Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Petshop of Horrors (manga or anime) and am not making any sort of profit off this story of mine excluding personal amusement. However, I do own Dee Junior, his FAKE manga and his cargo pants.
As usual, the small shop in Chinatown was open. While unlocked, the doors remained closed. They carefully guarded their precious burden from the outside world.
The hazy sent of incense drifted out.
"D!" Someone shouted, doing a poor job of repressing his anger. No one answered the door, but the twittering inside at more elemental inhabitants. The impolite knocker was currently fuming in the door's general direction. As is the habit of doors, the imposing red doors didn't appear affected.
He (the knocker) wasn't someone you would expect to be here in Chinatown. He had no idea where the twists and turns of this city within a city would take him. However common inhabitants of the pungent underbelly of the city had grown accustomed to him. They might understand his habits, but Chinatown remained as much a mystery to the knocker detective as was two years ago, on his first visit. He visited the shop often enough, but is remained just that, a place as lifeless and two dimensional as a shop front from the old west.
And the detective did feel like he was stuck in a poor-quality western, too. He imagined the grainy picture and the faded brown coloring while he scanned his dim surroundings. Carefully he scratched his back around a knife tucked into a knife sheath over his spine. They were handy buggers when it came to protection, and detective Orcot desperately wanted something to defend himself against. Something that looked lethal.
Slowly his hand crept against the oppressive heat that populated Chinatown to his forehead, where he wiped away sweat that threatened his eyes. Black had never been a good color for him, and today's temperature should have forbidden such foolish clothing. Still Orcot had worn his button-up black shirt and black jeans for a reason. The blond man narrowed his eyes and allowed them to smolder for a few moments.
"D! I know you're in there. This has gone too far!" He shouted into the door, more seriously than he could remember being.
'It shouldn't matter Leon. . ." He tried to remind himself. No matter how much he tried to convince his mind, it didn't change his heart. D would pay dearly for this. Leon wished he'd brought more than just his knife.
Finally the wait became too much, and detective Leon Orcot charged ahead through the solid red door in a haze.
What he saw stopped him dead.
". . ."
***
It was dark.
There was no moon, red or otherwise.
Lovers walk in shadow.
Hands entwine.
Souls. . . speak.
***
"So . . . What are you?"
"I believe the question is 'who am I?'" A small smile.
"Not with you." An amused chuckle.
"How do you mean?"
"Well, the way you speak, if nothing else. The way you wrap your tongue around words, it's like you haven't gotten used to spoken language, let alone English. And I have a right to know, now." Tense silence follows, and a dark shape shifts.
"And?" In the cool blankness of an apartment, two figures materialize. The taller, unclear figure is holding a young woman in a loose embrace.
"Well, it's difficult to tell when I only see you at night. . . But the way you move is strange."
"Like I'm not human and puppet my limbs, perhaps?"
"I bit like you. . . what?" The young woman shifts nervously and glares into the indistinct figure holding her.
"You heard me." The figure's deep voice answers. The woman pauses and idly notices the richness of the figure's voice. Almost too dark to be real . . .
The woman continues to scrutinize his face. It becomes evident she is waiting for his confirmation. Her blonde hair flashes gold, caught by a stray headlight. While these lovers remain locked in an embrace, the headlight reminds them the world moves around them.
The silence stretches into the darkness and slinks through the moments.
Finally the figure shifts, and someone's taillight flits beyond the blinds into a small apartment, bathing the figure in read. He looks good in blood.
Nondescript features are hidden by un-kept hair pulled back into a weak ponytail. His horribly messiness is only compounded by the stray strands of raven locks that shield the world from predatory yellow eyes. He looks oddly like a wolf.
His shift in position brings a pale hand to woman's face. She looks flushed, even after the car light vanishes.
"Yes?" She beacons.
"I am many things. But most importantly you should know I am a close relative of Count D. I suppose you could say he set us up."
"That doesn't help."
"Of course." The blonde appears to have given up.
"You know I asked because. . ."
"I know."
". . . stay until morning?" She rallies.
"There is a price involved." Snickers color the apartment.
"As long as you're here when I wake up."
'Always.' The figure says with his heart. He hopes to prove what only the rising sun will show.
He will stay the night. It was the least he could do, now.
