Your Number One

When Shizuo decided to stop by Izaya Orihara's apartment unannounced Friday evening, part of him did anticipate walking in on something unexpected. Not sure what, but…something. 'Cause this was the flea and the flea was, well, shady as fuck.

Shizuo just hadn't realized he was creepy as fuck, too.

Question glued to the dry lining of his ever-tightening throat, Shizuo's rage bubbled hot in his belly as he stood in the doorway to Izaya's vast bedroom to find him atop his bed, straddling a body pillow with Shizuo's fuckin' picture on it.

"Ah, Shizu-chan," the creep announced, pretending to play it coy with a tiny glance over his shoulder. "Is it that day of the week already?" A little pout—stupid cute flea—gave the impression that Izaya was disappointed. "And here I was about to have some fun. Oh well. Guess I'll have to save Karisawa-san's gift for another time, ne." A skinny hand patted pillow-Shizuo's head, the louse sighing dramatically. "Sorry Shizu-chan, I've gotta play with the real you now."

Absolutely nothing of what was being said seemed to sink into Shizuo's buzzing brain as he glanced around the room, just now noticing the spilled bag of merchandise on the floor. His eyes narrowed, suspicious. There was a lot of blond someone printed all over that shit.

"I see you've noticed my presents. Well they're mine, so don't you think for a second I'm letting you have any of it," was Izaya's childish declaration as he crawled off his bed and scooped up a coffee mug. Approaching the quietly fuming monster, Izaya pressed a smirk to the lip of the mug, showing off the scroll of words printed on the front. "What do you think? Cute, ne? Karisawa-san's little fan club is rather larger than I realized. We're quite popular, you and I."

There it was. His voice. And it sounded like murder. "What the fuck is Shizaya?"

Ruby eyes rolled, the flea sighing exasperatedly because he too often enjoyed making Shizuo feel stupid for no reason. "Think, Shizu-chan. I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Yeah, he got it. What he just didn't get was—"Why?"

Slim shoulders lifted, Izaya tossing the mug back amongst the spilled t-shirts, key chains, phone cases and—was that a damn comic?

Curiosity and bad decision-making getting the better of him, Shizuo lifted the doujin from the scatter of merchandise to inspect the cover.

"You might want to not look at that. I know how touchy you are about—"

The first page was all Shizuo needed to see to know he never wanted to see it again. A graphic illustration of Izaya tied up and gagged amongst a pile of trash and him forcing himself on the flea just—"The fuck is this shit, hah?"

"I warned you." Izaya bent to pick up the doujin that Shizuo had just violently tossed at the wall, flipping open to his personal favorite page. The part where him being raped by the brute somehow escalated to him begging for it, panting against dirty pavement and gasping a serenade of harder and Shizu-chan! Shizu-chan! Izaya hadn't yet ruled out the notion of locating the artist of this atrocity and introducing them to his favorite knife because really. "They're quite inventive, ne. As if I'd ever allow Shizu-chan to molest me like this."

"Wouldn't," was about the only word Shizuo could get out, rage and disgust and shock that something so fucking vile even existed making it hard to unclench his jaw.

Something wavered and softened in dark crimson, Izaya flicking Shizuo between the brows just hard enough to sting. "I know. You can calm down now. Here," and he presented a small drawstring bag, little cream and brown hard candies rattling the clear mesh, "have some candy, ne. I believe it's coffee and," Izaya slipped a cream candy into his mouth, looking thoughtful, "vanilla. That must be Shizu-chan's."

While not exactly enough of a distraction to completely tranquilize Shizuo, the blond did seem to settle down. Confusion returned to overpower his fury. "The hell is this, Izaya?"

"A fan club," the flea answered simply, casually shrugging off his fur-trimmed jacket and revealing the horrendous t-shirt beneath, I HEART SHIZU-CHAN blindingly bold and obnoxious across Izaya's chest. "There are some very dedicated believers in our love, Shizu-chan."

That word, forbidden in all instances except on nights when both were too sleep-deprived to remember they weren't supposed to say those kinda things, sounded about as beautiful as a deflating balloon. "What—"

"Oh! How rude of me," Izaya cut in, digging through the mess of goods on his floor. "Here. This one's for you."

Shizuo caught the t-shirt, knowing before he opened it what it would say: PROPERTY OF IZAYA ORIHARA.

No. Never mind. This was so much fucking worse.

The sound of tearing cotton split the tense silence, ribbons of cloth falling to the carpet. Shizuo's face was solemn, his faith in the good of humankind obliterated over a t-shirt. "You better explain this shit, flea, 'cause I'm about to destroy your fancy little apartment if you don't."

"Like I said, ne. It's a fan club."

"You keep sayin' that like it makes fuckin' sense."

"And this is why the concept of me being romantically involved with you is ridiculous. Shizu-chan is much too slow to be of any use." Izaya slid back onto his bed like a stretching feline, his hands bracketing the Shizuo pillow beneath him, gaze dramatically tender as he spoke to it. "You're much more intellectually stimulating, ne. Maybe I should fuck you instead."

For a second he looked like he was about to do just that, slim hips grinding down on the pillow, breath hitching and back arching like it felt good.

Shizuo would have none of it. Like hell he was going to let Izaya make him jealous over a damn pillow. "Gonna give you three seconds to get off that thing."

"Or what?"

"Or I'm gonna force you off."

Those cherry eyes got dangerously close to rolling. "Really, Shizu-chan. You sound like a fan fiction."

"A fan what?"

