Archive of Our Own

Bari, Italy
1986

"Buon giorno. Come in, come in," D said. "I'd offer you tea but, well." He gestured to his belly and the vine snaking from his navel to the earthen pot. He'd set the pot on a wheeled cart so to retain at least some mobility, but judging by Father's thunderous expression he did not appreciate D's ingenuity.

"You were to return to China," Father said. He held his cloak close to his body as though afraid to let it touch the humming banks of computers.

"It's too wet this time of year." D trundled the cart over to the centrifuge, already losing patience with the hindrance. He sat down and began sorting blood samples, mostly to look busy; he would never allow Father into the same room as his real work. "Italy's weather is much more pleasant. Have you tried the tiramisu?"

"The child should grow outside, in the sunlight." Father paused. "The shop has many suitable spaces."

It was closer to to an apology than D ever expected to hear, but the time for such things had passed. "That dusty old place is hardly better than my lab," he said, and Father's mouth twisted and his coldly neutral expression dissolved.

"You disgrace our ancestors with this human nonsense."

"Yes, yes, the world will end if we adapt, as every sensible species does when threatened with extinction. Is there a reason for this visit, or did you merely wish to harp at me in person?"

"My father is dead," Father said stiffly. "We are only two."

"It happens. We'll be three again once my child arrives." My daughter, he thought to himself. He ducked his head so Father wouldn't question his smile. And once she is here, everything will change. "If that's all, I have work to do. Ciao, Father."

He rifled through his samples, humming, and after a long cold moment Father's footsteps retreated, sharp and angry and defeated.

"Ciao, Father," D said again, softly, and began to hum the lullaby his dearly departed grandfather had sung to him long ago. "Bao bao kuai jang da," he sang to the ripening child who would recover their stolen future. Baby, grow up soon.

****

Los Angeles
Present day

The first tea after Chris had gone felt like a funeral. In a way D supposed it was.

The strawberry chocolate cheesecake sat untouched, although D had been looking forward to eating it since Tetsu first made noises about baking one two weeks ago. Leon never so much as glanced at the mounds of strawberries and artfully drizzled chocolate, and mumbled his answers to D's questions until D had given up on conversation and instead sat watching Leon not looking at him.

He had the curious feeling that something had broken. The very air tasted of ashes, a lingering taste of the phoenix's death and rebirth. His kind were adept at reading omens; he didn't know yet if he liked what this one foretold, and he held his breath, just to see if he could hear a different song in the unplayed notes waiting for the right time to sound.

"You smiled, you know."

"Mr. Detective?"

Leon scowled at his tea. "When Monica's plane crashed. You smiled."

D considered this. His gaze strayed to the cake, and his appetite woke. He nicked a strawberry off the top and nibbled at it, amused to see Leon waking from his funk at last if only to scowl at D. His lips twitched, but he quickly sobered. With Monica he had come to see how much his words could sway the course of a human life.

"Mr. Detective..." Whatever D had been about to say deserted his tongue when Leon snorted. The dirge waiting to be sung shattered, and the pair of lovebirds dozing on the wall sconce woke, trilling.

"You're such a dork. You've got chocolate on your nose. Look, I dunno if I'll be by tomorrow. The feds sent some crazy X-Files agent after you, so for God's sake don't do anything illegal until I get rid of him."

D blinked, then recovered his senses and reached for a napkin. "My goodness. Are you planning on giving up your glamorous career in law enforcement to join me in my life of crime?"

"Oh, shut it." Leon jammed his hands in his pockets and stomped over to the door. "If anyone's going to arrest you, it'll be me." He paused. "I'm serious, D. You can't play this guy like you play everyone else. Let me handle him."

Before D could formulate a response of more than one syllable, Leon had gone.

"I think that we've been rather a bad influence on our Mr. Detective, Q-chan," D said. Q-chan settled on his shoulder with a low enquiring chirp. D stroked his head, neck still prickling. "What an uncomfortable aura there is tonight. Shall we sleep in the bai-fang, hmm?" He'd never liked the mourning tent, but just now the tatters of his family's lost history felt far away and fragile and he wanted to wrap himself in evidence of his own reality.

Q-chan chirped a distracted affirmative, eyes on the cake until D laughed and handed him a chocolate-drizzled strawberry.

****

He woke disoriented, cocooned by walls of white silk instead of the red drapes of his bed. Staring up at the tent, layered in shadow until the sun rose in this room of the shop, D realized he felt slippery. Sticky.

"What is it?" he whispered, and the sky beyond the tent flickered, responding to his confusion. Far away, low thunder rumbled.

When he sat up the feeling intensified and, after a moment of dizziness, he realized it wasn't his imagination. The sheets, and his nightclothes, were damp. He sat with the silk spread over his lap, puzzling over the stain, a grey smear in the pre-dawn light, until the wet trickle on his thighs broke through the denial, and then he bit his lip so hard he tasted iron. Blood.

He stood too quickly and warmth gushed down his leg, left him lightheaded. He stepped out onto the grass at once, but he saw he had tracked some of the blood on the walls as well as the bedding. The stain was an ugly dark patch, still damp, and staring down at it D felt all of thirteen again, only this time Grandfather wasn't there to make it go away, wasn't there to reassure D that it didn't mean anything.

Wasn't there to lie.

"Kyu?" asked Q-chan, settling on D's shoulder. Rain followed, warm heavy drops pattering on the grass, the leaves, his face. One struck his eyelashes and he flinched.

He turned off the rain with a thought and balled up the soiled bedding, but he didn't dare touch the bai-fang itself -- he could feel the tacky blood on his hands. "I'm all right. Bath, I think, and then tea. And then..." Then he would need to run a distasteful errand. D rubbed his stomach, frowning at the unpleasant cramping, but practicalities were reasserting themselves one by one, grounding and numbing him.

It wasn't entirely unexpected, and perhaps he'd become too complacent over the years. He would write to Grandfather and ask just how he had kept the condition under control; D could recall little beyond drinking a bitter, bitter tea, after which the blood had stopped and not returned until today.

Cool reason calmed his racing heart. His hands steadied. He would follow Grandfather's directions to halt the progress of his affliction, and if it could not be stopped this time D told himself he would be grateful for a decade free from his father's madness. For now, he would bathe.

He called the door back to the pet shop, where he asked for a room with some amenities. The shop complied at once and he drew a bath, and was dismayed when the water turned murky after only a few minutes. He didn't linger as he usually did, and dressed quickly, with a folded linen cloth a disconcerting bulk between his thighs. Then, he went shopping.

D had never been inside the western-style pharmacy on College Street, but the herbalist he normally frequented had many connections in Chinatown, and D had no intention of allowing word of this humiliation to trickle back to his father. The pharmacy's bright lights made his eyes water and exposed a chip in his nail polish, but he persevered under a mask of calm.

He clung to his poise even when a familiar and very unwelcome voice startled him from the next aisle over.

"Yo, D!"

D had steeled himself to endure the indignity of purchasing feminine hygiene products, but encountering Leon among the brightly-lit aisles made him wish he'd chosen instead to crawl into bed with a box of truffles. Insides a swirling jumble as Leon sauntered over, D studied the shelf with all the feigned composure at his command. "Good morning, Mr. Detective. How did things go with your Y-Files agent?"

"X-Files, D, X-Files. Agent Howell is on his way to Oregon as we speak." He peered over D's shoulder at the brightly-coloured packages. "Anything you're not sharing with me?"

"I'm a cross-dressing hermaphrodite, and I just got my period," D said blandly.

Leon blinked. "How can a hermaphrodite be a transvestite? I mean, they're both, so does it matter what kind of clothes they wear?"

"You are correct, Mr. Detective. You have caught me in a fib."

"Ha! So really. What are you doing?"

"Shopping." D leaned in closer, examining the eye-blinding packages for some clue to the differences between the vast array of products. He quickly eliminated tampons from consideration; they looked messy and uncomfortable. That left at least twenty varieties. Skin prickling and aware that Leon's eyebrows had risen comically high, D selected one of the blue kind. The package proclaimed its contents had wings, which while inexplicable on such a product, counted as a favourable sign in D's opinion.

Leon followed him to the register, abandoning his own errands in favour of pestering D, who could not imagine why he'd found yesterday's silence so unwelcome. "You got a girlfriend or something? Wait, is it that Korean chick who works at Madam C's? I knew it! She's always asking about you and putting extra in your orders, and last week she saved that special cake thing for you."

"I don't have a girlfriend, Mr. Detective." D handed the cashier a ten and accepted his change. "As I explained, I'm a cross-dressing hermaphrodite."

Leon stared at him, and then scowled. "Fine then. Don't tell me." He stomped out of the store without buying anything, leaving D to wonder if the good detective followed him around just to annoy him.

****

He sent the letter to Grandfather that evening, knowing the reply would be several weeks. The possibility that he might have to endure another cycle filled him with a strange restless combination of dread and annoyance, and he wished he could remember what had gone into the tea his grandfather had brewed for him.

He'd not paid attention, and little wonder. He'd been terrified at the time; terrified of the blood, terrified his grandfather might return him to his father, terrified their species would end with him and it would be his fault. Just thinking of it now made his stomach tighten, and he cancelled his plans for an evening visit with the new family of otters and instead paced away his cramps in the front of the shop, vexed at how quickly the old fears seeped through his composure.

He was in a foul mood by the time Leon stomped in at a little past seven, and took bitter pleasure when the detective stopped short, mid-grumble. D couldn't blame him; the table was, for the first time, free of any cakes or sweets, and D was huddled in a corner of the sofa in his pajamas, clinging to a cup of tea.

"You sick or something?"

"Yes."

A pause. "You want me to come back later?"

D frowned. He did want Leon to leave. Just as badly, he wanted Leon to stay. He settled for not answering, and then had to wrestle down a snide comment when Leon chose to flop down on the other sofa. He missed Chris and his ameliorating presence.

"You look like shit."

"Thank you," D said acidly.

Another pause. "You're not wearing your dress."

"If I wanted the opinion of a fool who can't recognize traditional Chinese clothing despite living and working in a city with the largest Chinatown on the continent, I would have sought yours."

It felt good to say, but D had a moment to regret causing the hurt and bewildered expression before a scowl dropped over Leon's face like thunder.

"What the fuck is your problem, D? Just because you're in a pissy mood--"

"Pissy?" Oh, he was. Pissy and embarrassed that he couldn't seem to contain it. "My dear Detective, I was not pissy until you graced my shop with your rude, loud and uninvited presence."

"Fine." Leon stood up and suddenly D couldn't bear the thought of him leaving. "Be a miserable asshole by yourself."

D kept his his lips pressed tightly over any objections until Leon was gone and then, childishly, he threw a cushion at the door. He was appalled to realize that minor hormonal turbulence -- one humans for the most part managed to navigate without throwing things -- had gotten the better of him. "How, how do human women put up a charade of normality every month?" D asked.

Pon-chan sat beside him and laid her head on his shoulder. "You'll figure it out, Count."

"I do not want to figure it out! I want--" He cut himself off. Pon-chan had pulled away, wide-eyed, and he forced himself to calm, for her sake.

He wanted to be normal, or at least what had passed for normal for his kind for centuries. He wanted to be the pure duplicate of his ancestors Grandfather pretended he was, despite the evidence of his mismatched eyes. And now this... affliction had returned, an inescapable reminder of the damage his father wrought.

"Count?" Pon-chan asked in a small voice.

"I am afraid, Pon-chan," D said, and folded his hands on his lap as she crept back to his side. She did not deserve his temper. "I have been fully grown for several years and I must reproduce soon. It is... It is a great act of will to create a son, and I don't know if this body will be capable of it." Even if he did succeed, there was no guarantee his son would be the perfect image of that long-dead ancestor. Grandfather had not spoken of the possibility, but D knew his greatest concern was that the damage would pass to the next generation.

Pon-chan laid her head back on his shoulder, tense and cautious now. "It will be okay."

D wished life offered such assurances. "It will be as it will be." He tried a smile, but it felt alien on a mouth too accustomed to smirking. "I can only do as my kind have always done. I will continue the line."

And if you cannot? a spiteful voice whispered in his head. It sounded like Father. Will you swallow your pride and submit to your father's design, or will you succumb to the fate your species has delayed and fade from this earth, vengeance incomplete?

He would, he decided, have some more tea. And possibly chocolate. Chocolate was good.

****

His affliction cleared after four long, awkward, and conspicuously Orcot-less days. The experience was every bit as messy and inconvenient as D had feared, and he was alternately glad Chris had not witnessed his lack of control and sorry not to have had the boy's sweet-natured presence to comfort him. Leon he dared not think on, as every time he did shame at his own behaviour niggled him. He could only hope Grandfather replied soon -- perhaps he would even return to prepare the special tea himself. D had been running the shop alone for two years now, and he missed his grandfather's quiet stern presence, his unshakable faith in their purpose.

Grandfather would not live forever though. And with Father being Father, D would have to manage alone eventually.

When he felt well enough D returned to the mountainside room. The bai-fang, viewed in the daylight, was not as badly damaged as he feared but he hesitated to take it down as he didn't know how they were made. He knew they were mourning tents, built by sons to live in for the year following their mother's death. Grandfather's great-grandfather had built this one to mourn all the mothers of their kind, gone forever and always, and he'd slept in it until he died.

D shivered in the light breeze the room provided. It seemed to him at once a noble and morbid monument, the sum of his people's existence since their destruction. He settled for cleaning the pallet and sheets and other bits of silk he could remove without unwinding the entire thing.

Afterwards he sat in the front room and sipped the souchong Tetsu brought him, trying not to wonder what might have happened if Grandfather had not taken him away from his father. After a while, when none of the cakes tempted him from his brooding, his thoughts turned to wondering when it had become so odd to have tea alone.

****

A week after their falling out, it was a contrite D who picked Leon's name out of the list of occupants and pressed the corresponding buzzer.

"Whaddaya want?"

"Goodness," D said, trying for a cheerful tone. "Anyone would think a rude and loud detective lived here."

There was a pause. "Asshole." Nevertheless, the door clicked open, and D slipped inside with his peace offerings.

Leon lived on the fifth floor and naturally the elevator was out of service. The smell of the fast food filled the stairwell, at once alluring and repellant. D had asked them to put his salad in a separate bag, but he feared everything -- from his food to his clothes and hair -- would reek of grease by the time he reached Leon's apartment.

Leon, when he answered the door, was damp and clean-smelling but unshaven. His shirt looked as though it had already been worn. Silently, D held out his offering of fast-food hamburgers and foul American beer. Leon gave a haughty sniff and invited him in.

D refrained from commenting on the mess or the questionable décor; he had come to apologize after all, not start another fight. While Leon rummaged in the kitchen, hunting for a clean fork, D studied the posters that had snuck back onto the walls in the months since D had torn them down. The women were all quite buxom, and D ran a hand over his own mercifully flat chest, thankful his father's design had not been so ambitious. The models watched him, faces frozen in the most absurd expressions.

"Here," Leon said, thrusting a fork at him. It had egg yolk dried on the handle, so D took it back into the kitchen and washed it.

The salad was terrible, the beer worse, and the football game Leon turned on was mindlessly violent, its rules incomprehensible. They sat on the sofa while Leon alternately shouted at the players and offered random facts that D suspected Leon meant to educate him.

Still, enduring an evening in Leon's world turned out to be less of a trial than D expected, and by the time D made his excuses he considered himself very well-informed on the subject of American football. He would certainly be able to hold his own in any conversation about why Denver sucked hairy monkey balls.

****

Life returned to a semblance of normal, and so Leon was planted on D's sofa for a stiff and uncomfortable tea when a postcard arrived on Tuesday, bearing a picture of a chimpanzee in a pink bikini. 'Happy Birthday' it said on the back, written in Father's precise hand.

"You should have said it was your birthday," Leon said. "I'd've brought a better cake."

"It's not. My anniversary is in the spring," D murmured. He couldn't quite bring himself to call it a birthday, what with the lack of an actual birth.

"So why're you getting birthday cards then?"

"My father has an unusual sense of humour." He set the postcard down, intending to throw it away once Leon left.

"You don't talk about your old man much." Leon had narrowed his eyes, and D recalled that he could be shrewd when his 'gut' spoke to him. "He walk out on you and your mom?"

"I don't have a mother. And no, my father would have preferred to keep me. My grandfather removed me from his care." The last word emerged far more sharply than he intended, and D wished he had stopped with a simple no. He could tell he'd piqued Leon's damnable curiosity.

"So what'd he do to make your grandfather step in?" Leon's voice had gone casual and friendly. His 'good cop' voice.

"That is a private matter, Mr. Detective."

"I'm a cop, D. I've seen it all. Anything you can imagine, and worse."

"You have not seen this. Would you like some more tea?"

Leon frowned but, to D's surprise, dropped the matter. He held out his cup. "So hey, I got Dodgers tickets, and Jill made plans to do girly things with her sister and Jim and Carl are a pair of hen-pecked pansies. You wanna go? It's the playoffs."

