on reneging
So I said I would not write fanfic again. And technically this is true. What I posting now is something I found in an old notebook for a course in ancient cosmology. I don't remember what lecture I was not paying attention to while I wrote this. But is it any wonder that discussion of how the world and its aspects came to be made me think of Count D? I read through my chicken-scratch handwriting and eventually decided to put this up, since there's no better place for it. Spoilers for the ending of PSOH, I guess. Also appropriate icon is appropriate.
Leon woke on the third day in the hospital to find D sitting by his bed watching him with an inscrutable expression. Since this wasn’t the first time he’d found himself in this situation, it took him several seconds to think through why it felt so strange.
“You left,” he said aloud.
D tipped his head to one side, regarding him with those amazing-no, dammit, infuriating eyes.
“Ah, detective,” he said. “Observant as usual.”
“Nngh,” said Leon, mostly because he was still muzzy from whatever was in his IV drip, partly because he didn’t think calling D a lousy bastard was a good way to start this conversation.
D’s smile said he knew what Leon wasn’t saying. “You look frightful in this state.”
“Yeah. Who knew pushing someone out of a flying ship would result in broken bones and internal bleeding.” Okay, he could only be so nice.
D didn’t look perturbed. “I believe,” he said primly, “your injuries resulted from the explosion at the laboratory.” His eyes flashed. “The details of which I expect you have reported to your superiors.”
Oh, hell no. No way was D going to get the upper hand after pushing him out of a flying ship.
“Speaking of reporting to your superiors.” Leon’s fists clenched in the paper-thin bedsheets. “How’s your grandfather? Last I knew he’d dropped the bat-bunny act, right?”
If it were possible for that porcelain skin to go pale, D’s face did. Leon imagined he’d get a hearty Fuck you if D were the type to swear.
There was a long silence. Leon watched D; D watched the machines keeping track of Leon’s vital signs.
“Sofu,” said D quietly. “Sofu does not know I am here.”
Leon was, despite himself, impressed.
“Snuck out your window, huh?” he said, unable to help the grin. “Or what do they call ’em on ships? Porthole.”
A delicate line furrowed D’s brow. “Detective,” he said with a hint of real concern. “You are raving.”
“You really don’t have much of a sense of humor, do you.” Leon studied D with interest. D looked mildly annoyed.
“I have a refined wit and elegant taste,” he snapped. “You, with your decidedly American sensibilities, would neither understand nor appreciate my sense of humor.”
“Ha! You’re a nerd, you mean.”
D stared at him, eyes wide, mouth agape.
“I-I beg your pardon, detective?”
Leon smirked at the familiar pissy tone. “You probably like, whatsit, wordplay, and puns, and all that shit, right?”
“What does that have to do with-”
“Nerd.”
Hell, he’d missed that pout. Not that he’d really had time to miss it; for the most part he’d been unconscious since he’d been pushed out of a flying ship. Speaking of which.
“Hey.” He frowned. “You were crying. When I fell. I saw you.”
D blinked at him. The tiniest hint of pink graced his cheeks.
“You are obviously suffering from delusions,” he said in that hoity-toity way that always set Leon’s teeth grinding. “Why would I shed tears for a mere-”
Leon struggled to sit up, which had the handy side benefit of getting D to shut his damn mouth for almost three seconds.
“Detective, you mustn’t exert yourself,” he scolded, leaning forward with one hand outstretched as if to push Leon back down.
“What do you care,” muttered Leon, wincing at the pressure on his ribs. “I’m only a mere human, right?” He glanced at D, who was comically frozen in the act of reaching for him. “That is what you were going to say, isn’t it?”
D swallowed, looked pained for a brief second, and let his hand fall back to his lap.
“Yes,” he said, voice low. “It is.”
Leon snorted. “That’s some case of supremacy you got going on there, D.” He shifted, winced again, then glowered at the IV in his arm.
D inhaled through his flared nostrils. “I would not expect you to understand.”
“Right. Because of my decidedly human sensibilities.” Leon’s eyes narrowed. “Because I don’t see the shit side of humanity every damn day. Because I don’t have any clue what kind of messed up psychos are out there wreaking havoc on the world.” He leaned forward as far as he was able, voice growing louder with every word. “Because I’ve never had a thing to do with magic disappearing petshops, animals that look like fucking people, or bitchy immortals who push me off flying ships like a goddamn crazy person!”
