Title: Price Tag

Author: RavenWolf

Pairing: John/Chas

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Chas learns that everything has a price. Even his own life.

Chas arched up off the bed, moaning in deep pain. His head felt like it was exploding, shards of sharp glass pushing their way outward. John straddled his hips, holding his shoulders down and trying to keep him from hurting himself.

Chas screwed his eyes shut, allowing the images to play even more vividly. They hurt, as if they were burned into his brain with physical fire. He felt nauseous. He twisted off the bed one more time as the last sharp stream of pictures flooded through his brain, and then...it was done.

He relaxed back down on the bed, realizing that his muscles were sore and tense and that he was covered in sweat. Also, that John was sitting on him, looking at him as if...well, as if he was one of the demons John so loved to deport. Chas knew that vengeful, angry look very well; he’d just never seen it directed at him before.

He closed his eyes for a moment, resting the best he could. “John, what are you doing?” John didn’t answer.

Both of them were naked. In other circumstances, it could have been a fun position. Would have been, if John hadn’t been busy thinking Chas was possessed, and if Chas didn’t feel like his brain was going to bleed out through his eyeballs.

“Chas?” John asked warily. Chas tried weakly to get up, but John pushed him right back down.

“Yeah, it’s me. Now get off me, asshole. I need about ten industrial-strength Advil.”

John’s face broke from its stony glare. “It’s definitely you.” He rolled off Chas, watching as the youth disappeared into the bathroom. Heard the sound of running water, and when Chas came back out, he was still frighteningly pale, though he seemed a bit more on top of things.

Chas sat down on the bed they shared, and then flopped back onto the pillow gracelessly. It was about two in the morning, but the perpetual light of the city left the sky a dark blue instead of the black it should have been.

Chas wanted to go to sleep. Very badly. “You wanna tell me what that was?” John asked.

Chas pulled the pillow over his head. “No.”

He stayed like that for about a minute, before the images started up again. No... he moaned, but it was only in his head. At least this time it was shorter. He bit down on the pillow hard and writhed on the bed, wracked with pain. He was slightly gratified to note that John held him for the few moments it lasted, though whether it was from affection, worry, or just plain practical, he didn’t know.

This time, after it was finished, his nose started bleeding. He held a hand up, and then glared up at the ceiling. “Fine, goddamnit. I get the fucking picture.”

John was looking at him accusingly. Chas sighed. “You know how I convinced them to send me back to Earth?”

“Yeah,” John answered cautiously, not necessarily wanting to delve into how that miracle occurred. If he knew how it happened, it might somehow be reversed.

“Well, they didn’t do it for free. What I mean is, they stipulated that there would be a price. That I would have to carry out their work for them.

“And apparently, they want me to become your very own personal P.O. box. They just sent me images of the next month’s worth of exorcisms. Where they’ll be, what they’ll be, and how to get rid of them.”

He sighed and pulled his hand away from his nose. The blood had stopped flowing, and was crusting dry. “Guess I’m gonna have to quit my day job,” he said dryly.

John looked at him like he’d grown another head. He couldn’t quite believe that Chas was going to give in to them that easily. That he was just going to accept that blinding headaches and visions were his new lot in life. It didn’t seem like the Chas Chandler he knew, and just might love.

Chas heaved a sigh, and got up, taking the sheet with him. John watched skeptically and silently from the bed as Chas found a notepad and pad, turned on the light, and started to write. Occasionally, a droplet of scarlet blood would fall on the paper.

John watched for a long time, in sort of a trance. Then he realized that the pen had stopped writing and Chas’s arm had stopped moving. He got up and walked over, only to find that Chas had fallen asleep in the middle of a sentence.

John touched the youth’s shoulder tenderly. Chas. He lifted the relatively light boy in his arms and carried him back to the bed.

His hands itched for a cigarette, but he remembered he’d quit. So he settled for playing with Chas’s curly hair instead. As he did, he looked down at his sleeping lover.

Jesus Christ, he thought to himself. I just got him back. Are they going to take him away from me again?

***

The next day, after John had performed the predicted exorcism, he insisted they go to Midnite. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe what Chas had said; after all, the demon he’d found in the young boy was exactly as Chas said it would be. It was just that he was still hoping secretly that it wasn’t permanent. He’d seen Chas’s face last night when the vision of the future hit him. And it had looked horribly painful. He couldn’t believe that they would condemn him to a lifetime of that.

