Disaster

Hello! Haven’t written anything for fun, that is not a 20 page paper on some DWEM, in over a year. The last adult thing I wrote was published here about two or three years ago… yeah. I took a break. Anyway! This is my first fanfiction. For my own pleasure I am going to be using passive voice, contractions, long sentences, possibly toss in some preposistions and the ends of sentences… starting off sentences with the words “and” or “but.” Yeah, yeah. Sorry.

Anyway, I don’t own PSOH in anyway, shape, or form. Obviously. This story is kinda crappy and PSOH is wonderful. So, there ya go. No sue-y the college kid-y. The ratings are for future chapters.

Okay, this first chapter just kinda defines where I see D. that whole… going away on a ship thing, nope. Never happened. You just have a GREAT imagination. Silly reader, D floated away on a ship in the clouds and pushed Leon back down to Earth? Nah. Just like every other zany adventure our two heroes go on, they come back home and it is business as usual. Don’t worry kiddies, I can’t wait for these two to just GET ON WITH IT ALREADY too.

Chapter One: Derailed

It bothered him more than it should. Every other day, or so, the man would barge through the door, toss his dirty sneaker clad feet on the table, and unload whatever emotional baggage was bothering him; every time he poured tea, served some sort of snack, and listened, no matter how trivial the complaints, offering vague advice and subtly pointing the detective on the right track. He knew, early on, he was sexually attracted to the blond. Leon was an attractive specimen. Decent height, good build…stamina.

That was what really bothered him. This…carnal lust. Leon wasn’t his intellectual equal. He responded to anything resembling what could be considered paranormal with fear and distrust. He had nothing to offer in the way of domestic skills. Even his job didn’t pay him enough for the danger he put himself in.

And how DID the detective manage to stay alive prior to their meeting? His “cop instincts” were always off, at least since D met him, and so far D had to save him… how many times now?

The more D thought about it, the more he decided he was bound to Leon by lust, and the more he acknowledged his own follies the more disgusted with the whole situation he was. It wasn’t like he’d ever act on his whims. He’d thought about it. He tried to think of a situation that could lead to…satisfying urges. Every possible situation would finish in sticky disappointments and awkward endings. In most cases, if the detective wasn’t under some sort of spell or charm, the scenario wouldn’t get much past the detective’s shock, disgust, and rejection.

The sudden squawking and screeching of animals snapped him out of his almost comatose daydreams. D stood up from the sofa he had been previously lounging in and smoothed any possible creases from his outfit. The door opened and a young couple walked in.

Not in the mood. “Hello, welcome to my pet shop. May I be of service?”

The couple, luckily, was only in the market for a companion bird. They seemed decent enough, though, and ended up bonding with a four-year-old Quaker parrot named Midori, promptly renamed JoJo. How original.

Take the money, hand them the basic care instructions, walk them to the door, and pray for the best. Good luck “JoJo.” It was a little early to close up, but it had been a slow day. He flipped the sign on the door but didn’t lock up. Leon hadn’t stopped by yesterday, or the day before, so he’d likely pay a visit. While he waited, D tended to the animals. Birdcages needed to be cleaned, breakfast dished had to be taken out. Morning fruits were replaced with evening vegetables. Everyone needed fresh water. D wondered if perhaps birds hated the taste of clean water. Seemed the moment a fresh basin was put into the cockatiels’ cages the birds threw toys, leaves, or food into the water then pooped in it.

Once all the freed animals were put in their cages and put to bed for the night, D made a fresh pot of tea. Not his usual green tea or cinnamon tea had been drinking recently. No, he was uncharacteristically irritable tonight. Frustrated, even. A customer had given him a homemade batch of hibiscus and jasmine tea before she left for a job in Portland and he only dipped into the container on days like today. The smell, while intoxicating itself, disappeared into faint memory once tasted. The tea was sweet and bitter, strong with a soft after taste. Jasmine tea is calming but hibiscus tea, while hard to find in the USA, was an aphrodisiac. Taming logic and irrational passion all in a single cup of hot tea. Even though he knew it was psychological, the tea made him feel balanced. Whichever way he felt skewed, the drink always made him feel more centered.
Only six o’clock. The evening was still young. Leon didn’t get off until six and he usually stayed a little late finishing some paperwork he had put off or trying to figure out a case he and Jill were working on. Now that Chris was spending the summer with his relatives out of state Leon was going into work earlier and staying later. His rational, he mentioned once, was that his track record had taken a beating since he and D met. A fraction of the convictions and his ego had taken a blow.

