feather_qwill (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
feather_qwill) wrote2008-03-11 01:37 pm
feather_qwill) wrote2008-03-11 01:37 pm
Entry tags:
On Holiday [PG - D/Leon - PSoH]
Title: On Holiday
Fandom: Petshop of Horrors
Pairing/Characters: D/Leon
Rating: PG
Words: 215
FF100 Prompt: #066 - Rain (table)
Notes/Summary:![[insanejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/ij-userinfo.gif)
cheloya prompted me with 'Island.' This is the result. Leon is persistently suspicious.
The shop was closed, and it was raining.
What the hell? D’s shop was never closed during the day. Drug-dealing slave-traders didn’t take holidays.
Oh. Of course. It would be a business trip, then. Going off to some nonexistent tropical island in the middle of nowhere to make new and dangerous drugs out of undiscovered plant life. The crime labs wouldn’t know what hit them.
But he would know. He would catch that slimy bastard in the act and force the government to criminalize whatever strange concoction D’d brewed up on his ‘holiday time,’ and then he’d be behind bars for good.
Leon puffed on his cigarette and shivered. Damn. He’d been looking forward to a nice hot cup of tea.
“Detective? Are you going somewhere?” a voice called from the street.
He gaped. “D?”
D peered at him from under a black umbrella.
Leon pointed at the door and stammered. “You’re on holiday!” he said.
A bright smile broke over D’s face. “Of course!” he said, “Don’t you remember? We were going to have a lovely indoor picnic today.” D hoisted the basket he was holding into Leon’s hands.
Leon squinted. He did have a vague memory of something like that.
Hmph. Well, he’d probably been in a sugar-induced coma when D'd told him.
-end.
Fandom: Petshop of Horrors
Pairing/Characters: D/Leon
Rating: PG
Words: 215
FF100 Prompt: #066 - Rain (table)
Notes/Summary:
cheloya prompted me with 'Island.' This is the result. Leon is persistently suspicious.The shop was closed, and it was raining.
What the hell? D’s shop was never closed during the day. Drug-dealing slave-traders didn’t take holidays.
Oh. Of course. It would be a business trip, then. Going off to some nonexistent tropical island in the middle of nowhere to make new and dangerous drugs out of undiscovered plant life. The crime labs wouldn’t know what hit them.
But he would know. He would catch that slimy bastard in the act and force the government to criminalize whatever strange concoction D’d brewed up on his ‘holiday time,’ and then he’d be behind bars for good.
Leon puffed on his cigarette and shivered. Damn. He’d been looking forward to a nice hot cup of tea.
“Detective? Are you going somewhere?” a voice called from the street.
He gaped. “D?”
D peered at him from under a black umbrella.
Leon pointed at the door and stammered. “You’re on holiday!” he said.
A bright smile broke over D’s face. “Of course!” he said, “Don’t you remember? We were going to have a lovely indoor picnic today.” D hoisted the basket he was holding into Leon’s hands.
Leon squinted. He did have a vague memory of something like that.
Hmph. Well, he’d probably been in a sugar-induced coma when D'd told him.
-end.