Constantine sighed, hunting about the medicine cabinet in his kitchen. He wondered what the hell a certain boy was thinking when he appeared on his doorstep, claiming he had no where to go. That boy was named Gabriel, and by some fucked up twist of fate he now was going to patch up the wounds on the half-breed's backside, where the blonde once sported a healthy looking set of wings. All that remained of the feathered appendages forthwith were two foreboding, infected stumps.
This was why the unfortunate demon slayer tore the medicine cabinet apart, ferreting about for a bottle of peroxide he'd stored in it a while ago. Unfortunately, John was a man with plenty abrasions and health problems, so the chances of locating the sanitizer were very slim, having used most of his medical remedies on himself. His task was not lightened by having to weave through a load of empty Tylenol bottles and other medicinal paraphernalia. John sighed, he felt a twinge of budding frustration, the chain smoker just wanted to get this done with so he could send Gabriel away.
…But where? Thought Constantine, the fact that kid had no fucking home proved problematic. However, the concern was instantly pushed aside as the bottle of hydrogen peroxide finally showed it self. John quickly snatched it from the cabinet and grabbed a few paper towels. The man made his way to the restroom.
There was Gabriel, sitting leisurely on the edge of the bathtub, his back turned to John. He clicked his tongue, making his way across the bathroom floor. He paused to hover over Gabriel; the demon slayer heard the light sloshing of water, the boy was soaking his toes. John sighed, lighting up a cigarette he snuck between his lips before he'd left the bathroom.
Gabriel faced the man and smiled at him, Constantine shook his head dismally.
"Turn your backside to me," John instructed, sitting to the right of the boy. He felt a hint of irritation, the foot he placed in the tub became soaked -- sock, pant leg and all. He left his other foot outside of the giant bathing bowl, where it would be safe from the water. The man sat adjacent to the bathtub rim.
"Hurry up, please," Gabriel said; the boy's voice saturated with his unceasing careless attitude. Constantine's lip twitched.
Gabriel lifted a left leg out of the tub, resting it on the opposite side of the rim, the other foot soaking calmly. The throbbing in his backside seemed slightly bearable now that it was about to be done with. Gabriel felt impatient; he readied himself, easing himself between Constantine's legs.
The chain smoker was quiet for a moment, seconds passing with aching suspense. Finally, the man spoke, "I'm going to use a sanitizer," Constantine said. Gabriel's breath hitched.
The boy heard the sound of a bottle cap being removed; the exorcist was preparing his medicinal cure.
"Don't forget to make it quick," Gabriel nagged, feeling antsy.
"I thought I told you to shut up when we agreed I'd fix your wounds," Constantine reminded, dabbing what was hydrogen peroxide into a folded napkin. He, in Gabriel's favor, quickly administered the Cure to the first shoulder blade.
Gabriel went rigid, biting into his lower lip. The pain seemed to amplify, spreading throughout his back. He arched forward, whimpering and pulling at his hair. The boy felt the fine threads of sanity threatening to leave him, the hurt punishing his backside.
Constantine gently dabbed at the shoulder blades, although he felt hesitant since Gabriel's reaction to the peroxide unnerved him. The bubbling of the sanitizer seemed to be mimicking the effect of shower foam, it was absolutely repulsive. Yet he had to pity him, Gabriel had a clueless method to keep healthy and that wasn't exactly his fault, even if becoming human was. One thing Constantine had to give the boy credit for was not crying out, the former half breed kept his painful expressions to wincing and whimpering.
John could feel the seconds tick by as he cleaned the raw shoulder blade, he sighed. This was taking too long.
"Fuck it. I don't have the time, Gab," Constantine said suddenly.
The grip Gabriel had on his hair loosened, "What do you mean, John?" his voice creaky and nervous.
"Hold still," Came Constantine's cryptic reply.
The man stood up, taking a second to balance himself as he proceeded to dump half the contents of the peroxide bottle over Gabriel's backside. Constantine felt guilt jab at him, but he knew it was for Gabriel's sake. Constantine aptly sealed the bottle, throwing it aside, sitting promptly. The exorcist grabbed Gabriel around the waist, shoving the boy's backside into his chest, even though he knew dried blood and other infectious ooze would cake it. That wasn't what was important right now.
What was important was shutting Gabriel up, who was currently breaching the "shut up while I clean your ugly ass shoulder blades," rule, screaming so loudly it would make the ears of the holy Mother herself, bleed.
"It HURTS!" Were the only intelligible words the boy managed during his outcry.
Constantine swung his arm around Gabriel's shoulder, smothering his forearm against the half-breed's face.
"Bite down, kid, don't scream," Constantine instructed.
Gabriel bit. Constantine clenched his teeth at the pain, but no effort was made to stop the boy from doing what needed to be done. Tears swelled in Gabriel's eyes as he grinded his teeth into the man's arm, shrieking into the back of his throat. Constantine felt relief sweep him, the noise of Gabriel's screaming was being drowned out by the thick fabric of his overcoat and bruising skin.
All the man could do now was keep the boy close to him, make sure he didn't try to get away or move too far so he could express agony uninhibited. It was at this point that Constantine knew Gabriel wouldn't be straying from his apartment any time soon. The smoker had dug his own grave when he offered to clean out the wounds on his shoulder blades. He knew this wouldn't be the last time he'd be dealing with those ugly stumps, either. One magical dump of peroxide just wouldn't cut it.