D, who had been staring at him speechless, gathered himself enough to hiss, “Language, detective!”
“Oh God.” Leon sank back against his bed, groaning at the fresh throb of pain. “Where the hell is my call button?” With one hand he groped for it, and when the nurse responded over the intercom he said, “Please merciful God, can I have some more of whatever you’re shooting into my bloodstream.”
D looked disapproving, but the nurse giggled.
“Sorry, Mr. Orcot,” she said. “We just did rounds, and unless you’re in severe pain, we’re not authorized to strengthen your dosage.”
“Sweetheart,” said Leon, glaring at D, “I am in agony.”
“You sound fine, Mr. Orcot.”
He sighed and released the button. “Hell,” he mumbled, eyes closing. “If I told you to leave, would you actually listen?”
After a pause, D said coldly, “I do not tarry where my presence is not wanted, detective.”
Tarry. God, what a nerd.
“Well, you sure as fuck don’t tarry where your presence is wanted, so I’m screwed either way.” He didn’t bother opening his eyes. There was another long pause. When D spoke, he sounded odd-almost confused.
“What…do you mean by that, precisely?” When Leon failed to answer, D pressed in the same uncertain voice, “Leon?”
The sound of his name-his name, not some half-mocking epithet invoking his rank-had Leon’s eyes shooting open and meeting the gold-and-amethyst gaze.
“I-I mean-” Why couldn’t he speak now? Now when D was finally willing to listen?” “I mean…that you left, and you didn’t even-you just- You were just gone. And I wasn’t-I couldn’t-”
Had to be the drugs, he thought wildly. Nothing else would make him feel like he was falling into those crazybeautiful eyes. Well, maybe that incense shit at the shop-ship. He’d always wondered it if was some kind of narcotic in the censers.
“Go on,” said D in his soft voice.
“Right,” said Leon, relieved-and at the perplexed and then wide-eyed expression on D’s face, he realized that D had been encouraging him to keep speaking, not finishing his sentence for him. He looked away, face burning.
“Anyway,” he said to the wall of machines. “What are you doing? Why’d you come-here?” Back. He’d almost said come back, but that sounded too hopeful. Not like he hadn’t already made an idiot of himself. He’d be damned if he’d cry, though; he’d rather asphyxiate here and now than cry in front of Count fucking D.
D was looking at him. He could sense it-feel it. He had always been able to feel those dual-colored eyes on him, searching, seeing.
“I was concerned,” D said. “And…I needed to ascertain that you were unharmed.”
“Flying ship,” said Leon. “Pushed off. Ringing any bells here?”
He knew from the snippy tone that D’s eyes had narrowed on him in irritation.
“Rather.” Coolness radiated from him in waves. “My concern, however, was less for your physical condition than for any potential psychological trauma.” He lifted a hand in dismissal. “Experience has taught me that you are ridiculously…persistent.”
Leon turned to look at him. “You mean I won’t let you weasel out of criminal charges by flying away on a ship in the sky.” Maybe if he kept saying it, it would eventually stop sounding so stupid.
D sighed. “As you like it, detective.”
“As I like it, my ass.” Leon muttered the words, then considered them for a moment. “As I like it, huh?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Can I get that in writing? You’re big on contracts, aren’t you?”
Mismatched eyes blinked at him. “You wish to enter into a contract, detective?” He sounded flabbergasted. Good. If Leon kept him off track, he’d be able to catch him faster. Maybe.
“Sure.” He held D’s gaze. “On my terms.”
“Your terms.” Now D seemed a little dazed, as if he couldn’t quite credit what was happening. That made two of them. He shook his head, then held himself straighter in the chair. His perplexed expression smoothed away into that well-rehearsed mask of amusement. “All right, detective. What is your offer, and what are your terms?”
If Leon hadn’t been tethered to an IV, he’d have shot a fist into the air in victory. He tried to project confidence anyway.
“I’m offering you immunity,” he said. “I’ll quit trying to bring you in and pin you with shit I know you’ve done.” He let his glare speak for him on that point and ignored D’s smirk. “And I’ll let you fly away on your ship with your weird animal friends and live happily ever after. Or whatever it is you’re doing.”
