Pet Shop Of Horrors Fan Fiction ❯ some kind of bliss ❯ Am I Wasting My Time, Being Too Familiar? ( Chapter 8 )

In case it wasn't obvious, this is Chapter 8.

^*^

Warm.

Warm. And soft, Leon realised, through the foggy tendrils of sleep still curling round his brain. The sheets under him were all slippery and silky, too, meaning that he definitely wasn't in his own bed. That was pretty weird, since he didn't remember hooking up with anyone last night, and he didn't remember getting drunk either. He certainly didn't feel hungover, although maybe he just wasn't awake enough for the headache to have kicked in yet, and he was still pretty groggy.

He guessed he must have gotten lucky, though, thanks to the small matter of the warm body currently nestled against him in bed, soft in his arms, its head resting on his shoulder.

Hmm. Still wasn't coming back. Maybe she was really ugly or something, and that was why he'd blocked out the memory. On the other hand, whoever she was, her hair smelled really nice. Like perfume. Maybe if he just --

He nuzzled his face against that sweet-scented hair and felt a faint stir in response, so he leaned down, without opening his eyes and their lips brushed, and then --

The soft body next to him went tense for a split second, then pulled away sharply, as though stung, and then a horribly, horribly familiar voice exclaimed, "Detective!"

Leon's eyes snapped open, his warm, sleepy daze dissolving in an instant. All the weirdness that had happened yesterday abruptly came flooding back.

How the fuck could he have forgotten all of that stuff, even for half a minute? Jesus.

D was sitting bolt upright in bed next to him looking shell-shocked, his mouth open. He stared, wide-eyed, for a moment, then seemed to realise he was only half-dressed and grabbed at the open sides of his robe, pulling it around himself protectively. His startled eyes didn't leave Leon's.

"Detective?" he repeated, more softly.

Leon blinked at him, dazed. Then he was on his feet.

"Um -- uh -- shit," he stammered. He stayed frozen to the spot for the split second longer it took him to notice and be grateful that he was still wearing all his clothes, and then bolted out the door.

^*^

"Look out!" called a voice from out in the corridor. "Hurricane Orcot's on its way in. Secure your breakables…"

Jill blinked sleepily at the sound of angry footsteps on their way down the corridor, and the muffled "Get out my fucking way, will ya?" that accompanied them. She'd gotten next to no sleep last night, thinking about funeral arrangements, and annoying cousins she was going to have to be nice to, and poor Grandma stuck in that big house on her own, and she'd still been thinking about those things ever since crawling out of bed this morning. Well, maybe one of Leon's tirades would help take her mind off them. Though what the hell he could have found to get pissed about between nine o'clock last night and now, she had no --

Well, no. On second thoughts, she reckoned she had quite a good idea.

The door rattled on its hinges as the aforementioned natural disaster stomped into the room, wearing a thunderous scowl and, Jill noted with a raised eyebrow, the same jeans and battered Metallica t-shirt he'd had on yesterday evening. Hmm. Maybe this was going to provide a welcome distraction.

"Morning, Leon," she called across the room.

An incomprehensible grunt in response.

"So," Jill went on, "What did you get up to after you left my place last night?"

Leon's scowl doubled in intensity, though its potential menacing effect was sadly marred by the vivid (and, Jill thought privately, kind of cute) shade of pink his face chose to turn at that moment. Poor guy. With a complexion like that, there was no need for a lie detector. He shot Jill a suspicious look before turning his frown back on the collection of half-done paperwork strewn across his desk.

"I don't know what the hell you're on about," he muttered.

Jill smirked. Peters 1, Orcot 0.

^*^

D could still feel it. It was a strange sensation, like the cool aftermath of a burn before scarring sets in, just on the spot where Leon's lips had brushed against his own. Such a faint touch -- not even a proper kiss. It tingled slightly.

