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“Ah, shit.”
Though Shizuo tried to be quiet, nothing ever quite escaped Vorona’s notice. She eyed him curiously, but before she could ask in whatever oddly endearing way she would, he dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “‘s nothing. You two go on ahead. I’ll catch up.”
Tom turned his head, raising a brow, though he dropped the subject as Vorona marched onward, oddly considerate. Normally, she would ask a thousand questions. Was it trust, maybe? Or perhaps Shizuo owed her some more credit. Despite spending a year in Russia, she had fallen right back in with Tom and Shizuo as if it were second nature. Tom, having worked with Shizuo for however many years now (Shizuo didn’t bother keeping track), had grown accustomed to having him disappear from time to time. Though he would once clasp his hands in prayer for the poor soul who dared incite Shizuo’s rage, nowadays Shizuo’s wanderings were less concerned with pummeling people than investigating Ikebukuro’s soup du jour. Even in the absence of color gangs, it wouldn’t be Ikebukuro without some kind of shit-show.
Fortunately, this was nothing more than a forgotten wallet.
Well, that’s what a normal person would believe, anyway.
Normal people didn’t fraternize with Orihara Izaya and foolishly forget their wallets at his place.
Don’t be an asshole. Don’t be an asshole. For the love of God, be normal for once.
Shizuo flipped open his phone, selected the contact lovingly named “Flea,” and began to type. [I need you]
And, in his impatience, his thumb slammed down on the send button.
“Ah, shit! ”
Izaya’s response was near instantaneous. [Oh, my! Rough day at work? I may be able to help. For a price. (≖⩊≖)]
Shizuo wasted no time backing out of his messages and dialing Izaya’s number. He picked up on the first ring. “You know I’m a slow typer, dammit. I was trying to say, I need you to bring me my wallet.”
“Oh,” Izaya deadpanned. “Is that all?”
“Don’t sound so disappointed!”
“And I should help you, why?”
“It’s my turn to treat Tom-san and Vorona.”
Finally, the color returned to Izaya’s tone. “Oh, how sweet. No worries, good sir, I shall deliver unto you your 1000 yen posthaste.”
Shizuo rolled his eyes. Not willing to waste any more energy, especially on that nonsense, he hung up. Tom and Vorona were fortunately a very easy pair to pick out of a crowd, and he caught up to them with ease. Lotteria was still a ways away, and they had a few stops to make in-between. Their usual rhythm resumed: Tom would approach the customer and calmly ask for the money they owed, Shizuo and Vorona flanking him like attack dogs. That was normally enough to warrant cooperation, though the unfortunate few who tested their luck were rather quickly met with a boot to the face: or, if they were really unlucky, somewhere far less savory. Vorona showed no restraint.
By the time they made it, there was Izaya, leaning against the wall outside, one arm resting on his cane while the other absentmindedly thumbed through Shizuo’s wallet. And, of course, because this was Izaya, as soon as he saw Shizuo, he exclaimed in an obnoxious sing-song voice, “Ya-hoooo, Shizu-chan!”
Shizuo stormed forward and snatched his wallet. Quietly, he said, “Thanks. Now knock it off.”
“No room for a fourth?” Izaya asked, eyeing Tom and Vorona. “Three’s already a crowd.”
“Since when do you eat fast food? You do nothing but bitch about it.”
Izaya shrugged. “I do prefer finer delicacies.”
“You’ve got money. Go get some fatty tuna.”
“And miss out on this opportunity?” Izaya asked, meeting Vorona’s piercing stare. If looks could kill, as they say. “Honestly, it’s offensive that you refuse to properly introduce me to anyone. What a terrible boyfr—”
Tom and Vorona gaped at each other. Never in a million years did they, or anyone else, believe they would see Heiwajima Shizuo blush. Not from a little embarrassment, but like a schoolboy.
“Get OUT!”
♂♂
At the end of their work day (one that felt abnormally long, at that), Shizuo bid his friends farewell, disappearing into the nighttime crowd. Tom and Vorona met each other’s eyes, and Tom burst into a fit of laughter the second Shizuo was out of earshot. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he slumped into a nearby bench. Vorona, stoic as ever, retrieved their drinks from the vending machine.
After a moment, she said, “Shizuo-senpai’s smile held such fondness. I am perplexed. What do you know of this development?”
Tom wiped the tears from his eyes, and choking on his laughs, replied, “Vorona… With those two, some questions are better left unanswered.”
Vorona sipped her fruit soda thoughtfully. “Very well.”
♂♂
The lights were on in Shizuo’s apartment.
With a sigh, he pocketed his key and shoved the door open. Inside, Izaya lounged on his couch, scrolling through his laptop. Without looking up, he called, “Welcome home.”
Izaya did not have a key. “I’m not even gonna ask.”
Izaya sat up, sliding his laptop to the other end of the couch. When he turned around, Shizuo realized he was wearing his reading glasses. “Long day?” He asked innocently.
Shizuo snorted out a laugh. “Ha.” He handed Izaya’s laptop back over to him so he could sit. “What are you even up to? Cyberbullying kids again?”
“How rude.” Izaya grinned. “I am an informant, in case you’ve forgotten.” How could I ever. “It just so happens that much of Ikebukuro’s happenings center around the youth.”
“‘The youth.’ Okay, grandpa.”
“Says the one who still has a flip phone.”
“They’re called ‘smart’ phones, but they’re so dumb. I don’t need all of that.”
Izaya closed his laptop and set it on the modest coffee table. “Even if it means we have incidents like earlier?”
Shizuo glowered at him, though with a deep breath, his anger subsided. Izaya’s cane caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.
That shit-eating grin. When had it turned from making Shizuo want to punch the hell out of him to something he looked forward to? Not that he would ever, ever admit it.
“Turns out an old dog can learn new tricks,” Izaya had told him a while back. Though he obviously fell into some old habits that would likely never die, he had some new weapons in his arsenal. Izaya had always known how to get under his skin from the moment they met. Now, he could retaliate.
Shizuo leaned over, barging into Izaya’s personal space in Izaya-like fashion. His voice low, he asked, “What, you gonna tell me that made your heart flutter?”
“Not exactly.”
He said, then pulled Shizuo in for a kiss.
Though the argument was swiftly dismissed for the day, like any good typo, Shizuo would hardly forget it any time soon.