D filled Leon's cup, relieved at the change in topic even if he didn't know what a playoff was. It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse, but then he thought of the awkward teas and the Chris-shaped hole in their lives and the tolerable evening they'd had at Leon's apartment when D made an effort. Perhaps Leon too was trying to bridge the widening chasm between them. "I suppose I could close the shop for an afternoon. May I wear my dress?"

"God forbid a cross-dressing hermaphrodite would wear jeans to a baseball game." Leon rolled his eyes, and then added, "It's called a qipao, isn't it?"

"Why, Mr. Detective, you're just full of surprises."

"Hey, I know how to google."

"It's a cheongsam," D said gently. "A qipao is a woman's garment. They are similar though. I applaud your effort."

"Oh, fuck off, you patronizing-- I'll pick you up at three."

****

D disliked the texture of denim, but he took Leon's point about appropriate dress at a casual event, and rummaged in his vast closet until he found black leggings and a long shirt -- high-collared, but short-sleeved, green, with a gold dragon embroidered on the shoulder. He doubted Leon would consider it casual wear, Leon had about as much taste as a... well, a human male.

"I will never understand their disregard for appearances, Pon-chan." D picked up a pair of jeweled slippers, and then considered the likely state of the floors and chose a sturdier pair of black low-heeled shoes instead. "The females love bright colours and lush textures, but the males refuse to employ them in their courting rituals."

"Maybe they're afraid," Pon-chan said from the bed, where she was lying on her stomach, feet swinging in the air as she watched D dress.

Tetsu, sulking in the corner, snorted. "Afraid to admit they want to attract a mate? How ridiculous."

"They're not the most logical of creatures," D murmured, staring unseeing at his wardrobe of richly coloured silks and brocades. Illogical indeed. Shaking his head, he closed the doors and went out to meet Leon.

"I thought you were wearing your chong-sing thingy."

"It's more formal than is appropriate for a sporting event. But look." D held up his new acquisition. "I have a hat."

"Christ. That's a Yankees cap!"

D inspected the logo on the front. "They are a baseball team, no?"

"You are so sitting by yourself."

Leon did sit with him though, and bought him an ice cream. The stadium was noisy and crowded, and smelled of mingled popcorn and sweat. D could not imagine what had made him agree to subject himself to the crushing mass of humanity in order to watch an event he had little interest in.

As the game wore on he found himself watching Leon more than the players. His unrestrained enthusiasm made D smile -- not that Leon was ever restrained.

"Go, go, go!" he shouted; D couldn't tell if he was screaming at the runner or the person aiming to catch the ball. The first, D decided when the ball was neatly caught and Leon erupted into a fit of profanity. He flopped back in his seat and grinned at D like the furious cursing had made the day that much more fun, and then he rattled off a list of figures about the next player to step up with his stick.

"How very interesting," D said, watching the gestures that accompanied the speech. Leon's hands were sure and confident.

"You lie like a fly with a booger in its eye," Leon said. "And you've got ice cream on your chin."

****

Baseball season ended with no letters from overseas, and D's cycle started again. This time he informed Leon he would be away at a conference for several days, not wanting to subject anyone to his unpredictable temper. Perversely, once he closed the shop and told the animals to stay away from him he felt more in control of his emotions. He was prepared this time for the mercurial impulses and managed not to act on most of them, so he spent a few days in solitude for nothing.

He ended his self-imposed isolation a day early, and went so far as to call Leon when the so-called detective did not immediately notice the shop was open again.

"Next time I'll just stake out your doorstep," Leon said, and D pictured him rolling his eyes. "How was your dangerous-animal convention?"

"Boring," D said truthfully. "Have you had any exciting adventures without me?"

"Oddly enough all the interesting crime in this city revolves around you and your deranged petting zoo."

D smiled, secure knowing Leon couldn't see whatever foolish expression that entailed. "I missed you, too, Mr. Detective."

*****

Leon was not present when Grandfather's reply arrived, and D was grateful because he knocked over his tea and broke the cup and Leon certainly would have hounded him for an explanation.

As it was, D sent the pets from the room until he could compose himself. Pon-chan and Tetsu lingered by the door, and of course Q-chan had not obeyed and hovered over his shoulder as D read the letter again, more slowly.

D,

I have been anticipating this day since you came of age. In truth, I would not have given you the tea had I known the effects would last so many years, as I believe it interferes with your ability to procreate. It is past time. Begin preparing immediately.

When you have budded, I will return to oversee the child's upbringing, and we will explore the options for correcting your condition then. Write to me should you encounter any difficulties.

Sofu

D crumpled the letter and pitched it across the room. Tetsu, bold as ever, snatched it up and read it, Pon-chan hanging over his shoulder.

"Hurrah!" Pon-chan cried. "We're having a baby!"

"Hurrah," Tetsu said dryly. "We're moving the shop."

"Not yet, Count, surely?" Pon-chan looked at him, eyes wide and hands clasped.

"The process will take time," D said, and wet his lips. Months, perhaps as much as a year. He had time. Time for what, he didn't know. The bell over the door jangled, and D barely looked up. "My apologies, miss, but the shop is closed."

The girl huffed, but left without fuss and without the pet that had chosen her weeks ago.

Q-chan's soft wings fluttered against his cheek. "Kyu?"

"Not today." D pressed his fingers to his forehead. "Just... not today."

*****

He dreamt that night.

"You will be our salvation," Father whispered, kissing his forehead, his nose, his mouth, before the needles came. Heat followed, fever, and then something deadlier; the air grew warmer and denser, hazy and thick.

Flames spread across the lab, and no one but D noticed the world burning.

"You have destroyed us," Grandfather screamed.

"We were already dead," Father said, still cold and beautiful with his hair in disarray and his clothing singed and torn. "Take her if you must, but one day she will return to me."

And then he was walking through the burning world with Grandfather, hand in hand, wanting to help all the creatures, especially the little human girls who looked so much like him. But it was not his battle, Grandfather said. It was not his place to interfere with the cycle of life and death and rebirth.

The fire took the girls, and that was the way of things. As the flames swallowed them he looked back again and saw that they were brothers, not sisters, and blond, and the air did not smell of rebirth, only death. D went with Grandfather and did not look back.

That was also the way of things.

He woke hot and sticky and panicked in the trap of his sheets, gasping.

*****

"What the hell is wrong with you lately? You're all quiet and--" Leon waved a hand.

"Decorous?" D suggested, raising a brow.

"I was going to say gloomy."

D set his cup down and folded his hands on his lap. "I have been thinking about my family of late."

"Yeah?" Leon waited as patiently as Leon ever did, only jiggling his leg a little, until his restive nature won out. "Jesus, D, if it's that bad I can hook you up with someone in Behavioural Health. I bet the statute of limitations has already run out, but a social worker--"

"That will not be necessary, Mr. Detective."

"Well." Leon scowled. "Just so you know it's there."

"Thank you."

"Xiexie," Leon said suddenly, startling D into a smile.

"Yes, that means thank you. Ni shenme shihou xuehui shuo zhongwen?"

"Er," said Leon, and D chuckled.

"I must admit, I'm surprised to see you broadening your horizons to include another culture."

The scowl reappeared. "I do speak Spanish, you know."

"Goodness. How continental of you."

"Oh, fuck off."

D smirked. "Language, Mr. Detective."

"Fuck. Off. Look, I'll be on a stakeout the next few weeks, so I won't be around much. Double shifts." Leon licked a bit of icing off his fingers, distracting D from the meaning of the words.

"There are napkins on the table," D pointed out, and then, "Oh. I... I suppose I can fetch my own pastries for a while."

Leon opened his mouth, closed it, and then said, "Try not to buy out Madam C's entire stock."

When Leon had gone, D closed the shop and leaned against the door. He should be glad of Leon's absence. He needed the peace and some quiet time to himself if he was to follow Grandfather's instructions.

This time next year I will have a son, D thought, choosing optimism over his doubts and fears. He tried to picture a small him, and couldn't. He had no photographs from his youth, nor his father's, nor his grandfather's. Annoyed at his own sentimentalism, he turned his thoughts to his choices for relocating the shop. He couldn't stay; the soil was less than optimal and the smog was atrocious and explaining a motherless baby would be impossible in the close-knit Chinese community.

There is China, of course, he thought as he collected the cups, but I don't want our past hanging over me at such a time. Perhaps the South Pacific. The Mediterranean. Madagascar. None of the them had quite the climate he wanted, and he realized he was picturing a cleaner southern California. Irritated, he dumped the tea pot, and almost chipped the spout in the process.

He ought to close the shop at once, sail the ship somewhere warm and humid with rich dark earth unspoiled by humanity, but the idea set off a wave of anxiety that numbed his lips and twisted his stomach. Budding would be difficult enough; he wanted familiar surroundings and bakeries that knew all his favourites, Leon who would bring him treats while he was tied to the earth... Not that he would be able to see Leon during that time.

D realized he was twisting the front of his cheongsam, and forced his hands to relax. He finished his tea and lit some incense. He tried meditating for several hours, but his mind refused to settle, leaping here and there and always, irritatingly, straying back to Leon.

****

The week passed in an agony of distraction. D had never before had trouble obeying his grandfather's instructions, but he found his meditations falling into a circular pattern: resentment that Grandfather had thrust this most important task upon him so soon, fear and doubt about his ability to complete it, and an ever-growing desire to hear Leon's voice interrupting him, distracting him.

The only disruptions to his meditations were customers, and half of them he sent away without the pets that had chosen them. The other half he plied with tea and sweets until they fled his hospitality, leaving him with no excuse not to continue his preparations -- preparations he was failing at because his mind kept wandering. It was baffling, and not a little disturbing, to discover that Detective Orcot occupied his thoughts far more while absent than present.

"You need to relax," was Pon-chan's advice.

"No, you need to get excited," Tetsu said. "It's not going to work if you don't want it enough." He narrowed his eyes and put on a grim expression. "Would it help if we... threw you a baby shower?"

D slumped back against the sofa. "No. Please, no. In fact, I forbid it."

Tetsu sniffed. "At least you haven't completely lost your mind."

"Take a day off, Count," Pon-chan said. "Do something fun. You can start again tomorrow."

"Perhaps." D slid onto the floor and sat leaning against the sofa, and Pon-chan came and sat in his lap. After a while she got up to make him some tea, and D found himself reaching for the telephone. He dialed slowly, listening to the clicks of the old-fashioned rotary dial.

"Hello?" said a woman's voice.

"May I please speak to Christopher?"

"He's at school." The voice turned sharp. "Who is this?"

"My apologies," he said, and hung up. Then, before he could stop them, his fingers were moving over the dial again.

"Orcot," Leon mumbled, voice rough and scratchy.

"Am I disturbing you, Mr. Detective?"

"Mmm, D?"

"Yes."

A pause. "What's up? Is everything all right?"

D closed his eyes. "No."

There was another expectant pause, but D could not elaborate. "Do you want to come over?" Leon asked.

"Yes."

"Well... okay then."

D set the receiver back in the cradle, barely hearing Q-chan's scolding. "Stay here," he said, shutting the door before Q-chan could slip out with him.

Though it was almost afternoon, Leon answered the door wearing just pyjama bottoms. His hair was mashed into demented whorls, and a day's growth of blond fuzz roughened his jaw.

"I did disturb you," D said, suddenly wondering why he had come, what he thought Leon could do. "I should let you sleep--"

"If you think I'm getting any more sleep after you call me sounding like... Get in here." Leon caught D's arm and pulled him inside. The apartment smelled of stale pizza and fresh coffee and was, if possible, even messier than the last time D had seen it.

"Sit down," Leon said, and D sat while Leon fetched a second mug of horrible instant coffee. An unpleasant sense of foreboding crawled over D as Leon sat down next to him, shoulders set. "Talk."

D sipped his coffee and only just managed not to wince at the taste. "Business is slow today." He tried a smile. "The shop is too quiet without you coming in to yell at me, Mr. Detective."

Leon narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. "Listen, I know I suck at this, but you called me for a reason. You want to talk to Jill? Or a shrink?"

"No, and no." D set his mug down, too hard, glad for the excuse to be angry. "I'm not certain what you think you know about my past--"

"Cut the bullshit," Leon said. "I'm a cop, D, and a damned good one. I know my job. The courts don't grant custody to a grandparent if the parents are fit."

D would never understand how Leon could be so perceptive and yet so blind, how he brushed aside the mysteries D would have gladly enlightened him on only to pursue the one topic D had no intention of ever discussing with anyone.

With a great deal of difficulty, D reminded himself that he had woken Leon and barged over for no real reason other than fears caused by the very matter he refused to discuss.

"I apologize, Mr. Detective. I have been feeling alone and beset by responsibilities, and you have been a welcome distraction these past few weeks. If I have imposed on our..." D trailed off, not knowing if Leon considered them friends, unsettled to find that he himself did. He'd never had a human friend, never imagined he would.

"Yeah, well, it's not an imposition," Leon mumbled, rubbing the back of his head. He looked younger, less pugnacious with his hair loose. "Someone's got to keep an eye on you, make sure you don't get eaten by your own merchandise."

In the bedroom, an alarm went off, startling them both.

"I gotta get to work," Leon said. "Why don't I stop by tomorrow? I can squeeze in a couple minutes if I stop showering." Leon waited a beat. "That was a joke."

"To be honest," D said, absently tugging at an empty glass that appeared stuck to the table, "I would prefer to visit you here." Back at the shop Q-chan would pester him to meditate. Leon's apartment was a catastrophe, but it was far removed from D's world and its unfulfilled responsibilities.

"You hate this place," Leon said. The alarm kept ringing, and he raked his hair back. "Oh, hell. I'll be home around five in the morning. Bring me dinner -- dinner, not breakfast. Meat. No tofu or bean sprouts."

"Yes, Mr. Detective," D said, smiling, and let himself out while Leon was in the shower.

****

Pon-chan was wise for such a young raccoon. For the next few days an hour here and there of Leon's questionable company -- the familiarity of it, the routine -- staved off the panic D sensed lurking inside him. The meditations came easier after he had heard what trivial news Leon could tell him about the assignment. The quality of the pizza place they'd found. How Jim had spilled coffee in his lap. The prostitute who had approached their car. The fact that he was not being shot at or doing foolish things in the line of duty.

Despite this D did not feel like he was making progress in his meditations, but in the ordinary course of things budding was a long process. Parthenogenesis did not come naturally to his species. The desire, the will to survive, was as difficult to ignite now as it had been for the first D -- perhaps more so, with the tragedy so far removed. He could only trust his ancestors, who had designed the meditations to build the desire to the necessary peak, and flee to Leon's disaster of an apartment when his doubts overwhelmed him.

"We busted the guy last night." Leon grinned, a big open smile, as he flung open the door.

D paused, hand still raised to knock. "Well done, Mr. Detective."

"Damn straight. Come on in. I got the good stuff to celebrate."

The 'good stuff' turned out to be a bottle of reasonably expensive moutai, and D raised his eyebrows as he examined the label.

"Guy at the shop said you'd like it," Leon called from the kitchen. D could hear him rattling the cupboards and smiled, knowing he was hunting for clean glasses.

"Small ceramic cups if you have them, Detective."

"What do you think this is, the Ritz?" Leon reappeared with a coffee mug, still wet, and a tumbler with cartoon elephants dancing around the rim.

"Have you considered washing them before you need them?"

Leon tilted his head. "What for?"

D shook his head, but his smile quickly faded. With Leon back on his normal schedule, they would return to the old routine, Leon dropping by the shop after work, sometimes before, always with a cake or a treat and Chris's absence lurking between them. D would have to cut those visits short.

He felt restless and stood, wandered around Leon's small living room with his elephant-print glass of moutai. He paused at the listing bookcase, struck by the utter absurdity and sheer Leon-ness of pornographic magazines wedged in amongst books on forensic psychology and motorcycle repair and the history of aviation and the California penal code. He tugged free a battered issue of Penthouse, and stared at the blonde on the cover.

"What do you see in them?" he asked.

Leon's brows rose, and then he grinned. "Me."

D ignored the crude joke and frowned at the woman, trying to imagine touching her. His species had branched off from humans only yesterday in evolutionary terms; they were superficially similar enough that he expected some level of attraction, and he felt none. Would he like her better if she were slimmer, black-haired and golden-eyed? More similar to the long-extinct women of his kind? He didn't know.

Grandfather had sat down with him once, when he'd been nearly fourteen, and delivered their version of 'the talk.'

"You will be lonely," Grandfather had told him, watching D fidget with sharp eyes. "Dwell on it, if it serves to harden your resolve against those who condemned us to this half-life. You will long for a mate, but remember the madness to which that longing drove your father. You cannot change our destiny."

D hadn't though. Hadn't been lonely, hadn't wanted a mate, hadn't envied the creatures around him as they paired off. He didn't know whether to blame it on his father's meddling, the tea that had halted his deviant puberty, or some deep flaw within him.

Leon was watching him, and that shrewd look had returned.

"Not my type," D said, looking away.

Leon snorted. "Do you even have a type?"

"The Korean 'chick' at Madame C's is quite lovely," he ventured. Leon's expression darkened, and D felt compelled to add, "Although sunsets are quite lovely, too."

"Uh-huh. Can't imagine they'd be much good for a blow job."

