Work Text:
Not many people called John Constantine’s work phone.
Granted, not many people knew he had a work phone. After all, most of his time was dedicated to doing shit for Justice League Dark at this point. Him having a regular person job seemed off the table—hell, even John himself sometimes forgot about the fact that he had his work phone number just out on the internet. On a website that had taken far too much effort for something that looked like the early 2000’s had barfed all over it.
The ringing cut through the air, interrupting his meeting with Batman of all people. The man stared at him, eyebrow raised as John cursed and shuffled through his pockets. He finally pulled out the vibrating Nokia brick—a relic from his days working more menial magical labor. He pressed answer, turning away so he didn’t have to look at Batman’s judgmental stare. “John Constantine, who the fuck is this?”
The line was silent for a moment, the caller perhaps caught off guard, but a masculine voice quickly floated through. “Ah yes, Mr. Constantine, I am calling because I am in need of your services.”
John could feel a headache coming on. “Elaborate.”
“Well, my name is Vladimir Masters,” The man, a pretentious sounding asshole if John had ever heard one, said, “I am the current Mayor of Amity Park. I also own Vladco Technologies—perhaps you’ve heard of my work?”
He had, but Constantine found himself rolling his eyes. “Your point, Masters?”
A beat and then the man sighed. “My point, is that I have an infestation that I require your services to get rid of. There is a ghost that has been wreaking havoc on my city, and I have been led to believe that you possess skills that will allow me to be rid of the problem… permanently.”
An exorcism? John hadn’t done one of those for profit in a while, but he supposed he could bust out the old salt circles and look through his tomes. “How badly do you want to get rid of this ghost?”
“I’ll give you $100,000 upfront as a deposit and $200,000 if you get the job done. If you find a way to contain the ghost and give me the container then I will add another $200,000 on top of that.”
John could practically hear the cartoonish register sounds. “I’ll be in town in less than 24 hours. I expect that deposit in cash, and no refunds.”
“Of course. It is a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Constantine.” Masters sounded like he had the world’s most obvious evil villain smirk, but John paid it no mind as he hung the phone up.
“You freelance?” Batman asked, as if he didn’t know every detail about John that could potentially be used against him.
Shrugging, John leaned back. “Gotta make a living somehow. We can’t all be secret billionaires like you, Batman.”
That got a grunt out of the man. John supposed their meeting was over when Batman began to pack his files up. “Have you been to Amity Park before?”
“Of course not, are you kidding me?” John grabbed a cigarette, lighting it up even as Batman scrunched his nose in disgust. “The place is practically a ghost filled warzone. There’s a reason I put it on the do not go at all costs list you cunts had me and Zatanna make.”
Batman had perfected his judgmental stare, but John had swindled Gods and Pariah Dark himself. He could handle Batman being a priss for five minutes. “Yet you are taking a freelance job in Amity Park.”
“Again, not everyone can be a secret fucking billionaire.” John took a deep inhale, letting the smoke settle in his lungs before blowing it back out. “I’ve done more dangerous shit for less pay. Besides, just because I tell the rest of you idiots to not poke your noses where they don’t belong doesn’t mean I’m going to follow those same rules.”
“Hmm.” Batman took a moment to watch John. Before John could snark back at him, he spoke back up. “You should take Signal with you.”
What? “Signal? The newest kid in your gaggle of teen superheroes?” As far as John knew, Robin was the only one of the bat children to have any meaningful relationship with death, and even then it was tenuous at best. “Why the hell should I take him with me?”
“He knows the area. He can help you get in with the locals and make sure you don’t upset the delicate ecosystem there.” Pulling out what looked like a brand new Wayne phone, Batman got to texting. “I’ll send him and you the tickets. Your flight will be in 6 hours—that should be enough time to pack, yes?”
Shit, John was going to make the easiest 500k of his entire life. “Sure, sure. Just make sure the kid knows I’m not a fucking babysitter, alright?”
If he didn’t know Batman as well as he did, John would have thought that the man was rolling his eyes at him. “Of course. He knows how to be professional.”
