John Constantine thinks pronunciation matters (rhymeswithfine) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-06-17 18:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | adam young, john constantine |
What's that on your neck?
Who: John Constantine + Adam Young
What: Puppies and pints.
When: Thursday 6/13
Where: A local bar
Rating: Pg 13-ish. Nothing bad happens, but Adam and John have potty mouths.
Status: Complete
As they left to be on their way to find a good pub with outdoor seating (and that might be a bit more... easy to get around with the carding), Adam was totally engrossed in the puppy. He was holding it as it wriggled around, completely unaware and/or uncaring of the huge grin on his face. How could one not smile at such a cute little puppy? How could anyone not want to keep it? It was magic, a puppy was, and the spell it could cast on a boy who in many ways hadn’t quite grown up.
“So d’you know what you’re gonna name ‘im?” The question, though meant for John, was still aimed at the puppy.
John couldn’t help smiling too. It was a cute puppy. And the man who’d given them the thing had been a pretty nice [looking] sort of fellow, too. All in all, a good, if not bizarre way to start out an afternoon.
Idly, he wondered if he should have checked in to see if any of his new mates (okay, just the one really) were allergic. Eh. Too late now.
“I’d say he could call me John, but it’ll probably come out a bark,” since Adam was talking mostly to the dog anyway. The older man (who was, in some case, still a bit a boy himself in terms of maturity) lit a new cigarette and considered it properly. He had half a mind to call the thing Chas, but wasn’t quite decided yet, and so only shrugged.
Adam paused in his cooing over the puppy at John’s words. He glanced over at John and giving him an ‘are you serious?’ eyebrow raise, but with a little smile. “That was a shite joke, mate,” he said shaking his head. Still, it got a chuckle out of him as he let the puppy gnaw on his finger.
“He’s such a happy little dog.” It did seem to be the case, despite being given up by his first owner. Lucky for him though, he was being given a second chance.
It was probably young enough where it didn’t really know the difference between one hand and the next, honestly. John offered Adam a two fingered salute over the gibe, but said nothing. Sometimes you just didn’t bloody ruin the moment between boy and his first dog, or some bollocks like that.
“There’s a place, looks proper.” He gave a vague gesture to something down the block. Outdoor seating with a little bowl of water by a nearby tree that said ‘watering hole, dogs welcome’. Really, some things didn’t get clearer than this.
Nothing could have distracted Adam from this moment. Not even the end of the world. He’d probably still be wrapped up in this adorable little bundle of fur and yips.
He did, however, look up at John’s words. It looked like as good a place as any, with the added bonus of a water bowl already there. He grinned again, this time directing it at John. “Not too bad, yeah?” The day just kept getting better, like everything was lining up right for once.
“Aces,” John agreed, taking a drag of his smoke, and then flicking the rest of it away while he exhaled. “If anyone asks, you’re me nephew. They don’t card family.” But no one would ask. Because, frankly, John was very good. Still, it was always smart to have a story in place beforehand. There was nothing worse than looking a right idiot during incident.
The puppy proved to be a nice distraction, too. One had hadn’t really factored in, but did a lovely job in no one asking much of anything beside what they’d like to drink and if they could pet the little ball of fuzz.
“Brill,” Adam replied with a grin. He couldn’t help feeling just the littlest bit warm and fuzzy over the idea of being family, even if it was just to bypass the system. And truth be told, it was more than a little, but he wasn’t about to act like a sap and get emotional over it. Best to play it cool and act unbothered or anything.
Once they reached the seating area, he set the puppy down by the water bowl, giving it a little pet as it started to drink before standing back up again. He kept the leash in hand as he went over to the nearest table and took a seat, placing the loop of the leash around the leg of his chair.
If John noticed Adam’s nearly forced nonchalance, he didn’t say anything -- instead, he flopped down in his seat, looked over the menu for something proper to drink (ie: import, thanks) and then ordered two as soon as someone showed up to take their order.
Once waitress was gone, he leaned over, elbows on the table and chin on palms. “It is cute,” he said of the dog, who was happily wrapping itself up in a tangle of leash. Not the sharpest of creatures. “S’pose I can’t blame you wanting it.”
Other than a quick smile, Adam hardly paid attention to the waitress when she greeted them. It was best to let John handle that whole exchange anyway. He was too busy leaning over the side of his chair to play with the puppy. No one could blame him, even grown men become goofy around cute things sometimes.
With some difficulty, he tore himself away and straightened up (somewhat) in his seat. He still leaned a bit on the armrest, but it was just with his elbow this time. Though he did manage to direct his smile first at John, it did eventually slide back to the puppy. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I mean, who wouldn’t want this little guy? I still can’t believe someone bought him and then just gave him up.” His grin widened as the dog flopped over onto it’s back as it tried to twist free of the leash.
“Is that what happened?” John snuck a glance around and then moved to light another fag. No one objected, so he was pretty sure he was in the clear, here. “You’ve got to face it sometimes, mate. Some people are just absolute cunts and there’s little we can do about it other than make up for it by not being.”
