Chronic RBD - Chronic REM Sleep Behavior Disorder

melatonin - hormone that makes people sleepy

clonadiazepam - light sedative

The first time it happens is not the first time Shizuo has sex with (fucks) Izaya, nor is it the first time he falls asleep next to him, but he thinks it might be the first time Izaya falls asleep before him, on top of him, to be precise.

In any case, when Shizuo wakes up in the middle of the night to some damned painful knees to the stomach, his first reaction is confusion, and then anger, and by that time, the flea is on the floor, looking up at him and blinking as though he has no idea what he's done to deserve it.

And so, Izaya is sentenced to sleep on the couch for the following week. ("You know what you did, louse, don't try to deny it," Shizuo grumbles and doesn't look at Izaya, lest he be tempted to take it all back and-) Naturally, Shizuo hogs Izaya's bed in the most unsightly of manners (it might be the louse's apartment, but he'd been the one to mess up, and the bed there is a thousand times better than Shizuo's old one, even if Shinjuku is Shinjuku and definitely further from Ikebukuro than Ikebukuro itself). Anyway, everything is fine, really, it is, except that suddenly Izaya is waking up bruised and aching on the cold, hard (carpeted) floor more often than he does on the couch itself ("Ouch," "Why're you all bruised up, flea? Tried to double-cross anyone stupidly powerful again?" "Ahh, Shizu-chan~ you sure know how to hold a grudge. Nah, I just fell out of bed again, no need to worry~").

And it wouldn't matter, really, it wouldn't, but it kind of starts to after the third time the flea wakes up with a goose egg sized bump on the back of his head (and Shizuo doesn't know how to feel about the fact that he wouldn't have given a rat's ass about it either way a couple of years before, but he does now, even if only a little) and Shinra makes Shizuo keep Izaya awake for a full 24-hours (he nods off after the first eighteen, but the louse survives, so he supposes the situation hadn't been as dire as Shinra had made it seem - big surprise). And maybe Shizuo can't tell whether Izaya is really, truly having problems sleeping without injuring himself or someone else, or if he is just faking it (wouldn't be the first time something like that happened), but he starts sleeping in the same bed as the flea again anyway. (It's a stupid thing to do, but Shizuo's never claimed to be smart.)

It takes him a few more weeks, half a dozen arguments with Izaya and a couple of times of being kicked or punched - or, on one memorable occasion, strangled - awake before he comes to terms with the fact that it isn't intentional on the flea's part ("Still annoying as hell, though," Shizuo grumbles as he shoots the flea a dark look). Izaya ends up making an appointment with a specialist (and then he gets dragged to it by Shizuo, who just wants to make sure the flea isn't playing games with his mind again, really, it's not like he cares about what happens to the louse, well, yeah he does, but only a little-).

The nice lady doctor diagnoses Izaya with Chronic Sleep-something ("Chronic REM Sleeping Behavior, Shizu-chan~ it's not that hard to remember," Izaya taunts and Shizuo would strangle him but the doctor's still talking and-), and she explains what, exactly, that means for them and how it isn't Izaya's fault (Shizuo snorts), and, well, seeing as Izaya doesn't drink or do drugs (not enough to cause this, in any case) and that no one really knows why RBD even occurs, treating it is going to be slightly more difficult than treating a regular cold, even with the expected side effects (Shizuo just hopes Izaya won't get addicted to tranquilizers, because the flea already has enough bad habits, he doesn't need to be a damned junkie on top of that, too).

Almost a week and waaaay too much time around an Izaya on something-zepan after, Shizuo is starting to reconsider being kicked awake. It certainly can't be worse than dealing with a medicated Izaya (because of course the flea has to be part of the small group of people that get even more manic and talkative because of the very thing that is supposed to calm them down and keep them still, of course he does).

