Clarification: Not a songfic; the title just fit.

Disclaimer: Blah blah blah, you know the drill, me no own.

So here, enjoy some Shizaya:

Heiwajima Shizuo leaves fear in his wake as he trails behind Tom, cruising around the city. Citizens - even the most innocent, law-abiding ones who could never dream of joining any sort of rough business - here rumor of the man in the bartender outfit who saunters around town, a cigarette lazily dangling from his scowl. They know enough that even the most fool-hardy strangers purposefully avoid any contact with him.

He can see them cower as he strolls by, hands casually shoved into his pockets. Even with his back arched forward and his shoulders slumped, innocent bystanders habitually flinch from his line of sight, doing their best not to knock into him as he passes. Truthfully, it bothers him. Time and time again, he has made his plea toward his hatred of violence, yet people continually fear him. He does his best, in all honestly, to stay calm. There are times, of course, when a certain "customer" is a little too reluctant to pay his debt or a gang member is cocky and foolish enough to disturb Shizuo. It wasn't as though he went out looking for trouble - it had a way of finding him, and in the end, he had no choice but to fight back.

He doesn't like the way they fear him, though, how he can see the visible terror in the passing people escalate and become even more apparent if they catch sight of him snap his cigarette and throw it down. By then, of course, whether or not he wished to not cause fear to the people nearby, he was too far gone to regain his head.

He does his best as much as he can to stay calm. Tom helps him a lot, and he's become more conscious of the people around who could be injured. When in public, even if someone rightfully deserves it, he does his best to hold his temper and, if it is necessary, deal out the punishment as subtly as possible without affecting anyone else.

This is all nice and fine on paper, though, but it never seems to translate well into real life. He is usually too pissed off to see straight, let along consider the safety of others. His own blinding rage angers him, knowing that he doesn't have control. Still, if people didn't insist on getting in the way or being stupid or deserving it, then he would have a lot easier time resisting the urge to mindlessly pound them into oblivion. Still, whenever he can, he tries his best to avoid needless victims.

Except, obviously, when a certain flea is involved.

Even as Shizuo wishes that the citizens of Ikebukuro wouldn't fear him quite so much (though, frankly, their thoughts about him didn't matter very much in the long run) there is the one man who, no matter how many times he went up against the strongest man in Tokyo, insists on pissing him off over and over again. He is practically the only exception to the rule, as everyone else who doesn't break out into terror when they see him is either his friend (a term used fairly loosely) or a complete idiot (which Izaya did seem to fit into...). Despite the fact that he doesn't want to be feared, he can't stand the sight of the one man who could truly match his gaze without wavering.

His own slight hypocrisy makes him more pissed off, contributing to the anger he feels upon merely thinking, let along seeing, Izaya. He can get so mad at the man that every single thought relating to the safety of bystanders goes away and his full-blown strength is unleashed, wreaking havoc across the city despite Shizuo's hardest efforts. It only proved to amuse the flea, though, feeding his chesire cat grin and – therefore –Shizuo's anger. The sight of the toothy smile can send chills down the man's spine and stir up some sort of otherwise-unharnessed anger from the bottom of his heart. Damn flea.

He never makes Shizuo act how he wants to. His impromptu appearances lead to impromptu reactions, contributing to a large percentage of the city's annual damage. Every single breath Izaya takes is merely another straw in Shizuo's back.

Speak of the devil - as he truly is the devil that haunts the debt collector's mind - and he shall appear.

Shizuo's lazy gaze shifts around the streets and catches sight of (mere seconds before the girlish, tell-tale greeting) a swiftly moving mass trimmed with fuzz that fans out behind the shape. The ex-bartender rips the cigarette from his lips the second he hears his name shouted so disrespectfully and pushes his index finger against it smoothly, the cylinder snapping in half, still lit. Anyone standing close enough to see cowers away.



Orihara Izaya loves humans. Their actions are both predictable and unexpected. Every time that he thinks he has them figured out, someone does something to make him completely rethink his idea of what it means to be a human being. He loves the inconsistancy.

