(no subject)

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

Date: January 6, 2001
Status: Private (John, Kit - Complete)
Setting: Manor Bar
Summary: O_o!



John was feeling content, for once. Things had been mostly quiet in the Manor since Aziraphale had left; that wouldn't last, for sure, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Crowley seemed to have rallied, Ellie was trying to do something constructive for a change, Belial and the Snob were keeping to themselves mostly, Loki had a regular coven of assorted mystical types working on his problem, Uriel's sprog was safely arrived and nobody seemed to be in the middle of a crisis; and as for John himself, he'd made a few friendly acquaintances of the human variety, and had some very pleasant New York memories to reflect on, and possibly a few more to look forward to.

Yeah, there was a shoe waiting to drop, no doubt about it. Likely a big, heavy boot covered in mud and less mentionable substances. But for right now, he was just going to sit here at the bar enjoying a pint, and let the madhouse look after itself for a bit.

Comments

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"The boy, Adam, at the front desk," she said, bristling a bit at John's poorly covered laughter. "He said you were... well, he implied..."

And it was a bit to her horror that Kit realized that Adam hadn't actually explicitly said anything of the sort. He'd left it up to her to fill in the blanks, and she, like a fool, had done exactly that: had taken everything he'd said at face value, and had in fact done this to herself.

"And that Crowley keeps staring at me like I'm a ghost or somethin', so I thought... Shite."

She wondered if she'd wanted John to be attached, just to make things simpler. She could just say her piece, they could fix whatever needed fixing, and she could be back in Belfast for Sunday dinner. Or perhaps having someone else in the mix to focus on had saved her from examining what she really felt, sitting here in the same room with John...

"Roommates," she said finally, still miserably red. "So you're not...?"

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"To the surprise of bloody near everybody who's ever met us, no," John said wryly. "You at least ought to know better, though." And for a moment, a very-much-intact memory gleamed in his eyes, suggesting why Kit, of all people, should not doubt his preference for women.

That was a course of conversation neither of them was probably ready to follow any further, though, so he dropped his gaze and backpedalled a bit instead. "Adam, huh? I'll have to have a word with him, then. He's a nice kid, but sometimes I think he's got a bit of a mean streak." He wasn't about to share his speculations on where that came from. "There's reasons why Crowley looks at you funny, actually, but I'm not sure how much you'd want to hear about that, either."

He got out his cigarettes again and offered the open case to her, curious whether she'd managed to kick the habit he had inadvertantly shared with her. "The short version is, Crowley's the reason I've still got any memories left at all. Don't mind him; he'll settle down when he's got used to you. Um. If you're gonna be sticking around, I mean." It was fairly late; surely she'd at least be staying the night?

He told himself he shouldn't be hoping quite so much that she would be. Bits and pieces of the conversation had started fitting themselves together, puzzle-like, and the picture they seemed to be adding up to was one he thought he might not be able to handle--or could too easily misinterpret.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"Well, it's hard to say with you, isn't it?" Kit replied, her tone still a bit prickly from embarrassment. "I mean, he said that you'd known this Crowley for ten years or better. Not that I'm sayin' you two were... y'know... but I certainly never saw him around."

Kit took one of the proffered cigarettes, holding it out for John to light; she'd thought she'd have quit, years back, or at least switched brands, but she'd never bothered. Everyone had to have something to hold on to, she supposed, and she'd clung to Silk Cuts: no matter who the scent had hung about, no matter where she encountered it, it had never reminded her of anything but John.

John, who was being elusive with her even now. 'The only reason I've still got any memories left at all.' What sort of abstract shite was that? But then, he wasn't telling her because, all those years ago, she'd made it clear that she didn't want to know. In that, he must realize, he'd never failed her.

Kit took a long drag from the cigarette, and tapped the orange embers into an ashtray on the bar. "I'll be here for the night, at least," she said noncommittally. She perhaps deliberately left the length of her stay open-ended, as deliberately as she didn't look at John as she said it. "Adam set me up in a room already... That boy," and, somewhat amused, she shook her head. "Serves me right for listenin' to him, I suppose. Some weird shite of a conversation. But he just looked so bloody angelic."

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"Yeah, there was a reason for that, too," John said more seriously as he lit it up for her. Crowley's real identity wasn't his secret to tell, and he had no idea how she would react to the knowledge that she'd met a real, live demon. Though if she wound up staying for long, she'd have to learn the truth eventually. And not just about Crowley. "I have known him for years. We moved in the same circles." He hoped the meaningful inflection he gave the words would convey which circles he meant--the ones she'd wanted no part of. That much warning, at least, he could give her. "Didn't get to know him that well until pretty recently, though."

