A.N: Here's chapter 2!.. Does anybody else hate the way FanFiction doesn't let you have any indentions? XDDD

2. New Strategy

Shizuo, sprinting the entire way, using the exercise to drain him of his anger, managed to reach Tom within a few minutes. He wasn't waiting that far from the apartment. He slowed to a gradual stop, panting a little as he took the momentary break to put on his tie. Tom just stared at him with a small smile of appreciation.

"Good to see you could make it," he said, checking his watch. Shizuo smoothed back his blonde hair with his fingers, swallowing. Running always made his throat dry.

"Yeah, sorry I'm late," he said. "Ran into that damn flea on the way out."

Tom could only roll his eyes in that knowing manner he had. "Of course you did. How badly did you beat him? Or did he run away?"

Shizuo grunted a negative for both questions, pulling his black tie straight, feeling almost-…calm. Tom sensed this about his bodyguard, and raised an eyebrow as Shizuo spoke. "Neither. I just told him to fuck off and left."

Tom could only stare at him as Shizuo lifted a box of cigarettes to his lips and pulled one out with his teeth. Only when he started lighting it did he notice the intensity in which he was being stared at.

"What?"

Tom crossed his arms, looking almost proud. "Are you finally taming that temper of yours? I'm pleased, Shizuo!" At this, Shizuo could only give a deep chuckle under his breath, removing the cigarette from his lips, letting the smoke seep out as he spoke.

"Like hell," he said simply. "I just didn't have time for him this morning. If I had been on schedule, maybe."

They both shared a small bout of laughter on this, and the mood brightened. Shizuo put Izaya far from his mind, trying to focus on his job, on his cig, on the bright yet nippy day. Who needed the flea anyway?

So the first half hour of the day was fairly relaxing. Shake up a Southside debtor, hang back behind Tom and scare the shit out of people passing by. Striking fear into the hearts of helpless pedestrians is of course never Shizuo's intention, and it hurt sometimes, to think how frightened people got when they saw him.

Ne, screw it. He couldn't be anyone but himself, and Heiwajima Shizuo was just an intimidating guy. The only one who didn't seem afraid of him half the time was Tom, and well-…to an extent, the flea. His body stiffened. Damn flea. Nothing he could do but think about him, even when he wasn't around. As if Izaya, instead of imposing his physical presence, could project his image into Shizuo's mind and with Izaya, Shizuo couldn't be sure that he didn't have this ability. The man was insane, after all. He had all the terrible qualities a human being could possess while still remaining human. Or was he human, the bastard?

Tom elbowed Shizuo discreetly, still smiling at his client. "You do realize, sir, that if you don't have the money now I might be forced to extract it from you."

Shizuo's focus immediately turned onto the man in front of him. The one with the scraggily beard, blotched wife-beater and beer gut. The man shrunk back from them both out of instinct. He had heard things about the blonde bartender.

"Look, I said I'm gonna get the money," he said, voice stronger than he felt. "Just gimmie a little more time."

"We've given you plenty of time," said Tom, smiling even as he gave Shizuo a pat on the back. The pat that meant, "go get 'em, tiger." Shizuo sighed under his breath, flicking his cigarette onto the ground and stubbing it out with his shoe. He started to take off his glasses. The man started to panic. He scrambled back, shaking his head vigorously.

"Look, man! I said I'd get you the money!" His eyes darted from Shizuo to Tom, then back again. "It don't have to be like this!"

Tom didn't dignify it with a reply, and merely turned his head as Shizuo started forward, unbuttoning his sleeves. That's when Tom froze, eyes trained on the smirking figure about ten feet from him. He reached up and massaged his forehead. "Great."

"Shizuuuuuu-chan~!"

Shizuo, who already had his hands on the front of the guy's shirt, tightened his grip. He was hunched, stooped over the shorter, albeit fatter, man. Slowly, his head turned to the source of the name. Only one person called him that name.

Izaya, waving energetically with his knife in hand, was calling for him. He looked terribly delighted, which was always a worrisome development with Izaya. Shizuo let go of the man, dropping him to the ground, and the guy scuttled away before Shizuo could divert his attention back to him. Tom, with a sagging heart, watching the man escape.

