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Sitting in his usual spot in the pet shop, Leon tried to remember exactly when tea time with Count D became routine . When it stopped being an excuse to surveil the owner, becoming instead something he didn’t think about or question -- if it was tea time, he’d better head over to the shop. It had certainly been long enough that there was no way to bring it up without it getting awkward. It wasn’t an obligation now, not really, but Leon wondered what would happen if he didn’t show up in Chinatown every afternoon.
Would Count D miss him?
He felt like a dumb sap even thinking it.
“What’re your plans this weekend?” Leon asked -- it was Friday and he’d been dreaming of the beach since, well, April. But it was mid-July and his base tan was somehow still shit.
“Oh, I’m not sure yet. I have to visit a supplier on the next full moon and it’ll take some planning.”
That got Leon’s attention. Despite their regular tea time, he was as sure as ever that the Count was dirty in some way -- he barely believed in coincidences, and a whole string of them told his gut that something was going on.
“A supplier, huh? Some illegal animal breeder? Got a Medusa or a Dracula or something to pick up?”
Count D smirked enigmatically, but shook his head. His hair obediently remained almost perfectly in place, a sleek veil over his pale eye. “It’s nothing that dramatic.”
“What makes it a journey, then?” Leon asked, sipping at his tea -- D had finally started leaving his black, and had even started including savory snacks to their repasts.
“It’s a long drive from LA to the Cascades, and I’m not sure how to make it.” D picked up a pastry with delicate fingers that ended in glossy black nails. A new manicure, not that Leon noticed this kind of stuff
“What, you don't have one?" The Count could certainly afford it.
“Why would I need a car in the city?”
Leon snorted -- that was a new one. “How do you get around? I’m pretty sure you can’t actually fly.”
D shrugged, but the smirk remained. “It isn’t usually a problem -- besides, I'm too busy to spend all that time in traffic."
Leon was certain he’d just been subtly insulted, but he didn’t have a snappy comeback.
Instead, he ate a macaron.
--
Three days before the full moon, Leon popped in to the pet shop and was relieved to see the Count was finally back -- he'd missed two lunches in a row at the beginning of the week without even leaving a note, and it hadn’t even been a full moon.
"How's the trip planning coming?" he asked as he settled into his usual spot. Count D was already sipping from his ornate teacup, beguiling as ever.
"I think I’ve gotten all the necessary supplies, but there’s no guarantee with this kind of thing.”
“You found a ride yet?" Leon tried to ask it as casually as he could.
"I was thinking of asking your fellow officer, Jill," D said blithely, that damn smirk curling at the sides of his mouth.
"What?!" Leon knew they’d met but he didn’t know they talked. “Jill? You’d ask her before me, your regular lunch date?”
D rewarded that slip of the tongue with a full blown smile, the kind that made him look less like a shady purveyor of illegal goods and more like a young man Leon could imagine meeting in a bar and taking home. It was a nice smile.
The thought stopped him cold -- when had he started thinking about D’s mouth? -- and he almost missed his opportunity to volunteer his own chauffeur services. “What was that?”
“I said you’re welcome to take me yourself, but you never struck me as much of an outdoorsman, and it is quite a long drive.”
“Hey, what’s the supposed to mean? You don’t scream, “I love hiking” yourself, you know.”
“I can’t say you’re wrong,” D said with another smirk, waving his hand (an electric blue polish today). “But this might require a night out in the woods.”
“I can do a night in the woods, buddy,” Leon huffed before reaching for a pastry. “So where are we going?”
--
They had agreed to leave Friday morning -- it was a ten hour drive to the Cascades and that was without LA traffic on their way out of the city, but Count D said he won’t be meeting his supplier til late night on Saturday, and this gave them the day to “scope out the scene,” as he said.
So Thursday night Leon was tossing and turning in his bed, wondering why he even volunteered for this. Sure, there was a chance that he’d catch Count D in the act of committing a crime, but there was no guarantee. And D wasn’t an idiot -- he wouldn’t be bringing Leon along if the crime was obvious.
Really, there was only a slim chance of this helping Leon’s case, and a huge likelihood of this just being a waste of a summer weekend.
He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t let this one go. It wasn’t like he was a real commitment guy, and he picked partners accordingly -- it wasn’t that hard to find a beautiful person of any persuasion who didn't want strings, even if cops weren’t exactly the hottest commodity on the scene. (No one ever listened when he insisted he was a detective, not a beat cop. He helped people. It was different.)
But here he was, alone in bed, thinking about the elusive Count, his thin wrists and the tilt of his mouth. The elegant way D poured tea -- even the way he could be brusque and cold.
At some point, Leon realized, he was going to have to really interrogate this creeping obsession. Or he was going to have to arrest the Count once and for all. He didn’t think this weekend was going to be the time either of those things happened, and he got up to grab a beer. It was too hot in his room and he needed to sleep soon for the long day ahead.
--
“So where are we actually going?” Leon gripped his travel mug of coffee with a firm hand -- he wasn’t a morning person unless it was getting to the gym and decidedly not speaking to a single person there.
Count D, however, definitely looked like a morning person, fresh-faced with an assortment of bags by the door of the shop in a perfectly unrumpled outfit.
