Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, if I did they'd probably have terrible grammar.
Warning: This is strangely prosy, almost to the point of purple. And all sense of grammar and form is completely ignored. And the end takes a turn for well, you'll see.
Notes: This is part of the Lyrics wheel for the Pet Shop of Horrors Fanfiction ML, and boy does it roll! The song...are we supposed to say the song? Well, if you're curious, it's Keep Driving by Meatloaf. See lyrics here.
The drive along the coast at night always soothed his nerves. It was a small taste of freedom in an otherwise set existence. Wake up, go to work, get a case, catch the bad guy, go home and do it all over again. Sometimes the formula varied, sometimes they didn't catch the bad guy, sometimes it was a bad girl, sometimes the criminal hurt people, and sometimes it was pure under the table white collar. Some had eyes that were icy cold, while others were scared and regretful. Some yelled and screamed and cussed and fought, then there were those that huddled miserably while tears streamed down their faces. Always the same.
And yet, lately that formula had varied. Lately he was in search of bad guys with paws and claws, feathers and fins. People usually died horribly, but he couldn't always bring himself to regret their loss, some of those people would have ended up behind his bars at some point anyway. And those eyes, those eyes were not what he was used to, innocent eyes of a rabbit, clear eyes of a snake, watery eyes of a fish, and all of these eyes led him back to the most unique pair of all. A mismatched set of eyes, one a midnight colored royal violet and the other a deep honeyed gold, half hidden behind a curtain of fine silky black hair. All this wrapped up in fine exotic silks and tempered with a smooth even tone of voice so far from all the others he'd heard.
The Count. Count D and his pets confounded him. They blurred his black lines. Added color, added shadow and scribbled outside the margins. They rewrote his coloring book and he wasn't sure how to react. On the one hand, he was a rules kind of guy, keep people safe, no exceptions, but on the other hand, he never was one to follow the rules too closely himself. And the colors. All those colors that D and his pets brought to life. He wasn't sure how he'd missed them before, but less and less was he worried about the people who met grotesque fates at a seemingly harmless pet puppy's paws.
He found himself fading, with every folder that fell upon his desk that received not so much as a flinch from him, he felt himself falling. A shadow had started eclipsing his life and he wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not. He liked the light. He fought on the side of the white hats. Shadows just weren't an option. He didn't want to die inside. He didn't want his justice to fade out because he had become jaded. He didn't want to be used to death. He wanted to be enraged by it. He wanted to jump the gun and run down the criminal, but it seemed that life simply had other plans.
Like that red light on an otherwise smooth ride. He could have run it. He was the law after all. But if he broke such small rules, it was only a matter of time before he was one of those men he'd put away. Perhaps he'd be the one with the cold eyes and the dead attitude, numb perhaps, or just not caring anymore. So he stopped. Foot sitting like lead on the brakes, as if afraid he'd roll right through it if he didn't hold himself back. Red. It glowed like the lights of Chinatown with its red neon signs glaring in foreign squiggles in the windows of shops. You could buy anything in Chinatown, firecrackers, vegetables, a little something for your wife, a friend for the night, or even a life. And maybe, just maybe if you stumbled into the right shop, you could buy hope, love and dreams, if you kept the contract that was.
Hope, love and dreams. It sounded so simple, so innocent, too good to be true. And it was. For most people, it wasn't true. For most people who sat on that red velvet couch and put pen to paper, they were signing away their life. Not unlike signing their soul to the devil. But somehow he'd never imagined that the devil was so attractive. Obviously he had to have some charm to lure so many people from the light and yet he was surprised when he found himself completely enamored, much to his dismay.
Delicate porcelain face, so easily broken and yet timeless, able to hold up against the undefeatable enemy known as time. In the end time could defeat anything, anything but D's face. Though his eyes were ancient and knowing, his face, those soft glass curves stayed the same. Those hand painted lips, that curved in a delighted smile upon receiving a treat, that looked so sensual doing most anything, they always kept the look that called out like a siren, to pull in that pale face, and claim those lips. Painted deep burgundy red, they would taste sweeter than the confections he ate, enough to bring a tear to his eye from finding something so rare.
