Takes place about a year before DRRR starts. I've also taken a few liberties with ages that may not agree with the cannon of the show.
Shinra hears the crashing of impossibly heavy objects being thrown and sirens wailing in the distance from the comfort of his apartment building so he's not too surprised when his doorbell rings several hours later. Izaya stands casually, grinning like usual and doesn't bother waiting for an invitation before letting himself in. Shinra opens the door wider anyway. He scans his friend with a professional eye; the small scrape on his jaw, the slight hitch in his stride and the way he attempts to hold his arm nonchalantly, while Shinra suspects it is dislocated.
"You had a run-in with Shizuo?" Shinra asks, arching an eyebrow and voicing the obvious question.
"Shizu-chan had surprisingly good aim today," Izaya half-shrugs, sitting down on one of Shinra's kitchen chairs with a flourish, despite how pained Shinra knows he must be.
"Vending machine?"
"Park bench."
"Ah," Shinra glances at his friend, "am I going to have to worry about him showing up here? Celty's on a delivery right now."
"Nah," Izaya responds casually, but there is a slight tone of annoyance beneath the surface, "I barely even caught sight of him after I got up."
Shinra knows enough about the scuffles that go on between his two friends to know Izaya has developed some kind of psychic sixth sense for airborne objects aimed at him. It's rare for him to be taken by surprise unless he's very distracted.
Shinra hums in thought and he feels Izaya's eyes on him. He ignores it and gestures for Izaya to take off his jacket. The informant grimaces, tentatively pulling his left arm out of the sleeve and painstakingly tugging his right arm free of the garment. Judging by the way he's favoring his shoulder, Shinra's suspicions of dislocation are all but confirmed. There's blood on Izaya's forearm too, and Shinra can see the abraded skin between the torn material of his friend's shirt.
"The shirt too," Shinra tells him, taking Izaya's jacket and folding over his arm. He heads towards his back room where he keeps the medical supplies, tactfully giving Izaya a modicum of privacy. He gathers the supplies he needs, setting Izaya's jacket down on the patient bed.
Some days he regrets introducing his two friends to each other. He wonders if Ikebukuro would be a safer place if Heiwajima Shizuo and Orihara Izaya never met.
Probably.
Though, he muses, with a hatred as strong as theirs it was probably only a matter of time before they would have found each other anyway.
He's on his way back to the kitchen when he notices a tri-folded piece of paper on the ground. He picks it up almost without thinking and is surprised when he reads the official looking letterhead.
How did this get here? The thought dawns on him that it must have slipped out of Izaya's coat pocket when he dropped the jacket on the cot.
Curiosity piqued, he scans the contents of the letter.
Then he reads it more carefully.
Then he reads it again on the off chance he'd misunderstood what it said.
Then he wonders what the odds of another Orihara Izaya living in the same apartment building as his friend are and concludes it's only slightly more unlikely than this letter being addressed to the Izaya he knows.
It is a possibility that this letter is a fake. Shinra has no doubt Izaya has the resources and means to do so, but not the purpose. There's really no conceivable reason for Izaya to fake a letter like this, meaning…. it's real.
Naturally, as his only real friend, this leaves Shinra with only one course of action.
Carrying the medical supplies he went to retrieve under one arm and brandishing the letter in front of him Shinra enters the kitchen.
"Izaya!" The informant turns warily at the tone in Shinra's voice, still clutching his injured arm. His eyes move from Shinra to the letter the doctor is holding and to Shinra's surprise and delight he blanches slightly.
"Why didn't you ever tell me you were a father?" Shinra asks, grinning so widely his face threatens to split in half. The social services letter containing words like 'biological father' and 'full custody awarded' is lowered so he can fully take in Izaya's expression. There's something about seeing his normally unflappable friend at a complete loss that makes Shinra smirk.
"Where did you find that?" Izaya is still struggling for composure, but he is gradually winning, the twisted expressions of surprise, vague horror and something still unreadable are slowly fading.
"Does it matter?" Shinra shrugs, squashing the minute feelings of guilt that had pricked him ever so slightly. Life doesn't offer a lot of opportunities to get ahead of Orihara Izaya and Shinra intends to make the most of this one.
