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What's The Big Deal?

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Catching Izaya gave him an unhealthy dose of exciting satisfaction.

He briefly thought that this fact was probably manifesting itself in a form of some kind of sick grin that he felt was currently stretching his lips and he was perfectly aware of the wrongness of it. But oh, who gives a shit?

Running around the city after than insect had always been quite thrilling - it let him unleash his pent up frustration, allowed him to go all out without fearing the consequences and generally served him as some ridiculously paradoxical form of stress reliever.

Not that he would ever admit any of it, obviously.

By the time he managed to grab the flea and trap him between the nearest flat surface and his body, they were both breathless. Rasping for air, they were doing their ‘staring contest’ thingy; the raven heavily leaned against the wall and panted through his lips that were slightly parted on a loose smirk, and Shizuo loomed over him, also huffing breaths that were gently blowing Izaya's bangs away from his forehead - that's how close they were, and it was disturbing that it wasn't disturbing.

The blond wasn't sure if he really was trapping the other against the wall or only leaning against it for mere support and the flea just happened to be in between - he was fucking spent.

“Gotcha,” he heaved, without breaking the stare into those glistening, red eyes that seemed to perfectly mirror the state of the familiar after-chase bliss that he himself was experiencing, “what you gonna do now, huh?” Shizuo added and slightly lowered himself as to be more on the eye level with the other.

“I don't know,” the pest whispered, seemingly unfazed but still equally breathless and his smirk widened, “I guess I'll go make my order or something, Shizu-chan.”

Baffled, Shizuo only managed to blink in confusion, as he realized that ‘the wall’, against which they were both leaning, apparently turned out to not be ‘the wall’ whatsoever, but rather ‘the door’. It suddenly sank under the blond's hands as Izaya had pushed the handle to elegantly slip in, and Shizuo almost toppled forward to fall onto the visibly amused flea, who only smiled smugly and stepped further into what appeared to be the inside of Russia Sushi.

The raven then threw him an amused glance, seemingly relishing the view of bewilderment visible on Shizuo’s face (and Shizuo was doing his best to comprehend how and when they actually arrived to their destination, and wondered how come he was so fixated on the other that he didn't fucking realized, and then it also struck him how often that kind of shit was actually happening- ) before he turned on his heels, swiftly stuck his hands into the pockets of his coat and casually went to approach the counter. 

The blond's scowl gave away to melt into a resigned surrender as he sighed heavily and followed after Izaya. When he tore his eyes away from the raven’s back he actually looked around to take in his surroundings. 

The heavy silence that fell over the entire place upon their arrival could only be compared to that of the old western movies, when the protagonists were entering the local saloon.

Yeah, that was a pretty good comparison.

He could almost see the tumbleweed lazily rolling across the floor under his feet.

There weren't many people - but then again, when there were ever people in here?

Anyway, each and every of the limited pairs of eyes landed on them instantly and the diners stilled completely in whatever they were currently doing to simply stare at them in a mild surprise or shock even.

Dennis stopped chopping the sushi with his chef knife stilling in mid air and his mouth hanging agape.

The Ryuga-something kid and his female friend (he was pretty sure he should remember her name by now, but wasn't), who were eating at one of the tables, froze in their movement as well - the girl gasped and clapped a hand over her lips and the boy produced an indefinable, rather perplexed sound and a piece of a quite well chewed sushi fell from his mouth to splatter across his dish.

In case of the rest of the diners, their reaction didn't oscillated far away from that of the highschool pair.

Simon, who was apparently on his way to deliver an order to one of the booths, dropped all the dishes he was carrying with a spectacular clank and stood there petrified, visibly not quite believing his own eyes as he blinked rapidly. Once he apparently snapped out of it, a wide smile eventually stretched his lips and the blond decided it was a good moment to look away.

Shizuo just watched them all, terrified to the bone, cold sweat forming on his forehead and he stole a tentative glance at Izaya to see how he took it, but obviously the sick fuck was apparently taking some sort of disquieting pleasure in studying their reactions since his smile became so wide it was borderline shuddersome as his eyes literally glinted with excitement while they darted from one diner to another.

The blond swallowed thickly and trotted to match his steps with the pest’s who was making his way to Dennis. 

“Hello. We would like a table for two,” Izaya said then, as he leaned across the counter with a disgusting display of self-confidence and Shizuo vaguely wondered where the hell it came from. 

Dennis however, seemed to be as perturbed as Shizuo was, since he glanced questioningly at the blond in a search of some kind of reassurance that he didn’t go nuts but when he saw the exact same look in debt collector’s eyes he heaved a sigh.

“Private booth or in the hall?”

Then Izaya turned to Shizuo with a smile that only promised exasperation. “I don’t know. What do you think, Shizu-chan? Would you like to make it more private ?”

Shizuo thought briefly about the arrangement of him and Izaya being closed together in a quite narrow space and quickly dismissed the idea as it seemed cataclystic. 

“The hall. Definitely the hall,” he uttered a little bit too fast which elicited an ugly smile on the flea’s face.

“Boring,” Izaya pouted before turning his attention back to the man behind the counter. “You’ve heard him, Dennis.”

Dennis, who still eyed them as if they both had grown another head, muttered, “Number 8 then. Simon will come to get your order.” When they turned to leave to the said table he called after them again, “Don’t wreck my restaurant, will you?”

