta make sure ya keep talkin’ and don’t shut each other out.”
For a moment, you don't know what to say. Eric’s completely right; you don’t ever want anyone else. So when you go home, you and John will work through this mess. The same way you’ve worked through everything else. You’ll talk it through and everything will be alright.
“You’re a wise man, Eric Grant.” You smile at him appreciatively. “Just one of the reasons I keep you around.”
“What can I say?” He laughs, leaning back as the waiter comes with your lunch. “I have my moments. That and everyone likes my ass.”
***
After lunch, you head home in much higher spirits than when you left. You’ll talk to John, you’ll tell him how you feel and work things out. That’s what healthy couples do.
When you open the door, you call out into the seemingly empty apartment. “John, you home?” You drop your bag and coat on the couch, letting your fingers absently trail over the material of the cushions. When the stairs creak behind you, you whirl around quickly.
John pauses on the bottom step when your eyes meet his. He quirks his lips into a soft smile, casually running his fingers through his already messy hair as he leans against the wall. “Sweet’eart.” He steps down after a moment, a deliberate glint in the darkness of his eyes.
“Hey.” You greet him softly, leaning against the back of the couch. “Can we talk?”
John nods as he closes the distance between you. Resting his hand on the back of your neck, he pulls you close to him. “After.” He offers, inclining his head back toward the stairs. To your room. “Let me properly apologize.”
“John,” you press your lips together in disapproval. “We talked about this. You can’t solve everything with sex.” He smirks as he undoes his tie and pulls it through his collar. You huff in aggravation, but let him spin you around and wrap it around your eyes.
“You’re bloody right about that.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “But I reckon I can try.” If he could see it, you’d roll your eyes. It wouldn’t help your situation any, but you’d feel less like you’re just giving in before you talk to him.
Shaking your head, you grip his hand and let him lead you up the stairs. Once you reach your room, John shuts the door behind you and moves you toward your bed. He carefully unzips your dress and slides it down your shoulders.
You shiver; goosebumps lighting up your skin as the cotton material pools at your feet. You know this song and dance; John apologizes in the way he's most comfortable, then the two of you talk once your anger has completely dissolved.
Without a word, John helps you step out of the dress on the floor and walks you to the bed. Once you're laying down, he grips your chin with his fingers. "Hands above your head, pet." He instructs, his voice taking on a steely edge as he climbs onto the bed beside you.
You obey without hesitation, sliding them through the metal of your headboard. Expecting another silk tie, you frown when you feel leather being pulled tight and securely fastened around your wrists. With a sharp tug, you realize John’s effectively trapped you until he’s had his way with you.
When the bed shifts and you hear shuffling to your left, you turn, straining your ears to hear what he’s doing. “What are you -”
“Shhh.” John cuts you off by pressing a finger to your lips. “No talking, I just fancy making you feel.”
He murmurs something under his breath and at once, your skin feels electric. You let out a sharp gasp when his hand simply rests on your hip. There’s nothing sensual in the action, but desire, hot and intense, unfurls in your belly just the same.
John takes his time; his fingers dancing over your heated skin, teasing you until your body’s shaking with need. You have no idea what he’s done, but you don’t know how much longer you can stand it. Every touch sends shock waves through you, inching you closer and closer over the edge. But never over.
Each time you do get close enough, John stops. It’s like he knows when you're about to tip over and he frustratingly pulls away. With each ruined orgasm, you feel like you could cry.
“Frustrating, isn’t it then?” He asks, pulling his hand away as you're left panting and struggling to catch your breath. “Being promised something; being so close you can bloody well taste it? Then having it ripped away.”
“Johnny,” you finally rasp out. “Please. What… what did you do to me?” He chuckles, slipping two fingers back inside you. The sound that forces its way out of your mouth is something between a moan and a strangled cry.
“It’s a simple charm, really.” He explains, twisting and moving his fingers until you feel another impending orgasm. “You’ll feel every touch I make, tenfold. But you’ll not be allowed to cum until I remove the spell. If I remove it.” You shiver at his words, at the threat behind them.
Shaking your head, you squeeze your eyes tightly to keep tears at bay. “Johnny, please don’t stop." You beg, sounding manic and pitiful at the same time. "You can’t just -”
John tightly clamps his free hand over your mouth. “I bloody well can. You feel powerless right now. Don’t you, luv? Entirely out of control. That’s how you made me feel, charging in there without Johnny. You had no bloody idea how mad with worry I was. How furious.”
His voice has changed again, taking on an angrier tone. The shiver that slides down your spine now has nothing to do with his touch.
“Reckon I should keep you here,” he growls, moving his hand to squeeze your jaw. “Just like this; trussed up and helpless. On edge till you’ve learned your bloody lesson. Least this way I could keep you out of trouble.”
Your stomach twists uncomfortably; this isn’t an apology, this is punishment. He’s denying you to show you how out of control he felt. The realization makes you understand just how dangerous John is when he chooses to be. A fact you often ignore when you’re on the right side of his volatility.
When his thumb brushes over your clit, you almost scream. It’s too much; he’s too angry, the sensations on your skin are too overwhelming. You need it to stop.
"No." You whisper, letting tears wet your blindfold. "I can't…stop, please." John only tsks and pulls his hand away again. “Boston.” Your voice falters as you tug frantically at your bound wrists. “Boston. Boston. Boston.”
John’s hand freezes and within seconds, you're free of the cuffs and the electric feeling in your skin has vanished. Ripping the blindfold off, you scoot up to the top of the bed and away from him as quickly as you're able. You’ve never been afraid of him, but you can’t help the way your hands tremble as you fix your bra strap to grant yourself some modesty.
From the look on his face, John knows he messed up; crossed some line he hadn’t known existed until just now. “You’re alright.” He says quietly, lowering his hands onto his upper thighs.
John’s pushed your limits in multiple ways over the almost two years you've been together. You’ve never needed to safeword. But this? This was different. It was cruel and callous punishment; meant to make him feel better, feel more in control over the situation. Over you.
"What the fuck, John." Gripping the edge of the comforter, you pull it with you as you slide off the bed. Wrapping it protectively around your body, you narrow your eyes and let him see all your hurt and betrayal laid bare before him. "That wasn’t an apology, that… that was punishment."
Rubbing the back of his neck, John has the decency to lower his eyes and look apologetic. "I didn’t intend to let it go on so long. Reckon I got a touch carried away."
Stepping back toward your closet door, you wipe the tears littering your lash line. "No, you didn't get carried away. You were completely in control of your actions. They were deliberate, you wanted to make me feel bad for what happened." When he doesn’t argue with you, you sigh and lean against the far wall.
When he takes a tentative step forward, you throw your hands out in front of you to stop him. “No! Don’t touch me right now. Don’t even come near me.” You sniffle when fresh tears fall. “I can’t believe you just did that to me. You can’t… you know how much I trust you, John. But don’t ever do that to me again. Don’t take this away from us.”
John runs a hand through his sandy hair and sits on the side of your bed, keeping his careful distance. The cognac color of his eyes seems brighter by the light of your lamp; his face mostly cast in shadows as he stares at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… fucking hell. You have to understand, I was bloody terrified. For you. For what could've happened to you.”
Sliding down to the floor, you rest your head against the wall. “And I admitted that I should’ve waited.” You don’t have it in you to do this again; your body is still shaky and your head feels like it’s pounding.
“But we both know it wouldn’t have been any better if I had.” You point out, drawing the blanket tighter around you. “You know that neither of us would’ve walked away if you’d been there. I didn’t know he was a fucking demon.”
When John attempts to cut in, you silence him with a glare. “You hid that from me. And then decided to do that, punish me for wanting to save my friend.”
“No, I wanted you to understand how powerless you made me feel.” John explains, folding his arms across his chest. “I reckon I made the wrong call just now, and I’ll apologize until you forgive me. And even still. But I was a thousand bloody miles away last night and off you go charging into danger with no regard for your own bloody safety. Do you’ve any idea what that did to me?”
“I don’t.” You admit softly, glancing at the floor. “But I wasn’t thinking straight. I thought I could handle it and if he had been human, I could’ve.”
You glance up, narrowing your eyes in his direction. “You gotta start giving me some credit, John. Every fucking time you underestimate me, I prove you wrong. You’re the one who’s said that.”
Drawing your knees up to your chest, you wrap your arms around them tightly. “And I was against the clock. One hour, that’s what he said. If I told you, or went to get help, Morgan said he’d slit Eric’s throat.”
Your breath hitches in your chest. “I had no reason to think he was lying. What do you think it would’ve done to me if I’d let that happen?”
“And if you had gotten yourself killed instead?” John raises an eyebrow, letting fear flash across his face. “You reckon your mate would want that? That I would want that?”
You’re still upset with him and you have a right to be; but seeing his reaction, seeing real fear for you in his eyes, makes you release the breath you feel like you’ve been holding since yesterday. “No, but I didn’t want anything to happen to you either. So I guess I just figured that if I could save Eric, then I could save you too.”
John firmly presses his lips together as he slides down to the floor, making sure to stay leaning against the bed. He draws a knee up, mirroring your own stance and meets your eyes. You expect hostility and anger when you look at him; instead, you see guilt mix with something like dread on his face.
You’re both silent for a moment; each of you working out where to go from here. You want John to not be angry about you willingly charging into a trap. And you want to not be angry about him hiding Morgan’s true identity from you.
You love him, as sure as you know that John loves you. It’s just all the little shit; the unnecessary things that come between you that make you want to run away from all of this. What did Eric call it earlier? Noise. But how much longer can you keep forgiving the noise? Especially when it’s so damn loud sometimes.
“I am truly sorry, sweet’eart.” John says, after letting out a defeated sigh. “I should have told you what the bastard really was. I reckoned that I could be rid of the buggar before there was any real trouble. I never meant to hurt you.”
He gives you a soft, half smile; the one he only shows you and you know you’re going to forgive him. You just want this fight to be over. “I’m sorry too. Not for the not waiting part, I can’t apologize for trying to protect Eric. But for making you worry. I didn’t think.”
When he starts to move closer, he pauses, waiting for your okay. Rolling your eyes, you incline your head. “Yeah, c’mere.” You let your legs drop as you unwrap yourself from the blanket. He scoots close, wrapping his arms around you as he settles against your side.
“You’ve no idea what you mean to me, sweet’eart.” John admits after a minute. “I was out of my mind worried about you. All I wanted was to make certain my girl was safe. And the kicker? I tried to tell you what he was. Too late, I reckon. Then you went and hung up on ol’ Johnny.”
“Well, I was panicked and kinda out of my mind worried too. You’ll forgive me for not thinking things through and just acting on impulse.” You rest your head against him and after a moment of stillness, John’ fingers thread through your hair. You close your eyes and sigh in contentment when he starts massaging your scalp.
“Last night, you said you came close.” John whispers in a surprisingly shaken tone. You nod, blinking slowly and peer up at him, waiting for him to continue. “What did that bloody bastard do to you, then?”
“He’d flung me against the wall and I couldn’t move. That alone was terrifying, but then he got real close to my ear and told me my fear smelled delicious.” Shuddering, you close your eyes and will nervous tears not to form.
“Once he had me trapped, he told me that because I came to him on my own, your magic wouldn’t work to hide me anymore. That he could make me hurt you.” John freezes, his hand still in your hair.
You still feel uneasy, remembering the way Morgan looked at you; like he finally had all the leverage in a game where you still didn’t know the damn rules.
“When I told him I’d rather die than hurt you, he… he wrapped his hand around my throat and told me that finding my body would break you just the same. I couldn’t breathe, I was terrified; I… I thought he was going to kill me.”
John leans away from you, his brows knitted together in concern. “I… I didn’t know. Sweet’eart, I wouldn’t have snapped at you -”
“I know.” You assure him, suppressing the shiver that runs through you. “But Johnny, can he do that? Can he make me do what he wants?” You reach up and squeeze his hand on your shoulder. “Use me against you like that?”
A dozen emotions pass over his face before he finally settles on uncertainty. “Don’t reckon I know. Demonic magic is different, innit? The same rules don’t always apply for those nasty gits.” He shrugs almost too casually. “We’ll check with Chas then, eh? See if we can’t find some way to keep you safe until we rid the world of this blighter.”
John’s tone is light, but you can hear the worry underneath what he’s saying. If what Morgan was saying is true, then things have just gotten a shit ton more complicated.
“How did you get away?” John asks softly, as a means to change the subject. “You don’t have a bloody scratch on you, luv.”
“Honestly, I didn’t think I was going to. I mean, he had me for a minute. But, I had this calm feeling and I just pushed out an energy blast. I, uh… I didn’t use a spell. I just felt it leave me and it knocked Morgan back. I… I made him bleed.”
John smiles at you incredulously. “Without an incantation?” When you nod, John shifts and scrubs a hand down his face. “Bloody hell. You were able to use soul magic then. That’s advanced, even for a devious tosser like myself.”
You twist yourself away so you can face him. “That’s what Morgan called it. Soul Magic.” Chewing anxiously on the edge of your thumb, you raise your eyebrow. “What the Hell is that?”
“Some mages can use magic directly from their blood. Reckon it doesn’t draw on your energy the way the rest does.” Drawing his leg up, he rests his arm on it as he explains. “It’s not easy to learn; reckon you’ve got to have a knack for it. Shouldn’t be surprised that you do, of course. Only bloody woman I’ve ever known that picked up the Art as quickly as you did.”
Shaking your head, you try to brush off his praise. “I’ve never done it before. And I don’t think Morgan was prepared for it. The second I knocked him back and saw that I’d actually managed to hurt him, I got the fuck out of there. Eric was safe and I didn’t want to see how fast the bastard would recover.”
John leans forward and presses his lips to your forehead. “I reckon I didn’t make it easy on you when I got home, but I’m bloody proud of you, sweet’eart. How fiercely protective and stubborn you are, are just a few of the many reasons I feel about you the way I do.”
Twisting back around, you let yourself slump under his outstretched arm. “Good. Cause you’re stuck with me, John.”
Tilting your head up with his fingers, he carefully presses a kiss to your lips. “I’m rather chuffed to hear that, luv. Was afraid I’d royally cocked up earlier. I’ve never seen you look at Johnny like that and I don’t reckon I fancy seeing it again.”
You reach for his free hand and pull it onto your lap. “As long as you don’t try to use sex to even out the score between us again, we’re fine.”
“I swear it.” He promises, letting his fingers thread back into your hair.
The two of you stay that way for quite some time; wrapped in the blanket and each other. You listen to John’s steady breathing and when you snuggle down to rest your head against his chest, his steady heartbeat lulls you into the rest you weren’t able to find the night before.
***
Your ringing cell phone wakes John an hour or so later. He nudges you until you're pulled through your haze of sleep. You push yourself into a sitting position and frown until you hear the ringtone from downstairs. Recognizing it as Charlotte’s, you quickly rise from the floor.
With your blanket still wrapped around you, you hurry down the stairs to pick it up. Your fingers touch the screen just as it goes silent. Knowing that she’ll call until you pick up, you wait a second and sure enough, her face lights up the screen. This time, you slide to accept and hit the speakerphone button.
“Hi!” You answer brightly. “What’s up?”
“When I talked to him earlier, Eric said you’d sounded like you’d been crying.” Charlotte sighs into the speaker. “I assumed that John had pulled his usual shit and just now, Eric confirmed it. So what did he do?”
Your eyes slide to the stairs as John comes down them. Moving yourself to the couch, you climb onto the cushion and rest your head on your hand. “Yes, we had a fight. But it’s fine now. It was honestly a misunderstanding that spiraled. Eric, actually, was the one who helped me make sense of everything.”
“Of course he did.” She laughs. “Eric is a good man, and a great boyfriend. So, I‘ll ask again, what did John do.”
John sits down next to you on the couch. “We had words because your stubborn best mate ran head first into danger when I was too bloody far away to do anything about it.”
“Jesus Christ. I thought Eric was going to die, Johnny. I -” You cut yourself off as Charlotte gasps. She immediately hangs up and calls again through facetime. Feeling anxiety blossom in your stomach, you hit accept and squint one eye while you wait for her to explode.
“Sugar.” Charlotte seems deceptively calm as she raises an eyebrow. “Why would you have thought Eric was going to die?”
Pulling the blanket tighter around yourself, you chew on your lower lip. “Okay, so last night, I was at the museum late. Eric’s number came through and when I went to answer it, it was Dr. Morgan instead. He said that he’d taken Eric and because of me, he was going to be killed. He gave me an hour to go to the address he sent me. And if I went willingly, he’d let Eric live.”
John rests his hand on your thigh; a gesture of support that grounds you. “If I told anyone, or if I got John, Morgan would… he’d slit Eric’s throat.” Charlotte covers her mouth with her hand when your breath hitches. You’d been terrified for him; you need to make her see that.
“Please understand, I wouldn’t let anything happen to him, Char. I care about him too much. So, I didn’t think, I just went. I called Chas to ask for a spell that could help me and John heard us talking. He told me to wait, to think this through, but I was terrified that if I didn’t get there in time…”
Her face twists in anger; espresso eyes narrowing as her jaw clenches. Whether it’s directed at you or at John, you aren’t certain. “What happened?” She asks, her voice still calm and controlled.
“It was a trap. Eric was never there; that bastard had just used some kind of trick to make me think he was in danger. And I fucking fell for it. I fought him; found out the hard way that he’s really a demon.” You let out a soft huff and glance over at John. He gives you a sheepish shrug in response.
“He tried to strangle me when I refused to let him use me against John; he said that John finding my…” You glance at a spot over Charlotte’s shoulder. “Uh, finding my body would be enough to hurt him. But once I’d hurt him enough that he had to let go of me, I took off. I drove to Eric’s and saw that he was on the phone. I’m assuming with you. When I got home -”
John grabs the phone and sighs heavily. “I was two bloody minutes behind her. And I was furious that she hadn’t waited. I understand her reasoning, but she could’ve been killed. It made me mental that I wasn’t there to save her. So we got into a nasty row; slept in separate rooms and all.”
“Mais, j’mais. Oh sugar, are you alright?” When you tell you’re fine, just still a little shaken, Charlotte nods and bites at the edge of her thumb. “Lord, I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same thing if I was in your shoes. Especially where Eric’s concerned. But, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, why didn’t you listen to John? Or call me? The bastard tried to murder you.”
John’s lips twist into a smirk. “See, even Lottie agrees with me. If you’d just taken a breath and waited -”
“Oh, you’re not off the hook either.” Charlotte scowls. “You shouldn’t’ve picked a fight with her after what she went through. And if either of y’all had the good sense to just call me, I would’ve told you that Eric was on the phone with me all night. Saved y’all the danger and then the fight.”
Her expression softens as she perches the phone on her desk and sits down. “Friday’s are our movie night, you know that. From about eight to midnight. Now, I’m not fixing to get mad that you risked everything to save him; I know you’d do anything to keep Eric and I safe. But I could’ve prevented a huge to-do if I’d’ve known.”
You can’t hide the incredulous expression on your face. “I couldn’t call you! If Eric really was in danger, you’d’ve been just as worried about him as I was. And you would’ve lost your mind thinking the man you love was in serious trouble and you're fifteen hundred miles away.”
When John raises his eyebrow in disbelief, you bite your lip and stare at him for a moment. From the look on his face, a mottled mix of agitation and worry, you realize that’s exactly how John felt. You mouth ‘I’m sorry’ and turn your head back to Charlotte as she scoffs.
“Hush your mouth.” She scolds you, not unkindly. “Of course I'd freak out, I love him. I'd be inconsolable. But I’d lose my mind if anything happened to you too. You’re my best friend. And as much as I hate it, there really isn’t anyone better qualified to keep you safe than John is, so I know he’d have your back like you have Eric’s.”
When John flashes her a cocky, smug smile, Charlotte rolls her eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head. I only say one nice thing about you a month; I was due." When you giggle, she does too. "But sugar, you’re safe and y’all aren’t fighting anymore?”
When you and John both nod, Charlotte smiles and leans back. “Good, I’m glad you’re alright. Promise me you won’t go and do a reckless thing like that again without talking to John or I first. We love you, neither of us want anything to happen to you.”
Squeezing John’s hand, you turn to him then back to your phone, with a smile. “I promise.”
“That’s our girl.” Charlotte praises. “Now, let me have a private word with your boyfriend.”
***
Once you’ve gone upstairs to put clothes back on, John pushes himself off the couch and leans over to grab a cigarette from his coat pocket. “Yeah, alright, Lottie.” He snarks, lighting the silk cut and closing the patio door behind him. “Read me the bloody riot act, ey?”
"I wasn't fixing to yell at you. I know you were out of your mind worried." She eyes him with a shrewd expression. “How quickly did you get home? You were in Atlanta.”
John scrubs a hand down his face. “As quick as I bloody well could. I swear to you, Lottie. She gave Chas a ring and I knew something was pear shaped. Made him give me the phone and I tried to reason with her. She's a stubborn lass, isn’t she then? Once she hung up on ol’ Johnny, Chas and I legged it to find a spell that could get me here before she got hurt.”
“I just want to be sure she’s really alright.” Charlotte rests her head on her hand. “You know that girl doesn’t like looking weak. Especially when you’re involved. And Morgan’s tried to hurt her before.”
He inhales a deep drag off his cigarette, letting the smoke billow out of the side of his mouth. “Don’t I know it. But aye, she seems to be. Reckon it's my own bloody fault we're in this mess, anyhow."
When Charlotte furrows her brow in confusion, John takes another deep drag to steady his nerves. "I didn’t tell her Morgan was a bloody demon and it almost cost me her life.” He closes his eyes for a moment, letting a wave of fear wash over him. “I don’t fancy losing her. I should’ve told her.”
“Yes, you should’ve. You’ve got to stop underestimating her, John.” Charlotte’s tone is stern, but surprisingly kind. “I know that you love her. You’ve just gotta start trusting her with all of the things you’re afraid of before it’s too late. As much you drive me insane, I don’t want her to be miserable. And she'd be completely miserable without you.”
“As I would be without her. S’not my cuppa tea, imagining this ruddy existence without that girl by my side.” He turns when he hears the door softly click open behind him. You poke your head out, smiling expectantly. “Lottie, need anything else?” He asks, inclining his head in your direction.
Charlotte shakes her head, a soft smile on her face. “No. Just, you best start listening to me. I know my best friend like the back of my hand.”
After goodbyes and ‘I love you’s’, John stubs out his spent cigarette and motions for you to go to him. You step close and allow John to wrap his arms around your waist.
When he nestles his stubbled chin in the crook of your neck, you sigh and relax in his arms. Last night and that frustration that came with it, seems like a thousand miles away.
“Let’s go and order some takeaway, yeah?” John suggests after a long minute. “Have a quiet night in. Just you and me, sweet’eart.”
With a smile, you pull away and grab his hand. Leading him toward the door, you tuck your hair behind your ear with your free hand. “Sounds completely perfect, Johnny.”
***
From his position around the corner of the building, Morgan knows that neither you nor the magician can see him. If you weren’t wrapped in the bastard’s arms, he’d make his move; thank you permanently for the festering wound you left in his side.
You were the perfect bit of leverage for him. The magician cares for you, more than he lets you see. It would've destroyed Constantine if you were the one to drive the knife into his back. Morgan just hadn't expected that you'd be able to fight him off.
He can wait; form a new plan. He’s waited years to be the demon that finally claims Constantine’s soul. He’s not going to let some insignificant girl stop him, no matter how powerful you could be. He’s come too far.
Lord Belial will reward him handsomely for doing what Belial himself was not allowed to do. Belial cannot directly make a move to influence who gets Constantine’s soul. But if a demon were to help control the circumstances regarding it’s removal from his body? Well then, that’s very different.
And since he can't control you, as he originally intended, when Morgan snuffs you out, he’ll be sure that Constantine is helpless to do anything but watch as he viciously chokes the life from you. When the light leaves your eyes, the fight will leave his.
As Morgan watches you pull the magician toward your living room door, his crimson eyes flash furiously. You won’t get away from him again. He’s enraged that you’ve weakened him; he may have to enlist in outside assistance to get you away from the safety that Constantine provides. But he will.
He may not be strong enough to control you any longer, but there are others with weaker wills. Someone you know, someone you wouldn't expect.
And once he has you, you’re going to beg Morgan to kill you. If only he were that merciful. Because death would be less painful than what he has in store.
Notes:
So many emotions in this one! Let's be real, that type of punishment is absolutely something John would do. The second I had the idea of where I wanted this chapter to go, I knew it HAD to happen like this.
And it prompts the two of you to have the conversation you should have had the night before.
Let me tell you guys, I love Charlotte and Eric. Like completely adore them. I hope you do too.
And helooo cliffhanger... )Next week:
“Hey there.” He greets you happily, with zero trace of hostility in his voice. His soft emerald eyes are filled with kindness, so much like when you first met him. “I’m Matty, hopefully you remember me? I’m sorry it’s taken so long, but it’s so nice to finally meet you.”“What?” You blurt out, sounding more rude than you intended. Is he trying to pretend that he didn’t spend most of that night verbally assaulting you? Because you’d certainly like to pretend it didn’t happen. “It’s nice to meet me?”
You come face to face Matty at the charity event... that's going to be interesting for John to explain to you...
Chapter 39: Fate's a funny thing.
Summary:
At the annual Boston Police Fundraiser, you and Eric banter over just how much Charlotte and John's accents effect you. Eric throws in a comment that shocks you, and you can't deny how perfect the two of them are for each other. After, when John says no to dancing, you run into Matty Evans and have a very different conversation than the last one you had with him. John overhears the conversation and realizes he has a lot of explaining to do. After the two of you have words, John apologizes in the sweetest, most unexpected way.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Why I can’t go in my normal bloody suit is beyond me.” John sighs, from his spot on the bed. “It’s a small to-do, innit? Reckon any old thing should be fine.”
“Obsecro, amica mea*?” You ask, letting your voice lilt as you walk away from him. “For me? You know how much I love seeing you in a tuxedo. And you know what it does to me.”
“Breaking out the bloody Latin, eh?” When John laughs, you know you’ve won. “Alright then, lass. But I reckon you only fancy bringing me to these ruddy things because you get Ol’ Johnny in a suit and you show me off like I’m bloody cattle.”
You lean out of your closet, holding up the black swing dress you intend to wear tonight and wiggle your eyebrows. “Maybe, but then who’s showing off who? Cause in this dress? Every one of Boston’s finest will be staring at me.”
You turn back to reach for your shoes. “Honestly, you’ll have to watch out that one of them doesn’t make a move on -”
You cut yourself off and grin at the soft whooshing sound behind you. You love that damn trick. And you knew that teasing John the way you did, would get him riled up.
When he spins you around, the amber of his eyes is dark and possessive. “Oh, let them try, luv.” He warns softly, resting his hands on your hips. “I’ve no problem showing every bloody Bobbie in that room that you’re mine.” When you roll your eyes, John tilts his head and lifts an eyebrow in disbelief.
He leans in, moving one hand to cup your chin. “Don’t test me, I’ll rightly mark you up in the middle of the bloody dance floor, won’t I.”
If his heavy stare wasn’t holding you in place, the feeling of his finger tips pressing into your skin would’ve. You swallow, your throat working hard for a moment, and blink a few times to clear your head of it’s lust filled haze.
“As, uh, as much fun as that would be, probably not the best idea in a room full of law enforcement.” You pull your lower lip between your teeth, knowing the reaction you’re about to get out of him. “Don’t want to end the night in handcuffs, now do you?”
John gives you a wolfish grin and steps closer until you’re forced to press yourself against the wall of your closet. Your dress falls to the ground near your feet. “No, but I reckon with the cheek coming from your mouth, you do.” He glances down at the burgundy lace of your bra and panty set, then back up to your eyes. “Don’t you, sweet’eart?”
He inclines his head, glancing up toward the ceiling. You lean forward, your eyes following his, before settling back down on his darkening gaze. You’re confused for only a moment, then obediently lift your hands above your head.
Your breath hitches in your chest and with one hand, John collars your crossed wrists against the wall. Pushing against your body with his hips, he traps you with his weight. He doesn’t take his eyes off yours, and you don’t dare look away.
When his left hand wraps around your throat, you let out a soft whimper. He smirks, knowing exactly what he’s doing to you. He squeezes gently, letting your breath come out in shallow gasps. Adrenaline mingles with arousal in your stomach as his fingers tighten, cutting off your air just enough, but you know he won’t push you past your limits.
John loves the trust you have in him; loves that you’ve given him the power to hurt you, but trust that he won’t. It’s a heady feeling, that control and you’ve surrendered it to him more than willingly. He doesn’t take it lightly. There may be aspects of this relationship that you don’t see eye to eye on, but this is never one of them.
He dips his head low; closing the distance to capture your lips in a searing, passionate kiss. You yield instantly, allowing John the control he seeks. After a moment, he releases your hands so he can move his into your hair.
Your hands wrap around the back of his neck, allowing him to deepen the kiss as his tongue slips into your mouth. Your fingers slide up into his hair, tugging gently at the base of his hairline. He groans into your mouth and when he shifts his weight, the evidence of his arousal presses against your lower stomach.
You lean yourself forward, feeling the strong grip of his fingers around your throat keeping you still against the wall. John leans back, making you gasp for air and chase his lips when he moves out of reach. He smirks, watching your struggle with dark, hooded eyes.
“You’re such a good girl for Johnny, aren’t you, pet?” He praises, loosening his grip to gently caress your cheek. “A good girl and all mine.”
“Y-yes.” You rasp out, lowering your hands to press them against his chest. It feels warm and firm through the fabric of his dress shirt. “Always.”
He chuckles then and leans down to pick up your discarded dress from the floor. “Then no more talk of parading yourself around for the blokes in blue. You’re mine, sweet’eart and neither of us do well with jealousy, now do we?”
You shake your head and swallow hard. “No, no we don’t.”
“Right.” He gently whacks your ass, making you yelp in surprise. “So, I reckon we should leg it. We keep at this, we'll be late, and you'll end up covered in marks your dress won't hide.”
He presses a quick kiss to your mouth. "And you're bloody right, luv. As much fun as that would be for both of us, s'not the best idea in a room full of law enforcement.”
***
Each summer, the firm hosts a charity event for the Boston Police Relief Association. Raising money for the families of fallen officers is one of the ways your dad and Eric’s give back to the city.
You and Eric attend every year, save for the last one. He had gotten shot only a week before; coupling that with the fight you had with John, you hadn’t felt much like pretending everything was normal.
The ballroom that your dad’s rented this year is simply stunning; soft gold and cream accents on the walls, pops of blue at the tables. As you walk in, with John’s arm wrapped around yours, you smile brightly when you see both dads laughing with each other near the bar.
You don’t see your mother anywhere; she must be making the rounds, playing the part of a supportive wife. If you’re lucky, you can avoid her most of the night.
As if reading your mind, John leans down to whisper in your ear. “Reckon Johnny could hightail it to the bar, get us some drinks and stay out of your mum’s firing range?”
“I don’t see her anywhere,” your eyes dart around one more time. “But it doesn’t mean she isn’t lurking around. If you run into her without me, just don’t engage and back away slowly. Without making eye contact.”
John lets out a loud chuckle as he unthreads his arm from yours. “That’s how you treat a wild animal, sweet’eart.”
“Same damn thing.” Eric laughs from behind you. “Though, if I was you, I’d take my chances with the animal. I'm just sayin', a bear wouldn't fight as dirty.”
You agree, as you spin around and wrap your arms around his waist to hug him hello.
He and John exchange greetings as you step back and lean away. John nods, then kisses your temple and excuses himself to grab drinks. Turning back to Eric, you raise your eyebrow in confusion when you’re able to really get a good look at him.
“What on earth are you wearing?” You ask, reaching out to touch the soft material of his slate blue suit jacket. “Velvet?”
“Yeah, Charlotte picked it out.” He shakes his head. “Said I’d look handsome in it and with her wearin' the same color blue, we’d look great together. Now she’s off with Linda and I look like I’m with the band.”
Eric rolls his eyes as he dusts off his shoulder playfully. “But you know I can’t say no when she turns those damn puppy dog eyes on me. Especially with that accent; I hate her face, kid. I give in every time.”
“You can’t hate her face.” You point out with a small smirk. “You love her. But I get it, he may not pull out the puppy dog eyes on me, but John’s accent gets me in all sorts of trouble.”
“I can hate Charlotte’s perfect, beautiful, little face and I do.” He sighs, resting his hands on his hips. “She and John have to know what their accents do to us, right? And it’s not fair."
He runs a hand down the sides of his beard. "It’s not like my shitty accent does it for her. It’s nothin’ like that sweet twang she’s got. Hell, it’s nothin’ compared to John’s even. And you ain't got much of one to begin with. We're defenseless against their charms. Such bullshit, kid.”
"Defenseless is right; they absolutely know.” You fold your arms and glance over at the bar. John’s leaning against the wood, deep in conversation with your dad. You can’t help but smile; it’s a relief that the two of them, at least, get along. Your mother is a lost cause.
“John’s flat out told me he uses his to get what he wants from me.” You roll your eyes when your dad laughs at whatever John’s said. “Apparently, it’s my fault that his accent gets to me. And damn him, it works every time.”
No one has any idea just how well John's accent works on you; all he has to do is drop his voice into a lower register and call you ‘sweetheart’. The way he drops the 'h' and practically growls out the word? You’re putty in his hands. It’s a fact he uses to his advantage more than he probably should.
“Trust me,” you promise, motioning for you and Eric to get out of the entranceway. “Charlotte knows. As a matter of fact, the other day on the phone, she told me how much she loved your Boston accent. I was talking about John and how I can't seem to say no when he lays it on thick. So, I’m just saying. You should go full Southie*; see what happens. Give her a taste of her own medicine.”
“Oh, yeah?” Eric’s face lights up. “She never tells me how much she likes it.” His eyes are shining with excitement as he leans against the wall. “If I’d known, I’d happily Boston it up all the time.”
“Yeah well, you know how she is.” You shrug, waving when you see Paddy and his husband across the room. “Char doesn’t really say what she likes or wants, you gotta pry it out of her.”
“I know, I love how independent she is. But she clams up when I ask her opinion sometimes. So maybe I’ll try it tonight, cause she was layin’ it on thick this mornin’; chere this and chere that. And then her weird half French, half English thing…” He shivers, glancing over your shoulder, into the crowd. “Yeah, Imma do it. See what it gets me.”
“It’ll get you the world, I promise." You think about this morning; you and John bantering back and forth until you ended up shoved against the wall. "Cause I'll tell you, you should see what it does when I say something to John in Latin.”
You raise your eyebrow, feeling your stomach flutter at the memory. “We gotta play their game, Grant.”
Eric scratches at the side of his beard. “Didn’t know that this was a game we had to play, fella. How many girls have I dated that weren’t from around here, huh? Zero. Charlotte’s my first southern girl, like John’s your first English guy. And they’re it for us, I know it.”
You can’t help but agree with him. “Well, I think that was the key; we needed to get out of our own pool. And I hope so, cause John is different from anyone I’ve ever met. And I know Char’s the same for you.”
Eric nods in agreement.
“We love them, they know it and so they’ve got their tricks; that’s how she got you in a velvet suit and that’s why I’m going to see another punk band tomorrow. So, we gotta have ours.”
He smooths the sleeves of the jacket as he looks at you. “I mean, I can’t say I’m really mad about the suit.” He says, twisting his upper body back and forth. “I do look fuckin’ good, kid. And she’s happy that we match, which is a weird thing I didn’t know couples had to do at stuff like this, but whatever. Me agreein’ to it made her smile and that’s all that matters.”
“You do look good, I’ll give you that.” And he does, between the suit and his hair quiffed and effortlessly styled, he looks more like an A- lister than a Boston Police detective. He and Charlotte make quite a pair.
“Okay, so, you remember last year’s Christmas party?” You ask him, gesturing toward the back of John’s head. “How John wore a real suit? And tonight, I got that man into a tux.”
Your smile turns smug. “Because both times, I asked him in Latin. God, you should’ve seen his face. I could’ve asked him anything and he would’ve said yes. You just gotta have fun with it.”
Decision made, Eric chuckles softly. “Yeah, alright. I’m gonna lay it on thick for her. See what happens.” He gently nudges your shoulder. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this sooner. I thought we were best friends.”
Rolling your eyes, you nudge him right back. “We are, that’s why I’m telling you now. And why I highly suggest you break out the Italian too. Make that girl swoon. But I swear, I don’t know how you didn’t catch on. You haven’t noticed how easily she agrees with you when the accent slips out thicker?”
He shrugs helplessly and tells you that he thought Charlotte was just really into whatever he was excited about. That makes you roll your eyes again. “It’s the accent. I promise.”
“Goddamn it. I’m such a fuckin’ meatball sometimes.”
“Yeah,” you agree, letting your tone fill with affection. “Sometimes you are. Good thing I still love you.”
He pulls you to him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Love ya too, kid. Now if you’ll excuse me, Imma get my girl and break out the Boston. Maybe see if we can fuck off earlier… if ya know what I mean.”
“I do. You know, think I’m gonna see what John's doing.” You slip out from under his arm and start to head toward the bar. Spinning on your heel, you rest your hands on your hips. “Eric? Let's make this fun. Bet you I can get John to want to fuck off before you can get Charlotte to.”
Eric’s grin is wide and exuberant. He loves making bets with you, especially if he thinks he’s got the upper hand. “And when I win, what do I get?”
You fold your arms across your chest, pleased that he’s onboard so quickly. “Oh, when I win, I get to drive Olivia whenever I want. If, and only if, you win, you don't have to go to Priscilla's art auction next week. I'll make an excuse for you, Linda and I will go together.”
Eric shakes his head, his grin cocky and unimpressed. “Listen kid, ya gonna have to do better than that. I can make an excuse for myself. All I gotta do is tell Prissy that I got a case to solve.”
“Goddamn it, Grant. Fine.” You laugh softly. “Then what do you want to not get? Cause I know I'm gonna win.”
“No, ya not, fella. Charlotte has been all over me since I put this suit on. It’s not gonna take much for me to make some magic happen.”
Eric smiles when he sees her walking over. “So how ‘bout this?” He says, lowering his voice into a playful whisper. “When I win, you’ll come with me to pick out an engagement ring.”
Whatever smart ass remark you were about to say, dies in your throat. Engagement ring? He wants to propose? At the stunned look on your face, Eric grins triumphantly. He knows he’s got you. “We got a deal, fella?” He asks, holding out a hand for Charlotte to take.
All you can do is nod as she pushes herself up on one heeled toe and kisses his cheek. “What are y'all talking about over here?” She asks, smirking at you both. “What deal? Looks like y’all are fixin’ to start trouble.”
“Don’t worry about it, sweethaht. Just admirin’ how wicked gorgeous ya look in that freakin’ dress.” He winks at you, knowing full well you won’t say a damn thing. “Right, kid?”
Narrowing your eyes, you nod silently.
Charlotte flushes, her cheeks growing deep pink in reaction to Eric’s accent. When he makes her spin around, showing off the cut of her dress, he whistles and comments that she’s a “wicked smokeshow.” She smiles at the praise and you know you’re going to lose this bet too.
Apparently where Charlotte’s concerned, you shouldn’t bet against Eric. At least this time, you’re more than willing to let him win right from the get-go.
When the band starts to play a familiar slow song, Charlotte grabs Eric’s hand and pulls him toward the dance floor. “Come on, sugar.” She laughs, twisting back to grin at you. “I got mine. Go get your boyfriend, let’s dance.”
You can’t remember the last time you actually danced with someone. Sure you’ve had fun with Charlotte at parties, even slow danced with Eric a time or two. But it's not the same.
Sam certainly wasn’t a dancer, at least not in a traditional ‘twirl your girl around the room’ kind of way. So if the two of you went to anything together, that was usually off the table.
You smile as you watch your two best friends move effortlessly around the dance floor. They fit together so perfectly; each facet of their personality complimenting the other. You knew this was going to happen; you could tell from the moment Eric let it slip that they were dating. Charlotte is the one for him, the girl he’s going to spend the rest of his life with.
Scanning the crowd for the man you’d happily spend the rest of yours with, you see his shock of blonde hair right where you figured he’d be. He’s by himself at the bar; your dad must’ve gone to greet other guests. You cross the room quickly and step close to him. Surely John won’t say no to such a simple request.
“Hi.” You murmur, resting one hand on his back while leaning your head on his shoulder. “Crazy idea, but do you wanna pretend to be a completely normal, non-magical couple for like four minutes?”
John turns his head and stares at you with a raised eyebrow.
“Dance.” You laugh, pointing behind you. “Do you wanna dance? With me? Eric and Charlotte are having a blast. Figured we could -”
“Oh, I’ve got two left feet, luv. You won’t fancy dancing with Johnny.” He rolls his eyes as he pushes himself up to stand. “I’d bloody well knock you over. You’re better off waiting for your mates.”
He grins as he pulls his buzzing phone from his pocket. “I’ve got to take this anyway, been waiting on Chas; he reckons he’s got a solution to our little problem. Be just a minute.”
Kissing your cheek, he answers the phone with an “Oi, mate. What took you so bloody long?” and before you can protest, he’s already halfway across the room.
You lean against the edge of the bar feeling frustrated and a little hurt. You don’t even know why you’re upset; it’s not like he told you he wants to go home. John just doesn’t want to do this. It’s silly. You’re being ridiculous.
But still, you can’t help the jealous feeling that blossoms in your chest as you watch Eric and Charlotte. All you want is one dance; why can't you be normal for one second?
Clenching your jaw, you spin around and motion for the woman behind the bar. “Old Fashioned, please.” You request, smiling kindly as she sets about making your drink. You gently run your fingers through your curled hair and let out a defeated sigh.
When you hear your name to the left of you, you force your smile back onto your face and lift your head.
Your expression falters when you come face to face with Matty Evans. The last time you saw him, his truck was peeling out of the restaurant’s parking lot after he spent the rest of your date humiliating you. Defensively, you fold your arms across your chest and take a step back.
“Hey there.” He greets you happily, with zero trace of hostility in his voice. His soft emerald eyes are filled with kindness, so much like when you first met him. “I’m Matty, hopefully you remember me? I’m sorry it’s taken so long, but it’s so nice to finally meet you.”
“What?” You blurt out, sounding more rude than you intended. Is he trying to pretend that he didn’t spend most of that night verbally assaulting you? Because you’d certainly like to pretend it didn’t happen. “It’s nice to meet me?”
Matty shrugs his shoulders as he smiles apologetically. “Well I mean, Detective Grant talked about you all the time, and he tried to hook us up like, what? A dozen times? I always thought you were completely gorgeous. And you were into history? Like, you were perfect.”
He rubs the back of his neck anxiously. “I thought it was my lucky day when he told me you were actually interested. And I get it, you had to cancel. We just never got to reschedule that first date, you know?”
Shaking your head, you can’t help but narrow your eyes. “No, I don’t -”
“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. It wasn’t your fault! I got promoted,” he explains, nodding as the bartender slides your drink onto the bar top. “Which was awesome, cause I didn’t even know I was up for one. But I switched departments pretty quick. So it's been like two years since I’ve even talked to Detective Grant.”
You take a long drink, letting the whiskey burn your throat, before you speak again. “We’re just meeting tonight?” You ask him, disbelief clear in your voice. “You and I have never been on a date before?”
Matty shakes his head, shoving a hand into the pocket of his dress pants. “Aw man, I wish. We had plans like I said, but the timing just never worked for us.”
Your fingers grip the edge of the bar top in frustration. “Matthew,” you sigh, feeling more defensive than you want to. “We went on a -”
“Matty, please.” He interrupts kindly. “Matthew is so pretentious. Makes me feel like an old man.” Glancing down, he sees that your glass is empty and motions to the bartender for another. “After the night that didn’t happen, I wanted to reschedule, but it looked like you started seeing that British guy. So, to be respectful, I backed off.”
“I… I don’t understand.” You murmur, furrowing your brow in confusion. “You don’t remember us going out?”
“No, we didn’t.” Matty shakes his head. “I think I’d remember going on a date with the girl I’d been carrying a torch for. Cause I was, for like a year.”
Shifting your weight, you peer over his shoulder. John’s weaving his way through the crowd; from the way his eyes are darting anxiously, Chas must have told him something he didn’t want to hear.
Your gaze settles back on your issue at hand. If Matty really wants to start over, he could at least acknowledge he was an ass and then move on. It’s not like it would make a difference now anyway. You’re with John; have been since that night, really.
When he swooped in and saved you from your horrible date.
John wouldn’t have dared. But even as the thought crosses your mind, you remember how confused you were when Matty came back from the bathroom and was so much like Sam and Hugh that it made you nauseous. It was like someone had magically replaced your date with the absolute worst version of your ex and Charlotte’s.
Once it was over, all you knew was that you never wanted to see Matty Evans again and John Constantine had wormed his way into your life and into your heart.
“Matty?” When you rest your hand on his arm, he smiles at you hopefully. “Please know I didn’t cancel because I didn’t want to go on a date. It honestly couldn’t be helped. But you’re seeing someone now, right?”
“Nah, pretty married to my job.” Matty shrugs off your concern with an easy smile. “But I’m not worried. Detective Grant found the girl he wants to spend the rest of his life with, and you got yourself a good guy too. When the time’s right for me, I’ll know.”
Once John gets close enough to the two of you, he pauses. His eyes widen for just a second and you know he must recognize who you’re talking to. Sliding his phone into his back pocket, he leans against a tall table and listens warily.
You meet his eyes over Matty's shoulder and yours burn with furious, humiliated tears. This is the Matty that you first met; the one that you thought you could build a real relationship with. John did something that night, you’re certain of it. You aren’t sure what, but you’re sure as Hell going to find out.
“I’m so sorry that we didn’t get a chance to have that first date.” You apologize, withdrawing your hand and crossing your arms over your chest. “Believe me, if I could go back in time and do something about it, I would.”
“Don’t even stress about it.” Matty assures you, picking up your fresh glass and handing it to you. “Everything happens for a reason, right? Fate had other plans for you.”
Yeah, you think angrily. It had nothing to do with fate. “Something like that.” You agree, taking a sip of your drink.
Matty turns his head and catches John staring at his comfortable distance. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been monopolizing all of your time. I’m sure your boyfriend wants his dance partner back.”
He holds out his hand for you to shake it. “Look, it was great to finally meet you. I’m really glad you’ve got someone to make you happy. Detective Grant always spoke so highly of you.”
You hope that Matty can’t see how furious you are. It’s not at him; you know now that he’d done nothing wrong that night. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Once you say your goodbyes, Matty steps away and you stare down at the glass in your shaking hand. John doesn’t move from his spot at the high top table. It’s not until you finish your drink that he takes a tentative step. When he does, you whip your head up and point to one of the balcony doors on the side of the ball room.
Without a word, John follows you with crossed arms. Thankfully, there's no one out here and you intend to keep it that way.
“Ensure secreto.” You murmur, lowering your palms flat toward the floor. The spell mingles with the soft breeze of the early summer night and surrounds the balcony with a shimmering halo of light. Once you’re sure the spell will keep everyone out until you release the magic, you spin around with narrowed eyes.
“What did you do?” You hiss out, blinking away furious tears as you pace back and forth. “The night we first went out. What the fuck did you do to him?” John is a silent pillar of anxiety; one hand in his pocket, the other gripping the railing of the balcony as he watches you.
“Fucking answer me, John.” You snap, struggling to keep your lower lip from trembling. You step closer to him until you’ve invaded his space and lower your voice to a whisper. “Because Matty has zero memory of our date, zero memory of treating me like shit. According to him, we never went out. We never fucking met.”
John swallows, clenching his jaw as he pushes himself off the balcony. “You and I kept getting off on the wrong bloody foot, sweet’eart. And I… fucking Hell. I saw you on that bloody date and you looked like you were having a brilliant time. If I hadn’t done something, I -”
“What. Did. You. Do?” You ask again, barely controlling your anger. “And don’t sweetheart me, you have no idea how furious I am right now.”
“I reckon I can guess.” John tilts his head, pulling down the cigarette he keeps behind his ear. “It was only intended to project the worst qualities of a past lover onto that poor bloke. Reckoned you’d tell that wanker to piss off and I’d get another chance at you. I reckoned that I’d gotten my bloody wires crossed; cocked it all up.”
You suck in a harsh, shaky breath. John cast a spell to put himself directly in your path that night. So, does this mean that the entire night was a ruse? You’d actually let your guard down around him; gotten close when you hadn’t intended to.
“You hexed him?” You ask, hastily wiping your eyes. “You cast a spell on him and had no idea of the consequences? He could’ve been seriously hurt. And clearly you messed with his memory, what if you took something from his mind that was important?”
John nods, frowning when you step back and away from him. “I was careful about what he wouldn’t remember, then I made it so you’d never have to see him again. But you’ve got to believe that I had no idea how much of a tosspot Sam had been for the spell to come on that bloody strong. It turned into the date from Hell for you. That was never my intention. I don’t fancy hurting you.”
“So you’re the reason Matty got promoted? Jesus, John.” You shake your head in disbelief. It seems so like him to do something like this, but it still hurts to hear him admit it.
“I can’t believe you. You didn’t have to hear everything he was saying to me. It was awful; so embarrassing and just so… so shitty. And to find out that you made that happen? Two years later?”
You sink down into a chair near the left side of the balcony. “And you know what, John? You keep saying that you ‘don’t want to hurt me,’ but you’re awfully fucking good at it.”
John’s eyes soften into sadness as he rests his cigarette on the table; you’re sure you’ve struck a nerve, but you’re too upset to care. With a frustrated sigh, you drop your head into your hands.
He crouches low, resting a hand on your knee. “I intended to buy you a proper drink after that whole mess, see where we went after that. Fancied getting to know you, is all. I bloody well hadn't anticipated spending that much time with you. And that I’d fancy doing it again.”
Your head whips up furiously to meet his amber eyes. “Excuse me?”
“Well, you proved to be more disarming than I reckoned, luv. I told you more than I’d told anyone in a long time. You’re brilliant and I sensed something in you then that I wanted to explore. Then it turned into something else entirely, didn’t it now?”
You rise so abruptly, that John falls backward and onto the stone floor. “So this whole time?” You’re crying now; stupid, embarrassed tears that fall hot on your cheeks. “This was all a lie? You just manipulated me into thinking you were this knight in shining armor because you wanted to get in my pants?”
Scrambling to his feet, John attempts to grab your hand so you won’t leave. “No, not this whole bloody time.” He insists, his voice urgent and panicked. “How I feel about you is not a lie. It’s never been a lie. Reckon I tried to fight it, once I realized that I’d bloody well caught feelings. But it was never a lie. You’re the only part of my useless life that feels right.”
You rip your hand away from him and meet his wary eyes. There’s a tightness in your chest that makes you think you’re on the verge of a panic attack. “And casting a spell on a guy I thought I could really build something with, so I’d fall for you? And then hiding it from me? What about that feels right?”
Before he can respond, you storm off toward the door. When you get there, you see Charlotte laughing with Tommy and Eric by one of the high top tables. If you could, you’d grab her and just let it all out, but you don’t want to ruin her good time.
Only one of you needs to be miserable and knowing that Eric so genuinely loves her, when you can't get John to just be honest with you, breaks your heart a little more.
You whisper “cessare" to release your magic’s hold on the balcony and step back out onto the ballroom floor. With everyone smiling and laughing, you realize you just can’t be here right now. Seeing the stairs that lead to what you assume are offices and administrative rooms, you cross the floor as quickly as you can without arousing suspicion.
At the top of the stairs, there’s three offices and the one directly to the left of you is unlocked. As you twist the knob, the tightness that hasn’t left your chest makes it difficult to breathe. You lean down, closing your eyes and resting your palms flat on the table. Pulling in slow deep breaths, you try to calm your racing mind.
When the door creaks behind you, you open your eyes and clench your fists against the Formica. “You need to give me some space, John. I’m so angry with -”
“What the devil did he do now?” Charlotte asks, closing the door behind her. “Eric said y’all were fine but I just saw you fly up here, hiding tears.” When her hand gently rests on your back, your lower lip trembles and you’re crying again. “Sugar, talk to me.”
You turn around and meet her soft espresso eyes. She lifts her hand and wipes your tears from your cheeks as you slump against the table. “What’s going on?”
Sniffling, you wipe your eyes and fold your arms in front of you. “You remember that awful date I went on a couple years back?” Charlotte nods, furrowing her brow. She’s already trying to connect the dots in her head; figure out where John fits into whatever you’re about to tell her.
“After he left me there, I never thought about Matty after that night. John took me out; offered to rescue me and when I said yes, we spent all night talking.”
She raises her eyebrow in suspicion. “I recall. Did John do something to him?” She holds up a hand as she shakes her head. “What am I saying, of course he did. Let me rephrase, what did John do to him?”
“He cast a spell on Matty, so the nastiest parts of Sam and honestly, Hugh, were all I could see.” You shudder and cast your eyes to the floor. “He wanted to make the date miserable so he could swoop in and play hero.”
Charlotte freezes and when you glance up at her, there’s something like fear in her eyes. “Nothing else happened that night that you didn’t tell us, right?”
You give her a hard stare. “What he said to me wasn’t bad enough?”
“Of course it was, I just meant that... “ She folds her own arms defensively. “He was just so awful, sugar. I’m sorry. But how did this even come up? Where’s the rest of the story?”
With an annoyed sigh, you press the heel of your hand against your forehead. “After I left you guys, I went to ask John if he wanted to dance with me.”
You roll your eyes. “He didn’t. So, I ordered a drink to, you know, make myself not care that we couldn’t just be a normal couple for a second.” Your eyes fill with frustrated tears again. “Demons, magic and all this heavy shit. I just wanted a stupid dance.”
Wiping your eyes, you suck in a deep breath. “Anyway, Matty came over to introduce himself to me. Because he’d never had a chance to meet me before.”
Charlotte opens her mouth to jump in and you cut her off by shaking your head. “He told me all about how Eric tried to hook us up, but the timing was never right. And apparently, the night we were supposed to go out, I cancelled. So he has no fucking memory of our date.”
You narrow your eyes, feeling anger blossom in your chest again. “John came back, mid conversation, and heard us talking. So when I asked him, he admitted what he’d done. He purposely sabotaged my date so he’d get a chance with me.”
Angry tears burn the edges of your eyes. You do not want to cry again, but you’re so fed up with the lying, the secrets. Everything. And the pitying look Charlotte’s giving you, makes you want to go home and cry underneath the covers of your bed.
“I just don’t understand him.” You shrug helplessly, staring at the hem of your dress so you don’t have to see that look in her eyes. “If John had just flat out asked me, really asked me, I would’ve gone out with him. We were already flirting. He didn’t need to trick me into doing it.”
A tear drops onto your lap; you sniffle to stop more from falling. “He says he didn’t realize how badly the spell would affect me, but still. It’s been two years and he was perfectly fucking content to let me think that Matty was an asshole on purpose.”
“What is his problem?” Charlotte hisses furiously. “Just when I think I can tolerate that snake oil salesman you call a boyfriend, he goes and does a damn thing like this. Mais j’mais, John is slicker than pig snot on a radiator.”
“You always have the nicest things to say about me, Lottie.” You lift your gaze to see John leaning in the doorway, hands shoved into his pockets. He looks exhausted; he must’ve run his hands through his hair a few times in frustration, it’s messy and stuck up in weird angles.
“Well, I give credit where it’s due, saloud." Charlotte scoffs, stepping in front of you. “For reasons I’ll never understand, she loves you and -”
You reach for her hand. “Charli, don’t -”
Moving out of your reach, she shakes her head. “No, sugar. I’m sorry, but John needs to hear this.” She turns away, glaring in John’s direction. “She loves you, and I feel like every time she’s fought with you, it’s because you‘ve lied or hidden something. How could you do that to her? To someone I know you love.”
John’s jaw ticks, a sure sign that he’s about to go on the defensive. “I was about to apologize and she bloody well stormed off.”
Charlotte cuts you off before you can say anything in response. “Can you blame her? Were you that concerned that she wouldn’t be able to stand you on your own? You had to go and use magic on that poor man to push her into wanting to sleep with you?”
“It bloody well wasn’t like that.” John insists, moving closer to the two of you. “I didn’t realize how strong the spell would come off. I only fancied giving us another shot. Every bloody thing that happened after that was fate. I did nothing to move it along.”
Over Charlotte’s shoulder, John meets your eyes. “My feelings for you, sweet’eart, while unexpected in the beginning, are completely genuine. I kept my trap shut about the spell and I regret that. But it's been two years and neither of us want anyone else. Reckon I didn’t think it mattered anymore. I swear it.”
Charlotte stands her ground, staying angry and defensive despite his confession. “You don’t deserve her.” She snaps, her voice low and furious. “You never have.”
“You reckon I don’t know that?” John hisses back, failing to hide the hurt in his eyes. “You reckon I don’t know that since I came into her life, there’s been nothing but bloody demons, danger and -”
“Guys!” You push yourself off the table and get in between the two of them. “Stop. Just, stop.” You’re still hurt, but if they keep yelling at each other like this, they’re going to attract the wrong kind of attention. “Stop fighting, before someone hears you yelling about de-”
The door behind John opens and Eric leans in, all smiles and confusion. “Ya havin’ a pahty up here and didn’t invite me?”
Shaking her head, Charlotte grins up at him with an easy, reassuring expression. “Not at all, chere. John did something stupid and I was fixing to make sure my best friend was alright.”
Eric glances between you and John, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Kid, ya good?” He asks, fully stepping into the room.
You watch John’s face for a moment before answering. His dark eyes are widened and wary, like he’s waiting for you to tell Eric to get rid of him. For a second, you consider it. If you tell Eric any of what’s happened, he’d haul John off, no questions asked.
But the more you stare at John, take in his tight, white knuckled fists and tense jaw, the more you realize that he’s afraid you’re going to do just that. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You say softly. “I just need to speak with John. Alone, please.”
When Charlotte starts to protest, Eric swiftly takes her hand. “Honey, let’s listen to her, she’s an adult.” He smiles at her, then you. “But if ya need us, need me, ya just call. Ya got me?” You nod in response and watch silently as they shut the door behind them.
John scrubs a hand down his face, scratching anxiously at his stubbled cheek. “So, is this it, then?” He asks, sounding as defeated as he did the night you called him out for trying to punish you. “Finally kicking ol’ Johnny to the curb?”
“I thought about it.” You admit quietly. John raises both eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything. “I thought about kicking you out, ending things. You’ve given me enough reason to want to.”
John swallows hard, briefly meeting your eyes before dropping his to the floor. He shifts his weight from one side to the other before letting out a heavy sigh. “Sweet’eart, I -”
“Let me finish.” You hold up a hand as you cross the distance to him. “I don’t want to. But how many times do you think I'm going to be able to forgive and forget when you do something like this? I accept you for the man you are, I always have. I love you. But I forgive a lot. More than anyone else in my position would.”
John gives you a half smile. “I know.”
Peering up at him, you take his hand and thread your fingers through his. “Okay. So, if you were me, and you found out that I’d cursed a date so I could get a shot at you, what would you do?”
“Reckon I’d be flattered.” You scrunch your face in annoyance. He quickly backtracks, using his free hand to cup your cheek. “I do understand why you’re bloody furious. But I truly meant only to give us another go. And go we did, didn’t we? I had no idea then that you’d mean what you do to me now.”
Letting go of his hand, you turn away from him and wrap your arms around yourself. “You have to stop doing this. You have to stop making things harder for us. Please.”
“I know, luv.” He says, muttering something under his breath. “I’m sorry. Reckon I keep saying that, but...”
You furrow your brow when the lights in the room dim and music starts drifting in from an unknown source. You spin around, a small smirk on your face, when you recognize ‘Witchcraft’ by Frank Sinatra softly filling the room.
“Dance with me, sweet’eart.” John asks, holding out his hand. “Please?”
Unfolding your arms, you take his hand and let him wrap his around you. “I thought you didn’t know how to dance.” You pout, swaying back and forth with him.
John shrugs, spinning you around with ease. “S’not that I didn’t know how, but I reckoned I’d never had someone I fancied dancing with, until now.”
You roll your eyes, ready to give him a smart ass reply, when he starts softly singing lines of the song, smiling at you as he does. “And I've got no defense for it, the heat is too intense for it, what good would common sense for it do? 'Cause it's witchcraft. Wicked witchcraft…”
You’ve never heard him sing before, even though you know he can. His rich baritone sends shivers along your spine as the words wash over you. When he dips you, while still singing along, you laugh softly. “Are you calling me a witch?”
“Aye, and a bloody talented one at that. But that wasn’t the point of this.” He rights you both and pulls you close to him until your chest is flush with his. “You’ve utterly bewitched me. You had me from the moment you squared off with that Rabisu in the museum. My heart’s been yours ever since.”
Leaning away from him, you narrow your eyes and give him a stern expression. “I don’t like being manipulated, John. And don’t think you’re off the hook, I’m still ups-”
“I’m not, luv.” John replies, his expression soft and sincere. “I’m being truly honest. And I am sorry. I shouldn’t have messed with the bloke. And I shouldn’t have hidden it from you. After Morgan almost took you from me, I swore to myself that I’d do better. For you. You know what you are to me.”
“I do.” It doesn’t fix things, but it makes you feel a bit better.
Deciding to test the truth of his words, you rest your head on his chest. “So what did Chas have to say?” You ask, without looking up.
John tenses for a second, before relaxing and swaying to the music. He recognizes the test for what it is. “We know Morgan’s true name, his demonic name. In Hell especially, names hold power. At least, that's what the lore says. So Chas reckons with that knowledge and the right spell, we can destroy the wanker.”
“So we finally have a plan.” You feel more relieved than you can say. “That’s good. Does he have the spell?”
“Not yet.” John admits, absently rubbing his hand on your back. “But he’s working on it. And when he’s got something solid, he’ll give us a bell. Then, and only then, will we make a move. Together.”
You hear the promise in his words and that means more to you than his apology. “Thank you, Johnny. For telling me the truth, for trusting me with it.”
John kisses the top of your head and holds you tighter. He doesn’t say anything, just continues to sway with you in his arms.
