Fic: Little Johnny 1/1 Constantine.
Little Johnny. By: Lopaka Tanu Disclaimer: I do not own Constantine or any of the affiliated material. This is a work of fanfiction. Words: 964 Warning: Mentions of Violence, Death, Strong Language, and Sexual Content. Summary: Balthazar talks to a shrink. Timeline: Post Movie. ________________________________________
Striking a match on the packet, Balthazar glared at the flame. It was the first thing that had made perfect sense all day, which was truly pathetic because it had been a really long, god damned day. Pun intended. Sighing, he let it burn out before dropping the spent stick to the floor and placing the box in his pocket. "Where does he get off? Really, I'm curious, Johnny Boy is just so tight assed some days I am beginning to wonder if his little side trip towards Heaven included a lay over in celibacy land."
Smiling, he turned to face the woman in her chair. "That would be a real shame, he has one of the finest... I can see you are far from interested in this. Well, that is just too damned bad, you had the option of not listening. You made your choice, now it's my turn." Adjusting his suit jacket, Balthazar cracked his neck. "Now, where was I?"
The therapist was silent, her expression one of dead calm.
"That's okay, I will start from the beginning. Well, not the beginning, you don't have that kind of time." He snickered. Perhaps there was some humor in the situation after all. Now, that he thought about it, the whole thing was pretty funny. "The boss is still pissy over the entire John Constantine subject, it really is just too much to be around him in this state. Which is why I chose not to stick around.
"Hell is really quite lovely this time of year. You'll enjoy it, I know." He was feeling all sorts of okay. The thought of him not being the only one enraged by the Exorcist made him perk up fast. "Misery loves company, I guess." Seeing her expression, Balthazar sighed. "Right, guess you can't hear my thoughts. Just thinking how much John seems to piss pretty much everyone off. I'd be surprised if the old man up stairs doesn't toss his ass back down sooner or later."
Balthazar took a seat on the therapy couch, throwing himself back in the comfortable leather. It was a really fine couch, in his opinion. Old, probably crafted by hand in some third world country where the maker was robbed by the sellers. "Ah, sin, such a lovely word, makes my mouth tingle from saying it like the first puff of a cigarette on an ass freezing morning."
His therapist remained silent during his session. Her attention was locked on him the entire time, though.
"You know, usually I am not this self indulgent around humans. I pretty much spend my time corrupting, scheming, enjoying the fruits of others' labors, you know, like the good American I am. Ah, this country of yours offers so many wonderful opportunities for a person like me. Not that Johnny appreciates this. No, he'd rather spend his time helping the damned and infested escape their rightful justice." Scowling, Balthazar cleared his throat. "Really quite a disgusting habit, that boy has."
Taking a deep breath, he let out a moan displeasure. "I don't know about him, sometimes. My sweet Johnny, so pleasurable, so corrupted, so utterly untouchable it makes me wanna grab the smug bastard by the hair and bang his face in to a wall until he bleeds. Terrible of me, I know, but he deserves no less from me after what he did to me. Did I tell you? He's the reason I was in hell the second time. Oh, I owe him big time for that.
"Right, Johnny Boy, you are going to get it big when I'm able to touch you again. He's pure, for the moment, which means no one can lay a sinful finger on his pretty, tight ass. That is until he commits a small sin; which, given his track record, should be any time now. When he does that, he and I are going to have a long, hard talk." His lips tingled in anticipation of touching the Exorcist's skin. "This set back hasn't stopped me from trying, though, I can still creep in to his mind and plant suggestions, not that it does any good. And that really pisses me off!"
He slammed his fists down on the couch, causing the leather to crack under the pressure. "Sorry, doctor, just a little wear and tear, nothing to lose your head over." That was an idea. "I may have an idea on what to do with Johnny. It worked before, and Satan knows the bitch is asking for it." Standing up, he fixed his suit once more. The few strands of hair that had fallen out of place were quickly put back. Once more he was the immaculate Balthazar.
"Thank you, doctor, this has been really helpful. I can understand now why so many of you humans do this." Stepping over the pile that had been a Tiffany Lamp, Balthazar headed for the door of her office. "John Constantine. If you don't screw this up like so many other things, I'll have your ass nailed to the wall by morning. You'll be screaming my name for hours, and then, may be afterwards, I'll get around to torturing you."
Picking up his replacement coin from the side bureau next to the door, Balthazar turned to the therapist. "I'm sure you will keep this conversation just between us. Not that I need to worry about the doctor/patient confidentiality with you, considering the circumstances. Just, it would be best if you forgot everything you heard. Farewell." Waving at her with a now gloved hand, he smiled.
The door slammed shut with a loud thump behind him, echoing in the silent office. In her chair, the therapist's detached head lulled to the side from the vibration before falling to the floor.