Shizuo just nodded reluctantly and Izaya chuckled. 


Their table was placed in the far end of the restaurant, against the wall. As they walked through the bar, he eyed the raven with a mild suspicion and frowned as Izaya’s smile suddenly widened. He followed his gaze and realized why.

The table they approached consisted of a loveseat instead of chairs. 

One loveseat.

Right. The table for two. 

Fucking hell.

He glared at the chief from over his shoulder but he already disappeared somewhere in the kitchen, probably experiencing an existential crisis or something, judging by the last expression he saw on him. So instead, he glared at the table and at the flea, who already made himself comfortable on the ill-fated seat and invitingly patted the space beside him, with a shit-eating grin.  

With an exasperated huff he turned on his heels and approached the nearest diners - the highschool pair. The boy straightened himself in his seat and put on an expression which was far from natural and the girl tried to compose her smile since it was too wide and too enthusiastic. ‘Tried’ being a keyword.

“Hey, umm…” Shizuo trailed off and scratched the back of his neck.

“R-Ryuugamine,” the teen offered weakly. Oh, so it wasn’t Ryuuganagi. 

“Right, Ryuugamine, would you guys mind if I took that chair?” he pointed at the unoccupied seat with his head.

“Not at all, Shizuo-san,” the girl answered meekly with a smile and a glint in her eyes. She was being weird. He could tell.

“Thanks…” the blond trailed off again and looked at her apologetically to which she only smiled more.

“Ah, it’s Sonohara Anri.”

“Yeah, thanks Anri-chan,” he grabbed the chair and proceed to turn back and leave them but then he felt a tug at the hem of his shirt. He looked down to see Anri beckoning him to lean closer. Hesitantly, he did. 

“Good luck, Shizuo-san! I’m sure you’ll help Izaya-san to become a better person,” she whispered in all seriousness; determination and slight excitement apparent in her hushed voice. 

Shizuo felt a shiver running down his spine at the realization that she indeed was one of them. After gulping hard and somehow restraining the unshakable need to protest, he simply nodded and left the gittery girl and the awkward boy.

He was still frowning when he approached his and the pest’s table to put down the newly obtained chair on the opposite of where Izaya sat; the flea was smiling happily with his eyes glued to the screen of his smartphone. He lifted his reddish-brown gaze to lock it on Shizuo and when he saw the blond sitting down he giggled quietly.

“Aww, is Shizu-chan shy? You could just sit next to me, I don’t bite this hard,” the corners of his lips stretched on a vicious smile that made Shizuo’s blood boil with exasperation and uneasiness. Or with something else. Fuck knows. He gritted his teeth though, and closed his eyes to compose himself. Because of all of that shit he nearly forgot about his newfound resolve. The flea won’t have an upper hand in that, alright. 

When he opened his eyes again, he put on his best smile, hoping for it to be convincing - and apparently it was, judging by the way Izaya’s own smile faltered ever so slightly. Huh, maybe there was some truth to that blabber about some ‘acting genes’ in his family.

“Nah,” he started with a perfect nonchalance, “just wanted to sit opposite, so I could see you better, Izaya-kun.” He then reached out across the table and tenderly brushed away a few strands of silky, black hair to tug them behind the raven’s ear. Vaguely, he thought it was slowly getting a little bit out of hand with how much he enjoyed touching Izaya’s hair. It was so soft, delicate and feather-like. Somehow, it reminded him of a cat’s fur. 

Izaya stilled completely under his touch, visibly startled and seemingly at the loss for words. The slow and deep intake of breath he produced didn’t escape Shizuo’s attention as well. The blond also noted that physical contact was doing wonders in terms of flustering the other and proceeded to test that hypothesis some more by gently sliding his fingers from behind Izaya’s ear to slowly trail them along the line of his jaw, all that while marvelling over how smooth his skin was in touch. With innocent curiosity, utterly forgetting that his action was initially meant to spite the other, he stopped his fingertips at the chin and grabbed it lightly between his index and thumb to lift Izaya’s face a bit. His eyes then moved from the trail of his fingers and travelled up to meet the flea’s crimson gaze. It was approximately then that he noticed how the other's face was flushed, his eyes slightly widened and how his lips were parted on the unvoiced question and he quickly, probably way too quickly and clumsily, withdrawn his hand back to his side, with the automatic apology threatening to leave his lips, was he not to bite his tongue in the very last second.

Okay, so, he was supposed to act all smugly and confident.

And oh boy, didn't he just fail miserably.

Shizuo quickly averted his gaze from Izaya's conflicted expression and prayed inwardly to any god out there that his face didn't look similar because it sure felt as if it did. Trying to suppress a frown, scowl or any other particular display of his inner discomfort he glued his eyes to the table before them and maintained a small smile in order to at least feign his, obviously nonexistent at the moment, self-confidence. He was kind of ashamed, repulsed with himself, for touching the other for so long without his consent. Wasn't that some sort of violation? The flea was the flea but still - invading his personal space like that was probably kinda low, now that he thought about it. Silence fell over them and that was worrisome. The flea still didn't bitch about anything. After few seconds he dared to look up again. And, oh, the look on Izaya's face was just irreplaceable.

