Everybody Talks

Summary: When Shizuo went to sleep last night, he was damn sure that he still worked for Tom, that Shinra and Celty were inseparable, and that he hated Izaya Orihara.

So what the hell happened?

Prompt: When Shizuo went to sleep last night, he was pretty sure it was . He worked under Tom, Celty was missing her head, Shinra cut people open for living and he hated Izaya Orihara with passion. When he woke up the next morning, it was nine months later. He now worked for some obscure underground government agency, a lot of new gangs had sprouted out playing hockey with Celty's head with Celty in the middle screaming her non-attached head off, Shinra had become emo because Celty chose her head over him, and most surreal of all, he was best friends with Izaya Orihara! What the hell happened in these nine months?

Note: This is cross posted on the Drrr! Kink meme as well. Really unsure of just how long this is going to end up being, so buckle in folks. ＼(;ﾟ∇ﾟ)/

*Edited the year to correspond more appropriately with the timeline in Durarara~ From what I can pick out, the Saika arc seems mostly in 2004 while the yellow scarves arc moves through 2005.*

Chapter one:

"It started with a whisper."

On normal days Shizuo would never choose to wake up before the sun rose, but even before he opened his eyes it was clear that this was no ordinary morning. Sure, the shadows of his bedroom didn't appear to show anything out of place. Yeah, he seemed to be safety tucked into bed. Even the cool touch of Celty's leather clad hands on his arm didn't strike him immediately as unusual; she was his best friend after all, a safe presence.

But damn, his head was hurting something awful.

"What the fuck…" His eyes flickered open and every inch of muscle in his body tensed, the harshness of his own whisper unsettling him. Reaching up with icy fingers, he tried to massage his throat. It felt like he was talking around sandpaper.

Celty's reassuring grip on his arm tightened the slightest bit in response. [Shizuo! Thank god- I mean, I wasn't sure. . . Try not to move, ok? I already texted Shinra, so he should be here soon don't worry. The snowstorm is slowing him down is all. . .]

Shizuo frowned at her, far from understanding what could possibly have his friend so worked up. And what did she mean by snow? It was the middle of the Spring for god's sake. He just went out yesterday to see cherry blossoms with Tom and Vorona. She must be delirious or something.

Something was definitely off. All of Celty's movements were jerky and anxious, like a frightened cat. Was she hurt? Is that why she texted Shinra? Then why was she at his apartment in the first place?

"Damn this hurts like a bitch... Celty why- What's wron-?" He cursed to himself as warm liquid dripped into his eye, only adding to his growing irritation. What the fuck was going on? If that damned louse had anything to do with this, whatever this was, he was going to snap his bean pole body in half.

There was a harsh tug in his chest at the thought of the flea, now aching far worse than his head. It wasn't a problem, however, the ache lessened after he growled out numerous lines of, "Kill kill kill." Hatred was what he felt for that despicable flea, and that was it.

Celty was waving her hands in frantic motions, urging him in her silent way to relax.

Shizuo's frown remained, but his body did indeed relax. Even the slightest mention of Izaya was enough to make him rage these days. Luckily everyone seemed to sense this and were smart enough to stray from the subject. So without mention of him, the urge to chase Izaya down and pummel him hadn't occurred to him for a while, but that probably had something to do with the fact that he had been avoiding the flea lately… Ever since he-

Fuck, this was definitely not the time for that train of thought. This was about Celty.

Shizuo squeezed his eyes shut, a low growl leaving his lips. This was Celty, one of his truest friends. He wasn't going to let anyone get away with hurting her. Shizuo's worried gaze darted over Celty's dark form, scrutinizing her for any injury that would make texting Shinra for help necessary.

Tendrils of smoke billowed up into the air above her neck, gloomy and reminding Shizuo of storm clouds. Celty touched his arm with dainty fingers and held out her phone again, [No, no don't speak. I know you are stronger than most, but right now you shouldn't exert yourself.]

Shizuo started to shake his head, only to be met with excruciating pain and a rush of sticky liquid flowing down the side of his face.

What the fuck was going on?

[Shizuo! Oh god, oh god, don't move! Ok? Let me. . . I'll. . . I'll go get some towels to hold back the blood!] The relentless shaking in Celty's hands was making it difficult for Shizuo to read the text. He couldn't even gasp out a reply before she was up and out of the room, the storm brewing above her neck trailing along after her.

The ache in his head was growing worse by the minute, severely limiting his movements. If he could have punched something, he would have; just to relieve some of the tension and rage that was spilling through his veins.

If that louse had anything to do with this…

It was becoming clearer that he must be the one injured, and every goddamn atom of his being wanted to place the blame for his predicament on a certain pesky informant. That informant was like a curse, and it really seemed like there was no remedy. Honestly, all Shizuo wanted was to live a quiet, normal life but that louse seemed absolutely determined to stomp down any of his hopes, likely laughing as he did so.

Shizuo was seeing red.

He winced, realizing that he was literally seeing red. The liquid that was making a path down his forehead was blood, his blood.

Suddenly too stunned for his rage to fester, Shizuo simply reached out to his nightstand for his phone. Slowly yet deliberately he tapped on the bright screen, activating its flashlight. He grimaced from the onslaught of light and began to shine it down over himself. In the dark of his room, he had been unable to make out the spatters of blood that were surrounding him on either side. White hot pain was being shot down the side of his head with every movement he made, but he needed to see the damage.

In the next few moments, time seemed to slow to a crawl.

He had been about to tap on the camera function so he could see for himself just how bad his injuries were, but something unusual caught his eye. Something that was impossible, far too impossible to be believable. Something that he was fucking certain was the sick game of a certain flea. Something that would make him immediately drop the phone and release a raging battle cry, "IZAAAAAYAAAAA!"

Because somehow, even though Shizuo knew with all the certainty in the world that it was early in April of 2005, the phone read,

'January 1st, 2006.'