Notes:
Eric being all slick with the engagement ring comment! :)
I told y'all in the beginning, that John messing with that date would come back to bite him in the ass. Eventually. And I will say, letting Charlotte get angry with him just fuels my heart. She's the best.
The dancing scene is one of my favorite moments. John can be a true romantic when he wants to be and even though he knew he had to apologize, it still gave me the warm fuzzies.
*Please, my love
*Southie- in certain parts of Boston, the accent is THICK. I'm talking pahk the cah in Havahd Yaad thick.Next week:
Eric invites you and John to a Halloween party at an old friend's house. Unfortunately, the house is haunted and you and John have to get rid of the thing before it can hurt anyone, all while keeping Eric in the dark. Charlotte finally sees first hand how dangerous magic is when she's caught in the crossfire of you and the angry spirit. She does NOT handle the aftermath well, especially after it makes her see something from her past she'd much rather forget.Till next time <3
Chapter 40: Things best forgotten.
Summary:
Eric invites you and John to a Halloween party at an old friend's house. Unfortunately, the house is haunted and you and John have to get rid of the thing before it can hurt anyone, all while keeping Eric in the dark. Charlotte finally sees first hand how dangerous magic is when she's caught in the crossfire of you and the angry spirit. She does NOT handle the aftermath well, especially after it makes her see something from her past she'd much rather forget.
Notes:
We've kept buttoned up a lot of Charlotte's past, but if you read between the lines throughout this, you'll understand a little of what she's worked hard to keep hidden. Her relationship with Hugh was violent and tumultuous and you'll see a bit of it here in this chapter. I've updated the tags to reflect this. And we know she comes out the other side of it; her relationship with Eric is healthy and wonderful.
But every quirk about Charlotte starts to make sense. And fear not, eventually she works up the courage to tell the people she loves what happened to her, it's crucial to the narrative of the sequel. Thanks for being on board and trusting us. We don't take this subject lightly.<3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“John and I would love to go with you guys, I’m just confused by your level of excitement here.” You lean back in the booth, your fingers curling around your glass, and give Eric an amused smile. “You hate Halloween.”
“It’s not that I hate Halloween,” he protests, idly spinning his phone on the high top table. “It just got a hell of a lot less fun once I got the badge. But it’s a huge thing, kid. And it’s my buddy’s favorite holiday; he’s got this huge creepy haunted house out in Concord too. Ya gonna love it.”
Before you can protest, he throws his hands up in surrender. “Yeah, I know what ya gonna say, we’re too old for Halloween parties. But I couldn’t say no cause I haven’t seen Scott in forever. So, it’ll be good to catch up. And yanno, show off my wicked gorgeous girlfriend while she’s up here.”
Charlotte grins as she finishes off her drink. She gently runs her fingers through Eric’s dark hair and sighs dramatically. “You could’ve done that without going to a party, chere. You just wanted to dress up.”
“Wait, this is a dress up thing?” You raise your eyebrow in annoyance. “You didn’t say anything about needing a costume.”
He shrugs innocently. “Didn’t I?” When you shake your head, he grins mischievously. “My bad. But uh, yeah, it’s a dress up kind of party. Charlotte and I got a couple’s thing goin’. You and Johnny should match us. It'll be fun.”
“We’ll see. I can barely get him to wear something other than his dress clothes.” You roll your eyes when Charlotte giggles. “What are you dressing up as?”
Without a word, Eric slides his phone across the table. You don’t have words for what you’re looking at. He’s had a complete Captain America suit made. It’s identical to the one you’ve seen Steve Rogers wear in the comics; shield and all. You can’t even imagine what it must have cost.
“This isn't a costume.” You say in disbelief, setting the phone down on the table. “This is a full tactical suit, dude.”
He smiles as he leans back, a smug expression tugging at his lips when he tells you it’s not a big deal. “Eric, you had a full replica made.” You point out with a laugh as you reach for your glass. “It’s definitely a big deal. I didn’t realize you were such a fan of Captain America.”
He gestures to Charlotte with a small grin. “Yeah well, I suggested Indiana Jones. But I got shot down pretty quick.”
Charlotte makes an aggravated face and nudges his shoulder. “You got shot down, chere, because Indiana Jones was Hugh’s favorite movie. We watched that damn thing so many times I could quote it in my sleep. Hugh idolized the man. And he made me dress up as that poor girl for a party one year. Two words. Silk. Nightgown.''
She shakes her head as her nose crinkles up. “I always thought their relationship was creepy. Marion was fifteen the first time they slept together and Indy was twenty-seven. I felt dirty and Hugh had too much fun with it. So, I’m not fixing to do that again.”
You stifle a laugh as Eric seems properly horrified by Charlotte’s response. You knew all about Hugh’s ridiculous obsession with Indiana Jones, as well as Charlotte’s hatred of the character.
“Well, shit.” Eric whispers, leaning back in shock. “I didn’t look at it like that. Trust one self righteous prick to carry a torch for another.” He shudders and scrunches his face in disgust. “Honestly honey, all ya had to say was that Hugh was involved and I’d understand.”
“And that little nugget of information explains a lot about Hugh’s personality, doesn’t it?” You finish off your drink and set it down on the table. “He’s a self righteous, misogynistic, asshole.”
Charlotte clears her throat and abruptly switches gears. “Yes, well, I think the Captain America suit is a much better costume. And I like the style of the forties better than the twenties anyway.” She gives you a hard stare that makes you tilt your head in confusion. “And I know you do. So y’all are coming with us then, yeah?”
You wish mind reading was an ability of yours; you’d give almost anything to know what’s going through her head right now. “Yeah, we’ll come.” You agree with a small sigh. “I haven't seen Eric this excited about Halloween in years.” Eric’s grinning face proves your point.
“And John isn’t going to say no to an actual party. He loves Halloween. I may have to bribe him to dress up, but if there’s an open bar, it shouldn’t be too hard.”
When Eric rolls his eyes and pushes himself up to answer his ringing phone, Charlotte scrunches her face as she watches him walk away. “Yeah well, John is a goblin. Of course he loves Halloween.”
You bite your tongue to keep from laughing. “Char, be nice. He’s not a goblin. It’s not his fault that Halloween is the busiest time for our line of work. The veil’s at its thinnest around Samhain. John figures that we might as well enjoy it.”
“Sugar, I know that. I grew up just outside of one the most haunted places in the country. The bayou is filled with spooks and things that go bump in the night.” She glances around to make certain Eric’s not within earshot. “Never thought my best friend would hunt said spooks and things, but here we are.”
You shrug in response. “Me either, but John’s opened my eyes to a whole different world out there. And now that I’m a part of it, I can’t imagine wanting to do anything else. So shush, before Eric hears and we both don’t want to have to explain ourselves.”
“Maybe he should hear. We ought to tell him.” Charlotte protests quietly, smiling as she watches him pace back and forth on the phone. “He deserves to know the truth. I don’t feel right keeping something like this from him.”
You shake your head but keep your smile firmly planted on your face. “You know damn well why we can’t. It’s dangerous enough that you know. It makes you a target and I -”
“Not knowing made Eric a target.” She points out and for a second, you have no response. She’s not exactly wrong; you’d been terrified that his ignorance the night you thought he was taken was going to be the death of him.
With a heavy sigh, you slump back in your seat. “Please don’t start. John made it very clear that we stay quiet about what we can do to keep -”
“Cause John always has the best advice.” She snarks, cutting you off before you can finish your sentence. “Sugar, do you even hear yourself? Half the time he’s lying to you and the other half of the time, he’s hiding shit that inevitably gets y’all in trouble. I know about magic and I’m just fine.”
“Because you’re a safe distance away. Eric’s in the thick of the mess and I do everything I can to keep him safe. Don’t you think I’d rather just tell everyone, get it all out in the open? But if he knew, he’d actively seek out magic and that’s too dangerous to consider.”
At that moment, Eric slides back into the booth, ending the conversation. You snap your mouth shut furiously, clenching your jaw as you glare across the table. Sensing the tension between the two of you, Eric raises an eyebrow. “I hate to break up this party ladies, but I just got a call. You two gonna be good?”
“We’re fine, chere.” Charlotte assures him. “Go save the world.” He kisses her cheek and nods in your direction.
Once he’s left the restaurant, she reaches over the table for your hand. “I’m not fixing to start trouble. I’m just speaking my mind. You have your reasons and I respect them. But don’t blindly follow orders just because John says so.” She rolls her eyes. “We both know you’re too smart to let a man tell you what to do outside the bedroom.”
***
When you open the door, John looks up from your laptop with a wolfish grin. “There’s my girl.” He watches you throw your bag on the small table by the door. When you smile back, he closes the computer and leans back on the couch. “You have a good time with your mates?”
“Always. I actually have something to ask you in regard to them.” You kick off your shoes and walk to him, nudging John’s leg so he’ll move over. “But first, what did you and Chas find? Anything?”
John nods, grabbing his phone and handing it to you. You zoom in on the grainy picture from one of Chas’s spell books and tilt your head in confusion. “It’s a summoning spell, in the original bloody Aramaic, of course. But Chas reckons we can bugger it up and twist it to our own use, seeing as our demon is already walking topside. Now, it’s not much to go on -”
“But it’s a good start.” You hand him back the phone. “And the most we’ve had since we found out his name. Nice job, Johnny.”
John laughs, sliding it back into the pocket of his dress pants. “Reckon I hardly did a thing. You should give Chas a bell then, he’s got his head in all the old texts. Not Johnny. Sure he’d like the praise.”
When you roll your eyes and playfully ruffle his hair, he swats your ass in response. “Now, what did you want to ask?”
“Eric invited us to a Halloween party this weekend.” You explain, settling onto the couch and tucking your legs under you. “An old friend of his lives in this supposedly haunted house in Concord and he’s throwing a big thing.”
John twists his upper body to wrap an arm around your shoulders. “I reckon you fancy going, then?”
“We’d have to dress up, but it could be fun. And since it’s been a really stressful couple of months, I figured we could use a little of that.” Leaning against his side, you peer up expectantly. “If you want to, obviously.”
John stares down at you; his expression almost entirely unreadable. “This is important to you, innit?” He asks softly.
You attempt a casual shrug. “Look, I know nothing about us is normal and it’s dumb to try and pretend. But sometimes, I just want to dress up and go to a Halloween party with my very handsome boyfriend. I want to listen to bad music, eat candy corn and just pretend that something isn't actively trying to kill us.”
John rakes a hand through his hair, then smiles softly. “Then pretend we will, luv. You risk your life for me all the time, don't you? The least I could bloody do is dress up a touch and have a normal night.”
Leaning your head against him, you let your fingers rest on his upper thigh. “Eric wants to do like a forties thing. He’s had a costume made and everything. So, I was thinking you could go as Dick Tracy, the PI? And I could go as Tess Trueheart, Tracy’s very intelligent, yet very danger prone girlfriend.”
John laughs, moving his hand from your shoulders to your hair. He tugs your head back and whispers into your ear. “That’s a touch on the nose. Innit, sweet’eart?”
“Maybe.” You laugh and turn your head as much as he’ll allow to grin up at him. “But I figured it was easy; you already have the trench coat. We’d just have to dye it yello- ahh!”
You cut yourself off with a giggle as John moves and pulls you onto his lap. “We’ll not be doing that.” He growls playfully, raising an eyebrow as you squirm against him. “I’ll glamour it yellow, but we won’t be wrecking my trench coat, luv.”
“I wouldn’t say we’d wreck it.” You lean back and rest your palms flat against the warmth of his dress shirt. “Clean it up, definitely. Improve it, maybe. But not wreck it.”
John shakes his head and dips down to catch your lips with his. His are soft and hesitant against yours; moving slowly, but savoring every moment. You sigh into his mouth and he deepens the kiss, pulling back only to let you run the tip of your tongue against his bottom lip.
After a moment, John fully leans back, searching your eyes as your fingers thread into his hair. “You make me genuinely happy, luv.” He murmurs, cupping your cheek with his free hand.
“Happier than a bloke like myself ever reckoned I could be. I hope you know that. Reckon I’m not the best with telling you, but it's true. Never imagined I’d be able to have this, and with someone like you; someone that sees the cracks in Ol’ Johnny’s armor and isn’t afraid of them.”
You stare at his lips for a second before leaning forward to kiss him again. When he gently nips at your bottom lip, you feel desire starting to pool in your stomach. Both of your hands move to cup his face as his left hand slides around your waist, pulling you closer to him.
Finally needing air, you break the kiss and when you meet his eyes, they’ve darkened with desire. As you move to kiss his neck, John swiftly shifts both of you so that you’re lying beneath him. He leans back down, kissing you deeply as his hand snakes under your dress.
“You make me happy too, you know.” You whisper, wrapping your fingers around his tie and looking up into the amber of his eyes. “This life gets crazy, and trust me, there are moments that I wish we’d done differently. But I’m glad I chose you, Johnny; I’ll always choose you.”
John gives you a soft, genuine smile. “You know I feel the same, sweet’eart. You’re the bravest, most brilliant lass I’ve ever laid eyes on. I can’t imagine what my ruddy existence would look like without you by my side.”
Resting your head back against the cushion, you sigh in contentment. He’s right, you do know that he feels the same, but it’s reassuring to hear it every once in a while.
Charlotte may have valid points, but she doesn’t see what you see when you look at him. This side of John, the one full of softness and affection, is the reason you fell for him as hard as you did. He may be a ‘nasty piece of work’, but you don't ever want anyone else.
What you feel for each other is real, you know that in your heart. Even if she doesn’t understand it.
***
“You look incredible, sweet’eart.” John praises as you step out of the bathroom. You’d glamoured one of your older dresses into something resembling the one you saw Tess wearing in the movie. Dark green and black covered you; more form fitting than you were used to, but you liked the overall look.
It had taken the better part of a half an hour to get your hair to hold the style you wanted. It refused to cooperate and in the end, you just magicked it, and your outrageous hat, into place.
“You really think so?” You ask, twirling around so John can see the entire dress. “I wasn’t sure about the dress, it’s tighter than my normal style. But you don’t think the hat is too much?”
John smirks, sliding his hands into the pockets of his wide leg pants. “Reckon I quite fancy that dress. Shows off every bloody curve.” His eyes move up to the wide brimmed hat on your head. “Don’t care much for the hat, but I don’t fancy the fedora you’ve stuck to my melon either. I give us an hour before we’ve tossed them both."
You giggle as you step around him and grab the offending fedora from the bed. “The hats won't even make it to the party. And if it counts for anything, I love the rest of your outfit.” Your gaze heats up as you take in his double breasted suit jacket and striped tie. “You’d fit in just fine in the forties, I think.”
John leans forward, grinning down at his wingtips, then back up at you. “You saying I’d make a brilliant dick in any decade, then?”
Closing the small distance between the two of you, you reach up and plop his hat on his head. “You bet your bottom dollar, I am, Mister.”
***
Eric whistles when you and John walk into his apartment. “Damn kid, you sure ya weren’t born in the wrong decade? Cause ya look freakin’ fantastic. And Johnny, you don’t look half bad as a forties PI. The gumshoe thing really suits ya.”
John smirks and inclines his head, staring wolfishly at the red, blue and white tactical suit covering Eric’s body. “And look at you, big man. S’like you were meant to be a bloody superhero.”
“Well, he’s certainly the most handsome superhero I’ve ever seen.” Charlotte smirks, smoothing out the skirt of her dress as she walks into the living room. Eric smiles wide at the praise, as she leans down on the couch to pick up his shield. “And he’s right, y’all do look pretty damn good. It’s like we planned this or something.”
“Yeah, yeah.” John rolls his eyes as he gestures to you. “Reckon it’s a testament to how much I care about this one that I let her dress me up like a bloody Bobbie.” You move under his outstretched arm and shrug. “Shall we get going then?”
Charlotte nods, handing Eric the shield. As they move toward the door, she whirls around in excitement. “Oh! I promised Ray that I’d take a picture. We should do it now before we get there and start drinking. And honestly, sugar, you’re never going to get John to dress up like this again, so I want photographic evidence.”
John rolls his eyes as he pulls the hats off of your head and his. “Sticks and stone, Lottie.”
Eric moves to stand next to John as Charlotte sets the timer on her phone. Once it’s set, she hurries over next to him. Just before the timer ends, John grabs your hand and presses it to his lips. You weren’t expecting the gesture and when Charlotte examines the photo, her soft smile tells you she wasn’t either.
Without a word, she sends the picture to the three of you and meets John’s eyes when he feels the buzz in his back pocket. He pulls out his phone and when you see the finished picture, you smile up at Charlotte. “You have your moments, John.” She admits as Eric leans in to see. “I’ll give you that.”
***
Scott’s house is huge; an ancient Victorian set back in the woods of Concord. As the Explorer pulls up, even John swears under his breath. “You reckon the place is haunted then?” He asks, twisting in the passenger seat to meet your eyes in the back.
“Eric’s friend thinks it is, but someone doesn’t believe in any of that.” You fold your arms across your chest. “Right, Eric?”
“Kid, there is no such thing as ghosts.” Eric rolls his eyes as he parks in front of the massive structure. Hand on the door, he chuckles to himself. “And if there were, I’d definitely have found one by now.”
John freezes, arm extended to help you out of the car, and raises an eyebrow in your direction. “That’s what you think, big man?” He asks, stifling a laugh. “Good thing you don’t believe in ‘em, ey?”
With a small chuckle, you slide out and stare up at the house. Immediately you can feel the energy coming off of it. It has nothing to do with the countless party goers dancing around inside and everything to do with the vile, heavy and overwhelming weight that’s settled around the property.
Whatever’s in there is most definitely evil. John feels it too, his fingers tightening around your arm as you both look up into the windows of what you think is the attic. He gives you a sympathetic smile. “So much for being a normal couple, ey, sweet’eart?”
You let out a heavy sigh and walk with him up the gravel driveway. “Yeah, I’m so not wearing the right kind of dress to kick Casper’s ass.”
“Why on God’s Green Earth are you fixing to kick Casper’s ass?” Charlotte hisses, letting Eric get a few good steps ahead of the group. “Is this house actually haunted?”
Nodding, you glance at John before you explain. "How the hell do y'all know that?" She asks, attempting to hide the fear creeping into her voice.
"I can feel it.” You tell her quietly, looking at the aging Victorian with determination. “Whatever it is has settled into the roots of the house; it’s started to rot, piece by piece. It's almost like a living sickness? It breathes and moves, like it’s alive."
Closing your eyes, you inhale deeply to allow your magic a second to acclimate. You let it seep outward, like John’s taught you and wait a moment before you open them again. You see flashes of life from a time not your own; hysterical accusations, violent deaths. The imprint leaves you clutching Charlotte’s arm when you shake it off.
"It's been here since before the house was built.” You let out a shaky breath. “Late sixteen hundreds, early seventeen hundreds, maybe? It’s hard to pinpoint the year, I’ve only started -"
"Bloody hell, sweet’eart." John murmurs as you twist to stare at his face. Scrubbing a hand down his stubbled cheek, he grins at you with eyes full of pride. "You truly are the most talented -"
Charlotte motions Eric inside when he turns to see the three of you talking. "Yeah, she is.” She agrees, folding her arms across her chest as Eric steps inside. “So, what are we gonna do about this? If it's a nasty spook, you gotta get rid of it. Won't it be drawn to you like a moth to a damn flame?"
"Aye." John growls, understanding as you do the danger this could present to the four of you if left unchecked.
"So not only could it potentially harm y'all.” Charlotte argues, her eyes moving toward the front door before narrowing in on John again. “But it could come after Eric and myself. Any of these people, really."
Shaking your head, you reach for her hand. "We won't let that happen." You assure her, recalling your conversation with her from only a few days ago. “Don’t worry about this thing. We’re gonna get rid of it. Before it hurts anyone.”
“That’s just it, sugar.” Charlotte scrunches her face in confusion. “Why hasn’t it gone after anyone before this? Do we know for sure that it’s malevolent? I… I want to help. Y’all just can’t expect me to sit there and let you risk your lives. What can I do?”
"What you're going to do, Lottie.” John walks up to the porch and presses his palms flat to the wooden railing. “Is keep the boyfriend of yours distracted so he doesn't come around snooping while we do our bloody jobs."
Before Charlotte can protest, you shake your head furiously. "No. Johnny's right, Char. I don't want Eric or you in the middle of this. Not when I know he's actually here. You're both here. Please don't argue with us."
She glares for a moment, but you know it’s only her worry and fear for you that’s coming through in the darkness of her eyes. You open your mouth to assure her again, when you’re both distracted by a soft squelching noise from the porch. Spinning around, you’re just in time to see John licking the siding of the house.
“Goblin." Charlotte comments under her breath. “Uh, John? What the devil are you doing?” You’re wondering the same thing if you’re being honest, but you figure you should probably just go with it. When it comes to the supernatural, John’s literally the expert.
“I’m tasting the aura of the place.” He explains, touching the spot he just licked and grinning at you. “It’s like you said, luv. Bloody rotted.”
He motions for you both to come up the steps. “Reckon the house hasn’t snuffed anyone for decades. It’s figured out how to feed on fear, nice and slow. Make the inhabitants weak. But there’s no doubt about it, the thing that’s causing all of this? It’s hungry. There’s at least a dozen souls trapped here. This mate of Eric’s? He’s probably got no bloody clue what he’s got on his hands.”
Once inside, you meet Eric’s friend with a wide smile and compliment him on the beauty of his home. “Yeah, it’s been in my family forever.” He explains, waving his arms around. “My parents didn’t want it, so the estate transferred to me. I mean, who wouldn't want this place? The attic is creepy as Hell, but I love it.”
John grins, wrapping his arm around you. “The attic, eh?”
Charlotte meets your eyes as she rests her hand on Scott’s arm. With a smooth smile, she leads him away. “Scott, has my boyfriend already started dancing without me? Cause if he Monster Mashes alone, no one's gonna enjoy that.”
Once they’re both out of earshot, John takes your hand and starts up the stairs. “Alright, sweet’eart. Let’s go banish this bloody ghoulie, ey?”
The nauseous feeling in the pit of your stomach grows as you both climb the stairs. The thing’s energy is stronger here, no wonder no one in Scott’s family wanted this place. The thumping of the base from the main floor is the only sound you can hear as you watch John turn the knob of the attic door.
“I know you can handle yourself, sweet’eart.” John says, quickly cupping your cheek. “But still, be careful.”
“You too.” You furrow your brow as you lean into his touch. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, Johnny.”
***
As Charlotte watches Eric dance, she finishes off her drink with a smile. The music is loud, the drinks are strong, and the house is appropriately decorated. She knows she should be having a good time. The man she’s with is good; a good man, with a good heart. And he truly loves her, the same way she loves him.
But her best friend is upstairs, risking her life with a man Charlotte still doesn’t exactly trust. It’s all she can think about.
“Honey, where’d ya go just now?” Eric asks, wrapping his hands around her waist. “You were a million miles away and ya should be on this dancefloor showin’ everyone that these hips don’t lie.”
Charlotte rolls her eyes, but allows Eric to pull her out to the dance floor. “Sorry, Captain. Just thinking about a case.”
“That’s why I love ya so much.” Eric kisses the side of her temple. “Ya work so damn hard. But ya on vacation, honey. Enjoy it. You’re my only dance partner tonight.”
Charlotte tilts her head, ready to give Eric a sassy remark about being his only dance partner for life, when a loud thud reverberates through the house. Everyone freezes and looks to Scott. The man shrugs in his werewolf costume and sets down his drink on the counter. “I told you guys the house could be haunted.”
The group around Charlotte laughs and immediately resumes drinking and dancing; oblivious to the threat floors above them. But she knows better. The house is haunted.
Quietly excusing herself, she starts up the stairs to the second floor. Another thud makes her quicken her pace. She has no idea what to expect and she knows you told her to stay away, but she wants to help.
Over the music downstairs, Charlotte thinks she can faintly hear your voice chanting on the other side of the attic door. Her hand trembles on the doorknob, thinking for the first time since she made the decision to check in, that this could be a bad idea.
Carefully, she pushes open the door and chaos greets her; you on the floor, hurling blasts at a terrifying old woman and John flinging fire at a man Charlotte thinks resembles a puritan or a pilgrim. Fear makes her freeze; she’s never seen you look so frustrated and afraid.
She barely has time to yell for you to look out before the spirit John’s been fighting turns its attention to her and grins. “You’re full of sadness, girl. And fear. Let me have a taste.” It seethes, advancing on her quickly. “You’ll make a wonderful addition to my collection once I see what you're hiding in your mind."
“No, Charlotte!” She hears you scream as you push yourself up off the floor. “Get out!” But it’s too late; Charlotte feels the spirit’s icy hands on her face and she’s under before you or John can get to her.
Hugh’s leaning against the side of the Range Rover, arms crossed and glaring furiously. Charlotte suppresses a shiver as she closes the distance; she’s only five minutes late and she hadn’t meant to lose track of time. She just couldn’t say no to the office wanting to talk over drinks.
Maybe he won’t be angry. And if he is, she knows what to do to make it up to him. He can be as rough as he wants.
“You’re late, Charlotte.” Hugh snaps, grabbing her arm once she’s close enough. “Does my time not matter to you? Or am I just supposed to sit here and wait for you to stop being an idiot and check your phone?”
“No, no. Of course not.” She hears herself whisper, anxiously tucking her dark hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’ll do better -”
The back of Hugh’s hand hits her cheek, cutting off her sentence. “Don’t ‘Daddy’ me, it’s not gonna fucking help you. Get in the goddamn car.”
Without another word, Charlotte climbs in, hating that her hands shake as she settles them on her lap. Her mind races in the silence, knowing he must be beyond furious. Even though she hates saying it, she knows if she calls him ‘daddy’, Hugh gets off on the title and usually goes easier on her.
If his temper now is any indication, tonight won’t end in her favor.
“What were y’all even doing?” Hugh asks as he pulls away from the curb. “I told you y’all could have an hour. That should have been enough time to hear whatever the old man had to say. You damn well know better than to keep me waiting. I didn’t have to allow this in the first place.”
Charlotte swallows hard, fear and anxiety keeping her hands balled into fists. “I know baby, and I’m grateful that you did. But the ADA’s office sees how hard I’ve been working. My name has been brought up by a few private firms in the city. As soon as I want, James says I have a place at any one of -”
She cuts herself off, immediately realizing her mistake. Regardless of the fact that James is just a friend and she didn’t even know he’d be there, how could she be so stupid? Slipping up, making a mistake like this? It's going to cost her.
With a shaky breath, Charlotte steals a quick glance in Hugh’s direction.
“James was there?” He asks calmly, moving his right hand from the gear shift to the back of her neck. “Were you stupid enough to forget my rules or did you hope I wouldn’t find out?”
Shaking her head as best as she can, Charlotte pushes back the knot forming in her throat. “N-no, of course not.” She whispers, feeling the sting of tears burning the edges of her eyes. “I.. I honestly didn’t know he was going to be there. Hugh, I’d never -”
His fingers tighten against her skin, making her whimper, but she knows better than to try and move his hand. “Don’t you fucking lie to me.” He growls furiously, accelerating the engine as he moves toward the I-10. “We both know you aren’t smart enough.”
Her eyes glance at the rising odometer before resting trembling fingers on Hugh’s thigh. “Pl… please slow down, you’re… you’re scaring me.”
“Why am I scaring you, honeybee?” Hugh says, mock sympathy in his deep voice. “We both know if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t wreck my car to do it.” He smirks when her breath hitches. “So I’m going to ask you one more time. Were you stupid enough to forget my rules or did you hope I wouldn’t find out?”
“Hugh, I promise. I… I’m not lying to you, I would never. I didn’t know he’d be th-”
Hugh’s hand slams her head down and for a moment, all Charlotte sees is stars. When he pulls her back by her hair, she’s covered in blood and confused by what’s happened.
Pulling to the side of the highway, Hugh stares at her with disdain. “Lie to me again, Charlotte, and I’ll do worse than make your face hit the dash.”
With a sharp gasp, Charlotte feels herself sucked out of the memory. It was one of the worst nights of her life and if she could’ve, she’d never have thought about it again. She hears you shouting over the chaos, but she can’t focus on anything but the scream that threatens to rip out of her body.
"Such paralyzing fear." The spirit sneers, tilting its head in contemplation. "And you're worried that this one will turn out just like the last. Turn bad like he did. Pity you won't live long enough to know if that's true."
Collapsing to the floor, she struggles to even out her breathing before letting exhaustion claim her.
***
The incantation that you and John shout, makes the ghost freeze before it can reach Charlotte. It’s the same one you used last Valentine’s Day. Alone, you don’t have enough power to destroy it, but with John’s help, you know you can.
“ Auferte malum. Fluens abluere spatium. Auferte malum. Fluens abluere spatium.” Your chanting makes the spirit step away from her and blink out of view. It reemerges seconds later, directly in front of you. “You try to hurt my friend?” You snap, glancing down at Charlotte’s crumpled body on the ground. “You’re done.”
John rushes over to her, pulling her off the floor. “I’ll see to Lottie, luv. Don’t taunt the bloody thing. Just chant.”
Nodding, you do as you're told and begin again. John lifts a hand into the air and speaks in time with your words. “ Auferte malum. Fluens abluere spatium. Auferte malum. Fluens abluere spatium.” The puritan furiously flickers in and out before finally dissolving into mist.
The small space of the attic blasts with cold air, knocking you down to your knees. But the oppressive force that filled the property is now gone. As you push yourself up, you glance over to where John sits, cradling Charlotte in his arms.
“What the fuck was that?” You growl, scrambling over to them. “What did it do to her? Is she alright?”
John shakes his head as he nudges Charlotte’s shoulders. “Don’t reckon I bloody know, but it zeroed in on her, didn’t it? The ruddy thing fed on fear and whatever she had in her melon, it drank it right up.”
Charlotte’s eyes flutter as she lets out a small groan. In her confusion, she pushes herself out of John’s unfamiliar arms and lands on the wooden floorboard with an ungraceful thud. “Hugh…” She presses the heel of her hand against her forehead.
“Wha.. what happened?” She shakes her head, seeming to recall where she is and immediately gets herself off the floor. She stares warily at both you and John. What the hell did happen to her?
Before you can reassure her that she’s safe and the spirits are gone, John rises and furiously steps in front of you. “What in the bloody hell were you thinking, Lottie? Coming up here in the thick of it all? We had it well in hand, didn’t need you coming around and making yourself a ruddy target. What’s wrong with you?”
“John!” You grab his shoulder so he’ll turn to face you. “Don’t yell at her, she was only -”
He tugs himself out of your grip and rounds on Charlotte. “No, she has no bloody problem telling me when I’ve mucked something up. This time we had it well in hand and her stepping in made it worse.” He rolls his sleeves back down, and steps toward Charlotte. “You could’ve gotten yourself or your best mate killed. Hope you’re proud of that.”
Charlotte wraps her arms around herself and blinks away a stray tear. “I… I’m sorry, John. I didn’t mean to make it worse. It… it won’t happen again.” She swallows and peers up at you. “Sugar, I… I’m sorry.”
“Char, what happened?” Pushing John out of the way, you reach for her arm. She pulls away, shaking her head and backs out of the doorway. You spin around, eyes narrowed furiously. “What the hell, John? Why’d you have to scream at her like that?”
John spins around, scrubbing a hand down his face in frustration as he stares at the damaged furniture and broken glass around him. “She needed to hear it. That thing was too bloody strong. It’s had centuries of practice, getting into people’s minds. Lottie didn’t stand a chance. If we hadn’t been here, she wouldn’t be alive for Johnny to yell at now.”
When your expression doesn’t soften, John holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright, I may have come out the gate strong. But I didn’t expect that she wouldn’t push back. Normally, she gives as good as she -”
“Because whatever happened, obviously freaked her out.” You cut him off with a hard glare. “So I’m going to check and make sure she’s okay. Do you need help cleaning this up?” John sighs, shaking his head slowly as you take off down the stairs.
***
It’s not your fault what happened to Charlotte upstairs. Logically, she knows that. You had no control over the actions of something long dead, and in the end, you were strong enough to destroy it. She just can't shake the undercurrent of anger she has in knowing you hadn’t destroyed it before it got in her head.
She’s tried so hard to push her memories of her relationship with Hugh from her mind. Every time Eric smiles or tells her she’s all he’s ever wanted, Charlotte knows she’s safe; far the nightmare she endured for too long. But Hugh’s always there, lingering just under the surface. And reliving that? It ripped down the mental wall she’s carefully built to protect herself.
Plus, she’s never had to see you in action like that before; it’s terrifying. She had no idea, not really, of how dangerous this was. And she hates that you want to do this. Want to risk your life the way you do.
She’s halfway through her second drink when you find her. She sees you coming around the corner, wearing your worry and concern for her plain on your face. She’d like to be anywhere but here; but if she asks to leave, she’ll have to explain to Eric why she wants to and she’s so shaky, she doesn’t think she could lie the way she’d need to.
“Hey.” You whisper, your voice soft like a balm over Charlotte’s frayed nerves. “What happened up there?” Your hands cover one of hers on the kitchen countertop. When she refuses to look up, you carefully take her face in your hands. “Charlotte, talk to me. What happened?”
“Nothing, sugar.” Charlotte answers automatically, this lie practiced and as smooth as she can make it. “I’m fine.”
You furrow your brow, searching her eyes for signs of, well anything, to indicate that she’s not alright. “I love you, but that’s bullshit.” You push back, ushering her into the bathroom near the kitchen.
Once the door’s shut, Charlotte knows she has to get creative. You were persistent before John, but now? You’re impossible. You know something happened, and you’re not going to give up without an explanation. And the last thing she wants to do is relive what just happened.
You watch, arms folded, as Charlotte sits on the edge of the tub. She anxiously runs her hands through her perfectly curled hair. You’re both silent as the seconds stretch by. “When you came to, you said Hugh’s name.” You say softly, crouching down in front of her. “What did it make you see?”
Charlotte’s head snaps up, her dark eyes glassy and wide. “What?” She gasps, hands frozen in her hair. “I said his name? Did you… did you see anything?”
“No. That’s why I’m asking you what happened. The spirit was attacking John and when it saw you, it looked like a kid on Christmas morning. I heard it say you were full of sadness, and fear. Then you went down.”
You shudder, remembering the panic you felt watching Charlotte drop. “Once we got it’s creepy friend off of me, John and I got rid of the big nasty. But I know it made you see something, Charli. So spill. It’s me, I’m not gonna judge you.”
Charlotte anxiously chews on her lower lip, momentarily contemplating telling you some part of the truth. Maybe if… She glances over your shoulder, at the door behind you and logically realizes what would happen if she told you anything.
You’d understand, you always do. And you’d convince Charlotte to talk to Eric about what she went through. But it would escalate very quickly after that. Eric’s protective; he’d get on the next plane to New Orleans without question. Then he’d go after Hugh. And as much as she’d want him to, she isn't sure he’d win. Hugh always played dirty and she loves Eric too much to see him hurt.
So instead of talking to you, telling you what happened, she’ll do what Hugh taught her. She’ll tell enough of the truth, but keep the details to herself. “I saw a fight that we had. I just, it spooked me. You remember how loud he could get.” Your folded arms and tense jaw tell her you’re still not convinced. “That’s all, sugar. I promise. Drop it, please.”
Charlotte rises from the tub and carefully smoothes her hair back into place. You’re about to argue with her when the bathroom door opens and Eric, drink in hand, grins at the two of you in surprise. “Whaddya doin’ in here, ladies?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “Not the duo I thought I’d find hidin’ in the bathroom.”
“We were just gossiping, chere.” Charlotte smiles, reaching for his solo cup. “Now why don’t you let me finish that while you make me one of your specialties, huh Captain?”
Eric laughs and salutes the two of you. “Yes, ma’am.”
***
When Charlotte follows Eric out, you turn back up the stairs to help John. You find him mid incantation, repairing one of the glass windows shattered in the melee. “Reckon Lottie hates me more now than she did before, ey? And you, are you bloody furious with Ol’ Johnny too, then?”
You pick up a piece of broken chair, shrugging as you walk over to him. “Charlotte’s trying to pretend nothing happened. So, you might be off the hook with her.” John inclines his head, waiting for you to continue. “As for me, I’m annoyed that of course we had to take on a handful of ghosts during what was supposed to be a normal Halloween party. But I’m not mad at you, not really.”
A small smile starts to form on John’s face. “You’re not?”
“No. Because even though you have an interesting way of showing it, I know you care about Charlotte and that makes me love you even more. I watched you, Johnny. You let me handle the ghost while you made sure she was alright. You wouldn’t have done that if -”
John holds out his hand and you stop mid sentence to take it. “Lottie’s important to you, luv. Of course I’m going to be sure she's alright. And she may have grown on me a touch; a bit like a fungus, ey?”
Rolling your eyes, you let him pull you in for a hug. “That’s funny, cause I’m sure she’d say the same about you.”
***
Charlotte spends the rest of the night glued to Eric’s side, making it impossible to talk to her about what happened. And you’re so frustrated by the turn of events that you definitely have one too many to drink. It’s easier to feel numb than to feel like you’ve somehow still lost, despite freeing the house of it’s oppressive possession.
As you’re leaving, John wraps his trench coat around your shoulders to keep out the late October chill and keeps his arm wrapped tight around your waist to keep you steady. Eric simply picks up a giggling and extremely drunk Charlotte and plops her into the backseat of the Explorer. “Alright, ladies,” he sighs, shaking his head. “No throwin’ up in the backseat, alright?”
You give Eric a thumbs up and shift to nudge Charlotte so she can agree. You haven’t been in the car for more than a minute and she’s already drifting off to sleep. As Eric shuts the door and walks around to the driver’s side, John meets your eyes with a tense smile. “Let her have the kip, sweet’eart. It’s been a bloody rough night for her, I reckon.”
You nod, feeling the weight of exhaustion behind your eyes. “Thanks, Johnny. Love you.” Pulling his coat up to your neck, you close your eyes and let the hum of the Explorer’s engine start to lull you to sleep.
“I’m glad she has ya.” Eric says so softly, you almost don’t hear him. “Kid’s never felt about anyone the way she feels about you. And she’s good for you too, I can tell.”
When John makes a small noise, Eric continues. “What? Ya soft with her, kind. It’s a good thing, trust me. And I know what I’m talkin’ about, cause it’s how I feel about Charlotte. I’m gonna marry that girl one day. I’m sure you feel the same.”
You don’t hear John’s reply; your eyes are too heavy and all you can focus on is sleep.
***
Sunlight filters in through Eric’s spare bedroom window. You’ve never seen something so offensive. You push yourself up on the futon, frustrated to find that you’re alone and still in most of your costume. You’re confused for a moment, until last night’s events come crashing into your already pounding skull.
John carefully opens the door, a mug of hot coffee in his hand and grins when he sees you awake. “Oh, sweet’eart.” His amber eyes soften sympathetically as you groan and lean back against the pillows with closed eyes. “I reckon your melon must be hurting.”
When you nod, he sits beside you and presses his palm against your cheek. “Sobrius sursum.” Warm light fills you and when you open your eyes a minute later, your hangover is gone and you feel more refreshed than you’ve felt in months.
“Where’s that trick been hiding?” You ask, sliding off the mattress. “And why haven’t you taught it to me before? I could’ve saved you plenty of painful mornings.”
“Chas taught me, a few weeks back. Doesn’t always work, though I reckoned it might come in handy. Just hadn’t figured Johnny would need it for you.”
You rub the back of your neck as you wince and scrunch one eye shut. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean for you to have to put me to bed. I didn't realize how many I’d had.”
John chuckles as he leans back on the mattress. “It’s alright, luv. You take care of me plenty. Reckoned it was time I returned the favor. I know a thing or two about pushing down your demons with a bottle; it never works, but that don’t mean you can’t try.”
Before you can respond, you hear AC/DC coming from the hallway. “I bloody well told him not to.” John groans, motioning to the door. “C'mon then, we ought to make sure Lottie doesn’t punch Eric in the ruddy face.”
The music gets louder for a moment, then you both hear Eric shout as the sound of something heavy hits the wall. “I think she threw his phone.” You laugh, peeking out of the doorway. “Eric, you good?”
Eric comes out of his bedroom, hands covering his hair. “I am, but my phone’s not. I think she broke the damn screen.”
“That’s what you get for playing it right in my ear.” Charlotte growls, covering her face with a pillow. “My head feels like it’s fixing to explode.”
Cradling his phone like it’s his child, Eric shakes his head and steps out of the room. “Maybe coffee will make her less violent. I’m gonna run to Dunkin, get her favorite, and be right back. Text me what ya want. Grease and coffee make everythin’ betta.”
Once the door slams shut, Charlotte moves to sit on the edge of the bed. She fiddles with the ends of her hair before she looks up. She looks at you, then at John, and sighs heavily.
“Why would you choose this life?” She asks quietly. “I mean, last night was terrifying and I never want to be a part of it again. How do you do this, over and over, even when you know that people you love could get caught in the crossfire? That you could?”
Her question takes you by surprise. You glance at John first, then her, and shrug. “The same way Eric does, I guess. It’s dangerous, but someone has to wanna make things better. If we don't, who will? We try to minimize the risk; that’s why we don’t tell anyone. But there’s so much evil in the world. If John and I can balance the scales just a little bit, then we’re going to.”
“But this is a different kind of dangerous, sugar. You're dangerous, don’t you see that? You’re gonna get yourself killed if you keep this up.”
Charlotte stands from the bed and walks to the door. She carefully shuts it and leans against the wood before meeting John’s eyes across the room. “I don’t hate you John, but I hate what you’ve done to her. Dragged her into all of this. You shouldn’t have stayed.”
“Charlotte.”
She folds her arms across her chest and glares at you. “No, I’m sorry. I know you're good at this. But after seeing that, first hand? You’ll never hear me asking you to tell Eric again. I don’t ever want him knowing about all this. I wish I didn’t.”
Tears prick the edges of your eyes as you clench your jaw and start walking over to her. “You don’t mean that. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt last night. We told you to stay out of it to keep you both safe. But you said you could handle this, handle knowing. That’s why I told you the truth.”
When she shakes her head, your stomach twists uncomfortably. “I was wrong, I can't be a part of this. I wish I’d never found out what you can do.”
Her breath hitches when you try to take a step closer. Seeing her like this makes your heart break. Pressing your lips together, you step back and hold both hands out in front of you. “Char, you don’t have to be afraid of me. I’d never hurt you.”
“I’m not afraid of you, sugar.” Charlotte's expression softens as her hands fall to her sides. “I’m afraid I’m going to lose you."
“You’re not gonna lose her, Lottie.” John assures her, rising to stand next to you.
Charlotte glares at him, her face twisting in fury again. “You can’t make that promise. Not after what I saw last night. And that was just a spirit? Not a demon, right? Because y'all said demons are worse."
When you nod, confirming her suspicions, she pulls her trembling lower lip between her teeth. "This is going to be the death of you." She whispers, twisting open the door and stepping back into the hallway. "And I can't watch that happen."
When you attempt to follow her, John takes your hand to stop you. “Let her go, luv.” He advises, his eyes flicking toward the open door. “She’ll be alright, reckon Lottie just needs a touch of space. The two of you have been mates for a long time, a small row won’t hurt anything.”
You wish you could believe him. With a frustrated sigh, you head to the living room to gather your things and leave. You don’t want to deal with Eric, or Charlotte. Honestly, not even John.
You just want to go home.
Notes:
I love letting John show his affection for you, and show how it's changing him. He's still a bastard; that'll never change. But you do make him a better person. But tell me John wouldn't make a great Dick Tracy? He's certainly got the attitude. And for those wondering, yes, those were the real ages in Indiana Jones. Yuck, right?
And this was a rough one for sure; you've never really had a fight with Charlotte, especially over something like this. She's afraid for you, afraid for herself, and that's something she doesn't really know how to deal with.
Sneak peek of next week: The situation with Morgan finally comes to a head; putting you and John in a dangerous situation.
“Where is she?” John growls, clutching the phone with both hands. “What have you done to her?”
“Nothing yet.” Morgan assures him, turning the screen so John can see you. “She’s alive. For now. But what happens to her is entirely up to you.”
You’re tied to a wooden chair and still tightly gagged. If your furrowed brow and the tear tracks on your face are any indication, you’re furious yet completely terrified. When you meet John’s eyes through the phone, you immediately start shaking your head and struggling against your restraints.
With the tape covering your mouth, the only sounds coming out of you are muffled and unintelligible, but John’s sure he knows what you’re trying to say. 'It’s a trap, don’t come for me.'
“What do you want then?” John whispers, afraid to take his eyes off you.
Morgan shrugs, turning the screen back to him. “I’m tired of playing games. It’s simple, John Constantine. You give me your soul, in exchange for your girl’s life. If you don’t, I'll kill her. Other than a bargaining tool, she is of no use to me.”
John hears your muffled screaming and it makes him shudder not being able to see what’s happening. “To Samuel however,” Morgan shrugs. “She is a plaything he cannot wait to break.”
“Don’t you bloody -”
Morgan cuts him off with a sadistic grin. “Twelve hours, Johnny. I do hope you find us in time.” The line goes dead before John can do anything else but stare in shock.
Waiting's gonna suck, huh? ;) But remember, we love you guys!!
Chapter 41: A captive audience.
Summary:
The situation with Morgan finally comes to a head when he plans to use you as bait to get to John. When you discover who's been helping him, it's too late to do anything about it. You can only hope that John will be able to find you and rescue you in time.
Notes:
Hope this one keeps you on the edge of your seats... it's a doozy...
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When Charlotte goes home, you don’t see her off at the airport. It’s the first time that she’s been up here and you haven’t said goodbye to her when she’s left. The two of you barely spoke for more than five minutes the last few days she was here; Eric noticed immediately, but the two of you weren’t talking about it.
What could you possibly say to him? Charlotte and I fought because she finally saw how dangerous my doing magic was? Yeah, I can do magic. She doesn’t want to be a part of knowing what I do and I won’t stop doing it. Yeah, that’ll go over like a ton of bricks. So instead, when he asks, you tell him not to worry about it. The two of you’ll be fine eventually.
It surprises him when you admit that you aren't planning to go down to New Orleans for Thanksgiving. “I’m too busy with work.” You explain with a shrug, balancing your cell phone in the crook of your neck as you type. “I already cancelled my flight for next week. Charlotte will be fine and you’ll get alone time with her. You won’t even notice me not being there.”
“Yeah, whatever, kid.” Eric protests, making it clear through the phone that he doesn’t like how long this argument has gone on. “You’ve barely talked to each other for three weeks. So, ya can tell me ya busy with work, but I don’t buy it. You can take time off when ya want.”
He huffs in annoyance. “Charlotte won’t say shit about what happened and neither will you. So, obviously, it was somethin' big and now neither of ya want to see each other. I love ya both and I hate that ya fightin’ like this.”
Squeezing your eyes shut for a moment, you drag in a slow breath and set the phone down on your desk. “I love you too, but please, just drop it, Eric. When Charlotte and I are ready to talk to each other, we will.”
You can imagine him rolling his eyes as he lets out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, alright. Will I see you before I leave?”
“If I can drag myself out of this mess of paperwork, we can grab dinner this weekend.”
“Sounds good, fella.” He agrees, more than a little relieved. “Don’t work too hard. That shit’ll kill ya.” Yeah, you think with a grin, paperwork is the least threatening thing in your life.
***
One of your favorite things about your relationship with John is your morning routine. He typically wakes before you do; after a good morning kiss, he heads downstairs to start coffee and have a smoke while you shower. Sometimes, if he wakes feeling keyed up, he joins you. Then once you’re dressed for work, you head down to help with breakfast.
You move around each other effortlessly; a tell of sharing the same space for as long as you have. You fix the coffee while John flips the eggs, you grab the toast while he plates the rest of the food. It’s a comfortable dance you wouldn’t change for anything.
Now, as he sets the plates on the table and you sit, John smirks like he has some kind of secret. Leaning back in your seat, you quirk up a brow and tilt your head. “What?”
John’s grin widens. “When you get home tonight, we’ll have a guest.” Your face scrunches in confusion, making him chuckle and set down his mug. “Chas and I worked out that spell. It’s ready to go, so -”
“So, he’s coming up?” You can’t hold back your excitement; you haven’t seen Chas in months. “Were you just gonna let me walk in the house and he’d be sitting on our couch?”
“I was.” John admits with a shrug. “But depending on how your day goes, Friday’s usually end up with a little stress relief, ey? And I reckon you’d fancy a touch of warning if we weren’t able to head straight up for the naughty bits.”
You roll your eyes, but don’t argue. He isn’t wrong. “I appreciate the heads up. So, I’ll call you when I leave tonight and grab take out?”
“Sounds good, sweet’eart.” John nods, taking a sip of his coffee. “Whatever you fancy is fine with us.” With a small nod, you grin and continue eating in comfortable silence.
After breakfast, you tuck both plates in the dishwasher and lean down to kiss John goodbye. “Stay out of trouble until I get home.” You warn him, cupping his stubbled cheek in your hand.
“Now, where's the fun in that?” He chuckles, turning his head to kiss your palm. “Though I reckon the best kind of trouble is with you.” You roll your eyes as you grab your bag and make your way toward the door. “I’ll see you tonight, luv.”
***
You leave the museum about a half hour later than you wanted; back to back meetings that couldn't be helped pushed you to stay past six. You text John that you’re finally on your way now, pick a place for take out. You hate leaving this late in the colder months; the sun sets much earlier, plunging the world into darkness by about four.
When you get to it, your vehicle is one of the last in the garage, parked at the far end by the broken elevator. You clutch your bag tighter to your side, keys in hand, and hurry across the darkened cement. It’s creepy up here at night, you’ve been asking for ages to get security to patrol every once in a while.
As you’re walking, you hear echoing footsteps just out of sync with yours. Spinning around, your eyes scan the garage but nothing seems out of the ordinary. Just grey cement, yellowed parking lines, and a ‘please use other stairs’ sign taped to the door. Suppressing a shudder, you turn back toward your car.
You tell yourself that if you were ever in a position where you were vulnerable like this, you’d know what to do. You know how to carry your keys to attack someone. You know how to fight back. But at this moment, you don’t have a chance. You don’t even have time to scream.
You take one step and rough hands grab you from behind. One snakes around your arms, pinning them down at your sides and the other clamps tightly over your mouth. Hot breath fans over your ear as your attacker leans down.
“You have no idea how much I’m going to enjoy this.” He growls, making you freeze for a second before struggling to buck him off you. He chuckles in your ear and tightens his grip, both of you knowing you aren’t a match for him.
His reflection against your car is distorted; his face hidden by a mask, but you swear you know that voice. It was muffled, but still familiar. Your bag falls to the ground and before you can do anything else to defend yourself, your forehead connects with the side of your car and everything goes unfocused.
That momentary confusion is all your attacker needs to completely overpower you. He moves his hand from your mouth, only to harshly shove a scrap of cloth in before you can scream. He pulls duct tape from his coat pocket and wraps it quickly around your mouth, keeping the cloth secured in place.
You cough as the material scratches the back of your throat, but you attempt to regain some semblance of calm. You can get out of this. You know magic, you can escape.
But when he yanks your arms back and cuffs your hands, one by one, your heart sinks; you can’t produce a single flame. What the fuck is going on? Your eyes well with frightened tears when he whirls you around, gripping your throat with one hand and ripping the mask off his face with the other.
Sam Campbell glares down at you, hatred and lecherous desire in his hazel eyes. “You and I are going away, kitten.” He grins, tilting his head to take in your terrified face. “Doctor’s orders.”
If you could scream, you would. Instead, you shake your head furiously as silent tears slip down your cheeks.
***
Despite your struggling and kicking, Sam’s able to drag you away from your car and toward his truck. You hadn’t seen it, parked around the cement pillar. But now, as your begging comes out muffled and incoherent, it looks like a death sentence the closer you get to it.
You know if he gets you inside, you're fucked.
He unceremoniously tosses you into the backseat of his truck, reaching over to grab zip ties from his front seat. “Can’t have you trying to get away, now can we?” He smirks, grabbing your ankles and looping a couple ties together through the handle to render you unable to sit up.
What does he want with you? You haven’t seen Sam in well over a year, haven’t thought about him since Eric helped you get that restraining order. He can’t still be angry about that.
You flinch when he slams the back door and climbs into the front seat. When the engine revs and he screeches out of the spot, your struggling stops. This is really happening. John has no idea what’s going on, no idea that you’re in trouble. And Eric and Charlotte? They're fifteen hundred miles away.
You could be dead by the time anyone realizes you’re missing.
You try to push yourself up with your elbows, so you can see where he’s taking you. But from the position he’s zip tied your feet and with your hands cuffed behind your back, the best you can do is lean up against the seat at an awkward angle.
After about ten silent minutes of driving, with only the passing street lights telling you where you’re going, Sam clears his throat and smirks at you through the rearview. “I bet you have a thousand questions going through your head right now, huh kitten? Why am I doing this? What’s gonna happen to you?”
Yes, you asshole. You glare at him, both of you knowing you can’t answer.
“This is a business transaction for me, nothing personal.” Sam explains, adjusting his watch on his wrist as he drives. “You see, in the beginning? I just wanted my sweet, innocent side piece under me again."
His eyes narrow dangerously. "But now that you actually had the balls to get Grant involved and slap a fucking restraining order on me, I don’t give a shit what happens to you. But I will say, where I’m bringing you, kitten? You won’t be leaving. At least not in one piece.”
Furrowing your brow, you struggle to keep your breathing even. Your chest feels tight, but if you start panicking, you’re completely screwed. You can barely breathe as it is with the rag scratching the back of your throat.
“Honestly,” Sam tilts his head with indifference. “I was surprised when Ezra approached me the first time I left your office. He wanted me to rough you up a little, scare you into being more cooperative to what he wanted. Told me he’d reward me handsomely, give me anything I wanted if I got you to behave.”
Your stomach flips uncomfortably. Morgan asked Sam to help him? Has he been working with him this entire time? You remember when someone broke into your place, almost two years ago. Eric asked if you thought it could be Sam and you'd been so sure it wasn’t. You have a feeling you’re about to be proven wrong.
Sam shrugs, slowing the truck to a stop. “So I helped him; gave him a key to your place, fed him information on Grant and that southern bitch. I was his inside man for months. Then I made sure to be where you were the night you went out; you told your assistant about your fight with Johnny, so I just had to find you.”
The smirk he gives you makes bile rise in your throat. It was him; it was all planned. Everything Sam had done after that first time he cornered you in his office, was carefully calculated and done with Morgan’s help.
John had said you were missing something, this was it. The puzzle piece neither of you could figure out.
“I almost had you back.” Sam sighs, glancing away from you to watch the road. “I knew if I just kept at you, I’d get you underneath me again. Either that night or that day in your office. Didn’t think your boyfriend would cheat and use magic to try and kick my ass, but…”
What? Your eyebrows fly up, and despite the gag, you try to shout at him. He only chuckles and turns the truck hard, throwing you backward. “Yeah, didn’t think I knew about that, did you?” He smirks, pleased by your reaction.
You shake your head, fresh tears stinging your eyes as you lean up on your elbow to take the weight off your wrists.
“Ezra told me what your boyfriend was.” Sam sneers, enjoying the absolute terror you can’t wipe from your face. “I know about you too, knew that you were fucking the magician so he’d teach you. Why do you think you're in those cuffs? Can't have you trying to abracadabra your way outta here."
He glances back and smirks lecherously. If you could recoil any further back into the seat, you would. “He wanted me to scare you enough that you’d use your magic to stop me. Then we’d have something to hold over you. But you’ve grown a pair since we were together, you’re a little harder to manipulate than you used to be."
Sam’s eyes turn back toward the road and from the noise of the engine, you think he’s on the highway. "That last day, when I had you in your office?” He comments with a sigh. “I was so close I could taste it. You didn't fight back when I forced you to your knees, so I figured you’d let me do whatever I wanted to you. I mean, you let Johnny."
His tone hardens, betraying the anger he’s kept control over while he’s been talking. "And if he hadn’t shown up when he did? I would’ve had a hell of a time and you’d’ve done whatever I fucking told you, just like you used to. You’d be my little slut again. Instead of his.”
Narrowing your eyes, you let out a frustrated growl and mumble out a long string of curses. You would have never gone back to Sam, ever.
"Aww, kitten." He admonishes, laying on the gas. "What are you trying to say? You should speak up. I could never understand you with your mouth full. Probably why I preferred it that way."
A whimper forces its way out of your mouth; it’s muffled and lost against the gag. Because despite your anger, you don't think you've ever been more afraid. Sam has to have no idea what Morgan will do to you when he gets you. He can’t.
Because the alternative is too horrifying to consider.
“So how did we get here, you ask? Well, you can’t ask, obviously.” He laughs as he sits up straight in his seat. “The restraining order put a damper on my fun and Ezra had to get creative, get his own hands dirty. Which he did. But then you managed to hurt him and he needed my help again. So if I deliver you to him, he gives me whatever I want most and funny enough, now I just want you gone. More importantly, I want you to suffer.”
You try to argue, try to tell him that he can't do this. He can’t want to just hand you over to some psycho, you haven't done anything to deserve it. And he can't work for someone as evil as Morgan. He's a demon for God's sake.
Sam only raises his eyebrow at your muffled pleading as he adjusts the mirror to see you better.
“Cry and beg all you want, I’m not letting you go. Apparently, you’re the way to get your boyfriend. Which blows my mind, cause you were never that important to me.”
He rolls his eyes in disgust. “But with as powerful a demon as Ezra is, I’m not going to argue with him. Clearly, he sees something I don’t.”
Your heart thuds in your chest as his words sink in. He knows.
Hot tears slide down your face; you really aren’t going to walk away from this. And neither is John. You have no way to warn him and no way to get away from Sam. You can’t even twist yourself down toward the door handle, he’d see you before you got close enough.
“Aww, don’t worry,” Sam grins, meeting your eyes through the rearview. “I’ve got time to get my fix before he kills you. We’re gonna have a good time together; just you, me, and the good doctor. If you behave, I’ll be nice and take the gag out. I wouldn’t hate hearing you scream my name one last time.”
You don’t bother arguing back, it’s what he wants. Sam wants you to be afraid, wants you to feel trapped and helpless. And you hate that it’s working. With another defeated whimper, you turn your head away from him and stare up at the ceiling of the truck.
Sam knows about magic, knows what Morgan really is. He’s known this entire time, and helped him plan to hurt the man you truly love. He knows that Morgan will use you to get to John and then kill you, in front of him, just to prove a point. And he doesn’t care.
***
This is completely unlike you. Four hours late is a move that John would pull, has pulled, but not you. You’re reliable to a fault, a fact that John’s fallen in love with, like he has with the rest of you. You’d never be this late without letting him know you're alright. There's too many things out there that would love both of your heads on a pike.
Chas folds his leg over his knee as he watches his oldest friend pace back and forth. “Is she normally this late coming home?” He asks, keeping his voice purposely calm.
John shakes his head, feeling something like dread slide down his spine. “No, especially knowing you were coming up. She bloody well bounced out of her seat this morning, mate.”
He stares down at his phone, absentmindedly pulling up your text conversation and the three messages you’ve left unread. “And she’s never not answered me.”
“Maybe she got held up in that meeting?”
John stops, tucking his phone back into his pocket and pulling out his flask instead. “She said she was leaving, Chas. Something’s wrong. I bloody know it.”
Chas nods, pushing himself up off the couch. “Alright, I’ll grab the rental keys. Let’s go to the museum and make sure she’s alright.” He watches John anxiously finish off the contents of his flask. “Which she will be, John. Your girl’s tough, smart.”
“I know it. But if that bastard’s done something to her...” John shakes his head, unable to finish his sentence and for a moment, Chas sees real fear flash across his friend's face.
***
At some point during the ride, you wear yourself out from struggling and drift off into a half awake daze. When Sam slows the truck to a stop, you don’t even notice. It’s not until his hand cracks across your cheek, do you force yourself back to the reality of your situation and glare as he yanks you out of the backseat.
"Home sweet home." He chuckles, snapping the zip ties and roughly helping you stand. “You remember this place, kitten? We used to have such a good time up here.”
Your teary eyes move from his smirking face to the house in front of you. It takes you a second, but you recognize the Campbell family’s cabin. You spent plenty of weekends up here when you were together. It used to be perfect; just the two of you, hours away from everyone.
Now that thought, the realization that you’re four hours from home with someone who doesn’t care if you live or die, absolutely terrifies you.
One of Sam's hands wraps in your hair, while the other hooks under your arms. He has all the leverage now and you don't have it in you to fight him. You let him force you inside; hoping that if you cooperate, you might stay alive long enough to figure out a way to warn John.
It’s chilly in the house, dark and musty from being closed up for years. You’re reminded that you didn’t wear your coat when you left the museum and all you have on is a skirt and a button up oxford blouse. You feel exposed and more vulnerable than you’ve ever felt before.
You’re brought to the living room and thrown down onto an old wooden chair. Sam pulls your bound wrists through the rungs and secures them in place. Once he’s sure you can’t get free, he leans down in front of you, grabs your jaw, and kisses your taped mouth.
“Are you comfortable, kitten?” He asks, smacking your cheek condescendingly. When he slides his hands under the material of your skirt, you sniffle and try to squirm away. “No? I bet I could make you relax.”
He grips your hair at the base of your neck when you refuse to let him touch you. His eyes narrow into dangerous slits. “Do you want me to hurt you?” He hisses, yanking your head back. “Because I will.”
“Now, now, Samuel. All in good time.” Morgan slowly steps into the room, favoring his right side as he walks. He looks like Hell; whatever you did to him when you fought back, hasn’t healed properly.
Now, either he doesn’t care to completely hide his true form or he isn’t able to. His eyes burn crimson and his skin has taken on a pallid greyish color.
He steps in front of Sam and crouches down to condescendingly cup your cheek. “You’ll take what you want from her, as will I. But first, she has her part to play. Johnny can’t try to rescue her if he doesn’t know where she is. And I can’t rip his soul from his useless body until he’s here.”
Your eyes burn with angry tears as you shake your head. As terrified as you are, you don’t want John to come here. It’ll be a death sentence for him too.