D titled his head; he had only a vague idea of what a blow job entailed. Something sexual, certainly, and no doubt sticky. Everything about sexual reproduction seemed to involve stickiness. He ought to return the magazine to the shelf. Instead, he sat down with it, clutching his glass to his chest as though the liquor could defend him from the mystery of human mating.

He flipped through the pages slowly, giving each woman due consideration. None of them appealed, and he wondered if perhaps it was the lack of living flesh; a paper representation had no warmth, no pheromones. His thoughts meandered to the only breathing person in the room, and unaccountably he felt himself flush.

Leon was still watching him.

"You know, D, unless they're teenagers, guys don't tend to look at porn together."

"Goodness," D said. "I would have thought quite the opposite."

It was the wrong thing to say because now Leon was looking at him, really looking, and worse -- he was thinking. "Huh. Guess your Grandfather was pretty strict," Leon said.

"Yes." The word slipped out before he realized the escape Leon had offered was in actuality a trap.

"So," Leon said, and D had seen kittens pouncing with as much glee, "did you grow up in LA?"

"No. We moved frequently. You know how it is in the drugs and slave-trading business."

Leon grinned, but D could tell he hadn't been diverted. His eyes never left D's face. "Army brat?"

D shuddered. "No."

"Yeah, you don't seem the type. So what does your dad do for a living?"

"He's a geneticist."

Leon's eyebrows shot up. "Really. No offense, but your family seems more into hocus-pocus than the sciences."

"He is the black sheep."

"Heh. How about your mom?"

"As I told you before, I don't have one."

"That's pretty harsh, even if she walked out."

D looked down, frowning at a heavy-lidded redhead. "I don't."

"Right. So what, your dad grew you out of a tube?"

D couldn't stop the shudder that rolled through his body, and he knew without looking that Leon had noticed. When Leon was in this mood he noticed everything, even if he frequently missed the mark with his conclusions.

Say something, D told himself. Laugh at the joke. But weeks of dealing with his condition alone had seeded a deep desire to unburden himself, and Grandfather wasn't there. Leon was.

"Earth to D. Hello?"

"Very well, Mr. Detective. You win." D smoothed the silk of his cheongsam over his knees. His heart was racing. "I was not joking about being a hermaphrodite. My father... My father wanted a daughter."

"Oh, fuck off. You're yanking my chain."

D pressed his lips tightly together, and as the silence dragged on Leon's face trundled from skeptical to bewildered.

"Seriously?" At D's nod, Leon ran a hand through his hair, tugging strands free of his ponytail. "I... Shit. How is that even possible?"

"There are many things you don't know, Mr. Detective. My father is very clever, very determined, and very good at his work."

"But I never heard of anything like that being done." Leon sounded almost offended. "It'd be all over the news."

"Father is somewhat secretive about his projects. I can't imagine him seeking media attention."

"So you've been like this for..."

"Some of the modifications were done before I was... born. The rest while I was very young, before my grandfather came for me."

"And you have..." Leon made a complicated gesture centered over his lap. "Both?"

"Yes." D sat back, taking comfort in the humour of Leon's reaction. The detective wasn't laughing, and that somehow made the whole mess a little more bearable. "One... set has recently woken up after being dormant for many years."

"Oh, so that's why... in the drug store... You lied to me!"

"I did no such thing."

Leon scowled. "Telling the truth in a way you know I won't believe is the same as lying."

Things deteriorated into a lovely fight after that. It felt good to shout inane insults, and they carried on until they had three sets of neighbours banging, walls and ceiling. Then Leon ordered Thai and they watched a ridiculous movie about mummies in stiff silence. The lead character reminded D of Leon. They didn't speak of D's condition again, but throughout the movie D caught Leon sneaking small glances his way, and he recognized that abstract look in Leon's eyes.

He was on a case.

****

Visualizing himself as a tree for twelve hours had put D in a horrid mood. On the whole trees were happy organisms, but they were content to do nothing but stand still, day upon day.

Unlike the muscles in D's back.

"Ow," D moaned as Leon's fingers dug into his shoulders. He tried to be grateful that Leon, upon seeing D hunched over in pain, had not hesitated to drop his bag of greasy pastries and set to manhandling him.

"What the hell did you do to yourself?" Leon grumbled.

"I have begun a new exercise program."

"What for?" Leon raked D's body with a frank and critical look. "You're too skinny, though I don't know how with all the junk food you eat."

"I'm willowy," D said. "Really, Mr. Detective -- oh, right there -- if you came just to insult me, you can take your... what did you bring?"

"Chocolate eclairs."

"You can leave your chocolate eclairs and show yourself out."

"Oh no. Me and the eclairs are a set. If one walks, we both do."

"I suppose I can take the eclairs and feed you to Tetsu," D murmured. He rolled his shoulders. "That feels better. Thank you."

"Idiot," Leon said, sitting down and helping himself to the tea, and D had to blink at the fondness in his tone.

He tugged at the collar of his cheongsam; Leon's greasy hands had glued the thin silk to his shoulders, but the tension in his back had melted away and he felt like a properly mobile member of the animal kingdom again. He sat across from Leon and pointedly nudged his plate closer to the bag of eclairs.

****

Leon managed to find him for tea the next day, despite the fact that D was taking it at the tea house on the corner.

"Shop was closed when I stopped by," Leon said, joining him without invitation. "Everything all right?"

"Tetsu... requested I leave for a few hours," D said, in a perfectly level and not at all irrational tone. It had taken four cups of chai to realize his short temper was due to his impending menses, but now that he had, he had regained control. Mostly. Soon he might even stop twitching at Tetsu's name.

"That sheep-tiger? Hey, did your dad cook that thing up in a lab?" Leon asked. "And what about that bat-bunny thing that follows you around? They have to be part of some freaky experiment."

"Heaven forfend," D muttered. "Don't say such a thing in front of either of them."

"You know, D, your family's got this whole creepy 'Island of Dr. Moreau' thing going on."

D raised a brow. "I wasn't aware you read classic science fiction, Mr. Detective."

Leon tilted his head to the side, terrier-like. "It's not a book, it's a movie. Fairuza Balk, rwowr."

D surprised them both by laughing.

They finished tea (Leon, after not very subtly sniffing D's cup, had also ordered chai) and wandered outside into the November sunshine. It was a pleasantly cool day, and they soon found their way to the park. D presumed Leon had the day off or had finished early; he wasn't about to ask and have Leon suddenly remember he had to be at work. D himself was content to leave the shop closed, his task put off yet again in favour of a day of truancy in the park with Leon, meeting new squirrels and talking to the birds.

"He's very loud," a pigeon commented, cocking her head at Leon, who was shouting at a jogger whose water bottle had missed the trash receptacle. Of course Leon had only gotten involved after D had asked the woman to pick it up and gotten an earful of profanity in return.

"He is indeed," D said as Leon wrote the still-cursing woman a ticket for littering.

"I'm going to have to write a report on this, you know," Leon grumbled after the woman had stormed off. "Jill's going to laugh her ass off."

"The animals thank you," D said, and linked his arm through Leon's.

"Bullshit. They'd be happier if the trash was on the ground and easier to get at."

"He has a point," the pigeon said.

D made a face at both of them.

They circled back towards the street and, when they found themselves in Leon's neighbourhood, collected dinner from the takeout place the block over from Leon's building. Leon stopped at the video store and rented The Island of Dr. Moreau.

"You'll love it," Leon promised. "Lots of animal people."

D did not love it, and was by turns disgusted, bored, and critical of the variations from the book, and finding that the restaurant had put pork in his vegetable lo mein did not improve his mood. An inspection of Leon's fridge proved the only food not spoiled or made of animal flesh was a half a loaf of bread, but D cheered up when Leon introduced him to a marvelous invention called cinnamon toast.

He even stopped complaining about the movie, and sank into Leon's battered couch to wallow in sugary, buttery, cinnamony goodness.

"You're missing Fairuza," Leon said.

"Mmm." D didn't even open his eyes, and Leon laughed and offered him a drink.

He still had half the bottle of moutai. D got the cartoon-elephant tumbler again -- he was beginning to believe it was the only glass Leon owned -- and they watched the last half of the movie, shoulder to shoulder.

"This really is a ridiculous plot," D said when his moutai had run out.

"Who cares? Smokin' cat-woman on screen."

D tilted his head, wondering if a different perspective would help him see what Leon did. "She is... aesthetically pleasing."

"Why can't you just say she's hot, like a normal person?"

"I'm not a normal person."

"Ain't that the truth," Leon muttered, and then turned pink. He glanced at D from the corner of his eye. "Not that you're a freak or anything. I mean... Shit." He turned so that he was sitting sideways on the sofa, and touched D's hair.

D blinked at him.

"You..." Leon said, but that appeared to have been the only word his brain had supplied his tongue.

D raised a brow. "Mr. Detective, if you are attempting to say something without putting your foot in your mouth, rest assured that I have no illusions about your tact or savoir faire. You may speak."

Leon kissed him.

It was a warm, damp experience that tasted of moutai and pork lo mein and left D's face tingling under the rasp of Leon's stubble. It lasted only a moment -- a moment of Leon pressing him into the sofa, both hands cupping his jaw, breathing into him -- before Leon pulled away and turned back to face the television. D touched his mouth. He'd allowed the odd creature to kiss him before, but never a human, and never like that. He hadn't imagined it would involve so much subtle motion of lips and tongues. So complicated, yet devastatingly simple.

Much like humans. Much like Leon.

"Shut up," Leon said, though D hadn't spoken, so D watched the end of the movie in silence. His fingers drifted up to touch his lips every so often, and Leon blushed every time they did.

****

"You're quiet today, Count."

"This ritual is one of reflection."

The look D received said Tetsu knew exactly what D was reflecting on, and for once D didn't care. He lit the incense and sat with legs folded and back straight, but he didn't even try to meditate. He had never felt less like communing with nature, least of all in order to convince his rebellious body that it really could produce a child with no genetic input but its own.

"You could always step out into traffic," Tetsu suggested.

"Tetsu!" Pon-chan wrung her hands. "Don't listen to him, Count."

"What? A sudden physical threat would get him to bud."

D reminded himself that he loved animals. Really. "Placing myself in mortal peril will be my last resort, thank you, T-chan. I am in no rush. I have plenty of time."

"That's not what your grandfather's letter said," Tetsu grumbled.

D grimaced. He didn't want to think about Grandfather. He wanted to think about Leon and the utter stupidity the man had displayed, kissing him. He wanted to prepare for the inevitable moment when the detective stormed in and somehow found a way to blame the incident on D.

As if on cue -- or perhaps D had sensed him coming -- the door jangled and Leon slouched in, shaven but rumpled and trailing a halo of smoke that meant D would find a crushed cigarette butt on his stairs.

Leon's step faltered when he spotted D sitting on the floor, but only for a moment. He jammed his hands in his pockets and his posture sunk to new depths. "Look, D, about last night--"

"It's all right, Mr. Detective," D said. He snuffed out the incense and got up to pour the tea. "Your masculinity was in no way compromised."

"Huh?"

"We shall blame the alcohol and never speak of it again."

"Oh. If that's what you want." Leon fiddled with his watch, looking less happy at being let off the hook than D expected. "I wasn't that drunk, you know," he said after a moment. "It's not an excuse for pawing you like that, especially when your father--"

"When my father what?" D asked sharply.

"I don't know!" Leon snapped. He flopped on the sofa with even less grace and decorum than usual. "I don't know what he did to you," he said again, less belligerently, "and you don't have to tell me. Just... deck me if I'm too much of a jerk."

D set his cup down in its saucer and folded his hands on his lap. "Correct me if I have misjudged the situation, but... you are here to apologize for being too aggressive."

"Well, yeah."

"And not to defend your threatened heterosexuality."

Leon gave him a puzzled look. "Why would I need to? You're not really a guy." D stiffened, but Leon didn't notice and rambled on, staring at the sugar bowl. "Guess you're not a chick either. You're... you." Leon wrinkled his nose and looked up at D. "God, I sound like I should be on daytime television. I just meant that you're... one of a kind."

"Detective, you have no idea." D forced his hands to unclench so they could pour his guest some tea. "And if you ever mistake me for a wilting flower again, I will 'deck' you."

"Gotcha." Leon sat back and folded his hands behind his head, only to jerk upright again. "Hey! You thought I was going to freak out because kissing you made me gay. I'm not, you know."

"Despite my father's meddling, I am most definitely male, Mr. Detective, and you most definitely kissed me."

"Yeah, well... if you're definitely male, maybe you shouldn't wear dresses and lipstick and paint your nails," Leon muttered. His cheeks had reddened and he was scowling at the teapot. D smirked.

They had a spectacular fight over D's nails, and whether or not it was realistic of him to expect to be thought of as a man ("A cheongsam is masculine clothing in China." "Yeah, well this is America, and in America it's called a dress.") and D called Leon a string of horrible names, secure knowing their friendship had not been damaged by one not-entirely-sober kiss.

When Leon stomped out, D slammed the door after him, sending a satisfying crash echoing up the stairs and startling the birds in their cages.

"Is it safe to come out?" Pon-chan asked from under the sofa.

"Of course," D said. He began collecting the dishes, humming to himself.

"I don't know why fighting with him puts you in such a good mood," Tetsu said.

"It's not the fighting," D said, surprised to find it was true. "It's knowing we can fight with no harm done. Tomorrow Mr. Detective will be back to grace us with his charm and wit, no matter what names I called him."

Pon-chan crawled out and brushed off her dress. "Because Leon loves you?"

"Leon doesn't love me, Pon-chan," D said, and even as the words left his mouth a ball of ice condensed in his stomach, because of course Leon did.

Tetsu snorted. "That freeloading idiot doesn't love anything but his stomach."

"We're talking about Leon, not you," Pon-chan snapped, and flounced off.

D watched her go, still clutching the teapot. What he most wanted to do was drop the teapot and bolt to one of the shop's many jungles, and so thoroughly lose himself there that not even Grandfather would ever find him. Instead, he very carefully stacked the tea things on the tray and carried it to the kitchen, each step restrained and controlled.

****

Leon loved him.

The thought tainted everything he did now. He fed the cats and Leon loved him. He made his bed and Leon loved him. He walked to the market to see if Mr. Cheung had any new sweets and Leon loved him. He sat across from Leon, listening to a rant about a bungled drug bust, and Leon loved him.

On Tuesday, just as D was beginning to believe he would never again be able to look Leon in the eye without feeling that icy ball of panic, Leon himself shattered the rising tension by pounding on the shop door at three in the morning. When D answered -- clutching his robe closed instead of trying it just to emphasize the rudeness of the hour -- Leon barged in with two uniformed officers, and then spent the next twenty minutes barking out accusations and nonsensical questions.

By the end the officers were shooting D sympathetic looks and drinking tea from the cups Leon normally used, while Leon paced and shouted and D sat primly in the armchair trying to keep his smirk in place. Before they left, D persuaded one of the lieutenants to bring his daughter in for a kitten, which only served to infuriate Leon more.

Ironically enough D truly had no connection to the crime; he hadn't sold a pet in weeks, as the outcome of the contracts occasionally upset him and he hadn't wanted to add yet another distraction from Grandfather's task. When the officers finally trooped out after Leon, D closed the door behind them, and for the first time felt the need to lock it, if only to have a symbolic barrier between himself and Leon's stormy emotions.

Several of the pets had gathered at the entrance to the front room, drawn by the commotion, and D gently shooed them back to their rooms. Q-chan, of course, did not listen, but Tetsu and Pon-chan went without fuss, for which D silently thanked them.

He sat on the sofa and rubbed his forehead, a headache pulsing under his fingers. Q-chan ran his tiny paws through D's hair, and D sighed. He would never understand the volatile tides of the human heart, how it could swell to passion and just as quickly ebb to disdain.

In the end, love turned to possession and jealousy, and then to hate.

"I should be used to fickle admirers, Q-chan. Why does it disturb me that Detective Orcot has become one of them?"

Q-chan gave a dismissive squeak, more intent on grooming D's hair, and D closed his eyes. He'd thought he'd learned to walk the line when it came to suitors; he'd attracted enough of them, which Grandfather said was the curse of their species. If his stories were to be believed, many powerful entities had pursued their ancestors throughout the centuries. His family knew, from long experience and to their sorrow, when to rebuff and when to appease; who could hurt them and who would be powerless to retaliate.

Leon fell into the latter category. He required no special handling to dissuade, deserved nothing better than D's contempt.

Just why he was not picking up the telephone to tell Leon so remained a mystery.

****

D had two peaceful tedious days free of Leon and his moods before the detective showed up with a box of expensive chocolates and a sheepish expression. D favoured him with a cold stare for as long as he could resist the scent of hazelnut rising from the box, and then allowed Leon in and pointedly did not share the chocolate.

"Turns out the guy wasn't happy with mere guard dogs and -- get this -- let a mountain lion loose on the grounds. Of course it was over the wall in about three seconds. Those suckers can jump. What a moron." Leon held up his hands before D could speak the acid comment that bubbled to his tongue. "I know, I know. Pot meet kettle."

D sniffed. "So long as you're aware of the resemblance, Detective Orcot."

