03-Aug-2002
Pet Shop of Horrors: Earthsong
by bonnejeanne and cassiopeia
Title: Earthsong
Author: bonnejeanne (bonnejeanne@yahoo.com) and Cassiopeia (cassiopeia@gundamwing.net)
Archive: http://www.no-assumptions.com/gundamwing/
Category: yaoi, AU
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Series
WARNINGS: Lemon/Limey stuff, AU
Disclaimer: Pet Shop of Horrors characters and universe are the property of the copyright owners. Our stuff is ours. No money being made here. As with all our fics, while our goal is to stay as in character as possible, any discrepancies are our mistakes.
Feedback: Any and all comments welcome, be they short or long.
NOTES: This is a sequel to our first fic, "Blood". See Part One for full Notes.
WARNING THIS SECTION: Lemon - under 18 please don't read!
Earthsong: Part Nine
In a remarkably short time Leon found himself in another room he'd never seen before, a rather large kitchen, as D tied a frilly pink apron around him over his protests. Another apron, this one tastefully decorated with fantastic animals was assumed by the Count. A knife and a cutting board were placed in front of Leon and a series of ingredients, some recognizable, some not, placed close by with instructions on how to cut up each item. Even the presence of Q-chan, who flew in from somewhere, couldn't really dampen the strange excitement as Leon watched the Count cook with a pair of very long chopsticks in a large, venerable-looking wok. Nothing more than a simple stir-fry, it still seemed a little bit like magic, and the smells were wonderful.
Through a deep scowl, Leon stared at the knife in front of him, contemplating how easy it would be to shred the 'apron' (it looked more like a party dress to Leon) D had tied around him a little *too* tightly. As he took the knife in his right hand, he clenched his teeth and snatched up the instructions with his left. As long as D was the only one who saw him like this, then he could stand it.
He began to chop the vegetables, violently, not paying as close attention to the instructions as perhaps he should. Every few moments, he looked up to watch D, and his scowl temporarily faded. He began to wonder how and where, when and why D had learned to cook, the aroma coming from the wok making his stomach growl. It all felt a little mysterious, and yet comfortable. In fact, a great deal of both.
Leon took stock of his chopping, and realized it wasn't exactly even, certainly not uniform, and especially not according to instructions. He put the knife down and looked to D. "Um... here," Leon said, indicating the butchered ingredients before him. A very faint pink color had risen in his cheeks, and his mouth seemed rather irritated.
Serenely, D accepted the offerings, stirring them into the other ingredients in the wok as they all sizzled together. "Thank you, My Detective," he said, giving Leon a smile like a gift. "You are wonderful to help out after such a taxing day. I am certain it will be appreciated."
A frown raced across Leon's face, though it was clear that he was neither angry nor upset. He moved closer to D and the wok, reaching behind to try and untie the apron. After three failed attempts at the knot, he gave up and leaned against the nearby counter. Sniffing the air, he asked, "How long does this stuff take?" As he spoke, his stomach growled again.
The Count laughed softly. "If you will hand me those four plates..." There was a stack of beautiful plates in a red and black design with a gold edge around the rim. Carefully D filled each plate and then dumped rice from a bamboo steamer into a serving dish. Taking a moment to arrange the dishes on trays, add a pot of tea from somewhere, cups, chopsticks, and utensils for Leon and Chris, he surveyed the results critically. Then he removed his apron and moved around Leon, pulling loose the large bow at the back of his waist, and not without some unnecessary fumbling around the area under the bow.
As soon as the apron was off, Leon turned and pulled D into his arms. Without waiting for even the slightest hint of permission, he brought his mouth down on the Count's, his tongue moving inside. After a moment, he pulled back a little, burying his face in black silk hair. "I... I shouldn't have let them come here," he said, voice only loud enough for someone he happened to be holding to hear. "I didn't think they would."
D's hands moved soothing along his neck and shoulders. "You did not *let* them, My Leon, they simply came. With or without you, they would have come." After a moment he added, "I admit, I am curious what you were doing all that time..." The tone was inquiring, almost wheedling.