No, wait, he could. It was more that he couldn’t believe that there was no one he could threaten, kill, maim, or blackmail into stopping the torturous visions.

Midnite confirmed what Chas had said. “There’s always a price, John,” he explained patiently, as if John was incapable of comprehension. “I suspected Chas here wasn’t telling me everything when he came to me. But this makes sense.”

“No, it fucking well does not. Chas was good. Good boys go to heaven, or so I’ve heard. They don’t get tossed back down with a radio antennae in their heads to pick up whatever the Angels feel like sending them.”

“Someone should tell them that,” Midnite said, jerking a thumb toward the ceiling. He grinned as John seethed. Throwing his own words back at him. Even though this was completely different... except that it wasn’t.

He leaned against the wall heavily. Maybe Midnite was right. Maybe he should just accept this price tag, high though it was. He’d gotten what he wanted. He got Chas back. But what if the price was too high? After all, Chas was the one who would be paying. He couldn’t ask that of him. He just couldn’t.

“So you’re saying that there’s nothing I can do?” John asked incredulously. He wasn’t used to being useless.

Midnite nodded, somewhat smugly. “Yes, John. That is exactly what I’m saying. There is nothing you can do but be grateful that the price wasn’t higher.” He looked over at Chas, and the two seemed to share some communication. John bristled.

“Fine,” he snarled, and stormed out of the room, leaving Chas staring after him with a very confused look.

“What was that shit all about?” Chas asked the room. Midnite merely stared at him knowingly.

***

Chas caught up with John about two blocks later. “Uh, John, not to be a pest, but the taxi is back there. You’re going the wrong way.”

John gave him a look, and that silenced Chas for a moment. But only a moment. “What’s your problem, John?” he asked bluntly.

John slowed his maddening pace and took his hands out of his pockets. “My problem is that you never told me. You never told me there was a catch. It’s been almost a month.”

Chas looked slightly penitent. He squirmed. “I guess I was kinda hoping that they’d...forgotten?” He phrased it as a question, knowing how naive it sounded out loud.

John gave him a look. “Please. You know better to believe in that shit.” He started walking again.

Chas was fed up. “John, cut it out, damn it! Stand fucking still!” John stopped, about ten feet away.

“What do you want from me, Chas? To be happy for you, that you fucked up everything that grace gave you? And believe me, you really, really did. You didn’t even...they didn’t even give you back a normal life, for Chrissakes. You’re stuck with visions of demons, with this godforsaken calling, with... Not to mention that you lied to me,” he spat out, changing the topic. Already he felt like he’d said too much. Like he’d opened up a cut to fresh air.

“Yeah, well I’m glad that you think so very much about me, John. Fuck you. Just...fuck you. Oh, and while we’re talking about lying, I think you might owe Angela an explanation for why you’ve stopped fucking her. Or maybe you still are. How should I know?” Shit. He hadn’t been meaning to bring that up. He really hadn’t.

John tensed up. Chas could see it, even from that distance. His shoulders squared and his jaw worked, and he began to wonder if he really had made a mistake. Oh, god. What if they were still fucking?

The thought made him want to puke. He stepped away from John, backing up. He just...couldn’t, not right now. He turned around, and started walking back toward the car. Quickly. He kept himself under control, and didn’t run. He wouldn’t let his hurt get that much control over him. He would take a page from John’s book, and just crush all his emotions down until he was alone.

Chas reached the taxi and got in the front comfortably. Once he was there, he sagged back against the chair. Damn. He couldn’t even remember half of what he’d said to John, but he could recall every word John had said to him. It had been...not good, to say the least. He shook his head. He still couldn’t believe that John was actually angry at him for coming back. That really, really hurt. Hurt so much he couldn’t believe it. It was a slap in the face. It flew in the face of all he’d believed about John and himself.

He went into the glove compartment and grabbed a licorice rope from the pack he kept there. His answer to John’s smoking, he supposed. Though not nearly as deadly. John gave himself cancer and he was the idiot? He shook his head angrily, although it was only to hide the fact that he felt like crying.

He took a deep breath and started the car. Part of him wanted to go pick John up and pretend that nothing happened. The part of him that still hurt like a bitch from John’s comments. The stubborn part of him, also not immune to the hurt, steamrolled over that plan, though.

He went home. To John’s home, that is. Which, since he had nowhere else to live, he considered his. He’d never expected to find Angela there. Not again.

He opened the door and she was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, staring into space. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Chas hissed.