He kinda looked like something had just died in him and it seemed that he had joined Dennis in having an existential crisis as he was blankly staring at the table, his cheeks still slightly flushed and his eyes empty, seemingly thinking about something intensely. Shizuo hoped he was not scheming another stunt to match the one he had just performed, because beating that would probably involve something unthinkable. He thought about teasing the other for his sudden muteness, just to break the silence, but didn't have the chance (and thank god, he didn't feel like talking, really) as Simon approached their table, wearing a smile so fucking downright disturbing that Shizuo shuddered.

“Shi-zu-o, Izaya,” the black man exclaimed, “I am happy. To see you with no fight. Fighting never was good. Finally friends. Or more?” he tried in his broken japanese and grinned a toothy, sincere grin . “I’ve heard of Shizaya. Good idea. Very good,” Simon continued and Shizuo’s hand that was gripping the edge of their table, squeezed a little bit too hard and the wood cracked slightly.

Spare it, Simon, seriously, spare it.”

Simon frowned at the blond’s action, displeased. “Okay, okay. No property damage please. What is your order?”

“Ah, maki for me, thanks,” Shizuo announced and placed his pack of American Spirits on the table, “and the ashtray.”

“Understood. Izaya? The usual?”

But the flea still seemed to be broken as his eyes were yet to leave this one particular spot on their table. He blinked however, probably sensing he was asked a question and lifted his gaze to look at Simon, “Yes, ootoro. And a bottle of vodka. That big bottle, please,” he said flatly.

Simon smiled knowingly and nodded, “Understood, the usual and the special treat.” He grinned before he left to the kitchen. 

“Wait, vodka? What the fuck?” Shizuo’s brows knitted on confusion.

“Shut it, Shizu-chan. I feel like having a drink. Or two. Or seven.”

“Yeah, but… Seriously, what? Do they serve it here? I mean, it’s a sushi bar...”

“It’s a sushi bar owned and run by Russians . Move a brain cell or two, you protozoan.”

Okay, so the flea was seriously pissed. It was audible in his voice. He decided to leave him be for now, he didn’t feel like having an eyeball carved out with a knife. 

The informant went back to staring at his phone and soon he was smiling again. Shizuo craned his neck to look at the screen but with no luck. 

Izaya lifted his gaze and chuckled. “It’s rude to look into people’s phones, Shizu-chan. But if you must know, I was browsing our newly posted pictures on the Dollars’ forum.”

What-” he was about to throw a tantrum but Simon arrived to their table, placing their order on it. 

“Maki, Ootoro, and special treat,” he announced and put a liter bottle of vodka, an ashtray and two shot-glasses next to their dishes. 

Shizuo was still exasperated about the vodka being served in a sushi bar. He however decided to not voice his bewilderment.

“Finally,” Izaya exclaimed while rubbing his hands together. 

“Have fun,” Simon said with a wink and then left them alone. Shizuo wanted to punch him. 

“Alright, let’s play a game Shizu-chan.”

“No way in hell.”

“Okay, what would you say about ‘21 questions’? Perfect game for a first date , don’t you think?”

“I’m pretty sure I just said ‘no way in hell’.”

“Remember the rules - one is absolutely not allowed to lie. Also, we’re making it into drinking game. We drink a shot while both asking and answering the questions.”

“I never agreed to that, you shit.” 

“We need to determine who starts,” the flea frowned for a second before his eyes widened and he reached for his wallet, “let’s flip a coin. You prefer heads or tails?”

Shizuo pinched the bridge of his nose while heaving a sigh of complete surrender. “Heads,” he muttered with resignment and lit a cigarette. The pest then proceeded to pour the vodka into both of their glasses. 

Once done, Izaya flipped the coin and watched with cheerful anticipation as it hit the surface of their table and started to spin around itself a few times before finally falling flat and revealing the answer. 



Excited gasp and annoyed growl could be heard simultaneously. 

“Yay! So I start,” Izaya clapped and exclaimed happily. Then, he grabbed his shot, downed it at once and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. A vicious smirk decorated his features before he spoke:

“Are you a virgin?”

Shizuo coughed loudly as he choked on the cigarette smoke. He looked at the other through teary eyes with a clearly murderous intent.

“What the fuck, flea?!” the blond growled, “Seriously, that’s the first thing you’re asking?!”

The raven chuckled softly, visibly content with Shizuo’s reaction. “Well, when it comes to this game, it always ends up with those kind of questions eventually,” he shrugged, “so why don't we get over with them first, ne?” Izaya added as he trailed his fingertip along the rim of his glass, smiling. “Or maybe Shizu-chan wants to chicken out?”

Goddamn, annoying, smug piece of shit-

Shizuo’s teeth gritted as he held his glare.

As if,” he grunted before taking his own shot and emptying it. An involuntary grimace twisted his face as the burning taste of an alcohol struck him. God, how he hated alcohol. Shuddering slightly, he placed the empty glass on the table with a loud thud and again bore his eyes into the other. The amount of amusement that poured out of flea’s expression was definitely unhealthy. 

Fine, whatever. He sighed with irritation. 

“Yeah, I am,” he admitted, doing his damnest to not blush. 

Izaya’s smirk extended and a weird sparkle appeared in his eyes. The sparkle that said ‘I knew it’ way too loudly. “How come?”

“Is that your next question? If not, then it’s not your fucking business,” he growled and looked anywhere but at Izaya. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you already know the answer to that. You’re just being an ass for bringing this shit up.” 

“Is it possibly because Shizu-chan is scared of hurting his partner in the process?” Izaya continued , with a very nasty smile plastered to his face. There comes his fucking revenge for earlier. 

