Originally posted at the Drrr Kinkmeme on Livejournal.

The following story contains M/M - please don't read if that's not your thing. If it is, enjoy! ;)

Wherever You Will Go

Chapter Ten

Now that this… whatever this was between them had subtly shifted into something less transient, a few things needed to change. Not least of which was the fact that Izaya needed more than one set of clothes. Nothing he had would last very long given Shizu-chan's penchant for tugging, pulling and ripping at them.

Oh, he wasn't complaining; it had taken long enough just to get the blond comfortable enough to accept the things he offered, let alone enjoy them. Admittedly, it'd be nice if Shizuo decided to claim a little more than just his body, but it was a start.

It was more than he'd expected, which was just so very Shizu-chan. One day, he should really find a hobby that yielded more predictable results: lotteries, tornado warnings, that sort of thing.

There wasn't much in the local village – Izaya tried to convince Shizuo that the apron would really come in handy now, only to be rebuffed at every attempt –

The next biggest town was over an hour away. Sitting on the uncomfortable bus seat, he mulled over the possibility of buying a car, before dismissing the idea; he had a feeling Shizu-chan would rather walk everywhere than get into a car right now. And there was the added benefit of watching Shizuo, folded into the cramped seats, staring out of the window with that faraway look in his eyes.

Faraway, but they both knew what he was seeing.

Less than he used to, maybe. The nightmares weren't hourly anymore. Izaya'd only been woken twice last night, and even though he'd still been half-asleep himself, Shizuo relaxed far quicker with someone there to murmur nonsense and remind him it was just a dream. Maybe not over, but at least something he could manage, in time.

Heh, or maybe he was really giving himself false graces. Maybe Shizuo would have reacted like that with anyone.

But he wasn't with anyone. It wasn't anyone who knew the true depth of that pain. Just him. Which had to count for something. At least the day gave him an opportunity to take Shizuo's mind off it.

Izaya settled back in his own seat, and set about making plans.

They still got some weird looks when the disembarked the bus, but the town was bigger and its inhabitants didn't seem quite so startled.

Oh, give 'em time…

While Izaya set about decimating whatever money he had left – would that weird secretary of his really fleece him while he was gone? Shizuo thought that was a pretty shitty thing to do – Shizuo slouched on a bench in the shade of a tree, and took another stab at wrapping his head around the past few days.

It hadn't worked before, but who knew, change of scene and all…

He laughed softly to himself. Yeah, huge change of scene: basking in the sun on a park bench. Maybe some things just didn't change, couldn't change, no matter where you went.

And other things…

"I love you."

Izaya hadn't repeated the words since that day, but he didn't have to; there was an echo in Shizuo's head every time Izaya looked at him. And part of him never wanted to hear it again, but a bigger part almost did, if only to accustom himself to hearing it. He'd never given much thought to hearing it at all, all things considered, but hearing it from the flea…

It was fucking terrifying. Worse, because he knew all the fear was his. Izaya was fearless, resilient, damn near impossible to discourage let alone kill, and Shizuo had no idea what to do with that. Everything he'd thought he wanted – someone who could hold their own, someone who knew what he was and still, for strange reasons of their own, thought he was worth something – so the only excuses were on him.

Maybe if it'd been someone else, that vague sense of mistrust wouldn't be there, but neither would that seductive, yearning promise of someone who just understood.

Maybe that was the most frightening thing of all. Where was there to hide with someone who knew fricking everything?

He opened his eyes when a shadow blocked the sun. Had to be the flea. Everyone else seemed wise enough to give him a wide berth.

"Here." Izaya held out a bag. "I know you probably don't want to do it now, but for whenever you feel ready to contact your friends, or your brother, it'll be easier if it's not coming from my phone, ne?"

Okay, that sounded innocent enough, but he still opened the box with caution.

"I even had them set it up for you, in case you really are as technologically challenged as you look," Izaya went on cheerfully, as Shizuo glowered at the thing inside the box, his suspicions proving totally correct.

"It's pink."

"It was the last one of that model they had." Izaya's face might have been solemn, but a wicked gleam in his eyes gave it away. "But I thought it'd suit Shizu-chan anyway."

"You need to stop buying me stuff. I'm not your kept woman."

"Well, no, I thought I was the one being kept." Izaya smiled. "Ah, just think of this as payback, Shizu-chan, of the monetary kind. How many bills for property damage haven't I helped you with in the past?"

