This Is What Love Is
Summary: For those of you who are tired of the Chastines and the John/Balthazars, here is a real romance Constantine fic, where everyone's in character and the passion is real. John/Angela. No intentions to offend, it's just that you don't see enough of these anymore.
Disclaimer:Constantine's not mine but I wish he was. Keanu-wise.
"Who is he?" She thought mindfully. "Who is this man who carries a crucifix, who slays demons and who… who risks everything to give hope to another, receiving nothing for himself?"
She remained, drenched in wet, staring at him and struggling not to let herself flush in the cold room. It was chilled and the air was drafty, but as long as he was near her, she felt warm…maybe hot.
He was crouched and it was over. It was all over. The stone was lifted from her chest, the dark veil was lifted from her head and regret was flushed from her heart.
Isabel. She knew now that her sister's soul was safe; in Heaven where it belonged.
He remained close to her, looking at her as their eyes were soaked into the others; her hazels and his chocolate browns. She wondered what he was thinking, if he was as relieved as she. He had to be, she reckoned.
Suddenly, he began to move forward, towards her and she felt her heart squeeze and her body tremble. But this time it was a good thing. Was he really going to go for her, to let his lips touch her own? She was hoping, she had been hoping. But alas, his face brushed past her lips and his hand reached for the Spear.
She sighed, though he didn't hear it. They uttered some meaningful words between each other - small as they were - and to him she gave a;
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." he said. It seemed to him that it had been the first time he had ever said that to anyone and really meant it. But since when did he ever receive a thank you that sincere?
The Arch Angel Gabriel. He had lost his immortality, his wings and as for his dignity…he threw that away a long time ago. John gave him a blow, after the two exchanged words. It appeared that John didn't find that Gabriel was worth wasting any ammo on. After all, being human for him would only be the greatest of punishments…not to mention the punch in the face; something John had been wanting to give him for ages.
In their leave, Angela questioned John about the Ex-Angel.
"So, is it true?"
"What true?"
"That they are in fact," a small grin curled her lips, "genderless?"
"True."
"So what is he… now I mean?"
"Who knows? Never knew what he was to begin with…cept' a weasel." he heard her resist a laugh. "I think he's more than likely to go male. It's what he came in the form of…and I suppose that's what he'll be. Why?"
"Just curious. Heaven can be…strange in a way."
"Yeah," he looked at her, a minor smirk etching on his face. "It's complicated."
She blushed, turning away quickly. She felt herself trembling, shaking almost like a wet leaf. Maybe because she was in fact wet. But when he draped his damp coat on her she still trembled, even though it did give her a bit of warmth.
She drove back to the Bowl Bowl Bowl, where she dropped him off.
"Hey," she said, halting him.
"Yeah?" he turned around, furrowing his brows.
"All this…fighting has, made me hungry. Um, would you like to get something to eat?"
"It's late, isn't it?"
"I know a place that stays open."
"Like what?" he questioned.
"My place?"
She could see him smiling in the shadows of night.
"Wait here." he told her. He returned not long after with a set of dry clothing on.
They drove back, to her place of course. She felt nervous keying the lock of her apartment. Once opened, Duck flung out of the door, greeting Angela who cradled him in her arms as she and John stepped in. Duck however hated the wetness of her clothes and as he leaped from her clutch she giggled, glancing at John who's solemn expression left her dry of further humor.
"So uh, why don't you just, make yourself comfortable and I'll go and change."
He merely nodded and she smiled in approval before heading into her chamber. When she came out, he looked almost shocked at the sight of her, and for a moment she worried that there was something horrid on her face.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, uncomforted by his endless, absentminded staring. He couldn't have possibly been amused by her. She had only pulled her damp hair back into a pony tail and slipped into some jeans and a simple a baggy shirt. It wasn't like she had dressed herself up for him to take to a five star eatery.
"No." he said at length. He was startled by her disapproval, her question. "Nothing's wrong." he reiterated, looking back down at Duck who was perched beside him on the couch.
"Oh." she shrugged, heading into the kitchen.