The violet-amber of D’s eyes was intimidating in that moment. “I see. You offer my freedom, then.”
Leon scoffed. “D, you’ve got a flying pet shop…ship thing. And I’m tied to a hospital bed. Your freedom ain’t exactly an issue here.”
“Ah. Yes, of course.” Damn, that smirk was infuriating. “Then what do you-”
“I’ll leave you alone,” said Leon, and watched D’s face go blank with surprise. “I won’t bother you anymore. I won’t look for you. I won’t ever think of you again.” A lie, but D didn’t have to know that.
“Oh.” D sat back. “Well. Yes. All right.” It was clear that this was the last thing he had expected. He clasped his fingers together in his lap as if to center himself. “So. I gain a detective-free existence, if I adhere to your terms.” His voice was devoid of inflection.
“Yeah.” Leon nodded, still watching him. “That’s right.”
“And what are they?” So damn polite, and if Leon hadn’t known him for years, hadn’t danced this one so many times, he’d have missed the flicker of shadow that crossed D’s perfect, china-pale face.
Leon waited until he felt sure that impossible gold-purple gaze was burned into his, the memory of it real and alive and just as damn supernatural as everything else about the tiny figure beside him.
“Try and stop me,” he said softly.
D stared at him. He looked frozen and not sure of himself.
“Stop you?” He blinked. “That is your stipulation? I…do not understand.”
With a shrug, Leon said, “You want me to disappear from your life? Then run. And see if I don’t find you. That’s my deal.”
Christ. Was he really signing up for an eternal game of fucking hide-and-seek with Count D?
D’s eyes were wide again and oddly childlike in his dawning comprehension. Leon looked back at him, tense and silent and, for the first time since he’d been pushed off a flying ship, afraid of his complete lack of control over this situation. It was a familiar enough sensation, when it came to D; but Leon had never been afraid of it until now. From the look on D’s face, he thought maybe the unflappable Count felt the same way.
And then something struck him with undeniable clarity.
“You did cry.” The words were barely more than a croak, but full of wonder nonetheless. “When I fell. You cried for me.”
After an excruciating silence, D blinked. He kind of floated to his feet and-God, this was insane-started to glow a little around the edges.
“Detective Leon Orcot,” he said, voice crisp and eyes glittering like jewels. “I accept your contract.”
And then-fuck, fuck, what the hell was in his IV?-he faded away, with only his voice lingering.
Catch me if you can.
Leon woke on the third day in the hospital to find D sitting by his bed watching him with an inscrutable expression. Since this wasn’t the first time he’d found himself in this situation, it took him several seconds to think through why it felt so strange.
“You left,” he said aloud.
D tipped his head to one side, regarding him with those amazing-no, dammit, infuriating eyes.
“Ah, detective,” he said. “Observant as usual.”
“Nngh,” said Leon, mostly because he was still muzzy from whatever was in his IV drip, partly because he didn’t think calling D a lousy bastard was a good way to start this conversation.
D’s smile said he knew what Leon wasn’t saying. “You look frightful in this state.”
“Yeah. Who knew pushing someone out of a flying ship would result in broken bones and internal bleeding.” Okay, he could only be so nice.
D didn’t look perturbed. “I believe,” he said primly, “your injuries resulted from the explosion at the laboratory.” His eyes flashed. “The details of which I expect you have reported to your superiors.”
Oh, hell no. No way was D going to get the upper hand after pushing him out of a flying ship.
“Speaking of reporting to your superiors.” Leon’s fists clenched in the paper-thin bedsheets. “How’s your grandfather? Last I knew he’d dropped the bat-bunny act, right?”
If it were possible for that porcelain skin to go pale, D’s face did. Leon imagined he’d get a hearty Fuck you if D were the type to swear.
There was a long silence. Leon watched D; D watched the machines keeping track of Leon’s vital signs.
“Sofu,” said D quietly. “Sofu does not know I am here.”
Leon was, despite himself, impressed.
“Snuck out your window, huh?” he said, unable to help the grin. “Or what do they call ’em on ships? Porthole.”
A delicate line furrowed D’s brow. “Detective,” he said with a hint of real concern. “You are raving.”
“You really don’t have much of a sense of humor, do you.” Leon studied D with interest. D looked mildly annoyed.
“I have a refined wit and elegant taste,” he snapped. “You, with your decidedly American sensibilities, would neither understand nor appreciate my sense of humor.”
