Part II: The Morning After
Angela extricated herself from John Constantine's arms at about seven-thirty am, fifteen minutes before her alarm was set to ring. Yawning, she sat on the side of the couch and turned to gaze down at John while he slept. The hard lines of his face were softened in face, and though she'd never liken him to a fallen angel…having seen one, and all…he was getting pretty darn close to angelic with his dark hair tousled and one arm flung behind his head carelessly, the other still laying where she had tried not to move it. She felt a foolish grin spread over her face as she watched him; inwardly knowing this was going to be the best day of her life…well, thus far, anyway.
As if feeling her gaze upon him, John opened one dark brown eye slowly and peered at her.
Before he could speak, she grinned, "Good morning, sunshine!" and dropped a kiss on his cheek. He mumbled in reply, asking, for what she could make of it, what time it was.
"Seven-thirty-two." She replied cheerfully. John gave her the worst glare ever, grunted, and turned over, fluffing his pillow and promptly falling back asleep. She chuckled, and made her way to the kitchen to start making some coffee. Approximately thirteen minutes later she listened as her alarm went off, John made some inhuman noise of frustration, and there was a loud crash, "Oh—kay…definitely not a morning person…check." Angela said softly to herself, though, if she had John for keeps, he was definitely worth a new alarm clock.
A couple of minutes later, a very disgruntled-looking John Constantine came walking into her kitchen, wearing nothing but his boxers. He moved over to where she was standing, and, not taking his eyes off hers, reached behind her and pulled a coffee-cup out of the cupboard. He leaned back against the counter, and poured himself some coffee, putting the cup to his mouth and drinking it, continuing to look at her with large, brown eyes. He drained one cup and poured himself another, clearing his throat before drinking, "Sorry about anything strange I said last night. I think I was a little drunk."
Angela raised one eyebrow at him, and poured herself a cup of coffee, "But you still love me, right?"
John paused, swallowing his coffee, "Of course I still love you. Just don't expect declarations like that all the time." He gulped the rest down.
Angela grinned back at him—who had this much energy in the morning to keep grinning like that? John thought—, "Don't worry," she set her mug down on the counter and grabbed an apple, biting voraciously into it, "I have work at nine, what are you doing? Do you work?"
John looked indignant as he watched her tongue dart out and lick the corners of her mouth, where the apple juice was starting to dribble down her chin, "Of course I work…just…not in the morning." He groaned as he looked at the clock, and Angela giggled lightly, taking another bite of the apple. John studied her for a moment, as she stood, wearing her camisole and panty set, licking the apple juice from the corner of her lips. He looped one finger through the waistband of her panties and pulled her 'til she was standing between his legs, angling his head down and kissing her soundly, "On second thought, maybe you should get used to declarations like last night."
Angela giggled again, and kissed him quickly back. John started to deepen it, when she pulled away. He gave her a questioning look, and she shrugged, "Work. I have to shower."
John quirked one eyebrow and pulled her in for another kiss. Angela protested, but only mildly.
Ten minutes later, Angela pushed John gently back as he continued to press kisses against her collarbone, "John…" She laughed helplessly, "I really, really have to get to work…"
"Fuck work." He muttered into her neck.
Angela laughed again, "No, John, fuck me, not work."
She could feel him smile against her chest, "Funny girl."
Suddenly, his arms around her waist tightened, pulling her to his side. She stiffened—he seemed to have a sixth sense about things…no, wait, he was psychic. He did have a sixth sense about things…but wait a minute…so was she! Angela tried to push her psychic powers out into the room, but she just couldn't seem to sense what John had. A voice materialized as if from nowhere, "John, John, John. I tried to give you some privacy, but God, man, do you two ever breathe!" Angela felt John's arm loosen slightly. She turned to see who the speaker was.
"Chas." John nodded amusedly, "Aren't you dead?"
"Ouch, man. Yes," Chas heaved a deep sigh, "But look what I got!" He folded and unfolded the monstrous wings experimentally.
John rolled his eyes, pushing past Chas into the living room, and Angela gave Chas a small smile in mute greeting, "Hey…Chas…Want some coffee?" She offered him a procured cup, and he took it excitedly, taking a long sip as John reappeared, pulling on his black pants as he tossed Angela's white bathrobe at her. She caught the offered robe and tightened the tie around her waist, glancing through the open bedroom door and reminding herself to ask, later, what exactly had happened there, as John started buttoning up his shirt, "So, Chas," John continued buttoning, speaking without ever looking at the angel—who was content with sipping his coffee and flexing his wings, "Why are you here?"