She looked up at him, surprised. “John called me,” she said. “I thought...” She took in Chas’s seething anger, recalled the turmoil in John’s voice when he called, and she put the two together. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. He made a mistake. You don’t get to come here anymore. You took care of him while I was gone, fine, great. Thanks for that. But he is mine now. So until further notice, you are not welcome here.”

“I know,” she said simply. “It was always you he wanted. Never me. I know that.” She got up. Chas was stunned speechless. He wasn’t used to being such an asshole. Further more, he wasn’t used to people just lying down and taking it like that. Maybe he’d gone too far...

“I’m going to go now,” she said. “Tell John not to call me anymore.” She passed by him, very close. “And Chas... Tell him to stop blaming himself for everything. He’s just going to fuck everything up.”

Chas wanted to ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, but before he could form the words, Angela was gone. Bitch, he thought uncharitably.

He settled in on the couch, barely refraining from digging into John’s liquor cabinet. It wasn’t that he had morals or anything, oh no. It was more a proverbial fuck-you to John. See, you may need the alcohol to dull the pain, but I don’t. I’m stronger. It was really kid of pathetic when you thought about it, so he didn’t think about it.

Time ticked by, and he realized that John might actually walk all the way home. Meaning it would be a good long while before he showed up. Chas just really hoped that he didn’t run into Angela on the way there.

He turned on the TV and flipped to Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The sounds of violence lulled him into a trance, and before long, he was asleep.

Around nine p.m., he was woken up by the crack of thunder that rattled the windows. Shit. John still wasn’t here. Chas sat up and wiped the sleep from his eyes. Maybe he should go find him. He was really getting kind of worried here. Which was really fucking stupid, since John was the demon hunter and perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but still...

Oh yeah, I’m still mad at him. Chas padded into the kitchen to find himself something to eat. There was a box of stale crackers and some expired orange juice. He took what he could get, realizing he wasn’t all that hungry after all.

Through all this, he kept one eye on the door. He hoped to hell that John was alright. Then immediately cursed himself for caring so damn much.

He might have driven himself crazy with the back and forth worrying if John hadn’t come in just then.

The demon hunter was drenched from head to toe, and the look he wore on his face said that he hadn’t used the time apart to figure anything out. He looked pissed. Really, really pissed.

Chas shifted uncomfortably, confused. What should he do? Just leave John alone, or commence with the fighting again? Because there was no way that any exchange between them would be civil, not with John looking at him like that.

John advanced, and Chas stood stock still. He was still trying to decipher the look in John’s eyes. What did he want from him? What was he going to do to him? Chas ruthlessly quashed the rush of fear that hit him when John grabbed him by the wrists.

“J-John, what are you doing, man?”

“Shut the fuck up, Chas,” John growled, just before he kissed him.

Kissing seemed like too gentle of a word for what they were doing. Chas didn’t do much of anything, really, just weathered the storm as John pressed their mouths together, hard, their teeth clacking together. His tongue was forceful, and he licked the inside of Chas’s mouth, taking everything he had, biting his tongue and lips just enough so that it stung.

Chas found himself backing up. John came with him, aggressive and insistent. He hit the wall with a soft thud and realized that there was nowhere left to run. Nowhere left to go.

So he gave himself over to it. At least John was seeing him. At least John was touching him, and not her. It was about then that Chas realized he might have some serious jealousy issues over Angela.

To compensate, he pushed his hips up and forward insistently, feeling John’s hard, strong thigh between his legs. John grunted and rubbed against Chas in turn.

Then he bit down hard on Chas’s shoulder. Chas gasped and writhed, pinned against the wall as John sucked a bruise onto his shoulder. “Mine,” he growled softly. “All mine.”

Chas made a small noise of assent and turned his head to the side, allowing John more access. John bit him again, little nips that covered his entire collar bone with tiny red marks. When he was done, he looked up at Chas, and his eyes were positively black with lust.

Chas shuddered. He grabbed John’s shoulders and stared straight back at him. “Come on, Constantine, let’s see what you can do,” he challenged, his own lust mirroring John’s.

John growled and pushed Chas against the wall, hard. Chas’s eyes nearly rolled up in his head as John ripped his shirt open, scratching his sides hard enough to leave welts. “Your body is so perfect,” John whispered against Chas’s abdomen. “They can’t have you.”

He lifted his head and kissed Chas again, their bodies wrapping around each other intensely. “Come on,” Chas grunted. He could have stayed like that for hours, just kissing, but he knew that there was something more important to be done here. “Do it, John. Come on, take me.”