This is because Izaya is inconsistent. Just as he adores the impossibly spontaneous actions of others, he continues to serve as a cozy dwelling for hypocrisy, impromptuity, and unpredictability. His love for humans can be translated into a poorly covered self-love or an obvious veil cast over the world or an excuse to manipulate people cruelly without feeling guilt.

His love, though, is actually pure. If it were one of the previously listed reasons, he would know. His mind is smart enough not to delude itself; he realizes his own cruelty, accepts it, and knows - knows - that it is out of his love.




And, even if he doesn't, he earnestly believes he does, which is about as close as any human can get to achieving true love.

That's why he considers them all the same – because he loves them all equally. They are all his beloveds and therefore, completely tantamount. And replaceable. Bringing them all so close to his heart, it's as though none of them truly get to his heart; "if everyone's special, then no one is special." No one in his life is important enough to reach him so closely that they become irreplaceable. His heart's adoration for the entire species wavers for no one.

Well. Except one.

But Shizuo is an altogether different case.

Izaya is fully aware of his own contradictions and completely accepts them for what they are. He is a man of extremes.

His love is absolute in every one, save the one case in which it is utterly reversed, in which he allows himself to feel what he defines as true hatred. The emotion is so unique to his heart that it can be described as refreshing.

His love is either entirely there or wholly absent. He allows himself no middle-ground, no half-heartedness. He is utterly devoted, one way or the other.

And as he walks down the street, out for a casual trip of people-watching (though, truthfully, he looks at them as a king would to his citizens - superiorly), his thoughts can't help but wander to the strange man who, even while upholding his tradition of absolutes, manages to break his pattern of human love. Though the words would never leave his lips, the man Heiwajima Shizuo completely bamboozles Izaya. His actions are both foreseeable and unexpected; both a kind citizen and an unrestrained monster; both human and not. It troubles Izaya at the same time that it enlightens him.

And as his thoughts wander through the streets of Shizuo just as his feet wander the streets of Ikebukuro, he spots from the corner of his eye with his 20-20 vision a hunched form, looking out-of-place in a bartender's outfit that made him seem like an actor in a black-and-white movie.


The familiar term of endearment ripples from his mouth as naturally as the names of loved family members.


So the slim informant immediately runs up to embrace the much bigger – and much angrier - man. He sees the conflict in the man's eyes, the hesitation to cause any damage. He watches as the hesitation loses and Shizuo draws himself to his full height. He can't help but smile as he recognizes the familiar reckless anger in his eyes. His grin, of course, only proves to strengthen the scowl on the blonde's face.


Izaya, smiling wider than ever at the angry tone that his name is spoken in, leans away slightly – bothered, disappointed? - by the man's expected reaction.

"Now, now," he scolds playfully, dodging away from a half-hearted warm-up punch that only manages to hit his hood, "I'm right next to you~! No need to shout!" His casual, sadistic joy is present in his voice, and he enunciates his point by, after evading the punch, twirling up right behind Shizuo and whispering the last sentence directly into his ear. At that, the blonde whirls around, hand ready to pummel the maniac, only to be confronted with a perfect stranger. The man, dressed in a pristine suit and looking as though he were headed to work, shoves his shaking arms above his head - one of which carries a suitcase - in a weak defense.

Shizuo backs off, incredibly angry at Izaya and mildly angry at himself for scaring the man (though honestly, that could really be blamed on Izaya). A cackle sounds behind him, and he spots the shadow-like man laughing manically behind him, his pale hand brandishing a switchblade. His laugh fades to a smirk, and he raises the blade to point at Shizuo's chest, which doesn't stay still for long as he runs at the informant, who now stands a good three yards away. No one dares to walk in between the two cat-and-mouse enemies.