Leon didn't answer for a while, only continued to enjoy the feel of D's hands along his body. He remained undecided on how much he wanted to tell D of what had happened with Chang earlier and, as always, it was unclear how much the man already knew without his help. "I was having an unplanned... meeting with our friend, Chang. The men that came here, they came to the precinct as well. They say they have the authority to 'settle' Su Chin's estate. They said a lot of things about Chang as well." Leon shook his head quietly. "The whole thing's kind of complicated," he added, his desire for clear answers coming through in his voice.
The Count planted a little series of soft kisses along his jawline. "Human affairs are always complicated," he murmured. Then with slight speculation, "If they come back, I think I will see if they would like to buy a pet..."
That made Leon smile, but the look quickly turned to a frown. "They're not coming back," he said.
The Count tilted his head slightly and looked at Leon, but did not reply. He simply smiled.
The detective's frown increased slightly, and then he released D. "I'm hungry," he said, as he started to walk from the room, but then turned back to the Count, remembering the trays. Without saying anything and looking off to the side, Leon grabbed one of the trays, not waiting for D as he carried it out the door. He was in a hurry. Not so much to eat, though he truly was hungry, but to see for himself that Chris was all right.
D followed him with the other tray. Spotting the little rabbit-bat in the front room, D said, "Go bring them to eat," and Q-chan fluttered off on the errand obediently.
D fussed over the setting of the table with the various plates, utensils and cups, pouring tea for all. Surveying the settings critically, his eyes slid to Leon and away. "No time to make dessert," he mentioned with a sigh. True, Chang had brought pastries earlier in the day when he'd visited, but it wasn't quite the same as a confection carried in Leon's hands...
Leon didn't say anything about the lack of dessert, and sat down. He waited to start eating until the kids had arrived, but it wasn't for the sake of propriety. Realizing how dry his throat felt, Leon took up his tea and drank.
The door to the passage back into the shop opened and a red-topped head peered around it cautiously. Eyes lighting on Leon, and then D, Ti-lung looked back behind him and said, "It's ok, it's just Count D and Leon-san." Moving around the door as Q-chan flew around it and into the room, the boy emerged with one hand behind him, clasping the hand of the slightly smaller blond. Chris nibbled the thumbnail of his free hand nervously, looking around the room, finally satisfied there weren't any monsters or frightening strange men lurking in a corner somewhere.
Ti-lung pulled Chris along and up to the table, looking at the food laid out with some interest. Allowing himself to be towed, Chris followed, but his eyes went from D to Leon, staying on the detective instead of looking at the plates of food.
Turning all of his attention to the children, the blonde one in particular, Leon moved the teacup away from his mouth, holding it in his hands down at chest level. He did not feel relief at seeing that Chris was unscathed, but satisfied. That the boy seemed even more apprehensive now than he had before bothered Leon. It was his job, twice over, to protect the boy. As a police officer and his brother. If he could not even do that, then...
The situation made Leon feel like less. Less than what he was. He tried to meet Chris's blue eyes as he spoke in a casual tone. "I hear you had some excitement today."
Chris's eyes widened slightly at being addressed, and he looked down into his lap. It was more of a response than Leon had ever gotten from him... well maybe not ever. There were some memories that chose this time to resurface of the boy watching him hopefully, on various occasions.
"Yeah, where were you?" Ti-lung said, digging into his food.
Chris darted a look at the other 'boy', who stopped eating and looked back like, what? what did I do? Then shrugged.
Looking back up at Leon with an effort, Chris nodded.
Leon's eyes widened perceptibly at the nod. It had been nearly four years since Chris had directly acknowledged that he'd even heard anything that Leon had said. The expression was short-lived, and he turned a slightly more severe one on Ti-lung. "I was working," he said, though from the tone of his voice, it didn't sound like he was disagreeing with Ti-lung's implied assertion that Leon should have been there. Then he met Chris's eyes again.
