A/N: A Christmas Request fic for Anon (Stalker from FFnet! :D So I really hope you find this!), who requested : something where Izaya is very uncomfortable for feeling too comfortable in his relationship with Shizuo and starts contemplating the entire situation. Bonus if he tries to distance himself from Shizuo for sometime and Shizuo wonders why. I want some angst but not so much and would love it if it somehow ends with a fluffy ending with a tsundere Izaya.

Cognitive Dissonance

No one expected a simple cup of coffee to derail their lives. As far as omens of doom went, Izaya thought there were probably more obvious ones.

"Oi…" Warm fingers carded through his hair, rousing him a few seconds before the scent of cheap instant coffee filled the room. "Gonna sleep all day, flea?"

Blinking away sleep, Izaya watched the cramped confines of Shizuo's room come into focus. The half-closed drapes. The rumpled sheets. His coat, sprawled out in the middle of what floor space Shizuo had, like its wearer had tripped and flailed then vanished before they hit the ground.

Funny how he hadn't cared what happened to it last night.

Steam obscured his vision as he sat up and glanced across the bed at the blond making himself comfortable again on the narrow mattress. "Here," Shizuo handed him a mug filled so close to the brim that it seemed designed to make him spill it. This close, the coffee smelled as tarily pungent as exhaust fumes. "Figured you might need some help."

"Hmm…" Accepting the cup with a noncommittal murmur, he blew the steam away from the lip of the mug, watching the steam lick and curl, and tried to figure out why every alarm bell in his head was ringing out a symphony. "I told you we shouldn't have gone for round three, ne?"

"Yeah…" Turning on his side, Shizuo propped himself up on one elbow, grinning that sly grin that, on ordinary mornings, would have had Izaya trying to decide whether this would qualify as round four, or today's round one. "Worth it though, huh?"

And there was nothing odd or strange about the way Shizuo dipped his head, brushing a kiss against Izaya's bare shoulder with a husky rumble of "You drive me fricking crazy, know that?"

There was nothing unusual about the way the kisses trailed along the side of his neck, ticklish enough to make him squirm to keep from spilling the coffee as he admonished lightly, "I know you live in a pigsty, Shizu-chan, but don't expect me to add to the mess."

"One…" A nip at the juncture of neck and shoulder. "I don't live in a pigsty. I clean up once a week whether it needs it or not. And two…" A darting lick that teased to the back of his neck, teeth grazing lightly. Judging from the warm flicker of an ache that followed, Shizuo hadn't behaved himself again last night and Izaya would be checking the neckline of his sweater all day in case those incriminating bite-marks showed. "I like it when you make a mess." He shivered as he felt the smile brush his skin. "Kinda like it most when you make a mess of me."

Nothing out of the ordinary. Ever since they decided they'd long since grown bored of chasing each other with knives and stop signs and channel their energy into something a little more productive and mutually beneficial, this sort of morning was at the very least a weekly occurrence.

Like all monsters, Shizuo was more comfortable in his own domain, and so nine times out of ten they wound up back at his apartment. Izaya couldn't remember when he'd started keeping some spare clothes and a few extra phone chargers here. One day, a second toothbrush appeared next to Shizuo's. He never asked, because at the time he hadn't imagined either of them had a sensible answer, and as time went on it didn't seem to matter much anymore.

The bed that Shizuo tumbled him back against after plucking the coffee cup from his grasp first was as familiar as his own. He knew the dips of the mattress, knew the way it creaked and shifted under him. He knew that rough patch he could feel through the thin sheets as he gripped the edges, arching back under the assault of Shizu-chan's mouth, came from that time the blond dropped a cigarette in bed under the assault of his mouth.

Che… it had served the protozoan right for trying to divide his attention between two things, when obviously he was better value.

He shuddered as callused fingertips dragged slowly down his sides, tracing circles at his hips before sliding around to the small of his back. And his body, so attuned, so well trained, responded instinctively, knees parting either side of Shizuo's thighs even though he hadn't given it permission to instigate round four, damn it. When had he given it permission to do any of this?

Turning his head, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He couldn't see everything – Shizu-chan had taken that suggestion that he pin it to the ceiling if he was that kinky far too seriously, and now the angle was a little off – but he could see enough. He could see the way his hands clung to Shizuo, one digging hard into the blond's shoulder, the other tangled tight in his hair. He could see the slashes of red cutting across his cheekbones, and the glazed look in his eyes. He could see the lazy, possessive smile curving Shizuo's lips as he mouthed butterfly kisses along Izaya's collarbone.