"Detective Orcot? Jeez, you're not that mad, are you?"

"You burst in here in the middle of the night, accusing me of murder--"

"I accuse you of a crime twice a week!"

D glared. "In point of fact, you haven't, not for several months."

"I haven't?" Leon scratched his jaw. "Huh. I must be slipping."

D pressed his lips together. The accusations had ceased around the same time Leon decided that D had had a miserably abusive childhood and needed Leon's unique rendition of sensitive handling. D did not know what infuriated him more: Leon's presumption, his inept and misplaced pity, or his harbouring an infatuation he clearly could not manage.

Perhaps Leon is not the only one out of his depth, a small voice said, and D shushed it. His course was clear: he should demoralize Leon at once or, if he wanted to keep Leon's goodwill, employ the more diplomatic evasion tactics his family used whenever a more powerful creature came courting. Grandfather would scold him for wasting the energy on someone like Leon, but Grandfather did not stand to lose... whatever it was Leon had become.

D rubbed his temple. Somehow he did not think Grandfather would agree that Leon feeding D treats qualified him for special treatment.

"I got War of the Worlds," Leon said suddenly -- too suddenly for his casual tone to be convincing. Not that it was anyway. "The old one, not the new one. You want to come over and watch it?"

D raised an eyebrow, intending to make Leon thoroughly regret asking before he refused, and instead found himself saying, "Only if you plan on staying sober."

"Think I can manage," Leon mumbled, face red.

****

D knocked on Leon's now familiar door, precisely on time if one interpreted 'after you eat but not too late 'cos I gotta work tomorrow' to mean seven o'clock.

"Get that, will you?" Leon shouted, and a female voice tossed back a muffled retort. D raised his eyebrows, but managed to compose his features before the door opened.

"Miss Jill," D said, genuine pleasure warring with a sharp jolt of something unpleasant in his stomach. "Mr. Detective did not tell me you would be joining us this evening."

"Yeah, Leon's a bit of a jerk." She grinned at him. "You get used to it."

"Indeed. I hardly notice the poor manners and questionable morals anymore."

"I'm standing right here," Leon said, looking up from what appeared to be an epic battle with his DVD remote.

"So I see."

"Asshole," Leon muttered.

D swept in and made for the kitchen, knowing he would have to wash some dishes if he expected refreshments. Jill had obviously had similar thoughts; a small section of the counter was clean and stacked with equally clean dishes.

"I didn't dare put them away," Jill said. "I was afraid they'd stick to the shelf. I'm not sure what that stuff is."

"Ketchup," Leon called from the living room, and Jill and D shuddered in unison.

D had brought cold sweetened chai and Jill, to Leon's vocal disgust, had brought sliced vegetables and dip. They had an awkward moment in which Jill tried to sit on the end of the sofa while both D and Leon tried to shuffle her into the middle, which ended with Leon ordering Jill to move her ass.

"Men," Jill grumbled as she shifted over. "Sitting next to each other to watch a movie does not make you gay."

"Of course not, Miss Jill," D said sweetly. "Such a presumption would take much more intimate contact. Say, kissing."

"Shut up! Er, the movie's starting," Leon said, and only then remembered to press play.

D smirked and helped himself to a carrot.

He enjoyed the movie much more than the last, mainly because Jill held similar views on the flaws of human nature and was happy to discuss their failings as a species. Leon muttered once or twice, and then fell silent, occasionally drumming his fingers or looking at his watch. The women in the movie, D noted smugly, did not fit the ideal set by Leon's pornographic magazines. Most notably, they were wearing clothes.

Near the end Jill's cell phone rang, and Leon hit pause while she stepped into the kitchen to answer it.

"Are you enjoying the movie, Mr. Detective?" D asked.

"Next time we're getting Tom Cruise," Leon said, and D smiled sweetly.

"Is he 'hot' like Fairuza Balk?"

Leon spluttered and turned red. "Just because I-- No, Tom Cruise is not hot."

Jill, stepping back into the living room, paused for a second before she shook her head and grabbed her purse. "Sorry, guys, I've got to go. Steph's car broke down and her ice cream is melting."

Leon cleared his throat loudly. "Say hi for me."

"Stop macking on my little sister, Orcot." Jill swatted Leon and kissed D's cheek.

"I'll let you know how the movie ends," Leon said and then, when Jill eyed him dubiously, added, "That was a joke!"

"Whatever. I'll see you Monday. Bye, D."

"I'm not totally ignorant, you know," Leon said after Jill had gone.

"I believe you," D said.

"The aliens catch the siffles and die. I know pop culture."

"An oxymoron if ever there was one." D sniffed. "Only humans would create the concept of culture only to immediately pollute it by ennobling the mundane."

Leon narrowed his eyes. "Oh yes, your favourite topic: people suck. At least you found someone who agrees with you."

About to affirm that people did 'suck' and provide a long list of evidence, D halted. Leon's sulky expression made D suspect his opinion of humanity was not the issue -- especially as Leon generally agreed with him on humanity's flaws and only objected to D thinking himself better than the rest of his supposed species. "I do hope you're not offended that Miss Jill and I get on well," D said, as that seemed to be the only cause for Leon's mood.

"You think I'm jealous?" Leon gaped at him, and D decided it was past time to put the matter to rest. He would do so gently and with tact, and then he and Leon could return to their odd friendship. For as long as D remained in Los Angeles, at least. He sobered at the thought.

"Mr. Detective... while I am flattered by your affections, I must tell you that I can never return them. My family is quite traditional -- I am quite traditional, so you must see that any romantic association between us would be impossible."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Leon asked. "My affections? You don't think... just because I kissed you... I was trying to be nice!"

"I see," D said coolly. "I was unaware of this new form of emotional CRP."

Leon snorted. "It's CPR. And you know, D, when people see things in others that aren't there, it's often because they're projecting their own feelings."

"This is true," D said, gritting his teeth at being corrected by Leon. He couldn't imagine why he thought he needed to be considerate in turning the man down. "Alternately, the things people see in others are there, even if 'others' doesn't want to admit it."

"I'm not attracted to you!"

"Methinks the lady doth--" D did not reach the part about too much protesting, because Leon grabbed the front of his cheongsam -- tearing it! -- and kissed him, roughly, with quite a lot more tongue than their previous encounter. He didn't stop either, but pursued D's mouth as though he really did need CRP... CPR... until D found himself bent backwards over the sofa's arm and if he didn't let Leon kiss him, he was going to fall on his head.

That was why D opened his mouth. It had nothing to do with the way Leon smelled of aftershave and chai, and even less to do with the base appeal of Leon's warmth and weight pressing him down like he was some kind of... warm-blooded mammal.

"There!" Leon said, pulling away.

D sat up slowly, smoothing his hair, and then his cheongsam, willing his heart to stop racing. He had to swallow twice before he could speak, and that left him irritated -- more irritated -- which finally spurred his voice into obedience. "I fail to see what that was supposed to prove, besides that you do indeed harbour affections for me."

"You kissed me back."

D paused. He supposed he had. "And?"

"It proves that you're attracted to me," Leon said triumphantly.

"I am not, but even if I were that does not disprove my original statement," D said, and Leon scowled. "Besides," D added, standing and collecting the glasses, "you startled me. That's the only reason I would ever--"

Leon caught his arm, sending the glasses crashing to the floor. One broke and the other rolled under the sofa.

"Mr. Detective--"

"Shut up," Leon said. "I'm gonna kiss you again. Is that enough warning for you?"

D opened his mouth but found his voice had deserted him, chased away by Leon's audacity. Not that words would deter the man. D would need to prove his indifference before Leon accepted the obvious, and only then could they put this madness to rest. "Very well," he said primly. "One kiss, and then we shall agree that you are harbouring affections for me, which must cease."

"You're delusional," Leon said. He was standing very close now, and D could feel the warmth of his skin.

"We shall see." Of their own inexplicable accord, D's feet shuffled him forward, and Leon's grip slid up his arm and across his shoulders to cup the back of his head. Time seemed to stretch around them, the moment warping beyond objective measurement and D realized it was not some undiscovered human magic but his own anticipation slowing his perceptions. And that unsettled him more than any of it, so that when Leon did kiss him -- soft and warm and gentle and really, how many different ways to kiss were there? -- a startled little moan escaped. Leon's arms tightened at the sound.

"You liked that," Leon said against D's cheek.

"Certainly not." D's fingers crept up to his mouth, and he was surprised to find the shape of it unchanged. "You were the one who enjoyed it, not I."

"Huh. Guess I ought to try again."

"I think you should, Mr. Detective. We must uncover the truth."

Leon captured his mouth once more, and this fourth type of kissing was hot and demanding and robbed D's knees of their strength. They tipped back to the couch, D clinging to Leon to keep from falling -- not that he was at risk with Leon's arms around his waist. There seemed to be too many legs for two bipedal creatures, and Leon's hands had multiplied, stroking his face, his hair, his stomach, his thigh.

"Tzao gao," D said when they parted. The heat from the kiss had spread through his entire body.

"Now I know that was something rude." Leon smirked down at him.

"Be quiet."

"Your hair's a mess."

"I said be quiet." D tugged at Leon's ponytail, which turned out to be the command for Leon to start sucking at the hollow behind D's ear. "Oh! You..." Shivers quelled any further speech, and rendered trivial the sheer indignity of his position -- sprawled on a worn sofa with his cheongsam hiked up and a large heavy detective between his legs. There were things happening in his nether regions, things he'd ignored on the rare occasions they occurred because Grandfather said indulging would only lead to disappointment. Ignoring it now was out of the question, not with Leon's thigh pressed there, warm and firm, his hands burning D's skin through his clothes.

Leon noticed too, and he stilled. His eyes had become very wide.

"What is it?" D asked, shocked out how short of breath he was, how languid his body had become, how quickly his objections ran dry.

"Nothing." Leon shifted his hips back gingerly and D saw what had disturbed him. Anger rushed in, displacing a sharp flash of disappointment before it could hurt.

"Did you not understand the term hermaphrodite?" D snapped.

"I know you've got a dick, okay?" Leon said. "It's just... I wasn't thinking... I mean, I was, I've thought about it a lot since you told me, but... Fuck. That did not come out right."

D's anger evaporated and his mouth twitched. He ought to be outraged, but the thought of the consternation Leon's fixation must have caused him was too amusing. "Are you certain you're not homosexual?"

"Shut up." Leon buried his red face in D's shoulder. "God, why can't you have tits? Look, I do have certain feel-- thoughts about you, but it doesn't make me gay. You look like a girl." He inhaled, sending shivers through D. "You smell like a girl."

"I am not a girl, Mr. Detective."

"I know."

"I am not a girl and I am going to kiss you."

"Okay." Leon's voice cracked, and D would have chuckled, and possibly ruined everything, if his stomach hadn't flip-flopped at thought of initiating a kiss. Leon managed it, so how hard could it be?

Leon seemed content to lie atop him with his face hidden, stiff and unhelpful, afraid of some social stigma D barely understood. A tug to Leon's hair got him to turn his face up, and D pressed his lips to Leon's but it was nothing like before. D wanted to make Leon breathless and weak-kneed, like Leon had done to him, to prove once and for all who was attracted to whom. This kiss was pleasant and mild and entirely too chaste.

Then Leon flicked his tongue, and D opened his mouth, and that was how it was done.

"Oh... oh my. It's all so... terribly... complicated," D said between kisses, and Leon pulled back.

"It'd be simpler if you'd stop talking."

"Oh," D said, blinking up at Leon. He tried Leon's advice and it was simpler -- simpler and more intense, so much so that he lost himself in it for a long while, the world reduced to Leon's mouth, Leon's body. He might have drifted away like that, lost in a haze of sensation, except Leon managed to knee the remote control and the DVD screen flicked to a medical drama involving lots of sirens and shouting.

Leon swore and jammed at the buttons until the television shut off, and then he crawled back over D, breath fast and loud in the sudden quiet. He pressed eagerly against D and kissed his neck but the sheer mindless urgency had broken and D wasn't sure what to do now that thought had intruded.

He ought not to be doing this. While Grandfather had not explicitly forbidden it, D had no illusions concerning his opinions on the matter. But Grandfather was far away and Leon was very close and the whole foreign idea of sex had become so much more interesting over the last few weeks. And...

Leon was still kissing him, touching him, making him want. D closed his eyes. A few little kisses would not harm anyone. In fact, they might help ease the strange tension that had grown between them. He could do this. He would do this.

Decided, he opened his eyes. He wanted to continue at once but it was all so awkward and he didn't know where to put his hands. Somewhere on Leon's body sounded good, but where? He cast back to Leon's magazines for guidance.

"Mr. Detective," he said, studying Leon's face. "Would you like a blow job?"

Leon made the most curious sound, a strangled sort of whimper, and sat up. D did too, and tucked his hair behind his ears.

"I imagine that was a yes."

"Hell yes, it was a yes."

"I see." D paused, opened his mouth, shut it again.

"We can do something else," Leon said, and D scowled.

"No. I will do this. I am just not certain exactly what is involved."

Total silence greeted this, and far from being angry or exasperated as D had expected, Leon had put on his detective face. "D," he said in his too pleasant, too reasonable 'good cop' voice, "you've done this before, right?"

"Of course not. My grandfather is very strict." Seeing the dismay on Leon's face, D made a decision -- a rash one, but one that was entirely his own. Grandfather would be disappointed in him, but a small spiteful part of D thought it would serve him right for abandoning his grandson during difficult times. And besides, one time surely would not hurt. "It's all right, Mr. Detective. The evening has been very educational, and I wish to see what else you can teach me."

"Oh, Christ."

D decided to take Leon calling on his gods as a good sign, and stood up. "You may take me to bed now." He held out his hand and Leon, after staring at it for a moment as though it were a live snake, accepted it.

****

Leon's bedroom was every bit as messy as the rest of his apartment, and D quashed the urge to make the bed. Instead he sat on it, and clasped his hands on his lap. He wished Leon would come closer, but Leon seemed frozen in the doorway.

"Are you sure about this, D?"

"I am," D said, the weight of his own inexperience making him snap. "You don't seem to be."

Leon started, and finally came into the room, hands drifting to the collar of his shirt and stopping there. "This won't change anything between us."

"Why should it?" D asked, tilting his head.

"Some wo-- uh, people get weird about sex."

"I certainly won't. Are we going to start now? Should I take off my clothing?"

Leon made a strange whimpering sound. "If you want."

D rushed through the fastenings of his cheongsam; it was already ruined, and sex had, in the space of one evening, gone from a futile act he was forbidden to think about to a delightful new dessert Leon had once again surprised him with. D slowed as he neared the end of the buttons. As good as Leon's hands felt on his body, no one had seen him unclothed since Grandfather had inspected the damage Father had wrought. Grandfather's dismay had not been reassuring. D bit his lip, and shot Leon a fierce look.

"What'd I do?" Leon asked, halfway out of his shirt.

"If you laugh I shall give Tetsu permission to eat you." Before hesitation could allow doubt a foothold, D shrugged the cheongsam off his shoulders. It puddled at his waist, leaving him cold and exposed. His skin prickled into goosebumps. Leon's open-mouthed stare only made him more uncomfortable, and D folded his arms over his chest.

"Don't," Leon said suddenly, unexpectedly. He dropped his shirt, yanked off t-shirt underneath in one smooth motion, and was at the bed in two steps, wearing only his jeans. He caught D's wrists and pulled his arms down, gaze trailing over D's naked skin, lingering at his collarbone.

D swallowed hard. "Still regretting my lack of mammary glands?"

"Shut up." Leon herded him backwards, climbing on the bed until he was straddling D, all rough textures and firm warm muscles. "Do I look like I'm regretting anything?" Leon lowered himself slowly, leaving D torn between the feel of his bare chest against Leon's, and the tantalizing prod against his hip. Then Leon kissed him again, and touched his body, and chased away all thought, leaving him a pure animal that whimpered, arched, writhed.

Somehow during the squirming and rubbing and twisting and thrusting, D's mangled cheongsam slipped lower and lower, and at last it became a hindrance, tangling his thighs when he wanted to wrap them around Leon's waist. D pushed away the last of his insecurities and wiggled out of the ruined garment, and Leon took advantage of the break to undo his jeans, his erection surging past the zipper, eager and straining towards D. Jeans and underwear landed in a heap atop D's cheongsam, and something warm and smug curled through D at the thought of their clothing carelessly tumbled together.

Leon's fingers brushed D's cock and thoughts about the symbolic intimacy of their garments flew from D's head. He gasped, and Leon lifted his head quickly, going from furrowed brow and bitten lip to self-satisfied smirk.

"Yeah?" Leon asked, even though D had said nothing.

"Yes," D said, permission and affirmation and confirmation and anything else Leon needed to do that again.

Leon did. The look of concentration returned, and his hand disappeared between them, intent on discovering which parts D had and which he did not. D held his breath, waiting for a verdict he told himself he didn't need. A hot sweaty hand cupped his penis, far too light a touch for what he wanted, and then worked its halting way to the cavity below. Only the gods and his father knew whether the interior resembled that of a typical female primate, but Leon seemed to have no trouble navigating. He made a pleased sound as he slipped a finger inside, and for the first time D considered his altered anatomy in a favourable light.