An urge came up in him, and he didn't think about it long enough to resist, didn't consider what his actions could cause. Coming off of the sofa, Leon moved towards Chris and knelt in front of the boy. He put a hand to the child's shoulder, and years of frustration shone in his eyes, not quite threatening to leak out, but almost. There was a touch of anger in his voice as he asked, "You can hear me?"
Leon looked away after speaking, realizing that no one would understand at whom the anger was directed. Not Chris, not himself. No one in the room.
Chris jumped at the angry tone, Leon's hand feeling it clearly. His eyes dived from Leon's back to his lap, starting to shine slightly.
/I hear you. But no one ever hears me./
It was a soft, weary tone, almost hopeless, but the child's mouth had never opened, his lips never moved.
Leon's eyes flew back to Chris even before his head had turned completely back around. He did not understand how he could hear a voice that came from nowhere, but he felt oddly accepting of the fact. It was by no means the strangest thing that had happened to him lately.
"I..." He started to say, but couldn't think how to finish the sentence. Leon wanted to apologize for his angry tone, wanted to explain that he was not mad at Chris. Was never, in fact, mad at Chris. He had an easy enough scapegoat for all of his childhood anger and bitterness, a person who well-deserved anything and everything that he had ever thrown at him. The person who had destroyed his family.
Not Chris, never Chris. "I... I hear you now," he finally said. "And I want to keep hearing you."
The child's eyes flew open wide, fixing on Leon's face as if he didn't believe the words the detective had spoken. /You... you... do...?/
"Yes, of course he does, so do I, I told you it wasn't such a big thing," Ti-lung announced off-handedly. "You going to eat any of that or just look at it, because I could..."
Leon didn't reply to Chris's question, as it had already been answered for him, and he began to get a little nervous as to the safety of his food, lying unprotected on the table behind them. He glanced back at Ti-lung, just to check, and then turned back to Chris. "I think we'd better eat, before D has to make another round." As he finished speaking, he stood up, but not before touching Chris's shoulder a final time.
He was stopped from moving back by the small boy jumping up and throwing his arms around whatever part of Leon he could reach. Tears leaked from Chris's tightly closed eyes.
"Aww..." Ti-lung muttered, looking away with a sniff, quickly covered.
Leon stopped trying to move and let the boy hug him for a moment. Then somehow his hands clasped the boy's shoulders. And then, somehow, he was on his knees, holding the boy against his chest.
His brother... He had his brother in his arms. It felt like, for a split second, like he was holding his mother. Or some small part of her. Leon closed his eyes, and he saw a happy day, that he had stored so long ago. Of an ill-planned picnic, his mother large and round with Chris, his father trying to hastily gather everything back into the car after it had started to rain on them. All running through the pouring water back to the car.
Leon had loved his brother then, when he was still more of an idea than a person. When they could all still laugh at being rained on. And he couldn't think of a thing to say to the boy now. His voice was rough, a little higher than normal, as he tried anyway. "Aren't you hungry?"
Chris wiped the back of his hand over his eyes and looked up, sky blue meeting sky blue. /You brought me here... where people could hear me... thank you!/ Then with a little sigh, he nodded in answer to the question.
Pulling away slowly, Leon moved back to his plate of food, cleaning it pretty quickly. It tasted as good as it had smelled, back in the kitchen. Throughout the meal, his eyes stayed on Chris. He could not keep himself from watching the boy. Finally, his gaze drifted to D, and there was a question in his look. 'Am I doing this right?'
Chris climbed back into his seat as well, picking up a fork and starting to eat. The next thing, Ti-lung was trying to teach him how to use chop sticks.
D returned Leon's glance serenely, a very faint smile on his face. Even Q-chan, on his shoulder, seemed to look at Leon with an almost grudging approval in his button eyes. As if Leon might not be totally worthless.
The Count reached over smoothly and placed his hand lightly on Leon's knee for a moment. It seemed to carry more than mere approval in the brief touch. It seemed to include pride and love.