Yes, it must be hard to be wrong so often.

How to pass the time. Oddly enough, he didn’t feel like reading any of the books he had scattered around the shop or in his personal quarters. The animals in the shop were leaving him alone. Television has little appeal. As he sat there, thinking of what he could do while waiting, his eyes glanced to the empty chair Leon had recently switched over to. Wonder where he was now. What had he done today? Would he come into the shop smelling of gunpowder and cigarettes? Of sweat? Street pollutants in his hair? Would he come in the shop with the smell of other men on his body as sometimes happened when suspects resisted arrest? What would he be wearing? Another ridiculous t-shirt that had atrocious “Engrish” scribbled across it tucked into well fitting jeans? He could picture him and smell him. Leon’s voice was imprinted in his head after the hundreds of conversations they must have had. D could invent conversations for he and Leon to engage in and hear the words as Leon would respond with. He could recall the way the detective felt as well. In the past all the touches and pet had been accidental or innocent, but then they became mocking or fulfilled some purpose, and now he allowed himself to brush the detective’s skin whenever he passed Leon a cup of tea or walked by him running some pretend errand.

Alas, he couldn’t be certain how the detective would taste. He imagined his lips would taste of black coffee mixed with smoke and musk. Entirely masculine. Fittingly masculine. His tongue might discover Leon’s neck and shoulders to taste of salt and labor.

D’s mind jarred to a halt at the mental image of himself licking the detective’s neck. He cursed the tea held between his hands and discarded the cup on a nearby table. The tell-tale stain on his face wouldn’t be abandoned so easily.

He had never had this problem before. Maybe that was why the entire situation was so maddening. Usually, in the rare occasions he did find himself attracted to a human, all he had to do was extend his hand and be escorted to the nearest bedroom. Men, women, kings, fishermen’s wives… whomever he found himself smitten with...he would succumb to the desire and move along.

And maybe that is why he was so bound to Leon. The detective never noticed, or acknowledged, D’s advances. D certainly wasn’t prepared to lower himself to propositioning Leon himself or anything of that nature. Was the other man simply blind? Being coy? Playing D for a fool?

As much as D wanted to think Leon might just be toying with him, he knew that couldn’t be true. While the detective was flawed, he never played games. Be it words or actions, Leon was entirely truthful.

So he was a blind idiot?

Or perhaps he was just one of the few people on the planet who was actually, one hundred percent straight?

The one possibility D didn’t want to consider was maybe Leon just wasn’t interested in him. Some other man, perhaps, the company of women, sure, but no. Not D. Perhaps D had been put forever on the “friend shelf.” His anger at the tea forgotten, he picked up the cup again. It had chilled considerably. How long had he sat there? He glanced over at the clock again. Somehow, almost magically, it was after eight. If Leon wasn’t here by now he wasn’t coming.

With an unnoticed sigh, he stood up and took his teacup, along with the pot and the cup he pulled out for Leon, back to the kitchen. For a moment, he was annoyed that everything was always based on Leon’s schedule. It was always up to Leon whether or not he’d stop by. The relationship, whatever it was, was always at Leon’s convenience. His annoyance passed though. He couldn’t expect a human to have the same principals as he had. They weren’t a couple; they had no obligations to each other. With Chris out of town Leon’s only constant companion was work.

D absent-mindedly washed the few dishes and made his way to his bedroom. At least he had found a way to pass the time.

TBC...

Actually, chapter two is almost finished. I really didn't proof read this so let me know if there are any problems.