Heiwajima Shizuo hated Orihara Izaya.

The flea was trouble. Complete, unadulterated trouble. He was sadistic, manipulative and twisted in every sense of the word. He claimed to love humans, claimed to like watching them interact because they were interesting, but Shizuo had no doubt that his apparent 'love' for mankind had a much deeper, much sinister meaning hidden behind it.

The man was everything Shizuo had ever despised in his entire life.

Izaya worked like his switch. Just by merely being near him the bartender-clad blond could feel his heart pulsing- and not in the good way either. Everytime Izaya made an appearance or opened his mouth, Shizuo's heart, body and soul filled with complete and utter loathing. At those moments, he could feel nothing but pure hatred for the info broker.

Bearing so much negativity probably wasn't healthy, and Shizuo didn't doubt that Shinra probably would have a thing or two to say about that, but hell, was anything he ever did considered healthy?

And then again, harboring so much hate for just one person might turn out to be a fairly good thing for someone like Shizuo. He had so much pent-up aggression and anger, letting it all out on sight of the flea would relief him of the tension. After all, it wouldn't be a good thing if all of that stored up energy just gave way and exploded all of a sudden.

So yes, Heiwajima Shizuo hated Orihara Izaya. It was unhealthy, it was healthy; it was normal.

But, if that really was the case, could someone please explain to him why, why the bastard was currently straddling his hips and devouring his mouth like his life depended on it?

Alcohol probably played a huge part in it. Izaya had already been fairly tipsy by the time the monstrosity - as Izaya liked to call him - had caught sight of him. Tom had dragged him off to a nightclub; apparently one of his clients had been slacking on his payment and was in dire need of some...negotiation. Shizuo didn't really care, he hated violence, yes, but blowing off some steam was always a plus. The general feel and atmosphere of the nightclub had managed to work into his brain though, and it had inevitably ended with Shizuo downing a few relatively strong drinks himself.

It was a pretty secluded place; one meant only for the slickest of weasels and most cunning of snakes in Ikebukuro. A description that fit Izaya perfectly. That, paired with the mass amount of 'interesting people' residing in this building should've been enough of a clue for him to figure out that his single most hated enemy should be near. This whole place practically screamed Izaya. Drug dealing, illegal trafficking, prostitution, spouses being unfaithful and having an affair with some hooker or escort in their lap in the corner. Shizuo could only imagine this to be the flea's perfect little playground.

And yet, it was only after he had ripped the bar desk off the wall and tossed it through the large white double doors in a fit of anger- taking decent-sized chunks of the wall with it -that he'd spotted the familiar white-furred black coat. Izaya was sitting at one of the tables, palm resting against his cheek as he watched with that fond, twisted and utterly infuriating smile of his. From the looks of it, he'd been here a while now, of course he had. The way he was watching also gave off the feeling that he'd known of Shizuo's presence this entire time, and from the way his red eyes caught Shizuo's own and his lips only spread into an even wider grin, Shizuo's suspicions were proven to be correct.

The blond could only see red, and Shizuo wasn't going to lie, he knew he should probably try and calm himself.

But the fucker was smirking at him, his gaze holding that everlasting condescending glint in them and it just pissed him off. He'd already finished the job anyway, surely Tom wouldn't mind if he took a small break for a round of obligatory murder.

"Izaaayyyyaaaa!"

The roar echoed throughout the entire club, many of its visitors either running for the exit or scrambling to hide in whatever they thought to be a safe place. If they hadn't run off when Shizuo had first started destroying things, that is.

But Izaya didn't do anything of the sort, merely cringed in a manner that was all too sarcastic and continued to stir his drink with the hand that wasn't occupied; smile only stretching. Shizuo hadn't noticed the drink before, probably because whenever the pest showed his face, everything else would be reduced to mere background decoration.

Shizuo turned, tearing off one of the metal stools attached to the floor, the bolts and screws snapping and coming undone as he did so. He lifted the makeshift projectile over his head, veins popping and bulging in his right temple.

Izaya fished a lone cherry out of his drink and popped it into his mouth, holding it by the stem. His red eyes gleamed dangerously as he held it there, sucking on the fruit for up to three seconds while maintaining eye contact. Shizuo growled, he smirked.

