Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Danny could feel Sam’s eyes burning into the side of his head. He knew, without even looking at her, that the glare was paired with a scowl which just screamed disgust and incredulity. Ancients knew it had been pointed at him plenty of times over his years as the reckless ghostly protector of their hometown. 

But honestly, it was at least 60% her fault this time. 

She was the one who strong-armed him into this back alley occult shop to begin with. It wasn’t his fault she couldn’t sense magic, yet she still dragged him around like a portable Magic Detector.

And wasn’t that a fun thing to discover six years ago, at the tender age of nineteen, and way too many years into the whole Halfa and Ghost King thing? 

He has been kept awake deep into the night with the cringe-inducing image of Frostbite's shaking shoulders, as the large yeti barely held back his chuckles when the Halfa had asked why Sam’s new nature related grimoire made his mouth taste like spicy dirt. 

Turns out ghosts were well-known to be unmatched when it came to their sensing ability. Frostbite had explained that it was because they didn’t have a physical form to dull their connection to their surroundings - being spiritual creatures and all. He could only surmise that Danny’s human form had been dampening the sensory input over the years as he came into his full power. 

Danny’s only consolation was that Vlad was even worse than him. 

Sam was an impressive witch, and was a dab hand at casting her spells, but the woman had the sensing abilities of a brick suspended in a hardened puddle of cement. Which was both hilarious and terrifying - and the reason she kept dragging him around these dusty, musty smelling stores that sold increasingly bizarre items. (What would a person need with a murderer’s spleen anyway?)

He had no idea what the young witch was even looking for, and was starting to think she was doing it all to just see what random items would set his senses off.

But this tiny shop filled with random crap he could never be bothered to name was looking to be a hell of a lot better than any of the other places Sam had chosen in the past. And that was entirely because of the frankly delicious looking blonde who was trying, and failing, to haggle at the counter. 

“Danny,” Sam hissed from his side, “Don’t you dare. He has ‘Big Mistake’ written all over him.”

“C’mon Sam, what’s the harm in helping out a man in need? We both know I've got way more money than I could ever use anyway.” Danny flashed his friend a toothy grin and began moving towards the two arguing occultists. “And if I get a gorgeous smile in return? Well, that’s just a bonus.”

“I swear to the Ancients!” 

The Halfa deftly dodged Sam’s grasping hands, grabbed the magic book he had been purposefully ignoring to annoy the goth witch, and made his way to the counter. The conversation had now delved into a full blown argument and Danny was sure even people on the street could hear every detail of the issue. 

“Look, Sir, I am not going to change the price just because you don’t have the cash for it!” The poor cashier sounded like she very much regretted ever working in retail, no matter what the store supplied. 

“And I’m telling you this is a time sensitive fucking issue, and I will come back with the rest of the payment when I have a bloody minute to get it!” The Brit snarled back (and oh , didn’t that accent and gravelly tone tickle his ears just right).

“What’s the difference?” Danny asked, sliding to the left of the surly man.

And wow , Danny had thought the guy looked tempting from a distance, but it had nothing on how yummy he was up close. 

Last Danny had checked, only statues featured a chiselled jaw like the walking piece of artwork before him sported. Each plane of his jaw was beautifully decorated with the dark stubble, turning the straight cut blue-eyed, blonde haired boy scout into the mysterious and rugged man that stood before him. And honestly? Danny would have been jealous of those strong brows, if he hadn’t been too busy admiring the deep charm they brought to his glimmering eyes.

The rumpled suit and worn trench coat did a decent job at giving the illusion of an average physique, but the pushed up sleeves revealed the wonderfully sculpted muscles twisting up the man’s forearms. Ancients, the strength that had to be in his hands alone - the thought of them gliding across his body and squeezing at his hips brought a shiver to Danny’s spine.

The power this guy held was impressive, though less than the ocean that was Sam’s magic - not that anyone could rival the goth. Danny had never met a magic user who could hold a candle to the fine control he was displaying as he sent out tiny tendrils about the environment, tasting at the air, the objects, and the people throughout the store - including Danny. 

There was no way he wasn’t aware of what Danny was - and if he was particularly smart and informed, then the Brit would know exactly who he was. And because he was still as much a shit-stirrer as he was as a teen, Danny sent a grin that was just slightly too wide, too toothy, and flashed the ecto-green eyes of his ghostly half. Yummy, handsome man didn’t even blink.

Sam was right, this guy was going to get him into so much trouble. 

“170 bucks.” The girl answered with a tired sigh. “And that,” she continued, pointing at the leather bound book in his hands. “Is $638. Will you be using cash or card?”

Danny couldn’t help but blink in surprise, “You take card?”

“Yeah. Who doesn’t these days?”

Man, if only she’d say that to all the Occult shops he’d been dragged to in the past. He was ashamed that he had gotten used to carrying a small fortune around just to pay for Sam’s shopping sprees. And whatever odd item that managed to catch his eye. 

“I’ll pay cash.”

Danny didn’t miss the way the blonde’s expression shifted to muted shock as the Halfa ran his fingers through his wallet, counting out the correct total plus extra as a tip for the tired cashier. He was also a little disappointed that the guy had clammed up with his presence; was Danny shoving his nose where he wasn’t wanted?  

“Thanks.” Mr. Trouble said lowly to Danny, his chin dipped low, as though he was admitting some big secret.

Danny could feel his face brighten in response. The tip of the guy’s ears were glowing red! How cute!

“It’s all good.” Danny replied, “I had the cash, and it sounded pretty important.”

“Shit. Yeah.” He sputtered. With wide-eyes, Mr.Handsome clumsily grabbed at his bag of newly bought goods. “Very important - which means I need to go - now.”

With long, fast strides that were nowhere near as graceful as he probably intended, he made his way to the exit.

“My name’s Danny, by the way!” The halfa called out, and barely held back a chuckle as the blonde stumbled. 

Turning with wide, deer-in-the-headlights eyes, the baffled magician stammered out, “I’m John - um - John Constantine. And uuuuh - thanks… again?”

With that graceful reply, the now named John whisked himself out the door, leaving behind an amused Danny and a faint residue of his warm magic that sat comfortably on the halfa’s tongue. 

“Danny.” Sam exhaled with a deep weariness that he really didn’t think was deserved. 

“What?” Danny exclaimed, defending himself. “He was cute!”

Sam only sighed again, and the store employee looked as though she was really reconsidering her career in customer service. 

“Constantine!” Tucker exclaimed through the coms. “ The John Constantine?!” 

“What?” Danny asked as he dodged a blast from Skulker. “He famous or something?”

He didn’t really need to dodge the hunter’s blasts anymore, they didn’t leave a mark and barely even stung these days, but it had become a bit of a tradition between Danny and his old Rogues. They were challenging for the baby halfa he had been, but now Danny had taken on the throne of the Infinite Realms their bouts felt more like a familiar game than anything. It was how most ghosts interacted after all. Fighting wasn’t as fraught with tension when you are already a spirit and can heal from almost any injury. 

That isn’t to say they were/are weak ghosts. He wouldn’t say they were heavy hitters in the line up of the ghostly denizens, but a few of them definitely occupied the upper middle range. Though it didn’t help that the Infinite Realms were home to the literal embodiments of time, dreams, and flora. Hard to be considered a powerhouse next to those gods. 

“Famous? Are you serious Phantom?! Constantine is like the most well known magician throughout the mystical community!” 

“Says the tech geek.” Sam deadpanned.

“Mystical tech geek.” Tucker corrected with a faux offended tone. 

Danny could bet good money that the other man was clutching his non-existent pearls despite the fact he was alone in his little apartment. He didn’t let the fact he was studying at MIT deter him from haunting their comms every chance he got. (The other students would weep if they knew how he could effortlessly juggle his studies and extra-curriculars - the years of Team Phantom work was apparently great practice for time management at college. Who’da guessed?)

It was a common bit between the two humans in the team; Tucker was the most knowledgeable about the mystical community despite Sam being the one with the impressive volume of magic and her background with goth culture and the occult. Tucker’s tech skills and near obsession with anything programmable would ordinarily clash horribly with the mystical world, but the guy was a genius at incorporating the unfathomable into programmes and equipment. He had given more than one magician a headache trying to comprehend how the tech wiz managed to do it, but apparently his connection with Ancient Egypt sort of explained it? But also didn’t? 

Apparently the Ancient Egyptians were specialists in magic experimentation and evolution (not that the current Egyptian mystical community wasn't a force unto themselves). Some of the spells they were working on at the end of their long civilisation far surpassed anything else the rest of the world would create for centuries. Still, before Tucker, it had been an accepted law of magic that it refused to work with modern technology. 

