Man-Eater

Disclaimer: I don't own Petshop 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.
Title: Man-Eater
Notes: Sequel to 'Denial' and Story Two in the Arc, which is set before Volume 9's fourth chapter, Dynasty


MAN-EATER
CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Detective… what a pleasant surprise,” D managed to arrange his features into what he hoped was a convincing display of friendly curiosity, but his smile was crumbled around the edges despite his best efforts to hold it in place. His body was heavy with fatigue and he simply couldn’t comprehend why Leon was here at his shop and not at his apartment, sleeping.

His eyes darted across the room to an antique grandfather clock nestled in a narrow alcove. With a silent groan of dismay, a wave of weakness washed over him like a tsunami, dragging him down, crushing him, drowning him. He had known it was late, but not exactly how late it was, only how late his body and mind told him it ought to be. Only in actuality, it was much later than he had thought. It felt like he had been away for days and he yearned for the sweet, dark oblivion of sleep.

“Would you care for a cup of tea?” Hanging desperately on to his smile, D ducked under Leon’s arms and made his way toward the sitting area, all the while keeping up the charade of the responsible host. “I recently came across some very fine oolong, you know, the best I’ve ever had.”

Leon slowly turned and followed, a scowl darkening his face. Anger danced behind his blue eyes like thunder clouds. His movements were stiff and jerky, his hands balled into fists at his side. Even in the subdued light, D could see the ripple of skin as he clenched and unclenched his jaw.

D picked up the teapot off its silver tray. The lid rattled slightly and to his consternation, he realized that his hands were trembling. “I’ll just set some water to boil-“

“Cut the shit, D,” Leon snarled. “I’m not here for a fucking tea party. I asked you a question and I want a goddamn answer: Where have you been?”

Taking a deep breath, D carefully set the teapot back on the tray. Who does he think he is, questioning me like a common criminal? He thought indignantly. Anger uncurled like a great beast in the depths of his being. He embraced it, welcomed it. It was better to be angry than so… uncertain. When he spoke, his voice was as calm and cold as a winter’s twilight. “I was out.”

Leon snorted. “Well, no shit, Sherlock. But where were you?”

“Here and there,” D replied airily with a shrug of false indifference.

“Who were you with?”

This question, and the seething rage behind the words, caught D off guard. It wasn’t possible that Leon could know what had transpired between the time he had left his apartment and when he had entered the shop. But it was obvious from the way he was acting that he suspected… something.

“I – I don’t know what you are talking about, Detective.” D murmured in his most diplomatic tone, the one he used for his most difficult and demanding customers, “But I assure you-“

“Who were you with?” Leon was in front of him, face red, eyes blazing. He was not yelling, but his voice was raised and full of undeniable menace.

“I wasn’t ‘with’ anyone, Detective,” D retorted, catching the first angry inkling of what the police detective was insinuating. He glared at the other man, tension creeping into his body, a strange hot, aching feeling he had never felt before. He had done nothing wrong and he did not deserve to be accused and interrogated like this in his own home. “And just how is that any of your concern in the first place?”

“You’re a fucking liar,” Leon growled, jabbing an accusatory finger into D’s chest, hard enough to cause him to take an unsteady step backwards. “Not long after you left, some Chinese guy knocked on my door, looking for you. I’ve worked Chinatown for years, D, and I’ve gotten to know a lot of people down here, but I’ve never seen this guy before. He was fairly tall, glasses, long hair, medium build. Kind of bookish-looking, but he moved like a dancer…or a martial artist. Is he some kind of friend of yours?”

