Snow Angel

Notes: Balthazar works for Johnny here
for some reason. Just a quick little drabble thing anyway.

Snow Angels.

“It's snowing again.”
Constantine muttered, pulling his jacket a little tighter around
himself and sulking slightly at the weather. It should NOT be snowing
in Los Angeles. He'd been convinced it was somehow supernatural and
dragged his companion around the city looking for anything out of the
ordinary, but in the end it really had just been the weather. Fucking
with him. Karma.

Instead of being annoyed at being
dragged around LA by a grumpy exorcist, Balthazar had been
infuriatingly cheerful, in his slightly psychotic way. Cheerful, for
Balthazar, meant flirting even more than he usually did, which was
doing nothing for John's state of mind. One day, he swore, he was
going to just fucking snap. Trip him and beat him to the floor. Screw
him through the nearest hard surface. Mental images not helping.

“It doesn't snow in Hell.”
Balthazar supplied out of the blue. He was looking up at the dark sky
as they walked, snowflakes in his long eyelashes. A flicker of forked
tongue appeared, catching one of the thick, white flakes of ice. He
was enjoying himself far too much. It made John twitch with the urge
to DO things to him. Punching had worked before. Now that Balthazar
worked for him, that was reserved for when he was being really,
REALLY annoying. Or trying to kill someone. Today he was just being
supremely fuckable. John often wondered if Balthazar could actually
NOT be supremely fuckable. He was being more so today than usual,
which was a feat.

“Really. I had no idea.”
John replied flatly, sending the smirking demon a brief glare.

“Mm-hmm. Too warm.”
Balthazar continued, as though John didn't know that.

“That'll be all the fire, I
expect.” Constantine pointed out, valiantly resisting his
hormones, which seemed to be on some sort of rampage.

“Ever made a snow angel, Johnny?”
The halfbreed asked, sending the exorcist a sideways, wicked little
glance. John's eye twitched visibly.

“No. And there's no way you have
either, unless you did something obscene to it afterwards.”

“Oh, Johnny, how you wound me.”
Balthazar purred, not at all 'wounded'. Smirking, he cocked his head
towards an alley containing a parked car. “Come watch,”
he said, striding off down the alley and taking off his stylish rust
brown jacket, revealing the plain red t-shirt he was wearing
underneath. Casual clothing, aside from the fact that the entire
outfit, complete with brown jeans to match the jacket and boots, cost
more than John's first car.

Having no choice but to follow,
curiosity and slight disbelief warring for the top spot in his mind,
John crunched through the snow and stopped next to the demon, who was
staring at the car. The hood was covered with a thick layer of snow,
perfect and unblemished. Balthazar handed his coat to John, who took
it because THIS he wanted to see. Balthazar making a snow angel.
Surreal.

Standing in front of the car, Balthazar
slowly lowered himself back to lay against it on his back, arching up
at the cold snow. As was usual in the making of a snow angel, he
spread his arms out at his sides and lay there, panting slightly from
the cold. John took an involuntary step toward him before his brain
overrode his urge to molest. This was Balthazar, his mind said
firmly. Flirting was what he did. All the fucking time, and it was
getting hard to resist.

“Well?” John finally said,
waiting for the demon to start moving his arms up and down to make
the 'wings'. Melted snow had soaked the half-breed's t-shirt and it
was clinging to his chest, darker where it was wet. John firmly
avoided thinking about peeling it off him.

“Oh, I'm working up to it,
Johnny. It takes a little effort to do this, you know.” The
demon informed him, licking his lips. John was about to ask what the
hell Balthazar was on about when he felt the power in the demon
surge. Eyes glowing brightly,
Balthazar arched up on the hood of the car,
moaning in a way that could only be described as obscene. John almost
dropped the coat he was holding, watching heat pour off the halfbreed
in waves, melting the snow on the car bonnet into his 'angel' shape.

Steam was rising
from Balthazar's damp t-shirt as it dried from the heat pouring off
his arching body, mingling in the cold air with the demon's gasping
breath.

“What the
hell are you doing?” Constantine ground out, coming closer
until his knees were touching Balthazar's, fingers twitching with the
urge to touch.

“Making
you a-a pretty angel, Johnny...” The demon moaned, obviously
enjoying the heat burning through him. John could tell. Those jeans
were tight.

With a shudder,
Balthazar lay back and breathed heavily for a moment, the power surge
dying back to his normal levels. It took him a minute to get his
breath back, but when he did he looked up at John with a satisfied
smirk on his lips. A movement caught John's eye and he raised an
eyebrow, watching Balthazar's rarely-seen tail slither up and draw a
halo in the snow above the angel's head before slyly retreating back
to curl around his waist like a belt.

Stepping aside so
that Balthazar could get up, John wondered how he ever managed to get
anything done with the Lust Fairy haunting his every move. He
suspected that the Lust Fairy might actually be Balthazar himself,
who got up, stretched in an extremely serpentine way and then glanced
down at his work.

“Mmh, I
always thought I'd make a great angel. Now I have.” The demon
purred happily, before cheerfully taking his coat from John's
slightly numb fingers and jauntily walking off back out of the alley.
John spared the melted angel shape left on the bonnet of the car a
look, noting that the car was blood red and so was the angel.
Typical.

One day. One day
very, very soon, he was going to give it up and just fuck Balthazar
senseless.

It would be worth
it just to see the look on his face.

END

Drabble, haha. Why
do these things always attack at 3am?