Izaya Orihara could weather through a great many a hardship. Dodging flying vending machines, stop signs, trash cans, other people and the miscellaneous dog here and there was practically second nature. He was no stranger to physical pain, his profession as an information broker introducing him to the worst (and often most interesting) kinds of people humanity had to offer, and more often than not landing him on their bad side. And when it came to things like emotional and psychological trickery, well−he could run circles around anyone cocky enough to think that they could beat him at his own game. It was always so very entertaining turning the tables on people that were so sure they had him outfoxed. Like that torture artist for example. Just the memory of her completely at a loss brought a smile to his face. It was almost enough to distract him from the seemingly one thing he couldn't handle with even a modicum of grace.
The sad fact of the matter was, even someone like the infamous information broker of Shinjuku had a weakness. Yes, Izaya Orihara had a very hard time weathering through, well, the weather. Specifically the cold weather. And it was fucking cold. Even with his long winter fur-lined coat, gloves, and about three blankets wrapped around him, Izaya felt like he was freezing to death in his own posh, luxury apartment.
Thanks to the long lived Japanese tradition of tearing down and rebuilding houses and apartments instead of repairing or modifying them, buildings tended to be constructed on the cheap side. Why put anymore money than necessary into something that has such a short lifespan? Thanks to that his apartment had no insulation, walls no thicker than 10cm, and no heating system. And all this amounted to one extremely cold information broker. Sure, Izaya tried many avenues to try to rectify this problem. He bought several space heaters, an electric blanket (until he found out that it could give him cancer, and he planned on living a long, cancer free life despite what many people undoubtedly hope for otherwise), hot water bottles, and he entertained the idea of a kotatsu before dismissing it in favor of his preference for western tables.
The space heater worked the best, but he felt uneasy about leaving it on over-night. Which left him in bed, with a hot water bottle, his jacket, three blankets and the body fat of a nat. Only his abdomen was slightly warm, the hot water bottle clutched to his chest like a drowning man grasping at a lifeline. He laid on his side, trying not to think about the fact that he could see his breath, trying not to think about how freezing and miserable he felt, trying not to think about how warm it would be wrapped up in the arms of a certain blond haired menace.
It was three nights ago. Three nights since Izaya made the cataclysmic mistake. He had somehow overstepped their unspoken but mutually understood agreement of a no strings and all benefits relationship. No feelings or domesticity involved. He never planned on sticking around that night. Sleeping in the same bed as someone else, completely and utterly vulnerable in the world of dreams, was a sign of trust Izaya refused to give to anyone. But sweaty and sated under the blankets, Shizu-chan a warm, solid pressure at his back, arm thrown around Izaya's hip to keep him close, and the calming sound of rain falling outside, somehow Izaya couldn't bring himself to move away from Shizuo, let alone leave. It was so warm, not the usual cold of his own apartment, Shizu-chan like his own personal human furnace. The steady way Shizuo was breathing let Izaya know that the fortissimo of Ikebukuro had no such qualms about falling asleep wrapped around him, and Izaya maneuvered around in his hold to look at him. Somehow watching Shizu-chan sleep inspired a calm in Izaya. It was like the calmest feeling in the world. The warmth, the calm and the comfort; Izaya decided it just wasn't worth it to leave those behind just yet. Facing Shizuo on his side, Izaya snuggled up to his chest, Shizu-chan's arms reflexively pulling him closer. His cheek pressed against Shizuo's chest, Izaya let the steady beat of his strong heart lull him to sleep.
If Izaya was anyone but himself, waking up the next morning could have been awkward. However, for someone as comfortable in his own skin as Izaya, awkward didn't happen very often. When he came to, the light of morning peeking into the room through the gaps in the blinds, Shizuo was still in bed. He was sat up, leaning back against the headboard, the blanket covering his naked lap. His golden hair was all messed up and unruly, but his brown eyes were wide awake, regarding Izaya thoughtfully. His hand was hovering in the air between them, as if he was about to reach out to Izaya before he woke, brush back his dark hair. Izaya quirked a brow and Shizu-chan let his hand drop, suddenly looking like he could really use a cigarette.
Amused, Izaya flashed him a charming smile. "Can't keep your hands off me Shizu-chan?"
Shizuo watched him for a moment. "Sure, something like that Flea." Shizuo got out of bed, and Izaya sat up slowly, getting a better view as Shizuo made his way to his discarded pants on the floor. Shizuo was shameless in his nudity, and Izaya liked it that way. The man was a sight. All hard, compact muscle with none of the bulk. So deceptively strong. Capable of so much destruction and yet…he could be gentle too. Izaya was still wonderfully alive, even after a few extremely pleasurable rounds with the beast, a testament that Shizuo could indeed hold back. And if he couldn't, well, what a hell of a way to go.
