Archive of Our Own ^beta

John had bitten off more than he could chew this time, even though it was a common occurrence for the Hellblazer, but he’d really messed up now.
Cursed by a descendant of Circe who'd gotten too big for their britches, had ended up turning John into a tabby cat.
Just fucking typical as he narrowly escaped the dreaded witch and was now stuck in the wild streets of the city he'd tracked them to, only now he was powerless as a....well as a kitten.
No magic, no spells, he didn't even have posable thumbs anymore! How was he expected to survive?! 
This had to be a personal hell chosen specifically to torment him as it began to rain heavily, much to his horror.
This couldn't be any closer to purgatory.
He didn't know how long he spent running around trying to make sense of his new body and get as far away from his enemy, nearly getting hit by a car in the process, and being kicked by some dick on the street when he finally got under some shelter from the rain.
He opted instead for a dumpster beside a pub; at least he could gnaw his small teeth through something edible.
It was humiliating, belittling of his entire existence and power, but what other choice did he have? What do you do when you get turned into a mangy old stray?
...You get adopted by some drunk bleeding heart leaving the pub apparently.

"Oh, poor baby..." A soft voice cooed above him, making him bristle and hiss. He was not a poor baby! He's John Bloody Constantine.
Though that didn't matter to you as you leaned down into the dumpster, holding out your hand to the angry cat, his little pink nose wrinkling at the heavy smell of rum on you was only stronger with his feline senses.
"It's ok, I wouldn't hurt such a pretty kitty like you, c'mere, handsome."
Despite his better judgment, he decided it was better than being cold and wet in the rain, softly creeping forward to you.
Your gaze was kind, full of warmth, your outstretched hand offering a promise to provide sanctuary.
You'd take care of him just fine, and who was he to deny himself a pretty thing like you swooning over him while he figured this hellish scenario out.
The rest was history, letting himself be gently picked up and tucked against you, oh yeah, this would work just fine for him.
Swaddled up in this drunk person's coat and carried back home, he was already expecting all the wonderful treats you'd spoil him with, along with more than enough places to sleep and collect his thoughts...
Instead, he got a bath.
At least it was warm, but he yowled and cried in disdain as he tried to scramble out of the tub, even attempting to scratch you a few times.
You only giggled drunkenly, called him 'spicy', and continued cleaning him of all the grime and rain and checking for any bugs on him.
After that trainwreck of a wash, he was given some canned tuna since you didn't have cat food at the moment, and in your intoxicated mumbled words:
"A treat for being such a good kitty, I know that was hard for you sweetheart."
John thought this would be the only time he wouldn't even have to speak to pull off a con, you'd probably give him everything if he flopped over with a soft meow.
You even let him sleep in your bed the first night, making a little bed of blankets just for him before you fell asleep.
Oh yeah, John would be just fine.

---

You almost got him neutered. Almost, if it wasn't for John fighting for the life of him and his family jewels.
Even scratching the shit out of you when you tried to give him the medicine to calm him down, it was tough seeing you recoil in panic at his outburst, but you later excused it on his stray behavior. If it wasn't for him hiding in any and every corner of your house the day of the appointment, you figured you just couldn't let him go outside.
So turns out being a pet came with consequences, and nearly having his balls cut off was one of them if it wasn't for your mercy at his primal terror. And you never brought it up again, much to his appreciation, even if he had to suck up check-ups.
Having the vets poke and prod at you while commenting on his bad shape was demeaning, as well as the little red collar you bought him.
But it was far better than being at the mercy of that witch.
Even if he were a cat, he definitely didn't have the grace of one, needing you to help him down from high spots or when he nearly falls off your bookshelves whenever he tries to get out of the house. Only for it to be ruined by your protective nature of his stupid actions.
"No, no, no, you, it's not safe up there, c'mon down." You'd protest dragging over a chair to rescue him.
"Mrar." He'd whine as he was rescued against his will once more by you.
Scratched curtains, your furniture was shredded, and singed whiskers from your incense, since it was the closest he could get to smoking at the moment. Ruined pants from where he'd swipe at your ankles if you stepped too close and surprised him.
He was a menace to you, and yet here you were being an utter angel to him. 
You were kind, too kind, but what else do you expect?
You lived alone in a stable flat and an average job, of course a lonely soul like you would jump at the opportunity for company.
John just happened to become the victim of it.
More food than he could hope for, a warm, heated bed, napping at any time of the day, catnip, cuddles, and affection galore given by a pretty face, providing it freely to him. Who needs the idea of heaven when you've got this?