Chas shrugged, and set his coffee on the counter, "Vacation?"
"Try again, kid."
"Oh, alright…I'm on a mission…from God." Chas paused dramatically, allowing his wings to unfold as much as they could in the cramped kitchen space.
"Less drama, keep going," John yanked his tie around his neck, and Angela started putting mugs in the dishwasher.
"Well, I actually don't know very much…anything…really…I'm lower-rank, they don't tell me much…anything, really. I'm just supposed to help you," Chas shrugged, and emptied his coffee, offering the empty mug to Angela, who placed it next to the others in the dishwasher.
"What," John snorted, "Like my guardian angel?"
Chas laughed, "No, John. Just like someone to help out. Like what I was before. Your slave."
"You mean, apprentice."
"Call it what you want, John, if that helps you sleep at night. Anyway, I got a tip-off that Papa Midnite might know what's going on…" Chas paused, musing over what had just come out of his mouth, and it dawned on him slowly, "Wait…wait, John, I'm a half-breed, now…right? Wow! I can get into Papa Midnite's now on my own!" Chas was nearly jumping with excitement at the prospect.
John rolled his eyes, "They just don't make 'em like you anymore, thank. God."
Angela smiled at Chas's display of undeniable teenage-boy enthusiasm and started to excuse herself for a quick shower, when she felt someone grab her hand. She looked back and found John gripping her wrist. She watched a flurry of emotions tumble through his dark eyes, until he pulled her to him and kissed her, hard. She melted into the kiss, but he pulled back abruptly, "Work." He shrugged, and left in a whirl of trench coat and wings.
John Constantine walked briskly along the broken sidewalks of LA, his hands in his pockets, trench coat billowing behind him, and excited teenage-angel-boy jumping about excitedly and discussing the prospect of getting into Papa Midnite's club on his own. And, John mused as he cast a sidelong glance at his friend, the aforementioned angel-boy appeared to be discussing all this with thin air.
"So what is it, John, bear on a table? How do you know? Do I get some sort of membership card that tells me? How do I find out what it's going to be?"
John rolled his eyes, "Chas. Stop. Just…stop."
"But how will I knooooooowwwww?" Chas whined.
John shrugged, "You'll know."
"Oh." Chas seemed slightly disappointed with the answer, "But…wait, John, where are we going?"
John, too preoccupied to talk, nodded in the direction of the old bowling alley.
"Home? Home? I thought we were going to Midnite's!"
John put one hand to his head, massaging his temples, "Shower. Change. Work."
"Huh. Oh, alright, John, fine, I guess you don't see the true urgency of the situation. That's okay. I can accept that. But I'm already dead."
John flung a glance at him, "'True urgency'?"
Chas sighed, "Not that I know what the true urgency is, just that it is…truly urgent."
John shook his head to clear his thoughts and bounded up the stairs to his apartment. He picked up a couple of letters that had been slipped under his door, opening the first as he walked into the room. He scanned the contents quickly, taking in the words, and then turned to Chas.
"Change of plans. Not Midnite's tonight. I need to shower, can you get the car? You do still drive, right?"
Chas looked somewhat crestfallen, but sighed, "Of course, what else would I do around you?"
"Good." John nodded curtly and headed off to the bathroom, tossing the letter on the counter. Chas picked it up and skimmed it.
Dear Mr. John Constantine,
It is with the deepest sympathy that we regret to inform you of your parents' recent death due to a tragic automobile accident. At the time of the crash, your father, David, was killed immediately upon impact, while your mother, Sandra, managed to hold on until an ambulance could get to her, but she died, tragically, on her way to the hospital. The cause of the accident is believed to be the fault of a slightly inebriated truck driver, as well as the extreme conditions in which both drivers were operating. This unfortunate news is no doubt a shock to you, however, as the eldest son, you are required to come to the reading of the will, scheduled today at three o'clock pm. Those attending will be your only living Uncle, Michael A. Constantine, and your younger sister, Jade S. Constantine. It will be at this time the primary caretaker of Jade will be decided, as she is still seventeen, and a minor. You have priority based on the Will, to her custody, but in the case that you are unwilling or unable, Mr. Michael Constantine will take over.
Thank you, and my sincerest regrets,
Adrienne F. Mableton,
Attorney at Law,
Mableton and Wellesley Law Firm, Los Angeles, California