***
"Count. . ." Leon pulled his hand away from his knife-sheath. He didn't quite realize he came here with intent to kill. . .
'Not that I could.' The detective ignored that thought. He'd gotten quite good at this denial game. It got him through the day, and that was all that mattered, normally.
But, this was anything but normal. Leon's pillar of normality, the ever-mysterious Count D, was huddled on the couch, crying, his pets curled around him. The Chinese man was shaking slightly, and his pets all glared at Leon reproachfully. He agreed. This was none of his business. Whatever had destroyed D so completely, it wasn't something he wanted to get involved in. He took a step backwards, towards freedom, but the pets' glares intensified. Most abnormal. They seemed to think. . . if he was going get involved, he better help out, dammit. Leon stopped his backward gait abruptly. Had he just interpreted the pets? This was getting serious.
The Count glanced up at Leon, and before the detective knew what was happening, he was holding a broken D. The petshop owner's eyes where tearstained and impossibly, immeasurably sad. While Leon patted his back, whispered "shhhh. . ." and nearly kissed the count's forehead he noticed several scratches from the freaky goat with fangs. The evil goat was currently balancing on his leg with a glare fit to kill. Tet-chan, was that D's choice of name? It wasn't as important as the shattered glass of D's eyes, Leon mused. Through a haze he noticed the Count was falling asleep on his black-clad chest.
"This was a new shirt, too. . ." Leon started to shift out from under the count. Totetsu growled menacingly.
"I'll just say here, then." Leon murmured.
***
"What a lovely bat!" Cried a young lady. Not that the cut of her clothing or the style of her hair implied young age, or honorably background. It was the smile shining on her face that resisted any sort of dating, placing her above mere mortal existence. It reminded Count D of a certain impulsive detective. Allowing the glimmering shield of incense to subside, the count floated into view in front of the lady.
"I have always enjoyed the company of bats." The count had let Jamie Orcot in because of her laughing eyes, and they were now causing him problems. It was as if the lady was immune to incense. But problems are simply advantages for other people. The count smiled. He had always made good use of advantages. If his cousin ever wished to reveal himself to the lady, he would be forced to use a different magic than the petshop employed. Something flashed behind the mismatched eyes of the petshop owner, but he quickly forced a smirk over it and his smile.
"Would you be interested in purchasing him?" The count asked, always polite. The bat squawked indignantly. For what the count was sure was a rare occasion, his guest acted with equal reserve.
"Won't he be sad leaving all this?" Jamie guessed, flinging her hands around to try and encompass the whole shop. D smiled indulgently. Matching pets with people could be a dangerous gamble, but he had chosen right again. The bat threw himself against his cage. D smiled. Elaborate as the cage was, his cousin hated all cages, including the ones he made for himself.
"This little one has been quite depressed lately. Perhaps a new face would cheer him up." D smiled at his cousin, ignoring the twinge he supposed was his conscience. It has been aggravating him frequently as of late. The count continued to ignore the reason behind his soul's strange new developments. Jamie smiled down at the petshop owner, containing her excitement, barely. D smiled back at her. Much more patient than detective Orcot.
"Then I would love to have him in my house. Does he have a name?" D blinked. How did she know his cousin was male? More importantly, could he mention a name? The bat slumped in his cage, defeated. D shook his head no. A name would hold to many memories best forgotten for his cousin.
"I would like to buy . . ." Jamie paused for dramatic effect. Count smiled indulgently. "Dracula!" The caged cousin sweat dropped. D stared at his patron, but hid his frightened look with another smirk.
"As you wish. Right this way, there is a contract, for you to sign regarding your terms of ownership. . ."
***
1. Keep him well-fed (food will provided)
2. Do not tell anyone about your pet.
3. Never interact with your pet after the sun sets.
***
Some rules are meant to be broken.
***
A tall brunette rushed up to her commander.
"Commissioner! Where is Leon?" She gasped, pale eyes and large frightened behind her rimless glasses.
"Lunch break. Let him off a little early before he tore something up." The senior officer didn't look the least bit ashamed of allowing one of his officers to slack off. "You know how he gets." He added, and Jill nodded, mind racing beyond her.
"Why, what's wrong?" He asked, when Jill started to glaze over in panic. Jill blinked herself back to the real world, then hesitated when the commish repeated his question. Finally her common sense pulled her mouth open.
