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Price Tag	By : RavenWolf Category: 1 through F > Constantine Views: 2983 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Constantine, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Title: Price Tag

Author: RavenWolf

Pairing: John/Chas

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Chas learns that everything has a price. Even his own
life.

Chas arched up off the bed, moaning in deep pain. His head felt
like it was exploding, shards of sharp glass pushing their way
outward. John straddled his hips, holding his shoulders down and
trying to keep him from hurting himself.

Chas screwed his eyes shut, allowing the images to play even more
vividly. They hurt, as if they were burned into his brain with
physical fire. He felt nauseous. He twisted off the bed one more time
as the last sharp stream of pictures flooded through his brain, and
then...it was done.

He relaxed back down on the bed, realizing that his muscles were
sore and tense and that he was covered in sweat. Also, that John was
sitting on him, looking at him as if...well, as if he was one of the
demons John so loved to deport. Chas knew that vengeful, angry look
very well; he’d just never seen it directed at him before.

He closed his eyes for a moment, resting the best he could. “John,
what are you doing?” John didn’t answer.

Both of them were naked. In other circumstances, it could have
been a fun position. Would have been, if John hadn’t been busy
thinking Chas was possessed, and if Chas didn’t feel like his
brain was going to bleed out through his eyeballs.

“Chas?” John asked warily. Chas tried weakly to get
up, but John pushed him right back down.

“Yeah, it’s me. Now get off me, asshole. I need about
ten industrial-strength Advil.”

John’s face broke from its stony glare. “It’s
definitely you.” He rolled off Chas, watching as the youth
disappeared into the bathroom. Heard the sound of running water, and
when Chas came back out, he was still frighteningly pale, though he
seemed a bit more on top of things.

Chas sat down on the bed they shared, and then flopped back onto
the pillow gracelessly. It was about two in the morning, but the
perpetual light of the city left the sky a dark blue instead of the
black it should have been.

Chas wanted to go to sleep. Very badly. “You wanna tell me
what that was?” John asked.

Chas pulled the pillow over his head. “No.”

He stayed like that for about a minute, before the images started
up again. No... he moaned, but it was only in his head. At
least this time it was shorter. He bit down on the pillow hard and
writhed on the bed, wracked with pain. He was slightly gratified to
note that John held him for the few moments it lasted, though whether
it was from affection, worry, or just plain practical, he didn’t
know.

This time, after it was finished, his nose started bleeding. He
held a hand up, and then glared up at the ceiling. “Fine,
goddamnit. I get the fucking picture.”

John was looking at him accusingly. Chas sighed. “You know
how I convinced them to send me back to Earth?”

“Yeah,” John answered cautiously, not necessarily
wanting to delve into how that miracle occurred. If he knew how it
happened, it might somehow be reversed.

“Well, they didn’t do it for free. What I mean is,
they stipulated that there would be a price. That I would have to
carry out their work for them.

“And apparently, they want me to become your very own
personal P.O. box. They just sent me images of the next month’s
worth of exorcisms. Where they’ll be, what they’ll be,
and how to get rid of them.”

He sighed and pulled his hand away from his nose. The blood had
stopped flowing, and was crusting dry. “Guess I’m gonna
have to quit my day job,” he said dryly.

John looked at him like he’d grown another head. He couldn’t
quite believe that Chas was going to give in to them that
easily. That he was just going to accept that blinding headaches and
visions were his new lot in life. It didn’t seem like the Chas
Chandler he knew, and just might love.

Chas heaved a sigh, and got up, taking the sheet with him. John
watched skeptically and silently from the bed as Chas found a notepad
and pad, turned on the light, and started to write. Occasionally, a
droplet of scarlet blood would fall on the paper.

John watched for a long time, in sort of a trance. Then he
realized that the pen had stopped writing and Chas’s arm had
stopped moving. He got up and walked over, only to find that Chas had
fallen asleep in the middle of a sentence.