Morgan’s fingers dig into your jaw to hold you still. “Perhaps we should call him, yes? Get this show rolling.” He smiles, revealing now jagged teeth. “Samuel is eager to have you to himself.”
***
The garage is empty, save for your car parked in the far corner. John’s out of the rental before Chas has even fully stopped it. He rushes over, cupping his hands against the window to see if you’re there. When his foot hits something soft, he crouches down and pulls your fallen bag out from under the car.
“What is that?” Chas asks, eyes darting around as he walks over. “Is that her purse?”
John nods, his throat constricting with a panic he isn’t accustomed to feeling. “Aye.” He leans down to pick up your keys off the ground and holds them up. “And her keys and bloody phone are here too.” He closes his eyes for a moment, dragging in a deep breath before he looks over at the rental. “Grab me my bag, yeah?”
John’s mind spins; he knew you weren’t late. He knew something was wrong. Right around six he got a prickly feeling at the base of his neck; he should’ve gone to check on you.
If his negligence causes another casualty of someone he cares about, he’ll lock himself up for good this time. Because he can’t face it if he’s let something happen to you. Morgan had been right; if he finds your body instead of your smiling, warm face, John isn’t sure he could come back from that.
When Chas hands him his bag, he scrubs a hand down his stubbled face in frustration. Rummaging through his tools, he pulls out a scroll and digs his lighter from his pocket. Lighting it quickly, he murmurs “Ximbatik kaajal ak bin-ka-aak-abtal ” and steps back.
A grey haze of smoke drifts from the burning paper as both John and Chas watch, horrified, when you’re attacked from behind, gagged, and quickly restrained. John’s fists clench furiously when Sam pulls the mask off his face. And the fear in your eyes when Sam leans in makes him sick to his stomach.
You’re thrown in the back seat of Sam’s truck, and the mist fades as he drives down the ramp. “Bloody fucking hell.” John swears furiously. “I’m gonna kill him.” He crouches down, hastily grabbing his things and meeting Chas’s eyes. “What does he want with her, ey? Is he working for that bloody demon now?”
“Who, John?” Chas asks, gripping his shoulder as they walk toward the rental. “What am I not understanding? Who was that?”
John runs his hands through his hair, pulling anxiously at the crown of his head. “Sam. That was her ex, Sam. He must be, I dunno, working with that bastard. Why else would he take her?” He swears again as he pulls out your phone from his pocket. It’s buzzing furiously, with Dr. Morgan’s name blinking across the screen.
“Bollocks.” He slides to accept the video call, eyes narrowing on the demon’s face. “Beroul, you bloody bastard, where is she?”
When Morgan grins, John can see movement behind the demon’s shoulder. “Hmmm, speaking my true name through the phone doesn’t help you, John. And it certainly won’t keep your precious little girlfriend alive.”
“Where is she?” John growls, clutching the phone with both hands. “What have you done to her?”
“Nothing yet.” Morgan assures him, turning the screen so John can see you. “She’s alive. For now. But what happens to her is entirely up to you.”
You’re tied to a wooden chair and still tightly gagged. If your furrowed brow and the tear tracks on your face are any indication, you’re furious yet completely terrified. When you meet John’s eyes through the phone, you immediately start shaking your head and struggling against your restraints.
With the tape covering your mouth, the only sounds coming out of you are muffled and unintelligible, but John’s sure he knows what you’re trying to say. It’s a trap, don’t come for me.
“What do you want then?” John whispers, afraid to take his eyes off you.
Morgan shrugs, turning the screen back to him. “I’m tired of playing games. It’s simple, John Constantine. You give me your soul, in exchange for your girl’s life. If you don’t, I will kill her. Other than a bargaining tool, she is of no use to me.”
John hears your muffled screaming and it makes him shudder not being able to see what’s happening. “To Samuel however,” Morgan shrugs. “She is a plaything he cannot wait to break.”
“Don’t you bloody -”
Morgan cuts him off with a sadistic grin. “Twelve hours, Johnny. I do hope you find us in time.” The line goes dead before John can do anything else but stare in shock.
This tight feeling in his chest is what he gets for allowing himself to care about someone else so strongly. You're going to end up just like Gaz, like Astra. Like all the people he failed to save when they needed him most.
This hesitation, this fear, is a weakness he doesn’t know what to do with. And now, this arsehole can use it against him. Morgan, Beroul, knows that John doesn’t want anything to happen to you. That puts power in dangerous hands, exactly where John doesn’t want it to be.
“Fucking Hell.” He slams his hand down on the hood of the car. “I should’ve left, Chas. I should’ve legged it across the bloody pond and never came back. She’d be broken up about it, so would I. But that’s nothing a bottle couldn’t fix, eh? And that bloody lass, at least she’d…” He trails off, pulling his flask from his coat and downing the contents.
“She’d what, John?” Chas asks, folding his arms across his chest. “Be happy? Safe? We both know that isn’t true. She’s an intrinsic part of your life now. She loves you, as strongly as you love her. And I know that’s terrifying, but we don’t have time for self loathing. You chose to stay, so we're gonna get this bastard and we’re not going to let her die.”
***
Holding a bowl of popcorn and two bottles of beer, Eric carefully settles back against the cushions. He watches Charlotte stare at her phone before resting it face down on the coffee table. “Honey, it’s been almost a month.” He raises an eyebrow. “Call ya best friend. We’re both sad she’s not here.”
Charlotte leans against Eric on the couch and sighs. “I know, chere. But we’re tough as pine knots when we fight. I didn’t want this to go on as long as it has. I just... I’m the one who started it. What if she won't speak to me?"
Eric lifts his arm so she can snuggle underneath it. “She will. Charlotte, she loves you." When she remains silent, he pulls out his phone. "How’s this, I’ll call her. And you can just,” he shrugs casually, “take my phone once I’ve said hello. Nice and easy.”
Charlotte stares at his phone and tilts her head up to smile at him. “Alright. Go on ahead. I do miss that girl.”
The line rings a few times before it sends the call right to voicemail. Pushing himself up, Eric hits ‘end’ and tries the line again. “It’s like ten o’clock up there. What the hell’s she doin’?”
“Call John.” Charlotte suggests, unfolding her legs and twisting around. “One of them has to answer.”
Eric nods and scrolls to John’s contact. When he picks up on the second ring, greeting Eric quickly, Eric hits the speakerphone button and leans back with his beer. “Hey, Johnny. Charlotte and I seem to be missin’ our best friend. Ya seen her around? It’s awfully rude of her to not answer my phone call. What if I was in a ditch somewhere?”
“Sorry, big man.” John apologizes, forcing out a laugh. “She’s a touch under the weather. But I’d be chuffed to tell her you gave her a bell when she gets up.”
Charlotte tilts her head; John’s tone is off. She spent five years with a man whose tone instilled just as much fear as his words. John’s worried about something and he wants Eric off the phone.
When they both hang up and Eric shrugs, Charlotte excuses herself to the bathroom, tucking her phone into her fist as she walks. Once the door is shut, she leans against it and scrolls to John's name. When he picks up, she lays into him immediately. “What’s going on, where is she?” She whispers angrily.
“I already told -”
Charlotte clenches her jaw. “Don’t bullshit me, John. You’re hiding something, I could hear it in your voice. What did you do to my best friend?”
“I haven’t done a bloody thing.” He snaps, giving her nothing else. As calmly as she’s able, she asks him again. He sighs heavily and Charlotte thinks she can hear him slam his hand against the door of a car.
“Campbell has her.” John finally admits. “Grabbed her from the museum's garage. He’s working with that wanker. Took her to force my bloody hand.”
“John.” She hisses, narrowing her eyes furiously. “You… you can’t let him hurt her. And if he’s in league with -”
“You reckon I don’t bloody well know that?” John snaps back, letting fear bleed into his words. "Her getting hurt because of me is the last thing I want."
She pulls in a shuddery breath and closes her eyes for a moment. Furious tears burn at the edges and she refuses to let them fall. "Then Eric and I will fly up -"
"No. I can't be looking after you lot on top of this bloody mess. Keep him in New Orleans." He swallows hard and pauses for just a moment. “Because I’ve no clue where Campbell took her. Chas and I reckon we can try a different tracking spell. The one I used didn't bloody work and we're running out of time. But, I swear it. I will find her.”
Charlotte pushes herself off the door and sits on the edge of the tub. “You fucking better. If you let anything happen to her, I’ll tell Eric everything. Trust me, there’s no place you could hide that he wouldn’t find you. Between him and I, you’d be done.”
John sighs in annoyance. "The threat isn't helping, Lottie."
A dry and bitter laugh forces its way out of her throat. "Oh, it's not a threat, John. It's a promise. Call me when you've got her, you hear me?"
Charlotte’s heart skips a beat as she hangs up the phone; this is what she was afraid of. You’d get too far in over your head and John wouldn’t be able to save you. And her and Eric are too damn far away to do anything to help.
She hates that she has to put her trust in John now; he's done nothing to earn it. Charlotte just has to hope that he's telling the truth. Because if anything does happen to you, she doesn't know what she'll do.
Chewing at her thumb, she tries to think of where Sam might have taken you. If he's working with that asshole, it would have to be somewhere secluded enough that Morgan could find refuge. You said he'd all but disappeared.
It hits her and before she realizes she's pressed send, she's calling John back. When he answers, there's no arrogance this time, just weary exhaustion. "What, didn't threaten Johnny enough the first time?" He asks, barely attempting humor.
"No, I just… shut up and listen." Charlotte snaps, standing up and leaning against the sink. She's got to be quick so Eric doesn't come to check on her. "Sam's family has an old cabin, just south of Bangor. They used to go up there when they were together. I don't know if that's where he'd take her, but it's secluded and private."
"It's a bloody start, innit?" John exclaims, the fire reigniting in his voice. "Lottie, I could kiss you. Cheers, luv."
Charlotte scrunches her nose. "I didn't do it for you, I did it for her. My best friend doesn't deserve this; so you bring her home, safe and alive. You end this."
"I intend to." John swears, ending the call before she can.
Charlotte sets her phone on the sink and turns the faucet on. Splashing water on her face, she takes a deep breath and glances at herself in the mirror. She needs to get her anxious thoughts back under control. Eric can’t know how worried she is. Or why.
Not unless John fails.
***
Pulling on the cuffs around your wrists, you wince as the edges cut into your skin. You’ve been tugging on them, rubbing your wrists raw, for the last hour, but they haven’t budged; without your magic, you feel completely helpless.
Morgan glances up from his grimoire, a smirk playing at his lips that makes you shiver. “By all means, keep at it. You’ll tire yourself out and Samuel won’t have to take you with force.” You mumble out a string of muffled curses, making him sigh and push himself to his feet. He nods in Sam’s direction before stepping out of the room.
“You gonna be a good girl if I ungag you, kitten? I don’t want your jaw locking up on me later.” Sam reaches around your head to pull at the tape silencing you. “And you can scream all you want, but you know we’re hours away from anyone.”
Once the tape’s gone, you let him pull out the cloth and immediately jerk away. Your jaw is sore from it being held open all night, but that doesn’t stop you from spitting at him when he refuses to back up. “I’m of zero use to Beroul or you.” You growl, hating how raspy your voice is. “I hope you’ve figured that out by now.”
“Knowing my name gets you nothing if you don’t have the incantation to back it up.” Morgan taunts, carrying a bowl of herbs back into the room. “And, that’s just not true, now is it? You’re exactly the way to get to the magician.”
He sets the bowl down as he shrugs. “Who would have thought that an ordinary girl would be the downfall of someone as powerful as John Constantine? Oh, you should have seen his face when I told him that I intended to kill you. I never thought I’d see the day. He’s afraid of what I’m going to do to you, dear girl.”
Sam smirks, grabbing your jaw so you’ll meet his eyes. “What we’re going to do to you. But I suppose for me, it’s nothing I haven't wanted to do for years. You’re just not in any position to say no.”
“Fuck off, Sam.” You hiss, hoping your anger masks how terrified you really are by this situation. You refuse to let him know how much he’s scaring you. “If you touch me, I swear -”
Sam’s palm connects with your cheek, cutting you off and immediately bringing fresh tears to your eyes. “You’ll do what? You’ve got no power here, kitten.”
You can’t see over Sam’s shoulder, but Morgan’s agreeing chuckle, deflates your bravado. Slumping back in the chair, you pull your trembling lower lip between your teeth. “He won’t… he won’t do it.” You argue, feeling no conviction in your words. “John won’t come for me. He wouldn’t be that stupid.”
Sam fists his hand in your hair, yanking your head back. “Oh, he will. We’re counting on it.”
"What… what are you doing?" You ask, attempting to twist your head to the left. Morgan’s hunched over, carefully placing candles in a circle in the center of the room. It looks like a ritual of some kind and that thought sends a chill down your spine.
Morgan turns and a shocked gasp escapes your lips. In the shadow of the candles, his skin is rotten; pallid and turning mottled colors. “In normal circumstances, one would have to extract the soul right at the moment of death. My generous benefactor has laid claim to your boyfriend’s soul, but cannot intercede in any direct way that would lead to death.”
He walks over to you and Sam, crouching in front of where you sit. “With this ritual, I can rip the soul from his body when Johnny comes here to save you. He’ll die soon after, but I’ll already have his soul. And my benefactor was never directly involved. Loophole.”
He grins as he leans forward to wrap his hand around your throat. “I’m going to make him watch first, little girl. Watch as I choke the life from you. I’ve thought of nothing else since you wounded me. Turned me into this.”
Swallowing, you feel the pressure of his palm against your windpipe. Your breath comes out in a forced wheeze. “Please... don’t do this. Take me, you can have me. Just leave John alone.”
“My dear girl, it’s as Samuel previously stated, you're in no position. No position to argue, to bargain; although, I do love it when you beg. It reminds me of down home; soft sobs, the pleading of my victims, just before I break them.”
Sam smirks and folds his arms across his chest. “Speaking of breaking them, Ezra, you care? Cause once that little shit finds his way here, it’ll all go to Hell real quick and I want to fuck her one last time before you kill her. Christ, she’s so afraid, I bet she’s gonna be tighter than she was when we were together."
“What?” You gasp out, an entirely different kind of fear flooding through you. “No, no, no.” Your eyes meet Sam’s as he moves behind you. If you could shake your head, you would. “No, please… Please, let me go. Please. I… I don’t… I don't want this.”
Morgan releases his grip on your throat, resting his hands on his thighs as he rises. “Well, what is it? You want us to take you in Johnny’s place or you want us to let you go? You’re being a tad contradicting. Don’t you think, Samuel?”
“Trying dating her.” Sam snarks as he works to undo the binding holding you to the chair. “No wonder I cheated. Couldn’t keep my interest very long; she had no fight, no spark. Now, though, I might actually have some fun.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “Fuck you.”
Sam wraps his hand in your hair so he can haul you to your feet. “That’s the plan, kitten.”
You try to fight him off, but with his hand in your hair, and yours behind your back, you’re no match for him. You haven't allowed yourself to properly panic, to freak out. But now, you can’t help it.
You’re in the middle of nowhere, hours away from any kind of help, and John has no idea where you are. If he does find you, he’s walking into a trap and you have no magic to help him. No way to stop Morgan from hurting either of you.
And Sam? You had no idea that Sam could be so… so fucking evil. He wants to hurt you, he wants you afraid; evidenced by the hardness you feel pressing against your lower back. You had no idea the man you first fell in love with in high school was really like this.
You don’t want to die here. And you don’t want Sam to touch you. So as he starts dragging you toward the master bedroom, you back kick him in the leg so he’s forced to momentarily let you go. He hisses angrily, dropping to the ground, and you use the distraction to scramble away as quickly as you can.
“Get back here, bitch.” Sam hisses, grabbing at your ankle. His fingers wrap around it and you start to fall forward. You hit the ground on your side, tears flooding your eyes at the pain in your shoulder. Sam pulls you back to him, hiking up your skirt and climbing on top of you. “Johnny isn’t here to help you, you aren’t getting away from me again.”
Before Sam can make another move, he’s flung backward and you glance toward the cabin door. John stands in the entranceway, palms up and eyes glowing a furious gold. “Don’t bet your life on that, arsehole.” He growls, glancing at you quickly to make sure you’re okay.
“Sorry I’m late, sweet’eart.” He smirks, letting his eyes fade back to normal. “Traffic was Hell. You alright, then?”
Before you can answer, Morgan cuts you off. “How good of you to finally join us.” He sneers, lifting a hand in his direction. “I was afraid you wouldn’t make it time. What a pity if you arrived too late to save her.”
You aren’t sure if you’re relieved or more terrified; John found you, but if the smile on Morgan’s face is any indication, his ritual is ready to go.
John deflects the blast Morgan sends his way; ducking down so it hits the wall instead. "You're looking a touch peaky, old son. She got you good, didn't she now?"
Morgan snarls, narrowly missing the energy blast John’s thrown at him.
You attempt to push yourself up with your arms, but Sam reaches you first. He yanks you close, hauling you up as he stands. You struggle against him, but not only is he stronger, he’s pissed off. One hand snakes around your throat, his fingers holding you tight against his chest.
You meet John’s eyes and see fury there. “Johnny, you shouldn't be -” Sam clamps a hand over your mouth, cutting you off.
“On the contrary,” Morgan steps closer, snapping his fingers and igniting the candles he set around the room. “Despite that little show, I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you.” You shout under Sam’s hand and Morgan glares at you. “Samuel, keep your plaything quiet, or I will.”
“You’re not going to bloody touch her.” John growls, stepping closer to you and Sam. “Let her go. You never should have involved the lass. This is between you and me, ya plunker.”
You can see it in his eyes; he’s assessing the situation, figuring out the best way to walk away from this unscathed. You aren’t sure he’s going to find one.
Morgan folds his arms and takes a single step. “You’re not in a position to demand anything. We hold all the chips, all I want is your soul. How violent this ends for everyone else is in your hands.”
John’s eyebrows fly up incredulously. “I'm not just going to hand over my bloody soul. Are you mad?”
“Not at all.” Morgan holds out his palm, materializing a small dagger. You recognize it as the one he stabbed you with in the museum. It shimmers out of view and appears directly in front of you.
Sam moves the hand at your throat to grip the handle, pressing it to your neck. “But if you want her to keep breathing, you’ll do as he says.”
You swallow, feeling the cold steel against your skin. “J... John, please.” You don’t even know what you’re begging him for, but you can’t help the word from slipping out. His eyes move to yours, but he gives nothing away.
Morgan smirks and steps close to him until he’s barely a foot away. “I’m a simple demon; I have a job to do and if you don’t want me to murder the girl you claim to care about, you’ll sacrifice yourself so nothing unsavory happens to her. Samuel is chomping at the bit for the chance.”
John doesn’t say anything, just scrubs a hand down his face. You aren’t sure what he’s thinking, but the look on his face makes you nervous. Does he have a trick up his sleeve? You remember him telling you the spell was ready to go, but he’s so calm. Why? Doesn't he understand how badly this could go for both of you?
John shakes his head, letting gold overtake his eyes. “I’m not going to do a bloody thing you want, Beroul.”
“That’s a pity.” Morgan responds, grinning at Sam. “Samuel, feel free to take your pound of flesh. Clearly Johnny doesn’t care about what happens to his girl. When I’ve beaten him down, I’ll finish her off.”
“C’mon, kitten, we’re gonna have some fun.” Sam says in your ear. “Well, I am anyway.”
You’ve never considered yourself a damsel; being as independent as you are is something you’ve always prided yourself on. But right now, you know what’s about to happen to you if Sam gets you alone. And you’re too tired, too terrified, to face him alone. He has every advantage and you scream for John without meaning to. "No! John, please!"
John throws a fire blast at Morgan’s head. You hear him recite ancient Aramaic as Sam starts to drag you away. You scream for him again, but John’s too focused on hitting Morgan, Beroul, to be able to help you. As you dig your heel into Sam’s foot, Morgan’s blast knocks John down.
You spin around as best as you can and knock your head against Sam’s face.
Blood gushes from his nose as you stumble backward into something firm. Panic claws up your throat and you’re ready to scream until you meet Chas’s soft brown eyes. “I got you, sunshine.” He says, moving you behind him. “Hey, asshole?”
Sam looks up, clutching his nose and staring at Chas in confusion. “Somnum.” When he drops to the ground, you stare incredulously.
“Sleeping spell.” Chas shrugs, turning you around to look you over. “Are you alright?” His hands cup your face and for just a moment, the chaos around you stills. You’re going to be alright. John’s going to be alright.
“No, but I… I will be.” You answer honestly. “I was so afraid that John wouldn’t find me in time and honestly more afraid that if he did, Morgan would kill him. We have to help him, Chas. What’s going on in there?”
Chas moves your hair out of your face. “He's fine. Let me get you out of here, get these cuffs off you, then I go help John. You’ve done enough, you’ve been brave enough. Let’s not give that son of a bitch a chance to use you again. Okay? We don’t want anything else to happen to you.”
You hear John shouting in the living room, and despite your desire to help, you know Chas is right. Not only would you be a distraction, but you’re so tense, so completely freaked out, you aren’t sure how much help you could even be. “Yeah,” you slowly nod your head. “Alright.”
Chas nods back, holding a hand in front of him as he leads you out. When you reach the living room, Morgan has John on the floor, the dagger pressed against his jugular. Despite still being cuffed, you rush forward to try and help.
“Sweet’eart, no!” John shouts, meeting your eyes. “Chas, get her out of here!”
Before Chas reaches you, Morgan mutters something under his breath and pushes out an electric blast from his palm. It hits you square in the chest, before you or John have time to react. John’s eyes grow wide and panicked as he screams your name. Numbness floods your body and as you fall backward, everything goes dark.
Notes:
Kudos to those of you that knew Sam was up to something... bet you didn't see all that coming, did you? Because he knew EVERYTHING... and he really was more of a bastard than anyone knew.
Hope this lived up to the action packed hype; it was one of my favorite chapters to write. And having John need to choose between saving his own ass or yours? There's a moment there where you think he might just run. Thank goodness Chas is around to remind him how much he does love you. John doesn't do well with panicking.
Next week:
In the aftermath of Morgan's attack; John doesn't know what's been done to you. And he doesn't know how to fix it. Don't want to give too much away, but all of this leads to him asking you a life changing question...
Chapter 42: We could start over.
Summary:
In the aftermath of Morgan's attack; John doesn't know what's been done to you and he doesn't know how to fix it. Later on, after the dust has settled and you've patched things up with your best friend, life returns to something like normal for you. But it feels hollow, empty. John uses that moment to ask you a very important question, and soon after that, Eric takes you on a very important errand.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
When you fall, John’s eyes turn a furious gold. He uses the distraction to kick Morgan off of him; the knife clattering to the ground just out of reach. He pushes himself to his feet quickly, his eyes darting between you and the demon he’s come here to kill.
He doesn’t know what Morgan did to you, but if he goes to you to make certain you’re alright, the bastard will get away. He can’t take that risk. Not when he’s this close to beating him.
Morgan leans up on his elbow and mutters under his breath. A pulse of dark magic comes barreling toward John and he can’t hesitate; if he doesn’t stop Morgan now, then he’s got no chance at saving you and his own skin. He ducks down, dodging the blast and uses his own magic to send it back.
It hits Morgan in the chest and whatever was intended for John spreads through Morgan instead; inky tendrils rise on his skin and he screams in agony. It’s now or never. Spinning on his heel, John raises both hands into the air and lets magic flow through him.
“The Sacred Cross commands you, Beroul.” He chants, grinning as Morgan freezes in place. “The Star of David commands you. The Omkar, the Lotus, and the Shahada command you! Flee this place! Disperges in ventum! Be not, and be gone!”
Morgan shudders as John steps forward, chanting again. As he speaks, the demon’s eyes roll back and John knows he’s going to win. “That’s right, you bloody bastard.”
He smirks, twisting his hands to send out a rune that’ll finish Morgan off. “You tell your bosses if they want my ruddy soul, one of them had better crawl out of Hell and take it themselves. I'll not be making it easy for ‘em.”
As Morgan dissolves into the ground, John drops to his knees, feeling the strain of this type of magic on his body. But he did it; the bastard is finally dead. The threat’s over. Morgan can’t come after him, or you, any more.
John leans forward on his palms and drags in a few deep breaths before looking back. Chas has you in his arms; he’s gotten the cuffs off of you, but you’re not moving. John scrambles to his feet, his eyes roaming over your face as he approaches.
“Is she alright?” He murmurs, glancing down at the angry marks on your wrists. When his eyes move back to your face, he clenches his jaw and looks up. “What’d he do to her?”
Chas’s dark eyes narrow furiously as he meets John’s. “I don’t know, John. I wasn’t fast enough to stop her and yes, Beroul may be dead, but she’s barely breathing.”
He inclines his head toward Sam’s unconscious body. “Figure out what to do with that asshole. She’s my concern, but we can’t just leave him here.”
John hesitates, feeling guilty for a moment. He should have gone to you instead of letting you fall. “She’s strong, Chas. She would've told me to... I had to stop him.” He explains, searching for an absolution of guilt from his oldest friend. Something to make him feel justified in his actions. “I did -”
“What you had to do.” Chas finishes, rising from the ground. “Yeah, I know. It’s what you always do. Doesn’t excuse it if she doesn’t wake up. Go deal with him, be quick about it. I’m taking her to the car.”
John sighs, staring at your face for a moment longer before he rises and crosses the room. He stops at Sam’s feet and crouches down, shoving at his shoulders until Sam stirs. “Look at me, ya bloody wanker.” When Sam does turn, he narrows his eyes and attempts to push himself up.
John’s eyes turn gold as he murmurs the word ‘mora’. Sam freezes in place, a furious expression on his face. John tilts his head, considering his options. He could murder the bastard; Sam deserves worse for working with that nasty git and hurting you.
But as much as he wants to, John knows you wouldn’t want that death on your conscience. Because you’d find a way to blame yourself for it. So he’ll take the bastard’s memory, and when you wake up, because you’re going to wake up, he’ll tell you that he showed mercy to Sam even when he didn’t deserve it.
He twists his fingers, letting a gold rune move forward and settle on Sam’s forehead. “Keep your eyes on me, arsehole. Obliviscor. You have no memory of me, no memory of her. You never met either of us. And you never agreed to help that wanker. In fact, the only bloody thing you’re concerned with is the wife you love and the children you adore. Go home to them, provide for them. Forget all of this. You got me?”
When Sam nods, helpless to do anything else, John smirks and stands. “Factum est.” Satisfied, he shoves his hands into his pockets and heads out the door to the waiting car and you.
***
White, hot pain erupts in your chest. “Sunshine, come on. You gotta help me here, open your eyes."
“Sweet’eart, c’mon now. Stop mucking about. You need to open those pretty eyes.” John’s voice seems a thousand miles away; you want to tell him you’re okay, just tired. But you can’t make your mouth form the words.
You don’t understand; he sounds panicked now, frantic. “Bloody hell, don’t you do this to me, luv. You’ll be alright. Just wake up, come back to me. I love you, I’m so sorry.”
***
John clutches the phone to his ear as he watches Chas mix every healing tincture and wellness elixir he knows. Your breathing comes out short and shallow as you lie on the bed; it breaks his heart to look at you. To look at what he let happen to you.
As the line rings, he hopes that Charlotte won’t pick up, but he knows he’s not going to be that lucky tonight.
“John, what’s going on?” Charlotte hisses, not bothering with the pleasantries of hello. She’s careful not to wake Eric as she slips from bed and out of the room. “Is she okay? Let me talk to her, please.”
He blows out a deep breath. “I got her out, Lottie. But -”
“But, what?” The word comes out higher, frightened, and she hates that it’s not filled with the anger she feels. “What happened?”
He sighs, anxiously running a hand through his hair. “Morgan’s dead. But the bastard hit her with something before I could stop him and now, she… she’s unconscious. Chas and I are doing every bloody thing we can to wake her, but -”
“You promised.” She accuses, feeling a lump forming in her throat. “John, you promised me that you’d get her out and she'd be okay.” She hears him sigh again and the tear she didn't want to let fall slips down her cheek. “If I lose my best friend…”
“You won’t, Lottie.” He promises quietly. “Chas and I’ll patch her up. She’ll be right as rain. Just give us some time, yeah? She’ll call once we’ve sorted her out.” His voice catches in his throat; emotion making it tough to speak. “You’re not the only one who doesn’t fancy losing her.”
***
When you wake up, you’re confused. You’re laying on top of your bed, alone, in a t- shirt you definitely don’t remember falling asleep in. Furrowing your brow, you move your hand to lift John’s trench coat off your body and freeze at the bruises circling your wrists.
Everything comes back in pieces; Sam taking you to Morgan and the absolute terror you felt in thinking that you wouldn’t make it out alive. The two of them using you as bait, and John...
Gingerly, you start to slide out of bed to make sure John’s alright. His voice from the doorway makes you freeze. He whispers your name like a prayer and you’ve never been happier to hear it.
Turning your head, you take in the relief palpable on his face. His hair’s a mess and his dark eyes are bloodshot; the red in them, emphasized by the purple circles underneath.
When you smile, he crosses the room quickly and wraps his arms around you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and silently holds you. “I’m so bloody glad you’re alright.” He murmurs, his voice muffled by your hair.
You let him have a moment, before you lean back to touch his stubbled cheek. “What happened? How did we get away? How did you -” You cover your mouth with your free hand. “Oh god, Sam was working for Morgan, he knew. Johnny, are you -”
“Shhh, it’s alright. I’m alright. I told you before, luv, bigger things have tried to rid the world of Ol’ Johnny. They always fail.” John cups your face and you let yourself stop, dropping your hands to his chest. “Beroul is dead, and Sam? That bloody bastard is permanently taken care of.”
At the look of worry on your face, he steps back and lifts his palms. “I didn’t kill him, though I reckon I could’ve and no one would ask questions. I just didn’t want his death on your conscience, luv. You don’t bloody well deserve that.”
You nod, taking in what he’s said. “I’m sorry, John. I didn’t mean for…” Your legs feel shaky beneath you and when you take a step back, you realize how weak you feel. Heavy limbs, foggy brain, and underneath it all, the lingering anxiety of what you went through.
John wraps his hands around your waist and leads you back to the bed. “You needn't apologize. You didn’t ask for the bastard to kidnap you, did you?”
As you sit, you peer up at him and silently shake your head. “Exactly. Bollocks, I was so bloody worried that Chas and I wouldn’t get to you in time. Did he hurt you, then? Before we got there?”
You pull your lower lip between your teeth as John crouches in front of you, resting his hands on your legs. “He tried. He… after he took me, Sam told me he knew about magic, knew what Morgan really was. He was pissed that I wasn’t afraid of him, that I didn’t cave when he cornered me. Like… like I used to.”
John’s fists clench as he inhales sharply through his nose.
“He’d been helping all along, and in return, Morgan said he’d let Sam hurt me. He wanted to make me suffer. So when we got to the cabin, I thought I was completely screwed. No one else knew about it and you didn’t even know I was missing.”
You stare into the darkness of his eyes, wishing you could read his mind. “How did you find me?”
“We have Lottie to thank for that.” John gives you a half smile. “She gave your phone a ring and didn’t believe my rubbish lies for a second. After threatening to kick my arse if I didn’t find you, she gave us the general location and I worked my magic. Bob’s your uncle and well, here we are.”
His voice drops to a whisper as he stands and sits next to you on the bed. “Thought we’d get away Scott free, Chas and I had it all planned. But when that blast hit you…”
You watch him visibly shudder. “Even after the bastard was dead, you wouldn’t wake. A full twenty two hours you’ve been out. Chas tried everything he knew, but I bloody well thought I’d lost you.”
You take your hand in his, squeezing gently. “You didn’t lose me, and they didn’t do anything to me that I can’t move past. I mean, whatever it was, it ran its course. I feel fine. We did it. Well, you did it.”
“You hurt him, sweet’eart.” John points out with a grin, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Making him weak, let me destroy him. And I know you were afraid, but you held it together. I’m so bloody proud of you.”
You meet his dark amber eyes and lean forward, crashing your lips to his. You’re not sure if it’s the lingering fear of almost dying, or the relief that the danger is finally over, but you need him. You need to feel John, feel alive; grounded in this moment.
“John, I need...” You whisper, turning you both and pushing him down onto the bed. You straddle his lap, wrapping an arm about the back of his neck.
You know John understands what you need; you can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against you as you wrap your hand into his hair. "I know, sweet’eart." He murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. "It's alright. You're alright."
John’s tongue slips into your mouth as his hands travel up the length of your body and underneath your t-shirt. He slides his hand over your breasts, rolling a nipple between his fingers. When you gasp into his mouth, he breaks the kiss and pulls your shirt over your head.
A soft moan escapes your lips as his mouth starts to move along the column of your throat and down to the curves of your breasts. You buck your hips against him, your body thrumming with pleasure as it reacts to his touch.
While you may have started this, John has taken over quickly. When his hand carefully pushes your panties aside and slowly sinks two fingers inside you, you hiss in pleasure and push yourself against his hand, needing more than what he's giving you.
When his fingers come away slick with arousal, he grins with a dark, heavy lidded stare. “You’re so wet for me, sweet’eart.” He murmurs, slipping under the cotton and back inside you.
John’ thumb traces circles around your clit, eliciting a soft whine from you as he moves at a steady pace. There’s no teasing, no slow build. As he moves, you buck against him, pleased when he goes faster. He pulls another desperate moan from your lips, smirking at how quickly he can wreck you.
Your body begins to coil itself tightly, desperation quickly building in your core. Once you both feel your muscles start to clench around himself, John focuses the attention of his fingers to rubbing quick circles on your clit until you come apart at his hands. You cum when he orders you to.
Your hips slide forward, pressing your sex against his hand as much as you’re able. As the shockwaves soften into small electric ripples, you rest your head against his chest and try to even out your breathing. When you look at him, John’s eyes burn with an intensity that reignites the flame in your belly.
He lets out a low growl as you slowly unzip his pants and slip your fingers under his boxers. Feeling the warmth of his skin against your hand makes him gasp and squeeze your ass. You pull his cock free and John stands quickly, flipping you so you’re on the bed underneath him.
Raising your hands above your head, you meet his eyes as John pulls your panties off and slowly slides himself into you. He presses your hands down against the bed so you can’t move them and you let out a sharp gasp when moves his hips at a quick pace. When he snaps them forward, his cock brushes against your g-spot making you gasp and arch your back.
It’s fast and messy; rough movements mean to ground each other in the reality that you’ve made it out alive. After only a few quick thrusts, you start to feel your walls clench around him. Arching your back, you feel your second orgasm crash over you.
As John rides you through the aftershocks, he continues moving you until you feel his orgasm pulse inside you. When he finishes, the expression on his face is one of pure adoration as he moves his hands from your wrists. Using his tie to pull him down to you, you kiss him and gently cup his cheek.
“No, don't move. I want to stay like this forever.” You whisper as he slides back to help you sit up.
He gives you a crooked grin, the one he knows makes you swoon. “I’m not going anywhere, luv. I swear it.”
You kiss him again, smiling happily against his mouth. You'd only meant that you hadn't wanted to move from this spot. But John, assuring you that he wasn't planning on leaving now that the danger’s passed, fills you with a sense of calm you haven't felt since you were taken.
“Although, if you don’t give Lottie a ring, I reckon I won’t have a choice.” He watches you with interest as you climb off and grab your discarded shirt and panties from the floor. “She’s already gonna have my bloody head that I didn’t have you do it as soon as you woke.”
Pulling your t-shirt back over your head and your panties over your hips, you climb back into the bed and sit cross legged. “Do you think she’s still mad at me?” You ask, scrunching your face as you stare at him.
You haven’t spoken to her in weeks; you miss your best friend, but the last thing you want to do is make things worse if she’s still angry with you.
“Even if she was, I reckon the last two days have put things into perspective for her, haven’t they?” John shakes his head as the corner of his lips quirk up sardonically. “They bloody well have for me.”
Reaching over, he reassuringly rests his hand on your leg. “Just give her a ring. You’ll both feel better.” He smiles up at you, drawing lazy circles on your skin with his fingers. “Use mine. Yours is in your bag, in your car. Chas went to bring it back, he’ll be chuffed to bits that you’re up and about.”
With a smile, you reach for his phone on the nightstand behind you and dial one of the few numbers you know by heart. You slide off the bed as the line connects. “John, how is she? Is she awake?” Charlotte snaps, without bothering to say hello.
You can hear in her voice how frustrated and worried she is. You hate that you’re the cause of it. “Char, it’s me.” You say softly. “I’m alright.”
“Merde!” The relief in her voice makes your eyes sting with pent up emotion. “Sugar, thank goodness. I.. I was so worried that he wouldn't get to you in time. I don’t know what I would’ve done. I was fixing to fly up there and… I mean, John told me not to, but. All I could think of was that the last words we spoke were angry. And if you had died...”
When her voice breaks on the last word, you blink away tears and turn away from the bed. “I’m sorry.” She continues with a sniffle. “For everything. I didn’t want to fight with you. I… I didn’t realize how dangerous it was for y’all until that night and… I… I’m just…”
“It’s okay, Charlotte.” You tell her, feeling tension bleed from your shoulders. “I didn’t want to fight with you either. And I shouldn’t have put so much on you. This life is a lot, I get that. I won’t involve you in it anymore. I just miss my best friend.”
“Me too.” She admits, sniffling softly. “I almost lost you for good, sugar. So you involve me in whatever you need. You hear me? I love you.”
You wipe the tears from underneath your eyes, happy that you have your best friend back. “I love you too.”
You can hear Charlotte move through Ray’s house as she lowers her voice. “Eric’s in the shower, will you tell me what happened before he gets out? He doesn’t know any of it, I didn’t even tell him you were missing.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, you close your eyes and tell her everything. Starting with the moment Sam took you, all the way to when John showed up. You leave nothing out, every vulgar thing Sam said, every moment of absolute terror you felt. You let it all out.
At some point during the conversation, John scoots himself over and reassuringly rubs your back; it helps to calm you and keep your voice steady. When you’re done, Charlotte’s swearing and you and John both are assuring her that it’s finally done. You’re safe.
“If he wasn’t dead,” she hisses angrily. “I’d kill him myself. But I’m glad it’s over.”
“My sentiments exactly, Lottie.” John chuckles, pulling your hand to his lips and kissing it. When you both hear the door open downstairs, he nods and slides off the bed. Mouthing that you’ll be right down, you put her on speakerphone, set it on the bed, and pull open your drawer to grab shorts.
“So.” She says, after a minute. “I’m sure y’all will keep doing what you’re doing. But you have no idea what it did to me to know that you were missing and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Eric and I were fifteen hundred miles away.”
Tugging your shorts over your hips, you pause and turn toward the phone. “Yeah, John and I are gonna keep doing this. Even after this mess, he promised he wasn’t going to leave. But I’m sorry I worried you.”
“He was out of his mind afraid.” Charlotte says, quietly. “I’m sure John won’t admit it, but I could hear it in his voice. Don’t think he’s ever been so scared."
She pauses for a moment, as if considering her next words before she says them. "Oh sugar, I know he makes you happy and I suppose he’s a good man. Just promise me that you’ll be careful. I can’t go through that again.”
“We’re always careful.” You assure her, grabbing the phone and heading toward the door. “And John will always keep me safe.”
When she sighs, you know that’s the best agreement you’ll get from her. “I’m going to go down and see Chas.” You grin at the voices you hear downstairs. “I’ll give him your love?”
“Yes, please. And sugar? I really am glad you’re safe.”
***
After you’ve said goodbye, you hurry down the stairs, pausing on the bottom step when you see Chas pacing in the living room. He looks up as you give him a soft smile. “Hey, you.” You lean on the side of the wall. “I’m sorry I caused so much trouble. Probably not how you wanted to spend your -”
“Oh, don’t you give me that, sunshine. C’mere.” You step down and meet him halfway. He pulls you into a bear hug as John chuckles from behind him. After a moment, he rests his hands on your shoulders. “How do you feel?” He asks, leaning away to check on you.
“I’m fine.” You shrug and glance at John. “No weird side effects, whatever he did to me must have worn off. Or your magic did the trick. Either way, I’m grateful you were here.”
Chas smiles as all three of you move toward the couch. “My magic?” He asks, sitting at the far end as you settle under John’s outstretched arm. “I mean, I gave you every elixir I could think of, but John was the one with the magic. He cast a dozen spells to try and wake you up. Think he’s the one who made a difference. Didn’t he -” He shakes his head. “Of course he didn’t tell you.”
“Johnny.” You raise an eyebrow at him. "Were you really not going to say anything?"
When you twist yourself out from under his arm, John meets your eyes and smiles. “Didn’t reckon it was important, luv. You were alright, that’s all that mattered to me."
Resting your head back against him, you sigh and meet Chas’s eyes. He pushes himself up, folding his arms as he stands. "John's such a show off everywhere else; the soft spot he has for you, sunshine, is nothing short of incredible. You've made the con man humble."
John makes a small sound of protest. "Oh, come off it, ya prat. I don't prance about, showing off every bloody chance I get. Sometimes I fancy keeping a low profile."
"Mmhmm." Chas glances down at his watch, then back up at both of you. "Only when she’s concerned. Sunshine, I'm glad you're alright. After I eat something, I'm gonna head to a hotel tonight and I'll be back in the morning."
Furrowing your brow, you tilt your head in confusion. "I assumed you'd been staying here. We have a spare bedroom."
"While I appreciate it." Chas laughs, grabbing his discarded coat from the table. "Johnny just got you back. I have a feeling that even with the help of magic, your walls aren't thick enough to protect me from what I'd hear if I stayed."
“He’s got a point, sweet’eart.” John chuckles, kissing your temple. “You aren’t exactly quiet.”
You make a scandalized expression. “Neither are you.”
***
Things slowly go back to normal after that. Or as normal as it can get for you. You go back to the museum after taking a couple of weeks off, but your heart isn’t in it the way it used to be. You’re jumpier now; refusing to walk to your car alone, or leave your office door unlocked.
Nightmares happen.
John carefully wakes you each time and holds you until you fall back asleep. But it all shows on your face. Eric thinks you’re just stressed; a side effect of taking on too much at work. Thankfully, Charlotte doesn’t ask questions; it’s just a comfort knowing she understands and doesn’t push.
Eventually you’ll feel fine. At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.
The Friday before Christmas, John opens the door to the patio and steps outside with a questioning expression. You’re wrapped in a blanket on the bench, slowly sipping hot tea. It’s something so mundane, but right now that’s all you want. Routine, methodical and calm.
It’s chilly out, but nowhere cold enough for it to snow. But you wish it would; there’s something so serene in watching the snowfall onto the street below. And unless it’s a near blizzard, you feel like it doesn’t stick in the city.
You turn towards John, peering up at him with a small smile, and shift your legs so he can sit beside you. “What’s wrong?” You ask, setting your cup down on the small table to your left.
“Not a thing, luv.” He assures you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “But you’ll catch a cold out here if you keep at this. Wrapped in just a blanket isn’t going to do a bloody thing against this chill. You been out here since you got home?”
You let out a dramatic sigh. “I’m fine, I had a long day and I felt like it was never gonna be over. But it’s calm out here, so I don’t mind it.” You scrunch your face into a pout. “Besides, it’s not even cold enough to snow.”
He makes a non-committal sound in the back of his throat as he settles against the wood. “You’re not happy, are you then?”
The question takes you completely by surprise. Twisting your upper body, you grab his hand and immediately shake your head. “No, I’m completely happy! You’re everything I didn’t know I wanted, Johnny. Why would -”
“I’m flattered, luv.” He interrupts, holding up a hand. “And you know I feel the same about you. But I meant here. You’re not happy here. I’ve seen it for weeks, you’ve been quiet as of late and that’s not my girl. Lottie’s even said something to me about it. ”
“Oh.” You hadn’t realized how much your mood had shifted. How different you must seem. “I, uh, I didn’t realize. I don’t know, I have no reason to be this way. The bad guy’s dead, we’re safe. But I still don’t feel like myself.”
He murmurs under his breath and the air shifts around you. Before you can comment on it, John takes both of your hands in his and meets your eyes. His are soft and sincere; the quiet in the noise of everything else around you.
“Reckon you need a change, then.” He says, with finality in his tone.
As you tilt your head in confusion, John gently squeezes your hands. “Look, I reckon I’ll never deserve this, deserve you. But this thing between us? It’s the happiest I’ve ever been in the whole of my ruddy existence. I’m rubbish at letting you in, but you mean the world to me.”
You let out a small gasp as snow starts to fall all around you. Looking out to the street below, you notice it's not falling there, just on the patio where you are.
“Did you do this?” You exclaim, holding your palms up to catch the falling flakes. When he shrugs and gives you a cocky grin, you lean forward and press your lips to his. You kiss him earnestly, pouring your gratitude and affection into the way your mouth moves.
John hums his approval, moving his hands to wrap them around your waist and pull you closer to him. When you lean back, the dark amber of his eyes is lit up with electric energy. “Move to London with me, sweet’eart.” He whispers, moving a hand to run his thumb across your cheek.
You shake your head in surprise. “What?”
“I’d never ask you to leave if I didn’t think you’d be up for it. But I reckon now, I could get the chance to show you the rest of my world. London can be a dodgy place for sure. But with you there at my side, reckon we could, I dunno, start fresh?"
He's asking you to move away with him. Away from your life here, to build a life with him there. You love this man, more than you’ve ever loved anyone else. And you know that he loves you. With this knowledge, you don’t even hesitate in your answer.
“Yes.” You say so softly, John isn’t sure he hears you at first. “Yes, of course I’ll move with you. My home is wherever you are.”
John kisses you quickly. “You keep stealing my lines, sweet’eart. But this time, I reckon I don’t mind it.”
***
A few days later, Eric calls and asks if he can pick you up and take you out with him while he does a few things in the city. When you agree, he tells you he’ll pick you up at noon and you should probably dress nice.
John rolls over in bed, brow scrunched in amusement. “Dress nice? Should I be worried, then?”
You lay back and shrug. “Doubt it, but with Eric, I literally never know what to expect. But I’ll be sure to text you if I need a rescue.” Turning your head toward him, you playfully lift your eyebrow. “I should go get ready, care to join me in the shower?”
“Was that even a question, luv?” He asks, eagerly sliding out from under the sheets.
***
Eric’s wide smile greets you when you open the car door. Running his hand through his dark hair, he waves to John as you kiss him goodbye. “Hey, fella. Thanks for comin’ with me. Didn’t wanna run errands alone.”
“It’s fine, it’s always an adventure when I go anywhere with you.” You raise your eyebrow when you notice what he’s wearing. “Now you wear velvet without being asked?” You shake your head as you climb up into the Explorer. “Charlotte has completely civilized you.”
Eric laughs, smoothing his palms over the legs of his blue pants. “What can I say? The velvet grew on me.” As you buckle your seatbelt, he lowers his sunglasses and grins. “Ya like ‘em?”
“Yeah, they’re alright.” You roll your eyes, pulling out your phone from your bag before dropping it behind his seat. Nonchalantly, you take a picture of him as he’s pulling away from the curb and forward it to Charlotte. You quickly text ‘now he’s wearing velvet, unprompted.’
Her response is immediate and you can hear her sass through the text.
Charlotte DuCaine:
Honestly sugar, you’re welcome. That boy’s clothing choices have vastly improved since I came along.
You don’t disagree. You tell her that and slide your phone into the pocket of your dress. When you look up, Eric’s heading onto the highway. “Where on Earth are you taking me?” You ask, glancing at the GPS. You’ve got a thirty minute ride away from the city.
Without taking his eyes off the road, Eric shrugs. “Gillette.”
Twisting yourself in the seat, you fold your arms across your chest. “Why are you taking me to the stadium?”
“Not necessarily the stadium, kid. There’s lots of places in the area. Good shoppin’, great restaurants.” He turns his head toward the window and lowers his voice. “A high end jewelry store…”
A jewelry store? Your mouth falls open when it hits you and before you can say anything, Eric’s chuckle makes you cover your mouth in excitement. “Told ya when ya lost that bet that you’d be comin’ with me to pick out the ring. Our appointment’s at one. I’ve been waitin' months to get in and no one knows I’m doin’ it.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t say anything before now.” It’s so unlike him; planning something like this and not telling anyone. “Eric Thomas, you cannot keep a secret. How is it that you kept this one from me of all people?”
With one hand on the steering wheel, he pulls down his glasses again and raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “I assume ya tell Charlotte everythin’ and I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”
Eric has no idea how much you tell Charlotte, so at that, you shrug and settle back in the seat. “That’s fair. But I wouldn’t tell her this.”
***
The ring is completely perfect; a crystal clear, full carat round diamond, set onto a platinum band. Tiny diamonds flank the band on either side making it classic and incredibly elegant. It’s exactly what you think Charlotte would pick for herself if she could’ve.
“You did good, Grant.” You praise him, admiring the ring in it’s box. “She’s gonna love it. I mean, honestly, she’d say yes even if you asked her with the twisty tie from a loaf of bread. But it’s good to know you’ve got taste.”
“Ya think so?” He asks, and you hear the smallest hint of insecurity in his voice.
Handing him the ring, you give him a soft smile. “I know so.”
Feeling your phone buzz in your pocket, you pull it out and giggle to yourself. Charlotte finally answered you back, telling you with an LOL that now that she’s had a moment to really look at him, Eric’s obviously ugly and she’s going to break up with him.
You make this joke with her all the time; each of you denying the attractiveness of your boyfriends. It’s been a running joke for the last two years, at least.
With another giggle, you hold your phone out and clear your throat. When he turns toward you, he squints down at your phone. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but Charlotte regrets to inform you that you’re ugly and she’d like to break up. Hope you can exchange that ring, maybe get a pair of cufflinks?”
Panic overtakes his face as he grabs the phone from your hand. “She’s kiddin’, right? Right?” When you shrug, barely holding back your smile, tightens his grip on the steering wheel and glare down at your phone. “No, we’re not breakin’ up. She’s just messin’ with me. We love each other.”
He hits send on the contact photo and when Charlotte answers, Eric doesn’t even let her say hello. “Honey, ya not gonna break up with me, right? And ya don’t think I’m ugly, right?”
Charlotte sighs and you’re sure she’s rolling her eyes. “Eric Thomas Grant. I was absolutely kidding. I’m not breaking up with you, it was just a joke. I love you more than anything, you fucking meatball.”
The tension visibly leaves his shoulders as he leans back in the seat. “Thank God, because I just -”
With an incredulous expression, you grab the phone and tell Charlotte you’ll call her back. She laughs and agrees, telling both you and Eric that she loves you. Once she’s hung up, you stare at him with disbelief.
“Don’t you fucking dare.” You hiss, dropping your phone into your bag behind him.
“I didn’t mean to! It just kinda slipped out. I was nervous!” When you fold your arms across your chest and tell him that’s exactly why you grabbed the phone, he stares at the ring in the bag and looks up at you. “I just wanna give it to her now. Like, it’s gonna be a problem. It’s goin’ to Linda’s or I’m just gonna hand it to her the next time I see her cute little face.”
You scrunch your face in distaste. “You better not. You have it all planned out. Honestly, way more planned than I ever thought you would’ve.”
Eric turns onto the highway, glancing at you quickly before watching the road. “You sure she’s gonna like what I'm doin'? You and Johnny, her dad and my parents. Oh, and James. They’re pretty damn close, I feel like he’d kill me if I didn’t invite him.”
You nearly forgot about James; he’s a good friend of Charlotte’s from work and while you’ve never met him, you know he’s a great guy. Charlotte has made the comment more than once that she wished she’d thought to pair you up with James like you had with her and Eric.
Raising your eyebrows, you tilt your head and consider how you think he’d feel. “No, he wouldn’t kill you.” You argue with a smile. “But he’d probably be upset if you didn’t involve him. He’s pretty important to Charlotte. You know, kinda like how you are to me.”
He rolls his eyes, but you can see affection in them when he turns his head. “Kid, ya haven’t met the guy. He’s almost more protective over her than Ray is. If he hadn’t told me to my face that he wasn’t interested in her, I’d be real fuckin’ worried.”
You whack his arm; Charlotte would never cheat on him and he knows that. “You have no reason to worry. Charlotte said there wasn’t any real chemistry between them; he’s like an older brother to her now. Besides, she’s so damn in love with you, dude. You’re fine.”
“Okay, well, she flat out told me right before I met him that she'd slept with him.” He lets out a slow breath. “It was a real weird moment, let me tell you. Cause it’s all I could think about the whole damn night.”
You let out a loud aggressive laugh as you twist yourself in the seat to face him. “She told you that right before you met him?! Jesus, that must’ve been something. Cause I’ve at least seen pictures of him, he’s kinda handsome.”
“Yeah, she did.” He throws a hand into the air in exasperation. “We were sittin’ at the bar and she saw him walk in. So she looks at me and goes ‘I should’ve told you earlier, chere. Right after Hugh and I broke up, I slept with James a couple times. It meant nothing, just some company and stress relief.’”
He slams his hand on the steering wheel and moves into the turning lane. “So I get that bomb right before I gotta shake the man’s hand. Didn’t think I was datin' a sadist. And let me tell ya, there’s nothin’ kinda about it. He was fuckin’ handsome. Like I know I’m a good lookin’ guy, but God damn.”
You chew on the edge of your thumb; you can’t imagine that moment, but Eric must’ve freaked and Charlotte was probably just as nervous. “I don’t think Char’s a sadist, she probably just wasn’t sure how to tell you. Didn’t want you to be upset. But it’s a good thing you’ve got a quick recovery time. I can’t even imagine what John would’ve done if I’d dropped us on him as you walked in the door that night.”
You shrug, giving him a mischievous smirk. “And yeah, I mean, I suppose you’re alright. But that tall blonde drink of water? He’s definitely pretty to look at.”
Eric presses a hand to his chest, his eyebrows furrowed in shock. “That hurts, fella. I’m pretty to look at too. And sure, I don’t have the accent he’s got, but I got these blue eyes.” He bats them ridiculously before letting seriousness overtake his features.
“Ya right though, she looked so nervous to tell me; like I was gonna lose my shit. Which is exactly what John would’ve done. Yanno, seein’ as he caused a huge fight when he did find out.”
Rolling your eyes, you drop your hands into your lap. “Well, we’re way past that now. John and I are in a very good place. He just needed to get out of his own way.”
You tilt your head, giving him a full smile so you can change the subject. “And relax, you’re ridiculously handsome. And a really good man. That was John’s problem in the first place. He didn’t think he was good enough for me in comparison to you.”
You sigh wistfully, dramatically turning your head to the window. “And I think James has blue eyes too. Just not as deep as yours. I’m sure the accent gives him an edge though.”
When Eric’s hand comes flying out and lands on your leg, you jump and glare at him. “See, this is what I’m talkin' about. Ya say I’m ridiculously handsome, then complement another man’s eyes and accent. Just rude, kid. I know my ma raised ya better than that.”
Flicking his fingers off you, you point out the windshield. “Can you pay attention to the road please? I don’t want to end up in a ditch. And fair, she did. But in my defense, you don’t have an English accent. That’s my weakness, you know that. And you can relax, I’m not planning to replace one of the most important men in my life. Your title is safe.”
Eric rolls his eyes, but rests his hands back on the steering wheel. “Ya fine, my drivin’ hasn’t killed Paddy yet, it’s not gonna kill you. And yeah, ya say that. But it’s only a matter of time before John takes ya completely away from us and ya forget all about ya handsome detective friend.”
You freeze for a second. You haven’t told Eric, or anyone for that matter, about moving away with John. It’s not that you’re ashamed of leaving, you just know how much of a huge step this is and haven’t been sure of how best to share your news.
Eric’s always been so supportive of your relationship, even when John has been stupid and jealous. And in order for your dad and Charlotte to be happy about the move, you realize now that telling Eric first, might just be the best way to go about this.
Plastering a smile onto your face, you tilt your head and inhale deeply. “First of all, I’d never. And second, it’s funny you should say that. I, uh, I need to talk to you about something. And I wanted to tell you before I told my dad. Or Charlotte.”
Eric raises his eyebrow and glances at you without turning his head. “Well, I already don’t like the sound of this. What’s happenin’?”
You anxiously squeeze your hands into fists. “So, the other night, John asked me to move and I love him. So I said yes.”
Eric stays silent and you carry on quickly, wanting to get all of it out. The only indication that he’s heard is the way his fingers tighten on the steering wheel. “He’s been here with me for over two years and it’s been incredible, but he wants the chance to show me London and I’ve always wanted to -”
“No, no way. Ya not movin’ halfway across the world.” He explodes immediately, making you fold your arms defensively as he argues. “Ya life is here. All ya friends, family, ya job is here. What if somethin’ happens while ya over there and no one can get to you? What if somethin’ happens to ya dad? Or Charlotte and me? Movin’ that far isn’t a good idea. Like I get maybe another state, but London? That’s too damn far.”
“Eric, you’re supposed to be on my side here.” You shake your head, trying to hide the frustration in your voice. “And what do you mean, ‘no one can get to me’? It’s England, not some war torn third world country.” You don’t want to roll your eyes, but you can’t help it.
“And you know me better than that. If anything happened to any of you, I’d be on the next red eye back. I love all of you, I always will. But I’m in love with John.” You pick up the small bag and hold it eye level so he can see it. “You get to move on with the person you love. Don’t I get to do the same?”
It’s his turn to roll his eyes now as he merges off the highway. “Of course ya can, fella. But movin' across the ocean is wicked different from movin’ a couple of states away.”
He holds a hand up before you can cut in. “You know I want ya to be happy, but ya gotta see it from my side. God forbid somethin’ happened to you, by the time any of us got there, you could be dead. Or what if I got shot again? Ya really wanna be that far away?”
“Wow, that’s low, Eric and a really shitty thing to say.” For a second, you don’t bother to hide the hurt on your face and his expression softens into an apology. Still, it makes you angry that he’d pull that card. Eric getting shot was terrifying. You never want to relive it and you can’t believe he’d use that against you.
Narrowing your eyes, you decide to use his logic against him. “But to your point, something horrible can happen to any of us at any minute. That doesn’t mean we stop living. I want to build a life with John and honestly, I don’t care where that is as long as it's with him. I think it’s time to start a new adventure and for now, that means London. He asked in the heat of a moment and I immediately said yes.”
“Okay, so heat of the moment.” Eric argues, shrugging his shoulders. “Have ya really thought this through since ya said yes?”
Folding your leg underneath you, you adjust to lean against the door. “Of course I have. Even the next day, when we talked about it for real, I was excited. I knew I’d made the right decision. And you can’t say anything to me about being too far away. Charlotte is fifteen hundred miles away right now. Eventually, one of you will have to move.”
“Trust me, I fuckin’ hate bein’ this far from her.” He admits, turning the Explorer down the main road in his parent’s town. “And yes, one of us will move eventually. But we’ll still be around family when we do. That’s what I’m gettin’ at. Not that ya should stop livin’. You should enjoy life with the person ya love, but just not across a fuckin’ ocean. I know he doesn’t have any family over there that he talks to.”
You don’t want to take a defensive stand here, but if Eric doesn’t back down, that’s where you’re heading. “This shouldn’t matter, but John has friends there, in the industry we’re in. I don’t think he thought I’d say yes. Because you’re right, there is so much here that’s important to me. But so is he.”
You sigh, feeling more than a little frustrated that you have to defend this to the one person you didn’t think you’d have an issue with. “I want to try this, see how it goes. Please support me here.”
When he doesn’t say anything, you rest your hand on his leg. “Look, I’ll talk to my dad, I’m not selling the townhouse; we’ll be back all the time to visit. And it’s not like John’s taking me away completely and you’ll never talk to me again. You can’t get rid of me that easily, Grant.”
After about thirty seconds of painful silence, Eric rubs the sides of his beard with his fingers. “Fine. I don’t like it, but fine. If this is what you really want, if ya happy with this decision, I’ll accept it. I don’t like it, at all, but I’ll deal.”
You let out a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you. Just trust that I’m doing what makes me happy and I promise, you’ll see me all the time. Like I said, you’re one of the most important people in my life.”
His lips quirk up in a reassuring smile. “Oh, I know. Just know that if anythin' goes wrong, or if John messes up, I’ll be on the next flight outta Boston. I don’t care how afraid of the ocean I am, I’m not about to lose my best friend because of a little water in my way.”
You slump back against the door, running your fingers through the ends of your hair. “Thanks, Eric. You’ve got no idea how much it means to me that you’re on my side.” You exhale deeply, looking out the window as he turns the Explorer down his parents' road. “I just have to tell everyone else.”
You’re lost in thought for a few moments, until Eric breaks the silence by clearing his throat. You look up when he calls you by your first name. “Ya dad’ll be fine when you tell him. As long as you’re happy, he’s happy.”
“Oh, I know.” You agree, fixing your leg so you can unbuckle your seatbelt. “He’s not the one I’m worried about. I have no idea how I’m going to tell Charlotte.”
“Well, I know she’s got her issues with John. So she’s probably not gonna be happy.” He parks just in front of the house and twists to really look at you. “Just be prepared for that. But she loves ya like I do and just wants what’s best for you. She’ll get on board eventually.”
Eric has a point, but he doesn’t know everything. Not like Charlotte does. And you’re afraid that the argument she’ll present will be a little harder to fight against. And while you don’t want to lose her again, you want to do this. You love John and want to build a life with him. You just hope she’ll understand.
Notes:
And Morgan is dead. Thank goodness. Been planning his death from the very beginning. And thank goodness you're alright. But this is just going to send us closer to the moment we all know is coming. And dears readers, when that happens? It'll break your hearts.
Next week:
After a frightening moment for Charlotte, when she's home alone, she lashes out at you as you tell her your plans to move away. When John overhears you arguing with Eric about it, he attempts to change your mind to stop the fighting. In that moment, he almost tells you why he really wants to move to London. Because of course, there's an ulterior motive...
Chapter 43: The damaging truth.