Leon felt very surrounded. By everything. It was not an uncomfortable feeling, as it might normally have been, and he sighed, leaning back into the sofa a little. Remembering something from his childhood, he said, "I cooked, so I'm not doing these dishes," seeming to forget D's participation in the event altogether. He hadn't suffered an apron for nothing.
As it turned out, once they found him a step stool, Chris was perfectly fine doing dishes. Ti-lung was quite grumpy about it, but didn't abandon the other boy once he was clearly determined. The fine china might have been at risk in Chris's small hands but D never indicated any concern for it at all and simply thanked the two profusely before sending them off in Q-chan's care to 'get ready for bed'.
Leon took a large measure of comfort in watching, from the doorway, Chris and Ti-lung wash up the dinnerware. It was too easy to see himself at that age, standing on a very similar step stool with an equally determined expression as he cleaned up the kitchen for his mother after dinner, so she could rest before heading to bed early. Mom always had to get up early for work.
If Leon could keep himself from becoming angry, it was always pleasant to think of the times before Father had come back. But that was hard, and he couldn't do it very often. Today must have been special, because the memory only made him smile a little.
As soon as the kids had exited with their new nanny, Leon came a little further into the kitchen. "Well," he began, feeling a lot lighter than he had felt when he'd first come home, "I'm ready for bed. How about you?"
D turned around from placing a last dried dish on a shelf the boys couldn't reach without help. His mouth curved in a smile. Then he sidled languidly over to Leon, draping his arms around the detective's neck. "You had a hard day today, My Detective." Then he pouted slightly, the expression obviously affected, but charming nonetheless. "You only want to ravish me, I swear that must be all you think about any more..." This statement was punctuated with a light feathering of kisses along Leon's jaw.
Leon wrapped his arms tightly around the Count, and pulled the other man hard against his chest. Through several harsh, if not affectionate, kisses at D's throat, Leon replied, "You don't let me think of anything else. Do you want me to?" It wasn't particularly clear just what Leon was asking D if he wanted him to do, but Leon didn't care which way the man took the question.
The Count arched his neck, giving Leon the maximum amount of available skin short of disrobing. His voice was low and throaty when he answered, "No, I don't want you to think about anything else," he said wickedly. "And yes... I want you to..." Leaning close, he whispered the last two words in Leon's ear, "...ravish... me...."
That was all it took for D to find himself being 'led' to the bedroom, the Count's words having gone straight to the lower regions of Leon's body. That he could want something, someone, so much was not what left him wondering. It was the fact that he was not used to wanting what he had. Perhaps Leon had just never had anything good enough.
Once inside the strange safety of D's bedroom - it was a little like being on the shooting range, where he was *supposed* to fire his gun, i.e., the right place for his purpose - Leon began to undress them both, not taking too much care. Through it all, he managed to keep touching his lips to various parts of D's body, his sense of urgency in the situation growing closer and closer to unbearable.
The more forceful he was, the more pliant D seemed to become. He purred under the touch of Leon's hands and mouth, the Count's own clever hands somehow keeping almost apace, causing Leon's clothes to shed onto the floor only moments after his had done. Eyes betraying excitement under dark lashes, he crawled across the wide bed away from Leon, purely for the pleasure of being pulled back, squirming for the delight of being held by strong hands. The more urgent Leon's lust, the more tightly wound D became, crying out like a plucked string when Leon touched a particularly sensitive area.
The feeling of holding D, roughly pulling their two bodies together and pressing his open mouth to the base of the other man's neck, was too intense, too much to really be termed pleasurable. There was a certain kind of agony in something that felt so good, and Leon gave up trying to sort it all out in his mind, gave up trying to decide what everything "was" or "was not". The system hadn't worked very well lately, anyway.
Leon tumbled their bodies until D was beneath him and brought their mouths together, tracing all of D's interior, slowly at first, but building speed until the kiss became almost violent. His hips grated downward in a firm thrust, and instead of gasping at the contact, he directed the feeling to his quick-moving tongue in D's mouth.