John touched the youth’s shoulder tenderly. Chas. He lifted
the relatively light boy in his arms and carried him back to the bed.

His hands itched for a cigarette, but he remembered he’d
quit. So he settled for playing with Chas’s curly hair instead.
As he did, he looked down at his sleeping lover.

Jesus Christ, he thought to himself. I just got him
back. Are they going to take him away from me again?

***

The next day, after John had performed the predicted exorcism, he
insisted they go to Midnite. It wasn’t that he didn’t
believe what Chas had said; after all, the demon he’d found in
the young boy was exactly as Chas said it would be. It was just that
he was still hoping secretly that it wasn’t permanent. He’d
seen Chas’s face last night when the vision of the future hit
him. And it had looked horribly painful. He couldn’t believe
that they would condemn him to a lifetime of that.

No, wait, he could. It was more that he couldn’t believe
that there was no one he could threaten, kill, maim, or blackmail
into stopping the torturous visions.

Midnite confirmed what Chas had said. “There’s always
a price, John,” he explained patiently, as if John was
incapable of comprehension. “I suspected Chas here wasn’t
telling me everything when he came to me. But this makes sense.”

“No, it fucking well does not. Chas was good. Good
boys go to heaven, or so I’ve heard. They don’t get
tossed back down with a radio antennae in their heads to pick up
whatever the Angels feel like sending them.”

“Someone should tell them that,” Midnite said, jerking
a thumb toward the ceiling. He grinned as John seethed. Throwing his
own words back at him. Even though this was completely
different... except that it wasn’t.

He leaned against the wall heavily. Maybe Midnite was right. Maybe
he should just accept this price tag, high though it was. He’d
gotten what he wanted. He got Chas back. But what if the price was
too high? After all, Chas was the one who would be paying. He
couldn’t ask that of him. He just couldn’t.

“So you’re saying that there’s nothing I
can do?” John asked incredulously. He wasn’t used to
being useless.

Midnite nodded, somewhat smugly. “Yes, John. That is exactly
what I’m saying. There is nothing you can do but be grateful
that the price wasn’t higher.” He looked over at Chas,
and the two seemed to share some communication. John bristled.

“Fine,” he snarled, and stormed out of the room,
leaving Chas staring after him with a very confused look.

“What was that shit all about?” Chas asked the
room. Midnite merely stared at him knowingly.

***

Chas caught up with John about two blocks later. “Uh, John,
not to be a pest, but the taxi is back there. You’re going the
wrong way.”

John gave him a look, and that silenced Chas for a moment. But
only a moment. “What’s your problem, John?” he
asked bluntly.

John slowed his maddening pace and took his hands out of his
pockets. “My problem is that you never told me. You
never told me there was a catch. It’s been almost a
month.”

Chas looked slightly penitent. He squirmed. “I guess I was
kinda hoping that they’d...forgotten?” He phrased it as a
question, knowing how naive it sounded out loud.

John gave him a look. “Please. You know better to believe in
that shit.” He started walking again.

Chas was fed up. “John, cut it out, damn it! Stand fucking
still!” John stopped, about ten feet away.

“What do you want from me, Chas? To be happy for you, that
you fucked up everything that grace gave you? And believe me, you
really, really did. You didn’t even...they didn’t
even give you back a normal life, for Chrissakes. You’re
stuck with visions of demons, with this godforsaken calling,
with... Not to mention that you lied to me,” he spat
out, changing the topic. Already he felt like he’d said too
much. Like he’d opened up a cut to fresh air.

“Yeah, well I’m glad that you think so very much about
me, John. Fuck you. Just...fuck you. Oh, and while we’re
talking about lying, I think you might owe Angela an
explanation for why you’ve stopped fucking her. Or maybe
you still are. How should I know?” Shit. He hadn’t been
meaning to bring that up. He really hadn’t.