Technically Danny’s parents were the first humans to successfully incorporate the mystical into modern devices, but there is a huge difference between using ectoplasm as an energy source and creating spells with programming code. And the specifics of Technus’ ability just gave Danny a headache when Tucker tried to explain how it was more like the Fentons’ technique than his. 

Danny privately liked to joke that Sam’s magic was like a hammer - strong, destructive, and capable of great feats when wielded correctly. Whilst Tucker’s was more like a Swiss army knife - incredibly useful in a variety of situations but was not the most useful in a one on one battle or situations that required more of a brute force approach. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with. 

“I can’t believe you both met John Constantine, and you don’t even know who he is! It’s such a waste! I have so many things I want to ask him. Like -” Tucker began gearing up for one of his famous rambling rants. But luckily Sam came in to save the day (or at least their ears).

“We get it. You have a crush on the guy. Not nearly as much as Phantom does, though.”

Nevermind, Sam was a horrible no good traitor.

“Oh no, dude. You do not want to get tangled up with Constantine like that.”

“From what I saw, he definitely wanted to get all tangled up in Constantine -”

“Hemlock!” Danny exclaimed, startling Skulker who was charging up for another round of ecto-blasts. He could feel the cool sensation of his ghost form’s cheeks blushing bright blue. 

Just great. Now everyone in the Ghost Zone was going to know about this and would be pestering him for every scrap of info to gossip about. Whoever said ‘Dead men tell no tales’ was an idiot and/or a liar. His subjects gossipped more than a group of old church ladies. 

“Look, sure he was like, super hot. But John needed some help and I had the ability to help!” 

The halfa knew it was wishful thinking for the silence to be a sign of his terrible friends accepting his reasoning and moving on.

“‘John’ huh?” Tucker teased. “I didn’t realise you two were so close.”

“Oh my god.” Danny groaned. He curled up in a floating ball, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Maybe if he curled up tight enough he could disappear from this plane of reality that housed his no-good, evil friends.

Skulker had long given up the pretence of hunting his pelt, and was now floating about Danny’s periphery. The robotic ghost was really not being subtle about eavesdropping on his King’s conversation. Though how much he was getting from only Danny’s side of the convo, the halfa didn’t know, and didn’t want to know. 

“But seriously dude, I’d keep your relationship with Constantine strictly professional. The guy is known to sleep around and cause all kinds of mayhem whilst he’s at it.” Tucker began, a surprisingly stern tone coming from the usually laid back man. “There is a reason most of his ex’s loathe his existence.”

“I met the guy once-” Danny started, only to be cut off by Sam.

“Phantom. We know you. You get attached way too fast and completely ignore all the red flags until you end up hurt. We’re not saying it’s a bad thing to see the good in people, but sometimes they just don’t deserve it.”

“Come on. I’m not that bad-”

“Pauliana.” Tucker interjects. 

“Ok, you got me th-”

“Valerie.” Sam supplies. 

“Oh come on, she’s on our side no-”

“Dash.” Tucker cuts him off again. Danny could tell he was still completely baffled as to what the half-ghost had seen in the Jock.

“Alright, I agree with you there. But I’m still blaming it on hormon-”

“Me.” Sam tiredly ground out. 

“Will you both let me finish a sentence!” Danny shouted, finally revealing his face to the world again. 

Luckily a stern look and a waving hand was all that was needed to convince Skulker to head off home. As much as the hunter enjoyed a juicy bit of gossip, he ironically didn’t really have the patience to wait around and piece together the information from one side of a conversation. 

“I love you both more than anything. So I promise I won’t go looking for a relationship with John. Even though we literally met once and will probably never see each other again.”

“Good.” The two humans said together. 

A few beats passed. 

“More than anything?” Tucker commented far too casually. “Even more than Big Sis?”

“Do not bring my sister into this! We all know she’s in a category of her own.” 

“Alright.” The bespeckled man relents. 

Another beat passes.

“What about Wraith? Or Fiend?” He prods again.

“You take my children’s names out of your heathen mouth!” Danny screeches with totally believable anger.

The half ghost couldn’t hold back the genuine smile that pulled on his lips from the sound of two of his favourite humans cackling in glee.

“What took you so long?!” Zantana screamed out, her magic pulsing wearily as she struggled to keep the hell-spawn trapped.

“You fucking deal with an Undying God and see how fast you can piss off without becoming a stain on the floor!” Constantine spat out as he pulled out the ingredients that were partly paid for by one of the most terrifying entities in all realities.

“A what?!” Zantana shrieked.

Chapter Text

John Constantine would be the first to admit he had shit luck, and an even shittier habit of getting tangled up with people/entities that he really, really shouldn’t. If he was lucky, the sex would be good, and the other person would still like him enough to not try to kill him slowly and painfully. If he wasn’t so lucky? Well, the sex would always be frankly amazing - he was a part of it after all - but his partner/s would cause calamity at a scale never before seen. It was often better that these ones loathed him, because obsession was a lot harder to deal with than murderous intent. 

But still, even he was well aware that the ruling powers of the Infinite Realms should not be touched, even with a 100ft long pole. Hell, the low level denizens of the Space Between Realities were enough of a pain in the arse, he did not want to consider the thought of earning the ire of a bonafide Undying God. 

So why, on this gods’ forsaken earth, was he talking to the horrifying powerhouse of a creature that John had barely met two months prior?

Sure, the thing in male form was a gorgeous example of divine narcissism, obviously sculpted to attract awe and adoration from any and all passing mortals. The black hair and blue eyes were too rich in colour to be truly human; colours you would only see in man-made pigments and certainly not in nature. 

Though, it was somewhat unusual for male presenting deities to have such a lean figure. Most of them weren’t satisfied unless their bloody biceps were the size of most men’s heads. Though it wasn’t to say the being didn’t have any musculature. It was the compact, athletic form somewhere between the bat clans’ Red Robin and their Nightwing, rather than the massive frame that Batman or Superman sported .

(He didn’t have to like them, to appreciate the fine specimens they were. Though Wonder Woman was his favourite for simply being the only actually tolerable one of the lot, and the most terrifyingly beautiful.)

(What? He already admitted that he had shit survival instincts when it came to attractive people.)

And that split second where the being let his true power shine through, where his eyes took on the distinct green shine that all Realm dwellers shared in some form? That was one of the few times that John had felt completely powerless. He knew instinctively, and without the slightest hint of a doubt, that there wasn’t anything he could ever throw at the being that would have anything more than a momentary effect.  

He was also achingly aware that it had only been a sliver of the god’s true power.

So, yeah. For once, John was listening to his neglected common sense and had decided to give the Realm God a wide berth for the rest of time. He just had no fucking clue how to get this walking force of reality to stop taking notice of him.

“I’m starting to see a pattern emerging here.” The not-human joked, a cheeky grin carelessly pulling at his lips as he sipped from his coffee. “This is the… what? Fourth time I’ve come to your rescue?”

John really should not have found the hint of a small fang as attractive as he did.

“There was the Occult shop, then that bookshop, and the phone store was pretty memorable.” The creature continued. “And now I finally get the chance to sit down and talk with you!”

John hadn’t been planning to stick around this completely unremarkable coffee shop after acquiring his drink. Although coffee was a poor substitute for his usual vice, he had found himself a little… low on funds, and coffee was cheaper than alcohol.

Or at least he thought so until he had to pay and found himself two dollars short. Black coffee had no right to be that fucking pricey. He had genuinely considered just teleporting away in sheer frustration, before a familiar figure sidled up beside him and announced he would pay for it.

Which, through a series of societal conventions and intense need to not piss off the very very powerful god , led to his current predicament: sat opposite his most recent recurring nightmare in one of Star City's many tiny coffee shops, with a never ending queue of customers being served by overworked, overtired staff who only showed genuine emotion when the god stuffed the tip jar with more cash than John had seen in one place in years.

“Yeah… thanks for all of that, mate.” John only just managed to mumble out, heat rising up through his face.

Despite the stereotype most Yanks had about the Brits, John was not used to brushing off his long forgotten manners, and it was taking considerable effort to keep triple checking his words before they even began to leave his lips. Immortals don’t forget slights easily, and John did not want to invite another all-powerful being onto his long list of enemies.

“C’mon John.” The being started, expression so open and honest that it made the magician’s skin crawl. “I promise you’re allowed to use my name. I’d say we’re at least close enough for that, don’t you think?”

And shit.  This was going to be how John Constantine died - so determined to avoid anything to do with the Infinite Realms that he purposefully forgot and refused to relearn the name of the omnipotent god that kept footing his bill.

