Work Text:
Ikebukuro was silent in the morning. The streets lay cloaked in a deep blue, caught between the pitch darkness of night and the first faint hints of dawn. Only the streetlights kept the shadows at bay, casting long, pale reflections on the quiet pavement. Ungodly hours to be out on the streets when the few awake were still fighting to get up from bed or slowly getting ready knowing they had plenty of time ahead. Under such conditions, why would a coffee shop stay open? Who would go out in the chill weather to grab a coffee when they could stay home where it was warmer and cozier?
Surprisingly, some did, Shizuo would know. He changed occupation almost as often as he changed clothes, everytime getting sabotaged by his very own temper before being fired. The current one was at some coffee shop with weird opening hours. It hadn't been the reason why he postulated, anywhere was enough as long as he got a job, but it still worked in his favor. His shift had been moved to be in the calmer hours when people rarely came by and if they did it was with patience. He didn't do well with the shift during rush hour, his boss knew that much and Shizuo should be thankful that he was switched over and not fired after the last incident. Everyone was loud, rude, and demanding, it didn't do well with his short fuse that always edged on causing a disaster. Luckily, nothing major had happened yet and before things worsened he had been moved to the earliest shift, where it was just him, a coworker, and the occasional customer as tired as him who wanted to have as little conversation as possible, and when things were so quiet that having someone with enough reputation to scare off troublemakers was an extra benefit.
The good side, he still had a job. The bad side, it was incredibly boring, time passed by painfully slow, and yet that wasn't so bad either, it meant less things to disturb him. If only it were so easy, because anytime the front bell chimed he felt a sense of dread rise up his throat. It began happening the first time a certain informant entered during those unlikely hours. The victory already shining in his eyes had been infuriating and ever since then his shifts gradually became a game of waiting for the inevitable. Some days, Izaya wouldn’t show up at all, leaving Shizuo on edge throughout his entire shift. Then, just when Shizuo least expected it, Izaya would make his presence known.
“Morning, Shizu-chan,” greeted the devil that walked into the empty coffee shop with his trademark smile plastered on his face. It was 5am, how he looked so lively at such hours was beyond him, not like he cared enough to know what he was doing out so early in the morning. It couldn't be anything good.
“We don't serve pests,” grunted Shizuo, unamused and with the hairs on the back of his neck already bristled by the sight of the bastard alone.
“Yet they hire mutts. How weird,” retorted Izaya, unbothered and keeping his hands in his pockets as he approached the counter. A gesture that Izaya knew would put Shizuo on high alert, never certain if or when he might pull out a switchblade to strike. To hell with it though, Shizuo was too tired to even care about it, he had been wiping the entire place until a bit ago and he was already hopefully looking forward to the shift ending.
“What do you want?” Shizuo sighed out, crossing his arms over his chest with reluctance to serve him.
“Have most of your brain cells died out from the excessive hair dye already?” Mocked the informant, swaying over his heels with satisfaction at the growl he could faintly hear from the barista. And yet, despite the evident teasing, Izaya sounded relatively gentle. Perhaps he wasn't as fresh as Shizuo had assumed. “It's a coffee shop, Shizu-chan. What do you think?”
“At this hour? We both know you don't come all the way here for this shit. You are planning something.”
“You think?”
He couldn't describe the look Izaya gave him. It was somewhere between mischievous and contemplative. Something was going through that head of his, the way his head tilted and the way his eyes scanned Shizuo's face as if searching for something. He didn't know what he could be searching for though.
“Get out already,” the blonde ended up saying after a brief pause, but it lacked any bite. The quieter hours also seemed to put a damper in their antagonism even if they didn't have to necessarily like each other.
“Hostility is not good for business. After so many jobs I thought you'd know that,” Izaya said, lazily glancing at the rest of the shop. A cop sat at the far back, probably getting a warm drink mid or after patrol, and another man was sitting some tables away, hunched over, silently reading the newspaper. Too much disturbances wouldn't help the little customers they got during the night shift.
Shizuo didn't reply, grimacing at the distasteful comment. He started to turn around, ready to try his best to ignore the other young man and distract himself with another task.