As dissonant as it looked in comparison to the way he felt, it was almost like watching from afar. Almost like a near-death experience, except even Shizu-chan wasn't that good at sex…

Maybe that's what felt off. For all their bodies were pressed close, one of them shifting minutely every time the other took a breath, and for all Shizuo's hands were mapping every inch of his skin and leaving warm sparks of pleasure in their wake, there was nothing urgent about it. Nothing desperate or aggressive. Ah, Shizu-chan had done plenty of that last night, he supposed, the back of his neck throbbing lightly in agreement, but even so… something about that was easier to comprehend than this. To the casual observer, it seemed as though Shizuo wasn't even chasing any absolute goal. As though the chase itself, leisurely and tender as it might be, was enough.

Well… one way to find out, ne?

Tightening his grip, he tugged Shizuo's head up. "I need to get to work, Shizu-chan."

"Tch…" Several things flickered across that gleaming mocha gaze – frustration, disappointment, a sly sort of optimism as Shizuo shifted his hips enticingly, cock sliding against Izaya's in a slow, sweet, "are you sure about that?" – but nothing that suggested anger. Nothing that suggested the blond would drag him back to bed, pin him down and take him anyway if Izaya pushed him away. And why would he? You've somehow given him the impression he has all this on tap."Can't you just call in sick?"

He heard the grumpy groan as he extricated himself, sliding out from Shizuo's arms. "Ah, but I work for a terrible slave driver, ne? He'd punish me if he found out I was slacking off."

"Yeah?" Turning on his side, the sheet draped strategically over his hips, Shizuo grinned darkly. "What if you tell him I'll punish you if you don't?"

"How?" He fought the urge to shiver, body tense with a delicious sort of anticipation, waiting for Shizuo to reach out, grab his wrist, yank him back… Gathering up his clothes instead to put a little distance between them, Izaya piled them on a chair with a sigh. They were probably clean enough; Shizu-chan hadn't let him be in them all that much yesterday, after all. "By forgetting to bring me coffee in bed?" At Shizuo's quizzical look, he shook his head. "Never mind. But I really do have to go to work. I'm showering first."

"Yeah, okay…" Shizuo flopped onto his back, something in his tone threatening the way the cogs were turning in his head. Or, in a protozoan's case, the wobbly stone wheels. "Since I don't work for a slave driver, I don't need to go in till later."

"Ah, the life of the low-skilled employee. You know, you keep this mighty nation turning, Shizu-chan."

"Tch…" He heard the chuckle as he shut the bathroom door behind him. "Guess it depends on the skill, huh?"

He was still trying to work it out as he showered, the odd sense of feeling uncomfortable in his skin. Antsy. Edgy. There was nothing he'd forgotten. No important client he'd promised to meet and was running late. No unencrypted file or unattended pen drive he'd left on a train. But the discomfiting feeling that had awakened around the time he did, around the time Shizuo made him coffee like it was the most normal, natural thing in the world for them to wake up together like that, kept gnawing at the back of his thoughts. Enough, that when he closed his eyes, he wanted to pretend he was back at his place, in his shower, in his spacious bathroom, and not in Shizuo's where he could reach out in one direction and open the front door, and reach out with the other to open the back window, all without leaving the steamy heat of the shower.

He wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. And that made very little sense, given that there was a time, not that long ago, where he'd have given anything to be able to infiltrate the beast's lair like this. To be in Shizuo's space, to know how he ticked, watching and waiting to catalogue every frailty, every weakness.

Now that he did, he'd somehow forgotten all the reasons he thought he needed to.

He left the bathroom swathed in Shizuo's too-big robe, and headed straight for his clothes, muttering softly under his breath at the fact everything was turned inside out.

Desperate. Urgent. Not comfortable at all.

"You wanna go do something later?" Dressed in just sweatpants and a cigarette, Shizuo had one knee bent up as he sat on the narrow windowsill. He was a rumpled-haired golden silhouette against such a dazzlingly sunny window that Izaya could almost forget that the only view Shizuo had out of that window was a narrow back alley and the steps of the apartment building across the road. On days when it rained, the neon lights from the convenience store on the corner glittered along the wet concrete. "I figured I could ask Tom if I can cut out a little early."

"Do something?" Izaya turned to pick up his coat, a little more relaxed to be looking at an expanse of black. "You mean fuck, ne?"

Because something else implied there was something else to them. And there couldn't be.

"Nah, I mean something. Go for food, whatever…" Shizuo paused. Backlit as he was, Izaya couldn't quite make out the look on his face, and in turn couldn't begin to calculate what Shizu-chan might be seeing in his own. "You okay?"

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"Dunno. If I knew, I wouldn't be asking."

"I told you, ne? I need to get to work. I have some important clients to meet today."

Shizuo nodded thoughtfully to himself. "Be careful with that crap, 'kay?"

"Careful?" Izaya echoed, gaze snapping up, a nervous little laugh catching in his throat. "Would you like me to call you in between meetings to reassure you that no-one's tried to assassinate me in the meantime?"

