I was going to wait until tomorrow...but I was just too excited to write another chapter that I did and decided to post. Also, I moved the rating up to M for the future~
I rewrote this chapter twice-I couldn't decide on evil, sadist-y Roppi or angsty, emo Roppi. I opted for the former (because my mind knows that will make for interesting smut). Let me know how I did, please!
I still do not own Durarara!
MxM warning for later chaps.
It was around an hour after his princely brother left the loft that Roppi heard a knock at the door.
His heart only sped up because the knock was sudden—no, no. It didn't speed up at all. He was imagining things, and it was only natural that his breathing quickened slightly—very slightly—because he had gotten worked up over the aforementioned imaginary things.
Roppi walked over to the door of the loft from the desk in his room where he was at, mug of hot tea in his hand.
He opened the door only to look up to scarlet eyes that matched his own.
"Good day, Orihara-san!" the blonde postman who had been delivering to the Oriharas lately greeted Roppi as he always did—halfway awkward, as if expecting to be reprimanded. Roppi smirked slightly, amused at the antics of the blonde whose spastic behavior contrasted with his low voice and tall stature.
"Ah, Tsukishima-kun, how nice of you to drop by..." Roppi added a hint of a purr to his voice. He didn't like humans, so any uncomfortable feelings or awkwardness he instilled in them was his pleasure. So naturally he flirted outrageously with this obviously-shy scarf-clad man who seemed to be about his age—from the complete opposite of attraction, that is.
Roppi was rewarded with the widening of scarlet eyes behind glasses as the undertones of the conversation were realized by the postman. "Um, ah—here is t-the package you ordered." his arm thrust out a small package rather awkwardly, head turned down and to the side, eyes cast towards the ground as if it offered some salvation.
"Arigatou, Tsukishima." Roppi decided to abandon honorifics altogether, and noticed the pinkening of the blonde's cheeks as he accepted the package.
Tsukishima began to turn around to leave as Roppi stepped forward slightly, getting hit by the white messenger bag that the postman's letters were carried in, and falling and spilling tea (very hot tea, he might add) on the blonde.
Tsuki hissed slightly in pain and the mug the tea was in fell to the floor, miraculously withstanding the impact. All Roppi could do was stand there. After a minute, he pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb before grabbing the blonde's wrist. "I suppose we should get you out of this," he said, motioning to the blonde's tea-stained white dress shirt. His black vest was not noticeably discolored, this being due to the fact that it was, well, black.
"Um…" Tsukishima looked down again, causing the lower part of his face to be hidden by the white scarf he was wearing. Roppi raised an eyebrow.
"What? You'll catch a cold if you stay in wet clothes." Roppi sounded indifferent, but in all truth he may have been slightly—very slightly—worried about this kind blonde that put up with his teasing every time a package was delivered. Roppi might have also been slightly curious, too, about about what Tsukishima looked like sans shirt—it was from a sick fascination of humans, though. Nothing more, definitely not.
The blonde's eyebrows knit together as he began unbuttoning his vest with what seemed like unsteady hands, and Roppi resisted the urge to smile—at his discomfort, not because it was rather cute. Because it definitely was not.
"Here, let me help you with that." He walked over to the blonde, making quick work of the vest and trying not to notice the blonde's erect nipples through his now somewhat transparent white shirt.
Face half-hidden by the scarf, the blonde mumbled "Ah, I'm sorry. I should have been more careful, Orihara-san." What? The fool was apologizing? What a ridiculous notion—it was he who had ended up worse for wear. Roppi shook his head before beginning to unbutton the taller man's—geez, how tall was he?—shirt, quickly unfastening the red bowtie and nimbly undoing the buttons. He abruptly noticed red patches of skin where the tea must've burned him. "Does it hurt…?" he asked quietly, a finger going to trace over one of the red areas on the taller man's chest. Crimson met crimson as Roppi looked up for a response.
"Not really," Tsuki said, eyes quickly darting away. Tch, yeah, right. This was obviously painful—this man was either too polite to speak up or a masochist. Or both. The shirt was slipped off his shoulders as Roppi spoke up again.
"How many more houses do you have to deliver mail to?"
"Oh, well…none. I sort of…save your house for last." His voice all but faded away as he spoke. Roppi blinked before raising an eyebrow questioningly. "It's nice to end the day on a good note, and I know how to get home from here, so I always save it for last."
"What do you mean, 'know how to get home?'" Wasn't he a postman? Didn't he know how to get everywhere?
"Ah, well, you see. I, uh—I get lost easily, so my brothers suggested that I familiarize myself with the city with this job." How great—this man made absolutely no sense at all. He shivered.
"Oh, right. I'll bet you're cold. Let me go throw these in the wash and see if I can find you a shirt." The latter was doubtful—he and all the other Oriharas were a lot smaller than this lanky blonde Godzilla. He looked through his closet and, seeing nothing, decided to opt for a small blanket, figuring Tsukishima could wrap it around his shoulders or something—not that Roppi cared, of course. He walked backinto the room, slightly shocked to see such a nice physique on the reserved man. He was toned—the perfect balance of muscular and lean, and had a slight tan to his skin that seemed to radiate warmth. "I couldn't find a shirt that would fit you…" Shirt or no shirt, the blonde's eyes brightened.
"Thanks so much, Orihara—"
"Please, call me Roppi."
"Roppi-san, thanks. I'm fine, though." He smiled slightly from underneath his scarf.
"Your shirt should be done soon, so I guess you'll have to stay here until then. Everyone else is out for the night, so it's just me. I hope you don't mind. Would you like some tea?" Roppi's eyes again wandered to the red patterns on his skin, and he may have felt the slightest tinge of guilt—only because it was pain he hadn't intended to cause, of course.
"That would be nice," the blonde commented, demeanor suddenly cheerful even through his shyness. He was so confusing. Roppi wandered off towards the kitchen, feeling confused on what to think about the blonde that was currently in his living room.
More to come; if you liked, please review. Heck, review if you didn't like, too! I would love to hear your opinion:)