“Just make me an americano. Black. Can you do that?” Izaya's head tilted to the other side before searching in his wallet. Out of the corner of his eye, Shizuo noticed the flea drop a few bills on the counter, more than enough to cover his usual order, one he’d memorized by now given how often he repeated it.
Without a word and grudgingly Shizuo took the necessary amount, the bills crumpled up in his grip before he put them in the register and moved to start making the dreaded order. The sooner he made it, the sooner Izaya would be on his way. Peeking from over his shoulder he could see the silhouette of the other, leaning forward on the empty side of the counter where drinks were served, the place was empty but he didn't stray. He didn't need to look directly at him to feel the eyes burning on his back, following his every move and gesture as he prepared the simple order with fair ease.
He didn't call him out for staring. They stayed in silence while the blonde barista finished serving his coffee in a disposable cup. Before handing it over though, he bit the tip of a marker, pulling the cap off and holding it between his teeth while he wrote something on the cup. Shizuo set down the marker, not even bothering to cap it properly, as he headed toward the spot where Izaya was waiting and pretending he hadn't been staring holes into him the entire time.
The informant looked at his coffee curiously. It's a to-go cup, with the lid already on because Shizuo knew Izaya won't try to put anything else on it. In other words, he knew how he liked his coffee and that alone was one of many small victories.
“You didn't ask if I wanted it to go or drink here” Izaya commented with clear amusement, holding the cup and looking it over. It had black letters that read ‘FLEA’ in angry writing where his name should be. It seemed his smile broadened after reading it.
“Only to go, you are not staying.”
The dark haired man pushed his bottom lip out in a pout that could be interpreted as ‘what a shame’, yet he looked unbothered and it didn't look like he was moving away anytime soon. What could he be looking at the cup so long for? The blonde rolled his eyes, growing more impatient by the second, and as his mouth opened to tell him something —probably to fuck off already—, he got swiftly interrupted by brown eyes that locked with his and the drink being pushed closer towards him.
“Try it first” He said with a smile that tried to look innocent but for Shizuo those didn't exist among Izaya's features. And because the barista stared at him incredulously, he continued. “How would I know if it's safe? I want to make sure it's not spiked.”
“You can't be serious,” muttered Shizuo, inches away from taking the coffee and the customer who paid for it and kicking both out of the establishment. Izaya insisted though.
Why couldn't he have one easy night? Why did Izaya keep showing up wherever he was? They never got along back in school, after graduation he thought he would catch a break from all that, that Izaya might grow out of this phase where he needs constant attention from him no matter where he is or that it's the negative type. Shizuo was mistaken, because no matter where he worked, he would always catch sight of Izaya at least once before getting fired. It seemed like the flea was the only constant in these events, making it difficult to separate his presence from the reason for his dismissal. It was late, he wanted his shift to be over already, his only coworker had been cleaning the bathrooms for an hour now and he started to think she was just taking a long break but because there wasn't much to do anyway he didn't feel the need to call her out for it. He wasn't in the mood to play Izaya's games, and more importantly he wasn't in the mood to lose another job because of his poor temper management.
Izaya didn’t repeat his request, nor did he back down. The drink remained clutched closer to him than its owner, and neither of them spoke a word or broke their unyielding gaze. With every passing second, the tension between them crackled and thickened. It was fortunate that the only two other patrons in the small shop were engrossed in their own worlds, oblivious to the charged standoff unfolding before them. Until eventually Shizuo made a move. He said fuck it. He was caught in whatever mental game Izaya was playing, but if enduring it meant getting the other to leave him alone, he was willing to pay that small price. The psychological chess match was grating, but the thought of finally escaping Izaya’s relentless attention kept him focused and resolute.
The coffee almost spilled when he ripped it off Izaya's hands, his eyes not tearing away from the bastard as the cup was brought to his lips for a long sip. It was hot, bitter, too bitter and strong. Not his taste at all which he didn't hide with the unavoidable grimace on his face. Izaya’s eyes never wavered from Shizuo, so locked in he had even got the impression that they were following the drink down Shizuo's throat as he swallowed, paying attention to every little detail —or maybe to ensure he did ingest the suspected poison, the bastard. Izaya’s gaze followed the path of every movement, his eyes tracing the line from Shizuo’s eyes to his mouth, lingering on his lips as they released the cup’s lid, and then snapping back to his eyes as the drink was placed back down.