Right. A 16 year old knew how to be professional. Well, John supposed if they had Batman’s training then they did. “The kid okay with going in his civvies with me? He’s not going to be all pissy that I’m seeing his secret identity is he?”
Now there was an eye roll. “Signal is a bit different from the rest of the Gotham vigilantes. You don’t have to worry about him.”
Right. Sure, whatever. Stretching, John took another long drag of his cigarette. “Pleasure doing business with ya, Batman.”
Sighing, Batman finished texting whatever he needed to on his phone and stood up. “Please stop smoking in the Watchtower. It’s a safety hazard for everyone on the station.”
“Fuck you too, Bats!” Taking one last drag, John dropped the cigarette onto the ground and dug into it with his heel.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Signal turned out to be a smiley 16 year old who spent the majority of the plane ride to Amity Park chattering about his boyfriend.
“It’s been a few months since I last go to see Danny, so of course I was going to take B up on his offer when he said you needed help around Amity Park,” Signal, or Duke as the boy had introduced himself, said, “I mean, Danny’s been busy and I’ve been busy so like it makes sense, but still it’ll be nice to surprise him for once. Did you know he flew all the way to Gotham for my birthday this year? It was so sweet of him, even if he got in trouble with his parents afterwards which like, I wish he hadn’t if only so he didn’t have to deal with them but like it was still super sweet, and like he’s so smart—”
Was this what all teenagers were like? John thanked the stars that he didn’t have any kids (at least not in this timeline). He had to wonder how Bats dealt with a brood of them. Though, Duke seemed to be content to entertain himself by extolling the virtues of his boyfriend. At the very least the boy wasn’t trying to get John to engage in the conversation with him. It was one thing to have to listen to the lovestruck ramblings of a teenage boy—it was another to have to comment on those lovestruck ramblings.
The boy didn’t shut up even as they landed and began their journey to their hotel. John and his client were supposed to be meeting in the hotel lobby where John would (hopefully) be able to grab his 100k and reassess from there.
At the very least, the boy had decided to stay in the hotel room for the moment. Sighing, he strolled down to the hotel’s lobby. It had a tiny bar equipped with bartender and who he assumed to be his client sitting at the bar itself.
Vladimir Masters was a lanky man, silver hair slicked back into a low pony tail and hands cradling a martini glass as if it were filled with a rich wine. A briefcase sat beside the man, and oh how he adored swindling the legitimate and stupid. With more than a little swagger in his step, John found himself settling next to Masters. He nodded to the bartender, who raised an eyebrow. “You here for a drink?”
“Whiskey, on the rocks. My friend here is paying.” John glanced over at Masters, watching the twitch of the man’s eyebrow with a sort of manic glee.
Clearing his throat, Masters turned to look at John. “Quite presumptuous of you, Mr. Constantine.” Damn, he sounded even smarmier than over the phone. Just the kind of cunt John couldn’t wait to ruin. “We haven’t agreed to me paying for any of your other expenses.”
Shrugging, John just took his whiskey and swigged. “I figured a man willing to spend 500K on a ghost problem would be more than willing to pay for one measly drink. Or are you saying you can’t afford to at least buy me a drink?”
Pursing his lips, Masters turned to the bartender. “Whatever he orders for the rest of the night, put on my tab.”
Oh, Masters was making it too easy. Smiling, John took another sip. “I noticed you brought the money.”
“I see you are greedier than expected—are you not going to ask about the job first?” Masters asked, prim and proper and scrunching his nose at John and his stained trench coat.
Rolling his eyes, John resisted pulling out a cig in order to slam back more of his whiskey. “You have a ghost problem and you want it contained. I know what I’m doing, Masters. My biggest concern right now is if the money you brought me is real or if I need to leave you to your ghosts.”
Scowling, Masters pulled up the case and popped it open. There, in neat little stacks like one would see in the movies, was rows upon rows of hundred dollar bills. John picked a stack up, flipping through it as he took note of the fact that there were no fillers beneath the first row of cash. Just more money and the stench of desperation.
Smirking, John put the stack back in the brief case before taking it from Masters. “Alright, tell me about this ghost of yours.”
