It begins, as these things usually do for John, with a drink.
The bar's new. Or at least John thinks it is. He can't imagine forgetting a place like this, not when they've served him the best fry up he's had since he crossed the Atlantic. And as he looks up at the barman, knows he definitely wouldn't forget a face like that.
Probably.
John has no idea as he gazes into the warmest pair of honey brown eyes he's ever seen that this strangely normal Wednesday evening will become a bittersweet memory that'll sear itself forever into his heart. Sickeningly romantic notions like that tend not to cross John's mind very often. Not even when he's flashed a smile that seems to catch every light in the room or when it suddenly occurs to him almost four hours later that he's been so engrossed in actual conversation that he's yet to do any proper flirting.
And it certainly doesn't cross his mind during the walk to Des's apartment, even when he realises that he's going home with a stranger while almost completely sober. One for the record books, that.
That more than anything should set off some alarm bells but when he's being showered with attention by a man like this, it's hard to focus on anything else.
The apartment's only a block away from the bar and in another break from tradition, John doesn't start undressing the second they step inside. He shrugs off his coat, yes, but doesn't go any further.
Instead, he takes in the room, the mismatched furniture and odd little knick knacks, and takes a seat on the couch while Des grabs a couple of beers from the fridge. And then they're talking some more, and laughing, during which time John learns Des's last name - Laveau. It's a name John's sure he's heard before but he can't remember where right now, too busy watching Des's cheeks dimple every time he smiles.
John should kiss him. He wants to, really wants to and a whole lot more, but he's still soaking up the easy atmosphere that surrounds Des. Talking to him feels natural in a way it rarely does with others, even those he's known for years. Granted, they haven't delved into any uncomfortable topics yet but even if they did, John doesn't think he'd immediately hoist the emotional defences the way he normally would.
But eventually the conversation slows and Des gives John a look that sends most of his blood south.
"Not that I don't like talking to you, Johnny, but I'm gonna assume that isn't all you came here for."
That's all the encouragement John needs.
The tie comes off, followed quickly by the shirt and as he gets his first glimpse of what Des is hiding underneath the black t shirt, sends a silent thank you to the heavens. Clearly someone's looking down on him favourably tonight.
He toys with the necklace hanging from Des's neck. It looks old and he can feel some sort of power coming from it, but he doesn't say anything, too busy trading hot, open-mouthed kisses as the rest of their clothes fall to the floor.
It isn't until later, when they're lying side by side on the bed and the sweat has cooled on their bodies that John gets an inkling that there might be more to this than just a one night fling.
And when John looks back (which will be often), he'll realise this is the moment he should've walked away.
Six weeks have passed since that night and as John browses the paper for an apartment he and Des can actually afford, that niggling little voice reminds him yet again why this isn't a good idea. But if he was the type to listen to that sort of advice he wouldn't be the monumental fuck up of a man he is today, so John pushes it even further into the recesses of his mind and smiles as Des hands him a mug of coffee.
For a man always preaching the benefits of walking his path alone, John settles into the honey I'm home routine with surprising ease. The idea of it would've seemed stifling before but after a couple of months of actually living it, he's starting to understand the appeal. There's a comfort in having the same person share his bed night after night, to have the same honey brown eyes greet him every morning, and it's one he'd like to enjoy for quite a while longer if fate would be so kind. Especially when one morning he declares his intention to cook breakfast and is greeted by Des in nothing but a towel.
"I'll get some clothes on," Des says and follows it with a grin that has John forgetting all about food and following him into the bedroom.
Needless to say, neither of them ends up having breakfast.
It was going to happen sooner or later. No matter how hard John tries, whatever precautions he takes (and he's taken a lot. The apartment's riddled with every protection spell in every language he knows), the great furnace downstairs manages to get at him somehow.
Des takes the news of Neron's arrival with the same patient understanding he's used to carry all of John's baggage. He doesn't fight, doesn't try to tell John that whatever this is they can fight it together because he knows - John's made it very clear - that there are some things John has to deal with alone.
But he does offer John something in the way of help before he leaves. His necklace. Des explains that it's imbued with a protection spell and John doesn't tell him he'd already worked that out not long after they met. He takes it under the condition that Des will get as far away from him as he can.
Des makes it to the door before turning around and pushing John up against the nearest wall to give him a kiss that he'll be feeling long after Des has gone. And John kisses back with everything he has, clinging to Des as he feels his heart slowly splinter in two.
"You come back to me soon, Johnny," Des breathes against his lips. "Or I'll be coming back for you, demons or not."
And Des kisses him again, silencing whatever reply John might've come up with, until he finally tears himself away and out of John's life for good.
Or so John thought.
John's never had much love for the universe in general but as he watches the man he loves slowly disappear piece by flaming piece, he loathes it. Both the universe and every single fucking thing in it.
He hates Neron, and the demons that hunt and toy with people for sport. Hates the angels for doing exactly the same while pretending that they don't. Hates God and the Devil, his mother who left him with a man that could barely pass for human let alone a father, and his sister for abandoning him right when he needed her most. Hates New Orleans and everyone he's ever let down for being stupid enough to put their trust in him in the first place.
He even hates Des for being such a wonderful, beautiful idiot that he'd give up his own soul to save one as worthless as John's.
But most of all he hates himself. He should've known better - he does know better - but apparently he was still naive (and selfish) enough to believe that this time might be different. It's not like the past hasn't proven time and time again how it ends. John isn't allowed the life Des offered, and he never will be.
With a final call of John's name, Des disappears and what's left of John's heart goes with him.
When it's over, John's on the ground with nothing but his tears and regret for company and he wants nothing more than to lie down and never get back up.
But he does get up and, forcing one foot in front of the other, leaves the alley and New Orleans with all her rotten memories behind.
"Did you love him?" Marie Laveau asks. John doesn't reply. He doesn't need to. She has the same eyes as her great great grandson and can read the truth plain as day.
Insanity is famously described as doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Well, John never claimed to be sane.
Seeing himself as he was just a few short months ago, John can scarcely believe they're one and the same. He used to carry around a fucking tote bag for crying out loud. He tries to shake off the tremors as he steps inside and is nowhere near prepared to be back in a place that was once a source of so much happiness. His breath catches in his throat and when he hears movement in the bedroom, his chest threatens to burst.
Six months ago he had to say goodbye to Desmond Laveau in the worst possible way. Now only a door lies between them and all John has to do is open it…
Zari tries her best to make John see sense, which is exactly what he'd be doing if he were in her position but he's a man on a mission to save someone he loves. Meeting Des might be a fixed point in time but they can all fuck right off if they think Des's eternal damnation has to be, too.
"Back already, Johnny?"
That voice cuts right through to the space where John's heart used to be and when he turns to see Des standing there, alive and even more beautiful than he remembers, John feels his resolve start to shatter. He doesn't have to do this. John could find another way.
But all it takes is the memory of Des consumed by fire, screaming his name for John to steel himself and do what he came here to.
This time Des does fight, able, as he always had been, to see through John's shit. And John wants nothing more than to tell him that he's right, that what they have - had - is more real than anything John's ever felt before, but this is Des's soul he's trying to save and it's more than worth whatever pain John's about to cause now.
He's ready to play the ultimate asshole and go for some low blows when Des decides that whatever John is doing this for, he'd rather not be a part of it. John watches quietly as Des turns his back on him and holds his breath until he sees the necklace in his hand disappears.
There. It's done. Des is safe.
And that's when the universe decides to give John a dramatic reminder of why he should just leave things well enough the fuck alone.