And this is pretty much the last chapter. Thank you for reading my random, impulsively-written sequel! :)

Tsugaru didn't waste any time in returning to Izaya's apartment. He didn't stop to eat, and he didn't ask about the details; all he really needed was what Shinra initially told him – "Izaya called. He wants to see you."

He wants to see you.

He ignored the doctor's protests – he'd just finished making breakfast, and was Tsugaru really going to leave before eating again?

Yeah. Sorry.

He could hardly even tolerate the few minutes it took to struggle his way into his newly-washed yukata – had to slow down a bit, then, just to avoid ripping huge holes in the fabric.

Barreling through the streets – and, yes, 'barreling' was exactly the right word to describe the blonde's graceless attempts to maneuver his way through crowds of startled passersby. He somehow managed to bump into everyone he attempted to avoid, and he was probably very lucky that no one sustained anything worse than a touch of inconvenienced irritation.

The urge to rush – to hurry, to push everything else to the sidelines, because this might all be another dream from which they might both awaken to the same old nightmare – went double for Izaya. The informant – black hair unkempt, slept-in clothes and the sleeve of his T-shirt about ready to slip right off of his pale shoulder – opened the door within seconds of Tsugaru's first hesitant knock.

All movement ground to a halt, then, and a bemused silence ensued – wide eyes tracing the outlines of familiar faces and unusual clothes. The meeting suddenly felt too delicate to be real, too impossible to actually exist. Words might break the illusion. Movement might shatter it.

Tsugaru broke the silence at length – took a quick breath and raised a hand in greeting. Smiled shyly and murmured, "Hey."

That – the sound of the other's voice, the flood of vague sensory memory that it triggered – shook Izaya maybe more than anything else had, and he took a stumbling step forward. Buried his face in Tsugaru's chest and hoped that his trembling shoulders wouldn't give him away too quickly.

"What's with that ridiculous outfit, Shizu-chan?" he whispered, his voice muffled.

"Oh, this?" Tsugaru reached up to tug self-consciously at the yukata. "It's kinda a long story…"

He realized only then that he hadn't yet corrected Izaya – not Shizu-chan, not really – but that hadn't been his name to begin with, had it? He wasn't Shizuo anymore – at least not in name – but Shizu-chan still felt okay. Annoying, but okay.

He tried to put some distance between himself and the informant, then, but Izaya – still shaking with what might've been intense emotion – responded immediately by tightening his arms about the blonde's waist. "D-don't even think about it, Shizu-chan," he hissed, and Tsugaru blinked warily down at him.

"Are you sick? U-um, if you let go, I can get you some medicine… or something… You should lie down."

Izaya shook his head. "Fine," he muttered.

"O-okay?"

"I'm fine," Izaya clarified, and still he refused to budge. Tsugaru took an uneasy few steps forward – Izaya still stubbornly following his movements – and then reached back to close the front door. He could feel his face growing hotter by the second, and Izaya's strange behavior had pushed him wholly outside of his comfort zone.

Of course, it would have been exceedingly easy for him to just shove Izaya away. How could he, though? The informant had tolerated him when he'd done similar things, and it wasn't as if he didn't like the nearness – it worried him, sure, but…

…Izaya was warm, stronger than he looked, and – as Tsugaru brought a hand up to rest it on the informant's head – his hair was soft. The blonde played with it – smoothed it down, teased the tangles out – for a long moment before another sensation finally distracted him from that.

A hint of warm wetness, so slight that Tsugaru almost thought it might've been his imagination. It wasn't, though – tears? Was that why Izaya was shaking so much? Why he wouldn't show his face?

"I-Izaya…"

"Shut up."

There was no mistaking that tone, and Tsugaru finally heaved a sigh. "I don't mind, y'know."

"I – I don't care if you mind, Shizu-chan. I mind."

"You're not mad?"

Izaya relaxed his grip slightly. "I certainly should be. You're a real piece of work, you know? How long have you been around – or didn't you really die to begin with?"

Those were the questions Tsugaru had been expecting – a welcome comfort, despite their great weight. "Yeah… Couple days…"

Izaya sighed. "I can accept that, then."

"Don't want me to prove it? I can lift something – a couch or something."

The informant laughed softly. "I'd rather not have you breaking my furniture."

"I wouldn't," Tsugaru responded defensively. "I can control it a lot better now!"

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Not sure why, but it's kinda harder to get angry."

Izaya laughed. "If only you'd been like that from the start."

Tsugaru grinned. "Right?"

"Don't get the wrong idea, by the way. I don't make a habit of drinking in your honor or anything. And I wasn't really that upset. This is…" Izaya finally disentangled his arms from Tsugaru's body, turned abruptly and bowed his head to prevent Tsugaru from getting a good look at his face. "It's the first time I've cried."

Tsugaru hid a smile behind one long sleeve. He really hadn't had enough of Izaya's honest side – the side that would seek comfort in him, that would hug him and cry and admit to it. The side that didn't have any kind of ulterior motive – Tsugaru could still tell. This was no lie, and they were both really here like this, together and alive. Happy, even.

"Ever?" he teased.

"Well, I've certainly never made as much of a habit of it as you," Izaya retorted, slender hands curling inward to make hot-tempered fists at his sides.

"Hey, that's low," Tsugaru grumbled. Low enough, in fact, that Izaya couldn't rightly complain about the retribution – Tsugaru's hand heavy on his shoulder, his arms strong and insistent as he scooped him up from the floor.

His lips soft and gentle on Izaya's, his breath gusting warm and moist across his tear-stained, still-wet cheeks. Both their eyes falling shut for that briefest of moments, and Izaya's hands coming up to grasp at Tsugaru's hair. The informant seemed to weigh practically nothing, yet the blonde could feel his heart pounding away in his chest long after the embrace finished.

"There's your proof, by the way," Tsugaru added with a sly grin – the kiss broken, Izaya wide-eyed and blushing in his arms. "Got anything else to say?"

Izaya looked almost like he wanted to fight his way out of Shizuo's arms – this wasn't a position to which he was accustomed, after all. It was undignified, and normally he wouldn't stand for it. His head hurt, and he was suddenly very thirsty. His heart was racing right along with Tsugaru's, but he didn't necessarily want the blonde to know that.

So, yes – he almost wanted to break away, but he opted instead for an embarrassed-but-eager nod. A bit of maneuvering in Tsugaru's arms, and then a second peck on the lips – so quick that it might have gone unnoticed under different circumstances. A darkening flush to his cheeks, and then three words that elicited the very same reaction in Tsugaru.

"I l-love you…"

Awkward, halting, shy, verging on reluctant – and all the more sincere for that.

Tsugaru smiled, looked askance and hoped that that would somehow conceal his own blush. "Same here." Izaya gave him a funny look, then, and he hastened to clarify – "I mean – I love you, too. Thanks."

"What for, Shizu-chan?" Frowning, now, and joining Tsugaru in making a concerted effort to avoid looking his partner in the eyes.

"For waiting, I guess. For not freaking out or distrusting me."

Izaya smirked. "I'm an informant, Shizu-chan. I don't need you to tell me what's what."

Except for those times when he did – when he would. It was going to be nice, having someone else to rely on without the requirement of compensation. There would be a lot to do from here on out – people to talk to, public records to alter, scores to settle and wounds to heal. There would be a lot of learning, too – about each other, about what had transpired in a year of death and grieving.

There'd be time for all of it and more. The dream was over, and reality had begun.

Izaya is a tsundere. That is all.