Naturally, Shizuo drags the bastard to the doctor's after two days of literally no sleep because Izaya'd been too busy vibrating in place to, oh, you know, sleep, or at least be considerate enough to let Shizuo sleep. The doctor prescribes Izaya some mela-something-or-another, which, admittedly, doesn't make the damned flea behave like a five-year old on a sugar high, but which does make him dizzy and sleepy and irritated and not much better, and, considering Izaya and the people he deals with (or the ones that want him dealt with), it isn't exactly ideal.

The fact that he can't use the pills for long and has to order them from some other country because they are illegal to sell in Japan is just the cherry on top of the frustrated sundae (still, it is better than the doctor's first piece of advice, which had been, from what Shizuo understood, to just tie the troublesome louse up so that he couldn't hurt himself, or Shizuo, anymore - as much as Shizuo had liked the idea, it hadn't been a very smart one, even he'd known that).

Eventually, they give up on mela-meto-melato-something (well, Izaya refuses to take it anymore, says it isn't working, and Shizuo isn't in the mood to argue the truth - also, an annoyed Izaya is even more dangerous than the usual one, as the - intentionally inflicted - bruises and cuts on Shizuo will attest).

And that's the story of how Shizuo comes to realize that being kicked awake is inevitable if he wants to keep sleeping with Izaya (literally or figuratively).

And Shizuo wants to, at least the first part, isn't ready to give up the fucking and kissing and talking part of the strange arrangement they have. He doesn't want to stop breaking in stealthily into the flea's condo and waiting for him to come home or finding him already there and hugging him from behind (after the first few times when he did it and Izaya's blade drew blood), kissing the flea's neck right behind his ear, where he is the most sensitive, and feeling him turn to goo in his arms. He doesn't want to stop fighting with him, either, the kind of fights that are more a trade of sharp insults and even sharper retorts and sexual tension (though Shizuo admits it might be more like frustration than tension on his side) and even a little bit of fondness from time to time (though Izaya calls it exhaustion and Shizuo calls it disgust and neither is willing to tell the truth).

He doesn't want to go back to the way things used to be before, when the louse hated him and Shizuo would've willingly given his right hand - and his left one, and his kidneys and half his liver and both legs - if only he could've had five minutes alone with a bound and gagged Izaya. He'd even been willing to pay beforehand. But the time when Izaya's taunts were more like throwing a pool full of nitroglycerin off the highest building in Ikebukuro than teasing a sleeping kitten and Shizuo's days were empty and boring and his nights even more so is behind them, and Shizuo refuses to go back to it simply because Izaya happens to kick a little in his sleep. (Shizuo's ribs feel painful and when he raises his shirt up and looks they're bruised purple and yellow. So maybe it's more than a little, but... it's not like anyone has to know. Certainly not Izaya.)

But, no, Shizuo doesn't think he can give up Izaya, even though being punched awake isn't the nicest way to wake up and the flea can take a fall or two from his huge, soft bed (oh, how Shizuo misses that bed and regrets switching bedrooms), so for the most part, they fall asleep in separate beds and Shizuo nags Izaya into eating healthier things (not that he has the right to do so, considering the fact that his basic food groups are milkshakes, salt and grease), doing yoga (it takes about a week for them to admit it was a stupid idea), taking hot baths and drinking hot tea before bed (which Shizuo then forbids Izaya from doing ever again after a week in which Izaya goes to the bathroom three times a night to piss). In any case, after a couple of months of trial and continuous error, they both agree to give up the ghost and keep sleeping in different beds. ("Aww, Shizu-chan~ why so sad? Do you miss sleeping together?" Izaya teases and Shizuo can only grunt dismissively and avoid the other's eyes. The Beast of Ikebukuro his ass, Izaya'd turned him into a kitten before he'd even realized it was a possibility.)

And yeah, it's not exactly ideal, but it could be worse, and, despite what everyone else thinks Shizuo can - and does - compromise when it comes to these kinds of things. The really important ones.

About four months after they give up on the hope that Izaya's sleep-kicking could ever go away, the information broker finds out about a new drug prototype that is currently being devised by one of the biggest Swedish medical companies, and which might just be able to ameliorate if not get rid of his sleep-kicking.