“Ha! You’re a nerd, you mean.”
D stared at him, eyes wide, mouth agape.
“I-I beg your pardon, detective?”
Leon smirked at the familiar pissy tone. “You probably like, whatsit, wordplay, and puns, and all that shit, right?”
“What does that have to do with-”
“Nerd.”
Hell, he’d missed that pout. Not that he’d really had time to miss it; for the most part he’d been unconscious since he’d been pushed out of a flying ship. Speaking of which.
“Hey.” He frowned. “You were crying. When I fell. I saw you.”
D blinked at him. The tiniest hint of pink graced his cheeks.
“You are obviously suffering from delusions,” he said in that hoity-toity way that always set Leon’s teeth grinding. “Why would I shed tears for a mere-”
Leon struggled to sit up, which had the handy side benefit of getting D to shut his damn mouth for almost three seconds.
“Detective, you mustn’t exert yourself,” he scolded, leaning forward with one hand outstretched as if to push Leon back down.
“What do you care,” muttered Leon, wincing at the pressure on his ribs. “I’m only a mere human, right?” He glanced at D, who was comically frozen in the act of reaching for him. “That is what you were going to say, isn’t it?”
D swallowed, looked pained for a brief second, and let his hand fall back to his lap.
“Yes,” he said, voice low. “It is.”
Leon snorted. “That’s some case of supremacy you got going on there, D.” He shifted, winced again, then glowered at the IV in his arm.
D inhaled through his flared nostrils. “I would not expect you to understand.”
“Right. Because of my decidedly human sensibilities.” Leon’s eyes narrowed. “Because I don’t see the shit side of humanity every damn day. Because I don’t have any clue what kind of messed up psychos are out there wreaking havoc on the world.” He leaned forward as far as he was able, voice growing louder with every word. “Because I’ve never had a thing to do with magic disappearing petshops, animals that look like fucking people, or bitchy immortals who push me off flying ships like a goddamn crazy person!”
D, who had been staring at him speechless, gathered himself enough to hiss, “Language, detective!”
“Oh God.” Leon sank back against his bed, groaning at the fresh throb of pain. “Where the hell is my call button?” With one hand he groped for it, and when the nurse responded over the intercom he said, “Please merciful God, can I have some more of whatever you’re shooting into my bloodstream.”
D looked disapproving, but the nurse giggled.
“Sorry, Mr. Orcot,” she said. “We just did rounds, and unless you’re in severe pain, we’re not authorized to strengthen your dosage.”
“Sweetheart,” said Leon, glaring at D, “I am in agony.”
“You sound fine, Mr. Orcot.”
He sighed and released the button. “Hell,” he mumbled, eyes closing. “If I told you to leave, would you actually listen?”
After a pause, D said coldly, “I do not tarry where my presence is not wanted, detective.”
Tarry. God, what a nerd.
“Well, you sure as fuck don’t tarry where your presence is wanted, so I’m screwed either way.” He didn’t bother opening his eyes. There was another long pause. When D spoke, he sounded odd-almost confused.
“What…do you mean by that, precisely?” When Leon failed to answer, D pressed in the same uncertain voice, “Leon?”
The sound of his name-his name, not some half-mocking epithet invoking his rank-had Leon’s eyes shooting open and meeting the gold-and-amethyst gaze.
“I-I mean-” Why couldn’t he speak now? Now when D was finally willing to listen?” “I mean…that you left, and you didn’t even-you just- You were just gone. And I wasn’t-I couldn’t-”
Had to be the drugs, he thought wildly. Nothing else would make him feel like he was falling into those crazybeautiful eyes. Well, maybe that incense shit at the shop-ship. He’d always wondered it if was some kind of narcotic in the censers.
“Go on,” said D in his soft voice.
“Right,” said Leon, relieved-and at the perplexed and then wide-eyed expression on D’s face, he realized that D had been encouraging him to keep speaking, not finishing his sentence for him. He looked away, face burning.
“Anyway,” he said to the wall of machines. “What are you doing? Why’d you come-here?” Back. He’d almost said come back, but that sounded too hopeful. Not like he hadn’t already made an idiot of himself. He’d be damned if he’d cry, though; he’d rather asphyxiate here and now than cry in front of Count fucking D.
