#This Moment Here) and ofc zee falling in suit in a much slower progression that takes time to build

[dyketectivecomics]

Oh! I remember another w/ dad Constantine au: did john own any Hawaiian shirts before he adopted Raven? Bc when she's a baby bi he's already got flannel but im not sure how well overcoat sleeves can be rolled up

its supposed to be a few weeks after those first few chaps of chance encounters just so y'all Know lmao

…

Constantine hadn’t been sure when Zatanna had implemented the curse. Maybe it had been that very same night that he let the little demon sleep on his couch. Maybe it had been those couple of days later, after he tried chasing down that dangerous lead on his own. Maybe it had only been this very same week after this fight they’d just had.

It’d been their worst one yet since… well…

He shook his head, breaking the reverie. There was no accounting for the past. What mattered was the present task at hand. And right here and now, John was faced with a dilemma. Most of his clothing had been replaced by the gaudiest collection of Hawaiian shirts he’d ever seen outside of a tourist shop.

He’d never seen such a horrible clash of so many colors outside of a gay bar or a pride parade. And this certainly wasn’t bringing the comfort or joy that such a sight would normally.

“I know I might deserve this, but could you ‘least have left me one shirt?” he grumbled out, digging through the hangers to find something suitable. Before his own eyes, he could see another one of his shirts transforming, navy sleeves slowly shortening and color draining into the worst mixtures of loud greens and garish pinks.

“God, why does this one have so many damned pineapples?!” he yelled, tearing at the fabric in frustration.

“She wasn’t really mad,” the five-year-old stated from across the room. She was lurking in the doorway to the bedroom, standing just outside the threshold, almost as if she were toeing the imaginary line where the paneling formed the barrier.

It was a lot of simple sigils, meant to keep emotions from pouring out of or into the room. Magical soundproofing, of sorts.

It didn’t keep everything in, evidently.

“This looks pretty damned angry to me, pet,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to think about his next step.

Buying more shirts wasn’t completely out of the question. And it wasn’t like his closet was completely overrun yet. There were still a few plain white ones off in the corner, plus the one he had on now. But how long would it take for them, too, to turn on him?

He remembered watching this collection, helpless to it’s growing size, and doing nothing to stop it before it got to this point. But too many things had been going on, with Raven and Blood’s cult and-

“She’s… not mad, though,” Raven repeated, mumbling something under her breath that had John sighing. He waved her over, inviting her into the space, and pat the space on the bed beside him.

“Take a seat, I can’t hear you all the way over there.”

The girl hesitated outside of that threshold, before all but scampering over and bouncing onto the bed.

He waited expectantly for her to repeat herself, and she stared blankly back, navy eyes wide as she seemed to gauge and place where his emotions were at, now that they weren’t being read through the haze.

“Me ears aren’t what they used to be, luv,” he explained, “Too much rock an’ roll when I was young. You’ll have to repeat yourself for me.” He spoke it clearly, plainly, with as much patience as he could muster at the moment.

The girls eyes glanced between his own, sensing his air of humor, the barest taste of the joke but not understanding what the punchline was. Or maybe it was that the humor was a tad too dry for a palette so young.

“She’s not mad… with you,” she said slowly, eyes not breaking away but fingers fidgeting nervously with her skirt, bunching and releasing the fabric. She would smooth and rub and bunch it a few more times as the demonologist waited for her to explain further. “She’s mad… at me.”

John wasn’t sure he could place the twist he felt in his chest at that moment, the sound of her voice so small, and so heartbroken.

Before he could stop himself, he had an arm wrapped around the girl, bringing her in close to his arms.

He felt something tighten in his chest as she wrapped her own arms around his waist, and as she buried her head into his chest. A swell of sadness mixing in with his own anger.

“What we feel, li'l bird,” he started, “It can be complicated, right? But it doesn’t mean we’re mad with you. You hear me, luv? It’s not your fault. It’s just…” He swallowed carefully, quelling a sob he could feel coming from nowhere-

No. Coming from the girl. Coming from something she’d been holding in during this whole mess of figuring out where she could belong. What they would need to do with her. Where the hell they could place her.

And John knew, in that moment, he could only stand to see her safe and happy in one place. Where he could guarantee it.

“We’re all a right mess, but we’ll figure it out together, eh?” he lifted up her face by her chin, wiping away those few tears that managed to slip by. “How about we fix us some breakfast before we plan the day?”

The damned shirts could wait another hour or two, after all.