Log; Complete [Part 1]

[silkcutremix.livejournal.com]

When; Apr. 5th
Rating; R (language)
Characters; John Constantine [silkcutremix ], The Corinthian [bitingnightmare ]
Summary; John. Dentist. Deja vu.
Log; 

A loose lower canine, some backwards magic, and a knocked out crown later it seemed like the time was ripe for a special trip.  Cori gave the packet of Mild Sevens on the kitchen table a brief shake.  "Shit, are we out," he muttered before reaching over to check the Silk Cuts.

Whether the green git had wasted the last pack or *somehow* the last of those slim sticks had gone 'missing' that packet was also empty.

---

Magic words that evoked much concern. The magus was already up, the very last of the Silk Cuts dangling from his lips, half smoked. He too had an empty pack and was ready to forage for another. If that turned up fruitless, nothing wrong with a visit to the corner store for a fresh supply.

"Sod that friggin' mulch pile," John grumbled, recovering the demolished pack left behind from the other day. He gave it a sour look before tossing it aside, not caring where it went. "We're due for another trip."

----

"We'll take the bike, I need to refill on the lighter fluid," he nodded, flicking the flint a few times.  Surely it seemed like a legitimate reason to visit that one smoke shop beyond the square.  The nightmare assumed the magus would be coming along for the ride.

----

"It's not a long walk," John replied. He wasn't too fond of the beloved motorcycle.

---

"You got any magic matches on you," he asked, showing Constantine the weak spark in his lighter.

----

A pause. "Bloody emergency."

----

"Come on, give the city a glimpse of your old mug," said the Corinthian with a toothy grin as he placed his shades over his face.  He grabbed John by the wrist to get his foot out the door for this 'bloody emergency'.

----

"A fleeting glimpse over a butcher's?" Cori can be low on lighter fluid but John Constantine had *no Silk Cuts.* He resisted the tug. "Now why are you playing me mum again? I can walk meself."

----

Give him some fucking strength, the nightmare muttered mentally.  John could be a damn stubborn one, but as long as he was out the door it did the job.  He released Constantine's wrist.  "Give me a break," Cori said with a glance over his shoulder, "it's been a little over three days."

Since John's return, Cori had every reason to be mildly protective and dotey (at the very least with *this* goal in mind).

----

"I'm not *that* old. You're kidding yourself if you think you can keep ol' Johnny down for three whole bloody days," gloated the magus. "Now why are you *pulling* me outside? I know where the store is. Fuck, how many times have we been there?"

----

"So hex me for being overzealous," Cori offered a smirk.

Gloat all he wanted, the nightmare was carefully constructing his con.  He simply needed John out of that apartment, away from the safety of his wards (even though certain individuals could still blow through them).  At the ground floor Cori pulled one of Delilah's helmets off the steering and pushed it into the blonde's chest.

"Put it on."  Please, he 'meant' to add.

----

John eyed that helmet as if it had *teeth,* teeth not unlike what had lurked behind those dark shades. "You're up to something, aren't you?" he muttered, the blue gaze piercing straight through the tinted plastic.

----

He arched a brow, so damn close to being called out on his game.  The piercing blue gaze of a magician didn't help.  Something about John's eyes he couldn't resist...  Cori tilted his head, teeth looking straight back at those blues.  He smiled.

"Please?"  Ooh he wasn't an expert at this looking pitiful business but he tried.  If anything, there was always jamming John's head into the helmet and strapping him down to the bitch seat.

----

It was something, maybe more along the lines of pathetic, seeing the Corinthian try to play puppy (or kitten?) to him. The nightmare was immortal but he still had yet to master the art of melting hearts (as opposed to his usual breaking of them).

Constantine lectured the student with a doggy gaze of his own. "Those teeth aren't working for you, squire."

---

A kitten was accurate, rather a full grown feline who had little ability to appear as pathetic as a pup.  Cori's eyeteeth expressed plain disappointment, perhaps no different visually from his other facial expressions.  He raised the helmet to slide it over that blonde hair.

"You won't regret it," he promised.  Why would John regret cleaner teeth, right?

----

John let the Corinthian get away with the motherly treatment just *one more time.* "How will I regret a pack and lighter fluid?" Those eyes, once wibbling were narrowed.

----

Was it motherly to slide the visor down and give John's now helmeted head a good old thump as only good mates do?  He then slipped his own helmet on and grinned.  "Just hop on," said the Corinthian before sliding his own shield down.  He mounted the bike and gave the stand a kick.

----

That thump was Cori's but he might as well have been bundling him up for that nasty late cold front blowing in with nipping gusts (London's springs bit harder and very little got through his fur down to his wolf flesh). Still, the Corinthian could feel that apprehensive gaze, but he boarded, although very slowly and cautiously as if that motorcycle was a fussy and delicate thing.