John’s eyes blazed when he heard that. It incited a whole new level of need in him. “Get on the bed,” he said gruffly. But he didn’t move from where he had Chas pinned to the wall.

“Uh, John...” Blinking, John stepped back a slight bit, allowing Chas to slide between his arms and disappear into the bedroom.

John took a deep breath once he was alone. His hands were shaking. What was he doing? He longed to light a cigarette, but Chas and Angela had thrown them all out.

Goddamn. What was he scared of? It was just Chas in there. Not some three-headed demon. Just Chas.

He pictured the younger man, the curly hair that framed a face that was...beautiful, but with hard edges when you looked closer. His Chas. A shiver of arousal went through him to remind him that the said boy was now laying in his bed. God. That was so hot.

He shrugged off his jacket, not caring enough to move it from where it fell on the floor. He started loosening his tie as he followed Chas to his bedroom. Their bedroom.

Chas was laid out on his back on the bed, completely naked, head tilted to one side, breathing hard. And looking at him. Just...whoa. John’s arousal ached at the sight. “John,” the youth breathed, tilting his head back and exposing his throat.

“Fuck, Chas...need you.”

All the rage, the impotent helplessness he’d been feeling, and had inadvertently directed at Chas, all of it transmuted itself into desire for the beautiful boy laid before him like a banquet. Still a small part of him wanted nothing more than to wrap himself tightly around Chas like a snake, so that no one could ever touch him or hurt him again.

John knelt between Chas’s legs, staring at him intensely. He stroked the insides of Chas’s thighs lightly, and Chas sighed breathily and spread them farther apart. That’s right, John thought smugly. Open yourself to me. Only for me.

He licked a finger and inserted it, gently, into Chas. The younger man didn’t move, only froze completely. His breathing became more shallow, and his legs parted an imperceptible distance further. John smiled.

Another finger joined it. This time John could hear Chas’s sharp intake of breath. Good, he thought to himself. He wiggled his fingers experimentally before adding a third one, with almost vicious rapidity. Chas squirmed at that, and John thought he saw the glisten of moisture in the other’s eyes.

John withdrew his fingers. “Open the top drawer on the nightstand, Chas. Reach in and take out the lube. Then give it to me,” he said huskily. Chas gulped and then did as he said. He tossed the tiny tube to John, and then slowly laid back down.

John put the tube down, and slowly, languidly, unbuttoned his shirt. He was acutely aware that Chas was watching, and that made it all the better. He unbuttoned and unzipped his black slacks, letting them slide off of him like water. Lastly, he kicked off his shoes and toed off his socks.

He hadn’t intended for this to happen. Really, he hadn’t. He had wanted this to be hard and fast and humiliating against the wall, with Chas moaning his name and crying as he came. But somehow, between the kitchen and the bedroom, something had changed. Chas had looked at him, had said his name, and he had melted. He knew it wasn’t Chas he was angry at; it was just the rest of the world.

But the rest of the world wasn’t here right now, and as sickening as it sounded, he wanted nothing more than to make love to Chas. Not to just fuck him, as originally intended.

“Jesus,” he half-prayed, half-moaned. Chas sat up now. He caught John’s eye, and then deliberately uncapped the lube and spread it across his fingers, warming it. And then, slowly, cautiously, he spread it along the length of John’s cock.

John closed his eyes to avoid coming right then. Chas looked so unsure that he just had to kiss him. So he did. Soft and slow, long and wet, the way it should have been from the beginning. Their fingers threading through each other’s hair, their cocks rubbing together between their stomachs.

“Love you, John,” Chas whispered, forgetting completely that he was supposed to be angry. It wasn’t important anymore. Nothing was important, except having John inside him.

He laid back and his eyes gave his consent as John guided himself into him. This time John was sure he saw tears of pain in the other’s eyes, so he stopped. Chas was gasping for air. It almost sounded like he was crying. “No,” he cried. “More.” Even though he obviously wasn’t ready, even though it hurt. He needed the punishment, the pain, to remind him that he was here, that things were really the way he had wanted them to be.

John obliged him, nearly dying as he pushed slowly, the rest of the way in. He stopped, panting heavily, eyes closed as he fought off the urge to just pound away until he found the completion he was looking for.

Chas smiled. “Go on, John. I can take it.” His eyes were watery, but still he wanted it. The sweet burn was all but gone, and he wanted more.

