Lights flashed all around him and blurred the vague outlines of the photographers who were flitting about, snapping pictures and humming praise. It was pointless for them to offer tips or compliment his poses; he was the best and he didn't need to be reminded, though he couldn't say he didn't enjoy it. The kind words from his colleagues fluffed his ego quite nicely.

Izaya smirked and ran a hand through his hair, walking off of the set for a break. This day couldn't get any better in his mind. The only shoot he had was this one, and they were just taking beauty shots for a magazine cover. He almost felt nostalgic from the way they wanted him to pose since the first big shoot he ever did was glamour and he even had his original photographer there. After this, he would be returning to his classy little loft apartment to get ready for dinner with an up-and-coming male model that he would be working with. Namie had been hounding him for weeks; trying to make sure he'd be on his best behavior and not insult the man. Since he was such a kind person at heart, and wouldn't want to cause trouble, he smiled and said he'd be a good boy.

Brown eyes narrowed, and Izaya felt the wooden backing of a clipboard collide with the side of his head. He frowned and looked up to see Namie hovering over him with one hand on her hip while the other held her ever present clipboard.

"We have a half an hour left and now you decide to take a break?" his manager said, less than pleased with his timing.

Izaya chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "Oh, lighten up! I've done amazing so far and haven't complained once. I deserve a little down time. After all, wouldn't you say my shots so far have been beyond gorgeous?"

"Mediocre at best," Namie deadpanned. Izaya's grin dropped, replaced by a scowl. "You're too flashy. Everything looks overdone."

"That's not what the photographers are saying," he replied, fighting off the urge to snap that clipboard in half. Izaya's photos were flawless, he was sure of it. He had done everything right. Each pose was perfectly executed and played up his best features. His head tilted to the side enough to show his neck, he kept his face at an angle that emphasized the unique color and shape of his eyes, and if the mood struck him, he would bend his body in a way that showed off his lithe physique.

Namie scoffed at him and flourished her clipboard. "Oh, please! These saps will eat up anything as long as their model has a pretty face."

Case and point: even Namie had to admit he was lovely. "I always knew you thought I was attractive," the young man purred, smirk returning. He knew this would get under her skin. She couldn't stand when he made comments like this since she was appalled by any idea of affection that wasn't directed towards her brother.

As predicted, Namie glared at him and trudged off to go bite the head off of an unsuspecting intern. Izaya laughed and sipped his water as he watched the scene unfold. Much to his disappointment, the photographer called him back over.

Izaya whined a little bit and moved in front of the white backdrop once again, sprawling out on a plush couch they had positioned there when he wasn't paying attention. He raised his arms above his head to stretch when he was caught off guard by the sound of a shutter clicking. His pupils refocused and zeroed in on the photographer who was smiling innocently.

"It looked like a good shot, so I went for it," the man said, holding up his camera to emphasize his point. "You look the best when you're just being natural."

Smirk yet again gracing his lips, Izaya propped his head up on his hand. "Tell me something I don't know."

Steam fogged up the mirror and small digital screen, but the red numbers glared up at him all too clearly. 129 pounds. That meant that he had somehow, by unfathomable means, gained a pound.

Izaya frowned, clicking his tongue as he stepped off of the scale. He poked and prodded his flat stomach but was anything but pleased with what he saw. There was too much excess fat. He'd have to fix that. Next he went on to scrutinize his legs, tugging at the little fat that he found there as well. His body would make other women envious yet he still wasn't happy.

"Guess I'm back to controlling my portions," Izaya sighed, glaring at the scale in the corner of the bathroom, all sleek and silver and unassuming. To him, it might as well have been the devil.

His hair was already dry for the most part after a simple run down with a towel and was now looking tousled and silky as ever. Turning his head from side to side so he could get a good look at himself, he made sure there wasn't anything unseemly on his skin. Luckily for his dinner date, his foul mood wasn't worsened by this; the expanse of pale skin was without a single blemish.

With this little physical check over and done with, Izaya lazily pulled on a pair of fitted black slacks and a white v-neck, because honestly, he can make even a cotton t-shirt look classy. The jacket he put on over the top was simple and chic with a bit of fur lining the hood, cuffs, and bottom. Another glance towards the mirror and a mental pep-talk later and Izaya was out the door, on his way to a high end restaurant to meet with some low grade model who thought they were good enough to work with him.

You've got another thing coming, kid, Izaya thought, auburn eyes gleaming with mischief as he stepped into the imported black car his fame had earned him.

Haha, this is just a little something for me to do during my down time when I've got writer's block for my main stories. Oh Iza-chan, such a prima donna.

Hope you guys enjoy this one! It's meant to be romancey-funny stuff mostly, but there's going to be some serious stuff goin' on, as hinted in the chapter above.

~Chickadee