Preliminary Notes: This story occurs just after the Donor episode in volume 7 of the manga. As things will get delirious (heehee) henceforth, I won't post (Place, Time) notices at the start of every section any more. The R rating is there for a reason, kiddies; this is a YAOI (Leon x Count D) fic. Just a warning to the homophobic.
Delirium
by spare
Chapter 4: The Dream Within
"Detective...?"
A warm hand pressing lightly, tentatively on his shoulder. A faint, familiar scent. Incense, he knew that much. And something else mixed in. Roses? He breathed deeply. Not that he knew any other flowers that smelled good beyond that...
"Detective."
The voice, more urgent, if a bit annoyed, this time. The hand grasping his shoulder was now shaking it gently, shaking him -- he opened his eyes --
Awake.
The Count's face hovered inches above his, mismatched eyes peering down at him curiously. Having fulfilled its duty, the slim hand resting on his shoulder released him with a flick of a graceful wrist. "You were unable to catch sufficient sleep last night, I presume?" D inquired.
Leon frowned, blinking back the sleep from his eyes. He looked around in confusion. Last thing he remembered, he'd been at the department, running through a report as well as a goddamn fever. Gingerly, he touched the side of his neck. Temperature pretty normal. He felt OK now, too. Dazed, and a bit light-headed, but that could be expected if you've been dozing off, right? However, that didn't explain why he suddenly woke up here.
In D's pet shop.
For it was the shop, bird cages, antiques, velvety curtains and all. Leon sat at his usual place on the wide sofa, A teapot, two delicately painted porcelain cups and a plate of fancy-looking fruit tarts laid out on the low center table before him. A regular day at D's, except that he couldn't remember how he got here at all and... Something else. Something he couldn't put a finger on.
D stood to Leon's right, the pet shop owner's hands tucked away from view beneath the wide sleeves of the latest girly outfit he was wearing. Dress looked even girlier than usual, too. Silk, from the looks of it, and pretty thin, considering how it draped over the Count's slight frame like water poured over stone. Birds and flowers embroidered over a backdrop of green, with black lace adorning the cuffs and edges. Leon grimaced. /Lace/, for Christ's sake. "What the... what the hell am I doing here?" he asked aloud. "I was at the station..."
The Count blinked as if the question, and Leon's behavior in general, surprised him. "You came over to visit, as usual." One amber eye glittered at him through the curtain of black hair that almost always hid the right half of his face. "You had another case that you wished to discuss. At least, that is what you told me."
"I did?" Now that he mentioned it, Leon /did/ have a case he wanted to bug D about. Badly. However, for some strange reason, he couldn't remember what it was about. He remembered the report he'd been reading earlier was related to it, though. Apart from that... His frown deepened, racking his brain and coming up with... Nothing. Fuck it! Why couldn't he remember?!
Frustrated, Leon looked around the room again. It was late in the afternoon, from the looks of it. Tea time, but it was always tea time at D's shop, give or take a few special exceptions, like when he and Chris arrived at the shop and he'd found that badly mauled monkey laying dead in the pet shop owner's arms (3). You couldn't have tea after seeing that. And D had seemed all depressed after that; the guy knew how to put up his usual serene front, but Leon had learned through much practice how to tell each smirk apart. It occurred to him that it was more than a bit ironic that he could remember these shit when he couldn't put a finger on the one that was frying his brain right now, but he shelved the thought away for the moment. Good thing Chris hadn't seen the corpse...
Wait. "Where's Chris?" he asked suddenly, that 'something-he-couldn't-put-a-finger-on' hitting him at last. Hard. The shop. It was too quiet. No animals in sight, not even that annoying flying furball D kept as a pet. And, more importantly, no Chris. The place had become pretty noisy, in a good way, these last few months, what with the four- and two-legged menagerie that followed his kid brother around. And now...
"He is off to Cathy's," D answered promptly, giving him another odd look. "You yourself saw him leave just a few minutes ago. Then I went to the kitchen to prepare some tea, and when I came back I found you asleep."
"The, uh, animals? That goat thing with fangs you keep around... And that rabbit with batwings..."
"Oh, them. Q-chan is taking a nap. The others are at the back of the shop. Detective, are you ill?" D continued, dark brows arching just the tiniest bit in concern. "This is more than simple exhaustion you are feeling, isn't it?"
Leon stared at D for the longest time, trying to weigh it all down. The Count stared back. "I am, I guess," Leon finally acceded, breaking away from the other man's gaze.