Shizuo’s jaw tensed as he smoked, completely ignoring Izaya’s question. His eyes were downcast, a deep frown visible on his face. That shit stung in a special kind of way and he really didn't want to talk about it. Completely neglecting his sexual desires was his conscious decision, out of the sheer terror of accidentally snapping someone's spine for example. As ridiculous as it may sound, when he was involved, it was a real and possible threat. When the pest giggled quietly, he lifted his gaze to glare at the other. The bastard knew exactly which strings should be pulled to completely ruin his mood. After a few seconds of staring, Izaya sighed. 

“No fun,” he mumbled. “Okay, sorry,” he said without an ounce of honesty, “for hurting your monstrous feelings.” The flea then refilled both glasses.

“Fuck you.” 

Izaya ignored him. “Okay, so what is your question then?”

Shizuo sighed heavily and reached for the shot Izaya had refilled for him. He downed it and placed the glass back on the table. The fluid burnt the entire length of his esophagus before it reached his stomach to spread the familiar warmth. “Why the fuck do you keep calling me ‘Shizu-chan’?” the blond blurted out instantly, before he even realized he wanted to ask some equally nasty question to match the one of Izaya. 

Izaya blinked a few times, a genuine surprise decorating his face for a moment and then he burst out with laughter. “Really now, is that the first thing you’re asking?” he managed to utter as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. 

“Well, it pisses me off to no end and goes on for ages by now, so I wanna fucking know,” Shizuo said gruffly and lit another cigarette, trying to not think about how fucking mesmerising was the way Izaya genuinely laughed. He was being a total asshole and should not be this attractive. 

The flea smirked at him again before downing his second shot. His cheeks became rosy. “If you insist to know,” he started and refilled their glasses again, “you see, before I even saw you for the first time, I’ve heard about you. When I was asking around, this one girl, who claimed she went with you to the elementary, referred to you as ‘Shizu-chan’. Which automatically made me assume you’re a girl. Shizuka or something,” he chuckled. “Anyway, your reaction when I first called you that, as my own inside joke, was simply too hilarious to stop, so I sticked to it,” he grinned when he finished.

“Yeah, well, you could fucking stop now, how about that?” Shizuo growled with irritation and tapped the ash from his cigarette. 

But Izaya only smiled wider, “No way, Shizu-chan. I’m too used to it by now. I’m doing it without thinking, actually. Besides, I just know you like it.”

“I hate it and I told you that thousands of times!”

“Okay, next question then!” the flea exclaimed and downed yet another shot, completely ignoring Shizuo’s discontent. “Hmm…”


Approximately eight shots, and all pieces of sushi later, Shizuo stopped giving a shit about the shamefulness of Izaya’s questions and simply answered them with a straight face while trying to come up with something equally sordid. After about fifth shot the flea’s speech begun to slur, he was red-faced and was laughing definitely too much, but Shizuo’s request to drink only while answering fell on deaf ears. He was also called a coward. 

Shizuo just finished his tenth shot after answering how often did he masturbate on weekly basis, while detailing whether he prefered mornings or evenings and stating that he could easily do with or without porn. He then proceeded to refill his own glass, because the flea was probably too drunk to do that by now. He stared at the clear liquid with a frown. He was running out of sick questions. He took a deep breath and downed the eleventh shot before putting the glass back on the table. He grimaced. So. Fucking. Gross. Ah, right, the question. So… “Who was your first love?” he asked without thinking.

Upon those words, the flea who was constantly wriggling in his seat to the sounds of music quietly playing from the restaurant’s speakers, stilled completely. For a second his drunken expression went completely slack and he stared at Shizuo in complete horror.

“What?” the blond frowned while he lit his cigarette. But in a fraction of a second, that annoying smirk was back on its place. 

Izaya smiled wider and in a sluggish motion grabbed his glass to bring it to his lips. “Nothing, Shizu-chan,” he sing-sang from over the rim of his glass. “To answer your question, the humanity, of course!” And he downed it. Some of the vodka streamed down his chin, and he licked his lips slowly once he placed the glass back on the table. Shizuo wasn’t staring. Of course he wasn’t.

“Yeah, that’s bullshit, and we both know it,” he exhaled the smoke into flea’s general direction.

The raven gasped, feigning hurt, “But of course it’s true! My love for humanity is pure and everlasting.” 

“Sure it is, Izaya-kun. But I was asking about your first love . I won’t believe that you jerked off to the concept of the entire fucking humanity while in high or middle school,” he said and tapped away the cigarette’s ashes before attempting to bring the stick back to his lips. Attempting , because the goddamned flea had swiftly snatched the cigarette out of his hand suddenly. “OI,” Shizuo firmly protested, “give it the fuck back, you pest.” 

But Izaya only smirked at him smugly, before he brought the cigarette to his mouth and ostentatiously took a deep drag to exhale it right into Shizuo’s face. He then giggled and licked his lips but suddenly he froze as he did so. 

Rather annoyed, Shizuo lifted an eyebrow at the sight of Izaya abruptly bellowing with a manic laugh, apparently for no goddamn reason at all.  

He shot him a glare so deadly it would surely kill if possible but the flea was too caught up in a fit of laughter to appreciate the effect. 

