Petshop of Horrors: Drabbles from November through December
Because I'm not completely absented minded and haven't posted them everywhere but here. Y'know.
Title: D is for Damaged
Word Count: 143
Rating: G
Characters: Leon, D mentioned
Notes: Oh the Leon wangst… :S (Post series)
Leon had collected a hell of a lot of scars over the years. One on his leg, involving a broken bottle and untied shoelaces. One on his side where a perp had tried to stab him. A handful of bullet holes. A huge bite mark on his thigh that, the doctors informed him, was not made by any animal they knew about. Four long, jagged white lines; the legacy of the first animals to find him in D’s father’s private zoo, running near enough parallel to where D had slashed him with his fingernails that time at Christmas.
Most of them were pretty easy to cover, and most of the women who saw the faded lines didn’t care. Hell, some thought they were sexy. The others saw what Leon saw after a few too many hours with alcohol instead of painkillers: damaged goods.
Title: D is for Days
Word Count: 164
Rating: G apart from the swearing
Characters: Leon, Jill and D mentioned
Notes:Well, y'know how D was always bitching that Leon never knew what time it was? Like he was anyone to talk because for him it's always tea-time and oh yeah like THAT's not a drabble-conversation waiting to happen... (Post series)
He hadn’t expected to find D immediately, but he’d expected to find him quickly. A couple of weeks at most - he was a detective, wasn’t he? And a damn good one at that!
The days drew out slowly, an eternity of stale smelling buses and cheap motels. Days filled with confusing maps, the bright shops and loud voices of China Town, smudging news print as he searched for the place to look. Nights which were a blur of aches and painkillers or alcohol and staring at the ceiling or the city lights until he fell asleep and started dreaming of things that were almost as frustrating as his daily life.
He didn’t realise just how many days had gone past until Jill called him and asked where he’d been for the last two months, the North Pole?
Two months?
Two months of what seemed to be the same goddamn day over and over again?
Two months and he still hadn’t found D?
… Shit.
Title: Love Triangles
Word Count: 233
Rating: G
Characters: Leon, Harry, Leon/D mentioned
Notes: Written for fanfic100’s prompt “Triangle.” Although I’m sure if they’d had the prompt “squiggle” I could’ve applied it to that.
The first time Leon got caught in a love triangle, he was twelve. He and Harry had both got serious crushes on a girl who lived down the street. The trouble was, she hadn’t known about it, and insisted on treating them both the same - equally nice, trying to spend equal time with them, trying not to play favourites.
They’d had a brawl over who was going to ask her out. Leon so won that fight, because he’d only got a black eye and loads of bruises on his ribs. Harry got a bloodied nose, a split lip, and the biggest bruise ever on his shin.
Of course, the girl in question heard about this and never spoke to either of them again. Such are the perils of young love.
There’ve been other triangles since then, and Leon nearly always got dumped for the other guy. His problems now can’t be settled with a fist fight though.
Or at least, this one can’t.
See, he kindasortamaybe in love with a guy, which is a hell of a problem.
The guy in question is a suspect, which is a whole new level of problematic.
The big mother of them all though, the one that requires at least three beers before it’s even thought about, is that D has half the goddamn city chasing his ass.
Does that even count as a triangle any more?
Title: The Enemy of Mine Enemy…
Word Count: 170
Rating: G
Characters: D, Sofu D and Leon mentioned
Notes: Hark at me trying to do something non-specific. ~_~
The D’s didn’t have enemies. They had worshippers, they had servants, they had people who adored them and people who feared them. There were those who hated them.
However, everyone succumbed to them eventually, to either their charm or their animals. Even those that hated them would respect or admire them.
Of course, there were exceptions. Only a few in each century. Those that were impervious to their charm, saw at least part way through their lies, and managed to wriggle through carefully maintained defences and gain a sliver of their affection. They neither loved nor hated the Ds, and often neither respected nor feared them. In most cases, they merely liked them, as though they were another mortal instead of a god.
They were dangerous, these exceptions. Luring the kami away from their duties, trying to make them forget their revenge.
