Chapter Text
Kind
Noah looked nervously at the apartment building in front of them. He’d tracked down the Chandlers thanks to Dole and his unethical use of the police database, and after a little bit of possibly creepy stalking, he was finally ready to do what needed to be done.
It felt more than a little invasive to track them down that way, he’d never met these people, never met the man that connected Noah to them through John.
But…what was he supposed to do with the box full of photographs and personal effects if not give them back to the people they belonged to?
There was a very real possibility that nothing would happen and he had himself worked up for no good reason. They’d be away or they’d slam the door closed on him before he could get his note out or they’d take the box and let him leave without a word.
It would be fine.
He didn’t know why he was so scared. Maybe it was the story about the time Renee clocked John across the jaw or how demons went after Geraldine or John’s devastation when he’d talked briefly about Chas’s death.
It made it all the more important for Noah to give them back what John had kept, what he’d managed to hide away and forget in a little storage unit.
He slipped into the building and up the stairwell with the box in hand and butterflies doing tricks in his stomach. It wasn’t a long walk up, which was good, Mrs. Chandler was around John’s age, so it’d probably be hard on her going up and down too often the way it was hard at his grandmother’s place.
The apartment was in a good place, just high enough to deter an exterior entry, far enough from the traffic of the stairs to avoid a lot of the noise, but close enough that it was a relatively easy walk. They’d been set up well.
He put the box on the ground, pulled the prepared letter from his pocket, and tapped on the door.
“Just a minute!”
Someone was home.
Damn.
The door opened and a muscular white woman with long brown hair in a gym top and leggings opened the door. Her eyes were brown and her smile was warm as she cocked her head at him, cash clutched in her fist.
“You’re not the chippy delivery guy.”
Noah held out the letter and did his best to look safe and friendly, and it seemed to work because she took the letter from him without a worry and opened it.
A few seconds later she scowled and looked over her shoulder.
“Nana!”
Noah swallowed hard as a heavyset, older white woman with a salt and pepper bob stomped into view. The glare on her face made him want to run far and fast. He recognized her immediately from the photo album, though the years had aged her.
Renee Chandler.
“What?!”
“Uncle John is back!”
The string of curses that came from Renee’s mouth was enough to set Noah’s ears on fire. He did his best to stay still and not catch her attention as she snatched the letter from the woman’s hand.
“’I’m sorry to bother you, but these were found in the possession of John Constantine and I wanted to return them’? Return what?”
She looked at Noah and then at the box off to the side.
“Whatever it is, we don’t want it. Don’t want anything from that bastard.”
As she moved to grab the door, Noah signed rapidly, in the hopes that it would confuse Renee long enough for him to pop the lid off and show her what was inside. She wouldn’t be upset once she knew what was inside.
It worked, both women looked startled, then confused, then the Renee turned red with fury.
“That coward! He sent a disabled child instead of coming himself? That utter bastard.”
Noah pulled the box lid off and quickly grabbed the photo album on the very top of the pile. He flipped the cover open and showed it to Renee with a smile. There, in its pristine glory, was a lovely picture of a man in a cabbie’s hat holding a newborn baby in his arms.
“Oh, Nana, look. Is that Gramps?”
Renee snatched the book from his fingers and flipped through the pages as her eyes reddened. She sniffled and squeezed the book tightly before she looked back up at Noah.
“John had these?”
Her eyes grew glassy as Noah carefully nodded. She looked down and her lip wobbled as she saw what else was in the box.
“Missed the move, the cancer. Missed the bloody funeral. Couldn’t come and bring them himself. Bastard.”
The younger woman, had to be Tricia based on the age unless Geraldine had another daughter, reached for the box and Noah took a breath and stepped back.
This was fine, this was good, they had the box of Chas’s stuff and Noah could escape and not burden them any further.
As soon as he started to back away Renee’s eyes went wide and she snatched his wrist as quickly as she snatched the album from his hands.
“Oh no you don’t!”
Noah was inside and the door was kicked closed before he could blink.
“Nana! You can’t just-”
“He’s one of John’s little flying-”
“NANA!”
Renee’s brain seemed to stutter at the admonishment long enough for Noah to pull his hand free and pull his cell phone from his pocket.
He typed out a quick message and held his phone up so she could see it.
I’m so sorry to cause you any distress. It didn’t feel right to keep these things.
Probably Tricia smiled brightly and nodded before she turned to look at Renee.
“My phone is on the charger. Nana, do you have yours?”
“In my bedroom.”
A few quick button presses and he held his phone up again.
You don’t need to type, I can hear, I just can’t speak.
Renee scowled as she put the album down.
“Did John do that to you?”
Noah shook his head. John hadn’t stolen his voice, it wasn’t fair for her to blame that on him.
I was just here to drop off Chas’s things.
Probably Tricia beamed as she dug through the box.
“Gosh, look at all this, Nana! I’m Tricia, by the way. Did you know my grandfather?”
Noah shook his head.
I only met John last year.
Tricia quickly shuffled Renee over to a comfortable looking rocker and made soft, shushing noises.
“It’s okay, Nana, do you want a cuppa? I’ll make you a cuppa, just sit here.”
“I’m fine. I just never thought…I never thought I’d see these again.”
Noah was an outsider in this, and that was fine, but he felt like he’d started to intrude on something he was never meant to see. Private moments of grief were hard, the Chandler women didn’t deserve Noah’s observation, no matter that they’d brought him inside in the first place.
But then Tricia looked over her shoulder at him and nodded him toward the couch.
“Sit, please.”
