A/N: OYYY, MINNA~! HISASHIBURI, NE~!... OTL no really forgive me, oh my gosh.. Is anyone even still reading this? It's been literal years. Ahhhhhh.. I started watching DRRR!x2 to get myself back into the spirit of this thing, because dammit, I WILL FINISH IT. Disappointing lack of Shizuo and Izaya interaction during the first part of the season, so let's hope they step it up for the next 12 episodes, eh?

Part of me is unreasonably annoyed because I keep looking at my past-self's writing ability and want to bang my head against a wall. Ughhh, it's been a long time xDD. I hope I've at least improved a little.

10. Dinner Time

Izaya stood over a pot in the kitchen. Shizuo lay watching the bedroom ceiling fan.

Neither had any idea what to do.

There was no real opportunity to scheme for the informant, and there was nothing particularly clear for the injured bodyguard to react violently towards. One was too preoccupied, the other too tired. They had come to a curious impasse during their last conversation, and no verdict had been reached. That was the logical, detached way of phrasing it, which was Izaya's preferred version.

To Shizuo, they had stuttered like idiots for about three minutes before Izaya made some lame-ass excuse to duck back into the kitchen. He ran away, like he always did, stupid flea. Always slipping to the shadows in the middle of a disagreement, whether it be a screaming match or a heated chase down the street.

It felt like forever since they had chased. Shizuo rolled over onto his side, feeling particularly shitty after that stunt in the bathroom. No longer was his head feeling light and detached, but now it suddenly weighed a million pounds. Every time he blinked he felt tempted to leave his eyes closed and just pass into sleep, but sleeping in Izaya's guest bedroom made him tense. And there was so much to think about right now. It made his head throb, trying to organize all the thoughts –

Izaya cared about him. Shizuo was jealous and territorial, after watching Namie try to take a bite out of him. They had already kissed, and still they didn't know where they stood.

There had to be hate, right? It had been there since the moment they met, and only developed from there. Gritting his teeth, Shizuo put an arm over his eyes only to remove it seconds later when it made his head feel even achier. It was starting to get chilly too, his body shuddering in tight, coiling movements beneath the comforter and top-sheet. Damn this fever. Why did he have to get saddled with a bad cold while also recovering from serious wounds?! Just his luck. Always his luck, with the flea involved.

Shizuo rolled over again, trying to get comfortable as he curled up into a miserable ball. This sucked. How could he even have agreed to this idea? Izaya could be lacing his soup with poison in the kitchen right now, or else on the phone with some yakuza looking to get Shizuo framed for murder while he was too laid up in bed to do anything about it. It was really dumb of him to so readily believe Izaya would help him, or wouldn't be lying about all this just to get ahead.

Yeah, that was it. Somehow this was all part of a plan. When was Izaya not scheming? Shizuo pushed up on his elbows, preparing to get out of bed again, but found extreme resistance. His vision blurred and distorted, sounds from around the house came to a crescendo, and his entire body felt sore from the fever. Beaten, he lowered himself back down onto the mattress. He was too weak to get up-… If the flea really was planning something devious with all this "I care about you" bullshit, he was screwed.

Shizuo felt like a fool for ever believing Izaya might actually care. The guy has made his life a living hell since they met. What kind of person like that has a heart? Let alone a heart for him? How could Shizuo have let himself get tangled up in a mess like this? Maybe he was too desperate. And he'd been really sleep-deprived during that time on the roof, when he and Izaya had first talked about all this.

They weren't actually feeling this kind of shit for each other… were they? He couldn't decide which was scarier. Or even which he would prefer. Ugh, everything was sort of fuzzy. Made it hard to think.

Shizuo twitched as the door opened, staring hard at the ceiling while Izaya padded in quietly on the hardwood. The bed depressed a little when he sat down, holding a tray with both hands. No one moved, but Shizuo recognized the weight of Izaya's stare even if he couldn't see it. A light chuckle broke through the tense air.

"Someone sure seems grumpy," Izaya said with false mirth. It was so fake. Everything about him was so fake. It made Shizuo's blood burn.

He spoke through gritted teeth, refusing to look at him. "Well, it ain't exactly been a great day."

"And just whose fault is that, hm?" There was a smile in his words, perhaps even some mockery.