D had been warned of all that by his grandfather. He understood it.
But he wasn’t sure he could comprehend a scruffy American chain smoker as his enemy.
Title: Just Because
Word Count: 233
Rating: R (Look at that rating and note it, kthnxbye.)
Characters: Leon/D
Notes: I know it’s crap, you don’t need to tell me. But I’m kinda desperate for something to fill in the “Touch” prompt on fanfic100, so I’m posting it here. I’m so sorry. ;_;
Just because you can touch it doesn’t mean it’s real.
That’s something Leon learned the hard way. He’d spent two years around D and his murderous pets, and people who would swear blind that the monster fish they bought was the spitting image of their wife. Or hell, was their wife.
Just because you can touch it doesn’t mean it’s real.
Being able to ruffle the kid’s hair didn’t stop it being a red setter puppy. Being able to pick Pon-chan up and feel silk and ribbons didn’t stop her being a racoon.
Just because you can touch it doesn’t mean it’s real.
He can’t really get rid of the thought, even now, with D plastered to the bed beneath him, his mouth hot and wet and his body solid -
Just because you can touch it -
Even with D’s too-long nails raking down his back and drawing blood, even with his teeth sinking into Leon’s shoulder as Leon grinds their hips together -
Just because you can -
Even with his hand wrapped around D’s fucking cock, with D shaking and gasping and sobbing “Mister Detective” and “Please” and “Leon” or strangled words in Chinese -
It doesn’t mean it’s real.
The body sprawled out on the bed beneath him, warm and languid and pressing dazedly apologetic kisses against his jaw didn’t prove that any of this was real.
It didn’t prove that it wasn’t, either.
Title:
Word Count: 295
Rating: G
Characters: T-chan, implied Sofu/D
Notes: … I blame glitterbats, which she doesn’t seem upset about. D: (All Dcest is Cass’ fault, I swear.) Second person, kinda T-chan’s POV, squicked myself when I wrote it because… Well, yeah. Sofu D. : x
Someone’s holding you back, clutching at your arms to stop you diving into the room and killing him. You don’t know who they are - you’re too angry to even see straight, which is probably good for them because if they don’t let you go right now you’re going to rip them apart.
You know who’s clutching at your waist though; it’s Pon-chan, chanting “please” and “stoppit” and “T-chan you can’t you’ll be killed” and she’s right. You know she’s right. You just don’t care. You want to explain it to her, you really do, you want her to understand so she can make the others let you go.
Look, you want to say to her, to them. Our loyalty’s to the Count. Anyone who hurts him dies. We killed his sister for less than this, I’m not afraid of taking on his Grandfather. But all that’s coming out of your mouth are growls and threats, and all your struggling’ no good when there’s six of them digging claws and teeth into you - they’ll drag you back in pieces if they have to, and you suppose that He thinks it’s funny proving that the animals’ fear of him outweighs their loyalty to his grandson.
You’re not going to give up though, are you? Not while D’s sitting demure and proper on the sofa, hands clasped so tightly he’s drawing blood, face averted from his grandfather and eyes focused on the floor. Not while he’s letting long nailed fingers trail through his hair and down his chest, while a face so similar to his own presses against his throat and whispers lies into his skin.
You swore your loyalty to the Count, not to his family. You’ll fight till the death for him, even if he won’t.
Title: D is for Dismissal
Word Count: 316
Rating: G
Characters: Leon, D
Notes: More post-series wangst. Is anyone else seeing a pattern here?
One of Leon’s nightmares, one of the ones that send him stumbling out of bed at stupid hours of the morning for a drink of water and a cigarette, is very simple. Barely even a nightmare at all.
In it, he’s searching for D (It’s not as if he’s not doing enough of that during the day, is it?). He doesn’t know where he is, which is a usual state of affairs for him. All the cities he’s been to, all the China Towns he’s ransacked, they’ve all blurred into one. Not just inside his head, but outside of it: they all look the same to him. People and voices and landmarks are all one mess of city and humanity to him.
