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Shinra’s coat was only an inch off size in every direction when worn by Izaya — doubly broad across the shoulders and back; the style was cut slim, but wasn’t designed to fit to his precise proportions. Even if their height disparity was near to none, it made a difference when one donned the other’s clothing; subtle, yet unnoticeable to an undiscerning eye.
That was much unlike the doctor, for he had a knack for noticing the intricacies of things important to him, oddities and his collection of lab coats; included was the one modeled before him. The soft edged garment was part of his lounge ensemble and exactly the one that he would’ve slipped into should it not have been worn by another important thing of his. A man he separated from objects, humans, and other beings — supernatural or not. Izaya, the terrible tease, a pest as Shizuo would claim him, stole something of his and yet…
…he didn’t mind a tick. Of course not — he just didn’t know if he would’ve preferred personally draping his partner in his best whites, or rathered how Izaya dressed himself in his beloved’s clothing out of love of his own volition, in some attempt to be closer to Shinra when close wasn’t close enough; a hug of his scent and kiss of his style and even still not close enough.
Scratch that, the only way it could be better was if Izaya asked Shinra to strip him down to his devious smile; tempt the floor to match the garment to his dirty thoughts that he gathered more of. Though, taking Izaya’s bare ankles in consideration, Shinra believed with a nod of approval that only his coat covered him.
An odd giggle combined with innocence turned Izaya in partial; he gave Shinra a one-up and down and unfairly judged him by his unfinished outfit — his slack tie, open collar, and lack of outer shell were all contributions to some opinion he was soon to unleash.
“What, am I wearing coat you were looking to wear today, one of your too many?”
There it was, Izaya’s keen ability to draw conclusions from unimportant tidbits of information: Shinra wasn’t ready for the day, without the proper pieces to finish his wardrobe, and surely that was good reason to mock him.
“Doesn’t everybody have multiples of their signature clothing?” He tilted his head with his smile as he bumbled closer. Though as he did, Izaya’s full frontal reveal had Shinra don his childish disappointment as a set of briefs sensored what he didn’t want to be.
Izaya choked on a tired laugh, his swig of coffee sputtered back into his mug. “Signature or not, lab coats are usually kept to the location of their namesake: the laboratory.”
“Says the one wearing my loungewear in the kitchen.”
“Touché, but what exactly qualifies this as loungewear?” Izaya futzed with the lapels as if he legitimately searched for a reason — a smartass cat with a simple curiousity.
“I’m surprised you couldn’t tell, considering how much of your skin is being caressed by soft-touch twill. It’s comfortable, nothing more than that. Though, there could be more of you delicately draped with my high fashion, yet you cover yourself with needless underwear! I’m disappointed, Izaya! What a tragedy!”
“Did you think I wore this to flirt with you?”
“It’s pretty enticing, so yes!”
“I didn’t.”
“That’s a lie!”
Izaya shook his head. “So what is it, you have a thing for people wearing lab coats? Or is it a kink that people wear one of your coats?”
Shinra intently watched as Izaya spun to show it off; he cared little for the billowed cloth, more the style points in gave the informant, as well as the uncomfortable effect it had on him personally.
“Mmm, definitely not the former. It’s not my aesthetic to find people wearing my style attractive. It’s not even my thing to go after people in the first place.”
“People he says…” he chuckled, “What does that make me then?”
“An asshole.”
Izaya sighed, “truthfully…”
“What? That is truthful!”
“Because of course it.”
Izaya let up his starch posture due to a swooning wrap of intimacy not exasperation. Shinra loved the way he could coerce him to putty within his palms, the same he slipped beneath fabric, with skin on skin pulled Izaya into his arms, nestled his head against his own and lips close to his ear — his breath just louder than his voice.
“You’re Izaya.” Goosebumps raised around his fingertips as Izaya shivered in embarrassment. “That’s all that really matters, to me.”
Izaya let him continue; talking and working the coat off his shoulders to reveal fresh skin — Shinra lay a kiss in the nook below his neck.
“You should know this, but I only really care about a few individuals and there are far less I would take a stab to my vitals for. In fact, that’s limited to two.”
“Does it really count if that human-wannabe doesn’t have a life to save in the first place, let alone can retaliate faster than you could step in front of her?”
Shinra didn’t falter, “it counts. I would still do it.”
He continued to lay a line of invisible marks along Izaya’s clavicle as he shared his lips with what responded to a tickle — hiccuped air increased as the attack continued downward in a crisscross pattern.
“That doesn’t really make me feel special, Shinra.”
“Remove the briefs and I will make sure you do!”
It was then that he pulled back to make giddy eye contact. It was hardly a joke, but he was a laugh away from it — the punchline rolled Izaya’s eyes before he grabbed onto Shinra’s tie. The loose knot tightened with a swift tug forward.
“Shouldn’t you give me a good reason to?” He slithered his words, arched his brow.
Either it was a lack of breath from his crushed windpipe or a gasp of excitement, but nothing other than a delighted flush spoke for Shinra’s silence. He waited patiently for what he expected — a shrug, a sly smile, and a half-assed willing surrender.
“That’s good enough.”
A brash kiss led a trip over the slipped lab coat in their path; stumbled, flailed — failed to correct their equilibrium, but with panache Izaya eased into a spot on the back support of the couch. He directed Shinra closer directed with one hand still clutched silk, while the other let the contents of his mug spill without care; dubiously without purpose.
Shinra split nigh attention, rather instinct alerted him of the mess. “Did you really have to let your coffee spill onto it?” His lip was teased with teeth, canines exposed with deviance.
“Nope, though it’s hilarious that you would notice.”
“I guess it’s not really important,” Shinra forgot his prior issue, ecstatic as the static that prickled his chest as Izaya undid buttons in swift fashion. Just as quick as he’d dressed for the day, Shinra was dressed down. On-call or not, his doctor’s duties could be shunned for bed rest with an inpatient patient that dragged him down.
Izaya stood in front of a closet, one he never bothered to open because it never seemed to stick out. Within it was a long row of white and not a single colour otherwise.
“You really do have one for every occasion,” he examined a size tag still attached, noticed a second and another more. “And back-ups? How could you even wear through them with this many in stock.”
“Well, you’d be surprised by how many are ruined by blood. Though maybe that’s the point of them, to catch bodily fluids.”
“I wonder how many were ruined by Shizu-chan…” he mumbled, “or me for that matter.”
Shinra noticed how Izaya categorised the garments for their differences, like he tried to determine which ones were for which occasion; laughed when he heard Izaya do the same as he came across a coat haphazardly decorated with dried, oxidised blood; like it was intentionally worn for a bloodbath dye job, sadistic fashion that only the off-kilter would appreciate.
“Why would you think that I was joking about my wardrobe?”
“I shouldn’t have, given your particular eccentricities.”
“That’s not something to resent, you know.”
“Resent? And who says that’s something I do? I accept it.”
“Aw,” he whined, “my perfect setup to say you accepted it because I’m Shinra and that’s all that matters was wasted.”
“I’m not going to repeat that romantic sap back to an idiot lovefool. That’s uncreative and would make me ill even before I could even finish the fake sentiment.”
“Oh what sadness, at least one of us is madly in love with the other.”
“Please stop before I hate you.”
“Shall we experiment to see how much of my love and adoration you can hand—”
Shinra was lobbed with a ball of coat; it muffled the rest of his thought. His pointed finger transitioned into a new gesture, an open palm presented to the ceiling with his head still veiled.
“At least you were perceptive enough to pick the right one. Maybe you do love me enough to notice my patterns.”
“Choke on your duds, Shinra.”