D’s eyes widened slightly at the description, his breath stilling in his chest while his heart began to beat double-time. He hadn’t known Jin Li had gone searching for him at Leon’s apartment. He hadn’t known exactly how the young man had located him…he simply hadn’t had the presence of mind to ask after going through such a horrible ordeal. But if Jin Li, who had been in the country only a very short period of time, could easily locate Leon’s apartment, that meant that Kuan Yin…
Mentally, he was back in Leon’s apartment, dust specks dancing lazily in the afternoon sun as it slanted in through one of the windows… Details he had stored in his memory surged to the surface of his mind: the couch cushions yanked askew, shabby furniture subtly out of the accustomed positions, cabinets and drawers gaping open, their contents strewn about. The same unease he felt that afternoon resurfaced, only this time, he knew who his enemy was and what he wanted. The only thing he did not know was what he would do next.
‘They know where you live, where you work, who you talk to… and who you love.’
Jin Li’s words of warning whispered through his mind and he shivered as the invisible cold fingers of premonition stroked up his spine. His eyes flicked unconsciously toward Leon, wide and full of alarm. Then the mental image of young Chris sleeping in his bed, arms and legs akimbo, Pon-chan curled up in a ball near his head, a protective T-Chan sleeping at the foot of his bed surfaced and his heart constricted in something very close to horror.
‘They won’t stop until they get what they’re after…’
The color of his face, such as it was, drained leaving his face even paler than usual as the full implications of his predicament finally hit home. Somehow without even realizing what he had done, he had put them all in danger.
D pulled himself from his unsettling thoughts with great difficulty. His eyes were wide and his heart was beating a frantic tattoo in his chest. Leon’s eyes searched his own strange gaze, scanning his facial expressions, his involuntary body language, gauging his reactions. He was obviously not happy with what he was picking up on. D could just imagine him in the interrogation room, rapid firing his questions in that same angry tone of voice, stalking about the small room like a caged tiger, a dangerous man-eater, searching for the truth in the eyes and expressions of his suspects.
Another spark of anger joined the already smoldering blaze in D’s soul. It stirred his blood and sent heat surging through his body, temporarily banishing the chill that had taken hold. He could do nothing about Kuan Yin and his followers at the moment and the helplessness he felt was almost paralyzing. But he could deal with the pig-headed man standing in front of him, whose blue eyes burned with the fires of jealousy…

D balked for a moment. Then peered closer into Leon’s eyes ascertaining for himself what he thought, no knew, he was seeing. There was no counting the number of customers who had come to him with that same look in their eyes. Leon was… jealous. He might have given a small, incredulous laugh, but he didn’t have the energy and the situation was anything but humorous. Instead, he forced himself to take several long, slow breaths as he struggled to maintain his crumbling composure. The emotional turbulence of the day had drained him terribly and he was so tired… so very tired.

“And what happened to your shirt, huh?” Leon yelled, still on the attack. “You care to explain that?”

“I had a bit of an altercation,” D snapped, seriously understating the situation in question. “Not that it’s any of your concern.”

“An ‘altercation’, you say?” Leon leaned in close enough for his breath to puff warmly against D’s face, an ugly sneer twisting his lips. “You know, if you like it rough, you could have just asked. I would’ve been happy to oblige.”

For one eternal second, the two men stared at each other in horror, each equally shocked by what had been said. Then in one blurred moment D’s hand struck Leon across the face, knocking him off his feet.

“How dare you!” he hissed, trembling with rage, “How dare you speak to me in such a manner!”

Leon struggled into a sitting position, holding his throbbing cheek. Then he got to his feet, dusting off his jeans with exaggerated care. His mouth opened as if to say something, no doubt something he would regret, but before any words could escape, he heard a small, anxious voice coming from behind him.

‘Count… Big Bro...?’

Startled, both men whirled around to find Chris standing a few feet behind them, his eyes wide and frightened. Pon-chan was curled around his shoulders and Tetsu stood guard at his feet. He looked so small and defenseless standing there barefoot and wearing one of his brother’s oversized tee-shirts. D tossed a glare at the detective that clearly said, ‘Now look what you have done,’ then hurried over to the young boy. He knelt beside him and stroked his fingers through the boy’s fine blond hair, pushing several wayward strands out of his eyes.

“Chris,” D murmured in his softest, most reassuring tone, “Why are you up so late at night?” He glanced up at Leon who had sheepishly joined them. The cheek D had struck was already a dull, painful red. His turned back to Chris, who was staring up at his older brother with an unusual wariness. “Your brother and I were just having… an argument. I’m sorry, did we wake you?”

‘No,’ Chris replied, shaking his head emphatically, ‘I had a really scary dream.’

“Oh, I see.” D nodded his head in understanding. “What was your dream about? Do you remember?”

‘Y-yes… A monster with three eyes came into the shop and was trying to hurt you, Count.’

D wrapped his arms around the young boy and pulled him close as he gave him a quick, reassuring hug. “There is no reason to fear, Chris, no monster would ever be able to get in here to hurt me, I promise you that. This is a safe place for me and for you, as well. It was only a dream, nothing more.”

