Grazed Knees, Part Four
Title: Grazed Knees
Author: roxierocks
Pairing: John/Chas
Rating: R/NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own Constantine, or the plots blatantly stolen from the O.C.
Summary: Four years after he walked out in the middle of the night, Chas moves back to LA with his new boyfriend in tow. But is he really as together as he now appears to be, and will he be able to resist John when he sees him again?
Previous Parts: http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=roxierocks&keyword=Grazed+Knees&filter=all
Warning: this part does contain rape. Yes, I'm jumping on the non-con bandwagon...
“Just say you love me now, and forget this whole row. Just save your energy for making up with me.” -Grazed Knees, Snow Patrol.
Chas stared at John’s retreating back, suddenly feeling unsure.
John hadn’t meant that, had he?
Someone jostled him from behind, and he felt a wave of nausea wash through him.
He closed his eyes, strangely sober all of a sudden, and waited for it to pass.
“Chas? You okay?”
He opened his eyes, blinking up at Meg’s vibrant hair.
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s my brother’s house remember?” she replied with a laugh. “Just how far gone are you?”
“I-” He shook his head. “I think John just broke up with me.”
The smile disappeared from her face.
“Oh shit. What happened?”
“I’m not sure. I think I need a drink.”
Meg slung an arm around his shoulders.
“Then you’re in luck. ‘Cause I just happen to have a secret stash. Come on, I think I hear the Midori calling our names.”
Chas let her pull him along and pour him a generous drink, and she let him knock it back in one and hazily recount what had happened with John.
She laughed.
“You little shit. You let a random surfer accost you in a bedroom and try to feed you drugs?” She shook her head. “Chas, you really are priceless.”
”I love John,” Chas moaned, leaning against her. “He has to forgive me. He can’t leave me. I need him. I love him.”
He reached for the Midori bottle, only to find it empty.
“Looks like we’re out,” Meg said mournfully. “Come on, let’s find something else.”
She attempted to stand, but fell back to the floor giggling.
“Crap” she gasped. “Chas help me up.”
Chas tried to get them both up, but fared no better and they both collapsed in laughter.
“John’ll never forgive me,” he said.
“Course he will. He loves you.”
“You think?”
She kissed his cheek.
“I know. Now we reeeally have to find that drink.”
They eventually managed to stand and tripped their way back to the fast dwindling bar.
Meg squinted at a dark brown bottle.
“Hey Chas? What do you think of kahlua?”
“I think he prefers vodka.”
The voice sent a jolt of familiarity through Chas, and for a second he thought John had come back after all.
“Trent!” he gasped in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
Trent shrugged and smiled.
“Same as everyone else. Getting wasted.”
And despite the way it had ended between them, Chas felt suddenly so glad to see Trent again, Trent who had always just loved him, who had never expected anything of him. Trent who had made everything so easy.
He found himself hugging Trent without even thinking about it, just breathing in the familiar scent.
“It’s so good to see you.”
Trent laughed.
“You must be way gone. Maybe I should take you home.”
Chas found himself nodding against Trent’s shoulder. Take him home to John.
“Yes please.”
“Chas.”
He blinked blearily at Meg.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“It’s okay Meg. Trent would never hurt me.”
Even as he said it, he knew it was wrong, that Trent had hurt him, hadn’t he, but at the same time everything was so familiar, and he didn’t protest when Trent pulled him outside into a waiting taxi, not even when he realised they were going in the direction, that they weren’t going to John’s at all, but to Trent’s.
“Just one last drink,” Trent promised, and Chas believed him, because he’d always believed Trent, even when one drink turned into five and suddenly they were sitting far too close on the leather couch.
Chas tried to stand up, stumbling against the coffee table.
“I have to go,” he said. “I have to get back to John.”
If he’d been more alert, he might have noticed the way Trent’s mouth tightened at John’s name, but as it was he was having trouble focusing, and was only aware of Trent laughing and steadying him.
“Oh Chas,” Trent murmured. “Do you know how much I’ve missed you?”
And then Trent was kissing him, and it was the second time that night that someone had kissed Chas who definitely wasn’t supposed to be kissing him.
He pulled back, but Trent’s arms on him didn’t loosen.
“What are you doing?”
“Relax,” Trent whispered. “It’s okay.”
“Not it’s not.” Chas struggled in Trent’s grasp. “Let me go.”
“Don’t make me hurt you Chas,” Trent hissed, and Chas began to panic, fighting desperately against Trent’s iron grip.
Trent had been very into sports at college. He had been on the swim team and football team, and could beat anyone at basketball. His muscles were hard and relentless against Chas’s pathetic fists as he pushed him to the floor, one hand tearing at Chas’s jeans.
“Stop it. Let me go. Trent, stop!”
Trent kissed him harshly, biting at his lips, as he kicked off his own jeans.
Chas turned his face to the side, struggling desperately.
“Please, please don’t do this.”
“Shut up,” Trent growled, clamping a large hand over Chas’s mouth, pushing his legs apart with his knees.
Chas closed his eyes, tears creating two thin streams that disappeared into his hair, as he felt Trent’s hands on him, in him.
He opened his eyes, and the look on Trent’s face was manic, no trace of the man who had once loved him.
And that was when he realised that Trent really wasn’t going to stop.
He thrashed, wildly, desperately, trying to bite at Trent’s hand, to dislodge his heavy weight, kicking his heels against Trent’s back, but Trent only pressed against him harder, and then he was pushing inside Chas, and the pain was so unbearable Chas lost all fight, going limp against the floor boards.
His right arm was flung out to the side, his fingers tightly gripping the leg of a chair, as Trent moved hard and fast, his hand still clamped over Chas’s mouth, and Chas dragged the chair across the floor towards him, using all the strength he could muster to slam it into Trent’s body.
Trent grunted, surprised, and Chas reached for the chair with both hands, grasping weakly at it and bringing the seat down on Trent’s head.
For a moment Trent didn’t move, then he sort of toppled to the side, his head cracking against the sofa leg.
Chas held his breath, not daring to move.
Trent didn’t stir, and Chas clambered to his feet, yanking his jeans onto shaking legs, stumbling towards the door and out into elevator, praying that Trent wouldn’t wake up.
He didn’t have any money for a taxi, and had to walk back to John’s sick and in pain, repressing the desperate urge to puke every three steps.
When he finally stumbled into the apartment, John was waiting for him, his face set in that expression of determined calm that Chas knew meant they were in for a fight.
“I called Meg when you didn’t come home,” John said. His face twisted. “I was worried about you. She told me what happened”
Chas didn’t even bother to fathom how Meg knew what Trent had done, he was just so relieved he didn’t have to tell John himself.
“John,” he gasped, lurching forward. “I-”
“How could you, Chas?” John asked, and his tone made Chas stop dead. “I thought we meant more to you than that.”
“I…what?”
“Trent, Chas,” John snapped, standing up, and Chas flinched unwillingly. “You fucking Trent.”
Chas gaped at him.
“Meg saw you leaving together. In the wrong direction. How could you do this?”
Chas finally found his voice.
“You think I hooked up with Trent?”
John shot him a disgusted look.
“I know you hooked up with Trent.”
Chas was shaking, though whether it was with anger or disbelief he wasn’t sure.
“Fuck you,” he whispered. “Fuck you.”
He went to the bed, picked up his pillow and the blanket, then went into the bathroom and locked the door.
He lay in the bathtub, wrapped in the blanket, trying to ignore the sharp pain in his ass, and he didn’t even have the strength to cry.
*