simple twist of fate

by red-starshine

part eleven: when the world is running down

For some reason, Chas felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff. "You have the House because the person who it was supposed to go to didn't want it?"

"Yeah," said John. "I'm its sloppy seconds. Really makes a mage feel pretty good about 'imself." He looked away from Chas, seemingly embarrassed by what he'd just said. "Anyway. I suppose it's for the best. Some people just can't hack this – magic and demons and angels and all that guff. It's a lot for a beginner to handle. If Liv felt she couldn't handle this responsibility, it's good that she got out when she did. Before she or anyone else could get hurt."

Chas could see where this was going. "John."

"I mean, can you imagine the damage a novice could do if they got their hands on some of this shite?" said John, not listening to Chas. "They'd blow the House sky-high at minimum. Blot the sun out from the sky for half the country, summon a minor go-."

"John!"

That seemed to finally draw John's attention. He looked up at Chas crossly. "What?"

"Are you worried I'll turn around and leave you alone, like Liv did?" asked Chas. "Throw in the towel because all the magic is too much for me? Is that what this is about?"

John looked slightly taken aback. "Uh-" He looked down, and that by itself told Chas the answer.

Chas sat down on the sofa next to John, their thighs touching. "Hm?"

John smiled slightly. "Can't get anything past you, mate," he said weakly.

There was a moment of silence between them as Chas gathered his thoughts. He had to make up his mind as to what would happen next. What he wanted to do next, even though he knew John was still holding something back from him. Chas had never been very good with words, and he had to handle this carefully, like he was about to walk over broken glass.

"John, look - I'm still here," said Chas. "After everything that's happened to me today." He lightly placed one hand on top of John's. John's fingers twitched slightly underneath his, but John made no move to pull away, so he left it there.

"I mean, it's been a very...eventful day," Chas continued. "An angel threw me into that bookcase. I watched you send ghosts on to the afterlife. I had a nice talk with the ghost who haunts your mystery house. And it all started with me waking up after you brought me back from the dead. If I was going to run from this, run from you, I would be gone already." He leaned in closer to John. "So what does that tell you?" he said, his voice low.

"Mostly that you have no sense of self preservation," said John with a slight tremor in his voice, looking down at Chas's hand. "But that's all right, neither do I."

"Makes sense," said Chas, bringing his other hand to John's face. "We just don't know any better." He could feel John tremble slightly as he ran his hand slowly down the side of John's face. John closed his eyes, leaning into Chas's hand. John's lips parted slightly, in anticipation, and that was enough.

Chas's lips met John's, and John couldn't help but moan, his arms moving around Chas's back, fingers digging into the soft fabric of his sweater.

John tasted like stale beer, cigarettes, and aspirin, but Chas didn't care.

In the moment, it felt right. This was what supposed to be happening: Chas making out with John on a leather sofa inside John's emporium of strange and mystical artifacts.

John's fingers played with the hair near the back of his neck, and just that simple gesture, the briefest touch, felt good. It made Chas feel better than he'd felt in months.

John gently broke away, leaning his head against the side of Chas's neck. "Christ," John said, but it sounded like he was smiling.

Chas could only let out a snort. John's head was still tantalizingly close to his, and with a sigh he let his head rest against John's soft blond hair. John let out a soft, pleased-sounding moan.

"Seems a shame to say this," said John after a moment, "But we've still got one more soul to collect."

Chas groaned. The last soul from the bar fire. He was going to explode if he didn't see this through to its conclusion. "God. Can it wait?"

John nuzzled his head against Chas's neck, pressing a quick kiss to the skin there, before answering. "Mate, I would be the happiest man on Earth and all its parallel dimensions if it could, but that's not in the cards. We've got to get going quick, 'fore they snuff it."

With a sigh, Chas pulled away, even as the rest of his body cried out for him to get back in there and kiss John some more.

John gave him the briefest of smiles before glancing down at his hands, still on Chas's arms. One finger idly ran down the bare skin of Chas's arm, below the cuff of his sweater to the knuckles of Chas's hand, as if he were fascinated by the lines of bone beneath the skin.

Chas watched him with a bemused expression. "John," he said. "What were you just saying about that soul?"

John jerked his hand away and stood up. "Right. Sorry," said John, reaching into the pocket of his trenchcoat for the keys. "Let's make it fast. Then we can get back to the snogging." He looked around the House of Mystery. "And possibly without the bloody audience this time too," he added accusingly. "Gaz."

There was a flurry of sound from one corner of the House, like something nervously skittering away.

John exaggeratedly rolled his eyes. "Cheeky blighter."

That got a light chuckle out of Chas as he stood up. He smoothed John's hair down, where their quick make-out session had caused it to spike up slightly. "Later," he agreed. "C'mon, let's get that soul to the afterlife."