Pet Shop Of Horrors Fan Fiction ❯ Denial ❯ Denial Pt.4 ( Chapter 4 )

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 15, 16 and 17

Words: 1511

DENIAL

Part Four

"Whoa, D! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Leon exclaimed, backing up hastily from the Oriental man in front of him.

Leon's arms shot up and out from his sides in a warding off gesture, palms up, fingers splayed, that knocked the Count's small hands away from his body. Unfortunately, his movements were stiff and jerky. He felt one of his ankles twisting out from under him, causing him to lose his balance. Then he was falling. His arms pin wheeled desperately as he tried to re-establish his balance, but the effort proved futile.

With a cry of dismay he instinctively reached out to catch onto something in order to stop his fall. His arm shot out and his fingers grasped the first thing that came into reach - one of Count D's wrists. D's eyes flew open in astonishment, and his rouged lips formed an 'O' of surprise. There was no time to react or brace himself as Leon's weight pulled him down. The two men collapsed to the ground in a tangled confusion of arms and legs.

Silence stretched between the two men for several moments and the only sounds to be heard were Leon's gasps as he struggled to catch his breath, which had been knocked out of him when D had fallen on top of him. Dazed, he found himself staring up at the high ceiling with D's body pressed against his. 'He's so warm,' Leon marvelled, unaware of how much of his body heat had been leeched away by the wet clothes he still wore.

His mind was drawn back to the situation on hand when he felt D shift and pull gently away from him, his eyes wide as he stared down at Leon. Black hair fell forward, slightly obscuring the pale triangle of his face and if Leon didn't know any better, he'd have sworn he was blushing.

Without thinking, Leon reached out and laid one hand on D's shoulder. With his other hand he cupped the side of D's face just as he had seen that psychotic serial killer, Mr.Wong, do so long ago. Though he would never have admitted it aloud, he had been jealous of the apparent attraction between D and Wong. But now, it was his hand that caressed D's cheek and he simply couldn't believe how soft and smooth the flesh was. Almost unaware of what he was doing, he traced the ball of his thumb over the other man's lips, slowly, almost reverently

D's eyes slid closed and he leaned his cheek into Leon's hand. His lips parted and an almost inaudible sigh escaped as he turned his face slightly and pressed a soft kiss against the calloused palm.

That simple touch, so innocent yet at the same time ripe with erotic potential jolted Leon from his reverie. Shocked at his own behavior, he pushed D away abruptly, struggling to sit upright. His heart beat heavily in his chest, seeming much slower than it should have been, and adrenaline rushed unpleasantly through his veins. He thought he saw a look of hurt pass over D's face but then it was gone, replaced by his usual calm mask and smile.

"Shit!" Leon exclaimed loudly, "Get the hell off of me, D!"

With a sigh and a swish of cloth D pulled back until he was sitting on his knees. "Language, Detective." He admonished gently.

"Don't give me that shit, D!" Leon exploded, pulling himself shakily to first his knees, then his feet until he towered over the kneeling Count. He wobbled slightly and angrily grabbed the back of the couch for support. He stood there glaring at D, his muscles stiff and a fine trembling shaking his entire body. "What the hell are you trying to pull?"

D's lips turned down in a frown that smoothed away as quickly as it appeared. He then rose to his feet gracefully, and his eyes narrowed briefly at the frustration that rushed through him upon hearing Leon's harsh voice and words. 'Why does he always accuse me so?' He thought as he smoothed the cloth of his robes. He guarded this frustration, though, keeping it and its source hidden from the Detective and when he spoke, his words were reasonable, calm.

"You're hands, Detective, are icy to the touch." He stated matter-of-fact. "We need to get you out of those wet clothes. I fear you may be suffering from hypothermia."

"There is no way in hell I'm taking off my clothes, D!" And then as if the word had finally sunk in, "What do you mean, hypothermia?" he asked, incredulously. "You think I have hypothermia? D, in case you haven't notices, we're in California."

With only a sharp exhalation to indicate his irritability, D turned and stepped over to the cart he had wheeled in earlier. He reached for the cloth bundle on the bottom shelf and withdrew from it an article of clothing similar in design to what he himself wore. He turned back to Leon and held out the bundle.

"In case you haven't noticed, dear Detective," D began, struggling to retain his calm, "there is snow on the ground outside, though certainly not very much. And I must remind you that you were outside in this weather without adequate protection from either the snow or the cold. Furthermore, the clothes you do have on are soaking wet."