D was looking at him. He could sense it-feel it. He had always been able to feel those dual-colored eyes on him, searching, seeing.
“I was concerned,” D said. “And…I needed to ascertain that you were unharmed.”
“Flying ship,” said Leon. “Pushed off. Ringing any bells here?”
He knew from the snippy tone that D’s eyes had narrowed on him in irritation.
“Rather.” Coolness radiated from him in waves. “My concern, however, was less for your physical condition than for any potential psychological trauma.” He lifted a hand in dismissal. “Experience has taught me that you are ridiculously…persistent.”
Leon turned to look at him. “You mean I won’t let you weasel out of criminal charges by flying away on a ship in the sky.” Maybe if he kept saying it, it would eventually stop sounding so stupid.
D sighed. “As you like it, detective.”
“As I like it, my ass.” Leon muttered the words, then considered them for a moment. “As I like it, huh?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Can I get that in writing? You’re big on contracts, aren’t you?”
Mismatched eyes blinked at him. “You wish to enter into a contract, detective?” He sounded flabbergasted. Good. If Leon kept him off track, he’d be able to catch him faster. Maybe.
“Sure.” He held D’s gaze. “On my terms.”
“Your terms.” Now D seemed a little dazed, as if he couldn’t quite credit what was happening. That made two of them. He shook his head, then held himself straighter in the chair. His perplexed expression smoothed away into that well-rehearsed mask of amusement. “All right, detective. What is your offer, and what are your terms?”
If Leon hadn’t been tethered to an IV, he’d have shot a fist into the air in victory. He tried to project confidence anyway.
“I’m offering you immunity,” he said. “I’ll quit trying to bring you in and pin you with shit I know you’ve done.” He let his glare speak for him on that point and ignored D’s smirk. “And I’ll let you fly away on your ship with your weird animal friends and live happily ever after. Or whatever it is you’re doing.”
The violet-amber of D’s eyes was intimidating in that moment. “I see. You offer my freedom, then.”
Leon scoffed. “D, you’ve got a flying pet shop…ship thing. And I’m tied to a hospital bed. Your freedom ain’t exactly an issue here.”
“Ah. Yes, of course.” Damn, that smirk was infuriating. “Then what do you-”
“I’ll leave you alone,” said Leon, and watched D’s face go blank with surprise. “I won’t bother you anymore. I won’t look for you. I won’t ever think of you again.” A lie, but D didn’t have to know that.
“Oh.” D sat back. “Well. Yes. All right.” It was clear that this was the last thing he had expected. He clasped his fingers together in his lap as if to center himself. “So. I gain a detective-free existence, if I adhere to your terms.” His voice was devoid of inflection.
“Yeah.” Leon nodded, still watching him. “That’s right.”
“And what are they?” So damn polite, and if Leon hadn’t known him for years, hadn’t danced this one so many times, he’d have missed the flicker of shadow that crossed D’s perfect, china-pale face.
Leon waited until he felt sure that impossible gold-purple gaze was burned into his, the memory of it real and alive and just as damn supernatural as everything else about the tiny figure beside him.
“Try and stop me,” he said softly.
D stared at him. He looked frozen and not sure of himself.
“Stop you?” He blinked. “That is your stipulation? I…do not understand.”
With a shrug, Leon said, “You want me to disappear from your life? Then run. And see if I don’t find you. That’s my deal.”
Christ. Was he really signing up for an eternal game of fucking hide-and-seek with Count D?
D’s eyes were wide again and oddly childlike in his dawning comprehension. Leon looked back at him, tense and silent and, for the first time since he’d been pushed off a flying ship, afraid of his complete lack of control over this situation. It was a familiar enough sensation, when it came to D; but Leon had never been afraid of it until now. From the look on D’s face, he thought maybe the unflappable Count felt the same way.
And then something struck him with undeniable clarity.
“You did cry.” The words were barely more than a croak, but full of wonder nonetheless. “When I fell. You cried for me.”
After an excruciating silence, D blinked. He kind of floated to his feet and-God, this was insane-started to glow a little around the edges.
“Detective Leon Orcot,” he said, voice crisp and eyes glittering like jewels. “I accept your contract.”
And then-fuck, fuck, what the hell was in his IV?-he faded away, with only his voice lingering.
Catch me if you can.