What a prick! Shizuo thought, feeling his hands curl into fists and start to shake a little. Sounds like he's looking down on me! He pisses me off! And yet the way Izaya reached over to smooth a cool hand against Shizuo's brow felt anything but condescending. The palm even gave his boiling forehead some relief. Still, the blonde tensed beneath the covers as his eyes finally slid to Izaya's face.

The flea wore a concentrated frown that soon faded into a neutral expression once he noticed Shizuo's eyes on him. With a breath, finally his face fell into a smiling mask. Shizuo hated it, but at least the expression was familiar.

"Shizu-chan, you need to relax if you're going to beat this thing," he said, slowly dragging his hand back into Shizuo's hair. It felt like being petted, which pissed Shizuo right the hell off, and he reached up to slap the informant's hand away.

"Yeah, yeah," he grunted. "Easier said than done, with your annoying presence always around."

"Ah, I'm annoying, am I~?" Izaya teased. He started stirring the soup on the tray with a metal spoon. "I could have sworn I was quite the calming influence over you earlier."

Shizuo choked on air, and the action caused him to start coughing from all the congestion in his head and chest. This cold wouldn't be kicking his ass so much if he wasn't hurt, he thought. Feeling this weak was a huge pain. If he could stand up without falling right now, he'd have trashed the place and gotten out already. He tried to ignore the way his ears were burning. It was the fever, dammit.

"Not really," he mumbled, turning his head away to stare at the wall. He could still hear Izaya, and his soft, lilting voice as the spoon clinked on the edges of the bowl.

"Do you deny it, Shizu-chan~? Seriously?" He sounded amused. It made Shizuo's muscles lock up. "I know that isn't a fever-flush you're sporting right now."

Growling, Shizuo turned back over to glare at Izaya, his temper flaring up despite the injuries and illness. Pushing up on an elbow and ignoring his throbbing head, he snarled at the informant. "Kinda hard to relax knowing you were probably lookin' for a good place to stick a knife!"

Izaya feigned hurt, eyes wide and voice high. "What? How could you say that? I would never~!"

"What are you talkin' about?! You've been trying to kill me since day one!"

"True, but I would never strike when you are laid so low, Shizu-chan. Where's the fun in that?"

"Psychotic bastard," Shizuo grumbled, feeling a wave of heat carry over him. He was holding up pretty well, but the fever was really starting to wreck him. He could sense it boiling at the back of his skull, sucking all the warmth from his limbs to make him shiver. It didn't help that head injury had him all fucked up. "You're just usin' this whole thing to mess with me."

"Mmm, could be~" Izaya said. He sounded almost dismissive, like this conversation was just background noise. "Now, can you sit up a little? You'll spill this all over yourself otherwise and I don't fancy cleaning up another one of your messes today."

He was referring to the bathroom thing.

"Stop actin' like it was such a big freakin' inconvenience for you, ya damn flea." Shizuo buried his face into his pillow in a piss-poor attempt to retaliate. No way was he eating any drop of soup this guy cooked.

Sighing, Izaya shifted on the bed and reached over, trying to pull the pillows up against the headboard to make it more comfortable for Shizuo to lean there. "Well, I'll admit you would be less of a chore if you weren't such a stubborn imbecile."

Shizuo clung with all his might to the pillowcase, refusing to let Izaya win even this small of a battle. His perception was already so foggy that when he closed his eyes tight, Shizuo could almost lose himself to a quivering darkness. Only the muffled sounds of the flea tugging at his sheets and that irritating voice still stung at his senses.

"Shizu-chan, as pathetic as you are right now, you're still strong enough to rip my pillow if you don't lighten up."

"I bet you loved it…"

Izaya paused. Shizuo still had his eyes closed, unable to see his expression. "Excuse me?"

"I bet you loved seein' me fuckin' broken on that pavement. Broken in the bathroom." A weird laugh bubbled up from Shizuo's throat, unexpected. His chest constricted with it. "A monster like me, layin' there unconscious like one of your stupid humans – "

Izaya's fingers dug into his shoulder, yanking him onto his back, and his dark-haired head was suddenly obscuring Shizuo's slightly blurry vision. His eyes looked blood red in this weird, dim lighting, and his expression was totally serious. Intense. Shizuo glared.

"What now, flea?" he growled, blinking away his swimmy vision. "Have I got you figured out?"

"Far from it, you brute," Izaya said. His voice was soft as snow, and twice as cold. "Don't pretend like you know even a single thought that passes through my head. They are much too complex for something like you to understand."