He could feel the reaction all through D's body, feel the long, slender alabaster-skinned legs parting beneath him, letting his hardness slide between the silken thighs and along the warm valley between. D's body pressed up against him, teasing the skin of his belly with a warm velvet thrusting of firmness. Long-nailed fingers clawed the rubber band out of his hair, pulling a few strands, to free the golden mane and let it fall around his face. Then D's fingers traced rapidly, almost frantically along his shoulders and back as the Count writhed under his kiss.
Completely robbed of his breath, Leon broke the kiss, and had to shake off the feeling of wanting to run a hand through his now loose hair. He didn't like having it down, it got in his way.
Shifting his body, Leon moved until he was pressing at D's entrance, ready to drive forward, take the man, fill the man completely. Make them both feel the white hot, painful joy of being together.
Leon felt D's body, his hips curving, pressing upward, legs wide apart and wrapping around Leon's torso. His entrance began squeezing open around the tip of Leon's cock, trying to take him in. D opened his eyes, gold and purple fixing on Leon, demanding and begging with the same look. A little sound, part whimper, part wordless command escaped from D's throat as he licked his lips.
Leon did not need to be begged or commanded or anything else, yet some part of him could not help responding to the man beneath him, and he pushed forward, bringing their two bodies finally, completely, together. It seemed such the right thing for him to be doing then, so much like the place he *should* be, that Leon could think or feel nothing else. As he entered the Count, Leon brought his mouth down on D's shoulder, only waiting a moment before he began to thrust more forcefully into the man.
D's body arched and his head fell back, his expression similar to when letting a piece of champagne truffle melt on his tongue only moreso. As if Leon's body entering his was the most delicious, most welcomed sensation he had ever experienced. His legs tightened around Leon's waist but allowed enough room for the play of their bodies against each other. His hands left Leon's neck to stretch above his head, the vision erotic, as if his hands were bound above leaving him vulnerable to Leon's desires.
The picture of D, his hands held above by the man's own will, made Leon want to hold him there, never let him move, never let him leave. When they were there, in bed together, nothing was wrong. Nothing could intrude, and everything else, anything that could weight the mind, existed outside that sphere.
Leon let his hands follow D's, securing them to the mattress, holding back none of his strength. As if to say, 'I can give you what you want.' If only... if only... you will keep me. Thoughts that did not live with the rest of his mind, but stayed to the side, weakly asserting themselves to the Center, never acknowledged without a fight. No part of Leon wanted to admit that he did not want to be alone. That he had been alone, before D, not by choice, but because there was no one. No one or thing who could touch him, could understand.
A remembered voice in his mind. 'No one hears me.' Leon felt a new meaning to the words lock into place, and a smile formed on his mouth. He was not sure why, but it wanted to stay.
Continuing to thrust into D, continuing to hold the man's hands above his head, Leon moved his lips from the other man's shoulder to his mouth, and, in contrast to his other actions, kissed him softly. There were many things waiting behind the kiss, the largest one a passionate kind of lust, but one lingered apart from the others, waiting to be counted. It burned in his stomach, and though he could guess what it was, he hesitated to name the feeling.
The tension of their act rose in Leon, and his kiss deepened.
As Leon's hands fastened on D's wrists, the Count's eyes opened wide, fixing on Leon, gold and purple depths seeming to grow until he could fall into them. The wrists under his hold tensed, not fighting, but turning, testing, challenging his strength long enough to show an almost gloating pleasure in the answer. D's body under Leon's was never relaxed, never quiescent, never 'just taking it', rather it writhed around him, seeming to suck at his flesh from both ends, his tongue in a warm, hungry mouth, his shaft plunging into a tight, heated enclosure that was alive around him, gripping him, reluctant to let him retreat, rising to meet his return. Every cell in D's body communicated its desire for his loving assault, its satisfaction in his promise.
Leon could feel the building of that desire, could almost feel the wave of pleasure each thrust of his body, or his tongue, his cock, sent through D's soon-shuddering frame. Delicate, yet indestructible, Count D surrendered, and in doing so, marked Leon as his own indelibly, down to his soul.