“Oh, actually, please just call me Danny. I don’t care what anyone else says, I refuse to answer to Daniel or Dan - some really annoying people have seriously ruined those for me now.”

Thank Fuck!

“Yeah, sure… Danny.” John tested the name. It felt too boring, too… mortal. 

In John’s admittedly extensive experience, Gods and creatures of unprecedented strength just did not have such human names. It sometimes felt like they chose the hardest to pronounce names just so they could have the excuse to kill someone when they inevitably got their name wrong. Not that they ever considered that they needed a reason to kill a mortal beyond ‘they felt like it’. Gods and morality didn’t often mix, and the lives of mere mortals flew by too quickly for them to have the time to form true attachments. The older these gods got, the worse they seemed to become.

Sure, there was a chance that it was a fake name - something he used as he mingled among the mortals - but the attitude regarding his name suggested just the opposite. And yes, variations of the name Daniel had been around since before the Bible, but there was no way a god this bloody powerful was not at least several thousands of years older than that book.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were stalking me.” Danny joked from behind his coffee cup.

It took everything in John to not retort with a ‘sure it ain’t the opposite?’ because he was being polite and responsible and was not going to be his usual smart-arse self. There were things worse than death, and this ‘ Danny’ could very easily dish them all out with just a thought. 

“It is feeling like it’s more than a coincidence.” John managed to say non-comittently, channelling the fucking Bat’s ambiguous act with all his skill. 

It wouldn’t do, to let Danny think a mere human was accusing him of orchestrating these meetings. Even if that was exactly what he was thinking as he said it.

“I started travelling recently.” The God answered conversationally, as if it explained anything. “My people needed more than our hometown could offer and started migrating across the country - though my daughter is doing her best to tempt them abroad - and I can travel more freely than them.”

Ah fuck. There were more of these powerful creatures travelling the mortal plane.

John didn’t bother feeling shocked about a death god with the ability to reproduce; though rare in most pantheons (the death magic wasn’t conducive to creating new life, after all), the Infinite Realms had this headache inducing ability to circumvent the rules that governed pretty much every other entity in the multiverse. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if Danny managed to spit his daughter out completely asexually.

“Your… people?” John couldn’t resist questioning. Cause he was fucked if there was a cult building across the country, and apparently trying to become international. He’d probably have to call in the Bat for backup, and he fucking hated working with the gloomy guy.

“I know. It sounds super possessive.” Danny groaned out as he broke his biscuit in half and began nibbling on one half whilst the other flew about as he gestured along with his words. “But they can’t decide what they want to be called, and I refuse to say ‘family, friends, and teammates’ every single time I talk about them as a group. So they’re ‘my people’ until they finally agree on something equally short.” 

John just about suppressed the relieved sigh that built in his throat. Godly servants and slaves aren’t regarded with the respect Danny obviously had for his ‘people’, so the likelihood of a cult existing just nosedived. He could only guess that they were mortals that had garnered the god’s platonic affection, which was a huge bonus for John. It meant that, currently, Danny was in a merciful phase of his existence and was likely just curious about the lives of mortals.

It would certainly explain his interest in John. Constantine was an infamous name in the mystic world for belonging to one of the few mortals that regularly stood toe to toe with powerful gods and entities beyond labels. Danny likely heard rumours and was curious enough to learn more in person.

“But yeah, I’m actually here because one of them wanted to join the Mystic convention; he said the MCon was hosting some magic inventors that he really wanted to bounce ideas off, and couldn’t miss out on the opportunity. I’m assuming that’s why you’re in town too?” Danny questioned.

John could only let out a soul weary sigh.

“I’m not exactly welcome in those kind of circles - it's complicated, don’t worry about it - but I’ve tracked down this stupid son of a bitch to this damn convention.” He ground out. “He’s been poking holes into the fabric of reality searching for a creature of unimaginable power to basically give him a magical power boost or upgrade. ‘Cept the inept wanker refuses to clean up after himself and keeps leaving these holes open and letting all sorts of creatures into this reality. And I’m getting bloody fucking tired of wrangling the damn things.”

Danny simply hummed in understanding as he licked the crumbs off his fingers. He had absolutely no right to look as seductive as he did with the tip of his pink tongue gliding across each of the digits and the thoughtfully hooded eyes. That cheeky fucker knew exactly what he was doing and John was ashamed to say it was working impeccibly on his libido, even as stressed out and tired as he was from chasing the damn Mage across what felt like the entire godforsaken country. 

“Tell ya what John.” The god started, the casual mood shifting to something much more devious. “I’ll help out with this annoying mage, and you let me take you out for a bit of fun. Something more official than these little accidental meetings. What d'ya say?”

“...if I did accept, what exactly would this help entail?” John asked cautiously.

Though the familiar battleground of deal making finally helped him get his footing, John had made too many deals with supernatural entities to not be cautious when something seems too good to be true. Hell, even deals that had him at a distinct disadvantage had even more hidden in the carefully chosen phrasing that would make a dip in a volcano a more attractive option. He also wasn’t going to invite a god to go ham on one mage in a populated city - it would take a single moment of carelessness from this god and hundreds, if not thousands, would perish.

“Don’t worry, John,” Danny waved away the magician’s concern. “I’ll keep it all low-key. No one but you and the mage will know I was ever there. I know how to control myself, promise!”

John let the silence simmer between them as he pondered his options. But honestly, it was too good an opportunity to give up. If he couldn’t avoid the damn entity, then he may as well make the most of it and do what he could to set up shop in Danny’s good graces. Especially if all of his deals simply involved sexual favours from John - which, if he was being honest with himself, he likely would have ended up pursuing anyway. 

“Deal.” John agreed with a less than pure smirk. 

He was pretty damn sure that Danny started glowing, he smiled so brightly. Not quite the reaction John was expecting, but still a positive response, so he wasn’t going to question it too much. 

Instead, he began walking out of the small coffee shop, removing the privacy bubble he had set up when he realised there was no escaping their conversation, and tried not to feel too exposed by turning his back to a god.

“You wanna play distraction whilst I block the guy’s access to the fabric between realities?” Danny asked casually, as if he didn’t just propose something completely insane.

“Block his what?” John spluttered out, stumbling over his feet at the shock.

“I’ll just remove his access to the Infinite Realms. You can’t access other dimensions without first making a connection to my realm - so if I remove that, he won’t be able to open up any of these annoying portals.” Danny explained, speaking as though he was an average Joe explaining the basics of his job. 

“You can do that?” John blurted out.

“Yeah.” Danny chuckled. “Just one of the perks of being King of the Infinite Realms, I get to pick and choose who can and can’t access my domain. And I can determine how much they can access. We don’t exactly want random people just waltzing into our home after all.”

Ho. ly. Shit.

Did John just agree to fuck the fucking High King of the Infinite Realms ? 

He didn’t know if this was a new high or a new low.

Danny was only just resisting the urge to skip as he and John wandered towards the large building he had dropped Tucker off at earlier. He was pretty sure it was called something super generic and boring like ‘Star Stadium’ or something like that. But Tucker had waxed poetry on how ingenious it was to hold the MCon in such a mundane place. 

' The best place to hide is in plain sight!' the tech geek had gushed.

And look, Danny could see where he was coming from. After all, it took him purposefully transforming in front of his parents for them to finally grasp the fact that their son and Phantom were one and the same. Turns out most people aren't capable of considering the possibility of a person being a ghost when they are still wandering around town with a heartbeat and somewhat functioning brain.

But honestly, he couldn't be less interested in the logistics of a magic convention. John had agreed to go on a date with him!

The super hot, super smart, (technically a) superhero had agreed to let Danny come along on his case, and go on a date with him!

A huge part of him wanted to squeal and jump about like a teen who’s crush had said yes. Were there parallels? Yes. But Danny was a fully grown adult thank you very much, and was not going to let that impulse become a reality… in public.

His people were going to be so annoyed with Danny once he started gushing all about it! Well, once they got over the fact that he went back on his promise to not get involved with John after only a few months. But that was a sacrifice he was willing to make, ‘cause he was going. on a date. with. John. Constantine. The heart throb of the Mystical world!

Danny was just so glad that John wasn’t put off by the complete mess that was the Halfa asking him out. Like, where did he get the baseless confidence to say ‘I’ll help out with this annoying mage and you let me take you out for a bit of fun.’ Like he was so certain that that was how the whole thing was going to go?! He barely even managed to rescue it by finally asking for John’s opinion on his bare bones of a plan at the very end!

Despite his… impressive reputation and long list of partners, John obviously wasn’t turned off by the Halfa’s inexperience. The magician was just so cute and kind, overlooking Danny’s blunders, and was so charming with his casual politeness mixing with the man’s natural snark. The blonde’s charisma was off the charts! And he agreed to go on a date with Danny! 