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Maybe getting Master’s to pay for his drinks wasn’t actually all that worth it.
John ignored the way his skull pounded as the early dawn light filtered into his hotel bedroom. Duke sat on one of the beds, tapping away at his phone and grinning a bit too giddily at what he was reading. Probably the boyfriend again, if John had to guess. He rolled his eyes, but got back to laying his salt circle. Housekeeping would probably hate him for the ritual he was about to conduct, but he could just send any damages to Masters.
The man had been more than happy to pay for his happy hour, after all.
Grunting, John set grabbed his third container of fleur de sel. Why couldn’t a binding/summoning spell use regular table salt for once in his life? It’d make tracking down the ingredients a hell of a lot easier. Though, he supposed this job was more than paying for the bougie ingredients he had to source for his various magic and supernatural bullshittery.
“What’s the salt circle for?” Duke asked, finally looking up from that damn phone of his.
John shuddered for a moment. Fuck, he was becoming one of those adults.
“Protection and warding.” John finished off the circle, taking out a ruler in order to even out the edges. “Keeps the ghost in and anything that might try to come with it out. That way we don’t end up with a ghost trying to kill us in this shitty hotel room.”
Nodding, Duke shifted to look into John’s work case. “So then I’m guessing all of the rest of the supplies are for magic shit and not just to cook a really spice heavy meal?”
“Of course I’m not cooking, you little shit,” John rolled his eyes as he grabbed bundles of lavender to place around the circle. “What, did you think this shit was for show?”
“I mean, kinda?” Duke set his phone aside, clearly done with whatever conversation he was having. “Like, magic is super different from the stuff that online witches claim to do isn’t it? I know Zatanna has like spells and stuff that she can do so I figured you’d just like. Do that.”
Snorting, John began to sprinkle oregano within the circle, seasoning the lines he’d created out of black tourmaline. “My magic isn’t like Zatanna’s, kid. It’s a lot more… old school.” Finishing his seasonings, he reached into his bag and pulled out an amulet. The center tiger’s eye sparkled just right. It had been a bit of an expensive find, but John figured it was worth it for an easy job like this.
Pocketing the amulet, John turned back to the summoning circle. He kneeled down, letting his fingertips rest on the edge of the salt protection. “You sure you wanna be here for this?” John asked, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at Duke.
Nodding, Duke settled a bit further into the bed. “Of course. B told me to keep an eye on you. Plus, if I make sure this goes right then I can take the rest of the day to go visit my boyfriend.”
Snorting, John smirked. “So you’re just using me to get a free vacation with your boyfriend.”
“Like you aren’t going doing all this just to swindle the mayor.” Okay, so the kid could snark back. “Which is more than okay with me, by the way. My boyfriend has beef with the mayor so fuck him over all you want.”
Not that he needed the permission, but John supposed he could appreciate the sentiment. Taking a deep breath, he began reciting the chant.
“Dezirata spirito eniru mian rondon, por ke mi enkaptu vin.”
Acidic green filled the room, the light drowning out the rays of the morning dawn. Something like petrichor and static filled John’s nose as the room’s temperature dropped. John shivered as his breath came out in frosty pants, a mimicry of his smoking habit. He heard Duke gasp as he watched ectoplasm drip upwards, droplets floating for a moment before bursting into frosty dust. A figure rose up, clutching his side. John felt his jaw drop as he caught sight of snowy white hair and glowing green eyes.
The kid (fuck the ghost was a kid, what the fuck kind of person had beef with a kid) clutched at his side, and fuck, fuck, fuck, that was a fucking harpoon, who the fuck had harpooned a child a ghost child who was dead but the dead still felt pain what the fuck—
A rope of shadow grabbed John’s wrist, tearing him away from the ritual. “What the hell are you doing to him?!” Duke shouted, anger blazing in his gaze as the shadows burbled around him.
The ghost kid—fuck, fuck, fuck, Masters wanted him to entrap a fucking kid—jerked as he was caught halfway through the summoning, eyes wide and watery and begging for someone to help him. Duke looked panicked underneath his fury, glancing between John and the kid.
