Easy
[John ConstantinexF!Reader][One-Shot]
Running a hand through her (h/c) hair, the young woman plopped herself down on the couch in the Mill House, uncapping a bottle of whiskey and taking a big gulp from it. Fuck this day. She'd never liked it, but ever since... No. No. Nope. Not going there again. She let her eyes wander across the room, trying to find something else to distract herself with except for the bottle in her hand. However, when her gaze reached the mirror across from her and a pair of green eyes met her (e/c) ones, she immediately let her eyelids flutter shut and rested her head against the back of the Couch.
"Fuuuuuuck..." she whined, trying to block out an onslaught of memories.
"Oi, keep it down, would ya? Some people are tryin' to work 'ere."
She nearly jumped out of her skin at the all too familiar voice coming from the floor above.
"John...?"
A few seconds later, footsteps clambered down the spiral staircase, revealing the blond in question.
"You called?"
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Well last I checked, I live here. As opposed to you, love."
"Sorry I just... I thought I was alone. But honestly, what are you doing here? Tonight of all nights to be 'working' - or whatever it is you're actually doing up there."
"Why, is tonight special? Did I forget your birthday again?"
"Yes, but that's beside the point. It's Valentine's Day."
"And this specific date should hold a special meaning to me... why, exactly?"
"You're kidding." she stared at him completely flabbergasted. "Dozens of bars, littered with desperate, lonely men and women? Isn't that, like, exactly you're kind of thing?"
"Didn't feel like it." he simply stated.
She raised her brows questioningly.
"You didn't feel like it? Is John Constantine losing his touch?"
"Nothing of the sort. Can't a bloke simply stay at home for a night?" he asked while sitting down next to her and grabbing the bottle from her hand, taking a swig himself.
"A random bloke - sure. You - not so much. If you just stayed here, because you thought you could scrounge booze from me, you can piss off." she said, snatching the bottle of amber liquid back from him.
"You're moping in my house, so I think I have to right to ask for something in return." he said and reached for the whiskey again, only for her to pull it away from him.
"Technically, it's not your house, so-"
"Oh for the love of- Why aren't you out there, either? I'm sure you could find someone nice to spend the night with."
Her eyes flitted over to the mirror for just a moment, making her flinch just the slightest, but the exorcist noticed it nonetheless.
"No thanks."
He gave up his efforts of grabbing the alcohol and let himself fall back into the couch cushions with a sigh.
"It's been five years, love. That's a long time."
"I know."
"Yet you're still wearing the ring. And you're still carrying that bloody picture around with you anywhere you go."
"So?"
"Don't you think it's time to move on?"
She looked up from the silver band, embedded with a small diamond on her left hand that she'd been fingering, and stared into the mirror. Sat in the armchair next to them, looking straight at her, was a man in his late twenties, with bright green eyes and tousled hazel hair.
John looked at the mirror as well. He had his own ghosts staring back at him and while he couldn't see the person that had appeared to (y/n), he knew who it was.
"Easier said than done." she finally stated with a sigh. "Not everybody's like you, John. Most people don't have a switch they can just flip and be like: 'Well, a friend's dead. Let's get a move on.' Some people can't be as nonchalant as that. I sure as hell can't."
"You're still blaming yourself." he said, more a statement than a question.
She snorted.
"Of course I am. My fiancé was killed by some spawn of hell and what was I doing at the time? Fucking another guy."
"You would've been there, you would've gotten killed too."
"Might've been better..."
(y/n) grabbed her fiancé's sleeve, refusing to let go.
"You're not going alone!" she insisted for the up-tenth time.
"Yes I am! It's too dangerous for you!"
"I can look after myself!"
"No, you can't, alright?!" he finally snapped, glaring at her.
She let go of him in shock. He'd never spoken to her like that.
"Excuse me?" she asked with narrowed eyes.
"You're clumsy. You get scared easily. You barely know how to fire a gun. You're good at researching, but your just not made for the field, ok?" he stated, his voice growing softer towards the end.
"I saved your life multiple times already!" she yelled, mad that the person whose opinion she valued over anyone else's thought of her as so weak.
"And right now I'm trying to save yours! We've never dealt with anything like that before! I love you and I don't want to lose you to this thing."
"Why do you think I want to come with you?! You need the backup!"
"No. And that's final. You'll wait here. I'll give you a call if I should really need you."
