yellowhorde

Disclaimer: I don't own Pet Shop of Horrors and I make no money from this or any other fanfic I write.
Pairings: Leon x D
Category: Supernatural/Drama
Rating: R
Warning: Shonen Ai/Yaoi. Language, Violence, Lime
Title: Man-Eater
Status: In Progress
Notes: Sequel to 'Denial' and Story Two in the Arc. This Arc takes place right before Volume 9's fourth chapter, Dynasty. As always, constructive criticism is welcomed.

MAN-EATER
Part Five

"Hey, this soup's not half bad," Leon exclaimed. He slurped another spoonful of steaming broth and grinned when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw D shudder and shoot him a look of disapproval. It was pointedly ignored. "What's in it?"

D peered at him from over the rim of his mug of steaming tea. "Chicken broth, noodles, vegetables, and herbs," he replied sagely then the corners of his mouth quirked. "All manner of healthy things you've never hear of, I'm sure. Considering your typical American diet."

"You're not one to lecture me on what I eat, D," Leon retorted, setting his now empty bowl down on the white wicker breakfast tray D had used to bring in the soup and tea. It had been his mother's before she died and Leon had almost forgotten he had it. Though he hadn't used it for many years, he still fondly remembered many sickbed meals and conversations he and his mother had shared while he was growing up. He had both surprised and secretly pleased when
D had entered his room carrying it.

"You eat more sweets than any other person I've ever known," He dropped his spoon carelessly into the bowl where it clattered loudly as if to add emphasis to his words.

"True," D agreed, "But that's not all I eat. I still enjoy a wide variety of fruits and vegetables every day, which is more than I can say for you, Detective. All I ever see you eat is junk food. And you've never seen me sick, have you?"

Leon opened his mouth, but shut it again quickly before anything foolhardy slipped out. D was here out of the goodness of his heart and he appreciated the effort… and his company, though wild horses couldn't have dragged that from him. He didn't want to argue with him right now, at least not over something as silly as the differences in their diets.

But D was wrong. He could recall a time when he had seen the Count well and truly sick. It had been last Christmas Eve, in fact, the night they had released that dragon into the sky. D had collapsed to his knees, pale and out of breath. Leon remembered thinking that he may have some sort of heart condition or something. It had really freaked him out, but he had to admit that he hadn't seen those symptoms resurface any time since. `Perhaps,' he wondered, `it was just something that manifested during moments of extreme stress.'

`Then again,' he continued, `right after his sister had gone home after visiting him, D had said something to Chris about taking some sort of medicine. Something strong… and bitter…'

Leon shrugged and decided to let the matter rest. After all, a heart condition, if indeed that had been what it was, wasn't exactly the same as catching the latest flu bug. Grudgingly he decided to
let D have the point this time, since he was too tired to argue.

"And what about the tea, D," Leon asked in an attempt to change the subject, "what was in it this time?"

"I see you are as suspicious as ever, eh, Detective?" D said and chuckled low in his throat.

The sound of D's laughter caused Leon's stomach to flutter and shivers to race through his body. This reaction caught him totally by surprise and a wave of heat flooded into his cheeks. He prayed that it didn't show, that D wouldn't notice, but if he did, he'd just blame the fever.

"I'm not suspicious," Leon grumbled, staring down at his hands as if they were the most interesting things he had seen all day. For some reason he was unable to meet D's oddly colored gaze. "I'm just curious. It helped sooth my throat, though it could have been the hot water. At any rate, I'd really like to know."

He risked a glance up at D, who was smiling like a cat with cream.

"Ancient Chinese secret," D replied holding up one finger and assuming the stereotypical accent and sing-song tone used in some long ago laundry detergent commercial Leon barely remembered.

Leon snorted laughter. "I'm trying to be serious here, D, damn it!"

D spread his hands out in front of him and smiled apologetically. "Honestly, Detective, I didn't put anything terribly special in the tea, certainly no secret ingredient. I just brewed some Earl Gray and stirred in two drops of eucalyptus, two drops of lemon, and two tablespoons of honey."

Leon could hardly credit the relief of his symptoms with something as incredibly simple as that. There had to more to it that that.

"That's all?"

"Yes, Detective," D murmured with a nod of the head. "Simple, isn't it?"

D pulled himself off of the mattress with a sigh and began to gather up the dirty dishes. His long fingers moved with a grace few people possessed. Leon admired his smooth economical movements and once more mentally flashed on how it would feel to have those smooth,
pale hands gliding over his chest, touching him, pleasuring him...

Leon swallowed and forced those thoughts away in a hurry. He didn't feel any pain when he did this, but his throat was very dry and it clicked loudly.

"Who taught you to do all of this, D?"

D's hands froze in mid-motion for just a second but it was long enough for Leon to notice and wonder about it.

"My grandfather taught me how to take care of plants and animals alike," He spoke slowly, as if choosing each word with great care and did not meet Leon's sharp, questioning gaze.

"Your grandfather must care for you a great deal," Leon ventured sensing a curious tightness in the way that D held himself. His shoulders were tensed, his posture almost rigid. His long fingers
tightened their hold on the tray so that his knuckles were almost white under the pressure of that grip. It seemed that the subject of his grandfather was not one D wished to discuss.

"Yes," D whispered so low Leon barely heard him, "he does." He offered a small, indescribable smile. "Now if you will excuse me, Detective, I need to wash these dishes."

Then with a swish of silk, he was gone leaving Leon alone and staring out the window wondering if he had said something that might have bothered D somehow.

TO BE CONTINUED…

A/N: I am so very sorry about the wait and the shortness of the chapter. Work has been so hectic and I had a pretty bad case of writer’s block. So I spent a lot of time working on drabbles. But still, that’s really no excuse. I intended this to be longer, but I’m not finished with the rest of it and I was feeling guilty. Please, forgive? I’ll do my best to have the rest up shortly, even if the chapters have to be short in order for me to get them actually DONE.