Petshop of Horrors, D/Leon
Jul. 2nd, 2007 10:54 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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kinkfestTitle: Dregs
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
puella_nerdii
Fandom: Petshop of Horrors
Pairing: D/Leon
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Warnings: See above.
Wordcount: 817
Prompt: Playing with food - one teacup too many
“This tastes like grass clippings and sugar.” Leon holds his teacup at arm’s length and stares at it like it’s some kind of poisonous viper. (And knowing D, there might well be a snake buried in the dregs of the tea. Leon sure as hell wouldn’t put it past him.)
“It’s green tea,” Count D says calmly. “Made from—”
“—whatever shit’s growing in the cracks in the sidewalk outside this place,” Leon finishes. He’s sure he sees a few dead weeds floating around in the brown stuff in his cup. And it smells like Los Angeles, all right; bitter and rotten, like sewage baking in the sun.
“Pan-fried Lonjing tea leaves,” D finishes, drumming his scarlet nails against his thigh. “And don’t put your feet on the table. You’ll get dirt on the éclairs.”
Leon shrugs. “The dirt just looks like chocolate, anyway. You can’t tell the difference.”
“You most certainly can.” And Leon has to snicker a little at that, because if there’s one thing D gets really pissed off about, it’s food. Food or whatever crazy-ass animal he’s smuggled in illegally from China or Korea or India or one of those other Asian countries with no trade laws.
And speaking of weird animals, that mutant goat thing D keeps around in the front of the shop sinks his pointy little teeth into Leon’s goddamn thigh, which is way too close to areas that should never be bitten ever for Leon’s comfort. He yelps and yanks on Tetsu’s horns, but then the fucker bites down even harder. Great. Now he has blood staining his jeans. He just bought these jeans. If he has to get stitches or get the giant chunk of skin ripped from his thigh sewn back on, D’s paying his fucking hospital bill. “Son of a bitch!”
“T-chan doesn’t like it when people show such disrespect to food,” D says mildly.
“D! This isn’t funny! Call him off!”
“Tetsu…” D sighs, and the furry demon (demons have horns and hooves like Tetsu does, which in Leon’s opinion is no coincidence) growls deep in his throat once and slouches off Leon’s lap.
Count D smiles. “T-chan says that you don’t taste very good.”
“That’s not what my ex-girlfriend sai—OW! CHRIST!”
“You are, however, palatable,” D continues.
“Get him off my fucking leg! I can’t do my job if this thing’s shot.”
“T-chan is less forgiving of vulgarity than I,” D says.
Leon just grumbles. “Yeah right. I bet you told him to do it.”
“Finish your tea, Detective.”
“I already told you, it tastes like shi—” He eyes Tetsu’s teeth, stained dull red and still dripping, and clears his throat. “I mean, I don’t think you’re supposed to put sugar in green tea.”
“Blasphemy.”
“I’m serious. Doesn’t add to the flavor. The sugar’s just really heavy, you know? It sticks in the back of your throat.” He runs his tongue over the roof of his mouth and makes a face; it feels like someone’s glued cotton balls there and stuffed them full of sugar, then sprinkled them with old coffee grounds.
“Hmm,” D says. He leans forward, flicks his tongue against the corner of Leon’s mouth, and curls it back in really slowly like a cat would. “You may be right. May be.”
Leon smirks. “Damn right I am.”
“Yes, well.” The Count sets his tea aside. “Probability dictates that it had to happen someday, I suppose.”
Leon snatches up an éclair from the plate and chucks it at D; the Count turns to the side, so the éclair sails past him and splatters against the couch, spraying cream all over the purple fabric and staining it pearly.
“Well,” D says. “That won’t do.”
“I’ll clean it up.” He resists the urge to put his feet back on the table. Barely.
“Yes.” D’s getting that crazy glint in his eye. Shit. “You will. I waited two hours in line outside the bakery this morning to get those. They aren’t going to waste.” He points sharply to the mess of pastry clinging to the couch. “Eat it.”
“Eat it?” Leon echoes.
“Eat it,” D says firmly.
“Jesus.” He grabs a chunk of the flaky shell from the couch’s seat. “Do I look like some animal to you?”
“No.” D smiles. “None of my pets would be so wanton in their treatment of food.”
Leon scraps the drips of cream off the couch with his fingers and licks them clean as D watches carefully. It is really good filling, he has to admit—sweet without being cloying, and just thick enough. Kind of buttery.
“There,” he says, sucking the last of the chocolate from the tip of his ring finger. “Happy?”
D kisses him full on the lips this time and keeps his tongue swirling in Leon’s mouth until he’s gathered up the last of the pastry’s lingering aftertaste. “Quite,” he says.