Shizuo was just getting his belt buckled, having slipped on his pants commando, and Izaya had to fight a very strong impulse that told him that grabbing that belt would be a very good idea. That taking it off would be even better.
After securing his pants, Shizuo turned, taking in Izaya's sleep rumpled hair and mischievous eyes. "Shower's across the hall." And then Izaya was watching his strong, naked back walk away.
A warm shower sounded like a piece of Valhalla at the moment. Izaya had slept well, better than he could remember resting in a long time. He was still comfortably warm, body relaxed in the way that only came from a night of mounting pleasure and sweeping release.
Izaya grabbed his clothes off the floor as he meandered his way to Shizu-chan's bathroom. Like the rest of his apartment, the bathroom was clean and Spartan, with very few unnecessary luxuries, quite unlike Izaya's own apartment. It also took an ungodly amount of time for the water to heat up, holy shit, Izaya was freezing again by the time it heated. He took his time in the shower, washing off the evidence of a night well spent and basking in the warmth and steam, knowing that it wouldn't last. As soon as he left the bathroom, he'd be freezing his ass off in no time.
He shut off the water reluctantly, before toweling himself dry and donning his clothes. How he loved his fur lined jacket. Izaya entered Shizuo's living room, the kitchen area attached, with his hair still wet and a pleasant smell in the air. Shizuo was sitting at his kitchen table, drinking hot chocolate, a plate of breakfast food in front of him. Another plate of food was sitting innocently, beckoningly, at the seat across from him.
"Shizu-chan can cook?" Izaya asked, already heading to the food. He'd never had Shizuo's cooking before. What would it reveal about his personality? He was eager to find out.
"I know enough to get by." Shizuo answered, watching as Izaya made his way to the table and sat down.
At his response, Izaya eyed the food speculatively. "Just eat it Flea."
"Of course Shizu-chan. Unlike you I am an impeccable guest," Izaya said sweetly. "And only Celty can manage to mess up something as basic as an omelet." But oh, how she could mess it up. Shinra was either uniquely brave or clinically insane. He'd put money on the latter if he was a betting man.
Izaya grabbed a piece of omelet with his chopsticks and took a bite. It was actually really good.
Shizuo was watching his reaction. "Pretty decent Shizu-chan. This could have gone a lot worse."
"Just admit that you like it."
"Now why would I do a thing like that?" Izaya responded cheekily, taking another bite. And another.
"Well if you don't like it then," Shizuo reached out to pull the plate away, Izaya immediately swatting his hand with the chopsticks.
"Don't even think about it Shizu-chan," Izaya threatened, taking another bite and narrowing his eyes.
Shizuo looked deeply amused. "Wouldn't dream of it Flea. I made it for you anyway."
Izaya sighed contentedly, the food stealer now thwarted. "What's the special occasion anyway? We've never eaten together before like this."
"You've never stayed before."
Izaya paused. "It was cold, you were warm. Don't read too much into it. I just hate being cold more than I hate you."
For a moment, Shizuo's eyes clouded over in anger. And that's when he saw it. As Shizu-chan looked at him, even in the midst of his destructive temper, his eyes softened. His eyes softened as he looked at him, Izaya Orihara.
It was like…
It was like…
And suddenly, Izaya realized just how domestic they were being. He never did get to finish breakfast, because he was too busy fleeing like a startled deer, Shizuo confusedly calling after him as he fled.
That was three days ago, and he hasn't set foot in Ikebukuro since. He still couldn't believe it. How could what started out as a hate fuck turn out like this? How stupid could Shizu-chan actually be? How stupid was Izaya himself? Why the hell did he have to fight off the immense want that exploded inside him at the thought of just going over there, at two in the morning, and warming up in the best way he knew how? Why did it have to be so damn fucking cold, and why did Shizuo have to be so incredibly warm? How could they possibly develop feelings for each other?
They hated each other. Izaya hated Shizuo. He did. And yet he literally missed Shizuo the moment he left his apartment, an ache in his chest persisting even now. It didn't make sense that sometimes, when they were together, Izaya wouldn't consciously decide to hug Shizu-chan. His body would do it on its own, like it was second nature. It didn't make sense that on some nights, they ended up laughing under the covers together, it didn't make sense how much Izaya enjoyed it.
…
Fuck it.
Izaya knocked on Shizuo's door at a quarter past three in the morning. Shizuo answered looking decidedly sleep rumpled, bare-chested, and entirely too appealing. He didn't look too surprised to see Izaya there, but just a bit happy, just a bit relieved, which was fine; Izaya was surprised at himself enough for the both of them.
Izaya could have said a lot of things. What he ended up saying was, "I'm cold."
And Shizuo said, "So am I."
And maybe it was true, in its own way.
Izaya smiled painfully. "Any suggestions?"
Shizuo grabbed a handful of Izaya's shirt, and pulled him close.
"I've got a few ideas."