John tensed up. Chas could see it, even from that distance. His
shoulders squared and his jaw worked, and he began to wonder if he
really had made a mistake. Oh, god. What if they were
still fucking?

The thought made him want to puke. He stepped away from John,
backing up. He just...couldn’t, not right now. He turned
around, and started walking back toward the car. Quickly. He kept
himself under control, and didn’t run. He wouldn’t let
his hurt get that much control over him. He would take a page from
John’s book, and just crush all his emotions down until he was
alone.

Chas reached the taxi and got in the front comfortably. Once he
was there, he sagged back against the chair. Damn. He couldn’t
even remember half of what he’d said to John, but he could
recall every word John had said to him. It had been...not good, to
say the least. He shook his head. He still couldn’t believe
that John was actually angry at him for coming back. That
really, really hurt. Hurt so much he couldn’t believe it. It
was a slap in the face. It flew in the face of all he’d
believed about John and himself.

He went into the glove compartment and grabbed a licorice rope
from the pack he kept there. His answer to John’s smoking, he
supposed. Though not nearly as deadly. John gave himself cancer and
he was the idiot? He shook his head angrily, although it was
only to hide the fact that he felt like crying.

He took a deep breath and started the car. Part of him wanted to
go pick John up and pretend that nothing happened. The part of him
that still hurt like a bitch from John’s comments. The stubborn
part of him, also not immune to the hurt, steamrolled over that plan,
though.

He went home. To John’s home, that is. Which, since he had
nowhere else to live, he considered his. He’d never
expected to find Angela there. Not again.

He opened the door and she was sitting on the couch, legs crossed,
staring into space. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Chas hissed.

She looked up at him, surprised. “John called me,” she
said. “I thought...” She took in Chas’s seething
anger, recalled the turmoil in John’s voice when he called, and
she put the two together. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. He made a mistake. You don’t get to
come here anymore. You took care of him while I was gone, fine,
great. Thanks for that. But he is mine now. So until further
notice, you are not welcome here.”

“I know,” she said simply. “It was always you he
wanted. Never me. I know that.” She got up. Chas was stunned
speechless. He wasn’t used to being such an asshole. Further
more, he wasn’t used to people just lying down and taking
it like that. Maybe he’d gone too far...

“I’m going to go now,” she said. “Tell
John not to call me anymore.” She passed by him, very close.
“And Chas... Tell him to stop blaming himself for everything.
He’s just going to fuck everything up.”

Chas wanted to ask what the hell that was supposed to mean,
but before he could form the words, Angela was gone. Bitch, he
thought uncharitably.

He settled in on the couch, barely refraining from digging into
John’s liquor cabinet. It wasn’t that he had morals or
anything, oh no. It was more a proverbial fuck-you to John. See,
you may need the alcohol to dull the pain, but I don’t. I’m
stronger. It was really kid of pathetic when you thought about
it, so he didn’t think about it.

Time ticked by, and he realized that John might actually walk all
the way home. Meaning it would be a good long while before he showed
up. Chas just really hoped that he didn’t run into Angela on
the way there.

He turned on the TV and flipped to Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
The sounds of violence lulled him into a trance, and before long, he
was asleep.

Around nine p.m., he was woken up by the crack of thunder that
rattled the windows. Shit. John still wasn’t here. Chas sat up
and wiped the sleep from his eyes. Maybe he should go find him. He
was really getting kind of worried here. Which was really fucking
stupid, since John was the demon hunter and perfectly capable
of taking care of himself, but still...

Oh yeah, I’m still mad at him. Chas padded into the
kitchen to find himself something to eat. There was a box of stale
crackers and some expired orange juice. He took what he could get,
realizing he wasn’t all that hungry after all.

Through all this, he kept one eye on the door. He hoped to hell
that John was alright. Then immediately cursed himself for caring so
damn much.

He might have driven himself crazy with the back and forth
worrying if John hadn’t come in just then.