As soon as D's body had surrendered, Leon's gave up as well, and a moan slipped out from somewhere, from the small periphery of his mind. Leon again felt surrounded, as before at dinner, and though this feeling was different, it somehow melted into the other, as if they were two halves of the same whole. The temptation to back away from such new things as these was always there, but he stubbornly held to the belief that to do so would have made him just like his father. Just as hating Chris would have made him like his father.
After a moment of lying atop D, their two bodies convulsing, both together and apart, at once matching in rhythm and not, Leon released D's upheld hands. And the grip that had held him so firmly against the sheets shifted to hold D against his body, to keep them both touching, to avoid the loss of a contact that Leon needed.
Leon did not speak, but settled his face in D's hair, as he always did after they had been together. It was not something he did consciously, but always after Leon had realized where his face had ended up, he remained.
D shifted, as he always did, settling in Leon's arms, molding against his body, snuggling into the embrace of strong arms and against Leon's broad chest. His body took on a languid reluctance to move, yet at the same time not really still, fingers carding through Leon's gold curls, one leg stirring restlessly between Leon's thighs, then settling. There was a quiet vibration that seemed to come from the mysterious Chinese man, an inaudible low purr that radiated contentment, a contentment deeper than any Leon had ever observed in the habitually serene Count. D's thoughts might remain an enigma but the energy from his body, the emotional signature was easy to read, too pure to be anything but real.
Leon turned his head slightly, feeling black silk strands slide across his forehead and cheeks, and set a light kiss on the side of D's neck. He knew he had to sleep, was too tired and relaxed now to do anything else, but before he went, he'd wanted to do that. To make sure D knew that Leon had claimed him, completely, and renew the belief that the Count would still be there when he woke up.
Even as Leon began to sink into sleep, he felt D's mouth curve into a smile. "Yes, My Leon," it might have been a murmur, or just D's voice in his imagination. "Yes. Now sleep."
Teeth brushed, hands and faces washed like good boys, the two friends curled up together, Ti-lung on his bed of 'treasure' and Chris on a small futon that had appeared from somewhere. The room was cavernous, but it was warm, the heat seeming to radiate gently from the ground beneath. The red-headed 'boy' had drug the futon into his pile, bits of jewelry or metalwork spilling around the edge of it. Q-chan dropped a square of embroidered silk over Chris's knees before finding a perch somewhere in the room.
Ti-Lung was ranting sleepily about the 'visitors' earlier in the afternoon.
"If they had been so rude to you back in my old hom... place... I would have made the ground shake under them. I could have dropped ceiling tiles on their unworthy heads," the young dragon grumbled.
Chris curled his fingers around the silk covering Q-chan had given him, letting the foreign fabric smooth under his touch. He was not used to something so nice.
Ti-lung's words frightened him a little at first, not that it would have been a bad thing for the men to have had to... leave, but he did not like it when the ground shook. That the other boy could make such a thing happen impressed him, even though he remained skeptical. He had no reason to doubt Ti-lung's word, but people were always likely to lie to him.
/You would have hurt the shop,/ he pointed out, wanting to close his eyes, but unable at the moment.
Ti-lung snorted his disbelief softly. "This place is not like other dwellings. Don't you know that? You have eyes that see..."
Chris turned over onto his back to stare at the ceiling of Ti-lung's room. /I know that,/ he answered quickly, not wanting the other boy to think he was stupid. /I thought... it might have... made Count D mad. To tear up his house, just for... me./ The boy let out a soft breath, an inaudible sound in the large room, and closed his eyes. He did not like being on the bed alone, but was more than used to it.
The young dragon shook his head, tossing his disarranged red locks. "He'd have been happy," he claimed, drawing mental pictures of a cheering chibi-Count, clapping as pieces of tiles clunked the chibi-bad guys on the head and knocked them out. Changing gears, he sighed. "But back hom... that place, I didn't have any friends to talk to, like you."