"You sent him to investigate a case, right?" Commish nodded.
"Mysterious circumstances surrounding a birth. Mother dead in childbirth. Should have been an open and shut case." Jill nodded, expression grave. The commish hated it when Jill got all dramatic because she had something important to say. He wished she'd hurry up and say it already.
"I remember, the was a dead bat next to the corpse. And a contract in the woman's pocket." The commish added, hoping to spur her announcement.
"Leon insisted on checking out the case because of that. Don't tell me he went after the count again. I though he'd finally gotten that out of his system." The commish grumbled. Leon was a good cop, he wouldn't go to the petshop without a search warrant, and the department knew better than to do that by now. Jill smiled grimly and pulled out a photo.
"This was a personal. Jamie Orcot, the deceased in question." Jill pointed to the young woman in the photo with blonde hair.
"Cousin of one Leon Orcot." She finished.
The commish swore.
***
Leon had finally settled down diagonally on the couch with his feet on the edge of the small table in front of him and one arm balanced on the chair arm. His other arm was hesitantly resting across the count's stomach, at least until someone noticed it. Leon cringed to think of D's reaction to said wayward hand.
The blond officer ignored this thought as the smaller man flopped on him rested his dark-haired head lower on Leon's equally black dress-shirt.
'S'not that big a deal.' He smoothed over the complaining quarters of his ego with memories of Count D's upset face.
"LEON DON'T YOU DARE. . . oh." Leon jumped upwards, upsetting his occupant. Both men managed a good hard glare at Jill. She had rushed through the open doors at mach 4. Leon's glare took in Jill's shocked expression quickly fading into guilty amusement.
'She couldn't have though I was going to harm Count D. . . like I could have, even if I'd wanted to. . .'
D scanned his new patron for anything sugar-coma inducing. His search unsuccessful, he pushed Leon back onto the couch.
"As you can see, I am perfectly fine detective Jill. The petshop is currently closed to business." He said politely to Jill, then turned to detective Leon.
"Now get back on that couch. I was up all night." The mysterious sugar-addict ordered and Leon's bum connected with couch space in record time. Jill giggled.
"I see you're occupied count, but I have important business. I'm not just here to hinder your relationship with Leon, you know." Jill told the count. After D settled back into Leon's lap (much to Leon's horror) he was able to continue his conversation.
'Wait . . . this looks far too suggestive . . .Jill's laughing, damn her.' Leon swore and pushed D off him. The count looked mildly insulted but sat down on another couch and gestured for Jill to join them.
"I would go and fetch some tea, but this appears important. Detective?" The count glanced at Jill, making it apparent which detective he was referring to. Jill nodded and smoothed her skirt.
"On a hunch, I checked the legal guardian information for the child of Jamie Orcot, the deceased." She started to explain. Both D and Leon tensed.
"As I suspected, you were listed Leon, being close family." Leon nodded at Jill numbly. He knew all about the legalities of this sort of thing. After all Jill handled almost all the cases regarding orphans due to homicide. Jill smoothed her skirt again hurriedly.
"I was curious as to how your name was entered and suggested for co-guardianship with Leon, Count." Jill waited. D sighed. Leon gaped.
"I am a relative of the father." He said cryptically. Leon jumped up and raised his fists at the count, eyes flashing.
"Where is he?! Where's the bastard that god Jamie knocked up and left her? Let me at him!" Leon shouted, already trading blows with the scumbag in his mind's eye.
"Committed suicide when the news of Jamie's death reached him, I'm afraid." The count sighed, pain echoing in his voice.
'This is not what I meant to happen. However. . .'
"I gratefully accept guardianship detective." The Chinese man added before Leon's brain computed this new information.
Jill winced.
"I don't suppose I could get a name on the father?"
D shook his head.
"Don't worry, I'm off duty, it's okay." Jill added. Count D shook his head again sadly. Leon sat back down slowly, thoughtfully.
"Yeah, I accept guardianship. Kid deserves a better parent than me, though . . ." Leon murmured a little absentmindedly. Jill smiled a little predatorily.
"Good. Every child should have two parents. I suppose Leon will be moving in?" Jill said, suddenly businesslike. Count D smiled in a conspiratory fashion.
"Of course. I could never leave my petshop."