With that, he turned his back to her, grabbed a duffel-bag from the couch and headed towards the exit. She considered going after him, saying something else, but thought better of it. She knew how stubborn he was, there wasn't any point to it.
She heard the door of the Mill House fall shut and in a fit of anger, grabbed a vase from a nearby pedestal and chucked it against the wall with a shout, shattering it into hundreds of pieces.
"I think I chose a rather bad time to come back, eh?"
She turned around quickly and came face to face with John Constantine, the person she'd asked for help with this particular job.
"No it's... This is your house, so there can't really be a bad time for you to come home. Thanks for letting us crash here, by the way."
"Not a problem, love." he answered with a charming smirk while shrugging out of his trench coat and draping it over a nearby chair. "Now why don't you tell Johnny what's wrong?"
"Why do you even care?"
"For one, you just broke a thousand year old vase and I'd rather have the rest of the interior survive your stay here and second, I've made the experience that women make much more pleasurable company when levelheaded. Or-" he pulled a bottle of whiskey out of a cabinet in the kitchen. "Drunk. Whichever you prefer."
(y/n) laughed slightly and sat down on the couch, John joining her with the alcohol and two tumblers.
"Now tell me what happened."
"Alright that's it." he said with exasperation while turning towards her. "Gimme the ring. And the photograph."
"Are you drunk?"
"Not at the moment, no. Now hand 'em over."
"No! Forget it!"
John sighed again and began to chant under his breath. A moment later, he was holding both her engagement ring and the picture of a smiling couple, which usually resided in a jacket pocket close to her heart, in his hands. She was on her feet in a matter of seconds.
"Give them back, Constantine! This is not funny!" she shouted.
"Not trying to be, love." he stated calmly and placed both items on the table. "But those things're weighing ya down. I think it's time to replace 'em with something a bit more lighthearted."
"Like what?" she hissed, clearly annoyed at his game already.
"How about we change the picture for one of you with someone who you actually still have some good memories with?"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"C'mon, (y/n). If you can still remember one time with him that truly made you happy, without his death overshadowing everything, then I'll give your things back and piss off."
She stayed silent.
"We had a fight. That's all."
"Not to seem nosy, but you two seem to be doing that a lot."
"Yeah, it's... I don't even know. It was all just fine when we met, but recently it's been... complicated."
"Wouldn't happen to have anything to do with me, would it?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, grinning at her from behind the rim of his glass.
She snorted in amusement.
"Don't flatter yourself, Constantine. He wasn't particularly happy about me asking you for help, but no. This mess began even before we started working with you. It's just... I know I'm not exactly cut out for this kind of life, but I am capable of looking after myself. I mean, I was surviving on my own long before I met him. And now he tries to shut me off from everything. He says he just wants to protect me, but I feel suffocated. And when I try to talk to him about it, he just... doesn't listen, he completely tunes me out. It's like talking to a brick wall, honestly. Not to mention he doesn't treat me like a partner or a lover or anything of the kind, no he's treating me like a bratty little kid. Maybe... it's this life, you know? I'm thinking this and working, healthy relationships just don't go together." she ranted, taking sips from her own glass every now and again.
"Aye, you think my on-going list of one night stands is a coincidence?" he stated, taking another swig of alcohol.
"I do love him, though. And being with him... it's still easier than being alone."
"It seems to me, you're someone who prefers the easy way out." he mused, swirling the amber liquid around in his glass.
"Takes one to know one." she returned, raising her glass for a toast, to which he obliged.
"I thought so." he said, not a bit surprised at her silence on the matter.
"So what do you suggest...?" she asked, finally caving and sitting back down, exhaustedly burying her head in her hands.
She heard him getting up and rummage around, obviously looking for something specific. She could hear crashing, clonking and the occasional swear from John until an 'Aha!' signaled that he'd found whatever he'd been looking for. She looked up at the man now standing in front of her, holding up a polaroid camera with a grin.
"Please tell me this thing isn't going to, I dunno, trap my soul in a picture or something?"
"Probably not."
"Probably?"
"Alright, most likely not. Now come on, gimme a smile, love."
She rolled her eyes at his childish antics and grabbed the bottle again.
"Not feeling like it, but thanks anyways."
John's grin fell and he started to pout, making him look like a beaten puppy. Good god, this woman was even harder to drag out of self-pitying than himself. He let his gaze wonder across the room, his brown orbs lighting up when an idea crossed his mind.
