PSoH Drabbles "Damage"
It was a bad habit of his, assessing the damage Leon left.
One plate, dirty; one cup, also dirty. The rug: wrinkled; the antimacassar: mussed. His sofa had deep creases and there was something sticky; his Parlor smelt of cigarettes, old sneakers and unwashed denim. The very air was hazy and redolent of Detective and though D didn't care to count the molecules, he knew they were excited too, zipping to and fro like madmen, all charged up.
There was a smear of icing on the cushion; crumbs on his table. His mouth, too, was damp and swollen; his neat hair messy – his lashes tangled from careless kisses and his robe dragged up…but all the real damage Leon left behind him was tucked away – deep in D's heart.