2 in the morning (again) by the time I get stuff posted. *sigh* Why must my cretive streak come at midnight?

Well, this one's about half fluff, half funny. *Note - Spring Cleaning does NOT neccesarily take place after the first one-shot.

Well, we all know by now that I don't own Durarara! so I'll let you get reading. ^^


"Hey Namie!" Izaya chirped, flouncing over to her side and perching on the desk.

"No." she replied immediately.

"Aw, come on, hear me out at least!" Izaya protested.

Namie turned to him with a patronizing look.

"What?"

"Let's go out to eat!"

She sighed.

"Where?"

"Russian Sushi!"

"Why?"

"Cause it's not fun eating alone!"

"Do I have to?"

Izaya hopped off the desk and took her hands in his, dragging her to her feet.

"Oh come on, Namie, it'll be fun! Besides, it'll do you good to get out of the house every now and then. Now go change into something nice, and let's go!"

Muttering complaints under her breath, Namie ascended the stairs.

Throwing on a nice top and a skirt, and pulling her hair back into a bun, she came back downstairs to find Izaya wearing a nice shirt beneath his normal coat.

"Ready?" he grinned.

Namie looked at him skeptically, but took the arm he offered her and allowed him to lead her out of the apartment.


"Simon! Two orders of the special!" Izaya called.

Namie glanced around nervously as the large, dark-skinned Russian went to fetch their order.

There were so many people here...

It wasn't that she was anti-social, it was just...well...okay, she was anti-social. But she had good reason for it.

If someone recognized her as being from Yagiri pharmaceuticals, she would be in trouble.

BIG trouble.

But to her surprise, no one seemed to recognize her.

Or at least, if they did, they didn't say anything.

Two plates were set on the counter before them a minute or two later, and Namie's fears were immediately shifted from people recognizing her to worries about getting a bad case of food poisoning.

"What...is...?" she began to ask.

"Ah! The finest Russian sushi!" Simon grinned, "Egg sushi, hamburger sushi, mayonnaise sushi, ramen sushi, and chocolate-fruit sushi! Only the best for our customers! Not like the place across the street. They serve human sushi on 50% off days..."

As their waiter left, still muttering comparisons to the place across the street, Namie poked one of the sushi pieces with a chopstick.

"You sure this isn't poisonous?" she asked Izaya softly.

"Of course it's not. I would stay away from the mayonnaise sushi, though...but the chocolate-fruit sushi is really good. Here." he grinned, offering her a piece.

He held it out with his chopsticks, as if he were going to feet it to her.

Using her chopsticks to take the sushi from him, and ignoring his disappointed face, she popped it in her mouth.

Izaya watched her surprised expression with a smile.

"This is actually really good." She said quietly.

"See? What'd I tell you?"


Izaya walked at Namie's side, his attention grabbed by every person who passed as he chatted happily to her about them.

"Ah! That guy there? He's got a box of chocolate for his wife. She found out the other day that he got a dent in her new car, and she threatened to throw him out of the house. Ooh! And that girl? With the puffy pony-tails? She tried to commit suicide a few weeks ago. I talked her out of it. Well, actually, she still jumped off the building, but Celty caught her and changed her mind. I'm taking credit for it, though..."

Namie smiled, only half-paying attention to Izaya as she let her mind wander.

He had been right, she had been cooped up in that apartment too long. She had missed the smell of the city as the sun was setting, and everything started to cool off. Even the sound of the traffic buzzing by was pleasant.

Little did she know that her evening was about to be interrupted.

Izaya shoved her suddenly, and Namie staggered forward.

Regaining her balance, she whirled around just in time to see a vending machine crash into the sidewalk where they had stood a mere second ago.

Namie felt a pair of hands fall on her shoulders.

"Time to run." Izaya hissed in her ear as a voice bellowed 'Izaya!' from behind them.

Before she even registered what was happening, she was being dragged off down the nearest alley by her wrist. It was all she could do just to keep her footing as garbage caused her to trip and stumble over her high heels.

She could hear a vague shouting from somewhere behind them, and occasionally a loud crash, but didn't dare look back to see what made the noises.

A few exhausting minutes and ten alleyways later, Izaya slowed to a walk, leaning back against the crumbling wall of a building and sliding to the ground.

He hadn't yet let go of Namie's wrist, which was now numb, and she collapsed into his lap, her head resting on his heaving chest as she gasped for air.

"What...the hell...was that?" she managed a minute later.

"Shizuo."

"What's a shizuo?"

"A very angry vending-machine throwing monster."

It was the only reply he gave, and Namie couldn't be bothered lecturing Izaya into giving a less nonsensical answer.