He quickly placed the camera on the table, making (y/n) think that he finally might've given up, but he was far from it. Next thing she knew, music was filling the room. She looked up to find John standing at the radio, switching through the stations, trying to find something to his liking. A moment later, some 80's disco dance flick started to play. As if that wasn't ridiculous enough already, John started to dance along like an idiot. Just watching this display for a while was enough to wring a laugh out of her, even if just a quiet, short one. Nonetheless, the demonologist counted it as a victory and offered a hand to her.
"Oh hell no. Forget it. Not even in your wildest dreams, Constantine." she answered his silent proposal, shaking her head with another laugh.
"Oh trust me, love, when I dream about you, it goes a lot further than dancing. Now come on, get these hips of yours moving."
"You already got a laugh out of me, don't push it." she said with a smirk.
"I dunno. I can be pretty persuasive."
"Oh, I know."
"To easiness and cowardice it is then!" she said with a smile before emptying her glass.
"You know, it's freaking Valentine's Day of all things. I wasn't expecting anything, really, but I at least thought I'd spend it with him. Hunting demons or getting drunk in a bar. Just... Being with him." she gave John a sideways smile. "But I suppose spending it in good company isn't so bad either." Her smile faltered a bit. "Unless of course, you'd rather go out and find someone else, that is."
He gave her a smirk.
"No thanks, love. I think I'm good with the company I have."
"I gotta admit John, your reputation did worry me a little, but... you're surprisingly easy to work with. And easy to talk to. In general, you're just easy to get along with. For me anyways. And as we already established, I like easy."
"Begs the question why you're with your fiancé. Your relationship doesn't seem easy. And shouldn't it be just that?"
"I told you, I do love him. Very much, actually."
"But are you still in love with with him?"
"I..." she stopped herself. Was she? When they'd first started dating she'd had butterflies, but now? Sure, the first spark usually diminished after a while in a relationship, but was she even remotely happy? Or just too scared to be alone again?
"I don't know." she admitted.
"Is this relationship still what you want?"
"I don't want to be alone."
"I've gathered as much. But, tell me one thing, just one, that you've been missing recently that you want."
"Why do you even care?"
"It's my policy to never let a pretty girl be unhappy." he stated, sending a charming smile her way and draping an arm over the back of the couch, while she snorted in amusement.
"So? What would make the pretty lady happy?"
"This is going to sound incredibly cliché, but... to feel wanted again."
"I could do something about that, if you'd want me to."
She wasn't stupid. She knew that John was attracted to her. And she'd be lying when she'd say she hadn't thought about him. Reciprocating his flirting hadn't been an accident. She'd never thought about acting on it. But in this very moment, she didn't see the harm in it.
"Of course I'd understand if you'd tell me to fuck off just for implying it, but-"
She didn't let him finish. She grabbed his tie and pulled him in for a kiss. He didn't waste any time in returning it. She trailed her hands up his arms, one resting on his bicep, the other running into the short hair at the base of his neck and twisting the blond strands around her fingers. She tugged him closer, pulling him on top of her and arching off the couch to meld her body to his.
She remembered how amazing it had felt: his lips all over her body, the broken version of her name he gasped out when he finally entered her, the look of utter adoration he gave her when she turned the tables and started to ride him and her own moans and his name falling off her lips when she came.
And it never even occurred to her that it was a wrong thing to do.
The song came to an end and the fast beat was replaced by a slow paced hum.
(y/n) snorted.
"Oh do go on, I'd love to see you do a slow dance all by yourself."
"Oh c'mon, don't leave me hanging here. It's Valentine's Day, get in on the spirit."
"Will you leave me alone if I give you one dance?"
"Maybe~"
With an eye roll she pushed herself off the couch and took hold of his offered hand. He pulled her to her feet and then proceeded to wrap his arms around her waist, while she crossed her wrists behind his neck. He gently started to sway them to the music and she flicked her eyes upwards to meet his, making a small smile appear on her lips.
"The hell is this about, Constantine?"
"I don't know what you're talkin' about."
"You don't have any work here tonight. So why are you here?"
"Could ask you the same. You were the one who should up on my doorstep on the most romantic day of the year."
"I thought nobody would be home. And I wanted to make sure someone would find me tomorrow, in my self induced coma."
