I'm not shipping IzayaShizuo here. I just thought Shizuo would probably like to impale Izaya with a pole. You go, Shizuo! :D

"Ahh, Shizzy," Izaya mused. "You never fail to amuse me,"

"Only when he's beating someone else up," Namie muttered from across the office. She continued with her putting things away and taking new things out while Izaya started talking to himself at the window – he did that a lot.

"That's a lie," A crooked grin ran along his lips. "I like it when Shizzy attacks me. Gives me something to do, at least! It's never boring… although, don't you think he should try a new angle? Something other than lampposts and vending machines?"

"Unless you mean nothing at all, no, I don't think that," Namie mumbled as she hoisted up an armful of books.

"Ha!" Izaya chanted a messy laugh as he collapsed back into the chair and whirled around a few times.

Outside the glass panelled wall behind the desk, the street was alive with movement; cars shot back and forth but that was normal, and people milled along the pavement and that was normal and just as boring. Up the dim slip road just opposite the office, a blur of blonde hair could be seen hauling large metal objects above his head and tossing them at a fraying cluster of Yellow Scarves. The wailing men scattered but couldn't quite escape Shizuo's rage.

"Shizzy is a pure-bred lamppost-wrecking idiot," Izaya touched the window with three fingers and his forehead. His grin stretched. "I wonder what they did?"

Namie heard a tone of voice directed at her but she disregarded it as just irritating.

"Probably insulted just slightly Shizzy's most favourite flavour of ice cream," Izaya smirked. "I wonder what it is?"

By the time Izaya bounced to a halt at the end of the stairs, the fight had broken into the road, meaning Izaya's side of the street was more crowded. He stood on his tippy-toes and crept through the bustling strangers until he found the curb, hopping to a halt at the mercy of the busy road; from nowhere a lamppost smashed across the street. Voices shrieked and yelped and cars grinded to halts as Izaya stepped out and pranced across the road.

He darted between stopped cars and furious people and panicky people and hopped up onto the curb. The poor men were practically crying at Shizuo's hand of destruction as they shoved past Izaya and pelted in the other direction; Izaya turned to smile at the blonde mess but he was met with a forceful pressure in his abdomen.

Blinking down, Izaya noticed the blood even before the weapon; his top became heavy fairly quickly, sopping with blood that darkened even the black fabric. He was sinking to the ground with a half-bewildered smile lingering on his features, incapable of straightening up with a pole thrust through his torso.

He vaguely wondered if it was protruding out the other side of him as colour seeped from his vision. A few people rushed to his aid but it was Shizuo he saw, rushing toward him with distant concern in his eyes. Izaya now knows, caged in the hospital as he is, that it wasn't worry he saw in Shizuo's eyes, it was a distorted hybrid of murderous intent and joy.

With a powerful grunt Shizuo clasped both hands around the silver, bloodied pole and yanked it free of Izaya's body. By the time Izaya had fallen on his side and lay with his head lolling off the curb, Shizuo had charged in the direction he had come from, yelling a battle cry while he threw the pole he had almost killed Izaya with at the men who had insulted his ice cream.

PFFFFT.