"It's settled then." Jill said with some finality. Her expression morphed from somber to laughing.
"Dee Junior has two daddies! Welcome to the world of parentage boys!"
Leon blinked.
"Wha-WHAT?!"
***
The small sounds of night. A floorboard squeaks.
"Well, I highly doubt you're a criminal, because nothing's missing. And a stalker wouldn't be as politely curious as you."
A deeply amused chuckle.
"You guess correctly madam. A close cousin of mine has been playing god again." A sigh. "He seeks to fill a gap in my heart which belongs to my mate." A snork, a flash of golden hair and pale blue eyes from the bed.
"This is his idea of matchmaking?" Insulted. "I'm not looking for sex."
"Do not be so cruel madam. If the fulfilling of dreams was archery, my cousin would always stab the bull's eye." Another huff.
"Every relationship is a maze of risks. . ." Anger from the bed grows. "Get the fuck out of my apartment, creep!"
The door squeaks open.
"Do you gamble madam?' Taillights stream through the slits in the blinds and illuminate a dream.
TBC. . .
A/n- You'd think I would get a life wouldn't you? Ah well, here I go again on ANOTHER co-author story. On that note, Leon is writing her part of 'Fighting It' as we speak. Go pray to her if you want it to get here any faster! Sorry folks, this one isn't with Leon. Yes, yes, I know, you'll get over it. And if you don't well, my new co-author is very important to me, so if you plan to insult her (Come on people, you haven't even seen her writing! Be reasonable!) make sure I can't hear you. I will take it personally.
C/n- Finally, real talent. Good attempt at conveying the Petshop of Horrors style of storytelling. I say good attempt because I actually noticed what you were trying to do. Not that it worked.
Koori- (flicks Hof off) Go on back to your seme, jerk.
Hof- (lifts up back of shirt to show off whip marks) We're having a fight.
Koori- (winces) I can tell. Er. . . sorry.
Hof- (nods) I'm going to go angst now. Do I get paid?
Koori- (feeling very sorry, actually) Overtime. (walks off to leave Hof alone)
Hof- (smirks at camera) Little does the whelp know that's what my back looks like on a good day. (smiles to himself) Now I can finally afford those handcuffs. (waves to audience then disappears)
As usual, the small shop in Chinatown was open. While unlocked, the doors remained closed. They carefully guarded their precious burden from the outside world.
The hazy sent of incense drifted out.
"D!" Someone shouted, doing a poor job of repressing his anger. No one answered the door, but the twittering inside at more elemental inhabitants. The impolite knocker was currently fuming in the door's general direction. As is the habit of doors, the imposing red doors didn't appear affected.
He (the knocker) wasn't someone you would expect to be here in Chinatown. He had no idea where the twists and turns of this city within a city would take him. However common inhabitants of the pungent underbelly of the city had grown accustomed to him. They might understand his habits, but Chinatown remained as much a mystery to the knocker detective as was two years ago, on his first visit. He visited the shop often enough, but is remained just that, a place as lifeless and two dimensional as a shop front from the old west.
And the detective did feel like he was stuck in a poor-quality western, too. He imagined the grainy picture and the faded brown coloring while he scanned his dim surroundings. Carefully he scratched his back around a knife tucked into a knife sheath over his spine. They were handy buggers when it came to protection, and detective Orcot desperately wanted something to defend himself against. Something that looked lethal.
Slowly his hand crept against the oppressive heat that populated Chinatown to his forehead, where he wiped away sweat that threatened his eyes. Black had never been a good color for him, and today's temperature should have forbidden such foolish clothing. Still Orcot had worn his button-up black shirt and black jeans for a reason. The blond man narrowed his eyes and allowed them to smolder for a few moments.
"D! I know you're in there. This has gone too far!" He shouted into the door, more seriously than he could remember being.
'It shouldn't matter Leon. . ." He tried to remind himself. No matter how much he tried to convince his mind, it didn't change his heart. D would pay dearly for this. Leon wished he'd brought more than just his knife.
Finally the wait became too much, and detective Leon Orcot charged ahead through the solid red door in a haze.
What he saw stopped him dead.
". . ."
***
It was dark.
There was no moon, red or otherwise.
Lovers walk in shadow.
Hands entwine.
Souls. . . speak.