There was nothing that could bring his mood down!

Chapter Text

John was in agony.

Not physically. Though his liver and lungs were probably not his biggest fans these days, even with his healing ability. But mentally he was trying to beat some fucking common sense into his brain, even if it was a bit late at that point. 

Danny, true to his word, had suppressed his presence to the point that even John’s senses only registered an average man with an average amount of magical ability. It was almost an offence that such a powerful being could mask his presence to such a degree. Here was the High King of the Infinite Realms - a being who ruled over a fuckton of unique creatures, including the manifestations of the key concepts that kept reality in its current state of existence - and he could mute his aura to the point of obscurity.

And John had agreed to sleep with him in exchange for his help with a dickhead of a mage that was only just graduating from the status of ‘Average’. What a fucking waste.

He quickly spotted the fucker that had been steadily raising his blood pressure these past few weeks, thankfully outside the crowded stadium and walking to a more secluded place. Almost like the fucker was intensionally making the entire thing easier for them. 

John caught Danny’s eye and subtly gestured to the retreating mage. The King nodded in understanding and split off to hopefully sneak up on the mage once John had his attention. The guy wasn’t overly powerful, but he had already learned some unique spells from his little hobby of poking holes into other dimensions, which made him unpredictable and therefore dangerous.

John had had worse odds, and that was before counting his apparent support in the form of a royal twink. 

Danny couldn’t help but admire the skill John demonstrated as he expertly wielded his magic. Most of his experience with human magic was through Sam and Tucker, who - though incredibly skilled in their own rights - were still newbies when it came to hard earned magical experience. Their magics also had a strong flavour of ghostly influence from their years of interacting with the Infinite Realms, so Danny hadn’t actually witnessed much in the way of non-Realm magic.

The Brit wasted no time in insulting his opponent, spouting out comments that were honestly impressive in their creativity and viciousness. Danny wasn’t even sure it was possible for one dick to have that many illnesses without just falling off in defeat. 

But alongside the improvised slew of abusive poetry, the blonde magician covertly weaved together a binding spell. The sweet, warm, and tangy taste of it was becoming pleasantly familiar, but the feeling of the magic snapping to attention and eagerly readying for battle was even better. This was what John’s magic did best and was following the magician’s will without a single moment of delay. It was glorious to witness, and even better to sense.

So focused on his magician’s magic, Danny nearly missed the oily slither of the mage’s borrowed magic as it grew thorns. A passive spell that was designed to activate when opposing magic targeted its ward. The mage smirked when John’s spell shattered on contact, but the blonde had no outward reaction and almost immediately threw another spell, this one crackling along Danny’s senses like popping candy. A stunning spell the halfa guessed, one that John obviously had at the ready in case the first one was unsuccessful, like it was. 

Danny was so damn enamoured with the man it wasn’t funny. Charming, hot as hell, and super smart? The guy was the whole package!

The Ghost King idly wondered what a magic duel like this looked to someone without a magical sense - would they only see the flashy lights of the visible offensive spells? The results of the spells that affected the world around them? It was such a pity that not everyone could witness the artistry of battle magic.

Annoyingly, the mage was able to deflect the stun spell, and was quick to return fire with a miniature fireball. Though visually small, Danny could feel the power pulsing within as it flew. He didn’t think to worry as John easily ducked out of its way and let it scorch and melt the surface of the wall behind him.

“John Constantine!” The mage exclaimed deeply, opening his arms in a mocking welcome. “I suppose I should feel honoured that you, of all people, have deemed me worthy to tussle with!”

“Get off your bloody high horse.” John retorted with a scoff. “You’re barely worth the fart it shits out. I just got tired of cleaning up after your messes - the big bad Bat gets a hard-on sending me out on minor missions like this when shit starts to get quiet.”

Danny had to agree. Other than the cleverly placed charm that initially protected him, the mage’s ability really wasn’t much to write home about. John was having no trouble flinging spell after spell, ducking and weaving when defensive magic would just be a chore, and trading quips that sparked glee in Danny’s soul. The only props the halfa could stretch to give the unnamed mage, was that his defensive magic was good. The few spells that did penetrate the bubble were severely weakened and seemed to barely faze him.

Of course Danny had to take points away due to the fact the magic was not his. Oh the mage was controlling the energy relatively well, but it didn’t take an expert to see that he was not yet comfortable with the magic to the degree of reflexive use. Add on the fact it felt like slime and smelled like rotting lemons, rather than the mage’s innate mild spice, and Danny was certain that his most potent skill was one he learnt from his time poking holes in reality. 

Danny didn’t put much more effort into hiding his presence as he advanced on the struggling mage. His earlier efforts and John’s unrelenting assault was plenty to disguise the approaching threat from the mage’s notice. And the defensive magic had a glaring loophole of not recognising anything without magic as a threat.

(Ectoplasm, whilst being an extremely powerful source of death magic, didn’t often register as magic unless it was moulded into spells or magic circles. It was such a cheat and Danny had absolutely no issues against abusing it to its fullest extent.)

The Ghost King couldn’t help the sharp grin that cut across his face as his unwitting victim bragged to John.

“I must admit, I’m disappointed Constantine! I had heard stories of your feats of power, but it would seem they were nothing but exaggerations of a lucky con artist.”

“Oh fuck off.” John groaned as he flung another flashy spell. “This ain't a theatre club. Stop it with the dramatic speeches and shove that fancy phrasing up your arse. I may be a con artist, but at least I ain’t going out my way to bore people to death.”

The cocky mage cackled unattractively, “Such bold words from a paltry magician who can’t even breach my defences!”

“‘Cause he doesn’t need to.” Danny’s low voice echoed, breathing a rush of goosebumps across the back of the man’s neck.

Without giving the mage a second to process the danger he was in, Danny plunged his green glowing fist into his chest. Was such a flashy move really necessary? Not at all. But was the panicked squeak super funny as he showed off to the very attractive blonde? Most definitely. 

Technically, Danny only needed to touch the guy to cut off his connection to the Infinite Realms, but in depth connection made it a lot easier for any fine details - like the nasty surprise this mage was going to get the next time he tried to tap into Danny’s domain. Fright Knight had been feeling rather bored recently and would definitely appreciate an enemy of the throne to torment.  

The annoyance didn’t even have the dignity to stay conscious as Danny removed his hand. The halfa was somewhat disappointed that he couldn’t show off his ghost form, but could admit to himself that it would be way overboard. That, and it would go against John’s wish for it all to be kept lowkey. 

“Sooooo…” Danny began, tucking his hands behind his back in a cutesy gesture that would make his friends heave if they saw him. “Can I take you out on that date now?”

The sentence was barely out in the world before a deep voice growled out from the shadowed alleyway.

“Constantine? What bullshit are you dragging into my city this time?”

Danny was honestly impressed. Whilst it wasn't the sunniest weather he'd seen, it wasn't a particularly dark or dreary day, and yet this guy was hidden well in the shadows cast by the tall buildings. The Halfa hadn't noticed the vigilante at all. Not that he'd been paying much attention beyond getting the task done quickly so he could finally take John out on an actual date (if you ignore the time he spent admiring the very hot magician as he worked. Danny had always been a fan of confident, competent people who can kick ass without a sweat). 

“Green Arrow. Of fucking course.” John sighed out, his hand muffling the words as it dragged down the magician's face. “And here I thought you kept the same hours as Tall, Dark and Spooky.”

Although, he had to knock off points for the weird costume. He knew most heroes had an… interesting interpretation of fashion, but the whole 'green member of the Men in Tights' thing was not working for Danny. He did give a couple points for the tasteful showing of those arm muscles, and even more for the fact they were developed through purpose, and not just obsessed over in the gym. But beyond that, he just could not figure how any criminal would consider Discount Robin Hood an intimidating figure.

Or maybe it was just that Danny's exposure to all the eldritch abominations that inhabited his realm had desensitised him to horrors beyond anything a human could accomplish?

Either way, he just could not take this Merry Man seriously at all and didn't bother to hold back his incredulous laughter.

“Got something you want to say, kid?” The American Leprechaun bristled.

Everything had been going too fucking smoothly. He really should have known that something was going to come along and mess up what little control he had on the situation. Fate was too sinister a bitch to let him have one bloody day go somewhat well. You piss off one agent of Fate, and then they all seem to have a boner for fucking up his good mood.

Martin Langston was officially dealt with and would no longer cause any tears in the fabric of the universe; no one had died, or even got so much as a scratch (though Martin probably had some proper bruising from his collapse into unconsciousness. Not that John was counting him. The cunt deserved it, and more); and it was looking like he was going to have a very nice lay with a very nice looking Undying God.  