"If you say so."
"Now tell me; what's your reason for staying home?"
"If you're sticking with your excuse, then so am I." he stated stubbornly.
"Whatever." she answered in the same manner and broke eye contact, resting her chin on top of his shoulder instead.
Her eyes wandered over all of the antiques and eventually found the mirror again.
"You know I don't blame you, right? Not anymore, anyways." she said in a small voice.
John was just lighting another cigarette while (y/n) took another swig of alcohol.
"How the hell is it possible that I don't feel bad?"
"In all honesty, it's pretty hard to feel bad after a good shag."
"No shit, Sherlock. But that's not what I meant. I shouldn't-"
She was interrupted by a crash coming from the kitchen. She jumped and turned towards the noise, seeing her phone on the ground, still vibrating, indicating a call.
"What the? How much did this thing vibrate to actually fall off the counter?" she questioned, while standing up to grab the device.
When she got a look at the screen, she felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. 10 missed calls. 7 voice mails. All from the same person. In a frenzy, she tried calling him back, but got no answer. She opted for listening to his messages instead and immediately wished she hadn't. Basically, they were all the same. He apologized for what he'd said, told her he loved her. He said how the goddamn monster was even stronger than expected and that he needed her help - now. The messages kept getting more desperate with every one she listened to.
Halfway through message four, she told John to get dressed and pack anything that even remotely resembled a protective spell. A short drive and a rather awkward silence later, she jumped out of the car and was about to run head first into to abandoned subway station she knew her fiancé had to be in. But a strong hand on her arm held her back.
"Now, hold on just a second!"
"I don't have a second, John! He might very well be dead already!"
"And if you run in there without a plan, you will be for sure! Here." he said and handed her a weird looking trinket. "Protection charm. Now we don't go in there guns blazing, we sneak in and split up to cover more ground. Ten minutes, then we meet back here and if we haven't found him then we revise our strategy. Sound good?"
She took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself and tried to rationalize her thoughts. She gulped down her protests and nodded.
"Yeah. Yeah, sounds good."
So in they went, separating at the bottom of the stairs. Roughly ten minutes later, (y/n) found herself back in that spot, even more desperate and frustrated than before, now even close to tears. She knew she'd said she'd meet back up there with John now, but she couldn't just leave the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with down here alone. So she started into the direction John had gone into earlier, gun and flashlight raised. Right, left, right; she went deeper into the maze. Just when she was about to take another left, she heard a noise coming from the end of that hallway. She immediately clicked off her flashlight, as not to alert whatever was over there to her presence. She snuck along the wall towards the platform and just when she was about to jump down onto the tracks and shoot whatever was hiding in the shadows, John appeared in her line of sight - and her line of fire - immediately holding up his hands in surrender when he registered the situation he was in. She lowered her gun with a huff.
"For fuck's sake, Constantine! Do you want to get shot?!"
"What are you even doing here? You should've been back up there by now!"
"So should you!"
"I was just coming to meet you, now let's go!"
She knew something was off. He seemed hectic, twitchy and incredibly keen on getting her out of there as soon as possible.
"John what's down there...?"
"Nothing, love. Now come on, I'd rather not be discussing our next course of action down here when we could be doing it in bright daylight."
"You're lying." she simply stated and pushed past him, switching her flashlight back on and meaning to jump down onto the tracks.
She didn't get as far as John pulled her back in one swift move. He wasn't fast enough, though. She still saw the blood. The dismembered limbs. The torn open ribcage. And the smell almost made her sick right there. But she couldn't help the scream that tore its way out of her throat.
John held her to his chest, one hand on the back of her head to keep her from looking again. And just for a moment she let him hold her.
And then all came crashing down on her and she didn't know how to feel. Sad? Angry? Guilty? She didn't know so as usual she opted for the easy way out, in this case: blaming a scapegoat.
She pulled back in a fit of rage and slapped John straight across the face.
"This is your fault! The man I love is dead and it's your fault! You're going to hell, Constantine and that's right where you belong!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing off the empty halls. Without waiting for a reaction, she turned her back to him and stormed off, tears starting to fall.
"I know, love. Figured as much when you showed up here two years later and didn't claw my eyes out. But switching from one scapegoat to another isn't any better."
"What are you talking about?"
"Instead of blaming me, you're blaming yourself."
