(no subject)
Title:
Author: Susan *dusts self off*
Word Count: 382
Rating: The usual: G, apart from the swearing.
Characters: Leon, D
Notes: Okay, I was majorly foolish. I signed up to do PSoH at fanfic100 (Only the general stuff though. Good luck to whoever signs up for the pairing ones. X_x), so now I am just picking at different challenges in an attempt to write something I can skew to the Fanfic100 one.
The phone had been ringing for five minutes before the Detective answered, and the thick, groggy “D?” that came when he finally did sounded as though it had taken all Leon’s concentration.
“I apologise for disturbing you Detective - “
“Nah, s’okay.” Something creaked and Leon swore. More creaking - it sounded suspiciously like bedsprings - and finally a flump. The cursing again, and what sounded like instructions for the room to stop spinning. Before D could chastise the Detective for his language, Leon asked “D? Where’s th’aspirin?”
“It was in the bathroom cabinet if memory serves. Detective - “
“Jussasecond, jussasecond.” More creaking, and apparently the Detective managed to stay upright this time (and from the sound of things, he managed to stagger down the hallway to his bathroom without banging into the walls too many times, or breaking any bones). “Cabinet?”
“Yes. Second shelf, behind the mouthwash. Detective -”
“Jussasecond - aspirin, aspirin - there it is - shit!” The clattering of plastic on porcelain was presumably everything falling out of the cupboard. The detective swore fluently.
“Language, Detective.”
“Ah, shaddup. Jill got me drunk t’day. Yesserday. Don’ need your squawking,”
“I do not squawk, Detective -”
“You’re squawking, D.”
D hmphed, refusing to stoop to the Detective’s level and prove him right. He winced at the clatter in his ear - either Leon had accidentally allowed his phone to join the contents of his cabinet, or he’d put it down on the sink with his usual delicacy. Rustlings, plastic hitting plastic, and then taps running. The phone being picked up, and what sounded like Leon flumping down onto his bathroom floor.
“Yeah. Jill got me drunk. She thinks s’my birthday. But m’not havin’ one. Chris can’t have one, so I can’t.”
D’s hand tightened suddenly on the receiver of the telephone.
Leon laughed bitterly. “’Sides. Shot a perp today. What a fuckin way to celebrate, right?”
D’s free hand crept forwards, closing over a small box on the table. The silk he’d wrapped it in was cool and slippery under his fingers and, if memory served, it was the exact colour of the Detective’s eyes. Not that the human would have noticed.
His voice was a soft murmur when he finally spoke. “Indeed, Detective. What a way to celebrate.”
Author: Susan *dusts self off*
Word Count: 382
Rating: The usual: G, apart from the swearing.
Characters: Leon, D
Notes: Okay, I was majorly foolish. I signed up to do PSoH at fanfic100 (Only the general stuff though. Good luck to whoever signs up for the pairing ones. X_x), so now I am just picking at different challenges in an attempt to write something I can skew to the Fanfic100 one.
The phone had been ringing for five minutes before the Detective answered, and the thick, groggy “D?” that came when he finally did sounded as though it had taken all Leon’s concentration.
“I apologise for disturbing you Detective - “
“Nah, s’okay.” Something creaked and Leon swore. More creaking - it sounded suspiciously like bedsprings - and finally a flump. The cursing again, and what sounded like instructions for the room to stop spinning. Before D could chastise the Detective for his language, Leon asked “D? Where’s th’aspirin?”
“It was in the bathroom cabinet if memory serves. Detective - “
“Jussasecond, jussasecond.” More creaking, and apparently the Detective managed to stay upright this time (and from the sound of things, he managed to stagger down the hallway to his bathroom without banging into the walls too many times, or breaking any bones). “Cabinet?”
“Yes. Second shelf, behind the mouthwash. Detective -”
“Jussasecond - aspirin, aspirin - there it is - shit!” The clattering of plastic on porcelain was presumably everything falling out of the cupboard. The detective swore fluently.
“Language, Detective.”
“Ah, shaddup. Jill got me drunk t’day. Yesserday. Don’ need your squawking,”
“I do not squawk, Detective -”
“You’re squawking, D.”
D hmphed, refusing to stoop to the Detective’s level and prove him right. He winced at the clatter in his ear - either Leon had accidentally allowed his phone to join the contents of his cabinet, or he’d put it down on the sink with his usual delicacy. Rustlings, plastic hitting plastic, and then taps running. The phone being picked up, and what sounded like Leon flumping down onto his bathroom floor.
“Yeah. Jill got me drunk. She thinks s’my birthday. But m’not havin’ one. Chris can’t have one, so I can’t.”
D’s hand tightened suddenly on the receiver of the telephone.
Leon laughed bitterly. “’Sides. Shot a perp today. What a fuckin way to celebrate, right?”
D’s free hand crept forwards, closing over a small box on the table. The silk he’d wrapped it in was cool and slippery under his fingers and, if memory served, it was the exact colour of the Detective’s eyes. Not that the human would have noticed.
His voice was a soft murmur when he finally spoke. “Indeed, Detective. What a way to celebrate.”