“Sorry, sorry.” Said god chuckled playfully. “You're just different from what I was expecting.”

“And what's that supposed to mean?” Arrow asked with an unimpressed stare, before turning to John. “Figures you'd recruit a lacky with as much manners as you.”

And now he had to save Green Arrow's sorry arse from being vaporised from existence, or worse.

He really didn't want to have to sit through a lecture from Batman whilst also being subjected to the ultimate boyscout's disappointed gaze if Arrow ended up dead. The alien had practically weaponised his midwestern manners to the level of the beloved and wise old Grandma who could quell a mobster with a single raised eyebrow. John categorically refused to feel regret for the actions of a hero with an overinflated ego, but the one time he had been subjected to the combination of Ole Batsy's stern dad voice and Supe's teary eyes, he had been so traumatised he started reliving the experience in his damn nightmares. 

He hated to admit it, but Flash had been right on the money when he said the two of them were basically the parents of the Justice League. Which, to John's immense displeasure, included him. 

Thank fuck Diana was there to balance out her hyper-moral counterparts. 

But this wasn't just about saving the Green Knobhead, it was also about saving his own life, and the lives of those currently in Star City. Pissed off gods are not known for their mercy or restraint, and John could see this going very badly, very quickly. Maybe he should convince Zatanna to hold a 'Supernatural Sensitivity Training' for the fuckwits in the League? 

Like hell he was going to be the one to lecture the Pantaloon Brigade. He may hate himself, but not to that fucking degree. 

“Hey now, dude. No need for the hostility. The situation has all been sorted out, and nothing was damaged in the process!” Danny tried to pacify the irate vigilante. 

Though, from the raised eyebrow Green Arrow aimed at the melted patch on the wall, John didn't think it had its intended effect.

Danny was surprisingly unphased by the insult, and the ball of stress that had taken up residence in his stomach was finally easing slightly for the first time since he met the god. He may be a being of unimaginable power, but the king seemed to be pretty personable and forgiving of mortals with no manners or common fucking sense.

He really should have fucking known. The denizens of the Infinite Realms were well known to turn paradigms into silly putty to shape as they fancied. But that did not mean John was willing to test how far the King's easy going nature would accommodate being interrogated by a powerless mortal.   

“Don't worry ‘bout it Arrow. We were just about to leave.” John tried to say casually. “Bats just sent me to deal with that fucker, which I obviously managed to do.”

An incredulous look was aimed at John as he gestured to the crumpled heap of a mage on the ground. Which… yeah. John could understand where the guy was coming from, but that did not mean he was about for forgive him for the fucking stress he was heaping on John with his shit attitude.

“And you decided not to contact me about a dangerous entity in my city?” The blonde asked, though it sounded more like a statement. 

Not that John hadn't very deliberately decided not to involve any of the “Daylight” heroes. They always brought more issues than they ever solved. That, and John had never hidden his disdain for bright bastards. Why they seem to expect more from him, he had no idea. 

“Fraid that was probably my  fault.” Danny voiced. Despite his words, the king's face didn't hold a speck of shame or guilt. “John was busy with me. He didn't get the chance to text you.” 

“Of course.” Arrow grumbled before glaring at John. “Would it kill you to keep it in your pants for one damn day?” 

Well, fair. But also, a tad fucking hypocrital coming from the man who flirted with every poor semi-attractive woman that crossed his path. Men were only lucky that the blonde american was still so far in the closet that he couldn't so much as fathom the idea of flirting with a good looking lad.

“And you.” The green-clothed idiot started as he turned to Danny. “I can promise you, hanging around this cheap flirt will bring you nothing but trouble. If you're lucky.”

A sudden cold chill rolling through the alleyway was the only signal he needed to speed this whole interaction along. He didn't need three guesses to know the origin of that chill, even if the Ghost King's demeanour was still as easy-going as ever.   

John, officially, was fucking done with that day. It had been one fucking thing after another, and now he just wanted to drain a few pints - and damn he was not fussed as to what those pints were at this point. Putting on his most charming smile (and ignoring the disgusted expression from Arrow) John twisted to the tetchy god. 

He really fucking hoped this would work, and he wasn't just signing his and Arrow's souls to an eternity of torment. 

Slowly, carefully, and most importantly sensually , the magician brought his hand to the immortal's cheek and gently cupped his face. He mentally cheered when Danny leaned into the touch, and brought his own face closer. Only a few inches apart, John could feel the frigid temperature of the being's breath on his own face, but he refused to falter.  

“Sorry sweetheart, but could we put a raincheck on our little date?” He asked softly, hamming it up a little with his accent that seemed to make most Americans melt. “I have to make sure that nuisance is dealt with through the proper channels, and then I've got to go report it all to the higher ups.”

It didn't take the king long to sigh out his agreement. Thankfully, he seemed to respect John's position enough to not get all snotty about his responsibilities stealing away the magician’s time and attention. 

“Of course. But I'm not gonna rely on coincidence this time.” 

Stepping away, Danny seemed to be debating something, before reaching his hand out. With his palm facing the sky, the god's power flared briefly and a slip of paper burned itself into existence and fell into the waiting hand. From the brief glance John managed to steal, the sheet was decorated with an intricate circle that glowed with the signature green of the Infinite Realms. Was this guy seriously-?

“Here is my summoning sigil.” The King announced as he handed it to John. His voice was surprisingly easy-going despite the gravity of the situation.

Great beings didn't just go around handing their god-damn personal summoning sigils like it was some kind of phone number. Whilst they couldn't be used to bind a being, they certainly could drag the owner to wherever the summoner wanted. It was the kind of loss of control powerful beings absolutely despised.  

“And I've added my number to the back. Contact me however you want when you have the time.” 

Between one breath and the other the otherworldly being vanished, leaving only the slightest tingle of death magic in the air.

“What the fuck, Constantine?” Arrow demanded.

John did not give a single fuck as he harshly poked into the hero's chest.

“You so fucking owe me your life.”

Chapter Text

He was man enough to admit that it was entirely due to petty reasons that he left Green Arrow without a single word of explanation. John was certain he deserved a damn good break after the shitshow he'd somehow become responsible for dealing with. 

Which is how he ended up home, three days and several bottles through whatever alcohol he had at hand, listening to the quiet rumbling of the house's magic and trying to remove the concept of thought from his brain. He had been tempted to go out and find a suitably seedy pub with equally seedy people and drinks to have a night of reckless abandon. But that damnable sheet of incomprehensible paper taunted him from its position on the table. 

As chill as Danny seemed, John knew gods did not take perceived slights well, and any bed partner that was unlucky enough to fall for John's seduction would end up on the wrong side of the King's temper. He didn't particularly feel like damning someone to torment beyond death, so there he was, stuck at home and drinking away his problems like any self-respecting alcoholic. 

Fuuuuuuck. How long could he delay contacting Danny before the lad finally lost his patience? Was three days too long? Too short? How did a being like him even experience the passing of time? Though John didn't think he was lucky enough to have a decade to concoct a way out of this. 

 (He was blatantly ignoring the delighted adrenaline that rushed through him at the thought of his inevitable ‘date’)

He slouched further into the settee, clothes stinking, rumpled, and covered in stains from sleep-induced spills. Hygiene was a myth and he refused to acknowledge the outside world for at least another three days-  

“Fucking ow!” He screeched, rubbing at the lump that now sprouted from his head and he glared at the thick hardback which had collided with his skull. 

Curling up, the Brit cradled his poor abused head as it throbbed along with his racing heartbeat. Tears pooled at the corner of his eyes.

“The fuck was that for?” He groaned out to the house. 

Because there wasn't anyone else who could abuse him in the house of mysteries. Not that there wouldn't be a huge queue of people who would gleefully do the same (and likely more) but no one could enter the building without his expressed permission. 

Though, his permission didn't matter when it came to crack open his fucking skull apparently. 

Or slapping a piece of paper right on his face.

He groaned again as he pulled the sheet off his face; his vision swirling into focus as he squinted his drunk-fogged eyes. 

“Are you fucking kidding me!”

He managed to not throw the thing as far away from himself as possible, but it was a damn near thing seeing as it was the main focus of his recent agonsing. The green-tinted paper with mythic level contact details, both magic and modern. It suited the man well, but he bet most would be baffled by the thought of an all-powerful god using a fucking mobile to contact folks. You'd think that was what magic was for. Hell, John didn't even know where his was that moment, or when he last charged the damn thing.