Summary:
After a frightening moment for Charlotte, when she's home alone, she lashes out at you as you tell her your plans to move away. When John overhears you arguing with Eric about it, he attempts to change your mind to stop the fighting. Later on, when you wake him from a nasty nightmare, he almost tells you why he really wants to move to London. Because of course, there's an ulterior motive. Isn't it always something?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“It’s going to be completely fine.” You tell yourself as you lock your car and slowly make your way up the steps. “She'll understand. Honestly, she’s gonna be thrilled. You’re moving with the guy you love, back to his hometown. That’s not so bad.”
Dropping your bag on the couch, you slide onto the edge of the cushion and let your head rest in your hands. You keep putting off the inevitable; it’s been almost two weeks since you told Eric and your dad that you were moving. But you still haven't told your best friend.
You dad reacted the way Eric figured; he was happy that you were happy and of course, he promised to visit as often as work would allow. You just wish you felt as confident that Charlotte would have the same reaction.
With a heavy sigh, you pull your phone from your pocket with the intent to just rip the band aid off and call her. A text from Eric asking if you’ve ‘done it yet’ makes you roll your eyes. You press send on his contact info and lean back to get comfortable.
“No, I haven’t.” You greet him when he picks up. “I was gonna call her now that I’m home.”
Eric sighs, and you hear the weight of the world in it. “I don’t know if tonight is gonna be a good idea.” He advises, clearing his throat. “I just got off the phone with her. She was weird, quiet.”
You furrow your brow as you adjust to fold your legs underneath your body. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know.” He admits, frustration coloring his voice. “She was just agreein' with everythin’ I was sayin’. And she just seemed off. I mean, after I told her I loved her, I swear she mumbled ‘why?’ Like what does she mean, why? She’s fuckin’ perfect.”
He sighs in frustration. “But the last time she was like this, James told me she’d run into Hugh. I mean, she didn’t say it now, but she barely talks about the piece of shit so I have no friggin’ clue if that’s what happened.”
“It could be.” You admit, chewing on your thumb. “Trust me, if I knew more than what I’ve already told you, you’d know that too. But Eric, you gotta understand, he was such a big part of her life for so long, and they…”
You don’t know how to phrase this delicately. Hugh was an absolute asshole and you knew how toxic he was for her. But she loved him, even when you wished she didn’t.
You let out an annoyed huff. “I mean... they weren’t good for each other. And they didn’t part on the best terms, so I’m sure she just wants to put it all behind her. Running into him must be exhausting, and it’s not like she can get away from him. They live in the same city and it’s not that big.”
“Yeah, I know.” He must be leaving work; you hear muffled voices all around. “I just worry about her. And believe me, I wish she wasn’t down there with him. We’ve talked about movin’ a few times. It’s easier for me. NOPD would take me in a second. And the bar exam is no joke, I don’t wanna put her through that again.”
The countless hours you watched her studying the first time were exhausting. “Oh, god. I know, I remember. But, I don’t think she’d mind moving up here. She’s really happy with you, happy in a way she never was with Hugh. So when the time’s right, one of you will just decide.”
“Neither of us really care who moves, we just wanna be with each other.” When he pauses, you can’t help but roll your eyes. “So, yeah alright, I guess I get where you and Johnny are comin’ from.”
“Weird, huh?” You laugh, moving your legs to get more comfortable. “When you love someone you don’t care where you live as long as it’s with them.”
Eric snorts, not buying into your sarcasm. “Yeah, still different. Not movin’ to a different country.”
You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment in frustration. “I know. And because you both love me, you're going to support my decision. Besides, you already said you’re fine with it.”
“We do love ya, and I am. But if you plan on doin’ this tonight, ya had to know the mood she’s already in. I didn’t want ya to go into it without a warnin'.”
“I have to, I figured it was best if John wasn’t home and he’s working late tonight.” John agreed with you; you both knew he'd try to jump in and argue if he was here. “Eric, I just want her to be happy for me. That’s all. I just… I don’t want her to be angry.”
You know he can hear the sadness in your voice. “She’s happy that ya happy, I know she is.” He promises. “She just wishes John wouldn’t keep things from ya so much. And I know we’ve talked about his baggage. And I know he’s gotten better, more open. But still.”
“John has gotten much better. But not everyone can be an open book like you are, Grant.” When he laughs and tries to protest, saying that he’s absolutely got secrets, you roll your eyes. “Yeah? I definitely don’t believe that.”
He lowers his voice, letting his tone get smug for a second. “Well, there’s the ring, for one. That's a secret only you know about. And then there’s one thing I’m in the middle of. And two more things in the works.”
You raise your eyebrows in surprise. That boy cannot keep a single secret, and to find out he has three? “Eric Grant, when did you become such a sneaky bastard?”
“Listen, I have my moments.” He protests with a laugh. “Everyone thinks I’m an open book, but there’s shit that even Charlotte doesn’t know. I could be wicked devious and I just hide it really well. You don’t know.”
Pushing yourself up, you take the phone with you to the kitchen. “Don’t take this the wrong way, cause John is the love of my life, but somehow you just got more attractive.”
“It’s a blessing and a curse, kid. But I'm willin' to bear it, somebody has to."
***
Grabbing the entire bottle of wine, Charlotte runs a shaky hand through her dark hair and climbs onto the couch. “C’mere, Beau.” She calls out, desperately needing the comfort of his warm body against hers.
When he climbs up and settles his massive head on her lap, she lets out a small breath of relief. “Good boy. Mama loves you so much.” She’s lucky that Beau was here this time, even if it took him a few minutes to figure out that there was an intruder.
Because she certainly hadn’t been expecting Hugh to be standing in the damn living room when she came downstairs. Or that he could still get in the house. Ray had changed the locks after she told him about the ‘break in’ when she got home from Boston that first time.
He’d cornered her then, the same way he did now; shoving her against the wall and only letting her go after he forced her to kiss him. She hadn’t wanted to; she never wanted to be unfaithful to Eric. Eric was good, kind, and loved her right.
But Hugh never took no for an answer and the moment he put his hands on her, she froze, remembering the damage he could do when he wanted to. And if Beau hadn’t come down the stairs and started growling, she didn’t want to consider what he would have done to her.
Hugh was terrified of Beau, and had been since the dog bit him as a puppy. He’d taken a swing at her and Beau hadn’t hesitated. He still had the scar on his hand.
After shoving her to the floor, Hugh had promised to come back to finish what he started and took off without another word. Beau had chased him out, only returning once the Range Rover was gone from the driveway. She hadn’t moved until she heard her phone ringing over an hour later.
Thinking back on it now, she hates that she sounded so frightened when she talked to Eric. She’s just glad it wasn’t Facetime; if it was, he would’ve known something was wrong. And she’ll do anything to keep him in the dark about her past with Hugh.
She just needs to get her mind off it; watch some crappy TV and finish off this bottle of wine. Then today will be a blur and she can pretend that nothing happened. It’s a coping mechanism that’s been working for the last five years or so. She’s not about to try and reinvent the wheel tonight.
Halfway through some reality show that she’s not really paying attention to, her phone lights up with an incoming Facetime call. She only answers it because it’s you.
“Hey, sugar.” She says softly, sitting up to allow for a better angle. “What are you up to? I miss you.”
You smile, adjusting your camera. “I miss you too. Are you busy?”
You seem so uncomfortable, Charlotte can see it in the way your shoulders are set. She wants to ask about it, but she’s sure if you give her a few minutes, you’ll spit it out. She’s certain whatever you’ve called about, is the reason you seem so off in the first place.
Charlotte tilts her head, letting concern furrow her brow. “Never for you, what’s up?”
You let out a heavy sigh as you run your fingers through your hair. “I have some pretty awesome news and I’m really excited about it, but... if you’re busy, I can just call a different night. It’s not really a big deal.”
When she cuts you by sternly saying your name, she watches you pause to chew on your lower lip.
“Okay, so.” You glance away a moment before meeting her eyes. “John and I were talking about our lives and how we both want to take the next step together. And that led to him asking me to move with him. He seemed so hopeful and when I said yes, he was so happy. And I am too. So, in three weeks, he and I are moving to London.”
Charlotte’s silent; her mind working to process what you’ve just said. You’re moving. To London. With John. Absolutely fucking not. She can’t even vocalize how much she doesn’t want this to happen.
She doesn't hate him, but she certainly doesn’t trust John on a good day. There’s too much that he doesn’t tell you and that’s almost gotten you killed more than once. And the last time something horrible happened, she and Eric were too far away to do anything to help you.
Charlotte can’t imagine the danger he’d put you in halfway across the world. And for the life of her, she still can't understand why you’d choose this life of magic over one that’s stable and safe.
And she hates that she can’t help the thought that passes through her head next. That John wanting to move you away is isolating. He's taking you to foreign country, where you don’t know anyone. The only person you’d have to depend on is him.
And she doesn’t want to compare the two, because she’s sure John doesn’t hurt you like Hugh hurt her. But Hugh’s aggression earlier makes her remember an argument she almost lost about him wanting to move across the country before they were engaged. She would’ve been completely isolated, more so than he had already made her.
Because toward the end, Charlotte barely spoke to you, James or her father. Hugh was her beginning and her end. She’s afraid that John’s trying to do the same thing to you.
And from a purely selfish standpoint, Charlotte doesn’t want her best friend to move away from her. She already hates the fifteen hundred mile difference, but at least visiting each other now doesn’t require her passport and a transatlantic flight.
“No.” She says after a moment; her voice firm and a little angry. “Sugar, absolutely not.”
You lean back against your cushions and rest your chin in your hand. “Char, I’m not asking permission. Please just try to understand. I love him, I want to build a life with him.”
“You're already doing that here. Why now, in a different country, where you know absolutely no one?” Charlotte bites back, rolling her eyes aggressively. “That’s a terrible, irresponsible idea. Don’t be stupid.”
Your face hardens into a defensive mask. She watches as you push yourself up and walk outside to the small balcony off your living room. “I’m not stupid. I’ve thought this through, you have my word on that. This is a good thing and it’s not like you won’t come visit. I expect to see you and Eric all the time.”
“You’ll still be completely alone." Charlotte insists, attempting to make you see her reasoning. "Completely isolated from the people who love you. Just like you were when Sam took you. Eric and I were too far away to do anything to help save you. ”
“Jesus Christ, Charlotte.” You lean against the railing, shaking your head in disbelief. “Are you really gonna use the scariest night of my life against me like that? It was completely different and you know it. There was someone after John, it wasn’t his fau-”
“Mais j’mais! There’s always going to be someone after John!” Charlotte snaps, throwing her free hand into the air. “What’s gonna happen when you’re halfway across an Ocean? You’ll never be safe. You have to know that.”
You can’t hide the hurt on your face at her accusation. “All John’s tried to do since we met was keep me safe and in any case, I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a long time.”
“Sure you can.” Charlotte cuts in, sarcasm lacing with anger in her voice. “That’s why you almost died when that bastard threw you in the back of his truck and kidnapped you. That’s why it took John far too long to find you; I’m the one who helped him. And then he couldn’t wake you. Didn’t seem like he was keeping you safe then.”
"That's not fair, he loves me.” You argue, blinking back a few tears. “The situation was out of his control, he… he didn’t have a choice. Why can’t you just be happy for me?”
Charlotte’s face softens. She didn’t want to make you cry. She just can’t help the irrational fear in her heart. “I want to be, sugar. I really do. I just don’t trust him enough to be okay with you moving to another country. I told you before that I was worried what would happen when he thought he didn’t have a choice.”
You wipe your tears with the heel of your hand. “I wish you could see how much we love each other. How good for each other we are. Nothing is gonna happen to me in London. I know it's a big move, but we're gonna be perfectly fine. I’m sorry that you aren’t happy about it. Eric wasn’t either at first but eventually, he got on board. Now, he’s excited for me.”
“You say that, until I get a phone call that he’s gotten you killed.” Charlotte snaps furiously. It’s then that she processes the rest of what you’ve said. Eric knew before she did? And he hasn’t said anything? “How long has he known?” She whispers, narrowing her eyes through the screen.
Your eyes widen as you realize your mistake. “I… I told Eric two weeks ago. Don’t be angry with him, I asked him not to say anything, so I could tell you on my own. Because I knew you’d be the hardest to convince.”
Charlotte pushes herself up and walks into her kitchen, barely keeping her anger in check. “So not only did you ask my boyfriend to lie to me, but you knew I wouldn’t want you to do this? Oh, I’m not angry with him, sugar. I’m furious with you."
You sigh in frustration. "Char-"
She cuts you off, quick and furious. "No, you know what? Go. Move to London. Take your lies and secrets with you. You two are perfect for each other. Because even though I know the damn truth, you're still fixing to do whatever you want. You're just like him."
Before you can say anything else, she hangs up and slams her phone on the marble counter. She's aware she's being a little hypocritical, but she can't help it. She hates that John’s turned you into a liar because that’s how he has to live.
And if she’s honest, she hates how much of herself she sees reflected in John. The duplicity, the lies. All of it told at the expense of a secret that should never have been kept in the first place.
***
When Charlotte hangs up on you, you lean against the railing with your stomach in knots. You stare down at your phone for a few seconds to keep from crying. Keeping your eyes fixed on a single point, allows you to drag in a few calming breaths and refocus your thoughts.
You can’t move with things like this. You and Charlotte have had little fights over the years, but this one and the last one were awful. You hate that your mind goes right to John as the reason behind them.
But you knew what you were doing when you chose this life, and asked him to teach you. Sure, you had no real idea the danger you’d find yourself in, but every step you’ve made with him has been a willing one. The relationship you’ve built with John and the things you’ve learned from him have made it all worth it.
You know he hasn’t always made it easy, but you’ve always forgiven him. You love each other. Shouldn’t that be what matters?
Stepping back inside, you set your phone down on the kitchen table and grab a tissue from the box on the counter. Dabbing your eyes, you grab yourself a drink from the fridge and sit down, back facing the door.
When your phone rings, you consider not answering it. It’s Eric and you just don’t think you can handle talking to anyone else right now. His text of ‘Answer me, kid.’ is what makes you slide your phone open and call him back. He immediately picks up and doesn’t bother waiting for you to talk before his anger bursts through the line.
“Thanks a lot.” He snaps, making you wince as you press the speakerphone. “Ya threw me under the damn bus. And I certainly didn’t plan on arguin’ with her. I told you she was in a weird mood and ya called her anyway.”
You sniffle, feeling tears start up again, and sit up straight in the chair. “I know, I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for her to get mad. It just slipped that I told you before her and she got pissed. But she has to know; she has to know that I want to do this. I couldn’t just leave and send a… a postcard.”
“Look, is this really what ya want, kid?” His tone softens when he realizes you’re crying. “All this fightin’? Cause that’s what we got.”
Closing your eyes, you pull your lower lip between your teeth. “Of course it’s not. I don’t want to fight with anyone and I don’t want her mad at you.”
“Okay, well. This is what happens when you decide to move to a different country. I mean, I like John just fine, and I’m glad he makes ya happy. Just make sure it’s worth it, yeah? Use ya head.” You know what he really means. Just make sure John’s worth it.
“Jesus, you sound like Charlotte. I am.” You argue back, feeling anger threaten to spill out of you. “And he is.”
Eric sighs in disapproval. “That’s not what I meant.”
“But it’s what Lottie meant, innit?” John asks from behind you.
Pushing yourself out of the chair, you whirl around to see him standing in the doorway. The hurt expression on his face only lasted for a second, but you still saw it; still saw the way his eyes drifted down to the floor when you turned.
“Eric, I gotta go.” You hiss into the phone, before ending the call and setting it down on the table. “How long have you been home?” You ask softly, folding your arms across your chest as you walk across the room.
John shrugs and lifts the corner of his mouth into a halfhearted smile. “Oh, I reckon somewhere around the postcard bit.”
He shrugs out of his coat and tosses it onto the couch. You watch him methodically fold his sleeves up, staying silent until he sinks down onto the cushions. “If it means your mates are furious, you don’t have to do this. Reckon I’m not worth all this bloody fighting.”
His tone breaks your heart. You can tell he’s trying to hide his disappointment; protect himself from what he thinks is about to happen. Crouching in front of him, you rest your palms flat on his thighs. “Yes, you are. You have been from the start.”
He shakes his head, his wary eyes looking anywhere but your face. “I don't fancy making you fight with them. Lottie especially. She already bloody well hates me. My home is with you, sweet’eart. Wherever that is. We don’t -”
“Hey, look at me.” You order, keeping your voice kind and reassuring. When he reluctantly drags his eyes to meet yours, you smile at him.
“We’ve been through a lot, you and I. And I know you think that you don’t deserve to be happy. But you do. Because you’ve changed my life for the better,” you hold up a hand, “and even with the danger, I wouldn’t change any of it.”
At the disbelief in the darkness of your eyes, you roll yours. “I want to do this. John, you make me happy.” You take his hand in yours. “I want to go to London with you. I want to start the next chapter of our lives together. Come on, don’t I make you happy?”
John runs a hand through his hair as he sighs heavily. "Bloody hell, luv. Of course you do." With his free hand, he leans back and tugs his tie over his head. “The happiest I’ve ever bloody been. You know that.”
"Then believe me when I tell you I'm still all in.” Keeping your fingers wrapped in his, you move from the floor to the couch beside him. “One hundred percent, Johnny. You can't get rid of me that easily."
"I wasn't trying to -"
You cut him off with a smile. "I know what you were trying to do. And it's unnecessary. Eric is already on my side. He supports us. Charlotte will too. Just give her time."
"Well, Lottie knows everything, doesn't she? That's why she's never gotten on with Ol' Johnny. She still thinks I'm gonna be the death of you."
You stand and push him back against the cushions as you climb onto his lap. Pushing his hair out of his face with your fingers, you tilt your head and grin at him. "Well, if you keep up with this doom and gloom attitude, you will be."
John rests his hands on your hips; the heat from his fingers warming your skin through your dress. "Oh, the cheek on you, luv." He comments, raising one eyebrow in amusement. “Hell, I reckon I don’t bloody know what it is about you. But I’ve never felt like this. I said it ages ago, luv. You’ve bewitched me.”
He shakes his head, letting his softness and affection for you show on his face. “And even if I reckon I don’t deserve to be happy, the fact that you believe it?” He leans forward and kisses you softly, moving one hand to cup the back of your neck. “That’s worth something to a devious tosser like me.”
Your cheeks grow warm, knowing that you feel exactly the same. “You act like this is one sided, John. I have never loved anyone the way I love you. There’s no one else for me, hasn’t been since the day you strolled into the museum with your whole mysterious, broody, bad boy routine.”
John chuckles, resting his forehead against yours. “Ah, if I remember correctly, you told Ol’ Johnny that my routine didn’t work on you.” He leans back for a moment, brow furrowed in thought. “What changed, then?”
“You did.” The surprise on his face makes you shake your head. This time, you lean down and kiss him, chasing his lips as his back hits the cushions. “Not that you’re not still a mysterious, broody, bad boy. But you’re also the guy that’s saved my life, the guy who looks at me like I’ve hung the moon when I speak Latin or cast a spell -”
You stop when he rolls his eyes. “While I appreciate the ego boost,” he smirks, pulling you closer to him. “I’m also the bloke who’s put you in danger, luv. Reckon you’d’ve been a lot safer if I’d never come along.”
Letting yourself be moved forward, you thread your fingers around the back of his neck. “I don’t think so. Sure, Sam was working with Morgan, but a dick is a dick. He would’ve found a way back into my life and the me that existed before you, probably would’ve let him."
Your lips form a small smile. "You’ve made me a stronger person. I stand up for myself because you make me feel like I’m worth it.”
John scrunches his face incredulously. “You are worth it, sweet’eart. How could you ever think that you’re not? You’re bloody brilliant, aren’t you then? I’ve no idea how I got so jammy.”
“Well, that’s funny.” You point out, raising your eyebrow. When he asks why, you can’t help but giggle. “Because that’s exactly the point I’ve been trying to make about you.”
John shakes his head, knowing that you’ve beat him at his own game, and kisses you again, soft and slow. You yield easily, shifting your body to allow him to move you underneath him on the couch. When his mouth covers yours as his hands move down your body, you move yours up above your head.
After a few moments, he breaks the kiss and pushes himself up to stare down at you. “You’re sure you want this, then?” He asks, not bothering to hide the vulnerability on his face and in his eyes. “This move?” You hear the pause; hear the question he’s really asking you. You’re sure you want this move with me.
You nod, feeling your heart race wildly. “Absolutely. The only thing I’ve ever wanted more was you. And from where I’m laying, I think I got you.”
John laughs, his grin wide and happy. “That you did, luv.”
***
John glares down at the box of shoes he’s just packed. How you have so many is beyond him. “Oi.” He groans, pushing the box aside and lighting up a cigarette. “Reckon there’s a spell somewhere for packing up the rest of all this?”
Chas grins, and John can hear his happiness through the phone. "I really never thought I'd live to see the day, Johnny. Not only do you want to go home, but you're bringing the girl you love with you. You said you hated London, never wanted to go back."
John rolls his eyes as he sucks in a deep drag. "Keep your hair on mate, it's just that we chatted and it's time for a change. For both of us.” He keeps his voice light. “Reckon London was as good a place as any to start over. She’s never been."
"Mmhmm. So when do you move? I'll tell Renee I'm coming to help. I miss the old stomping grounds and I have a feeling sunshine won't be bringing anyone along." Chas pauses, as he thinks about it. "Maybe Eric, though Charli is probably a hard sell.”
John lets out a bitter laugh as he walks over toward the balcony. “Three weeks, and Lottie won’t be joining us. The two of them got into a nasty row two nights ago. Reckon the only place she wants to help me move into is the bloody grave.”
John balances the phone between his neck and shoulder as he quickly slips outside. Chas makes a noise of disapproval; a sound John is more than used to hearing when it comes to him. “Charli still doesn’t fully trust you, only time is gonna change that.”
“Reckon moving across the ocean isn’t helping, then.” He leans against the railing, staring out into the glittering lights of the city. “I offered to stay, Chas. Let her off the hook as it were. But the lass is more bloody stubborn than I am. Wouldn’t let me talk her out of it.”
A fact he’s more happy about than he can say. He does want to move with you. He just hadn't dreamt in a million years that you'd actually agree. And as soon as you did, the wheels in John's head began to turn.
Chas chuckles softly. “She loves you, John. Nothing's going to change her mind. I mean, those bastards all but tortured her and she still risked her own life when you were in trouble. You really think she'd let you convince her not to move?"
"Suppose not." John admits, taking a few final drags from the silk cut. "I just bloody well hope I'm making the right choice here. London is..."
"This still scares you, doesn't it?" Chas asks softly. "Trusting her the way you do."
He knows John better than anyone else. Knows the way his mind works. So of course John is terrified, he doesn't have to say it. Chas knows.
John's silent for a minute as he heads into the kitchen for a glass of whiskey. He sighs as his fingers close around the bottle. "I keep waiting for her to decide she doesn't fancy dealing with me and just leg it, but she never does. Every bloody thing I've thrown at her, just makes her more determined to stay."
"What you have with her is special. I think we both know that." Chas reminds him and John tenses up; he does know that.
That scares him too. He knows he's never been in love with anyone the way he's in love with you. That’s always complicated things.
And now, your mates have raised valid points. Being in a new setting, with someone as dangerous as John is as your only company? It could spell disaster for you. Lottie brought it up the night you fought with her. She sees right through him, she always has.
And John knows full well how capable you are, but there’s a little part of him that’s worried. The part that's been changed, softened, by his love for you. Because even with your gifts, you won't be shielded from the dangers going home could bring for him. But he knows going back to London is the fastest way to settle this mess with Astra.
He tells himself that he’s been careful about his relationship with you; no one above or below needs to know exactly how important you are to him. And John will finally be back in the thick of it and able to track down the bastard that took her soul to Hell. That’s too important to pass up.
When he tells Chas all of this, save for anything related to Astra, the heavy sigh that sounds through the phone makes John down the contents of his glass in one sip.
“Don’t be naïve, Johnny. It doesn’t matter how careful you think you’ve been. Midnite knew about her, so did Zed. That alone should tell you it doesn’t matter. The hidden world knows about her; she's making a name for herself at your side. Just be cautious over there, be honest with her. That’s all I’m gonna ask.”
“I’m bloody well more honest with her than I am with myself.” John argues, quickly refilling his glass and stepping back out onto the balcony.
He can’t see it, but he can hear the eye roll in Chas’s shifting tone. “That’s a sliding scale at best and you’ve got enemies.” Chas points out. “So don’t let them take her by surprise, again. This move can be a very good thing for both of you. As long as there’s no lies between you.”
"Wouldn't dream of it, mate." He agrees with a smile as your Rogue pulls into the spot in front of the building. "Now, beg your pardon, but my girl's just got home. See you in The Old Smoke, ey?"
Chas laughs and sends along his love for you as he ends the call. John slips his phone into the back pocket of his pants and steps inside to greet you. If he doesn't intend to tell you anything about what he's doing, then he's not lying to you.
He's simply not supplying unnecessary information. It's not the same. Well, that's lie number one, he thinks bitterly. Off to a smashing start, Johnny.
***
When John is sound asleep next to you in the bed, you carefully turn yourself to the side and watch the slow rise and fall of his chest. Your fingers brush over his cheek and gently touch his lashes. He looks so happy and calm right now; you wish you could give him this peace of mind all the time.
He’s been so supportive these last couple of weeks; he knows you and Charlotte are still at odds, so when Eric’s come over to help pack, John’s made sure to keep the conversation light and friendly. He knows it hasn’t been easy on you to not have your best friend’s support.
And you know how much it means to him that you still want this, despite her disapproval.
With a small sigh, you push yourself up and look around. Your townhouse is mostly boxes at this point; the kitchen and your bedroom being the last spaces to be fully packed. And when you haven’t been packing, you’ve been tying up loose ends at the museum and setting up your replacement for a smooth transition when you leave.
Moving to London next week is terrifying, if you're being honest with yourself. But despite the fear of the unknown, you’ve excited. You meant what you said to both Charlotte and Eric; this was your choice. And even now, when John’s offered you a way to back out if you want, you’ve never been so sure of your decision.
It’s a big move; one that you find you’re willing to take because of him. You meant what you said to him the night you fought with Charlotte. You’re stronger because of John; a more confident person, because he taught you to love the parts of yourself you’d grown to hate.
You can only hope that he sees how he’s changing too.
When John stirs next to you, he mumbles a string of incoherent noises as he reaches for you in the darkness. You scoot closer, letting him wrap his arm around your waist. He has nightmares more often than he'd like to admit; while he says he doesn't remember them, he talks in his sleep while they happen.
Most often, the nightmares are about his past; flashes of the mistakes he’s made and the people he’s lost to this life. You soothe his furrowed brow as he apologizes to Astra and someone named Gaz. He swears that he never wanted it to end this way for them, end so violently.
Your heart hurts when you hear the pain he's always kept buried deep. When he calls for them, you hold him close and try to wake him so he doesn’t have to ride out the memory. Those nights are bad, but it's worse when the nightmares are about you.
He never wants to talk about what he sees. About what happens to you in the recesses of his mind. But when the haunted look in his eyes lingers for just a moment too long, you gently take his face into your hands and press your lips to his. With each kiss, you assure him you’re alright; safe from whatever evil was conjured in his head.
You know John has countless enemies. All of whom would love to see him suffer because of what he does. So you can’t imagine what it’s like for him, having someone you know he loves willingly work beside him and expose themselves to that very darkness.
Darkness that he introduced them to in the first place.
He whispers your name now, hushed and worried, bringing you out of your thoughts. You switch on the side lamp and rest your hand on his shoulder before he can get too far into the nightmare. He tosses himself to the side, his brow crinkled in imagined panic.
He says your name again and this time, it’s pained and louder. He thrashing around, shaking his head as he fights off an invisible assailant. You need to wake him before he hurts himself.
“Johnny.” You shake him gently. “Sweetheart, wake up. I’m here. I’m alright.” He doesn’t open his eyes, just lets out a whimpering sound that makes your heart twist. Climbing to your knees, you lean over and give him a little shove. “John.” You say more insistently. “John, wake up.”
His eyes fly open and before you have time to process what’s happened, John’s grabbed your arms and flipped the both of you. He pins you under him, one hand gripping your wrist against the mattress and the other collaring your throat.
You freeze; not in fear, but in shock. The nightmares aren’t new, but his reaction this time is.
“It’s me!” You croak out, pushing against his chest with your free hand. “John, wake up. Pl...ease.” He’s not fully awake, but his grip on your neck is still too tight for you to pull him off you. “John! Stop, you’re… you’re hurting me.”
As his eyes focus, John stares down at you in horror when he realizes where his hands are. Releasing you, he scoots backward and off the bed, scrubbing a hand down his face.
“Bloody hell, sweet’eart.” He swears softly, holding shaky hands out in front of his body. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize. I… I would never…”
Coughing, you sit yourself up and run your fingers through your hair. “I know you wouldn’t.” You drag in a few deep breaths. “I know that. I just.. I need a second and I’ll be alright. You were having a nightmare, I was… I was trying to wake you up.”
John carefully sits on the edge of the bed, his chest heaving as he regains his own composure. “I… I’m sorry. I…What happened, then?”
Shaking your head, you slide out of bed and wrap yourself in the throw blanket you’d tossed on the floor. “It’s okay.” You lean against the dresser and fold your arms. “You were just calling my name while you were tossing and turning. And when I tried to wake you, you pinned me to the bed.”
"I could have ki-" Staring at his hands, John visibly shudders. "I would never hurt you, luv. Not on purpose. I don’t fancy you being afraid of me."
Closing your eyes for a second, you inhale deeply and cross the distance to him. Sitting right next to him, you take John's hands and hold them. "I wasn't afraid of you, just a little surprised. I trust you not to hurt me."
John meets your eyes, but save for a deep breath of relief, he says nothing. And you hear a thousand words in his silence; guilt and shame roll off him in waves, making his jaw tick as he watches and waits for your reaction.
You're not angry in the slightest. But you do want to know what happened. Because he’s never had such a visceral reaction like this before.
Your breathing’s evened out, but your heart’s still beating wildly in your chest. “What was the nightmare about?” You ask him, swallowing hard. “Because you looked terrified.”
John leans away from you and scratches at his stubbled cheek. He surprises both of you with his quiet response. “I couldn't save you.”
“What?” His honesty takes you by surprise; you can’t hide the way your eyebrows fly up and your jaw drops. At the expression on your face, John rests his palm on your leg and absently runs his thumb over your skin.
He nods, meeting your eyes. Panic simmers just below the surface when he looks at you; you want to tell him that he doesn’t have to explain, but if you cave, he may never tell you what happened. So instead, you pull your lip between your teeth and wait.
After a few moments of quiet, he sighs and pushes himself up. He starts pacing back and forth anxiously with his hands in his hair.
“You’d been taken,” John finally whispers, staring down at the floor. “And by the time I’d gotten to you, I was too bloody late.”
When you let you a small gasp, he nods and swallows hard. “You were… dead at my feet. And when I knelt down to pick you up, the bastard that took Astra wouldn’t let me. I… I fought with him and I lost. Lost you.”
Rising to your feet, you wrap your arms around his waist and hold him. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the rhythmic thumping of his heart. He immediately relaxes, resting his hands at the small of your back.
“It’s alright, Johnny.” You assure him gently. “It was just a dream. You didn't lose me, I’m fine.” He pulls away to check you over, smiling when he’s satisfied. “See? You keep me perfectly safe.”
“Come off it, then. You keep yourself safe, luv.” He muses, moving with you to the edge of the bed. “Reckon all Johnny does is -”
Rolling your eyes, you cut him off with a kiss to his cheek. “Stop that. We’re a package deal, right? We keep each other safe. I wouldn’t be going with you halfway across the world if I didn’t believe that.”
John opens his mouth then closes it, an uneasy expression flashing across his face in the darkness. “Sweet’eart, I need to tell you…” He trails off as you look up at him expectantly.
“What?” You ask, squeezing his hand.
When he shakes his head, the unease on his face is gone, replaced by his usual smirk. “I have so many bloody places I fancy taking you when we get there. It’ll make your head spin. And all the naughty things I’ll do to you once we’re settled? You’ll hardly sleep the first week if I can help it.”
You let out a ridiculous giggle as you turn and climb back up the bed. “You’re something else, John Constantine.” You pat the pillow next to your head. “Let’s go back to sleep, you can tell me all about it in the morning.”
John nods and when he stands to walk around the side of the bed, you can’t see the guilt on his face. You trust him completely, sometimes he wishes you didn’t.
Sometimes he wishes he didn’t care about you as much as he does. He almost told you everything. And if he had, he'd lose you for good. Not just to a physical demon, but to the ones inside his own head. The ones the convince him it's easier to hide the truth from you, because you'd stop loving him if you knew.
No matter how wrong John knows they are, those bastards are much harder to fight.
Notes:
We knew Charlotte was going to react that way, she knows everything and that puts her in an extremely difficult position. Plus, with Hugh fresh in her mind, she was already spooked.
And even though John has an ulterior motive, he does love you. So him attempting to get you to change your mind is his own kind of sweet. We know the boy doesn't think he's worth all the fuss you make over him.
And the nightmare trope? *Chef's kiss* Literally one of my favorite things. And let's be real, John has to have nightmares all the time. I wanted a moment where he lets himself be vulnerable with you. And you don't let him down. You never do.
Next chapter: The Big Move. And once you're settled, John takes you to the Caligula Club, a magically neutral *adult* club. There, you discover some brand new interests you didn't think you had. And while John chats with the owners to gather information, you run into an unsavory character that's very interested in you...
Chapter 44: Home sweet home.
Summary:
Once you're settled in London, John takes you to the Caligula Club, a magically neutral *adult* club. There, you discover some brand new interests you didn't think you had. And while John chats with the owners to gather information, you run into an unsavory character that's very interested in you. One that will undoubtedly keep an eye on you for some time...
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
There’s next to nothing left at your townhouse; everything you wanted to bring has already been sent over and what you could live without, has been stored in your parent’s garage.
Locking the door for the last time before dropping the keys off with your dad, is a wistful thing. It’s strange to think that he’ll be renting it out; but you both agreed that to keep it in your possession, this was the smartest decision.
Now, as you knock on the door to his office, a sudden flare of anxiety blooms in your chest. You leave in two days and it’s not that you’re unsure of your decision, it’s just hit you that you’re really leaving.
John squeezes your hand to assure you. Your dad has always been kind to him; he’s grateful that he’s been supportive of the move too.
When he opens the door, your dad smiles and brings you in for a hug. You wrap your arms around him as he kisses the top of your head. You’re gonna miss him, but at least he’s only a phone call away. He’s told you so about a hundred times since you decided to move.
The three of you make small talk for a few minutes; your dad asking if there’s any loose ends to still tie up here and John telling him all about what he wants to show you before you get settled. It’s easy conversation and not once does your dad try to convince you that it’s a bad idea. He actually seems happy for you.
“I’m excited for you, kiddo.” Your dad says, confirming your thoughts. “I think you’re going to really enjoy England.” He smiles at you before turning his stern gaze on John. “You watch over my little girl over there, you hear me? Don’t make me hop on a plane.”
You roll your eyes, but John takes it all in stride. “Absolutely.” He promises. “She’s brilliant, isn’t she? You raised a spectacular woman, I wouldn’t dream of letting anything happen to her.”
Taking his hand, you squeeze it tightly. Your dad smiles wistfully when his eyes move down to your hands. “Good. Take care of each other.” He gestures to you both. “Love like this? It doesn’t happen all the time. You hold onto it, protect what you have.”
“Come on, dad.” You push yourself to your feet. “Don’t get all sappy on me. You have a reputation to keep around here.”
Shaking his head, your dad walks around his desk and leans against the front of it. “Listen, I’m allowed to get sappy every once in a while.” He argues, crossing his arms over a chest. “I’m your father, it’s occasionally in the job description.”
John rises and extends his hand to your dad. “I’ll give you a moment alone.” He offers, digging his hands into his coat pocket for his silk cuts. After a decisive nod in your dad’s direction, he heads for the door. “I’ll just be outside, then.”
After assurances that you’ll call him as soon as you’ve landed, your dad kisses your cheek and rests a hand on your shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, kiddo.” His smile when he looks at you is kind and almost sad. “Your mother would... She’s proud of you too.”
You blink away the feeling that you’re going to cry, forcing out a laugh instead. “Hey, remember what I said about sappy?”
***
The night before the move, you and John bunk at Eric’s. He’d insisted that you spend the night with him rather than in a hotel, especially with him driving you to the airport in the morning. John didn’t want to rob him of his last night with his best friend and graciously accepted for both of you.
Twenty minutes after you’ve gotten out of the shower, they walk in the door with two pizzas and your favorite brand of hard cider. You lean back against the couch and grin. “Now this is service.”
Eric rolls his eyes as John leans down for a kiss. “Nah, it’s a goin’ away dinner.” He laughs, setting the pizza on the table. “I was gonna cook, but I didn’t wanna spoil ya with what you’ll be missin’ all the way across the ocean.”
John rises, pressing his lips to your cheek as he shrugs out of his coat. “Don’t worry, big man. Johnny will spoil her plenty and she bloody well knows it too.”
You tilt your head back, grinning as Eric settles in the armchair across from the couch. “Yeah, I’ve got a good thing going, Grant. And as much as I’d love to let you wow John with your cooking, neither Charlotte or I are gonna clean up after that mess. She’s too far away and I refuse to clean up the kitchen after you’ve cooked. I think I have PTSD from the last time.”
Eric flips you off as he opens the pizza box, making both you and John laugh. As he pulls out a piece, he meets your eyes and makes a serious face. “Have you talked to her at all?”
You tense up at his question; you haven’t really talked to Charlotte in the three weeks since you told her you were leaving. Sure, you’ve made small talk; she’s sent you pictures of Beau and you’ve responded about how cute he is. But it hasn’t gone past that.
It hurts more than you can explain. You used to talk to her everyday, about anything. Now you’re worried that you won’t hear from her at all before you leave.
“Not really.” You admit slowly, moving over on the couch for John to sit next to you. “Just little texts back and forth and never about anything serious.”
Eric opens his mouth, only to shut it again when you raise an eyebrow. He agreed to stay out of it and you’d like him to continue so you don't end your last night on a sour note. He simply raises his hands in surrender and grins sheepishly.
“I’m not tryin’ to start anythin’, fella.” He insists. “I just hate when you girls fight. Especially when she can see how happy ya are.”
John crosses leg over his knee and sighs. “Lottie’s problem's with me, mate. And unfortunately, she’s taking it out on our girl, isn’t she then?”
Eric chews for a moment before answering. “I mean, yeah, Charlotte’s got issues with ya. But she knows ya love her best friend and ya treat her right. That should be enough. And it’s not like she has any real reason to be mad at ya, Johnny. So I hoped she’d be past this before tomorrow.”
John steals a quick glance down at you. You both know that Charlotte has valid reasons for being mad at him, you just refuse to let Eric know that. With a small shrug, you shake your head and silently eat your pizza.
The three of you watch a movie after dinner and John helps you to bed when you fall asleep with your head in his lap halfway through. He and Eric share a private smile as you flop onto the futon. “Ya gonna take good care of her, right?” Eric asks, watching John intently as he covers you with a blanket. “You know how I feel about her, she’s like a sister to me.”
Tugging his tie over his head, John nods, only to stop when a yawn overtakes his features. “Aye, mate. She can take care of herself, but I’ve got her back.”
Satisfied with John’s answer, Eric pushes himself off the doorframe and smiles before grabbing the handle. “Glad to hear it, Johnny. See you guys in the mornin'.”
John climbs into bed with you and positions himself so your head can rest on the warmth of his chest. This time tomorrow night, you’ll both be in London. A fact he’s equally excited and nervous about.
***
When the Explorer pulls up to the departure lane, your entire body feels jittery. Whether it’s from excitement or nerves, you aren’t sure. Eric parks, flips on his hazards and slides out of the car with you and John.
Once your bag is on the ground, you turn around to meet Eric’s eyes. “I’m happy for ya, I promise. I just still wish ya weren’t movin’ so far away.” He smiles at you, his grin lopsided and a little sad. “I’m gonna miss ya, fella.”
You lean forward and wrap your arms around him. “I’m going to miss you too, Eric. But I’m only a call away and we’ll visit each other all the time.” His arms tighten around your shoulders and he holds onto you for another few moments before reluctantly pulling away.
When he does, he reaches over to John and pulls him in for a hug too. If John’s startled by the move, he doesn’t show it. When Eric tells him that he’ll miss him too, John returns the embrace with a small chuckle. “Yeah, big man, I’ll miss you too. S’not gonna be the same without you around.”
“You’ll call me as soon as ya land?” Eric asks, his eyes moving between you and John as you grab the handle of your suitcase. “Like the second the wheels touch down.”
“Yes, I will.” You promise him, glancing up to prevent tears from falling. “Now, get outta here and go to work before your car gets towed.”
You feel a buzz in your pocket and when you pull it out to check the notification, Eric says your first name so you’ll look up at him. “I love you. Have a safe flight, alright?”
You nod as you step onto the sidewalk. “I love you too.”
Once he’s back in the Explorer and driving away from the airport, you glance down at your phone and smile when you read the waiting text.
Charlotte DuCaine:
I know you leave today, I’m sorry I haven’t called. But have a safe flight and let me know when y’all land at Heathrow.
John tilts his head when he sees the tears slip down your cheeks. “You alright, luv?” He asks, concern etching on his face and furrowing his brow. You hand him your phone without a word and see his lips quirk into a small smile. “It’ll take a touch more time, I reckon. But that’s a bloody good start, innit?”
It is. And you hate that this text makes a difference; but now that you know whatever you thought was irrevocably broken between you and Charlotte can be mended, you’re excited for this new chapter of your life.
***
London is spellbindingly beautiful.
It’s allure can be felt in that late evening breeze that moves through your hair as you step out of the taxi. In the carpet of leaves mingling with snow, laid out on the streets, welcoming you to your new home. In the crimson blur of the double decker busses as they pass by.
A small part of you had been afraid that you’d get here and be underwhelmed by what you see. But as you whirl around and take in the bustling city and it’s neon lights, you realize you shouldn't have worried. It’s everything you wanted and then some.
The city is an intoxicating mix of the past and the future; both new and historic buildings line the streets, flanked by wrought iron lamp posts along their sidewalks and you can’t blink without seeing a landmark older than the city you used to call home.
As John points to an old two story flat at the end of the dead end street, your eyes widen in excitement. “Home sweet home.” He announces, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “It looks small and old, and it bloody well is, but the flat’s enchanted. So, it’s bigger on the inside.”
With a nod, you follow him up the steps. He murmurs a spell and the door creaks open to darkness inside. “Inluminent.” John says, louder this time and holds out a hand to let you walk in.
Bigger on the inside is an understatement. You don’t think you’ve stepped into a London flat, it seems more like a historic mansion than anything else. From the sweeping staircase in the center of the foyer, to the already lit fireplace in the library, it’s simply unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.
Paintings line the dark walls, giving you the impression that this house hasn’t always belonged to John and it’s older than it seems. You’re immediately in love.
“So the kitchen is straight ahead, along with the downstairs loo.” John shrugs out of his trench coat and for a second, you swear the coat rack caught it when John tossed the thing. “The parlor room is to the right and if you climb the stairs, you’ll find our room, a guest room and my, well our, training room of sorts.”
When you stay silent, John carries on. “Most of your things have already arrived, Chas was here yesterday helping to set it all up. He’ll be over in a bit, just catching up with some of the old crowd that doesn’t look too kindly on Johnny.” He stops when your mouth falls open. “Sweet’eart? You alright, then?”
You turn to fully face him, wonderment taking over every inch of your smile. “John, this place is incredible. Why,” you shake your head, “seriously, why have you not told me about it sooner? You said you had a flat in London, not an ancient magic mansion!”
He shrugs, attempting to seem nonchalant. “Reckon it wasn’t important till now. We had a good bloody thing going in Boston and I wasn’t too keen on heading back to London straight away after I left.”
You step closer to him, letting your bag drop to the floor, and wrap your arms around the back of his neck. “So what made you change your mind?” You ask, watching the amber of his eyes darken as he stares at you.
“You did, luv.” He admits, before leaning down and catching your lips in a searing kiss. He walks you backward a few steps until your back hits the wall. Tightening your grip, you pull him closer to you and deepen the kiss until you’re both left breathless and panting.
When John pulls away, his gaze is full of affection. “Welcome home, sweet’eart.” He whispers, lifting your chin with his finger. “Let me show you the rest of the house, ey?”
With visible effort, you nod and follow him up the stairs.
***
In the coming weeks, you come to realize just how much Londoners love their alcohol. You're never more than twenty feet from a pub and you hate to admit the fact, but you love it. John takes great pleasure in showing you every pub he and his old band played in and there’s quite a few.
You also come to realize just how haunted the city is; a fact that, while it keeps you busy and keeps your pockets well lined, you could do without. With a place as old as London is, you aren’t exactly surprised, but it seems like a revolving door of all kinds of supernatural nasties.
When you tell John this, after pushing your hair from your face after an exhausting cleansing ritual, he shrugs, extending his hand to help you stand. “Reckon I didn’t realize how busy I bloody well was when I was here the first time.”
Raising an eyebrow, you dust off your jeans and huff out an annoyed breath. “Yeah well, I feel like every spooky thing out there just waited until John Constantine and his girlfriend were in the city before deciding whether or not to make themselves known.”
You’ve been in the city for just over a month now; you and John have performed over a dozen exorcisms and cleaned at least seven houses of malevolent spirits. You point that out and when John makes a startled expression, yours softens. “It’s fine, obviously. I just get the feeling that we’re being targeted. Don’t you?”
John shakes his head, forcing a neutral expression onto his face. “Don’t be daft, the city is bloody ancient, luv. There’s something hiding around every corner, isn’t there. And you said it yourself, we’re rather well paid for just a few minutes hard work.”
He gives you a wolfish grin as his hand rests on your lower back. “Besides, you’ve never looked more bloody fit than when you're taking out a demon. Can’t blame a bloke for wanting to see you do it all the time. You’re bloody brilliant at this.”
“Yeah, yeah.” You roll your eyes, all previous annoyance forgotten as his compliments wash over you. “You think you can just butter me up and I’ll forget that we’re risking our lives out here like five days a week?”
He smirks, leaning down to speak into your ear. “That depends, is it working?”
You shrug, but can’t keep the smile off your face. “Maybe.”
“So, that’s a yes.”
***
“You’ve been here for about two months and every bloody thing that hates ya knows about it. And don’t try to insult my intelligence by saying ya came here to start over. I know what you told Chas and it’s a load of bollocks.”
John rolls his eyes as Zed pushes past him in the doorway, shaking the rain off her coat as she steps inside. “Good to see you, too, Zed.” He shuts the door behind him and folds his arms over his chest. “To what do I owe this smashing surprise?”
She scoffs and leans forward, glancing around the foyer for any sign of you. “Your bloody girlfriend told Chas that the supernatural activity in this city is something else. And she’s not wrong. It’s gotten worse since you’ve been back.”
“She’s not here.” John watches her intently as Zed straightens and leans against the wall. “But I'll thank you not to insult her.”
“S’not my intention.” Zed lifts her hands in surrender. “But she’s gonna start asking more questions than you’re willing to answer, Johnny. I think if you’re gonna be here with her, you should keep a tighter leash on the lass.”
John’s eyes flash in warning; Zed’s always had a mouth on her, but he’s not going to tolerate her belittling you. “Do I need to ask you to leave?” He snaps, aggressively pointing to the door.
She laughs, pushing past him and settling into the chair in the library. “Oh, she’s made you soft, hasn’t she?” Folding a leg over the other, she leans on the arm rest and watches as John settles onto the couch across from her.
“Reckon you should be careful. One of those wankers down south might take an interest in her. Especially with how open you two are here. Dangerous thing, love is.”
“I’m aware of the risk, Zed.” He argues, reaching for the pack of cigarettes on the side table. “But she’s brilliant with the Dark Arts, I needn’t worry about her.”
She scoffs as she holds out her hand of a cigarette. “Oh, come on, John. You’re not this bloody naïve. You do need to worry, especially with me knowing why you came back here. Honestly, I’ve half a mind to tell Chas about it.”
John’s hand stills as it’s outstretched. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He raises an eyebrow, quickly regaining his composure.
“Oh, don’t you?” Zed rolls her eyes and waits for John to pull out his lighter. “You didn’t move the two of ya across the pond so you could get closer to what happened in Newcastle?”
John’s face is a mask of calm; he can’t give anything away, especially to her. “Of course not.”
“Mhmm. So, that’s why there’s all sorts of chatter down at Club about you being back?” She seems entirely unconvinced.
“John Constantine comes back to London and makes a bloody splash, ripping his way through every black eyed bastard in the city and you think the pompous asses that run the place won’t notice? They see and hear everything.”
He lights the cigarette before handing over his lighter. Disbelief flashes across his face; why the hell Zed’s hanging around with that seedy crowd, is beyond him. “Bloody hell, what in the blue blazes are you doing down there?”
“Told you before, haven’t I?” She smirks, blowing out a puff of smoke. “Some of us are mates with the denizens of the underworld. Better for my business anyway if they don’t fancy starting a row with me.”
John shakes his head, inhaling a deep drag. “Reckon they wouldn’t start a row if you sent them back to Hell where they bloody well belong.”
When she scoffs at his comment, he takes another drag and inclines his head. “So, what are you doing here anyway?”
She laughs, stubbing out the rest of her cigarette in the ashtray beside her. “What, I can’t be the welcome wagon?”
John raises a skeptical eyebrow. “No.”
“I was coming to warn ya. You’re calling attention to yourself and calling attention to your lovely lass. Reckon you don’t want anyone knowing who she is, but keeping her hidden makes her a target for everything that wants you dead.”
With a small huff, John finishes his cigarette and leans forward to drop the butt into the ashtray. “And you tell me I’ve gone soft. Didn’t reckon you cared.”
“You’re in love with her; anyone with eyes can see that.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “Unfortunately, that makes her a special kind of vulnerable. I just don’t fancy her death on my hands, is all. I do my part, my conscience is clear.”
John’s eyes narrow slightly as annoyance crosses his features. “How bloody noble of you.”
Her eyes soften for a moment and in them, John can see the affection she used to hold for him. “I know, I know, I’ve given ya shit about her, but she’s brought out some good in you. I’d hate to see this end bloody. So if I can change what I’ve seen, I will. So, be careful.”
When she stands, John stands with her. As she turns to head out the door, he calls for her to turn around. “For what it’s worth,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You have my apologies for what happened between us, all those years ago. I’m sorry we didn’t work out, luv.”
“I’m not, Johnny.” She smiles wistfully, her hand gripping the door handle. “I’m not the lass you’re meant to be with. We both know that.”
Before he can give her any kind of reply, she slips out, leaving a warm feeling in his stomach as his thoughts immediately go to you.
As John flicks his hand, the door locks behind him and he heads into the kitchen for a drink. You shouldn’t be back for a few hours, at least. The Peabody had asked if you’d lend your expertise in medieval weapons to The British Museum for the afternoon.
He knew you missed the work and had encouraged you to go. Plus, there was a pretty hefty retainer in it for you; you couldn’t say no.
That gives John enough time to think on his next steps. He’s been avoiding The Caligula Club; it’s one of the few places in the city that the creatures who’ve escaped from Hell can dwell without fear of being exorcized or destroyed. It’s neutral ground; safe for all who enter there and magic doesn’t work once inside it’s walls.
It’s that bit that’s made John hesitate in bringing you there. But Zed’s right, if he keeps ripping through demons under the guise that the two of you are just cleaning up the city’s streets, you’re going to start asking the wrong questions.
And if John has any hope of getting closer to hunting down the bastard who has Astra’s soul, he has to start asking the right questions of the demons who may actually have the information he needs, before you figure out what he’s up to and get yourself into trouble.
You won’t like what has to happen for him to be able to speak with them, but if he doesn’t tell you right away, maybe he can just surprise you into being alright with it. He’ll make it good for you, he always does. It’ll be the public indecency that’ll take some convincing, but that’s the most he’ll dare to involve you.
Mammon and Asmodeus are the incarnations of greed and lust; they’ll want a show and John will get answers. Finally.
The worst part is that he knows you’re brave enough, brilliant enough, to help him if he just had the stones to ask. But he doesn’t want anything to happen to you and he can’t tempt fate. Because as much as he wants to say he'd never allow you to risk your life to save Astra's, he's afraid you wouldn’t have a choice if you help him.
***
It’s a far enough walk to The Caligula Club that John suggests you both take a cab. You’re finishing your makeup when he calls up the stairs to tell you it’s arrived.
When he first brought it to your attention, you were skeptical. A sex club that catered to all supernatural beings was interesting, but the fact that neither of you could use your magic should you need it, made you nervous. Especially since John hadn’t been exactly forthcoming about why he had to go in the first place.
Now as you step down the stairs in a deep burgundy dress with a slit up to the thigh, and your hair curled and styled, you feel more than confident when John looks up, open mouthed. He swallows audibly, his throat working hard as he stumbles over his words. “Bloody hell.”
Stopping in front of him, you smirk and wrap your hand around his tie. “How do I look?” You ask him, tugging his head down to kiss him quickly. “Figured if we were going to this kind of place, I should look the part.”
When he pulls away, his gaze is dark; pupils already blown wide with lust. “You look bloody brilliant, sweet’eart. I’ve half a mind to carry you up the stairs and rip that dress clean off you. Tie you up to our bed, make you a begging, whimpering mess by the time Johnny’s done with you.”
It’s your turn to swallow audibly as you feel heat simmer low in your belly. “Well, we don’t have to go, Sir.” You emphasize the honorific, knowing what it does to him. “If you want to stay, play here instead...” You gesture over your shoulder.
John chuckles as he grazes his knuckles over your cheek. “I do bloody well want to. Trust me on that. So before the night is out, I’ll make good on my promise.” When your lips twist into a small pout, his hand grips your jaw. “It’ll be worth the wait.”
***
When you and John walk up to the entrance, a tall bouncer stands guard by the doors.
“Stay behind me,” John murmurs. “This isn’t like your clubs in Boston. The rules are different here and I don’t want anything to happen to you. We have to play the game. Can you be a good girl and just trust me?”
You nod quickly and wonder the hell he means by that. John keeps his face stern and expressionless as the man looks down. “You know why I’m here.” He snaps, gesturing to the inside. “Don’t make me wait, squire.”
“You remember the rules, Constantine?” The bouncer asks, eyeing you up and down with obvious interest. “The bosses won’t stand for you starting trouble. Her though…”
“Aye.” John nods, narrowing his eyes. “And she’s mine, don’t you bloody touch.”
The man sighs, moving out of the way to let you pass. “That’s a damn shame. Sweet thing like her is wasted on you, Hellblazer. You should throw her on the cross, let us have a go.”
John freezes, his hand still on your lower back. “My magic still works right here. So does hers.” He twists around, his eyebrow raised and eyes glowing. “You’d do well to remember that.”
When the bouncer forces his face into a neutral expression, John grins wickedly. “Now be a dear and apologize to my girl, yeah?” You open your mouth to tell him that’s unnecessary; John’s raised eyebrow stops you. He’s right, the rules are different here.
“I meant no disrespect.” He grumbles, casting his eyes down to the ground. “Sorry.”
John moves you toward the door, triumph resting on his face. “That’s more like it.”
The dim lighting inside makes it difficult to discern the faces in the crowd, but you can see dozens of strangers touching each other, kissing, and drinking around you. You’ve never been to a sex club, but this is exactly what you imagine. Gyrating, half naked bodies, rooms with locked doors and muffled yelling on the other side of them.
In the flashes of light, you think you notice the eyes of those dancing. Glimpses of crimson and onyx catch your attention, making you shiver and scoot yourself closer to John. “You’re sure no one’s magic works here?” You ask, scanning the crowd before turning to face him. “I don’t want to be taken by surprise.”
“I'm sure.” He motions to the bartender, a handsome blond with glowing green eyes, and orders himself a whiskey neat and you, an old fashioned. “And in any case, these wankers wouldn’t dream of touching you. They’ve all heard the rumours, luv. You’re nearly as accomplished an exorcist as I am now.”
You nod and watch silently as your drinks are made by deft, talented hands. “It’s been a while since you’ve been back in the city.” The blond comments, setting the glasses down on the bar top. “The bosses have been waiting for you to roll in for over two months now. You’ve been a busy boy, haven’t you?”
“Show some respect.” John growls, dragging his glass over the bar top. “And you best watch your tone with me. Can’t do a bloody thing in here, but outside, I’d send you back down to the pit before you can blink.”
The blond stares at John for a moment, but he refuses to back down. Raising an eyebrow, you lean forward on the counter. “Do you really want to make us angry?” You ask, a cocky smile resting on your lips. Play the game, John said to you earlier. “Seems like he’d have no problem dragging you out of here, before the bosses even notice you’re gone.”
“She’s got a bloody point. Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” John grins, taking a casual sip of his drink. The blonde lifts his hands in surrender, telling you both drinks are on the house. John nods, moving his hand to your back again and walking toward the VIP lounge.
“Good girl.” He praises quietly. “Show ‘em all what a badass demon hunter you are, luv.”
As you sip your drink, everyone around gives you and John space; no one dares to come close to either of you. John’s reputation clearly precedes him.
“Have I told you how attractive it is that half the things in this club are so afraid of you that they won’t get more than ten feet from you?” You whisper, your smile smug as you glance around the darkened room. “And the way you’ve been acting since we walked in? Jesus, Johnny. I love it when you get possessive like this.”
“You haven’t, but I’m more than chuffed to hear it. I’ve a part to play within these walls and you’re my perfect partner for this.” John hums, his lips ghosting over your ear as his hand presses into your hip and pulls you closer. “Now, did I tell you how bloody brilliant you look in that dress, sweet’eart?”
Your smug smile changes into a heated blush as you glance down at the deep v of your dress. It was a little out of your comfort zone, but it called attention to your curves in a way that made John want to constantly touch you. You weren’t one to mind, especially considering how much you looked forward to him stripping you of it later.
The memory of the way his eyes had darkened as you came down the stairs still stirred warmth deep in your belly. If he kept this up, you’d need to do something about it, it’s not like you weren’t in the right place for that kind of behavior.
“A few times.” You scoff, teasing him despite both of you knowing just how much you love his praise.
“Then I need to keep at it.” He nods in amusement, taking both of your empty cups and setting them on the counter by the wall. “So by the time we get home, you’ll be begging Johnny to wrap my hand around that pretty throat of yours, toss you onto the bed, and show you who you belong to. Now, is that possessive enough for you, pet?”
“John.” You hiss as your stomach lurches with lust and heavy anticipation. “You said we needed to keep our wits in here. I can’t look like I’m a badass demon hunter when I’m blushing like a schoolgirl.”
“Would you rather I shove you to your knees then, in front of this crowd?” He growls against your temple, pressing a soft kiss to your heated skin as he leads you through the crowd, toward the corner of the room. “Imagine the power you’d show them you have; being the only one with the ability to make John Constantine come apart.”
John leans against the wall and positions you directly in front of him. You let out a soft whimper as his fingers dig into your hips and he pulls you back against his chest. Resting his chin in the crook of your neck, his stubble scratches your skin. It sends shivers down your spine as he takes his time, whispering all the things he could do to you right here if he saw fit to.
“What’s gotten into you?” You ask, shaking your head as you struggle to even out your suddenly erratic breathing. “I’m all for public displays of affection, but you’ve never been like this with me before.”
John’s hand moves up your body and wraps his fingers around your throat. He smirks at your quiet gasp as he leans down to your ear. “Having you under my hands like this is a feeling like no other. I’m going to make you come apart, right here. And if we’re having a brilliant time, the blokes I need will come to me. That’s how this works.”
He presses his lips to your temple once more, before lowering his voice even further. “I’m sorry I didn’t explain it before, reckoned you might not be too keen on the idea of public indecency. But there’s some folks I need to chat with and this is how I make that happen. The blokes who run this place are the embodiment of Lust and Greed.”
So that’s why you’re here. You want to scowl at him; you would have gone along with any crazy plan he had if he’d just explained it to you from the start. “John, you can’t be serious. I don’t know how I feel about this. We’re… we’re in public, you can’t just -”
But before you can finish your argument, John’s fingers tighten around your neck and your logical thoughts scatter. When you swallow, you can feel the weight of his fingers against your windpipe. His free hand drifts lower and dips between your legs through the slit in your dress, eliciting another gasp that makes him chuckle.
“That’s it, sweet’eart.” He murmurs, moving your panties and sliding his fingers inside of you. He moves slowly, twisting his fingers back and forth. “Told you I’d take care of my girl, didn’t I? Just need you to trust me, I know what I’m doing.”
He rocks his hips against the curve of your ass, his erection pressing against you, and you feel desire deep in your core. You’ve never been an exhibitionist; in fact, you’d always been pretty shy about this kind of stuff. But when John’s teeth sink into the soft skin where your neck and shoulder meet, you find you can’t make yourself care who’s watching.
“John, please.” You whisper breathlessly. “Fuck. Don’t… don’t stop, please.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, moving one hand into his hair and the other on top of his under your dress. His fingers brush against your clit, sending soft waves of pleasure through your body. He’s going to make you cum, here in the corner of a magical sex club and you’ve never wanted it more.
Because between the filthy things he’s whispering in your ear and his hand still tight around your throat, you know it won’t take long. “Let me hear it, pet.” He growls, tilting your head back. “Be a good girl for Johnny. Beg me.”
When he twists his fingers again, you see stars bloom across your lids and a whimper slips out of you. You’ve never been more so turned on; you think you might combust if he doesn’t give you what you want. “Please, Sir.” You rasp out, not caring how desperate you sound or how fractured your pleading is. “Please, let me cum.”
“Go ahead, sweet’eart.” John murmurs, rubbing circles around your clit and your legs feel shaky under you. As your orgasm rips through your body, your hands grip his arm. If his hand wasn’t collaring your throat, you’d be worried that your knees would buckle from the ripples coursing through you.
“That’s my girl.” He whispers into your ear as his hand slips out from under your dress and into his mouth. “You’re bloody brilliant. Every pair of eyes in this room fancies what I have. What’s mine.”