In all honesty, if he was going to let Leon do things to him, he'd rather the man had a passing familiarity with the territory.

The fingers felt odd, not unpleasant, but it didn't really feel good until Leon brought his thumb to the base of D's cock. He rubbed, hesitated, rubbed again higher and more firmly.

"Oh," D said, and squirmed. It wasn't enough, so he tried cupping himself, but Leon scowled and tugged his hand away.

"I'll do it," Leon said. And then didn't. D reached for himself again and was again swatted away. Leon held his breath and clutched the whole length of him, and there was the pressure and friction he needed. D shivered and moaned, which seemed to please Leon for his breathing sped and his grip firmed.

The push and pull created a dilemma -- move down onto the fingers inside him, or up to the hand stroking his cock? -- until he found the trick of rolling his hips. He made a happy shuddering moan, and Leon laughed at him and D didn't care.

He tried to touch Leon, but Leon caught his hand, swearing. "I'm too close," he mumbled, ducking his head. "If you want to..."

"Yes," D said, and watched in fascination as Leon reached into the drawer and fumbled with a condom.

"Stop that," Leon muttered. "Shit." He dropped it on the floor and had to get another. Sweat beaded on his upper lip, darkening his pale stubble.

"Do I make you nervous, Mr. Detective?"

"Yes. Now shut up."

He got the condom on, too quickly for D to get a good look, and settled between D's thighs. D spread them wider to accommodate, and tried to prop himself up on his elbows to watch but Leon pushed him down and raised his hips instead.

And then he paused. Again. "Are you--"

"It's fine," D said, impatient. He was about to defy his grandfather and centuries of tradition, and if Leon kept talking his sense of filial duty might return. D didn't want it to. He wanted Leon to get on with it. And then Leon did get on with it, and pushed into him, driving a searing spike of agony before him.

It hurt, and suddenly D could not remember a thing about human mating. Were their penises barbed like a feline's? Would it knot like a dog's, binding them together? Would the act last a few seconds like a jaguar or half an hour like a boar?

"Hey, shhhh," Leon whispered, and D realized he had stiffened. He let his breath out in a rush and the pain eased a little.

"It's nothing. Do continue."

Leon huffed his hair out of his eyes. "Un-fucking-believable. Does that stick ever come out of your ass?" he demanded. D bit his shoulder in answer, and Leon surged forward with a yelp that melted into a groan. Another wave of pain struck D, but it was fading quickly now, and the more Leon moved the faster it left. Things had gotten considerably slicker, inside and out, and the thought made him giddy.

I am Animal, D thought, and felt his blood and breath surging through his body. His body, that wanted to mate, unmindful of the futility. His body, that wanted Leon's on him, in him. Thrusting, writhing, panting, sweating animal.

It was too much, relentless and forbidden. Leon was too much, and D choked as something surged within him, a simple devastating euphoria that made him feel like he was flying and falling both at once. Then he did fall, but he had Leon to cling to and he wasn't frightened.

When he opened his eyes he could feel his body again, hear Leon gasping something incomprehensible against his neck. He'd fallen still atop D, panting, but D felt no remorse for making Leon do all the work.

His mouth curled into a smile. He was filthy and dishevelled and smelled like sex and Leon. And he was too tired, too... too sated to care.

"That was quite nice," he said, after they had parted and the condom, limp and squelchy, had been disposed of. He wriggled his toes.

"Asshole," Leon muttered, but he trailed a hand over D's stomach. "Hey, you didn't..."

"Didn't what?"

"Nothing. I suppose you wouldn't," Leon said, and draped his arm over D's chest, yawning.

D yawned too. Intercourse was certainly tiring -- in a pleasant enough way, if sticky. He was too warm and languid to care about hygiene, or the dampness between his thighs. He toyed with Leon's hair, thoughts shying away from the full import of what he'd done. He could dredge up very little contrition, some token dismay that he'd slept with his species' only natural predator. Mindless satiety sounded like the best course of action for the moment. And sleep. Sleep was nice.

"D?"

"Mmm?"

"You're... sprouting."

D opened his eyes. A thin green vine had curled around Leon's headboard and, as they watched, produced half a dozen buds which quickly unfurled into small pale lavender flowers.

D smiled and buried his cold nose against Leon's side. "Allergic reaction."

There was a lengthy silence as D, half asleep, waited to see if Leon would open that particular Pandora's box. Leon tensed at first but gradually relaxed, leading D to conclude that either sprouting post-coital vines was less of an oddity among humans than he had assumed or sex suppressed Leon's natural curiosity.

That, or Leon thought the bed was too comfortable to risk starting a fight. In any case, D wished he'd known the secret to taming Leon's pugnacious nature much sooner. Sex and a peaceable detective sounded like an ideal situation to D.

"Well," Leon said at last, squinting at the vines. "As long as they're back in my imagination by morning."

*****

The vines had indeed disappeared by morning, and so had Leon. D squashed a tendril of hurt; had he considered it, he would not have expected Leon allow him to stay the night at all, and if truth be told he could use the time to compose himself. Everything between the crown of his head and the tips of his toes tingled, throbbed or ached, and his mouth felt bruised and swollen. He touched his lips, considered allowing himself to panic, found he didn't care enough to. He had no regrets.

It's only reasonable that I have this experience, he told himself. Grandfather did send me to live with wolves for a time, the year I decided we ought to stop animals from eating one another. I cannot claim expertise until I understand all aspects of animal existence. He nodded to himself, satisfied with the justification though he knew quite well that he'd merely lost control of himself, that Leon had made him lose control. D stretched in the small bed, wondering how long the crisis would last this time, and debating on whether to leave and allow Leon to angst in peace or stay and endure a confrontation.

He'd just decided to be kind and let himself out when the key sounded in the lock, swiftly joined by Leon's cursing and the scent of coffee and tea and something freshly baked. D sank back against the pillow -- Leon had only one -- and drew the sheet up to his chest, aware, now that Leon was back, of how exposed he was.

A dozen loud noises rattled -- any of which would have woken D had he still been asleep -- and then the door snicked open with ridiculous care and Leon poked his head in.

D was wholly unprepared for the smile that burst over Leon's face when he saw D sitting up. D smoothed his hair, alarmed at the tangled state he found it in. He had no idea what etiquette was required after one's first sexual encounter, but he thought a greeting would not be amiss. "Ah, good morning."

"Morning." Leon flung the door open the rest of the way. "I got you a pastry. Didn't know if you eat eggs."

D decided not to point out that most baked goods were made with eggs and accepted a danish and one of the steaming disposable cups. "Thank you, Detective."

"You can call me Leon, you know." The bed dipped as Leon sat down and pressed his nose to D's neck, nuzzling his ear.

"W-what?" The tea jerked in D's hands and had the cup not had a lid it would have spilled in a very unfortunate place.

"Leon," Leon said and kissed D's jaw. "It's my name."

"I know that." What he didn't know was why Leon wanted him to use it now, why Leon still wanted to kiss him, why D wanted to let him. This won't change things, Leon had said, but clearly it did and it had. D squirmed. Leon ignored their normal polite physical distance and reached across D to set the jostled tea on the bedside table. The precaution made sense only when Leon stuck his hands -- cold on one side and hot from the tea on the other -- under the blankets to skitter over D's chest and belly. The danish tumbled to the bed.

"Mr. Detective -- Leon," D said, torn between cooperating fully or protesting the sticky pastry at his hip, "I had no idea you were so... affectionate."

"You don't know anything about me. And I don't know anything about you," Leon added before D could bristle.

"Which is precisely why any romantic entanglements between us would be ill-advised." D removed Leon's hand but Leon, to his irritation, laughed at him.

"I'd say we were pretty damn entangled last night. Here's an idea, D -- we could act like normal people for once and get to know each other." Leon fished the danish out from between them, set it on the night stand, and licked the icing from his fingers. D watched, wide-eyed and disconcerted. Leon lay on the bed -- shoes still on -- and propped himself up on one elbow. "How about we play Twenty Questions, the morning after version."

"Twenty Questions?"

"Never mind, just... I ask you a question about yourself, you answer and then ask me one."

It sounded like a dangerous game to D. "What kind of questions?"

"Simple things. Like... okay, I'll start. Were you born in China?"

"Ah, I see," D said. He relaxed against the pillow. If he was careful he could navigate this. "No, I was born in Italy. My father was working there at the time." He didn't even need to think to choose his first question. "Did you have any pets when you were young?" Leon laughed and D stuck his nose in the air. "It's a legitimate question."

"We had a lab named Octie."

"Octie?"

"I wanted to call him Dr. Octopus, but he turned out to be a she." Leon grinned. "This one's been driving me nuts -- what's the D stand for?"

"Nothing." D tried and failed to keep the tension out of his voice. It was true in a way; his kind no longer existed, and their full name had not been spoken in a thousand years. "It is a tradition of my family. Hmm. What is your middle name?"

"Reginald," Leon muttered, "and don't you dare tell Jill. Okay, I got a stupid one. I can't believe I don't know it. How old are you?"

D looked at his lap. A simple question for humans, perhaps, but their maturation rate was not the same. "Twenty-one," he said reluctantly, and Leon swore. "I don't see how it should matter, as I am an adult and you hardly have grounds to question my maturity." Leon did not look convinced, so D hurried on, seeking a question to distract him. "How long have you been attracted to me?"

Leon went red and mumbled something incomprehensible, and then cleared his throat and added very quickly, "But only since I found out you're not totally a guy."

"You're lying," D said, eyes widening. "You did think of me before." The idea made him very aware of his nudity beneath the blanket, and his stomach tightened in the most peasant and alarming way. "You... did you... fantasize about me?"

"That's two questions." Leon sat up and looked away. "It was just a stupid dream. Or two. And anyway it's all that makeup and those dresses."

"Am I to understand that you like my appearance?" D looked nothing like the women in Leon's magazines. He caught Leon's hand before he could retreat further. "I like your appearance," D said, and then remembered what Leon had said earlier. "You are 'hot'. Even when you don't shave." Especially when he didn't shave.

Leon's face had gone red again, but he wore an adorable little smirk.

I've lost my mind, D thought, meeting Leon's smile with one of his own. They sat there, grinning like fools at each other, and then Leon rolled on top of him and D discovered the thrill of having a fully clothed detective between his naked thighs, a denim-covered bulge pressed just there.

Leon took him again, still mostly clothed, D boneless and half tangled in the sheets, breakfast forgotten on the night stand along with his vow of one time only.

Afterwards, Leon walked him back to the shop, shoulder to shoulder, and D felt like everyone they met would know what they'd done. No one gave them a second glance though, at least no more than the usual stares D drew. Leon was not inclined to hold his hand like other couples they passed -- and D did not understand the significance so he wasn't about to request it -- but the backs of their hands brushed now and then. Every time they did, the fluttering in D's stomach jumped.

Leon's gait, D thought, had just a hint more swagger to it this morning and his own small steps were just a little more smug. He allowed himself a smile.

Reality, in the form of the familiar stairs down to the pet shop, brought a less pleasant turning in his stomach, and for the first time since Grandfather had announced he would be leaving D was glad to have the shop to himself. Brave as he'd been the night before with Leon's hands all over him, he did not think he could face Grandfather yet.

Leon growled something about trusting idiots when D pushed the door open without needing to unlock it. He stood there, just inside the door, looking at his feet, not knowing if he should invite Leon in; he desperately wanted a bath and couldn't imagine Leon's reaction to the shop's facilities. Just as desperately he wanted to keep Leon at his side for the rest of the day. He'd already violated his promise of one time only; surely a third would not hurt, if Leon was amenable. And he might not be, with the way he was staring at D, not moving, not speaking.

The silence had just turned uncomfortable when Leon darted in to kiss him, quickly but thoroughly.

"I'll stop by after work," Leon said. "If that's all right."

"Yes." D knew a foolish little grin had crept onto his lips, but could not figure out how to turn off the muscles controlling it. "I'd like that. Very much."

"Really." Leon was sporting his own foolish grin, and seemed as reluctant to leave as D was to let him go.

"Really."

"Scout's honour?" Leon asked, and then had to show D the proper salute and ended up kissing his fingertips instead.

"Really, Leon." It was D who leaned in for a kiss this time, and finally he had to force himself to step back. He stood staring at the door for a long time after Leon left before he realized the growing noise was in fact Q-chan scolding him furiously.

"Hush," he said, and Q-chan, to D's surprise, obeyed at once, his tiny body quivering with outrage. D stroked Q-chan's back until he calmed. "I hadn't realized how much stress I have been under. It is amazing how refreshed I feel from a few hours of physical enjoyment. And besides, it's not as though I'm planning to keep him. "

"Kyu," Q-chan said doubtfully, still bristling.

"I wouldn't have thought so either, but I suppose we were once sexual creatures too." D twirled a lock of hair around his finger. His other hand hovered over the sign on the door and then withdrew, leaving it turned to CLOSED. "I think I'll spend the day meditating," he said, and Q-chan perked up his ears and let out a happy chirp.

And to be honest, D thought, if a customer came in right now, I'd probably sell them Honlon by mistake.

****

So began the most willfully disobedient episode of D's life. Grandfather would surely be furious when he discovered the affair but the knowledge caused D little guilt. He was far too busy enjoying the the newly discovered pleasures of a body he had never thought of as anything but an aberration.

Leon too seemed content with the turn their relationship had taken, though at times unsettled at D's ambiguous gender. D himself gave the matter no thought at all. He considered himself male and therefore their relationship homosexual, and the matter of their differing species overshadowed any qualms about gender. Not that either issue, nor any sensible reasoning, would dissuade him now. In hindsight the idea of stopping after one taste now seemed foolish and naïve.

He didn't know if the delay in his development had caused an extreme reaction or if all creatures felt this way and it only seemed overwhelming to him because it was new. Either way, he could not stop thinking about Leon, the weight of his body, the sheer physicality of him. They still fought -- more than ever, if D were honest -- but now every argument seemed to end with D flat on his back with his clothing hiked up and Leon between his legs.

And Leon was good at it, in his uncouth way. D had turned away many more sophisticated lovers, but all his resistance crumbled before the clumsiest overture from Leon. They even, to D's great shame, once made out in the back seat of Leon's car. Entirely by accident of course, but to judge by Leon's performance it had been a long-held desire of his. D himself wished to take Leon to a certain lake shore in one of the shop's rooms, but that would involve more explanation than D cared to give for the sake of a fantasy. Instead he studiously arranged the rooms nearest the front into a small apartment to which he could invite Leon, and tried not to worry when he sensed that the way to the rest of the shop would open if Leon ever tried the door.

That concern kept him staying at Leon's more often than Leon stayed with him -- a more pleasant arrangement once D took advantage of Leon's absence one morning to thoroughly scrub his apartment and stock his refrigerator with nutritious food. Leon said nothing, but the next day D noticed that the posters he had rolled up and put away in the closet were now sitting in with the recycling.

Disobedience, he discovered, had its own rewards.

****

"Are you an alien?" Leon asked one morning as he dressed for work. He was picking lavender petals off his shirt.

D, still snuggled under the blankets and considering staying there for the rest of his life, blinked up at him. "No, of course not."

"Okay. It's just... the sprouting-flowers-after-sex thing."

"My family has unusual reactions to stress."

Leon frowned but only said, quite snidely, "Sorry to have upset your carefree life of peddling carnivorous rabbits and man-eating squid."

D opened his mouth, then closed it. Trust Leon to object to the wrong point. He was starting to sulk now, face darkening with each second D failed to correct his faux pas, so D tossed him a sultry heated look that clarified just what he meant by stress.

"Why yes, Mr. Detective, you have upset me. Every time you're near my skin tingles and my stomach tightens. I can't think. I forget to breathe."

"Oh, fuck off. Lying Chinese bastard." Leon's fingers trailed to a halt over his buttons. "Really?"

"I'm being facetious, but the underlying sentiment is true."

Leon shifted his weight, fingers still poised over his buttons. "Yeah?" he said, and both of them were late for work that morning.

D hummed to himself as he let himself into the shop, flipping the sign from closed to open as he entered, and then he froze, hand still on the sign.

"Tea?" Father asked pleasantly, holding out D's favourite earthenware pot. "I'm afraid it's gone cold, as I've been waiting for you since last night."

Q-chan grumbled from the bookcase where he perched, but there was no sign of the other pets. Heart thudding painfully, D held the door open. "I have nothing to say to you."

Father ignored the implicit order to leave and poured. "Your grandfather tells me you're preparing to bud. Does he approve of you staying out all night with your tame human at such a time?"

D pressed his lips together. His heart settled, but the reaction had moved on to unsteady his knees and prickle his skin. He shut the door, and flipped the sign back to closed. "Detective Orcot has nothing to do with this."

"Please do not mistake my intent. I've no objections to your human -- I've kept one or two myself over the years. They make an interesting diversion, providing, of course, that one does not become too attached."

"What do you want, Father? I do have a business to run."

"This is hardly a social call. I'm here to assist you in procreating."

"I don't need your assistance."

Father smiled and sipped his tea. "I think you'll find that you do. Tell me, do you... enjoy your human? Physically, I mean."