He smiled, at her ironically apt description and at the way she'd fallen effortlessly under Adam's spell, like just about everyone else around here. Himself included, to some extent, if he were being honest, and it should probably bother him more than it did. "Adam has that effect on people...he's all right, though. This place couldn't function without him." As he spoke, he fought down an upwelling of emotion he didn't dare try to name at the thought that she'd be staying. At least for tonight.

For the first time in seven years, he'd wake to the knowledge that she was there. If not beside him, then nearby, within sight, within reach.

Christ help him.

"I could show you around, maybe," he offered before he could think better of it. "It's a big place, easy to get lost in..." And he definitely, emphatically did not want to think of Kit wandering alone in Tadfield Manor. "Unless Adam already gave you the grand tour?"

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"Ah," Kit said knowingly, "one of those friends." In her time with John, his mates had generally fallen into one of two categories: there were the ones she knew, often mutual friends, some casual acquaintances that they might meet down the pub, or some, like Chas, who'd really stuck around.

And then there was the alternate category. The spooky category. Names which, if she'd even heard them, evoked no faces or pleasant memories, but rather floated around in her head like mythical figures whose legends had been lost in translation.

Of course, if she'd known this category also included a trim man in dark glasses who took off running every time he saw her, she might not have formed the same ideas about how dangerous this group could be. But still, she'd never asked, and he'd never told her.

Kit took another puff of the cigarette, pondering his offer. She'd already had enough of his presence to make her feel dizzy with confusion and nostalgia and a slew of other things she couldn't identify; on the other hand, it was utterly ridiculous that she was considering avoiding him when he was the reason she'd come all this way. Grow up, you wee eejit. It's only John.

But then, that was precisely the problem.

"Aye, all right," she said finally, and her curiosity to see his reaction drove her to glance up as she replied. "He only told me where everythin' was - all in one breath, I think. But even if he had, I'm sure the Constantine Grand Tour is like no other." She managed a smile.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"Dunno about that," John said, one hand rising automatically to rub at the back of his neck at the implied compliment (if that's what it was,) "but I know my way around. Most of it's best seen in full daylight, though." She'd like the hothouse, he thought, and the little chapel upstairs that he rarely visited. "The restaurant's not bad. We could start out there in the morning, have breakfast and then see the rest..."

That's right, just keep talking and don't think too hard about any of it, he told himself, knowing that the moment he stopped to let the situation sink in, he was finished. The fact that she'd come here looking for him frankly blew him away. It wasn't like Kit. She preferred her bridges cleanly burned. The implications were staggering, and it was maybe a good thing he couldn't think altogether clearly just now, anyway. Kit's nearness was triggering reactions in his nervous system that had been dormant for a very long time, and keeping a lid on those impulses was occupying a large part of his attention.

At least he'd had plenty of experience dealing with that. Kit had always made him feel this way, like some fumbling adolescent, as much scared as powerfully attracted by her strong, uncompromising brand of femininity.

"Just...do us a favor and don't wander too far in the meantime, eh?" he added. He trusted in Adam's protection, but there were things around here that might frighten or upset her. A staunch Irish Catholic, it was possible she'd handle meeting an obviously supernatural creature as well as she did a thug with a switchblade--but they'd always deliberately avoided any opportunities to find out.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"Right," Kit said, giving him a smile. Either he was handling this all heroically well, she thought, or John was just too confused to think to demand why she'd come all this way just to throw his world out of joint and make him spill his stout.

For her part, she was glad he didn't press her; she'd told herself repeatedly over the last few days that she'd just wanted to see, just wanted to see with her own eyes that he was all right and in one piece and hadn't been ruined by his own bad shit. And now, standing in the same room with him, she was becoming keenly aware of just what a liar she'd been. "Tomorrow mornin', then?" she asked. "'Round nine?"

She stamped what was left of her cigarette out in the ashtray, and its soft glow ceased with a certain finality. "Think I might be wanderin' off to bed soon, though," she said, though she nodded in response to John's warning, and added with a wry grin, "Unless you think that might be too dangerous, too." And God above, she hadn't meant that to sound like an invitation - or maybe she had. She wasn't even sure herself, and she found herself irrationally wishing she could just hit pause on this whole conversation until things settled down in her head and started to make sense again.

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"Nine's good," John said automatically. It did sound like an invitation, on the face of it, and that and the smile threatened to derail his thought processes for the second time in twenty minutes.

He wrenched them back into line with an effort, telling himself not to be an idiot--that wasn't Kit's style, he could see the uncertainty in her eyes, and in any case he was in no fit state of mind to even contemplate it. Not that that stopped part of his mind from carrying on without his say-so, but there was really nothing he could do about that.

