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This is just a quick blurb story I wrote, because there aren't enough John/Zed fics out there. If you don't like, don't read. Comments are always appreciated. #SaveConstantine
Okay, so, admittedly, perhaps it wasn't the best idea to drink tequila with John Constantine and attempt a spell to open a portal into a Fae realm.
Now, Zed is clinging desperately to the brick of the fireplace while a vortex of blue-white light, burning brighter than magnesium, thunders in the middle of the mill. And it's not like the maelstrom is sucking anything into it; she's just clinging to the unlit fireplace because she can't stand by herself – due to her alcohol consumption, the room is steadily rotating, more than slightly, to the left.
A luminous imprint of a triskelion appears in the middle of the maelstrom, a dark bruise against the white. It fades to silver, and Zed stares at it, mesmerized as it puddles together like foggy mercury.
John's right in front of the vortex, yelling out some reversal spell at the top of his lungs, left hand up and towards the light as though he's holding all his concentration in his palm. Watching him, clinging to the mantel, Zed can't help but get tickled at the fact that in his right hand, down at his side, he's still grasping the neck of the Jose Cuervo bottle.
Peering into the mercury, Zed can see shapes beginning to form. Dark shapes, tall, with bat-like wings. The hair on the back of her neck rises, and she searches the room with her eyes, looking for something, anything, that could be a weapon. The fire poker is on the other side of the fireplace, which she knows is about six feet, but in her inebriation, it might as well be six hundred yards. She places an unsteady foot out, right hand firm against the brick mantel. The room lurches, so she goes down to her knees and begins to crawl.
Rwyf felly yn eich gorchymyn i gau , ac yn gwneud hynny nawr! he shouts.
The vortex expands for a moment, glows brighter, and then collapses with an audible crackle. Zed's ears pop, and for some reason, this is hilarious, and she tips backwards on her ass in the ashes and snorts with laughter.
John takes a swig from the bottle and turns around. "Glad you think this is funny," he tells her. "We're going to have to chase the brownies out of this place for bloody weeks. Why are you in the fire place, anyway?"
She manages to quit giggling and tries to stand. "I saw those—those things, in the middle. I figured that if anything came through, we might need a weapon." She looks up at him and shrugs. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
"A fire poker, against the Unseelie Court?" Reaching down, John grasps her hand and pulls her up.
Zed runs her left hand down his arm, skimming across the top of his fingers, taking the bottle from him. "Well, you know. I just, I just, I wouldn't want anything to happen to you." She takes a long drink, and grimaces, falls forward a little, only to find her face buried in his shoulder.
She freezes when she realizes it. She's too close to him, and she can detect the smell of fresh tobacco and aftershave and something divinely rich and earthy, and Zed can't look him in the eyes all of a sudden.
John's hand covers hers. She's clutching the bottle of Jose Cuervo for dear life, and she doesn't protest when he gently unclenches her fingers from it. Leaning down just a little, he sets the bottle on the floor beside them. He's got her by the shoulders, and she things, fuck it, and looks him in the eye, and there's something there, she's going to let him close the distance between their lips-
"What did you two do?" Chas appears in the doorway, arms full with a brown paper bag of groceries.
They break apart like teens caught making out behind the bleachers. John leans down, picks the bottle back up, while Zed, with a look of absolute concentration on her face, takes two mildly unsteady steps and sinks down onto the sofa.
"Zed opened a portal to the Fae," John says simply.
He unscrews the cap, takes one last drink, then strolls past Chas, handing him the bottle. Behind Chas, he turns and takes one last look at Zed. She meets his gaze, knees tight beneath her chin, arms wrapped around her ankles. Then he turns and walks away.