Challenge #270, "Armor"
Title: Knight in Blue
Pairing: Leon X D
No warnings
WC: Please, please forgive me! I don;t dare check, even.
Armor
There was a ‘snick’ as D cinched the last buckle in place.
“Not very elegant, Detective.”
Is it strong enough? Will you need me? - I’ll be there anyway, my darling Detective. I’ll be watching over you, as I always do.
“Nah. No need to look good, D.”
Before the huge beveled mirror in the Parlor, Leon finished smearing the last of the black grease paint under his gleaming blue eyes. He tugged the regulation shatter-proof helmet down just so, snapping on the transmitter as he went, tightened his duty belt by one notch, and checked over all the whiz-bang fastenings and space-age quick-release doodads one last time. Suited up, Detective Orcot looked vaguely like a contemporary Flash Gordon or perhaps a Martian football player decked out for the ‘big game’…but his particular brand of armor included a Glock.
“Not for them.”
Scum-of-the-earth bastards, these fucking drug lords, but I’ll be fine; don’t worry. This is completely routine, D. No need to get your panties in a twist -- I do this all the time.
“Still, Detective,” and here the Count smiled cattily, pausing as his odd eyes skimmed over the bits-and-pieces still visible of Leon’s usual jeans-and-a-T-shirt, now sweat-darkened from a miserably hot day spent undercover. D’s nervous hands rose and then fell, patting down the plastic hinges on the neoprene-coated breastplate that covered up the T-shirt’s brave yellow smiley face as if he didn’t quite trust them. Then he looked up, smiling even more brightly, his gold-and-amethyst gaze wide in a smirking face.
“Still, Leon…your usual ‘unwashed’ look suits you more. You barely even have to try to blend in with the criminals.”
I’ll be waiting for you. Stay safe and well, my Detective.
Leon was quite aware the Count hated these occasional night raids, even more than daytime ones Leon never told him about.
“Asshole….Uh, I mean, ‘thanks,’ D. I guess. For the help, I mean.”
Gloved hands waving, he shooed the worries away.
I’ll be back. Bet your precious Shop on it, baby - just trust me!
“But of course, Detective. Anything to encourage our brave men in blue.”
“Uh, right,” Leon flushed under his greasepaint for no apparent reason and then nodded meaningfully toward the street, where an equally armored Jill was patiently waiting.
He had to get going now or the Chief would have his ass in a sling, no lie!
“Yeah, sure, whatever. Well, see you around, Count.”
A fast peck on the corner of the red mouth; an affectionate ruffle through the night-black silk. Leon jittered on the doorstep, one foot out and one foot in.
I love you, baby. I’ll be fine, I swear!
“…Yes,” the Count smiled, and Leon could’ve sworn he’d winked the purple one insouciantly.
You had better be, Leon, or I’ll know the reasons why!
But Detective Orcot, LAPD, had no more time left to make sure his eyes hadn’t deceived him - his comm was crackling fiercely inside his helmet; the other officer outside was leaning nastily on the horn.
Be careful, Leon!
Time to go! Time to go! Can’t wait a minute longer!
Long after the police cruiser was but a fading afterglow in the hideous blue light of one of Chinatown’s argon streetlamps, the prim-and-proper Count D sagged against the Pet Shop’s sturdy doorframe and closed his mismatched eyes with a wistful sigh.
.
Pairing: Leon X D
No warnings
WC: Please, please forgive me! I don;t dare check, even.
Armor
There was a ‘snick’ as D cinched the last buckle in place.
“Not very elegant, Detective.”
Is it strong enough? Will you need me? - I’ll be there anyway, my darling Detective. I’ll be watching over you, as I always do.
“Nah. No need to look good, D.”
Before the huge beveled mirror in the Parlor, Leon finished smearing the last of the black grease paint under his gleaming blue eyes. He tugged the regulation shatter-proof helmet down just so, snapping on the transmitter as he went, tightened his duty belt by one notch, and checked over all the whiz-bang fastenings and space-age quick-release doodads one last time. Suited up, Detective Orcot looked vaguely like a contemporary Flash Gordon or perhaps a Martian football player decked out for the ‘big game’…but his particular brand of armor included a Glock.
“Not for them.”
Scum-of-the-earth bastards, these fucking drug lords, but I’ll be fine; don’t worry. This is completely routine, D. No need to get your panties in a twist -- I do this all the time.
“Still, Detective,” and here the Count smiled cattily, pausing as his odd eyes skimmed over the bits-and-pieces still visible of Leon’s usual jeans-and-a-T-shirt, now sweat-darkened from a miserably hot day spent undercover. D’s nervous hands rose and then fell, patting down the plastic hinges on the neoprene-coated breastplate that covered up the T-shirt’s brave yellow smiley face as if he didn’t quite trust them. Then he looked up, smiling even more brightly, his gold-and-amethyst gaze wide in a smirking face.
“Still, Leon…your usual ‘unwashed’ look suits you more. You barely even have to try to blend in with the criminals.”
I’ll be waiting for you. Stay safe and well, my Detective.
Leon was quite aware the Count hated these occasional night raids, even more than daytime ones Leon never told him about.
“Asshole….Uh, I mean, ‘thanks,’ D. I guess. For the help, I mean.”
Gloved hands waving, he shooed the worries away.
I’ll be back. Bet your precious Shop on it, baby - just trust me!
“But of course, Detective. Anything to encourage our brave men in blue.”
“Uh, right,” Leon flushed under his greasepaint for no apparent reason and then nodded meaningfully toward the street, where an equally armored Jill was patiently waiting.
He had to get going now or the Chief would have his ass in a sling, no lie!
“Yeah, sure, whatever. Well, see you around, Count.”
A fast peck on the corner of the red mouth; an affectionate ruffle through the night-black silk. Leon jittered on the doorstep, one foot out and one foot in.
I love you, baby. I’ll be fine, I swear!
“…Yes,” the Count smiled, and Leon could’ve sworn he’d winked the purple one insouciantly.
You had better be, Leon, or I’ll know the reasons why!
But Detective Orcot, LAPD, had no more time left to make sure his eyes hadn’t deceived him - his comm was crackling fiercely inside his helmet; the other officer outside was leaning nastily on the horn.
Be careful, Leon!
Time to go! Time to go! Can’t wait a minute longer!
Long after the police cruiser was but a fading afterglow in the hideous blue light of one of Chinatown’s argon streetlamps, the prim-and-proper Count D sagged against the Pet Shop’s sturdy doorframe and closed his mismatched eyes with a wistful sigh.
.