What else could he do?
Noah sat.
He put his hands on his knees and rubbed his palms against the sturdy jeans as Renee slowly flipped through the pages. A few tears fell before she ruthlessly wiped at her eyes.
“Chas told me he’d lost this album, the pictures of my Gerry’s birth and her early years. The negatives were lost to time.”
The box’s contents shifted as she pulled it closer.
“My Chas had lung cancer. The amount of smoking we all did back then…it wasn’t really a surprise that he had it. It was only a surprise that it took so long to catch him. Hated going to the doctor, my Chas, or we might’ve caught it sooner.”
I’m so sorry for your loss. My father had lung cancer, too. He practically sold his soul to get rid of it.
Renee took his hand and squeezed it. Her skin was soft and paper thin and her hand shook as she held onto him for strength.
“We carry on, don’t we?”
A firm nod from Noah, and Renee let go of his hand.
“Well, now, let’s see what my husband’s lover deigned to leave his wife.”
What?
Renee hid a laugh behind her hand.
“Oh, just an old joke. John and Chas were so close, it was a little frustrating at times, felt like I was competing for my husband’s attention with a lover more than a friend. I will admit that a bit of it was jealousy on my part, but John was jealous too. I think he resented that he got neither me nor Chas in the end.”
That was interesting. John had mentioned that he’d dated Renee before Chas, but he had conveniently forgotten to mention that Renee thought he had a thing for Chas as well.
The box was filled with assorted trinkets that wouldn’t mean much to anyone who didn’t know their history, but Renee held the keychain she pulled out with as much reverence as the book of photos of her daughter, so she saw the value in it at least.
The sound of a kettle whistle drew Noah’s attention and pretty soon after, Tricia came in with a tray and three mugs.
“So, John was too scared to come see us, eh?”
The lump in Noah’s throat was hard to swallow down as he typed.
John died a few months back.
Renee dropped a worn paperback she’d plucked from the box, a stricken expression on her face. Tricia made a soft, sad noise as she poured a mug of tea and pressed it into her grandmother’s hand.
I’m sorry.
“No need to be sorry. I’m sorry.”
“How?” Renee demanded. “How did he die?”
The decision of how much to tell them was a little difficult.
He didn’t know how much they knew about magic and how important it was to tell them the truth. Without John around, their lives seemed pretty normal. Noah didn’t think it was kind to drag them back in if they’d managed to get out.
It’s complicated, but he was sick for a while before he finally passed. I didn’t even get to bring his body home to be buried.
Renee snorted and sniffled before she took a sip of her tea.
“Well, if there’s no body, I don’t believe he’s dead. He’s like a bad penny.”
Tricia held out a mug and Noah took it, if for no other reason than he felt awkward. He didn’t particularly like tea, but it was the thing to do.
“We’ve buried John at least twice,” Tricia explained. “Well, I didn’t personally, but there’ve been a few funerals. Nana’s convinced he’s going to turn up some day.”
A sharp pain dug in Noah’s chest and he took a deep breath through his nose. He wished John would show up. The man confessed that he was Noah’s father right before he died, and Noah had opinions about that.
It was a dick move.
I don’t think he will, but if he does, should I tell him to check in or leave you alone?
Renee let out a condescending snort that ended in a sniffle as she dabbed at her eyes again before she shook her head.
“Oh, if he pops up, tell him to call. Chas deserves a visit from his best friend, and John’s not likely to think about going to his grave, is he?”
Noah nodded along, but he did suspect that if John was feeling nostalgic, a graveyard was exactly where he’d want to go.
Especially if it was Chas.
Tricia’s big brown eyes locked onto Noah and she motioned for him to drink before she took a sip of her own tea.
“Are you alright?”
Yeah. I’ve just been doing a lot of this sort of thing. Returning things. Tying up loose ends.
Renee put her mug down on the little coffee table in front of her and patted his arm again.
“You know, we didn’t get your name, love.”
I’m Noah Ikumelo.
“Noah. That’s a good name. You’re very kind, doing this for us.”
I’m happy to help.
“Well, then you’re nothing like our John.”
They sat and drank tea and chatted for a while before Noah decided that it was time to extract himself from their lives before whatever taint John Constantine had passed to him rubbed off on their family again.
But as he walked out their front door, Noah found himself with several new cell numbers, a large man’s leather jacket, and a full bag’s worth of home cooked food that he didn’t know how to say no to.
“Call any time, Noah, not just for John. Us survivors have to stick together, okay?”
He nodded back as Tricia waved him goodbye.
They’d been…kind. Kinder than he’d expected for sure.
He’d have to bring them something as thanks.
Notes:
So, it bothers me that Hellblazer Special #1 that starts the 2019 run blames John for Chas’s lung cancer as if John didn’t also almost die of lung cancer and only lived thanks to literally selling his soul, and as if CHAS HIMSELF wasn’t a smoker. I know the idea was to separate John from his previous cast of friends and companions, but if you think about it for two seconds, Chas gave HIMSELF cancer and blamed John for it.
The demons haunting him? That's more fair to blame on John, but the cancer is kind of bullshit.
Chapter 2: Nightmares
Summary:
Hospitals are full of little nightmares.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Nightmares
Hospitals are full of little nightmares.
A woman clutches her gut, fearing stomach cancer.
A man weeps, because no one else can care for his father if he dies.
Children don’t understand why they’re sick or in pain.
Families say goodbye every day.
Noah lives his own personal nightmare.
Two days a week, he’s at his mother’s bedside in the terminal ward
While she sleeps both their lives away.