"Tchh," Shizuo scoffed, turning to look again at the wall. Izaya grabbed him by the jaw and forced his gaze forward again. Anger gathered in his chest. "So, what, all that bullshit about 'caring' about me wasn't just a crock of crap?!"

"No!" The response was more sudden than either had anticipated, and Izaya took a breath to try and cool his tone. Sliding on another smile, he leered over the blonde. "Think this through, protozoan. What could possibly be the benefit of me lying to you about that?"

"I dunno how your freaky brain works," Shizuo grumbled, feeling another swell of heat through him. He shuddered, a bit of sweat beading at his hairline. "Probably just to screw with me."

"When you said you cared, were you trying to screw around with my head?"

Narrowing his eyes, trying to figure out the flea's angle, Shizuo answered carefully. Slowly. "… No… but I ain't some kind of whackjob that gets off to ruining people's lives, so – "

"But you are a monster," Izaya said, and he sounded sort of tired as he said it. Like there was a crack in his words where something was falling apart. Shizuo zoned in and focused on it as best he could. "You could snap my neck this second if you so desired. Yet you haven't even touched me."

"We're not talkin' about me," the blond asserted, now quaking almost constantly with chills. He felt so shitty, couldn't remember ever feeling this shitty before. Not since childhood. Still, he summoned what energy he could to push on. "We're talkin' about you."

Izaya let go of his face and instead put a hand over his own eyes, for once sounding truly exasperated by this conversation. "Shizuo, would I really clean up your puke and throw my back out trying to lug you to bed if I wanted you to die from this?"

Shizuo stayed silent, suddenly sort of self-conscious about puking. When his eyes dropped away to one of his sleeves, he noticed for the first time that his clothes were different. Someone had changed his shirt while he was unconscious. When he didn't answer, Izaya continued.

"In case you cannot infer it from my tone, the answer is absolutely not." He smoothed his hand back to Shizuo's forehead and up into his hair, his touch hopelessly gentle. It made Shizuo just as wary as it did confused. "As much fun as it would be to psychologically manipulate and break you into tiny little pieces, I'm a busy man and don't have time for it right now. So rest assured, I am not playing any mind games."

Shizuo eyebrows drew together into a little V as he tried to puzzle through this, moment by moment growing uncertain as to Izaya's motivations and intentions. If he was telling the truth and really had no interest in screwing with him, then Shizuo had to assume Izaya-… really…?

"So…" he started, voice soft in the back of his throat. "You…seriously care?"

"Why is that such a shock?" The crease of his eyes and the stiff set of his jaw were guarded, prickly in the same way they were back at Shizuo's apartment days ago. When all this started.

Glaring, Shizuo's soft brown eyes sharpened as he finally met Izaya's cool, red gaze. "Because you hate my fuckin' guts."

Izaya resumed petting a hand through bleach-blond hair, getting his fingers tangled up in locks just a little damp with sweat. Shrugging, he was the picture of nonchalant. "Maybe, though it is hard to hate you as much as I once did when you're constantly collapsing just like any other precious human in this world."

A corner of his mouth curled with a smirk. "Not much of a monster right now, are you?"

It sounded sort of like a threat, as if this one notion was what might be the death of Shizuo today. The tone of the words made it sound like that, even if Izaya's patient stare remained steady. And to that, Shizuo wasn't sure what to say. He's been called a monster by everyone, especially the flea, ever since his anger started getting out of hand. Every time he lost control, every day he had to face himself in the mirror over and over after every fight, Shizuo began to believe it just a little bit more. To hear a rebuttal from Orihara Izaya of all people was completely unexpected.

"And you," Izaya said, barely above a whisper. His hand covered Shizuo's eyes and moved up again, smoothing his bangs back for what must be the twentieth time in minutes. "Do you hate me, Shizu-chan~?"

They are both taken back to that question from an hour before. Do you? Do you want to start all this damn lovey stuff? It was the same thing, just with different words. And it still wasn't any easier to answer for Shizuo. Izaya had only just managed to sneak his way through an explanation himself. Maybe.

Blinking slowly, sleep an ever-present siren call at this point even as Shizuo continued to shiver beneath his blankets, the blond tried to gather his thoughts. His fatigue had conquered his rage, and now even his hands lay palms up and lax on the covers. The fingers of his right hand twitched in need of a cigarette. This whole situation was damn stressful.