***
"So . . . What are you?"
"I believe the question is 'who am I?'" A small smile.
"Not with you." An amused chuckle.
"How do you mean?"
"Well, the way you speak, if nothing else. The way you wrap your tongue around words, it's like you haven't gotten used to spoken language, let alone English. And I have a right to know, now." Tense silence follows, and a dark shape shifts.
"And?" In the cool blankness of an apartment, two figures materialize. The taller, unclear figure is holding a young woman in a loose embrace.
"Well, it's difficult to tell when I only see you at night. . . But the way you move is strange."
"Like I'm not human and puppet my limbs, perhaps?"
"I bit like you. . . what?" The young woman shifts nervously and glares into the indistinct figure holding her.
"You heard me." The figure's deep voice answers. The woman pauses and idly notices the richness of the figure's voice. Almost too dark to be real . . .
The woman continues to scrutinize his face. It becomes evident she is waiting for his confirmation. Her blonde hair flashes gold, caught by a stray headlight. While these lovers remain locked in an embrace, the headlight reminds them the world moves around them.
The silence stretches into the darkness and slinks through the moments.
Finally the figure shifts, and someone's taillight flits beyond the blinds into a small apartment, bathing the figure in read. He looks good in blood.
Nondescript features are hidden by un-kept hair pulled back into a weak ponytail. His horribly messiness is only compounded by the stray strands of raven locks that shield the world from predatory yellow eyes. He looks oddly like a wolf.
His shift in position brings a pale hand to woman's face. She looks flushed, even after the car light vanishes.
"Yes?" She beacons.
"I am many things. But most importantly you should know I am a close relative of Count D. I suppose you could say he set us up."
"That doesn't help."
"Of course." The blonde appears to have given up.
"You know I asked because. . ."
"I know."
". . . stay until morning?" She rallies.
"There is a price involved." Snickers color the apartment.
"As long as you're here when I wake up."
'Always.' The figure says with his heart. He hopes to prove what only the rising sun will show.
He will stay the night. It was the least he could do, now.
***
"Count. . ." Leon pulled his hand away from his knife-sheath. He didn't quite realize he came here with intent to kill. . .
'Not that I could.' The detective ignored that thought. He'd gotten quite good at this denial game. It got him through the day, and that was all that mattered, normally.
But, this was anything but normal. Leon's pillar of normality, the ever-mysterious Count D, was huddled on the couch, crying, his pets curled around him. The Chinese man was shaking slightly, and his pets all glared at Leon reproachfully. He agreed. This was none of his business. Whatever had destroyed D so completely, it wasn't something he wanted to get involved in. He took a step backwards, towards freedom, but the pets' glares intensified. Most abnormal. They seemed to think. . . if he was going get involved, he better help out, dammit. Leon stopped his backward gait abruptly. Had he just interpreted the pets? This was getting serious.
The Count glanced up at Leon, and before the detective knew what was happening, he was holding a broken D. The petshop owner's eyes where tearstained and impossibly, immeasurably sad. While Leon patted his back, whispered "shhhh. . ." and nearly kissed the count's forehead he noticed several scratches from the freaky goat with fangs. The evil goat was currently balancing on his leg with a glare fit to kill. Tet-chan, was that D's choice of name? It wasn't as important as the shattered glass of D's eyes, Leon mused. Through a haze he noticed the Count was falling asleep on his black-clad chest.
"This was a new shirt, too. . ." Leon started to shift out from under the count. Totetsu growled menacingly.
"I'll just say here, then." Leon murmured.
***
"What a lovely bat!" Cried a young lady. Not that the cut of her clothing or the style of her hair implied young age, or honorably background. It was the smile shining on her face that resisted any sort of dating, placing her above mere mortal existence. It reminded Count D of a certain impulsive detective. Allowing the glimmering shield of incense to subside, the count floated into view in front of the lady.
"I have always enjoyed the company of bats." The count had let Jamie Orcot in because of her laughing eyes, and they were now causing him problems. It was as if the lady was immune to incense. But problems are simply advantages for other people. The count smiled. He had always made good use of advantages. If his cousin ever wished to reveal himself to the lady, he would be forced to use a different magic than the petshop employed. Something flashed behind the mismatched eyes of the petshop owner, but he quickly forced a smirk over it and his smile.