Finally, the blond snapped and tossed the chair, not bothering to check if it would hit anyone other than the world's biggest annoyance. The stool flew over at top speed, heading straight for the head of black that was still calmly sitting at his table. Izaya waited, cherry still in his mouth, and watched as the projectile thrown with deadly accuracy and deadly intentions only came closer, and closer, and closer...

Izaya spit the cherry pit into his recently emptied glass and jumped to the side at blinding speed; the stool only missing him by just a hair and it pissed. Shizuo. Off.

Stupid, athletic, cunning, quick on his feet flea. He wasn't allowed to pull shit like that, the only thing he was allowed to do in this world and the next was just sit still and let his irritating ass be killed.

But, of course, that could never be nothing more than wishful thinking when it came to Orihara Izaya.

With another loud, enraged growl, Shizuo stormed after him like a bull kept in containment for far too long. He could feel his veins throbbing in his head, and he was pretty sure a few had already popped and were causing internal bleedings simply due to the sheer amount of anger Shizuo felt at that moment. His knuckles had whitened from the strain of ripping ridiculously heavy or sturdy objects from their posts, and he was pretty sure that it would start to leave bruises once all the adrenaline had worn off. He wouldn't feel the pain though- of course he wouldn't. The days of pain and broken bones were long since over, and as much as he didn't like admitting to it; Izaya's claims of his monstrous roots may just be a lot more accurate than he wanted to acknowledge.

He could hear the flea's laughs and taunts and "Shizu-chan!" as he chased after him, and it only served to piss him off more.

In hindsight, that was probably exactly what Izaya had been aiming for.

By now, every person that had been smart enough had fled the scene. The genius ones had already left the second they'd noticed Izaya and Shizuo present in the same club, with alcohol in their systems. Now, of course the both of them could hold their liquor pretty damn well. Shizuo was too much of a monster-caveman-beast-whatever to get intoxicated by something as simple as cheap booze. And Izaya had far too much tricks up his sleeve to get done in by a couple of drinks.

But the both of them had tossed back quite a lot, with Izaya getting the shorter end of the stick by far. The both of them were already starting to feel a bit tipsy, Izaya already strolling dangerously close to the border separating tipsy from downright drunk. Of course, the high amounts of adrenaline was making their bodies burn through the alcohol much faster than it usually would, but it was pretty safe to say that the both of them were a bit more out of it than they usually would be.

Which was probably exactly why Shizuo had managed to catch him so quickly.

With an audible bark, Shizuo tossed a pillar he had previously ripped from one of the bar stands. Izaya dodged, but miscalculated and ended up tripping over a stray piece of rubble that had ended on the floor after the blond's first outburst. The music was still blaring as he hit the floor, the loud sound ringing in his ears and doing bad things for the inevitable headache as the back of his skull crashed against a chair leg, missing the pointy edge by just a breath.

Shizuo was already coming closer, the sounds of his curses, roars and promises of murder hard to miss even to someone with a hearing disability. So Izaya forced himself to ignore the pain and the pounding headache, scrambling back to his feet as quickly as he could.

But it was already too late, and the both of them knew it. Shizuo dropped the remainder of his makeshift weapons and dived for him, falling forwards until he caught himself against the wall and trapped the other man in. His hands left a visible dent in the texture, and despite his growling and virtually outraged form breathing down his neck, Izaya couldn't help but admire the unusual display of strength this man possessed.

It was the only thing that deserved his admiration, really.

"Shizu-chan!" he laughed, tilting his head to the side. His red orbs were gleaming playfully, smug, mischievous and all-knowing smile not betraying any of his emotions. "I didn't see you there. Of course, it's a surprise to see such a protozoan as yourself in a place like this but-"

"Don't call me that!" he growled, fist slamming against the wall, dangerously close to his head.

Yet Izaya didn't flinch. "Don't call you what? Shizu-chan? Or protozoan?" He sighed, faking confusion as his brows furrowed. "You're going to have to be more specific, Shizu-chan."

Shizuo glared at him, taking in the fact that his longtime rival seemed unusually flustered. He was panting, chest heaving up and down with his lips slightly parted. His face was a little flushed too, though Shizuo couldn't really tell if that was from the chase and excessive amount of running, or if it was a sign of just how much alcohol the little shit had consumed in the last few hours. He himself was feeling a little dizzy from the terrible combination of booze and attempted murder, but the majority of it was overshadowed by the much more controlling emotion called anger.