“It’s okay Danny,” Duke called, the shadows pulling John’s other arm tight to his chest and slinking around his legs, “it’s okay, I’ve got him. He’s not going to hurt you. What the hell did you do to him?”
Fuck. Fuck, ghost kid was Duke’s boyfriend? John strained against the shadows. “Fuck, kid, I didn’t know! Just—let me go, the incomplete summoning is hurting him!”
A gargle of glitched whines and whistling winds filled the room. The shadows slackened in their grip as Duke rushed over to the circle. A bright green shield materialized, keeping Duke from crossing the salted circle. Taking his chance, John pulled himself from the shadows, grunting as they tried to tighten around him once more. He shook the remnants of the shadows off before sliding back to his position. He placed his fingertips back on the summoning circle and spewed out the first addendum to his spell that he could think of.
“Liberigu ĉi tiun spiriton sed lasu lin resti en ĉi tiu mortema ebeno!”
The ectoplasm dripping upwards froze before splattering to the ground. The boy’s gargles faded as the rest of him materialized, leaving him floating over the dying summoning circle for a moment. John felt his magic begin to dissipate as bright rings exploded around the boy’s middle. Duke stumbled forward as the spell’s protection faded, catching the kid—Danny, Duke had said—and crumpling to the ground with him.
Blood gushed around the harpoon still stuck in the boy’s middle. Mind racing (fuck, the kid was going to bleed out fuck fuck fuck), John turned to Duke. “How far can you travel with your shadows?”
“Theoretically? Anywhere on earth.” At least the boy knew how to curb his own panic, Bat training kicking in as soon as John had turned his questions to Duke.
Nodding, John chewed on his lip. “Okay. Okay, take him to the House of Mystery. There should still be shit there to help half-ghosts like him. We’ll figure out the specifics later.”
“Are you coming with us?” Duke stared up at John, something he couldn’t read in his expression.
“Not yet. I’ll meet you both there—” John rolled his shoulders. “I have a contract to settle.”
Nodding, Duke melted into the shadows. Left with the remnants of a botched summoning and drying blood, John took a deep breath. He pulled out the amulet, watching the light bounce off of it. Well, their contract hadn’t been in writing—Masters clearly didn’t want others to know that he had hired someone like John to take care of a singular ghost in Amity Park’s rampant ghost problem.
Pocketing the amulet again, John decided a little ghost hunting was in order.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Slipping back into the House of Mysteries felt like coming home. Even though John had his own ratty apartment, nothing put him at ease quite like the House of Mysteries’ ever changing halls. The House must have been feeling generous that day, as John found himself stepping straight into a living room turned temporary med bay that Duke and Danny had set themselves up in.
A cabinet filled with medical supplies stood swung open, clearly raided with haste and no sense of gentleness or care for the time John had put into organizing things. The bloody harpoon had been tossed aside, bits of muscle and skin still clinging to the edges. It hadn’t been a clean removal, then. On the couch and surrounded by bloodied tissues and a mess of first aide supplies, Duke laid with Danny’s back to his front, holding onto the shorter boy tightly. Danny, for his part, seemed content to just lay on his boyfriend. Even if the kid looked like he’d been through a trash compactor.
Clearing his throat, John watched as the two boys jerked, both immediately going on the defensive before realizing that it was just John. Danny relaxed first, though Duke still kept a wary eye on John. Smart. Bats had trained the boy well. Maybe a bit too well, as the shadows around him roiled in preparation to strike.
Sighing, John headed toward the arm chair, flopping into it. “How you feeling, kid?”
“Like I got stabbed by a harpoon and then had my soul stretched between three different dimensions,” Danny rasped, shifting as Duke clung a bit tighter.
John nodded. “Right, yep, about expected. So I’m guessing you have a lot of questions?”
“Duke answered most of them.” Because of course the kid did. “Vlad hired you to capture me?”
“That’s right.” John settled the two cases of cash in front of him. “Paid a fuck ton of money for a blob ghost in an amulet.”
Snorting, Danny squirmed a bit. “So you’re not going to capture me and hand me over to Vlad?”