"Tch, no…" Shizuo suddenly found his cigarette fascinating, but the hint of a smile looked ridiculously affectionate. "But y'know, after maybe…"

And that was exactly why it all felt so wrong. Like figuring out the intricate workings of some elaborate trick, or trying to remember fragments of a dream, once you looked too hard the whole thing fell apart.

Because this wasn't ordinary. There was nothing normal or natural about whatever they were doing here. Shizuo wasn't meant to worry about him, or look at him with that undemanding affection plastered all over his protozoic face. Izaya wasn't meant to feel that uneasy weight of obligation, or – God forbid – feel pleased that Shizu-chan…

Cares? How stupid…

No. Somewhere along the line he hadn't noticed the boundaries shifting, that was all. It wasn't too late to bring them back into their proper alignment.

Shrugging into his coat, he checked his knife and his phone were still safely in the pockets before turning wordlessly for the door.

"Oi, that was just a joke, y'know."

"Hmm." He waved dismissively over his shoulder, not looking back. "Then you won't mind if I don't call you, ne?"

He didn't slam the door on the way out, but only because his hands were shaking so hard with an aimless sort of anger that he couldn't put any force behind it. Aimless because the only other place to direct it was at himself for not noticing how far he'd slipped sooner.

Shizuo didn't follow, and Izaya found himself juggling mortification and an aggrieved sort of helplessness at the fact he actually hesitated on the landing, just in case.

You're meant to be the stupid one, Shizu-chan. You're meant to be the monster.

He forced himself to move, lest he still find himself standing there whenever Shizuo decided to drag himself to work. It would be a good idea to keep out of Shizu-chan's way for a while; it might give him time to clear his head and think of a better way to turn this mess to his advantage.

And he hadn't lied about having several important meetings that day, although none of them were are mortally dangerous as Shizuo might have imagined. Ordinarily, the boredom would have been enough to drive him to distraction – around the time he started designing new pointless tasks for Namie, or daydreaming of ootoro, or wondering what Shizu-chan was—no, not wondering that – but today he was grateful for something else to focus on. The day still dragged by, and no one brought him any truly interesting jobs, but it was still dark outside his window by the time the phone in his coat pocket, the only phone to which Shizuo had the number, rang.

"Do you need to get that?" His last client of the day, some shady Shinjuku businessman who wanted enough dirt to bury his rivals… possibly literally, Izaya hadn't been listening that closely, arched a brow.

"No." Izaya smiled. "It's not important. Now, where were we…?"

"Well," the man grinned, an oily little expression showing stained teeth incongruously punctuated by one gold crown. "Like I was sayin', you might wanna come check the club out, get a…" the smile turned a shade of lascivious that made Izaya's skin crawl "feel for the place, ya know?"

Hmm. An evening of being pawed at by a middle-aged lech, or dealing with Shizu-chan?

…It wasn't a fair contest, really.

Sweeping his coat from the back of his chair, he stood, shutting down his laptop. "Well, no time like the present, ne? Though I will have to chalk up any expenses as part of my fee."

"Sure, sure…" His client may as well have been a slobbering dog as quickly as he bounded to his feet. "Anything you want."

Izaya paused. He could only summon mild irritation at the fawning. Despite the fact Shizuo never did anything that overt, even those small gestures that implied the blond was content with whatever Izaya demanded grated on him a hundredfold more.

Before he followed his client out of the door, he checked the phone. One voicemail message. Against his better judgement, he let it play, shivering a little at the first deep syllable.

"Oi, flea… Dunno if you still wanted to go do something. After this morning, I just figured maybe… Heh, you didn't say I couldn't call you, right? Anyway, I'm headed home now, so, y'know… if you wanted me for anything, that's where I'll be."

Long after the message beeped and returned to the automated voice telling him pleasantly that he had no new messages, would he like to listen to that one again or delete it, Izaya kept the phone pressed to his ear. It took his client looking back at him impatiently and whining "Are you coming?" to snap him out of it.

Deleting the message, he left the phone on the bookcase by the door.

"Yes," he smiled blandly. "I have a feeling I just might."

He didn't, obviously. At least, not the way he would have if he'd given in and gone chasing after Shizuo like the obedient pet the protozoan must think he was now. Obedient and available, answering to every whim…

Che.

He'd fallen asleep on the couch after hauling himself from a smoky, loud nightclub. His coat still stank of it. So did his hair, probably. He couldn't tell, and until Namie deigned to show up for work he had no one to judge for him.

And he tried not to slump back against the cushions with a sigh, wondering why the scent of Shizuo's cigarettes never clung this bitterly to him, but the morning was too quiet and empty around him to keep the thoughts at bay.

Ah, it'd have to be done sooner or later.

One: the problem.

Well, that was simple. Shizu-chan was his problem, ne? Shizu-chan had always been his problem. Shizu-chan needed to stop being so unpredictable and go die already.

He scowled up at the ceiling, and grit his teeth. Fine. The problem, revised edition: something had changed drastically enough that even thinking all that left as bitter an aftertaste as the smell permeating his clothes, his skin.