(It was.)

"Just cigarettes and fluid," he sharply growled in the Corinthian's ear, or where it was. Would he hop off at a bike roaring down the city streets in his last good coat?

----

He ignored the apprehensive gaze and hardly felt threatened by the growl.  Cori was sure of himself that once John was on the bike he wouldn't make a break for it.  At least not after staying true to their agreement and getting the cigarettes and fluid.

The motorcycle rumbled to life, a heavy throated rrrrrrrr between their thighs.  Well, the nightmare appreciated that at least.  He pushed onward, hopefully John held on.  Fortunately for him the bike ride to the smoke shop took five minutes.

----

Just cigarettes and fluid. John gave the Corinthian another look, feeling *something*. He, shuffling off the damn thing and fixing his hair when the helmet was removed, was not going to discard that suspicious sensation anytime soon either.

"I'll buy," the magus said, setting the helmet on the bike.

----

Briefly he watched how John tended to his hair.  The thickness of it and its rich blonde color betrayed his age.  The gesture of fixing it alone was rather entertaining.  Cori had missed that in his absence.

"That's a gentleman," the nightmare remarked with a sly smile as he slipped his own helmet on the bars.  He quickly approached the shop front and opened the door for John, a gentleman himself.  See, the white blonde's back obscured the gold plate directory on the neighboring wall: Dental Clinic, 2nd Floor.

----

Funny how John never *really* noticed the dentist before, having taken it there as nothing of particular interest, a forgotten minute observation among the many he had made. The magus might have been aware of the dentist after all, but had yet to associate its close proximity and an insistent Corinthian. He went through usual procedure, picking up a box of the silkies and a container of fluid then returning to the cycle with the items.

"Got it," he grunted, setting the items on that so-called "bitch seat" for the helmet. "Let's go."

----

The plate was so plain as to easily go unnoticed, especially when the office itself was on the second floor and the space below it was occupied by a simple old copy center.  Cori popped the side compartment, tossing their much coveted vice in there for safe keeping before locking it shut.

"Leave it," he nodded to John then took him by the hand again, this time threading his fingers with the other's.

Perhaps the intimate gesture would catch the Englishman off guard, or maybe it just made tugging John to the neighboring entrance easier.  It was a simple glass door leading to a flight of stairs for whatever offices occupied the upper levels.

----

John, warm fingers around warm fingers, gave the Corinthian a puzzled look. The brow soon furrowed. "What is it? I thought we got what we came for."

----

Through the door (fast enough to not catch the directory?) and soon step by step up those stairs.  "You know I care a lot about your health," said the pale man.

The hallway of the second floor branched off three ways; two offices of no importance, the third their destination.  It was a clean clinic, not a niche in the Underground, sporting simple waiting room furniture and a welcoming entrance.  *Myers Group Dental Practice*.

----

John's legs locked as soon as he caught those words: Dental. Dentist.

The magus tried to yank his hand away. "Cori, my tooth is fine..."

----

"You can't be too sure," he said to the magician, hand released.  Cori rubbed his own jaw, over the flesh that covered where he'd lost a crown and had reattached it.  "I'm going in with you," he added, "it's no prostate exam you know."

----

John did not budge. "I am more partial to the prostate examinations, mate." He brought a finger up to his mouth to push on that offending lower canine, snug in his jaw. "See? It's fine."

----

"John," the nightmare tried a stern tone even if it was an exercise in futility.  "What's wrong with a quick check?  If you're fine you'll be in and out in a snap," Cori snapped his fingers for emphasis.  Ahh but they both knew the condition of John's teeth were less than perfect.

----

John would have made a remark about the nightmare's teeth and lack of *eyes* to see that what he was saying was pure bullshit, but he did not. "I know that word, mate: If."

----

But he had a nose to smell bullshit from a mile away.  The nightmare 'eyed' the magician then huffed a brief sigh.  "Okay and if you're not fine I'll be there the whole time to make sure they fix whatever you need."

----

"I am not going in."

----

"Please," Cori asked whole-heartedly.

----

A stare, then Constantine pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Cori, I don't even remember the last time I've been to one. I got through the first half of me life without remembering some happy bastard's drill an' I can finish the second half without it, alright?"

----

And just look at his teeth, the nightmare would have said with a point to his charmingly unstraight and seemingly unwhite chompers.  He quelled the urge to do so however and ran his fingers through his white hair.  At least, at the *very* least, the Corinthian had evoked a sigh from the magus.

"Just a check, John.  You can tell them to piss off if they want to take a drill to your mouth."

----

"You're bloody meticulous about own damn teeth, why can't you look at mine an' call'em shite?"