The demon hunter was drenched from head to toe, and the look he
wore on his face said that he hadn’t used the time apart to
figure anything out. He looked pissed. Really, really pissed.

Chas shifted uncomfortably, confused. What should he do? Just
leave John alone, or commence with the fighting again? Because there
was no way that any exchange between them would be civil, not with
John looking at him like that.

John advanced, and Chas stood stock still. He was still trying to
decipher the look in John’s eyes. What did he want from him?
What was he going to do to him? Chas ruthlessly quashed the rush of
fear that hit him when John grabbed him by the wrists.

“J-John, what are you doing, man?”

“Shut the fuck up, Chas,” John growled, just before he
kissed him.

Kissing seemed like too gentle of a word for what they were doing.
Chas didn’t do much of anything, really, just weathered the
storm as John pressed their mouths together, hard, their teeth
clacking together. His tongue was forceful, and he licked the inside
of Chas’s mouth, taking everything he had, biting his tongue
and lips just enough so that it stung.

Chas found himself backing up. John came with him, aggressive and
insistent. He hit the wall with a soft thud and realized that there
was nowhere left to run. Nowhere left to go.

So he gave himself over to it. At least John was seeing him. At
least John was touching him, and not her. It was about then
that Chas realized he might have some serious jealousy issues over
Angela.

To compensate, he pushed his hips up and forward insistently,
feeling John’s hard, strong thigh between his legs. John
grunted and rubbed against Chas in turn.

Then he bit down hard on Chas’s shoulder. Chas gasped and
writhed, pinned against the wall as John sucked a bruise onto his
shoulder. “Mine,” he growled softly. “All mine.”

Chas made a small noise of assent and turned his head to the side,
allowing John more access. John bit him again, little nips that
covered his entire collar bone with tiny red marks. When he was done,
he looked up at Chas, and his eyes were positively black with lust.

Chas shuddered. He grabbed John’s shoulders and stared
straight back at him. “Come on, Constantine, let’s see
what you can do,” he challenged, his own lust mirroring John’s.

John growled and pushed Chas against the wall, hard. Chas’s
eyes nearly rolled up in his head as John ripped his shirt open,
scratching his sides hard enough to leave welts. “Your body is
so perfect,” John whispered against Chas’s abdomen. “They
can’t have you.”

He lifted his head and kissed Chas again, their bodies wrapping
around each other intensely. “Come on,” Chas grunted. He
could have stayed like that for hours, just kissing, but he knew that
there was something more important to be done here. “Do it,
John. Come on, take me.”

John’s eyes blazed when he heard that. It incited a whole
new level of need in him. “Get on the bed,” he said
gruffly. But he didn’t move from where he had Chas pinned to
the wall.

“Uh, John...” Blinking, John stepped back a slight
bit, allowing Chas to slide between his arms and disappear into the
bedroom.

John took a deep breath once he was alone. His hands were shaking.
What was he doing? He longed to light a cigarette, but Chas and
Angela had thrown them all out.

Goddamn. What was he scared
of? It was just Chas in there. Not some three-headed demon. Just
Chas.

He pictured the younger man, the curly hair that framed a face
that was...beautiful, but with hard edges when you looked closer. His
Chas. A shiver of arousal went through him to remind him that the
said boy was now laying in his bed. God. That was so hot.

He shrugged off his jacket, not caring enough to move it from
where it fell on the floor. He started loosening his tie as he
followed Chas to his bedroom. Their bedroom.

Chas was laid out on his back on the bed, completely naked, head
tilted to one side, breathing hard. And looking at him.
Just...whoa. John’s arousal ached at the sight. “John,”
the youth breathed, tilting his head back and exposing his throat.

“Fuck, Chas...need you.”

All the rage, the impotent helplessness he’d been feeling,
and had inadvertently directed at Chas, all of it transmuted itself
into desire for the beautiful boy laid before him like a banquet.
Still a small part of him wanted nothing more than to wrap himself
tightly around Chas like a snake, so that no one could ever touch him
or hurt him again.