"Well it's got to be somebody's fault, right?" she said while repositioning her arms around his middle and resting her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and closing her eyes.
"How about blaming the thing that killed him?"
"That fucker's long dead, I made sure of that."
"Oh I know. I had to stitch you back together afterwards, remember? Anyways, the bastard's dead, so why keep on weighing yourself down with guilt?"
"Have you forgiven yourself for Astra?"
Silence.
"Thought so..."
They were quiet for a long time after that. She hated to admit it, but she felt good around John. Safe. Which, given the guys resumé, of course was ridiculously stupid.
All of a sudden there was the flash of a camera, followed by the distinctive sound of a photo being printed. She dragged her eyes open lazily and looked up, seeing John holding the polaroid camera an arm's length away.
"Fucking bastard..." she murmured, her lips twitching slightly upwards.
"Yeah I know, I'm an asshole." he stated, that irritatingly handsome smirk firmly in place.
Without thinking about it, she reached up and kissed him. It didn't take him long to kiss back, but it remained innocent and gentle. She pulled back and regarded him for a long moment and then she decided something neither of them were expecting: "I don't want to fuck you tonight."
John raised his brows in surprise.
"No offense, but it seemed like quite the opposite just a moment ago."
"Yeah, I know, I just... I guess I was trying to figure out what I'd want from you tonight and... it's not that."
"Then what is it you want?"
She scanned his features for any kind of joke, any kind of hidden agenda, like she was oh so used to. She found none. He seemed genuine. So she grabbed him and guided him to the couch, pulling him down with her. His confusion faded when she simply threw a blanket over them both and snuggled into him. She felt him wrap his arms around her and in a matter of minutes, she was asleep.
She wasn't sure how much time had passed when she woke up and honestly she didn't care. Her eyes fluttered open and she moved her chin to rest on John's chest, looking up at him. He was still fast asleep, all lines of worry erased from his face, making him seem ten years younger. She smiled and directed her (e/c) gaze towards the table next to them. She quickly checked her phone, which told her that it was just after four in the morning. She carefully untangled herself from John's arms and stood up, stretching her sore limbs above her head. Another look at the table and something else caught her attention. She picked up the square piece of thin cardboard and regarded the picture with curiosity:
Closed eyes, a small smile on her lips, her arms wrapped firmly around John's middle. He had his arms around her waist and lips pressed to her hair in a gentle kiss - she hadn't even noticed him doing that. She looked completely peaceful, happy. And it scared her like no spawn of hell ever could.
John Constantine was the last person she should feel safe and happy around. People around him died faster than one could recite an exorcism and he always ended up letting you down one way or another. Not to mention that she most definitely shouldn't be falling in love with him. He didn't do love, all one could expect from the guy was a good shag and an empty bed smelling of cigarettes the next day.
And nonetheless here she was, throwing all caution to the wind and no matter how hard she tried, despite his drinking problem, attachment issues and his general bastardy, at this very moment, only the good things came to mind: their sarcastic banter that always managed to make her laugh, how he nursed her back to health after she'd almost gotten herself killed on a job and simply let her leave afterwards without any questions or protests. And of course there was last night. He didn't even ask why she had decided against sex and he hadn't tried to persuade her or get rid of her when she'd told him. No, he'd simply accepted it and gave her what she needed: a close friend, not a lover.
The fact that she was starting to regard him as her best friend and a potential partner both confused and scared her. She didn't know what to make of it. And it was easier to just walk away than figure it out. At least that's what she told herself when she walked out the door, the only proof that she'd ever been there being the picture of John and her that she left behind.
Bonus Ending
[A/N: If you're good and content with an angsty ending: stop here. If you'd like something a bit more happy and fluffy: go on and enjoy ^^]
One Year Later
The bright pink and red decorations were giving her nausea. A fat baby with a bow, hearts and smooching couples everywhere. But a random bar still beat drinking herself into a coma all on her own in her apartment. She could do without all of the guys trying to flirt with her, though. If the oversized jeans, the faded old leather jacket, the messy hair and the 'fuck off or I'll kill you' look she was giving everyone but the bartender weren't enough to keep them away, she honestly didn't know what else to do the next time.
As if on cue someone sat down on the stool next to her, causing her to roll her eyes and down the rest of her drink. She didn't even bother to look at him when she spoke:
"Listen I bet you're a real nice guy, or a nice fuck, whatever, but I-"
A polaroid photograph landed in front of her, followed by a smartass remark in an all too familiar British accent.