"You need to rest," D informed him, turning away as well. "How fortunate," he added, voice dropping just the tiniest bit, "that we are the only ones here right now." At this, Leon's gaze swerved back in the Count's direction. The pet shop owner was bent over slightly, calmly pouring tea for them both, as if he'd uttered nothing out of the ordinary. "Here you go, Detective," D said, when he was done, holding out one cup to the blond officer. "Perhaps some tea would make you feel better?" He smiled. Smirked. That inscrutable, 'I-know-something-you-don't' smirk that drove Leon nuts.
Usually. Right now he was willing to let it pass, if for no other reason than he realized, quite suddenly, that he was thirsty as hell.
Muttering his thanks, Leon lifted the proffered cup to his lips, taking a small sip. It was black and absolutely sugar-free, just the way he liked it. Sighing appreciatively, he gulped down the rest of the tea. D's infuriating little smirk seemed to grow wider as he did so, but Leon ignored it for the moment, letting his eyes fall shut. The hot liquid sliding down his parched throat felt like a blessing. God. The cup drained of its contents, he placed it back down on the table, dropped his arms, tilted his head back, and almost jumped out of his seat when he felt two hands rest lightly on his shoulders.
"What the -- What the hell are you doing?!?" Leon sputtered, eyes snapping open and looking back and up to find the Count's ever-impassive countenance regarding him with yet another teasing half-smile. D had moved behind him, apparently, and his hands were steadily stroking... his... back. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!!!" Leon yelled again. He tried to move away, but the other man's hands went back to grip both of his shoulders, gently yet firmly keeping him in place.
"Language, my dear Detective," the Count admonished, the soft palms sliding over his shoulders taking the edge off the rebuke. "Surely you would not object to my giving you a massage? To help you relax." He punctuated the remark by pressing one thumb downward in slow, soothing circles, the tip of D's nail scratching Leon's skin through the fabric of his t-shirt. Leon shivered in spite of himself.
"I--" Leon began, then stopped, because he suddenly couldn't remember what he was going to say, because D decided just then to ghost his fingers along the sensitive area at the back of his neck, eliciting a startled gasp Leon couldn't choke down in time.
"I am quite adept at this, don't you think?" A genteel chuckle escaped D's lips. "Your muscles are so tense, Detective. I was hoping the tea would have relaxed your senses a bit. But no matter. Perhaps this would suffice." Warm hands traveled downwards to the area just above his shoulder blades. Leon arched his back at the contact. This was... Was it him, or did the air feel thicker than when he first woke up? He swallowed, remembered he was trying to move away, tried to pull himself up with both arms to stand up and off the seat, failed. His arms and legs twitched once, twice, then refused to follow through.
He couldn't move, he realized. What the heck did D put in the tea?
"What is the matter, Detective?" The Count breathed softly in Leon's ear, even as his hands continued to explore his back. It made him shiver again, which prompted him to try and squirm away again, a command that went unheeded by the rest of Orcot's body. "You do not like my touch?"
No. Hell, no. The matter was that he didn't /not/ like it, D's touch, and that the slim, graceful fingers kneading the muscles of his upper back through the coarse material of his t-shirt felt good. Maybe a little too good, he added, noticing that while his limbs were relaxed and he was having trouble keeping his eyes open, another part of his body was rising up and standing at attention. Christ, if D so much as looked over Leon's shoulder, he'd be able to--
"Oh, my."
Shit. Leon willed his arms and legs to move again, hard-- with more effort than before, once again, without success. The hands promptly abandoned his back, and Leon didn't know whether to sigh in relief or to howl out in frustration, but then a silk-garbed silhouette swam into his line of vision.
The Count had circled round to stand directly before him, head tilted quizzically to the left as one amber eye glittered through a curtain of black hair, studying his lap intently. "What do we have here?" D asked, his melodious voice adopting an even more teasing note as his eyes drank in the sight. The pet shop owner leaned forward, tracing one delicate, clawed fingertip over where Leon was tenting the front of his pants.
Leon shuddered at the touch, making a sound deep in his throat even as the part of his mind that wasn't too fuzzed down made a fleeting, futile attempt to come up with excuses, until a mouth descended over his and Leon found himself staring directly into narrow catlike eyes, one a deep purple, the other gold. A warm tongue slipped between his already parted lips, and it finally kicked in; D was kissing him. Open-mouthed and all. And D was warm and sweet and something else, a mouth that tasted of chocolate milk and water and something thoroughly addictive since Leon found he couldn't get enough of it. He couldn't stop, couldn't even bother to close his eyes.
