Per Aspera ad Astra
folder
1 through F › Constantine
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
2,883
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
1 through F › Constantine
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
2,883
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Constantine/Hellblazer does not belong to me and this is a work of fanfiction created purely for entertainment purposes. I am making no profit from this.
4
Notes: My toe is feeling much better, thanks for asking. I broke it kicking an ancient leather suitcase filled with packets of seeds. I think it might be karma for picking on Balthazar.
Warning: Written whilst drunk, un-beta'd.
Per Aspera ad Astra
Chapter 4
A week later, his wounds were almost healed. Only the echoing ache of the injuries remained, an afterthought of pain. It was enough to remind him of what had happened, and he knew that he should have been a wreck, sitting alone and drowning in the aftermath of his punishment. However, being with Constantine in the vital week prior to the awful act had been a lifesaver. He wasn't human enough to have angsted over being raped for long, or as deeply, perhaps, as a mortal might have. He'd still expected some sort of trembling fear beneath the surface of his skin, a prickly fright that would grab him whenever someone got too close.
Constantine hadn't given him the chance, and around the exorcist he hadn't needed it. Every time Johnny had leaned in close, brushed his arm in a light, reassuring touch or casually tucked his hair back had only served to fill him with the sense that he was protected. He wondered if that was what angels felt, knowing that God had their back. Not that he was comparing Johnny to his own personal God, or anything. He would definitely never mention to the human that the thought had entered his mind.
When Constantine sat with him whilst he'd still been too injured to get out of bed, they'd talked. It had been an enlightening experience, and he was sure Johnny had learned as much about demons as he had about his favourite exorcist. It was a strange and not unwelcome feeling to have someone to unravel to, it wasn't something most halfbreeds bothered with. Some must, he knew, but he'd never met any. They were out there, he'd heard the stories. The halfbreeds who'd found a human and settled down with them. They didn't instantly become saints or anything, but the influences they peddled were just slightly less cruel than they had been. He'd always thought it must be an unsatisfying life for a creature like himself, but having gotten inside Constantine's defences, he'd begun to understand the appeal. He wondered if Johnny felt anything in return. Surely more than he had before – the exorcist had told him things about his past that couldn't just be meant to fill the silence. He hoped so, anyway, and hope itself was still such an unfamiliar emotion.
Once he'd recovered enough to be able to walk around a little – or at least limp painfully into the main room – they'd watched movies together. Balthazar had never really bothered with such things. He liked the human world and their gadgets and technology, but he'd never really sat down and spent time absorbing the human capacity for storytelling. It was exciting seeing what Constantine had assured him were special effects, he could barely tell they weren't real. He'd caught Constantine's wry little smirk more than once at his wide eyes, riveted to the screen during some fantastic explosion or incredible fantasy scene. More than once during the past week they'd stayed up until the early hours of the morning and Balthazar had ended up falling asleep, slumped against Constantine's shoulder.
He couldn't help but love waking up in the grey, early light of morning, feeling warm and safe and only aching ever so slightly as he realised just where he was. Constantine's arm would be around him and the exorcist's chest would be rising and falling gently, the crook of his arm the most comfortable place in the world to wake up. On those few mornings he didn't give a damn about Lucifer, Hell, Heaven or any of it. He just wanted to close his eyes and go back to sleep, and, being Balthazar, that was exactly what he'd done.
It was only the times when Johnny left him alone to go out to an exorcism that he felt the beginnings of insecurity gnaw at him. At those times, after firmly telling himself that he shouldn't get too comfortable and that as soon as he was well again Johnny would kick him out, Balthazar could feel the pain he'd been trying to ignore. Physical pain was a given – his shoulder knitting itself back together was the worst – but the echoes were what really made him shake. The ghosts of Lucifer's fingers crawling up his spine, expected at any moment to rake through his flesh. Even the disgusting feeling of having the devil inside him, a half-remembered pain now and again when he couldn't focus on anything else.
Johnny would always come back, though, and find him trying to pull himself together. He'd stopped bothering to slick his hair back and it hung loose, framing his face. Johnny would always stride over to the couch where he spent his time when he was alone. The exorcist would walk behind where he sat, heading towards the kitchen or bedroom and casually lean over, asking some mundane questing like what was on television, what song was playing, what did he want for dinner. Then Johnny would nonchalantly run those long, pale fingers through his hair and he would close his eyes, that simple touch wiping away the ghosts of Lucifer's fingertips. Being behind him when he did it, Johnny never got to see the relieved little smile that flittered across Balthazar's lips each time. He saw the tenseness leave the line of the demon's shoulders, though, and that was enough.
XxXxX
“Chinese food tonight.” John informed the halfbreed on his couch, having entered his apartment to find Balthazar sitting on the couch with his legs tucked under him, wearing slacks and one of John's white shirts and staring through the television. His tail was resting on his lap and he was tapping the tip nervously against his leg, stopping when he noticed the human. Hollow red eyes flickered over to him and Balthazar forced a weak smile.