"I dunno," he rasped. His thoughts flew back to those moments in his apartment, when Izaya had been so flustered and adorable. On the roof, when they had clung to one another. There had been no masks then. It felt like he had been spending time with an actual person, not a flea. "When you're not putting on an act, you're not so bad… I guess…"

"High praise," Izaya deadpanned, looking underwhelmed.

"You're not exactly a charmer yourself, asshole."

Izaya gave him a wide smile, with even a touch of fondness. "Touché, Shizu-chan."

Slowly, Shizuo let himself relax muscle by muscle. For every tendon he unlocked, he felt that much sleepier. Breath catching as his nose suddenly tickled, he turned his face into the pillow to sneeze once, twice, before clearing his throat after a few thick sniffles. Izaya's hand resumed it's soft strokes in his hair, and Shizuo kept his eyes closed. Each heavy breath he took sunk him closer to sleep. He didn't make it there before Izaya gave his cheek a few pats.

"No sleeping yet," he said. Shizuo couldn't see him, but he sounded professional. Stern even. The informant did run a very profitable clientele so Shizuo expected he had a voice like this stored somewhere for meetings or something. Still weird to hear it. "You need to eat something."

Shizuo mumbled a question against the pillowcase as he opened his eyes. Izaya leaned a little closer, already trying to arrange the blond again so he could sit up more.

"Speak more clearly, Shizu-chan," he said, distracted as moved pillows around and motioned for Shizuo to hitch himself up. The sick man complied, clumsily.

"Why are you bein' so serious all of a sudden?" he asked. Because seriously, Izaya had been practically trying to get in his pants earlier. Doing all that flirty shit to get on his nerves, Shizuo guessed.

Izaya only gave him another mask, the smile pasted there accommodating yet vague. "I have no idea what you mean."

Shizuo opened his mouth to persist, but interrupted himself with a yawn that he tried to smother in the back of his hand. After that, he lost his train of thought in favor of just rubbing his eyes. He was inevitably too tired for maze-like conversations.

For this, Izaya was glad. It would have been impossible, painful, to explain just how terrifying it had been to find Shizuo once again bloody and crumpled on the ground. Unresponsive. Unaware. Nothing like he ever was before. The strongest man in Ikebukuro was a constant just as much as the renowned informant was. They chased, they bickered, they caused hell for one another in their own ways: Izaya – through his many connections; Shizuo – just by breathing.

But to see Shizuo pale, sick, weak, unable to even keep his balance…? It was nothing Izaya had ever expected to see, and it bothered him in a way he couldn't properly convey. Sure, he could say he was doing this "care-taking" thing as a favor to one of his very few actual friends, but there was more to it than that.

Being able to control the monstrous man he never could, was one thing. It was a delicious rarity that Izaya simply couldn't pass by. With Shizuo like this, it was easy to physically manipulate him. Easier and easier by the hour, as the strain of the injuries wore through him and his cold ravaged his body. Even emotionally, Shizuo seemed tamable. No longer with enough energy or agency to fly into a rage, it was interesting to see him so calm.

Izaya couldn't really bring himself to anger him anyway. It continued to end with Shizuo only growing weaker. Part of Izaya worried that Shizuo had collapsed in that bathroom because of his carelessness in the bedroom and the mistake with Namie. Suddenly, Izaya didn't really want to be the cause of his pain right now. It didn't seem like the man could take it. He was falling apart.

Izaya's thoughts were complex and many. But the bottom line was, flirting seemed like a poor plan with Shizuo so sick. And it was hard to get in the mood when he could see the blond wilting where he sat, sliding a little against the headboard, barely keeping himself awake. It didn't make him look like a monster. It made him something else entirely.

That image sobered Izaya in ways he wished he couldn't be.

Before Shizuo managed to nod off, Izaya put the tray over his lap and handed him the spoon. The soup was cool now from the length of their conversation, but still warm enough not to be gross. As if in a trance, Shizuo received the utensil and gripped it in a fist, like a child. Izaya nearly teased him for it until the informant noticed it was because Shizuo's hands were shaking too much to use the spoon otherwise. And when he tried to take his first bite, he somehow didn't aim for his mouth correctly and spilled a spoonful down his chin and onto his shirt. Shizuo cursed under his breath, leaning back to start wiping at his face with his sleeve, while Izaya wordlessly took the spoon from him.

This was hard to watch.

"L-Let me just do it," he said, trying to sound as bold as he wanted to feel. Shizuo couldn't do this well, and he was so tired that he'd be asleep before he managed to eat anything. Of course there was resistance.