Adam’s expression smoothed out and cooled. He was more than aware of that fact, had constant reminders of it every day. Hell, he had his family situation as proof. It didn’t mean he had to like it, no matter how much he knew it to be true. It didn’t mean he didn’t wish the world was different.
“I know,” he replied, his voice soft. “People’re cunts and the world’s not fair. It’s a bloody mess and I wish it weren’t. Things should be fair. But wishing doesn’t get you anywhere, and the world still sucks.” He lowered his hand to pet the puppy again, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.
John remained silent for a moment -- smoking thoughtfully until the waitress brought their drinks, and then was gone again. “Yeah,” he said finally, leaning back into his chair. “The worlds’ shit. And so are a lot of people. It’s a bunch of bollocks, really.” He shrugged, took a drink of his beer, and motioned for Adam to do the same.
“S’why it’s important to learn where you can do better, or at least try to. And equally when it’s just a better idea to tell someone to fuck straight off.” John, oddly, was a humanist do-gooder by nature. In his own way, of course. Everything his own way. Don’t like it? Fuck straight off.
The agreement had Adam looking up at John. Most adults tried to convince him that that just wasn’t true. People were decent and the world was great. Of course, Adam knew it was a crock of shit but it was nice to hear someone agree with him. With a little smirk, Adam lifted his beer in a small salute before he took drink.
He let John’s words sink in, nodding a little. That made sense to him. After all, no one could do everything. No one could make the world just the way they thought it should be. But people could make a small difference, just around themselves. The second half of John’s advice just had Adam half smiling. “I usually just tell people to fuck off,” he admitted. It was what he knew and was comfortable with. “How do you know the other part, though?”
John wasn't the kind of preaching, nor was he much of a proper teacher. Luckily for the both of them, he wasn't attempting to preach or teach, so much as he was just having a conversation between two people. Adam was young, sure - but not so young where he needed to be talked down to or randomly lectured. When he was around that age, he knew he wouldn't have fucking tolerated it for a second.
He gave a shrug. "Fuck all if I know. Recycle?" But then he was leaning forward, elbows on the table again. "Nothing's black an' white. You just gotta look at a situation and decide if you care enough to do something with it, yeah? Don't gotta be anything big, just making an effort sometimes is enough."
One could, for instance, talk to a kid in a shitty life and family situation, offer to buy him a birthday pint and take in a dog. Or you just just let him be ornery and friendless.
Adam nodded more firmly. “Yeah, makes sense.” Do what matters to you, and all that jazz. The rest will follow through. Hopefully. In time. Sure, he’d probably heard something similar before from one of his many therapists, social workers, case workers, counselors... But they all made it sound ridiculous, wrapped it up in big stupid words and the point was lost. They didn’t talk to him like he was a person, more like he was a problem that needed fixing or a child who needed correcting.
He took another drink and looked back up at John. His lips curved a bit when he caught sight of the man’s neck. They were just faint enough that he hadn’t really noticed them before, but now that he was looking a bit more closely he saw little marks. “What’s that on your neck, hm?”
"Really?" John said, looking both wry and bemused at the question that Adam couldn't seem to help pointing out. He took another little drag of his smoke before putting the rest of the fag out on the bottom of his shoe and flicking the butt far enough away were little Chas wouldn't get the mind to eat it.
Yeah, okay, he might have named that dog already. In his brain.
"The fuck you think's on my neck?" He asked Adam, raising an eyebrow and not very casually pulling his collar free a bit more to show off the marks. "I bloody well got laid. And now that you think it's cute to point it out, I don't think that's a love bite on your jaw."
Adam just grinned at first, then laughed. Of course they were hickies, but John’s response and display were top notch. He clapped his hands together as he leaned back a bit in his chair. The grin sobered a little when John pointed out his own brand of marking, turning into a wry smirk instead. He reached up a hand to touch the bruise gingerly.
“Depends on how you look at it,” he replied with a shrug. “Met up with an old mate and gave her a bit of ribbing.” More or less, anyway. He wasn’t going to just share the fact that said mate had grown up to be quite fit and hot or anything of the sort, nope. That was classified information, thank you.
Yeah, well, John wasn't exactly stupid on the front of human relations, especially the kinds that had to do with old mates that were girls. Add teenager into that bit and it wasn't hard to assume the girl had gone good looking over night. He finished off his beer, signaled the waitress for two more, and then motioned for Adam to keep the hell up. Birthday drinks were not meant to be sipped.
"Oi, right," he said, leaning back and lighting a new fag. "S'pose it was a bit of a love tap then, anyway. I'd say I win this round - and it was a really good time, in fact, ta for asking. Play your cards right though and you might surprise yourself." He squinted at the bruise a bit more, and yeah, definitely played it up a bit. "She's right handed, huh."
Following John’s lead and encouragement, Adam began to drink his beer in earnest. Obviously he wasn’t going to be winning any chugging contests just yet, but he’d put in a good effort. He found himself choking just a bit at the words though. Forcing down the last of the beer, he let the bottle hit the table with a thud.