When?

Gradually enough that he hadn't noticed until it was almost too late.

Ah, but Shizuo Heiwajima had always been a force of nature; it really wasn't his fault if he'd been swept up in it. He'd always known that, from the day they met. The brute had crashed into his life in a blaze of glorious fury and destruction, and something in Izaya's soul had recognized the monster for what it was. For something that would as soon annihilate him, crush out his existence like so much street furniture, as look at him twice.

And that had been okay. Unlike beasts, who lived full-throttle with no regard for their own safety, humans tended to perform better under pressure. Under the threat of destruction, something that reminded them they were alive. Perhaps most humans didn't goad and tempt and provoke that threat, drive it to the brink of attack over and over and over again, but he did. Because he could. Because he was neither human nor monster, but something apart from either where the normal rules hadn't applied.

There had never been any rules. That should have been his first warning sign, but he hadn't paid it any heed. If it had whizzed by replete with blinking lights and waving flags, he wouldn't have stopped. The thrill of the chase, the fury of the fight was too much. Too addictive.

Anyway, passion was a fickle emotion. It didn't much care what lit its fuse, as long as it had some outlet. Maybe the part of Shizu-chan that was closest to something more than human – because there was no such thing as a part of Izaya that was closest to something less - saw it's echo, its equal in him. A safe chase, endless and impossible to win. Impossible to lose.

So, really, nothing had changed. Just evolved.

…No, no, no, that didn't work. Evolution suggested there was no possible alternative outcome, that nature dictated this was the preferred progression, and there had to be another option. Had to be a way to get back the status quo he'd lost.

How?

Rolling himself off the couch, he stretched as he stumbled to make some tea. Not coffee.

If I knew that, I wouldn't have the problem to begin with, ne…?

But that thing that hadn't been evolution meant there was no single defining event. Just a series of tiny shifts, scenes that played out with a small detail changed.

Like that time during one of their chases where he noticed that his thoughts consisted of precisely two things; adrenaline and Shizuo. Nothing but the never-wavering distance between them that delineated everything he knew about his world; him on one side, the monsters on the other.

Or the time he'd laughed out loud, wondering what might happen if he let Shizu-chan catch him. Would the beast even know what to do with his prey, or would it be as laughable as opening the door for salesmen and nodding "please, come in! I'm very interested in spending an insane amount of money on useless wares!"

He'd been testing boundaries, that was all, That was what humans did, after all; hem them in and they needed to find out what was on the other side of the fence. It proved his very existence. If Shizu-chan was Shizu-chan, then he was Izaya Orihara, and if he could get under the monster's skin, if the protozoan's world revolved around him then… well, it just affirmed everything, didn't it?

He could command both their worlds, and if he could dictate the actions of a wild beast, then the universe spun to his rhythm; endless, undying, twenty-one forever and always, always in control.

At least until Shizu-chan's broken rhythm interfered with his pace. Until Shizu-chan did catch him, and did things no amount of reverse psychology could predict.

And after that, it might have been all the times he watched Shizuo from a different perspective. Noticed things. The way he smiled with his friends. The way he looked so peaceful sprawled out on a park bench at sunset. The way he looked so hurt when he spilt milkshake on his uniform. The way he tapped out his cigarettes. The way he laughed, or complained, or yawned, or breathed. The way that feral, delighted light went off in molten caramel eyes every time he showed up, and the way he chased with a different sort of intensity.

The way he was real. Not a motif, or a concept, or an useful device. Real.

Which should have been more affirming still, ne? The more real Shizuo Heiwajima became, surely it stood to reason that Izaya Orihara became more so along the same path.

But it hadn't worked that way. Instead of being the one in charge of the changing, he'd somehow slipped. Somehow he'd been the one changing. And he hadn't spent all that time and effort for that to happen so easily. A place for everything, and everything in its place meant no room for monsters, however achingly real, however temptingly warm they might have been. However they might have looked at him like having him there mattered. Meant something.

The thing that shattered everything he thought he wanted. The thing that was going to put him back together as someone he didn't know, didn't understand, might not even like all that much. And what then? What if Shizu-chan wanted the mask, not the reality? What if the reality wasn't all it was hyped up to be?

That wasn't what he wanted. He wanted his safe, human's love. He wanted to be set apart, not tangled up in something he barely understood past that horrifically yearning voice in his head that started whispering things like 'maybe this is what you were after all along, ne? Not just his attention on your terms, but his attention, free and wild and passionate and frightened and tender, just like him'

Why?

At his desk, he sipped his tea, staring out uninterestedly across the city.

All he'd wanted was a foil, a counter, a dark to his light, a king his joker could dethrone. Something inhuman he could throw all his love for humanity in its face and make it see it could never touch him. That fools could be swayed and enchanted, but he'd never be one of them.