He pressed a fingertip to his lips, as though doing so might somehow halt the feeling, and Q-chan alighted on his shoulder, chirping quizzically. It was only then that it occurred to him to wonder where his winged companion had been last night; Q had disappeared when that creature had emerged from its room yesterday evening, and only made a return this morning, just after Leon had left.

Although fled might be a better way of putting it, D thought ruefully. Leon's running off like that should, he supposed, have been a relief, and at the time he had certainly been so startled that facing the detective for longer than a few seconds would have been beyond his sleep-fogged capabilities. He had thought, in the few seconds before slumber quite relinquished its hold on him, that this was perhaps some new nightmare, some new torment as yet unimagined, devised by his unconscious, all the crueller for being so bittersweet.

And then he had come to his senses, and realised that it was real, was really happening -- and then, before he had had time to process that piece of information, Leon had leapt to his feet in horror and bolted.

Perhaps, then, it was not as he had feared -- as the creature, and his grandfather, had said. Perhaps they had been wrong, after all. Leon had looked so shocked, realising what he had just done -- hardly the picture of one in love. Kissing D had most certainly been a mistake on his part. That much was obvious.

Yes: it should indeed have been a relief. And yet somehow…

Q-chan chirped again, impatiently. A few of the other pets had climbed onto the couch too, no doubt noticing their master's distracted mood, and some of the bolder ones were even daring to climb up the folds of his cheongsam. D forced a smile as he ruffled Q-chan's fur with one hand, and the rabbit gave another cheep.

"Very well," he allowed, "I suppose it is time for tea."

The thoughts that came to him as he set out the tea-set and cakes were, if anything, less pleasant than those that had preceded them. It seemed he could not keep his mind from Leon -- hardly surprising, really, considering everything that had transpired the previous day. And this morning, in daylight, he could not put off thinking about it until tomorrow. Today, he should have to do as his grandfather had advised in that dream. He should have to bid his favourite human farewell. He must. What Sofu had said about loving mortals, about its being folly for their kind, was troubling -- and undeniable -- enough. But it was that other thing, that warning that to continue seeing Leon would be to endanger him, that cut at D most deeply -- far more deeply than any possible future suffering on his own part. For some reason, he could not quite bring himself to care about that so much. Hurting Leon, on the other hand, would be inexcusable.

When was it, he wondered, that he had come to put the welfare of a human being above his own? And how on the Earth had he managed not to notice until now?

Certainly, he could not argue with his grandfather's warnings; Leon was a human, as fallible and as fragile as any other, and to allow himself to become attached to such a creature would be madness, by any standards. Although he feared that he had already done so. Had he not grown close to Leon -- too close -- he would surely heed Sofu's words, and that would be the end of the matter. But somehow the compulsion to remain near this man, this human, was so strong -- felt so much stronger than he --

D sipped at his tea. The ghost of Leon's touch was still on his lips, and his mouth still felt dry with the taste of dizzying fear and dizzying -- what had that been? Hope?

He closed his eyes, for once ignoring Q-chan's inquisitive noises. If only he knew what to do. He could not decide. He could not.

It must be nearly lunchtime. Only a few short hours, and his detective would no doubt be back at the shop -- at least, if he had got over his shock from this morning -- and D would be rendered incapable of rational thought once more. If only he knew what to do.

That was another thing. He really must stop thinking of Leon as his.

^*^

Leon managed to hold out until lunchtime before he spilled the beans. Jill had to admit she was impressed; Leon might be pretty good at sulking, but he wasn't big on the willpower front, and today it had been pretty obvious that he wanted to tell her what was the problem, really. He'd managed to piss off everybody in the room at least once within ten minutes of having stormed into work (Jill, of course, being the notable, saintly exception), but simmered down pretty quickly after receiving a stern talking-to from the Chief, and limited himself to the occasional grumble about paperwork, too-weak coffee and, in fact, everything except Count D for the rest of the morning. Only he'd kept shooting Jill uncertain looks, and starting bits of conversation only to break off, say it was "nothing", and go back to staring into space again. Which, if she was any judge, were both sure-fire signs of a confession on the way.