"You uh," he began again and eagerly she gave him her full attention, "…never mind."
She raised her brows but tossed it aside as she began bringing things out of the cupboards and refrigerator to cook into something decent.
At the table, they tried to enjoy the delightful meal of tacos, late as it was; but their minds were weary from all that had come to pass. They were overwhelmed in some way, surprised maybe. Perhaps it was the simple fact that the two of them had been only inches from death itself.
"Is it good?" she asked at length, trying to bring positive vibes to the silent table.
"Yeah." he said.
"Do you want some more soda?"
"Sure."
As she replenished his glass, a sudden chuckle began to ring out of her. John lifted his hand from it's lean-to that was his folded knuckles and he gazed at her in almost suspicion.
"Why are you laughing?" he asked.
She shook her head, still snickering gently but keeping it contained rather well.
"Just," she began, "It's been years since I stayed up this late to eat."
"Really? I do it all the time."
"For me it's been a constant schedule. I never stay up past ten if I can help it."
"I don't see what's funny about it." he sighed.
"It brings back a memory is all. Five years ago I brought Isabel home to spend the night with me. We had both had a miserable day and, neither of us could sleep. So we stayed up almost all night, eating tacos and watching musicals. It was one of her favorite things."
"Tacos or musicals?" he mused, glancing her warmly.
"Both." she smiled, resting her arms against the table. Then her smile ceased and her eyes began to fill with an emptiness that made John feel cold. He couldn't bear to see her grieve and he knew what was coming. He reluctantly managed to place his hand over hers and he brought it across the table, closer to him.
She rendered him, her lips parted and he clutched her hand firmly. It only made her want to cry harder, and she placed her free hand upon his.
"Angela," he whispered, "Can I tell you something?"
"Yes." she swallowed.
"I don't say this much but…you look really nice with your hair wet."
She laughed again, softly, and he smiled as he watched her. It just sounded so real coming from him of all the romantic men there were. He stood, guiding her along and for a while they stood close, gaping into the other's face taking in all that there was to take in.
She had a real trademark about her. A radiance and a sense of elegance. Yet, she was not soft but hard; and she was gentle also.
He was a fascinating enigma. A man unlike any she had ever seen before. He was truly something special, other than being a hero whether he wanted to be or not. He was a man, hard and bitter yet loyal and dependable. Of course he was no Casanova and he wasn't the best with manners, but for her it seemed he was willing to try anything. She somehow knew how much she meant to him. She couldn't explain it but somehow it was just there.
Then, in that instant, he curled his finger beneath her chin as if exploring some new content he had never seen before, allowing his thumb to slide against her smooth skin. She bit her lip, her eyes wanting to waver; but she kept them still and aimed at his, knowing that their other hands were still clutched. Then he came close to her yet again, and suddenly her anxious hope turned to doubt. For she feared that maybe he was yet to only grab something, or perhaps he had forgotten to take the necklace from about her neck.
"Wait, what necklace?" she remembered.
Then, like a sudden flame, he kissed her; but it was not a violent kiss, nor was it weak. It was just right…the kiss she had been waiting for.
She wrapped her arms about his neck and he rested his about her waist, rubbing her back gently. Then they broke apart and for a while he just held her, letting her cry the tears that represented everything she felt: Sadness, fear, anxiety, doubt, anger and at last, love.
"I have to go." he whispered to her after the passing of thirty or more minutes. Both of them resenting the parting.
"I wish you'd just stay." she confessed, drying her eyes with her shirt.
"I want to but,"
She silenced him, fitting her finger over his lips.
"I know." she assured him. "It's okay."
He clutched her finger, slowly embracing all of her hand with his own before kissing it. Then he felt her cheek a final time and said,
"Goodbye."
"Forever?" she looked like a lost puppy in that moment.
"I hope not." he replied and she smiled.
She knew that this was a side of him that few women, if any, had ever seen. She hoped desperately that it was more than a momentary thing from him, that he'd open up more in the future. Maybe he would learn to smile more, laugh and talk more. But all in all, she cared not for him to change. For he said it better when he said nothing at all.
Fin.