D flushed. "That's not your concern."

"Come now. Call it professional curiosity. I left certain parts of your anatomy intact rather than risk neutering you entirely, but I was never certain how the hormonal alterations would affect your libido. It appears my fears were groundless. Be grateful for that."

"Grateful?" D hissed, stepping forward, miming aggression he had never experienced for himself. "The only thing for which I am grateful is that Grandfather saved me from you."

"Tsk. How disrespectful. I can see it's too soon to expect reason of you -- you're still a child. Please stop by the lab when you tire of pretending to be a tree." Father stood, and when he would have embraced D, D stepped back. Father's mouth turned down faintly at that, but D could not find any sympathy for him.

Stiff, he held the door as his father left, and then shut it and locked it and rested his head against the cool wood. Abruptly furious with himself for allowing Father to fluster him, he stalked back to the table to clean up the tea things, then prowled through the rest of the shop setting to right anything Father had moved.

Afternoon found him in his favourite garden, performing unnecessary tasks just to keep his hands busy and failing to keep his temper in check. His reaction to his father's presence now seemed ridiculous. Weak. He'd have retained more dignity rolling over on the floor to expose his belly.

And after such a lovely morning with Leon, he thought, but that only made his temper worse. He ought not to be having lovely mornings with a human.

"Are you pruning that tree or murdering it?" Tetsu asked.

"He's already upset," Pon-chan said. "Don't you go making it worse."

"I am perfectly well," D snapped, and they both ignored him.

"Someone has to tell D the truth," Tetsu said, folding his arms. "No one else around here will."

Pon-chan scowled. "Leon's honest."

"Him? He's too stupid to know the truth, let alone tell it," Tetsu said. "And anyway it's all his fault the count's father came and upset him. If it weren't for that stupid human we'd be someplace clean and sunny and D would have budded by now."

"Don't be mean to the count, T-chan," Pon-chan said. "Of course he wants to stay. He's in love."

"With that lout?" Tetsu snorted. "You're delusional."

"It's sweet."

"It's decidedly not," D said sharply, "because it's not true."

"There you are," Tetsu said. "It's not true."

"He's human," D added, snipping the branch a little too far down.

"Very human," Tetsu said.

"And thoroughly unsuitable."

"As unsuitable as a donkey at a banquet."

"And even if he were suitable Grandfather would never allow it."

"Wise man, your grandfather."

D realized that, absurdly, his lip was trembling, and he crushed the source swiftly, ruthlessly, blindly. Whatever emotion had caused the lapse sank back down into the depths of his psyche. He regarded the mutilated tree in disgust.

"I shall outgrow him soon enough," D told the tree. "It's only lust. Once I slake it, it will let me be."

"That's right, it's only -- oh merciful Buddha," Tetsu moaned. "I think I'm going to be sick."

D apologized to the tree, which was unhurt but somewhat alarmed, in its vegetative way, at the sudden loss of so many light-collecting leaves. He stood and brushed the dirt from his knees. He would bud, and prove Father wrong. He'd prove Tetsu wrong for overestimating Leon's influence. And he'd prove Grandfather wrong for his fear.

*****

In a sudden flurry of determination, D began a miniature robe of red and black silk, carefully patterned after a sample from the sixteenth century. Grandfather insisted it was their own ancient style, though Father scoffed and said it was Korean and not so old as their more recent ancestors imagined. D didn't care; an adopted tradition was still a tradition, and if he didn't find something to do with his hands in between meditations he was going to go mad.

The tiny stitches he insisted upon proved more difficult than he expected, however, and he needed to tear them out and begin again four times before he was happy. He had almost finished when he had to hide the project in a hurry one day when Leon showed up early for tea.

He was in a fine temper, grumbling about work and his boss and the idiots running the forensic lab.

"Inadmissible my ass," he growled, and then flopped down and accepted the tea D had poured for him twenty minutes ago, before D had given up and sat down to brush Pon-chan's hair. After a few moments, Leon reached over to scratch her ears and she chittered and arranged herself in a sprawl that spanned both their laps.

"Oh, he's good," Pon-chan moaned, shamelessly butting into Leon's caressing hand.

"I rather think so," D said, smirking, and Leon quirked a brow.

"You really understand their language, huh?"

"Of course." D ignored Leon's skeptical expression and instead watched his large square hands stroke Pon-chan's ears and squirmed in irrational envy, a now-familiar heat flushing through his body. "Run along now, Pon-chan, and take Q-chan with you."

Pon-chan groaned and heaved herself off their laps; Q-chan did figure eights around her and D until D shooed him a little more sternly, and then he obeyed, scolding Pon-chan all the while.

"Even I understood that," Leon said, lazily toying with D's sleeve.

"He doesn't approve." D shifted until Leon's stroking fingers touched his wrist.

"Eh, your crazy pet science project never liked me."

"It's nothing personal." D inched closer and trailed a hand up Leon's thigh. "He would dislike anyone I became involved with."

"That's some serious -- mmm -- seriously jealous pet." Leon parted his legs a little wider and gave him that look, so D hiked up his cheongsam and straddled Leon's hips. He'd taken to going without undergarments and gasped at rough prod of Leon's erection under denim.

"Not so proper after all, are you?" Leon breathed into D's ear, reaching between them to tug at his zipper.

"Why Mr. Detective, I have no idea what you're talking about." D rolled his hips. "I am a fine upstanding businessman."

"Uh-huh."

"Pillar -- oh! -- pillar of the community."

"I'll give you a pillar," Leon growled, and D tossed his hair.

"Your pathetic attempts at humour do not impress me, Mr. Detective."

"Must be my grace and charm then," Leon said, and D snorted. "My skillful powers of deduction? My boyish good looks?" Leon mouthed his neck and D could feel his grin. He felt something else, too, rubbing against him, driving him mad. "Maybe this impressed you?"

"Oh yes," D breathed, "that's very impressive."

And then everything stopped while Leon fumbled a condom from his back pocket, almost dislodging D from his lap in the process, and D waited impatiently, having lost all fascination for the things once he realized how many precious seconds they wasted to put on. Leon hardly finished before D was raising his hips and Leon reached between to hold his dick steady for D to sink down on it.

"Mmm." D let his eyes drift closed. The tension in his belly tightened to a pleasant knot and he shifted, feeling Leon's callused hands sneak up his cheongsam to grip his hips, guiding him up and down in a slow rolling ride. He linked his own hands behind Leon's neck and leaned back, and hissed at the glide of silk on his cock. Leon grinned and caught the bunched cheongsam with his thumbs, sliding it side to side to drag the material across him and driving him to shudder at the delicate friction.

"God, that's hot," Leon said, gaze heavy-lidded and hungry.

Neither of them lasted long after that, and they wound up tangled together on the sofa, rumpled and tired and stuck together in awkward places. Leon was half on top, cheek pressed to D's breastbone, a comfortable weight. He lifted his head.

"Let's go out to dinner. Someplace nice."

"I'm a mess," D pointed out. "And so are you."

"We're washable. Come on."

Bemused at Leon's odd mood, D followed him into the little apartment he'd asked the shop to provide, hurrying his steps when he felt his own dampness seeping down his thighs.

Leon had already shed his jeans and stood holding them in one hand, the other on the handle of a small door in the corner. "Hey, D, is this the laundry room?"

"No," D said, heart leaping as the space behind the door whirled with his thoughts until both settled, irrationally, on Honlon's room. And like trying not to think of a pink elephant, D knew he couldn't stop it from opening into the dragon's den should Leon turn the knob. He reached for the jeans. "It is a closet. Give those to me, you'll only make a mess of it." He took Leon's pants and steered him towards the bathroom, away from the unopened door.

He'd forgotten to include laundry facilities when he constructed the living space, so once the shower started D asked one of the kitchen cupboards to squeeze over. Leon would notice -- Leon noticed everything inconvenient to D -- but over their association had developed quite a skill for rationalizing supposed impossibilities.

"Clean these," D told the shop, tossing the jeans into the faux dryer, and then he went to join Leon in the shower.

Predictably, Leon's idea of 'someplace nice' fell far short of D's, but considering Leon was still wearing the same clothes he wore to work D was not about to insist on a finer establishment.

It was more in the way of a bar than a restaurant, and D's cheongsam -- purple today, with large white birds trailing their wings down across his waist and hips -- drew even more attention than usual. He thought Leon might have intended a platonic outing, at least until they arrived at the restaurant and Leon held the door for him and requested a small table out of the way.

"Is there an occasion, Mr. Detective?"

Leon shrugged, eyes on the menu. "We don't do enough stuff."

D raised a brow. "I've yet to complain about the 'stuff' we do," he said, and Leon flushed.

"You know what I mean."

"Indeed, Mr. Detective, I do not."

Leon scowled at the list of appetizers. "I don't want you to think I'm, you know, just hanging around for the sex."

"Considering the amount of time you spent in my shop before we became intimate, I assume my tea is the larger attraction." D tilted his head, smirk fading. "There's no need to buy me dinner, Leon. The sex is enjoyable enough."

"Yeah. Well, so's dinner." Leon toyed with his fork, and looked relieved when their drinks came.

It was a subdued meal for once, with no pets to interrupt, and the only football game blaring was in the lounge, on the far side of the restaurant. They managed to hold an actual conversation, with D talking about a new shipment of Indian cobras and Leon about the motorcycle course he wanted to take.

Leon was quiet on the drive back to his apartment. "You staying?" he asked finally.

"Mmm. Stop by the shop first. I don't want to wear this tomorrow."

There was another long silence, and D inspected his nails. "You could grab a few things," Leon said. "You know, to leave at my place. And maybe I could leave a change of clothes at the shop."

He would have to redo the polish on his right hand. "That would be more convenient. Though do not expect this means I shall be doing your laundry again."

"All right then." Leon abruptly relaxed, seeming quite pleased with himself and then, bafflingly, he began to whistle.

*****

The first real sign of progress in his meditations came the week Leon went out of town for a few days for a case. D was mortified to discover that Leon's absence left him feeling anxious and rather ill, but by Wednesday he noticed he also felt lightheaded, and when he closed his eyes a tingle radiated through his body in all directions, as though his extremities wanted to bud and divide and grow up and up and out.

He was pleased, annoying as the meditations' effects were, until Leon returned and the anxiety faded and the other symptoms did not. And even then he couldn't manage to be properly irritated with himself because he was too happy to have Leon back in more or less the same condition than he'd left, barring the knuckles he's split punching an FBI agent's car door.

Leon himself was in good spirits -- mostly, D felt, because he'd gotten to punch an FBI agent's car door -- and they celebrated with a dinner that went uneaten while they made a different kind of mess in the kitchen. Only afterwards did D relax, knowing Leon was safe, asleep in D's bed.

It wasn't love, he told himself in the small hours as he listened to Leon breathe, merely a consequence of Leon's tendency towards reckless disregard of danger. A natural concern for his lover's safety. He closed his eyes, and the vines grew, winding around Leon's body.

*****

On Saturday Leon made a phone call to Chris, and he managed to endure almost eight minutes of D poking him and demanding he repeat Chris's answers before he finally handed the phone over.

"Count!" Chris's voice, so rarely heard, was buoyant and refreshingly strong.

"Hello, Chris," D said, as sedately as though he had not just been pestering Leon for the phone. "Have you settled back in New York?"

"Yeah. I mean yes. Mom and Dad didn't even move anything in my room, and my sisters have been real nice since I got back. Mostly."

"I'm glad to hear that. How is school?"

"Okay. My old best friend Tyler got a new best friend while I was away so I have a new best friend now too. His name is Derek and he has a Wii. Did Leon tell you I have a girlfriend?"

"No, he didn't," D said, shooting Leon a dirty look. "My goodness. Is she pretty?"

"Uh-huh. I mean yes. And guess what else? She can turn her eyelids inside out and it's real gross."

"I... see."

Eyelids? Leon mouthed, and shuddered when D nodded.

Chris asked about the pet shop then, and D chatted happily away while Leon tapped his watch and made faces. D managed to pass along Pon-chan and Tetsu's love before Leon finally manhandled the phone away.

"Jeez, aren't you supposed to be my brother?" Leon asked once he had control of the receiver. His face softened. "I know you do. No, we're at my place. Yes, it's clean." There was a slight pause and Leon flushed. "D did. No. No. Uh..." Leon's gaze darted to D, and D quirked an eyebrow at him. "Well, D was a little lonely after you left, so me and him got to be better friends, that's why."

"And you don't even have a Wii," D said mildly. "I may have to find a new 'friend.'"

After he hung up, Leon growled and hauled D off to the bedroom to demonstrate what he did have in the way of keeping D's interest -- an exhibition that began auspiciously enough with Leon pushing D down to the bed and yanking up his cheongsam with no regard for its delicacy. It was a mystery how such a primitive display of dominance could render D so reckless, but he found himself willing assistant in the destruction of his own clothing.

He had a full wardrobe at home, after all, and only one detective sucking on the tender skin of his stomach.

Leon's mouth drifted lower, grazing his hipbone, and D caught his breath. The first time it had taken Leon twenty minutes to work up the nerve, but once he had--

"Oh!"

Wet heat engulfed him, left the rest of him shivering, skin gone to gooseflesh and nerves electrified. He carded back Leon's hair to better see his eyes, blue and burning. It flustered Leon when D watched him do this, but neither looked away, and Leon had grown bold enough by now to make a show of it, running his tongue up and down the shaft and giving the head little sucking kisses.

"Stop teasing," D growled -- or at least he meant to growl; his voice emerged breathless and far too high.

Leon ignored the order, of course, and only grinned wickedly around his mouthful and plunged two fingers inside him. D flushed at how easily they slipped inside, but then Leon set to him in earnest and he forgot to be embarrassed. He could only writhe and swear in Mandarin and finally he could bear no more and dragged Leon away by the hair, and Leon hissed and slid up his body like a breaker over the shore and stole his mouth in a savage biting kiss.

They fumbled with their few lingering bits of clothing, and then connected. One short thrust to line them up and then Leon's hips snapped forward, and again, and again, and D raised his legs, wrapped them around Leon's waist to take him that much deeper. He urged Leon on with sharp nails to the back and, when D was far gone enough to lose all inhibition, the filthy words Leon liked so much to hear. It didn't matter if he said them in English or Mandarin or Swahili; Leon always responded to his voice.

"You... Fick mich... baisez-moi comme cela."

He came, shuddering, clawing, to the sweat-slick press of Leon's belly and the thick cock driving deep inside him, and then he held on while Leon finished in quick shallow strokes and shuddered to lassitude atop him.

They lay together, breath slowing, and D allowed himself to enjoy these few moments while the sweat and the close heat still appealed. Leon had shown him many things over the last few weeks but D decided he liked this best of all, liked to feel Leon's weight against him, skin to skin and face to face. He stroked a lock of hair back from Leon's forehead, damp strands curling around his fingers like the vines D was already sprouting, lazy little tendrils that bloomed and faded.

Leon scrunched his eyes closed and pressed his face to D's neck until the flowers had gone, and when it was safe to look he gave D a proper kiss and eased back. They both noticed the stupendous mess at the same time, D with a wrinkled nose for the slick mix of semen and his own fluids seeping out of him, and Leon with an incongruous expression of dismay.

"God damn, I didn't even think." For once Leon's voice was subdued. "Sorry."

"It's not as if it matters," D said, yawning. "We're both healthy and genetically male." And different species, he added to himself, beginning to squirm from the itchy sweat collecting at the small of his back.

Leon barely winced at the reminder of D's gender, and rolled away, frowning, and lit a cigarette. D, more concerned with the smoke than the condoms sitting unused in the drawer, nevertheless refrained from commenting. He had other ways of dealing with Leon's vices.

"I am going to bathe," he announced, and cast Leon a pointed look; sure enough he'd no more than stepped into the shower when Leon joined him, cigarette stubbed out mostly whole.

*****

"Miss Jill," D said. "What a pleasant surprise." He'd only just sat down to meditate, but he'd thought the knock at the door was Leon returning. He squashed the small flash of disappointment and invited Jill in. "Would you like some tea? I've just finished but I can brew another pot."

"Oh, no, thank you. I have to be at work in twenty minutes."

"I see," D said, and sat down on the sofa while Jill fidgeted. "Please, have a seat."

She sat, and then stood again and burst out, "What's up with you and Leon?"

"Beg pardon?"

"Every time I ask him to do something he says he has plans with you. I could understand when Chris was here, but now he's not." Jill sat again and leaned forward, eyes sparkling. "Or is he just using you as cover so we don't rag on him about his new girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend?" D asked sharply.

"You haven't noticed?" Jill snickered. "Whoever she is, she's a wild one. Leon's always covered in hickeys and bites and scratches."

D flushed and let go of the sofa cushion he'd sunk his nails into. "I can't imagine any woman willing to tolerate our Mr. Detective's filthier habits, Miss Jill. Perhaps he's adopted a cat."

"Some kind of wild animal anyway." Jill laughed, and then went quiet, grin fading slowly. "Well, I guess you don't have any dirt to share. I should be going." She stood and turned for the door, and then stopped. "Oh and D? You might want to tell Leon he left his watch here." She nodded at the table, watching D's face.

