Posted in Headcanon

Ardor

They’re covered in head to toe in slimy green mucus, had just kicked Hela’s personal hel-wolf back to the realm where it belongs, prevented a zombie apocalypse by enlisting Klarion’s unwilling help, had a nice civil chat with the new Prince of Dead (Twice Over) about the possibility of conquering Hell, and paid their due to Swamp Thing by helping him ward off some weird slimy monsters. Hence why they’re covered in mucus.

All in all, just a day’s works in their Monster-Hunter-slash Magician life. Which left them wanting for a much deserved hot bath and some quiet time. Lots of private quiet time with each other. And nothing would stop them from crossing those off of their to do list, end of the world be damned.

Only problem is, Elsa forget it’s the fifth Thursday of the month, which is Doom’s Avengers usual hang out time. And that since it’s also the fifth month of the year, she’d be the one hosting their gathering. In her Bloodstone Manor.

A fact she only registered when she throws her riffle to the couch and heard U.S. Agents’ indignant shriek from being hit with a mucus-covered-rifle.

“What the fu–” she begins, and promptly cut herself off upon Valeria’s glare.

“Please tell me you don’t forget about our gathering,” Valeria says, and whatever Elsa’s attempt on answering her went out of the door when John walks in, rambling, “Elsie, darling, please tell me you’ve told Adam to start the bath because I can’t wait to get us out of these clothes and clean you– oh.” John looks at everyone’s curious gaze and Elsa’s unreadable face. “We’ve got company.”

“Nice observation, Sherlock,” Elsa hiss. “Everyone, this is John Constantine. He’s my—”

“Boyfriend, we all know,” Valkyrie says with a devilish grin. “We’ve heard all kind of tales about you.”

“All. Kind. Of. Tales,” Valeria emphasized, crossing her arms off and looking at John with apparent disdain.

“Oh,” John blinks. “Um, nice to meet you lot, I guess. You’re… Her friends from her Avengers stint, I suppose?”

“Stint???” 3-D Man gapes. “Stint?? We’ve saved the world, when every other hero are busy being evil and doing god knows what. You called that a stint???”

“Yeah well to be fair, me and Elsa had saved the world three time this week alone. So… Yeah, stint,” John shrugs his shoulder. “Now, if you’d give us fifteen minutes, we’d make ourselves presentable and then come down here to host this party properly, yeah? M’sure Adam is around here to cater to you guys.”

And, praise Lucifer, Adam and Cullen shows up just in time for John to shove them off to the bunch and then run upstairs dragging a still very stunned Elsa.

 

Somehow, by whatever grace of Mephisto, they managed to collect their bearings and went back down in less than fifteen minutes, before separating at the door to do their own thing. It’s not long before John find himself lounging on the couch with Stingray and U.S. Agents, talking about soccer – “football”, he corrected the American – and why Liverpool is the best team there is. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Elsa talking with Valkyrie and Valeria and, though she’s frowning, he could see from her relaxed posture how much she’s enjoying their conversation. So with a little upturn of his lips, he keep to himself. He knows, after all, how much Elsa despised public display of affection and how uncomfortable she is with having a “boyfriend” in social situations involving her friends.

So he’s rightfully puzzled when he found her leaning on his side of the couch. Even more so when she casually reach for his beer and gulping half of it before handing it back, without even sparing him a glance because she’s too busy engaging Valkyrie in a heated debate about what kind of sword is better for beheading.

The act itself is not new for him or her, because they’ve cultivated the habit of sharing whatever drink they’re having in the span of time they’ve practically lived together. But for Elsa to do such domesticated habit in front of other people… Well. Now that’s new.

And he knows it doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone in the room, especially Valeria, since her piercing stare got even more heated. And because she promptly abandoned 3D-Man to sit on the sofa next to the one he occupied. Just so she could still glare at him while joining the “sword and beheading” conversation.

 

It is uncomfortable, surely, and he feels scrutinized. Yet, when Elsa decided to sits on the arms of the couch as opposed to joining Valeria with Valkyrie, John could barely suppress his grin.

And when Elsa casually sling her arm around John’s shoulder, well, he couldn’t hold back the reflex to reach for her hand and kiss her knuckles before intertwining their fingers. He doesn’t miss the guys’ surprised faces, but dismiss it in favor of continuing their conversation like nothing’s wrong, habitually caressing her palm in between his sentences.

Angsty seven years old be damned, he thinks. Having Elsa being this off-guard with him around people is rarer than the Blue Moon, so he might as well use this chance to lower his guard and respond in kind.

After all, he have the privilege of calling the most beautiful girl in the room “his”. He’s entitled to a little rubbing off.

(Elsa agrees, he knows, else she wouldn’t react by fondly tussling his hair and just smirking when he grins innocently at her.)

 

Ten packs of beer later, U.S. Agents and 3-D Man are sprawled unconscious on the carpet. Stingray had also migrated to the floor, though he’s still quite sober, hugging one of the cushions as he continues his heartflet rant about being a part of Deadpool’s Mercs for Money. While Valeria had settled on Valkyrie’s lap, sipping her hot chocolate while listening to Valkyrie’s latest tale of adventure. Elsa, however, now shares the couch with John. And as per usual, she takes up 3/4 of the space by reclining on John and stretching her tired legs. Not that John minds being able to wrap his arm around her waist and occasionally kissing the top of her head. She faintly smells of gunpowder and zombies’ blood, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Still, he almost had a heart attack when Elsa reach for his chin in a forthwith and kiss him squarely on the lips.

It was just a quick and chaste kiss, but it left him short-circuited nonetheless.

So, in a spur of the moment, he gently tap at her shoulder until she turns her head. “What was that, luv?” he asks, and Elsa merely chuckles. He raises an eyebrow as he pokes her sides, and with a roll of her eyes, Elsa relents.

“Nothing,” she shrugs. “Just feel like kissing you, that’s all.”

Months of being at her side, however, taught him to recognized the almost invisible rosy colors on her cheeks and the infinitesimal upturn of her lips. Or the playful glint in her eyes.

And yeah, sappy as it may be, John Constantine found himself falling in love all over again for Elsa Bloodstone.

“You’re adorable,” he mutters, soft enough so only her would hear, before leaning down to capture her lips in an earnest kiss. Hoping he could convey in seconds what words would take hours to impart.

Judging from her smirk and the way she squeezes his hand, he supposes she does discern his meanings. So when she settles back into his arms, picking up on her conversation like nothing had happened, he follows suit and giving his two cents on Stingray’s story.

 

 

The night played out differently than how he had imagined, but hanging out with her and her friends is a luxury he doesn’t get to enjoy often. One he wouldn’t trade with anything else in the world.

Especially because Valeria just give him a secret thumbs up, and a nod of approval.

Feels good to have a shipper.

 

 

 

 

 

À la mort,

Prompt: Simple Plan – Kiss Me Like Nobody’s Watching.
“So kiss me, l
ike nobody’s watching. Yeah people are talking. It doesn’t matter what they say.”

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Author:

An emotionally invested enthusiast of pop culture. Apathetic by design. Aesthetically offensive and eloquently candid. A sentimental heathen.

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