Trouble often found Constantine like maggots to a corpse.

This time, Trouble's name went by Danny Fenton. Some random kid— "hey I'm fourteen!" — with an impossible physiology and a soul that not even the most desperate demon or benevolent angel would take. Not because Danny is in any way particularly good or evil, but because Constantine is 99.998% sure the Lords of Hell and the Heavenly Hosts even knew what Danny's soul even was in the first place.

(If you could even…call it a soul, anyway. He isn't sure how he can explain it, and Danny has zero clue at what Constantine's asking for anyway. "It's science," Danny would say with a shrug. "Weird science, anyway. Something about ectoplasm and imprinted consciences and mutations in the DNA. I'm not sure on the specifics, but my parents can tell you.")

Of course, being lost in another fucking universe probably didn't help.

He clips another cigar and lights it. Cuban, full-bodied, good blend; he got it as a bonus from some clients a few weeks back and he'd been slowly making his way through the pack. He lets the smoke settle on his tongue before he puffs it out, slinging his legs up to rest on top of the coffee table with a groan.

Danny scrunched his nose at him, uncrossing his arms to go over and open a window.

"What?" Constantine rolled his eyes, gesturing to the boy with a cigar. "You don't get to complain. You don't even need to breathe."

"Yeah and smoking still makes everything smell like crap. It's a terrible habit, y'know."

He huffs, smoke billowing out, and makes a note to himself to smoke like he's a goddamn dragon just to annoy the kid. "Hey, I think putting up with a bit of my bad habit is enough compensation for having to help your penniless ass, brat."

Danny scoffed. "It's not like I had any choice in that."

Which was the crux of the matter, of course. See, Constantine has had his fair share of inter-dimensional or inter-planar travel. But shit like parallel universes …well, that was more the Justice League's purview anyway. All those alternate universes where everything is a distorted mirror of their own reality—and apparently home to way too many evil Supermen to be comfortable with— not exactly Constantine's cup of tea. He's had his fair share of experiences with them, but definitely not enough to actually help someone whose universe is nowhere even remotely similar to his own.

Oh, according to Danny his Earth did have a London and an America and a Korea, etc. The majority of their countries were the same, give or take a few that only seemed to exist in Constantine's universe. But it was the people where they differed. Remarkably, there was no Justice League in Danny's world. Or any kind of superheroes at all. ( Like in comic books? Danny had said when Constantine asked.)

As far as Danny knew, he was the closest thing that came to a superhero in his world and half of the time people just consider him a menace. Even big shot 'civilians' like Bruce Wayne, Lex Luthor, or Oliver Queen were non-entities in that parallel world. Instead they got some creepy asshole called Vlad Masters who should probably get another hobby that isn't 'terrorizing a fourteen-year-old.'

But where this strange alternate world lacked in martians and cosmic world-ending threats, they made up for with a shit ton of ghosts. Which brought them to their current predicament: through a ridiculous set of circumstances that Danny really didn't want to explain, the kid managed to tumble through a rift in the Infinite Realms (something that Constantine hasn't heard of but you'll be damn sure he's gonna make it his business to know) and landed probably five parallel universes and seven perpendicular universes away from his own earth and right in front of Constantine's doorstep. (No, those were probably not the correct scientific terms but Constantine was a fucking occultist not a physicist so sue him.)

(Actually, don't. He'd rather not deal with it.)

Constantine did try his best to do right by the kid. He'd taken Danny's case up to the Justice League to see if they had the tech that could send the kid home. No such luck at the moment. And even if they did, they weren't sure if they had the capabilities to connect to not only Danny's specific branch in whatever cosmic tree was keeping everything afloat, but the correct version of Danny's universe as well. Constantine's other contacts said much the same thing.

And since Danny Fenton didn't exist in this universe, he felt bad leaving the kid alone, so he offered him room and board at his place until they could find a way to get Danny home. (Or until the kid got sick and tired of Constantine's antics and just moved out.)

