Chapter Text
He's woken up again in the same way that he was the day before yesterday—by Phantom bearing breakfast.
It's not the same as it was last time, though. Phantom had picked out a plate of eggs benedict for him this time.
Fun.
He tucks in, and Phantom does the same.
"So," he says a while later. "What's on the docket for today?"
Phantom grimaces. "About that… I have no idea. I was thinking about it for a while and I couldn't settle on anything. I don't want to go to tourist traps or anything like that, and going to, like, Atlantis wouldn't be good for you, since you can't breathe underwater—and we're both dudes, even if I'm dead, so I doubt Wonder Woman would let us on Themyscira."
Well, shit. When he'd offered those two as suggestions, he really didn't think 'em through, did he?
"Any interest in something like Titans Tower?" John asks. "There's also other cities like Fawcett, or any of the other major cities like New York or Los Angeles. Or, hell, any other city in the world. London, Paris, Berlin, and so on."
Phantom hums. "Maybe. Let me think about it."
As Phantom drifts off to think, John settles himself on his bed and pulls a book out of his coat to read in the meantime.
He'd picked it up a while ago, but he hadn't gotten an opportunity to really read it yet. It was fascinating, really, though he didn't know enough Hindi to be able to properly use the sigils described in the book.
"Hey."
John fumbles his book, the open face crashing down directly on his nose.
"Jesus fuck!"
"...sorry."
Drawing the book away from his face, John can see Phantom's sheepish expression. He hangs in the air right next to John's head, cradling a globe of all things.
John breaks their silent, unintentional stare-off. "Whatcha got there?"
"Oh! Well, since I couldn't figure out where I wanted to go next, I figured we could figure it out in an easier way, albeit a cheesier one." Phantom sets the globe down on the nightstand. "Care to do the honors?"
He sighs as he sits up. "Spinning or poking?"
"I knew you'd catch on quick," Phantom grins.
Phantom holds the top of the globe and spins the thing, so John shuffles forward to stick his finger out and stop it.
"So, I know there's no way you could've done that on purpose, but that's really funny," Phantom snickers.
John just blinks down at his finger, sat firmly on the UK.
"Looks like London it is!" Phantom smiles.
"Looks like it," John echoes.
London. He'd not been back to his homeland in… a while. Months, if not a year. Most of his business with the Justice League kept him in America for long stretches, even if he traveled around the world pretty frequently, not to mention the House's various capers.
John dresses quickly, tucking his book back away in his coat.
He's getting too used to teleporting everywhere Phantom's way, he thinks. It's going to be bloody hard to go back to his own rough and draining teleportation spells.
He ambles out of yet another back alley, taking a deep breath.
Ah, piss, exhaust, and the faint smell of cigarette smoke. Classic London.
"So, where to?" John asks Phantom. "Fancy the tourist spots? Big Ben, the Tower, Buckingham Palace? Er…" Where else had he laughed at bumbling American idiots back when he'd haunted London with Chas? "Trafalgar Square, Piccadilly Circus, Soho?"
Phantom wrinkles his nose. "I've got a bad history with circuses," he says rather ominously.
"It ain't an actual circus," John snorts.
"Then why's it called one?"
"Circus, as in circle. It's Latin."
Phantom pouts, and John has to hold back another snort. "Yeah, okay," he relents. "I still think it's stupid. Wait, is it literally a circle?" Phantom flips topics in an instant. "The streets? Like one big roundabout with everything in the center?"
"Nah, it's more like a lumpy, fucked up triangle."
"Then why call it a circle?"
He sounds so indignant that John cracks, snorting first, and then devolving into a bout of chuckles. He shoves his fist at his mouth as Phantom turns his pout on him directly.
"I still don't get why they call it a circle," Phantom complains a few minutes later, and John almost loses it again, right there in the middle of the sidewalk surrounded by people.
"Christ," John gasps, trying to get his laughter under control. "You're not letting that one go, are you?"
"No."
They end up going to Piccadilly Circus first.
Phantom stands in the center with his hands on his hips, right on the steps in front of the fountain, looking around with a disapproving frown. John has the urge to devolve into mad giggles again.
"There's a circle in the middle," he says to John, almost accusing.
John wheezes, bending slightly at the waist.
It takes a while for both of them to collect themselves, but eventually they do manage to get it together and start to walk around.
John very fondly remembers Soho, mostly for the abundance of nightclubs and pubs that dot the streets. Other than that, there's restaurants and shopping and… naught else, really. Phantom seems to be enjoying the walk and the sights at least. He can't imagine that Phantom much wants to pop into the Puma store or any of the other upscale boutiques that dot the area.