Batsy knew what he was getting into, shoving that thing in his hands. He could not fathom why everyone decided to do away with the physical buttons, and make everything and it's drink dispenser have shitting touch screens! No, he was not pissy that his magic fucked with the screens’ sensors…

Okay, no, that’s a bold-faced fucking lie. He hated the fuzzy feedback and the twatting sensor that selected three centimetres away from his finger. And maybe he could fucking deal if it was consistantly 3cm to the left, or below, or even north-east! But no, it decided its direction like it was completely strung out on LSD. 

…But that was not the problem he should have been focusing right that moment…

“Why the fuck are you making me face my responsibilities?” He lamented to the sentient house.

Nothing happened, not even a sound. And yet, John could definitely feel the weight of the House’s expectation and general exasperated disappointment. The damn thing was being even more demanding in its old age. 

“And what do you suggest I say when I do contact him?” He voiced, the words cracking more than he expected.

But he can't say he wasn't surprised when he was returned the vague impression of shrugging shoulders. The building didn't even have fucking shoulders to know how to shrug with.  

“You.” John started, pointing an angry finger to the ceiling. “You are a colossal bitch, you know that. I'm gonna haunt this fucking place if I get killed on your orders.”

He only just managed to duck under the flying lamp that had definitely (and spitefully) been aimed for the middle of his forehead. This was supposed to be his fucking house, and yet here it was abusing him into decisions he just knew he was going to regret. 

“Look, Frighty. I know you're, like, super dedicated to fulfilling your duties to the royal family. And I would never, ever, question your loyalty to me.” Danny started, holding onto the fraying threads of his patience. “You just… don't need to go this far. We both know I can look after myself.”

Danny normally enjoyed his position as Ghost King. Honestly, he did. Despite all expectations, the position didn't actually demand too much of the young man. Yet, it was still a position the inhabitants respected and there were time honoured traditions that they hadn't been able to uphold with a dick like Pariah Dark on the throne. Once they saw that Danny was much more… agreeable, they really went all out. Even after the many years since his coronation. But, well, ghosts weren't known for letting go easily. 

“I would not dare question your power and prowess, my King. Yet I would be remiss in my duties if I didn't investigate a potential threat.”

The Halfa stared down at the haunting appearance of his most loyal knight. Surprisingly, the embodiment of Halloween had changed significantly from the devastating foe Danny had faced in his teens. His ascension to King had influenced many things over the years, and the Knight's current appearance was a stark example of this.

Gone was the spartan inspired, dark grey armour and helmet that were almost comically covered in flame and skull motifs, and in its place was plated armour that wouldn’t look out of place in a mediaeval fantasy game. The metal was coloured in a blue that was so deep it looked black when out of direct light, and it was detailed with swirling designs embossed across its planes that were accented by subtle hints of silver and gold. It looked like a quiet night sky.

Danny was doubly happy that the ghost’s putrefied flesh had been revived to a healthy (or as healthy as a dead man could be) state. Especially as Fright Knight had taken to discarding his helmet when not anticipating combat. Which Danny believed said a lot about the ghost's mental state during his predecessor's reign.

Danny flopped himself over the branch he had previously been relaxing on so he was face to face with his knight, though upside-down. He thought he'd get some quiet time to just chill in the palace gardens and enjoy the incredible view, like he had done so many times before. But apparently that wasn't in the books for that day.

“Frighty. Buddy. You're a good friend, and an amazing knight. Ancients’ knows you've been indispensable for the entire time I've been on the throne. But I can promise this is not something you have to get involved with. You didn't for all the others!”

The ghost's expression didn’t even twitch from righteous determination. 

“Your previous paramours were either battle-proven comrades or were unaware of your true majesty and position. This John Constantine is neither.”

The knight spat out John's name with a sour distaste. Though, from previous comments, Danny was pretty sure the ghost believed there was a select few in all the realities that were worthy enough to be ‘entwined’ with his ‘most kind and glorious King’. He appreciated the love; don't get him wrong, there was no one more loyal and skilled than Fright Knight, but sometimes the dude got a bit too invested in his relationships. 

There was also a fine line between an ego boost and overwhelming embarrassment, and it honestly swung either way day to day despite the constant exposure to such adoration. 

“It is my duty as your personal knight,” he continued, “to ascertain his true motives and qualities. For, as powerful as you are your majesty, I fear your kind and merciful nature could lead to him… taking advantage and breaking your heart.”

Danny just let gravity take hold and melted off the branch. He was fucking done with all his people thinkin he couldn't be responsible for his own love life.

Sure! He made mistakes, but who hadn't?! 

Fright Knight, now very used to (and somewhat fond of) his leige's dramatics, caught the falling halfa and allowed him to limply hang from his arms. 

“But Frighty!” The Halfa whined, “I can look after myself, and John's so nice that there’s nothing to worry about even if things didn't work out between us!”

“And how long have you spent in this mage's company to come to such a conclusion?” 

“Doesn't matter,” Danny waved away with a lazy hand, still a limp pile. “He's a sweet, funny guy who works with THE Justice League! He's a legit hero!”

“I do believe, your majesty, you are also a ‘legit’ hero. You have saved both your home world and the Infinite Realms on a number of occasions.”

“But that's not the saaaaame, Frighty.”

Fright Knight waved off the two concerned gardeners who were drawn in by the King's dejected tone. Surprisingly, there were still occupants of the Phantom Keep that weren't yet used to the boy's usual dramatics and were too willing to get up in arms on behalf of their beloved ruler. 

He knew, however, that it was when the Halfa was silent and still that they should begin war preparations. There had been a few challengers to the throne who had taken things too far, and did not receive the luxury to regret their actions for very long. The knight was often reminded of that old adage of when good men go to war, but thought it was more apt to consider the friends of that good man. 

“I believe, My King, that there are many of your subjects who would beg to differ. This ‘Justice League’ means nothing to them whilst you are the sole owner of their devotion.”

The ‘myself included’ was not said aloud, but both ghosts heard it all the same. 

Danny stiffened as his cheeks heated to an interesting shade of green and floated himself to a more dignified standing position. He cleared his throat and couldn't convince his eyes to settle on his knight. 

“Yes - well - you understand where I'm coming from though, right?” He stumbled over his tongue to get a coherent sentence out. “This thing with John, it's not tainted by anything. There's no secret identities, no mixed history or a complete shift in dynamics that leaves someone feeling like an extra wheel. It's a fresh start with a genuinely good guy. And, like, how often am I going to get a chance like this again?”

He continued to stand there, eyes resolutely focussed on anything but the loyal knight and cheeks glowing with immense heat. It was one thing to have these thoughts in the back of his head, but a whole different kettle of fish to actually say it out loud. 

As the silence ticked by, Danny started dreading the Knight's response. He had such hopes diving into this new thing with John, and so excited to see where it could possibly go. But he knew himself well enough to know that if his people really didn't like the idea of this relationship, then he'd cut it off at that very moment. No matter how much it would hurt. 

“I understand, My Liege. I will defer to your judgement on this matter, and will support you however you may wish.”

Fight Knight knew he gave the right answer when he was subjected to the bombardment of light that shined from the Halfa's bright grin and glistening eyes.

Yes, Fright Knight would allow it.

For now

Chapter Text

Fuck.

FUCK.

He was seriously doing this, wasn't he? 

The John Fucking Constantine was seriously about to summon the Undying God-King for a god-damned booty call. Or was he the booty call in this scenario? 

Wait, shit. Not the issue at hand. 

John stood in the forest clearing, hoping that he was far enough from civilization that any dramatics that the summoning brought wouldn't be noticed by anything more curious than a particularly curious animal. It was one thing America definitely had over the UK, the huge swaths of land that were completely uninhabited by humankind. 

He could only hope the Ghost King would be charmed by the privacy and not insulted by the less than spectacular location. But considering he'd bumped into the being in such mundane locations, he likely didn't care all that much about such things. 

He carefully retrieved the summoning paper from his pocket, ignoring the subtle shaking of his hands as he smoothed out the fold creases. His breaths came out in stuttered huffs, and he focused deeply on feeding his magic through the sigil slowly and carefully. This was an invitation after all, not a demand of subservience. Not that it would work with just the sigil itself, but idiots existed everywhere and the King might reduce him to ash without even looking if he assumed it was one of those arseholes summoning him.

The paper shone a surprising shade of deathly green and shimmering gold as it floated from his grasp and plastered itself to nothing in midair. 

John raised his arm to shield his face from the dust, pebbles, and twigs that were kicked up by the building wind that spiralled around the incoming portal. The weight of death magic draped itself across his shoulders and blew its freezing breath across his nape. 