Now, Izaya isn't stupid, knows that most sleeping pills could get him to stop kicking in his sleep (well, most heavy sedatives, in any case, though those are as easy to get a hold of as ordinary sleeping pills thanks to Shinra and some rather compromising photos), but that would mean not being able to wake up if something happened while he was asleep, like Namie visiting, or someone trying to kill him, or Shizuo waking up and deciding to cook breakfast again (though he should know better by now, especially after Izaya had to repaint the walls - the second time).

Still, a new type of pill that could stop Chronic REM Sleeping Behavior Disorder without sedating him too heavily... would be god-sent indeed. The problem is that it's still in the testing phase, and no one really knows what the side effects are. Izaya makes it a habit to inquire about it every chance he gets, even though it's a little out of his sphere of influence, but he doesn't tell Shizuo about it - what good would it do to let the protozoan find out and get his hopes up, only to find that the drug doesn't work? No, Izaya thinks, it's better if he just monitors the progress of it, and maybe later, after it's tested and approved, maybe then he could... but that would have to wait.

Surprisingly, he manages to keep it all a secret from Shizuo for another three months or so, until the researchers announce that the prototype works - even if only a partially - on 70 percent of the test subjects. The tests have to be retaken a few more times, by different subjects, before the drugs are deemed safe and can be mass produced, but the results are promising. Only another year or two until he can try it. Izaya can wait.

Only, after a week of tossing and turning - this time because of thinking, not because of his sleeping disorder - he realises that he might have overestimated his patience. A year or two is a long time. It's not that suffering from RBD bothers him that much (no, only sometimes, when Shizuo has just come inside him and collapsed next to him and is not-cuddling him, and he falls asleep in his arms only to wake up alone in the middle of the night to a dull thud and some heartfelt but muted swearing), no, it's just that after so much time and effort put into trying to win against it, it's a matter of honor. Fine, so maybe it's more like pride (lust, lo-no, not that, never that) than honor, but after so many trials and errors, he's refusing to wait any longer (people have always told him that he's too stubborn for his own good, but he's never let that stop him before. Why should he this time?)

The next morning, Izaya calls the number he finds on the online page of the Swedish pharmaceutical company and, after more than an hour spent trying to reach the right people, he sets an appointment for the following weekend (he would've tried to go straight to one of the scientists testing the drugs - he has the number and the bribe money and the blackmail material ready - but that would seem suspicious, and why give the police more reasons to come after you if you can just play by the rules, even if it involves an intercontinental flight or two?). He goes to Sweden and attends his first appointment (Shizuo grumbles about his two-day super secret trip but doesn't ask... too much), and then Izaya attends the next four ones, and convinces the doctors that yes, he does have chronic RBD, and yes, he is the ideal test subject, and yes, he understands the risks (nausea, dizziness, short-time memory problems).

Honestly, there's little he isn't willing to suffer through in order to stop kicking in his sleep without being, for all intents and purposes, dead to the world (which is quite strange, because even if it is a matter of pride and mulishness, it's not the most troublesome thing in the world and he's still much too desperate for his taste, but- ah, who is he kidding? It is obviously troublesome, considering the things he is willing to do to get rid of it, but the reason he finds it so... unacceptable, well, it doesn't do to think about them).

The researchers make sure Izaya really is fit enough - physically - to be their guinea pig (he manages to both pass the examination and make his doctors uncomfortable - it isn't like it's his fault that that amoeba-brained lover of his decided to bite him pretty much everywhere during their last bout of fucking; at least he'd gone easy on the bruises... bite marks were ambiguous enough, but Shizuo's hand prints could be nothing but male, or, for those with creative minds, belonging to a gorilla. Now that would be awkward to explain).

So he signs some papers (which he reads very carefully beforehand), makes some more appointments (one every week for a month) and, eventually, is given enough pills to last him a month.