Their walk takes them through the streets. John starts up a running commentary as they go, for lack of any better entertainment for Phantom.
"-and that one, there, see? I'm banned from that one as well."
"Why?" Phantom asks. There's a touch of indulgence in his voice but a smile on his face.
"Guess."
"Destruction of property, again? Like the last one?"
"Nope."
"Hm…" Phantom brings a hand to his chin as he hums. He sways around a pedestrian passing them, walking in the other direction. "Did you drink all the alcohol in the bar?"
John barks out a laugh. "I'd be dead if I drank the whole lot. They've got an impressive stock."
"What, then? Did you flirt with the owner's wife? Seduce her away from her man with your roguish charm?" Phantom's got a roguish grin of his own on his face that makes John's heart skip a beat as he catches sight of it.
He clears his throat, looking away. "Nah. It was the husband. His wife threatened to cut my balls off if I ever came back 'round."
"Ooh, how scandalous," Phantom titters, perfectly imitating every old biddy that John's ever heard. "I assume you're still safely intact?"
"That I am. I know better than to come 'round after a threat like that from a woman like that."
It's a while later, walking mostly in the direction of the river, through Trafalgar Square, when Phantom stops stock still in the middle of the street.
John doesn't realize that he's stopped for a few seconds, but he does eventually notice that Phantom's not following behind him.
When he turns to see what happened, he can see Phantom staring at two young men across the way.
"One moment," Phantom says.
He weaves his way through the crowd towards the two boys. John squints. Ah. They're spirits, the both of them. They've got that sort of shimmer to them the same as Boston.
John watches as Phantom finally reaches the boys, who both startle. They seem to talk for a few minutes—John's not entirely sure because some random pedestrian slams into his side, their nose firmly in their damn phone.
He lays on the Scouse real thick after they start cursing him out and he replies in kind.
Eventually the wanker buggers off and leaves John alone. He looks up just in time to see Phantom giving each of the boys a handshake, his smile shining from even across the street. Phantom then reaches into his pocket and pulls out something small enough that John can't make it out from this far away, handing it to the boy in the formal clothing.
"Shades?" It slips out of his mouth as Phantom comes to his side again.
Phantom blinks at him. "You can see them?"
"Most people who use magic can, yeah," John says, falling back into step with Phantom. "Witches, mages, warlocks and the like."
"I keep forgetting, somehow, what all magic can do," Phantom murmurs. "I'm most used to people only being able to see true ghosts. Magic is just so… rare, across all the worlds out there, even among other methods of being able to interact and see ghosts and shades." He shakes his head.
John has to squint against the sun as they step out from the shade of a building and into the Embankment Gardens.
Truth be told, John would love to follow that line of thinking and ask just how magic was rare—and what exactly he meant by rare, since he'd call it such in this world as well—but he didn't want to make Phantom a bloody professor in the middle of his quote unquote 'vacation.' No more than he already had, at least.
"Anyway, are those two anybody I gotta keep an eye on?" John asks. "Or keep an eye out for?"
Phantom hums. "I don't think so. But they might be able to help you at some point."
John raises an eyebrow, but lets it lie.
They explore the gardens for a little bit until Phantom complains about the noontime sun, prompting them to figure out an indoor attraction or activity.
Phantom pulls them both through into an alley near Tate Modern and the Globe.
By the time they get out of the various galleries, the sun's lowered in the sky.
"Hey, did you know that Shakespeare became a ghost?"
"You're pullin' my leg, mate."
"No, seriously," Phantom says as they weave through the milling crowd. It's thick around here, thanks to all the attractions. "He's got a whole troupe again. He makes new plays, too. The effects are pretty cool, thanks to the whole ghost powers thing."
Any pedestrian that overhears them probably thinks that they're bloody bonkers, clinically.
"You ever been to see a show?"
"Yeah! It's really cool—and I can understand the actual live plays a lot better than when I tried to read any of his work back in high school." Phantom grins. "My favorite right now is one of his new ones set in the American south. It's really interesting hearing all the actors putting on Southern accents, but it kinda works."
"Huh."
They walk along the Thames—or as much as they can, when the roads allow, meandering in no particular direction. John knows the Tower is in this direction, though. He's feeling like a proper tour guide now.
The one thing he forgot, however…
"Ah, man," Phantom sighs. "It's closed."
The two of them look up at the Tower of London. The moon hangs in the sky, the sun having gone down during their walk over. It's not too late yet; the night is still young. But it is, unfortunately, too late to go into the place as regular tourists.
"Might be for the best," Phantom remarks. "This place is haunted as fuck."
John barks out a laugh, then pauses. "Really?"