“He’s right. Though, we’d never dream that the great Constantine would share.” A new voice cuts in, slamming you back to the present. “No matter how much we beg.”
Your eyes fly open as John drops his hand from your throat and casually steps in front of you. “Asmodeus.” He says calmly, shielding you from view as you hastily pull yourself back together. “Took you long enough, didn’t it?”
Asmodeus, an older yet well- built man with silver peppered hair, grins at you with utter delight. “Well dear boy, we were coming to find you. But it seems like your darling little pet came first.” He meets your eyes and when he does, his flash a milky white. “Spectacular show, princess. All eyes were on you indeed. I can assure you that.”
You blush and stare down at the floor. “Now now, no need for that.” Another, deeper voice comments. “The exquisite pleasure on your face after you orgasmed is something I wish I could replay for all time. Perhaps you’d consider putting on a private show?”
This is a game to these men; they’re toying with John, trying to rile him up. But to what end? Why does John need to talk to them?
“That was a one time only, Mammon.” John snaps as you lift your head and stare at a younger man with a full beard and a cocky smile. “But now that I reckon I’ve got your attention, given you payment, I’d fancy a good old chinwag.”
“We shall grant you an audience,” Asmodeus smiles wide, revealing sharp teeth. “But if your darling pet isn’t interested in a repeat performance, we’re going to have to insist that she stay out here. This isn’t for delicate ears, I’d imagine.”
“Oh, you’ll find I’m anything but delicate.” You growl, crossing your arms over your chest. “Feel free to step outside if you’d like to put that to the test.”
John turns to stare and for a moment you’re worried that you’ve overstepped. You thought you’d figured out the game they were playing, but maybe you were wrong. As Asmodeus laughs, you relax just a bit.
“She has bite, that must keep you busy.” He comments before smirking at you. “Listen princess, the men are going to have a quick chat. Get yourself cleaned up and head to the bar to wait.”
John opens his mouth to argue and you shake your head. “No, go ahead.” You gesture toward the VIP room. “I’m fine. Do what you came here to do.” When he asks you softly if you’re sure, you nod and touch his cheek. “Go, so we can head home, Johnny. You have making up to me to do, hmm?”
***
You feel at least a dozen sets of eyes on your back as you walk across the room and to the bar. Taking your drink, you duck into a small room to the left. There’s a red velvet couch against the wall, and you’re not sure if you want to know what this room’s used for, but at least you have a moment alone.
You’re not angry with him, you just wish John had told you what was going on; what those men wanted with him. Instead of enjoying the haze you felt from what he just did to you, you’re worried about his safety.
“Fuck me.” You whisper shakily, squeezing your eyes shut and leaning your head back against the cushions.
“If that’s an offer, I’ll take you up on it. You put on quite a show out there.”
The unfamiliar voice startles you and you jump; gasping as your eyes fly open. Sitting up straight, you warily stare at the man looming in the doorway. You hadn’t heard him step into the room and you definitely didn't hear him close the door.
He’s tall, taller than John. Older too. His shoulders are broad beneath his dark suit; you can see them moving as he pushes himself off the wall. The color of his eyes are hard to make out in the dark, but you can feel them raking over you, slowly and full of desire.
Your hair stands on end as the stranger slowly moves toward you. Your heart beats wildly in your chest. This man is trouble; you’re absolutely sure of it.
“Belial.” He smirks. “I don’t need to know your name, dollface. I know exactly who you are.” Something predatory flashes in his gaze as you stiffen with fear. You stand, not wanting to be at a disadvantage and move toward the wall, hoping to make an easy escape.
Your brain is screaming at you to run, but you’re frozen; unable to look away from the darkness in his gaze that has nothing to do with lust. You recoil away from him, swallowing nervously. You don’t know what he is, but you’re sure he isn’t human.
“What’s wrong, dollface?” Belial murmurs, resting a hand on the wall beside your head. The fingers of his free hand gently run along the curve of your jaw before squeezing it and forcing your head up. “You’re not shy now, are you? Not after what I just witnessed. And certainly not after what Beroul told me.”
What? You go rigid at his words, slapping his hand away from your face as your eyes narrow furiously. “Don’t touch me.” You hiss, feeling terror settle in your stomach.
Before you can say anything else, his hand moves quickly, wrapping around your throat. The force of it makes your head smack back against the wall. The blow is hard enough to make your vision blurry for a moment.
“Beroul told us all about you, all about how he wanted to tear you apart in front of the magician.” He chuckles as you struggle against him, trying to pull in a breath and push him off you. When he leans in and inhales deeply, you suppress a shudder. “Didn’t understand what was so special about you, until now. Maybe he was onto something.”
When Belial’s free hand slides underneath the slit of your dress, you shake your head and try to scream. He silences you quickly as his fingers squeeze your throat harder. “He didn’t know what you did to wound his human form, but because of you, he couldn’t finish what I asked of him. That makes more work on my end.”
He tilts his head. “I’ll enjoy making you scream for me, because you’ll find my tastes run a little darker than what you experienced before. I wonder if your precious Johnny will care. Because he doesn’t love you, you have to know that. He wants your gifts. That’s the only reason he’s kept you around as long as he has.”
“You’re... lying.” Your rasp out, digging your nails into his forearm.
“Am I?” He asks, his low chuckle sliding over your skin like oil. “I know John. He doesn’t keep pets for very long, you see. Either he grows tired of them and tosses them aside or he sacrifices them for his own needs. You’re too powerful to toss, so when push comes to shove, you’ll give your life for him. And Beroul will have been right about you.”
You want to ignore him, push his voice out of your head. You have no idea who he is, but he can’t speak to you this way. As you glance over his shoulder and realize that no one’s coming to help you, you know you have to do something. You refuse to let this son of a bitch keep his hands on you.
Thinking quickly, you knee him in the groin and use your nails to scratch at his arm. His eyes glow white as he growls furiously. But he lets go of you and that moment of hesitation is all you need to shove him aside and bolt from the room.
“You can run, little girl,” he calls out, “but you and I will see each other again. I’m sure of it.”
John’s stepping out of the lounge, seeming more frustrated than when he went in. He stops when he sees the panic on your face and takes a visual inventory to make certain you’re okay before hurrying over to you and gently cupping your face.
“What’s happened, luv?” He asks, eyes darting around the room quickly. “Are you okay?” You shake your head, your lower lip trembling as you twist your upper body to glance over your shoulder.
“Can we go home, please?” You ask, hating how small your voice sounds. Sensing your lingering panic, John nods and wraps an arm around you, leading you toward the door.
“What happened?” He asks again, once you're outside and away from the club. “Sweet’eart, talk to me.”
“There was…” You suck in a few deep breaths to steady yourself and stop your hands from shaking. “I needed a minute and went into a room off the bar. A man started hitting on me, his eyes flashed white when I rejected him, like the men you were talking to. He said he knew Beroul, Johnny. He…”
Your eyes widen as you step away from him in shock. “Jesus, was he a demon too? Were they all demons? I… I saw the eyes earlier, but I didn’t think...”
John takes a deep breath before he answers. “Not all of them. But Mammon and Asmodeus are. They run the club; manage the riff raff in the city so it doesn’t get too bloody nasty. Not that demons are good blokes, but trust me, these are the lesser of two evils.” You raise an eyebrow as he rests his hand on your arm. “I swear it.”
“If you say so. Only you would bring me to a sex club and think it’s not important to say it’s a demonic one. Or maybe you chose not to tell me on purpose. I can’t tell with you.”
At the hurt on his face, yours softens. “I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry. I’m just… Did you get what you came here for at least?” You ask, pulling out your phone to call for a taxi. When frustration clouds John’s face, you know he didn’t. He confirms it with an annoyed sigh.
“Will you tell me about it when we get home?” You ask as the line connects with the taxi company.
John nods, stepping back and folding his arms across his chest. “Will you tell me about what that nasty bastard said to you? Cause you look pale as a ruddy ghost.” It’s your turn to nod as you ask for the taxi to pick you up at the designated address.
He’s lying, you know it. But then again, so are you.
***
Mammon and Asmodeus had nothing John could use. No information; nothing but thinly veiled threats regarding your role in John’s life. He’s not sorry he had the opportunity to take you in that club; the way you came apart in his hands was nothing short of incredible and he’d do it again a thousand times if you’d let him.
He just wishes that sharing something so private with the likes of those bastards, yielded better results. When John asked about Astra, asked for the name of the demon who dragged her to Hell, he was met with laughter and snide remarks. They were advantageous, Mammon had explained. But not traitors to their kind.
John had wasted a trip going down there; he’d made a gamble and lost. All he'd managed to do was put you on the radar of creatures that he hadn't wanted to know of your existence. And he’d done it without hesitation.
He wants to ask if you're angry. You have a right to be, especially after whatever happened when he was conducting business. You’re quiet on the way home; he’s afraid of what that means that you haven’t told him about it.
When you step inside and drop your bag and shoes by the base of the stairs without a word, he’s sure you’re gearing up for a fight.
Instead, you walk up and silently curl up under the blankets, making John wish he had done tonight differently. He knows he needs to make this up to you; whatever happened to you, whatever was said, wasn’t your fault. He needs to make sure you know that.
It’s not until you pat the side of the bed next to you and smile at him, does John have hope that maybe, you’re really not furious with him like he thought. After a few tense moments, you rest your head on his chest, gently running your fingers through the dark hair on his chest.
“Are you alright, luv?” He asks you, peering down with a soft expression. “Are you cross with me?”
“I was for a minute. But what happened wasn’t your fault, I know that. You have enemies, John, and I’d imagine that there’s more of them here than there were in the states. I chose to come here with you, so I need to be prepared for that.”
You push yourself up to smirk at him. “And you know, until the last part of the night, I was having a good time. Even if you did kind of use me as a lure. Didn’t think you could turn me on to being a bit of an exhibitionist, but the girl can be taught.”
John chuckles, feeling more relieved than he has all night. “Well, you’re a brilliant pupil, sweet’eart. So bloody eager to please, aren’t you then?”
“Guilty.” You tilt your head up to kiss him quickly. “But with you, Johnny, I think me being the teacher's pet works out pretty damn well for both of us.”
“Aye, it does.” John laughs, cupping your cheek. He’s quiet for a moment; the amber of his eyes reflecting the soft moonlight from the window. “Listen, luv. I’m sorry for whatever happened tonight. Reckon you’ll tell me if you fancy doing so. But I trust you, you know that.”
You nod your head, snuggling back down to his chest. “I do, and I trust you. So let’s just take tonight as a wash, yeah? We don’t have to talk about it, as long as you don’t bring me back there.”
“I won’t.” John promises, wrapping an arm around you. “As long as you’re still up for Johnny teaching you some new tricks? I rather enjoyed that bit before the end of the night, too. You’re so bloody beautiful when you have no control.”
When you blush and let out a soft yawn, John knows he’s salvaged this; prevented a meltdown between the two of you. It’s the best case scenario for him. Because he doesn’t want to lose you, but he absolutely cannot stop what he’s doing. He’s just got to be more careful.
Notes:
Who knew you could be such an exhibitionist? And who knew the London could prove so dangerous...
Hopefully, the Caligula club is everything you hoped it would be. It must be so frustrating for Johnny to know that taking that gamble did nothing, but ensure that the big guys in Hell know who you are... And hello, Belial. You don't remember meeting him when you come face to face with him again, but he never forgot you.
Patching things up with Charlotte is going to take some time, but next week you'll finally be able to try. And John is going to be able to finally end her prejudice towards him. For now, anyway... It seems that everything will be alright for a little while. You, your boyfriend and your best friends might just be able to enjoy their vacation here. Might.
Till next time :)
Chapter 45: All the pieces finally fit.
Summary:
As you fall more in love with London and your time there, you realize that this might just be the best decision you've made. John's different here and you can't help but love him even more. Patching things up with Charlotte took some time, but once she's in front of you, you both realize how much you've missed the other. John gets the chance to finally end her prejudice towards him. For now, anyway...
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
You were warned how rainy London was; Charlotte, your dad, even friends at the museum made a point to remind you of the need to invest in some high quality rain boots when you’d arrived. Once you’d had your first day to yourself and you’d taken to exploring, that was exactly what you did. And it does rain, but in your opinion, no more so than back home.
What you weren’t warned about however, was the fog.
London’s fog seemed to have a mind all it’s own; appearing out of nowhere and moving as you do. It creeps in at all hours of the day, settling heavy in the air and creating an ominous presence all around you.
You’d told John more than once that you can feel eyes hidden in the gray mist and each time he’d sigh and tell you it was ‘utter rubbish, luv. There’s nothing to worry about’.
You can feel the heavy stare now, as you hurry through St. James Park on your way home from the Tower. Eric’s calling on his lunch break and you don’t want to take it enroute. But, as it tends to do, the fog rolled in without warning and slowed your trek back.
Taking the steps two at a time, you shake off the chill you feel and hold your left palm up in front of the door. Murmuring “resigno,” unlocks the deadbolt and you’re able to step through minutes before 6pm local time. You know you’ve beaten John home by a couple hours at least, so you'll worry about dinner once you’re off the phone.
You’ve just shucked off your jacket and let the coat rack take it, as your phone begins to hum in your dress pocket. Stepping into the library, you lift your cell to your face and slide to answer.
Eric’s smiling face greets you; his eyes a brighter blue against the navy color of his office wall. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, kid.” He says, leaning back in his chair.
“Hi to you too.” You roll your eyes, but smile back. “And what do you mean, you just talked to me three days ago. And you’ll see me, in person, next week.”
“Yeah, but we haven’t facetimed in like a month. Completely unacceptable. Told ya you’d forget all about ya handsome detective friend back in Boston.” He sighs, rather theatrically. “Six months in England and I barely exist.”
“Someone shouldn’t have given up theatre after high school.” You tease, folding your legs underneath you on the sofa. “You’re awfully dramatic for a detective.”
Eric grins, letting his dimples overtake his face. “Sergeant Detective, actually.”
Your eyebrows fly up in surprise. “Really? Congratulations! But I thought you didn’t want to take the Sergeant’s exam.”
He shrugs his shoulders as he sets the phone upright somewhere on his desk. “I mean, I wasn’t gonna, but Charlotte convinced me to. She passed the bar exam, so I figured ‘what the hell’. Might as well try for a promotion and I fuckin’ got it. I’ll be a Captain in no time.”
Tilting your head, your face scrunches up in confusion. “She already passed the bar exam.”
His eyes drop down to his desk as he frowns, clearly distracted. You watch him reach out of frame and grab something behind the phone. “Well, yeah, but not up here.”
“Eric, why the fuck would she need to pass the Massachusetts bar exam -” You cut yourself off as you jump up quickly in excitement. “Wait. Is Char moving up there?”
He stills, looking guiltier than you’ve ever seen him. “Shit, fella. I wasn’t supposed to say anythin’. She’s gonna kill me. Please, don’t tell her I told you. Ya gotta promise me. We were gonna tell ya when we saw you.”
Hurt passes over your face quickly; before he can see it, it’s gone and sarcasm finds its way into your voice. “Well, that shouldn’t be too difficult a promise, we’ve barely had more than a ten minute conversation in months so…”
“I know.” He runs his fingers down his beard. “I was hopin’ that when we got there, the two of you could put this damn thing to rest. She’s miserable every time I bring ya into conversation and you do the same thing. I feel like a kid whose parents are gettin’ a divorce.”
Sitting back down, you let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t.. I don’t know what to do, I’ve tried apologizing, but she says this isn’t really something that ‘I’m sorry’ can fix. And I’m happy here, Eric. Like, really happy.”
“Well, the trip will help smooth things over for sure. She’ll see how good ya got it over there and it’ll be fine.” He sits up straight, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Maybe you can help us move her stuff outta Ray’s too. Spend some quality time, let her see that you movin’ hasn’t made ya any different.”
Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you nod slowly. “I could definitely do that. Is she bringing everything?”
“Yuuup.” He blows out a slow breath. “Didn’t think the girl had that much stuff, and Ray said she could store whatever she didn’t want right now. But she’s got her office and her room. I mean, you’ve seen that closet, and most of the kitchen stuff is coming too. You know I’ve got nothin’ in mine. It’s gonna take the three of us to get it all.”
You let out a dry laugh as you lean back against the cushions. “Well, there goes the guest room. I suppose I can sleep on the couch when I visit.”
Eric shakes his head as you hear the door to his office open. “Nah.” He says, handing a stack of paperwork to the set of hands just out of your view. “The new house has like five bedrooms. I mean, two will probably be offices, one for each of us, but I’m sure we can dedicate one of ‘em, especially for our best friend.”
You’re about to make a sassy comment when the rest of what he’s just babbled catches up with your brain. “I’m sorry. Did you just say you bought a house? I didn’t…” You hold up a hand. “I must not’ve heard you correctly.”
He scrubs a hand down his face and squirms uncomfortably in his chair. “Uhhh…”
“Oh, you heard him correctly.” Patrick leans in front of the screen, aggressively rolling his eyes. “It’s a nice house too. Pretty brownstone near Beacon. But wait for it, he’s gonna drop the other shoe.”
“Wait for what? What shoe?” You know he can see the bewildered expression on your face, but you can’t help it. “Eric, is she… is Charlotte pregnant?”
His eyes grow wide and panicked as he shakes his head. “No, god no! I just didn’t tell her I bought the house. It’s a surprise.”
“Eric Thomas Grant, that’s a horrible surprise.” You argue back, throwing a hand into the air. “You can’t just buy a house, what if Charlotte hates it? She’s had zero input in this.”
When Patrick scoffs and shouts that this was exactly his point, Eric grins sheepishly. “I know she’s gonna love it. It’s her style and Ray’s seen it. Wouldn’t let me buy it until he flew up and checked it out himself. I mean, the man’s a contractor, he knows what he’s doin’. He thinks it’s perfect.”
“I don’t know what to say to you right now, buying a house is a huge investment and you didn't even consult the other person who’s gonna be living in it. That’s a little unfair. This is probably the most insane thing you’ve ever done and I was there for the married woman phase.”
Patrick spins around, renewed interest in the conversation clear on his face. “Ooo, what married woman phase?”
Eric sighs as he stands from his desk. “Thanks for that, fella. Paddy, it was a long time ago.” He lifts the phone and for the first time since the call started, he appears unsure. “I gotta get back, but please don’t say anythin’ to her. Even when we’re there. ‘Kay? I really wanna surprise her.”
Holding up a hand in surrender, you promise that despite your disapproval, you won’t. After a round of goodbyes and ‘I love you’s’, you tell him you can’t wait to see him next week and confirm the flight information, which was the reason he was calling in the first place.
As you both hang up, you shake your head and decide you need a drink. Whiskey is probably the only thing that would make this seem less ridiculous. John's done some pretty crazy things, but you know he’d never make that big a decision without talking to you first.
And sure, there are certainly moments that you wish John was a little more like Eric. But right now, you’ve never been more relieved that he isn’t.
***
You greet John at the door, wearing a pink apron over your navy dress. “Hi.” You smile at him, rising on your heeled tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “There’s a drink in the library for you and I’ll have dinner ready in just a few minutes.”
John turns his head, catching your lips in a kiss and snakes his arm around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. “What’s all this then?” He asks, glancing down at you in surprise. “Not that I’m complaining, sweet’eart. But you look so bloody brilliant, a bloke’ll get used to this and expect it every time he comes home.”
Rolling your eyes, you rest your palm against his stubbled cheek. “You’re you.” You shrug, running your thumb across his skin. “You have no idea how glad I am for that. That’s all.”
John laughs, dropping his hands to the side as you pull away and turn to head back into the kitchen. “Well, I reckon it’s not a good idea to be anyone else. Tricky magic, illusions like that. So you're stuck with this mug till the end of days, I'd wager.”
Throwing a hand over your forehead, you sigh and spin on your heel. “Somehow I’ll muddle through.”
He shakes his head and gently smacks your ass, a pleased expression taking over his face when your cheeks turn pink. He can certainly admire the way the dress does wonders for your curves and as he watches you walk away, a slow smile forms on John’s lips. He could certainly get used to this.
John’s torn from his ogling by your muffled voice from the other room. “What’s that?” He asks, handing his coat off and following you in.
“I said, apparently Eric bought a house for him and Charlotte.” You turn around, setting plates on the counter. “Without telling her.”
John raises an eyebrow as he leans against the wall, arms folded in disbelief. “Has he gone completely mental, then? If I know Lottie, and at this point, reckon I do, she’ll be bloody furious when she finds out.”
“That’s what I told him. But when Eric gets an idea in his head, it doesn’t matter how impulsive it is, he doesn’t listen to anyone.” Twisting pasta out of the pan, you glance up and sigh over your shoulder. “It’s a reckless trait I hoped he’d grow out of. I’m glad we’re different.”
Pushing himself off the wall, John crosses the room and cages you between his arms. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re glad we’re boring, luv?”
Turning around, your hands rest on his forearms. “Of course not, Johnny. You’re plenty reckless and we’re the opposite of boring. I’m just glad that I never have to worry about you doing something ridiculous like that. It’s not your style.”
“You’re bloody right about that.” He agrees, leaning back with a soft smile. “I was mad with nerves showing you this place. Can’t imagine picking out a new one and praying you’ll fancy it.”
You grab the plates behind you and move to the small dining room off the kitchen. “I love it here. But I know it was yours before it was ours. You didn’t buy a house, hoping I’d like it.” As you set the food down, you pause and glance around the room, a sudden realization flooding you.
“What?” He asks, pulling out a chair for you to sit. You gesture past the dining room, toward the library filled with books that argue with you once you’ve opened them and the entrance way, with the coat rack that takes your jacket right from your hands.
This place is filled with magic and only one of your friends knows of its existence.
“They’re staying with us next week.” You say softly, meeting his eyes. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before now. But Eric can’t see all of this. It looks like a two story apartment from the outside, but in here, it’s a full on country estate. I, uh… do I have them stay at a hotel?”
John gives you a smug smile. “C’mon, sweet’eart. Do you really believe Johnny didn’t already plan for this?”
You open your mouth, just as he murmurs a long string of words in Romanian. Heat rushes past you and the space shifts and moves, transforming from John’s eclectic manor to a modern and yet, still beautiful apartment.
“They’ll both be none the wiser.” He promises, as you look around in shock. “And I’ll change it back as soon as they’ve left. As far as Eric Grant is concerned, we’re a perfectly normal couple, living in a perfectly normal flat.”
Folding your arms across your chest, you give him an affectionate smile. “I love you for being a little predictable and for still being able to surprise me. But, absolutely nothing about us is normal, John Constantine.”
He smiles back, snapping his fingers three times to set the house back to the way it should be. “Thank the stars for that then, eh?”
***
You’re glad John’s at the wheel, almost seven months here and you still don’t like driving on the opposite side of the road. Plus, you’re sure he can tell what an anxious mess you are right now. It’s been months since you’ve seen Charlotte; part of you is worried that the only reason she’s coming now is because Eric’s forcing her to.
You miss your best friend terribly. The two of you used to talk daily and sometimes about nothing at all. You just enjoyed the company of the other as one of you focused on work or finished some mundane chore. You’re afraid you’ve lost what you had with her and if that’s the case, you’re not sure what you’ll do.
Sensing your discomfort, John pulls your hand from your lap and brings the back of it to his lips. “It’ll be fine, luv. When I had a chat with Eric yesterday, he said Lottie is just as bloody anxious as you are. She misses you. Reckon we’ll give you a touch of space, get the luggage and when we come back, you lot will be right as rain.”
You’re not sure you’ve heard him correctly. “You talked to Eric?”
“Course I did.” He smirks, letting go of your hand to rest his on your upper thigh. “We chat from time to time. I needed to be certain that Lottie wasn’t planning to start another row with you and that I wasn't about to get hit when she saw me.”
He flexes his fingers as you look up. “I don’t fancy making this more difficult for you than it already is.”
You blink a few times in the silence, as your lips slowly twist into a soft smile. Sometimes John’s the sweetest guy you’ve ever known, and you don’t know what you’d do without him. The fact that he reached out to Eric, and they occasionally talk, means the world to you.
“You’re my favorite, you know that?” You cover his hand with yours. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”
“According to Lottie, you didn’t. I’m the jammy one.” He laughs, pulling into the car park. “Because you’re my favorite too, sweet’eart. I do hope this holiday here sorts that out for her.”
Unbuckling your seatbelt, you exhale slowly and glance out the window at the airport. “Me too.”
“You’re happy here, yeah?” He asks, turning to face you with a hopeful expression on his handsome face. “With me?”
As you stare at him, John’s eyes are soft amber in the gray light of the London sky and when your eyes meet his, you’ve never seen anything so beautiful. You tilt your head as if he’s just said the most incredulous thing in the world. Because to you, he has.
The way you love each other eclipses everything else in the chaos of your lives. John’s the brightness in the sea of dark around you and you’re his calm; the soothing balm that tells him the mistakes of his past don’t have to haunt him as long as he has you.
You compliment each other perfectly; jagged pieces that fit together despite all the reasons they shouldn’t. So, of course you’re happy. You’ve never been happier.
When you tell him this, he grins slow and wide. “Then she’ll get sorted out, luv. She’ll see that you’re happy, and everything will be as it should be.”
***
Eric sees you first, throwing his arm into the air to wave excitedly when his eyes meet yours across the waiting area. You’re jittery with nerves now that you know they’ve both made it here safely. Rushing forward ahead of Charlotte, Eric drops his bag and pulls you in for a hug. John laughs behind you as your feet are briefly lifted off the floor.
“I’ve missed ya, fella.” Eric chuckles, setting down and looking you over. “Johnny takin’ good care of ya? I mean, ya still look like you, so that’s a plus.”
“Did you think she was going to grow a bloody tail?” John rolls his eyes as Eric turns and hugs him hello too. “Honestly, mate. What kind of operation do you reckon I’m running across the pond?”
Eric grins as he leans down to grab his bag. “Nah, I’m just teasin’. She knows I love her and I trust you. It’s all good.”
John shakes his head and with a jerk of his thumb over his shoulder, he suggests that he and Eric grab the luggage. Eric squeezes your shoulder and when he steps out of the way, Charlotte stands with her duffle awkwardly on her shoulder.
She gives you a small smile and once the guys walk away, she drops it onto the floor. In that moment, you don’t care about what’s happened; you’ve missed her and she’s finally here. You hold your arms out and before either of you can say anything, you’re hugging each other.
“I’m sorry.” She says, her face muffled against your chest. “I was so damn harsh, sugar. I shouldn’t have been. I didn’t mean what I said, you’re not just like John. I was just so worried about you and after what happened, I let it get the best of me. I wanted to apologize a hundred times and it… it never felt like enough.”
She peers up at you, her face nervous and hopeful. “Are you still mad? I understand if -”
“No, I’m not.” You cut her off as you lean back, resting your hands on her upper arms. “I just missed you, Char. I hated not talking like we used to. I almost called you so many damn times, but I think it would have broken my heart if you’d hung up on me or didn’t want to talk to me.”
You lean down to grab her bag and throw it over your shoulder. “And I know you were worried about me, and I love you for it. I’m never going to be upset with you for that. And I’ll always worry about you. I just ask that you trust my decisions, I swear I know what I’m doing. John’s been, I mean, he’s been amazing. And I love it here.”
“Are you really happy?” She asks, folding her arms over her chest. “Things have been good, there’s been no trouble?”
You shrug, letting an easy smile find its way onto your face. “I’m really happy, Charlotte. Honest. And there’s been nothing too crazy, just the usual demon crap. Nothing I can’t handle.”
She narrows her eyes for a moment, considering what you’ve said.
You know Charlotte better than anyone else; she’s deciding whether or not she wants to push back, get more information from you if she thinks you’re lying. You almost remind her that she’s not in court, but you wait. Let her come to her own conclusions.
Rolling her shoulders back, she takes a deep breath and smiles back. “So you’ll never guess what Beau did last week.” And with that, you know everything is alright between the two of you.
When she tells you all about Beau’s latest escapades; tumbling down the stairs and taking Ray out with him, you double over in laughter. “He still thinks he’s a puppy.” You giggle, holding your sides. “He’s got no idea how big he really is.”
Charlotte rolls her eyes. “He is a puppy; my big, dumb, puppy and I love him.”
“Hey, now.” Eric wraps his arms around her from behind. “Don’t talk about me like that.” He leans down to kiss her cheek, then lifts his head and quirks an eyebrow. “Are, uh, are we good?”
You nod and squint your eyes at him. “Yeah, we’re good. Really sneaky with the luggage thing, Grant.”
Resting his chin in the crook of Charlotte’s neck, he smirks at you. “Wasn’t my idea, kid. That was all Johnny. He hated that the two of ya were still fightin’ and brought it up when he called me. Wanted to fix it if he could.”
“John wanted to fix things with us?” Charlotte asks, tilting her head in disbelief. “Chere, you didn't tell me he called you.”
“Yeah, we talk quite a bit actually.” Eric shrugs as he stands straight. “And what good would it’ve done if we told ya our plan, honey? John thought it was best if neither of us said a word and just let you ladies talk it out. Which ya did. So, problem solved.”
You can tell Charlotte is begrudgingly impressed. “See?” You smile wide. “London has been really good for us.”
“We’ll see.” She comments brusquely, twisting around in Eric’s arms. “And where is our savior now?”
“Gettin’ the car.” Eric explains, gesturing over his shoulder. “I told him I’d wrangle the ladies, cause I don’t know about you two, but I’m starvin’.”
***
John picks the restaurant, knowing that you prefer him to decide and neither of your guests have any opinion on the matter as long as they get food in their system.
The four of you catch up on each other's lives as you wait for drinks to arrive. You excuse yourself to the ladies room, knowing that Eric will still be there to act as a buffer should Charlotte and John decide to have words.
But when Eric’s phone buzzes, he makes a joke about always being on call and steps outside to take it. The moment he’s out of ear shot, Charlotte leans back with folded arms.
John sighs, lifting his arm from the back of the booth to lean forward. “Whatever you fancy saying, Lottie, just say it.”
“Chas tells me that y'all are performing an exorcism almost every other day.” She asks, not bothering to hide her frustration. “Is she really safe here with you?”
“I keep her as safe as I can. But she’s brilliant on her own as well.” John levels his gaze, making sure to keep his expression passive and not angry. He doesn’t intend to snap at her, but he needs to make her listen.
“Listen, I don’t fancy this type of chat every time we have another go around. As long as that lass fancies me in her life, that’s where Johnny’ll be. And Chas doesn’t know every bloody thing we do.”
Charlotte's jaw tenses up. “Can you really tell me you don’t think you’re putting her in more danger this way?”
“She chose this life with me.” John insists, his eyes moving past her to watch for you. “I told her the risk, right from the bloody start. I’ve never lied to her about that.”
Charlotte rolls her eyes. “Oh, good. Danger is the one thing you’re honest about. My best friend is the luckiest gal in the world.”
John lets out a dry, humorless laugh as he grins. “You know, I reckon I can understand why you’re brilliant at what you do. You bloody well know how to push buttons, don’t you then? Cause you certainly push mine.”
Charlotte scoffs as she shakes her head. “I push your buttons because I don’t trust you. You moved her halfway across the world, isolated her from the people who love her. If you really cared about her -”
“Oh, give it a rest, will you?” John rolls his eyes. “I'll not be at odds with you this whole bloody holiday or I’ll -”
Charlotte narrows her eyes in his direction, all of her anger showing in her face when she cuts him off. “You’ll what, John? Hit me?”
John can’t hide the shock or confusion on his face. The emotions flash in his eyes, causing him to let out a deep breath and soften his tone. “No, of course not. What kind of nasty wanker hits a woman, Lottie?”
Charlotte opens her mouth to respond, then closes it after a few seconds. Whatever she was about to say, she’s decided against it. Her breath catches in her throat as she looks down at the table.
John sees her reaction and leans back in the booth. “Listen, the three people that care about her the most are all in the same bloody city right now and I couldn’t be more chuffed about it. I would never get in the way of her friendship with you lot. She loves you.”
He lowers his voice, keeping it light and easy. He’s got a feeling he’s heading into sensitive territory. “As for whatever else you’re worried about,” he raises both eyebrows. “I’ve never isolated her. In fact, after the row she had with you, I told her we didn’t have to leave if she didn’t still fancy it.”
Her head snaps up. “You did?”
“Course I did, and she wouldn’t have it.” He shakes his head as he smiles. “You reckon that lass does anything she doesn’t fancy doing?”
She shakes her head, letting vulnerability show in the darkness of her eyes. “She’s barely spoken to me for months.”
His voice softens even more, into something almost affectionate. “The only reason you barely spoke for as long as you did was that she reckoned you hated her. I assured her you didn’t, but you know that lass. You know her mind. Reckon she’s more like me than I care to admit. She threw herself into work here to not focus on what she was afraid she lost.”
Charlotte thinks on it, thinks on the truth in his words. “I don’t hate her, I couldn’t. But, mais j’ mais, I was nasty to that girl, I didn’t want to be. It just came tumbling out of me and I didn’t know how to make it right. I apologized as soon as I got here.”
Shaking his head, John winks as the waiter drops off the drinks and tells them he’ll be right back. He meets her espresso eyes with his own, considering his next words carefully. “Then I reckon you’ll be alright. If I’ve learned anything, it’s when she forgives you, accept it. Because losing her would be worse than swallowing your pride.”
Charlotte’s impressed by his honesty, his acknowledgement of how important you are to him. “She said London’s been good for y’all.” She smiles at him. “I want to believe her.”
John’s lips twist into the ghost of a smile. “London is just a place, Lottie. As is Boston and anywhere else she has a mind to go. My home’s wherever she is; she’s good for me. And I fancy thinking that I’m good for her.”
Despite everything, he has been and Charlotte knows it. You’ve always been outspoken and a little fearless, but now, you’re more assertive and confident. You wield a power now that has nothing to do with the magic at your fingertips. It’s inside you, and she has to admit that she’s incredibly proud of who you became when you discovered it.
“You are.” She admits softly. “You’re good for her.”
John holds out his hand for her to shake. “Then, for her sake, do you reckon we can finally put this behind us and get on a bit better? I’ve told you, I’ll keep her as safe as I can. She means the bloody world to me.”
Hesitantly taking his hand, Charlotte swallows back the emotion in her throat. “And you’d never keep her from seeing us? You’d never try to -”
“Isolate her? Turn her against you and Eric?” John shakes his head. “Absolutely not. I’m chuffed she has you, someone else she can trust with all this rubbish and even though your boyfriend and I had our differences, I’m not threatened by him being in her life.”
Charlotte inclines her head, as you make your way back out toward the table. “Thanks, John.” She says, lifting her glass to her lips and taking a sip.
“For what?” He asks, taking a drink of his own.
“For protecting her, making her stronger.” Charlotte smiles as he lifts his arm so you can slide under it. “And for loving her the way you do.”
John kisses your temple as your side rests flush against his. “Well it’s an easy thing to do, innit?”
“What is?” You ask, peering up at him. “Everything alright?”
“Don’t worry about it, sugar.” Charlotte smiles. “We’re good.”
***
After dinner, you make your way back toward home and when John pulls into the spot, Charlotte’s the first one out. “It’s the one at the end,” John tells her as she grabs her duffle. “I’ll be right along with the key, Lottie.”
Eric’s already dragging both suitcases along the cobblestone when she turns and delicately raises an eyebrow. “Do you not have a key, sugar?” She asks, shifting her bag further onto her shoulder.
“Course I do.” You roll your eyes and smirk at her. “But I usually don’t need it.” She tilts her head in question as you wiggle your fingers playfully. “Magic fingers.”
“You’ll not hear me complaining.” John laughs, closing the hatch. “And I reckon it’s not just her fingers.” Your cheeks go pink as his hand moves to the small of your back. “She’s all over a bloody wonder.”
When you open your mouth to sass him back, Eric spins around with his arms in the air. “We’re coming!” Grabbing your bag from the passenger seat, you shut the door and take Charlotte’s hand. “I’m really glad you're here.”
“Me too.” She smiles as John jogs ahead, his tie flying back behind him. “And, I’m not making any judgements, but I think you might be right, this could be good for you. He seems… happier here.”
Nodding your agreement, your eyes move to John as he heads up the steps. “I wish I could explain it. But we got here and it was just… easier with us. He’s more honest with me, and for the most part, he tells me the entire plan before we jump into something.”
You shrug your shoulders. “That was born out of necessity, with the amount of work we’re doing.” She raises her eyebrows at that. “Oh, I can handle it.” You assure her. “I’ve gotten even stronger; I do plenty of work on my own now. But, what I mean is, he’s different. And I have never been happier.”
Charlotte squints her eyes, pausing a moment before answering you. “Do you promise?” She finally asks, her foot on the bottom step.
“Cross my heart.” You answer automatically. Peering up the steps, you watch as John allows Eric to go inside first, then turns around toward the stairs to help with Charlotte’s bag.
“He’s the one, Char. I’ve known it for a long time, but being here with him just…” Your lips quirk into a half smile, unsure how to explain it.
“Finally makes sense?” She finishes for you, as Eric steps into the small porch. “I know what you mean. And before you try to pretend my puppy dog of a boyfriend didn’t already tell you, I know you know my big surprise.”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s nothing but affection in them. “But the moment I said yes to moving, I think I understood where you were coming from. Cause I don’t care where I am, as long as I’m with him. John’s never been my favorite person, but I’m impressed with how he’s been. So, you won’t hear any more protest from me.”
“Do you promise?” You echo back, as John stops in front of you, a curious expression on his face.
Charlotte looks at him, then you and minutely nods. “Cross my heart, sugar.”
***
“Reckon we should make a toast?” John suggests, ducking into the library to grab the bottle he keeps by the fireplace. “I’ve got a bottle of Remy Martin and -”
“Oh, no.” Eric drops down onto the couch, shaking his head as he folds one leg over the other. “That’s cognac, ain’t it?” When John nods and settles down next to you, Eric folds his arms over his chest. “You don’t even understand, I cannot drink that. Last time I did, I fell through the pool house skylight.”
You start giggling, remembering that night in vivid detail. John tilts his head and does the cap, pouring out four glasses. “I’m going to require that tale immediately, big man.”
“It wasn’t exactly Eric’s fault.” You explain, jumping in before Eric can. “Neither of us were old enough to drink and let’s be real, drinking is what you do when you’re in mourning.”
“Mourning?” Charlotte asks, leaning forward to take one of the glasses. “Who died?”
Eric scrunches his nose as recognition flashes on his face. “Aww, fuck. Russell.”
Leaning forward, you whack him in the leg. “How could you forget about Russell?” You ask, your mouth twisting in disapproval. “You loved him. And I know it's been years, but I mean, he deserved better than to be forgotten about. What kind of father are you?”
“I know, I know.” Eric groans, rubbing his hand down his beard. “That little guy meant the world to me. I mean, I raised him for two months without Tommy and Linda knowin’.”
Charlotte and John both wait for either of you to explain, matching looks of incredulity on their faces. When you silently take a sip and meet Eric’s eyes with a raised eyebrow, John throws a hand into the air. “Alright! Who in the bloody hell is Russell?”
Eric answers him with a completely straight face. “My duck.”
“Your duck?” Charlotte repeats, twisting her upper body so she can face him. “Like a little yellow duck?”
“He had black feathers actually, but he was adorable.” Eric says, finally reaching down to grab the glass. “I came home from school and he was just chillin’ in the driveway. I crouched down to check on him, make sure he was alright, then he just followed me into the house. He was wicked tiny and I didn’t know what to do with him.”
“So, he called me.” You cut in, pointing to yourself. “Imagine my surprise when seventeen year old Eric tells me that I have to come over and see what followed him home. I have Priscilla drive me and I swear to you both, of all the things I expected to see on his lap, a tiny black duck wasn’t one of them.”
Eric leans forward, his hand slapping his chest as he laughs. “Ya should’ve seen her face! Didn’t think I was serious and the second she saw him, she literally said that to me.”
“Yup.” You grin, leaning against John’s side. “I also told him that as cool as his parents were, they weren’t going to let him keep a wild animal in the house. Sooo, he’d have to hide Russell.”
Charlotte giggles as she finishes off her drink and leans back next to Eric’s side. “How in the heavens did you manage to hide a duck in your mama’s house without her knowing?”
“Well, I hid ‘em in my closet.” Eric shrugs, a wide smile on his face. “Linda never goes in there. And if I hadn't forgotten to shut the closet door one day, she probably never woulda found him. But he got out and found his way onto the kitchen counter and Tommy swears that Linda screamed when she saw him.”
Charlotte covers her mouth to stifle her laughing. “If I wasn’t expecting a duck to be on my counter, I’d probably be a bit surprised too.”
“Yeah, but she let me keep him until I started college. Russell grew on her, that’s for sure.”
John downs his drink and sets the glass on the coffee table. “So how did we move to mourning said duckling?”
Eric’s face twists into a scowl. “Fuckin’ Frank.” He quickly shakes his head when Charlotte twists her upper body to face him. He holds up a hand so he can explain.
“Let me back up. So, I go to school and I live in one of the apartments on campus, right? So, Linda says I can’t keep Russell at the house. And I got it, no big deal, so I brought him to my Nonna’s house.”
“Nonna has a pond in the backyard, great for fishing, and great for a weirdly domesticated duck that likes to occasionally go for a swim.” You roll your eyes and attempt to keep a straight face. “He preferred the bathtub, obviously. But sometimes he felt like roaming around.”
Charlotte gasps, covering her mouth with her hands. “Oh, no.”
Eric nods, running his hands through his hair. “So Linda shows up at the apartment, and from the look on her face I knew somethin’ was wrong. I thought Nonna had died, I don’t know, I panicked. She sat me down and told me that Russell had had an accident.”
“What happened, then?” John asks, shifting next to you to fold one leg under the other.
“Frank came over for dinner, peelin’ into the fuckin’ driveway like he always does and wasn’t payin’ attention.” He makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. “Didn’t even care, and he never fuckin’ apologized.”
Charlotte frowns, her button nose scrunching as she puts the pieces together. “I couldn’t stand him the second I met him, and that was before he even said anything to me. I’m so sorry, chere. That’s completely awful, he’s completely awful.”
“Yeah, there’s a reason he’s Nicky’s favorite uncle.” Eric pushes himself to his feet as he leans over to reach for the cognac bottle.
“Like attracts like and Frank is an asshole. So, anyway, I call my best friend,” he jerks his head toward you, “and she suggests that we pay tribute to Russell by breakin’ into Tommy’s liquor cabinet and drownin’ our sorrows.”
“Okay, but it was your idea to do the drinking in the treehouse.” You point out, defending yourself. “We were way too old to be up there in the first place and when you fell backward, over the railing, I heard the glass and you yell, then nothing. Swear to God, I thought you had died.”
“Wished I had for a second.” He groans, slumping back down next to Charlotte. “Broke my wrist, busted up my face. And when Tommy and Linda came out, I knew we were fucked. Even though we were mournin’.”
Leaning your head against John’s shoulder, you fold your arms over your chest. “They made you pay for all the damage, didn’t they? And personally, I feel like you still got off easy.”
When John asks you why, you lift your head to look at him. “Cause Linda told Bobby. And yeah, I got grounded. But he was disappointed in me. You don’t want my dad disappointed in you, ever.”
“Reckon I believe that, sweet’eart.” His thumb rubs against your upper arm. “Your mum is something else, but believe you me, Johnny doesn’t want to piss off your father.”
Charlotte agrees, laughing as she reaches for the bottle. “Oh, I understand. Ray and Bobby get along great cause they’re so similar. They both make that face and you tread carefully.”
Eric grins, as he wraps his arm around Charlotte. “Yanno, that’s how I feel about Linda. Tommy’s more of a yell once and done kinda guy. And trust me, after all the damage I caused, he yelled. But, we got to give Russell a decent funeral and I never touched cognac again. So lesson learned, I guess.”
“Until tonight.” John chuckles, pointing to the botte. “Cause I reckon you’ve had more than the lot of us have.”
Eric shrugs as he lifts his glass. “I’m on vacation, Johnny. And I don't plan on falling through ya ceilin’, I promise. It’s too nice a place.”
Charlotte glances around, taking in the muted walls of the living room and the chrome fixtures she can see from the kitchen. “It is a nice place.” She admits, trying not to sound too impressed. “Not what I figured from you.”
Your lips twist into a hint of a smile. “We did a little, uh, redecorating before you got here. Wanted to make sure you were comfortable.”
Charlotte rolls her eyes as she stands and heads toward the kitchen. “Ahh, so you hid the skeletons and locked the dragon in the basement?” She asks over her shoulder.
“That’s absolutely mental, Lottie.” John smirks, raising his voice a bit so she’ll hear him in the other room. “A dragon wouldn’t fit in our basement.”
***
After planning out the next few days, Charlotte yawns and you realize just how long they’ve been awake. “You guys should get some sleep.” You suggest, throwing the blanket off your legs that you’d stuck there an hour ago. “You want to see the heavy hitters tomorrow, so that means we’re starting early.”
Eric stifles a yawn as he stands and pulls Charlotte to her feet. “Ya right, kid. Jet lag’s a bitch and I don’t want to be tired all day.”
You incline your head toward the stairs. “There’s extra blankets in the closet next to your room, if you want them. We’re just gonna clean up a bit, then we’re heading to bed too.”
“Sounds good.” He grabs his glass and hands it to you. “Night, guys.”
Charlotte keeps her blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she moves toward the foyer. “Night, sugar.” She takes a step, then twists around and smiles in John’s direction. “Night, John. And thank you.”
You wait a moment until you hear both sets of footsteps at the top of the stairs, then fold your arms across your chest. John pauses, three glasses in his hand and raises his eyebrow. “What?” He asks, giving you his best innocent smile.
“I don’t know what magic you worked, Johnny.” You accuse, narrowing your eyes playfully. “But Charlotte’s been more than civil all day. I don’t think she’s ever been this friendly to you. What did you do?”
John shrugs and the gesture’s too nonchalant for the smirk on his face. “I only told her the truth, luv. I know the way we feel about each other, but you love them too, don’t you now? And I’d never bloody stand in the way of what you have. Reckon she was afraid of that.”
You can’t help the soft smile you give him. Despite the jagged edges that get in the way sometimes, John is absolutely perfect to you; the only man you want for the rest of forever.
“You’re amazing,” you tell him, crossing the room to cup his cheek. “You know that?”
John doesn’t say anything, just uses his free hand to pull you close and rest his chin in the crook of your neck. He inhales deeply and just holds you, both of you comfortable in each other’s silence.
In the months that you’ve been here, everything seems to have completely fallen into place, the way you’d hoped it would. You were right in what you told Charlotte, London has been good for the two of you.
Notes:
Promised I wouldn't keep you and Charli fighting forever. And it looks like she and John are fine. At least until the thing happens anyway. So many cute fluffy moments in this chapter, I loved letting John have some cute character development. And yes, we're fluffing y'all up because we all know what's coming. Enjoy it while you can :)
Next week: John takes the group around London, showing them the best time. At lunch, Eric reminds you that you'd agreed to help Charlotte move, which John readily encourages. While you help them pack, Eric learns a little bit more about her past with Hugh; including seeing the awful wedding dress that he wanted her to wear. A cute moment makes you call John and reflect on how lucky you and Charlotte both are. All. The. Fluff. And warm fuzzies too.
Chapter 46: What we have is enough.
Summary:
John takes the group around London, showing you guys the best time. At lunch, Eric reminds you that you'd agreed to help Charlotte move, which John readily encourages. While you help them pack, Eric learns a little bit more about her past with Hugh; including hearing about the almost wedding you're glad didn't happen. A cute moment between them makes you call John and reflect on how lucky you and Charlotte both are.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
When you roll over the next morning, John’s side of the bed is rumpled and cold. Frowning, you sit up, slide out from under the covers and grab your robe off the back of the vanity chair. Wrapping it around yourself, you head out of your room and down the small hallway to the spare room.
The door’s mostly closed when you go to knock, but your hand stops when you hear your name. You know you shouldn’t, but you lean in close to hear the conversation.
“ - said that things were much better. I didn’t want to believe her. But, chere, she looks honest to goodness happy.”
“Yeah, she does. I told ya she would be. I mean, I never really understood ya whole thing about hatin’ John, honey. They’re good together. I know they had some problems, but there’s no denyin’ that he loves her.”
You hear Charlotte sigh. “I know he does. He just has a funny way of showing it sometimes. John knew my problem with him. I think I was just afraid that he wasn’t the man she thought he was. And with him bringing her all the way over here…”
“I get that, but he’s never tried to keep her from seein’ us. John’s a good guy. I’ve said that from the start. I think ya just need to trust ya best friend. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”
“I do trust her.” Charlotte insists, sounding a little offended. “My point is that I think I finally trust John too. After we talked yesterday, and I was fixing to give him a piece of my mind, we finally reached a truce of sorts.”
“Well, that’s good. Cause, I wanna have fun on vacation, honey. I can’t do that unless ya havin’ fun too.” You hear shuffling and then Charlotte’s giggle. “And you can’t have fun if ya death glarin’ at Johnny all week.”
“I wouldn’t have glared all week. I have to sleep sometime.”
When Eric laughs loudly, you know it’s his deep belly laugh. You hear rustling, followed by Charlotte’s high squeak of surprise. She makes him profoundly happy; you’ve known that for a long time. You’re relieved to hear that she finally understands that John makes you feel the same way.
Taking this as a good time to interrupt, you quickly knock before pushing the door open. “Morning!” You announce brightly, grinning when you see Eric leaning on top of Charlotte in bed. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
Eric drops down to kiss her quickly. “Nah, ya good, kid.” He rolls over as Charlotte shifts into the sitting position. “You cookin’? I smell bacon.”
Shaking your head, you lean against the doorframe and cross your arms. “John must be. He was already up when I woke up. It shouldn’t surprise me, but he loves to cook.” You step in and throw Eric’s shorts at him from the floor. “You should probably put some clothes on. Last one down gets what’s left.”
Charlotte rolls her eyes, but quickly slides out with a smile. “We’re coming, sugar.” You nod and turn on your heel to head downstairs.
You can hear John’s humming when you round the corner into the kitchen. Folding your arms, you lean against the entranceway and watch for a moment as he moves around, singing quietly to himself and completely oblivious to you standing there.
His hips sway back and forth as he cooks; chewing on the edge of your thumb, you can’t help but smile. He’s so happy here; you’ve walked in on this scene dozens of times since you’ve moved.
Stepping up behind him, you wait until he’s set down the spatula, then wrap your arms around him. He moves his hands to cover your own and tilts his head back. “Morning, luv. Food’s almost done. Make us some coffee, yeah?”
Rising up on your tiptoes, you kiss his stubbled cheek and reach around him to grab mugs from the cabinet. “Sure thing.” You set them on the counter, grab the coffee from the freezer and measure it out into the filter. Pressing the brew button, you turn and smile at him. “Dark and a touch sweet?”
“That’s my good girl.” He grins, picking sausages out of the pan. “And they’ll be down any minute, yeah?”
“Yeah, in just a sec-” You hadn’t seen him move, but suddenly, John’s wrapped his arms around you. You squeak and before you can protest, his mouth muffles whatever you were going to say. Your body molds against his as his hand snakes into your hair.
You hum in the back of your throat, encouraging John to deepen the kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth as you brace yourself against the counter. When he pulls away, your body thrums with electric energy. Feeling flushed and flustered, you watch him turn back to the stove with a cocky smirk.
Damn him; even after all this time, the effect he has on you is something else.
Grabbing plates and mugs to set on the table with unsteady fingers, you ask if he’s got any kind of plan for the day. You know that Charlotte and Eric want to sightsee today and while you hope that John’ll stick around, you don’t want to assume.
He grabs the sausages, the plate of toast he’s assembled and brings them to the table. “Reckoned we could check out the Tower, let them see the city from the top of the Eye.” He shrugs as he heads back into the kitchen for the rest. “I’ve no bloody desire to see Buckingham Palace, but I reckon Lottie’ll fancy seeing where the Aristocracy lives.”
“Wait, you want to come with us?” You blurt out, hurrying after him. “Trust me, Johnny. I want you to, but I didn’t think you’d want to play tourist with us.” He turns and raises an eyebrow as you continue explaining yourself. “I mean, you’ve lived here much longer than I have and -”
When he shakes his head, you cut yourself off and wait. John's mouth twists into a smile. “Sweet’eart, of course I’m coming with you lot. You reckon I’d let you wander about, having fun without Johnny?”
You shrug and stifle a laugh. “Fair, but I didn't think you’d find any of what we wanted to do, fun."
“Oh, I can take it or leave it.” John jokes, turning back into the kitchen to grab the food. “But any time I can spend with you is worth it to me. And seeing as the last few months have been nonstop work, reckon I could use a touch of fun as well.”
Eric comes around the corner, with Charlotte right behind him. “Well then, we’re gonna have a shit ton of fun, right guys?”
Charlotte rolls her eyes. “Absolutely, after I get food in me and plenty of coffee.”
Bringing the pot in, John holds it up proudly. “Ah, Lottie, now you’re speaking my language. Piping hot coffee, coming right up.” He sits down and offers it to her. “Good to be on the same side, ey?”
She smiles and grabs an empty mug from the table. “Well, it took us long enough for that, didn’t it?” John doesn’t say anything, just raises an eyebrow and grins right back at her. You notice the kindness on his face and you, too, can’t help but smile.
You sit down as he starts scooping food onto everyone's plates. “I’m pretty sure John has the whole day planned. So as soon as we finish breakfast, we’ll get ready to head out. With what he told me, we’re gonna get all the good stuff in today.”
“Good thing I brought my knee brace with me.” Charlotte comments, after taking a long sip of coffee. “All that walking and it’ll be acting up if I’m not careful.”
“Does that still bother you?” You ask, reaching for the plate Eric’s holding. “Everything else healed just fine, didn’t it? Your ribs don’t give you any trouble?”
She shrugs casually, casting her eyes down toward her lap. “No, the rest of me is fine. But sometimes, if I run too long or if it’s particularly rainy, it aches like it did after I first fell on it. And seeing as it rains at least once a day here, figured I’d come prepared.”
Charlotte’s careful with her explanation; it’s a lie she’s been telling for the last four or so years. She watches you across the table, waiting for the day you stop believing the tale she told you after it first happened. After the staircase. After Hugh.
John tilts his head as leans back in his chair. “You have an accident, then, Lottie?” He asks, taking a bite of sausage.
Charlotte nods, paying close attention to the eggs on her plate. “I tripped on the root of an old Oak tree in City Park a few years ago. I wasn’t paying attention and down into the ravine I went.”
She looks up, careful to keep her expression passive and uninterested so the professional liar in front of her doesn’t detect anything in her voice. “I rolled, hit a couple rocks on the way down. Broke three fingers, cracked a rib, messed up my knee.” She stabs a tomato with her fork. “I’m lucky it wasn’t worse. James said I could’ve broken my neck the way I fell.”
“James?” John echoes, turning to face you. “Thought the ex was named Hugh?”
Before you can answer, Charlotte jumps in to explain. “He was, or is. Uh, James is a good friend of mine in New Orleans. I know him from law school, interned at the law firm where he was a partner for a long time. His place is close to the park, so I picked myself up and headed to him.”
She smiles at you then, before meeting John’s eyes again. “He’s English, like you. Sweet, and a good friend.”
“You’d like him, Johnny.” Eric says, after setting down his fork. “I’ve met him, a real stand up guy. I’m lucky that she’s got a friend like James. Especially with that dickhead in the same city as them.” He takes Charlotte’s hand and squeezes it. “Not an issue now that she’s movin’, but I hated how accessible she was.”
“Yes, well.” Charlotte agrees, moving her free hand to pat her right knee. “So, that’s the story of my stupid knee and why I brought my brace with me. Like I said, I wanted to be prepared.”
Eric opens his mouth to interject, clearly wanting to go off about Hugh if she’d let him. But from the look on her face, continuing the conversation in this direction is the last thing she wants.
John forces out a laugh, breaking the building tension. “Alright, Lottie. Reckon I know a ‘change the bloody subject’ hint when I hear one. Consider it changed, luv. You fancy the Tower first, then? Or a ride on a double decker?”
Charlotte’s answering smile is grateful because immediately, Eric starts voicing his opinion about what to see first, all traces of Hugh forgotten in his excitement.
“How about taking the bus to the tower?” Charlotte asks, tucking her hair behind her ear and resting her hand on his forearm. “John, could… could we do that?”
“For you, Lottie,” John nods, taking another sip of his coffee. “That can be arranged.”
***
At dinner that night, Eric brings up the idea of helping Charlotte move. He’d first said something right before they’d come here and you’d already agreed. Throwing a fry at him, you say as much.
“Oh, sugar, you don’t have to help.” Charlotte shakes her head. “I don’t want to make you fly back and -”
“When are you moving?” John asks, sliding his arm from the back of the booth to your shoulder.
“Next week.” Charlotte explains, picking at her plate. “Once we fly home, Eric is helping me pack up the rest of my things and we head up to Boston after that. My daddy says it took us long enough so he hired a moving company and since he’s in and out that week, it’s the easiest time.”
Eric shrugs, picking up the fry you threw at him and popping it into his mouth. “I banked up a shit ton of OT so I could take two weeks off. One to come here and next week to help Charlotte move. Figured we could do it all in one fell swoop if ya flew back with us.”
Charlotte holds up her hands. “But you really don’t have to if you don’t -”
“It’s alright Lottie, you know she’s going to.” John nods in Charlotte’s direction. “She can take time whenever she pleases now. Don’t try to talk her out of it.”
That’s right.” Eric nudges Charlotte with his elbow. “Seein’ as the kid’s a big freelance consultant for the museum now.”
You meet Charlotte's eyes briefly. You hadn’t had a chance to explain the cover story you’d given Eric, but you know she won’t say anything to get you in trouble. She agrees that it’s safest to keep Eric away from all things magic for as long as you possibly can.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll fly back with you when you guys go home.” You grab a French fry and dip it into ketchup before looking up and frowning. “Are you gonna have enough time to pack and get settled? Do you have a new job lined up?”
“Well, since I quit my current job, I have plenty of time.” Charlotte smirks. “And I’ve got three weeks til I start my new one. With your daddy.”
“And mine.” Eric leans back with a smug expression on his face. “Ya looking at the firm’s newest associate. Tommy and Bobby think she’s a fuckin’ shark. I’ve told ‘em all about her kickin’ ass in court and they had to have her.”
With a proud smile, you lean forward and grab her hand. “Well, of course they had to have you! Char, that’s incredible! Bobby hasn’t said anything to me, otherwise I would’ve, I don’t know, made a big deal about it. We should celebrate!”
“Thanks, sugar.” She squeezes your fingers. “I wasn’t fixing to make a big deal out of it, but we are on vacation, so I suppose a drink or two couldn’t hurt.”
John pats your arm and slides out of the booth. “Reckon this round of pints is on Johnny then, yeah?” He offers, gesturing to the bar. “Be back in a jif.”
You smile as he walks away, your gaze drifting down to the curve of his ass. Charlotte clears her throat to get your attention and you turn, scrunching your nose as you meet her eyes. You know she’s caught you staring, but you can’t help it. John has a great ass; it’s just one of the many things you love about him.
“You were right.” Charlotte admits, giving you a soft smile. “He’s different here. I’m honest to God, truly happy for you. And I’m glad I got to see this side of him. I wish it was the side I met first, but I suppose it worked out for y’all in the end.”
Eric leans back, pulling Charlotte closer to him in the booth. “I dunno, I think Johnny needed ya on his ass, honey.” He kisses her cheek quickly. “Ya kept him on his toes, constantly remindin’ him that our best friend doesn’t need him. She wants him.”
“You do have a point, chere.” She giggles, folding her arms across her chest. “Someone had to put him in his place.”
Rolling your eyes, you pick up a fry and aim it at her. “I do a fantastic job of that, thank you very much.”
“Ya sure about that, fella?” Eric asks, reaching over to grab the fry from between your fingers. “Cause I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around. I’ve heard stories.”
“Traitor.” You gasp, narrowing your eyes playfully in Charlotte’s direction. They both laugh at the scandalized expression on your face and the flush of pink on your cheeks.
“Yes, well.” She giggles as John makes his way back over, carrying four new drinks. “It’s not like the two of you are very quiet. And honestly, by now, that sort of thing is nothing to be ashamed of. I told you that in the beginning.”
Taking two of the drinks from John’s hands, you smirk and decide to just own it. She’s right; you’re not ashamed of what you have with John. The trust you have in and out of the bedroom is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.
“I’m not ashamed of anything John and I do. Or the relationship we have.” You argue, taking a sip of your old fashioned. John tilts his head, but doesn’t interrupt. “For me, submitting to him is about letting go of the hold I keep over my mind, my self control. I let John give me what I need, even if I don’t know exactly what that is.”
John wraps his arm around your shoulder and reassuringly runs his thumb along your arm. “It’s my job to know, to create a safe space for her to just feel and she trusts me implicitly to do so. I don’t take that lightly. Surely, you and Lottie have a similar connection?”
Eric nods, impressed by your confidence. “Yeah, I’ve just never heard it explained like that before. Makes a lot of sense for us too.”
“John’s pushed me, but never in a way I didn’t like.” You rest your head against him and smirk. “If you want, I’ll happily fill you in on all the details of the sex club John took me to a couple of months ago. That was an experience I’ll never forget.”
“Neither will I, sweet’eart.” John glances up at Charlotte and Eric wearing a proud grin. “Not to give too much away, but our girl was bloody brilliant in there. Made every bloke in the room jealous. You’ve no idea how chuffed I am to have her by my side.”
Eric whistles low and slow as he shakes his head. “Alright, alright. Guess ya handle each other then, huh?”
You take a long sip of your drink. “You could say that.”
***
The week flies by too quickly. With Eric and Charlotte in London with you, you excitedly get to explore the city as a tourist. You’d been exploring since you moved, but having your best friends with you was a different kind of exciting.
You visited the Tower of London and the four of you happily spent hours wandering through the narrow corridors and grand halls. It was easy to imagine what life was like in the tower nearly 1,000 years ago. When John regaled you with tales of grisly murder and torture, both you and Charlotte listened attentively.