“What now?!” he demanded as he observed Izaya giggling uncontrollably.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” the teary-eyed raven managed to breath out, “just realized I’ve just tasted Shizu-chan’s indirect kiss.”

Upon seeing Shizuo’s reaction to that statement - which involved him going completely still, subsequently opening and closing his mouth on an attempt to articulate some sort of response that apparently wasn’t going to eventually leave his lips, and turning almost bright-red -  the intoxicated informant erupted with renewed chuckles that stole all the remaining air from his lungs, leaving him in a helpless state of silently choking whilst grabbing at his sides. “Oh my god, your face now, I literally can’t-” he added in a strained, high-pitched voice as soon as he managed to draw some kind of resemblance of a breath. At that point, there were tears freely streaming down his flushed face.

Shizuo’s patience, which was running dangerously thin through the whole process of wordlessly observing the flea’s drunken squealing, finally snapped somewhere around Izaya resting his head on the table while he shook and pounded his fist on its surface. When Izaya laid flat on his loveseat with an arm thrown over his red, tear-wet face, still whimpering quietly and fighting for a breath with his slowly dying laughter, Shizuo was fed up.

Are you fucking done?” he hissed through gritted teeth while thrumming his itchcing fingers against the surface of the table. “If yes, then you can give back my damn cigarette.”

The giggles stopped abruptly and it was quiet for a fraction of a second, before Izaya rose on his elbows from his lying position and while grinning annoyingly glued his slightly disoriented eyes to Shizuo’s.

“Firstly, no, I don’t think I’m done. And secondly, why? Does Shizu-chan also want my indirect kiss?” And when the blond’s only response were his eyes widening and mouth opening on a frustrated protest, Izaya hurried up and continued. “If that’s so, we can always make it direct, ne?” he added, dropping his voice to a low purr and leaning across the table on his elbows. 

“You know what? Just take it. I’ll light another.” He frowned at himself, deciding that those recent reactions had to be some sort of malfunctions on the behalf of his brain, and quickly averted his eyes, reaching up to loosen one button of his shirt. He lit his another cigarette and smoked angrily, while observing Izaya’s drunken chuckles and praying for him to choke on the smoke at some point. It didn’t happen. 

Once the flea put his own cigarette out, he glared at their glasses. “There is no vodka in my glass,” he stated in all seriousness, as if it was some sort of violation. 

“Yeah, I think you had enough.”

Izaya snorted not so elegantly. “What a nonsense,” he mumbled and grabbed at the bottle completely ignoring Shizuo’s protests. 

With a burning determination, the flea took the bottle and proceed to pour the vodka straight on the table, missing the glass for good 2 inches, then he lifted the said glass to his lips, seemingly indignant to find it empty, and with confused, angry pout put it back on the table to repeat the whole process - approximately then the line was crossed.

“Oi, gimme that,” Shizuo said and attempted to snatch the bottle from the obviously heavily intoxicated raven but failed as the flea moved back in his seat, hugging the bottle close to his chest as if offended by the mere idea of taking it away from him.

“Nope, it's not- finished, Shizu-chan!” Izaya exclaimed with a frown, punctuating his utterance with a loud and quite impressive hiccup.

“Well, you are. Now give me that. You're done, flea, you're shitfaced in case you didn't notice, which you didn't.”

“Bullshit, Shizu-chan,” the raven smirked lazily before he lifted the bottle and without breaking the eye contact drank straight from it.

“Why, you little-” Shizuo’s teeth gritted and he abruptly stood up, pushing his chair to fall back behind him with a loud thud in the process, and he reached across the table to grab the bottle and janked it hard and away from the raven's grasp. “Don't drink that anymore, you're wasted, you stupid fuck! Do you wanna throw up all over Simon's place, huh?!”

Izaya wasn’t listening, really. He was just laughing his ass off, again. 

While Shizuo contemplated what would be the fastest and most satisfying way to get rid of the pest’s existence, he felt a hand being placed on his shoulder. He turned around with a scowl and once he focused his gaze it was met with Simon’s worried face.

“Izaya not well. You guys should finish. Dennis say the customers are troubled.”

“Yeah, is he ever well?” he mumbled under his breath while returning the remains of vodka to the black man. “Sure, we’re leaving right away.” Once Simon reluctantly left for the kitchen, Shizuo looked back at the pest. “You’ve heard him? We’re leaving, you’re making a mess.” 

“Make me,” Izaya sang while he curled into a ball on his seat. Shizuo rolled his eyes hard before approaching the other and simply grabbing him at his coat. He then dragged the hysteric bastard outside of the bar and into a street, while saying his goodbyes and apologies on his way to both Simon and Dennis. 

Once outside, he put the flea down on the pavement, and the drunk fuck started to roll across it while laughing. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re so wasted,” Shizuo muttered and shook his head slightly. “Well, whatever, I’m going home.” And he turned on his heels, leaving the intoxicated flea behind. 

After about twenty meters of walking, he glanced over his shoulder to see the pest still sitting on the pavement, but now with his back propped against the lamppost. Shit, is he just going to sleep there like that? Another few meters of walk. Well, not my problem I guess.

From ahead of him, approached a group of thugs. About five of them, probably Yellow Scarves, judging by their attire. He just simply hoped they wouldn’t bother him; he really didn’t feel like dealing with this sort of thing right now. The thugs walked past him casually, but what they talked about had prickled his interest. 


“Oi, there is a drunk guy over there.”

