Title: Sonnets from two lonely hearts

Pairing: John Constantine/Angela Dodson

Author's Notes: These are a series of drabbles about Angela and Constantine, based on Sonnets from the Portuguese by Elizabeth Browning. Please read and review.

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. Now onto the story


I thought once how Theocritus had sung
Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,
Who each one in a gracious hand appears
To bear a gift for mortals, old or young:
And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,
I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,
The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,
Those of my own life, who by turns had flung
A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware,
So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move
Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair;
And a voice said in mastery, while I strove, -
"Guess now who holds thee!" -
"Death," I said,
But, there,
The silver answer rang, "Not death, but Love."

It was raining.

He didn't really mind that as he stood outside the LA precinct, chewing gum to suppress the nicotine lust. He could see her moving inside the dimly lit room, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear. She was working late again, putting together all the paperwork after solving a murder mystery.

His eyes lingered on her fragile shape and he wished he had a better view of this vision of loveliness from where he stood. He tried to tell himself that he was just checking up on her to make sure that no hellish creatures attacked her,

Oh, hell, he sighed as he spat out his gum. Who am I kidding? I'm infatuated with her.

He looked away to watch the busy traffic on the streets. Why couldn't he be like all the normal people he saw driving to their homes? He could guess they had families and loved ones waiting for them in the comfort of a warm fire. Why couldn't he be more like them, worrying only about a raise or what he should wear for a date?

A touch on his hand snapped him out of his thoughts. It was the object of his affections looking up at him with clear, light eyes. Such concern he saw there. It was a mere touch but he felt it like a fervent caress. He quickly drew his hand away and she took a step back. His mind went blank as he stared at her staring at him.

"John?" she said inquisitively, holding an umbrella over them both. "What are you doing here?"

How dare she? How dare she stand there looking so lovely and not know the effect she was having on him.

He cleared his throat and drew himself to his full height, making her realize how tall he was. "What?" he said sharply. "Is the police station off-limits to me?" He hadn't meant to sound so harsh but he couldn't help him. He instantly regretted his words upon seeing her hurt expression.

"Well," she said, regaining her composure. "I was just surprised to see you here so suddenly. It's been what, two months…"

"Three," he said and then he silently cursed himself for sounding so eager. He cleared his throat and said, "So…how've you been?"

She gave him a look that told him she thought he was acting weird but she replied calmly, "I'm all right, John. And you?"

"Good, good," he nodded, shuffling his feet. He felt like a goddamn teenager at a loss for words when there was so much more that he wanted to tell her.

They stood together in awkward silence for a while until he awkwardly took his leave from her. She offered to give him a ride home but he refused – he didn't think he could stand being near her and not being able to tell her how he felt.

He took a cab home, cursing, wishing that he had a cigarette with him right now. It would've helped him deal with the horrible, scary feeling that he was falling in love.