He’d be there more, but the nurses want him to be a kid.
Like he has time.
She deserves company. He hates being alone.
At least she doesn’t mind the silence.
Notes:
I spent several hours today at the hospital, thinking about all the misery that walks through the doors. Given the amount of time Noah has spent in one with his mother, it felt like a good theme for the day.
Chapter Text
Vacation
The crucifix dug into Noah’s clenched fist in an unpleasant way. John had told him that it would work well enough, but he was still a little worried, given that neither Noah nor the Micky were Catholic, and he was pretty sure that faith had something to do with the whole ‘crosses hurt vampires’ thing.
“You’re too fucking tense.”
Noah flipped John off.
The staircase was concrete and his blood pounded in his ears as each step they took echoed. John’s voice was too loud.
Did vampires have super hearing? That was probably something he should have known before they’d decided to deal with Tommy Willowtree’s vampire ex who’d fallen off the wagon and started killing people.
“We’re on vacation. Why are you so tense?”
Noah stopped as soon as he hit the bottom, turned around, and made a face at John as the man clung to the railing on the wall.
<Seriously?>
“What?”
<How is us chasing a vampire a vacation?>
John made it to the bottom and took a deep breath before he looked at Noah.
“Well, we’re on the beach?”
Noah gestured to the concrete death chute with stairs they were inside and John snorted.
“Okay, we’re beach adjacent. There’s a beach close enough that we can do this and then get some sun.”
<I hate you.>
“Come on, what’s say we deal with the vamp and I’ll buy you an ice cream. We can get some sunlight.”
Noah snorted and rolled his eyes at John’s declaration.
<With what money, wasteman?>
“Oi!”
John sputtered as Noah laughed to himself.
<We deal with this and I’ll buy you an ice cream.>
“If you’re buying, I want a pint.”
<You’ll get soft serve and like it.>
Noah bounced on his toes a bit as he checked his pockets for holy water.
“Bollocks. I guess I did that to myself, didn’t I?”
<If you treat me like a child, we’ll both be children.>
“Ugh, no thanks. Wouldn’t mind having my thirty year old body back, but NOTHING could make me willingly become a child again.”
He nodded along. Being young sucked.
<No freedom. No control. No respect.>
“Not that I’ve got a whole lot of respect these days anyway.”
With a flourish, Noah pulled the stake from his pocket and tapped the door to the stairwell.
“Remember, he’s Tommy’s ex, so let’s try to be clean about this.”
Noah made a face and tucked the stake away.
<How much vampire killing practice do you think I have?>
“You don’t?”
<HOW MUCH VAMPIRE KILLING PRACTICE DO YOU HAVE?!>
John grinned and chuckled as he waved Noah off.
“I mean, I did piss on the king of vampires.”
< Your stories are the worst.>
“What’s a little piss between-”
Noah smacked John repeatedly on the arm and scrunched his nose. He was not interested in John’s piss stories.
“Fine, fine, just don’t forget that vamps have a ribcage. Holy water, then stake, you’re welcome.”
<I hate you.>
“Yeah, yeah, you too, Gobby.”
Notes:
Yesterday was 100 words, today was 500 words, so much easier!
Chapter 4: Cards
Notes:
Takes place early in the 2019 run.
Chapter Text
Cards
John had been stuck standing by the side of the road for nearly an hour, and he was more than a little miffed about it. Okay, so he’d been in the pub for forty of those minutes, but it was the principle of the thing.
Noah had confirmed he was on the way ages ago, and he had a damned car, so it shouldn’t have taken nearly so long to get to him and pick him up.
Where the hell was that kid?
John wasn’t worried. Noah drove like a nightmare, but he’d never been pulled over as far as John could tell, or maybe the cops just didn’t do anything because of Noah’s mum.
Noah hadn’t gotten into an accident. There was nothing to be worried about.
He dropped his cigarette butt to the ground and stomped it out as he scanned the road again.
Dark, a bit drizzly, the perfect weather for something to go catastrophically wrong. You’d never expect it until it was too late.
Just as John started to genuinely get concerned, Noah pulled up to the curb. He was an hour and fifteen minutes later than John expected given when he’d said he was on his way, with a stink look on his face as if he was the one who had anything to be upset about.
John hopped into the car and slammed the door closed.
“Home.”
The stink look turned into full blown anger as Noah turned toward John and signed.
<Seriously?! You called me away to drive you home?! The bus would have gotten you there already!>
“Some assistant you are. Drive.”
Noah threw the car into gear and roared away from the curb fast enough that John clutched the door.
Some days he wondered if Noah actually had a license or if he just hopped in a car one day and no one bothered to stop him.
“It’s not like you’ve got things to do anyway. You’ve no life to speak of.”
Noah mouthed ‘fuck you’ at him before he grabbed his cell from the cup holder and started to type one handed as he weaved his way through London traffic as easily as a needle through silk.
(What makes you think I don’t have a life outside of you?)
“No school, no job, no real friends to speak of. What are you doing with your time outside of video games?”
(Why do you think I don’t go to school?)
“You’re in a gang and you’re always around K-Mag.”
(I’m not in the Ri-Boys anymore thanks to you, but I’m very much in school. You make it harder than it needs to be, though.)
“Oh.”
(And I’ve got friends. Just because you don’t care about my life doesn’t mean I don’t have one.)
“Watch the road! WATCH THE ROAD!”
John snatched the phone from Noah’s hand as Noah corrected the car back into the lane, narrowly avoiding the car that careened past them, blasting its horn.