His composure mostly regained, Izaya offers an offhanded shrug, wincing at the movement. Shinra tuts and examines the informants shoulder noting the bruising and deformation of the shoulder.
"So what's her name?" Shinra positions himself beside Izaya so he can watch his friend's face when he asks this question. There's a moment of hesitation on Izaya's face as he tries to determine whether Shinra is asking about the child or the mother.
This of course, confirms Shinra's first question. A daughter then. He grins at the brief flicker of irritation that crosses Izaya's face when he realizes Shinra's true intentions. It passes quickly.
"Ah, it's not important," Izaya replies casually, leaning back and closing his eyes as though enjoying a relaxing massage and not the feeling of an underground doctor manipulating his injured arm. Shinra hums and lifts his friend's arm slightly until Izaya hisses in pain.
"Definitely dislocated. Hopefully the swelling isn't so bad that I can still reposition it." Shinra says, seeing Izaya's grimace. They both know how much this is going to hurt; it's not Izaya's first dislocation.
"I assume even if I offer you anesthetic you'll refuse?" Shinra asks politely. Izaya smirks, but his brow is furrowed in pain.
"I'm fine," he assures the doctor in a voice so convincing Shinra almost buys it.
"Suit yourself," Shinra shrugs, though he inwardly sighs at his friend's stubbornness. "So how did you two meet?" He grips Izaya's wrist and forearm, slowly rotating the arm.
"Are you still talking about that?" Izaya tries for nonchalant, but it's a difficult task when his jaw is clenched like a vice and his eyes are staring at nothing in particular.
"Really," Shinra continues cheerily, "she must be something special for you to pick her out of all the humans you claim to love." Izaya said nothing in reply, lips pressed into a thin line. "Breathe out," the doctor reminds him. The informant shoots him an annoyed look but lets out a long shaky breath. Shinra twists the arm a little more, feeling the joint resist. He can feel the trembling in Izaya's arm from how tense his friend is.
"Relax," Shinra comments. Taking in Izaya's glare he adds "if you don't I'll have to dose you with something. I can't realign it if you're this tense." Izaya hisses something that might be a curse and relaxes slightly. Shinra hums in satisfaction and continues rotating the arm slowly.
"Do I know her I wonder? You should introduce me! Hm, well I guess you two aren't together anymore if there's a custody battle happening. You never really struck me as the fatherly type, you know?" Shinra prattles on, partly out of his own curiosity and partly to distract Izaya.
"Look," Izaya says through his teeth, "it's not important so just let it g-ah!" He gasps as the joint finally slides back into place with a slightly audible pop. Shinra lets him breathe for a few moments, fetching a glass of water from the kitchen. He offers it to his friend with a smile and Izaya takes it wordlessly, downing half the glass.
Izaya cautiously moves his arm, rotating the shoulder slightly with a hand clasped over the joint.
"Make sure you ice that," Shinra lectures, "and stretch it well. I'd set you up with a sling if I didn't already know it was a wasted effort." Izaya smirks somewhat, but it doesn't have the usual bite. He looks tired. Shinra tends to the cut on Izaya's forearm, cleaning it carefully.
"So what does this woman look like? I'm guessing she's not even close to Celty's level of beauty, but I'm curious."
"Don't you have anything more interesting to talk about?" Izaya yawns casually, but Shinra can see the furrowed brow that he's pretty sure isn't caused by pain this time.
"Mm, maybe you're right," Shinra concedes, threading a needle with thick black thread. Izaya watches him warily and Shinra waits for him to relax just enough to take another sip of water before continuing.
"How was she in bed?"
Shinra is proud of himself for asking this so straight-faced. Especially when Izaya chokes on his water and glares daggers at Shinra. He doesn't say anything in reply and Shinra grins innocently as he administers a local anesthetic to numb the area on the arm he's about to stitch.
"What's with that look?" Shinra asks, pulling up a chair next to his friend so he can hold the arm more steadily. "It's only natural to want to experience all the different facets of human love, right? It's nothing to be embarrassed about."
Izaya leans back again, moving his arm in small relaxed circles.
"Perhaps Shinra is curious because he will never experience human love?" Izaya says offhandedly, "perhaps never experience love at all?" His friend is on the offensive now.