"Thank you, I will." D returned her gaze evenly until she smirked and sauntered out. Then, he went ahead and made that second pot of tea to fortify himself.

Just as D was closing up for the night Leon stomped in, looking like a thundercloud. "Did you tell Jill about us?"

"'Good evening, D,'" D said. "'How was your day? One of the dogs got into a brawl with a family of ferrets? Oh, you poor thing, you deserve a neck rub.' Of course I said nothing to Miss Jill." D heaped another two spoonfuls of calming incense into the burner. "Do you think I want her to know how low my standards have fallen?"

"Yeah, well she says... aw, fuck."

Despite himself, D's lips twitched. "She hinted that I told her and you confirmed her suspicions by flying off the handle."

"Pretty much, yeah." Leon flopped on the sofa and D joined him. "This is fantastic. The entire department thinks I'm gay now."

"My sympathies," D said dryly.

"I guess I am, a little," Leon muttered, so quietly D only just heard him. "I like your dick anyway." He sat up straighter. "That doesn't mean I want to be on the bottom, so don't get any ideas."

"Of course not, Leon." D smiled and patted Leon's leg. "I would never push you to do something you're uncomfortable with. Now, there's a way for you to be on the bottom? Do tell me more."

They had a nice one-sided fight after that, with Leon shouting and windmilling his arms and D asking questions until he worked out, by the level of hysteria in Leon's refusals to answer, just how such a thing might work.

As unhygienic as it sounded, D was still a little disappointed that Leon had laid down an unconditional refusal without even trying it once.

*****

"Jeez," Leon muttered one afternoon after D had talked him into calling in sick so they could stay in bed all day. "Not only do I go and sleep with a guy -- sort of -- but I have to pick one eight years younger than me. I can't believe I'm saying this, but... can't we just cuddle?"

"If you are too tired I would not object to you pleasing me," D said, knowing full well Leon would become aroused halfway through no matter how tired he was.

"I'm not falling for that again," Leon said, but he held out only a moment. After, D lay drowsing and trying to ignore the clock that would soon harry him back to the shop and his task. For the moment he was content to lay with his head on Leon's lap being stroked like a pet and listening to Leon ramble about everything and nothing.

"We should go somewhere," Leon said. "Take a vacation."

"Mmm."

"The last one was nice. I think. I don't remember a whole lot."

"Mm-hmm."

"Maybe we can invite Chris too."

"Mmm."

"Hey, D, did you change hallucinogens?"

"Mmm?"

"The imaginary flowers. They've always been purple before."

D's eyes snapped open, every bit of lassitude shocked away. The vine coiling around the headboard sported a single flower, red and larger than the usual ones. Of all the days, of all the places--

"D? You okay?"

"Earth," he said, sounding far away to his own ears. "I need earth."

"Are you sure you're not an alien?" Leon tugged his hair, grinning, and D swatted him away.

"Potting soil," he snapped. Leon stared at him. "Quickly, Leon. Please."

The last word started Leon moving, too slowly, and he headed for the door, grumbling. "Where am I supposed to get potting soil?"

"Anywhere, just do it. Now!"

Leon scowled and opened his mouth, then shut it with an audible snap when he saw D's face. He made to grab his keys and then changed directions and vanished from view. D heard the balcony door slide open. Swearing in every language he knew, D attempted to detach the vine from the headboard without disturbing the flower. He should never have left the shop.

Just as he freed the vine he heard a thump and Leon reappeared.

"That fast enough?" he asked, handing D a potted fern. "Mrs. Wolchek's balcony is a jungle. I doubt she'll miss one."

D took it gratefully and sunk his fingers into the soil. It wasn't ideal -- a bit too alkaline -- but it would do until he got back to the shop. He evicted the fern and handed it to Leon. "Put that in water," he said, but Leon didn't move.

"D, why did I just burgle the neighbour's balcony?"

"It seems Pon-chan's advice was correct after all," D muttered, holding the pot under the vine. A runner probed along the edge and then rooted into the soil. "All I needed was to relax."

"That's not answer."

"Leon. I must return to the shop at once." D clutched at the pot, giddy terror warring with elation. He had a son, a tiny replica of himself that would soon blossom. The line would continue. "It's not the best environment, but it will do for now."

"D."

"The most important thing is to get him settled while he germinates."

"D! Stop fucking around and tell me what's going on."

"I have to go." He reached for his clothes, juggling pot and silk and Leon's impatient questions.

"You're going to walk home like that?"

D glanced down at his navel. He couldn't exactly wear the cheongsam over the vine; it buttoned at the side.

"Jesus." Leon threw a t-shirt and a pair of jogging pants at him. "Let's go. I'll drive."

The pants were too large and D had to hold them with one hand and his son's pot with the other. A woman unloading groceries in the building's parking lot stopped to stare at them.

"I do apologize," D said, having trouble sounding contrite when the force of his relief made him dizzy. "I know this must seem a little odd to you--"

"A little odd?" Leon said, and then lowered his voice when a passing couple also turned to gawk. "I'm sleeping with a cross-dressing hermaphrodite," Leon hissed. "I can handle a little odd, but you have a plant growing from your bellybutton."

"It's not a bellybutton. It's the place my stem broke off." D got into the car, irrationally disappointed that Leon could not share his joy. "The sprouting never bothered you before."

"That's because I was imagining it before!"

In other words, Leon hadn't asked because Leon hadn't wanted to know. Another day D might have started a fight over it, but today he had more pressing concerns. Such as his son.

He was going to be a father.

"You'll visit me, won't you, Leon?" D asked suddenly as Leon reversed out of his spot and right onto the street. "Grandfather said it would be at least a month before I can cut the umbilical vine, and even then I won't want to go far until my child is ready to leave the soil."

Leon appeared to have only heard two words of that. "Your child?" He slammed on the brakes, and horns blared. "Wait. You're pregnant? I... we... you said... how?"

"Don't be silly, Mr Detective," D said, toying with the plant's leaves. He was already thinking of places to plant it. "It's not yours; my family reproduces by parthenogenesis. It's an ability we borrowed from certain types of plants many centuries ago."

"O...kay." The car began moving again, and Leon was quiet for several blocks. They were almost at the pet shop before he spoke again. "D, does your family have a history of schizophrenia?"

"Not so far as I know." A few megalomaniacs and at least two genuine sociopaths, but the family excused those; not all the Ds handled their responsibilities well.

"So. You're a plant, huh?"

"I am all living creatures," D whispered, and Leon shot him a worried look. "No. No, I am an animal, a primate as you are. I should hope you've realized by now that I am not human."

"You said you weren't an alien." Leon appeared ready to humour him. and D cast him a look of weary amusement.

"That is because I am not. My kind are from Earth. We have simply been on the edge of extinction so long that humans have forgotten us."

Another long pause. "Are you vampires?"

"Humans have forgotten us, Leon. You have no cultural reference for what I am. We have made sure of that. There are no records, no legends, not even a name." D turned to the window, holding the pot close to his chest. "It's safer that way."

Leon parked in front of a fire hydrant, and D was climbing out before he'd even turned off the engine. He hurried down the stairs, ignoring Leon's cursing, and burst into the shop, half-expecting all his friends to be gathered in the front room to cheer. The room was empty but for the pair of lovebirds who'd made a nest in the cash register.

"Pon-chan! T-chan!" he called, vexed and wanting to share his news with someone who would understand the import. He could hear Leon stomping down the stairs after him. "Come out, it's finally happened."

Pon-chan emerged from the kitchen, and when she saw D carrying the pot she shrieked and dropped her apple. "T-chan! T-chan, get out here, the count's back and he's budded and WE'RE HAVING A BABY."

"What the hell," Leon said, boggling at Pon-chan as she danced in circles. His hand rose to the gun under his coat.

"Don't you dare draw that thing in here," D snapped, but the words had no real bite. The shop anticipated his requirements, and the first door he chose opened to a bright sub-tropical garden. He frowned to see it was the same room his ancestor had built the mourning tent in; the bai-fang perched on a hill in the distance, swaying in the light breeze.

Let it witness a birth instead of mourning death, D thought, and strode across the grass. Leon and Pon-chan followed him, and Tetsu arrived on their heels, so excited he forgot to even growl at Leon. Q-chan flew over him, trilling.

"Holy shit," Leon said, boggling around at the space. It was easily as large as the entire block, and D recalled that Leon had only seen this door open to a bedroom. He wished he could have introduced Leon to the back of the shop more slowly -- or better yet, that he had not accompanied D in at all -- but he didn't have the time. The vine was now a small bush, and it was already outgrowing the pot.

"Right here, if you please." D pointed to a nice open area near a copse of trees that would get lots of sun and not too much wind, and Pon-chan set to digging with no regard to where she flung the dirt.

"Holy shit," Leon said again, staring at Pon-chan now. D wasn't sure if he saw a raccoon or a little girl in a pink dress or both, as D did. He supposed she made an odd sight, bent over and flinging dirt between her shiny Mary-Janes with all the enthusiasm of a golden retriever. "D, what the hell is--"

"Oh, shut up before I bite you," Tetsu said, and Leon froze. A very odd and wild-eyed look settled over Leon's face, and D was sorry he couldn't soothe Leon, but he had more pressing concerns.

The transfer from pot to ground went well; the leaves did not have time to wilt at all. The cheetahs fetched him some pillows and one of the cranes brought him a beach umbrella, picking her way through the garden with awkward grace, and within a few minutes D was camped out in comfort next to the plant that would bear his son, tied to it through the umbilical vine. He had a watering can on his lap and was resisting the urge to saturate the ground again.

"You're a plant," Leon said as D checked the soil's acidity for the third time.

"I'm attached to a plant."

"The sheep-tiger talks."

"Everything speaks, if you bother to listen."

"Are you going to answer everything I say with sarcasm or mystic Chinese bullshit?"

D smirked. "Perhaps you should say something worth answering."

"Where are you from? How many of you are there?" Leon shot back.

"We are from China, obviously, and there are three of us, Mr. Detective." D looked at the flowering vine growing from him. "Soon to be four."

That derailed Leon's anger. "That's... pretty endangered. Should you be walking around and stuff? I mean, what happens if you get hit by a bus?"

"Then the line dies," D said coldly. "We only reproduce once. That is the limit to the gift we were given."

"What gift? Given by who?"

"The gift of life, Mr Detective. Survival where there should have been extinction. I can't possibly explain the whom to your human mind and western sensibilities. Suffice it to say that there are forces in the world which may be appealed to in times of great need."

Leon was silent for a moment. "How about I stop asking random questions, and you tell me what the hell is going on. Slowly, in small words, with as little hocus-pocus as you can manage."

"If you're ready to listen." D thought he was; the fact that Leon heard Tetsu's speak said he had reached beyond his limits. One of them, anyway. "Sit down, Mr. Detective, and I will tell you the story of a woman of my people and a human who prince who loved her."

Leon managed to be quiet through the tale, though he opened his mouth as if to speak several times. At the end he was silent, pensive. D did not at all like the little frown or distance in Leon's eyes, and he wished, for once, that Leon would yell at him.

"Tell me about the shop, D. The contracts."

D shifted. The icy rage that filled him when he spoke about the destruction of his kind faltered and then regrouped. Leon was using his good cop voice, but it held an edge D didn't like. "Don't you dare judge us, Detective. As I said, we sell dreams here. If humans choose to follow their base natures and break their contracts--"

"You what?" Leon asked, still frighteningly pleasant. "Kill them?"

"Do not speak of matters about which you know nothing. The forces I spoke of are not called upon lightly. There are consequences."

"Are you saying you have to kill in exchange for survival?" Leon's voice lost some of its edge and gained a hopeful note and D had to look away. "D, did your family sign some kind of contract themselves?"

"Not as such, but the abilities are intertwined. I have long thought that my ancestor must not have been able to choose between survival and revenge. For us they are one and the same, and I would not dare test the theory. I have only this one chance to procreate and if I should choose wrongly I would end us."

Leon narrowed his eyes. "Would you stop? If you knew for certain you could still have a kid?"

D did not bother protesting the uselessness of hypothetical questions -- the answer mattered to Leon in a way it did not to D -- and he could see the moment Leon realized he was not going to answer.

Prepared as he was for it, the intensity of the hurt still shocked him, both Leon's hurt and D's own response to the expression of loathing it brought. He'd known this would happen, but somehow over the last few weeks he'd stopped believing.

"Jesus, D," Leon burst out. "I can live with the hermaphrodite stuff, I can live with the makeup and the dresses and the vines and the talking animals and even the doorway to fucking Narnia. But this... at the very least it's negligent manslaughter, and even if by some chance you can convince me that what you do is not illegal, it's cruel."

This is human nature, D thought, and tried to fight it anyway, wanting something from Leon that he knew no human was capable of. Understanding, perhaps. Admission of their own destructive nature. "How is it cruel to give humans what they want?"

"When it's an alcoholic that wants the keys to a liquor store! We're bad enough on our own without you playing the devil and handing out temptation. Christ, I thought I knew you," Leon muttered. "You don't sell dreams, D, you sell death. I don't think you're any better than that prince."

D recoiled as though Leon had slapped him. "Do you understand what it meant for me, allowing you to touch my body with the hands that destroyed my entire species? I've defied my grandfather and shamed my ancestors and now you compare our paltry vengeance to genocide? I kill no living creature, Leon, I only show them their own souls."

"And you know exactly what that will do to them," Leon said, jaw out. "You chose to sleep with me, D. You knew what I was when you met me. I never hid anything." The unlike you went unsaid, but it hung in the air, sucking away all the oxygen and leaving D light-headed and weak-kneed. And what had he expected, really? Leon was human, and humans were all the same.

"Should I announce our existence on the six o'clock news then?" D asked stiffly, and Leon raked his hair back and looked away.

"I'm not that dumb. You're right to hide, and yeah, you're right to defend yourselves. But it's not right to attack people at their lowest, when they've just lost a daughter or a wife."

"My family has lost much more than that, Mr. Detective."

"I know. Trouble is, you lost your decency and compassion along with it."

Stung, D turned back to his child. He had compassion, just not for humans. He'd been a fool to ever trust one so far. "What will you do now?" he asked, and Leon opened his mouth but did not speak. D picked up the watering can again, and after a long moment, the longest D had ever endured, Leon turned his back and left.

"Kyu," Q-chan said with all the finality of a closed door. He sounded relieved, and for a single unthinkable instant D wanted to strike him. Instead he held himself immobile, forced himself to the appearance, at least, of calm. He had his son to consider.

"It will be all right, Count," Pon-chan said.

"Of course it will." D rearranged a leaf. "I've accomplished my task much sooner than I expected. Grandfather will be pleased."

"Leon will be back."

"I hardly think so. And anyway, I'll be moving the shop now. This city is far too polluted for my son to grow in. I'm thinking of Peru. How would you like to visit the Pachazoca? Or the Naum Balam? They have been great friends to my family ever since they tried to eat Grandfather's grandfather."

"Oh, Count."

"They did apologize. Yes, I think we shall impose on the Naum Balam for a time. It will be good to get away from humans." D fell silent as Pon-chan wrapped her small furry arms around his neck. A burning ache was spreading from his chest to his throat.

"We still love you."

He had to swallow before he could speak. "Thank you, Pon-chan."

*****

They didn't go to Peru. D left the shop as it was; he'd sent a letter to Grandfather and told himself he was waiting for a reply before he moved, told himself that it would be better if Grandfather returned to deal with the shop and left D to focus all his will on the child. He told himself he wasn't listening for the phone in the front room.

Leon did not call. Neither did he return with more police officers, and D supposed that either Leon had known better than to ask for a warrant, or his boss had sent him for psychiatric evaluation.

D slept, and tended his son, and took comfort from the pets who visited him. Honlon did not come, nor did she send any messages, and he tried not to care.

On the third day after budding, a petal fell. D fussed, adding more water then removing some, changing the angle of the sun. He tested the soil's acidity, and found it unchanged. Yet by sunset three more petals had fallen and close inspection of the pistil revealed no forming fruit.

He could not even pace; the umbilical vine had just enough play for him to stand comfortably and little else. Instead he wrote another letter to Grandfather, even though the first could not have yet reached him, and then fidgeted and tried to keep from calling Chris just to keep his mind occupied.

Pon-chan kept him company and Tetsu took himself off to the kitchen to cook away the tense atmosphere. Q-chan only left his side long enough to inspect the plant, flying loose circles around it and cheeping quietly to himself.

By afternoon the next day D would have called Leon and begged him to return if he thought Leon could do anything. The blossom had wilted entirely and only a few petals still clung to the peduncle, muddy coral and fading. There was still no fruit, still no reply from Grandfather, and D was only calm because panic would aggravate Q-chan's growing distress.

"Please, we must be still and concentrate," D said, as much to himself as to Q-chan, but there was no soothing him when the last petal fell. He twisted out of D's hand to vanish out the door and would not return no matter how loudly D called him.