“Jesus, fuck. Okay, so I haven’t been the most considerate of your time. You’ve never said anything.”
Noah pulled the car over close enough to John’s place that the walk wasn’t terrible, but not so close that the stolen cars would be suspicious, and the two got out.
<You don’t want to know, remember?>
“When did I say that?”
<Right after you told me about your mate who used to drive you around.>
Thinking about Chas often made him…a bit maudlin.
“Ah. Was feeling a bit raw, I guess.”
Noah rolled his eyes.
<You cost me my job right after my best mate died and you’re the one who gets to be raw? You’re a cunt.>
“You kiss your mother with those hands?”
Noah flipped John off.
“Next time, if you’re busy, just tell me. You’re not obligated to come get me.”
<You never tell me if you’re calling because there’s a monster or because you’re drunk or because you’re feeling lazy. I’d be really mad if you died because I was playing cards with my gran.>
“Your gran plays cards?”
Shouldn’t have been a surprise, Noah was killer at poker and blackjack, he had to learn from someone and his gran would be a low stakes partner.
<She’s a card shark.>
“Well, maybe next time I’ll come along instead of going out, the scene’s kind of dull lately.”
John pulled a cigarette from his pocket and Noah snatched the pack to take one for himself.
<You’re just mad that Nat’s taking time off for classwork.>
“Well, she certainly keeps things entertaining, though I don’t love that she taught you to steal from me. What’s your gran like, aside from being a card shark?”
<She takes no nonsense.>
“My kind of woman.”
Noah made a face and made a grabby hand for John’s lighter.
<I know you’re ancient, but please do not hit on my gran.>
John grinned and shoved his lighter back in his pocket, and Noah scowled. He put the cigarette behind his ear and crossed his arms as he sulked.
“What, you don’t want me to be your new grandfather?”
Noah grabbed John’s arm as he doubled over and mimed gagging.
“Fine, fine, drama queen. I’ll be a perfect gentleman. Still, invite me. I get bored.”
<I’ll ask if she’s alright with it.>
Chapter Text
Kittens
Noah stroked the little furry heads between the ears as the two kittens suckled at the baby blanket they laid on and kneaded the fabric with vigor. Black and white, grey and white, small and thin, the both of them. The purring was loud enough that John could hear them halfway across the room. His chest ached at the sound.
“Why are there kittens in my living room?”
He looked up at John with a soft, sad smile on his face as he continued to stroke the babies and they mewled and purred and worked the fabric. They were cute as only baby animals could be, of course, but John was not a fan of animals in his space. Cats were fine enough if they were somewhere else, but
<Someone took them. Mom was probably a stray moving the rest of the litter when they came and scared her off. Instead of leaving them so the mom could come back for them when she was less scared, they grabbed the babies.>
“And? Why are they here?”
Noah made a face, a little guilty grimace, as he stroked the grey one down the back twice.
<Water-Wheel asked me to take care of them, but I can’t bring them to my place.>
“Oh no, you are not foisting kittens onto me.”
<Just for a few days, just until Water-Wheel can find a proper foster family.>
“Absolutely not. A few days will turn into ownership. I don’t want cats.”
Noah piked up one of the sucklers, the black and white kitten with scraggly hair and wild, angry eyes, and held it up for John to see. It was a terrible little beast that hissed and bared its claws as its little belly poked out in that rotund way little things did when they were well fed.
"No, I don't want it."
Before John knew what to do, Noah had plonked the little motorboat into John's hand and pushed the baby into his chest. He could wrap his whole hand around the little guy without crushing it, though it was clear that the kitten was not happy about the change in position or location.
<Please,> Noah looked at John with his big brown eyes as he pleaded. <They’re babies.>
“Ugly babies.”
<My ugly babies.>
The kitten yowled and thrashed in John’s grip before it angrily leaned forward and bit down on John’s thumb. Tiny, sharp, milk teeth dug into his skin and he couldn't deny that as much as it hurt, it was also adorable.
And sad. Babies weren't supposed to have to protect themselves.
“Okay, fine, but you’re cleaning up after them.”
Noah grinned.
<I’ve got the litter tray and food and the kitten pen already.>
“Patron saint of hopeless causes, you are. Alright, get them set up. I'm not dealing with the poop, though, that's your job.”
Notes:
I adore fostering kittens, it's one of my favorite things I've ever done and I'm so glad that I get to bring these angry little guys home and make them sweet. Given the panel of Noah reaching out for a cat on the sidewalk, I think Noah could have the heart for taking care of some very spicy babies.
Chapter 6: Callie
Summary:
Noah kidnaps a merbaby and sets her up in John's bathtub.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Callie
The flat door opened and closed with a dramatic thud and told Noah that he’d run out of time to figure out a plan to explain why John no longer had a private bath. Noah thought he'd have more time before John got back and realized what he'd done, but given the long string of curses that set Crowley off in the living room, he was wrong.
“Fuck! Noah?! What the fuck is this?!”
“WILLY BUM! WILLY BUM!”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU HORRIBLE BIRD, OR I WILL TURN YOU INTO FRIED CHICKEN!”
John was home, and given the aggravated shouting, he had tripped over the bag of baby supplies Noah had dumped by the door in favor of getting Callie settled for the evening.
“NOAH IKUMELO! I SWEAR TO CHRIST, IF YOU SMUGGLED ANOTHER WILD ANIMAL INTO THIS FLAT, I WILL NOT BE RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT I DO TO YOU! I REFUSE TO SCRUB FECES FROM THE CARPET AGAIN!”