They'd been sitting here for nearly fifteen minutes now, Leon stabbing his burger with a plastic fork as viciously as if it had personally affronted him, and Jill was starting to get bored. Plus she'd chewed the straw in her Diet Coke half to shreds, and if she didn't stop doing that she'd end up walking back into work with bits of plastic stuck in between her teeth again. Which would be embarrassing.

"So, are you gonna tell me what crawled up your ass and died this morning? Or do I have to take guesses?"

"Huh?"

"Okay, fine." She rolled her eyes. "I'm guessing you had another fight with the Count. Or, you had another fight with the Count. Or…"

"Fuck off!"

"So what was it about this time? Did you break one of his teacups again or something? You, know, you really ought to be more careful with those things, they look expensive…"

"No! I didn't have a fight with him!" Leon paused, and looked down at his mistreated lunch. "Well, not exactly."

Jill waited. Leon carried on staring at his plate, determinedly avoiding her eyes. And then, just when she'd started to think he'd changed his mind about telling her what the problem was, he mumbled, "I kissed him."

She blinked.

"It was an accident!" Leon added, hastily, as if the previous statement hadn't been quite bemusing enough. Jill stared at him, and it was a good thirty seconds before she got it back together enough to speak.

"Hang on," she said, at last, "Let me get this straight. You kissed him. Count D."

"Yeah. Well, sort of -- "

"Let me finish! You kissed him. And it was an accident."

"Yeah…"

"And you expect me to believe that."

"Yeah -- hey! Look, I know how it sounds, but I can explain!"

"Please."

Leon took a deep breath. "Well after I'd been to your place last night I ended up going to the pet shop, and I said something about what you said, you know, about me getting a pet, and then he freaked out and started acting all weird and kicked me out of the shop, so I nearly went home, but then I decided to go back and find out what the hell was going on, and then D was unconscious on the floor and he said he'd been attacked by a boa constrictor or something but he wouldn't go to the hospital so I had to stay at the shop to look after him andthenIendedupgettinginhisbedbecauseIwastiredandIwokeupinthemorningandforg otwhereIwasandIkindofthoughthewasagirlorsomethingandIkissedhim." A quick pause for breath. "By accident!"

Jill carried on staring at him. Then she realised her eyes were probably bulging unattractively by now, and stopped. Her head was spinning.

"Okay," she began, after a few seconds. "Leaving aside how the hell you actually ended up getting in Count D's bed in the first place, if it was an accident, what's the big problem? I mean, I can see how it could be a little embarrassing, but you've done plenty of worse things to him and he's always forgiven you for -- "

"A little embarrassing? Fuck, Jill! What planet are you on? If that's a little embarrassing, what the hell'd I have to do to be totally humiliated? Dance the Macarena naked on his coffee table?!"

Now that was a mental image she'd never forget.Jesus Christ.

Meanwhile, Leon's face was helpfully illustrating the extent of his current embarrassment by turning beet red. Jill hid her smile behind her hand, guessing that pointing that out probably wouldn't be appreciated right at this moment, but Leon didn't seem to be looking at her anyway. He was still frowning down at the table.

"Anyway," he continued, "he looked really freaked out."

Jill blinked. She'd kind of expected a little more ranting, against both the universe in general and Count D in particular. After all, Leon's essential fair-mindedness in most things had never quite managed to extend to the Count, and while Jill had her own theories about why that might be, whenever Leon came anywhere near proving her right he always jumped back right away, taking refuge behind another list of crazy accusations.

"Freaked out?" she prodded.

"Yeah. Like, seriously. It's weird. I always kinda thought -- well, not that I thought about it, but if -- well -- he's the, you know, the… gay one. I just wouldn't have thought he'd be that upset."