He'd been to the Tower before, but when he was younger. Maybe he'd missed things—or, more likely, the spirits were hiding from him.
"Yup," Phantom says, popping the 'p.' "And I don't think they'd take too kindly to me walking into their territory. The shades, I mean. And…" he trails off, squinting up at the building. His eyes glow very slightly. If John didn't know that his eyes could actually glow, he could write it off as a trick of the light. "The neverborns. It's… kinda concerning, actually, how many neverborns are in there." He shakes his head. "Well, whatever. Dinner?" he asks, flipping to bright and smiling in an instant, his former seriousness melting away like frost in the sun.
John blinks. "Sure."
They end up in a chippy. Phantom had asked, and John had answered. The stuff in Metropolis had been decent, but not as good as anything he could get in England.
London, though, was absolute pants for chippies, so Phantom had stepped them down to Brighton.
"The closer you are to the sea, the better it'll be, usually," John tells him as they walk through the streets to the chippy. Phantom had stepped them through space into the Gardens this time instead of some random back alley.
It was a sound decision, seeing as the shop they're going to is right smack dab in the heart of Brighton. Stepping out of a rip in space in front of a random civilian would be… not ideal.
He hasn't been to this place in a while. One of his exes… a boyfriend, he thinks, absolutely loved this place and would drag him over every time he came down to Brighton.
"Well, that's a good sign," Phantom murmurs. The place is packed, though John can see a few open tables. "I'll go grab us a table if you want to order."
"Sure," John agrees easily. "Cod, haddock, or hake?"
"Whichever you recommend."
He gets them a haddock supper for two. A band plays in the corner, and he can smell the sea in the air, wafting in through the open windows.
Christ, this is nostalgic.
He watches Phantom's eyes light up—figuratively—as he takes his first bite of his fish.
Honestly, this feels like one of the dates that I had with that bloke… What was his name?
Eh.
It's a dangerous thought, that.
John dunks his fish in his curry sauce and watches as Phantom tries a bite of his peas. He chews away, thinking.
It's one thing to think that the man is bloody hot and to want to fuck him; it's a whole other thing to be doing something so… domestic. Maybe that's not the word, but it's the only thing he can think of. Domestic, sitting here at a table in the corner, eating a supper plate for two, listening to live music… yeah, domestic isn't the word, really, but…
"Is something wrong with your food?"
John jolts slightly. "Eh?"
Phantom's got a bemused smile on his face. "You've just been staring at your plate."
"Ah—uh, nah. Just a bit tired, I guess." It's even almost not a lie. It's only something like three in the afternoon back in the States, so he should be fine for hours more, but he's starting to feel it.
Phantom nods. "Alright. At least the hotel has blackout curtains."
"I can go for a while more," John protests around the chip in his mouth. He swallows it down, prepared to continue arguing his case, but Phantom smoothly cuts in again.
"I've been running you ragged the last couple days," Phantom says, leaning forward and gesturing with a chip. "It's only fair to head back a little early." He leans back and pops the chip into his mouth. "Besides, I think tomorrow's going to be a long day."
John closes his mouth. "Fine," he says, eventually.
They finish their fish and chips eventually, lingering only for a few minutes to listen to the rest of the band's song.
Phantom snags their trays before John can, offering up a bright grin in the face of John's peeved expression.
They step out into the now-chilly air. John only has to suffer it for a few moments as they find a secluded alleyway and Phantom holds out his cool hand for John to take.
Their hotel room is surprisingly dark. Suspiciously so. He's rather certain that the curtains were open when they left.
Well, John's not too keen to look a gift horse in the mouth, as it were.
"Good morning," Phantom grins. It's dark outside still. According to the clock, John'd gotten a whole eight hours of sleep and had woken up near exactly at midnight.
He offers John a hand. "Know any good breakfast spots in Paris?"
John tugs on his tie. "I know a few."
He takes Phantom's hand.
They whirl throughout continental Europe and Asia. They step from their hotel in Metropolis into the morning sunlight in an alleyway in Paris, near the Eiffel Tower. John brings him to a cafe he remembers fondly and they have eggs and bacon and authentic croissants for breakfast and step through to Germany afterwards, coming out in a thick forest near an old castle.
They blend in with the rest of the tourists walking through the castle, seeing the sights. At the end of the tour that they've managed to slip into, they step to the side and through space again to Rome. They walk through the city as the sun continues to climb in the sky. John is particularly interested in the way that Phantom points out different parts of the city and talks about how it's so similar to the few Roman cities of the dead he's been to.
"The Colosseum there, of course, isn't crumbling. And it's painted in all these beautiful colors, just the same as when they were alive. It's all worn off here, now."
