![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yellowhordeDisclaimer: I don't own Pet Shop of Horrors and I make no money from this or any other fanfic I write.
Pairing: Leon + D
Category: General
Rating: R
Warnings: Language
Title: Cell Phones and Fruit Tarts
Author: yellowhorde
Note: This was written in for the LiveJournal community,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
daily15,
Challenge #196 - 'balanced'
Leon Orcot had always been known as a devil behind the wheel of a car but that particular, if somewhat dubious, skill came in very handy that morning. Without warning, as a cell phone talking irresponsible jerk cut sharply in front of him on the highway without so much as a turn signal or a by-you-leave.
"Holy shit!" Leon roared as he yanked the wheel to one side with violent force. He did not step on the brakes but rather sped over onto the shoulder of the road and out of the constant stream of traffic. For several seconds after he had come to a complete halt, he listened to the racing of his own heart and the constant ocean-like 'swish-shish' of the passing traffic. Horns blared and a barrage of swear words could be heard in the distance.
"Fuck this shit!" Leon exploded, slamming his hands against the wheel to each word as if giving emphasis.
He reached into the glove compartment and grabbed a handful of crumpled tissues and began to wipe off the steaming coffee that had splattered all over the crotch of his new jeans. It was partly his fault for having it balanced precariously on his left knee. But he conveniently chose to forget that little fact.
“That asshole's going to pay for running me off the road," he fumed. "There are laws in this state about that kind of crap and by God I'm going to make sure that bastard obeys them."
Heatedly, Leon dug into the nearly bulging glove compartment again, this time pulling out a portable police siren. He jerkily rolled down the window and slammed the siren onto the roof of his car with a hollow thud. His face pinched into a mask of petulant rage and he cast a glare at the now empty coffee cup, the soiled tissues, and the ever widening wet patch in his crotch. Shit, it looked like he had wet his pants like a baby!
"You are going down, my friend," Leon growled as he maneuvered his vehicle back onto the road.
Suddenly he started and cut a frantic glance towards the passenger seat. The cute little take-out carton he had gotten from Mrs. C's pastry shop was still in pristine condition. Not a single drop of coffee had marred its surface. Biting his lip fretfully Leon peaked inside and heaved a side of relief. D's fruit tart was still as perfect as it had been when the cashier had handed it to him that morning.
"Damn good thing, too," Leon mumbled, setting his sights on the car that had caused all this mess in the first place. "D hates it when his tarts get crumbly."
THE END
Yes, another fifteen minute ficlet. I can't say that I'm thrilled with the ending, but it will just have to do. All in all, it's not so bad - it's no work of art, but it could be worse.
Pairing: Leon + D
Category: General
Rating: R
Warnings: Language
Title: Cell Phones and Fruit Tarts
Author: yellowhorde
Note: This was written in for the LiveJournal community,
daily15, Challenge #196 - 'balanced'
Leon Orcot had always been known as a devil behind the wheel of a car but that particular, if somewhat dubious, skill came in very handy that morning. Without warning, as a cell phone talking irresponsible jerk cut sharply in front of him on the highway without so much as a turn signal or a by-you-leave.
"Holy shit!" Leon roared as he yanked the wheel to one side with violent force. He did not step on the brakes but rather sped over onto the shoulder of the road and out of the constant stream of traffic. For several seconds after he had come to a complete halt, he listened to the racing of his own heart and the constant ocean-like 'swish-shish' of the passing traffic. Horns blared and a barrage of swear words could be heard in the distance.
"Fuck this shit!" Leon exploded, slamming his hands against the wheel to each word as if giving emphasis.
He reached into the glove compartment and grabbed a handful of crumpled tissues and began to wipe off the steaming coffee that had splattered all over the crotch of his new jeans. It was partly his fault for having it balanced precariously on his left knee. But he conveniently chose to forget that little fact.
“That asshole's going to pay for running me off the road," he fumed. "There are laws in this state about that kind of crap and by God I'm going to make sure that bastard obeys them."
Heatedly, Leon dug into the nearly bulging glove compartment again, this time pulling out a portable police siren. He jerkily rolled down the window and slammed the siren onto the roof of his car with a hollow thud. His face pinched into a mask of petulant rage and he cast a glare at the now empty coffee cup, the soiled tissues, and the ever widening wet patch in his crotch. Shit, it looked like he had wet his pants like a baby!
"You are going down, my friend," Leon growled as he maneuvered his vehicle back onto the road.
Suddenly he started and cut a frantic glance towards the passenger seat. The cute little take-out carton he had gotten from Mrs. C's pastry shop was still in pristine condition. Not a single drop of coffee had marred its surface. Biting his lip fretfully Leon peaked inside and heaved a side of relief. D's fruit tart was still as perfect as it had been when the cashier had handed it to him that morning.
"Damn good thing, too," Leon mumbled, setting his sights on the car that had caused all this mess in the first place. "D hates it when his tarts get crumbly."
THE END
Yes, another fifteen minute ficlet. I can't say that I'm thrilled with the ending, but it will just have to do. All in all, it's not so bad - it's no work of art, but it could be worse.