Shinra knows Izaya is trying to redirect the conversation to Shinra by provoking him. Still… It does sting a little. It's also an opportunity for him to gush about Celty and it takes serious restraint for him not to fall for it. I'm sorry my love… In this instance though, his curiosity is winning out.
"Or," Shinra says, pushing the needle through skin and watching to make sure Izaya doesn't feel the pain. Either the anesthetic has worked or the informant is exceptionally good at masking the pain. "Or, perhaps the embarrassing question I should be asking is how were you in bed?"
Shinra can't quite decipher the look that passes over his friend's face. It's more than the annoyance and embarrassment that has been etched into his brow since Shinra started this line of questioning. It's pain and anger and maybe even fear. For half a second Shinra sees Izaya as a pane of glass that has been struck with a hammer. It's that moment where you find yourself holding your breath wondering if it will shatter. And then it passes.
"If you're propositioning me, I'm afraid you're out of luck. You're not really my type you know." The answer is so easy and casual, as though the look from a moment ago had simply been in Shinra's imagination.
Izaya holds his hand up, twisting his arm slowly and opening and closing his hand a few times. The movements are almost too relaxed and casual.
Shinra knows he's stumbled on something very deep and human about his friend and he ponders over it as he pulls the third stitch tight.
And he worries.
There is silence for a long moment and Shinra can feel his friend's eyes on him as he works. Izaya isn't staring of course, but shooting him furtive glances out of the corner of his eye.
Shinra understands.
Izaya is hiding something and he wants to make sure Shinra isn't catching on. Which of course, makes Shinra all the more curious.
Something doesn't add up. He muses to himself, deciding one more stitch is in order. He decides to continue questioning but through a different avenue.
"Have you ever met your daughter?" He puts the question forward innocently. And it is a normal question. Something anyone would ask their friend.
"No," Izaya hums, still occupied with testing his mobility.
"Why not?"
"Why?"
"You're not curious what she's like? Also," the doctor added, nodding to the letter, "aren't you supposed to be getting full custody of her?"
And what's up with that? Shinra wonders. The answer is suddenly and stupidly obvious.
"…The mother is dead, isn't she?" Shinra can't believe he didn't realize it before. Of course that's the reason Izaya doesn't want to talk about it and why he's suddenly having fatherly responsibilities dumped on his lap-
"No, she's alive." The words are flat, devoid of Izaya's usual liveliness. Shinra looks up sharply in surprise to see the clench of his friend's jaw. Izaya doesn't offer any more than this and Shinra's brow furrows in consternation as he turns back to his work.
I'm missing something. Why this custody battle then?
Shinra knows he'll never get the identity of Izaya's lover from him, meaning it was likely someone he knows as well. He has to admit he doesn't see as much of Izaya since they graduated and even when they were in school together, he hardly could hardly put a name to all the people Izaya hung out with.
Shinra reached for the scissors to cut the thread, glancing at the letter again as he did.
The date jumped out at him.
Not the date it was issued or the date of the court hearing.
Not the date of Izaya's birthday, but a different birthday.
The unnamed daughter.
But that was…
Shinra quickly does the math in his head. He's left stunned for a moment, wondering again if perhaps this letter could be fake, but…
His mind goes back to the first time he met Izaya in middle school. He had been different from the enigmatic information broker he was now; quieter, more withdrawn. Definitely not a fan of physical contact.
No way…
Shinra mentally runs through a list of all the girls in their classes, wondering with a sick feeling in his stomach if there were any he could recall that Izaya had paid extra attention to. He comes up empty.
Shinra is suddenly aware that he has frozen with his finger just touching the small medical scissors. Izaya's eyes are on him now, cold and unreadable.
"She's eleven," Shinra says unnecessarily, as though needing to hear someone confirm it. He carefully lifts the scissors, grateful his hands don't tremble at all. You were in middle school when… Only thirteen…
Izaya doesn't reply. He waits for Shinra to finish cutting the thread and stands abruptly. The pretense of normalcy and casualness ins gone and Izaya yanks on his shirt and snatches the letter from its spot on the kitchen table.
And then Shinra remembers.