Shizuo tried to suppress the wince. "Well, I guess there is that…"

"So you see?" Izaya nodded brightly. "Now you can enjoy your pretty new phone guilt-free."

It was just as well Izaya skipped off towards another store, because Shizuo was a second away from throwing said pretty phone at his pretty fricking head.

Pink. He snorted a soft laugh, looking at the phone. Stupid flea.

Bored of the bench, and getting nowhere with his thoughts, he followed Izaya into the store.

It seemed to be some kind of gift shop; what Izaya thought he wanted with a bunch of badly made trinkets - and… oh, was that fudge? - Shizuo had no idea. Near the door, where he felt less likely to break those badly made trinkets, there was a wire bookrack. He didn't understand much of it, but it seemed safer to browse than shit made of china and glass. And besides, maybe there were cookbooks. It'd be the finest fucking kind of irony if Izaya managed with food what he'd never managed with knives.

The only things he could find appeared to involve making cupcakes that looked like animals. While the idea of cupcakes, generally, was pretty tempting, he didn't particularly trust Izaya to do such innocent things with frosting.

At the bottom of the rack, however, was a small book with flowers on the cover, the title easily understandable: "Flower Meanings".

Curiosity nagged the back of his mind as he picked it up. Some of the names were lost on him, but it didn't take long to find a picture of that small yellow flower Izaya kept in his wallet.

Contrary to Izaya's accusations, he could use a cell phone perfectly well, thanks. Broke them, often, but while he had them he knew how they worked. Pulling up a web browser, he carefully typed in the letters on the page, and searched for a translation program, replacing the book on the rack while he waited for the result to display.

/Primroses: "I can't live without you"/

Oh, fuck, flea…

He remembered the way Izaya looked away when he'd held out that flower – held it out for him. He remembered how he hadn't taken it. And still the flea kept on trying, kept on refusing to quit. And he almost found himself angry at the way Izaya hadn't even told him what he meant, but the annoyance ran up against the sheer brick wall of all the ways Izaya had told him exactly that.

Was it okay, maybe, to believe it wasn't a game? Did it make him stupid – make him weak - to realize how badly he wanted it to be real?

"Are you done?" Izaya appeared at his side, starling him. Shizuo snapped the phone closed, turning to block Izaya's view of the bookrack.

"Yeah. Yeah, totally done."

Izaya looked at him dubiously. "You sure? You look awfully flustered, Shizu-chan."

"Shut up."

The next stop was some tackily fashionable clothes store, the sort of place with too many mirrors and music so loud it made his head hurt.

For something to do while Izaya hopped from one rack to the next – how could a guy with only a couple more changes of clothes than him be this fascinated with this crap? – he absently browsed the display closest to him.

In the mirror, he watched an effervescent sales clerk cozying up to Izaya. Probably word had already gotten around that there was an idiot with a credit card on the loose. Of course, Izaya flirted right back, looking coyly at whatever the guy said.

Which would've been fine, because that was what the flea did. But it was something else entirely when the kid shifted closer, one hand 'casually' skimming down Izaya's arm as he pointed out a rack of shirts. In his mind, he saw the image of fading yellow bruises on Izaya's arms. His bruises.

And it was the same, familiar rage coiling through him, only not; the same power, it just felt as though it came from a different source, something that burned hotter, brighter, cleaner.

A few long strides took him to stand behind Izaya. The sales clerk looked up at him, balked, and took a step back.

"You've bought enough. We're done. Let's go."

"Ah, but…" Izaya made a show of leaning closer, reading the sales clerk's name tag. "Patrick here thinks I really should try these pants first, right? In fact, he was just about the show me the dressing room, personally."

"I, er…" Patrick's wide gaze flicked back and forth between them, clearly lost on the conversation but not on the atmosphere. Huh. Maybe the kid was smarter than he looked.

Shizuo rested one hand on Izaya's shoulder, fingers tightening just enough to draw the edge of his collar back, revealing skin. Izaya leaned into the touch, just a fraction, and smiled. For the first time, he thought he understood what Izaya meant when he'd claimed to love everything Shizuo did. The marks marring that pale skin suddenly stood for something other than inflicted hurt, lack of control.

Ownership.

There was a moment when his doubts sidled up to him, asked warily whether he really wanted to own Izaya. Whether owning was even the word for it.

…Yeah, I kinda do.

"No," he said again through gritted teeth. "I think we're done."