"Shizuo," he said, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "We have work to do. Let's go." Tom didn't need another fistfight to waste his time, another wild chase throughout the city. Izaya was faster, Shizuo was stronger. Both could execute astounding feats of parkour. Knowing them, they would be all day, and Tom just didn't have that kind of time. "Come on."

Normally, with Izaya, even Tom's advice was hard to swallow. The flea's face just annoyed Shizuo so damn much. It was all he could do not to ignore Tom, rush forward, and kick Izaya's ass. Izaya's face right now, so arrogant. It made him sick. But for Tom, he would restrain himself. He would try his utmost best. Tom put up with his outbursts, helped funnel them into a quasi-positive outlet. He would try and keep himself in check. Just release this rage on the scum that got away from him just now.

And that's when he saw it.

That's when he saw that twitch in Izaya's cheek, his smile.

That irritation.

Izaya was frustrated.

And it was probably the most rewarding thing Shizuo had ever seen in his life.

The fact that Shizuo wasn't reacting, wasn't verbally sparring with him, wasn't getting severely pissed off and trying to beat the shit out of him, was making Izaya mad. It was aggravating him far more than any level of attempted ass-kicking could.

It was beautiful. The rage drained away, and it was replaced with a buoyant amusement. Shizuo, keeping a close eye on Izaya's face, merely slipped his glasses back on and smiled, hands now in his pockets. He appeared relaxed.

"Sorry, flea," he said, grinning. "I have some business I have to attend to."

Izaya's expression, before stealthily guarded, now opened into an obvious face of dislike. His smirk was long gone, replaced with a growing frustration that he couldn't seem to shake.

"So," he said, trying to be coy. Trying to regain what composure he had lost moments before. He twirled his knife, approaching him little by little. "You're just going to let me go? No fight? Are you afraid you'll lose?"

"No, but kicking your ass would be all day, and I don't have time for it," Shizuo said quite plainly. Tom glowed with pleasure. Finally, the one distraction that kept Shizuo from work seemed to be fading off into the white noise. Thank goodness.

Izaya only chuckled, now within striking distance of the bartender. He reached out, and pressed the blade to the side of his face. "You used to enjoy it. What's happened, Shizu-chan? No more games of chess?"

Shizuo didn't move. While this little episode, this display of utter egotism that usually infuriated him, was grating on his nerves the small tic in Izaya's eye was enough to keep his temper at bay.

"I like this game much better," he said in a low, quiet voice. The shock on Izaya's face was tangible. And if Shizuo hadn't chalked it up to the sunny day, he could have sworn Izaya's face tinted pink around the edges. He turned his back on him, as did Tom, and the both of them walked away into the distance, leaving a confounded Izaya behind.

He just stood there, face hot, heart pounding. He gripped his switchblade so hard, he thought it would leave a bruise on his hand. I like this game much better. What did that even mean? Shizu-chan was acting strange, and what's worse, it seemed to be having a perverse effect on Izaya. The raven-haired informant reached up and felt the twinge on his cheeks, the blush there. Must be all the adrenaline rushing up. He had been prepared for an amazing fight, after all. The pent-up energy, not used for a chase, was manifesting itself in other ways. That's all he could think to say about it.

But he hadn't expected this. Not at all. He knew Shizu-chan. He knew that man like the back of his own hand. All he had to do was show up and he was greeted with an itchy bartender, ready to rip into him with everything he had. He enjoyed the chase, the mind games they played with one another.

Perhaps…this was just a new level.

Yes, maybe Shizu-chan was stepping it up a notch, was upping the wager. Izaya felt more comfortable with this notion. It made him feel more at home, less exposed. The pink flush around his face slowly faded, heart rate dimming down. He still couldn't seem to shake the sweating palms, though, and he had to keep scrubbing them on his pants as he strolled down the sidewalk, stewing on his next move. What would he do?

What should he do? This was a drastic new strategy that Shizu-chan was imposing, and it meant that he needed to develop a crazy, mind-blowing one of his own. More so than he already had. Stalking him, meeting up with him out on the street wasn't enough. He needed more. Something to really push that Shizu-chan over the edge.

But what?