"Fiction." With a playful little hum, Izaya rolled onto his back, leaving the pillow forgotten at his side as his attention moved to reading something on his phone. "Let me see, hmm…Us fucking, fucking, fucking, fucking," he commentated, scrolling through a list, "more fucking, me fucking you," he paused on that one, smirking. "I'll save that for later, I think. There really isn't enough Izuo."

"Izu—"

"It's where Shizu-chan's the one begging for it, ne," Izaya explained coolly, continuing his perusal and proceeding to ignore the beet-red monster approaching his bedside. "Ah, here's one where Shizu-chan impregnates me with his child. I think Shinra might enjoy this one."

The blond stilled. "You're pregnant?"

Izaya's gaze as he glanced over the top of his phone was intensely disparaging. "You would like that, wouldn't you?"

Images of Izaya rubbing away at a rounded tummy came to mind and Shizuo found himself not totally put-off by it. The idea of Izaya raising a child, well, that wasn't as appealing.

"You're disgusting."

A black-socked foot prodded Shizuo's stomach and he grabbed at the flea's ankle, pulling him low on the bed. "Don't call me disgusting when you're the one riding a pillow with my face on it, flea."

That thin mouth curled, Izaya's expression lecherous. "Does Shizu-chan want me to ride something else?"

"Yeah, the first plane outta Japan."

"Or," Izaya interjected softly, lowering the ball of his foot over Shizuo's groin and wriggling his toes, "something else?"

A tiny smile tickled Shizuo's lip, sharp leonine glimmering with subdued amusement. "Depends on whether you tell me what the hell this is about, Izaya."

Foot dropping back to the mattress, Izaya ceded. "We've been discovered, Shizu-chan. The game is up."

Confusion once again blanketed the debt collector's face. "People have known about this for awhile now, flea."

"No, Shizu-chan. Close friends and Karisawa-san are two entirely different entities. If she had influence at any major media outlet, I can assure you all of Japan would currently be discussing our tumultuous, angst-ridden romance," he divulged, quoting directly from a fan fiction he'd been laughing over since his discovery of the fine art.

"How?"

"Ah, I suppose two little brats may've spilled the truth in exchange for a limited edition poster of the amazingly talented Yuuhei Hanejima."

Shizuo's brow creased. "Your sisters ratting us out relates to this, how?"

"Shizu-chan is so lucky to have a pretty face, ne. Ugly and stupid would just be too cruel," Izaya sighed, sliding a pale hand across his face and shaking his head.

"Oi," Shizuo barked, not liking being teased. Yanking Izaya closer until his ass was close to slipping off the edge of the bed, he leaned over his skinny form with every intention of being domineering.

Only drawback to the plan was that Izaya liked it a little too much, hips and hands too eager for someone that was supposed to feel intimidated. "Do you have any idea how many people fantasize about us, Shizu-chan?"

Warmth seeped into Shizuo's face, Izaya's cool fingertips caressing his nape and playing with his hair. "Don't get it, flea. Dunno what's so appealing about the idea of me forcing you."

"That was that one comic, ne. Most of it's a lot more—" Izaya's face crinkled, disgusted, "sentimental."

"Yeah, well that's a lot better than that other shit," Shizuo argued, dropping his face into the curve between Izaya's shoulder and neck. "Wouldn't do that to you."

"I know. You can stop saying that." There was nothing marginally romantic about Shizuo reassuring him that he'd never force himself on him. Izaya wasn't so pathetic as to thank people for being civilized. Mostly, it was annoying to think that someone out there thought Shizuo would. Even when Izaya had felt most threatened by the brute, he never once entertained the suggestion that the monster was even capable of something so nauseatingly hateful.

"So how do we get rid of it?"

"Hm?"

"This Shizaya shit." Shizaya. Damn, that was weird.

Ruby eyes glistened, Izaya biting back another smile. "We can't, ne. All of Ikebukuro knows now. There's evidence."

Shizuo lifted his head, tense. "What evidence?"

"Photos, videos, sound recordings, journals with very specific dates and times where you and I have met up," Izaya listed, counting on his fingers. "My sisters are very thorough."

Displeased, Shizuo growled, the sound dangerous and angry. "Then make up some damn story. You're good at covering shit up."

"True," Izaya agreed, unable to withhold his smile any longer. "Though I see no point in why I should deny any of it. If anything, it only benefits me. I rarely receive this many gifts."

"Gifts with my face on everything." Izaya's laugh was quiet against Shizuo's shoulder and shit, whatever, he was done fighting over it. Not like it really mattered if everyone knew. At least he no longer felt like he had to hide. Hell, maybe this meant they could finally be out in public together and do more than just play chase. From that perspective, maybe he might find those little flea brats and thank them.

"On the other hand," Izaya continued, voice quieter now as Shizuo's hips lowered between his thighs and his hands moved to grip his hips. "I might have to speak to Karisawa-san about remerchandising. It's fine if it's just for me, but I can't say I'll tolerate anyone else owning a Shizu-chan pillow."

A tobacco-laced mouth grinned against milky flesh. "That's kinda selfish, flea. You think you can have me all to yourself, huh?"

"Of course." Golden honey watched skinny fingers lift the hem of Izaya's shirt, exposing pale flesh and a small temporary tattoo against a jutting hipbone; an arrow that pointed suggestively downward, scrawling text shamelessly declaring SHIZU-CHAN ONLY. "I'm your number one fan, ne."

Author's Note: I skipped school because I needed to get this out of my system. I hope it was worth it! (Note: I do not condone skipping out on responsibilities in the name of fandom. I just have a problem.)