Noah was on his knees in front of the bathtub, as close to eye level as he could get to Callie, who was utterly delighted by her little kingdom of toys. She loved her little plastic jewelry and her army of floating animals and boats.
He pushed the little rubber duck with an aviator’s helmet toward her with a smile, and she giggled softly as she pushed it back with her little clawed fingers, delighted by the tiny floating toys that kept her company in her salt bath.
“NOAH?!”
John stomped up to the doorway and poked his head through. He let out a pained noise as Callie waved at him and splashed water onto Noah the way she did when they were at the docks.
“Hi Bum!”
Noah turned to look at John and smiled sheepishly in the hopes that John would just give up like he pretty much always did when Noah did something that was too much effort for him to deal with himself.
John rubbed at his face and let out what Noah recognized well as a disappointed sigh.
“Absolutely not. I gave up on fighting for your murder raven, he can crap outside, but she doesn’t even have legs. You cannot keep a merbie in our flat, certainly not the one that learned to call me names from Crowley. How did you even get her home?”
Noah shifted to sit and grimaced as he sat down in a puddle. He’d have to figure out how to deal with the water going everywhere if he wanted this to work.
<I carried her to the car and drove.>
“What car? Did you steal a car to smuggle the murder baby home? Did you just bring the one or am I going to find your room converted into a fish tank with twelve other little monsters floating inside it?”
Noah frowned and thought about the logistics for a moment. There was no way he’d be able to build a tank big enough for all of the merbabies, but maybe he could rig something together for Callie if he-
“Noah, no. I can see the hamster wheel turning in your head and I’m putting my foot down on any and all aquatic construction. We’re on the third floor, if something leaks, we’re fucked and so is everyone else.”
“Fucked!” Callie chirped as she slapped her hands onto the surface of the water.
Noah winced as the cold hit him on the side before he leveled a glare at John. Callie wasn’t even two months old even if she looked closer to a four-year-old, she barely spoke English, but she’d already learned a dozen curse words from him.
“You cannot blame me for her potty mouth. You brought me along when you wanted to feed them, you had to know the whole school was gonna pick up my foul language. I’m the only person she could possibly learn to speak from, other than the sailors.”
“Fucked!”
“That’s right, sweet face, your Noah is fucked if he thinks this is gonna work out.”
Noah put his head in his hands.
He hadn’t gone out with the intention of bringing Callie home. He’d wanted the merbies to be wild and free in the ocean, but Callie liked to climb up on the docks and hadn’t met a person she didn’t try to lure over by singing ‘If You’re Happy and You Know It’.
If her singing didn’t enchant them, the sound of a little girl’s singing echoing through the docks in the middle of the night certainly made them worried.
At this point, she’d either get killed or captured and put in a zoo, and then all of her siblings would be at risk as well.
John settled himself on the toilet seat well aware that the loo was too small for the both of them to be inside comfortably, but Noah would not be driven out while Callie was there. Even as John’s terrible, knobby knees jutted into Noah’s personal space, he refused to give up ground on this.
He tapped his fingers gently at the edge of the tub and smiled softly as Callie shoved a toy boat to him.
“Bum, look!”
“Yeah, Callie, you’ve got a great boat there. You’re a sea monster, aren’t you? Giant and terrible.”
With a giggle, Callie growled, scooped the boat up, and bit it.
Noah’s chest ached as he looked at her.
She was just a little thing.
<She needs me.>
“There were thirteen merbies, are you gonna adopt them all or just this one?”
<She needs me.>
“You’ve said that, yeah.”
John rubbed at his temples and let out an annoyed noise before he started talking again.
“Look, I didn’t complain when you started luring the neighborhood cats into the flat or when you started feeding the squirrels in the park so often that they know you on sight and come charging. I hardly said a word against you stealing a raven from the Tower of London-”
Noah slapped the floor to cut John off.
<I didn’t steal Crowley, he chose me.>
“I doubt the Crown would’ve felt that way if you’d been caught, but sure.”
Noah crossed his arms over his chest and pointedly turned away from John. It wouldn’t stop the man from talking, Noah could hear him just fine, but if he didn’t find ways to express his discontent, John would assume that he’d won.
Callie babbled sweetly and sucked a mouthful of water up to spit in John’s direction, smiling cheekily as she did so. She knew better than to actually get him wet unless he gave her permission, Noah was a lot more tolerant than John was and she knew when John was angry vs when he was just loud, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try to tease him. They got along very well, and when he wasn’t standing there smoking and staring into the distance, spitting water at him was an easy way to entice him into playing with her.
John reached out and poked Callie’s fat little baby cheek.
“Taxi, she can’t live in a bathtub. It’s not fair to her.”
Callie giggled and splashed again. She clearly liked the way the bath toys got knocked around by the waves.
Her tail was already big enough that she didn’t fit perfectly into the bathtub. Noah knew that it wasn’t realistic to keep her forever, but…
<She keeps going up to people.>
“That’s what happens when you teach a wild animal that humans are friendly.”
<SHE’S NOT AN ANIMAL!>
John put his hands up and offered an apology.
“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. She’s not an animal, but she’s not a person either. She’s more fish than human.”
“Fish?” Callie raised her tail and smacked it into the water, sending a wave of cold water over the edge and across the floor, soaking Noah’s jeans. “Fish! Crabs? Crababs?”
John snorted and pulled his towel off the peg to wipe up the puddle.
“You couldn’ta put her in your tub?”
“Fish!”
“Yes, yes, you’re hungry, aren’t you? Did Noah not feed you?”
