A newborn left behind to the warmth of a beast.
Tom greets him. The sun is hot- and the wind blows so Shizuo counts it as a good day. With a gruff response to his boss, sleep is still there. Behind his eyes and a yawn catches in his throat when they start walking. He should sleep more, Tom points it out. Not to be mean, but just a comment that ebbs away at his patience. Shizuo nods, doesn't bother to honestly respond because he still wants to yawn and feet feel heavy as he walks but after the first rage filled incident where his self-restraint dwindles to nothing and suddenly the excuses of woman and being in love just fly pass his head, and Shizuo grabs the man; shakes him while sneering something he can't remember because fuck it.
By the time lunch trickles in, accidents are up to five and Shizuo's more frustrated and tired than he was before. Tom looks over at him, raising both brows as they seat themselves in a cafe. Shizuo's aching for a smoke; but remembers he has none so instead opts for something more bitter than sweet. He needs to wake himself up, so coffee would do.
"How's Rubi?" Tom asks, watching Shizuo send a text to someone- probably the one who was watching the infant before giving attention to his own meal. Shizuo glances upwards, sunglasses tucked into his vest because he rather see than have the warmth of coffee steam up his lens.
"Fine," fine for a baby who cries every night. But that's how it was. Crying, shitting, sleeping. Shizuo can't help but smile fondly, scratching at his head when Tom chuckles beneath his breath and comments about how "Honestly, never thought I would see the day you having a kid, Shizuo."which only serves to cause a red hue flood to the blond's cheeks. "Yeah, well.." Shizuo begins, sipping his drink and inwardly shuddering since the taste isn't what he likes but has to grit and bare for. "It's different."
Different because Shizuo's different- because everything he does, he has to make sure that what he does won't affect Rubi. Nor would it make it more difficult to live in his already shitty home. Tom nods.
"Of course."
The smell of shit is heavily permeated throughout the air, and Shizuo counts it as the Flea, who then decides to show his face the moment he lets off work. A somewhat blissful day turned miserable just as Izaya steps infront of him, coat shifting in the wind. A smile turned malicious before the lithe forms twists to give Shizuo all attention that runs through deep like fire and soon a hiss of Izaya's name leaves clenched teeth before a innocent sign becomes deadly weapon.
The chase ends just as fast as it begins, when Shizuo's phone vibrates- then rings so he knows it's time to pick up Rubi and head home, relax and finally eat something. When the rage shimmers down, Izaya's facing him again. That damned mouth turned upwards and then arms are wrapping around his neck, lips teasing his jawline.
"Aw~ Shizu-chan~ I had so much fun." Izaya's voice; smooth yet tinged in something that Shizuo doesn't bother to care for. He's known Izaya for years- easily picks up on things no one else probably would because he hates Izaya- but their game is falling. Izaya knows this, so acts out in ways to get under the brute's skin, only to be pushed aside with a disgusted glare and ignored as Shizuo moves away.
As he does now.
When Izaya is forcibly detached from his favorite playtoy, he makes a show of a pout. "No more? Eh, ever since that kid's came along, you've been so different." Izaya tilts his head; Shizuo doesn't react, too busy with figuring out where the fuck he was before he leaves, a gruff- "Stay outta 'Bukuro, Flea." leaving his throat and he's gone- leaving a slightly annoyed, if not highly amused informant.
Rubi's back in his arms. Shinra yammering about how "pleasant" Rubi is, despite the crying and apparently he has a fever that only makes Shizuo a bit angry- at himself. But simply nods, takes what is given to him and then home. Home was pleasant, sweet and after lifting a cranky baby from the carrier, Shizuo sits himself on the couch. He places Rubi onto his chest, sighing when the infant gurgles and spits, but other wise no sign of a fever is in plain sight. Rubbing the others back slowly, Shizuo tucks one arm beneath his head as soon as he turns the television on.
...His peace broken, as soon as there's a stench of baby formula being brought up onto his shirt becames very apparent in the air.
"...There goes another one.." He mumbles, glancing upwards with a blank expression.