Patrick's eyes went a little buggier when Shizuo's other hand gripped the nearest clothes rack, the smallest amount of pressure making it creak loudly before breaking off with a snap that was audible even above the music. Letting a slow grin curve his lips, Shizuo held the broken rack up, letting all the clothes slide off to pile untidily at the sales clerk's feet.

"Oh, dear." Izaya sighed theatrically. "I think Patrick might've made my Shizu-chan mad."

"And if you don't want me taking it out on your ass, we're leaving."

"Tch, promises, promises."

The hand on Izaya's arm tightening, he herded the flea out of the store. Izaya kept beaming at the bewildered sales clerk the whole way, speaking out of the corner of his mouth, "We're never coming back here, are we?"

Shizuo steered him away, convinced the entire damn place was staring at him because no one should turn that red and still be breathing. "No."

Maybe it wouldn't be the way he'd always imagined, but damned if Izaya wouldn't be the death of him, one way or the other.

It was late afternoon by the time they got home. Izaya was fine with regarding the cottage as such, but he restrained himself from using the terminology aloud. Just because Shizuo let him stay didn't mean the other man accepted this was where he belonged.

Besides, it wasn't the house. It wasn't four walls and a roof. Home was the way he'd caught Shizuo looking at that – admittedly, outrageous on purpose – cell phone and smiling a tiny bit, like it was worth more than money. Home was that possessive touch in the store, that crystal clear broadcast of "mine".

There were inferences a man could take from that. If he was dealing with anyone else, Izaya just might have. Shizuo, on the other hand, could have been smiling at the visions in his head of beating the crap out of him with that phone.

No. He supposed he could, at a stretch, see how Shizuo had come to the bizarre conclusion that he was a cruel man. But he was pretty sure he'd had a far more up close and personal relationship with cruelty than Shizu-chan ever had; Shizuo was many, many things. Cruel was not one of them. Not even close.

He dumped the shopping – okay, a little excessive, but worth it just to see Shizu-chan's reactions – inside, before returning to the garden where Shizuo had taken up his usual position against the wall with his cigarettes. Izaya hopped up onto the wall, content enough for now to just watch the fading sun cast Shizuo's profile in light and shadow, turn bleached blond hair into burnished gold.

Shizuo didn't acknowledge his presence, but for once, was the first to break the silence.

"Wonder what people're thinking, both of us just up and vanished."

Izaya leaned back on his hands, watching the setting sun fragment through the trees. "Maybe they'll think we eloped."

"Right." Shizuo took a drag on his cigarette. "Like anyone'd believe that."

Izaya smiled a secretive smile, the kind that had Shizuo's brows furrowing behind his sunglasses. "Ah, you'd be surprised, Shizu-chan…"

"Can't be good for you, though, can it? For your, y'know… work."

"Don't make it sound like something dirty, Shizu-chan."

"Isn't it?"

"Well… let's say it's slightly tarnished. And anyway, I doubt a little mystery is doing any harm to my reputation."

Shizuo snorted. "Can anything harm your reputation?"

"Ah, I don't know. Shacking up with my sworn enemy might do it."

It was a nudge over the line, but Shizuo just shook his head slightly, like he'd expected something like that. "Is that what we're doing?"

"I think that's the technical term, yes."

"Do you miss it? Work, I mean." Shizuo glanced up at him. "Or just being back in the city. You must be bored shitless."

"No, actually." He shook his head. "Like I said, a change of pace from the city is good for you sometimes And whenever Shizu-chan wants to go back, we'll go back."

"And if that's never?"

Izaya doubted that was true. Contrary to himself, Shizuo had real ties back home. Friends. Family. Other people he cared about, that were important to him.

…okay, actually 'never' sounded just fine.

"Then that's okay too." And here he was, about to not just nudge past that invisible line Shizuo drew in their conversations, but blast past it, trailing streamers. "But you know, since Shizu-chan isn't trying to kill me anywhere outside the bedroom anymore, it'd be safe to go back. You wouldn't have to worry so much about it."

"Izaya—"

Funny, how addictive it was to hear all the different ways Shizuo said his name. Nothing could match the way he'd cried it out that morning he thought Izaya was gone, but still…

"I know, you don't want to talk about it yet. I'm just saying, when you do… I'm here. It's not just you feeling bad about it, you know."

Because there was a world of difference in the distant, detached way he played with his humans till they broke, like an over-eager child with an utterly fascinating toy, to this. He told himself the people he played with still had a choice; he could lead them to that ledge, but they were the ones who jumped. Something failing in them was necessary, some deeper flaw. No one who was content with themselves, who liked themselves would truly fall for his games. If that weakness existed, well… it would be exploited somehow, someday, by someone. At least he gleaned an understanding from it.