With a flash of blinding light, the floating paper was replaced with the swirling green portal that he bet his every penny led directly to the Infinite Realms. It looked more than a little strange, rather than the airy swirls of most portals, this one looked like a whirlpool of thick, vibrant green liquid.

He waited bated breath for Danny to step through the stange portal.

And waited.

And waited.

…It was nearing 10 minutes and John was seriously wondering if the leftover alcohol in his veins had made him fuck up the call that bad. 

The whipping wind had calmed in the first two minutes of the portal's appearance, leaving the wooded area still and silent. John would be genuinely surprised if there was a creature in the area that hadn't bolted the moment the sheer weight of Death sliced its way through dimensions. Even he was beginning to feel the urging of flight tap away at his hindbrain, though his forebrain was well-aware that there was nowhere he could run to to evade the ire of the Infinite Realms.

So he waited.

For another 10 minutes. 

“Uuuuh. Danny?” He called out, stepping closer to the swirling green. “Are you… there?” 

He tried inspecting the portal, poking it lightly with his magic, slowly walking around it; trying to find any obvious faults or issues. But, from his admittedly amateur perspective, it looked like everything had gone exactly as it should. 

“I guess I'll just…” John muttered to himself as he hesitantly stepped closer and closer to the green. Until, finally, there was nowhere to go but through. 

Unlike its appearance, the portal felt more like a cool mist than a thick liquid, meaning John did the most graceful thing and sailed right through with far more strength than was needed. His first introduction to the realm of afterlives was his palms and nose making contact with the marble floor, echoing three harsh slaps across whatever room he exited into.

“Yeah,” John groaned out, “that fucking figures.”

He was still bloody baffled by the King's interest in him. It seemed every time they interacted, John showed nothing but his most embarrassing, pathetic sides. 

John slowly counted to ten in his head, face still plastered against the floor, and tried to stuff the shame into the usual box that would most assuredly open the next time he made the mistake of going to sleep sober. 

The air tasted… interesting was the best word he could come up with. Unlike those god-awful romance novels, he didn't have every scent and taste in the many universes memorized and categorised in his damn head. But if he really had to liken it to anything, it tingled along his tongue like he'd kissed someone who’d just brushed their teeth, with the added zing of carbonation. Basically, nothing like he had expected from the realm of the DEAD. 

Finally reaching twenty (shut up, he needed extra time), John finally lifted his head to face the music. It took a moment for his eyes to focus in the green tinged environment, and he heaved out a sigh of relief. Not a single soul was in the room, which looked to be a… sitting room?

No. Seriously. What?

What happened to the good ole throne rooms stuffed with jeering subjects? Or dungeons with blood splatters and instruments of torture? Or, hell!, even an ostentatious bedroom with a bed bigger than some flats? 

But no. Instead John’s trip to one of the most mysterious dimensions landed him in what seemed to be a somewhat cozy, but mostly formal, sitting room. 

Climbing to his feet with an old man's groan, John brushed himself off and began his inspection of the room. Feeling out of place would be an understatement, with the large, dark, plush sofas separated by a tasteful coffee table that he would bet his last dollar was hand carved. Overlooking the seating area, was an ornate desk made of some dark wood and detailed with slivers of silver, basically declaring the occupant to be of some importance. 

He carefully sat himself down on one of the sofas, resisting the urge to melt into the cushions and instead eyed the only door in the room. Something told him it would be a very bad idea to leave, but there was very little more to look at. The walls contained nothing but the speckled wallpaper that looked somewhat like a night sky. Not even a window. 

The portal had closed up after him, so there was no way out, and he wasn't about the face the inhabitants of the Infinite Realms without their King to hide behind… so it looked like he would be stuck there for a while. He really hoped Danny knew how time passed for a human.

It wasn't the worst place to hang around at least. It was nice and quiet, with nothing but the slow pulse of the Realm's innate magic.

Yeah. Waiting here.

It. It didn't seem… to… bad…

.

.

.

.

.

.

BANG!

John shot to his feet. Heart pounding as he shook off the drowsiness that nearly put him straight to fucking sleep!

Magic swirling around his hands, he took in the bastard who just slammed open the door. Which of course turned out to be Danny. Cause fuck him if he can look somewhat competant infront of this guy.

Except, was this Danny? 

The being stood confidently in the doorway certainly looked like Danny, with that fucking suave grin, and twinkling eyes, and a posture that just screamed his assurance that he was the most powerful thing any given room. But the previously void black hair was an impossibly pure white, and blue eyes had become a glowing green. His skin had gone from a tanned white to a dusty grey that was dotted with a multitude of softly glowing dots, like some weird inverse of freckles. Above his head floated a Crown of ice, deadly shards of gimmering ice that weaves amongst each other. 

“Like what you see?” The King asked, voice echoing with the haunting melody of his power.

This was the most powerful being in the world in his very seat of power. It radiated off him in waves, no longer stifled to blend in with the mortal realm, and it was truly more than he could ever conceive. 

John was man enough to admit that he was getting weak in the knees.

He collapsed back into the seat, hoping he pulled it off well enough to look seductive and not the wobbly sack of potatoes he felt like. 

“What can I say? You cut an impressive figure.” John complimented, hooking his arms over the back of the seat. He made sure to tilt his head just a bit more than necessary to keep eye-contact with the god, and subtly nudged his knees to fall apart invitingly. 

“Oh thank you.” The god replied, full of assurance and not a hint of humility. 

Well, John thought, of all people to have an ego of the sun, no one deserved it more than the ruler of all the realms. 

“I hope you weren't waiting too long?” Danny asked as he stepped closer. “I unfortunately had a couple of… matters, to deal with.”

John was only slightly disappointed that the being walked past him and sat opposite him. Now if only there wasn't that damn coffee table in the way…

“Don't worry about it. I know you're a busy and important figure. I'd hate to distract you from your duties. And there are certainly worse places to wait for you… To think about you.”

Was he laying it on a bit thick? Most definitely, especially with that wink at the end. But he was here as a booty call, and don't let it be said that John Constantine backs away from a damn good railing. And he was not picky which way either.

“Well, aren't you sweet.” The Ghost King purred, leaning his elbows on his knees in obvious interest. 

John could practically feel the being's eyes run up and down his body. The special interest around his throat had him thanking his past self for ignoring the tie and loosening the top few buttons. What he wouldn't give to have those sharp fangs scrape along his jugular… fuck it was starting to get hot in there.

“I have to admit, I was a little upset that you hadn't called me to you after dealing with the Green Arrow.” 

The heat instantly turned to ice. John could feel himself tense as the King spoke. Jesus fuck, his damn House had been right about not dragging this out. And now he was gonna reap the consequences to his pussyfooting. 

“But,” The King continued, licking his lips, “I can't find myself disappointed at all. It was well worth the wait.”

As quick as it had come, all that panic rushed out in one big wave, leaving John a relieved lump spread across the couch. Luck was finally on his side for once. He made sure to tilt his head in such a way to show off his throat a little more, and decided to just go for broke. It wasn't the first time he let his dick do all the decision making, and he ain't (permanently) dead yet. 

“Sorry for that, Love. It ended up being one thing after another. But I can promise I never stopped thinking about you.”  

Aaaaaaaand, yup. There was the subtle gulp. He totally had this in the bag. Bonus, these couches were as comfy as a bed, so he had no complaints about the location.

“Ditto.” Danny somehow managed to say seductively. “And I’ve got to admit, despite the delay, you chose a perfect day to visit my Realms.” 

He gracefully stood and walked to the end of John's couch. With a dashing and cheeky grin, he held out a hand in a partial bow.

“I have something I'd love to show you, if you're willing to brave the Infinite Realms with me?” The god politely asked.

But, well, it wasn't like John could do anything but agree. Not that he particularly wanted to at that moment, but he was well aware he was too far in now to ever consider saying no to this absolute juggernaut of a god. It was reassuring that the being was at least giving an illusion of choice, and being polite about it at that. A true gentleman, really.

“I can't think of a safer place to be.” John agreed.

He made sure to show no hesitation as he placed his hand in the offered one. And it took a little extra of his acting skills to smother the flinch of physically touching what amounted to several giant suns worth of mystic power. 

He'd fucking forgot that the Realms Ghosts didn't have a buffer between themselves and the rest of the universe. It was what made them such fearsome beings to begin with. The ability to keep their shape and individual consciousness despite existing as what amounted to an exposed nerve was as terrifying as it was awe-inspiring. And now he was holding hands with the most powerful of the lot… a small part of him wondered what the King could sense from him like this.

“Close your eyes.” Danny requested as he pulled John to his feet with no effort. “This is supposed to be a surprise after all.”