“There. Now out.”
“You clearly favor sweets,” the informant softly spoke in retaliation, a scoff of amusement at the obvious face of dislike.
As Shizuo tried to shoo him away again, hoping it would quench Izaya’s mocking intent without setting off his rage, he watched Izaya’s eyes drift down to his mouth, then lower to the cup in front of him. Shizuo had expected to see a hint of disappointment, but Izaya’s face remained inscrutable, a fact that was just as infuriating as if he had succeeded in riling him up.
Izaya held the cup up to his face with a deliberate slowness, his gaze fixed on the hole in the lid. The silence stretched between them, charged with an almost unbearable tension as Izaya turned the cup and fixed his lips over the same spot Shizuo’s had just laid and took a sip. He did so with a languid, purposeful movement, never breaking eye contact. He stayed right in front of Shizuo, his eyes flickering up to meet Shizuo’s before he lowered the cup, running his tongue slowly over his lips as if savoring an indirect kiss.
“Tasty~” Izaya commented, which made no sense. The coffee wasn't special or any different from other times he ordered it.
“It's the same plain coffee you drink every fucking time. You have shit taste” Sighed out the barista, too tired to carry along with him. They were still talking though, and looking at one another as they both leaned over the counter, Shizuo on his hands and Izaya on his elbows.
“I like it though.”
It might have been the ungodly hours that made everything seem more mellow, because that was the word that came to mind when looking and listening to the other talk. He couldn't put a finger on it, but it felt like Izaya was a little too relaxed, no second intentions trying to trick Shizuo into trouble. It was ridiculous to think of but his eyes looked a little more honest. What for, he had no way to guess. He had to be tired, both of them.
After another sip and an amount of seconds or minutes that Shizuo couldn't keep track of, Izaya had straightened up. Finally he would leave, hopefully. The drink was shoved back in his hand though and caught him so off guard that he had no better idea to do than to hold it, and stand there like an idiot while the other walked backwards towards the door.
“Next time I hope I can get a more direct kiss from Shizu-chan~. See you!” He called, his voice louder than it had been the past minutes, the smirk on his face wider and surprisingly one that didn't strike any sense of danger or alert within him.
It took him a second. Two. Three. And after blinking the confusion off his face, the words dawned on him. His face flushed a dark red faster than it ever did and his hand closed in a grip so tight that the cup got crushed and the coffee held on it came flying everywhere over him and the previously wiped counter.
“Shizuo!!” Exclaimed surprised his coworker that had chosen that exact moment to come out to the front with him, getting startled by the burst of hot coffee. “Careful with that!”
Past the rising growl through his throat and the woman's surprise, he could hear Izaya's amused laughter as he finally opened the door with the chiming bells that followed his exit.
Shizuo stood in his place until the sight of Izaya and his fur-trimmed black coat vanished in the street past the shop's window. He muttered an apology to his coworker and moved on to clean, trying his best to shove all those feelings down to his gut where they would only worsen. More than being angry at the ridiculous thing he said, he was upset that his initial thoughts weren't negative. Offense, disgust, anger, none of that. Which was stupid because it was Izaya talking. He should have felt something different than being trapped in the moment, more because he couldn't wipe the look on Izaya's face and those words off his head for the remainder of his shift.
Next time, if he ever got fired from here as well, he'd search for a different job, somewhere he found unlikely for Izaya to visit often. A bartender perhaps, he was already used to the night shifts after all and Izaya didn't look like the type to frequent a bar, or hell he might, Shizuo could never predict what he'd do. He'd most likely chase after Shizuo regardless. But first on his agenda, as soon as his shift ended, was to hunt down that flea. He wasn’t certain what would come of it if he actually caught him, but there was a curious sense of anticipation brewing in his chest.