Reminded him back when he was back at the Hippie camp with Marj & Mercury...Only he hoped things would end before he could fuck it up with you. To not let you be swallowed up by the ocean of whatever chaos he'll bring to your doorstep.
You hadn't even named him, always calling him some pet name or simply just 'pretty boy.'
Guess that was your name for him.
He didn't even know your name til he read it when some of your mail came in, looking it over while you were busy making a blueprint for work.
(Y/N) (L/N)...that was a suitable name. It fit you well as he got to know you.
Though he felt like he was invading your privacy with how he was lying to you, albeit without a choice.
Even though your schedule for the average working person, it was still your life he was intruding upon.
Seeing you strip your clothes off, sighing in relief as you did it with such confidence, caught him off guard how comfortable you were as you stepped away to run a bath, always giggling when you caught him staring from the doorway, looking guilty.
"It's just water honey, it's not gonna hurt you, or are you still traumatized from your first bath?" You cooed, resting your elbows on the side of the tub as you started another one-sided conversation.
He only murred in a grumpy tone as he stepped closer, almost in a sense of watching over you.
He'd seen more than enough of your clumsiness to make him anxious; even if he couldn't do anything, he felt the need to somehow give back to you as you'd done for him.
You only scratched under his chin with those gentle hands of yours, making him rumble in delight.
"Hold on, let me get cleaned up, and then we can cuddle, alright?"
Or the times you'd come home from a bad day of work, sliding down to the floor or falling onto your bed in a burst of tears. The first time it happened, it startled him from a good nap at the scene. He didn't know what to do; he was just a bloody cat!
But it seemed just being there, panicking as his paws would try to swipe away your tears and yowl at you as if asking you to please stop.
It seemed to do the trick as it would at least take your attention off your pain to focus on the blonde tabby currently trying to give you a pep talk in screaming at your face. 
Soon enough, your tears stopped once you'd gently snuggled up with him and apologized for scaring him, soon calming down enough to tell him your woes.
And soon it morphed into a little tradition each day.
Being blissfully unaware that you were housing an all-powerful magician cursed into the form of a cat wasn't ever going to cross your mind when you'd come home from whatever work you did before scooping him up in your arms with a smile to rant about your day.
Unaware that he would actually be listening to what your life was like while sitting on the couch.
As normal as one's life could be for a person like you, sprinkles of excitement and the growing connections you made, along with wishful thinking about possibilities of something more for yourself. Something more to romanticize about your so-called 'lonely' life.
"I don't have many friends, and people are exhausting, guess I shouldn't be surprised I am the way I am, huh?" You mumbled to him with a gentle scratch behind his ear, as everything you’d done that day didn't satisfy your boredom.
He only answered by softly digging his claws into the fabric of your shirt as he listened intently, knowing the dangers boredom could lead to curiosity.
"But I guess it's better than being surrounded by people and feeling out of place, right? I'm not sad, I just...feel different. But I don't feel so alone anymore, which means I won't go seeking new thrills. At least for now."
He wished to tell you not to, that your life was as safe and as perfect as it could be. But he could only meow and softly tap his paw against your hand, which would always earn him a smile.
But you muttering that you weren't alone anymore didn't put him at ease.
John tried not to think about it as he just lay curled up in his spot on your bed while you brushed your teeth and washed your face.
He had to find some way to turn back, and right now, the witch who did it was the only option; the only problem was just you and your protective nature.
Why did you have to be such a responsible cat owner, god damn it?!
"Whatcha thinking bout, pretty boy?" You coo, breaking John from his thoughts as you pet him.
That same rumbling purr was the only answer he could give.
"Good things, I hope? You don't gotta go out on the streets anymore, at least, still remember poor little you in that dumpster,"
Slipping into bed and turning off the lights as you snuggled under the covers.
Moving a bit closer to allow him to sleep right by your shoulder as he yawned before taking his rightful spot up against you.
"Mm, there you go, all comfy?"
Warm and safe, surrounded by love he knew he didn't deserve.
"Alright, goodnight pretty boy, sweet dreams." You sighed softly before closing your eyes as the little lamp on your bedside table went out.
Leaving John to ponder once more as he took in your peaceful features in the darkness of your bedroom. 
The few wrinkles from stress, the slight discoloration under your eyes from staying up or crying. Your life was stressful enough; he didn't need to contribute to that.
Though he couldn't deny it...he would be sad when this was over, but he acknowledged he wasn't that special of a cat either. 
Surely you'd get over his absence since you'd only had him for three weeks.