Surprisingly, Eric was the one fascinated by the crown jewels. Charlotte barely spared them a glance, but he stared in awe for a good few minutes while John told you how the Tower was also once used as the city’s first zoo. He didn’t seem to hear John, his eyes too focused on the glittering stones to listen.
John was right, Charlotte loved Buckingham Palace. Her favorite spot was the Royal Gardens. “It reminds me of the courtyards back home.” She’d said, wandering through the rows of flowers. She’d taken plenty of pictures of the four of you and had promised to make you an album once she got them printed out.
The night before you were set to fly back to New Orleans, John suggests dinner, then a ride on the London Eye. Eric and Charlotte agree excitedly, wanting a reason to get dressed up again before they spend a week moving things.
You spend the night drinking and laughing, enjoying the lighthearted way Charlotte and John speak to each other. It took them a long time to get here, but you’re glad they’re finally on the same side. Having the three people that mean the most to you, all getting along means more to you than you can say out loud.
So by the time the night winds down, you’re exhausted but happy. This vacation has been wonderful and if it’s possible, you feel closer than ever to John because of it. You find you’re not nervous about leaving for a week, but you’re already excited to get back home.
As you climb into bed, he tugs you close to him. Resting your head on his chest, you let out a soft sigh of contentment. “Okay, so while I’m away.” Your fingers trace lazy circles on his bare stomach. “Promise me something?”
“Anything, luv.” He responds, kissing the top of your head.
“Don’t go starting trouble.” You crane your neck to stare up at him. “With the club, with a random demon. Anywhere, honestly. Now, I’m not gonna ask you not to work, but I’m gonna ask that you be careful. I don’t want to come back to find you hurt or worse.”
John chuckles, a deep sound that rumbles in his chest. “Come on now, is that all? Bigger things have tried and -”
“They always fail.” You finish for him with a laugh. “I know. But I don’t want this time to be the exception, alright?”
He draws his arms tighter around you and stays silent for a moment. “Nothing but boring milk runs till you’re back. Is that what you fancy then? Johnny’ll be practically bored outta my skull.”
For a second, you’re worried he’s annoyed. But you can hear the smile in his voice, his affection for you in the teasing way he’d responded.
Pushing yourself up, you twist your upper body to face him. “I don’t want you to be bored, Johnny. I just want you to be safe. London is more active than Boston ever was and Chas agrees with me, you’re more reckless when you’re alone.”
John scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Well, if by reckless, you mean -”
“I mean exactly what I said, reckless.” You raise an eyebrow. “Just promise me?”
His lips twist into a soft smile, the one he only gives you. “Yeah, alright, sweet’eart. You too, ey? You’ll be careful then? Reckon I don't fancy anything or anyone wrecking what we have. You come home in one piece and I'll do the same.”
Nodding, you scoot back down and lower your head onto his chest. “Good, because what we have is enough for me, Johnny. You're enough. Always will be.”
***
“Don’t move all those books at once, chere.” Charlotte warns, folding a pair of jeans into the box at her feet. “You’ll drop them and -” Eric’s grip on the bottom book falters and they all go toppling to the floor. “Make a mess.”
Eric grins sheepishly and bends to pick them up. “Before he left, Ray asked me to have ya go through these. He was gonna donate whatever ya didn’t wanna take with you. I clearly underestimated how slippery they were.”
Setting a small stack on the bed next to him, he bends back down and pauses when he sees an old magazine face down on the ground. Your eyes track his movements, freezing with the packing tape in your hand when he flips it over and picks it up. Charlotte and Hugh smile up at him, with Hugh’s hand wrapped tight around her waist.
You remember this; still an intern with the ADA’s office, Charlotte had been excited to be featured in the article. She’d been told that while it was mainly about Hugh’s succession in taking over his father’s sugar company, she’d have a chance to talk about her work and what it was like being the future wife of a Montgomery with a career all her own.
Instead, she’d posed in an uncomfortable, skin tight dress, while Hugh talked about his future with a stay at home wife at his side. The only thing she’d been able to talk about was her plan for a winter wedding and how soon they planned to have children. She’d hated it, so you wonder why she hadn’t burned every copy she found.
“New Orleans Biz.” Eric murmurs, flipping open the magazine to the article about the ‘Next King of the City.’ “God damn, I didn’t put two and two together till now.”
“What was that, chere?” Charlotte asks, turning around and glancing at the magazine in Eric’s hands. “Where… where did you get that?” She asks, folding her arms across her chest. “I thought my daddy had burned it. I asked him to.”
Shaking your head, you hold up a hand to make her pause. “Wait a sec, Char. Eric, what are you talking about?”
With a guilty laugh, Eric holds up the front cover. “This is what, six years old now? I saw this magazine on Paddy’s coffee table. Anthony’s got family in Savannah, didn’t think much of it at the time. I just remember seein’ ya picture, honey, and thinkin’ ‘god damn, she’s gorgeous.’ When I creeped you on Instagram, right before I met ya, I didn’t connect the dots.”
“But, you’ve seen pictures of Charlotte at my place.” You point out, sitting on the edge of the bed. “And all over my social media. I'd talked about her like a hundred times. How did you not -”
Eric shrugs as Charlotte walks around the bed to take the magazine from him. “Ya look different here, honey. In the pictures I’d seen in her house, you were smilin’ or laughin’. I didn’t recognize you here.”
“Well.” You roll your eyes. “Dating Hugh made her miserable most of the time. So, I can understand why you didn’t realize it was her.” Charlotte shoots you a look, but stays silent.
“Trust me, I know. The few times I’ve run into him down here, I’ve wanted to throw up after. Honey, you must’ve had a strong stomach to put up with him.” He hands her the magazine with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, I swear to God, if he calls ya his wife one more fuckin’ time, I’m gonna knock him out.”
Her hand shakes when she takes it from him. “Wh… what?”
“Yeah, last time I saw him I was waitin’ for you to get out of work. What, a month ago? Anyway, he kept callin’ ya his wife. So I told him that one, you aren’t. And two, ya never gonna be because I’m the guy that’s gonna marry ya.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, you shift the clothes Charlotte was folding and drop them into the box on the floor. She glances at you before tossing the magazine into the trash bag. “Chere, you said that to him?” She asks, her voice small.
“Of course I did. I'm tired of him thinkin’ he can talk about you like that.” Nodding, you silently agree with him. You’d gotten in countless fights with Hugh for the way he spoke to her. “Again, he told me that I was just a phase, so he wasn't worried. So I came back with ‘ya don't move to a completely different state for phase.’ That seemed to shut him right up for a second.”
Charlotte swallows hard as she peers up at him, carelessly dropping the shirt she was holding. “You… you told him I was moving?”
“Hell yeah I did. I wanted him to know that he fuckin’ lost and he needed to let it go.” When she sighs and says she wishes Eric wouldn’t antagonize him, he huffs in annoyance. “I wasn't, honey. I was endin’ somethin’ he started.”
“But chere, if you feed into his nonsense, he's only going to keep going.”
Before you can jump in to defend him, Eric cuts you off. “Well, what would you rather me say to him, honey? When he started talkin’ about how much you must miss him and how disappointed you must be to be datin’ me, was I supposed to just agree with him?”
Charlotte shakes her head as she turns away from him, her arms folded over his chest. “Of course not. And I'm not disappointed in you. I love you, chere. But if you just ignored him, he’d have no reason to fight with you.”
Eric throws his arms into the air as he steps in front of her. “Charlotte, I’m not gonna stand by and just listen to that fucker talk shit about ya. It ain’t gonna happen.”
When she snaps that Eric’s Boston temper is going to get him in trouble one day, you rise to his defense. “Cut him some slack, Char. If I could, I’d do more than talk shit about Hugh. I’d take a good swing at him. He deserves worse.”
Resting his hands on his hips, Eric lets out an annoyed sigh. “Listen, you really want him tellin’ a bar full of people, includin’ ya dad, how good you are at, in his words ‘chokin’ on his cock’? Cause that's what'll keep happenin’ if I don't say somethin’.”
Charlotte slides down to sit next to you, her face ghost white. “He… he’s said that to you?”
“He’s said a lot worse than that, but yeah. He's lucky I didn't knock him out. He was such a fuckin’ prick and honestly, some of the shit he’s said has been just disgustin’.” When you ask him if it was worse than the shit you both talk about him, he shakes his head.
“I'm not gonna get into specifics, but just the stuff she used to do for him. You know... in bed.” He glances at Charlotte with a sympathetic expression. “He didn't spare me any details. Tried to tell me a couple of times that he could make you orgasm in like two minutes and that he bets I leave ya unsatisfied.”
Shaking her head, she rises and reaches for his arm. “I assure you, whatever he said, he was lying. He's just fixing to start trouble. I’m quite satisfied with you, so pay him no mind.” She narrows her eyes, meeting yours and then his. “Now, what’s with y'all talking about him?”
“I know you are, honey. I'm not worried about what he says to me, but I don't want him trash-talkin’ you to other people.” He shrugs and folds his arms over his chest. “It always upsets you when I bring him up, so I stopped. But I gotta be able to ask questions and shit talk with someone.”
Raising one hand up and moving the other to cover your heart, you let a snarky grin overtake your face. “And I'm more than happy to talk shit about Hugh Montgomery. He’s an asshole.”
When she sighs and asks exactly what you talk about, you shrug. “I mean to start, my favorite topic is his seriously unhealthy relationship with his mother. Honestly, what’s up with that? Can we say Oedipus Complex?”
Eric laughs. “Yeah, and didn't you say his sister, Maggie, literally worships the ground he walks on? It's creepy as fuck. I don't get why, he's not even that good-lookin’.”
You nod and point out that Hugh’s got nothing on Eric. He’s basically a troll in comparison. And you never understood his dislike for his own little brother, simply because he was gay.
“Yeah, I don't get that either.” Eric admits, sitting down on a box by Charlotte’s feet. “How can ya hate someone in your own family just because they like the same sex? And I've met Alex, he's a good kid and his boyfriend is wicked nice. Such a sweetheart.”
Charlotte agrees, absently running her fingers over his upper thigh. “I never did understand how Trudy could treat her own son like that. Honestly, Alex was the only Montgomery I trusted toward the end.”
Eric frowns at her words. You do too, it’s an odd thing to say. “Aside from Hugh, ya mean.” He asks, covering her hand with his and squeezing gently.
When Charlotte tilts her head in confusion, Eric raises an eyebrow. “Only Montgomery ya trusted aside from Hugh.”
“Of course I trusted Hugh.” She scoffs indignantly, folding her arms defensively across her chest. “I wouldn't have agreed to marry a man I didn't trust. How could you even think I wouldn't mean him too?”
“It was just a funny choice of words, honey. That's all. I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him.” He inclines his head in your direction. “Kid says he picked fights with her all the damn time, just to do it.”
You roll your eyes as you slide off the bed and reach for the water bottle on the nightstand. “Because he liked pissing me off. Showing me that if it came down to it, you’d pick him over me. So, sometimes I pushed back a little harder than I needed to. Just to piss him off.”
“He did not like pissing you off.” Charlotte argues confidently, as you finish off the bottle. “The two of you were always arguing about little things and putting me in the middle. I plum hated it.”
“Yes, he did.” You turn around and toss the plastic into the trash bag. “He knew that I hated him and he knew I'd tried to convince you he was a dick. One time, he flat out told me that I could piss him off all I wanted. You chose him and clearly you didn't believe a word I said every time I told you how shitty he was. So, I'm sorry, but after that? I pushed hard."
Her confident expression falters for a moment. “He didn't say that… Hugh would never. I…” Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath. “I don't understand why you couldn't have tried to get along with him. He always tried when you visited. Don't you remember how he flew us up to surprise you for your birthday?”
“Charlotte, why would I lie now? You’re not even with him anymore. And I did try to get along with him. But he had to have everything his way, all the time. I'm telling you, he liked making me angry. And it takes a lot to make me angry.”
Before Charlotte can argue, Eric jumps in. “She told me about that weekend. Kid, didn't you say that he booked reservations at some really nice restaurant Charlotte had always wanted to go to, but made the reservation for two, not three people?”
“Yep.” Stepping over a pile of high heels, you climb back onto the bed. “And I know that you said he didn't do it on purpose, that he swore he made them for three people and someone at the restaurant messed up. But I never believed him. He told me I couldn’t disappoint you, so I went home and ate dinner alone, on my birthday. It was on purpose.”
“Why do you always do this?” She asks, huffing out a deep breath. “Try to make Hugh out to be this awful person when all he ever wanted was to be friends with you. Honestly, if you tried a little harder to like him, it would have made things a lot easier on me.”
Eric opens his mouth to interrupt and you silence him with a look of your own. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You ask furiously. “He couldn't handle a girl yelling at him? What did he do, cry to you about it?”
Charlotte’s jaw tenses; it reminds you a little of the way John’s does when he’s about to lie. “No, of course he didn't. It... It just caused a lot of fights between us, that’s all.”
Whatever Eric was about to say, dies in his throat. Instead, he gives her a soft expression and takes her hand. “I mean, honey, I don't think that should've caused fights. Doesn't sound like much of a man to me. Kid’s got valid points.”
“Thank you!” You throw your hands out in exasperation. “Take the wedding for example. Char, you were nowhere in that. Hugh picked the venue, his mother picked the food.”
Eric turns his head, eyebrow raised as he waits for Charlotte to argue. “That’s not true,” she says halfheartedly. “I had lots of input.” When you roll your eyes and ask where, all she can do is shrug. “Hugh asked my opinion on everything.”
“And how many of your suggestions did he actually listen to?” You ask, unable to keep the sarcasm from your voice. “You didn't even pick the wedding song for God's sake. ‘We belong together’ is a creepy song. The guy literally talks about owning the girl and her lips. For eternity.”
Eric’s face scrunches in disgust. “Uh, that's a little too Ted Bundy for me, honey.”
Rising from the bed, Charlotte aggressively rolls her eyes. “Well, good thing it's not our song then, huh? But it had been Hugh’s and mine since we got together. So there didn't need to be a discussion about it.”
It’s your turn to roll your eyes as she heads into the closet. “There should have been a discussion about the dress. It was big and poofy and awful. Before you even ask if there's pictures, there are. But I know Char still has it, so maybe she’ll show it to you.”
“We won’t be doing that, sugar.” Her muffled voice announces from inside her closet.
Eric stands and moves to lean against the doorway, watching her move around. “Oh, I need to see this dress. I gotta see what ya won’t be wearin’ to our weddin.’”
When she laughs and threatens to wear it anyway, you giggle too. “Good luck with that. You wouldn’t be able to move.”
“Oh, stop. Do you really want to see it, chere?” She asks Eric, folding her arms across her chest. When he nods, she meets your eyes, raises her hand and delicately lifts her middle finger. As she steps out of the room, you laugh and yell that you’ll meet her downstairs.
Eric grabs your arm as you slide off the bed. “Wait. Kid, I knew he was bad. But this is a whole new level. How have you never told me about the weddin’? It makes me wish I had fuckin’ punched him every time he tried to start shit with me.”
“I wish you had too.” You admit, turning to stare at the empty doorway. “I don’t understand why she still defends him the way she does. He was awful. She was completely different when they were together. Honestly, I think it would break your heart if you’d met her then.”
Wrapping your arms around yourself, you press your lips together and stare up at Eric. “She barely even spoke to me toward the end. And if I asked her a question, Hugh would answer. It’s like… it was like I’d already lost her and they weren’t even married.”
He shakes his head, a sad expression on his face. “I don’t know how you could stand it. I mean, if John had changed ya like that, I’d’ve knocked him out. I mean, I’m not suggestin’ ya should’ve hit Hugh, I’ve seen him. He could probably take me if he really tried.”
You shrug helplessly, remembering how distant you and Charlotte had become in the last few months of that relationship. “Still, I wish I had done more. I don’t trust him.”
“I don’t either.” He agrees, motioning you toward the door. “That’s why I’m glad she’s movin’ up there with me and not the other way around. I wanna get her away from here.”
“Yeah, I don’t like how upset she got that you told Hugh she was moving. She got kinda freaked out.” You rest your hand on his forearm to stop him. “Eric, you think he’s starting something, or that he would?”
Running his free hand down his beard, he sighs in frustration. “I don’t know, kid. But I’m gonna keep an eye out. That girl is the love of my life. I’m not gonna let anythin’ happen to her. Hugh can try to start shit all he wants. I’ve been itchin’ to arrest the shithead.” His mouth moves into a dry smile. “Not that it would stick, but the look on his face would be worth it.”
As you head down stairs and into the space that serves as a cellar of sorts, you can’t help but be worried. Even though Charlotte swore nothing ever got nasty between them, sometimes, you’re not sure you believe her. She’s a great lawyer; she’s just as skilled with deception as John is.
It would break your heart if you ever found out that Hugh hurt her. Then you’d hurt him. Without hesitation.
At the creaking of the bottom step, Charlotte turns around, the white satin and organza, billowing out feet behind her. She looks so small and lost in the massive thing, her button nose scrunched up nervously. You can tell from the look on her face that she’s waiting for Eric to laugh.
He doesn’t. Instead, he folds his arms and steps until he’s as close as he can get to her. “Charlotte, honey, did you like this dress?”
Charlotte shakes her head, glancing down at the skirt, then back up to meet his eyes. “No, but… but it was what was expected of me. Hugh had an old family and it was important to them. I knew I had to do what they wanted.”
Eric closes the distance, pressing himself into the mass of fabric and cupping the back of her neck. “When ya say yes to me,” he promises, resting his forehead against hers. “I don’t expect you to wear anythin’ that doesn’t make ya happy. It’ll be your day, honey. Your dress. Ya got that?”
Charlotte stares at him for a moment, a soft happy smile on her face and sniffles as she wipes the corners of her eyes. “Don’t make me cry, chere. I’ll puff up and be stuck in this monstrous thing.” When he laughs, she takes a soft breath of relief.
Folding your arms across your chest, you lean against the railing and smile. You’re so grateful for him; Eric’s good to your best friend in a way Hugh never was. You watch them from your spot by the stairs as he lifts her out of the dress and unceremoniously shoves it back into its giant box.
Charlotte’s helping him, but her mind is a million miles away. She seems so sad, lost in an uncomfortable thought. Eric notices it too; he holds out a hand to her, frowning when she doesn’t take it.
“Honey.” He says, glancing at you quickly when she doesn’t respond. “Honey.”
Eric tilts his head as he dusts off his hands. “Charlotte.” Her head whips up, eyes wide and nervous. He smiles and lifts the collar of his Henley. “C’mere, does my shirt smell musty?”
Silently, Charlotte leans in and inhales. When she does, he kisses her forehead and pulls her into his arms. You smile to yourself as you watch them, impressed by his strategy to calm her mind. Smooth move, Grant. Real smooth.
When he tells her he loves her, her entire body relaxes. When she whispers that she loves him too, you smile and creep back up the stairs to give them a minute alone.
Sliding your phone out of your pocket, you scroll to John’s number and connect the call. He answers on the second ring. “Sweet’eart? Everything alright then?”
Closing your eyes, you wince to yourself. “Shit, I forgot that it’s almost 3 am in London. I’m sorry. Uh, everything’s fine, Johnny. I just wanted to hear your voice. I miss you.”
He chuckles, his voice deep and raspy from sleep. “I miss you too, luv. How goes the packing?” When you ask him if he just wants you to call back tomorrow, his answer is immediate, making you smile. “Absolutely not. I insist you tell Johnny all about it.”
With a smile you’re sure John knows he put on your face, you do.
Turns out, you’re grateful for a lot of things today.
You’re grateful that Charlotte is no longer with the man that tried to turn her into someone she wasn’t. You’re grateful that Eric isn’t like that and loves her exactly as she is. And as you sit next to the window and spend the next twenty minutes talking to the man you love, who you know was asleep when you called, you’re intensely grateful for him and the way you know he loves you.
***
Pulling up to the old brownstone, Eric throws the Explorer in park and winds down the window. Seeing it in person, you understand why he bought it in the first place. Even though it’s mid July, the flowers on the side of the railing are still blooming. With red brick, white shutters and a black wrought iron railing in front, it’s the perfect blend of Boston and New Orleans.
“Mais j’mais, this house is gorgeous.” Charlotte leans out the window of the Explorer and tilts her head. “Whose is it? Did Paddy and Anthony finally move into the city?” You lean back in the back seat, waiting for Eric to respond.
“Nope.” His mouth twists into a smug smile. “It’s yours.” Charlotte furrows her brow, struggling to connect the dots. “I... uh, I wanted to surprise ya. Welcome home, honey.”
Charlotte’s eyebrows fly up in surprise. “You bought a house?” Her hand flies up to cover her mouth. “Eric, you... This is -”
His smile falters for a fraction of a second. “Okay, I know it seems wicked impulsive and a little crazy. But Ray checked it out and assured me you’d love it. I didn’t want ya to have to shove all ya stuff into my apartment. So, I got us somethin’ we can have together.”
"Daddy knew?" Charlotte shakes her head in disbelief. “It’s beautiful. Can… Can we go inside?”
“Of course we can.” He jingles the keys as he pulls them out of the ignition. “It’s your house, honey. You can do whatever ya want.”
She glances back at the house, then back to him. “This is very sweet, Eric. But you didn’t have to buy me a house. Your apartment would’ve been fine. You... you know that, right?”
“Yeah, but I wanted to.” For a moment, Eric seems nervous. He runs his hand down his beard as his eyes flick toward you. “I’ve been wantin’ to buy property for a while and with ya comin’ up here, I figured I could do somethin’ special for ya. But if ya hate it, I mean, we could sell it. I just want ya to be happy.”
Charlotte twists to face you with an incredulous expression on her face. When you smile encouragingly, she turns and takes Eric’s hand. “No, no. I don’t hate it… I love it. This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.” With her free hand, she opens the door of the car. “Show me the inside?”
“Absolutely. I’ve been waitin' for this for months.” He pulls out the keys and climbs out of the Explorer, leading the way up the steps. “Do you have any idea how many times I almost spilled the beans? I mean, Ray said he’d disown me if I did, so I waited. I wanted this to be perfect. Kid’s only seen it through the phone, but we all did a damn good job keepin’ ya in the dark.”
“Oh, Eric,” she breathes, stepping into the foyer. “It’s… it’s beautiful.” She whirls around, taking in the crown molding and dark hardwood floors. Her eyes linger on the curved staircase before she shakes her head and smiles. “I… I love it.”
Eric takes her hand, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. “Do you really love it? Ya not just sayin’ that?”
She leans back, her eyes wet and glassy. “No, I really, really love it.” She rests her head against his chest. “Thank you, chere. I can’t believe… it’s just, how did I get so damn lucky?”
“You?” Eric laughs, cupping her face. “I’m the meatball that bought a house for the girl I’m gonna marry and didn’t tell that girl what I was doin’! Kid told me I was nuts.”
“Well, you are.” You smile, flipping on the dining room light. “But now that I see it in person, I gotta admit, Grant. I’m impressed. You did good.”
With her hand clasped tightly in his, Charlotte’s eyes move around the room. Eric’s are glued to the smile on her face. “Yeah, kid.” He murmurs, with a soft, happy huff. “Yeah, I did.”
Notes:
All the fluff. All the warm fuzzies. Because the beginning of the end's coming kiddos. And there's nothing fluffy about what's about to happen...
Next chapter: You romantically celebrate your birthday with John, and neither of you realize it's going to be the last one you have with him. When you go stateside to celebrate with your friends, John makes a fateful deal that will chance both of your lives forever. And when a job goes haywire after that, John's afraid the demon was right; nothing he does is going to keep you safe. Not anymore.
Chapter 47: The choices we make.
Summary:
You romantically celebrate your birthday with John, and neither of you realize it's going to be the last one you have with him. When you go stateside to celebrate with your friends, John makes the fateful deal that will change both of your lives forever. And when a job goes haywire after that, John's afraid the demon was right; nothing he does is going to keep you safe. Not anymore.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“It’s a big one this year, innit?” John asks, draping his arm over your shoulder. “Reckon we should go out with a bang, yeah?”
You shift your head, too comfortable to move from your spot next to him, and roll your eyes. “I mean, it’s my thirtieth. I don’t know how big a deal you made of yours, but I’m content to just stay in if you want.”
John makes an exasperated sound in the back of his throat. You scrunch your face; that’s usually the sound you make when he says something ridiculous. It’s very rarely the other way around.
“Sweet’eart, six years ago, I spent my thirtieth getting piss drunk in a pub with blokes I didn’t even know. I fancy doing something for yours. Especially if you’re going to Boston the day after to celebrate with your mates. Reckon we could make a day of it.” He tilts his head then, peering down at you with eyes full of warmth and affection.
“You’re the only soul on this planet, aside from Chas, that’s made something of the day John Constantine was born. Used to hate the bloody day, till you came along. And I reckon we’ve had some unconventional holidays, haven't we? So you’re due for a proper birthday and I’m just the bloke to show you a smashing time.”
You watch him open his hand and lay it palm side up on his thigh. “Yeah, fine.” You concede with a smile. “But you know what you are, Johnny?” You snuggle closer to him and thread your fingers through his. “Under that jaded, cynical exterior, you’re secretly a hopeless romantic.”
“No. Only with you, luv. You’re always the exception for Ol’ Johnny.” With the hand that was just hugging your shoulder, he covers your mouth before you can argue.
“And we’ll not be broadcasting that to the whole bloody city. I’ve a reputation as a coldhearted, nasty piece of work to keep. Can’t have it looking like Johnny’s getting soft now, can we?”
Tugging his hand down, you roll your eyes. “No. We certainly wouldn’t want that." John chuckles and pulls you closer to him. After a moment of silence, you push yourself up and twist to face him. “So, are you going to tell me what you’re planning or?”
“Absolutely not.” His hands wrap around your waist and grins. “You’re just gonna have to trust me.”
***
“You still don’t know where he’s taking you?” Charlotte asks, her brow furrowing with curiosity. “I mean, I think it’s sweet. Don’t you? That’s how y'alls first date went. It was a surprise and you ended up having a great time.”
Opening a bobby pin with your teeth, you hold your curl in place and use the pin to sweep your hair away from your face. “I do think it’s sweet. John’s very romantic when he wants to be. The only thing he told me was to dress up. So I’ve got my favorite navy plaid swing dress, you know the one? And my hair’s curled, my makeup’s done.”
“And you look gorgeous. He won’t be able to keep his hands off you.” She laughs, adjusting her phone to hide the bright sunlight in her office. “You’ll have to tell me all about it tomorrow. I know you’ll be too busy tonight.”
You roll your eyes, ready to give her a smart ass comment, when the wolf whistle behind you, makes you pause.
“Bloody fucking Hell, sweet’eart.” John groans, leaning in the doorway. “Looking like that, you make me wanna drag you down to the kitchen and bend you over the…”
He trails off when he sees Charlotte smirking at him. “Lottie, she’s gonna have to give you a ring in the morning, alright? Before the plane. She’ll be a touch tied up tonight.”
She smiles and shakes her head. “Y’all be safe, have fun. And happy birthday, sugar.”
Thanking her, you end the call and set your phone down on the counter. Spinning around, you raise your eyebrow as John slowly backs out of the bathroom and gestures for you to follow him. You follow obediently, confused as to where he’s going.
He stops and waits until you step close enough that you’re almost touching. Gently, his hand cups the back of your neck and he kisses you. Closing your eyes, you revel in the taste of him; spearmint, a hint of tobacco and clove. It invades your senses, making your brain fuzzy with arousal.
John walks you backward until you hit the wall. He pulls away with a smirk, chuckling when you whimper at the loss of his lips on yours. Your hands move to his chest, laying your palms flat as you pout at him. “Don’t tease me.” You protest, glancing up at him through your lashes. “It’s my birthday.”
Before you can say anything, he presses a finger to your lips and grins dangerously. Grabbing your jaw with one hand, he collars your wrists and pins them above your head with the other. When he doesn’t do anything else, you squirm in his grip and try to tug your hands down.
His grip tightens and your struggling stops. “Be a good girl for Johnny.” He warns, running his thumb over your lower lip. “I just fancy taking a moment to look at you. I love seeing you like this; cheeks flushed, eyes bright, completely helpless under me.”
He leans in for a quick kiss, ghosting his lips along your jaw before pulling back. “The power you give up for me. Bloody hell, it’s enough to make a bloke weak in the knees, innit?”
His voice has gotten lower, more gravely and rough. Your breath stutters in your throat as his words wash over you. John can make you fall apart with just a few kisses and carefully chosen words. No one you’ve ever known could do this to you.
“I… I make you weak in the knees?” You ask in breathless disbelief. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
He chuckles, playing with the top button of your dress as you squirm under him. “Reckon I have some idea.” He admits, a hungry glint in the darkness of his eyes. “But it’s only fair, innit? Cause you, sweet’eart, are the only one I've ever let in as much as I have. You’re a bloody wonder.”
Leaning forward, you catch his lips in a quick kiss before settling back against the wall. “Thanks for letting me in.” You whisper, smiling up at him. “For trusting me and not keeping any more secrets. I told you I could handle whatever you threw at me.”
John’s expression falters; where confidence and desire existed, there’s now regret mixed with shame. You're sure he’s thinking of the times you’ve gotten hurt and you don’t want him to get too lost in thought.
You twist your wrists in his grip, pushing your hips playfully against him. “So, now that you’ve got me, what are you going to do with me? Cause while I’m sure I could convince you to stay in, it’s a damn shame to waste this dress.”
His gaze refocuses, moving over your chest and down to your legs. “Aye, it wouldn’t be a shame, it’d be a bloody crime.”
“Then we should probably go,” you suggest, with a coy smile. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
He laughs, releasing your hands as he steps backward. “No, I’ve the whole night planned. But don’t you worry, I fully intend to finish what I started when we get back. As brilliant as that dress is on you, it’ll be even better on the floor.”
***
The Gibson seems like a completely unassuming restaurant from the outside; a boring, generic pub like the rest. Inside, it’s anything but. It’s dark and atmospheric; you’re immediately swept away to a private room, John’s hand resting on the small of your back as you walk.
When he pulls out the chair for you to sit, you grin up at him and slide in. As he moves around the table, you pull your lower lip between your teeth. He’s always handsome to you, but he’s cleaned up especially nice tonight.
John’s usually messy hair is swept back, calling attention to the warmth in his eyes when he smiles at you. He’s pulled out his black suit jacket and swapped his burgundy tie for one that matches his suit. The ensemble reminds you a little of the night you saw him at the museum gala, when you still found him arrogant and insufferable.
He’d flirted so brazenly with you that, despite your annoyance, you couldn’t help but be intrigued. He was cocky and so sure you were interested in him. You know that he hadn’t meant to fall for you, because you hadn’t meant to fall for him. But you wonder if he had any idea where the two of you would end up.
Because after three years and an ocean of distance, sometimes you still feel like you need to pinch yourself. You don’t know how you got this lucky. How can all of this be real?
You’re in love with a powerful magician, one who’s taught you everything he knows. You’re just as skilled at the Dark Arts as he is now and none of this would’ve been possible if you had agreed to stand aside and let John take down the Rabisu alone. Deep inside, you knew you could help him. You just needed to trust each other.
John quirks an eyebrow, clearing his throat to get your attention. “Penny for your thoughts, sweet’eart? You’re a million miles away.”
You lean back in your chair, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Sorry.” You let out a soft huff. “I, uh… do you ever think about that night?”
You shrug when he tilts his head in confusion. “The night Darren died. There’s a dozen choices each of us could’ve made. And the ones we did, led us here.”
John takes your hand from across the table. “From time to time, reckon it crosses my mind.” He pauses as the waiter brings over glasses of sparkling water. “You were incredible that night, luv. You’d no idea what you were up against and you still thought to warn ol’ Johnny, even when you knew you could get hurt.”
You smile as his thumb rubs the back of your hand. “Well, it’s quite possible I was reckless before I met you and being around you makes me seem like the responsible one.”
John scoffs, amusement making the dark amber of his eyes glitter in the candlelight.
“Behave.” He scolds without any real conviction. “You’re quite the handful when you fancy it, aren’t you then. You’ve had a penchant for danger since I met you. I simply taught you the ability to channel it into something useful, thus giving us both moments of responsibility.”
“Fair.” You take a slow sip of your drink, smirking at him over the glass. “I know we didn’t plan this, what you and I became to each other. But did you have any idea, when you gave in that night, what could happen?”
John shakes his head, rare vulnerability showing on his face for a moment. “I had no bloody idea, luv. Reckoned some part of what I did would finally spook you and you’d just leg it. I kept waiting and you kept diving deeper into the muck with me.”
He stares down at his glass, purposely not meeting your eyes. “I still have moments, you know. Reckon I don’t make it easy on you, do I then? Legging it would be more painless than dealing with a blighter like me half the bloody time.”
“That’s never been how I see this, you know that.” You raise an eyebrow at his expression of disbelief. “This world, this life with you? It’s nothing short of incredible. And I can’t imagine wanting anything else or anyone else. I love you.”
You watch the tension melt away from John’s shoulders. After a few moments, he grins as he leans back in his chair. “And you know I feel the same. Like I said at the flat, there’s never been anyone in my life quite like you.”
Your vision blurs as your eyes get a little misty. “Don’t make me cry.” You protest, laughing as you dab your eyes. “It’s my birthday.”
He chuckles, his smile filled with warmth. “You gonna use that all night, then? Didn’t intend to, luv. I swear it.” He lets out a soft, happy huff when you smile back, your expression just as warm. “What made you take this trip down memory lane, then?”
Your smile turns into a playful smirk at his question. “You were helping me into my seat and I was just admiring how roguishly handsome you are.” His smirk turns smug and wolfish, making your cheeks flush. “And remembering how cocky and arrogant I thought you were when I first met you.”
His eyebrows fly up as he opens his mouth to argue. “Well, I -”
“No, Johnny. You’re still cocky and arrogant.” You cut him off with a giggle. “But now I love that about you.” Your face scrunches up. “Honestly, I think I did even in the beginning, I just didn’t want to admit it.”
He shakes his head, shifting himself in his seat. “Reckon I can understand that. I saw you that day on the way to Darren’s office and I fancied pushing every bloody button I could.” He shivers, reliving the memory.
“Then, that night at the party, I couldn’t stop staring. You were brilliant, commanding everyone’s attention the way you did. I was well and truly bollocked. Just didn’t know it yet, myself.”
“I think Eric was right.” You admit softly, watching the way John’s eyes move over you. “He told me in the beginning that he thought you and I were inevitable. Like he and Charlotte are. You and I fought it for a little while, but…”
“But fate is fate, then.” John finishes, rising from his seat. When he walks around and stops in front of you, you tilt your head at his outstretched hand. “Would you fancy a go around the room?”
Standing up, you smooth the skirt of your dress and take his hand. “I’d love to, but there’s no -” Before you can finish, John murmurs a spell under his breath. The lights in the room dim and twinkle like fireflies as his fingers move.
Soft music fills the room; the words to an old Elvis Presley ballad fill your ears as John’s hand snakes around your waist. You don’t recognize this singer, but the lyrics still make you smile. The song’s one of your favorites.
John shrugs, rolling back his shoulders. “Reckon I’d prefer the Clash, but they don’t seem to have the right kind of song for this sort of thing, now do they?”
“John, this is…” Your breath catches in your throat as you glance around. “It’s perfect.”
His movements are slow and sweet; you sway back and forth, resting your head on John’s chest before he twirls you around the room. He’s singing along to the words, his voice coming out rich and little gravelly. You let out a contented sigh as he lifts your chin with his finger.
John dips his head, kissing you languidly. Your lips yield easily, allowing him to claim your mouth the same way he’s claimed your heart; slowly, then all at once consuming. “Happy Birthday, sweet’eart.” He murmurs, smiling against your own soft grin.
You never stand a chance when it came to him. Can’t help falling in love, indeed.
***
“You’ll let me know when you land, yeah?” John tucks your hair behind your ear as he leans in for a quick kiss. “And have a brilliant time. I’ll be missing every inch of you until you get back.”
“You could come with me, you know.” You adjust the shoulder strap of your duffle bag. “Eric and Charlotte won’t mind. They already said so.”
He shakes his head, folding his arms over his chest. “I’ve a few things to do here, luv. I’ll be alright on my own. Besides,” he lets a wide smirk grow in his face. “It’ll make the coming home even better, won’t it?”
With a nod, you kiss him one more time and grab your suitcase. “I’ll call you when I’m in Boston. See you in two weeks.”
Leaning against the car, John waves you off as you head into the terminal. “See you in two weeks.” He echoes, pulling out his phone. He waits until he’s sure you’re inside, then climbs back into the car and connects the call. “Padre, you’ve got something for me?”
***
John’s exhausted. In the five days that you’ve been in Boston, he thinks he’s slept maybe fifteen hours total. But he’s close. Closer than he’s ever been to hunting down the bastard that dragged Astra to Hell.
His connection in the church was more helpful than he reckoned it would be. Father Callahan led him right to the red eyed bastard he’s exorcising now. It’s stronger than half the wanker’s he’s come up against and it’s putting up a hell of a fight.
As he chants the Rite of Exorcism for the second time, John drops to one knee in frustration. This should be working, the demon should be ash by now. Instead, it growls and shoves John backward.
“You’re not strong enough to destroy me.” It cackles as John struggles to stand. “But we’ve been having fun watching you try.”
“We? Bloody fucking hell,” he swears angrily, wiping blood from his split lip. “You’re going back to the pit. If it’s the last thing I do.”
“That can be arranged, John Constantine.”
John looks up, confused and furious at the new voice entering the conversation. He doesn’t recognize the man suddenly standing in front of him; golden eyes glitter with malice as the newcomer opens the floor and makes the red eyed demon disappear.
“You’ve been searching for me, Constantine.” He says, watching John push himself to his feet and warily take a step backward. “And for the last decade, I’ve watched you slowly stumble through your own self loathing and hatred as you've come to realize that Astra Logue’s death was your own fault.”
He shrugs his shoulders, smiling as John starts to put the pieces together. “If only you’d known more about magic, you could’ve controlled me and saved that poor innocent girl.”
John’s face twists in fury as realization sets in. “You're the bastard that took her to Hell?”
“One and the same.” He bows with a flourish, letting his eyes glow bright gold.
John steps forward, slamming his palms together in order to create a rune. The demon’s deep chuckle makes him freeze. “You could destroy me and hopefully it’ll stick. But Belial tells me you finally have something worth bargaining for.”
“What are you going on about?”
“I know you’ve been attempting to find me. And I’ve come to strike a bargain with you, once and for all.” The demon’s face turns sympathetic and it takes everything in John not to punch him.
“It’s sad really, watching you stumble around in the dark, never really knowing what happened to the poor girl. I’m going to give you a chance to set things right.”
John folds his arms across his chest, suspicion heavy in his voice when he speaks. “Why? Why now?”
“Maybe I’m feeling generous. Maybe you’re taking out too many of my own kind and I’ve been sent to make you stop.” The demon rolls his eyes. “Or maybe, I just want to see how far you’re actually willing to go to save her. Because she's burning, Constantine. Burning in the pits of hell and you can't help her.”
“I’d do anything and you bastards know that.” John hates the way his breath hitches in his chest. He would do anything, and he’s tried. But every time, he comes up short.
“Excellent.” The demon moves over toward the window at the edge of the room. “I'm going to allow you to find a way to get into Hell and retrieve Astra’s soul. You have two years and we will not interfere. I’ll stand down from trying to keep information from you as I have for the last decade.”
That’s always a catch, John knows that. So he can’t stop himself from asking the thought that pops into his head next. “And if I fail?”
The demon turns to him, a wide grin on his face. “If you fail, no more searching for loopholes, no more trying to set her free. If you fail, it’s done. I keep Astra’s soul and you forfeit the soul of whoever’s closest to your heart. This is a one time only deal. How much does saving that little girl mean to you?”
John’s mind scrambles. He can’t make this deal, there’s too many variables. And the person closest to his heart? Is that you? Does this bastard even know about you? He isn’t sure and he certainly doesn’t want to ask.
But the demon’s offering to stand down. Which just proves what John’s known for years. They've been trying to stop him from setting Astra free.
“Going once.” The demon taunts, ticking off numbers on his fingers. “Going twice…”
He has no time to process. But John’s sure he can do this now. Especially since demons won’t be getting in his way. He can finally right what he cocked up all those years ago; set Astra free and relieve himself from the aching guilt in his chest. You never have to know.
Looking up, John reluctantly holds out his hand. “Fine.” He growls, as the demon wraps his fingers around John’s. “Yes.”
The air in the room shifts. For a moment, a magic stronger than John’s flows through him, binding him to the contract he’s made. He pulls his hand away, cradling it to his chest when the strength of the magic shocks him.
He suppresses a shudder and with one last glance, John spins on his heel. He needs a bloody drink, or seven. For the rest of today, he doesn’t want to think about what he’s just done.
“Oh, now that you've agreed,” the demon calls from behind him. “There is just one more thing. One tiny little detail I forgot to mention. You must do this alone, Constantine. Your little protégé cannot assist you. Her life depends on that.”
Fucking hell. He should’ve known better. He should’ve haggled over the terms of the deal. He should’ve just walked away.
John swallows against the lump in his throat, feeling something close to fear take root in his heart. He’d fought so bloody hard to keep you away from all this Astra business; now, you’re not even on the continent and he’s still putting you in danger.
“Leave her alone,” he snaps, turning around to glare. “She’s not a part of this.”
“Isn’t she though?” The demon laughs, moving his hands to create an image in the air in front of them. “I think she’s instrumental in this.” At first, John isn’t sure what he’s looking at. But as the shimmering solidifies, he sees you getting knocked backward during an exorcism two months ago.
He remembers that particular excursion with painful clarity. The demon was a tricky bastard; he’d set his sights on you when you hadn’t been prepared for it. So when you went down, John hesitated. It was only a second, but it was enough for the demon to regain the upper hand.
After that moment of indecision, it wasn’t easy, but he destroyed the thing and he ran to you. Helping you to your feet, he’d asked if you were alright. When you’d scolded him for hesitating, he’d run his thumb over your cheek.
The demon speaks John’s words, in time with the memory. “I promised that I’d never let anything happen to you, sweet’eart. I meant it.”
With a snap of his fingers, the image disappears and he stares at John with a smug smile. “So, the great John Constantine is in love. Never thought I'd see the day.”
It is fear now that slides down John’s spine. “I'm not in love,” he lies, hoping his wildly beating heart doesn’t betray him. “She… she means nothing to me.”
“Good.” The demon smirks, seeing through to the truth that John won’t speak aloud. “Then it shouldn't be a problem then, what you need to do to save Astra's soul.”
“What in the bloody hell do you mean by that?” John asks, narrowing his eyes furiously and holding out his hands to throw an energy blast. “What does my girl have to do with it then?”
“Oh, your girl you're not in love with, you mean? She has everything to do with this. Because if you were in love with her, that would spell disaster. I’d ensure you spend your entire two years protecting her. Because we can't lay a hand on you. But her? She’d never be safe.”
Shaking his head, John keeps his hands where they are and steps closer. “You can’t bloody do that.” He argues, fighting to keep the shake from his voice. “You said no interference.”
“And we won’t interfere with you. She’d be fair game.” The demon shrugs, his smile filled with contempt. “But you're not in love with her. You said it yourself, she’s nothing to you. So you have nothing to worry about.”
John opens his mouth, ready to hurl a string of insults, then thinks better of it. The bastard doesn’t know how powerful you are, doesn't know that John has been hiding the way he feels for the better part of three years. What’s two more? He can keep you safe, he’s been doing it this long, hasn’t he?
With a clenched jaw, John only glares and stands his ground.
“And Constantine? If I ever discover that you’re lying, and even better? She feels the same for you? The deal’s off. I keep the little girl’s soul and take pleasure destroying the woman you don’t love. I’ll take her from you, slit her throat in front of you just to prove I can.”
John’s mouth drops open in shock. “You can’t -”
“I can. I can and I will.” Smoke rises from the floor as the demon begins to fade into it. “So I’ll see you soon, Johnny.”
***
John’s left standing in the aftermath of his decision. He doesn’t know what to do. For the first time in his life, he doesn’t already have some sort of plan.
He wants to call you, but he knows how stupid that would be. You’d be furious with him for taking the deal in the first place. He taught you to never agree to anything a demon’s offering.
They’re sneaky, underhanded bastards that always have a hidden agenda. And this one played John like a Goddamn fiddle.
The second the demon offered him a way, he took it. He didn’t think of the consequences. And now? Now, if that demon ever shows his face again and sees John act the way he did that exorcism, not only will it get you killed, but it’ll destroy his chance at freeing Astra’s soul.
“Bollocks.” Leaning down, he grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder. The best he can do right now is go home and drink. Maybe, he tries hard enough, he’ll drink until he doesn’t feel like he’s just made the worst decision of his existence.
***
“Hang on, hang on. You’re telling me that Bobby just handed you that case?” You raise your eyebrows in disbelief. “He’s been talking about wrapping that up for months.”
Charlotte sits back, a wide grin on her face. “Well, it took a bit of convincing, for sure. But I did some research and once I showed Bobby and Tommy both what I’d found on the security footage I convinced the bank manager to give me, they let me take over as first chair. We proved the assistant was embezzling and we settled out of court. Like I promised.”
Eric sighs, resting his chin on his closed fist. “Kid, I know I’ve said this a thousand times, but, thanks. Cause this girl is amazin’ and I’ve never been more in love.”
Charlotte giggles as she rolls her eyes. “I love you too, chere.”
She glances down at your phone when you do. It’s been suspiciously quiet the last few days, especially since John was consistent in texting the first week. But neither of you have chosen to mention it. You’ve been having a good time with your best friends, you don’t want to spoil it by getting anxious over his silence.
“Oh, just call him.” Charlotte slides your phone toward you. “I know you're plumb worried that he’s fallen into the Thames.”
You open your mouth to argue and just sigh. You are worried that something’s happened and you know you won’t be able to enjoy your last few days here until you hear from him. Grabbing your phone, you push yourself up from the dining room table and walk into the kitchen.
Pressing John’s contact, you lean against the counter and wait as the line rings. It’s not even eleven back at home, he can’t be asleep. He almost doesn’t answer; one more ring and you’re sure it would’ve gone to voicemail.
“‘Ello, luv.” He greets, his words a little slurred. “Whotcha doing over there?”
You immediately take him off speakerphone and press the phone to your ear. “John, are you dru-” You cut yourself off with a shake of your head. “How drunk are you? Did something happen?”
“Nope. Just miss you. It’s lonely in this flat without you, innit?”
You want to relax, hear the truth in his words. But there's still something nagging in the back of your mind. “Okay, I was just worried about you. Hadn’t heard from you for a few days.” He’s silent on the line and that just unsettles you even more. “You’re okay, right? Johnny?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, luv.” He clears his throat and leans away from the phone. “Go enjoy your time with your mates. Give them my best, yeah? I’ll see you on Sunday.”
Before you can say anything else, he’s ended the call and you’re left with a pit in your stomach that you haven’t felt in months. You lean against the counter, anxiously chewing on your thumbnail. Something’s wrong, you know it.
When Charlotte comes in, carrying the dinner dishes, she stops immediately when she sees your face. “What’s wrong, sugar?” She asks, setting the pile in the sink.
Shaking your head, you meet her worried eyes and set your phone on the counter. “I… I don’t know. I think a job went bad, but he… he wouldn’t talk about it. He just told me to have a good time with you guys. That he was fine.”
She scrunches her nose. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this but, give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe, a job didn’t go well and he just didn’t want to worry you with it. You aren’t there right now, so there’s nothing you could’ve done.”
You let out an annoyed, heavy sigh. “I hope so. But I can’t help feeling like, I don’t know, something’s happened.”
***
“You didn’t have to come with me, John.” You click off your flashlight and let the tunnel fall into darkness. “I can handle a few measly ghosts on my own. I’ve taken on bigger baddies without you, you know.”
John chuckles to your left. “Oh, I do, luv. But you took two whole weeks off, didn’t you. Needed to make sure you weren’t rusty.”
You roll your eyes. “I’m not rusty. In fact, I could take you down if you want a demonstration of how on top of my craft I am.”
“Stay sharp.” He cautions, instead of rising to your teasing. “The manager said these bloody things have been attacking tourists and workers alike. It wouldn’t do to not pay attention.”
“I am paying attention.” You grumble, closing your eyes to the darkness and reaching out with your magic.
You furrow your brow as his footfalls move closer to you. Since you got home, John’s barely left your side. Even when running to the grocery store, he’s come with you. Each time you've said something about the unnecessary company, he’s just made some excuse to tag along.
When the manager of the London Tombs Experience reached out to you about an uptick in paranormal activity in the tunnels, you’d happily taken the job. You’d worked with him a few times since you moved here. He knew a little of your skills, but mostly he just wanted a good historian.
Your expertise in medieval weaponry came in handy and if you were being honest, it felt good to work with a museum again. You love your work now, it’s dangerous and fulfilling, but sometimes you just want a bit of mundane and boring.
Tonight, John insisted on tagging along, even if you were sure it was just an unruly ghost. When the city had done renovations on the tunnels a few years back, they’d unearthed a mass grave filled with over two thousand sets of remains. One of them must not have been pleased with the foot traffic now wandering through their final resting place.
“What are you sensing, sweet’eart?” John asks, his voice echoing along the stone walls.
“I don’t know, it’s -” The air crackles with something electric and when you open your eyes to try and identify what it is, you’re knocked to the side. Your head hits stone and before you even have time to process what’s happened, you feel yourself slipping under.
***
The pounding in your head is what makes you come to. The first thing you notice is the darkness all around you; disorienting and engulfing. The second is the fact that your hands are chained high above your head.
Blinking rapidly, you shake your head to allow your eyes to adjust to the pitch blackness. You hadn’t realized that a cloth’s been shoved into your mouth until you tried to call out for help.
Now, it’s all you can focus on; the material scratches the back of your throat and even though you’re pushing at it, you can’t force it out of your mouth. You slowly breathe in and out through your nose and will yourself not to panic.
When you feel gentle fingers in your hair, you shudder and try to twist away from it. The hand tightens and even though you can't see it, whatever took you moves directly in front of you. You can feel it.
“You smell delicious." It rasps, licking the side of your face. “To think, Constantine was keeping you all to himself up there. It was rude of him not to share.”
If you could scream, you would. Twisting your fingers above you, you attempt to make flames, but the best you can manage are small sparks.
The creature chuckles, grabbing your chin in the darkness. “What a pity, you’re too weak to get free. But I could taste your power in your blood. I think I’ll savor you for a few days. I rarely get something this sweet down here. Maybe if we’re lucky, I can convince him to release me before I feast on you.”
You squeeze your eyes shut to stop tears from falling. You hate that you’re afraid of this thing, but you don’t know what it is. All you do know is that it clearly despises John and it’s going to use you to get him to do what it wants.
You need to conserve your strength. You don’t know if John’s coming and it’s the only way you’re going to get out of this. As it is, your boots barely touch the ground and standing on your tiptoes to not let your wrists bear your weight is already exhausting.
The creature licks your face again and when a sharp sting lances through you, you realize it’s licking a cut on your cheek. You force out an angry muffled sound and turn your head.
“You’ve got moxie.” It laughs; the sound sliding over your skin and leaving you chilled. “Makes your blood bitter. I like it.” It leans in, close to your face again and inhales deeply. “So struggle. Tire yourself out, because I’m hungry.”
When it moves away, you can hear it slither back into the deep dark. Once you’re sure you’re alone, you work at the chains around your wrists. If you could just form the damn words, you’d have yourself out of this in seconds.
Instead, you’re resigned to tugging at the old metal and praying that John can track you down here. Assuming that you’re even still in the tunnels.
***
You’ve been missing for almost five hours. After the blast settled and John flooded the main tunnel with light, you were nowhere to be found. Your cell phone was either dead or off and each locator spell has been a dead bloody end.
John’s struggling not to panic. You’ve both been in scrapes before and you’ve always walked away. You’re brilliant, capable; there’s no need to think the worst.
But he does. Because all he can think of is the demon’s warning. How John would spend the next two years struggling to keep you safe and he’d run out his own clock.
If this tracker doesn’t work, he’s not sure what he’ll do. He’s been following this light beam for the better part of an hour. John’s not even sure how deep into the Tombs he is at this point.
All he knows is that he needs to find you and get you out of here. Then he’ll deal with the implications of what this means.
The beam of light stops abruptly in front of a small sewer entrance. “Bloody hell.” He growls, crouching low and dropping himself down. His feet splash into about a foot of water and John’s sure he’s under the river.
Following the light down further, John calls your name in as calm a voice as he can manage. After a few moments, he hears scraping and muffled noises from the end of the small tunnel. He takes off running, hoping that it’s you at the end of this and not just what’s left of you.
***
When the door at the other end of the room cracks open, it briefly floods the space with light. You blink and begin to weakly shake your head as John steps into the room. You don’t have the strength to manage anything else and your head drops onto your chest.
You’re too tired to fight, even as you realize the creature that’s taken you is a wraith. You'd thought a ghost was haunting the tunnels. That miscalculation proved deadly.
You know how to fight these things, you just don’t have the strength. It’s been slowly draining your blood, taking its fill of you since it first took you.
“Oh, sweet’eart.” John whispers, glancing up at the chains above your head. “I’m gonna get you out of this, I swear it. You’re gonna be alright.”
The wraith hisses at the light and moves itself behind you, it’s fingers wrapping around your throat. “Come any closer, Constantine,” it warns, forcing your head up with it’s boney finger, “and I’ll rip her open and feast on her blood.”
John holds up his hands as he slowly steps closer. “Let her go, yeah?” He murmurs under his breath and the old, long burnt out torches on the wall, spring to life. “Reckon you and I can come to some sort of agreement without involving the lass.”
He meets your eyes and despite the confidence and bravado you see in his, you can tell he’s afraid. You’re weak, minutes from losing consciousness and if he doesn’t do something quickly, you won’t be awake to see the outcome.
The wraith chuckles near your ear. “I want to leave this godforsaken place and you’re going to break the curse that keeps me here. If you do not, well, I don’t believe I’ll need to describe the pain she’ll be in before she dies.”
“I’ll not be doing any bloody thing of the sort.” Slamming his hands together, John begins chanting. You can’t speak with the gag shoved in your mouth, but the terrified whimper that comes out of you when the wraith squeezes his fingers, makes John freeze.
“Let her go.” John growls, panic lacing his tone. “Now.”
“What’s her life worth to you, Constantine?” The wraith licks your cheek and John’s face twists in fury. “I’ll let her live, but you must set me free.”
You can’t tell what he’s thinking, but the look in his eyes worries you. You’d tell him no if you could, to just go through you and destroy the bastard. But the wraith’s hand around your throat is too tight and you’ve already lost so much blood.
***
John watches your eyes flutter and he knows he has only moments to destroy this bastard before it takes you from him permanently. Thinking quickly, he uses magic to slice down his arm and when fresh blood, powerful blood, seeps from the cut, the wraith takes one look at it and releases you.
Consumed by fresh bloodlust, the wraith surges forward. John doesn’t hesitate; his hands move to form the runes he needs to banish the thing and as his eyes glow, he pushes it forward.
The symbol collides with the creature and with a shriek, it turns to ash. John rolls his shoulders back; further pushing up the sleeves of his coat as he walks forward.
Carefully, he pulls the rag from your mouth and lifts your head with his hands. “I’ve got you, sweet’eart.” He murmurs, eyes moving over the cuts and bruises along your face and body. “Johnny’s got you.”
Hooking his arms around you, he glances up and murmurs “liberatio”. The chains circling your wrists come undone and you collapse into his arms.
***
John was afraid when he couldn’t find you.
Now that he has you, safe inside the place you’ve both called home for the last ten months, that fear hasn’t left him. If anything, it’s gotten sharper, more visceral. His mind races in panic, the events of the last week colliding together in a jumbled mess inside his head.
That bloody demon is right, even though he got you out, you’ll never truly be safe. And this had nothing to do with a demonic attack. It was just some nasty wanker with a score to settle and you’d still almost paid the price.
He realizes, as he lays you down on the bed, that you’re always going to be used against him. He’s too wanted a bloke to think that this will never happen again. And he'll give in, do whatever it takes to protect you when you’re in danger.
But now, the stakes are too high. He does love you, but if he allows you to stay in his life, he’ll always choose to keep you safe. The threats won’t stop and John will run out of time. And that's not going to help him save Astra.
Worse than that, if the demon finds out how far John’s willing to go to protect you, he’ll kill you just to stop John in his tracks. And if you died, it would destroy him. He’d’ve failed the woman he loves, just like he’d failed everyone else.
He doesn’t know how he’s going to do it, but as he drags a shaky hand down his stubbled face, John realizes that the only way to truly keep you safe, is to make you leave.
And in order to make you leave, he’d have to make you hate him.
Running his fingers along your cheek, John swallows against the lump in his throat. “I’m so sorry, sweet’eart.” He whispers, sitting beside you on the bed. “I never fancied it coming to this. I never... bloody fucking hell.”
It’s going to crush his heart when he breaks yours, but he doesn’t see any other way to save Astra’s soul and to keep you out of harm's way. He’ll do what has to be done. You’ll hate him, but at least you’ll be alive to do so.
John doesn’t have a choice.
Notes:
Let me tell you guys, having to cut down those tags to just 75? That was not easy lol. There's so much that happens in this!!
Was that birthday sweet or what? And the song was 'Can't Help Falling in Love' by Elvis. But the cover John played is by Boyce Avenue. It's such a pretty version and I found it suited them very well. If wedding bells were ever in the future for these two, this just might be the song ;)
And that was the fateful deal. Hope that filled in a few blanks for y'all and yes, those of you that have already read RM, John isn't completely honest with you about the terms of the deal when he tells you. He gives you an overview to get you to agree. And that WILL get brought up, we promise.
Lots of action and heavy on the angst and feels this chapter. We warned y'all it was coming. Which is why there won't be a snippet of next weeks update.
You know what's coming. And, yes, it's gonna hurt like Hell.
Chapter 48: He was my home.
Summary:
John moves forward with the decision that changes everything. In the aftermath, you don't know where to go from here.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
When you wake up, you feel like you have the mother of all hangovers. Your head’s pounding and there’s the taste of something slightly acidic in your mouth. Scrunching your nose, you gingerly push yourself up in bed and look around.
You’re home. But the last thing you remember was the wraith.
And John coming to your rescue.
Closing your eyes, you clear your throat before you try to speak. It scratches like it’s been rubbed raw with sandpaper.
“J-John?” When his name grates across your lips, you try again. “John? Are… are you home?”
Slowly, you slide out of bed and make your way to the bathroom attached to the bedroom. When you see your reflection in the mirror, you wince. There’s a jagged cut on your cheek, made worse by the wraith’s actions, and your wrists, cheek, and neck are bruised.
John must be furious with you for letting yourself get taken by that thing. Especially after he warned you that you were a little rusty. You hadn’t thought you were and yet, you’d been proven wrong when you woke up chained to the ceiling.
Leaning in, you gently touch the skin around the wound. Your face scrunches up in pain at the tenderness around the slowly healing skin. “God damn it.” You murmur, lowering your hand and resting it on the sink. “Last time I go down there.”
“You’re bloody right about that.” John growls from behind you.
You jump, startled at his sudden presence. “Jesus, Johnny.” Whirling around, your hand flies to your heart. “You scared the shit outta me.”
When he stays silent, you fold your arms carefully across your chest. “I… I should have listened to you. I thought it was a ghost, not a wraith. I… I wasn’t prepared.”
“That much is evident, innit?” He rolls his eyes, making your hackles rise defensively. Stepping into the room, his eyes move over the bruises on your skin. “How are you feeling, then?”
You shrug, staring at the tile floor. “Sore and a little wobbly on my feet.” You lean back, supporting yourself on the edge of the sink. “And it hurts to swallow, but I’ll live. So much for you being the reckless one, huh?”
John doesn’t laugh and when you look up to meet his eyes, they’re slightly hostile. “S’not funny, luv.” He admonishes, shaking his head in disapproval. “You could’ve been killed.”
Your cheeks burn with shame. “I messed up, I know that.” You whisper, struggling not to cry. “I… I’m sorry.”
John presses his lips together as he steps closer to you. He pulls you into his arms and you instantly relax. “Me too.” He says softly. “Let’s get you cleaned up and order some takeaway, yeah?”
Nodding, you sit down on the edge of the tub while John wets a face cloth with warm water. He might be upset with you now, but you know it'll pass. He never stays angry long.
“Thank you for saving me.” You give him a soft smile as he gently touches your cheek. His gaze on you has softened, but when he returns your smile, his doesn’t meet his eyes.
***
The week or so after is hard to explain.
John picks fights with you over the smallest things; the way you make coffee, you leaving the house to meet with the curator of the British Museum. Each time you asked him what his problem was, he’d grumble something indiscernible and roll his eyes.
Now, as you're walking home, you’re animatedly complaining to Charlotte about the situation. You know that until you talk to John, nothing will change. But having a sounding board helps.
“He’s really been like this since the tombs?” She asks, sounding mildly annoyed. “Sugar, that’s been well over a week. Almost two. And what happened wasn’t your fault. You said it, you didn’t know it was a wraith. I mean, how could you know?”
You wrap your jacket tighter around yourself against the late October chill. “I know wraiths, we’ve fought them before. I was so damn sure it was a ghost. I… I guess I got cocky because I thought I knew what it was?”
“Either way, John shouldn’t still be mad at you. He was probably just worried out of his mind.” You can hear dishes clinking in the background. “Maybe try talking to him again? You said you haven’t brought it back up since.”
Climbing up your steps, you stop at the top and murmur under your breath to unlock the door. “I will tonight. I don’t like it when things are weird with us. And they haven’t been since we moved here.”
“Let me know how it goes, okay?”
You promise that you will and slide your phone into the pocket of your dress. Glancing around, you don’t see any sign that John’s even home. “Johnny?” You call out, letting the coat rack take your jacket and scarf. “Sweetheart, you home?”