Shizuo's broad, large frame covered nearly all of Izaya's much smaller, much compacter body. From certain angles, their position wouldn't look at all like the one was planning the other's death in sixty-three different ways; each one more gruesome and painful than the other.

In fact, it was starting to look like something much, much more inappropriate and it was a good thing that a lot of the guests had decided to clear out because this particular realization brought Izaya a remarkably interesting, and possibly life-threatening, idea.

Well, fuck the risks. Shizuo was going to kill him anyway, and if this distracted him enough for Izaya to make his escape, then he would be getting quite the laugh out of this too.

And blackmail material.

"I'll kill you," growled Shizuo, and Izaya's grin only widened.

"See," he breathed, reaching up to rest a hand on the other's inhumanly firm shoulder. His voice had lowered, dropping near an almost husky level that didn't go missed by Shizuo. He eyed Izaya's hand warily, obviously startled, and the info broker had to fight not to let his laugh slip. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

With one swift, almost practiced movement, Izaya yanked him closer and molded his lips over Shizuo's own.

Shizuo stumbled back in surprise, but Izaya didn't miss a beat. He kept their lips connected as he walked him backwards, conversing without words as the other slowly started to snap out of his shock and somehow, he'd ended up on one of those incredibly soft sofas a nightclub just had to have.

Izaya momentarily broke apart to climb on, leaving only the littlest of gaps between their lips before using Shizuo's stupor to reattach them to each other.

His legs were clamped tightly around the other's hips, hands cupping his face and holding him in place as he worked his magic. Shizuo's hands started moving, thumbs gliding from his hips up his body till his hands formed a cage around his waist, and Izaya wasn't proud to admit he let out a small moan from mixed surprise and pleasure when the blond only forced him closer and started kissing back.

His face flushed in both embarrassment and want, and his eyelids fluttered open to stare down at the other man, only to see him already staring up; a challenging gaze burning through his signature purple shades.

Izaya's lips twitched into a smirk, a smirk that quickly vanished when Shizuo's large hands gripped his skin tightly and he forced his tongue in. The added muscle didn't feel as intrusive as Izaya would've thought, it explored his mouth, twirling with his own in a semi-violent dance that mimicked their own so well it should be illegal.

He tasted of alcohol, and Izaya had to remind himself not to gag at the sweet taste that came after. He was going to need a lot of fatty tuna to compensate for this and- oh.

All thoughts of gagging disappeared when Shizuo broke apart with a devilish grin at his lips. Izaya took in a much needed gulp of air, only to be cut off mid-breath when Shizuo's lips attacked the exposed skin of his neck. His signature jacket had slipped off somewhere during their run, exposing everything his simple black t-shirt couldn't cover.

Shizuo was relentless, he sucked, bit, pulled and kissed at the skin all in one go; covering various spaces as he went. Izaya was sure some of these marks would leave visible bruises, and he was already coming up with ways to cover them up when Shizuo's hands suddenly slid lower and dear God what was happening?

This was supposed to be his distraction plan, but suddenly this miniscule-brain had managed to turn the tables around so well it had Izaya flustered and hot and bothered and all kinds of wrong.

Shizuo sank his teeth into the skin right above Izaya's collar bone, nibbling at the area lightly and he gasped, hands shooting up to rest on the other's chest. "S-Shizu-chan, d-don't-"

Shizuo smirked and lifted his head, reconnecting their lips in another fiery, ultimately inappropriate kiss. All of his earlier surprise and discomfort had disappeared, suddenly taking the dominant role Izaya had planned to keep for himself and he did. Not. Like. It.

But at the same time, he loved it so much.

It was wrong and sinful and bad and rough and just Shizuo.

-And he had just pulled away.

The both of them were panting by the time they broke apart, lips kiss-bruised and Shizuo's hair a complete mess from when Izaya had clawed at it in his state of surprised pleasure. The club was still as abandoned as it had been thirty minutes before, and as Shizuo grinned up at him, expression all smug and proud as if he had won, Izaya felt a spark of defiance tugging at his chest.

"Had enough yet, flea?" he taunted, clearly enjoying the frustrated look on his rivals flushed face and the way his eyes narrowed.

Izaya subtly grinded his hips, and Shizuo's breath caught in his throat. "Not by far, Shizu-chan. Not by far."


What have I done I've turned into a sinner

Dear God, does this still count as T?