<I was getting her settled first. I had to make sure the salinity was right before I put her in. It took time.>
With a dramatic eye roll, John grabbed the tip of Callie’s tail and tugged on it, causing her to squeal and thrash and tuck her tail underneath herself. She lunged and wrapped herself around John’s arm, thoroughly soaking him.
“Eugh, come on, fish finger. I don’t like being cold and wet.”
“Wet! Fish! Fishy, fishy, fishy.”
“Well, now she’s settled. Tell me you did the shopping before you stole her?”
<I didn’t steal her, and yes, I picked up supper at the fish market before I brought her home.>
John made a shooing motion with his free arm before he maneuvered Callie to sit on his lap with her tail flapping against his legs and poked her nose.
Oddly domestic.
Noah hadn’t thought that John had any experience with children, he certainly didn’t seem like the type to have kids in his life.
“You’re a menace, Callie alley. She’s restless because she’s hungry, go get her something so she stops splashing everywhere.”
“Menace! Menace! Turtle, crabs for me? Crababs for Callie?”
As Callie clung to John with one arm and waved her ship at Noah, John’s whole face went gooey soft. Maybe John was just good with little kids? Either way, they wouldn’t have a proper fight as long as Callie kept the charm going. Whether it was hypnosis or just the natural cuteness the little merchild exuded, Noah didn’t know or care.
“Seems like she wants crab tonight.”
Noah stood and worked his knees out.
<I got her crabs and a lobster.>
“Why do your pets eat better than we do?”
<Not a pet.>
John poked Callie’s cheek again and she squealed and snapped her teeth at him.
Noah’s stomach twisted nervously and he snapped twice at her. Callie winced and looked guiltily up at Noah as he wagged his finger at her in disapproval. Her teeth were sharp enough to take a finger off if she decided to. Callie had never bitten anyone as far as he knew, but the threat made him worry a little, and getting the finger out of her to reattach it if she swallowed it sounded like a nightmare.
“It’s fine, Taxi, she’s not gonna bite me. So, how is this working, then? Should I tell people she’s your daughter? I feel like I’m too young to be a grandfather, but babies having babies and all that is part of life.”
<You’re not my dad and you’re old.>
John clutched at his heart dramatically.
“You’re mean. Callie, tell Noah he’s mean.”
Callie looked between them with all the curiosity of the toddler she looked like trying to decipher the world around her. She sniffled and signed a mishmash of signs at Noah, correctly using ‘please’, ‘hungry’, and ‘crab’, which was utterly adorable, but also including ‘car’, ‘break’, ‘no’, and ‘chew’.
“Mean? Noah? Callie, crab?”
“Okay, okay, we know you’re hungry, I’ll stop interrupting. You go get her something to eat and I’ll keep her entertained so she doesn’t crawl after you and shred the carpets. Don’t try to tell me she wouldn’t, the whole reason she’s here is because you trained her to come up on the docks to say hello to people. Following you to get supper wouldn’t be any different.”
He’d had the crab cracked and cleaned at the fish market, so all Callie would need to do is pull the meat out. Noah would admit that he didn’t want to watch her murder the poor things. He grabbed a bowl to toss the shell into and tossed the crab into a second bowl.
He came back to the sight of John holding one of Callie’s rubber ducks, this one wearing a pumpkin costume. He squeezed it and a little spit stream of water came out, making Callie squeal in delight and spit back at it.
“I don’t know how we’re gonna make this work, Callie girl. Your tail is gonna be an issue for staying in the flat, but I suspect Noah’s gonna fight to keep you here until you end up sick.”
She looked down at her tail and flopped it against John’s leg a few times before she grabbed the fin at the bottom with a frown.
“Tail? My tail?”
“Yeah, your tail, Callie’s tail.”
John put a washcloth into the water and ran it down her tail as Callie huffed and slapped her tail against John’s leg again. He wasn’t wrong, it was longer than her body by a length and a half, and as she grew, her tail would grow with her.
Noah grimaced at the amount of water on the floor as John carefully put Callie back into the tub and quietly admonished her to not splash. Once she had the bowls in front of her, she happily tore the crab to pieces and picked out the meat, immediately understanding that the empty bowl was for her scraps.
“If she had legs we could make this work. She looks enough like you, we could say you’re her da or I’m her da, but the tail’s an issue, Noah. She can’t live in the loo forever, I’d like to shower and crap at some point and there’s not an easy way to keep the water clean for her without constant emptying and refilling, not to mention the splashing.”
They worked together to mop up the mess, but Noah knew John was right. There was no way to keep her from splashing or playing and the tub was restrictive. It wasn’t good for her, but…
What were they supposed to do? She kept trying to make friends with the fishermen.
“Tail?”
Callie made a sad little noise and scrunched her nose. She looked thoughtfully at John and lifted her tail to splash again, much less powerfully this time, gently enough that she didn’t upend her supper.
“Sing me?”
John rolled his eyes and poked her nose again.
“What is with you lot and wanting me to sing? I wasn’t good at it before I ruined my voice with smoking and screaming.”
Callie reached out and grabbed John’s hand. She pressed her palm against his and furrowed her brow as she traced the space between his fingers, comparing his lack of webbing to her own little hand that was designed for swimming more than land-based dexterity.
“Sing me, please?”
He ran a finger down her cheek and his shoulders drooped as he shared a look with Noah. He was hooked.
“Well, how can I say no to such a polite little fish finger?”