"Would you be interested in purchasing him?" The count asked, always polite. The bat squawked indignantly. For what the count was sure was a rare occasion, his guest acted with equal reserve.
"Won't he be sad leaving all this?" Jamie guessed, flinging her hands around to try and encompass the whole shop. D smiled indulgently. Matching pets with people could be a dangerous gamble, but he had chosen right again. The bat threw himself against his cage. D smiled. Elaborate as the cage was, his cousin hated all cages, including the ones he made for himself.
"This little one has been quite depressed lately. Perhaps a new face would cheer him up." D smiled at his cousin, ignoring the twinge he supposed was his conscience. It has been aggravating him frequently as of late. The count continued to ignore the reason behind his soul's strange new developments. Jamie smiled down at the petshop owner, containing her excitement, barely. D smiled back at her. Much more patient than detective Orcot.
"Then I would love to have him in my house. Does he have a name?" D blinked. How did she know his cousin was male? More importantly, could he mention a name? The bat slumped in his cage, defeated. D shook his head no. A name would hold to many memories best forgotten for his cousin.
"I would like to buy . . ." Jamie paused for dramatic effect. Count smiled indulgently. "Dracula!" The caged cousin sweat dropped. D stared at his patron, but hid his frightened look with another smirk.
"As you wish. Right this way, there is a contract, for you to sign regarding your terms of ownership. . ."
***
1. Keep him well-fed (food will provided)
2. Do not tell anyone about your pet.
3. Never interact with your pet after the sun sets.
***
Some rules are meant to be broken.
***
A tall brunette rushed up to her commander.
"Commissioner! Where is Leon?" She gasped, pale eyes and large frightened behind her rimless glasses.
"Lunch break. Let him off a little early before he tore something up." The senior officer didn't look the least bit ashamed of allowing one of his officers to slack off. "You know how he gets." He added, and Jill nodded, mind racing beyond her.
"Why, what's wrong?" He asked, when Jill started to glaze over in panic. Jill blinked herself back to the real world, then hesitated when the commish repeated his question. Finally her common sense pulled her mouth open.
"You sent him to investigate a case, right?" Commish nodded.
"Mysterious circumstances surrounding a birth. Mother dead in childbirth. Should have been an open and shut case." Jill nodded, expression grave. The commish hated it when Jill got all dramatic because she had something important to say. He wished she'd hurry up and say it already.
"I remember, the was a dead bat next to the corpse. And a contract in the woman's pocket." The commish added, hoping to spur her announcement.
"Leon insisted on checking out the case because of that. Don't tell me he went after the count again. I though he'd finally gotten that out of his system." The commish grumbled. Leon was a good cop, he wouldn't go to the petshop without a search warrant, and the department knew better than to do that by now. Jill smiled grimly and pulled out a photo.
"This was a personal. Jamie Orcot, the deceased in question." Jill pointed to the young woman in the photo with blonde hair.
"Cousin of one Leon Orcot." She finished.
The commish swore.
***
Leon had finally settled down diagonally on the couch with his feet on the edge of the small table in front of him and one arm balanced on the chair arm. His other arm was hesitantly resting across the count's stomach, at least until someone noticed it. Leon cringed to think of D's reaction to said wayward hand.
The blond officer ignored this thought as the smaller man flopped on him rested his dark-haired head lower on Leon's equally black dress-shirt.
'S'not that big a deal.' He smoothed over the complaining quarters of his ego with memories of Count D's upset face.
"LEON DON'T YOU DARE. . . oh." Leon jumped upwards, upsetting his occupant. Both men managed a good hard glare at Jill. She had rushed through the open doors at mach 4. Leon's glare took in Jill's shocked expression quickly fading into guilty amusement.
'She couldn't have though I was going to harm Count D. . . like I could have, even if I'd wanted to. . .'
D scanned his new patron for anything sugar-coma inducing. His search unsuccessful, he pushed Leon back onto the couch.
"As you can see, I am perfectly fine detective Jill. The petshop is currently closed to business." He said politely to Jill, then turned to detective Leon.
"Now get back on that couch. I was up all night." The mysterious sugar-addict ordered and Leon's bum connected with couch space in record time. Jill giggled.