He loved humans. Loved them, loved them, loved them, with all the single-minded obsession of a kid with fragile, delicate toys, trying to see how rough he could be and still keep them from breaking to the point they'd have to be thrown away. He loved them ugly, loved them beautiful. Loved them stupid, loved them clever. Loved the way none of them mattered to him in the slightest, that he barely remembered their names the moment their usefulness had waned and their existence continued off his radar. He loved the way he mattered so much to them, that they harboured their little grudged and plotted their little revenge and all the time assumed he was still thinking about them. That he spared them so much as a second glance. That anything they could do would somehow change his trajectory. He loved them because they didn't define him. Because they never could. Because they were tiny little lights flicking off and on in the vast empty, benevolent space that was him. They came and they went, and he loved the sheer banality of them.

He didn't love monsters. Monsters were unpredictable, fickle, unreliable, too wild to know exactly what they were thinking. They couldn't be trusted, couldn't be counted on. They took everything he wanted and flaunted it, tried to make him feel inferior. Tried to throw him off course. Tried to make him feel he didn't matter, never realizing he was the one pulling the strings. Always, always pulling the strings…

Except when he noticed how good he felt when someone else – when a monster – was pulling his instead.

When affirmation required a flip side of the coin for the sake of perfect equilibrium, and not for the sake of an antagonist. When Shizu-chan was Shizu-chan and he was Izaya because they both needed each other's existence to prove more than how well they could survive or adapt or fight.

He wanted to live forever. He was still investigating other methods, but he had to admit mattering this much to someone else, having such a power over their existence that you were branded deep and bloody on the bottom of their soul – and all for no reason, just because – was one way of achieving it.

Conclusion?

Eyes narrowed, he glared at the empty tea cup.

There wasn't one.

He didn't like the way Shizuo made him feel. Didn't like the fact he was feeling in the first place. Out of control, and needing, and wanting to be something other than the role he'd carefully rehearsed and constructed for himself. Nothing could be allowed to matter more than his humans, after all. Nothing could supersede how vital their inability to define him, to tie him down, fence him in, make him yearn or want or fear, truly was to him.

So he'd just do what he always did. Label it neatly and file it away for future reference, under 'never do this again.'

He was still staring at the cup when the office door opened. Namie took three steps into the room before wrinkling her nose. "You smell like the floor of some seedy bar. If you expect me to stay in here all day, you're going to shower."

"Ah, I was just going." He smiled cheerily, drinking in her presence. Another human… well, despite her best efforts to rise above it. Ugly on the inside, expendable, forgettable, useful. Everything he wanted. "I don't suppose you'd like to help me?"

"I don't suppose you'd like to re-enact the shower scene from Psycho?" Namie began leafing through her paperwork, bored.

"You're no fun. I'll have to know there are countless people out there who'd jump at the chance."

Namie laughed out loud. "Really? Be sure to pass on my very sincere sympathies."

Telling himself that everything was settled and ordinary in his world again in all the right ways, he went to clean off the stench of the night before, and by the time he'd returned, by the time the day passed him by, he'd almost managed to convince himself this horrible episode with Shizu-chan hadn't happened at all.

He was getting ready to leave when the blinking light on the cell phone on the bookcase caught his eye.

Another voicemail.

"Hey… I was just, uh… ah, I suck at this crap." He could picture the scene to go along with that gruff voice, imagining Shizuo scraping a hand through his hair, scowling at the phone. "I mean, what the hell am I supposed to ask, 'are you coming over later' or something? Usually I don't have to 'cause you've come over to Ikebukuro to make a nuisance of yourself, right? Anyway, uh… I'll be home later if you, y'know… yeah. See you later, flea."

Delete message: y/n?

Thumb hovering over the 'OK' button, Izaya forced himself to smile. "No, you won't, Shizu-chan…"

Because this didn't define him. His existence didn't depend on a monster. Something as stupid as the way Shizuo smiled, or touched, or said his name didn't swing a great big wrecking ball through all the boundary walls he'd built.

Message deleted.

Three days of sleeping on his couch – why? He had a perfectly good bed. Punishment, maybe. Certainly nothing to do with the way someone always slept on the couch after a fight, ne? – and his back was starting to question his judgment. Izaya contemplated asking Namie for some recommendations for painkillers, before reasoning that he already gave her ample opportunity to poison him by having her make his tea. There was no point being reckless about it.

He never once thought about Shizuo. Except for those times when he had to.

"Look, I just… lemme know you're okay, yeah? I know that's stupid as hell, and you're probably stabbing me in your head about now and y'know I deserve it for being so dumb, but… Shit, Izaya since when the hell do you leave me alone for three days for no fricking reason, hah? I'll kick your ass if you've gotten yourself hurt or something. Call me, dumbass bastard."

