Touch of Heaven, Taste of Hell

FIC: If the Whole World Burns (1/1) JC/XH
If the Whole World Burns
Summary: Sequel to "Almost Me".
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one. But if someone should have
the power and feels like giving either of them to me, I'd certainly
take them. Even John. I have life insurance. ^_^
Crossover: With Hellblazer. If you have no bloody clue what that
is, check out this fun spot:
http://www.insanerantings.com/hell/index1.html
An interesting/compact view of John Constantine can be found here:
http://www.insanerantings.com/hell/history/fs/index.html
Notes: If I get things wrong, let me know but don't shoot me.
Please. Also, Dani is not a self-insert me...she was a girlfriend
that John had during a story arc or two.
Ship: J/X
Dedication: To CCCarioca times 2 for the great feedback. Hope this
lives up to what you were hoping for, even if it's a bit short.

%^%^%^%^%


It feels nice to have a warm body wrapped around me. It's been a
while.

As a rule, I try to avoid people who could become attached to me.
Not because I don't like having people around me, but because they
tend to end up dead. Which, I suppose, is because I like having
people around me. Whatever bastard I've pissed off at that moment
wouldn't kill these people unless they thought it'd really hurt like
a bitch, I suppose. Funny, that. The whole world thinks I'm a
heartless bastard, but they always go for my heart. Just another
funny quirk of being John Constantine, I suppose...not that it makes
it any easier.

Which is why I can't stop staring at the young man who won't let go
of me, even in his sleep.

I'd argued even as I talked to him...argued with myself over whether
or not I should brush him away, leave the pub...hell, maybe even
tell him to run like the devil was after him. I suppose that, in a
way, he is now. This yank here holding onto me is now a target
because he was hurting and I was lonely and no one's ever accused me
of being strong.

There's a reason for that.

I guess he's got a better chance then the others. Kit thought she
knew what she was stepping into when we got together, but she didn't
really. Her leaving proved that. When the shit hit the fan, she
couldn't stand the smell, and I can't blame her. Wish I could cut
and run from myself too...only I tried and it didn't work.

Dani, well...Dani never really knew. She had ideas, and she wanted
desperately to know what made me tick and tock and hurt and come
back to her the sorry wreck I am most of the time, but after the
smashing success I'd had with Kit, keeping her in the dark had
seemed the best idea. Only it wasn't. It's hard to explain to a
woman running out of your bedroom that the bint who'd been sleeping
next to you when she walked in was an angry succubi when one, you'd
also have to explain what a succubi was and that they were real and
two, that despite being a succubi, you hadn't actually slept with
her. Short and long was that she hadn't even had an inkling of some
of my nastier baggage, and it had hopped up to bite us both in the
ass because I wasn't careful about it.

In a way I'm glad since it means they'll probably both live much
longer and happier lives, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like
a bitch when I think about it. Well, with Dani. Luckily, I don't
have to deal with Kit. And when I say luckily, I mean luckily for
me, which is on a whole different scale then you'd think and let's
leave it at that.

But this one, considering what he's told me...this one actually has
a chance. It didn't take long to get him talking about everything
that had happened to him. Only took a bit of a nudge and he opened
up. Probably hasn't had too many people to talk to, so it'd built
up. Sure he had friends, but both of them were women, and there are
just some things that they don't get. One of the many reasons why I
keep Chas around, I suppose, other then the rides.

The things he told me. Bloody wild. Demons and witches and ghosts
and vampires and all manner of bollocks this boy's seen, and he's
still alive. Split the Slayer line and told Fate to fuck itself;
stared down a master vampire and babysat another one; faced down the
end of the world masquerading as his best friend with nothing but
toddler's stories and told the Chosen One right to her face more
then once when he thought she was in the wrong...and he was still
there to meet me at that pub less then twelve hours ago. Gotta mean
something, right? Maybe, I figured then, maybe he can even survive
me.

S'sad reason to bring someone into your bed, but not one to
discount. It helps matters that he's sharper then he looks. Might
not be tops on the schoolbooks, but he's got a way of seeing things
that others don't, and I picked up on that within the first twenty
minutes of knowing him when he convinced the bartender to give him a
free drink. The Charlie I know and get my booze from wouldn't give
a free drink to a blind cripple who's just lost his wife to leprosy,
but there you go. Not a trace of any sort of gift on him, but he
knows people like the back of his hand and I bet he plays them like
a fucking violin when he needs to. Bit like me, really.

He's not bad on the eyes either. Broad shoulders, thin waist,
plenty of muscle and just enough padding to make him comfortable.
Hair's a bit longer then I like in a bloke, but it's soft enough
that I don't mind. Eyebrows a little thick, and sure, there's the
eyepatch, but considering the scars I carry, I'm not one to be
throwing any stones. The other eye makes up for it. Brown like old
blood spilt and remembered, but with bits like coffee, no cream two
sugars, that are more alive then I remember being in a long time.
Sweet, with a salty edge. That's what he tastes like, those full
lips and that tanned skin, and that flavor's still in my mouth,
running along my gums like good booze that's worth the next
morning's hangover.

I was his first experience with a male, I suppose. From what he
told me, though, it seemed like that was more of a consequence of
who was around him then a lack of interest. He seemed a little put
off at first, but when my arms were opened, he practically fell in.
I can't call it love, or even lust. It was just plain old human
need, and that's a cause I can get behind, I suppose, because I was
in the same boat as him: lonely.

We didn't do much. Talked for a while in my flat, drinking from
some of the bottles lying around. Told each other stories. When
enough alcohol had made it's way to our respective brains and the
fan refused to spin, the clothing had started to come off, and I'd
worked my own brand of magic on him. Nothing special...just my own
bizarre charm that never seems to fail in situations like this, for
good or for worse. Telling exactly how that happened would bore me,
because I've done it a million times before, but eventually I got
him out of that big flannel jacked and those baggy pants, and from
then on it gets a little hazy, as per usual, but from how I woke up,
I'm assuming there was some lovely friction and a good time had by
all.

And now I've got this young man holding onto me in his sleep like a
bloody lifeline, and I'm still not sure if I did the right thing for
him or for me.

For once, though, it's nice to know that he'll probably get me into
as much trouble as I'll get him into.


The End...