immediatly post Danse Vandou
With the success in the case, sending the murdering souls back to their rightful rest, Jim Corrigan thought that Constantine and his entourage might have headed for home immediately, wherever that was. With little ceremony, he'd made his way to a bar, though not the same one that had begun the whole debacle. So, it was a double surprise when, after receiving a stout he hadn't ordered, he turned to where the barkeep pointed to see John Constantine, sitting in a dark corner.
"Thanks for the brew," He muttered, sliding into the booth across from the other man. John nursed at his own stout.
"My pleasure, Corrigan," There was an intent gleam in his eyes, and it spooked the stalwart detective, but only a little.
"What do you want, Constantine?" He asked, retaliating with the use of his last name.
"Does a man have to want something to buy a mate a drink? What's the world come to?"
Jim laughed humourlessly at John's scathing wit, but warily sobered up when he noted that the Englishman was dead serious.
"I'm sorry you got pulled into all of this. You seem a nice fellow, and I hate to bother an upstanding gent. An honourable man like you, throwing in with a despicable like me?" He scoffed. "You've shown me more trust than some of my closest friends, and that's far more tha I deserve most days, Jim Corrigan," The honesty belayed in John's tone resonated deeply with the detective. It was the familiar pangs of self-loathing which stung him.
"You proved yourself worthy of it, at least for now. That's good enough for me,"
They were bent towards one another, leaning over the table, the result of their hushed tones in the crowded bar., when John leant forward an inch more. His lips touched to Jim's, if only for a moment, before he drew back, emotionally closing off.
Jim was speechless. John tasted like beer and ash and regret, all things Jim knew only too well. The air was charged, and on a whim, Jim lent towards the other man, and kissed him back. It was obvious that the put-out Constantine was too astounded by his reciprocation to return the gesture with any measure of gusto.
When Jim pulled away, John looked at him with a new light in his eyes. Inwardly, Jim smiled.
"Do you want to take a walk?" It was the first thing that came to the detective's mind. John took a drink from his glass, and lounged back against the booth cushion.
"Bit domestic, innit? A stroll?"
Jim shrugged. "Walks can be nice. They have lots of potential,"
"Alright then," John acquiesced after a beat. The two paid up tab and left, walking shoulder to shoulder in silence for several minutes, before John pulled the other man into an ally, threading his fingers into Jim's hair, and bringing their lips together in a heated kiss. Jim walked him backwards till John was back to the bricks, bodies pressed flush.
When they parted, both were panting heavily.
"You know, Jimmy-boy, I wasn't sure you'd go for this,"
"Another day, a different man, I might not have," John smiled crookedly at the comment.
"So I'm special, is tha'it?" He asked with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows. Jim chuckled, a deep rich sound.
"Don't get any ideas,"
"Oh but haven't you 'eard? I'm a right cheeky bastard,"
"I think I can handle it," At Jim's words, John grew serious.
"I 'ope you never have to," He muttered under his breath. Jim didn't question him, but as they exited the alleyway, and resumed their stroll, he found himself wondering, nervously, just exactly what John had meant, if he was, perhaps, getting himself into something far more dangerous than he'd expected.