Izaya is asexual – doesn't feel desire for men or women. For years his sole obsession has been manipulating and observing the humans that he loves so much, but after a lusty one-night encounter with a roaming incubus awakens the urges he has been suppressing all his life, how will Izaya cope? Eventual Shizaya.

A hot shower is always the best way to unwind, even if you're Orihara Izaya. Behind the gauzy shower curtain, Izaya basked in the hot pounding water, his head tipped back. This particular day had been a rough one, and it showed in the dark bruises manifesting like shadows all over the informant's body, joining the yellowish healing ones. Physical reminders of the person he hated most. And unlike Heiwajima Shizuo, Izaya's pale skin bruised when hit by vending machines. The pressure of the steamy water made his injuries ache, but the heat helped him unwind. Unwinding let him imagine pleasant scenarios where Shizuo died in various painful and degrading ways. And honestly, he sort of enjoyed the ache in some twisted way. He supposed it must be twisted; most of his humans disliked pain, he reasoned as he cut off the water, stepping out of the shower and began to towel his hair. He glanced up at the foggy mirror, wiping off a stripe of condensation. His own face stared back at him, his reddish-brown eyes distant, a drop of water trickling from his bangs down his nose.

"Found you." Izaya jumped a mile, snatching his mid-lock knife off the counter and slashing out behind him at the figure that had suddenly appeared over his shoulder in the mirror. Shaking water out of his eyes, Izaya blinked. The bathroom was empty and quiet, save for his own stressed breathing. Izaya was nonplussed. The greatest informant in Japan, and perhaps the world, did not imagine things. Hurriedly tugging on the clean clothes that he'd set on the counter-top, Izaya shoved open the door, shouting:

"Namie? NAMIE!" The bespectacled woman looked up exasperatedly from her filing.

"What now, asshole? Fall over on something?" she asked, eyeing the extensive bruising on his torso and arms. Izaya finished pulling on his shirt.

"Did you happen to let anyone inside the apartment without my permission?" Izaya's would-be casual tone had a tinge of panic to it that he didn't intend or much like. Namie rolled her eyes.

"No, I didn't. Seeing things, are you? Maybe you're crazier than just a sociopath." She let out a short, humorless bark of laughter and returned to filing. A crease appeared between Izaya's brows even as he smirked at his secretary. Normally, he'd make a snappy comeback involving the words 'incest' and 'Seiji,' but the memory of the figure in the mirror made him hold his tongue for once. Maybe he really was crazy, because the large man that had whispered in his ear just minutes ago in the foggy mirror had had large black horns. And this was not the first time Izaya had glimpsed him.

Shinjuku was a great metropolis, no lie, but the vast majority of his contacts lived in Ikebukuro. He wasn't sure what possessed him to move away from the beautiful place when he walked the streets like this. Sure, his current apartment was a bit ritzier than his old one, and he wasn't quite as infamous in Shinjuku as he was here, but he had scoured Shinjuku for no less than four hours looking for top quality surveillance equipment for his apartment and found less than nothing. Then he'd called up a contact in 'Bukuro and had his hands on the cameras in half an hour. Now he was wasting as much time as he could afford in his hometown before returning to his place to set up surveillance… Just in case there really was a giant horned man running rampant in his apartment. True, it wasn't likely, but 1. He'd had the feeling of being watched in his apartment for about two weeks now, and 2. Seen what might have been that same figure out of the corner of his eye on five separate occasions. It might sound very Paranormal Activity 4, but 3. If something like a dullahan could exist and ride a motorcycle through the streets of Ikebukuro, then Izaya wasn't willing to rule out any possibility, especially the supernatural ones. But he'd worry about that later. For now, it might be fun to make that one really stressed salary man he'd been chatting with on the internet lose his job, or trick Shizu-chan into head-butting a cement mixer. Well, that last one might backfire and injure the cement truck more than the Neanderthal… Yeah, best to avoid the fortissimo of Ikebukuro while toting delicate and expensive equipment. Maybe next time.

The next few days passed without incident. Izaya decided to send a prostitute to the salary man's house instead of getting him fired, which proved slightly more entertaining from a long-term standpoint. He sold the whereabouts of a yakuza deserter to Shiki, who invited Izaya out for cocktails. Izaya declined. The cement mixer was in fact knocked sideways when Shizuo head-butted it. Half a city block was covered in rapidly solidifying cement, the highlight of Izaya's day. Shiki called, asked Izaya if he wanted to go for a drink. Izaya declined. He made Namie cook him dinner. She spat in it. Still damn funny though. When the sun had disappeared from the smoggy sky, Izaya could be found spinning idly in his desk chair.

"Bye bye Namie! Hope you don't get kidnapped by any evil pharmaceutical companies on your way home! Oh wait…"

"Go to hell."

"As long as you won't be there." Namie slammed the door. Izaya sighed, reading the latest text from Shiki. Not tonight either? Don't you drink, Orihara? Well, no, he didn't drink usually. Intoxication meant he wasn't on his best game. Not being on his best game meant dying, probably by the hands of a protozoan. And Orihara Izaya did not die. But more importantly, Izaya wasn't interested in Shiki or his barely-veiled sexual propositions. Not that Shiki was unattractive; he was a lovely specimen of human. Izaya just wasn't interested in something so… vulgar. Rutting together like animals, it was just so undignified, not the behavior of a god. Izaya hadn't felt even a flicker of desire since he was in middle school, at the beginning of puberty, and even then it had simply been hormones at work, not tied to an infatuation with any specific human of either sex. Izaya was asexual, no other way to phrase it, and Shiki was fighting an impossible battle with his flirtations. It might have been funny if it wasn't so sad… Izaya shook off the train of thought with a smirk. Too serious. After twenty minutes of wreaking havoc upon the internet, Izaya logged into a chat room for a while, where everyone was still abuzz over the cement incident.

Setton: Ehh? I was inside all day watching that TV special. What happened?

Taro Tanaka: Oh, the special on aliens? I recorded that, is it good?

Setton: It was terrifying. Really, it was.

Setton: But that's not important. What about Heiwajima Shizuo?

Kanra: Heyo~

Setton: Hi Kanra

Taro Tanaka: Hi!

Taro Tanaka: But anyway, Setton

Taro Tanaka: I wasn't there, but I saw the dust cloud from where I was.

Taro Tanaka: I guess it was Orihara Izaya's fault as usual.

Kanra: That's a little harsh, don'tcha think?

Kanra: Heiwajima Shizuo may be strong, but he's stupienujsrhpwdolrh

Setton: Kanra?

Taro Tanaka: You there?

-Kanra has left the chat room-

Izaya jumped a mile, suddenly becoming aware of a reflection in his computer screen that was not his own. He spun around, fully expecting his eyes to have been playing tricks again. He came face to face with a man, dark curly hair framing a chiseled, tanned, grinning face and blood red eyes.

Dun dun DUN... So much more to follow it's insane.

So, I'm new. Oh golly. Any comments/critiques/meows would be super-lovely.

^My super awkward way of saying:

A giant hug and homemade cookies to anyone who reviews!