Title: Rubber Ducky Syndrome.
Author: fatedtoflames (DJ)
Pairing: John Constantine/Chas
Rating: PG-13 for swearing
Spoilers Movie: Not many
Summary: The secret behind the rubber ducky, as experienced by Chas Kramer.
X-Posted to three Constantine communities(total) and my private LJ.
By the time Chas and John got done for the night, they were both covered in demon goo, puke, blood, and they were scratched up and exhausted. Not that Chas had helped, because he hadn't really. He'd just had to drag a demon-goo and puke covered John Constantine fighting and kicking back to the cab so he wouldn't kill the mother living there. Let's just say she'd insisted she could pay the steep fee, but after all that, she didn't have a cent to her name.
And Chas would swear up and down any day that John Constantine was harder to handle than any creature from Hell.
Chas fell asleep behind the wheel twice on the way back to John's apartment, almost causing five accidents. He hadn't slept in two days, after all.
"You're stayin' with me tonight."
This sudden proclamation from the backseat made Chas jerk wide awake.
"Staying? With you? You mean…all night?"
John lit up a cigarette, blowing the smoke in Chas's general direction. "Yes, with me. Yes, all night. You can't drive home like this."
"Yes I can…"
"No. You're crashin' on the couch, got it?"
The stern tone of John's voice made Chas immediately decide it wasn't worth arguing over. He parked in front of the bowling alley, and they trudged up the stairs, Chas dragging along John's bag.
John was muttering in Latin even as he stepped into the apartment, and Chas warily followed. He'd never spent the night at John's home; as much as he hated his real home, he couldn't bring himself to ask to stay, no matter how tired he was.
He dropped the bag by the door and shifted his weight nervously as John put out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table and slowly exhaled.
"Go take a bath. You smell like shit," John muttered lowly, and Chas blinked a few times.
"Take a bath? Here?"
"No, in that puddle outside. Yes, here, Chas. Do I have to repeat everything?"
John headed for the bedroom, muttering something about leaving out some clean clothes for Chas when he was done and towels being in the cabinet in the bathroom. Chas hesitated a few more moments before padding slowly into the bathroom, pulling the door shut.
He kneeled by the bathtub with a heavy sigh, wondering why John couldn't be like normal people and have a shower instead of this old fashioned bathtub. He turned on the water and waited for it to get warm, and his eyes settled on the little yellow creature on the side of the tub.
He blinked a few times, not sure he was seeing this right.
John Constantine, bad ass exorcist…with a rubber ducky?
He stared at the small rubber object for a few moments longer before realizing that the water had become scalding hot. He turned the temperature down, his attention diverted momentarily.
He got it to the right temperature and stopped up the drain, letting the tub slowly fill as he stripped off his clothing. His body ached and every cell in his body seemed drained of energy, and he could barely keep his eyes open, but he wasn't about to sleep when he was covered in demon goo, blood, and puke. That kind of smell all night had to cause some kind of brain damage; come to think of it, that's probably how John ended up this way.
He turned around and turned off the faucet, and his eyes locked on the duck again. He could've sworn it had been facing the wall before, but now it was facing out toward the room, out toward him.
You're just way too tired, he thought, setting towels on the chair nearest the tub and slipping into the pleasantly warm water. And you're paranoid after rough exorcisms anyway.
He leaned back and sighed heavily once again, closing his eyes and trying to relax. He couldn't help but be a bit distracted by the fact that this was John's bathtub, a place where John himself had been before, naked…
Stop it. Stop it stop it stop it.
He opened his eyes again, and his expression turned to one of surprise. The duck was floating in the water over his stomach, dipping and rising with the water, its bright shiny eyes staring at him with that blank, plastic stare.
Must have knocked it into the water, he thought, taking the duck and carefully placing it back up on the edge. Then, after a few more moments, he reached up and moved the duck from the edge to the floor.
He let his eyes close again and tried to forget where he was, where he'd been, everything that had to do with that night. It would've been nice to be able to clear his mind, wipe it clean like a slate, but even if he could he wouldn't because that would mean forgetting John. John was all he had. John was even more than that, not that he would admit it, but...
He suddenly felt something cold and slippery bump up against his chest, and he shot upright and his eyes snapped open.
The rubber ducky was there, in the tub once again, only now it was bright red with horns and black eyes. Not to mention a little forked tongue as well.
Chas let out a very high pitched, very girly scream and practically dived out of the tub, grabbing at a towel and throwing it around his waist as he ran for the door. He slipped and fell on his face once, grappled with the door handle for ten seconds, and then burst out into the kitchen, where John was nursing a glass of whiskey.
"John, the fuckin' thing's possessed! It came after me!" He shrieked as John very calmly looked up from his drink.
"You mean Temdor?"
"I mean the fucking duck! It went all demon, and it wouldn't stop movin', and…and…" Chas stuttered, holding his towel tightly around his waist, dripping water and looking highly distraught.
John smirked. "Right. The duck. Temdor."
Chas, breathing heavily, gave a groan of frustration. "What the hell are you talking about!"
John shrugged. "Temdor. Demon who interrupted my bath. I figured he may as well spend eternity trapped exactly where I could throw him against a wall anytime I well pleased."
"So you turned him into a rubber ducky!"
John smirked yet again, a cruel smirk. "It seemed like the proper punishment…spending eternity staring at something he wants but can never have."
But I do that every day, John, and you didn't even have to bother to turn me into a rubber duck toy.
Of course, Chas didn't actually say that. Instead, he rolled his eyes and stomped over to grab the clothes John had set out for him.
"Bathroom's yours, you sick bastard," he muttered, stomping toward the bedroom.
Chas stopped and turned, looking at John expectantly.
"I didn't know you'd been working out."
Chas followed John's gaze down to his own stomach; he had been working out, but he was speechless that John had noticed the increased definition of his abs he'd been so proud of. After all, John had only seen him shirtless a few times before…long story, there, usually involving Chas's shirts being used to tie down a possessed kid.
"Yeah, um…thanks, John."
John just winked and went back to nursing his drink.
Chas blushed and turned away again, heading out of the room to change.
Maybe someday he wouldn't have the rubber ducky syndrome after all.