The whole flight back home Izaya mulls over how he is going to keep an eye for potential changes in his nightly behavior. He can't just rely on himself, as he would like, because he'd been told again and again (mostly by Shizuo) that he doesn't seem to realize when he moves in his sleep. His first thought is to make Namie stand guard over him and write down any disturbances, if only for the amusing face she would make and the entertaining murder attempts that would follow, but he would rather keep his affair with the beast of Ikebukuro a secret, as badly-kept as it was. Or at least not flaunt it in front of his gossip prone secretary.

His next thought is to put some cameras and film himself through the night, but watching so much footage would probably bore him to death and not watching it carefully could ruin the results. Also, he'd probably end up filming himself and Shizuo fucking, and the protozoan would probably stumble over the camera sooner or later (just like he'd stumbled over the ones in his own flat and then maliciously ignored and avoided Izaya for two weeks), and that was something Izaya does not want, for whatever sane (or insane) reason.

Then there is the risky - almost insane - option... of using Shizuo. After all, if the beast slept - actually slept - with him, there would be no doubt about the drug's efficiency - the brute would tell him if he was sleep-kicking, or sleep-talking, or even just snoring. But Izaya doesn't want Shizuo to know about it - he wouldn't put it past the mindless idiot to placebo himself (although if his delusion stayed for more than 6 months, the pills would be as good as useless, and it would make the situation much, much simpler), or get his hopes up and then get them shattered when nothing changes.

The ideal course of action would be to trick Shizuo into sleeping with him again, but the idea is so obviously bad that not even Izaya can talk himself into trying it. It is not quite as stupid as stabbing the beast of Ikebukuro with his pocket knife and then framing him (not necessarily in that order) had been, but it doesn't fall far from it - the context has changed, they've changed, and what might have meant nothing in the days before it happened, before they happened, has suddenly gained a whole lot of weight (and some things which had meant so much before were reduced to a couple of grunts and a dead-pan look, too, so Izaya doesn't feel like complaining. Much).

In the end, telling Shizuo about the drug and the research (maybe changing a date or two so the protozoan doesn't get mad at him for hiding things - again), and asking him to look over Izaya's sleep turns out to be the least of two evils. Izaya himself isn't sure if it is the best choice (god knows it isn't the easiest one), but he would rather bite his tongue off than admit it. He'd made his bed, now he just had to stubbornly lie in it until it killed him.

"Ngh-haaah?!" Shizuo half-grunts half-yelps as he tumbles to the floor in a bleary-eyed, sleepy-headed heap of confusion and only vaguely responsive limbs. It takes his unfocused eyes a few seconds to adjust to the relative darkness of the room.

From his vantage point on the floor, on his back, with his head craned at an almost uncomfortable angle, half-underneath the bed, he has a perfect view of dark - if not black - floor, some sort of lighter-colored, scratchy-as-hell rug underneath him, lower half of a bed and an interesting-looking colony of dust bunnies underneath. And, man, he's pretty sure he's not in his apartment anymore - the bed too big, the wrong color, and he vaguely remembers vacuuming the day before - and, oh, look, one of the dust bunnies is really close to his nose now, almost close enough to tickle (probably got carried there by the little currents of his breath). Ah, right, Izaya's place-

"A-choo!" Shizuo sneezes and promptly hits his head on the bed, which shakes and creaks ominously above him but thankfully doesn't break. Annoyance spikes through Shizuo like the lights of those dumb machines where you hit a box with a hammer and a weight goes up and it tells you how strong you are. He's never seen any of those in Ikebukuro, but then again, he's never liked them, anyway. Too much noise for something as ordinary as finding out his own a second or two, there is the sound of ruffling sheets and a smothered yawn, and then a wheezy snore. He's never liked Izaya, either, he thinks as he slowly gets up, his head pounding and spinning and, oh, easy there, easy-

When he's standing -mostly- upright, he looks over to the bed and his suspicions are confirmed - there, barely visible in the darkness, is Izaya, curled in on himself under half a dozen sheets and still managing to take up nearly all of the bed. A muscle in Shizuo's jaw twitches at the scene and he has to close his eyes and take a deep breath before the urge to wrap his hands around the flea's neck and just... squeeze, passes.

