Sometimes, if John is very lucky, when he wrangles himself out of yet another nightmare and opens his eyes, instead of being met with the harsh grey-ish overcast morning light covered by the clouds, he sees a golden light that fills the room and seems to make everything better.

Logically, it's just the sunrise coming in before the clouds, but John likes thinking that it's an omen that today won't be so bad.

It's naïve and his inner pessimist is telling him to automatically assume that this is an omen of ill will, but that guy can go screw himself.

His eyes drift over to you, lingering on your wedding ring for a few moments too long and subconsciously fidgeting with his own matching ring.

Both rings have been painstakingly carved with protective wards and made of silver instead of gold, since werewolves aren't going to react when you throw a punch with a gold ring, are they?

When you stir, John perks up, gently nudging you fully awake.

"Hey, love. Open your eyes, the sunrise is coming through the curtains." John watches your eyes shift from exhausted to full of wonder, and he distantly wonders if you've really never seen the sunrise before today.

It's oddly quiet this morning, but definitely something John appreciates, and the calm silence lasts all the way through breakfast and your retellings of your dreams the previous night.

He'll never tell you his dreams, the nightmares that haunt him every night even as he holds you in his arms.

But, he can tell you a daydream he's been having.

"Love," he starts, taking your hands in his. "I've been thinking about this a lot, and it's up to you, but... Do you want to adopt? I know I'm always going on about how much I hate kids, but isn't having them the next step after getting married? I mean... We kind of have to adopt because of your whole... Thing... And my demon blood. 'sides, do we really want another kid Constantine running around?"

John smiles, but it's lacking... Something. Not warmth or love, he's got those in spades. It takes you a moment to realize it's lacking certainty.

It takes you a while to answer, but before you can get the words out, John lets go of your hands and puts a hand behind his neck. "Ah, it's fine. I was just spitballing, we'd probably make terrible parents. Loving each other too much to give the little anklebiter any attention."