Constantine spat his cigarette into the tub; it had almost become one long cylindrical ash, he'd forgotten the cancer stick's existence in the heat of the moment.
The minutes began to feel like hours. Gabriel's seemingly relentless screaming and nipping into his arm tapered off. His jaw slackened, freeing the man's arm. Gabriel rested against Constantine for a few minutes, careful of his tender backside. Gabriel felt awkward, kind of silly even. Here he was, screaming like a child with a scraped knee into Constantine's arm, but even worse he'd shed tears over it. He'd cried. Although it wasn't a huge deal, it was irritating that he'd displayed that kind of vulnerability. The boy sighed, waiting for Constantine to make some crack at his actions. But all he got was the man's quiet breathing and uncomfortable shifting. The man seemed bothered by something.
"What now?" Gabriel asked.
Constantine's first response was silence as he contemplated his next move.
"I'll wash your back," Constantine declared, reaching forward and turning on the bath tub taps, the water that sprayed forth was calming and warm.
Constantine soaked the napkins, the heated water dripping freely down Gabriel's spine as he cleaned it, the boy whimpered and jerked in pain. The man sighed, squeezing out the rest of the water, washing off the dried blood and residual bubbles from the peroxide. Constantine reached behind himself, tugging a clean towel from bathroom's rack, using it to gently dry of Gabriel's spine. He dabbed gingerly, the boy still flinching from the contact.
The man stood up, leaving Gabriel in silence. He strolled casually into the kitchen, shedding his coat and shirt, which were both caked with old blood and peroxide. Grabbing a spare t-shirt, black in color, he re-opened the medicine cabinet; the shelves were almost empty now, the bottles of Tylenol and other medicinal appurtenances still strewn about the floor in a frustrated heap. All that remained was a bandage wrap; Constantine seized it from the cabinet and walked back into the bathroom, putting on his t-shirt.
"Hey, Brat from the Black Lagoon, living room -- couch, now," Constantine demanded, passing by the door and out of Gabriel's view.
Gabriel lifted himself from the bathtub rim, walking with a stiff spine into the living room. There Constantine sat on his old leather sofa, leaning back with crossed legs. He was puffing at yet another cigarette, staring at the boy with clouded eyes. John patted the empty cushion beside him, straightening his posture as he prepared to finish patching up the boy.
Gabriel smirked, fixing himself next to Constantine, lying down with his back to the ceiling as he plopped his head in the man's lap. They rested there, for what Constantine would later regard as a dragging, constipated, uncomfortable silence. There was a tension neither of them would reach out to name, nor make an effort to stop. Something Constantine didn't even want to think about, really. So he dismissed it after a few minutes of disconcerting quiet.
"Get up. I need to bandage up your back…" John's voice was small, casting a veil over their moment of awkward stillness.
Gabriel was surprisingly consistent with his obedience that night. Sitting up unquestioningly, staying mute as he allowed Constantine to work the ivory colored bandages over his torso. They sat -- the tension from less then a minute before resuming as John fastened the wrap over the boy's chest.
Constantine was careful around the wounds, delicately dressing the feathered stumps, making sure to keep the bandages tightly wound around his shoulders. John sighed. The sudden lack of noise gave him a moment to think. Gabriel couldn't stay here, but what should he do with the kid? In the demon slayer's mind there was too much shit between them, it would be…well, weird to have the boy stay at his place. But he knew he was virtually powerless to stop Gabriel from doing as he pleased, that kid was pretty fucking adamant in his decisions; His way, or the highway – no respect. But yet he had to admit in a fucked up delusional, possible alternate reality, the boy was a little bit likable, just a little. John made a point of bestowing little affection towards the half breed, as he did with most people, so saying that he found the kid to be okay was a no go. But John decided he'd let him…stay, to say the least, but choosing to continue with the "I had no choice" frame of mind.
As Constantine finished with the boy's bandages, he decided to test the waters, "So, where're you going, now?"
Gabriel made a slight jump at the words, behaving comically uncertain, "Well, I thought you might be feeling noble,"
"You want to stay here?"
"…Yup," Gabriel stated.
"And if I said no?" Constantine challenged.
"I'd stay anyways," Gabriel grinned, turning around to face Constantine, legs crossed underneath his bum as he somehow managed to fit his entire body onto one little cushion. The boy flaunted a flirtatious grin, one that made the man want to give the kid a good punch in the face, or… well he didn't dwell on the alternative to throwing fists for more then half a second.
Constantine sighed, shoving the boy hard as he stood up, checking his watch. Gabriel's posture faltered briefly, like an off balance chair, but he righted himself quickly, giggling. Constantine shook his head at the half breed then shook his head at the time: One thirty AM and barely a wink of sleep. John told himself it was indeed a shitty night, but since his back was to the boy, he took that moment to smile.
TBC again. :3 Sorry this chapter took so long luffie duffies, but I am one of those lazy ass writers. I WILL continue this. I promise. I just need to see the movie again so I can keep the characterization in check.
In the next chapter…. GABRIEL'S GENDER becomes a hot topic, and maybe even the possibility of sex 8D I'm not sure yet.