John grunted and began to move. He felt like he was lost, like he was falling, as he rolled and thrust his hips, nearly wanting to scream with each new burst of friction. God, this was heaven.

“Chas, I--” But he couldn’t say it. He just couldn’t. He wasn’t as strong as Chas, not as brave.

“It’s alright, Constantine,” Chas said. “Just please don’t hurt me.”

The request was odd, but John didn’t have time to think about it, because in the next instant, Chas was arching off the bed, pressing them together close. “Oh, GOD do that again!” he said, and John grinned smugly. So the kid had discovered his prostate.

Who was he to deny Chas anything? He corkscrewed his hips in order to get just the right angle, and again Chas gasped. He did it again and again, relishing the look on Chas’s face as he got closer and closer to the edge.

He slowed his pace just long enough to touch the kid, stroking him firmly. Chas practically shuddered as he came, spilling semen over John’s hand and both of their bellies.

John grinned at this, irrationally pleased with himself. But the thoughts fled his head when Chas flexed experimentally.

Now it was Chas’s turn to grin. He did it again, and stroked John’s muscled back lightly, just enough to create a sensation.

He leaned up to kiss his lover. And John could feel it, could feel himself losing control, coming unraveled at the seams. I love you, Chas, is what he wanted to say. But all he could do was moan, unable to express himself in words as he found release and came inside Chas.

He collapsed on top of Chas. He knew he should move, knew he was probably too heavy for this to be comfortable for him, but damn it, he was tired and he was comfortable and he felt loved for the first time in known history. So he laid there and let Chas stroke his back and his sides, let him play with the hair at the nape of his neck. And he pretended that he was allowing it only because he was feeling charitable. John Constantine wasn’t supposed to do sweet and sappy cuddling.

Chas let him stay for a few moments, secretly relishing the feeling of the secure, warm weight of his lover on top of him. But eventually it became uncomfortable, and he rolled over, unceremoniously dumping John on to his own side of the bed.

They stared at each other. “So,” Chas said, uncertainly. Was he just supposed to go to sleep now, forget that they’d fought at all?

John reached out and touched Chas’s hair in an uncharacteristic sign of affection. “What did you mean when you asked me not to hurt you?” he asked.

Chas blushed a bit. “I don’t really...I mean, it was hard for me, y’know? I didn’t just come back on a whim. I thought about it for a long time, almost as long as I’ve dreamed of this. And I knew that I couldn’t wait for you to find me. I just...couldn’t. So...please don’t send me away. I couldn’t stand it.”

John leaned up on his elbow. “Send you away?” he asked incredulously.

Chas squirmed. “Yeah. Isn’t that what you were going to do? I thought...I mean, I lied to you, remember? And I’m an idiot?”

John was still looking at him with a blank expression. “Was I the only one at this conversation? Really, John, don’t you remember? You called me a liar, said I was a moron, said that I shouldn’t have come back at all...” he trailed off as the hurt renewed itself.

John put a hand over his mouth. “Shut up, kid. I didn’t mean that shit. Well, most of it. I was just pissed. Not at you, at them.” He jerked a thumb at the ceiling. Then he leaned forward and kissed Chas on the forehead. “I do want you here. I just...don’t think that I was worth it,”

Chas studied John’s evasive expression for a moment. “And?”

“What the fuck do you mean, and? I just poured my heart out to you here. There is nothing more.”

“Yeah, there is. Otherwise you wouldn’t be so freakin’ defensive right now. Tell me, John. I need to know.”

John hung his head. He couldn’t look at Chas when he said this. He stared at the pillow. “I thought it was a stupid decision because I...I don’t know if I could have made it. I don’t know if I would have come back for you.” There. He had said it. The shameful secret he’d been keeping inside since Chas had first appeared at his doorstep a month ago.

Chas laughed. He actually laughed. “Of course not, John. I wouldn’t expect you to. Heaven means a whole lot more to you than it does to me, and with good reason.”

When he saw the shocked expression on John’s face, he laughed a bit more. “Shit, John, did you think I was gonna be angry or something?”

John looked away, slightly embarrassed. So, the kid already knew his deepest secret. And didn’t care. So that was why he loved this boy.

He didn’t have to answer for Chas to know. He grew solemn and leaned forward to kiss him on the mouth. “I am glad you’re back, Chas,” he said. “And I am going to start killing things until I find a way to get rid of those painful visions.”

Chas shrugged self-consciously. “They’re not that bad. At least it means that now I can help you.”

“That’s what worries me, kid.”

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