But this… this wholly unprepared thing, this mess that had never crossed his mind while he was busy chasing after bigger prey, this uncalculated accident… it might not have been directly by his hand, but it was the closest he'd come.

And the only thing he'd learned from it was that when Shizuo hurt, everything else felt wrong.

"Yeah… that's pretty fucking selfish of me, huh?"

"No, not really. After all, my conscience is a rather fickle thing at the best of times, how could you ever know."

"Huh. I think it's more that you listening to your conscience is a fickle thing."

"It's the same, isn't it?"

"Not quite." Shizuo stared at his cigarette for a long moment, before tapping the ash off on the wall. "Besides, it's different for you. You haven't just been waiting for something like this all your life. And even if you had, you wouldn't have been dumb enough to start believing that since you got this far without fucking up, maybe you weren't as bad as you thought."

"But you aren't. You never have been, even I could see that much. It might've been easier on us both if you were, Shizu-chan."

Except that wasn't true, because if Shizuo really was the monster he thought he was, they wouldn't be here now.

"Okay, you can sit out here all night," he hopped off the wall, brushing dust from his pants as he turned back for the house. "I'm going to play with my new toys."

He'd reached the door when he heard the mild, "Oi, flea."

"Hmm?" He turned, watching Shizuo's back against a sky turning lavender at the edges.

"Thanks."

Not exactly the declaration he'd been hoping for, but in a way it was better. A hopeful little suggestion that maybe Shizuo would allow himself to need him for other things.

"You're welcome, Shizu-chan."

Okay, so that hadn't been awkward at all. Shizuo took his time finishing his cigarette before following Izaya inside.

All Izaya's bags were strewn over the couch, so the only place to sit was the bed. He hesitated for a moment, wondering whether the flea would take it as an invitation to join him there, before figuring he wouldn't be too disappointed if he did.

For a while, however, Izaya seemed far more preoccupied with his purchases, and Shizuo pretended he wasn't irrationally jealous of things. His own new phone first – yeah, that'd have to go conveniently missing one of these days… - then some books, then the clothes. That part, Shizuo decided, wasn't too bad, given the impromptu fashion show that resulted. Izaya preened in the doorway, slender frame sashaying back and forth like a catwalk model. Shizuo couldn't tell whether the tight, dark jeans were the same ones he usually wore or not, but the shirt was new; some flowing, dark red thing with laces at the cuffs and collar that the flea left loose and dishevelled.

"How does it look?"

"It's okay." He pillowed his head on his arms, made himself more comfortable. "Take it off."

Izaya stopped, looking up at him, surprise fading to desire, an expression as promising and threatening as a summer storm.

They'd been in this position before. Funny how the same act could feel so different.

Izaya caught the hem of that weird shirt, and slowly tugged it over his head. The pattern of new and fading marks on his shoulders, arms, chest, still made Shizuo's breath catch, but not in quite the same bitter way. Hair mussed, Izaya looked at Shizuo through lowered lashes as he threw the shirt aside. "That thing, in the clothes store? Very nice, Shizu-chan."

"Yeah, well… I don't like other people touching my stuff."

"I see." He could hear the smile, even though Izaya turned his back, hips shifting like liquid as he unfastened his jeans. "So I'm 'stuff'?"

"Don't know about that…" Watching Izaya bend down to peel off those tight pants, Shizuo undid his own, sliding a hand under the open material to stroke himself. "But you're definitely mine."

"Ah…" Izaya turned to look at him, and the heat in his smile brushed against Shizuo's senses like velvet. "About time you noticed."

"Better late than never."

He forced himself to keep his hands where they were, as Izaya stalked onto the bed, moving with the lazy grace of a well-disguised predator. He looked down at Shizuo's lazily stroking hand, and mock-pouted.

"Not fair, Shizu-chan. Starting without me."

"Oh? When did I ever say I play fair, flea?"

"Apparently, never."

"Well, if you think you can do better…" He withdrew his hand, tucking it behind his head again. Izaya knelt between his thighs with a sly smile, and Shizuo felt himself grin back, showing teeth. "Make it good."

Izaya ducked his head, laughed, before the fingers on his thighs flexed, like a cat testing its claws. "Always, Shizu-chan."

