Work Text:
The waitress was looking over at him again; judging him, probably. But he couldn't help if his leg kept bouncing and hitting the underside of the table. Shizuo was nervous, dammit! And why in the hell had that snarky waitress sat him at a tiny table smack in the center of the room, anyway? Being surrounded by people on all sides wasn't helping his state of mind. He bet they were judging him, too. Shizuo would be able to tell if he actually raised his head from fiddling with the menu, but he wasn't about to give those assholes the satisfaction of knowing that they were getting to him.
Shizuo tried to take a deep breath. But damn, he was anxious. He was nearly to the point of leaving before his date even got there, but he wasn't the type to stand someone up. He thought he wasn't, at least. He'd never been on a lousy date before, so he couldn't really tell. Just thinking about how new he was to this had his leg jumping even more viciously, making his glass of water and utensils tremble on the tabletop.
He supposed he wouldn't be freaking out so much if he weren’t so early. They'd decided to meet at this low-key restaurant at 7:00, but Shizuo had been filled with untapped energy the entire day and he just couldn't stand one more minute of pacing inside his small living room, so he decided to jump the gun at 6:20. In retrospect, Shizuo could see it wasn't one of his finer moments.
Now, it was 6:40. The waitress had been circling him cautiously after he'd said, for the fifth and loudest time, that he would order once his friend had arrived. He'd felt her eyes on him as he read and reread the menu countless times, and he was stuck wondering how he should order once the time came. Should he order for them both? Should he ask how they would pay, or was that implied? Did his date like appetizers, or did he go straight for the entree? Shizuo felt his pulse beat steadily faster at all the opportunities he had to screw up.
He looked at his watch; he'd bought it specifically for this night. The time read 6:47. Shizuo's hands bent the menu while he experienced a mini heart attack. He had pants on, right!? He mentally catalogued everything he was wearing. Oh thank god, they were still there. He'd spent an inordinately long time picking them out; they were black denim with silver stitching, tight as a motherfuck, but his legs, and not to mention his ass, looked so good that he overlooked how he couldn't wear underwear. Celty ended up having to help him into them, although he didn't really want to think about that. Tonight was becoming embarrassing enough.
His shirt had been a little easier to decide upon; it was a silvery white v-neck with sleeves that cut off at the elbows, hugging and outlining his torso and arms. Shizuo didn't wear it that often because it was made of a soft material that could only be dry-cleaned. He hoped Izaya would like it.
Thinking about Izaya made his eyes flick down to his wrist reflexively. 6:55. Five minutes until he saw him again. He inhaled shakily.
He remembered their meeting in vivid detail, even though he was shit-faced at the time. The flashing, multi-colored lights; the manufactured fog; the press of dozens of bodies; the carnal beat of the bass. And most importantly, the crook of one finger as a lone man signaled for him to come closer.
As soon as he answered the call and got close enough to identify the stranger's body heat from amongst all the others, his lit cigarette was snatched from his mouth and crushed under a heavy boot. The next instant, he was being kissed. That was how he met Izaya.
After a night of dancing, or whatever you called what people did with their bodies in bars these days, Shizuo found enough courage to spout out some mouth diarrhea and ask Izaya on a date. For some ungodly reason, he said yes.
That was two days ago, and he'd been a nervous wreck ever since. What was he even supposed to say to the guy? They'd barely talked to each other as it was, and he didn't even know Izaya's last name!
A chair being pulled back and a shift of the table pulled Shizuo from his scattered thoughts. Was it that waitress again? He was going to snap if--
He looked up and found himself staring straight into the crimson gleam of Izaya's eyes. They were just as stunning as the rest of him, and now he had a better view of him under the soft lighting of the restaurant. Inky black hair; creamy white skin; a devious smile that had both his nerves and libido on edge.
Shizuo did a double take and stood up in a delayed reaction of shock. There was a small stretch of silence while Izaya laid his head on his fist, giving Shizuo a slow, hungry appraisal. The waitress came around, notepad at the ready once she saw the "friend" arrive. But before she could open her mouth, Izaya cut her off while not even deigning her a glance. "We're done here."
She sputtered in rage, nearly stomping her feet like a child as she stormed back to where she came from. Shizuo was speechless and confused, gaping at his date. Did Izaya just reject him? And in less than a minute?
Izaya stood slowly, like he had all the time in the world. He took out his wallet and left a ten dollar bill on the table, then met Shizuo's stunned and fearful gaze. "Want to head back to my place?"
It was spoken as a prediction rather than a question, and Izaya didn't wait for an answer as he walked around the table and grasped onto Shizuo's hand. He began tugging him toward the exit while Shizuo tried to keep pace. "I-uh... Yeah. Why not."
Izaya craned his head back to look at him, eyes twinkling and canines flashing. Once they were outside, he leaned in close, standing on his tiptoes. "I had a great time. Do I get a kiss goodnight?"
Shizuo looked down into a wicked expression, feeling a prickle of danger. But, he rationalized as he bent his neck to meet the siren call of plush lips, he could always get to know Izaya later.
END