Disclaimer: I don't own Durarara!
Summary: [Oneshot] The best way to keep a monster a monster: Make yourself the center of its attention. But Izaya's in a little deeper than he thinks. Shizaya.
Izaya gnashed his teeth together and tossed the binoculars behind him.
Well, this was an unforeseen development. But then again, nothing even went as it was supposed to when a certain Heiwajima Shizuo was involved.
Like any other day, the blond-haired man proudly sported his bartender uniform and those irritating purple shades as he walked through the streets of Ikebukuro. Tom had been beside him until seconds ago, when a woman had approached Shizuo, and then the two began to talk.
Izaya knew that expression that lit up the woman's face. She was clearly interested in him. But he wouldn't have it. The last thing he needed was Shizuo to copulate and make little Shizuos that had monstrous strength and the gift of unpredictability. No, he wanted humans. He loved humans.
The information broker turned to his board and fidgeted with a pawn before knocking it off the board. That's right – he just had to get rid of her, that was all. But was there even a game plan for that? Shizuo had no chess piece that could accurately describe him, for he was the King that Izaya sought to destroy, but he had the power of a Queen.
What a monster, Izaya thought with a laugh, wiping the board clear of all the pieces. Black and white figures and pieces of wood fell onto the floor. To think that even I can't understand him…what a monster!
A small movement down on the streets caught his attention once more. Izaya quickly grabbed a spare pair of binoculars and chuckled as his lips curved upwards into a sinister smile. How disappointed the woman looked as Shizuo turned her back to her and continued on his way with Tom. He relished the view before grabbing his jacket and heading for the door.
It was time to pay Shizuo a visit. After all, the one who drove the blond bartender to checkmate in the end would be none other than him, Orihara Izaya.
Heiwajima Shizuo hated violence. But he had grown to accept this particular strength of his, even almost came to appreciate it.
In fact, if it weren't for a certain bug, he would have fallen in love with his own strength.
The existence that was Orihara Izaya did not dare show itself in front of Shizuo on a daily basis. It did not greet the blond man's ears with disgusting calls for "Shizu-chan" on a daily basis. And on a good day, its existence did not reek throughout Ikebukuro.
Unfortunately, today was not a good day. Shizuo's eyes, concealed by the shades, flickered over to a certain building. It was his luck that today Tom had to collect the debts from people in this particular area, for here was where the bug that was Izaya had set up his office.
Some woman was talking to him about something – he couldn't quite recall exactly what the conversation starter was. He wondered briefly if it could even be called a conversation, because he hadn't said a single word.
"Sorry, I'm busy," he muttered, walking around her and shutting his ears to the rest of Ikebukuro's noisy crowd. It was a bad habit of his to ignore people. He really did want to make friends, or he thought he did, but it just seemed impossible, with his habits. He had become like this exactly because people refused to accept him…hadn't he?
"Tom." Shizuo fell into step with the man he called out to, and slipped his hands into his pockets. "Where to now?"
"The hopeless artist – you remember him." He actually didn't. Tom sighed and raised his arms in defeat. "This job would be a lot easier if people would just pay off their loans instead of wasting their money away."
Shizuo fell into a brooding silence, wondering if there was a way to connect the disillusioned minds of debtors to himself. And just as he thought he might think of the answer, an offending odor rose to his nose.
"Stinks," Shizuo muttered. His eyes darted left and right, scanning the rooftops of the nearby buildings for any sign of the offender. His fingers twitched in his pockets, but he continued to walk beside Tom, unwilling to lose his composure and give into the provocations of the bug.
Yet the odor was not an unpleasant one, though it reminded Shizuo of unpleasant things. He took a sniff and scrunched his nose.
Shizuo was ready to breathe fire. The stink had grown into a heavy stench when they entered the room. The adrenaline was rushing through him – he was ready to lift the only piece of furniture, a desk, and toss it out the window, where the bug might be waiting, ready to prey on him.
But for some reason, the man had the money. There was no reason to be angry, no reason to display his inhuman strength to scare him again.
"See?" Tom said, counting the bills. "It's that easy. I don't know why they can't all do this…" He turned to Shizuo, who was now actively sniffing the air, trying to locate the source of the scent. "Something wrong?"
"Stinks," the bodyguard muttered. "Stinks, stinks…it reeks!" He slammed a hand down on the desk, but remembered to hold back just barely in time. The resulting strength caused a large crack to develop down towards the center. "Where is he?"
The man was sweating, and that wasn't what was causing the stench. No, it had to be the bug. But it seemed obvious, from the trembling hands and the chattering teeth, that Shizuo was not going to get an answer. A low growl escaped him, and a smile forced its way to his lips.
"IZAAYAAAAA," he dragged, stomping to the window and shoving it open. "I smell you!"
