Title: Shinjuku and Bars
Author: Zen Lion (anon de-anons)
Rated: T
Summary: Izaya's wonderful experience in Shinjuku Ni-Choume. (Something I wrote for the kink-meme but I think I failed. orz)
Disclaimer: I don't own DRRR!, Shinjuku, nor any of its bars.

Shinjuku and Bars
a DRRR! fanfic

This was the very first time that Izaya felt terribly fearful of his lovely humans (with the exception of a certain Heiwajima Shizuo because he wasn't under the term "lovely" nor "human" in Orihara Izaya's dictionary). His new client asked to meet him in person. Izaya okay-ed this. He was starting to get bored of staying inside his own office, anyway. He went out of his apartment building with happiness carved on his face.

Until he realized where their meeting place was.

No wonder the name "Momoiro Bar" wasn't familiar to his ears. After asking a few people for directions, which is rare considering that he is The Amazing Orihara Izaya Who Knows Everything, he finally knew that this bar is located somewhere in Shinjuku Ni-Choume. In other words, Shinjuku's famous gay district.

He gulped as he entered the particular area. He hadn't been there for long and yet people were already staring at him. Some of them gave him suggestive looks, winks, and he was sure he heard an approving whistle. He quickened his pace a little. Sure, he loved humanity—and that means both men and women—but not this way for the men part. His label is "straight" with a big, bold letters. He lived by staring at boobs.

Izaya braced himself as he took a step inside the bar filled with neon pink brightness. He got a very chirpy "welcome~" coming from a muscular (and pretty attractive, to be honest) man clad in a skin-tight pink shirt. He shuddered at the phenomenal display of pink. Everything was pink. Why pink.

He sat on a table for four and ordered a rather strong drink just to get some space away from the all-so-excited waiter. He knew full well how his body reacted towards alcohol, and how that wouldn't be such a good thing in a place like this, but he didn't care. He just wanted to not think and not worry for a while. The waiter who brought his drink was followed by two others who were wearing the same pink clothing. Cold sweat was covering Izaya's body as he said a small "thank you" that was kind of stuttered.

One of the three men squealed on how cute Izaya was. Being his narcissistic self, another thanks slipped from his mouth. He mentally head/desk-ed himself. The waiter was totally hitting on him—he could tell. He tried to explain that he wasn't interested, but not a single one of them listened to what he had to say. Not long after, the three of them were groping him. Or rather, his fluffy jacket. He was told a few times by some of his closest ones that the jacket could get people to misunderstand him, and now he was sure of it. He would most definitely dispose his lovely fur jackets as soon as he got home.

Feeling uncomfortable with the sudden display of affection from the three strangers, he decided to take off his jacket and give it to them, hoping that they would play with it and not him. Too bad they were more interested in his gloriously slender body, something that wasn't hard to recognize under his tight v-neck. Okay, that shirt is going, too.

Luckily for him, his client arrived. Izaya felt a shiver down his spine as his customer sat down on the chair beside him and not the one in front, especially considering the fact that this particular man chose a meeting place in Ni-Choume. His client asked for information and Izaya gave it to him. He asked a lot of things which kind of exhausted Izaya. Normally he wouldn't mind long talks, but he didn't feel like it today.

After their business was done, the man handed over a bundle of cash to Izaya. "For you. Take all of it," he said.

Izaya was full of glee as he saw that he got a huge amount of extra money, but that gesture of kindness was not something he's common with. "You paid ¥100,000 more than what I asked for, sir. I don't need hush money, you see."

"Oh, no no no, you got it all wrong," he said. "This is for a whole other thing that I want you to do for me." He leaned forward in what seemed to be a (failed) suggestive manner as he put his hand on Izaya's thigh.

With a hand crawling up his thigh, a good dose of alcohol, an extremely sexy body, and the missing of his lovely switchblade (that was still inside his jacket), all Izaya and his atheist belief could think of that time was:

- Oh, god, no.

Momoiro Bar is something that was made up from my imagination. If it turns out to be real then I'm really sorry.

Originally wrote this for the DRRR! kink-meme. I think I just failed. orz Reviews? :)