Izaya pressed delete on the latest message, smiling a little wryly at the screen. So Shizu-chan was keeping track of the days, how sweet…

How many more of them until the messages fizzled out altogether? And how many after that before he could go back to Ikebukuro to find that everything was as he'd left it before this woeful lapse in judgement?

That was all he wanted. Even a protozoan could tell that, right? That he wished Shizuo looked at him the way he always had, with that passionate gleam deadened and the lines between them drawn over again, hard enough it would take more than this to blow them away.

Just… let me not want you, Shizu-chan. Let me pretend until I start believing it. You can do that, ne?

"Your client for six cancelled."

Izaya made a face. Wonderful. Another evening of avoiding Shizu-chan stretched out infinitely before him. There were only so many clubs he could leave late, and alone, ignoring all the offers of better ways to spend the night than here in the dark by himself.

"But someone called interested in setting up a meeting less than five minutes after we got the cancellation." Namie went on, shrugging into her coat, flicking her hair out of her collar. "I pencilled him in. He sounded very adamant that it had to be today."

Ah, then maybe his evening was looking up. "Name?"

Namie glanced disinterestedly at the papers on her desk. "One Jigoro Kano-san. He didn't say what he wanted." She smiled sweetly at him. "I thought it'd be more of a surprise for you if I didn't ask. We can only hope he's someone you've annoyed in the past who wants to rearrange your face with your own laptop."

Izaya laughed. "You'd enjoy that, wouldn't you?"

"Intensely."

"Understandable. But remember, I think you'd hate being my nurse even more than you hate being my secretary."

"It's my educated, scientific opinion that it'd be impossible for me to dislike you more than I already do, whatever you ask me to do." A pause, before she shrugged and turned for the door. "No, actually I can think of a couple of things that would make me despise you more."

"Ah, don't be like that, Namie!" He giggled as she walked out, the door clicking behind her resolutely. "I'd have bought you dinner first, at least!"

Wheeling himself over to her desk, he spun idly in his chair as he reached for the sheet of paper on which she'd scrawled the details of his mysterious client. Something about that name… he couldn't remember why it rang a bell. Nothing to do with his work, at least he didn't think so; certainly not a previous client or there'd be no need for all this subterfuge.

"Though I don't blame you, Kano-san… my secretary doesn't have the best people-skills, you must forgive her."

Bad people skills, but also far too intelligent to have forgotten the name of a client or any name she might have come across while filing Izaya's paperwork. He ruled that out as a source for the niggling familiarity.

Still frowning, and loathe to give on the puzzle this early, he typed the name 'Jigoro Kano' into the search engine of his browser. After all, Kano-san would be here in ten minutes, and Izaya would prefer to know what he was dealing with before then. And the uneasiness just bred little uneasy offspring as he read the notes of the very first hit, albeit… not the uneasiness he'd been bracing himself for.

"Jigoro Kano – (28 Oct 1860 – 4 May 1938). The founder of judo."

Chin resting on steepled hands, he fought the urge to smile. This really was no matter to smile about. Fake clients using fake names? Hadn't he taught Namie to be more discerning when vetting potential new business? Still…

When did you get this smart, hmm? And what on earth did you do to the client who was meant to be my six o'clock?

He could have just left. Locked up, disappeared, and left the enigmatic Kano-san waiting around for no reason. It wasn't as though he thought he was wrong in his deduction, so there was no need to stay just on the basis that Kano-san might be a legitimate client. But he stayed anyway, swishing back and forth lazily in his chair until the minutes ticked down to six and a shadow loomed on the other side of his office door.

Time's up.

"Come on in," he called, not bothering to get up. Some clients warranted standing on ceremony, and some… didn't. Scrutinizing his nails in a show of boredom – in a show that none of this had thrown him in any way, shape or form – he barely glanced up as the door opened. "Normally, when people make up phony aliases, they steer clear of anything that can lead back to their identity. You know, maiden names, pet names…" He looked up at the figure in the doorway. "Things that might tie in to their hobbies or interests."

"Heh…" Shizuo took a remarkably calm drag on his cigarette. "I'm surprised you paid enough attention to remember."

"I always pay attention, Shizu-chan." Izaya shrugged. "Though no, I didn't remember at all until I looked up the name out of curiosity."

"Sounds more like it." Shizuo agreed with a half-hearted chuckle, kicking the door shut with his heel as he walked further into the room. "Didn't expect you to stay here once you figured it out, though."

"Why would I run? Leave." He corrected himself immediately, but not immediately enough to prevent Shizuo's gaze from snapping up to his. Looking away, he turned his attention to the big fat nothing on his computer screen like it was the most vital, juicy snippet of information that had ever come across his network. "Why would I leave my own office? I have plenty of work to do, ne? So you've had your little joke, it was hilarious, everyone laughed, now let me get on with it, hmm?"

Shizuo took a seat across the desk, long legs comfortably splayed as he slouched back. "Nah."