Chris tugged urgently at D’s sleeve and when he leaned closer, his small hand cupped over his mouth as if to hide his words as he whispered hoarsely into Ds ear, ‘But Count, the monster looked just like Big Bro. It had his eyes and face and everything!’

D’s eyes darted toward Leon, who looked as if his younger brother had just hit him in the gut with a baseball bat. “It was just a dream, Chris,” he repeated gently but with a tone that allowed no room argument. “Your brother is a brave police officer and a good man. He would never do anything to hurt me. I promise. Now go back to your room and I’ll be there in a moment to tuck you in.”

‘Okay.’ Chris went over to his brother and gave him a hug. Leon ruffled his hair affectionately and managed a smile. ‘Good night, Big Bro.’

“’Night, kiddo, I’ll see you later, ‘kay?”

Chris turned and padded silently back toward his room. The raccoon chattered quietly into the kid’s ear, but the goat-thing turned his head and watched him until they turned the corner and disappeared out of sight down the hall. If Leon didn’t know any better, he’d swear the damned thing was glaring at him.

“Goddamned mangy animal,” Leon snorted, “He’s gonna give Chris fleas, I tell you.”

“Nonsense,” D scolded, rising slowly to his feet. All the anger had gone out of his voice leaving it strangely hollow.

Leon shuffled his feet and cracked his knuckles restlessly. “Look, D, about what I said-“

“Please, Detective,” D implored, his voice weary, “It has been a long day and I am very tired.” He gestured toward the sitting area, “Please, have a seat and I when I get back I shall explain…everything.”

For a moment, D thought Leon would refuse, but then he lowered himself begrudgingly into his familiar seat. He crossed his arms and legs and glared at D expectantly. It was probably the best D could hope for under the circumstances. Without another word, he left the room, following the same path his brother had taken just a few moments ago.

*****

“How’s he doing?” Leon asked some time later when D returned looking extremely tired.

“Fine,” D replied, crossing over to the table. “He’s asleep now. I don’t think he’ll wake again any time soon.”

“Good. That’ll give us time to straighten some things out.”

“Yes…” With a heavy sigh, D sagged into his own chair and rested his face in his hands.

“I don’t know where to begin,” he said after a few moments, his voice barely a whisper.

“Try starting at the beginning,” Leon offered in what he had probably meant as a friendly tone, but instead it came out sounding more than a little sarcastic. “And when you reach the end, stop.”

“Thank you,” D said icily.

“You’re welcome.” Leon fished a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, shook one out, and put the rest away. Without meeting D’s eyes, he lit up, took a long, slow drag then blew it out. “Go on, I’m listening.”

Ah, civility at last, D thought. Start at the beginning, Leon had said. That was so deceptively easy. But where was the beginning precisely and where should he start? With the massacre of his people? Or how about his dreadful encounter with Kuan Yin? D shuddered. No, he couldn’t tell Leon about that… he could barely stand to recall the incident himself. No, it was better for him to keep that part to himself…for now.

Slowly, picking his words carefully, D told Leon a modified accounting of the events that happened after he had left his apartment. He said nothing of the sacred blade or ring or what Kuan Yin had done to him. And he did his best to paint a picture of a couple of punks laying an ambush for what they thought would be an easy mark. He also left out the part where he was drugged and awoke half naked in Jin Li’s hotel room knowing Leon wouldn’t take it very well.

“So it’s not what you think it is, Detective,” He concluded, “Jin Li just-“

“Don’t tell me what to think, Count.” Leon said, snubbing out his cigarette into an ashtray D had considerately provided for his use. “I’m not thinking anything. So you were out with some guy,” he shrugged with deceptive nonchalance. “Not like I care one way or the other. It’s your life, do what you want with it.”

“It’s not like that,” D insisted, hurt by Leon’s callous words and suddenly feeling on the defensive. And not liking it one bit. “Jin Li is just a…” He paused for a moment, not knowing exactly what to say. What exactly was Jin Li to him? A virtual stranger, that’s what, and the source of all his current problems. But he couldn’t tell Leon that, he wouldn’t believe it even though it was the truth.

“He’s a friend of the family,” D finally concluded, his gaze shifting to meet Leon’s. “His family has been friends with mine for… a long, long time.”

“Why would he need to come looking for you if your families were supposedly so buddy-buddy, huh?” Leon demanded. “Why not just pick up the phone and give you a call? You know, the old ‘reach out and touch someone’ deal?”