Notes:
Canonically, this takes place before the end of the 2019 run, which means it's before John realizes Noah is his son and long before Noah learns that John is his father.
Callie and Crowley are OCs based on the 2019 run. Crowley is a raven from the Tower of London, rehabilitated to no longer attack people, and Callie is one of the mermaid's babies.
Chapter 7: Rules
Summary:
The rules cannot be broken.
Chapter Text
Rules
The rules cannot be broken.
Not should not.
Not cannot.
Immutable.
Except…
Rules can change.
Rules can be modified.
Contracts are easily rewritten under the right circumstances.
And that doesn’t even include working around the rules.
Fae rules. Genie rules.
You don’t have to break them.
You’ve just got to be clever.
Noah is clever.
There are a lot of ‘rules’ that don’t apply to him.
The ones that do…
Well…
Noah has spent most of his life making crap rules work for him.
Turns out, it’s easy not to say the wrong thing when you can’t speak out loud.
Chapter 8: Proud of You
Chapter Text
Proud of You
Dole looked over Noah’s shoulder as he dabbed at the blood on his knuckles. The worry on his face was enough to make Noah’s stomach churn.
“You’re lucky.”
Noah ignored him. He wasn’t lucky. He knew exactly what he was doing when he picked a fight with a man at least twice his weight and significantly taller than him. He’d played smart and he’d won. That wasn’t luck.
“What would have happened if he hadn’t backed down?”
Noah shrugged and grimaced as the wounded knuckles screamed at him as he washed the last of the tacky blood off.
Dole circled him and crouched low enough to get within eyeline.
“Noah, look at me.”
Noah looked at the ground.
“Noah. Please.”
Noah looked up.
Dole’s face was soft and worried, his eyes drilled into Noah. Noah’s chest ached painfully.
Fuck.
“Why?”
Noah grabbed his phone from his pocket and typed quickly.
(The man punched his pregnant girlfriend in the face. If he didn’t want to have his nose broken, he should have left her alone.)
“You could have called me.”
(She never would have talked to you. She didn’t want the cops involved. Now he’s got a new target.)
“You’re lucky he didn’t hurt you.”
Noah shrugged.
He wouldn’t say the other guy hadn’t hurt him, but he definitely gave a lot more than he got.
(Better me than her.)
Dole smiled a sad little smile and took Noah’s damaged wrist in hand.
“You should not use your fists to solve problems. You are so smart, you can think your way out of things.”
(You’ve got your kirpan. I’ve got my fists.)
“Those are not equal, and you know it.”
Noah did know it. He knew the true meaning and value behind the kirpan, knew that Dole carried it with dignity and care.
(Someone had to defend her.)
Dole sighed gently as he patted the back of Noah’s hand.
“And it had to be you, didn’t it? You cannot stand to see an injustice done, especially not to women or children.”
Noah…didn’t realize Dole felt that way about him. He didn’t think he was especially careful of women, and he had no idea where the whole ‘can’t stand injustice’ thing came from, but if it meant Dole would get off his back, he’d take it.
Dole took the antiseptic and dabbed at Noah’s torn knuckles.
“I cannot condone your behavior, but I am very proud of you.”
Chapter 9: Another Way
Chapter Text
Another Way
Noah’s hands shook as Dole wrapped a blanket around his shoulders before he shoved a mug of steaming tea between Noah's hands. Nat shivered and rocked a little in her chair next to him, already holding her own mug. She'd ditched her jacket and over-shirt, preferring to sit in her undershirt without blood on it. John leaned against the wall next to the window, fiddling with his lighter, but the cigarette remained unlit.
"There we are," Dole's voice was soft and soothing as he brushed his hand over Noah's forehead.
John made a frustrated noise.
“This was a bad idea.”
With a firm click of his tongue, Dole stood up straight and crossed his arms over his chest as he raised a displeased eyebrow at John.
“I think convincing Noah to go with you to kill people was the bad idea, John Constantine.”
“I told you, he wasn’t-“
“Yes, yes, wasn’t meant to kill anyone. And yet here he is, covered in filth.”
Noah pressed his face into his hands and sobbed. He could still smell the iron of Tommy's blood on his skin and felt sick.
Dole knelt back down so he could wrap his arms around Noah. He held him tight and patted his back gently, shushing him all the while.
“You’re alright, Noah. You're alright.”
Nat’s teeth chattered as her eyes darted around the room. She rocked a bit harder and rubbed one of her palms along her jeans.
“Why’re we here? I don’t want to go to jail for saving the fuckin’ world. This is stupid.”
“No one is going to jail,” Dole's calm voice cut through the air.
Nat and John both shared a startled look before they zeroed in on him.
“Why not?”
“Because if you go, Noah goes, and Noah doesn't deserve to be imprisoned for saving the world either.”
“You…believe us?”
Dole nodded.
“Yes.”
John rolled his eyes as Dole glared at him.
“Believes we’ve got some shared psychosis, maybe.”
“Would you like me to arrest you?”
“Not particularly.”
Dole squeezed Noah's shoulders tighter as Noah clutched him back, shaking hard.
"Hush now. No one will tie this to you, you're fine."
Nat licked her lips and cleared her throat to get Dole's attention.
“But…you're a cop. What about justice?”
“Arresting Noah is not justice. I don't think that arresting you is justice either."
Nat's lip trembled and she turned away. She wasn't the type to cry in front of others and she wasn't about to start.
John slipped the cigarette behind his ear and put the lighter in his pocket before he crossed the room and held a hand out.
"Well, I guess we're working together, then."