John knelt between Chas’s legs, staring at him intensely. He
stroked the insides of Chas’s thighs lightly, and Chas sighed
breathily and spread them farther apart. That’s right,
John thought smugly. Open yourself to me. Only for me.

He licked a finger and inserted it, gently, into Chas. The younger
man didn’t move, only froze completely. His breathing became
more shallow, and his legs parted an imperceptible distance further.
John smiled.

Another finger joined it. This time John could hear Chas’s
sharp intake of breath. Good, he thought to himself. He
wiggled his fingers experimentally before adding a third one, with
almost vicious rapidity. Chas squirmed at that, and John thought he
saw the glisten of moisture in the other’s eyes.

John withdrew his fingers. “Open the top drawer on the
nightstand, Chas. Reach in and take out the lube. Then give it to
me,” he said huskily. Chas gulped and then did as he said. He
tossed the tiny tube to John, and then slowly laid back down.

John put the tube down, and slowly, languidly, unbuttoned his
shirt. He was acutely aware that Chas was watching, and that made it
all the better. He unbuttoned and unzipped his black slacks, letting
them slide off of him like water. Lastly, he kicked off his shoes and
toed off his socks.

He hadn’t intended for this to happen. Really, he hadn’t.
He had wanted this to be hard and fast and humiliating against the
wall, with Chas moaning his name and crying as he came. But somehow,
between the kitchen and the bedroom, something had changed. Chas had
looked at him, had said his name, and he had melted. He knew
it wasn’t Chas he was angry at; it was just the rest of the
world.

But the rest of the world wasn’t here right now, and as
sickening as it sounded, he wanted nothing more than to make love
to Chas. Not to just fuck him, as originally intended.

“Jesus,” he half-prayed, half-moaned. Chas sat up now.
He caught John’s eye, and then deliberately uncapped the lube
and spread it across his fingers, warming it. And then, slowly,
cautiously, he spread it along the length of John’s cock.

John closed his eyes to avoid coming right then. Chas looked so
unsure that he just had to kiss him. So he did. Soft and slow,
long and wet, the way it should have been from the beginning. Their
fingers threading through each other’s hair, their cocks
rubbing together between their stomachs.

“Love you, John,” Chas whispered, forgetting
completely that he was supposed to be angry. It wasn’t
important anymore. Nothing was important, except having John inside
him.

He laid back and his eyes gave his consent as John guided himself
into him. This time John was sure he saw tears of pain in the other’s
eyes, so he stopped. Chas was gasping for air. It almost sounded like
he was crying. “No,” he cried. “More.” Even
though he obviously wasn’t ready, even though it hurt. He
needed the punishment, the pain, to remind him that he was here, that
things were really the way he had wanted them to be.

John obliged him, nearly dying as he pushed slowly, the rest of
the way in. He stopped, panting heavily, eyes closed as he fought off
the urge to just pound away until he found the completion he was
looking for.

Chas smiled. “Go on, John. I can take it.” His eyes
were watery, but still he wanted it. The sweet burn was all but gone,
and he wanted more.

John grunted and began to move. He felt like he was lost, like he
was falling, as he rolled and thrust his hips, nearly wanting to
scream with each new burst of friction. God, this was heaven.

“Chas, I--” But he couldn’t say it. He just
couldn’t. He wasn’t as strong as Chas, not as brave.

“It’s alright, Constantine,” Chas said. “Just
please don’t hurt me.”

The request was odd, but John didn’t have time to think
about it, because in the next instant, Chas was arching off the bed,
pressing them together close. “Oh, GOD do that again!” he
said, and John grinned smugly. So the kid had discovered his
prostate.

Who was he to deny Chas anything? He corkscrewed his hips in order
to get just the right angle, and again Chas gasped. He did it
again and again, relishing the look on Chas’s face as he got
closer and closer to the edge.