Well. In for a penny, in for a pound. 

John closed his eyes. 

Chapter Text

“My liege?” The Abarfian ghost asked hesitantly.

Danny had to shake his head to bring himself back into the present. He didn't need to be able to see himself to know his eyes had just gone a solid green as he zoned out.

Of all times for John to activate his sigil! But as much as he would love to dash to John's location right that moment, his people had to come first.

With a thought, Danny made sure the portal would spawn in one of his quieter meeting rooms. The one he liked to disappear into for a moment to breathe and had never been invaded by even his most socially inept friends/rogues.

With that sorted, he turned back to Forswith, making sure to look the ghost in his eyes.

“Sorry For, it was just an update from the Keep. You have my full attention. You were talking about the leak?”

When Danny had first started settling into his role as Monarch, his friends and family had mentioned how weird it had been to see him switch from the Danny they knew to the Danny who was responsible for an entire infinity’s worth of subjects. The responsibility was often light, as the many sections often governed themselves well enough, but that didn't mean there weren't things that needed his intervention.

Such as a leak of ectoplasm into a living realm, without any evidence of its natural cycle back into the Infinite Realms.

But, uuugh! He just knew John was waiting there, on the other side of the portal. It had been nearly a week since he had left his contact info with the blond, and he had started to think it was John's way of letting him down gently. But now he had evidence otherwise!

John wanted to see him again! Wanted to go on an actual, proper, date!

And of course it was just when he was addressing an important issue!

“-so I have concluded that the leak is seeping into your original living realm, my liege. Though I am unfamiliar with your universe, and could only pinpoint it to the version of Earth that I believe you currently visit often?” Forswith's eyebrow wiggled about his forehead to punctuate his question.

It was the only bit of body language his people had, as the rest of them was as expressionless as a stone. Like, literal stone, all gray and rough. Essentially mini floating golems with carved stone faces and a moss-like line taking up position as a giant unibrow that Abarfian’s used to communicate tone and mood.

But Danny had quickly learned that Forswith, despite his species and role as royal inspector/investigator, was a very emotive person. He was also one of the most easy going, yet conscientious people in his employ which made working with him an absolute delight…

When Danny wasn't desperate to ditch him for a date.

He made sure to nod, hum, and wiggle his eyebrows at the appropriate times, half digesting the detailed explanation the ghost gave on the effects of the drain on the surrounding areas. Thankfully it was a relatively untouched zone, with minimal floating islands and no haunts within sight. But he didn't need all of the technical terms to know that the ectoplasm was thin, and what remained was struggling to complete its purification cycle…

Oh! The portal had closed. That meant John had stepped through!

Danny cleared his throat awkwardly, hoping he didn't come across as desperate as he felt.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will make sure to inform my people on that Earth to keep a look out. There is unfortunately very little I can do from this end at this moment. I will need to have access to both sides to fully close the tear. But hopefully this shouldn’t take too long with us all looking into it.”

Forswith's eyebrow jumped in understanding.

“Thank you for addressing this so swiftly, my liege. I will continue to monitor the leak from this side, and hopefully will be able to give you a more accurate location.”

Danny nodded as regally as he could, trying to stifle the twitching of his fingers as the impatience ran rampant.

“Thank you for your dedication. I will leave you to it as I have another matter to address. But please be assured, this will not fall by the wayside.”

And with that, Danny was off.

The landscape blurred in his peripherals as he encouraged the surrounding ectoplasm to propel him faster than his normal flying speed (which was already damn fast in his not so humble opinion). If he had been in his human form, he just knew his heart would be racing at 10x speed from sheer excitement.

Giving John his sigil had honestly been a last ditch effort to make sure the magician had all the possible ways of contacting him, but had genuinely expected a text or call at the very most. He could already feel Queen Dora's scathing glare at the sheer impropriety of it all, knowing she'd rain hell if she ever learned that he had given his sigil to someone he barely knew.

There was no human equivalent to it, as far as he was aware. But most extra-dimensional beings viewed them as extremely vulnerable details about themselves. He just had been running out of time, was feeling desperate, and wasn't thinking…

But he had used it! Had chosen to meet Danny face to face instead of a much easier text. Danny tried to bat away the thought that John was just as interested as Danny was for him, but the sneaky little thought refused to be quashed and kept fanning the flames of his hope.

He had to make sure this went well. If John ended up having a terrible time in the very realm Danny embodied, he might just shrivel up and not see the light of day for the rest of his afterlife.

Danny made sure to give the passing haunts a quick glance as he rocketted past, making sure it all looked as normal and there were no potential issues that would interrupt his date with John. He'd had too many dashes away from dates to know how badly it completely bombed the mood, of which there was no chance of recovery.

Diving into his Keep and dashing past the ever vigilant Frightnight, Danny shouted, “No one is to bother me for the next five hours!”

Was he being a bit generous with the time limit? Maybe.

But was he also going to do his damned best to eek out any and every second he could with the incredibly handsome and charming sorcerer? Damn right he was.

He only just managed to stop his momentum as he reached the door, but still managed to slam the door way more aggressively than he intended.

John was obviously shocked at the sudden entrance, and he was on his feet faster than Danny could see, and his magic snapped out in a whip-like warning at the perceived threat.

The Halfa swallowed the ball of guilt for startling the hero, cursing himself for not using his damn brain. Of course a hero wouldn't react well to such an entrance, especially in unfamiliar terrain! John's enemies were much more of a threat to life than Danny's rogues had ever been to his own half life, and would obviously require such vigilance.

And here was Danny, trampling all over the Hero's well earned nerves.

Fuuuuuck.

Well… can only go up from there…. right?

Actually, was he imagining things or was John..?

“Like what you see?” Slipped from his lips.

Why? Just. Why? Where the fuck did his verbal filter go? Why does this always happen around hot people?!

Thankfully the sorcerer wasn't offended, and settled himself back on the sofa, looking as decadent as ever. He was practically lounging on the thing, and something deep in Danny's chest rumbled in satisfaction at the obvious trust and comfort the other man was taking from the Halfa's presence.

“What can I say? You cut an impressive figure.” John complimented, eyes once again dragging up the halfa's body.

Danny barely held back a shiver.

“Oh, thank you. I hope you weren't waiting too long? I unfortunately had a couple of… matters to deal with.”

He also gave himself a mental pat on the back for keeping his cool. He made sure to sit opposite John, both to keep the temptation to touch to a minimum, and to have the best view of the sorcerer currently on offer.

Fuck. How was even his neck sexy as fuck?

“Don't worry about it. I know you're a busy and important figure. I'd hate to distract you from your duties. And there are certainly worse places to wait for you… To think about you.”

Okay. Yup. That was most definitely going to feature in his dreams for the next millenia or so, and he's going to love it just as much each and every time.

“Well, aren't you sweet.”

C'mon Danny, stop thinking with your dick and keep the conversation going!

“I have to admit, I was a little upset that you hadn't called me to you after dealing with the Green Arrow.”

NOT THAT.

Abort! Abort! There has to be a way to recover!

He could not be failing an ancient’s damned conversation this quickly!

“But,” he continued, nerves focing him to wet his lips, “I can't find myself disappointed at all. It was well worth the wait.”

What. A. Save. Put it in the records folks! The smoothest recovery to ever occur in the Infinite Realms!

“Sorry for that, Love. It ended up being one thing after another. But I can promise I never stopped thinking about you.”

…What was that? Smooth? Danny obviously had none, because the man before him had the whole damn supply.

He quickly gulped down the rising arousal. He was a gentleman after all, and gentlemen did not jump the bones of a very attractive man whom he did not have a defined relationship with. He bit into his cheek and firmly reminded himself there were stages to all this for a reason,

And informed consent is sexy.

“Ditto.” Danny said for some reason, finally resigning to the fact he would be cringing for the entirety of this interaction. “And I’ve got to admit, despite the delay, you chose a perfect day to visit my Realms.”

Letting Queen Dora's etiquette training take over, the pathetic lump of a King made his way to the other, and let his hand roll out alongside his shallow bow.

“I have something I'd love to show you, if you're willing to brave the Infinite Realms with me?”

“I can't think of a safer place to be.” John agreed.

Yes, that was his ego purring after that masterful stroking. Adding ice cream to the dessert, John showed no hesitation in taking his hand. The halfa was careful to suppress the instinct to “taste” John's essence, knowing how intrusive it was for non-ghosts from his own experiences as a young not-quite-ghost.

Yet, just on the edges of his senses, he could feel the tingling feeling of anticipation.

With new found confidence, Danny pulled his date to his feet.

“Close your eyes. This is supposed to be a surprise after all.”