He was lazy, loud, and always nipping at you whenever you foiled his plans of escape or took away his catnip when he got too greedy. He was a bastard no matter what form he took.
You deserved a sweeter cat, maybe a spry young kitten that would actually play with the toys you bought him, not some old grumpy cat you'd drunkenly fished out of a dumpster one night.
You'd get over it, he was just a cat to you after all...at least so he thought as he let his eyes close, deciding to try and escape when you left for work tomorrow. It'd buy him more than enough time.
---
He tried to act as normal as possible as you got ready for the day, your smile felt heavy on him, knowing what he was about to do, but it was needed to break the curse. He let out a gentle meow when you kissed him goodbye for the day.
Unaware that it really was goodbye as you waved to him before closing and locking your door behind you.
He sprinted and jumped to the window you normally left open when you slept, though as luck would have it, there was a big enough gap for him to slowly open it further.
He was halfway through, finally wiggling his way through your shredded window screen, when the witch's laughter at his predicament rang through the house before reaching out. 
"My my, you really lucked out in terms of your new form, Hellblazer." The witch laughs, holding him by the scruff of the neck, making him freeze up.
This was bad.
Not for him, of course. The witch seemed to be playing with him instead of trying to actively kill him like before.
But this was your place, your home, they were intruding on.
You weren't a part of this, just some bleeding heart with too much love to give to things that didn't deserve it.
"Don't worry, I'll keep your owner out of the loop. This has actually been quite fun, seeing you so tormented...and I think you've learnt your lesson more than enough, Constantine." They smile devilishly, setting him down to reverse the spell.
They knew exactly what they were doing; John just couldn't argue.
In a flash of light, he was himself again, fully naked as the cat collar snapped at the sudden physical change, he'd gained some weight thanks to your spoiling, but normal nonetheless as the witch tossed him his coat and clothes.
"Quite the mortal you've got, I'm surprised there aren't already photos of you on the walls?"
John's anger bubbled as he tugged on his pants.
"Come off it, they don't know a bloody thing about this, and I intend to keep it that way, so sod off, ya crazy cat lady." He grumbles, buttoning up his shirt, ignoring the untouched cat toys he never bothered having an interest in squeaking beneath his shoes.
He shook his head as he threw his coat and black tie back on, feeling relieved to be back in his own skin.
The witch smirked, seeing right through him.
But they decided to let him torment himself since he was so good at it, and left him. 
They'd got what they wanted and more.
Allowing the plan he'd been trying to achieve for weeks now to finally happen.
He looked back at the apartment, 
your warm bed, and his own blanket where he'd sleep next to you, 
the couch where you'd sit with him in your lap while you did work, 
And the coat you'd carried him in hung up on the rack.
At least the scratched-up window screen would be enough evidence to assume he'd simply escaped, run back out into the streets to continue his wild, insane life.
Just not as a cat, but you didn't need to know that.
He pocketed the little red collar you'd dressed him in and left, like he always did, muttering a small protection spell as he locked your door behind him so nothing looked out of place except for the window and his absence.
He really hoped you'd be alright without him. But deep down, he knew the truth. 
His torment had only begun.
---
About a month in, he caved.
He'd tried to stay away, believe him, he really fucking tried. Got himself out of that city and back into his usual swing of unending problems and supernatural causes.
But the cold chills of longing were more than eager to sink their teeth into him, where your gentle touch once was.
Missed being woken up with gentle kisses and your soft face telling him good morning, instead waking up hungover halfway to hell with an empty stomach only served to make the weight of misery harder on him as his mind refused to let go of the memory of you.
He didn't even know he could be the reason someone smiled every day, and how he missed being held in your arms that normally followed your brilliant smile.
You'd spoiled him utterly rotten, and now you were haunting him; he was just lucky you weren't a ghost like the others.
This had to count as torture right? Yearning had to count as some sort of sick torture method concocted by feelings, right??
But all he wanted now was to lie in your lap while you pet his hair and call him your pretty boy while you told him anything and everything. He missed your voice.
Hell, he wanted that and a cigarette at least, relaxing off the tobacco and serenaded by your voice. Maybe then he'd have enlightenment or whatever the fuck it is these days.
But he'd come to terms with you deserved to know the truth. It was the least he could give you.
What hurt most were the missing posters when he finally came back around to the city; he'd done his best to ignore them.That mirror of himself when he was in that cursed form, printed with your telephone number underneath and the glaring words of 'MISSING PET', made him frown.