When you’re met with silence, you shrug and pull your phone back out. You pull up your text conversation with him and ask when he’ll be home so you can make dinner. Late is his immediate reply, making you roll your eyes and head into the kitchen.
“So much for talking it out.” You say to no one in particular, as you open the refrigerator door.
***
By the time John gets back, you’re sound asleep. He’s been a coward this past week, he knows that. He’s tried to pick fights, piss you off enough that you’ll want space from him to make this easier. But each time, you’ve let him win and brushed off his attitude.
He’s got one last card to play before he sticks to his original plan. That one is too painful, too cruel. But he’s also afraid it’s the most effective. So he can only hope this works, because it’s a long shot at best.
Creeping into your shared room, John tucks the plane ticket into his coat pocket and watches your chest rise and fall softly. Emotion overtakes him for a moment; he’s going to miss waking up next to you, miss the way your nose crinkles when he says something he thinks is funny, and miss how easily you made him believe he could be loved.
Sitting beside you, he places a hand on the side of your head and takes a deep breath. Taking away your memory of him may not work, your magic may be too strong to allow John’s spell into your mind. But he’s going to try.
Soft gold light glows from his hands and surrounds your head. He twists his fingers of his free hand, letting a rune move forward and settle on your forehead.
“Obliviscor.” He says softly. “You have no memory of me, no memory of our life together. Convincing your mates that I never existed will be easy. You hit your head, I’m just a kind stranger that took you in while you’re here on holiday. Tomorrow, you’ll get on a plane and go home without another thought of John Constantine."
With a satisfied nod, he leans back, gently touching your cheek to rouse you from sleep. “Factum est.”
Frowning, you push yourself up in bed and fumble around for the side lamp. “Johnny, what… what time is it?” Your voice is thick with sleep, giving your words a soft rasp. “Did you eat? I put yours in the fridge.”
It didn’t bloody work. He truly has no choice now.
Staring at your sweet face, his voice is too tight with emotion to properly answer you. Instead, he leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. He smiles when you squeak in surprise; He’s been dodgy for days, clearly you weren’t expecting this.
But if tonight is to be the last night John gets to hold you, then he’s going to make the most of it. He knows it’s selfish, but at his core, he’s always been that way. You’d just softened him a touch.
Pulling away, you frown at him and rest your palm against his stubbled cheek. When you open your mouth to ask what’s gotten into him, he silences you with another kiss.
“No questions, luv.” He orders, threading his fingers into your hair. “Just do as you're told, yeah?” He watches your eyes darken and he smiles. “Lay back, hands above your head.”
***
You know this is his way of apologizing. You would've rather talked, but at least now you know he'll be open to the conversation.
Rolling your eyes, you scoot down, but obediently lift your hands and slot them through the metal of the headboard. John straddles your waist and leans down to kiss your jaw.
When he rises, he murmurs something under his breath and you’re unable to pull your hands back through.
You squirm a little when you look up at him; there’s a darkness in his gaze you’re not used to seeing. It’s hungry and desperate, making your stomach flip uncomfortably for a moment. It’s only when his mouth twists into the soft grin you love, do you relax.
You watch with hooded eyes as he shoves up your t-shirt and roughly grips your breasts. “Mine.” He growls, running his fingers down your skin.
John leans down, maintaining eye contact as he pulls one of your nipples into his mouth. His tongue traces circles around your hardening bud, making you gasp and arch your back. A hand on your stomach pushes you back down onto the bed as he turns his attention to your other nipple.
He teases you for a few minutes, enjoying the way you moan and writhe underneath him. “Be a good girl for Johnny.” He warns softly and you still, knowing that’s the only way you'll get what you want.
The hand on your stomach moves to his dress pants; he unzips himself and scoots backward. You let out a soft whine, wanting to feel him inside you. He easily moves your panties to the side and settles himself between your legs. You know you’re soaked; with John, it doesn’t take much.
With a quick thrust, he sinks himself into your warmth. You let out a soft whimper as you adjust to the fullness of his cock inside you. He groans, starting up a steady pace. If you could move your hands, you’d dig your nails into his back to pull him closer.
Instead, you wrap a leg around him, urging him in deeper. He smirks in response, pulling out then burying himself to the hilt back into you with a quick snap of his hips.
One of his hands slides up to collar your throat, pressing you down into the mattress as his other begins to rub your clit. You gasp as his fingers tighten, slowly cutting off your air. There’s no slow build; his pace growing more frantic with each thrust inside you.
He strokes his thumb across your clit with increasing pressure, teasing you until you feel your orgasm starting to build. “Pl...ease, Johnny.” You gasp, arching your hips upward. You’re so close, you just need… “Please.”
He locks eyes with you, ordering you to cum with a low growl. The tension in your body coils and snaps, crashing over you as your vision tunnels for a moment. Your breath comes out in shaky gasps as his hips keep up their steady pace.
John groans, collapsing onto you as he pulses inside your walls. His hand releases your throat and cups your cheek. “That’s my girl.”
As you both catch your breath, he murmurs another spell to release your hands. You wrap your hand around his tie and pull him down so you can kiss him. “Hi.” You say softly, content and more than a little tired. “That was…”
“I know.” He answers, a smug smile on his face. He eases himself out of you and slides off the bed to get a towel.
Once he’s cleaned you up, he slides back into bed and props himself up on one elbow. “Listen, luv.” He tucks your hair behind your ear. “There’s two jobs coming up, big ones. One here and one outside of Boston. Reckon you’re strong enough that you could take on that exorcism, while I tackle the one here, yeah?”
You nod, pushing yourself up into a sitting position. If he’s asking you to take on a big job, and he knows you can do it alone, then maybe you’ve just been imagining things.
“Yeah, I… I can do that. I’ll let Charlotte know I’m coming. I’ll stay with them?”
“Sounds good.” He agrees, giving you a small smile. “Pack a bag in the morning, for a week at least, and you’ll leave tomorrow night, then.”
Reaching for your phone, you slide it open. “Okay, I’ll, uh, shoot her a text now and let her know.”
As you text your best friend, you don’t see the way John watches you; sadness and guilt warring on his face. Charlotte immediately replies, telling you that she and Eric would be excited to have you. The next text follows your previous line of thinking, maybe you were just imagining that something was wrong.
Setting your phone down with a smile, you turn back to John and kiss him again. “They're good.” Resting your head on his chest as you get comfortable, he watches as your eyes start to close. “Thanks for letting me tackle this one alone. After the tombs, I know you were nervous.”
“Don’t mention it.” John murmurs, running his fingers through your hair. You’re too sleepy to fully hear what he says next, but it sounds a little like ‘I’m sorry.’
***
In the beginning, you thought that if you were to ever break up with John, it would be a blinding and explosive thing; a visual reflection of the intense relationship you shared with him. It would hurt, but it would pass. And like an injury, things would get better with a little bit of time.
But now, after three years together, you’re certain that the relationship you have with John is solid; it's steady, an unyielding connection that refuses to be broken. Time and again it’s been tested, but you’ve always come out stronger, with your hand firmly clasped in his and no worry that you’ve reached the end.
You trust him implicitly, know that he’d never do anything to hurt you.
So you’re blindsided when John leaves you behind at the airport, heartbreak and devastation crumbling your resolve, after he’s told you he doesn’t want you anymore. That he doesn’t love you.
Because of all the things you know he’s capable of, you never expected this.
***
When you get out of the car at the airport, John walks around and kisses you; his hands are warm and clammy on your face. You want to complain, but it’s been so weird between you lately and you’re afraid that you’ll ruin the mood if you tell him to move his hands.
On his lips, you taste regret and something like guilt, but you don’t understand why. When his hands do move, they slide to your waist and grip tightly. It’s a desperate thing, the way he holds you; like he knows he’ll never have the chance to do it again.
The anguish and fervor in his actions only makes sense to him. But John knows he’s saying goodbye to keep you safe. You'll hate him when he’s done, but you'll be out of harm's way. He’ll deal with his own grief, later.
When you reluctantly pull away, John presses the plane ticket into your hand. You stare down at it, confusion and dread swirling around in a jumbled mess in your head when you realize it’s one-way. Your mind struggles to focus, to connect the dots you should have been able to see if you’d only been paying attention.
“Why… John, why isn’t this round trip?” You ask, your fingers shifting to tightly clutch your shoulder bag. “There isn’t some big job in Boston is there?”
“No. You’re going home and you’re bloody well staying there.” He orders softly, taking a step back from you. “Get on the plane and don't look back. You’re becoming a liability and while this has been fun, I’m tired of having to rescue you every time we get into a mess.”
Your breath hitches in your chest. “You.. you don’t mean that. I… I am home.” He doesn’t say anything further, just grabs your suitcase from the trunk and sets it down on the curb. “John, talk to me. What’s going on?”
“You don’t belong here.” At that, your face crumbles. The tears that start to fall onto your cheeks, mirror the walls shattering inside your heart. John sighs and shakes his head before casually lighting a cigarette. “I don’t fancy seeing you again. Do you understand me?”
You want to argue, but you have no strength to fight him. You only nod, the anguish on your face a stark contrast to the eerie calm on his.
With eyes as hard as steel, John viciously slices through the carefully woven threads connecting your life to his with words you've always been afraid he'd eventually say.
“I don’t love you.” He folds his arms across his chest, cutting himself off from you. “Don’t reckon I ever did and I’m done pretending. That’s why I couldn’t say it.”
You don’t have the will to push back, scream at him, or slam your fists on his chest. You’re drowning in the icy feeling of abandonment that’s closing off your lungs with each shuddering breath you force out.
"Johnny, please. You’re… you’re lying. D-don’t do this.” Your voice comes out in a broken whisper. “Whatever’s ha-happening, I.. I can help. Don’t d-do this to us.”
You feel your heart breaking as the words crawl across your tongue, tasting bitter and sharp like copper. The ground in front of you spins as something sour and twisted in your stomach threatens to knock your legs out from under you.
John ignores your pleading, and when he speaks, you know his cold and uncaring words will haunt your dreams for months. “There is no us.” He hisses, refusing to meet your eyes. “Forget you ever bloody knew me.”
The sob that slips out of you as he turns on his heel is your only acknowledgement of what’s happening. Your knees wobble and you slide down to the ground, your entire world crumbling around you as he seems entirely unaffected by what he’s done.
“I… I can’t, John…” Your tears distort everything in your line of sight, reducing his trench coat to a hazy blur as he moves. “Please … I… I love you.”
You’re certain you’ll never heal from this. You want to curl into a ball and wither away, it would be less painful than how you feel right now.
John spares you a final glance, the dark amber of his eyes never once softening. And as he walks away, his footsteps are the only sound you can focus on; they echo in the deafening silence you recognize as heartbreak.
***
You don’t even realize you’re still kneeling on the curb until you feel a hand on your shoulder. You glance up to meet the kind eyes of an elderly airport employee. “You alright, miss? Don’t reckon I know when your flight is, but if you stay there, you’ll miss it.”
Hold out the crumpled ticket, you let her take it from you. “You’ve got an hour and a half until you board.” She crouches down, her soft blue eyes full of concern. “Are you alright, love? You look like you’ve had a fright.”
You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Tears well in your eyes as your lip trembles violently. “N-no.” You sniffle softly. “I… I have to go home.” She looks at the ticket and asks if home is Boston. You look up and shake your head. “It.. it was. But… but so was he.”
She helps you to your feet. “Who was?” She asks, slowly walking with you toward the doors. “Who’s he, then?”
With a trembling breath, you turn to her and force yourself to smile. You don’t want to bare your heart to this woman, no matter how kind she’s been. What you want is to call John, beg him to come back.
“No one.” You take your bag from her. “Th- thank you for your help. But I’ll… I’ll be okay.”
She nods slowly. “Your terminal’s to the left. But should you need someone to talk to…”
You thank her and move your stiff legs down the long stretch of hallway. Your mind races as you walk. He doesn’t love you. According to him, he never did. You can’t make yourself believe it. Three years together can’t just be a lie.
With shaking fingers you pull your phone out of your bag and press his contact info. The line rings four times before going to voicemail. You frown and try again. This time it rings once before you’re sent to voicemail.
When the line beeps, you grip the phone tight to your ear. “J-John, I don’t know what’s going on. But I know you didn’t mean this. I know you love me. Please… please, just talk to me, because whatever’s wrong? I… I can help. Please.”
You end the call and lean against the wall, staring at your phone. It lights up and as soon as you see his name, you answer.
“Listen to me.” John snaps, before you can even greet him. “Get this through your bloody head. I don’t love you and pretending I did, just so I could use your gifts, was exhausting. We’re over, done. Your feelings for me are a bloody lie. And I... I don’t want you.”
Fresh tears burn your eyes. “I thought I made you happy, that… that I was enough for you.” When he tells you that you weren’t, anger bubbles up inside your chest. “I hate you.” You whisper, furiously. “I wish I’d... I'd never met you.”
“Likewise.” John says, his voice devoid of all emotion, and before you can say anything else, he ends the call.
Your phone clatters to the ground as your hands cover your face to hide your tears. You know you’re sobbing in a public airport; people around must be wondering what’s wrong with you, but you don’t care.
The life you carefully built for yourself, with the man you loved, is over. He doesn’t want you, so the only thing you can do now is…
You don’t actually know. John’s world, whatever it was you had with him, is gone. You’re in so much pain that it hurts to breathe.
You need your best friend; you wish she were here in front of you right now. She’d hug you and tell you everything’s going to be alright. Because it certainly doesn’t feel that way.
When you press her contact, hoping she’ll answer, she picks up on the first ring. “Hi! You on the plane yet?” She asks, her excitement flooding the line.
“Charlotte....” Your lip wobbles as you wipe your eyes. “I… I…”
Instantly, her voice changes, taking on a more panicked edge. “What’s wrong, sugar? Are you alright? Is John?”
You shake your head, letting another sob rip through you. “No. Charlotte, he…” Your breath comes out fast and uneven as the airport spins around you. You wonder if you’re having a panic attack. “John left me. He… told me to go, that… that he didn’t l-love me.”
“He what?” She asks, moving the speaker closer to her ear. “John broke up with you? Why? How... how, honey? What happened?”
“I don’t know.” You sniffle and slide down to the floor. “He’s been weird, I told you he was acting weird. And wh-when he told me about the job in Boston I didn’t question it because… because I... I thought that whatever was wrong, was fine and… and I was imagining things.”
She huffs softly. “You didn’t know what was in his head, but you knew something was off.” She’s silent for a moment. “He told you he didn’t love you?”
You nod and replay both conversations for her; every cruel and vicious thing he said to you and the way you begged him not to leave. By the time you’re done, Charlotte’s furious. “Fils de pute.”* She grinds out. “I’m gonna fly over there and fucking kill him.”
“Charli… wh-what am I supposed to do?” Sniffling again, you wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your coat. “Th… three years. I don’t know… I can’t… how do I do this?”
“You’re gonna pick yourself up and get on that plane, sugar and you’re gonna come home. To Eric and I.” Her own breath hitches now and you can hear how hard she’s struggling to control her anger. “You’re not gonna think about him, or what he’s done. And you’re not gonna be alone, you hear? Once you’re home, you can fall apart if you need to.”
Slowly, you push yourself to your feet. “O-okay.” You whisper, glancing around the airport. “You... You’ll be there when I land?”
“You bet, sugar.” She promises softly. “Both of us, okay? Just get on the plane, everything will be alright. I love you. So much.”
Once you tell her you love her too, you end the call and slide your phone into your pocket. One step at a time; just get yourself on the plane and you’ll be okay. Her words echo through your head and you repeat them like a mantra. If only you believed them.
***
John’s halfway through a bottle of whiskey when his phone lights up again. He doesn’t have it in him to be as vicious as he was if it’s you calling again. It hurt him enough to see your face crumble and know that he’s the one who caused it.
You believed him so easily. Believed that he didn’t love you, that he hadn’t been changed forever because of your presence in his life. That alone is enough to break his heart; make him wonder if it’s truly worth it.
He stares at Charlotte’s name, knowing why she’s calling. As he takes another swig, he decides not to answer it. He wants to put this ordeal behind him, drink himself into a bloody stupor, and he can’t do that if he’s dealing with Charlotte’s anger on top of his own misery.
A text lights up the screen. When he reads it, he can hear her fury through the sentence. ‘I’ll keep calling and I swear to all that is holy you’ll listen to me. Answer the damn phone, John.’
When she calls again, he sighs and allows it through. “Listen, Lottie -”
“I warned you.” Charlotte hisses, before he can get another word in. “I warned her about you. You fucking promised, John. I actually thought you’d changed, that I could trust you. That she could. How could you do that to her? Break her heart like that?”
John sighs and sets the phone on the kitchen table. Pressing the speakerphone button, he reaches for the bottle so he can finish it off. “Looks like you were right all along about ol’ Johnny then. I’m a nasty piece of work, I destroy every bloody thing I touch, don’t I?”
“Don’t give me that martyr bullshit. You didn't have to let this go on as long as it did. You didn't have to move her across the country, only to send her packing with nothing but a suitcase and a broken heart. As soon as I know she’s okay, I'm going to get her things and if you try to stop me, I swear -”
It’s John’s turn to cut her off. “I've already got them packed, they're on their way.” He finishes the bottle and slams it down on the table. “No need for you or that boyfriend of yours to come across the pond.”
The noise Charlotte makes is a cross between a laugh and a furious sounding gasp. “All of this, it takes time. How long were you planning this, John?”
When he doesn’t respond, she scoffs and presses on. “Because she knew. She knew something was wrong with you when she got back after her birthday. She just couldn’t figure out what.”
John stays silent. There’s nothing he can say. Of course you knew something had happened; you’re too bloody smart for your own good. That’s how he knows you’d’ve gotten yourself killed if he kept you by his side.
“What do you want me to say?” He asks finally, standing up to search for a fresh bottle. “I’m done, Lottie. This was too much for me, I’m not built for relationships. She knew that and she bloody well fell anyway.”
“You’re an asshole. So if you’re done with her, fine.” Her voice is frustrated, but barely above a whisper. “Be done. But you stay gone. Don’t you dare come back. Because you’ve broken her and once we put her back together, I don’t ever want to hear your name or see your face again. We clear?”
He takes a shaky breath, staring at a fixed point on the wall. “Crystal.”
Charlotte ends the call without another word and John can’t help it, he throws his cell across the kitchen, feeling a small sense of satisfaction when it shatters against the wall.
Scrubbing a hand down his face, he closes his eyes and lets a few angry tears fall. He deserves to be alone, alone and miserable for what he’s done.
He didn’t have a choice, he knows that. John just wishes it didn’t hurt as bad as it does. Because it’s not just your heart that feels like it’s been shattered. And the only person that could fix his, is you.
But that can’t happen. Not if he has any hope of keeping you alive.
***
When you step off the plane in Boston, you feel completely numb. You’d long since cried yourself out before falling into a fitful sleep during the flight. Now, your fingers grip tightly to your bag as you walk up the ramp; you still feel exhausted, but at least you don’t think you have any tears left in you.
You’re proven wrong once you get past baggage claim. Your vision blurs with frustrated and overwhelmed tears when you see Eric and Charlotte standing near the exit. Charlotte looks like home; familiar and comforting in an oversized cable knit sweater. Her face is set into a furious frown, like seeing the anguish on your own confirms what’s happened to you.
Eric’s still in a suit, undoubtedly having just come off shift. When he sees you, he keeps a wide smile on his face, even when he sees yours crumble. “C’mere, fella.” He holds out his arms and you lean against his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.
“It’s alright.” He murmurs, resting his chin on your head. “I’m so sorry, but ya home now. You’re gonna be okay.”
Charlotte rubs her hand on your back as you sob quietly. “I know it hurts, sugar. And we’re not gonna tell you it doesn’t. I’m never gonna tell you that this isn’t completely awful. But let's get some food in you, then get you set up at the house.”
“I’m not hungry.” You mumble against Eric’s chest. “Honestly, I’m just... tired.” You lean back, watching Eric’s face soften even more when he sees your red rimmed eyes and wet cheeks. “Can… can we just… just go home?”
Eric frowns and opens his mouth to protest. Charlotte shakes her head, resting her hand on his arm. “Of course we can, honey.” She glances at Eric with a smile. “Would you get the car, chere? Once we’re home, we can order take-out from wherever you want.”
He nods, kisses her cheek and pulls away from you. “I really am sorry, fella.” He cups your face as he reaches down for your suitcase. “I’m sorry ya hurtin’ like this. You don’t deserve it.”
“Eric’s right, you don’t.” Charlotte agrees, wrapping her arms around you. “John is an absolute connard for doing this to you.” When you flinch at his name, she leans back and looks up. “I’m sorry, sugar. No more talk of him tonight. I promise.”
“Okay.”
It’s not until you see the Explorer parked in the arrivals lane, do you realize that even when you eventually go home, there’s nothing there. The rest of your things are still in London. With him.
When you grab Charlotte’s arm and tell her that, she smiles sadly. “It’s already taken care of. Don’t you worry about it, okay?” Climbing into the backseat, you nod and wipe the fresh tears that fall onto your cheeks.
The car ride is filled with small talk between the two in the front seat. With your head pressed against the glass window, you watch the buildings pass in a blur. You can’t bring yourself to add anything to the conversation but the occasional whimper or sob.
When the Explorer stops, you climb out and silently grab your bag. Eric carries your suitcase up the stairs and into the house. Everything looks the same as it did a little under a month ago. The decor’s the same. Even Charlotte and Eric, the steadfast and loyal people in your life, are the same.
It’s you that’s different. You’re the one who’s been torn apart and hastily put back together. And you know you’ll never quite be whole, ever again.
“Charlotte’s got ya room set up.” Eric explains, resting his hand on your shoulder to pull you out of your spiraling thoughts. “I’ll bring up your stuff in a sec, okay? Why don’t ya go get settled in?”
“O-okay.” You sniffle and climb the stairs before either of them can try to convince you to stay downstairs. All you want is to go to sleep and not think about any of this. Especially him.
***
You aren’t sure how long you let yourself sleep, but when your phone lights up in the darkness, you roll over and answer it without thinking. “John?” You rub your eyes anxiously and push yourself up.
“No, sunshine.” Chas says quietly as you flip on the lamp and put him on speakerphone. “It’s me. I’m so sorry, kiddo. I just talked to him, needed to call and check on you.”
Closing your eyes, you lay back against the pillows. “Did he sugar coat it for you, or did he tell you how fucking brutal he was?”
He lets out a frustrated sigh. “He… he didn’t tell me much. Just that he didn’t want to be with you anymore.” You’re both silent for a moment, until he sighs again. “Sunshine, you gotta know you did nothing wrong. He’s an idiot for leaving you. John can’t handle anything that’s good for him.”
“Yeah, well, he made it very clear that I’m not good enough for him.” You sniffle, hating that you still have more tears in you. “I… I don’t wanna make things awkward for you, Chas. I know he’s your closest friend. So, if this is a goodbye for you, I get it.”
His dry laugh crackles through the speakerphone. “Christ, you really were too good for him. No, I’m not gonna just cut and run. Charli would have my head. And I’ve grown pretty attached to you.” He clears the emotion from his throat. “You’ll see me, we’ll keep in touch. Especially as your power gets stronger.”
You hadn’t even thought about that. John may be gone from your life, but your magic, the thing that pushed you together in the first place, isn’t. It’s an intrinsic part of you and refusing to use it would be like refusing to use one of your hands.
You wipe your eyes and draw your knees up to your chest. “Thank you. I… I don’t know what went wrong, because I know you said it wasn’t me. But something happened and I… I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this without him.”
“It doesn’t excuse it, and you shouldn’t, but I think maybe he got scared. You were the best thing that’s ever happened to him and I think he was afraid of what that meant.”
“It could explain it, but he’d assured me time and again that he wasn’t going anywhere.” Charlotte interrupts from the doorway. “So you’re right, Chas. It sure as shit doesn’t excuse it.”
To the surprise on your face, she shrugs and shuts the door behind her. “Eric and I were talking in bed and heard y’all on the phone. Wanted to make sure you were alright.”
You scoot yourself over so she can climb in next to you. “Our girl’s strong.” Chas assures her after he’s said hello. “And she’s not alone. I’m glad she has you and Eric. You’ll get through this, sunshine. I promise.”
“Of course she will.” Charlotte agrees. “She’ll be just fine without him.” You smile in her direction, but don’t say anything.
The three of you make small talk for a few more minutes until you stretch and yawn. Charlotte laughs and takes the phone from your lap. “We’ll still see you before Thanksgiving, right?” She asks, much to your confusion.
“Of course you will.” He promises. “It was gonna be a surprise for you and John, sunshine. But I figure you could use a lift in your spirits now, huh? So in just about a month or so, you’ll see me.”
You want to laugh, but the best you can muster is a wry smile. “Okay. Thank you for checking in on me.”
You say your goodbyes and end the call, tossing your phone at the end of the bed. “I didn’t wake you?” You ask Charlotte. “I.. I didn’t mean to be loud. The last thing I want is to be a nuisance to the two of you. I just… I don’t have anywhere to go right now. He was my home.”
“Oh, hush.” She takes your hand. “You’re home. This is home, as long as you want it to be. And once your things get here, your daddy and I will make sure the sublet on your place ends early. If that’s what you want.”
You wipe your eyes with the heel of your hand. “I… I don't know if that’s what I want. I lived there with him for almost two years. Everything’s gonna remind me of him.”
“You remember right after I broke up with Hugh? How you and daddy made me burn everything that reminded me of him?” When you nod, she gives you a soft smile. “We can do that, if you think it’ll help. We won’t commit arson, but we’ll block his number, hide all the photos. Whatever it takes.”
Your face twists into something of a scowl. “Sure, I can burn all our things, block his number. Hell, I can hide his pictures in a hidden album all I want. But the thing that reminds me of John the most is something I can't get rid of.”
You lift your hand, murmuring ‘incendia’ to create fire in your palm. The warm glow illuminates Charlotte’s face when you look up at her.
“Magic is a part of me now and he taught me how to use it. Taught me that it even existed. So, I'll never be able to fully wipe the slate clean. I'll never... be alright, I'll never…” You extinguish the flame and cover your face with your hands, not wanting her to see you cry again.
Charlotte tugs a hand down and squeezes it. “And I'm so sorry for that, but sugar, the magic he taught you has helped so many people. You've saved lives. Mine, Eric’s, countless others. So, don't you think of it as a bad thing. Not when you’ve done so much good with it.”
“You think so?” Your other hand falls to your lap as you stare at her. “Because I don't want to stop doing magic. I know that what I'm doing helps people. It's just gonna hurt so damn much and I.. I don't know if I can handle that.”
Leaning over, she wipes your tears away with her thumb. “It's gonna hurt for a long while because you truly loved him. I don't think anyone has loved him the way you did. Trust me, honeybees used to make me cry, but eventually it didn't hurt so much to see them. It just takes time.”
She shakes her head, smoothing out the blankets with her free hand. “This is fresh, it hasn't even been a full day. Your whole life has been uprooted and changed. Honey, you need time to process that.”
“I know… just…” You let out a heavy sigh and lean back. “Charlotte, I'm so angry at him. It hurts to breathe. After so long of him being afraid that I'd run, he was the one to do it. And so casually, like I meant nothing to him at all. I wish I could just magic it all the way. I wish I could just stop feeling.”
She folds her arms across her chest. “You should be angry. What he did was plumb awful. He clearly has some lingering issues that he still hasn't dealt with and that's not on you to fix. All you need to do is to fix yourself and we're here for you, sugar.”
“I told him I didn’t want to fix him, like he didn’t need to fix me. And he didn't ask me to, we just kind of patched each other up and made each other happy. At least I thought we did.” Your breath comes out shuddery as your lip trembles. “I… I just… I feel like my heart’s been ripped out of my chest.”
She leans herself so she can rest her head on your shoulder. “I know it does. But I promise you, it gets better. It's just going to hurt like hell for a while.”
“I don’t see how.” When you blink, more tears fall. Will they ever stop? “I mean, I don’t even wanna exist right now.”
She tilts her head up and shrugs. “So don’t. Sleep, cry it out, scream if you have to. I did the same thing, and after a few weeks of that, I recall a certain best friend of mine coming to New Orleans to kick my butt out of the funk it was in.”
She takes your hand again. “We’ll be here when you’re ready for whatever’s next. Okay?”
Sliding down under the blankets, you nod slowly. “I love you, Char.”
Switching off the light beside the bed, she blows you a kiss. “Love you too, sugar.”
***
You stay in bed for almost two weeks; barely eating, barely drinking, barely functioning. Charlotte and Eric both try to get you to come downstairs, but the best you can muster is the occasional shower across the hall. And even that is exhausting.
Charlotte doesn’t push you, she understands this kind of pain better than anyone else. She just leaves food and holds your hand when you can't muster up the strength to do anything else but cry.
Everything hurts.
Your eyes are puffy and swollen from crying, your limbs feel too heavy and useless. It even hurts to breathe. Every inhale feels like daggers in your chest. And every shuddering breath makes you feel like you can’t get enough air into your lungs.
But it’s nothing compared to the pain in your heart, because you feel like you’ve lost something you can never have back. The pain from it is too great to fight or even comprehend. So you don’t try. Instead, you just let yourself drown in it.
He’s in every dream you have, every memory. You can’t push him from your thoughts and with that realization, comes the wondering. You wonder what you did wrong. What made him decide that he didn’t want you anymore, didn’t love you like you thought he did?
Why weren’t you enough?
It feels a little like the world’s stopped. Or yours has, at least. Because you don’t know where to go from here.
John left. He left like you were never a good enough reason to stay and you don’t know how to move forward without the person you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with.
You want to hate him. You told him you did that day in the airport. But it feels more like you still love him, only with the shattered pieces of your broken heart. Because you didn’t know you could feel so much pain, and still care so deeply for the person who caused it.
What you had wasn’t love at first sight, not by a long shot. But whatever it was, was enough for you to want it forever. And now that it’s gone, now that he’s gone, you know you’ll never love anyone else the way you loved John Constantine.
No matter how much time passes.
Notes:
It was brutal, and once it was written, I cried. We've known this was coming for 47 chapters. But to get here? To watch every choice, every decision and know that John was still going to make this mistake? It hurt.
We wanted the pain you feel to be a visceral, sharp thing. And while we didn't want to break your hearts, we hope that we did the moment justice. Cause we've all been waiting for it. And we'd like to think that it was somehow more awful than anything you could've imagined.
*Son of a bitch
Next week: Even after a few months, you're finding it impossible to move on with your life. After Charlotte gets hurt in court, Eric suggests getting away from it all. And you don't disagree. You need the escape.
Chapter 49: You're not alone.
Summary:
Even after a few months, you're finding it impossible to move on with your life. After Charlotte gets hurt in court, Eric suggests getting away from it all. And you don't disagree. You need the escape.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Days turn into weeks. Weeks, into months.
You miss Thanksgiving; the holiday passes by in too much of a blur for you to focus or really care about it. Before you know it, it’s Christmas, then New Year’s and you find you can barely focus on them either.
About three months have passed since he left you, and you feel no less empty than you did that day in the airport.
True to her word, Charlotte and your dad worked together to move the tenants out of your town house a month early of their lease end. Your things were brought over and dropped off; ready for you to go in and unpack whenever you wanted. You just haven’t been able to make yourself go until today.
You promised Eric and Charlotte you’d make the attempt. You know they’d never kick you out of their guest room, but you feel bad for monopolizing their space for so long when you have a place of your own. You’re going to go, unpack your kitchen a little bit, then meet Eric at the courthouse to take Charlotte to lunch.
There’s just too many memories there that you’re not sure how to process and if you’re being honest with yourself, you’re afraid that you’ll break down and cry once you walk through the door. Something small makes you cry almost daily; a song on the radio, an offhand comment made by Eric or your dad, even a dress you wore while out with him.
You wonder if it’ll ever get better.
Charlotte swears time is the best healer, but you hope to God that’s not true. You don’t know how much longer you can handle feeling this way; like a hole’s been punched in your chest where your heart used to be.
As you climb up the few steps, the mid January wind slices through the air, making you pull your coat tighter around your body. It’s a blustery, gray morning; fitting for the mood you find yourself in as you take a deep breath and unlock your door for the first time since you’ve had it again.
Charlotte has an excellent memory; aside from the boxes, your bigger furniture is exactly how you had it before you left. The space looks the same, although emptier somehow, and you refuse to admit that it’s the lack of his presence causing the shift.
As you turn to lock the door behind you, you close your eyes and press your forehead against the door. “You can do this.” You whisper softly. “Just put on some music and unpack twelve boxes. That's all.”
Pulling off your coat and gloves, you dig your speaker out of your bag and get to work. You manage to keep your mind focused on the music as you unwrap the countless dishes and mugs you’ve accumulated over the years. You’re doing fine until an eighties hair ballad comes through the speakers.
You glance up, looking for your phone to immediately change it. You’d never given the song much thought until you came down the stairs one morning, to find John singing along to it as he made breakfast.
You can’t listen to it, you’d been doing so well at avoiding anything that reminded you of him. And here it is, flaunting itself and the memory that came with it, in your face.
You could hear John singing over the music from the bedroom. You’d still wanted to be angry with him for thinking you couldn’t handle the job alone. If the argument you’d had the night before was any indication, you still were.
But, as you both knew, you wouldn’t stay mad forever. And if he was singing, he was cooking; no doubt trying to win you over with breakfast.
Grabbing his shirt from the bed, you’d slipped it on, did up a few buttons, and quietly tiptoed down the stairs. You’d stopped on the bottom step and leaned against the wall, watching him.
“Let 'em say we're crazy, I don't care about that.” He effortlessly flips the pancakes, before checking on the bacon in the oven. “Put your hand in my hand baby, don't ever look back. Let the world around us just fall apart. Baby, we can make it, if we're heart to heart.”
You knew the song; it was cheesy, but when John sang it, you could hear the truth in the words. Without realizing it, you’d started singing along with it too. “And we can build this dream together. Standing strong forever. Nothing's gonna stop us now -”
You’d cut yourself off when John turned, his grin wolfish and wide. Without missing a line, he’d taken the pan off the stove and stepped over to you. Taking your hand, he’d spun you around the kitchen, making you both giggle as you kept singing.
By the time the song was done, you weren’t angry anymore and you and John were both full on laughing. You had a newfound love for the song you’d originally thought was silly, simply because he chose to sing it to you.
Jumping up onto the counter, you’d ripped off a piece of pancake and scrunched your nose as he moved close to you. “Hi.” You’d said softly, popping it into your mouth. “Tastes pretty good.”
John moved in between your legs and pulled you forward for a kiss. “So do you.” He murmured against your mouth. “Did you fancy the private show, then?”
You’d smirked, cupping the back of his neck with your hand and gripping tightly to his messy blond hair. “It was better once there was a little audience participation, for sure. But yes, I’d certainly pay to see it again.”
John’s warm hands moved to rest on your bare thighs. “The cheek on you, sweet’eart.” He shook his head as he glanced down at his button up. “Reckon you know how much I love it when you come down here in my shirt, don’t you?”
Raising an eyebrow, you’d slid off the counter and rested your palms flat against his chest. “That might be why I keep doing it.” You’d risen on your tiptoes and kissed him again, cupping his stubbled cheek with your left hand. “You made breakfast, let me get the coffee?”
He’d nodded and you’d reluctantly stepped away from him. “Dark,” he’d instructed, swatting at your ass as you moved.
“Just a touch sweet,” you’d finished, with an eye roll. “Almost two years, Johnny, I think I’ve got you figured out.”
“Far from it.” He’d laughed, pulling the bacon from the oven. “But you do make a bloody perfect cup of coffee.” He’d turned, his playful expression softening. “Have I been forgiven, then?” He’d asked, his tone hopeful. “I shouldn’t have stepped in like that.”
Folding your arms across your chest, you’d huffed in annoyance. “When are you gonna learn to trust me? Haven’t I proven to you that you can?”
John stepped up to you, cupping your face before he kissed you breathless. “Course you have, luv. Time and again. I sometimes forget that I’ve someone I can trust. Reckon I’ll spend the rest of our lives ensuring I remember.”
Scrambling to your feet, you reach the speaker first and shut the music off. Leaning against your kitchen counter, you close your eyes and drag in a few shaky breaths. You thought you could do this, that the kitchen wouldn’t be a bad place to start.
When a tear slides off your cheek and onto the marble, you realize how wrong you were. You weren’t ready and you should’ve taken Charlotte up on her offer of waiting until she could go with you.
Because now, your thoughts spiral. Why weren't you enough for him? Why didn’t he love you, the way you so clearly loved him? Why did he pretend for as long as he had?
The buzzing of your phone makes you hastily wipe your eyes and spin to search for it. On the fifth buzz, you find it and slide it open before Eric hangs up. “Hey,” you answer as brightly as you can. “Is.. Is it that time already?”
“You alright?” He asks, knowing the answer as well as you do. Before you can answer, he sighs and puts the Explorer in park. “That’s a dumb question, sorry. I, uh... I’m outside. Figured ya wouldn’t wanna be alone anymore after bein’ here, so I came to pick ya up. We can head over together.”
Walking over to the window, you watch him wave from the car. “Thanks, Eric.” You whisper. “I’ll be out in a second.” You sniffle and grab your things, murmuring a quick spell to shut off the lights as you go.
Eric smiles when you climb in, making happy conversation as you scroll through one of his ridiculous playlists. He doesn’t mention the fact that he knows you’ve been crying and you don’t bring up the fact that it’ll be a while before you can go back there again.
***
Charlotte has this abusive son of a bitch by the balls. She knows she does.
This case was one she practically begged Bobby for. But she knew she could win it, she just needed to get under the guy’s skin. His soon to be ex wife spared no details about just how nasty he was to her and the abuse that this poor woman was subjected to hits a little too close to home.
She’ll never be able to be completely free of Hugh, so if she can free Emily Moore of her husband, then she’ll be able to sleep a little better at night.
As she turns on her heel, she gives you and Eric a quick smile. You’ve never seen her in court before, but you’ve been with her since before law school even happened. She’s excited to show off a little, prove to you that everything she put herself through was worth it.
Eric told her that he loves watching her work. The first time he surprised her, she’d been nervous to make a mistake in front of him. Hugh never had any interest in what she did, and while she refuses to compare the two, she hadn’t thought Eric would want to come and watch.
But after a few minutes, she found his presence comforting and truly grounding. Now she feels a confidence boost every time she sees his handsome face smiling back at her from the gallery. She never thought she’d get this lucky; Eric is the safety she didn’t think she’d ever find.
With one last glance at him, his subtle wink makes her smile. Her dark hair moves off her shoulder as she quickly turns back to the defendant. “Mr. Moore, you claim everything that’s occurred between you and your wife was entirely consensual. That she asked to be treated in such a violent and brutal way. Is this true?”
“Women don’t know what they want.” Mr. Moore folds his arms, sitting up straight in his chair. “It’s up to the man to make the decisions, women don’t have the common sense. That’s why we marry ‘em. They’re only good for one thing.”
Charlotte delicately raises an eyebrow as she steps in front of the table. “And if the man wants sex and the woman doesn’t?”
“It's the husband's right to take what he wants.” He answers, rolling his eyes. “Whenever he wants.”
He’s a big man; tall and built like Ray, but she can’t let that intimidate her. “So, you admit to raping your wife, repeatedly?” Charlotte narrows her eyes. “Tying her to the headboard when she tried to tell you no? Choking her unconscious when she begged you not to hurt her?
Mr. Moore shrugs. “She’s a little freak, real into kink.” He leans forward, smirking in his seat. “My wife wanted everything I did to her. She got off on it. She wanted it.”
Charlotte lifts a small remote and pulls up digital photographs of the last two times Emily was in the emergency room. The bruises and cuts marring her skin are brutal. The bruises collaring her neck are the worst; layers of discoloration from multiple incidents. Nothing about the marks look consensual and she hopes the jury will agree.
She pushes down the disgust she feels at the similarities between Liam Moore and Hugh Montgomery and steels her gaze on him. “Mr. Moore, do these seem like your wife wanted them? That these are marks made from a consensual BDSM scene?”
He rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you ask her?”
“I have. Now, I’m asking you.” Taking a few more steps toward the witness stand, Charlotte pulls out her secret weapon. She’ll attack his ego; make him feel inferior to her so he’ll snap and cause an outburst. Let the jury think he’s innocent after that.
Crossing her arms, she takes another step. “I must make you crazy, don’t I? Speaking to you like I’m your equal.” She shakes her head. “No, not equal. Better. Because I’m here, with a powerful career and you’re just a criminal who gets off on beating his wife.”
“Objection!” Her opponent rises, throwing his hand in the air. “Speculation.”
Charlotte holds up her own hands. “Withdrawn. I mean, I’m just a woman, what do I know?” She walks until she’s inches from the witness stand. “Does it bother you that a woman is questioning you in court? That I’m more intelligent than you? More powerful than you?”
“Is that what you think you are?” Mr. Moore runs a hand through his sandy hair. “Careful, Ms. DuCaine, you're getting a little cocky. Dontcha think?”
Charlotte smirks, she’s getting to him. She can see it. “No, I think you hate that there’s a woman in charge here. That I’m speaking to you the way that I am. If we weren’t in court, I’m sure you’d do to me what you’ve done to your wife.”
His face twists in fury, but Charlotte doesn’t see it. She’s already turned toward her client. She hears “you deserve worse’ and Mr. Moore’s hands are wrapped around her throat faster than she can process what’s happened.
Her hands fly up to try and pry his off her; unmistakable and familiar terror courses through her system when he lifts her inches off the ground and she can’t breathe.
***
Eric’s up and over the bar the second Moore puts his hands on Charlotte. He’s even faster than the bailiff at reaching them. The courtroom erupts into chaos and you stand, refusing to leave when the judge screams to clear the room.
Tommy rushes over, his hands yanking at the bastard’s fingers and pulling them back. The seconds stretch; the sounds of Charlotte gasping for air make you spring into action. You know that you could blast the son of a bitch off of her and quite frankly, you don’t care who sees you.
As you move your hands back to do so, Eric lands a solid punch to Moore’s face. He lets go, blood gushing from his nose, and Charlotte crumbles to the ground. You hurry over and pull her away from the melee while Tommy, Eric, and the courtroom officers subdue and restrain Moore.
“C’mon, honey.” You whisper urgently, dragging her toward the plaintiff’s table. “You’re alright. Ya safe, okay?” She’s still panicking, unable to focus on anything except the chaos in front of you until she’s sure Moore’s in handcuffs.
When she sees that, she clings to you, burying her face in your chest. Tommy comes over, flanking Charlotte’s side so she’s safe between the two of you as she falls apart.
You’ve never seen Eric so furious; he’s pacing around like a caged tiger, his shoulders as tense as his jaw. “Ya fuckin’ lucky there’s witnesses.” He growls, stopping inches from Moore’s face. He’s got five inches on Eric, at least, but he doesn’t care. “I’d kick your ass for touchin’ her, ya hear me?”
“You think your badge scares me? Not worth my fucking time.” Moore glances over in your direction, to where Charlotte’s quietly shaking against your side. “But her, she was asking for it. Probably should teach your little lawyer over there to respect men a lot better.”
Eric tilts his head as he invades Moore’s personal space. “Askin’ for it? You fuckin’ serious? She doesn’t need to respect a useless piece of shit like you. Ya done, ya goin’ away for a long fuckin’ time. I’ll make sure of it.”
Moore lunges for Eric, even though he’s got the bailiff and three officers holding him back. The sudden movement makes Charlotte whimper in fear. She lifts her head, mascara staining her cheeks as she watches him stumble back a step. “Eric…” She whispers and your heart breaks for how afraid she is.
When Eric turns to face her, his furious expression softens. Realization dawns on Moore’s face as he starts to laugh. “Ah, so you’re fucking her.” He grins, wide and sadistic. “Tight little bitch like her? I wouldn’t want anyone else to notice her either.”
Eric’s fist flies, breaking Moore’s nose. “Get him the fuck outta here.” He orders, motioning toward the doors. He shakes his hand as he walks over and kneels down in front of Charlotte. “Honey?” He holds out his other hand. “Ya alright?”
She nods, scrambling over to him. Eric wraps his arms around her and holds her close as she cries. He meets your eyes, then Tommy’s and leans her back for a second to lift her chin. At the angry handprints already darkening around her throat, he swears under his breath.
She still looks completely terrified; wide eyes, shaking body and panicked, shallow breaths. He lets out a shaky breath himself and she drops her head back onto his chest. After a minute or two of him rubbing her back, she peers up at him, whispering “I’m sorry” in a broken, raspy voice.
Bewildered, Eric moves one of his hands and cups her face. “Why on earth are ya sorry? This wasn’t ya fault.”
She wipes her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Be...because that wasn’t supposed to happen.” Before you can ask what she means, Eric does, and she blinks fresh tears away. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her like this. “I… I was just fixing to make him mad. Push him into… into an outburst. But… but not…”
Eric sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. “But not like that. Christ, ya scared the shit outta me. I just… if that was ya plan, why didn’t we discuss this, Charlotte?”
You wince at his question. He has no way of knowing, but you’re sure Hugh used to ask her that same thing when he’d start a fight with her. She freezes now, holding tight to his shirt, but doesn’t look up at him. “Wh-what?”
“We talk about everythin’ and ya said nothin’ to me. That’s just not like you.” He leans back, searching her eyes. “I woulda made sure you were gonna be safe.” When she murmurs that she knew he would’ve been upset with her, he shakes his head. “No, I’m a little more upset that I didn’t know and he almost killed ya cause of it. But I’m not upset with you.”
She whimpers again and you glance at Tommy. Your uncle’s just as worried as you are at the state of your best friend. “I... I’m so sorry, Eric. I… I didn’t… didn’t mean to -”
“Hey, I’m not upset with you, at all. It’s just… He grabbed ya and my fuckin’ heart stopped. I didn’t think I’d get to ya fast enough.” He brushes his thumb across her cheek. “I didn’t mean to make you upset, honey. I’ve just never been so scared. You’re one of the most important people in my life. I don’t want anythin’ to happen to you.”
Charlotte doesn’t say anything, just curls up onto his lap and keeps mumbling apologies while she cries. Tommy pushes himself to his feet when he feels his phone buzz. “Eric,” he says, leaning the phone away from his face. “The paramedics are here. We gotta get her to the hospital.”
She pushes herself back immediately, glancing frantically between the two men. “N-no, I.. I don’t need to -”
“Charlotte.” Tommy interrupts, using the voice you and Eric only heard when you were in trouble. “We gotta get ya looked at. Make sure that asshole didn’t do any real damage. Linda’s gonna meet us there with a change of clothes, okay?”
Eric nods in agreement as he helps her to her feet. “It’s not up for discussion, honey. Those marks already look bad.”
She nods silently, clutching tight to his hand. The four of you turn when an officer steps back into the courtroom asking for Detective Grant. Eric sighs and kisses Charlotte’s forehead. “Lemme go deal with this. I’ll meet ya there, okay?” She watches as Tommy and Eric step toward the waiting officer.
Charlotte turns to face you, grabbing your hands in her clammy ones. “Please don’t.. Don’t leave me.” She sniffles. “I… I don’t want to be alone.”
You keep hold of her hand and smile softly. “Never. Okay, Char? I’d never leave you alone.”
***
The ride to the hospital was completely silent, save for Charlotte’s occasional sniffle. Once inside, you’d refused to leave her side, despite multiple nurses’ attempts to make you. She barely let go of your hand, flinching any time someone said her name.
When Linda arrived to bring the two of you home, Charlotte barely registered her presence.
“Tom said it was terrifying.” She nods, closing the back passenger door. “That Moore was on her so quickly.”
You nod, watching as Charlotte curls herself into a ball in the backseat. “Yeah, it happened so fast. And I’ve never seen her this bad.”
“She’s in shock, honey.” Linda rubs your upper arm. “But she’ll be alright. She always is. She was so strong when Eric got shot, and she’s been a rock for you. Now she just needs us to be strong for her.”
Walking around the car, you chew on your lower lip, hoping that your aunt is right. You’ll be as strong as Charlotte needs you to be. You have before; you used to get in Hugh’s face all the time, even though fighting with him was exhausting. But Charlotte’s your best friend, you’d do anything for her.
***
Charlotte bolts into the house once Linda’s parked. She forgot to bring a change of clothes and this dress feels stained with the terrifying memory of this afternoon. Charlotte doesn’t wait for you, just heads upstairs and into the bedroom.
She knows that you can hear her crying, but she can’t make herself stop. She’s sure Eric is furious. He’s not home yet; he must’ve gotten stuck down at the station, answering for her mistake. And when he gets home…
He’s never been violent with her, barely even raised his voice, but this was a level of stupidity that even he won’t be able to excuse.
Eric was calm in the courthouse, reassuring her that he wasn’t angry. But you and Tommy were there. She’s sure once she’s alone with him, he’ll change. Hugh always changed when they were alone. Maybe she really was stupid to think Eric was so different.
She shouldn't have pushed Mr. Moore that hard. She didn’t know that he’d react like that, but it doesn’t matter. She made a huge mistake, most likely got herself fired while embarrassing the man she loves, and that kind of idiocy only leads to being punished.
Digging through the drawers for a pair of pajama shorts, she looks over her shoulder toward the closet. She wants something that smells like Eric; woods, spice and leather. Reaching in, she grabs one of his sweaters and tugs it over her head. The scent grounds her, calms her for a second.
Looking in the mirror, she winces at Mr. Moore’s handprints around her neck. His hands were almost as big as Hugh’s and she hates that she can make that comparison.
The dark red and purplish marks remind her of a past she’s doing everything she can to keep buried from the people she loves. But there’s moments like this, when that familiar fear comes creeping back in; suffocating and uncontrollable, that she’s afraid that nothing she does will keep it hidden.
Tucking her hands into the sleeves, she slowly steps down the stairs and sits on the bottom step. Maybe she can fix this the way she used to with Hugh. But she doesn’t know for sure and that’s even scarier. She won’t be able to focus on anything else until Eric’s home.
You sit down next to her for a little while, saying nothing, but the fact that you haven’t abandoned her, keeps her sane. There were plenty of moments in her relationship with Hugh where she chose him over you and yet, you never once wavered in your love for her.
She wishes she had the courage to tell you everything. Explain that you were the lifeboat that kept her from drowning under the weight of what Hugh was doing to her. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t push you from Charlotte’s life. You were too determined to stay, even when she made it hard for you.
Charlotte was determined to do the same for you in this mess with John. Be your lifeboat. And here you are again, protecting her and being the steady beacon to lead her home. Her breath hitches when you reach over and take her hand in the silence.
When she hears the Explorer park, she rises and folds her shaking hands behind her back. You touch her arm and step away to give her and Eric some privacy when he comes in. He stops when he sees her, shrugging with an easy smile. “I’m sorry, got tied up at the station.”
Tommy laughs, hanging his coat on the rack by the door. “And I had to make sure my son didn’t get in trouble for protectin’ his girlfriend.”
“Did… did he?” She asks, not meeting Tommy’s eyes.
“God no, not with me there.”
Eric rolls his eyes, but pats Tommy’s back affectionately as he passes by. “And there wasn't a single person in that courthouse that was willin’ to say I did anythin’ wrong. So, yanno, that helped.”
She nods and moves down to the bottom step. “Your mama... She ordered dinner. It... It just got here a few minutes ago.”
He nods, holding open his arms as he crosses the room to her. “C’mere, honey.”
Charlotte hesitates, but Eric’s expression seems soft and sweet. Maybe she’ll get lucky and he won't be as angry as she thinks he is. She wipes her watering eyes and lets him wrap his arms around her. She feels safe here, pressed against the warmth of his chest.
So much so, that when a fresh sob bubbles out of her, she doesn’t stop it. “I…I’m so sorry, chere.” She mumbles, keeping her face hidden. “I know I… I messed up.”
“No, you have nothin’ to be sorry about. I promise.” He kisses the top of her head. “Ya said it yourself, you didn’t think that was gonna happen. And aside from it bein’ scary as hell, I’m so fuckin’ proud of the way ya handled that prick. The jury knew he was guilty. You were incredible.”
Charlotte shakes her head, unwilling to believe that he’s really not upset about all this. How could he not be? She already hates herself for causing all this fuss. She’s afraid he will too.
***
“So sweetie, how have you been holding up?” Linda asks, handing you a glass of wine when you step up to the counter.
You shrug, realizing how crazy the day’s gotten that you forgot at first that you’d spent your morning unpacking your townhouse. “I, uh, I went home this morning. Tried to unpack a little. I was listening to music and this stupid song came on that reminded me of John and…”
She smiles and gently rubs your arm with her thumb. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s going to take time. I can’t imagine what this is like. Eric told me he thought John was the one for you.”
You stare down at your wine glass so you don’t cry. “So did I.”
You stifle a sniffle when Tommy walks in the kitchen. He shakes his head when he sees you both. “Been doin’ this for years and I've never seen someone get hurt like that in court.”
“My dad's never either. Charlotte just…” Your breath hitches as you lift your glass to your lips. “What if… What if Eric hadn't been there?”
“The bailiff would’ve gotten him off of her.” Tommy promises, pulling Linda to him. “And I would have been tryin’ like Hell too. So would ya dad, if he was there. You know that, kiddo.”
When you shake your head and tell him that you’re still a little freaked out at how fast that happened, he agrees. “I know, trust me. We all are. Charlotte especially.”
At that, Linda asks you if Charlotte’s left her spot on the stairs. Glancing over your shoulder, you nod. “Yeah, the second Eric got here.”
“Thank God.” She leans away from Tommy and finishes off her glass. “I think she feels everyone’s mad at her.”
“I do too. She's quiet the whole ride to the hospital. Barely said a word inside, just wouldn't let me leave her. Not that I would. But I think she's waiting for everyone to start yelling. Or for Eric to.”
Linda frowns, asking why Charlotte would ever think that. Tommy answers before you can. “Think about it, Lin.” He shrugs. “She was reckless. Charlotte didn't tell anyone what was happenin’. And yeah, it paid off in a brilliant way, but what if it didn't? I'd be afraid people'd be pissed too.”
“Eric’s been telling her that no one's upset.” You point out. “But to be fair, I’ve never seen him so Goddamned scared.”
“Well my baby had to watch the love of his life get hurt. Nothing in this world can prepare you for that.”
You completely understand that. Every time John went out and risked his life, you were afraid it was going to be the last time you ever saw him. “Hell of a day for me to decide to go to court with him.” You murmur softly.
“It really was lucky that you were both there for her. I'm sure she's grateful too.”
“She doesn't have to be grateful. She’s my best friend and I’d do anything for her. Both of them, honestly. They know that.”
When Linda hears Eric and Charlotte's footsteps, she straightens her spine. “Get the plates, sweetie?” She asks you. “And Tom, pour them both some wine. They've had a long day. And no one look at her bruises, I don't want any of us to upset that girl even more than she already is.”
She smiles at the two of them as she unpacks the food. “Now, I know it's not as good as Nonna's recipe, but it's the best we could do on short notice.”
Charlotte tenses up despite Linda’s soft laugh. Eric notices it too, choosing to say nothing and just pull her closer. “Thanks, ma. We really appreciate it.”
You step closer to her and rest your hand on top of hers. When she tenses up again, you glance up at Eric. He smiles at her, gently touching her cheek. “Why don't you go sit at the table, honey? You're alright. We promise.”
Charlotte moves quietly, sitting down in the chair against the wall. “I'm sure ya not wicked hungry, but I think you should at least try, okay?” Eric says, scooping way too much on the plate and setting it in front of her, before going back for his own. She picks up her fork and obediently takes a bite of pasta.
***
Eric makes sure to sit directly next to Charlotte, keeping constant contact through dinner. Every few minutes, he glances over at her, just to make sure she’s alright and he didn’t imagine getting to her in time. Because for a minute, he was afraid he wouldn’t.
Moore was huge and Charlotte is… she’s just so damn small. She’s not weak by any means, but his hands went around her throat and Eric just freaked. The thought that he could’ve lost her like that is terrifying.
Taking a deep breath, he forces himself back to the present and takes her hand under the table. He relaxes a little, as she does.
“So, Charlotte.” Tommy clears his throat. “Ya won the case. Jury came back maybe ten minutes after ya went to the hospital.”
Charlotte swallows, wincing at the pain, and peers nervously at Eric before turning. “I… I did? I… Mr. Grant, I -”
“Mr. Grant?” Tommy can’t help but laugh. “Ya haven't called me that in years. Don't get all formal cause ya had a day in court. I know that bastard scared the hell out of all of us, but I think that's why we won. Without him freakin’ out like he did, I'm not so sure it would have been a clean victory.”
Charlotte flinches at the way Tommy laughs and Eric squeezes her hand to reassure her. He watches her force a small smile onto her face and move her hands to the top of the table. “Sorry, Tommy. It just… he really scared me. But I didn’t mean to worry all y’all.”
Eric meets his dad’s eyes; they both know she’s faking it, but Eric doesn’t want him to push her. So instead, Tommy leans back and reaches for his drink. “We love you, Charlotte. So no matter what ya do, we're all gonna worry about ya. Just like we worry about Eric and this kiddo over here.”
“Thank you. I... I really am sorry for all this.” She drops her hands back down into her lap. “I've... I've ruined all y'all's day, making you come here and -”
“You don't need to apologize, sweetheart.” Linda sets down her glass and smiles kindly. “You didn't ruin anything, I promise. We're all just glad that you're okay.”
Eric can see just how much pain Charlotte’s in every time she swallows. After watching her push around the ziti on her plate for the fifteenth time, he sighs and pulls it away from her. “How about some ice cream instead, honey? One of the guys at the station said cold stuff might feel better on your throat?”
Charlotte blinks at the plate, then up at Eric. Her lip trembles and her face crumbles like she's going to start crying again. Eric moves himself closer, pulling her onto his lap and just holds her through her tears.
Tommy and Linda each grab a plate and rise to their feet. You stand quickly, grabbing the dishes from them. “I got this, guys. Gotta earn my keep somehow.” You smile at Eric and he nods his appreciation. “I want to give them some privacy anyway.”
While Tommy grabs his and Linda’s coats, you, Eric and Charlotte move to the foyer to say your goodbyes. After hugs, Eric promises to call in the morning, while you head back into the kitchen to clean up dinner.
Eric turns on his heel, ready to make a joke about how long this day has been, and sees the terrified expression on Charlotte’s face seconds before she has a full blown meltdown.
“I...I’m sorry, baby.” She whispers, her voice sounding broken and desperate. “I didn’t mean to… to get hurt. Or to upset you.” Her shaking fingers reach for his belt. “I’ll fix it.”
He steps back, completely bewildered. “Woah, woah, woah.” He shakes his head as his hands cover hers on his pants. “Whaddya doin’? You don’t have to fix anythin’. I.. I’m not mad.”
She swallows and peers up at him, her dark eyes frightened and filled with tears. “Please… please, just let me fix it. I’ll be good for you, I promise.”
“Honey, stop.” Eric shifts and cups her face in his hands. “I promise ya, there's nothin’ to fix. You are good for me. Ya the best damn thing that's ever happened to me.” He lifts her head a little. “Look at me, please. I am not mad. Not at you. Not ever. Okay?”
The second her eyes meet his, something like realization passes over her features and she buries her face in his chest. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”
Eric sighs, wishing more than anything else that he could see what’s going on inside her head. He just wants to make her understand that she’s safe, that he’s not angry. He was worried, and scared. But he was never angry with her.
“Ya don't have to apologize.” He assures her, rubbing gentle circles on her back. “I don't care if ya did it on purpose. I know you didn't, but it doesn’t even matter. I still love ya. Nothin’ would ever change that.”
When she mumbles out a shaky “okay,” Eric knows she’s just trying to placate him. He laughs just a little, cupping her face again so she’ll focus on his words instead of her own spiraling thoughts.
“Don't you okay me.” He gives her a warm smile. “You don't have to be okay. Ya just gotta believe how much I love you. I mean, the guy was bigger than Ray and I didn't hesitate. If that's not true love, I don't know what it is.”
That makes her finally crack a hint of a smile. “O....okay.” She says again, this time truly meaning it. “Just… please, don’t… you promise you won’t leave me?”
He hears the genuine fear of abandonment in her voice and it breaks his heart to think that anyone’s ever made her feel this way. He knows who must’ve done it, and he swears to himself that he’ll never be the cause of that fear for her.
“Never.” He promises, gently kissing her forehead. “I’ll never leave you, Charlotte.”
***
Once you’ve got the kitchen put back together, you head into the living room to check on your friends. Some comedy movie is playing on the TV and when you walk around the couch, Charlotte’s asleep with her head in Eric’s lap.
You sit beside him, watching as he absentmindedly plays with her hair. “This was bad, Eric.” You say quietly. “I heard all of that, from before. I've never... She's never... I think she thought he was going to kill her and that just…”
Eric looks up at you, his brow furrowed in confusion. “I'm sure she did, yeah. I thought he was gonna for a second. But whaddya mean? Heard all that before?”
You shrug, feeling a little guilty for eavesdropping. “When Tommy and Linda left? Charlotte just... I don't even know what to call that. I've never seen her like that before.”
Eric shudders, lifting his hand to run it through his own hair. “Me either, kid.” He leans over to make sure she’s still asleep. “Whatever that was, some kinda trauma response or somethin’, scared the shit outta me. She went for my belt and…”
She went for his belt? Glancing down at her, you can’t hide your confusion. “What the hell? Why?”
“I think she was tryin’ to... To blow me as some kind of apology.”
You sit up a little straighter. “The fuck? I mean, that's not how you solve arguments in this house, correct?”
Eric emphatically shakes his head. “There aren't a ton of them. But no. Never once have I asked her to blow me to say sorry.”
He leans back, closing his eyes for a second as he sighs. “I'd never pull that shit and don't get me wrong, we usually have great makeup sex, but that's only once we're both okay.”
You frown and scrunch your nose as you think about her past relationship. “I've said there were lots of arguments between her and Hugh. Probably even more that I didn’t see. So maybe that's how they handled the making up part? I never really understood their dynamic. It was so different from mine and… and John’s. So, I… I don't know.”