But in his dream, he’s walking through a city - not even the China Town - skirting round chattering clumps of people and trying to spot something. A sign? A hotel? D? He never remembers when he wakes up. All he remembers is that he’s craning to see over and around people, and the bunch in front of him finally shift their lazy asses out of his way.
And D’s there.
Right in front of him.
In his dream, he’ll start forwards - maybe to punch him, or shake him, or hug him, or something - but then he meets D’s eyes and stops.
It’s not that he’s found D’s granddad instead of D. He’d be almost be relieved if that was all it was.
It’s that D’s eyes move over him like he’s not even there, like he’s just another face in the crowd. No recognition, no acknowledgement, no anything. He might as well not have been there for all the reaction he got.
D’s eyes skim over him, and then he turns and walks away. And Leon can’t move, can’t chase after him, can’t even speak until D’s gone his way and left him behind again.
Title: The Devil of Christmas Present
Word Count: 220
Rating: G
Characters: Sofu D, Papa D and Count D; Alex and Norma mentioned.
Warnings: Crack!fic
Notes: This is the drabble from inside my Christmas Cards. If it makes no sense to you, pick up... Volume 4 I believe it is, and look in the back to see what it says about teddy bears, because that's what sparked this off.
Christmas was supposed to be a time of good will, when people set aside their differences to enjoy the company of acquaintances and family members they would otherwise avoid. Even if they needed industrial strength alcohol to aid in the enjoying.
For most pet shop owners, it was the busiest time of year. That was definitely the case for a certain gold eyed kami; that day he’d sold ten contracts before he even got a chance to look at his mail. There were a handful of what were undoubtedly seasonal love letters, a letter from Alex and Norma - with a German postmark for some reason - and an envelope addressed to him in an unfamiliar hand.
The return address belonged to his son.
There was no letter inside, no note. Just a photograph. A photograph that held D spellbound, face white and gold eyes wide.
In the photo, a small dark haired child - undoubtedly his grandson - stared seriously at the camera from the lap of a man with long black hair flowing around him and an expression of unholy amusement on his face. He held the boy protectively though, and the boy in turn was clutching a… A huge teddy bear.
It was at that point that D swore his son was not fit to even look at the child again.
Title: D is for Damaged
Word Count: 143
Rating: G
Characters: Leon, D mentioned
Notes: Oh the Leon wangst… :S (Post series)
Leon had collected a hell of a lot of scars over the years. One on his leg, involving a broken bottle and untied shoelaces. One on his side where a perp had tried to stab him. A handful of bullet holes. A huge bite mark on his thigh that, the doctors informed him, was not made by any animal they knew about. Four long, jagged white lines; the legacy of the first animals to find him in D’s father’s private zoo, running near enough parallel to where D had slashed him with his fingernails that time at Christmas.
Most of them were pretty easy to cover, and most of the women who saw the faded lines didn’t care. Hell, some thought they were sexy. The others saw what Leon saw after a few too many hours with alcohol instead of painkillers: damaged goods.
Title: D is for Days
Word Count: 164
Rating: G apart from the swearing
Characters: Leon, Jill and D mentioned
Notes:Well, y'know how D was always bitching that Leon never knew what time it was? Like he was anyone to talk because for him it's always tea-time and oh yeah like THAT's not a drabble-conversation waiting to happen... (Post series)
He hadn’t expected to find D immediately, but he’d expected to find him quickly. A couple of weeks at most - he was a detective, wasn’t he? And a damn good one at that!
The days drew out slowly, an eternity of stale smelling buses and cheap motels. Days filled with confusing maps, the bright shops and loud voices of China Town, smudging news print as he searched for the place to look. Nights which were a blur of aches and painkillers or alcohol and staring at the ceiling or the city lights until he fell asleep and started dreaming of things that were almost as frustrating as his daily life.
He didn’t realise just how many days had gone past until Jill called him and asked where he’d been for the last two months, the North Pole?
Two months?
Two months of what seemed to be the same goddamn day over and over again?
Two months and he still hadn’t found D?
… Shit.
