[PSOH] Dibs;
Title: Dibs Fandom: Petshop of Horrors Character/s: D, Tetsu Words: 658 Notes: Sequel to Deft, prelude to Debt (which is coming... eventually).
It was all wrong, of course. Flattering as the colours were, the idiot human was emphasising the wrong traits. The teal was too sober, the gold too close to pewter — Tetsu could have done better, could have done so much better, would have made of the Count a pale and unearthly confection of white and gold and the faintest blush of—
But the Count would insist on humouring his least-savoury of pets, and for the moment, all he wanted from Tetsu was assistance. Tetsu’s only task was to hold things until the Count needed them. The furisode was hardly the most complicated of its kind; the idiot hadn’t known any better, after all. But even the grace of the Count’s hands was not enough to make up for sharp nails on delicate fabric, or the complexities of donning traditional clothing alone.
Traditional Japanese clothing. Tetsu suppressed the urge to snort. The idiot probably didn’t even realise he’d got the culture wrong.
“You’re still snarling,” the Count murmured, mismatched eyes fond and faintly amused. Tetsu made him hold the front of the robe in place while he bent again to lift the obi. Heavy and impractical, but the colours were... tolerable. He struggled to hold back the growl, but the Count’s soft laughter told him just how well he’d succeeded.
“Still don’t see why you’re going out for the New Year,” he says at last. “I’ve got everything here to make a feast that actually deserves you...” He’d spent the whole day cleaning for it, too.
The Count turns a gentle face toward him, one hand rising to trace the edge of Tetsu’s cheek, down to cup the corner of his jaw. “Oh, Tetsu,” he murmurs. “I enjoy your fine meals so often, now, that the restaurants must wonder what has become of me. This happens to be a most convenient occasion, both to remind them of my presence, and to repay our dear detective for the rarest of occasions: his thoughtfulness.”
One mention of the moron, and the touch against Tetsu’s skin became intolerable, too much and too little in the same moment. He shook his head as if to clear his vision, but the Count would not be fooled.
“I thought we might visit the Golden Palace,” he mused over Tetsu’s head.
“Their style stinks and they’re Westernising,” Tetsu snarled, fury and jealousy perhaps increasing the vehemence of his opinion.
“Really, my dear,” the Count said, reproof belied by his smile. “How do you like the Dragon’s Pearl?”
Tetsu bites his tongue and considers. “They’re... not bad,” he allows finally, smoothing his hands along the obi and adjusting the extra decorative cords as a final touch.
“Suitable for young Christopher? And Pon-chan?”
Tetsu blinked and looked up sharply into mismatched eyes; the violet, bright with amusement, and the gold, coolly chiding.
“Really, Tetsu, you do not think I would attempt to bring in the new year with only a human for company?”
Tetsu stared for a moment, then grinned wide and feral. “I’d better get the brat into a bath, then,” he said. “And Chris,” he added as an afterthought, and the Count’s lips twitched, as they would not have were Pon-chan around to see them.
“Please do,” he said. “Remember to spare yourself some time, as well, Tetsu. Should our dear detective’s appearance shame any one of us, I do not know how I could bear it.”
Tetsu grins as he leaves the Count to his thoughts again, gorgeous and tranquil in an unnecessary riot of colour. The moron might have scored a point, but it was just one point, and anyway, there was no way he could beat Tetsu at this game.
Tetsu cooks, he cleans, he comforts — he has dibs.