“Fuck no, I don’t fuck with kid ghosts.” John watched as Duke’s shadows began to settle more. “Though, I’m wondering how the fuck you got a harpoon stuck in your gut.”
Danny shared a look with Duke. Duke glanced between John and Danny before sighing. “You can trust him. He hasn’t done anything with our secret identities.” The unspoken yet rang through the air between them, but John would take that as a win.
Taking a deep breath, Danny spoke up. “My parents are Ectobiologists. They don’t know that I’m a ghost, and the harpoon is their newest invention. They were going to reel me in with it when you summoned me.”
Oh. Oh. Fuck. Fuck, John could feel a bubble of concern building in his gut. He may be a bastard and a snark and have tricked every god out there, but there was no way he could send the kid back to his parents when his parents harpooned him. “I’m assuming it’s not safe at home then?”
“I mean, it’s safe-ish.” The pinch in Danny’s brow as he said that spoke otherwise. John turned to Duke who frowned at Danny.
“No, it’s not safe for him at home.” He nuzzled Danny’s forehead, a disgustingly sweet action that nearly had John fake barfing. “We’ve been talking about you leaving for a while.”
“I can’t, and you know that, Duke.” Danny turned as best as he could when there was a hole in his fucking stomach. “Amity Park has nobody else who can protect it. Vlad’s not going to do anything, and Valerie is just going to end up destroying all the ghosts that come through the zone. I’m the only one who can get both sides to work. I can’t leave yet.”
“Kid—”
“Danny.”
John resisted the urge to sigh. “Danny, you just got harpooned in the gut. You would have bled to death if Duke hadn’t patched you up.”
“No, I wouldn’t have—”
“Yes, you nearly did, Danny.” Duke grabbed Danny’s face, forcing the boy to look at him. “Danny, I was so fucking scared. You were bleeding everywhere, and I didn’t have time to get you to a hospital. Fuck, I don’t know if there would have been any safe hospitals for you. If I hadn’t stopped the bleeding and stitched you up, I… I…”
Tears beaded in Duke’s eye, and oh this was getting so much more touchy feely than John liked. He resisted the urge to grab a cigarette, instead folding his hands and leaning forward. “Look, Danny, clearly Amity Park isn’t safe for you anymore. You can’t keep protecting a place that’s going to kill you like that.”
“But—” Oh the kid had a killer set of puppy dog eyes, and John felt his heart pang in that way it did with those children who would never exist.
Heaving a sigh, John stood up and strode over to the two boys. He knelt in front of Danny, a far cry from his normal sass and devil-may-care attitude. “I get it. You got a shitton of responsibility on those shoulders, but you can’t do this alone anymore. Duke probably told you that I’m part of the Justice League, yeah? We’ll get them in there, get the place squared away so you can haunt it safely again.”
Tears beaded and began to trail down Danny’s cheeks. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“Stay here.” The words left his lips before Duke could interject. John didn’t know what he was doing, why he was doing this but he found himself spewing words before he could stop himself. “It’s been too long since we had a ghost haunting the House of Mysteries. I’m sure it would enjoy having someone other than me roaming its halls.”
The house shuddered, and John would bet a room for the boy had appeared right next to John’s. Damn meddling house.
Danny sniffled. “I don’t… I need to go back.”
“And you will, but stay for the night.” John reached over, grabbing the kid’s hand. “Just for the night, okay? We’ll make sure you’re on your way to healed and we’ll start talking to the Justice League about your situation tomorrow.”
Danny looked back at Duke. With the nod from his boyfriend, Danny took a shuddering breath. “Okay.” Tears trailed faster. “Okay, I’ll stay.”
“Alright.” John rose to his feet, grunting at the way his knees cracked. “Well, I just got a shitton of money to blow, how about Chinese?”
He could feel his heart warm at the small smile Danny gave. As John ordered take-out and settled to eat with the two boys, he prayed to whatever deity that didn’t have a grudge against him that he wouldn’t turn out like Batman. He had an image to uphold, and he couldn’t be trusted to take care of a kid.
… even if said kid had a matching snark and a penchant for mischief.