Title: Love Triangles
Word Count: 233
Rating: G
Characters: Leon, Harry, Leon/D mentioned
Notes: Written for fanfic100’s prompt “Triangle.” Although I’m sure if they’d had the prompt “squiggle” I could’ve applied it to that.
The first time Leon got caught in a love triangle, he was twelve. He and Harry had both got serious crushes on a girl who lived down the street. The trouble was, she hadn’t known about it, and insisted on treating them both the same - equally nice, trying to spend equal time with them, trying not to play favourites.
They’d had a brawl over who was going to ask her out. Leon so won that fight, because he’d only got a black eye and loads of bruises on his ribs. Harry got a bloodied nose, a split lip, and the biggest bruise ever on his shin.
Of course, the girl in question heard about this and never spoke to either of them again. Such are the perils of young love.
There’ve been other triangles since then, and Leon nearly always got dumped for the other guy. His problems now can’t be settled with a fist fight though.
Or at least, this one can’t.
See, he kindasortamaybe in love with a guy, which is a hell of a problem.
The guy in question is a suspect, which is a whole new level of problematic.
The big mother of them all though, the one that requires at least three beers before it’s even thought about, is that D has half the goddamn city chasing his ass.
Does that even count as a triangle any more?
Title: The Enemy of Mine Enemy…
Word Count: 170
Rating: G
Characters: D, Sofu D and Leon mentioned
Notes: Hark at me trying to do something non-specific. ~_~
The D’s didn’t have enemies. They had worshippers, they had servants, they had people who adored them and people who feared them. There were those who hated them.
However, everyone succumbed to them eventually, to either their charm or their animals. Even those that hated them would respect or admire them.
Of course, there were exceptions. Only a few in each century. Those that were impervious to their charm, saw at least part way through their lies, and managed to wriggle through carefully maintained defences and gain a sliver of their affection. They neither loved nor hated the Ds, and often neither respected nor feared them. In most cases, they merely liked them, as though they were another mortal instead of a god.
They were dangerous, these exceptions. Luring the kami away from their duties, trying to make them forget their revenge.
D had been warned of all that by his grandfather. He understood it.
But he wasn’t sure he could comprehend a scruffy American chain smoker as his enemy.
Title: Just Because
Word Count: 233
Rating: R (Look at that rating and note it, kthnxbye.)
Characters: Leon/D
Notes: I know it’s crap, you don’t need to tell me. But I’m kinda desperate for something to fill in the “Touch” prompt on fanfic100, so I’m posting it here. I’m so sorry. ;_;
Just because you can touch it doesn’t mean it’s real.
That’s something Leon learned the hard way. He’d spent two years around D and his murderous pets, and people who would swear blind that the monster fish they bought was the spitting image of their wife. Or hell, was their wife.
Just because you can touch it doesn’t mean it’s real.
Being able to ruffle the kid’s hair didn’t stop it being a red setter puppy. Being able to pick Pon-chan up and feel silk and ribbons didn’t stop her being a racoon.
Just because you can touch it doesn’t mean it’s real.
He can’t really get rid of the thought, even now, with D plastered to the bed beneath him, his mouth hot and wet and his body solid -
Just because you can touch it -
Even with D’s too-long nails raking down his back and drawing blood, even with his teeth sinking into Leon’s shoulder as Leon grinds their hips together -
Just because you can -
Even with his hand wrapped around D’s fucking cock, with D shaking and gasping and sobbing “Mister Detective” and “Please” and “Leon” or strangled words in Chinese -
It doesn’t mean it’s real.
The body sprawled out on the bed beneath him, warm and languid and pressing dazedly apologetic kisses against his jaw didn’t prove that any of this was real.
It didn’t prove that it wasn’t, either.
Title:
Word Count: 295
Rating: G
Characters: T-chan, implied Sofu/D
Notes: … I blame glitterbats, which she doesn’t seem upset about. D: (All Dcest is Cass’ fault, I swear.) Second person, kinda T-chan’s POV, squicked myself when I wrote it because… Well, yeah. Sofu D. : x
Someone’s holding you back, clutching at your arms to stop you diving into the room and killing him. You don’t know who they are - you’re too angry to even see straight, which is probably good for them because if they don’t let you go right now you’re going to rip them apart.