Leon's blush had calmed down some by now, and he was scowling a little less fiercely. Hell, if anything, he looked almost worried. Concerned. This was getting more and more interesting by the minute. Pointing that out, however, probably wouldn't be appreciated at this juncture either. Pity, really. This was the best mocking opportunity she'd had all day, and here she was, about to throw it away.

"Look," Jill began, in her best big-sister tone of voice, "He was probably still a little shaken after last night. I mean, the guy just got attacked by a boa constrictor, then he wakes up in the morning next to someone he doesn't remember getting into bed with last night. Wouldn't you be freaked?"

"Guess so," Leon admitted.

"And knowing you, I'll bet you ran like hell as soon as you realised you'd done it. He was probably just surprised, and if you'd waited a few more minutes he'd have been okay. He'll be fine, as long as you go round after your shift's done and apologise." Jill thought she probably deserved a medal for refraining from saying kiss his ass just then. "You know, be nice."

"You think?" Leon was still frowning, but he looked a little more hopeful now, at least.

"I'm sure. Just take him a big box of chocolates or something." She wrinkled her nose. "And for God's sake, have a shower."

^*^

"Ah. Detective."

One look at D's closed expression was enough to tell Leon that for once Jill had been wrong. He'd headed home for a shower after work -- she'd had a point, he had kind of stunk -- and, for some obscure reason, he'd even found himself putting a shirt on instead of one of his heavy metal t-shirts. Then he'd gone on to that Madame C's place D was always yattering on about and bought the biggest fruit tart he could see, trying not to think about his poor bank balance as he did so. Leon was holding the box out in front of him now, in plain view, but for some reason D wasn't pouncing on it the way he usually did. He'd gasped a little when he'd opened the door, sure, (which, weirdly enough, had been locked. D normally left it open for an hour or two after he shut the shop these days), and his gaze had flickered greedily towards the box, but he made no move to take it, and he stood in the doorway a second longer than usual before stepping back to let Leon into the shop.

"Hey, D. What's up?"

"Why, nothing at all, Detective." D smiled politely. "I hope you have had a pleasant day?" He turned back into the room without waiting for Leon to answer, or taking the tart out of his hands, and started fiddling distractedly with some teacups.

Great. Leon could do without having to worry about D again tonight -- especially since the thoughts that his brain had started coming up with while he'd been on his way to the pet shop had been pretty goddamn worrying in themselves.

He'd been grateful -- and slightly shocked -- that Jill hadn't seized the opportunity to start making more of her usual innuendoes about him and D when he'd told her about that accidental sort-of-kiss. Unfortunately, it looked like she wouldn't have needed to bother anyway this time, because Leon kept finding himself questioning exactly what was going on with him here all on his own. And while the idea that he had some kind of schoolboy crush on D was easy enough to brush off when Jill teased him about it, when it was his own mind that kept coming up with the disturbing hints, it was a hell of a lot more difficult to ignore.

He'd been pretty horror-struck when he'd blinked himself awake this morning and realised he'd just kissed (well, sort of kissed) a guy, and the sense of shock and slight unreality had kept him from really thinking about it all the way to the station, and for about an hour after he'd got there too. About mid-morning, though, he'd realised he wasn't really managing to work up a good, irrational sulk about it like he normally would have, or even to feel pissed off at D. Which he had to admit was fair, what with D not actually having done anything wrong, but it wasn't exactly normal for him. He wasn't feeling quite as… disgusted as he'd expected, either. And a little part of his brain was even trying to tell him that maybe it hadn't been all that disgusting, after all. Okay, so D was a guy, sure -- but Leon hadn't realised who it was at the time, had he? And anyway, D kind of looked like a girl, and dressed like a girl, and acted like one a lot of the time (hell, there had been occasions when Leon would have sworn blind the guy had PMT), and he was small and soft like a girl, too. And he smelled nice.

