Drabble || Outside Experience
It was some goddamned AM, the morning kind, not the sexy kind where you roll over into a sweaty heap with your lover, look at the clock, and laugh about how you'd "lost track of time." John was squinting out the dashboard window, bright morning sun in his eyes, and it would just figure Gotham would choose to have a bloody nice day.
He was trying to tell himself that he wasn't nervous. John Constantine, master of the dark arts and personal enemy of the Devil himself, was not afraid of getting behind the wheel of a car. To a certain extent that was true. It had never been fear that had kept him from learning but the simple fact of it being more inconvenient for him than otherwise, between the costly upkeep and his own nomadic tendencies.
His eyes cut over to the man currently in the driver's seat. John sipped coffee from a travel mug. Bruce had made it for him before they'd left his home, and his mind wandered back to the quietly affectionate morning. It was still faintly amusing to John that Chas had been trying to get him to at least try for decades, yet Bruce had managed to convince him with little more than a wide, mischievous grin and well placed teasing challenge. It was funny what a bloke would do for love -- Or maybe just a pretty face, and Bruce Wayne was gorgeous, so really, John had few paths of resistance.
They were going outside the city to let loose John on the country roads. After a time, maybe an half an hour, John wagered, Bruce pulled over and grinned at him. Another reason John had been so keen to acquiesce: It seemed to make him exceedingly happy. He had a weakness for things that brightened his lover's frequently troubled moods.
John shrugged, fiddled with his coffee cup, and exhaled a quiet "close enough in any case."
He wasn't used to being out of his element, but for the moment he most certainly was. It made him anxious and he habitually lit a cigarette as he got out the passenger's side. If Bruce noticed his slight agitation, he didn't acknowledge it. -- Or maybe he did in own way as he met him crossing round the front of his car, stopped him by the shoulders, gave them a firm, fond squeeze, and assured him he’d do just fine.
In the driver's seat, John frowned at the console. It had been a long time since he'd even attempted to drive any car and a lot had changed. He'd certainly never been behind the wheel of such an expensive vehicle. Beside him Bruce asked if he had any questions. Eyes focusing on the speedometer, John groused.
"Yeah, why y'yanks gotta keep usin' an arse backwards system like Imperial?"
Bruce just laughed and patted his knee affectionately. He wryly chided John for the vaguely Nationalist commentary. "It doesn't suit you."
John couldn't quite keep from smiling. "Got me that pegged, eh? So y'gonna teach me this bloody manual shifter or y'wanna sort that business while I try t'remember what side the road 'm s'posed t'be drivin'?"