Moving In
"Let's get you into the tub."
Angela Dodson shivered, nodding furiously, her damp hair flinging about her pale face, "I'm sorry John, I didn't know—"
A hand held up in understanding, "Don't be. Come on, it's warm." John Constantine swirled the bathwater with one hand, holding out the other to help her over the side and into the white claw-footed bathtub. Angela was still shivering, and he rubbed her back through the thin material of the white camisole she had stripped down to. Half-breeds were a dangerous business, and they'd been dealing with a particularly nasty version of water demon that night, one that happened to have had the clarity to use its powers to give Angela a mild case of hypothermia. Angela's teeth chattered, and John continued to run hot water into the bathtub. God knew he didn't have any particularly warm blankets in his barren apartment, so he'd tried for the next best thing. Angela huddled in the tub, watching steam rise from the surface of the water.
"S-s-so," Angela couldn't keep her teeth from chattering slightly as she spoke, "What was that th-thing, exactly?"
John sighed, twisting the squeaky tap off, "Water demon. Some sort…I'm not sure. I'll have to check with Midnite," he gave her a wry smile, "You'll be alright, we just need to keep you warm. I'll be right back."
Angela nodded, watching as he left the side of the tub and clattered around the apartment. She sunk deeper into the warm water, resting her head on the edge of the tub and leaning back, eyes closed. Her eyes opened lazily, and she let her gaze wander around the room, at the cracked sink, dirty mirror, and small shaving kit on the counter. The bathroom was too big for the tub, dwarfing the porcelain structure in a mass of tiled floor and high ceiling. He'd had it fixed, sloppily, she noted, with rubber cement. Her gaze wandered to the side of the tub, on which sat a small rubber duck.
Wait a minute.
A small rubber duck?
She picked it up between her fingers, twisting it experimentally. She squeezed. It squeaked. She nearly dropped it in surprise, and John appeared in the doorway with a white towel and a somewhat ratty-looking blanket. He laid them on the lid of the toilet, and turned to her. She was still holding the duck.
"Nice duck." She muttered, and his eyes narrowed.
Then he chuckled, a deep rumbling she hadn't heard often, "It was a…present, of sorts. Long story."
Her eyebrow slid up, "I have time."
John kneeled next to the tub and drew his hand through the water, leaving a small wake as he ran it in circles. He was smiling slightly, but his voice was serious, "It was a present from Chas, to let me know he was basically moving in. He said…" John's brow furrowed, and he looked slightly disgusted, "…it was 'cute'. Told me it would make him feel like he was taking a bath at home, instead of in a creepy, high-ceilinged bathroom." Both pairs of eyes drew toward the ceiling at this line, and John shrugged, "He had a good point, I suppose. How many bathrooms have ceilings this high?" He chuckled again, and drew silent.
Angela moved her hand through the water until it met his finger still lazily drawing circles, "I see."
John's tone was still light, but more serious than ever, "He was an orphan, you know. Got that cab a couple of years after his parents died, it was the only way he could think of to make money." A shrug, "I figured it was the least I could do, give him some place to come to when…" John's voice trailed off and Angela curled her fingers into his. She didn't press, but John tugged his hand away, busying himself with unfolding the towel.
She knew Chas's death still hurt.
She felt like she should say something, "John…I'm sorry."
His voice was gruff, "Don't be."
She nodded, even though his back was still to her.
"You need to take off your clothes so we can get you dried off." His voice was still gruff, but she could hear the slightness of a smile creep through.
Two Months Later
"Angela?" John called as he unlocked his apartment door, "Angela, are you here?"
"Yeah." Was the reply. Angela had been watching his apartment for the weekend as he was on a trip to collect some artifacts, "I'm making dinner."
"Alright," John walked past her, tossing his keys on the counter, "Fucking demons, I'm going to wash this blood off."
Angela didn't turn around, but nodded, "Good idea."
She swirled the oil in the pan as the water started running in the bathroom, "Angela!"
"Yes?"
"…the fuck is this?" John walked out holding a small, squeaky rubber penguin. Angela flashed him a smirk, "I thought it was cute."
John held it between his thumb and forefinger as though it might bite, observing it. He walked over to her, holding the penguin out in front of him, and smirked. When he reached her, he dropped a kiss on her lips before she could protest his stink of demon and human blood, "Does this mean you're moving in?"
Fin.