By lunchtime, he'd started to realise that he wasn't just not-pissed at D: he was worried about him. He couldn't get his mind off the way D had frozen so still in his arms when their lips had touched, or the startled-rabbit expression in D's eyes as he'd sat up, or the nagging suspicion that D was scared, or mad, or at least not happy with Leon in one way or another. Which had gotten to him more than he cared to think about.

He'd managed not to think about it -- or not to think about it as much, anyway -- for the rest of his shift, after Jill had reassured him that it was all going to be fine, no problem. Plus by that point he'd realised that he'd been bothering Jill with his problems again, when she had more important things of her own to worry about, and started feeling vaguely guilty about that too (though he'd gone to get her a cup of coffee when they got back to the station after lunch, which had assuaged his guilt a little -- even if she had gagged and enquired when, exactly, he'd taken to pressing the "extra sugar" button on the vending machine. He'd offered to give her a lift to the airport tomorrow, when she flew out to her parents' place for the funeral, too).

He'd only started thinking about the whole thing again when he was nearly at the pet shop -- and that annoying, nagging, enquiring part of his brain that he'd started to think of as his inner Jill just wouldn't leave him alone. It kept asking him questions. Like why he was so bothered about D's welfare if, as he always told himself, he didn't even like the guy. And why he was so worried that D might be pissed at him, since a week rarely went by without D getting pissed at him about something or other anyway. And why he kept buying the guy candy whenever he felt bad about something, like you did with girls -- not that Leon could ever remember buying chocolates for any girl he'd ever dated, but then he'd never been this concerned about a girl being mad, or possibly mad, at him, either. And that had led him down an avenue of questioning he'd liked even less, so he'd tried his very hardest to stop thinking about it.

Only then, for some strange reason, he'd found himself wondering what would have happened if D hadn't freaked out and leapt back like he'd been burned. And what it might have felt like.

Then he'd arrived at the pet shop. And right now he couldn't decide whether he was thankful to be there or not, because he wasn't thinking about all that… other stuff… but D was still not-looking at him, standing at the tea table clinking crockery around, and he still wasn't saying anything either.

"D," he tried again. "Are you sure nothing's up?"

"Quite sure, Detective," D replied, blandly. He turned round, polite smile in place, and held out a cup and saucer. "Tea?"

"Uh, sure." Leon nodded at the box still on the table. "Aren't you hungry? It's that tart. You know, the one you really like."

"Oh, yes. Of course. Thank you."

Only, when D had cut two pieces of the tart -- only a small one for himself -- he didn't start on it with his usual enthusiasm, just perched on his chair opposite Leon and nibbled delicately at his own slice a couple of times before putting it back on the plate and leaving it there. Then, he just sat there, not really looking at Leon, but staring off into space, his expression unreadable. It was like the way he'd been acting the other day, Leon guessed, only, if anything, even more disconcerting. What the hell could still be bothering him, after all?

Maybe he was just stressed about that creature that had attacked him, or something. Knowing D, it seemed pretty plausible that he'd be worrying in case the thing had got hurt out in the city somewhere.

Or maybe he really was mad about this morning, and he was just working up to throwing a major strop.

"Look," Leon began, warily, "I'm sorry, okay."

D blinked, seemed to come out his little trance, and gave him a questioning look.

"About this morning, I mean. I just kind of -- woke up and didn't know where I was, I guess. I didn't mean to, you know, piss you off or anything."

"Oh. Not at all, Detective. Please, do not concern yourself."

"Huh?" Leon frowned. "Then you're not… mad?"

"Of course not." A faint smile that was just barely a smile at all. "We all make mistakes, Leon. It would hardly be fair of me to be angry with you for such a small one."

Leon thought about pointing out that D had never had any qualms about getting mad at him over little mistakes before -- he'd even yelled at him for stirring his tea with the wrong spoon before now, for fuck's sake! -- but he didn't, because D was looking at him oddly, his expression still closed-off. Then it deepened into something more solemn, and his smile faded.