----

"..... ...."  His response left the Corinthian speechless for a moment.  Had he wounded Constantine's feelings by dragging him to the location in a roundabout manner?  Had he unintentionally insulted John's mouth, the one he absolute adored, shitty teeth or not?

Cori's main mouth formed a slant frown.

----

"You heard me," John shrugged, motioning for the nightmare to come closer. "I trust you can look out for my well being better than a tosser in a coat." And a drill. And needles.

----

He leaned in closer as motioned, still unsure of what to say.  Maybe the Corinthian was devising a most eloquent and honest response to John's words.  Maybe not.

----

John watched the nightmare intently. "Well?"

----

The Corinthian reached out to finger the tips of John's collar.  He appreciated the blonde's honesty, truly.  He also knew the man's nickname was Con Job.  His fingers closed around the fabric, clenching it to pull the magician with him.  "Then you'll trust that if you don't get inside she'll backwards me into some kid's fucking retainer, then I'd *never* forgive you."

Into that office by force for an appointment scheduled by a Ms. Zatara.

----

John very audibly snarled at this, but he did not have a lot he could do against Zee and what *she* willed either so his legs bent and moved. A little. He grabbed the door frame. Any sort of unforgiveness the nightmare was talking about was only words (he hoped.) "Wait, look mate: Whatever she does to you, I can undo it. Alright?"

----

Now that was going to cause a scene.  As for unforgiveness of course they were just words, words spurred on by the fear of That Woman.  Granted the Corinthian truly didn't fear her, it was how she could twist John's arm that put him on edge.  He also did not want to be a retainer or worse, one of those wind up chatterers, for even a moment.

"I'll take your word for it but please can we play it safe today," he said to John, giving his shirt another tug.

----

A scene. Shit. No one was in the waiting room anyway, sans a very confused looking receptionist watching the pair of men *try* to head on in. From the looks of it, they might just be tumbling instead. She said nothing, this little ordeal the highlight of her day; she knew a lot of people did not like dentist visits but this man took the cake.

"Cigarettes and light fluid," the magus grunted, steadfast.

----

"Zatanna turning us into mollusks," he countered with another tug.

Come now, the lesser of two evils right?  Just then the phone at the receptionist's desk rang, said illusionist on the other line ever so curiously inquiring if the men had made their appointment.

----

John did not catch that oh-so very ominous phone call. "Bugger the dentist then! Slugs don't have teeth!"

----

"Yes Ms. Zatara, I think they've just arrived," the receptionist said in a deadpan tone.

The Corinthian froze at that moment.  He then leaned in to quietly mutter through clenched teeth.  "She's on the phone, John please," the nightmare tossed the p-word out for the... third, fourth time?

----

John's hold on the door frame was very firm but he could feel a small pang within them that iced his blood. "I told you: Slugs don't have teeth."

----

"... What did you say," the woman asked with a quirk of her brow at the phone.

"Nhoj, Iroc, teg ruoy sessa ot eht tistned."

Maybe they overheard that in the oh so quiet office.  But if what the magician had said was true, could he undo it?

----

"Slugs don't have hands either," John muttered, letting go of the door frame, the sudden lopsided forces at odds almost sending both the magus and nightmare to the nice, thin carpet on the cold, hard floor. No shame in letting the lady illusionist have a little control over him; she earned it.

----

Several not so nice words ran through his mind when he heard those damning words.  Cori had been more than willing to enter the office on his own, if only John had felt the same way.  Was the life of a slug that much more intriguing?  The nightmare stumbled back, almost to the floor had he not regained his footing quickly.  He gave John a hurt look, but it was brief.  Getting him inside was all Cori could ask for.

The receptionist was less than amused by these antics.  She nodded once, unsure of whatever the hell that woman had done and hung up.  "Apparently your papers are taken care of, just sit and wait to be called."

----

Something to meditate on, the life of a slug, but what kind of friend would Zee be to keep him that way forever? She wouldn't, that was what John was sure of. She did not like him dead

The magus, defeated, fell into a stiff chair, the metal under the cloth creaking in protest. He was not as hurt as Cori, more pissed, annoyed. Maybe a little afraid.

----

But halfway through a century of his life a year or two as a slug was nothing to be proud about!  Though whether Zee would keep him (them) that way for as long was rightly questionable.  The nightmare flopped into a chair simultaneously, arms folding loosely across his chest.

"I told you I was going in with you," he declared to John, in case he didn't believe him that Cori had had full intention to accompany the Englishman for an examination.  He smelled a trace of that fear, had not wanted it to come down to yet another backwards hex.

----

Not to mention a few hexes of Constantine's own doing. Minor ones. Nothing too permanent or horrendously discomforting. The magus continued to sit there, staring at the wall and not the Corinthian or anything else, bugger the reading material. Would they work on a dog?

----

Time for Part II!