“I dunno either, kid.” He carefully resumes playing with her hair. “I’ll try and talk to her, but ya know how she gets when it comes to Hugh. So damn closed off. It’s like she just shuts down completely.”
You rest your hand on her shoulder. “I know. That relationship took a lot out of her. He was so demanding and possessive. And I've told you, every opportunity he could to be a dick to me, he was. How many annoyed phone calls had you gotten from me about him? So I really don't blame her for not wanting to talk about him now. She finally has you, and you make her so happy.”
“That’s all I want.” He admits, running his thumb over her cheek. “I just wanna make this girl happier than she’s ever been in her whole life. She deserves way more than I can ever give her, and somehow, I still got her. Somehow, she wants this meatball of a guy.”
The gentle, pure, love Eric has for Charlotte makes you sniffle and wipe your eyes. “Now you’re making me cry, Grant.”
“I didn’t mean to get all sappy on you. Especially with how your day started. Were you able to unpack at all?”
Dragging in a shaky breath, you meet his eyes. “Yeah, I started in the kitchen and honestly, I was doing okay. Until a song came on that reminded me… I just wasn’t prepared and it kinda knocked me on my ass.”
You scrunch your nose against the tell tale sting of fresh tears. “I keep waiting for this to get easier. For it to hurt less. And it doesn’t. It’s been three months, Eric. It’s like he doesn’t exist. Chas doesn’t talk about him when he checks in. The only thing I’ve refused to tuck away into the corners of my mind is this.”
You lift the necklace John gave you and stare at it, before letting it drop back against your chest. “Sometimes I wanna toss it. But I don’t. I don’t know why.”
“Yeah ya do, kid.” Eric’s mouth twists into a sad smile. “And it’s okay. I know ya wanna hate him and I definitely think it would be easier if ya did. But, ya don’t. Eventually, you might. Or maybe the best ya can hope for will be indifference. But I swear it won’t feel like this forever.”
“I hope not.” You whisper, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Eventually you’re gonna want your guest room back.”
***
In the days that follow, you don’t want to face going back to your townhouse and Charlotte can’t stand to be alone. She’s taken some time away from work and is a constant fixture at Eric’s side. When he’s not home, you’re doing everything you can to occupy her, but you need a break and so does she.
Your dad suggests that maybe a vacation would benefit you both. A change of scenery and some different air could be a good thing. When you bring it up to Eric, he enthusiastically agrees.
With Charlotte asleep upstairs, he’s been ardently watching you make brownies and eyeing the bowl with all the anticipation of a little kid on his birthday. “I’ll call Ray,” he offers with a grin. “I’m sure he’d wanna see his girls. Then maybe, ya can finally meet James. He’s a nice guy, kid. You’ll like him.”
You set the mixing bowl down and hand him the spoon. “I’m sure he is, but I’m not exactly in the right headspace for meeting someone new.” When he rolls his eyes, you yank the spoon back. “I’m serious. I know I'm not handling this the best and I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”
“Ya handling it fine, fella.” He holds out his hand expectantly as you pour the batter into the waiting tins. “This wasn’t like ya breakup with Campbell. And I mean, yeah, you were wicked upset about that, but John…”
He shakes his head, letting his hand drop onto the countertop. “This was different. What the two of you had… I dunno. Thought you’d end up like Charlotte and I.”
You thought so too. And you won’t admit this to Eric, but you’re afraid that you’ll never find that again. John’s broken your heart with such finality, you don’t think you’ll ever be able to mend it. No matter who you meet.
“Well,” you huff, holding out the spoon. “John clearly didn’t feel the same. And now my life is a fucking mess because of it.”
“So, ya need a little getaway and the distraction of a hot guy.” He drops the now mostly spotless spoon into the sink and leans against the counter to think. “New Orleans offers both. Just sayin’.”
When you roll your eyes, Charlotte steps into the kitchen, bleary and half awake. “What does New Orleans offer, chere?”
Eric pushes himself up and crosses the room, kissing her as he wraps his arms around her waist. “A getaway and the distraction of a hot guy. I mean, ya already got that part.” He motions to himself with a grin. “So, I’m gonna call Ray, set it all up. Just gimme a few minutes and I’ll be right back.”
Charlotte nods and smiles at you as he rounds the corner. “Why are we going to New Orleans? Not that I’d ever complain about seeing my daddy.”
Turning on the sink, you start washing the mixing bowl and glance over just as she hops up onto the counter. “Tommy, Bobby and Eric think we need a break. From everything. And after what just happened with you, I don’t disagree.” You look up at her with a smile. “Maybe I could finally meet James?”
Charlotte’s eyes light up with excitement. “Oh sugar, you’ll love him. He’s so funny and sweet.” She sighs happily. “And handsome too.”
Flicking bubbles at her, you laugh when she squeaks and covers her face. “I already told Eric. I’m not in the headspace to meet someone like that. No matter how handsome you both say he is. Besides, if he’s so fantastic, why didn’t you introduce me to him sooner? When I would’ve done something about it.”
“Same reason it took Eric and I so long to meet.” She argues, tucking her dark hair behind her ears. “First there was Sam and then, you know, he-who-must-not-be-named. The timing was never right.”
You shut off the sink while tilting your head in annoyance. “John’s not Voldemort, Char.”
Charlotte raises an eyebrow as she hops off the counter. Lifting her right hand, she ticks off on her fingers. “He’s English, does magic, and I’m pretty damn sure he doesn’t have a soul. So, he-who-must-not-be-named.”
“Charlotte, please.” At the hurt expression on your face, she softens hers.
Folding her arms, she leans against the sink, next to you. “I’m not sorry, sugar. I hate him, even if you can’t yet. So, yeah, not a bad idea, going away for a bit. Though, I don’t know how Eric’s going to fend for himself while we’re gone. He’s had two of us cooking for months.”
“He’ll be fine.” You assure her. “Eric Grant survived on a diet of pizza and beer for years.”
“Hell yeah, I did.” Eric laughs, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “But thankfully, I had my best friend then, and now I got my future wife to keep me well fed.” Charlotte playfully whacks his arm and he grins. “What? I’m just sayin’, I’m a lucky guy.”
Charlotte leans her head against his arm. “I’m the one who’s lucky. Did my daddy say he’d have us?”
He nods, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “Sure did, he just emailed the tickets. First class. Ya leave in the mornin’.”
***
With your bag slung over your shoulder, you step onto the escalator and take a calming breath. New Orleans may have memories filled with you and John. But you spent four years here that had nothing to do with him. And with your best friend beside you, you’ve never been more excited to be back. It’s always felt like home to you.
You see Ray before Charlotte does and excitedly wave down at him. He’s a mountain of a man; six foot six and built like he builds houses all day. Which is, ironically, exactly what he does. He waves back, his soft blue eyes lighting up with excitement the way Charlotte’s espresso eyes light up when she’s really happy.
She grabs your arm when she sees him and runs past you the second her feet hit the airport floor. “Hi, daddy!” She greets, letting herself get pulled in for a bear hug. You step right behind them and sling your bag onto the floor.
“I’ve missed you, Lottie.” He freezes when she pulls away to let you hug him. Ray’s hand lifts her neck and in that moment, you watch his face change. “He didn’t do this to you, did he?” Ray asks, eyes darting between you and Charlotte.
He must not have known the full extent of the attack. You’d assumed Eric had explained the entire situation, but if the murderous look on Ray’s face is any indication, he’d left out a few crucial details.
Confusion marrs her face for a second as she lets her brain catch up. “Eric?” She asks, touching her neck. “No, Goodness no! He’d never hurt me. Didn’t he… didn’t he tell you I got hurt in court?”
“He’d spared me the graphic details, Lottie.” He rests a hand on her shoulder. “So I can’t wait to call him later and tell him that I was about to murder him.”
When you laugh at Charlotte’s slightly offended expression, Ray turns and pulls you in for a hug. “Hey, pumpkin. How’re you holding up?”
“I’ve been better.” You admit, letting yourself relax for a moment. Ray’s always been like a second father to you. You trust him as much as you trust Bobby. “But that’s why we’re here, right? To recharge, forget about real life for a little while.”
“I’ll drink to that.” He laughs, grabbing both yours and Charlotte’s bags. “I’ve got the next few days off, a perk of owning the company. My foreman’ll call me if there’s an issue, but it’s a simple job. I’m not worried. So, let’s get some food in y’all and grab to-go drinks to take home.”
***
A couple hours and a few hurricanes later, Ray learned all about what happened in court; he hadn’t wanted his only child to get hurt, but telling him she won the case by a landslide, softened the blow.
Now, he’s listening intently as you explain what happened between you and John. It’s easier telling the story to someone who doesn’t know the entire history. And to her credit, Charlotte remains mostly silent; opting for small huffs and sounds of annoyance when she feels the need to cut in.
When you’re finished, you wipe your eyes, hating yourself for crying over John again and wait for Ray to say the same things that everyone else has said. He doesn’t, he just looks you over with sad eyes and shakes his head.
“I know. I know.” You say, before he can. “I was stupid for trusting him as much as I did. But -”
“No, you weren’t.” Ray interrupts, frowning as he sits up straight. “What y’all had was real, pumpkin. At least to some extent. Because it wouldn’t feel like this if y’all weren't truly in love. But I’ll tell you what I told Lottie when she left Montgomery. Cause it’s what my Lizzie said to me before she died.”
He takes your hand and squeezes gently. “The pain will come. And it’ll hurt. But let it out, cry it out if you can. Then? Then you ask it to leave. Don’t allow it to build a home in your heart and call you broken. You’re bent, but never unrepairable.”
You breath hitches as he hands you a tissue. “Thanks for not telling me I was stupid. I haven’t been able to not feel that way for months.” You lean back and smile at Charlotte. “And thank you for not telling me you told me so. And for not leaving me to deal with all of this alone.”
“I’m your best friend, sugar.” She pulls you in for a hug. “That’s what I’m here for. I wouldn’t make you go through this without someone you trusted at your side. And I'll always be there. No matter what.”
When Ray seconds that, you sigh in contentment. “I love you guys.” You rest your head on Charlotte’s shoulder. “Well, shit. Eric was right. This was a really good idea. We should run away to New Orleans more often.”
“I agree, remind me to thank him properly once we’re home.”
When you nod, Ray tells you that tomorrow, there’s half price drinks in the bar where Charlotte first met John. He knows it’s one of the many places in the city that you and Charlotte could spend hours in. “Drinks are on me, I’ll let the owner know to tab it. I think y’all need a night out on the town.”
Grinning slowly, you pull out your phone. Tomorrow, they’re open till three and if you remember correctly, their drinks do tend to run a little strong. “It’s a date.” You smile as Charlotte meets your eyes. “Right, Char?”
She lifts her now empty glass and giggles. “Absolutely, sugar. Just like old times.”
***
The last bloody place John wants to be is New Orleans.
If the humidity weren’t bad enough, it now irrevocably reminds him of you. He can’t shake it; can’t shake the way the sultry smell of magnolias makes him think of the way he danced with you on the balcony of the hotel when you first got here.
He remembers your hair tickling his nose as you spun around and kissed him in excitement. And the way your eyes lit up when he got you private access to St. Louis No. 1. He’d been truly happy then, even with that Morgan bastard gunning for him.
Now, the city feels empty and cold. It has nothing to do with the weather; he feels the same bloody way. So he’ll meet with Midnite, get the information he needs, and get out before he allows himself to sink any further into the spiral he feels coming.
He’s dragged himself all over the world the last few months, gathering intel and refining his research on the Triumvirate. If he can learn more about the nasty gits he’s been forced to interact with before, maybe he can use it against them. Or against the bastard that dragged Astra to Hell.
Because setting her free is the one thing he’s wanted for over a decade. It’s driven his need to learn darker magic, more powerful spells. It’s been the only thing he’s really cared about. Because caring about anyone was a liability he couldn’t afford to have.
Until he met you.
John knows he should’ve told you everything. He should’ve let you in and because he was too stubborn, too much of a bastard, he was forced to give up the woman he loved.
Chas asked and he refused to tell him what happened; he couldn’t. He knows Chas would be bloody furious with him. And if you found out, you would be too. Then you’d undoubtedly risk everything to help him. John can’t risk that. Risk you.
So, he’ll walk this path alone, as he always does. Because he doesn’t have a choice. Once Astra’s free, if he’s still alive when the smoke clears, maybe you’ll forgive him for what he’s done.
If you don’t, if you’ve moved on and you’re happy with someone who doesn’t constantly put your life in danger, then John’ll piss off and live out the remainder of his days alone and miserable. He knows it’s no less than what he deserves.
Notes:
I kept John involved, even if not directly. Can I just say, I love that cheesy 80's song and I have forever. I was listening to it on the way to work one day and I just realized that it fit them so well. And yanno, just wanted to break your hearts a little more :)
Charlotte has a lot of trauma that she keeps buried, but I promise you, we're gonna explore that in depth in the sequel. And Hugh rears his head there quite a few times.
That Voldemort comment may be my favorite thing I've ever written. It was just something funny that once I'd said it, it refused to leave me alone lolNext chapter is gonna be a long one. Wrapping up all the loose ends. You get to meet James and finally, Hugh makes an in person appearance, much to Charlotte's dismay. We'll get a peek at what John's been up to, but I like to leave you wanting more and trust us, you will :)
Chapter 50: Can't outrun your past.
Summary:
We've got some loose ends to tie up and some people to finally meet. Plus a bit of a cross over, if you squint :) We hope you hate Hugh as much as we loved creating him, he has a much bigger role in the sequel. Everything comes together and in a way, our reader moves on a little.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
One Eyed Jack’s is dark enough inside that you have to squint to see anyone further away than your table. You may be three old fashioned's in, but the shock of blond hair by the door stops your conversation mid sentence.
You’d know that silhouette anywhere. Slightly tipsy or not, you’re sure that’s John. What the Hell is he doing in the States? What the Hell is he doing in New Orleans?
Charlotte tilts her head, furrowing her brow in concern when you suddenly stand from the bar. “Sugar, what’s wrong?” She asks, following your eyes toward the exit. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Grabbing your arm, her eyes widen as she gasps. “Have you seen a ghost?”
“Wha-?” You look back at her, distracted and shake your head. “N-no. I just thought I saw…” You can’t tell her. She’d stop you from chasing after him. If it was even him in the first place. It was, your mind screams at you. Go, before he disappears.
“I thought I recognized someone from school.” You lie, smooth and practiced. “I’ll be right back, I promise. I just wanna see if I’m right.”
“Be careful.” She advises as she stands and motions toward the restrooms. “I’m just gonna freshen up a bit. When James gets here we’ll get a table. Let y’all get to know each other.” You nod and hurry towards the exit.
***
For a moment, Charlotte doesn’t believe that you’ve seen someone from school. But it’s not like John would be down here. He’s probably three sheets to the wind in some back alley in London. Rolling her eyes, she makes her way toward the bathrooms at the back of the bar.
Once she’s inside, she pulls her lipstick out of her bag and smoothes it over her lips. Even though Eric is the love of her life, she hasn’t seen James since the summer and he’s important to her. She wants to look put together.
A knock at the door pulls her attention from the bruises she’s trying not to focus on. “Just a minute!” She calls, slipping her compact into her bag. She sighs and smooths out her dress; they aren’t going to get better in the next five minutes. And James knows what happened, he won’t react the way her daddy did.
She flips the lock and pulls open the bathroom door, ready to slide past whoever needs the restroom next. She doesn’t get far. A firm hand on her chest moves her backward and back into the small space.
When Charlotte looks up, ready to shout that she needs help, her words die in her throat. Her stomach drops as Hugh Montgomery flips the lock on the door and turns to face her, a smirk on the face she hates that she still finds handsome.
Her mind reels; Hugh can’t be here, he can’t. She got away from him, she hasn’t had to see him since before she moved. But now, she realizes she was stupid to think she’d never have to again. He always knows how to find her.
“Those bruises look fresh, Charlotte.” He comments, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “Expertly covered, but still fresh. You know I wouldn’t have let you out of the house if you forced me to leave marks like that.” His heavy stare moves from her neck to her widened, already terrified eyes. “Did he do that to you?”
Charlotte stares at the locked door, then involuntarily meets his icy blue eyes. Feeling the pit in her stomach grow, she knows she won’t walk away from this unscathed. “I… it wasn’t…” She stumbles over her words, unable to force a full sentence past her dry lips. “He didn’t… I didn’t -"
“You didn’t what?” Hugh chuckles, walking forward so she’s forced to step back to stay away. “Behave? Well, that much is obvious.”
When her back hits the wall, his hand grabs her jaw and lifts her chin so he can better see the damage. “Not very impressive, though you always did love the size of my hands. Just another way the cop can’t quite measure up to me, huh? Can’t even leave a proper bruise.”
Charlotte swallows nervously, keeping her hands still at her sides. “I… I did behave, I swear.” She promises, looking anywhere but his eyes. “And...and Eric didn’t do this. He… he’d never. I was at work and -”
“So they choke lawyers up North?” Hugh laughs, but she can sense his demeanor shifting. “Is that why you wanted to be one so badly?”
As best as she can, Charlotte shakes her head, her breathing erratic and shallow. “No, I… I showed everyone how violent this man was and… I won the case.”
She closes her eyes for a second. “Can you… can you please let go of me?” When his grip tightens in anger, she lets out a small whimper and peers up at him. “I… I’m sorry.”
“You won the case by letting some low life put his hands on you?” Hugh leans forward, his six foot four frame towering over hers. “Charlotte, what’s wrong with you? This is why I didn't want you working. It’s a harsh world out there and people take advantage of innocent women who don’t think.”
His fingers move, gliding through her hair and it takes everything in her not to shudder. “We both know you don’t think things through.” He wraps his hand at the base of her skull and pulls down, so she’s forced to meet his eyes. “I know you can’t help it, but you’d think that cop would take better care of his things.”
“I… I’m not…” She wants to look away, look anywhere but at him, but the fear rooting her in place is paralyzing. “He… he was… he was there. He got the man to let go of me. Eric…”
She shudders then, remembering how afraid she was that Eric was angry with her. “I didn’t... didn’t tell him what I was going to do. He wouldn’t… he would’ve told me no if I asked.”
“So you knew he wouldn't approve and you deliberately hid that from him?” Hugh shakes his head, disapproval heavy in his tone. “Oh, honeybee. I’m so disappointed in you. He’s let you do whatever you want. I figured he’d have a firm hand with you, you were so behaved under mine.”
“I had to!” She argues, hating that she desperately wants to defend herself to someone that shouldn’t even matter to her anymore. “That poor woman deserved her husband being put away. He hurt her like you -”
She cuts herself off, but it’s too late. From the deadly expression on Hugh’s face, she knows she’s already pissed him off. “Like I what? Like I did?”
He leans down until he’s inches from her face. “You made me punish you. Every time you disobeyed. You think I enjoyed having a fiancé who couldn’t understand her Goddamned place?”
Immediate and terrified tears sting Charlotte’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I… I don’t know why I said that. I… I didn’t mean to. You were just doing what you had to.”
Hugh’s free hand grabs her upper arm, shaking her a little. “I was just taking care of you, doing what I had to. You know I just wanted you to be a good girl for me. And when you weren’t, I corrected or punished you. It was never something you didn’t deserve.”
“I… I know.” Charlotte knows better than to argue with him. “And… I was good. Right? I just wanted to make you happy. I never wanted to disappoint you, just like I don’t want to disappoint Eric.”
“Well you’re disappointing me now, being with him.” Hugh moves the hand on her shoulder to cup her cheek. “The cop doesn’t deserve you.”
Charlotte pauses and stares up at him. She knows this man, knows what he’s capable of, and she really doesn’t want to make him angry. “I know…” she whispers softly. “But, I love him and I need you to respect that. Please, Hugh.”
Hugh’s lips twist into a smug smile when she begs him. “I didn’t see him anywhere, Charlotte. Is he really worth upsetting me? Because you used to love me. Until he came along.”
Anxiety makes her chest feel tight. “He… he’s coming.” She lies, praying he won’t be able to tell. “He’s just running a little behind, but he’ll be here.”
“We both know that's not true. You and that bitch friend of yours have been here for the last hour. Unless he got lost, you're lying. You know how much I hate it when you lie to me.”
Feeling sick to her stomach, Charlotte pulls her lower lip between her teeth to keep it from trembling. “I’m sorry. We’re here to meet James. He… He got stuck at the office.”
“James?” He rolls his eyes. “Another one I can’t fucking stand. Whatever. I wonder what the cop would say about this. You, here with me. This close and intimate. He got in my face once and I almost broke his nose. Think he’d wanna go for round two?”
Irrational fear makes her hands shoot up to Hugh’s chest. “Please, leave him out of this.” She begs, her hands curling into fists against his shirt. “Eric… he trusts me completely. I won’t let him get hurt.”
“Maybe he shouldn’t.” Hugh shrugs, glancing down at her hands. “Look at you. You’re crying, a complete mess. And all it took was a little of my attention.”
“I… I’m not…” She argues, letting her hands fall back down to her sides. “You… shoved me back in here. I didn’t even know you’d be in the bar. You… you hate this place.”
“Mmhmm. Well, you haven’t made any attempt to leave, honeybee.” He makes a sweeping motion toward the door with his free hand. “If you didn’t want to be in here with me, you’d just leave.” He lets go of her hair as he raises an eyebrow. “Well?”
Cautiously, she moves toward the door. She knows it has to be a trap, but she still has to try. “Please, don’t call me that.” She asks in a pleading whisper. “I’m not your honeybee anymore.”
Hugh’s hand lashes out, grabbing the back of her neck and shoving her against the door. One of her hands gets trapped between her body and the door, while he twists the other behind her back. “I don’t care how much you think you love this cop,” he hisses in her ear. “Or how good he fucks you, you’ll always be mine, Charlotte.”
She struggles for a moment, then stops, knowing how useless it is to fight him. “I don’t want to… to be yours. You need to… to let me leave. Please.” Her voice breaks on the last word as tears slide down her face.
“You can leave when I’m fucking down with you. I have half a mind to show you just how not done we are. Take you right here in the bathroom of this sleazy bar. No better than what you deserve. Right, honeybee? We’ll see if your precious cop still wants you after that.”
With her cheek shoved against the door, the best she can do is lift her head a little. “Pl...please, Hugh. Please, don’t. I’m sorry I upset you, I really am. But… I’m begging you, just let me leave. I… I’ll scream for help if you don’t.”
He whirls her around, wrapping his hand around her throat and shoving her flush against the door. “Do you honestly think I’d ever let you get that far? You can’t do anything to stop me, Charlotte. You know that. You’ll never get away from me, no matter where you go. You belong to me.”
“N-no, I… I don-” Charlotte’s breath hitches when his free hand moves to his belt buckle. “Wh- what are you doing?” She asks, terrified of the answer.
Hugh barely showed restraint with that thing when they were together. Now? She knows he wants her scared and that makes her worry about what he’ll do to her to prove his point.
“Whatever I fucking want, princess.” He comments, pulling the belt through the loops. “I could choke you until you pass out and carry you outta here. Tell anyone who asks that my wife can’t hold her liquor. And if I took you home, I’d never let you leave. You’d just disappear. It’d be the last anyone ever saw of you.”
She watches, frozen in terror as he slides the belt through the buckle, creating the noose she still has nightmares about. “You… you can’t. Pl...please, don’t use the belt.” She pleads, shaking her head. “Hugh, please.”
“Why not? I get the belt and you immediately behave.” He shrugs at the complete horror on her face. “Then, I could keep you tied down to my bed forever. I mean, we got back together for almost six months and you didn’t tell anyone, did you?”
Charlotte’s eyes widen even further. More than anything, she regrets going back to him, but it led her to Eric. She has to cling to that. “No…”
“Exactly.” He smiles in triumph. “I’d never be implicated and you’d never see your father, that annoying bitch, or the cop ever again. By the time I’m done retraining you, the only person you’d ever need is me.”
Hugh releases his grip on her throat, only to drop the belt around it and pull tight. “You’d need permission to eat, to sleep, to fucking breathe, Charlotte. I wanted you as my wife, but if you’re going to be defiant like this, I’ll make you my fuck toy. You can’t beg your way out of this; your mouth is only good to me when it’s full of my cock.”
Charlotte whimpers, her hands flying up to loosen the leather biting into her skin. Tears stream down her face; not only is he fully capable of taking her, but she knows he actually would. And eventually, she’d piss him off enough that this time, he would kill her. “Pl...please, don’t do this -”
He wraps his hand around the end of the belt, pulling it up. “The choice is yours. Are you going to show me right now that you still belong to me or am I gonna have to force you?”
Breathing as evenly as she can, Charlotte blinks away her tears and stares up at him. She isn’t in love with Hugh, not anymore. She’s in love with Eric; can’t imagine her world without him in it. He makes her feel safe and truly loved. And the thought that she might never see him, or you and her daddy again? She can’t let that happen.
She hates that Hugh still has this hold over her; that she slips back into not wanting to upset him for fear of what he’ll do. Because she certainly doesn’t want to obey whatever he’s going to ask of her, but she wants him to take her even less.
“Wh...what do you want me to do?” She whispers, her voice broken and defeated.
Hugh smiles, knowing that he’s won, again, and points to the dirty floor. “Kneel.”
Charlotte glances down and nods slowly, knowing she doesn’t have any other choice. When he unzips his pants and squeezes her jaw, she screws her eyes shut and lets him use her mouth.
She hates herself, hates that she’s too weak to fight back and get away from him. Hates that she’s completely terrified of him, even after all this time. And she hates that she still doesn’t have the courage to tell anyone what she let him do to her. The best she can do is keep her eyes closed, try to breathe and pretend this isn’t happening.
When he cuts off her air with a particularly brutal thrust, there’s a knock on the bathroom door. Charlotte’s trapped between it and his body, but that doesn’t stop her from attempting to push against his legs. Not only does she desperately need to breathe, but whoever’s there will get someone to open the door if she doesn’t answer.
“Char?” You call out from the other side. “Honey, you alright? The bartender says you’ve been in there for a few minutes.” Her stomach drops; Hugh will absolutely hurt you if you barge in here, he’s threatened to for years.
She blinks wildly, silently begging Hugh to let her up. As it is, she’s feeling light headed from lack of air. He stays right when he is, smirking at the way she’s starting to panic. When you knock again and threaten to get the bartender, he rolls his eyes and steps back.
Charlotte falls forward and coughs as quietly as she can. “Get rid of her.” Hugh hisses, pulling up on the belt so she’s forced to lean back. “Or when I’m done with you, I finally get to put her in her place. See how she likes my belt.”
Charlotte struggles to loosen the leather and drag as much air into her lungs as she can. “N-no, please, Hugh.” She whimpers, hating the way her voice shakes. “You… you promised you wouldn’t hurt her.”
“Try me.” He growls, low and furious. “Get rid of her.”
She nods as best she can and closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to see the smirk of satisfaction on Hugh’s face. “I’m fine sugar, just not feeling too well.” She yells. “My stomach’s off. Could you just give me a moment?”
“You didn’t answer right away,” you protest, sounding concerned and more than a little skeptical. “You need me to come in?”
When Charlotte hesitates, Hugh wraps his hand further around the end of the belt. She grabs at his arm to stop him. “I… I was throwing up. Told you drinking on an empty stomach was asking for trouble.”
You seem unsure when you answer her, asking why she sounds like she can barely breathe. Looking up at the reason for that, Charlotte clears her throat and takes another deep breath. “I’m fine, sugar. I promise. Just… just go back to the table.”
The silence stretches until you finally answer. “Okay, just… I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” The worried tone of your voice lets her know you don’t exactly believe her. But there’s nothing you can do. Why on earth would Charlotte be lying about being sick?
“There she goes again.” Hugh comments as he stares down at her. “Making this worse for you.” He yanks up on the end of the belt, pulling it taut. “You have your best friend to thank for this. And for the new bruises I’m going to leave.”
Charlotte can’t keep the tears from falling. She should have just told you, screamed for help. You’d always been right about him, you wouldn’t be mad at her. At least, she hopes you wouldn’t be. She knows Hugh was awful to you; he said the worst things and every time, she defended him instead of you.
When he grabs her jaw again, Charlotte twists her head to the side as she pushes against his legs. “Please, Hugh… just let me go. I won’t tell anyone about this, I… I promise.”
Hugh only smirks and pulls the belt forward until she has no choice but to move. “I'll let you go when I'm done with you, princess. And who are you going to tell? The cop? Tell him that you cheated on him? That you can’t behave or be good for him? Good luck with that. You'll be begging me to take you back.”
He slaps her when she tries to slip her fingers under the belt and take a breath. “None of that. Now open your mouth, let Daddy use your throat. You can breathe when I'm finished. If you don’t behave, I’ll happily send him pictures of all the times you’ve done this for me. I’m sure he’d love to see them.”
That sends fresh terror down her spine. If Eric ever saw any of those pictures or knew that Hugh still inspires this kind of fear in her, he’d leave her. She knows it. She’d lose a good man, the one she truly loves, because she can’t get away from Hugh Montgomery.
Charlotte knows she has no leverage. Not like this; on her knees with his belt tight around her neck. So instead of fighting back, she nods and lets another tear slide down her face. “Y-yes, Daddy.” She whispers, and allows him to finish what he started.
***
You frown as you walk away from the bathroom. Charlotte seems off, she hadn’t been sick when you’d gotten here. Maybe it really is the drinks on an empty stomach. Or maybe it’s just your own suspicion and frustration at play.
Because you could’ve sworn that it had been John. It looked like him from the back at least, but when you hurried outside, you’d only encountered dozens of strangers and a sense of unease you couldn’t explain.
That unease hasn’t left you as you head back to your high top table. You hate that you so desperately wanted it to be him. But what would you have even said to him if you'd been right? You want to think you’d be able to tell him you hate him. That saying it would make you both believe it. Even if you’re afraid you never will.
Making a beeline to the bar instead, you decide not to think about John Constantine any more tonight, and continue to drown your sorrows in Old Fashioned’s until you don’t care anymore.
The bartender smiles and slides over a fresh one once you lean on the counter. “Thanks.” You smile up at him as your fingers wrap around the glass. “I can see why Char loves it here. You really know what you’re doing.”
When he asks if she's alright, you nod. “I think so.” You shrug, staring at your phone as it starts to buzz. “I’m sorry, can you watch my drink? I have to take this.” When he nods, you slide open your phone. “Eric? Is everything okay? Did you burn something?”
When he laughs, you frown a little. “Nah, kid. I didn’t burn anythin’. James just figured we could make this a double’s thing and I didn’t disagree. So...”
“Wha-” A finger tapping your shoulder makes you stop and whirl around. When you come face to face with Eric’s playful expression, you smile wide, end your call and wrap your arms around him. “Hi! How are you…” You shake your head. “What?”
Eric shrugs as you lean back, his soft blue eyes shining with excitement. “I didn’t take time off after Charlotte got hurt and when I talked to her this mornin’, she said she couldn’t sleep without me. And I’ve got a ton of time off now that she’s up there with us, so I flew down to surprise my two favorite ladies. James picked me up, he’s just finishin’ a call and he’ll be in.”
“Charlotte’s just in the ladies room, but she’s gonna be so happy you’re here.” You grab your drink and point to an open table. “I’m happy you’re here.”
“Me too, kid.” Eric agrees, ordering two beers. Once he has them, he follows you to the open table and sets the bottles down. He looks up, past your shoulder and waves. When you spin around, you see a very tall, very handsome, gentleman in a suit coming your way.
When he waves back, you realize this must be James. The closer he gets, the more you understand just how right Charlotte was when she’s told you he’s your type. He’s impeccably dressed in a navy suit you’re sure was tailored to fit him and his dark blond hair is short and professionally styled.
But it’s his eyes that you can’t stop staring at; deep blue and crinkled at the edges when he smiles. They match his face; warm, kind, and surprisingly affectionate. He nods at Eric, then turns his attention to you with a smile.
“It’s lovely to finally meet you, darling.” His accent glides over your skin, leaving goosebumps. It’s more refined than John’s, but it still reminds you a little of him just the same. “Charlotte and Eric both speak so highly of you that I must confess, I’ve been rather excited all morning.”
You take his outstretched hand and smile back. “Same here, James. I’m sorry it’s taken us so long to actually meet. I know we tried quite a few times, but fate was never in our favor, I suppose.”
He pulls out the chair closest to him for you to sit. “I have a feeling that might be changing.” You blush just a little and hop up. “Where is Charlotte, by the way?” He asks, reaching for the beer Eric slides over with a happy grin.
Inclining your head, you point over his shoulder toward the bathrooms, then turn to Eric. “I should check on her, actually. I did about fifteen minutes ago and she said she’d been throwing up.”
Eric’s face immediately changes, moving from excited to intensely concerned. “Oh shit, will you? I don’t want to start nothin’ by goin’ into the women’s room, but I wanna make sure she’s alright.” You agree and slide off your chair, hurrying to check on your best friend.
***
Buckling his belt, Hugh smirks down at Charlotte and lifts an eyebrow in disgust. “You better clean yourself up, princess. Before she comes looking for you again.”
She looks up from the corner she’s hidden herself in. “Please, don’t let her see you. I… I did what you wanted.”
When he rolls his eyes, she scrambles to her feet, clutching his arm in desperation. “Please, Hugh. Please, I… I’m begging you. I can’t lose Eric, please.”
Charlotte flinches when his hand cups her cheek. “Then you best pretend that nothing happened in here.” He advises, using his free hand to smooth his blond hair away from his face. “We both know how nosy that little bitch is. She’d tell the cop in a heartbeat.”
She nods slowly, her face crumbling as his words sink in. You love her, but you’ve known Eric your whole life. Of course you’d tell him if you saw Hugh walking out of the bathroom. You’d be worried and that would lead to dozens of questions she’s never going to be ready to answer.
Charlotte feels what’s left of her resolve crumbling as Hugh presses his lips to her forehead. “That’s my good girl.” He whispers condescendingly as he slips out of the room.
She grips the edge of the sink as the room spins. Her breathing is shallow and quick; she feels like she’s on the edge of a panic attack. Of course he found her. She can’t even step into the Quarter without the crushing anxiety that she’ll run into him. And this time, what she let him do…
Eric should leave her. He shouldn’t have to deal with a disobedient, awful, girlfriend who can’t behave. She hates herself for what she just let happen. Eric is so good, so kind. She doesn’t deserve him. Hugh’s always been right, no one else would want her if they knew the truth.
Looking at herself in the mirror, Charlotte thinks she might actually be sick. Her mascara’s dried down her face and the bruises around her neck are darker and angrier than they were before. She drags in an unsteady breath and splashes cold water on her face and in her mouth to help scrub away the stain of what she’s done.
She knows she needs to pull herself together; you can’t see her like this and neither can James. James knows; not because she confided in him, but because she was foolish and hadn’t hidden a bruise properly. He’d recognize the signs and she doesn’t want to have to explain how she misbehaved again.
Carefully fixing her eye makeup, Charlotte practices her breathing until it’s calm and even. She fixes her dress and steps away from the mirror. Aside from the second sleepless night she’ll have tonight, it’s like nothing ever happened.
As she turns and opens the door, you catch her off guard; hand raised and ready to knock. “Hey, how’re you feeling?” You ask, with nothing but affection for her in your voice. “I was worried about you.”
“I’m fine, sugar.” She assures you, letting herself be pulled toward the main part of the bar. “Didn’t mean to worry you. Is, uh, is James here?” Her eyes sweep the dimly lit bar, shivering when she thinks she sees Hugh watching her from a darker spot by the stage.
“Yeah, he seems really nice, Char.” When Charlotte steals a glance at you, your cheeks are a little flushed; you like James. “And he brought us a surprise, so that wins points in my book.”
Before she can ask what kind of surprise, Eric turns around and smiles when he sees her. His bright blue eyes sparkle with excitement when Charlotte’s brain catches up to what she’s seeing. When it does, her heart skips in her chest; Eric’s here.
As he crosses the room and wraps his arms around her, Charlotte’s doing everything she can to not shake. She knows Hugh’s watching her; watching the way she reacts to seeing Eric and watching their every move.
When Eric leans in to kiss her, she shakes her head, pressing a hand to his chest to make him pause. “Chere, I just got sick. Surely, you don’t want to -” He rolls his eyes and kisses her anyway, leaning back only to make a joke about ‘in sickness and in health.’
When Eric leans back, Charlotte does her best to smile at him. She cups his cheek and takes a steadying breath before speaking again. "Not that I'm not excited to see you, chere. But what on earth are you doing here?"
Eric laughs, covering her hand with his. "Ya said you couldn't sleep, honey. Did ya think I was just gonna leave ya like that?" He shrugs, turning the two of them around to face the table. "Besides, I have so much vacation time now. Figured I'd cash some in, come see Ray too."
Her answering smile is soft and a little sad. "I love you so much, Eric Grant. I hope you know that." She glances around nervously. "I've never loved anyone else as much as I love you."
Eric leans down and kisses her cheek. "I love you too, honey. More than anythin'. Not that there was ever any question. Ya the only girl I want for the rest of forever."
Before she can say anything else, Charlotte goes stiff in his arms. She hears the DJ start playing “We Belong Together” over the speakers. Hugh had to have gotten her to play it, it’s too obscure to just show up otherwise. She was always a little unsettled by the song, but now, given what’s just happened, she’s completely freaked out.
Struggling to ignore the words, she buries her face in Eric’s chest while he holds her. She’s sure he must think she’s still a little nauseous and she’s not going to correct him.
When she looks up, he gestures to the table, where you and James are now deep in conversation. "So what's the deal? We gonna play matchmaker for those two?"
Charlotte smiles as they approach the table. "Hopefully." She admits, peering up at him. "I trust this one."
"Yeah, me too. He's a good guy and even if it doesn't go anywhere, she could use another friend. She's been such a mess cause of John. Maybe James can help her forget him."
Charlotte’s mouth presses into a thin line, her eyes unreadable in the dim lighting. "That would be nice, but you can't outrun your past, chere. No matter how much you want to."
***
When Eric leads Charlotte back, you and James look up with matching grins. "Great surprise, right?" You ask, taking a sip of your drink. "Cause even I didn't know. And did you hear? The DJ really just played that awful song.”
Charlotte nods, but doesn't say anything. She’d rather not call attention to anything related to Hugh, especially where you’re concerned. So she steps close to James, who stands and wraps his arms around her. "It’s good to see you. How are you feeling, love?" He asks, sliding back into his seat.
"Still a little queasy to be honest." She stares at you for a second before glancing at her hands. "I'm sorry, sugar. I think we might be heading back early tonight. I don’t really feel up to staying."
"Nah, come on, honey." Eric interrupts, lifting an eyebrow in your direction. "Let these two get to know each other. We can go back to Ray’s and I’ll take care of ya." He nudges James then looks at you with a grin. "You gonna be good if we head out? We’re all gonna brunch in the mornin’. James offered.”
You nod and glance over at James. “If you don’t mind bringing me home later, or maybe letting me crash on your couch?” When he enthusiastically agrees, you shoo Eric and Charlotte away. She kisses your cheek, then clings to Eric as they head out.
James watches them go with a curious expression. “I’ve never seen Charlotte this happy. Eric seems like a good man, thank you for introducing them to each other.”
“Yeah, I love them both. And I don’t think either of them intended for it to get this serious, he’s gonna marry that girl, but I’m glad it did. Hugh was…” you shake your head. “I'm just glad she’s finally happy. Eric lets her just be herself.”
“He really does, and he seems like he’s really good to her.” He smiles, turning his full attention to you. “So, darling, tell me about you. Charlotte tells me you can speak Latin and any woman that can speak a dead language? She’s a goddess in my mind.”
You blush and pull your lower lip between your teeth. “I promise, I’m not that interesting.”
“Oh, I don’t believe that for a moment.” James leans back, twisting his lips into a playful smirk. “I’m sure you’re a wonderfully interesting creature and I look forward to figuring you out.”
***
After talking for a couple of hours, when James offers for the two of you to head back to his place, you agree with a smile. He pays the tab and holds out his arm for you to take as you walk. You really enjoy him; he’s sweet, well educated, and a total gentleman.
He’s the first generation in his family to decide on law. His father and grandfather were both in the Royal Navy, but he wanted something different for himself. You can respect that. After all, the path you chose is completely different than anything you anticipated for yourself.
Your thoughts wander as you listen to him talk about work and before you realize it, you’ve reached his house at the edge of the Quarter. “This is me,” he gestures to his front door. His hand rests at the small of your back as you climb up the steps.
Where the outside of the house was old fashioned and quaint, the inside is modern and sleek. Black and chrome decorate the living room and kitchen. When you turn to tell him you like his taste, his fingers tangle in your hair and he presses his lips to yours.
You’re not expecting the kiss, but you welcome the distraction. James pulls you to him and expertly maneuvers you against the wall in the living room. He pulls away only to gently grab your jaw and tilt your head up. His mouth moves to your neck and without realizing you’ve done it, you lift your arms over your head, crossing them at the wrists.
You let out a soft moan and feel John’s name on your lips. You shake your head, your mind crashing down on the moment. You’re not with John. You’re with James. And suddenly, you don’t want any of this.
Turning your head, you squeeze your eyes shut and let your hands fall. “I… I’m sorry, James. I… I can’t.” You cast your eyes to the floor, feeling awful and more embarrassed than you can say.
He immediately steps away, his expression kind and patient. “It’s alright, love. I shouldn’t have pushed you.” He gestures to the couch. “Do you want to sit? Or… I have a car, I can bring you to Charlotte’s.”
Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as you sink down on the couch. “I’m so sorry, James.” You hide your face in your hands. “Trust me, I wanted this. You’re perfect. You’re so sweet and… and very attractive. I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
James’ lips twist into a wry smile. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re still in love with the man who broke your heart.” He sits beside you, resting a hand on your knee. “You can’t make yourself feel any differently until you’re ready.”
You huff indignantly, which only makes him chuckle. “Would you like to talk about him? It might make him feel less like the ghost on your shoulder and more like a normal man.”
“I don’t wanna do that to you.” You argue, anxiously folding your arms across your chest. “I agreed to come home with you and I know that expectation… and I did want to… but..”
You stare at him, at the kindness in his eyes, and you hate yourself for feeling sad that it’s not John you’re looking at. “I loved him so much.”
James runs his other hand through his hair and loosens his tie as he stands. “Charlotte told me how hard this was for you. I’m sorry for that. Someone was wonderful as you shouldn't have to feel like this. Like you’ve been splintered into shards too sharp to repair.”
You watch as he steps into his kitchen and grabs two glasses and a bottle of wine. “And for the record, I didn’t expect anything. You’re a beautiful woman and I am pleased that we’ve gotten on as well as we have. But, I’d never push anything on you that you weren’t ready for.”
He hands you the glass and sits back down beside you. “So, if you’d like to talk about what happened, I’ll listen. If you’d rather not say a thing and just relax with a movie? Then I’m perfectly fine with that too.”
You nod and settle back on the couch, resting your head on his shoulder. You’re silent for a moment, then a soft sigh forces it’s way past your lips. “You know? Believe it or not, the first time I met John? I hated him...”
***
The two of you stay up all night, talking and laughing. When you both meet Charlotte and Eric the next morning, the four of you have a great time with each other’s company.
You and James get along great and play off of each other well. You can almost see the writing on the wall, the future you could have for yourself if you’d allow it. You’d let James continue to win your heart and over time, you’d fall for him.
But you’d never feel the way about him that you did with John. And that kind of hollow love is something you can’t sustain yourself on and you’d never do that to someone as kind as James.
When you hug him goodbye that day and promise to keep in touch, you mean it. And you do; you occasionally text him, flirting back and forth over the coming months. But it never amounts to more than that. Despite Charlotte hoping that it will.
Later that week, when you fly home, Charlotte and Eric seem closer than before and you’re left with a new sense of confidence that you didn’t have before this trip. James wanted you; he enjoyed your personality, your very being. And while you aren’t ready to move on, you find it reassuring to know that what you’ve been through hasn’t left you broken, as you feared.
***
When you get home, Chas calls you and asks if you’re alright to take a job in Rhode Island. It’s the first one you’ll have done in months, but it’s a standard exorcism and with it being for the church, the Vatican will pay. You glance over at Charlotte as she sets her bag down on the bed.
Once you relay the information and ask what she thinks you should do, she tilts her head. “Sugar, I know you can do this.” She smiles softly. “So does Chas, that’s why he called you. The question is, do you want to?”
There’s no hesitation in your answer as you emphatically nod your head. “Yes.” You tell her, glancing over your shoulder to make sure Eric isn’t within ear shot.
“Taking a break was the smart decision for a little while, but you were right when you said I’d miss helping people. I really do and I think it’s time to jump back in.”
Charlotte lifts her eyebrows in approval. “There’s your answer, sugar. And you know I’m here for you. I can’t do what you can, but you keep me in the loop and I’ll help make sure you make it out alright. I feel like it’s the least I can do after everything.”
You cross the small room and wrap your arms around her. “You don’t have to feel obligated to help me, but I appreciate you for wanting to.”
She hugs you back, resting her head on your shoulder. “Well someone has to keep my foolhardy best friend from getting in over her head.”
After a moment, you pull away, meeting her eyes carefully. “Please understand that even though I’m not with him anymore, there’s still going to be a target on my back. And yours by association. John has powerful enemies and while he may not love me, it would be stupid to assume they aren’t still my enemies too. So, if this gets too much -”
“Oh, hush.” She shakes her head as she playfully shoves you. “I know this is serious, but you’ve done a wonderful job keeping Eric and I safe from everything that goes bump in the night. I know you’ll continue to do so. John was a lot of things, but he taught you well. I’m not worried, I trust you with my and Eric’s life.”
Tears threaten to form in the corners of your eyes. “And I trust you with mine. Always have.”
Charlotte smiles a little, her soft brown eyes shining with affection. “You promise, sugar?”
Your answer is automatic, but truthful nonetheless. “I promise, Char.”
***
Like all things, time goes on. You spend the next two years working, growing your abilities. Not once do you run into John. Aside from the magic you use so frequently, it’s like he never existed.
Charlotte’s true to her word, helping you with your work, covering for you with Eric and your dad to keep them in the dark and keep them safe. As far as anyone knows, you’re a historical consultant for the Peabody. And with Grace as the head curator, you’re able to do just that on occasion.
You don’t talk about John, but you have to admit, Eric was right in the beginning of this. After all this time, you’ve fallen into something like indifference. You can hear his name without crying and if you come across something that reminds you of him, you take a deep breath and it’s alright.
You don’t regret loving him; those three years shaped you into the person you are now. But if you could do it all again, you’d like to think you’d be able to protect your heart a little better than you did the first time.
Not that it matters. You know you’ll never have the chance to do it all again. Two years have gone by and you’re certain you'll never see John Constantine again.
***
Chas warned him. Messing with memory displacement on his own was volatile magic. But as the months passed, John found as much as he tried to not think of you, he only found himself failing. So if a touch of memory displacement helped him move on? Then so be it.
What he hadn’t expected was dropping arse over tit into an entirely different universe. Comic book characters on his earth were living and breathing here. Captain America, Ironman, even the trickster God, Loki. All real, and all terribly curious about John and his mysterious past.
He hadn’t intended to stay, but once he realized his magic wasn’t working, he knew he’d be stuck for a few days at least. The Captain and his wife were gracious hosts, especially considering how he’d literally dropped in and destroyed their living room table.
John also hadn’t expected how much he’d love hiding out in this world, where he could let his guard down just a little, like he had with you, without fear that anyone would get hurt.
That was how he found himself telling the Captain and his wife all about you, even when he hadn’t intended to. He’d let it slip to Steve’s wife that she was pregnant and she hadn’t thought it was possible. He’d told her that Bucky and Tony would happily say yes when they asked the pair to be godfathers to their first and second children.
Then they’d gotten on the topic of Bucky’s arm and how interesting John thought it was. The conversation shifted and John felt comfortable enough with them to be more honest than he had been since he had you at his side.
When Steve’s wife comments how John's dangerous proclivities could get him into trouble, he just laughs. He can’t imagine what she’d think if he told her he’d just had a dalliance with the literal devil only weeks before. “Oh, don’t worry about Ol’ Johnny, luv.” He assures her with a smile. “I’ll be just fine.”
“Oh, I’m going to worry about you.” Steve’s wife argues, leaning back to rest her hand on her stomach. “Someone has to.”
Steve shifts beside her and clears his throat. “How often…” He shakes his head, struggling to understand why John won’t tell him any more about his future. “You haven’t been shy since you got here, so why start now?”
John grins at the two of them, the smile not reaching his eyes as he turns and stares at Steve‘s wife. “I don’t do well with people worrying about me, luv. I prefer to be alone. It’s loads safer that way.”
His eyes move to Steve’s and he can’t help but show off a little. “Shy’s got nothing to do with it. The first time I let something slip was to stop your wife from drinking. The second time was just to get a rise out of you. But I shouldn’t tell you too much about your future. Timelines aren’t solid, are they? I don’t want to risk altering it by telling you too much.”
Steve quirks an eyebrow in interest. “Do you often predict pregnancy? You aren’t psychic are you? And what could we possibly alter?”
“You can prefer to be alone.” Mrs. Rogers jumps in softly. “That’s your preference. But everyone needs someone to worry about them.” John knows she’s curious to find out what exactly happened to him back home to make him think that loneliness is safer than having people in his life that he trusts.
His eyes crinkle as he smiles at her. She reminds him a little of you; your wit, your charm, your ability to call him on his bullshit.
“I had someone to worry about me.” He admits, his face taking on a wistful expression as he thinks about your sweet smile. “But I ended it before… bollocks, before she got well and truly hurt.”
He shrugs, avoiding her question as long as he can. “And not often big man, but your energy is quite strong. When I’m tuned in like I’m choosing to be with the two of you, I could tell quickly. You have something about you, the both of you. It could be your displacement in time, I’m not certain.
“But whatever it is, that something makes me more attuned to changes in the energies around me; helps me see things here. My best mate can do what I do, but I’m the one who saw that his wife was expecting a month before either of them knew.”
“What do you mean by ‘both of us’?” She asks, curiosity making her eyes go wide as saucers. “You know that Steve and I are from the forties, but this baby isn’t.”
She looks up from her hands on her stomach to meet his eyes. “And if you don’t mind my asking, what happened? What exactly were you trying to forget with that spell of yours? Or who, I should ask. Because if it was the girl you ended things with, I can tell you cared about her a lot. Loved her even. It’s in your eyes, John.”
John’s mouth twists downward, his lips a ghost of a frown. Bloody hell, she really is like you. She sees everything he’s trying to hide; the pain, the secrets, everything.
When he lets out a shaky breath, he rolls his shoulders back to steady himself. “Are you certain that's the story you truly want? Because you’re bloody right about that spell, I was trying to forget a ‘who’. You may think differently about Ol’ Johnny when it’s done.”
At the surprise on her face, John shrugs. “And yes, you and your husband are from the forties. Now, you lot wouldn't call that magic here, but I bloody would. What changed the Captain, flows through the nipper growing inside you. I can feel it. He’s going to be as strong as his daddy, almost as brilliant as you, luv.”
Steve lets out a sharp dry laugh. “I’m sorry, are you telling me that my wife is going to give birth to a Super Soldier? Because I’m sorry John, but that’s not possible.”
“Oh, I’m not saying he’s going to be a Super Soldier.” John smirks, taking another sip of his drink. “But he’s going to be loads stronger than the average child.”
Steve’s wife glances at Steve quickly, before gently smiling at John. “About the girl, John, if you’re willing to talk about her, I doubt it would change my, our, opinion of you.”
“We’ll see about that.” John raises an eyebrow as he sits up straight. “It’s always about a lass, innit? She was beautiful, cheeky as all hell and so bloody brilliant. Kept me on my toes in a way I never would’ve imagined.”
He gestures toward her with his glass. “Reminds me a little of you, luv. We were together for a few years and I taught her everything I knew. I fell right in love with her, I did. First time in my useless life I felt like I didn’t have to go it alone. Should’ve known then that I’d muck it all up.”
John finishes his drink and sets the glass on the table. “I made a dangerous mistake when I was younger, you see. Got an innocent little girl killed and I’ve been trying to atone for it ever since. Last year, after searching for a bloody decade I got a chance to fix what I’d done. But to do it, I made a deal with a nasty demon.”
He shifts his weight and stiffens his shoulders. Guilt and regret weigh heavily in his eyes as he looks down at his lap, but he’s already started talking. If they’re going to hate him, at least they’ll have the full reason. “My girl would’ve gotten killed if I kept her close. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Did she know what happened?” Steve’s wife asks softly. “Oh, John, you pushed her away, didn’t you? You said you taught her everything you know, so she could do magic as well? Did you not trust her to hold her own?”
John shakes his head, refusing to look up. "The demon threatened her and I was afraid… bloody hell, I was afraid of the liability that loving her would cause and I didn’t want her hurt. So I broke her heart. And I was a nasty bastard about it too. Told her I never loved her and put her on a plane back to the states.”
Her hand flies to her mouth in shock.
John nods as he reluctantly lifts his head. “I needed her to hate me so she wouldn’t come looking for me. I couldn’t let her get killed because of my stupidity.”
When Steve’s wife opens her mouth to comment, John holds up a hand. “You don’t bloody understand. The things I deal with everyday are nasty little buggers. And the one I made the deal with was an awful wanker. He would've used her against me if he knew how much I cared about her.”
Steve squeezes his wife’s hand and smiles at her softly. “If my girl reminds you of yours, trust me, she could have held her own. Took me far too long to realize it, but this headstrong woman saved my life quite a few times. Maybe if you had given her a chance, your girl might’ve been able to help you out.”
John smiles then, a sad and mournful expression that doesn’t meet his eyes. “Mate, if anyone could hold their own in a fight, she could’ve. But she shouldn’t’ve had to. It wasn’t her fight. I’d already put her in danger countless times before. How could I ask that of her? Ask her to willingly risk her life, again, for a tosspot like me?”
Steve’s expression hardens as he reaches for his glass. “John, what’s stopping him from using her against you now? You obviously still care a great deal for this woman, even if you don’t want to.”
John lets out a soft huff; he’s had that thought every day for the last year and a half. “I didn’t think about it like that at the time, mate. But I kept an eye on her from afar, just to be sure. Rest assured, she hates me now. No matter what I still feel for her. That alone should keep her safe. That bloody demon won’t have a use for her if all she feels for me is contempt.”
“You love her.” Steve insists, shaking his head. “You know you wouldn’t have to ask for her help, you’d tell her not to risk her life and she'd ignore you. She’d want to help you, no matter the cost. This one stowed away on a flight to Russia to help me with a mission. Love doesn’t always make sense, trust me on that one.”
That brings a small smile to John’s lips as he raises an eyebrow in Steve’s wife’s direction. “Oh you stowed away, did you? The two of you would be fast friends.”
“Oh I did, and when they found out, I was told to stay on the plane. Lucky for everyone, I didn’t listen.” She shares a private smile with Steve that makes John raise his eyebrow. “If it were possible, I’d say that I’d love to meet her.”
“I wish you could meet her as well, she’s headstrong and stubborn. Like you apparently, stowing away on a bloody plane. I meant it, you’d be fast friends.”
He lets out a heavy sigh as he leans against the pillows and scrubs a hand down his stubbled cheek. “And you’re bloody right about that mate, love makes absolutely no sense. But still, I don’t reckon I could go back to her after what I did. If I were her, I’d slam the door in my bloody face.”
She huffs quietly and gives John her full attention. “John, I can almost guarantee she wouldn’t slam the door in your face. Love like that doesn’t just go away. She’s probably hurt but I think if you explained all of this to her, the way you’ve explained it to us, she’d forgive you… in time.”
John tilts his head, considering what you've told him. “You’re right, I’d reckon. Love like this doesn’t just go away. It’s been over a year and a half and it still breaks my bloody heart to think about her. We had a great thing going and leave it to Johnny to muck it up. I never fancied dragging her into my mess.”
When she smiles at him softly, it reminds him so much of you, it hurts. “You need to stop blaming yourself, John. You did what you thought was right to protect her because of how much you love her. Was it the best thing? No. But I do really think she’d forgive you. Just don’t expect it to happen overnight.”
“Oh, blaming myself is a cornerstone of my bloody personality, luv.” John laughs, casting his eyes downward. “And I’d give my life to protect her if she was in any kind of danger.”
“Then you need to tell her.” Steve urges him, leaning forward on the couch. “You keep telling us that your girl is like my wife, so I know there’s nothing you could do that would make her stop loving you.”
John dares to hope for just a minute. To think that he could set Astra free and still have you in his life? It’s almost too good to be true. But Lucifer had come through for him. He always did. He had the name, now all he needed was you.
“I hope so, Captain. I truly do. If I ever get back home, I’ll track her down. See if she’ll at least speak to me. If she’s truly moved on, I’ll bugger off and never show my mug again. But if there’s a chance that she still feels the same and might be willing to help me, it’s worth the shot. I’ll tell her everything I can and this time, I’ll tell her that I love her.”
The moment that leaves his mouth, John knows both of them are shocked. How could he not have told you he loved you?
Steve’s wife confirms his thoughts. “You never told her that you love her?” She asks, completely baffled. “John, how is that possible if you were together for years? Stevie barely waited six months to say it.”
“Hey, hey.” Steve rolls his eyes playfully. “You said it back before I could finish my sentence.”
“She let it slip first, in the middle of a bloody argument no less.” John admits, smiling to himself. “Shut me right up. I told her I felt the same about her, but love was a difficult word for me to say. Wasn’t exactly something I grew up hearing. Dear old dad had choice words for his son, but love was never one of them. She didn’t push me, she knew how I felt. But I should’ve told her.”
“I understand fathers like that, believe me.” She tells him, reaching for Steve’s hand. “But you shouldn’t have let that get in the way of telling her how you felt. Knowing it and hearing are two very different things, John.”
“Oh luv, there’s plenty of things I shouldn’t do.” John sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s itching for a cigarette, but he knows she wouldn’t let him have one.
“But I reckon now, things will finally be right as rain. I can atone for my mistake and I’ll tell her that I love her more than I ever believed possible for a bloke like me. Known it from the moment she had a go with a spell and knocked me on my bloody arse. First go at it, too.”
Steve’s wife giggles a little as she listens; John likes making her laugh like that. Just another thing that reminds him of you. “I’m very glad to hear that you’re going to tell her. And with you being as handsome as you are, she’ll have a hard time staying angry, I think.”
John laughs as he crosses his leg over his knee. “Oh you think I’m a handsome devil, eh? Good to know I can fall back on my rakish looks if chatting with her doesn’t work.”
Steve and his wife roll their eyes as John crosses one leg over the other. “I’m grateful for this. Truly, I am. Hospitality like you’ve shown me… I wasn’t expecting it. I reckon she’ll never believe me that I met you lot, but... Of all the bloody things that could’ve happened with that spell…”
“Even though you broke our table,” Steve grins, “we’re glad you’re here too. Everything happens for a reason.”
Indeed, John thinks to himself. When he’s able to get back home, he’ll figure out a way to speak to you. See if you’ll hear him out. He misses you, more than he ever thought possible.
And if everything happens for a reason, then maybe, just maybe, you’ll forgive him for what he did.
***
That was the longest six days of your life.
There was nothing in Nebraska but cornfields and one stoplight towns. But the demon inside of that little girl was too strong and the priest couldn’t exorcise it on his own. Knowing that you’d be able to expel it and save her, you’d gotten on a plane without a second thought.
It didn’t want to give in without a fight, and you got knocked around a few times for your trouble. But you didn’t give up. Her life depended on you standing your ground.
Trapping it with the compact mirror you kept in your bag was something John never would’ve thought of. Charlotte said as much when you called to let her know you’d landed. She thinks you’ve gotten better than John and while you don’t want to get cocky, you don’t disagree.
Growing your abilities and utilizing your knowledge from the museum, you’ve learned how to remove curses from dark objects and contain dark magic to keep it from spreading. You can even run circles around Chas now.
You know you should call him, let him know you’re home safe, but as you climb the steps, all you want is your bed.
When you feel your phone buzz in your pocket, you almost don’t answer it. But by the time you’ve hung up, you’ve agreed to leave right away and head down to New Orleans for double your normal fee.
You just need to grab fresh clothes and let Charlotte know you’re leaving again. She answers on the second ring when you call her on the way back to the airport. You can hear her disapproval through the phone once you’ve explained.
“But, sugar, you just got back.” She argues. “I miss home too, but you’re exhausted. I can hear it. New Orleans can wait a day til you’ve gotten some rest.”
“He needs me right away. And it’ll be a quick payday.” You promise her, sliding behind the wheel of your SUV. “Seriously, no more than ten days. Then you and I can grab brunch and you can tell me all about the handsome District Attorney you might work with.”
Charlotte laughs a little. “Oh, hush. Devin is a great man. Eric swears you've met him and you just don’t remember. But yes, when you get home, I’ll tell you all about him. Now, promise you’ll let me know when you land, and that you’ll be careful.”
“I’m always careful. You know that.” You roll your eyes, but keep the affection in your voice. “And I’ll be home before you know it. I’m very good at what I do.”
“I know you are, there’s just something about this that seems a little fishy to me. Don’t you think?”
You don’t want to agree with her, but the thought has crossed your mind. The Plantation manager refused to tell you who had informed him of your skills. “No,” you say instead. “Nothing bad will happen. I promise.”
You hadn’t intended to break that promise, but you had no way of knowing what would happen once you landed. Or that it would be six months before you saw her again.
Because once you opened the door to your hotel room and saw him standing in the soft shadow of the hallway, there was no turning back.
To be continued...
Notes:
Point of reference, cause we're sure y'all are curious: Hugh? That's Alexander Skarsgard. And James? Think Tom Hiddleston. You see it, right?
This is it, friends. The end of prequel. Thank you so much for being a part of this wild tale with us. It means the world that y'all have come along on this ride.
In the next month or so, you'll see the sequel to RM, 'Paying for his Mistakes' start to pop up. So stay subscribed and stay tuned. Johnny and Reader have some story to tell and their adventure isn't over yet. And trust when we say, this installment is the best one yet <3
Love y'all so much,
xoxo
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