Author:
puella_nerdiiFandom: Petshop of Horrors
Pairing: D/Leon
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Warnings: See above.
Wordcount: 817
Prompt: Playing with food - one teacup too many
“This tastes like grass clippings and sugar.” Leon holds his teacup at arm’s length and stares at it like it’s some kind of poisonous viper. (And knowing D, there might well be a snake buried in the dregs of the tea. Leon sure as hell wouldn’t put it past him.)
“It’s green tea,” Count D says calmly. “Made from—”
“—whatever shit’s growing in the cracks in the sidewalk outside this place,” Leon finishes. He’s sure he sees a few dead weeds floating around in the brown stuff in his cup. And it smells like Los Angeles, all right; bitter and rotten, like sewage baking in the sun.
“Pan-fried Lonjing tea leaves,” D finishes, drumming his scarlet nails against his thigh. “And don’t put your feet on the table. You’ll get dirt on the éclairs.”
Leon shrugs. “The dirt just looks like chocolate, anyway. You can’t tell the difference.”
“You most certainly can.” And Leon has to snicker a little at that, because if there’s one thing D gets really pissed off about, it’s food. Food or whatever crazy-ass animal he’s smuggled in illegally from China or Korea or India or one of those other Asian countries with no trade laws.
And speaking of weird animals, that mutant goat thing D keeps around in the front of the shop sinks his pointy little teeth into Leon’s goddamn thigh, which is way too close to areas that should never be bitten ever for Leon’s comfort. He yelps and yanks on Tetsu’s horns, but then the fucker bites down even harder. Great. Now he has blood staining his jeans. He just bought these jeans. If he has to get stitches or get the giant chunk of skin ripped from his thigh sewn back on, D’s paying his fucking hospital bill. “Son of a bitch!”
“T-chan doesn’t like it when people show such disrespect to food,” D says mildly.
“D! This isn’t funny! Call him off!”
“Tetsu…” D sighs, and the furry demon (demons have horns and hooves like Tetsu does, which in Leon’s opinion is no coincidence) growls deep in his throat once and slouches off Leon’s lap.
Count D smiles. “T-chan says that you don’t taste very good.”
“That’s not what my ex-girlfriend sai—OW! CHRIST!”
“You are, however, palatable,” D continues.
“Get him off my fucking leg! I can’t do my job if this thing’s shot.”
“T-chan is less forgiving of vulgarity than I,” D says.
Leon just grumbles. “Yeah right. I bet you told him to do it.”
“Finish your tea, Detective.”
“I already told you, it tastes like shi—” He eyes Tetsu’s teeth, stained dull red and still dripping, and clears his throat. “I mean, I don’t think you’re supposed to put sugar in green tea.”
“Blasphemy.”
“I’m serious. Doesn’t add to the flavor. The sugar’s just really heavy, you know? It sticks in the back of your throat.” He runs his tongue over the roof of his mouth and makes a face; it feels like someone’s glued cotton balls there and stuffed them full of sugar, then sprinkled them with old coffee grounds.
“Hmm,” D says. He leans forward, flicks his tongue against the corner of Leon’s mouth, and curls it back in really slowly like a cat would. “You may be right. May be.”
Leon smirks. “Damn right I am.”
“Yes, well.” The Count sets his tea aside. “Probability dictates that it had to happen someday, I suppose.”
Leon snatches up an éclair from the plate and chucks it at D; the Count turns to the side, so the éclair sails past him and splatters against the couch, spraying cream all over the purple fabric and staining it pearly.
“Well,” D says. “That won’t do.”
“I’ll clean it up.” He resists the urge to put his feet back on the table. Barely.
“Yes.” D’s getting that crazy glint in his eye. Shit. “You will. I waited two hours in line outside the bakery this morning to get those. They aren’t going to waste.” He points sharply to the mess of pastry clinging to the couch. “Eat it.”
“Eat it?” Leon echoes.
“Eat it,” D says firmly.
“Jesus.” He grabs a chunk of the flaky shell from the couch’s seat. “Do I look like some animal to you?”
“No.” D smiles. “None of my pets would be so wanton in their treatment of food.”
Leon scraps the drips of cream off the couch with his fingers and licks them clean as D watches carefully. It is really good filling, he has to admit—sweet without being cloying, and just thick enough. Kind of buttery.
“There,” he says, sucking the last of the chocolate from the tip of his ring finger. “Happy?”
D kisses him full on the lips this time and keeps his tongue swirling in Leon’s mouth until he’s gathered up the last of the pastry’s lingering aftertaste. “Quite,” he says.
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Date: 2007-07-03 04:36 am (UTC)And I kind of prefer making them already together when I write them, because they already ACT like an old married couple in the manga. :D
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Date: 2007-07-03 04:38 am (UTC)