(Or until Danny died. Constantine had a pretty bad track record of getting his friends killed by association, y'know. Though considering Danny's half-ghost… could he even die again?)

(Better not push his luck.)

Constantine set his cigar aside. Danny's still by the window, elbows propped up on the sill, eyes trained a thousand miles away. No— 'light-years' is probably the correct measurement here.

Constantine rests his chin against his knuckles. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Danny shrugged, chin nestled against his open palm, fingers curled near the seam of his mouth. Nervous nail-biter, maybe? "Just…worried." His voice is level, but you could feel the anxiety nestled deep within from the sharp staccato of his fingers against the windowsill. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. "I've never been gone this long from Amity Park before. It tends to…attract a lot of annoying ghosts, and it's up to me to make sure their trouble doesn't get too out of hand."

"Ah. Define trouble."

Danny laughs. "It depends on which ghost it is, I guess. Some of the regulars honestly just want to annoy me. There's the Box Ghost—yeah that's literally what he calls himself, he controls boxes, no I am not making this up—who should really learn to just stay in the Zone already. I think my record for beating him is like 15 minutes, and 10 of those minutes was just trying to find him. Skulker's a bounty hunter that's just dead set—pun intended—on skinning me for my pelt. I don't know what he's gonna do with that pelt, and at the rate things are going I don't think I'll ever find out. I've probably destroyed more of his robot suits than anyone else."

Some of his rogues want to skin him? Huh. Maybe Constantine should be more concerned about how nonchalant Danny is when describing all of this. "If you got regulars, then that means you also got ghosts that only come in sometimes, right?"

"Yeah…" Danny raked a hand through his hair. "It's part of the reason why I'm so worried. Those kinds of ghosts have been coming up at an alarming rate recently. Like, the last ghost I dealt with was this guy named Undergrowth. He's big, green, looks like a giant weed, and is pretty much able to control all plant life. He took control of the entire town and essentially enslaved everyone using mind vines. I literally had to develop a new powerset just to fight him."

"Huh. Must be tough, having to fight all this on your own."

"It is, yeah…but I'm not alone. My friends help me."

Constantine lowers his feet to the floor. He scoots up to the edge of his ratty old sofa and pats down the spot next to him. "Friends? That's good, at least. Tell me about them."

"Well…" Danny let out a sharp exhale, eyes wavering between the window and the empty spot on the couch as if deciding where he'd be more comfortable being at. Eventually, he pushes himself away from the window and tentatively sits down on the couch, fingers drumming against the burgundy cushions. "There's Sam and Tucker. I've known Tucker since forever ago, but the two of us became friends with Sam back in middle school. They were there with me when I, well, became this. And ever since then, they've been helping me fight all the ghosts that've been coming through the portal."

There's a smile on Danny's lips as he talks about them. Soft but bright. A flash of teeth every time he has to hold back a laugh whenever he suddenly remembers a funny story. He talks about Tucker's genius with technology, Sam's interest in the occult, and how the two of them have a running argument regarding their food preferences. He goes into anecdotes about their adventures, and how so many of Danny's own victories couldn't have been done without their help.

"Sounds like you trust them," Constantine said.

"With my life." There's an air of gravity in the way Danny said those words. As if they were an unwavering truth of the universe.

He placed a comforting hand on Danny's shoulder. "Then trust that they'll be able to hold down the fort until you get back."

Danny's eyes widened a fraction, before he hung his head low, smiling sheepishly. "Yeah, yeah, I guess you're right."

Suddenly finding himself feeling very awkward at this almost-tender moment, Constantine slapped his knees once and pushed himself off the couch. "Well, best stop your worrying for now, kid. Come on, grab your jacket. Let's go get some Nando's."

Danny's brows scrunched up in confusion. "The heck is Nando's?"

"Oh you poor, poor, American. Come on, let me introduce you to the wonders that is peri peri chicken."

Trouble often found Constantine like maggots to a corpse. But maybe this time, he didn't mind Trouble so much.