"Not funny, Shizu-chan. You're taking up time I could be spending with actual clients."

If Shizuo caught the 'and not time I could be spending with you' in that, he didn't say anything. Just leaned a little closer, head cocked. "I am your client, though."

Izaya narrowed his eyes. "You can't afford me."

"Tch, no doubt." Digging around in his pocket, Shizuo produced a handful of crumpled bills that, at a quick glance, didn't amount to more than a couple of thousand yen. Dropping them on the desk, he shrugged. "How much time does that buy me?"

Stop it… just stop.

"I don't know… five minutes?" Poking at the bills with one index finger, Izaya tilted his head. "No, make it three."

"Okay," Shizuo sat back. "Then I'll keep it short. There's this guy I want some information about."

Please, stop…

"See, he's really good at covering his tracks," Shizuo went on, oblivious. "And a guy like me isn't smart enough to keep up with crap like that all the time. But he's been acting weird lately, even by his standards."

Che… fine, if Shizu-chan wanted to play games, he'd play along. Turning to his computer, he began creating a new file the way he would for a new client. "Okay, so define 'acting weird'. Bearing in mind that 'weird' itself is rather subjective, and your perception of perfectly normal behaviour could be warped. In which case you'd be wasting my time and yours, and I'm sure you don't want to do that, ne?"

Shizuo smiled slightly. "Fuck, no. That'd be awful. Like 'they're gonna set up an appeal for this' awful." At Izaya's glare, he shook his head. "Tch, and I'm boring. Okay, fine. Weird. Like blows really hot and cold – mostly cold, lately, even if I can't figure out why when I'd been thinking things were going okay – and I might be a dumb monster but even I can tell avoidance when I see it."

"Or when you don't see it, ne?" Izaya smiled blithely. "Has it ever crossed your mind this gentleman – who sounds lovely, by the way, really – just doesn't want to see you?"

"Ah, all the damn time." Shizuo nodded. "That's most likely what's going on. And y'know, that's okay. He doesn't owe me a damn thing, least of all an explanation. I guess all I want is a chance to see him face-to-face and tell him that if whatever pissed him off was my fault, then I'm sorry."

"Shizu-chan—"

"So I came to you, right? 'Cause you're good at crap like this, finding people who'd rather not be found."

"You found me easily enough."

"Yeah, only 'cause there wasn't some bullshit notice on the door this time."

"What do you want, Shizu-chan?"

"I just told you, right?"

Yes, Izaya supposed he had. With all that brutish, brutal honest he'd been trying his hardest to avoid. Getting up from the desk, he turned to face the window, making sure the slashes of the blinds blocked Shizuo's reflection.

"Well, then you can go away reassured that it isn't your fault. I mean, there's nothing wrong so how can nothing be your fault? Double negatives, ne?"

"…'kay." He heard Shizuo sigh. "Now do you maybe want to start speaking Japanese, and not Smartass Flea?"

Maybe he couldn't see Shizuo, but he could see his own reflection. And just like the other morning at Shizuo's apartment, the man staring back at him felt like a bad disguise as he smiled coldly.

"Let's end this, ne?"

Shizuo was silent for a long moment. No uncontrollable rage, no yelling, no snarling like a caged animal. Just silence. The soft creak of the chair as he leaned back slightly. The tight little thread of tension in his voice when he spoke.

"If that's what you want."

"And you can end that, too."

"Huh?"

"This selfless martyr act. It's really not you, Shizu-chan." He wrapped his arms around himself, watching the man reflected back at him speak. "Be honest, you're tired of this game too, ne?"

You're tired of looking in the mirror and not recognizing the person looking back.

The chair creaked again. "I, uh… didn't know it was a game, flea."

"Ah, that's because you don't pay attention, Shizu-chan. Of course it was a game. What else could it possibly be?"

"Dunno…" Shizuo laughed harshly. "That maybe you gave a shit about us? Guess I shoulda fricking known better, huh?"

"Us? Since when is this us? At least before…" Izaya shook his head.

"Fuck it, flea, we weren't anything before. Dunno what it's like in your world, but in mine wanting to kill someone isn't exactly a relationship, it's a fricking mental problem." Shizuo growled a stream of curses under his breath, the chair scraping the floor as he pushed it back and stood. "You really wanna go back to that?"

"Yes." He nodded, fingers digging roughly into his arms in the vain hopes pain might somehow temper the words. "I knew who we were before. This isn't it. This is just… scratching an itch."

"Scratching an itch?" He couldn't tell if Shizuo sounded amused or intensely pissed off. "You bite too hard for it to itch, flea. And I'm pretty sure we could both find people that came with a hell of a lot less baggage if that's what we wanted."

"Exactly. So why bother with this? Why bother pretending any of this is good for either of us. It's not. And you can't tell me you don't feel it too."

"You really wanna know how I feel, flea?"

Yes. No. "I don't care."

