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Shiki decides to seduce Izaya on his birthday. On Izaya’s birthday that is, not his own, which would probably be more appropriate, if depressing to have to deal with a rejection on his birthday. It doesn’t matter which day, birthday or otherwise, he picks anyway.
He sends Izaya flowers and chocolates the morning of his birthday, to be hand delivered. The chocolates are a quality brand from Hokkaido; hand-crafted, pure and bittersweet. The flowers are roses with their thorns carefully removed. Shiki has not signed his name on either gift. Izaya would be either intrigued or amused. Shiki doubts he is the only one sending the attractive informant gifts.
Shiki makes no mention of these gifts when he calls the younger man later in the day.
“Happy birthday, informant."
“Thanks, Shiki-san!” He sounds delighted that Shiki remembered. He also sounds slightly drunk.
“Not interrupting anything, am I?”
“Nope,” he chirps. “I’m always happy to work for Shiki-san, even on my birthday.”
“It’s not work I need as such, more of a...discussion. I’ll even get you some cake, if you’re good.”
“I’ve already had cake.”
“What kind?”
“Strawberry.”
“So have more. It’s your birthday.” He checks his watch. “Can I pick you up at 8?” he says, knowing Izaya will cancel whatever plans he had, if he had any.
“Sure,” Izaya says, in the dreamy tone of the tipsy. “From Ikebukuro station please, east side.”
-
Shiki’s driver pulls up on the yellow lines outside the east exit at exactly 8pm, while the public politely pretend not to see the car. Shiki skims a newspaper until Izaya opens the door and climbs into the neighbouring seat. The informant is in a suit that accentuates his cheeks, and almost makes Shiki say something he shouldn’t.
“Evening," he says instead. "I hope I’m not interrupting any celebrations."
“Nope,” Izaya says, looking happy enough. There is colour in his cheeks, from either drink or the mild night or happiness.
“Have you had dinner?” Shiki asks politely, as the car pulls away from the curb.
“Yes.”
“Cake it is then.”
“It’s very kind of you.”
“I’m in a generous mood.”
Izaya smiles thinly and eases back in his seat. They don’t speak again, but the silence is neither awkward not tense.
At the restaurant, as per Shiki’s instructions, they are led to a window table on the fifth floor with a curtain secluding them from the other diners.
“Wine?” Shiki offers.
“Sure.”
He orders them a plum wine, not too sweet, one that would go well with the cake. They both look out the window. A flurry of cherry blossoms fall from the trees outside in a never ending snowfall, as the end of the season is near.
“Nice time of year,” Shiki observes.
“Mm. I around here earlier,” Izaya says dreamily. “Lie there long enough and you’re almost buried.”
The waiter brings their wine, along with a plain, unsweetened chocolate cake under a glass dome. Izaya’s face breaks out into a grin.
“Aww, Shiki-san, you shouldn’t have.”
“Hm. Don’t say I don’t do anything for you.”
They clink glasses and have a slice of cake each. Shiki covers the remainder of the cake with its dome to preserve its freshness, and discreetly draws the curtain. The cake seems to assist Izaya’s blood in absorbing alcohol, rather than diminish it. It occurs to Shiki that he hadn’t planned for this factor, that he can’t and won’t seduce Izaya when he’s drunk. He replaces the lid on what is remaining in the bottle.
Izaya lounges back like a cat in the sun, regarding Shizuo with a lazy expression.
“Did you send me those things, Shiki-san?”
”Yes.”
“Thought so,” he murmurs. “Thank you.”
He comes round to Shiki’s side and rests his head on the older man’s shoulder. Shiki stiffens in surprise. There is nothing sensual or promiscuous about the move; it is more like that of a sleepy child, but it still changes the pace of the air Shiki inhales. He discreetly pours himself some more wine.
“Can I have some more?” Izaya asks, when he isn’t offered.
“No,” he says gently. “You’re drunk.”
“But it’s my birthday .”
Shiki pours him just under half a glass. Izaya takes a weeny sip and settles back on Shiki’s shoulder, his head heavy.
On Shiki’s orders, they would be left alone all night no matter how great the demand for tables. Shiki suspects he could even fuck the informant behind their drawn curtain and get away with it. Except for the fact that Izaya is far too drunk. It seems so obvious now, his eyes dull, movements slow, that Shiki doesn’t know how he didn’t notice right away. It is not a happy kind of drunk.
They stay until well after twilight, when the only cherry blossoms that can be seen are those directly under the street lights. Izaya finishes his wine and pours himself a full glass, and Shiki doesn’t bother stopping him.
Shiki gives him a little squeeze when he's done.
“Let me take you home.”
“Already?”
“You’re very drunk.”
“It’s my birthday.”
“We’ll bring the cake.”
He eases away from Izaya and opens the curtain, waves for the waitress to pack up the cake, and then they are in his car again, snaking through the night.
“I saw Shizu-chan earlier,” Izaya says. “He said his birthday present was not to chase me or throw anything.”
“Nice of him.”
They don't speak again.
Inexplicably changing his mind, Shiki learns forward and has the driver drop them at his own address instead.
Once inside, Izaya curls up on the sofa as if he’d lived there all his life.
“You’ll crease your suit,” Shiki tells him.
“Want me to take it off?” he says, grinning.
“No.”
He takes Izaya’s cake and puts it in the fridge, has a discreet shot of whiskey. while he's at it
“I suppose you won’t let me have any more wine," Izaya calls.
“No. I can make you some tea?”
“Just water, please.”
Kobe emerges from under the couch as Shiki brings it to him.
“You have cats!” Izaya crowsin delight.
“A cat,” Shiki corrects, setting Izaya’s glass on a coaster.
“Is he friendly?”
“He can be.”
Izaya scoops the cat up and holds him against his cheek, not something Shiki would recommend at the best of times, but Kobe tolerates it well enough. Izaya sets him back down and dangles one arm down the side of the couch to stroke him. The cat starts to purr.
Shiki sits on the opposite sofa and lights a cigarette, watching them.
You should just fuck him and get it out of your system. Akabayashi’s words. And probably sound advice. Shiki had only sent those gifts to be polite, after all. Shiki has always been a gentleman, even when he’s paid for sex.
Izaya opens his eyes and looks at him. His hand slows, and the cat gets bored and drifts away.
“Why are you all the way over there?” Izaya says.
“I’m smoking.”
“I don’t mind.”
Shiki puts it out even so. He shifts to Izaya’s couch and sits at his side. Izaya puts his head on his lap, with the same casual affection as he had in the restaurant. He turns his face inwards to Shiki’s knee, hiding it, tense like he's waiting for something he doesn't particularly want. Shiki realises then, with disappointment but without any real surprise, that he will not sleep with Izaya, that he probably wouldn’t have even if the informant had been stone cold sober.
After about an hour, when he can feel the informant is truly asleep, he eases Izaya’s head back to the couch and finds a blanket to cover him with. The cat slinks back to its basket, eying them both. Shiki decides to watch him sleep, then promptly decides not to. He goes to bed himself, and doesn’t sleep.
-
Akabyashi calls him in the morning, when he is still in bed and trying to decide if Izaya would be awake, if he would even still be in the house.
“Well?” the other man prompts. “Did you?”
“Yes,” he lies.
“Feel better?”
“Yes.”
Akabayashi pauses like he’s about to ask for details, but appears to think better of it. He confirms their schedule for the afternoon and hangs up.
Shiki lies there for a few more minutes. The house is silent. Then he wraps his body in a dressing gown, pyjama bottoms and slippers, and heads towards the living room.