He stumbles and curses his way out of the dark bedroom after giving Izaya the evil eye and wishing in vain that looks really could kill.

The flat is -if possible- even darker than the flea's bedroom and Shizuo tries to feel for a light switch, but after the third time he passes his hands over the same spot -c'mon, dammit, he knows it's there- he gives up on the idea and makes his way to the kitchen in the dark, almost walking through a wall... or three.

Once there, he tries to feel for the light switch again, which he finds and then hits maybe a little too hard, because he can hear plastic cracking and the noise only makes him more annoyed, but the lights flicker to life and he can finally see something. Black marble counter tops and chrome everything and too many sharp edges for a not-yet-awake Shizuo, but Izaya apparently loves it (it's the third identical set of kitchen furniture the flea had to replace in the wake of Shizuo's anger, if that doesn't say something, the fake blond thinks nothing will).

Shizuo stops in the middle of the kitchen, trying to remember what he came there for, but he can't. He pinches the bridge of his nose between two calloused fingers and bows his head, asking gods he doesn't believe in for patience. A tired sigh escapes him as he decides that if he can't remember what he was trying to do doesn't mean he has to stand like an idiot in the middle of the kitchen, drilling a hole through the floor beneath him with his glare.

He shuffles to and then slumps in one of the chrome-and-leather chairs around the kitchen table and rests his head on the table - if Izaya were awake, he'd start nagging him about how resting his head on the table isn't supposed to make the table shake like a 7th degree earthquake had just hit their region, but Izaya is currently in his (their) bed, sleeping and snoring and kicking the feathers out of the fancy-ass duvet he so enjoys sleeping under. And anyway, Shizuo knows Izaya doesn't really care about the kitchen table, because he hasn't cared about the previous (identical) ones that Shizuo smashed to pieces whenever they fought. Shizuo frowns. He has a vague feeling that something isn't exactly right with his assumption but he's too tired and sleepy to make sense of it. And speaking of things that aren't exactly right...

It's been two months since the treatment started, since Izaya came home (skipping and humming and nearly giving Shizuo a heart attack at the mind-boggling behavior) and told him about the new drugs and how, since Shizuo was all sex-beast-and-cuddly-octopus-like all the time, anyway, he might as well help him find out if the drugs work or not. (And, for the record, Shizuo is not - cuddly or an octopus, that is - no matter what Izaya says.)

But here Shizuo is, two months later, sitting alone at the kitchen table at (he looks at the clock on the wall next to him) three thirty in the morning, trying to come up with a way to tell Izaya that he's willing to do the dishes for a year if only he could sleep on the couch again. He snorts, thinking of movies and books and clichees, but, really, doing the dishes is a piece of cake compared to functioning on three hours of sleep a week, especially since Izaya bought that fancy new dish washing machine. If only all their problems could be solved as easily...

Shizuo's eyes sting when he blinks, so he keeps them wide open and unfocused, the left side of his face flat against the tabletop, one of his arms curled around his head on the table. His chest's touching the cold dark lacquered wood, too, right up until somewhere around mid-rib cage, where he's bent over the table at an uncomfortable angle, the sharp edges grounding against the wood in a way that should feel painful but isn't. Few things seem painful after breaking every bone in your body - twice - because you don't know your body's limits, Izaya's surprise asleep-attacks not included. He knows himself better nowadays, anyway, just as he knows that lately he's been sleeping waaay to little, and it's been making him irritable most of the time and drop dead tired the rest. And he knows he should go back to bed, curl around Izaya's snoring form and try to get a few more hours of sleep, maybe, but the kitchen table underneath him is almost at body temperature where it touches his skin, and he's so sleepy and tired and the beige color Izaya decided to paint the kitchen is really soothing and-

Shizuo isn't sure what happens, but the next thing he knows, there's a blanket around his shoulders and sunlight streaming through the window panes and he can hear quiet, almost tinny voices saying something about a snowstorm and a car crash and an oil spill and the weather, maybe, his sleep muddled brain doesn't really care about much other than the fact that he's still tired, and he's got a crick in the neck that hurts like a motherfucker, too.