There was little D could do. He didn't dare break the vine, he couldn't leave, and Grandfather and Q-chan and Leon had all abandoned him. By the fifth day his navel began to ache and by afternoon the burn had spread through his abdomen. Tetsu could not convince him to eat, and he lay down in the grass and talked to his son, to his father and grandfather, to the bloodthirsty spirits to whom they owed their existence. He didn't talk to Leon though, and after a while he went hoarse and fell silent. He stared dry-eyed and unblinking at the plant, which seemed healthy enough, and tended it by instinct.

"How long do you plan to lie there and snivel?"

D stiffened, and slowly turned his head. His father was in the doorway, black case in hand. Q-chan slunk into the room, giving Father a wide berth, and fluttered over to settle on a branch just out of D's reach. D struggled to sit.

Father's heavy-lidded eyes studied him, crawling over his body like a physical touch, and then his face twisted into a mask of disappointment. "I see why your little pet came to me. Clearly my father has lost control of you."

Q-chan shrieked, outraged, and D reached for him, trying to calm the little creature. Trying to calm himself, to collect his scattered wits. Q-chan had meant well and D supposed that if anyone could help him, it was Father. No one in his family appreciated hysterics, least of all Father, so D summoned a cool reasonable tone, even though his hands were shaking and his mouth was dry. "I budded a week ago. The flower formed but never bore fruit."

"So I see." Father reached out and casually snapped the umbilical vine.

"What are you doing?" D snatched too late at his father's hands. "You'll kill him!"

"Don't be obtuse. The seedling was never viable to begin with, not with all I've done to your DNA." Father tilted his head. "We're animals, child, not plants, and we need to return to our proper method of reproduction. You should never have budded at all, but that is a flaw I will work out in the next generation. For now all you've spawned is a pretty piece for your garden." He smiled and held up the black case. "Well? Let's find a table so I can examine you."

"Don't touch me." D stepped back, clutching at the broken stem. He could see it was dry and brittle to the core and he wanted to lash out, to bite and scratch at Father for causing this. He settled for baring his teeth.

"My, so emotional. I should like to test your hormone levels. This irrationality is most curious."

"Irrationality? Is that all you have to say?" D hissed. "The line is dead. Grandfather was right. You've destroyed us."

"Oh. I suppose you wouldn't know. The child, such as it is, is where it should be." Father curved his hand around D's stomach, and D was too shocked to pull away again. "Of course it might not be viable either. I've yet to eliminate the one in four chance of a YY zygote, and that's without factoring in the genetic differences between ourselves and humans." Father paused, eyes narrowed. "I'm assuming the human you adopted put you in this state, not my father."

The ground titled beneath D's feet. "That's not possible."

"It's a natural consequence of intercourse."

"We're different species."

"So are horses and donkeys, and I don't see you contending the existence of mules. I can abort it if you like."

"No," D said at once, half from the instinct to oppose his father, half from the ingrained belief that there was only one child, ever, and he must survive.

"As you wish. It may be better to learn what I can from the hybrid before it must be destroyed."

Fear flashed through him, so strong and fierce D thought his knees would buckle, because of course Father would not allow a half-human child to live, and neither would Grandfather. D was not yet sure he would either, but the thought of either of them deciding for him filled him with icy panic. "He's mine," D said without thinking. "You can't have him."

Father sighed. "How unreasonable. You carry on our family's vengeance, one insignificant human at a time, and yet you spread your legs for one the moment your hormones awaken, and now you are willing to risk contaminating the line. Forget them. Forget him. We two can create a future for our kind."

D retreated a step. Never had Father spoken so directly, though D had always, on some level, known the eventual direction of his plans. It was all too much at once. There was a child and then there wasn't and now there was again, and it was not a replica of himself but part other. His stomach twisted as he imagined the half-human creature infesting him, and then fluttered into uncertainty as the picture morphed to a half-Leon creature. He didn't know what to think or feel; he couldn't do either properly around his father, and he could bear no more twisted propositions. "Please, just go," D said, and Father's eyes narrowed.

"Is this the flavour of your gratitude? I should never have allowed my father to interfere with you. He's filled your head with the same worn-out nonsense our kind has been feeding on for centuries, wallowing in martyrdom like humans wallow in self-importance. It's not enough," Father hissed, suddenly leaning close. "Don't you understand? It's madness to keep ourselves on the razor edge of extinction. For what purpose? So we can cry and moan about what the humans did to us?

"Nature is pitiless, D, my child. She doesn't care about fairness. She only cares about survival, and to survive we must multiply." Father cupped his face, fingers cold and gentle against D's jaw. "We must repopulate the earth with our children. Only then will we have true vengeance. You were meant to be my mate," he said, "not some vulgar human's."

D swallowed, ill at remembering Leon's hands on him, remembering the way Leon made him feel while his father looked at him like that. Leon would never look at D like that again, and the thought hardened him. "I'm not your mate, Father, and I never will be."

"You're choosing to end the line?" Father asked, cool again, and Q-chan gave a piteous squeak.

"I'll try budding again," D said, hating the desperation that raised his voice an octave. "It did not work so surely they must give me another chance."

Scorn turned down Father's mouth. "Foolish child. You budded because your hormone levels changed with your pregnancy. All that tedious meditation will do is put the reproductive system I created for you into overdrive."

"Then I'll appeal to her again."

"You haven't the bloodlust to make that appeal." Father studied him for a moment, and then his expression turned to pity and D clenched his fists. "You still do not see it. That was no gift she gave us, but a curse. Spawn your hybrid if you must. I'll even let it live, and shelter it from my father if those are your conditions. But if you want our species to survive, you will allow me to father your next child. You will have many, as many as you want. Daughter--"

"Leave." D's voice cracked but Father, mercifully, stepped back.

"As you wish. In time you will see the reason of it, and when you do, you know how to find me." Father bowed mockingly to Q-chan and swept out, leaving D trembling beside a barren tree, furious at himself, his father, at Leon and Grandfather and the long-ago ancestor who did not have the sense to admit defeat and die, sparing them this humiliating end.

He tugged at the ragged stem at his navel. It was not ready to drop off, so he broke it closer to the skin and buttoned his robe over it. He could feel the rough woody end catching on the silk, and it made him think of the child hiding inside his body, an unnatural thought even though it was how his kind had once borne all their young.

A half-human child. The idea repelled and fascinated, and he pressed a trembling hand to his mouth. He knew, suddenly and with a surety that left him cold, that while Father might bend for the sake of this twisted courtship, Grandfather would never allow a hybrid to live.

His gaze fell on the bai-fong standing watch on the hill, its white silk walls slumped in a way no one would ever know how to recreate, origins forgotten like so much else in the shop. Grandfather's shop, cobbled together over the centuries from bits of borrowed magic, preserved folklore, gifts from minor deities and sympathetic demons alike. It would have been his one day, his to pass along to his son, but Grandfather would never allow it to fall into human hands. Not even half-human hands, and despite Father's plans D knew this half-human child was all he would ever bear.

He could not follow Grandfather's plan for their propagation, and he would not follow Father's.

"It's over then," D said, and the world did not end; in fact, it went spinning merrily on, birds preening feathers, spiders crafting webs, dust motes tumbling through a shaft of light. A lifetime of anticipating the crushing guilt of failure and now that it had come he felt as though someone had thrown open a window and he could breathe again.

"It's too dark down here anyway," he told Q-chan. "I'm going."

"Kyu," Q-chan said, for the first time in a week. D did not think he had ever heard a more wretched sound.

No one stopped him as he packed. Pon-chan ran away crying, Tetsu hid under the bed and growled, and Honlon at last sent a message that said only: You are the captain of your soul.

"I know that, thank you," he said tartly to the hapless sparrow that had carried the message, but he felt better all the same, knowing he had the blessing of his first child.

His and Leon's first child.

"Here's hoping the next one is not a three-headed dragon," he said, and then laughed into a folded silk shirt until he realized how close to crying it sounded. Then he emptied his half-packed suitcase onto the floor and repacked it with a single item. It was a foolish thing to do, to set out on his own so unprepared, but also liberating. Birds left the nest with far less; he too could survive by his own measure.

"I am the captain of my soul," he murmured, and allowed himself to believe it as he marched out the door and into his wonderful terrifying freedom.

****

"So that's it?" Vesca asked. "You're just letting that other D go?"

"My daughter is an adult and can make her own decisions, foolish as they may be," D murmured, not looking up from the hair sample he'd nicked off his child's sleeve. "Should I chain her up in my basement?"

"You chained me up in your basement."

"Now, now, I've told you I will undo the cuffs when you promise to stop trying to kill me. Really, Vesca. I'm an endangered species. You must be more considerate."

"I need to be more considerate? What about you, huh? What about all the people you've killed?"

"Don't be silly. Humans are by no means endangered, and in any case, you're confusing me with my father. I certainly never held any interest in running that macabre zoo, enacting those absurdly convoluted reprisals on humans one at a time. What, I ask you, does that accomplish?" D paused, and lifted his head from the scanner. "Mind you, the work does bring a delightful joy to my heart, but that is neither here nor there. My point is that killing you one by one is irrational. Your numbers are too great."

The chain clinked angrily, reminding D of a rattlesnake. "Is that why you were working on that virus for the government?" Vesca demanded. "You want to kill us all in one shot?"

"Of course not. Viruses frequently make the leap to other species, and I wouldn't want to exterminate an entire species in the course of... well, exterminating an entire species. No, the virus was an excuse I gave my father to be at S.U.N.Y., so that he would leave me be. My real work was in the side projects." D found the files he was looking for and brought them up on the larger monitor. "My ancestors' idea of revenge was timid and shortsighted, and accomplished nothing. My revenge, on the other hand..." He finished extracting a genetic sample from the follicle, and pulled it up on the monitor with the other two. "Observe. This is my daughter's DNA, this is mine, and this is yours."

Vesca was silent for a long moment. "Hers-- his-- your kid's looks like mine. It looks human."

"Superficially, yes. I've added a twenty-third pair of chromosomes. You're a man of science, Vesca. Can you guess why? No? I'll give you a hint. Hybrids of species with differing numbers of chromosomes are almost always sterile."

Vesca was silent for a long time, working through the implications. "You deliberately made your kid capable of crossbreeding with humans."

"Not just crossbreeding, Vesca, but bearing fertile hybrids. She's no longer capable of parthenogenesis. If she refused my suit -- as she did -- it would have destroyed us. I'm willing to gamble our species' future but not to that extent. But look here. The chromosomes aren't just for viability purposes. In very rare cases female mules have produced offspring, when mated to a horse or donkey. And do you know, the foal is always one hundred percent the sire's species? The other half of the dam's heritage is discarded.

"I can ensure my grandchildren are fertile, but unless they are more sensible than my daughter they will certainly take human mates, and I'm hardly about to let them spawn nothing but pure-blooded humans, our genes thrown away like yesterday's trash.

"This, Vesca, this is my virus." D touched the screen, stroking the long strings of patiently crafted code, heedless of Vesca's demands for a better explanation. "A genetic plague, a biological computer program carrying a set of instructions. It is our genes which will pass down to the children, always. Contaminated though it may be, the line will breed true through the generations, until my descendants begin to find mates in each other, and the human chromosomes can be discarded."

"You're insane."

D tilted his head, studying the man he had locked away to keep from disrupting the experiment that was Leon Orcot's courtship with his daughter. "This is revenge, and revenge is never sane. It may take a thousand years and I will never live to see its fruition, but one day, Vesca, one day the humans will wake up and find we have stolen their children, left our cuckoo's eggs in their nests, and that they have given birth to that which they once destroyed."

"How can you do all this? What are you?"

"We are singers of unheard songs. That is all." D turned away, back to the graceful spirals of biological code on which he had gambled the future. "And one way or another, we will walk upon this earth again."

****

Epilogue
Two weeks later

Leon stood outside Count D's Pet Shop, finishing his smoke and eyeing the 'open' sign warily. After careful debate he had decided against bringing chocolate, not even the smallest sampler Madame C sold. He didn't want to look like he was apologizing after all.

He was only here to feel D out, discover where they stood now that D was a crazy half-vegetable sociopath, on top of being a crazy cross-dressing hermaphrodite. Impossible as D's story was, Leon believed him, and he didn't know what that said about his own sanity.

He finished his cigarette and dropped it on the step, even though D hated when he did, because there wasn't anywhere else put it out. He checked his watch and jiggled his leg, and then lit another smoke. D got all pissy if he smelled like cigarettes but Leon's nerves were jangling and if he didn't calm down he was going to barge in there and shake D until he at least showed some remorse.

And then maybe, maybe, the wretched misery gnawing a new ulcer in Leon's stomach would go away. They might even salvage some form of friendship. He was just lucky things hadn't gotten serious. If he felt this bad when they didn't even love each other...

"Aw, fuck," Leon said. He knew he wouldn't give a shit if it were anyone else; he'd've already hauled their asses down to the precinct. He pitched the cigarette and pushed the door open.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting to see, but it certainly wasn't D standing behind the counter like nothing had changed, regarding Leon with cat-like superiority.

Only... it wasn't really D now, even if the new guy looked like D's fucking twin. His hair was up in a weird bun thing, and D's wasn't long enough to do that. His eyes matched each other too, both golden and regarding him with a cool equilibrium D often tried and rarely managed, not when Leon was the target.

"You're not D."

"How observant you are. I am his grandfather."

Grandfather! If the man was thirty Leon would eat his own badge, sans ketchup.

"You are Detective Orcot," the not-D continued, and yes, he was definitely a relative. He had the snotty attitude down.

"Yeah." Leon almost flashed his badge, but he realized that would lose him ground here, not gain it. He hesitated. Maybe he should try honey instead of vinegar; sweets always worked best on his D, and anyway Chinese were big on respecting their elders. Leon would never admit how much time he blew googling Chinese culture in an effort to understand D, though it turned out he ought to have been googling obscure mythological plant people instead. "May I ask him a few questions? Is he still..." Growing a tree from his bellybutton? "...in the, er, garden?"

"My grandson has left."

"Left?" Leon repeated, blinking stupidly. "Left for where?"

"He did not say. He was somewhat distraught at the time." The cool glare sharpened, as if that were somehow Leon's fault. After a moment Leon admitted -- privately -- that it probably was.

"Do you know when he's coming back?"

"I'm afraid not." The ice behind the polite smile said he wouldn't tell Leon even if he did know.

"I thought he couldn't leave the... thing."

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. "The 'thing' is none of your concern."

"But is he okay?"

The smile turned even icier. "That, too, is none of your concern, Detective."

"Like fuck, it isn't," Leon said, and then cursed as he realized he'd just lost any chance of learning anything further from D's grandfather.

He stalked out a few minutes later, empty-handed and feeling two feet tall. The door jangled shut behind him, but his feet had stopped working and refused to carry him up the steps. It was fine, he told himself. If D didn't want to see Leon that badly...

He punched the wall, swore viciously when his knuckles split.

"Detective Leon?"

He froze. A little girl in a frilly pink dress tugged on his hand, and he was pretty sure the girl was the raccoon that was always clambering all over D. "Shit," Leon said, and then felt like he should watch his mouth around her. She couldn't be more than six or seven. "I mean... crap. You're, um, Pon-chan, right?"

Pon-chan nodded, curls bouncing. "You remembered! I told Tetsu you weren't as big a jerk as you pretend to be."

Tetsu. The man-eating sheep-tiger. Who was probably some other weird magical creature with a grudge against humans.

"Are you looking for the count?" Pon-chan asked.

"I..." Was he? An idea had been percolating. He hadn't acknowledged it, hadn't wanted to talk himself out of it. Or into for that matter. He raked his hair back. "Do you know where he is?"

"Before he left he was talking about visiting the Naum Balam. They live in... I forget the name. It's south of here."

"San Diego?"

"Further."

"Mexico?"

"Lots further."

"South America?"

"Yeah, that's it." Pon-chan brightened. "We can go there and find the count and visit the Naum Balam and it'll be just like he said only you'll be there too and he'll be happy."

Happy. Leon tugged at his hair again, stopped when he remembered his bloody knuckles. He'd been happy. And he thought D had been happy too.

"Oh, you are not going to let her take you to D," a rough voice said. The sheep-tiger, Tetsu, was on the stairs, arms folded over his chest. Even looking like a human boy in weird M.C. Hammer pants he had horns, wicked-looking curved things that gave unnerving weight to his belligerence. The flying rabbit hovered over him, and both were glaring at Leon.

"Got a problem with that?" Leon said.

"Yeah, I do. Pon-chan couldn't find her way out of a closet."

"Doorknobs are complicated when you don't have opposable thumbs!"

"If you're looking for the count you'd best bring me along." The boy-sheep-tiger puffed out his chest and tossed Leon a challenging glare. "If you really want to find D, that is."

"Of course I-- Wait," Leon said. "I haven't even--"

"Hurray!" Pon-chan grabbed his hand in her... paw... hand... something, and danced around him. "I told you he cared, T-chan."

"Well," Leon said, flushing, and then decided to shut up before he agreed to go to the moon looking for the crazy bastard.

The bat-bunny growled, looking from Pon-chan to Tetsu to Leon. After a moment it settled gingerly on Leon's shoulder and clutched his hair with one tiny paw.

"Kyu," it ordered, as if that settled everything, and Leon supposed it did. They were going after him.