Notes: This is a drabble from Kira's line challenge, requested by Megan. She handed me the first line, which I love to bits, and somehow it devolved into angst from there. I don't know why I keep writing from Ryo's POV every time I try to write FAKE, but somehow I don't think I'm helping his cause here. Even I want to smack him after this, and I wrote the damn thing. ^^;;; Escape A FAKE Fanfiction by Amet "Hey, I may be a hornball, but I'm a suave hornball, dammit!" There were times when Ryo was utterly amazed at the cheesy things that came out of Dee's mouth, lines no one in their right mind would say outside of a dime store detective novel and yet somehow it all worked because this was Dee, who managed to make 'uncouth and oversexed' endearing. He supposed it had something to do with the man's insouciant insistence that one day Ryo would return his affections, an unshakable faith that things would turn out all right in the end because he couldn't--or wouldn't--entertain the alternative, twisting tendrils of vulnerability beneath the surface of that blustering façade just visible in the shadow of eyes too world weary to fit the flippant grin Ryo had grown accustomed to. That was the crux of the situation, the tiny mitigating detail that kept Ryo coming back despite the increasingly outrageous stunts Dee pulled to get his attention--that cocky smile never really reached his eyes. When they were alone, when it was just he and Dee and lips and tongue and hands that felt so good despite all that he tried to deny himself, he could imagine that maybe it was that other Dee Latener who touched him, the one who felt so deeply it hurt beyond the telling, who lit cigarette after cigarette in shaking hands to smoke the taste of crime and death and blood from his mouth after visiting a scene, despite Ryo's protests. Despite the pain of it, Ryo found he liked that Dee, the one who wanted emotional intimacy more than he ever wanted sex, who pitched childish fits at Bikky for the sake of Ryo's attention because he'd never really had anyone all to himself before. That Dee made promises, whispered words of devotion into Ryo's skin when he'd all but given in to his partner's ministrations, ephemeral things that flittered away like wisps of cigarette smoke in a breeze beneath the weight of his foster son's disapproval, echoes of what society would impose if he allowed himself to fall. He wished sometimes that they could make them real, more permanent, something to withstand the way of things. He wished sometimes that he had the courage to tell Dee how he felt, but wishes never got him very far and Ryo invariably put his foot in his mouth when he was flustered, forgetting when all that eager energy was turned against him how easily his words could wound. All these swirling thoughts inside his head, violent as a hurricane, and the words were always at the tip of his tongue, waiting for that perfect moment that never came. All these thoughts, and he just tipped his head and rolled his eyes, turning Dee around to lead him from the bullpen. "You just keep thinking that, buddy." return to splash page