Pet Shop Of Horrors Fan Fiction ❯ Denial ❯ Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Petshop of Horrors and I make no money from this or any fanfic I write

Pairing: Leon + D

Category: General

Rating: PG-13 just to be safe

Warnings: Shonen Ai, Language

Title: Denial

Notes: This is my first attempt at writing for this series. If I got this horribly wrong, please let me know.

For the Hundredwords Challenge Day 14

Words: 861

DENIAL

Part Three

Count D led the protesting Leon into an ornately decorated sitting room and positioned him in front of a fireplace. "Now you stay here," D ordered, "I'll be back with some towels shortly." Before the Detective could say a word, D was gone, his footsteps fading in the distance.

"Shit, he sure can move fast," Leon exclaimed. He glanced around him and stretched his hands towards the fire. "And who knew he was so damned bossy? He's usually easy going."

The sitting room, or parlor as his mother would have called it, was a comfortably sized room with a high ceiling. Red velvet drapes stood in warm contrast against light green paneled walls and ivory floor tiles. The furniture, a couch and two straight backed chairs with a distinctive Oriental flare looked comfortable and very expensive. Several brocade throw pillows were tucked artfully in the corners. The coffee table and matching end tables were lacquered mahogany with inlaid mother-of-pearl designs of the Chinese Dragon and its legendary companion, the Phoenix under a protective glass top.

It was a bit too formal for Leon's tastes, but it matched the rest of the decor nicely. The sumptuous design, obviously D's favorite, was used in many other rooms. Fancy or not, he wanted nothing more than to sink into the softness of the sofa and catch a quick nap. Just as he was about to indulge, he remembered that his clothes and shoes were wet and muddy.

The voice of his mother surfaced in his mind. 'Don't you dare sit on that couch with those muddy clothes on,' she snapped. Imagining D's reaction if he got dirt on his furniture was enough to make him listen.

Leon carefully set the gift-wrapped package on one of the end tables. He sighed then inhaled deeply and detected a hint of cinnamon and vanilla mixed with the ever present scent of whatever incense the Count usually burned. The air, the drapes, everything in the shop was infused with this scent. It even lingered on D's clothes and skin. He had commented on it once during one of his initial visits to the Shop and had been told that it was a special scent used to eliminate the animals' odor.

He had also noticed that same scent lingering in the homes and clothes of the victims of every case he had investigated where there was a connection to D and his exotic pets. This and the fact that he had never been able to locate a store, here in the United States or online, that sold this particular incense made him suspicious. What if masking the scent of animal dung wasn't the only purpose the incense served?

'Now your just being paranoid', Leon thought.

His thoughts broke off as the large double doors opened. Count D entered pushing a metal serving cart in front of him. With a smile and a nod, he skillfully maneuvered the cart beside the coffee table. He then produced a large white terry cotton towel from a small cloth bundle on the bottom shelf.

"Here you go, Detective." D murmured, "I apologize for taking so long."

"Hey, no problem." Leon replied. "I appreciate it."

"It's the least I can do."

As Leon dried his hair vigorously, D set the table. With smooth efficiency, he arranged a delicate tea set, complete with matching tea pot, Chinese-styled cups and saucers, onto the table. These were followed by a brimming sugar bowl, a platter of pastries, one bowl containing bananas, strawberries, figs, and several ripe peaches, and another smaller bowl with almonds and pistachio.

"I bought the fruit and nuts especially for you, Officer." D smiled up at Leon as he poured the tea. "I hope you enjoy."

"Uh, thanks."

The warm, inviting scent of Jasmine tea rode the rising steam that drifted lazily up from the teapot's spout. It's familiar scent brought to mind many afternoons spent in the Count's presence. Not all visits, Leon noted, had been on official business.

"Would you care for sugar, Officer?" D asked politely, his eyes twinkling in the firelight. His soft voice effortlessly filled the room by some miracle of acoustics...or magic.

"You're the sugar freak, not me." Leon snippily reminded him, feeling uncomfortable under the full force of the other man's gaze. "And I do have a name, D. Use it."

The Count inclined his head slightly and dropped his eyes before offering a soft smile that seemed almost...shy.

"Yes, of course... Leon."

A small shiver worked through Leon's body as D spoke his name. The Count noticed and smiled again. He stepped over, reaching small, pale hands up to Leon's broader shoulders.

"You've caught a chill, Off- Leon." he faltered for a moment, caught in the habit of addressing him by his work title, but quickly corrected himself. He then pressed closer until only a breath separated their bodies.

"Now," he whispered, the corners of his mouth tilting into a beguiling smile, "let's get you out of these wet clothes, shall we?"

TO BE CONTINUED...