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John had a shutoff point when it came to drinking these days. He didn’t choose it, never planned it, he just couldn’t drink as much as he used to.
He’d made himself sick after Furcifer… After the demon had paraded the faux Astra in front of him.
He’d come to under rapidly cooling shower water, The burning in his chest and stomach had told him that he’d probably vomited while passed out, the warm press of naked flesh told him Chas had found him like that, and after making sure he wouldn’t need the hospital, he’d dragged John into bathroom, stripped them both down and had sat there for who knows how long considering the encroaching chill in the water to keep John upright, keep John from drowning in either water, or his own sick... or both.
Chas hadn’t let go when he’d heaved up again, he’d just let the by then completely cold water rinse the remnants off his chest. John had wondered how many times he’d puked on the other man before he’d come to enough to notice. The pain that was still in his stomach and the water temperature told him it was probably a lot.
He wasn’t exactly sure when Chas had decided it was safe to haul him out of the shower and in front of the fireplace, all he remembered was being cold and wet, then warm, mostly dry and wrapped in so many fluffy towels he looked like he’d just been handed over on a kebab plate to someone who’d drank… probably a lot less booze than he had really.
He’d been on his side for a few moments while Chas puttered through the kitchen getting a glass of water, and some dry crackers. The other man hadn’t tried to pull him onto the couch, he’d just sat on the floor John was laying on, pulled him up until his well wrapped back was pressed against what John thought was probably Chas’s still naked chest… and other parts.
No need to put clothes back on if you still weren’t sure the person you were looking after had finished puking, it just made for more washing later.
John had drowsed against Chas’s chest, only rousing himself when the other man pressed the excessively large glass of water, seriously, John would have sworn it was a vase, against his lips for him to take sips from.
John had wanted to chug the whole thing down, but Chas controlled it, John knew he probably would have just made himself sick again, so Chas had made the right call.
Finally John had finished the glass of water and two whole crackers, before falling into a proper sleep.
He hadn’t been sure when Chas had decided he was well enough to be put into his own bed, but he’d woken up the next day, tucked in, with a pair of boxers on, to the smell of breakfast sizzling.
The boxers weren’t his, but the little tie had held them up nicely.
Chas had asked him if he needed help unpacking his suitcase while they ate breakfast. John had said no, he only had the one outfit anyway.
John stopped reminiscing and stared down at his half finished drink. “Bollocks.”
“What’s Bollocks?”
“You wanna finish this mate?”
He waited until Chas took the glass from his hand and had a sip. “This is the good stuff John, you getting slow in your old age?”
“You’re older than me mate… but yeah, getting slow.”
He pretended not to watch the line of Chas’s throat as he smoothly swallowed the rest of the booze.
Chas had looked so scared in that shower, John hadn’t realised it until a few moments ago, but he’d seen fear, for John, silly, stupid John Constantine.
Slow in his old age, he was in his mid-thirties… but… that was pretty much old age for a sod like him right?
Yeah, he blinked away the image of fear filled eyes from his mind, it was definitely old age creeping up on him.