"Oh, Shizu-chaaaaaan," Izaya calls teasingly, "there was no need to frighten the man!" His laughter returns as he runs toward Shizuo, only to swerve away quickly and veer off into an alleyway. Shizuo stops in his steps – the sound of skidding practically audible – and turns around to confront the man.

Izaya skips child-like through the alley, serving only to piss of Shizuo, and bounces off a trash can, propelling himself onto a dumpster, his merry footsteps echoing loudly off the hollow metal. Said dumpster is quickly relocated, though, as Shizuo runs to catch the man and picks up Izaya's makeshift walk way in his blatant fury.

Much to the blonde's annoyance (though, frankly, his emotions far surpassed "annoyed" at this point), he hears a cheery giggle from atop the dumpster he holds.

"IZAYA!" he calls again, as though it's the only word he knows. Tom stands outside the alleyway, arms crossed and back leaned against a brick wall, merely waiting for his employee to finish up.

"My, my, Shizu!" Izaya mocks. "You call my name so much, I'll bet this is exactly what having sex with you is like~!" He knows exactly what buttons to push to get the debt-collector as angry as possible.

The very thought enrages Shizuo to point of causing him to throw the dumpster at the alley wall opposite from him. It bangs loudly as the lid makes contact with the sturdy brick, and Izaya jumps off in the nick of time, landing ever-so-gracefully on the roof of the building, which is low enough, as it covers the back of a hotel drop-off area. "I'll take that as a message that you aren't very gentle when making love, ne?"

A vein visibly pops on the back of Shizuo neck and, even though he wants to scream the smarmy devil's name in anger, he resists the urge, knowing it would only lead to further teasing. Instead, he vents his rage into pulling the nearest sign to him - a yellow diamond proclaiming "Yield" that clings to chunks of sidewalk even when removed from its base - and throwing it like a javelin at Izaya. The informant calmly chuckles, leaping to the side to cleanly avoid the shot, and begins to flee by route of rooftop.

His fancy black shoes that somehow manage to always stay squeaky clean and in immaculate condition despite whatever sort of ruckus he involves himself in run swiftly and smoothly, his body's movements barely showing any vertical motion. He glides above the hotel's drive-through, soles tapping gently as they skim the roof, looking for all the tea in China like a shadow traveling through the city, though much smoother than even the Headless Rider's transportation.

His dash is cut short by one of the main supports in the middle of the overhang collapses, not accidentally, from the strong grip of Shizuo. His arms - clad in a white shirt that, unlike Izaya's clothing, is torn beyond repair - grip the round column, crushing it in what looked like a bear hug. The center of the roof caves in, bending metal and concrete and pulling in Izaya's left foot. His balance is (for once) lost, if only for a second, before he finds a foothold in the rubble that continues to fall and slips his right foot into it, swinging his other leg up to the remaining sturdy roof. It propels his body with a new momentum, and he dashes off again, laughing joyfully at his game.

Shizuo unhands the column - if it could still be called that in the condition it's in - and, upon assessing that Izaya is not, unfortunately, crushed to death somewhere in the fray, takes off in his pursuit.

By now, Izaya has made his way to the top of another neighboring building's awning which barely has to strain in order to hold the man's slight weight. He waves girlishly at the dangerous man before him who has lost all restraint and run far from Tom's seeing range. He tilts his head to the side, as though pondering as to why Shizuo could possibly be mad at him. It sets off the strongest man in Tokyo, who promptly barrels toward him, fist poised backward in position to fire all his fury as Izaya. The informant should feel lucky that no vending machines were nearby.

By instead of basking in his small amount of luck, the man gracefully dismounts from the awning and leaps at Shizuo, coat fanning out behind him and face smirking coyly.

And narrowly misses a fiery fist as he moves in to plant his lips firmly onto Shizuo's.

Derp. Tiny little cliffhanger. Alright, so it's probably going to be a twoshot, unless I suddenly strike insane inspiration. Please review if it's good, if it sucks, if I screwed up madly or anything, etc. etc. I don't think I'm very good at Shizaya, and it's my first time ever trying to write something for it.