“My favourite.” The demon said, before looking down at his hands and trying to pull himself together. He was trying his best not to be pathetic in front of Constantine, but he knew the human could see right through him anyway.
Dropping his bag to the floor beside the door with a clunk, Constantine made sure the apartment was locked and warded and headed over to the couch. As usual he stood behind the back, one hand brushing invisible dust from the ragged old leather and the other sliding up to comb though Balthazar's dark blonde hair. The demon instantly relaxed and Constantine couldn't help but smirk. Sometimes he was like a big cat, it was hard to compare him to the slick asshole he'd been before Constantine had bothered to know him.
“Anything good on?” The exorcist asked, not really caring much either way. His nails lightly scraped against Balthazar's scalp and the halfbreed murmured in appreciation, his head dropping to rest back against the couch cushions.
“Sharks eating humans...” Balthazar sighed, causing John to flick his eyes to the television in curiosity. The Discovery Channel was playing some animal attack show and he snorted in amusement at Balthazar watching such a thing, looking back to the demon. He was just in time to see the halfbreed's eyes slide closed, a breath of contentment leaving his lips. As per usual a shot of lust slithered down John's spine, fingers still working through Balthazar's soft hair. Those perfect lips had John entranced, not caring that he was staring. The demon had the most deliciously soft-looking, full lips Constantine had ever seen. They looked made for kissing... amongst other things.
“Johnny...” Balthazar murmured, his voice something that was almost a quiet moan. It sent a shiver of want through Constantine, who watched the demon open his eyes heavily, a wicked little smile on his lips. “You should do that for a living, Johnny-boy, you'd make more money.”
“Hm. Then you'd have to share.” John replied, before realising how his words sounded and wondering what it might be like to keep Balthazar there with him forever. The demon was getting better, his injuries reduced to not much more than an achy shoulder and the odd moments of unwelcome memories that John chased away. The thought of him leaving soon was an unwelcome intrusion into the quiet, contented atmosphere in the room, and Constantine pushed the idea aside.
Balthazar's smile remained, lighting up his glowing eyes as he laughed quietly.
“Forget that idea, then. I'm ever so selfish, Johnny.” The demon claimed in his smooth, accented voice, his tail slithering up to wrap loosely around John's wrist where his hand rested on the back of the couch. “I want to take a shower, but... Mmm, just a little longer?”
John rolled his eyes in amusement, shaking his head slightly.
“Fine, fine. If you like it that much.” The human muttered, stroking his fingers through Balthazar's hair again and letting his eyes drift lazily over to the television. The volume was just low enough that he could hear Balthazar's soft, purring breaths, and in that moment he knew without a doubt that he wouldn't be able to let the demon go.
TBC
Warning: Written whilst drunk, un-beta'd.
Per Aspera ad Astra
Chapter 4
A week later, his wounds were almost healed. Only the echoing ache of the injuries remained, an afterthought of pain. It was enough to remind him of what had happened, and he knew that he should have been a wreck, sitting alone and drowning in the aftermath of his punishment. However, being with Constantine in the vital week prior to the awful act had been a lifesaver. He wasn't human enough to have angsted over being raped for long, or as deeply, perhaps, as a mortal might have. He'd still expected some sort of trembling fear beneath the surface of his skin, a prickly fright that would grab him whenever someone got too close.
Constantine hadn't given him the chance, and around the exorcist he hadn't needed it. Every time Johnny had leaned in close, brushed his arm in a light, reassuring touch or casually tucked his hair back had only served to fill him with the sense that he was protected. He wondered if that was what angels felt, knowing that God had their back. Not that he was comparing Johnny to his own personal God, or anything. He would definitely never mention to the human that the thought had entered his mind.
When Constantine sat with him whilst he'd still been too injured to get out of bed, they'd talked. It had been an enlightening experience, and he was sure Johnny had learned as much about demons as he had about his favourite exorcist. It was a strange and not unwelcome feeling to have someone to unravel to, it wasn't something most halfbreeds bothered with. Some must, he knew, but he'd never met any. They were out there, he'd heard the stories. The halfbreeds who'd found a human and settled down with them. They didn't instantly become saints or anything, but the influences they peddled were just slightly less cruel than they had been. He'd always thought it must be an unsatisfying life for a creature like himself, but having gotten inside Constantine's defences, he'd begun to understand the appeal. He wondered if Johnny felt anything in return. Surely more than he had before – the exorcist had told him things about his past that couldn't just be meant to fill the silence. He hoped so, anyway, and hope itself was still such an unfamiliar emotion.
Once he'd recovered enough to be able to walk around a little – or at least limp painfully into the main room – they'd watched movies together. Balthazar had never really bothered with such things. He liked the human world and their gadgets and technology, but he'd never really sat down and spent time absorbing the human capacity for storytelling. It was exciting seeing what Constantine had assured him were special effects, he could barely tell they weren't real. He'd caught Constantine's wry little smirk more than once at his wide eyes, riveted to the screen during some fantastic explosion or incredible fantasy scene. More than once during the past week they'd stayed up until the early hours of the morning and Balthazar had ended up falling asleep, slumped against Constantine's shoulder.