“Sorry, what,” he managed out through a couple of coughs. He narrowed his eyes a bit at John, however the look of suspicion was a bit ruined by the continued little coughs. “What d’you mean?”
It was okay - John didn’t expect many people to keep up with him where either wit or drinking was concerned. Drinking, in particular, he was good at. You couldn’t have been in a band for so long without being good at it, after all.
And wit? Well. John only smiled, a lopsided devious sort of thing. “Right, like you’re plain oblivious.” He took a long, slow drag of his smoke and exhaled in lazy rings.
The only thing Adam could do was snort in dismissal. Or at least denial. Not that he’d admit that either, nope. The denial ran deep in this one. Deep enough that even he wasn’t sure what he was trying to deny.
“Right, like I’d be interested in her,” he shot back. Besides, she seemed to make it very clear that they weren’t even friends anymore.
Denial: John was pretty sure that was a river in Norway. Or something like that.
“Of course not,” John assured, spreading the fingers of his free hand wide in momentary defeat. “Dunno why I thought that one at all.” To his credit, and to the credit of all those with deadpan humor, he came off as generally believable in regard to the current topic.
Adam snorted again for good measure, nodding to the waitress as she put down their new pints before picking up his and taking a swig. “‘Cause you’ve never met her.” If John knew Pepper, he’d get it. After all, they’d grown up together. How could they think of each other as anything other than friends?
Probably, it would involve a good amount of liquor or pot. But John wasn’t really going to say that, because he wasn’t the worst adult figure around, thanks.
Okay, he kind of was. But still.
“Maybe not,” he agreed easily, picking his new beer up, but not quite drinking from it. “That’s lucky though, innit? An old friend from the UK showing up here? Swear this place just attracts us ex-pats. Think I met more of them than real Americans, yet.”
He probably wouldn’t suggest that if he met Pepper. Drugs and alcohol added into the already volatile mix that is Adam and Pepper’s relationship? Wouldn’t bode too well or safe for any nearby.
That was still a little ways off anyway.
Adam gave a one shouldered shrug, looking into his beer. “Yeah, s’pose it’s alright.” Even though she seemed fine with not being friends anymore. Maybe. Ugh, enough of this shit. He glanced up at John with a half smile. “S’cause all the cool kids stick together, yeah?”
“Something like that,” John said, looking at home in his chair with beer and smoke in one hand, and the other fixing his tie that he’d loosened earlier to show off all his bruises (seriously, it had been good). “Better to think that than all this conspiracy theory shit that seems to be going around on the internet.”
“Seriously?” Adam’s eyebrows went up and drew together. “What sort of conspiracy theories are they coming up with?” He took another drink of his beer. “About like, all of the Brits coming back or something?”
“Oh, y’know,” John said, shrugging. “Just the stuff about this city being weird. Powers and dreams and-- all that.” Of course, he half believed some of it himself. Reputable sources and all that. Some, though, he wasn’t sure on. Either way it seemed to be a big conversation piece on the internet.
“What? Are you -- serious?” The eyes widened and the eyebrows shot back up before his skepticism came back in full force. “Powers?” Like superhero shit? Yeah, color him in disbelief. He’d missed all those conversations about dreams and powers, but even if he’d heard them... It would be a miracle if he actually believed a word of what they were saying. Let’s be real here: powers? Magic? Really?
Adam’s disbelief was beyond fair. It was only Kirsty that John trusted -- a homicide cop who dreamt often of Hell. Who made shit like that up, anyway? John only shrugged, spreading the fingers of his hands wide. “Fuck if I know. California does have a lot of nutters about. Just what they talk about, innit? Pay more attention next time you log on. In? Log-- fuckkit. Next time you use the Net bits.” God damn computers.
John’s fumbling of the lingo had him snorting again. “Either one, really. You log in to a website, log on the computer.” He nodded, taking another drink. “Yeah, alright, sure.” Why not, anyway? Not like he would believe them, but it might be interesting to see what these people might be saying.
The older blond rolled his eyes at the correction, although possibly made a stern mental note about it, and then gave another shrug. “Never mind that though. Birthday drink aren’t meant to be serious, yeah? ‘ave at. Get lunch if you want, too.” Ordering was now allowed, considering the time for IDing had passed. It was a perfect plan, really. No one should allow John Constantine around ice picks, by the way. … Possibly that reference was too old, also.
He gave an easy grin. The man was right, birthday drinks should be more relaxed and fun. It wasn’t the time to be talking of heavy matters, especially not when it was technically also breaking the law. “Alright, cheers,” he replied, lifting his glass and drinking. “Might go for some chilli cheese fries...” After all, he was a growing boy and growing boys ate all sorts of food. It was just the right amount of everything, all rolled up into one dish.
It was also just ridiculously American. Then again, when in Rome. John rose his glass in a lazy toast of cheers and grinned lopsidedly. "Chips it is then, mate." Because John was imposing all his Britishisms on America and refusing to conform. It was his way of things.