Phantom is the one to find them a restaurant this time, lingering in a relatively deserted area and talking to thin air. Seemingly, at least. John can see all manners of ghosts and shades, but what- or who ever Phantom is talking with is likely even less powerful than a shade.
They end up in a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant with a sign the size of a large book and end up splitting the best pizza John's ever eaten.
Good Lord, he's sure that this week will see him with at least another stone on him, if not two. His preferred vice is usually alcohol, not food.
He says as much to Phantom as the two of them finish off the pizza and Phantom laughs.
"Doesn't alcohol make you fat, too?"
"If you just drank straight beer all the time, sure," John says. "Beer is just liquid bread. Whisky and vodka, on the other hand…"
"Fair enough, I guess."
They step out of Rome and into a wave of heat.
"Bloody hell," John winces, squinting up at the cloudless sky.
They'd hopped over the Mediterranean, evidently, because pyramids rose up into the sky in the distance.
"Huh." Phantom's voice brings him out of his musing. "I knew about where I'd be putting us, but really?"
He tracks Phantom's gaze to the Pizza Hut that they've circled around in front of. Beyond it, across the street, is only miles and miles of sand and then the pyramids.
John snorts.
They don't end up going to the pyramids right away. They look around the city for a bit, stopping in at a few open air markets and such, just browsing. John manages to pick up a few trinkets that actually have some oomph behind them before any hapless person without any magical aptitude can. There was a particularly nasty curse on one of them, too.
Good deed done for the day, Phantom takes his arm to personally fly them over to the pyramids. They hover in the air over them, invisible to the tourists and locals alike milling around below them, mobbing the base of the pyramids.
John flexes his hand that's fisted in Phantom's shirt, very pointedly not looking down again. That really hadn't been the best for his heart. To be fair, though, being like this, up in the air, limpeted to Phantom's side isn't the best for his heart either.
John's arm is slung over Phantom's shoulders and his hand is fisted in Phantom's shirt. Phantom's arm wraps around John's waist, making sure he won't fall. By virtue of their configuration, their sides press together, Phantom's body a cool line against his, even through his coat. Their hips press together too.
He wonders if Phantom can feel how fast his heart is beating. He hopes that if he does, he'll ascribe it to the height they're at.
"So my friend—from when we were alive—is the reincarnation—was the reincarnation?" Phantom cocks his head slightly and his hair tickles John's cheek. "He was the reincarnation of an Egyptian pharaoh. He took over Duulaman's kingdom when he f—died."
John's brow wrinkles at the way Phantom trips over a word, but lets it lie.
"So you've seen a lot of sand, then?"
"So much sand."
They do a couple of slow laps around the outside of the pyramids. Phantom could just get them inside, but he would rather not disturb a tomb 'not his own,' which—well, that's fair. More than, John thinks.
"Move your feet like you're taking a step," Phantom murmurs in John's ear, and they're suddenly back on solid ground. It's a lot cooler where they are. "Welcome to Moscow."
John looks up. Even from this dingy alley, he can see the colorful onion domes. They have crosses sat on top.
They walk through the Red Square, looking at the architecture. The colorful building with the cross-topped onion domes is Saint Basil's Cathedral, evidently, and the Kremlin is behind the bright red wall. They make a short detour into the GUM, walking the corridor underneath the arching glass ceiling.
Their next location is a lot warmer and a lot louder, the sun starting to fall below the horizon. The two of them walk through the streets of Delhi, dodging traffic at every turn.
"So," John says, eating his skewer of delicious chicken. "Not that this isn't fun, but why the rush around all these cities? Surely spending an hour or two in each of these places isn't nearly enough time to get to see everything."
Phantom, eating his own skewer, shrugs. "Oh, no, definitely not. But…" he looks away, blushing slightly. "It's just… I've heard about all these different cities from people I know—ghosts—but I've never been. And I know it's not exactly their cities, but, still… it's nice to be able to see them, even briefly."
"Why didn't we start this earlier?" John asks, brow furrowing. "You could've had more time in each place."
Phantom somehow blushes harder, the pale pink spreading all the way up to the tips of his ears. With great effort, he tears his attention away from that and back to Phantom's words.
"I… may or may not have just had the thought yesterday."
John snorts. "Fair enough, mate."
They bounce backwards through time zones to Greece, ending up in Athens to see the Parthenon.
"Wow. It's almost exactly the same." Phantom blinks up at the structure, eyes wide. The sun is just starting to set, sending flaming pinks and oranges across the sky.
"As what?"
"So, in the Realms, there's this Greek area, and…"
They step back into Paris after a while, just to see the Eiffel Tower at night. It sparkles and glows with lights, shooting straight up into the sky.