But he knew where to find you, crossing the streets carefully, having learnt his lesson last time as he passed by that familiar dumpster.
Walking into the familiar pub, his eyes scanned the room til they fell on you.
Soft, sad, gorgeous you.
He winced seeing that saddened look in your body language as you took a sip of your third rum and coke, looking like a real Greek tragedy come to life.
He could already imagine that damned witch getting a kick out of you both suffering. Making both your lives their damn soap opera.
He steadied himself. He'd seen you sad before, but this time it was for him, other than a simple bad day that he couldn't just save you from with a snuggle.
He silently hoped that'd come later.
"Scuse me luv," He starts sitting beside you at the bar. "Couldn't help but notice your mopin, what's got such a pretty thing like you down in the dumps?"
At first, you don't bother answering before you notice the pamphlet in his grasp, your frown deepening.
"...I think you already know, please don't tell me you're holding my cat for ransom or something. I don't think I can deal with that tonight." You answered with a tone of such sadness that it wasn't surprising you'd try to hide your vulnerability.
He smirks as he sets down the pamphlet, his blue eyes staring back at the cat version of him in the photo.
"Nah, I wouldn't do that, let alone to you." He mumbled out the last part as he slid the pamphlet over to you. Your eyes locked onto the picture of your sweet cat, you didn't even know was sitting right beside you. 
He was just different.
“I think I already know he won’t come back, it’s been a month and it’s already too cold for most of the animals on the streets…maybe he jus-“ 
You sniffle, the telltale signs of tears already making John internally panic. He was here to reveal the truth, but you were crying about the possibilities of what happened to your precious cat.
"I don't think so, nature's got a magnificent way of giving its creations ways to live. And considering how much you've fed your boy, I doubt he's died of the chills." He tried to assure, granted that was never his strong suit.
He hadn't scolded himself enough for leaving in such a hurry, it seemed as the first tear rolled down your cheek.
"Even so, it's been a month, why hasn't he come home? I've looked everywhere for him." You waver, the tears not stalling their mission to add to your own misery.
Right, John always forgets how miserable he can make people, already knowing he wasn't gonna get anything out of you drunkenly sobbing into your glass.
"I'm...I'm sorry...I probably sound miserable. Sorry about bothering you, sir." You try to apologize, leaning away from him, always too bloody mannered for his liking, as he gently pats your back.
"Nah, nah, none of that, you're alright kid. You've certainly earned your tears by the sound of it." 
The best he could do was take care of you til you sobered up, then he could reveal everything.
But by god, your crying didn't help. He'd clearly underestimated the impact he'd made on you; then again, you lived quite the lonely life, like he did.
Just more normal.
It took some convincing, and your blatant excuses that you knew the way back home even if you're eyes were closed, he began helping you head home. And that's when the rambling started.
Wistfully ranting about how much that cat meant to you, how happy you'd be to see him every day, John had softly assured you to quiet down when you got to talking about how lonely you felt without him there.
He didn't think he could handle that as he helped you up the stairs of your flat, he wasn't ready to see it, but he needed to get your drink ass to bed to sleep off the tears and rum.
It wasn't all that different from when he left, he couldn't discern if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
And still no new cat meant to replace him as he sat you down on your bed to undo your shoes, your eyes stuck on his face as you finally got a good look at him.
"Why do you look like my cat?" You whispered that was meant to be kept to yourself.
He blinked in surprise at how quickly you caught on, even while intoxicated. But he guessed he should have expected this from you; you may be normal, but you were quicker than a fox when it came to reading people.
"We can have that conversation in the sober mornin' yeah? You're off your rocker right now, not the best state to be hearing this sorta news." He assures you as he helps you out of your jacket and gently wraps a blanket around you. Lying you down to sleep, to which you complied, closing your eyes in the soft darkness.
“Give…give hm back,” you muttered, holding growing limp as the alcohol lured you into the clutches of sleep.
“Give hm back to me.”
He didn't want to leave; he owed you that much. As he retreated to sleep on the couch before he got the urge to throw his jacket over you.
He could handle this all in the morning.
---
It felt odd to be seen like such a stranger in a place he knew so well, the odd look you gave him when you finally emerged from your bedroom with bloodshot eyes and messy hair.
You looked at him like some vulnerable animal, a fitting parallel to when you two first met.
"I'm not here for any trouble luv, just here for... unfinished business to but it lightly."
You wearily looked from him to the cup of tea. He did his best not to burst out the reason he was here.
"Where's my cat?"
That was a good start, at least as he handed you your cup of tea, he'd seen you make it more than enough times to get it right.