You know who’s clutching at your waist though; it’s Pon-chan, chanting “please” and “stoppit” and “T-chan you can’t you’ll be killed” and she’s right. You know she’s right. You just don’t care. You want to explain it to her, you really do, you want her to understand so she can make the others let you go.
Look, you want to say to her, to them. Our loyalty’s to the Count. Anyone who hurts him dies. We killed his sister for less than this, I’m not afraid of taking on his Grandfather. But all that’s coming out of your mouth are growls and threats, and all your struggling’ no good when there’s six of them digging claws and teeth into you - they’ll drag you back in pieces if they have to, and you suppose that He thinks it’s funny proving that the animals’ fear of him outweighs their loyalty to his grandson.
You’re not going to give up though, are you? Not while D’s sitting demure and proper on the sofa, hands clasped so tightly he’s drawing blood, face averted from his grandfather and eyes focused on the floor. Not while he’s letting long nailed fingers trail through his hair and down his chest, while a face so similar to his own presses against his throat and whispers lies into his skin.
You swore your loyalty to the Count, not to his family. You’ll fight till the death for him, even if he won’t.
Title: D is for Dismissal
Word Count: 316
Rating: G
Characters: Leon, D
Notes: More post-series wangst. Is anyone else seeing a pattern here?
One of Leon’s nightmares, one of the ones that send him stumbling out of bed at stupid hours of the morning for a drink of water and a cigarette, is very simple. Barely even a nightmare at all.
In it, he’s searching for D (It’s not as if he’s not doing enough of that during the day, is it?). He doesn’t know where he is, which is a usual state of affairs for him. All the cities he’s been to, all the China Towns he’s ransacked, they’ve all blurred into one. Not just inside his head, but outside of it: they all look the same to him. People and voices and landmarks are all one mess of city and humanity to him.
But in his dream, he’s walking through a city - not even the China Town - skirting round chattering clumps of people and trying to spot something. A sign? A hotel? D? He never remembers when he wakes up. All he remembers is that he’s craning to see over and around people, and the bunch in front of him finally shift their lazy asses out of his way.
And D’s there.
Right in front of him.
In his dream, he’ll start forwards - maybe to punch him, or shake him, or hug him, or something - but then he meets D’s eyes and stops.
It’s not that he’s found D’s granddad instead of D. He’d be almost be relieved if that was all it was.
It’s that D’s eyes move over him like he’s not even there, like he’s just another face in the crowd. No recognition, no acknowledgement, no anything. He might as well not have been there for all the reaction he got.
D’s eyes skim over him, and then he turns and walks away. And Leon can’t move, can’t chase after him, can’t even speak until D’s gone his way and left him behind again.
Title: The Devil of Christmas Present
Word Count: 220
Rating: G
Characters: Sofu D, Papa D and Count D; Alex and Norma mentioned.
Warnings: Crack!fic
Notes: This is the drabble from inside my Christmas Cards. If it makes no sense to you, pick up... Volume 4 I believe it is, and look in the back to see what it says about teddy bears, because that's what sparked this off.
Christmas was supposed to be a time of good will, when people set aside their differences to enjoy the company of acquaintances and family members they would otherwise avoid. Even if they needed industrial strength alcohol to aid in the enjoying.
For most pet shop owners, it was the busiest time of year. That was definitely the case for a certain gold eyed kami; that day he’d sold ten contracts before he even got a chance to look at his mail. There were a handful of what were undoubtedly seasonal love letters, a letter from Alex and Norma - with a German postmark for some reason - and an envelope addressed to him in an unfamiliar hand.
The return address belonged to his son.
There was no letter inside, no note. Just a photograph. A photograph that held D spellbound, face white and gold eyes wide.
In the photo, a small dark haired child - undoubtedly his grandson - stared seriously at the camera from the lap of a man with long black hair flowing around him and an expression of unholy amusement on his face. He held the boy protectively though, and the boy in turn was clutching a… A huge teddy bear.
It was at that point that D swore his son was not fit to even look at the child again.