fjordicswagger | 74 Godiva Street, AKA Tamsin and Death's Home Of More Alcohol Than Last Year, Saturday Evening

Okay, this party had been born out of actual need (for alcohol and getting laid) last year; this year, those factors weren't as urgent for Tamsin, who figured she could always drop in on Jessica or Mike if the night was a spectacular failure.

But hell, it'd been fun last time. Why the hell not?

There were black sheets hanging in front of the windows again, and pillows and sheets scattered all over the floor to make for little makeshift sitting spaces and nooks. There was an empty bottle (in case someone decided to play Spin the Bottle) sitting somewhere in the middle of the room, and in a fit of generosity Tamsin had thoughtfully supplied a bunch of bags of chips in case people wanted to eat stuff.

The glitter clinging to the sheets and the walls and whatnot: not her fault. Who'd ever heard of impromptu localized glitter storms before? At least the winds had died down well before the party actually started, but there was no way in hell she was vacuuming all that stuff up.

There. Party time.

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"I'd be an idiot not to be interested, given how many times you've given my ass a 'get out of death free' card, and an idiot to get involved even on a temporary superficial level with any of you," he said bluntly. "It'd be like painting a target on my back bigger than the one I usually use to flip people off."

"But on one hand, you're hot and saner than the rest of them. On the other...." John sighed and let his head thump back against the wall. "...on the other it was at this time last year I was telling Jon he had to move on with being alive because he was being melancholy about you at one of these things."

You could see his moral dilemma here, Didi. Constantine was desperately trying to do the decent thing here, what with Jon being one of his best mates, and listen to his self-preservation instincts.

But you're hot and goth. If you started talking backwards and doing magic tricks, he'd be sunk.

"Jono's engaged now and it's not to me," Didi pointed out. "I haven't talked to him about it in depth, but I would hope he's not carrying some fucking torch at this point."

(Was she carrying one for him? Maybe. A little. But she wasn't going to get married, so it was beside the point.)

She sighed and leaned against the arm of the couch, hands in her lap. "It's an offer to kiss a little, John. Not a brain teaser. I'm not going to run and tell my family or announce it to the celestial board of immortal beings. I don't think they even care, at this point."

"The broody-one always cares, love, just a matter of if he's gonna pout or give me nightmares for the next year," John laughed. "...but if you're not going to kiss and tell..."

JOHN. NO.

"Pretty sure I at least owe you a thank-you kiss or two for not complaining about the number of times you've had to kick my ass back out of your realm."

A flicker of pain crossed Didi's face, so fast you might miss it if you weren't paying very close attention. But if Constantine didn't know yet that Morpheus was gone, she wasn't going to be the one to tell him. At least not now.

"What can I say?" she asked, chuckling. "World's a more interesting place with you in it. May as well keep you around."

It would be another year or two for John before Morpheus's demise. He'd catch up.

That didn't mean he didn't notice her momentary distress, but he chalked it up to inter-Endless business.

"B'sides," he said cheerfully, grabbing for her waist to tug her into his lap. "Far be it for me to deny a pretty girl her free will choice to kiss me. Endless or no."

"You're a prince among men," Didi said dryly, but didn't waste too much time settling on that lap and getting comfortable.

"Nah, I'm a bastard," he confessed without shame, throughly enjoying her weight in his lap. "But you probably get why more than most."

Most people who knew John's antics as well as Didi did usually ended up dead. Luckily, he wasn't gonna need to worry about that with her.

"But I'm flattered that you'd say so, luv."

"I'm excellent at flattery," Didi told him, wriggling just a bit as she turned to look him in the eye properly. "Everybody's beautiful, if you look at them right. I like seeing that."

She paused, ran some fingertips along his stubble. "You might be a little more beautiful than average, though."

"Careful there, Dee," he said, catching her fingers in a hand and bring them to his mouth to kiss them slowly, individually. "You might go to a man's head, saying things like that."

Even if he already knew they were true. John was perfectly aware that he was very pretty.

"I think I can take my chances," Didi told him, head spinning from the fingertip kissing and the cinnamon schnapps. She leaned in to press a gentle kiss against his lips, keeping her mouth soft and inviting.

Was Constantine aware that snogging an Endless, even one that initiated it, was a TERRIBLE IDEA? Of course.

But he wasn't exactly thinking with his Logic Brain this week, and so he kissed her back, threading one hand into her hair as he kissed her back.

Pretty people deserved to be kissed soundly. At least as far as he was concerned.

Someday, Didi was going to hit John over the head with a loaf of bread until he managed to see her as herself and not just as a member of her family.

But that day was not today, and today she was just going to kiss him back, lips and tongues sliding together, teeth nipping at his bottom lip.

He'll get over it. Eventually. When he realizes how many terrible puns he can make about kissing Death.

But the lady wanted to play, so he nipped back, his kisses sliding along the line between teasing and aggressive.

74 Godiva Street, AKA Tamsin and Death's Home Of More Alcohol Than Last Year, Saturday Evening

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