At Ti-lung's assertion that D would have 'been happy', Chris's eyes came open, but he didn't say anything. He wasn't so sure... adults hardly ever liked it when stuff got broken. And they always liked to yell. Though he had to admit, Count D had never acted like regular people.
At Ti-lung's last comment, Chris closed his eyes again, though he wanted to open them very very wide. He knew what a friend was supposed to be, but he also knew what Mars was supposed to look like - and he had equal actual knowledge as to the true nature of both. /What was your home, that place, like?/ he asked very softly, wondering if such things as homes really existed in the world.
The young dragon got quiet. After a while be said softly, "It was beautiful. Every tree and rock and stream was beautiful..." Then his face took on a charming, but defensive scowl. "But they didn't want me. They must not have, they let the man send me away... but... but... now they say... now the other man says he wants to take me back there. But I don't wanna go!" There was a short angry silence, then, "... not... really..." But even his cross tone couldn't completely disguise the slight, sad longing.
Chris listened very carefully to Ti-lung's description of his home. It was enough to give him a clear picture in his mind, and he felt something heavy in his chest, a little like envy. /I'd want to go back there,/ he said, only because it was the truth. Then he sighed and looked at the ceiling again. /They send me away, too. Always./ And he wondered. Wondered when he would have to leave this place, too. He had another question for the boy, and this time he didn't ask quite as softly as before. /Why don't you want to go back?/
"Well... I wanted to stay with Count D," Ti-lung answered. "And I thought they didn't care if I wasn't there any more. But then this man came and said they did... now I'm confused," he confessed. "If I go, Count D will be here and I will be there. And now there's you! It would be much easier if the pet shop was *there* instead of *here*," he concluded, having come up with a scenario that would have satisfied all his needs nicely.
Chris's mind had begun to settle into familiar disappointment when Ti-lung began to talk about how he wanted to stay with Count D. It was always the same, never did anyone name *him* as a concern. Not that he thought they should, but the disappointment was always real.
When the other boy had said, 'there's you!', Chris's heart had stopped beating for a second. Someone... wanted him? Someone thought of him? The idea left him feeling stunned, like he'd been hit with, or by, a large object.
The warm, almost hot feeling that swam throughout his body terrified the blonde boy in its strength. To be wanted... it was nothing to him a moment ago. He wouldn't have even known what the desire was. But now, it had become everything. /You like Count D... he's your friend?/
Ti-lung nodded energetically. "He's my friend because he helped me and didn't get mad that I bit him. He's wonderful...." The 'boy' sighed. "You're my friend because I like you. You talk with me and you looked at my treasures and you are very pleasant to be with." The energy spurt ended and he yawned widely. Crawling over to the edge of the futon, he rested his arms and chin on it, even though it wasn't as comfortable as his nice pile of gems and gold and silver.
Ti-lung's yawn had a similar effect on Chris, and after the mostly involuntary action, the blonde boy found a small smile on his face. It was hardly noticeable around his mouth, but could be seen readily on various other parts of his face. He didn't smile because Ti-lung called him a friend - *was* a friend - nor was he happy that the boy had moved closer, partly onto the futon. Both were things he felt grateful for, but right then, he smiled because he'd yawned. Because Ti-lung had yawned, and it had made him yawn too.
Chris closed his eyes, unafraid to do so anymore, and barely, just barely, moved one of his hands close to one of Ti-lung's. /I don't know how... to be someone's friend. You could show me, like with the chopsticks? If... if you wanted to./ The boy kept his eyes closed, afraid really to be saying anything, but it had come out anyway.
"Sure," the young dragon murmured sleepily. "I never had one either before Count D, so you're only my second. He's old and knows everything but you and me can learn together." Ti-lung shifted a little and yawned again, settling. Then something occurred to him, and he reached into a pocket and pulled out the pin that Wu Chang had given him, and pinned it on Chris's pajama top, before closing his eyes and drifting off to the land of dragon dreams.
Chris fell asleep with the small, almost insignificant smile still on his face, his hand curling around Ti-lung's right before he'd completely drifted off.
TBC