He stands up slowly, yawning and stretching like one of those big cats from the documentary he watched with Izaya the former Thursday (or maybe like a puppet whose strings were cut. He doesn't feel rested enough for feline grace, just tired and shocky and like his whole body fell asleep and he's going to experience just how painful the full-body pins-and-needles sensation can be any minute now). Gods, it feels like thousands of years have passed since last Thursday, he thinks and wishes he was still asleep.

He yawns once more and then drags the blanket up and over his shoulders again and shuffles grumpily to the living room, where Izaya is lying sprawled on the couch and watching the news on the huge flat screen TV that spontaneously appeared there sometime after Christmas. Shizuo keeps shuffling until he reaches the couch and crawls until he's lying more on top of Izaya than on the couch, ignoring the flea's protests that he's heavy and it's hot and he's missing the news, along with some less than determined knees to the chest and stomach and face (not necessarily in that order, and far from convincing, anyway). And if Shizuo responds in kind, with a distracted punch to Izaya's side, it's a mark of his patience (or maybe sleepiness) that that's where the scuffle ends.

And it's comfortable, in any case, even if Shizuo's legs are mostly hanging off of the couch, and Izaya's chest is kind of bony and his heart is pounding like a jackhammer right beneath Shizuo's ear. Izaya tells him good morning, and Shizuo can hear the amusement and annoyance and exasperation in his voice and feel his body vibrate under his head, and he might even answer in kind, he's not sure, he's just so sleepy, so he lets his eyes slide close, just for a second and-

Izaya looks down at the pea-brained idiot that fell asleep on top of him and feels something akin to a slightly annoyed kind of attachment. He isn't even annoyed at the fact that he's a part of the rare thirty percent for which the new RBD treatment doesn't work (yes, he's noticed the signs, thank you very much, he isn't stupid) - there's plenty of time for that later, right now Izaya has the beast of Ikebukuro sleeping in his lap, face burrowed in his chest.

And Izaya's annoyed because Shizuo actually is heavy and he does makes it hard to breathe, and not in the good way, either. But the day hasn't yet begun and the light through the windowpanes looks slow and heavy, not unlike honey or corn syrup as it spills over hard, rough features and dyed blond hair that Izaya knows feels softer than it looks, just as he knows that Shizuo's a light sleeper and doesn't appreciate being woken up. But Izaya's never been one not to tempt his luck, as anyone can tell you, and his fingers are just itching to touch that blond, blond hair, and, besides-

(He carefully pats the top of Shizuo's head, slow and cautious as though handling a wild animal - which isn't too far from the truth, actually - and Shizuo stirs, grunts something that sounds dissatisfied and then he melts into Izaya's chest and the information broker slowly lets out a very deliberately held breath. His fingers thread though the blond mess of hair, gentle yet confident, and if he were a different person, Izaya would probably not find it as hard to acknowledge the fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he isn't, so he just sighs slowly and quietly and tries not to make any sudden moves.)

-Shizuo's always liked it when Izaya played with his hair. It's like catnip, only for grumpy protozoan. Maybe for lions, too, Izaya thinks as his eyes stay on Shizuo's sleeping form. Though, really, Shizuo probably had more in common with a gorilla than a feline, not enough grace (or intelligence) to be anything like one of the latter. Not all bad, though, Izaya acknowledges as he manages to tear his eyes away from Shizuo and tries to go back to watching TV. No, not bad at all.

So I know this isn't really my fandom (except it kind of is) and it's been a long time since I watched Durarara so, um, some parts might be a little OOC, but I hope you enjoyed reading this anyway and I'd really appreciate some feedback, because that's the only way I can improve? Yeah, so... comment, maybe tell me what you liked most, what bugged you, that sort of thing?