This is my submission for the fanart challenge over on Ygal. I'll put the link to the picture I chose in my profile.
The Evening After
Shizuo croaked out a groan, curling in on himself and shielding his face from the light bleeding into his eyes. He went to bury his head back into his pillow, but found that he'd been sleeping on the flat plane of his mattress. He reached for the blanket to wad up under his neck, but realized that they'd been dragged to the floor sometime during the night. Well, fuck.
He lurched upwards, aching muscles creaking in protest and eyes sealed shut with a crusty sealant. Shizuo swiped at them with the back of his fist and choked on a yawn. Why in the hell was he up so early on his day off? He peered at his alarm clock through the slits of his eyelids, and read 7pm. That explained the fatigue. He'd need another three hours before his brain started to function properly. Shizuo rolled his limp neck towards the open blinds letting in the offensive light of the setting sun. Those had been closed last night, he was sure of it.
Which meant that there was a rat lingering in his space. He cursed on a groggy sigh. Might as well get up and take care of that pest problem. Shizuo scrubbed a hand through his mussed hair, cringing at the matted mess of spunk there. "Gotta be a new record," He said humorlessly. Alright, first: bathe. Second: sniff out the rat. Seemed easy enough.
His joints popped as he stood up, and he twisted his back, moaning in relief when he felt it crack. Shizuo stumbled, naked, towards the connected bathroom, and decided to keep the door open to illuminate it with natural light. If turned on the light switch, he'd get a headache, which would make getting rid of the pest a lot more trouble than it was worth. He stopped briefly at the toilet, then slid open the frosted glass panels encasing his bath. He twisted the knobs without having to look, and stepped under the spray, relaxing beneath the jet of warm water. But then he remembered the clump of semen in his hair, and grumbled, all relaxation lost as he went to work getting it out.
He was marginally more conscious by the time he walked, sopping wet, back to his bedroom to search for a towel. He spied one crumpled in the corner, and bent down to inspect it. Smelled clean enough for him. Shizuo dried himself off to become damp rather than dripping, and let the wet towel rest on his head as he slipped on some red sweats, the nearest article of clothing he found. His stomach growled beguilingly, and he shot it a squinty eyed glare. Bathe: check. Next: eat. Then, rat. Shizuo nodded to himself for his sound reasoning.
He drifted past the empty living room and further into the equally empty kitchen. Shizuo saw that it was littered with rat droppings, and growled deep in his throat. Food, he reminded. He walked over to the fridge, and grabbed a can of soda to help wake him up. He guzzled it in two minutes, and made a blind shot for the recyclable bin; the can went it soundly. Shizuo grinned absently, while reaching for a small container of milk to make some cereal with. He opened the lip and drank a few gulps, then held the top between his teeth as he turned for the cupboard above the adjacent counter.
The front door opened at the same moment, revealing a few plastic bags and then the man holding them. Izaya, the fuckin' rat. He set the container of milk down before he ended up biting clean through it. Shizuo tracked Izaya's movements as he set his bags down on the kitchen table, and looked up to meet his gaze with a cheeky smile. "Morning sunshine! Or, would it be evening sunshine?" Izaya gestured with a sweep of his hand to the bay window.
Shizuo sneered at the slotted orange light making tracks across the room, then focused his attention on the pest. Forget the food, Izaya just moved up a few pegs. "What the fuck are you still doing here?"
Izaya feigned a wounded expression, holding his palm to his heart. "I brought dinner, of course. I figured you'd be hungry after last night."
Shizuo balked. Was this guy crazy, or just deaf? "Get out, and take your shit with you." His eyes zeroed in on the hooded jacket hanging off of the chair by the table.
"Aw, so heartless. You'd throw me out, even after everything we've been through?" Izaya's voice carried a lilt sweet enough to rot teeth.
He snorted derisively. "As far as I'm concerned, last night was a bad dream. You are a bad dream."
Izaya's eyes became cold and sharp. "Forgive me, I didn't know you suffered from recurring nightmares."
Shizuo's fists clenched at his sides sporadically, resisting the urge to rend flesh from bone. He wouldn't snap, not when it was his own stuff he'd end up breaking. Just the thought of putting in overtime made his skin crawl. "I'm gonna ask you again: why are you still here?"
Izaya propped his hip against the table, affecting a nonchalant air. "Then I'll repeat myself: I figured you'd be hungry, so I went to grab dinner."
Shizuo wanted to pull his hair out, and then pull out some of Izaya's for good measure. "What is your problem? Running away not good enough for you anymore?"
Izaya smiled serenely while maintaining a deceptive edge, and answered, "Aren't you the one running, Shizu-chan?"
"A bit late for that, isn't it?"
"God, I fucking hate you!"
"The feeling is mutual."
"Then why won't you just leave!?"
"Because, it's no fun if I'm the one chasing all the time. There's got to be some give and take."
Shizuo looked wary. "Are you talking about sex? Because I'm pretty sure we've both got the giving and taking down pat."