"Your hands are cold as ice," D continued, then holding up his index finger, he began to tick off other symptoms. "Your movements are stiff and jerky, you have displayed a rather disturbing lack of balance and coordination." Two more fingers were raised. "You also seem confused, and your attitude is very hostile and irrational."

D smiled but there was no humor in it. "Even though confusion and hostility seem to be your normal state of being, we still can't very well dismiss them, now can we?

Menacingly, D stepped closer and pressed the clothes towards Leon until the stubborn American finally accepted them. "You can either put on these dry clothes, Detective, or you may choose to remain naked. The choice is entirely yours."

D smiled brightly and concluded, "Either way, you will be taking off those wet clothes."

Leon felt a shiver race through his body that had absolutely nothing to do with how cold he was. There were times when D could be downright scary.

"Fine, let me see what we've got there."

Petulantly he held them up and a look very close to horror crossed his face.

The bundle was one of Count D's, or at least that's what Leon thought at first. But of course, that couldn't be right because Leon was both taller and broader than the much smaller D. He glanced up at the man who stood before him, and yes, the outfit he now held in his hands matched the one the Count currently wore. Supple and very soft, it was a rich, vibrant green with a red Chinese Dragon embroidered on its front. It had the familiar Mandarin collar and frog buttons, as well as long loose sleeves with red cuffs to matched the dragon.

Leon held the material up, fascinated in spite of himself, and the cloth shimmered in the low light of the sitting room as only silk could. He wouldn't have thought himself capable of recognizing the fabric let alone naming it, but he had spent so much time with the Count that it had become almost second nature. After all, Leon couldn't remember ever seeing D in anything other than his old fashioned Chinese clothes.

"Hey!" Leon exclaimed, indignantly, "I'm not wearing a dress!"

D bristled at this comment. "It's not a dress, you uncultured American oaf!" he exclaimed then he paused and forced himself to take several calming breaths. "It is what is popularly known in the West as a cheongsam, a modern adaptation of a style of clothing worn during the late Ch'ing Dynasty in China between 1644 and 1911. It was standard attire at that time."

He cast a withering glance at Leon. "You, Detective Orcot are most likely familiar with this style from your Hollywood martial arts films." He sighed and shook his head. "It is comfortable, roomy, and most certainly not a dress. You see?" D lifted the hem of his own outfit to reveal a pair of leggings that matched the green of the tunic. "It is designed to be worn over pants. You may prefer to think of it as a very large shirt or robe."

"Fine! I'll wear the damned thing!" Leon mumbled, "But you can't peek at me while I change."

"Of course not," D sighed, looking disappointed. With a glare from the Detective, he sighed again and politely adverted his gaze and closed his eyes.

TO BE CONTINUED...

A/N Okay, I finally found the answer to the question that has been bugging me since I started writing this fic: What city does PSoH take place in? So I went out and bought Volumes 3, 6-9 (they didn't have 4 or 5 so I couldn't get them, but I was able to order them...)

But getting back to the question, in the story, 'Dynasty', a girl named Monica, said, "I saw the Count on TV and I lost it. The next moment I was on a plane to L.A. all alone - except for Pocky." (Vol. 9 p.187) Since she was only 16 she couldn't have rented a car to drive anywhere else because you have to be 21.

Also, in Vol.3 p. 135, (the story is 'Dessert') Leon and the other officers were tallying up the number of victims that Mr. Wong had killed in other Chinatowns, "Nine in Hawaii, seven in New York...Ten in San Francisco..." And they wouldn't have listed San Francisco if they were in that city. So as far as I'm concerned, that question has been answered. The series takes place in Los Angeles.

And that finally brings us to the subject of snow and why the hell it's snowing when the story is set in L.A. Allow me to explain: Even though Los Angeles is in southern California, it has been known, on the rarest of occasions, to get snow. I'm not talking a lot of snow here, mostly trace amounts (less than 0.5 inches). The last recorded snowfall (at least according to the web site I visited, www.losangelesalmanac.com/topics/Weather/we17.htm) was on January 22, 1962. So, you see, even though it may seem unlikely that L.A. would get snow, it does happen...just very rarely.

Sorry about the really long author notes. And thank you so much for reading (and hopefully enjoying) my humble fic!