The cloying scent of flowers and incense was stronger now, and he still sat immobile on the sofa, but it didn't matter because he was kissing D, and D tasted like heaven, and he was looking into D's eyes. They were bright and languid and beautiful, as always, flecked with green from the light. D had undone the top button of his jeans, and was pulling the zipper down, while the other hand had crept beneath his shirt to caress his chest. Leon groaned into their kiss as he sprang free and D was--
"--en he comes to."
Leon opened his eyes, hurriedly narrowing them to slits from the harsh glare of the fluorescent bulb affixed on the ceiling above him.
He could hear people talking somewhere else in the room, but he couldn't see them, not with the gauzy curtain blocking his line of vision. Red thrummed behind his eyelids even as he could feel his head throb in steady, maddening beats. He was covered in sweat, tendrils of blond hair sticking to the sides of his face and neck, and he was burning. He lay there in a narrow bed with a messed-up sheet and a hard-on that wasn't going down as quickly as he'd wish for it to, which meant that he'd been dreaming (again), and it was about Count fucking D (again), only this time it had been a lot more vivid than any he'd had before, no shit, which meant that he was in for a truckload of trouble.
Somebody shoved the curtain aside, and Jill's fair head popped in to look him over. "About time you woke up." She took a step back, and now Leon could see the eye chart posted on the wall behind her, as well as the dep nurse standing to her left. He'd been out pretty long, too. The clock propped on top of the medicine cabinet read a little after four pm.
"'I could manage,' he says," Jill intoned. "'Have a nice morning,' he says." She squared her arms, shaking her head ruefully. "Look where your stubborn little head got you."
"I'm--" Well, so he wasn't exactly fine. "I'll be fine," he finally said, sitting up. The world seemed to lurch a few degrees ahead of him as he did so, so he closed his eyes. "How did I--?"
"Get here? Christ." Jill's voice was a mixture of annoyance and worry. "You fainted, or something. Ed found you slumped over your desk. He and old Mikey carried you all the way here," she explained. "You can't work like this, Leon. Fix yourself up. I'm driving you home."
They left a couple of minutes later.
x x x
Jill wasn't driving him home. Leon realized that, looking out the window then wishing he hadn't, because cars and buildings and people were whizzing by and his head spun just having to watch all of it. They were going the wrong way. To get to his apartment, you took a left at the first intersection, not right the way Jill went. The route they were taking currently, they'd be in Chinatown in fifteen minutes--
Wait. "Jill?"
"Mm?"
"Don't fucking tell me we're headed to D's."
His partner seemed to consider that for a moment. "Alright," she answered flippantly. "I won't."
"But that's where you're taking me, isn't it?"
"Yep."
Leon sighed, and pressed a hand to his burning forehead. "Do I have a say in this?"
"The long reply is 'Who's driving the car?'" Jill put in, eyes scanning the road as they sped forward. "The short one is... 'Nope.'" She changed lanes, overtaking a black Honda Civic crawling steadily up the avenue. "Chill out. I'm sure the Count will take you in. You haven't had any of your little lovers' spats lately, have you?"
He shot her a withering look. "That's not my freakin' problem!" Leon snarled, blushing despite himself. "Pull over."
"What?"
"Pull over."
"Why?"
"I'm getting a cab home." Hell, he'll walk to his apartment if he had to--
"So we could discover your decaying corpse three weeks later?" Jill replied sarcastically. "No way." Her hands gripped the steering wheel resolutely. "Look, Leon, the nurse said you shouldn't be left all by yourse--"
"I ain't going to the hospital just because of a goddamn fever," Leon cut in.
"Right," Jill acquiesced, giving him a sideways glance. "I thought as much. That's why we'll ask if you could stay at the shop for a while, see? I mean, Chris already stays there, and you'll be far too sick to throw your dirty laundry all over the place, so..." She shrugged her shoulders.
"I can take care of myself," he protested.
"Not with your fainting spells, you can't."
"But--"
"We're here," Jill announced, and yes, they were at the narrow streets of Chinatown, and Count D's pet shop was just up ahead. Jill slowed down, parking the car in front of the shop. She released the lock on the car doors, swinging her side open. "Come on. I'll explain the situation to the Count."
x x x
Author's Rants: Back from the dead! Yay. Tell me what you liked, tell me what you didn't like, and tell me any suggestions on how to improve the story. Oh, yeah... I might move this some place else because the viewer rating would have to go higher, seeing as you could all probably guess the citrusy direction the plot's heading. Then again, I could upload a toned down version here. Heehee. It will be uploaded by Christmas, because Christmas break will be the ONLY real free time I get from here on. (sob)
(3) Nue Ehr's corpse, from Volume 7's Donor episode.