And then her question thankfully put him on more solid ground. "Nah, it's not dangerous. Nothing here will hurt you," he said firmly, shoving the memory of Aziraphale's discorporation and Pepper's brawl with War to a far corner of his mind. Adam wouldn't let anything like that happen to Kit, because...well, he just wouldn't, and that was all about it. "It just gets a bit odd now and again, is all."

He hesitated, half-tempted to stay put and get another drink (or two, or five) after she'd gone, but right now he honestly wasn't sure his stomach would take it. And he'd better find out what had Crowley in such a dither, anyway.* "Um. What floor you on? I'll walk you up. --As far as I'm going, anyway. ---I mean, if you want."

---

*Not like he needed somebody to talk to or to make sure he didn't pull anything stupid or anything like that. Nope, not at all.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"Aye, all right. If you don't mind," Kit replied, trying not to sound as hesitant as she felt. She was uncomfortably aware that she and John, at least momentarily, must both have been thinking the same thing, and was just as certain that it wasn't going to happen. Neither of them was stupid enough to let it; or at least, she sincerely hoped so. Besides, by now her train of thought was shifting towards calculating the pros and cons of bolting for the door the way Crowley had earlier, and she wouldn't be surprised if John was thinking something of the same sort.

She'd deserve it, after all. She'd brought this upon him, without warning, and not the other way around. In fact, she should probably say something to that affect, she thought, but still hadn't clue what that something might be. She got up from her seat at the bar.

"Shall we?"

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John nodded and rose as well, putting out his own cigarette and leaving the sodden mass of napkins where it was. He'd apologize to Belial later, if it came up.

He thought about offering her his arm, but not quite sure how she'd take it, he settled for falling in beside her at a respectable distance. "You'd be on the third floor, I expect?" he guessed. The big suites on the second were all occupied, as far as he knew.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

Kit nodded as they fell into stride. She couldn't help but notice the polite distance between them as they entered the lobby; it felt odd, walking next to John like some recent acquaintance.

"In what used to be your room," she said, a hint of dryness to her tone, "or so I hear." She'd thought it odd when Adam had mentioned it to her, and by now was fairly well convinced that putting her in John's room had been no accident on the young man's part. "Unless that was just another bit of fun that Adam was havin'."

She was grateful when they reached the stairs, giving her some excuse to keep her gaze occupied.

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"Yeah? Last door on the left?" John rolled his eyes as she nodded. Just what game does that boy think he's playing? "Brilliant. I'll have to kick his arse for him then, squeezing you into that little hole in the wall." He hadn't minded the small space--liked it better than the one he was in now, which felt cavernous and ridiculously overdecorated by comparison, in fact--but there'd be precious little room up there for an artist to work, and the lighting was totally inadequate. Of course, if Kit only stayed a day or two, it'd be a moot point.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"It'll do," Kit replied vaguely. John had been, perhaps, waiting for a more definite answer on how long she would be staying; Kit had rather been hoping someone could miraculously answer that same question for her. "But if I decide his arse needs kickin', I'll let you know."

She paused when they reached the second floor landing, giving him a tentative glance. "This you, then?"

(Re-posting for spelling error)

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"Yeah." He nodded down the hall toward his door. "That one right at the end, if you, uh--" He stumbled, hurriedly discarding want and need before settling on "--if anything comes up. Desk'll ring you through if you call down there, too."

Here he halted, caught between saying "Good night" and a terrible, unreasoning sense that when Kit went on up the stairs she'd once again vanish from his life without a trace. However he might tell himself it would probably be for the best if she did, the thought was already enough to inspire something akin to panic. Not good, not good at all.

"See you tomorrow, then," he said at last, awkwardly. But he found he could summon up a smile, if an uncertain one. They'd been friends once, he and Kit--there had to be something left of that, if they could just get past the other thing enough to find it. If that's what they were going to do. Should do.

Christ, he needed a drink.

<3

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"Right. Well, you know where I'll be," Kit returned, though her gaze had become somewhat absorbed with the stairwell decor.

She was glad John could manage a smile in her direction; she just wished it wouldn't make her feel so damned girly. Honestly, if she started blushing again...

But she was almost surprised, after the stunt she'd pulled, that they were standing here saying good night in a civil manner. It was good, really, that they could leave it at that: awkward pleasantries seemed better at that moment than nothing at all.

She took a breath as though to speak, but no words came, and so she let it out slowly in an almost inaudible sigh. "Good night, John," she said, for the first time in years. And, returning the smile, she made her way up the next flight of stairs to her own room.