"Ayame-sensei," he breathes. Izaya freezes with his face turned away from Shinra, but the doctor can see his shoulders hunch in a way that is just not Izaya.
Ayame-sensei was the school counselor in the middle school they attended. She had taken an interest in Izaya, but Shinra had always assumed it was because his friend was prone to skipping classes a lot. She had always seemed friendly; encouraging all the kids to call her by her first name but…
Shinra recalls there being some sort of scandal at his middle school involving a teacher sexually abusing a lot of kids. It was after he had already graduated, so he hadn't given it much thought, but now that he really thinks about it…
"It was her, wasn't it?"
He's not very surprised when Izaya doesn't answer, or even turn around. He realizes he's unearthed some really raw wounds and feels another stab of guilt. He's not really sure what to say. A lot of things about Izaya are starting to make sense, but he's not really sure if he's glad about that.
"My father said he was proud of me. That I was lucky." Izaya says this in a offhanded way in a voice that is so calm it's nearly bored. Shinra sees through it like a pane of glass. The words register with the doctor for a moment, the implication that his friend's pain had been treated like a joke sinking in.
A selfish part of Shinra wishes he didn't know any of this.
That he'd never found that paper.
The he'd given up with that line of questioning.
Because he's a doctor.
And there's nothing he can do to fix this.
Shinra puts an awkward hand on Izaya's shoulder and for half a moment, Izaya breaks.
Like a pane of glass.
There is the sound of a shuddering breath, belying far more pain than a dislocated shoulder ever could.
And then it passes.
Izaya turns to face Shinra and his mask is back in place. A little rough around the edges, perhaps, but Shinra pretends not to notice.
"Well, I have a court appearance I have to make," Izaya says, shrugging his jacket on and easing his stitched arm through the sleeve.
"Who would have thought you would ever be involved in a custody battle for a kid?" Shinra chuckles as he begins to clean up the kitchen table. Izaya snorts.
"It's a formality," he answers, "that's what happens when the birth mother goes to jail."
"Hm," Shinra hums, "what's she in for?"
"Eh, it's not important," Izaya answers, pulling on his shoes. Shinra notices the wince as he tugs on his left shoe.
"Make sure you ice that ankle too," he says cheerfully before adding, "I can just look it up online, you know."
Izaya frowns and for a moment Shinra doesn't think he's going to say anything, then his eyes darken for the briefest of moments.
"I warned her not to touch her,"
And that's all Shinra needs to hear.
Huh. Maybe he'll be alright after all.
"I'll make sure to send Shizu-chan by if I see him!" His friend adds with a smirk and a backwards wave.
Ehh… probably.
-DRRR- (four years post-ketsu)
Izaya leans back in his leather swivel chair, humming with satisfaction. Something about this city keeps drawing him back. Part of him worries about running into Shizuo again; he's still not completely healed from their last bout, but the sight from his apartment window makes all the risk worthwhile.
He turns in his chair, watching the people below him scurry to and fro, making use of the last few minutes of natural light. He reaches a hand out, touching the only thing separating him from the hundreds of lovely humans. The pane of glass, reminds him he can look as much as he likes but never touch the beauty that is humanity.
He watches the people below him for a while longer, before stretching his arms above his head- carefully, mind you- and returns back to his laptop.
Izaya's eyes catch a folded piece of paper on his desk. He already knows what it contains, but finds himself reaching for it anyways.
You are cordially invited to the union of Kida Masaomi and Mikijima Saki in holy matrimony…
He smiles at the curling script and finds himself wondering if Masaomi was aware that Izaya had been 'cordially invited'. He somehow doubts it seeing as the invitation had been hand-delivered by Saki herself. His smile wavers for a moment.
The girl was pretty sharp.
For a moment, Izaya entertains an idea. He envisions the look on Masaomi's face when he sees his bride-to-be, striding down the aisle, arm in arm with Izaya, his future father-in-law.
Izaya chuckles.
It's almost worth it.
He turns back to his laptop as the ripped pieces of the invitation flutter their way towards the trash can.
Almost.
A/N: I'd always wondered about the relationship between Izaya and Saki because it's just so unexplained and then this little number popped into my head. This is a different style than I'm used to, so if I messed up some verb tenses, I apologize.