“This is a lot of luggage for a two day trip.”
“It’s good to be prepared -- something I’d assume a detective would understand.”
Leon scowled; it was too early for teasing. “Just tell me you’ve got a destination in mind.”
“We’re headed to Mt. Shasta. Well, technically, Mt. Eddy, and really more of the glen surrounding it.”
“Great.” Leon fiddled with his GPS -- it was technically the precinct’s but everybody took theirs home for the weekend. “What are we pickin’ up? I hope it’s nothing big.”
Count D smiled. “I think it’ll be more fun as a surprise.”
Leon rolled his eyes, but didn’t ask again.
--
The drive was surprisingly non-eventful, pleasant even. Count D understood a companionable silence and didn’t object when Leon sang along to the radio. Leon appreciated getting the respect he deserved as the driver; Jill was always giving him “constructive criticism.”
When they reached the limits of Mount Shasta City, Leon’s legs were sore from the drive. He was pretty sure he’d developed a farmer’s tan, as well, and it was already night outside. D pulled a yellowing map out from one of his many bags in the backseat (“For ease of access.”)
“What, you don’t trust my GPS?”
“We’re staying somewhere that likes to stay as… unsurveiled as possible.”
“Whatever,” Leon said, tired, and he let himself be directed until they pulled up to an enormous, asymmetric Victorian mansion.
“You’re buying a lizard here?” he asked, skeptical.
D huffed a small laugh. “It’s not a lizard, and this is our hotel for the weekend.”
“Parking better be free here at the Addams’ family house,” Leon muttered as he looked for a place to park.
--
"This place is creepy as hell, D," Leon said, dropping his duffel onto the wood floor. At least the one bed was enormous -- they wouldn’t be encroaching too much on each other’s space. It was also a dark wood, canopied monstrosity with thick velvet curtains.
"Isn't it decadent?" The Count themself fit right in, the brocade embroidery on his dress just as luxurious as the bed. The walls were busy with printed wallpaper and the furniture looked like well-oiled antiques.
Leon felt a little out of place in his jeans and t-shirt, not that he’d ever admit it.
"Just so we're clear, you're footing the bill for this, right? This is way beyond what my salary can cover." He rubbed his hand against the velvet comforter on the bed.
D chuckled, waving a fine-boned hand (emerald green polish) dismissively. "Don’t worry about it. You're already doing me a favor."
Despite the opulence, Leon was still surprised when D emerged from the admittedly luxurious bathroom after a shower, his willowy form ensconced in an elegant robe.
"Damn, I need to upgrade my PJs." Leon felt even more extremely under-dressed, wearing a pair of basketball shorts and a ratty shirt from an intra-department baseball tournament (his station won, natch).
"I have sensitive skin."
“Oh, sure,” Leon said. He tried not to notice the way the robe slid off D’s shoulders, the way the silk of his nightdress rode up his pale thighs.
“I hope you don’t mind sharing a bed,” D said. His nails were bright against the bedding as he turned down the bed.
Leon studied his face, wondering if this too were a joke at his expense. “I’m surprised you didn’t spring for a private room.”
“Sleeping here alone is always a treat, but I have to be well-rested in the morning.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I think you’ll be a deterrent for any spirits in the house. You’re too skeptical.”
“Ghost aren’t real,” Leon said, sliding under the covers. The sheets felt expensive -- he’d never thought about thread count before in his life and he realized how wrong he’d been this whole time.
“Of course not,” D said, settling into bed as well and then clicking off the light. “Sweet dreams.”
--
Leon dreamed of a shuffling fawn, of a waterfall, of smoke swirling around the Count’s hand as he reached out to grab Leon’s chin, his smile warm and fond. They were in a club, and the Count handed him a drink, neon green and sparkling. An appletini? Seems like something the Count would like. Leon took it, but scanned the crowd -- where was the Bambi he’s been watching? Where was the grass? He drank, and the Count smiled.
He awoke in a sweat, his foot hooked over one of the Count’s ankles and an impressive morning wood, the dream forgotten in a haze of embarrassment. He fell asleep.
--
In the actual morning, Count D and Leon ate breakfast in the dining hall of the hotel. Leon could only watch as D ate pastry after pastry; he stuck to an omelette and home fries. The rest of the day felt strange, almost fake, as he and D ambled through the town they were nearest to, popping into shops. He almost felt the urge to grab the Count’s hand in his own as they walked down the sidewalk.
It was almost like being on a romantic vacation, he thought inanely as he watched the Count eat dessert. One bed, champagne at lunch, a luxurious chocolate cake, only Leon had never been this confused about what he was actually feeling -- normally lust was pretty easy to identify. He begged off for a post lunch nap, worried he might actually grab D’s hand, kiss his knuckles and each long finger in a fit of disassociation from the real world, where D was a criminal and Leon a cop.
It didn’t help, but at least he had some space.
--
They set out at dusk, Leon back in the driver’s seat taking directions from a map that looked like it was drawn by a child. The hotel wasn’t exactly near anything to begin with, but Mt. Shasta loomed to the east of them as they drove through the National Forest.