When their breath had evened out a bit more, Namie sat up.

Realizing that she could no longer feel her fingertips, due to the death grip Izaya had on her wrist, she pried his hand off as best she could.

Realizing what she was doing, Izaya let go.

"Sorry." he muttered, watching her rub her wrist. With a sigh, the information broker allowed his head to lean back against the wall and let out a short laugh. "I thought we were gonners for a minute there."

"So did I..." Namie muttered, letting her head droop against his chest again.

She was tired.

Izaya's arms gently wrapped around her, and she felt him lean his chin on the top of her head.

"Well, did you have fun today?"

"...do I have to answer?"

Izaya laughed again, leaning back.

"Tired?"

She nodded, feeling her eyes closing over. It was late, and the city was already dark. In this portion of the streets, only the faintest moonlight filtered through to illuminate the concrete.

She could feel Izaya shift position, and before she even fully registered what his last comment had meant, the information broker had picked her up, cradling her in his arms, and begun to walk back to their apartment.

"Th-that's alright! I can walk!" she protested quickly, but Izaya shushed her with a smile.

"I like carrying you."

A blush instantly covered Namie's cheeks, and she buried her face in the trim of Izaya's coat to hide it from him.

He had seen it, though, and laughed.


It was late when Izaya made it back to the apartment.

Contrary to her protests, Namie had fallen asleep in his arms.

He had a bit of trouble with the door, but managed to get it open without dropping or even waking her.

He didn't even try removing his shoes at the entryway.

The stairs seemed to mock him, telling his worn out legs that they had a while more to go before he could rest.

He made it to the top, though, feeling his own eyes closing over from exhaustion.

Izaya turned into the first room and gently set Namie's sleeping form down on her bed.

Pausing only to take off her shoes and his own, he let himself collapse beside her, immediately falling asleep.


Spring Cleaning


Izaya was enjoying his dream (the contents of which he would prefer to keep to himself), when it was sharply interrupted by something hitting him in the face.

He groggily sat up to find an apron bundled up beside him, and Namie standing in his doorway, fixing him with a glare.

She was wearing an apron as well, her long, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and covered with a bandana. One of her hands rested on her hip, the other clenched a broom.

Before he could even ask, Namie had thrown a feather duster at him.

"Get up. This apartment is getting cleaned, and you're helping."

"Why? It took me forever to get a consistent layer of dust on everything..."

"NOW."

Yawning and stretching, the information broker sought out his alarm clock.

"But Namie-chan, it's only 7..."

"I don't care. Now get up."

Not being a morning person, especially when he had something like cleaning to look forward to, Izaya stumbled to his feet and slouched over to Namie's side.

"Fine."

As he made his way past her, though, he couldn't help but smile at the sight of her dressed up like a housewife.

Namie noticed, though, and turned on him sharply.

"And so help me, if you make one comment about what I'm wearing...!"

"Well aren't you dressed up quite sexy today..."

By the time Izaya had registered that he was in trouble, the broom had already connected with his face and floored him.


Rubbing his nose, Izaya muttered complaints as he tried to sweep the cobwebs down from the top shelves of his bookcases.

"That was a bit of an overreaction..."

"I warned you." Namie's voice drifted up to him from downstairs, "And you're the one who chose to ignore that and speak anyway."

With a sigh, he chased another small spider into the shadows as he obliterated its web.

"What's the point of cleaning, anyway? It's all just going to get dirty again..."

"Spring cleaning, Izaya, is practically a tradition. Secondly, it's musty in here, and I can't stand getting covered in dust anytime I go to file something. Besides," Namie had come upstairs as she spoke, and now set a pile of books down at his feet, "it's unhealthy to have that much dirt around the house."

"Like I care?" he muttered, flicking a trailing cobweb at her back.

"Well obviously, you don't. So that's why I have to take care of it."

"Then why can't you take care of it without my help?"

Izaya saw her reach for the broom and quickly returned to his chore.

As she descended the stairs, Izaya picked up the books she had left, filing them on the shelf.

"I remember why I hired you to do this..." he muttered, "I hate organizing books."

"Oh, Izaya, I need that feather duster. Bring it down here, would you?"

Muttering complaints, Izaya trudged down the stairs.

He turned the corner just in time to see Namie begin to remove pieces from his chess board.

With a strangled cry, Izaya ran over, grabbing her around the waist and lifting her away from his precious game. Setting her down, he glanced sharply over his shoulder.

She had only moved two pieces, and thankfully, he knew where both went.

"Don't...touch...anything..." he breathed, taking the chess pieces from her startled grip. "If you MUST have this table cleaned, then let me do it."