"Let me explain first, your cat's..." He trailed off, seeing your anticipation. It looked like you were switching between wanting to lash out or cry, depending on his answer, as you set the mug down.
"You're precious cat's just fine, he's jus-AH!"
He didn't have time to explain before you tackled him against the wall. Your arm pressed up against his neck, your eyes full of a rage he didn't know you possessed.
Apparently, he didn't know as much about you as he thought. At least not about your anger.
"Where is he? Where is my cat?!" You yelled with the might of a fury as you towered over him. His eyes widened with the rush of everything, feeling you pressed up against him, feeling his blood rush to his face and...other places.
"Fucking hell kid! He's alive and well, just let me explain!"
That didn't seem to lessen your rage. While he would have found your burning anger to find and save him quite an attractive display, he just preferred not to be the victim of said anger.
Your hand raising, soft fingers curling into a fist as you reel it back, ready to pummel him.
"Then where is he, you bastard?! What did you do to my cat?" 
The threat of your touch didn't seem to register as the threat it was; all he could see was this agonizing fear behind your anger.
You need to understand why your precious cat was ripped away from you so cruelly.
Why you have been left alone.
John couldn’t take it anymore.
"It was me! It's me !" He exclaims, swiftly reaching for the collar in his pocket, holding it out in front of him like a protective charm.
"I was the cat...please, ya gotta believe me."
Your eyes caught on the only evidence he had left of what he used to be before the curse was lifted. He could only hope you'd believe him before knocking his teeth in.
Your fingers brushed his when gently grasping the little red collar, your watery eyes transfixed on where it had suddenly broken, as if it couldn't have fit around who once wore it.
It couldn't be, it didn't make sense in any way in your head.
Your eyes looked from the collar to him, taking in his anxiety, that fear that you saw the first night you met him.
Those big, dark blue eyes,
The dirty muck of his appearance,
Shaggy blonde hair that seemed to stick in every direction, like that same scared cat.
You blinked in shock and mild terror.
It couldn't be, could it?
"Pretty boy?" 
You muttered as if it was too good to be true, holding on to him, growing slack, your hand softly pulling away if it wasn't snagged by his own.
"Y-yeah, yeah (Y/N) it's me." 
John sighed in relief, slumping down against your wall, face flushed from the tension between you as his heart rate went down. Hand still holding yours as you lowered yourself down to him.
He almost fucking jumped out of his skin when you cupped his face, taking in all of him. It had been far too long since you'd held him; he nearly felt like crying.
"But...how? You were just a cat when I met you."
"Bout that I...got myself cursed, then unintentionally saved by your drunk arse." He explained with a slight chuckle how you'd inadvertently saved him from a less-than-pleasant fate.
He spilled everything you needed to understand, who he was, the curse with the Circe descendant, and how he'd essentially lived as your cat for three weeks.
Soon, leaving you both on the couch, still taking in that information, at least not until a horrifying realization came upon you.
"Oh my god, I almost got you neutered."
John burst out cackling like a madman. Out of everything he told you, your takeaway was that of all things.
"I'm still thankful you had mercy upon me luv, don't think I'd be back if you did." He sighed, honestly relieved you believed him at least. 
But from all that tension and stress came the exhaustion and the relief. Leaning back against your couch, he let out a much-needed sigh. That was until he felt your fingers in his hair.
“What do we do now?” You asked softly, looking to him.
He felt flustered under your gaze, seeing your smile when he was human, filled something he’d been missing.
“I was gonna ask ya out and ask about it over a pint, but you spoiled my plans.”
“We can still go for a drink though, maybe some ice cream after?”
He chuckled as he still couldn’t get it through his pessimistic head that you wanted to be with him.
“Yeah, yeah, that sounds perfect…”
"You're not that different from when you were a cat, huh?" You smirked, tugging him close in that soft, longing feeling to return to what once was.
He bit back the shiver running through him, the missing puzzle piece sliding back into its place as he leaned into you. Just like he used to.
"Yeah...not like I was hiding anything from you."
Even if he was different, you knew if he came back, that meant he was still yours, and he had no desire to struggle against it as he let his arms find your body. 
"I missed you... pretty boy." You giggled, hugging him close.
Satiating the need you both deeply craved to be in the other's affection.
"I missed ya too (Y/N)." He said softly, closing his eyes.
Leaving the outside world where it was for now to just be safe and sound, as you began to talk about anything and everything. Making the plans for your date together.
And while he didn't have a cigarette, this was still his personal heaven.