“Yay, payday!”

“Wait, isn’t that Orihara Izaya?”

“Holy shit dude, you’re right!”

“The fuck? I thought he’s smart. And yet he’s just putting himself on a golden platter like this.”

“Who cares, it’s not like he’s going to be missed anyway.”


Shizuo’s teeth gritted audibly. Ahh, Fucking Hell!

He turned on his heels and stomped back in the flea’s direction. Pushing his way through the fucking thugs, he outpaced them and after throwing the warning glare their way, he marched to the barely conscious Izaya to forcefully lift him from the ground by his arm.

“W-what-” the pest mumbled incoherently once lifted. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Shizuo growled, “We’re going to my place, you irresponsible, stupid bag of flea-shit.”

“Oh my,” Izaya murmured while being pushed around, “is that an offer, Shizu-chan? On the first date ? Unbelievable.” He had some troubles with pronouncing ‘unbelievable’ but eventually managed. 

“Stop. Talking.”

He didn’t stop talking.


The entire way to Shizuo’s apartment complex was hell, filled with enormous number of sexual innuendos and disdainful glances from the late-night passer-bys. Once they finally reached his building, he nearly cried with relief that it was finally over. He shoved the flea against the wall next to his door and took his apartment keys from his pocket. Izaya managed to sober up a little, due to the night breeze, but was nevertheless shitfaced. His slightly slurred voice suddenly echoed while Shizuo was fumbling with his lock.    


His brow twitched. “Yeah?”

“I feel sick.”

It twitched again. “Yeah, no shit,” he muttered under his breath. Once he opened the door he grabbed Izaya by his arm and shoved him inside. “Just… wait a second. Take off your shoes. And I swear, if you throw up on my floor- on my anything actually, then I'm ripping off all of your limbs to stick them up your ass, one after another,” Shizuo grunted while toeing his own shoes off and letting Izaya’s arm off so he could do the same.

But Izaya only smiled hazily and this annoying spark appeared in his crimson eyes before he crouched down, lost his balance and fell on his ass. From the floor, he looked up smirking at Shizuo as if he hadn't just clumsily landed on his butt in his drunken wobbling and he started to untie his lances. “Kinky.”

The blond rolled his eyes so hard it was actually painful. And it meant something coming from the guy who didn't feel pain at all. “Shut up,” he said as he towered over the other with arms crossed over his chest, patiently waiting for him to finish. When the flea was done with his shoes he roughly lifted him by his arm, earning a satisfying hiss in the process, and proceeded to drag him in the direction of his bathroom. Once they were there, he let go of the other and Izaya instantly gripped the edge of the sink to hold himself up and looked at Shizuo questioningly.

Shizuo, who stood in the entrance of the bathroom still holding the handle, glared at him quietly, like a parent whose adolescent child came back home drunk for the first time.

“There, now puke. You'll feel better.”

Izaya blinked slowly at him with a blank expression, before he sat himself slowly on the bathroom floor, next to the toilet.

“Don't wanna,” with furrowed brows, Izaya pouted.

“Well, tough shit. Stop whining. Push two fingers down your throat and it will come out.”

Don't wanna,” he pouted more- and holy shit , that was fucking adorable, really-

“Should I do it for you, Izaya-kun?” Shizuo said slowly, trying to sound intimidating as he pushed aside the desire to pat the other's head with an enormous effort.

Then, the raven smiled viciously, “No, thank you very much, but you could push something else down my throat, you know?”

Ahh, great. Now his imagination was doing the thing. Again.

But this time, ‘ the thing’ was too fucking vivid, with Izaya kneeling before him, helpless and flushed, hair ruffled, coat and shirt loosely hanging over his exposed, slim, milky shoulder, looking up at him with eyes shining on suggestion-

Shizuo’s grip on the bathroom’s door handle tightened, probably crushing it in the process as the sudden surge of blood travelled north and south of his body all at the same time, with a force so intense that it left him lightheaded.

“Listen there, you piece of-”

“Besides, there is no point. I don't really have a gag reflex anymore.” Izaya interjected the blond’s rant whilst still smiling widely.

Shizuo frowned deeply, temporarily forgetting about his embarrassment.

“The hell? How so?”

Slowly, mischievously even, Izaya smirked again, looking up at him from the bathroom floor and the blond knew he shouldn't have inquired.

“Practice, Shizu-chan,” he sang and winked.

Then, Shizuo frowned even deeper, perplexed, not really seeing any connection. 

“Huh? How the fuck do you even practice such-” and then he went quiet as it occurred to him after connecting a few dots and the revelation left him quite shaken up. “ Jesus Christ! ” he hissed and abruptly turned on his heels to leave the fucking perverted bastard alone. “Too much info, you fuck.” While frowning in frustration and overwhelmed by an ugly feeling he couldn't quite decipher at the thought of the flea going down on some people, he shut the door with a bang and went to the kitchen. “Hurry up and come here when you're done,” he called to the other. He heard Izaya laughing and cursed himself inwardly for falling for each and every goddamn shit the drunk ass pest had been pulling.

He approached the counter and took two glasses from the shelf. He then proceeded to fill them both with mineral water, all that while trying not to think about the unmistakable fact that there was Izaya Fucking Orihara staying at his place tonight. 

Oh God, ” the flea suddenly exclaimed from behind him, magically materialising in his living room. When the fuck-  “you have ‘ The Tyrant Who Fell In Love’!”