He turned to the board, replacing the players, and he heard Namie sigh in exasperation.

"You are impossible."


"Hey Namie?"

"What is it this time?"

"What am I supposed to do with this?'

"It's a broom, Izaya. It's not that hard to figure out..."

"Not that! I mean all the stuff that I swept up. I don't just leave it here, do I?"

"Of course not, you idiot!"

"Well what am I supposed to do with it?"

"Eat it." Namie said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"WHAT?"

"Izaya, you're hopeless..." she muttered. "Do you see the dustpan?"

"...the what now?"

"The flat, triangular plastic thing that was attached to the broom?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Sweep the dust into it, then cary it into the other room and throw the dust away."

"Oh! So that's what it's for!"

"Izaya, you can be so dense sometimes...


"EEW!"

"What?"

"GROSS!"

"What are you freaking out about now, Izaya?"

"Namie, come here, you have to look at this!"

"Okay, now I'm worried..."

With a patronizing sigh, Namie ascended the opposite side of the ladder to examine the tops of the fan blades with Izaya.

Sure enough, they were covered in such a disgusting filth that it would require a censoring pixilation in most children's shows.

"That's...nasty..." she muttered.

"How did this all GET up here? I mean, the fan blades spin! You think it would all fall off or something!"

"Apparently not. Now get rid of it."

"Why me? I don't want to touch it!"

"Then put on gloves."

"How is that any different?"

Ignoring him, Namie returned to the other room.

Muttering complaints, Izaya went to get a pair of gloves and LOTS of hand sanitizer.


"Namie!"

"What is it this time?" the pretty young scientist all but snarled as she set her broom down and followed Izaya's voice into the study.

Upon entering the room, she immediately clapped her hands over her mouth.

One, because there was so much dust in the air.

Two, because she was trying to keep from laughing.

"Namie, this-*cough cough*-stupid machine isn't-*cough cough*-working!"

"Izaya," she managed at last, "You have to put the dust collector back in the vacuum before you start using it..."

"Oh..."


Izaya stared into the soap bubbles.

"You want me to do what now?"

"Wash the floor. Anything that's tile needs to be cleaned."

"But I JUST swept it half an hour ago!"

"Yes, you did. And now you need to wash it."

Muttering complaints and threatening to kill the person who invented spring cleaning, Izaya took the rag Namie had provided and plunged it into the warm water.

As he drew his arms back out, the soap bubbles clung to him. The information broker gave his arm a shake, hoping that they would fall of.

Which they didn't.

Then he tried blowing them off.

That moved a few, but only sent them flying onto the side of the counter.

Getting annoyed, Izaya began to flap his bent arms up and down like a chicken, still trying to hold the rag in his hands.

This splattered soap suds across the rest of the vertical surfaces of the kitchen.

Izaya dropped the rag back in the bucket quickly, trying to wipe the foam off himself.

If Namie saw this mess...

But fate loves screwing people over, and so it would have it that Namie chose that moment to walk into the kitchen and check on how Izaya was doing.

"Well, originally I was going to leave the cabinets for another day," Namie said, observing Izaya's latest mess, "but seeing as you've got them all soapy already, why not wash them as well?"

Izaya sprawled across the floor in a pathetic heap.

"Curse you fate...curse you karma...curse you Kira Yamato..."

"Stop complaining and get working, Izaya!" Namie called over her shoulder, "I swear, if you spent half as much time cleaning as you did whining, then we'd be done already!"

Muttering to himself in misery, Izaya rooted around the bucket till he located his rag, flicked the clinging foam on the nearest cabinet, and begun scrubbing it.


"There! Finished!" Namie chirped, placing her hands on her hips and glancing over the clean apartment.

Outside the now crystal-clear windows, the lights of the city could be seen through the dark.

Izaya sighed and collapsed onto the couch. His entire day had been WASTED.

"About freaking time we finished..."

"Now the only thing that's left is to-"

"Oh no you don't!" Izaya snapped, quickly grabbing her around the waist and pulling her back into his lap. "You assign one more chore, and I'm personally turning you in to the police. We're watching TV for the rest of the evening."

With a shrug, Namie took the bandana from her hair and snatched the clicker.

"Fine."


Yeah...three guesses as to who was stuck doing chores today. ^^

And for those of you who have ever looked at the top of your fan blades, you know what I'm talking about...they're gross...*shudder*

Thanks for sticking with my insanity for so long!

I have an outline for another chapter, just have to fill in details. A LOT of details.

Thanks to all who have reviewed my story so far! And more reviews are always welcome! (And greatly appreciated.)

Well, bed-time. See-ya later! ^^