"Like hell I'm letting you feed me, louse," Shizuo said. The congestion rumbled in his chest, making his voice heady, and Izaya inwardly berated himself for letting the soup get too cold to produce steam. They needed to get some of that congestion cleared away or the blond wouldn't sleep well.

"Clearly you can't manage this on your own, and seeing as I am your babysitter for the time being, the duty falls to me." Izaya scooped a spoonful, resolute, trying to use momentum and masks to hurtle himself through spoon-feeding Heiwajima Shizuo. "Now, say ahhhhhn~"

The little jab immediately irritated the blond, imbuing him with a little energy as he gripped the sides of the tray hard enough to splinter the wood. But when he opened his mouth to retort, Izaya just slipped the spoon in. There was a bubbled moment, isolated with shock, before it popped and Shizuo quickly swallowed as the spoon was pulled out again.

"What the hell, flea?!" He coughed a few times, voice hoarse. Izaya got another spoonful ready in the meanwhile.

"That wasn't so terrible, was it~?" he mocked, giving a smile that soon faded again into a weary scowl. "Now, come on. We both want this to be over, don't we? The faster, the better. Eat."

This time Shizuo sat there with his lips pressed into a thin line. Izaya just watched, unblinking and patient, until finally the blond almost shyly parted his lips for another bite. So they continued in silence, only the tinkling of the spoon against the bowl and Shizuo's clockwork swallows volunteering to break it. As the minutes passed, Shizuo's fighting spirit once again burned out in favor of exhaustion. He grew more pliant and less resistant, nearly obedient, and the change bothered Izaya.

Setting the empty bowl and tray aside, Izaya let out a content sigh, trying to break the awkward tension now blanketing the bedroom. "Gold star for you, Shizu-chan~! You ate it all." He offered a smirk, but the blond stayed slumped against the headboard, eyes vacant. Feeling a pit opening in his stomach, Izaya leaned in closer.

"Shizu-chan?" he asked, trying to catch his eyes. "Shizuo?"

Blinking, the bigger man roused enough to shift a glassy glaze to Izaya. His eyes were bright, a little too bright, and Izaya slipped the back of his hand against Shizuo's forehead again. Caught his breath a little. He was on fire.

Glancing at the clock and noting that by now it was well into the evening, Izaya deduced that all fevers get worse at night and this would be no different. Shizuo just had some sustenance, would not vomit it up from nausea as long as he stayed still, and seemed eager for sleep. Which was the best thing for him.

Izaya stood from the bed and helped get Shizuo laying down again, growing more and more uncomfortable with how completely docile Shizuo was acting. Barely making a sound, nearly limp. Almost like having him unconscious again. Putting a hand over Shizuo's chest, he gave him a few reassuring pats. Izaya cringed on the inside, uneasily wondering why he was even doing such a thing.

"All right, I'll be right back with some medicine to help you sleep better. Just stay put, Shizu-chan~"

Walking stiffly out to the kitchen, he passed by the kitchen counter to poke in his medicine cabinet before doing a double-take at the large bag laying against the granite. Ah! Izaya scrambled to grab the bag of medications and instructions Shinra had left behind. He had completely forgotten about them during the day's events, and as his eyes rush-scanned the lengthy paper detailing Shizuo's condition, Izaya realized he had missed a lot of pills he was supposed to administer.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! Only his first day on the job and already he was terrible at it. Granted, playing nurse wasn't anything close to what he was used to, but this was an understandably large thing to miss. Could he even give Shizuo cold medicine with all these others things he was supposed to take? With some measure of relief, Izaya found that Shinra had included a few over-the-counter syrups for coughs, congestion, and even fever. At least there with that.

Hurrying back into the bedroom, pills shaking like maracas as he carried the giant Ziploc with him, Izaya stood helplessly by the side of Shizuo's bed. The guy was already asleep, and sleeping heavy by the looks of it. Huddled under the covers like an overgrown boy, hugging the pillow, face lax. Innocent. Wracked with an occasional, violent shiver. It felt almost criminal to wake him at this point.

Some part of him a week ago would have delighted in startling Shizuo from slumber. Today, Izaya couldn't manage it. He even made sure to tip-toe back outside to the hall, holding the pills to his chest to keep them quiet. With a sigh, he rubbed his forehead. They'd just… start all the meds tomorrow.

Hopefully Shinra wouldn't kill him for officially the worst first day on the job.