A/N: Inspired by looklingart's fanart on tumblr! (will try to link it up n my profile but ffn likes to eat up all my links so ughhhhhh)

"Detective?"

Leon doesn't want to see D. Doesn't want to see that smile on his face, thin and narrow and stained dark as if Chris had meant nothing to him - as if he was only another life to be thrown away in the end, unmourned and forgotten, just like Monica when that plane had crashed and D had just stood there smiling.

He doesn't usually like it when work interrupts his leisure time, but this time he's actually glad for the beeping pager. The sooner he can leave, the better. "Mhmm?"

D hesitates. "No. It's nothing."

Leon almost takes the next step. Almost finishes making his way up the stairs and out to the station without another thought, but there's something about it that makes his instincts flare out in alarm, because-

Because D never hesitates.

He stops with a resigned sigh, hands shoved deep in his pockets. "Whatever it is, just say it. I gotta head out before the chief blows his gasket."

There's a shuffling kind of sound behind him, but Leon doesn't dare turn back and look at D - just in case that stupid fucking smile is still there. He can still see it behind his eyelids whenever he closes his eyes for more than a few seconds; it makes his gut churn.

A long moment passes, long enough that he wonders if he shouldn't just have gone straight for the station after all. And then-

D's voice is low enough that he nearly misses it, as if he doesn't want Leon to actually hear those two words: "I'm leaving."

Leon is down the stairs before he realizes what he's doing, fast enough that he catches a glimpse of D's widening eyes at his reaction before they're shuttered away once more. "You're what?"

"Leaving," D repeats stiffly, folding his hands tightly at his front. He very much looks as if he'd like to take a step back and away from Leon - or, even better, retreat back into the welcoming darkness of the pet shop and avoid the consequences of the last minute-and-a-half on the stairs. "It is time for me to move on, Detective."

"Since when?" Leon demands, moving to grip at D's shoulders and keep him in place. Like hell he's getting away from this conversation. "What, you suddenly decided you wanted a change of airs?! Right after that girl died and Chris left?"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand my reasons." The smile stretches thin across his face, and Leon wonders for the first time if he means that expression at all. If D turns to it as a default for when he doesn't know how to feel or how to react. "This is the longest the shop has stayed in one place already."

His skin feels too tight for his bones, stretching and suffocating him beneath his clothes. "What are you getting at, D?"

"Grandfather expected me to leave over a year ago, Detective." D offers him a humourless smirk. "I must admit I- I became too fond of your family, in ways I should have never let myself become attached. Chris' departure reminded me it'll only become more painful if I delay this separation even further."

"What?" His mouth is too dry, too sour. D cares about Chris. D cares about Chris, and about him, and now he's going to leave and there's little to nothing Leon can do about it. "Why?"

D's hands travel upwards to cover his own, silky and cool. "I must go."

"That's not an answer," Leon says a little too desperately, turning his hands and catching D's within his - as if such a gesture could make him stay. He knows D better than that. "Why do you gotta do what your grandpa says, anyway? Don't you want to stay?"

D bites his lip, guilty, guilty. "I- That doesn't matter. This is my duty, Detective, and my family - much like you have yours and would never abandon it."

"You're my family." The words are fervent, burning out of his mouth and throat like bile. "You and Chris. I thought you knew that much."

It's- It's not the kind of thing Leon is comfortable with saying. He wouldn't, before. He hasn't. It physically hurts him to say it, the words clumsy and leaden over his tongue, pulling at his lungs and heart until he can barely breathe while trying to get them out. But.

He regrets all the times he wasn't able to say what he wanted to. To confess his true feelings, to say goodbye - with Mom, with Harry, with Chris, with so many others slipped between his fingers before he could catch them, say what he had to say before they were gone. And now D is leaving, but here is the chance to at least tell him what he actually means, and Leon can't bring himself to watch someone else he cares about walk away without at least telling them his piece.

"Look at me," he rasps. "Look me in the eye, and tell me you want to leave."

D leans his head forward, letting his hair fall over his eyes. "It's not a decision up to me, Detective."

"Leon."

D doesn't ask him to specify what he means. He doesn't need to, not at this point. "Leon. I will be going tonight."

"Fuck," Leon says. And then he pulls D into a hug.

D is stiff, tense beneath his arms, his hands raised near Leon's chest like he's not quite sure what to do with him. But then he's- he's leaning close, nose buried in his neck and arms slipping to embrace him so tightly Leon thinks he might never leave, and Leon is fairly sure there are wet spots dropping over the neckline of his shirt, hot and bitter and silent. D won't stay. D wouldn't let his duty go so easily.

But, Leon thinks, D will miss him.

He breathes in deeply, pretending he's not choking back tears himself, pretending the smooth curve of D's cheek against his nose is not all he ever wanted, all he ever needed. That the warmth of his presence against him is not a memory he'll save, tucked on his breast pocket by his heart.

He smells sweet. Like incense, like the pet shop - like home.

Leon doesn't know how long they stay like that, holding on to each other like a lifeline until his pager beeps again, too loud in their silence. He has to force his arms away; dragging down his back, past his waist, his hips, his arms - they, too, don't want to let go. D's touch lingers like a brand on his skin, burning beneath his clothes.

Leon wipes away at his eyes roughly. "Can I visit, at least?" he asks, forcing a light tone. "Or is your grandpa locking you away like a prisoner?"

He savours the memory of D's eyes, wide and red-rimmed and bright with promise. "You would visit me?"

"What kind of asshole do you think I am?" Leon scowls, and then breaks into a genuine grin. "Someone has to bring you all those fancy sweets you don't get up early enough to buy. Wouldn't want you to starve!"

"How thoughtful of you," D deadpans, but there's a grin playing at the edges of his lips. He, too, dabs at his eyes with his sleeves, erasing all evidence that's he's not an unfeeling piece of shit like he had nearly made Leon believe. "I shall endeavour to send you a postcard once I am settled, then. For the delivery address for the sweets, of course."

"Of course," Leon mocks, and remembers this moment. Remembers the line of D's hair, the hopeful little twist to his lips, the eyes half-hidden behind his hair, the ruffled cheongsam silk from their too-long hug. "I'll be waiting. Try not to kill anyone without me around, will you?"

"I make no promises," D says, and watches him go.

I'll be waiting.

This time, his smile is is real.

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