Chapter 10: Mornin'
Chapter Text
Mornin'
The day was lovely.
You didn’t get many days like it in London, not John’s London anyway, when the sun warmed the ground and glowed pleasantly through the clouds and filled the apartment with a pleasing light.
Well, it would have been pleasing if it wasn't for the raging hangover that had decided to aggravate him like a power drill into his skull.
A lovely, sunny day.
John gagged.
Who the fuck opened the curtains?
He’d like to just blame the kid, Noah did make a habit of scaling the walls and slipping in and out of windows as it pleased him, but it could have just as easily been John himself when he went for his three am smoke.
The flutter of wings and a loud croak forced John to sit up properly, as Noah’s menace of a raven settled himself on the windowsill and stared directly into John’s soul.
“Mornin’ Crowley. How’s things?”
“Mornin’, mornin’ Willy Bum. Yallright, love?”
Some days, John wondered exactly how smart the murder bird was. Other days, Crowley smacked into closed windows and John felt a wave of relief.
“Where’s your partner in crime?”
If the raven was calling him names and not screaming at him, things were fine, but John always worried a bit when he saw Crowley without his Noah.
“Roof,” Crowley brred. “Sunny. Up.”
John’s hackles went up at the order. He was NOT about to take that from Noah’s pet, no matter how filled with tulpa magic he was.
“I’m not going on the bloody roof. Fuck off.”
Crowley flew into the room and landed on the bed right next to John. He leaned in and cocked his head to the side as he stared directly into John’s eyes.
“Burn?”
“You can’t threaten me every time I don’t do what you want, bloody bird.”
Crowley puffed up and flapped his wings at John.
“Buuuuuurn?”
“I will clip your wings and send you back to the Tower of London to live the rest of your days in a cage.”
Crowley let out a noise that sounded like John’s own laughter and fluttered his wings again.
“Turtle up. Crowley up. Willy Bum up.”
John groaned.
“Why? What possible reason could there be for dragging my hung over arse to the roof?”
“Coooooffeeeee.”
John snorted and scratched his lower back as he shifted his feet onto the floor. He could be tempted with coffee.
“Shoulda said that from the start. Go tell Noah I’m getting dressed and I’ll be right up, would ya?”
Crowley brred again and nipped at John’s fingers gently before he waddled to the edge of the bed and flew out the window.
Fucking weird bird.
Fucking weird kid.
Stupid, fucking sunny day.
At least he had a coffee to look forward to.
Chapter 11: Nibbles
Chapter Text
Nibbles
John had no idea how he'd ended up in this situation. It has been a long time since John had lived with someone, especially someone who needed him to take care of them. He couldn't think of the last time he'd been in this position as the caretaker.
He had no idea what happened, but Noah had spent the past two days utterly despondent. He'd tried to push himself to do things like cooking, homework, chores, but the way he dragged himself around, like every single breath was torture…
John couldn't let him.
He ordered in, called Noah in sick to school, and even a bit of tidying himself without being asked. He was a little mad at himself that he cared about being asked when Noah was so despondent that he couldn't even make himself shower when he was so fastidious normally. John felt utterly helpless as he watched Noah drag himself to the loo, only to sit on the floor and stare at the shower until John physically hefted him up and helped him back to bed.
This couldn't go on.
John tapped on the door with the plate in hand and let himself into Noah's bedroom. The normally well put together space was littered with dirty clothes and wrappers and bottles. Thankfully, it didn't seem like Noah had started drinking alcohol and was sticking to lemonade and other sugary drinks. Noah himself was curled up on his bed, back to the door, and didn't seem to notice John's presence.
“Lad?”
Noah didn't move.
That was fine, John didn't want to be disturbed when he was in a shit mood either. Still...
“You don't have to get up, I just brought you some nibbles.”
Noah shifted and rolled over, his face was creased and his eyes were red as he looked at the plate before he pull his blanket over his head.
“I know you're feeling crummy and not up for much, but I made you a toast sandwich and some sliced apple, if you change your mind.”
It was a little pathetic. When John was miserable, Noah made full meals and John's favorite things were always on hand. Noah did chores and literally adjusted their little world to be as easy on John as possible.
And all John managed was some toast and fruit that wasn't even cut evenly.
John put the plate on the little table next to the bed and put a bottle of water next to it with a cracked lid, so Noah wouldn't have to fight the seal.
“You don't have to eat, but if you want to, it's there. Can I put something on for you, a film or some music? Do you have your phone charger?”
Noah's hand sneaked out from under the blankets and grabbed a piece of toast and yanked it under the covers, then held out his phone and waggled it at John.
John couldn't hold back his grin.
“Good. Text me if you need anything, yeah?”
He waited a beat as Noah's hand went back under the covers until his phone pinged.
John's phone pinged.
(Thanks)
"Course, lad. Get some rest."
Chapter 12: Am I Stupid?
Chapter Text
Am I Stupid?
<Am I stupid?>
He asks, struggling to read a mystical text in a language he was never taught.
<Am I stupid?>
He asks, navigating deals and relationships no one ever bothered to explain.
<Am I stupid?>
He asks as he fails to perform tasks that give trained adults difficulty.
“Of course not.”
I reassure him.
Youth and inexperience is not stupidity.
He’s growing.
Every day he grows stronger.
Smarter.
Wiser.
Cleverer.
How can I be anything but proud?
Is this what being a parent is?
Watching him take risks?
Make mistakes?
Standing there as he realizes…
He doesn’t need me?
Franburbo on Chapter 1 Thu 02 Oct 2025 03:29PM UTC
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