"Unworthy?" Sharp, biting laugh. "What am I, some kind of princess?"
"Well, technically--"
"Oh, don't even go there, Dad. I know he's a little rough around the edges, but his heart's in the right place."
"That isn't the issue! The Constantine line is cursed, Zatanna. Darkness clings to the man like a shroud, it's in his blood. All he can ever give you is grief. You deserve better."
"It isn't his fault he was born a Constantine. He'd never hurt me."
"...no. No, it isn't. And he does care for you, in his way. Which is why I haven't forbidden you outright from seeing him--"
"--not that you could--"
"Don't be so flippant, girl. Mark my words, trouble is John Constantine's first love, and a jealous mistress she is. He won't stay, all his good intentions to the contrary. And when he goes, he'll leave nothing but misery in his wake."
Well, she could admit when she'd been wrong. And she wasn't an idiot. She knew all about Kit Ryan, and she knew the look in a man's eyes when he wanted what was in front of him, but wanted something else more.
She kissed him anyway, sliding her arms around his waist and pressing close with a low, eager sound; wishing he was wearing that stupid trench coat so she could have the pleasure of peeling it off him. Because in twenty years there had been no one who knew her better, could still surprise and arouse her that way without even really trying, and he was hardly the only man who'd gone away and left her life in chaos; and because she'd given up a long time ago on white picket fences and Happily Ever After.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-12-04 04:40 am (UTC)"Unworthy?" Sharp, biting laugh. "What am I, some kind of princess?"
"Well, technically--"
"Oh, don't even go there, Dad. I know he's a little rough around the edges, but his heart's in the right place."
"That isn't the issue! The Constantine line is cursed, Zatanna. Darkness clings to the man like a shroud, it's in his blood. All he can ever give you is grief. You deserve better."
"It isn't his fault he was born a Constantine. He'd never hurt me."
"...no. No, it isn't. And he does care for you, in his way. Which is why I haven't forbidden you outright from seeing him--"
"--not that you could--"
"Don't be so flippant, girl. Mark my words, trouble is John Constantine's first love, and a jealous mistress she is. He won't stay, all his good intentions to the contrary. And when he goes, he'll leave nothing but misery in his wake."
Well, she could admit when she'd been wrong. And she wasn't an idiot. She knew all about Kit Ryan, and she knew the look in a man's eyes when he wanted what was in front of him, but wanted something else more.
She kissed him anyway, sliding her arms around his waist and pressing close with a low, eager sound; wishing he was wearing that stupid trench coat so she could have the pleasure of peeling it off him. Because in twenty years there had been no one who knew her better, could still surprise and arouse her that way without even really trying, and he was hardly the only man who'd gone away and left her life in chaos; and because she'd given up a long time ago on white picket fences and Happily Ever After.