He couldn't help but love waking up in the grey, early light of morning, feeling warm and safe and only aching ever so slightly as he realised just where he was. Constantine's arm would be around him and the exorcist's chest would be rising and falling gently, the crook of his arm the most comfortable place in the world to wake up. On those few mornings he didn't give a damn about Lucifer, Hell, Heaven or any of it. He just wanted to close his eyes and go back to sleep, and, being Balthazar, that was exactly what he'd done.
It was only the times when Johnny left him alone to go out to an exorcism that he felt the beginnings of insecurity gnaw at him. At those times, after firmly telling himself that he shouldn't get too comfortable and that as soon as he was well again Johnny would kick him out, Balthazar could feel the pain he'd been trying to ignore. Physical pain was a given – his shoulder knitting itself back together was the worst – but the echoes were what really made him shake. The ghosts of Lucifer's fingers crawling up his spine, expected at any moment to rake through his flesh. Even the disgusting feeling of having the devil inside him, a half-remembered pain now and again when he couldn't focus on anything else.
Johnny would always come back, though, and find him trying to pull himself together. He'd stopped bothering to slick his hair back and it hung loose, framing his face. Johnny would always stride over to the couch where he spent his time when he was alone. The exorcist would walk behind where he sat, heading towards the kitchen or bedroom and casually lean over, asking some mundane questing like what was on television, what song was playing, what did he want for dinner. Then Johnny would nonchalantly run those long, pale fingers through his hair and he would close his eyes, that simple touch wiping away the ghosts of Lucifer's fingertips. Being behind him when he did it, Johnny never got to see the relieved little smile that flittered across Balthazar's lips each time. He saw the tenseness leave the line of the demon's shoulders, though, and that was enough.
XxXxX
“Chinese food tonight.” John informed the halfbreed on his couch, having entered his apartment to find Balthazar sitting on the couch with his legs tucked under him, wearing slacks and one of John's white shirts and staring through the television. His tail was resting on his lap and he was tapping the tip nervously against his leg, stopping when he noticed the human. Hollow red eyes flickered over to him and Balthazar forced a weak smile.
“My favourite.” The demon said, before looking down at his hands and trying to pull himself together. He was trying his best not to be pathetic in front of Constantine, but he knew the human could see right through him anyway.
Dropping his bag to the floor beside the door with a clunk, Constantine made sure the apartment was locked and warded and headed over to the couch. As usual he stood behind the back, one hand brushing invisible dust from the ragged old leather and the other sliding up to comb though Balthazar's dark blonde hair. The demon instantly relaxed and Constantine couldn't help but smirk. Sometimes he was like a big cat, it was hard to compare him to the slick asshole he'd been before Constantine had bothered to know him.
“Anything good on?” The exorcist asked, not really caring much either way. His nails lightly scraped against Balthazar's scalp and the halfbreed murmured in appreciation, his head dropping to rest back against the couch cushions.
“Sharks eating humans...” Balthazar sighed, causing John to flick his eyes to the television in curiosity. The Discovery Channel was playing some animal attack show and he snorted in amusement at Balthazar watching such a thing, looking back to the demon. He was just in time to see the halfbreed's eyes slide closed, a breath of contentment leaving his lips. As per usual a shot of lust slithered down John's spine, fingers still working through Balthazar's soft hair. Those perfect lips had John entranced, not caring that he was staring. The demon had the most deliciously soft-looking, full lips Constantine had ever seen. They looked made for kissing... amongst other things.
“Johnny...” Balthazar murmured, his voice something that was almost a quiet moan. It sent a shiver of want through Constantine, who watched the demon open his eyes heavily, a wicked little smile on his lips. “You should do that for a living, Johnny-boy, you'd make more money.”
“Hm. Then you'd have to share.” John replied, before realising how his words sounded and wondering what it might be like to keep Balthazar there with him forever. The demon was getting better, his injuries reduced to not much more than an achy shoulder and the odd moments of unwelcome memories that John chased away. The thought of him leaving soon was an unwelcome intrusion into the quiet, contented atmosphere in the room, and Constantine pushed the idea aside.
Balthazar's smile remained, lighting up his glowing eyes as he laughed quietly.
“Forget that idea, then. I'm ever so selfish, Johnny.” The demon claimed in his smooth, accented voice, his tail slithering up to wrap loosely around John's wrist where his hand rested on the back of the couch. “I want to take a shower, but... Mmm, just a little longer?”
John rolled his eyes in amusement, shaking his head slightly.
“Fine, fine. If you like it that much.” The human muttered, stroking his fingers through Balthazar's hair again and letting his eyes drift lazily over to the television. The volume was just low enough that he could hear Balthazar's soft, purring breaths, and in that moment he knew without a doubt that he wouldn't be able to let the demon go.
TBC