"H-h-he's not here anymore!" the man at the desk cried, running to hide behind Tom when he saw Shizuo turn abruptly and gnash his teeth. "He gave me the money and then left!"
The debt collector's shoulders drooped. "So it was too good to be true…"
Tom Tanaka turned to the man. "Well, your life is in that Izaya's hands now." He slapped the man on the back and shook his head. "You've just entered an entirely new debt. By the way, Shizuo, you're free to go. This was the last one," he said. Tom almost spoke up again, but realized it was too late.
The web had been cast.
If Izaya could be considered a spider, Shizuo was something akin to a hummingbird that could pierce a spider's web. And yet it was Izaya who was the one stealing from Shizuo - stealing fragments of broken web from a nest that would never be built. He would never let Shizuo settle down.
Izaya chuckled to himself as he bounced up and down on the bed. "Hurry up and come home so I can steal you nest from you! Ah – there you go!" Chuckling eagerly, Izaya turned to look out the window and called, "Shizu-chaaan! Welcome back!"
Ah, there it was! He felt delirious with pleasure every time he saw that look in Shizuo's eyes. It was the glare of ultimate death accompanied by the most manic grin, a sign that the man in the bartender uniform had snapped, a sign that he could see nothing but Orihara Izaya.
Soon enough, there was a sound of a doorknob turning until it snapped. Izaya clutched his stomach and leaned back, kicking his feet out as he engaged in a fit of laughter.
"To your own home? Really now, Shizu-chan," he said in a reprimanding tone. "Are you so impatient to see me?" He threw his head back in laughter again, but soon curled his lips into a sneer, and he added thoughtfully:
"Well I want to see you too."
The door slammed open with a force that should have broken the hinges, and the blond stood at the threshold, breathing heavily, chest heaving.
"Stinks," he muttered. "Stinks, stinks, stinks…you bastard…"
"Oi, Shizu-chan, didn't your mother ever tell you it's bad to call other people mean names?"
A low growl resounded throughout the room, echoing off the walls. Izaya shivered with glee and kept his gaze fixed upon his target. Finally, Shizuo removed his shoes and shut the door behind him roughly. "I'll fuck you until you can't stand," he said in a level voice as he yanked the bowtie from his person. "Prepare yourself, Izaya."
Yes. This was how it was supposed to be. Izaya licked his lips before holding out his flick-blade.
The silver blade slipped between the cracks of his fingers and dropped to the floor with a dull thud.
"You kept me waiting…"
Finally, he had his full attention, as he should. Izaya shivered as large hands forcefully pushed him down to the bed. He could hear the sound of his flick-blade being kicked aside.
"That's right," Izaya whispered, gazing at the shadowed face of the man that was his lover. "There's no way you'd go around spreading any Shizu-chan babies if you're like this." He was satisfied with just that thought.
"Stinks," Shizuo muttered, rolling onto his side. A strong arm fell onto Izaya's shoulder, and he chuckled, reveling at how gentle the sleeping man could be. Izaya leaned down to press a chaste kiss on the blonde's forehead. "Trash…" Shizuo mumbled and jerked his head away, consequently hitting Izaya in the nose.
That had hurt. Izaya grinned and bore through the pain. There was no way he would be the only one escaping the night injured. No, he thought, pushing Shizuo onto his back, he would retaliate.
More and more, more and more. He bent down and scraped his teeth against the vulnerable skin.
It would never be over. Not until all Heiwajima Shizuo could think about was him.
From the second he had seen him, he had known Izaya was trouble. When Shizuo awoke the next morning, he found himself alone in bed. Yet the scent still lingered heavily within his room. He took a deep breath of it before pushing up the window to air his apartment out. It would do no good if he got caught up in that smell.
Everything had to return to normal. When he stepped out of the shower, it would be as if Izaya had never even stepped foot in the apartment before. The stench of Izaya would disappear, and their relationship would be as the public knew it: enemies.
After he had thrown his sheets into the washer, Shizuo wandered into the bathroom to shower. His eyes were half-lidded with sleep, as he began to brush his teeth, but something in his peripheral vision was bothering him. Something dark, something that wasn't supposed to be there. His eyes slowly widened, and fatigue drained from his body just as quickly, if not quicker.
It was an unspoken agreement that no marks were to be left. It couldn't be that he actually…
Shizuo craned his neck and glared at the reflection of the kiss mark in the mirror.
The toothbrush snapped.
A/N - Yes, that's how it should be. The snapping of something and then a rampage of anger. Bwahaha.
Wrote this a few years back and it's just been sitting, until I guess I was supposed to "edit" it or something. Pbth. I edited the terrible spider/hummingbird metaphor, and that was it. Lazy me.
Thanks for reading!