"So what exactly are you here to pick up? I think I deserve to know if I'm abetting a felony at this point."
D laughed. “You know I would never sell anything illegal.”
Leon snorted. “Sure, only because nobody thought to write a law against selling mermaids.”
"We’re here to pick up a ghost deer."
Leon glanced at D in the passenger seat. "A deer? Sounds less exotic than your usual fare -- don’t know why you need me to drive all the way out here for that."
"You can’t find a ghost deer just anywhere -- but there have been numerous sightings in this area over the years. The type we’re looking for is native to the state."
"A home grown ghost, huh? What makes it so special? Is it secretly a beautiful woman like that lizard was supposed to be?"
"You’re so quick to disbelieve your own eyes, detective.”
“And why are we going to the woods if you have a supplier? ”
“You’ll have to figure that one out for yourself.” D smirked.
“Sure, sure.” Leon wasn’t getting anywhere with this. “So who’s in the market for a ghost deer anyway?”
D’s eyes glowed in the dimming sun. “I don’t have a buyer yet -- I probably won’t find one for some time.”
“Then why haul my ass all the way out here?”
“You offered.” D smiled blandly, but his white eye glittered.
--
It didn’t take long for night to fall -- and that left Leon and D hiking by just the light of the moon and Leon’s police-grade flashlight, the car left behind so as not to be seen. Eventually they came upon what looked like a deer blind, an old and abandoned one made of wood. It was simple, a ladder with a small platform on top, hidden in a copse of trees.
“This is it!” D folded the map and put it into one of the 15 pouches on his backpack. He then gestured at Leon to go up.
"How long are we gonna be out here?" Leon whispered loudly, climbing up as D walked further into the woods.
"Shouldn't you be used to late night stakeouts?"
Leon huffed. "I'm usually inside my car, not in a deer blind."
He watched as D began to pull various objects out of his pack -- a large, black salt lick on a string that he hung from a low tree branch. Then there were a few sticks of incense, which he stuck into the dirt under the blind and then lit.
He climbed elegantly up the ladder and sat next to Leon, his robe rustling but seemingly not a hindrance.
“Don’t these things normally have some kind of wall to hide us?”
D shrugged and lifted his binoculars to his eyes. They looked more like opera glasses, but they had as much magnification as Leon's police issued pair. It was impressive, thought Leon, the commitment to the aesthetic.
"The full moon should hit its peak soon, don't worry."
The moon was bright enough to reflect off D's already pale skin, making him seem to almost glow. Strange and beautiful. Not the first time Leon thought those words about the Count, but certainly the most conventionally romantic time.
They sat, watching the moon glow and the fauna rustle about. Rabbits, rats, regular deer, even bats flittered past in the woods behind them and the glen in front of them.
Leon wasn't sure what he was expecting a ghost deer to be -- an albino mule deer, perhaps. California didn’t have towering elks or bucks with 16 point racks. But the creature that stepped through the woods was almost as big as a moose, with antlers branching toward the sky -- ten points on one, twelve on the other.
It was white -- but not like an albino would be. The fur was pearlescent, luminous with reflected light but also with something else, something that almost shimmered, blurring the deer around the edges. It was like a mirage, watching it lap delicately and the proffered salt.
He would have considered it a dream if it wasn’t for D, firm and warm and real next to him, just as solid as he had been in bed.
Behind the majestic beast were similarly opalescent deer, smaller, younger, does and bucks alike. Less dignified -- he could see now they were jockeying for position, bumping against each other. Playing.
"It's best that you wait here." D leapt from the blind and landed lightly on the dewy grass, cape billowing behind him. It was artistic and irritating, dramatic in the most elegant way possible.
"Yeah, sure," Leon muttered to the air where D used to be.
D bowed to the largest ghost deer, who bent his front legs in return, antlers angled down. The fawns stilled, pawing at the ground and all staring at D with intent, an intelligence Leon had never seen reflected in the deer he’d seen elsewhere.
One of the smallest fawns stepped forward and bowed, clumsy but serious.
All three figures straightened almost in unison, like they’d practiced this ritual before. The largest, the parent, nudged the child with its chin, making it stumble closer to D. Then, silently, the ghost deer and its progeny made their way back toward the mountain.
The deer and D studied each other for a long moment, before D reached down and began to pat the deer. He pulled a rope of sparkling fibers out from his pack and leashed the deer, who trotted happily enough beside him as he made his way back to the blind.
“You can come down now!” D called, securing the fawn to one of the legs of the blind. He pulled an apple that shone like gold from his pack and the deer, almost transparent in the moonlight, bit into it happily and knocked it out of his hand.
Leon did not feel smooth as he clambered down, settling to face the Count.
D cupped his face in a smooth hand, long fingers against his cheek. His hand was cool as he pulled Leon closer, but his mouth was warm as it touched Leon’s own.
The kiss was soft, a question more than an answer, and Leon wasn’t sure what to say.
“Thank you for accompanying me.” D took a small step back, and Leon followed with his own step forward.
--
Later, in the dewy grass, Leon looked at Count D and asked, “Wait, how the hell are we gonna take this guy home?”
Count D laughed, like bells, like stars.