“Huh?” Shizuo frowned and approached to glance at what the raven was holding. It was one of the mangas he received in the package from those bat-shit crazy girls. Well, denying that he plonked through it was pointless since the flea found it open on his coffee table. “What about it?”

“The first and last yaoi manga I’ve ever read,” Izaya chuckled. “Mairu once forced me to read this, sending me its scanlations via e-mail, so each time I opened the message I was unavoidably presented with a page from it. I eventually read it by myself since she was being a nuisance. It was more amusing that I initially expected.”

“I don’t know. I thought it’s stupid. Why would a straight, homophobic guy suddenly fall in love with another man?”

“Geez, Shizu-chan. You simply didn’t get it. It’s not about that. The Kouhai’s tremendous love was so impactful that the Senpai surrendered to this affection. It’s not that the homophobic Senpai suddenly changed his orientation - he simply fell in love with the Kouhai, despite everything, accepted him and opened his heart, because of who the Kouhai was, not because he was a man. It’s about pansexuality , Shizu-chan, about loving the person, not their gender. It is a beautiful love story, you see!” His voice was kind of dripping with sarcasm but Shizuo didn’t care since he heard something interesting.

“Wait, what? Can you say that again?”

Izaya lifted an eyebrow. “What exactly?”

“The thing about liking the person, not gender.”

“Ahh, you mean pansexuality?”

“Yeah, that. So, it means one is attracted to the particular people regardless of their gender?”

The informant hummed, “Yes, you could say that.”

Shizuo nodded to himself before grabbing the glass of water to bring it to Izaya. “Is that what you are?” He asked while he handed him a drink. The flea took it wordlessly.

“Me? Well, more or less. I would rather consider myself bisexual though.” He chugged the entire glass at once.

“Is there a difference?” he frowned.

“Of course there is,” Izaya started after putting the empty glass on the coffee table. “Subtle, but still there. You see, being bisexual means that you find both males and females sexually attractive. For example, let’s say you’re walking down the street and check out the passer-bys: oh, she’s cute; oh, he’s hot, I would do them or let them do me, eccetera. Whereas while being pansexual, it’s hard to decide whether you are attracted to someone at the first glance. You need to know this person, know their quirks, their personality, see their real smile, hear their true laugh and so on, so forth. Because what you like about them, is simply them themselves. Pansexuals are often referred to as gender-blind, since they don’t consider gender as the main, or any factor in determining their sexual attraction.”

Shizuo looked away to let everything sink. Well, that actually made a perfect sense to him. Shit. He didn’t even know this had a name. So that would mean he was pansexual? Fuck, was it a bad thing? It surely didn’t sound as something bad though. He scowled and took a cigarette to light. 

“What the hell is all of that - heterosexuality, homosexuality, bisexuality, asexuality, pansexuality, all so goddamn confusing. Just why?” he mumbled while he turned the cigarette between his fingers.

“Because the humanity is evolving, Shizu-chan!” Izaya beamed. “The definition of love and sex is expanding with every subsequent decade, due to human evolution. Humans are constantly under self-development and they still discover more and more about their psyche; there is still so much to learn about the human potential and mentality. This so-called sexual revolution of the XXIth century is simply another step in achieving full self-awareness...” and then he kept on babbling about the potential of human brain, mentioning some percentages, dates and names that didn’t ring any bell, if you ask Shizuo. 

 Well, fuck. Now the flea was not only drunk, but also in his full Human Appreciation mode. 

The blond took a moment to simply regard Izaya. Whenever he talked like that he really seemed happy, thrilled and enthusiastic - so passionate and human. Maybe that was a lot to admit, but it really was kind of impressive how much Izaya knew on psychology, sociology and even philosophy. It was more than obvious that he’d read enormous amounts of books on that subjects. With such knowledge the bastard could easily graduate from college and make a decent living from being some sort of psychologist or other shit. And yet the pest choose to be the shady pest. But then again, if Izaya were to be a psychologist, he would rather escalate people’s descent into madness instead of actually helping them. 

Suddenly, there was the flea’s flushed, pouting face right in front of his eyes. “What are you grinning about, Shizu-chan? You’re creepy. Were you even listening? You’re such a horrible date.” 

“Shut it,” Shizuo said and forcefully removed Izaya’s face from his vision by pushing him aside. He walked past the perplexed flea and approached the kitchen counter with an ashtray on it. “And I was listening. The Freud guy makes everything sexual and human mind, in theory, is as unexplored as the Ocean,” he listed briefly and put his finished cigarette out.

“Wow,” Izaya purred and smirked, “is Shizu-chan evolving as well?” he then stumbled and leaned heavily against the wall, almost throwing the family picture hanging there in the process. He frowned and glared at the photo from over his shoulder. 

“Yeah, whatever. Smartass or not, you’re still shitfaced, so go to sleep. Tomorrow's Monday and I’m working. Here’s the couch,” he mentioned at the said piece of furniture with his head. 

“Sure thing,” the pest smirked and pushed himself from the wall. 

He then headed straight to Shizuo’s bedroom.

And Shizuo just observed him casually entering his room as if he owned the place. Once the flea disappeared from his vision he blinked a few times and rushed after him. 

“O-oi!” he called out and stomped in his room’s direction, “I think I said the couch , you little shit.” Once he went inside and turned on the lights, the flea was already sprawled across his bed, face first and fast asleep. His mouth hung agape as he admired the picture presented in front of him.