But unlike before, Izaya didn't go straight for his cock. Instead, he leaned down, catching Shizuo's lips in a languid kiss. It was almost chaste, just delicate little flicks of the tongue, gentle scrapes of teeth, until Shizuo forgot the game he was playing with himself. By the time he noticed, his hands were in Izaya's hair, and the kiss turned deep and hungry.

He still held on as the kisses trailed lower, taking their time with every patch of skin revealed by every button Izaya undid on his shirt. Teeth against his collarbone. A tongue darting against a nipple. Warm, open-mouthed kisses tickling his sides. By the time Izaya finally reached his cock, lips tight, wet and purposeful, Shizuo was almost too on edge to enjoy it.

Almost. Even when he had to fight himself for control, it was hard not to enjoy the way Izaya looked sucking him off.

He tightened his fingers in Izaya's hair slightly, just enough to get his attention.

"If you want more than that, you'd better stop."

Izaya released him with a teasing lick, lips a little puffy as he smiled. "Ah, I'm not greedy."

"Sure you're not," Shizuo growled, reaching out to stroke Izaya as the other man stretched to retrieve the lube from the bag that had begun to serve as a makeshift nightstand. "Whatever. I am."

Izaya arched over him as Shizuo prepared him, arms draped loosely around his shoulders, tongue thrusting against his in time with the press of his fingers. If not for the way Izaya tightened around his fingers every time he slid them deep, he'd have been content to stay like that for hours, just tasting, touching. It was too soon, and not soon enough, when Izaya pushed him back lightly, and straddled his hips.

He could barely bring himself to watch Izaya's face; discomfort was okay, but if there was any sign of real pain, then…

But there was neither. Izaya just had a look of blissful concentration, lower lip caught between his teeth, as he slowly worked his hips down. When Izaya was fully seated, just rocking slightly against him like there was no way in hell he could stay still, he leaned his hands on Shizuo's chest and gazed down at him with want-drunk eyes.

"Feels good, ne, Shizu-chan?"

Shizuo shook his head, thrusting up experimentally. Izaya bucked against him, hands scrabbling for balance. "No. Feels fucking fantastic."

Izaya leaned back, hands braced on Shizuo's thighs, taking him deeper still. They were barely moving, just the incremental shift of his hips meeting the grinding of Izaya's, but the flea's cock jerked with every touch. Shizuo's hands slid against everything else: from Izaya's thighs to his chest, back down his arms, curving against his ass, but for a while he just wanted to watch Izaya's reaction to him unobstructed. The flea didn't even touch himself, seemingly getting all the stimulation he wanted from Shizuo's gaze alone.

He sat up, pulling Izaya closer. The change of angle made him gasp, made Izaya's rhythm falter. One hand stroking the erection that rubbed wetly against his stomach, the other cupped the back of Izaya's head, drawing him down into a kiss.

"Mine," he breathed against Izaya's lips, feeling the slender body in his arms stiffen. "Mine."

Izaya nodded frantically, arms tight around his shoulders. "Yeah… only Shizu-chan's."

Then they were kissing again, all teeth and tongues, Izaya's moans muffled by Shizuo's mouth as he came, heat splashing between their bodies. Shizuo tried to pull back, afraid he'd bite down too hard, afraid he'd hurtwhen he lost control, but Izaya's fingers gripped his hair tight, not letting him go until he rode out the last shudders of orgasm, coming hard and deep inside Izaya's body.

He fell back against the bed with a low, pleased sigh. Izaya collapsed against him, a limp tangle of wiry limbs, and Shizuo was too boneless to even know whether he was comfortable. Probably. Something certainly felt as though there was nothing in that instant he wanted to change.

"I meant what I said, y'know." He watched the clouds clear through the skylight, the first stars blinking to life in the twilight. "I am grateful. I just… things'll take time, I guess."

"You can have all the time you want," Izaya rested his cheek against Shizuo's chest, and closed his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I know." He threaded a hand in Izaya's hair, needing to offer something back, something that would tide them over till he found the nerve for the proper words. "Neither am I. Not without you, anyway."

Izaya smiled. "Well, obviously. I go wherever you go, Shizu-chan."

He could definitely get used to this. He could definitely fall in love with the flea. Hell, he probably already had; it'd just take a while for his brain – protozoan as it was – to catch up with his heart.

He watched Izaya sleep, thinking that even if he did dream, there'd be someone there to soothe it away. Someone who got it. Someone who knew what he was – knew he was scared - and stayed anyway.

A red-eyed demon he'd finally managed to catch.