Because domarzione asked for it and I am her fic-bitch. Wonder Woman and John Constantine. And a bucket of ice. I make no claims on characterization or continuity. This was constructed as part of a bigger piece that may someday get written. Or not.
Also, because I am apparently incapable of brevity. 688 words.
Wonder Woman, John Constantine, Bucket of Ice
"Why not?" Diana asked him, hands settled on her hips. "Hephaestus owes me a favor. He can help us find the demon."
"I don't think you get it, Princess," John returned, giving up on his more expert tactics and banging on the AC unit with the end of his screwdriver. "They don't like me in hell. I gave the devil a nasty stomachache one day and he's really not one to kiss and make up later, y'know?"
"I thought your soul was still in hock to the three brothers," Diana commented. "And you forget that I am no longer a princess."
"Eh?" John straightened up too fast and banged his knee on the metal radiator. "Bugger. Wouldn't a' guessed you traveled in those circles," he mumbled.
"There's a lot about me you probably haven't guessed, John Constantine," Diana told him.
"Just 'cause they won't kill me doesn't mean they won't put me in a world of hurt down there," John warned, brandishing his screwdriver.
"I wouldn't have guessed you were a man who fears pain," Diana said calmly.
John dropped his screwdriver hand to his side and directed a baleful glare at the radiator.
"I've had enough to know when to fear it and when to risk it." John grimaced at the thermostat. "We might as well be in hell anyway. It's pissing hot in here."
Diana raised an eyebrow.
"I suppose it is a bit humid," she admitted, glancing around the box-like room. "I'll get us some ice. That should help."
She picked up the plastic ice bucket supplied with the room, slipped a room key into her pocket and left John muttering nonsense at the inoperative air conditioning.
The air outside was just oppressive, though scented more pleasantly. Gardenias, or some similar flower grew nearby, their fragrance hanging in the thick air. Diana felt the strands of hair around her face curl as she crossed the concrete patio to the ancient and creaking ice machine. She slid the metal door open and was pleased to find more than enough ice to fill her pail. The machine groaned and dumped another pile of malformed ice into its reservoir as she pulled the door shut again and turned back the tiny, dank room. She let herself in with the room key and tried not to wrinkle her nose at the stale aroma of unwashed bodies, past-drunk coffee and alcohol.
"Themiscyra is not cooler than this," she announced, setting the bucket of ice on the bedside table, "but the air is bright and clear instead of heavy with moisture."
Constantine responded with a solid kick to the radiator.
"Bloody piece of junk," he proclaimed, jamming a Silk Cut into the corner of his mouth and pulling out a lighter.
"You won't be smoking that in here," Diana said firmly.
"You gonna stop me, Princess?" John asked defiantly, flicking the lighter open and pulling it close to the end of his cig.
"For the last time, Constantine, I am no longer a Princess," Diana told him. "Between those and the whiskey, your short-term memory must be atrophying."
John paused and snapped the lighter closed. He skirted the bed and found himself glancing up, just slightly, to look Diana in the eyes.
"You're bloody well taller than I am," he realized aloud.
"I'm an Amazon," Diana reminded him wryly.
"That you are," John said, a new gleam in his eyes. He glanced her up and down. "Never done it with a bird taller than me. You wanna give it a whirl?"
"I think the heat's gone to your head, Constantine." Diana grabbed John's belt with one hand and the bucket of ice with the other. With a frightening accuracy that implied this wasn't her first attempt at such a move, she dumped the entire load of ice into his shorts.
John Constantine gaped in silent pain and doubled over to start shaking the frozen cubes down his pantlegs.
"I'm going out," Diana announced. "We're out of ice."