"Do you want to go up?" John asks.
Phantom turns to him, eyes widening. "You can do that at night time? Uh, hell yes?"
The city sprawls to the horizon, lights sparkling in the dark, as they climb up the Tower's stairs.
"The only thing that would make this better is if I could see the stars," Phantom remarks, almost hanging off the edge of the railing as he bends over it. John averts his eyes reflexively.
"Well," John starts, "Didn't you say we need to kill some time? We could find somewhere out in the middle of nowhere to stargaze for a while."
And that's exactly how John finds himself sitting next to Phantom on the ground in the middle of nowhere. He's not sure exactly what country they're in, actually. It's at least not too chilly. Phantom's grabbed a blanket from whatever pocket space he has access to and spread it over the ground so at least they're not sitting on the bare dirt and scraggly brush.
Phantom lays on the blanket next to him, staring up at the sky. It's pitch dark for miles and miles around them and stars blanket the sky. His eyes glow faintly, and John can see those constellation freckles of his lit up on his cheeks.
"Mind if I smoke?" He'd almost just not asked at all—it's a dirty habit and one that Phantom's already expressed his disapproval of, but the lack of nicotine is making him itchy again. "I can go a little ways away if you'd like."
"Nah, it's fine."
John squints against the bright flash of flame from his lighter and sighs when the smoke hits his lungs. This week is probably the first time since his childhood that he's smoked so little, honestly. More than, actually, since it's rather difficult to smoke in a space station.
John finishes his cigarette eventually, the stick burning down almost to the filter. He stubs it out on the heel of his shoe and tucks it away in one of his coat pockets.
They might be in the middle of nowhere, but littering is still littering.
The horizon is starting to lighten, the black of the night sky starting to brighten, stars being outshone by the sun.
"I could've planned this better," Phantom says out of the blue. "We should've started on the other side of the world and worked with the time zones instead of against them."
"Eh," John grunts. "If you wanna play this game, I'm the one that should've been planning everything. I'm supposed to be your tour guide, aren't I? I've mostly just been following you. Haven't been much of a guide, really."
"I think you're a pretty good tour guide," Phantom says. "Or, at least, pretty good company."
Phantom smiles and John's stomach does a flip that he tries to ignore. They're in the middle of nowhere… with no one around for miles—in the wilderness.
And he's still upholding his part of the Deal.
Cut it out, he tells himself sternly.
They end up watching the sun rise the rest of the way.
They go through the next couple of cities in quick succession, fighting against John's internal clock. Without the time zone fuckery, he's been up for almost a full day, even if it's not quite close to being up for a full twenty four hours.
Sydney goes by first. They walk by the water and Phantom marvels at the sweeping sails of the Opera House as the sun continues to rise. It's unfortunately—according to Phantom, at least—too early to do the Bridge climb, but they can still (and do) walk across said bridge like normal people.
They while away just enough time to step into the back alleys of Tokyo just as the sun comes up properly.
"Are you hungry?" Phantom asks him as they stand on the street corner, waiting for the light to change so they can cross with the rest of a small army's worth of people, likely all on their morning commute.
"I could eat, but I'm not particularly hungry," he replies.
Phantom hums. "Alright. Our last stop has plenty of food."
They walk through some truly magnificent gardens. John's contemplating coming back in the right season to see the trees in bloom, actually. They don't go into the palace, but they do walk around it, and go on the bridge going up to it. It really does look like there are two bridges, one curving up and the other curving down through the water. The illusion is ruined when a bird lands in the pond, sending ripples across that disrupt the smooth surface.
They walk a bit longer to find a secluded corner and then they're stepping through to yet another city. The sun's obviously just come up, but the streets are already bustling.
"To be honest, the only reason I wanted to come here was for the street food," Phantom says somewhat sheepishly.
"Well, I can understand if it all tastes as good as it smells."
By the time they've reached the other end of the street, John is very full. He cracks off another sugar-covered piece of fruit off the skewer he's holding, crunching through it.
He tries to hide his yawn, but Phantom notices it.
"Ah, hell," Phantom says. "I need to get you back to the hotel. You've been up for much too long."
"It's-" he starts to speak, but he cuts himself off with another yawn, bigger and longer this time. He shuts his mouth sheepishly.
When they get to a secluded corner, John takes some of Phantom's bounty so they both have a free hand each. The teleportation is as smooth as ever, but John stumbles slightly as he steps forward, another yawn cracking his jaw.
"Here." Phantom takes his food back from John as well as John's singular fruit skewer. "Go to bed. Shoo."
John gives him a sloppy salute. "Night."