"Of course not," he repeated. "However, I am afraid that once you have finished your tea, Detective, I must ask you to leave."

"Wha -- ?" Leon blinked a couple of times, then realised his mouth was hanging open. He shut it. "But you just -- I thought -- you said you weren't mad!"

"I am not." D said. He got to his feet, and unhurriedly started placing saucers back on the tea trolley. Conveniently enough, standing up had put his face in shadow, meaning that even if Leon had been able to decipher his expression, he still wouldn't have been able to see it. "But nevertheless, I must ask you to leave." A delicate pause. "And not to return."

Leon's heart lurched. What the -- ?

And then he heard his own voice, not launching into one of his usual tirades, or even pointing out that he was damned well going to keep coming back to the shop until he saw D behind bars, but just saying, more softly than he ever had before, "D?"

He was feeling faintly sick, too, and his pulse was racing. And normally he'd have told himself that he didn't know why that was. Only now, he was starting to think that maybe he did.

"D?" he said again. "But -- why?"

Because the part of his brain that had been bugging him all day, asking him questions, had just suddenly stopped doing that. Instead, it was pointing out that perhaps he already knew the answers.

D shook his head. "My apologies, Detective, " he said, "but I cannot explain. You would not -- "

Leon reached out, and caught one of D's wrists in his hand. The bones of it felt delicate under his fingers. Then he stood up, and tugged gently so that D was standing in front of him, facing him -- even if the expression on his face was still impassive, carefully blank, and even if it still seemed like he was looking through Leon instead of at him.

"You would not be able to understand," D finished, even more quietly.

Leon didn't say anything. He just reached up with his free hand, the one that wasn't holding onto D's wrist -- he could feel the pulse there, tellingly rapid -- took hold of D's chin, and brought that pale face closer to his own, forcing D to look at him. The mismatched gaze remained stubbornly even.

And who was Leon kidding, anyway? He knew the answers to those questions. Of course he did. He knew what was really bothering him -- what he really wanted.

He wanted D. And, sometime during the past five minutes, he'd stopped being scared of it.

D blinked up at him. Leon took a deep breath. And then -- conscious, in whatever part of his mind was still thinking about anything sensible, that there really wasn't going to be any excuse this time -- he closed his eyes, and kissed him.

D's lips parted under Leon's in surprise, and he went still. Leon felt the tendons in D's wrist tense up, and for a second he was having flashbacks to this morning, to D jumping back from him like a startled animal. Only this time D didn't pull back. He stayed perfectly still for a heartbeat longer, and then seemed to… well, not exactly relax, but lean into Leon a little, not kissing him back, but just standing there, letting himself be kissed. Which, while not really what you'd call normal, wasn't unpleasant. And while Leon guessed he couldn't exactly take it as encouragement, it wasn't exactly discouragement either. And then it didn't matter anyway, not really, because before he had time to think about it he'd let go of D's wrist and wrapped his arms around D's waist instead and crushed him close, and D was trembling, all of him was trembling, and he was in Leon's arms, and his mouth was so soft --

A tiny, tiny little whimpering noise escaped him. Sweet Jesus. Leon had to pull away then, because he was starting to get dizzy, and if D made another sound like that he thought he might just fucking die --

"You still want me to go?" Leon gasped, before he could stop himself.

D's eyes were wide. His bottom lip looked a little swollen, and his mouth was even redder than usual where Leon had kissed him. For a second he just stared up at Leon, looking stunned and still kind of troubled, and Leon thought he'd really have to find out what was up with that, but not right away, because then D was closing his eyes, pressing his forehead against Leon's shoulder, his palms, still trembling, against Leon's chest, and whispering: "No."

^*^

This is where you get to leave reviews saying "And about time too! Were you going for some sort of world record for the greatest number of chapters dragged out of a fic before your main characters so much as even touch each other? Bloody authors!" Or something more constructive, if you'd like. ;o)