“When my family left China, we lost touch with the Sung family.” D lied smoothly, not mentioning the fact that his family had left China long before Leon’s ancestors had crossed over on the Mayflower. “You know how it is, Detective, no one puts down roots anymore. They’re always picking up and running off to somewhere new.”

The best lies were the ones that held a grain of truth, D knew. And the truth was that he had been forced to move the shop to a new location every few years. A young, handsome Oriental man who sold exotic pets and never seemed to age tended to attract a great deal of attention if he stayed in one place too long. You could only pass off so much on good genes. Soon or later someone always got suspicious. And his family had their own enemies, enemies that had nothing to do with Kuan Yin Zhang and his ilk, enemies that were looking for them even now...

“So, why was it so important that he find you after all these years?” Leon asked, drawing D out of his reverie. “Looking to rekindle an old flame?”

D’s lips pressed together angrily, but he chose to ignore Leon’s crude suggestion. “Jin Li’s father died recently under suspicious circumstances. And on his father’s last request he came to present me with…” He paused for a moment, searching for the correct word to use, “an inheritance, if you will.”

“Oh, yeah?” Leon leaned forward. “What sort of inheritance?”

“Just some family heirlooms passed down from father to son for centuries.”

D remembered how, fascinated despite himself, he had held the sacred blade earlier in Jin Li’s presence, the horrible feel of the highly polished brass handle with its ornately carved protective charms. He remembered too, the dull sort of throbbing that had seemed to emanate from it, slow and steady like a heartbeat of some terrible creature. With some effort, he pushed the memory away and unconsciously folded his arms about himself protectively, his hands rubbing along his arms as if to warm them.

“And why would he want to give them to you, D? Why not keep them himself?”

“Because Jin Li is not Dishi Sung’s biological son, that’s why.” D replied softly as if the answer were obvious. “And according to ancient law, he would have no right to inherit such items.”

“But that doesn’t explain why he wanted to give it to you. You’re not related to this old man, this Sung guy, are you?”

“No,” D said slowly, “I am not.”

“They why give it to you?” Leon persisted.

“I don’t know!”

D was on his feet shaking with an emotion he could not name. He turned his back to Leon. He couldn’t afford to be weak, not now that the wolves were howling at his door. “I don’t know why he wanted me to have them, Detective,” he said. “And that is the truth.”

He heard the scrape of the chair legs as Leon pushed himself away from the table, the sound of his feet as he crossed over to where he stood. The warmth of his body radiated against his back and he breathed in the faint fragrance of his cologne. But beneath that was a scent all his own, subtle, powerful, and completely masculine.

“Do you have them with you now?” Leon placed his arms on his shoulders and gently turned him around so he was facing him.

D gave an emphatic shake of the head, but refused to meet Leon’s intense gaze. “No, I refused to accept them.”

“Then don’t worry about it anymore.”

“It’s not that simple, Detective,” D whispered. “Nothing is ever that simple.”

“Bullshit. Things are only as hard as you make them, D,” Leon touched his chin and gently tilted his head back so he could look into his oddly beautiful eyes. “All this shit with this Jin Li guy,” he lowered his head, moving in until his lips brushed D’s. “You and me…you just make things harder than they have to be.”

D turned his face, avoiding the kiss. “Detective, I-I can’t…”

“Why not?” Leon asked, dropping his arms down until they rested around D’s waist.

“It’s difficult to explain-“

“Only as difficult as you make it, D,” Leon angled for a kiss but D raised his hands to his shoulders and gently pushed him away with a small shake of the head.

“No, Detective,” He whispered hoarsely, then with more force, “No.”

Abruptly, Leon stepped away and ran a hand distractedly through his hair. “Yeah, you’re right, you’re right.” He gave a short, almost bitter laugh. “It’s getting kind of late anyway. I guess I’ll be seeing you later, then.”

He raised his hand in an abrupt gesture of farewell, turned and strode toward the door. D followed uncertainly at his heels and watched as he undid all of the locks and bolts he had so carefully engaged when he had first gotten home. He hand twisted the knob and the door began to open.

“Detective!” D called out wretchedly.

Leon paused and looked back at him with an air of hopeful expectation.

“Be careful.”

Though it was obviously not what he was hoping to hear, Leon managed a genuine smile. “I always am.”

Then he was gone, swallowed by the night, and D stood there in the dim light of his shop feeling more alone than he had ever felt before in his life.

TO BE CONTINUED…