His supposed worst enemy, passed out on his own bed, wasted as fuck, his face decorated with a stupid, unconscious smile. 

Shizuo took a breath and slowly walked to the bed, hands in pockets, face rather neutral. If one would ask him what he was feeling in that particular moment - in all honesty, he would have no damn idea how to answer.

First of all, if a month- no, week earlier someone would as much as imply that Izaya was anywhere near his bed, he would probably punch the person straight into another plane of existence. 

And yet today, here he was, standing in front of his bed, with Izaya sprawled across it, as if having sleepover at Shizuo’s place was some kind of common practice among them. 

He had never been so confused in his entire life. It would be so fucking easy to kill the pest right now. Twist his neck, crash his skull, or simply rip his limbs off and watch him bleed. 

Then why any of it haven’t even crossed his mind? What did crossed his mind however, was whether the flea was comfortable enough, considering he was fully clothed and that his matress wasn’t the most expensive one. He bit his lip at the realization of his train of thoughts.

It was all so fucking ridiculous. 

He scratched the back of his neck and dared to take a look at Izaya’s face once again. 

He was gently nuzzling into Shizuo’s pillow, inhaling deeply, and the blond felt himself warming up at the sight. In the not-so-pure way. The informant’s features were peaceful, his lips were parted slightly as he breathed evenly through them; his long, dark lashes were casting a shadow on his cheeks, his flawless, nearly porcelain-like skin was illuminated with the dim moonlight shining through the window of the bedroom. 

Such a dangerous, alluring, ethereal and unreachable persona like Orihara Izaya, was right now lying before him - bare and beautiful, harmless. 

Shizuo felt a little bit disturbed at the thought how much affected he was by this display. 

Okay, let’s just call it by its name. He was being creepy as fuck for staring at the sleeping flea so much. 

He looked away, feeling bashful as hell out of sudden, but the rustling of sheets brought his attention back to Izaya. The flea curled up a bit, slipped his arm under the pillow to hug it more tightly. 

Shizuo swallowed thickly and released a shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding, before he moved closer to the bed. As gently as it was only possible, he moved the quilt from under the flea’s unconscious form to cover him up to his neck, all that while praying for him to not wake up. He didn’t, fortunately. He moved away to admire his handiwork that was a Pest Burrito. He nearly snorted out loud at the sight of total contentment visible on Izaya’s face. Without thinking Shizuo outstretched his arm with the intent to brush away few of the raven strands. Once his fingertips made a contact with Izaya’s skin, the blond felt the shiver running down his spine and he exhaled shakily. The flea’s face was flushed, warm and smooth in touch; his gaze then lingered on Izaya’s parted lips and a smile he didn’t realized he was wearing faded away from his features. He squatted on the floor to have his face at Izaya’s level. 

There was no joking. Izaya really was stunning - in this dazzling, graceful kind of beauty. The kind of beauty that made you feel as if you were looking at something far ahead, something elusive, unattainable. But he was just right here , right in front of him, mere inches away; he could touch him any moment, he could smell his scent - flowery, sweet and rich at the same time, the scent that he used to hate so fucking much not so long ago. 

Was it really all it took for him to finally notice it all? Some dumb Internet post and few incoherent words of some yaoi fangirl? It was seriously risible when he thought about it and yet he really didn’t feel like laughing. 

He was staring at Izaya’s lips and biting his own. He remembered how he was recently wondering if those lips were as soft as they seemed to be. What a ridiculous thing to wonder about your supposed arch-nemesis. But it looked like he had abandoned reason some time ago anyway. 

Blindly, he once again reached in Izaya’s direction. His hand was shaking, his lungs burned with a breath that wasn’t released for too long. He then brushed his thumb against Izaya’s lower lip - slowly, leisurely, as if he wanted to imprint the sensation into his consciousness, into his very skin. 

Yeah, they were very fucking soft. Like velvet, silk. Over the sound of his own thrumming pulse, he kept on trailing his thumb across the lip and slowly slipped it deeper until his fingertip was met with the wetness of Izaya’s saliva. He swallowed thickly; his heart was racing, his breath was slightly uneven. He removed his hand hurriedly once the concept of kissing those lips flashed in front of his eyes - his Creep Meter was beeping loudly, warning him that he was nearing the out of scale measures of creepiness. 

Ahh shit, there goes the last lingering thread of my alleged heterosexuality.

He stood up from the floor and while unbuttoning his shirt he headed straight out of the bedroom. The couch it is. 

He went into bathroom first and stopped in front of the sink to regard his own reflection. He blinked several times at the picture displayed in front of him; his entire face was flushed and warm in touch, both from the alcohol and arousal, his pupils were dilated, his eyes half-lidded, his chest was rising and falling in uneven, disrupted manner. Not to mention the rather evident bulge formed at the front of his jeans. 

To simply say that he was horny was a huge understatement. 

Cursing profanities under his breath, he untapped the cold water to splash it across his face aggressively. Since it was not enough to calm his sense of being a total, disgusting pervert, he undressed quickly and took an icy cold shower while making absolutely everything in his power to not jerk off, because currently the only person he could think about was Izaya Fucking Orihara.


When he was laying on his couch and trying to fall asleep, it occurred to him that the flea had never answered who his first love was.