"Tch, you've got a fucked up way of not caring…"

He willed himself to flinch when strong arms wrapped around him, tugging him back against a strong chest. But the most he could summon was an urge to turn around and just bury himself in it. Maybe Shizu-chan was onto a good thing with his whole 'I try my damndest not to think if I can help it' tactic. Mindlessness sounded awfully appealing.

"This is how I feel." The gruff words ruffled his hair. "I don't give a crap about before. And you don't either, you're just too fricking scared, or too fricking stubborn to admit it. Dumbass louse…"

He stiffened at the merciless accuracy of that statement. Trust an unpredictable monster to sum up days of meandering thought in ten words or less.

You see, this is why I don't like being around you. I prefer my method of problem solving…

"Scared?" He forced a laugh. "What, exactly, do I have to be scared of?"

"Dunno… if you were a regular person, I'd say you were scared of getting hurt. But…" Shizuo dipped his head, forehead pressed against Izaya shoulder so that his words were muffled. "You know me too much for that, right? You know you're the only person I can't hurt. You're the only one I trust won't let me get that far."

He really wished Shizuo wasn't holding on so tight as he said that. If he hadn't, as dense as he was he might have missed the way Izaya's breath hitched.

"So… hell if I know. Scared of giving a crap about someone else? Scared of figuring out the world doesn't revolve around Izaya Orihara? Well, 'cept that it does seeing as I can't think of much else apart from you."

Neither can I. Three days. I've spent three days trying to shut you out, and I end up right back here anyway.

"Or maybe scared that it does, huh flea? Scared of not being in control of someone else, 'cause I know you get a kick out of that crap. What'd you do if you could, huh? Make me walk away 'cause it's tidier for you that way? Make me not give a damn 'cause you don't actually know what to do with it when someone does? Tch… and you think I do?" Shizuo's breath was warm and shaky on the back of his neck. The bite-mark there had faded, but Izaya imagined a sweet little lick of pain anyway as Shizuo held on tight enough to leave a brand new set of marks. "Who the fuck d'you think you're talking to, hah? You think I don't wonder what the fuck's going on sometimes when you look at me like I'm someone. Like you're seeing something better than I know's in here, but you're so fucking smart I don't know how to tell you you've got to be wrong. Or when you're kissing me, or when you're under me and I gotta stop and remind myself no one else would trust me that much?"

He didn't fight it as Shizuo turned him around, just closed his eyes as he pressed his palms and his cheek to a racing heartbeat, proof if he needed it that Shizu-chan really was as shaken up as he sounded.

"Fuck, Izaya… when the hell did you get it into your head you're the only one who's scared, hah?"

"I didn't…" He shook his head. "You just always seem so comfortable with it."

"Well then…" One warm hand slid into his hair, holding him close with that same frightening tenderness he wanted to curl up in and flee from, all at once. "Maybe I don't mind the being scared part."

"How?" Izaya mumbled, feeling the heat rise to his face, certain now that he could never stoop any lower than this. This was rock bottom, asking a protozoan for guidance.

"Dunno. Maybe 'cause I never thought I was scared all by myself."

"Shizuo…"

He tried to blame instinct for the way his hands snuck under the edge of Shizuo's vest, fingers clenching in the warm fabric of his shirt. He had no interest in instinct, except to view it from a safe distance. Instinct was wild, and careless, and desperate. Instinct was Shizu-chan. Instinct was the reason his heart hammered at the way the blond shivered at his touch.

It was too dangerous to need this, but he did anyway.

Ah, but you know I like living dangerous, ne, Shizu-chan…? That's close to how we were before, right? That's familiar. That's safe.

"Look… we don't have to do anything you don't wanna do. We don't have to be anything you don't wanna be. Say the word and this whole thing can still end, right here, right now."

Izaya held his breath. Was this how people felt at weddings, when they were given the chance to speak out against the happy union? That same terrible urge that came atop high buildings, to lean into the wind, just a little…

"And you'd be okay with that?"

"No." Shizuo's arms tightened as he shrugged. "I'd be pissed as hell, 'cause I know it's a stupid decision to make. And I know you're not stupid. But… what'd be the point if you don't want this too? And it's not like chasing you down and kicking your ass ever helped anything before."

Nothing except passion and adrenaline and the fury of the chase. Nothing except everything that led us here.

"Why? Why wouldn't it be okay?"

Because you've always been everything. From the very beginning, it's all been about you. It just evolved. It was always meant to, ne? Just don't expect me to say any of that to your face any time soon, protozoan idiot…

Fingers winding in his hair, Shizuo pushed him back enough to make eye contact. Izaya broke it immediately, but not fast enough to miss the way the blond smiled. Not fast enough to keep the same expression from quirking the corners of his mouth as Shizuo drew him close again, chuckling against his hair as Izaya buried his blush against his chest.

"'Cause I kinda like being scared with you, flea."