Then green. Go. Foot off the breaks, on the gas, fast. His tires squealed as he left the guilty fantasy behind. In the cloud of dust from his tires, those eyes followed him and he knew, with a dizzying certainty that he could never leave that dream behind. He knew he couldn't escape, but he had to keep driving. He kept on driving, but he didn't go home. He couldn't go home. It was empty, too quite. Even the music he used to cover the silence always stopped at some point. In the pet shop, the animals never ceased, even in the still of the night, some small nocturnal creature rustled or chirped and there was never that silence that made you look back on your life and find dead dreams, old regrets, lost hopes, bad loves. There was never that introspection, instead there was a mystery to figure out. So he drove, but he didn't drive home.
The drive to the pet shop was swift. Lights turning green before him like magic. Go, they said, do not stop. And he went, rolling slowly through Chinatown, he watched the late night crowd stroll down the colorful streets. And it wasn't shadow they walked through, no, not shadows. It was light, bright and colorful, like they'd walked through a rainbow. And he realized, he was not falling into shadow, not the black or even gray. What he was falling into was color. His eyes were opening and seeing the world as it could be, as it should be. And suddenly, he needed to get out of his car. He needed to get out and walk through the colors himself.
Parking some blocks away from the shop, he joined the crowd of nightwalkers. He blended into them, became a part of them and was carried along, enraptured by their life. Their clothes were bright, their voices loud and their faces tinged with happiness. And he was content to walk among them until the subtle scent of incense called out to him. Almost reluctantly, he pulled himself out of the crowd and walked down the steps where he stopped at the red door. Red for stop. And he did, but only for a moment. He opened the door and kept going, walking right into the shop and settling himself on D's crimson couch. The tinkling of the bell drew the Count out with his tray of tea. He set it down on the table and poured the tea, handing a cup to Leon before perching on his own chair.
"It is quite late. What brings you to the shop this night Detective?"
Leon watched those painted lips form the words. His eyes traced those fine china cheekbones to stare into his mismatched eyes. The Count was not annoyed at the late visit, merely curious, perhaps even happy or amused. He was so beautiful. It was wholly unfair to all the women who strived for the perfect image, only for the gods to endow it upon a man. D cocked his head, causing his hair to slide over his neck and shift over his eyes. The movement disturbed Leon's concentration.
"I can't go home."
"Why not Detective? What is wrong with your home?"
Leon looked around the pet shop, listening carefully to the comforting shuffling and fluttering of creatures in their cages and the soft, barely audible breaths of his companion. "It's too quite. There's no one there."
D studied him. "Are you here for a pet?"
Leon looked thoughtful. He put his tea down and rose. "Well I did have one in mind."
D stood and followed him as Leon wandered over to the cages. "Oh? What pet has caught your eye?"
Leon turned to face him. "The rarest one of all." He reached out and cupped D's cheek as he leaned in and claimed those flawlessly painted lips. D was startled, but swiftly relaxed and allowed the detective to kiss him.
When they parted D smiled softly. "Well, that certainly is a rare pet indeed. But as with all my pets, you know there is a contract you must fulfill."
"Oh?" Leon quirked an eyebrow. "And what are the terms of this contract?"
D leaned in, as if imparting some great secret upon the detective, his voice low and seductive. "You must keep him in your heart always. You must not deceive him and above all else, you must bring him sweets regularly."
Leon grinned. "It's a deal. Where do I sign?"
D raised a hand to his mouth. "Right here." He brushed his fingers over his lips. Smiling, Leon drew the Count into his arms where he sealed their contract in a soft kiss.
Ok, sorry that went from a fic on crack to a fic on sap O_o, guess I just needed something to cheer me up. Anyway, that's my lyric wheel contribution.