Izaya hung his head suddenly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Shizuo, just let me cook you dinner."
He was nearly to point of stomping his feet like a child, and was feeling damn frustrated like one. His stomach betrayed him, though, as it rumbled in longing at the mention of food. Shizuo warred with himself, but the lure of a meal won out. "Dinner, and then you're gone. And if you feel like whining about it, then I'll just save us both the energy and kill you." His deadly serious tone of voice would've been more effective had it not been for his stomach piping up with another pathetic grumble. Izaya grinned, and if he didn't know better he'd say it was genuine.
"I don't doubt it."
"Good." Shizuo eyed the plastic bags on the table shiftily. "And you better not poison me. Or drug me."
"Oh, ye of little faith," Izaya chuckled at the deadpan stare he received, then continued, "you wouldn't be of much use later on if I drugged you, so rest easy."
"Like I'd trust that. You'd probably still fuck me in my sleep... and besides, there is no later!"
Izaya only nodded and hummed, unloading the ingredients from the bags and going about setting up preparations for spaghetti with Italian sausage. Shizuo went to sit at the table to smoke a cigarette, tugged the towel off of his head and reached behind himself to let it hang off the back of his chair. He turned when he heard a suspicious plop, and frowned when he saw the towel on the ground. Izaya's stupid jacket had taken up all the space and pushed it off.
Whatever. First, smoke. Then, food. Lastly, rat. Shizuo yawned around the cigarette he'd placed between his lips, and reached for the ashtray. From the looks of the light casting the kitchen in the red of the dying sun, he'd figure an hour to have passed. He sighed out around a cloud of smoke. He could've been in bed, basking in his free time until he had to wake up for work tomorrow. But Izaya had opened the blinds, most likely to purposely ruin his day. It was all Izaya was good for, anyway. Well, he supposed he could name a few other redeeming qualities, but...
The sizzling of the cooking sausage pulled him from his train of thought before it could cause a wreck. "Is it almost done?"
Izaya rolled his eyes. "You only think with your stomach and your dick... oh, and your fist."
Shizuo grunted. "Watch it, or you'll be meeting the end of it."
"Which one do you mean, your dick or your fist?" Izaya smirked; he'd set himself up for that one.
He furrowed his brows. "How about you come a little closer and find out?"
"Nope. I'd end up staying for later and you've already made it quite clear you don't want me around."
Oh yeah. Dammit, that's what he got for hopping on that train... He muttered but didn't say anything further, and slouched down in his chair, lighting up another cigarette right after he stubbed out the previous one. Chain smoking took his mind off of the way his hackles were slightly raised at Izaya's continued proximity. If they weren't fighting or fucking or a variant of the two, he was left feeling only unnerved.
But if he admitted to himself, in that dark, barren corner far away from his instincts and common sense, he would say that it wasn't all terrible. Only the part of himself that ignored the flashing sirens that went off in his head at the mere sight of Izaya could say it. The rest of him wasn't stupid. Or, wasn't that stupid, at the very least.
"Huh?" Shizuo looked at the ashtray, and saw that he'd gone through six cigarettes while he'd been spacing out. Izaya cocked his head while placing a plate of spaghetti and a glass of milk in front of him. "Erm, yeah. Thanks."
Without preamble, Shizuo began to tear the food apart. He'd barely paused while finishing off his first plate, and only when he got up to get a second serving did he speak. "This isn't terrible."
"How kind of you to say so." Izaya drawled, eating his own food at much more leisurely pace.
"Uh huh." Shizuo didn't talk much when he ate, obviously. Izaya watched him stuff himself with a sly glint to his otherwise calm expression.
"I told you you'd be hungry."
"Didn't hafta tell me to know."
"Ugh, I don't enjoy seeing your half chewed sausage. Please close your mouth." He looked on with increasingly apparent intent, as Shizuo's fist propping his head up began to falter and slip. Shizuo looked at it like it had personally betrayed him, but never stopped eating all the while. "See, this isn't so bad, now is it?"
Shizuo squinted at him from across the table, as if his vision was unfocused. "Mm."
Alright, so he'd lied. Izaya did drug him. But he'd only used a few valium, and a light sedative; in Shizuo's case, that was only enough to make him a little more compliant than usual. He wasn't a somnophile. Although, that could be something to try out, one day. One day soon, when he no longer had to use the persuasion of drugs, but only wanted to.
Shizuo snapped him out of his reverie with a comical slur. "You jizzed in my hair."
Izaya laughed outright, then said, "Alright, big guy. Let's get you to bed."
As he was being half lead to his bedroom, Shizuo realized that Izaya wasn't a rat. He was a cockroach, and he would always climb his way out of the woodwork, no matter how much Shizuo stomped on him.
My original idea for this ended at around 1300 words, so the rest is just stuff I had to make up (there was a 2000 word minimum). Some parts were like an OOC twilight zone for me, and if you see it too, I apologize.