"What are you doing here?" she asked exasperatedly, turning to face him.
"So only you're allowed to get drunk on Valentine's Day?" he asked in a fake shocked voice before ordering two more shots.
"You're telling me you picked this bar completely by random choice?"
"That's what I'm telling you."
"Sure you did..." she sighed and reached for the new glass of alcohol in front of her, stopping when her eyes found the picture again. "And I'm assuming you've been carrying that around with you for the past year just for the fun of it?"
"Something like that..."
She ran a tired hand down her face.
"John, listen-"
"Do you remember my morning ritual I told you about?" he interrupted her. She didn't know where the hell he was going with this, but she decided to play along.
"Where you picture everyone around you dead so it won't hurt as much when it actually happens? Yeah, I remember that, why?"
"It doesn't work with you."
This took her a moment to process.
"What?"
"When Chas carried you into the house, after you'd nearly gotten killed avenging your lost love, I thought he brought you to me for some sort of purification ritual for your corpse or for a final goodbye, I dunno. There was so much blood... Honestly I'll never understand why he didn't bring you to a hospital or at least a mage educated in healing magic. Still don't know how I managed to get ya through. Then again, you're even more stubborn than me. Tell you the truth, I can't remember how many times I told that bloody angel to piss off and to find himself a new operative on the ground if he dared to take you with him."
"Why... Why are you telling me this...?" she asked, completely thrown off. She hadn't known that she'd been so close to death that Manny actually came for her. She hadn't known her accident had hit him that hard. Then again, this was John Constantine, the guy never let on about how he truly felt, so how was she supposed to?
"I just thought you had a right to know. You can do with that knowledge whatever you want." he simply stated while getting up and pulling another cigarette from his coat pocket. "I'll leave you to your drinks then."
With that he started towards the exit, waving a hand over his shoulder with his back still turned to her and then he vanished out the door.
(y/n)'s mind was racing a mile a minute. It was obvious what he'd been trying to accomplish, but had it changed anything? Was she ready to actually try and be in a relationship with the John Constantine?
Her body reacted before her brain could think too much about it. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out some bills, only now realizing that the bastard stuck her with his tab, threw them onto the counter and bolted out the door. Through the loud chattering and music going on inside the bar she hadn't noticed the heavy downpour that had started, which immediately obscured her vision. There were very few people out on the sidewalk and not one of them was a blond in a trenchcoat.
"John?" she called while turning her head to see if she could find him anywhere. "John!"
The Brit was nowhere in sight.
Maybe this was a sign. Cruel joke of the universe to show her that it never would've worked anyways. With a sigh, she ran a hand through her now drenched hair and turned to head back inside, only to stop dead in her tracks.
Underneath a small canopy, just barely protecting him from the rain, stood the bloody bastard himself, looking at her and smirking around a lit cigarette. He grabbed the cancer stick and threw it to the ground, extinguishing it with his shoe.
"You called?" he asked, sounding incredibly smug.
She rolled her eyes and walked towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing herself against him, only partly to be safe from the rain.
"That I did. Twice, actually. Are you going deaf or did you want to make your girlfriend wait?"
He raised his eyebrows at her, a smile pulling the corners of his lips upwards.
"Girlfriend, eh? You sure about that, love?"
"Will you end up letting me down, always given that I don't die first? Most likely. Do I care? Surprisingly enough, I don't. So yeah, I'm sure, as long as you're cool with it."
He simply grinned at her and cupped her face, pulling her in for a kiss. The taste of nicotine was even stronger than usual, but somehow she didn't mind, as long as it was John. She was the first to pull back.
"Some mess we got ourselves into, huh?" she asked with a lopsided smile.
"Maybe it'll turn out to be one, but right now... well I dunno about you, but I'm feeling pretty good right now. So I suggest we take it slow and easy until we actually run into a problem, what do you say?" he questioned, leaning back against the wall, repositioning his hands on her hips and pulling her even closer.
"Easy huh?" she asked, her eyes starting to sparkle with amusement.
"Yeah, easy sounds good."
[A/N: The song I had in mind for them to be dancing to is From Eden by Hozier. Check it out if you want, but like I said, it was the song in MY mind, if you'd rather picture another song that's just fine ^^]