"I see you're occupied count, but I have important business. I'm not just here to hinder your relationship with Leon, you know." Jill told the count. After D settled back into Leon's lap (much to Leon's horror) he was able to continue his conversation.
'Wait . . . this looks far too suggestive . . .Jill's laughing, damn her.' Leon swore and pushed D off him. The count looked mildly insulted but sat down on another couch and gestured for Jill to join them.
"I would go and fetch some tea, but this appears important. Detective?" The count glanced at Jill, making it apparent which detective he was referring to. Jill nodded and smoothed her skirt.
"On a hunch, I checked the legal guardian information for the child of Jamie Orcot, the deceased." She started to explain. Both D and Leon tensed.
"As I suspected, you were listed Leon, being close family." Leon nodded at Jill numbly. He knew all about the legalities of this sort of thing. After all Jill handled almost all the cases regarding orphans due to homicide. Jill smoothed her skirt again hurriedly.
"I was curious as to how your name was entered and suggested for co-guardianship with Leon, Count." Jill waited. D sighed. Leon gaped.
"I am a relative of the father." He said cryptically. Leon jumped up and raised his fists at the count, eyes flashing.
"Where is he?! Where's the bastard that god Jamie knocked up and left her? Let me at him!" Leon shouted, already trading blows with the scumbag in his mind's eye.
"Committed suicide when the news of Jamie's death reached him, I'm afraid." The count sighed, pain echoing in his voice.
'This is not what I meant to happen. However. . .'
"I gratefully accept guardianship detective." The Chinese man added before Leon's brain computed this new information.
Jill winced.
"I don't suppose I could get a name on the father?"
D shook his head.
"Don't worry, I'm off duty, it's okay." Jill added. Count D shook his head again sadly. Leon sat back down slowly, thoughtfully.
"Yeah, I accept guardianship. Kid deserves a better parent than me, though . . ." Leon murmured a little absentmindedly. Jill smiled a little predatorily.
"Good. Every child should have two parents. I suppose Leon will be moving in?" Jill said, suddenly businesslike. Count D smiled in a conspiratory fashion.
"Of course. I could never leave my petshop."
"It's settled then." Jill said with some finality. Her expression morphed from somber to laughing.
"Dee Junior has two daddies! Welcome to the world of parentage boys!"
Leon blinked.
"Wha-WHAT?!"
***
The small sounds of night. A floorboard squeaks.
"Well, I highly doubt you're a criminal, because nothing's missing. And a stalker wouldn't be as politely curious as you."
A deeply amused chuckle.
"You guess correctly madam. A close cousin of mine has been playing god again." A sigh. "He seeks to fill a gap in my heart which belongs to my mate." A snork, a flash of golden hair and pale blue eyes from the bed.
"This is his idea of matchmaking?" Insulted. "I'm not looking for sex."
"Do not be so cruel madam. If the fulfilling of dreams was archery, my cousin would always stab the bull's eye." Another huff.
"Every relationship is a maze of risks. . ." Anger from the bed grows. "Get the fuck out of my apartment, creep!"
The door squeaks open.
"Do you gamble madam?' Taillights stream through the slits in the blinds and illuminate a dream.
TBC. . .
A/n- You'd think I would get a life wouldn't you? Ah well, here I go again on ANOTHER co-author story. On that note, Leon is writing her part of 'Fighting It' as we speak. Go pray to her if you want it to get here any faster! Sorry folks, this one isn't with Leon. Yes, yes, I know, you'll get over it. And if you don't well, my new co-author is very important to me, so if you plan to insult her (Come on people, you haven't even seen her writing! Be reasonable!) make sure I can't hear you. I will take it personally.
C/n- Finally, real talent. Good attempt at conveying the Petshop of Horrors style of storytelling. I say good attempt because I actually noticed what you were trying to do. Not that it worked.
Koori- (flicks Hof off) Go on back to your seme, jerk.
Hof- (lifts up back of shirt to show off whip marks) We're having a fight.
Koori- (winces) I can tell. Er. . . sorry.
Hof- (nods) I'm going to go angst now. Do I get paid?
Koori- (feeling very sorry, actually) Overtime. (walks off to leave Hof alone)
Hof- (smirks at camera) Little does the whelp know that's what my back looks like on a good day. (smiles to himself) Now I can finally afford those handcuffs. (waves to audience then disappears)