Title – Vapid Charm
Character(s) /Pairing(s) – Izaya/Namie
Genre – General, Romance
Note(s) – oh yes.
Disclaimer – I don't own Durarara!! :D

Vapid Charm

"You should have better taste," he brought up with a sigh that sounded uncannily like a groan one fine afternoon when no one was online. The dark grey chat room under his 'favourites' tab was heartbreakingly bare and devoid of conversation – disappointing, because there should have been something more scintillating to pass the time in here, but apparently not. He grumbled to himself and settled on a compromise, giving absent attention to his assistant out of boredom.

"I quite enjoy the coffee I make," she answered curtly, arranging the files on his desk and storing them one after the other in the dark oak cabinet.

"My dear, you know I'm not talking about the coffee – which could use more milk, by the way – I'm talking about something more… intimate." Izaya leaned back into the comfort of his large, swiveling chair, a smile crafted from years of experience as a broker playing at the corners of his politely closed lips.

"Like what?" she responded blankly, pretending not to know with obedient, tolerating patience. She poised one hand on her jutting hip as the other worked to rearrange the discarded pens and pencils on the desk, skimming over a short stack of books and deciding to order them into the shelves as well. The manicured fingers clutching his worn notebook tightened unmistakably as she half-heartedly chucked it with the other files. And Izaya just smiled because she was being so predictable and obvious, it was frightfully amusing. Why, he should have threatened her business a long time ago, she was as interesting and ideal as Shizuo – almost.

"Men," he concluded sharply, clapping his hands together and she rolled her judging eyes.

"Yes- go after a better man at least." He twirled a ballpoint pen in one hand, the other dancing over the keyboard to his left – still no one online. "One that isn't your brother," he snorted, as if the matter was just laughable and not at all heart-wrenching and scathing, "Na-mi-e chan!" he mocked.

The woman chuckled dryly at the tone of his voice, her cheeks whitening as she slid the door of the cabinet closed. "Like you, I suppose?" she pretended to sound pensive, humoring him because she had been humiliated to the end of extent, there was nothing to lose now. He could read her, take her apart and reveal and rewrite her inner contents; she possessed no difference to the numerals of data scrolling across on his screen.

Namie rested her elbows on his broad desk, tapping a delicate finger against the translucent glass encasing the sleeping occupant. Izaya had brought her out for the afternoon to give her a breath of fresh air; it must have been boring for her to remain idle behind the shelves anyway. Namie's eyes looked through the cylinder, past the disarrayed locks of the disembodied head to watch the rise and fall of his chest. Her black hair fell across her shoulder and gathered in thick, dark curls on the surface of the desk. Izaya's chair creaked as he straightened his back and leaned forward, curiously – knowingly. His paused briefly, eyes darting to the screen of his computer, still blank and dull with zero activity on the forum.

"Yes, like me." He drew deliberately near, taking check that his breath would tickle her jaw.

He expected her to shy away like the coward she was, a mad blush dusking over cheeks that would flush with embarrassment, she would hastily gather her possessions and escape from his apartment office. She would forget the ring of keys to her car and house abandoned on his kitchen counter, her hand would fumble with her red cellphone and she would bite back a retort. She was incredibly predictable and easy to read like that, and that made his life just plain boring, really.

Namie began to move, shoulders tensing and cheeks reddening, finally shifting out of the momentary daze that his proximity had caused her. She leaned back, away from him with what he assumed would be discomfort, then observed him with guarded eyes and a wordless, unreadable expression. She was now going to follow robotically to his exact predic–

Izaya smiled.

He tasted the bitterness of dry lipstick and chaffed lips as she severed the distance between them after a long second of hesitation. The kiss was brief, not slobbery or passionate, anything but – it was just Namie believing that she could play along in his elaborate game and break his rules, how coy of her. As they parted, him taking to a fit of delightful laughter and she running a tongue over her lips, she whispered, her voice ghosting against his cheek, "What makes you so attractive?"

A jolt up his spine and his laughter ceased.

Izaya doctored her expression for a moment – solid, smooth, cool, distinctly graceless as she combed a hand through a curtain of dark black and tried to repose herself. He laughed softly, his eyes never straying away from her priceless face as he reached out and placed his hand behind her neck. It was fine by him if she wanted to try her luck– he would rewrite her silly notions of his… unattractiveness.

[Tanaka Taro has joined the chat.]

[Tanaka Taro: Good evening! Sorry I'm late today! (0_0);;]

[Kanra: brb]