He slowed his pace just long enough to touch the kid, stroking him
firmly. Chas practically shuddered as he came, spilling semen over
John’s hand and both of their bellies.

John grinned at this, irrationally pleased with himself. But the
thoughts fled his head when Chas flexed experimentally.

Now it was Chas’s turn to grin. He did it again, and stroked
John’s muscled back lightly, just enough to create a sensation.

He leaned up to kiss his lover. And John could feel it,
could feel himself losing control, coming unraveled at the seams. I
love you, Chas, is what he wanted to say. But all he could do was
moan, unable to express himself in words as he found release and came
inside Chas.

He collapsed on top of Chas. He knew he should move, knew he was
probably too heavy for this to be comfortable for him, but damn it,
he was tired and he was comfortable and he felt loved for the
first time in known history. So he laid there and let Chas stroke his
back and his sides, let him play with the hair at the nape of his
neck. And he pretended that he was allowing it only because he was
feeling charitable. John Constantine wasn’t supposed to do
sweet and sappy cuddling.

Chas let him stay for a few moments, secretly relishing the
feeling of the secure, warm weight of his lover on top of him. But
eventually it became uncomfortable, and he rolled over,
unceremoniously dumping John on to his own side of the bed.

They stared at each other. “So,” Chas said,
uncertainly. Was he just supposed to go to sleep now, forget that
they’d fought at all?

John reached out and touched Chas’s hair in an
uncharacteristic sign of affection. “What did you mean when you
asked me not to hurt you?” he asked.

Chas blushed a bit. “I don’t really...I mean, it was
hard for me, y’know? I didn’t just come back on a
whim. I thought about it for a long time, almost as long as I’ve
dreamed of this. And I knew that I couldn’t wait for you to
find me. I just...couldn’t. So...please don’t send me
away. I couldn’t stand it.”

John leaned up on his elbow. “Send you away?” he asked
incredulously.

Chas squirmed. “Yeah. Isn’t that what you were going
to do? I thought...I mean, I lied to you, remember? And I’m an
idiot?”

John was still looking at him with a blank expression. “Was
I the only one at this conversation? Really, John, don’t you
remember? You called me a liar, said I was a moron, said that I
shouldn’t have come back at all...” he trailed off as the
hurt renewed itself.

John put a hand over his mouth. “Shut up, kid. I didn’t
mean that shit. Well, most of it. I was just pissed. Not at you, at
them.” He jerked a thumb at the ceiling. Then he leaned
forward and kissed Chas on the forehead. “I do want you here. I
just...don’t think that I was worth it,”

Chas studied John’s evasive expression for a moment. “And?”

“What the fuck do you mean, and? I just poured my
heart out to you here. There is nothing more.”

“Yeah, there is. Otherwise you wouldn’t be so freakin’
defensive right now. Tell me, John. I need to know.”

John hung his head. He couldn’t look at Chas when he said
this. He stared at the pillow. “I thought it was a stupid
decision because I...I don’t know if I could have made it. I
don’t know if I would have come back for you.” There. He
had said it. The shameful secret he’d been keeping inside since
Chas had first appeared at his doorstep a month ago.

Chas laughed. He actually laughed. “Of course not, John. I
wouldn’t expect you to. Heaven means a whole lot more to you
than it does to me, and with good reason.”

When he saw the shocked expression on John’s face, he
laughed a bit more. “Shit, John, did you think I was gonna be
angry or something?”

John looked away, slightly embarrassed. So, the kid already knew
his deepest secret. And didn’t care. So that was why he
loved this boy.

He didn’t have to answer for Chas to know. He grew solemn
and leaned forward to kiss him on the mouth. “I am glad
you’re back, Chas,” he said. “And I am going
to start killing things until I find a way to get rid of those
painful visions.”

Chas shrugged self-consciously. “They’re not that bad.
At least it means that now I can help you.”

“That’s what worries me, kid.”

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Price Tag