Author's Note: I had a wonderful time at my gigs on Tuesday and Wednesday night. I was right at the centre by the barrier for both, woOoOo! Brendon Urie was less than a foot away and he stripped and All Time Low were just UGUUU FAB. I'm a bit bruised now from moshing and whatnot, but it was all worth it.

This story now has over 100 favourites and update alerts each, so I really want to do something to celebrate that. So if you guys want to send me some little ideas for a one-shot or a fan-art you'd want to see given a story or something, I'll pick one randomly and write it~ Well, enjoy the update!

The door had barely closed behind Shizuo when Izaya pushed himself away from his desk and his work. He threw his arms up by his head, like some kind of tom cat stretching out his muscles before he was about to pounce. It was still early, but he could already watch the people jump start into another day of life, just like normal, just like his whole world hadn't changed itself overnight. Fascinating, just captivating, that's what humans were, just like he was, just like Shizuo was.

"Are you never going to stop surprising me, Shizu-chan?" Izaya chuckled to himself, the words ghosting out of his lips, still parted in a smirk.

He couldn't see the blonde making his way out of Shinjuku, through the streets, towards home. He couldn't hear him anymore, but he could still feel that lingering presence of the monster in the loft. There was some lasting taste of gold in the air, some unquiet rest in the silence as if Shizuo was still there, breathing, scoffing, smoking. He could hear the hum of his computer in the background. It was madness, and yet he really had never felt more content. Funny, that's what it was, funny that it was some kind of shift with Shizuo and he that had caused that feeling.

The sound of one of the mobile phones perched on his desk broke through that quiet little moment, the restful state of his mind. Izaya blinked, waiting for a second or so before turning back to his desk in order to answer the shrill cries from the device. The name of the caller flashed up on the screen when his eyes fell onto it, and his brow crinkled in mild annoyance at the little letters.

"Ah, how nice to hear from you, Shiki~" The information broker greeted with a laugh, only half bothering to hide the little edge in his tone. The two of them hadn't spoken in a while, not since that day when Izaya had broken down and forced his mouth on Shiki's like it was years ago. That crack in his mask that the older man had seen, it was embarrassing, it was foolish and Izaya didn't want it bringing up again, so he would keep up that mask for Shiki; only Shizuo was going to see that change in him, only the monster.

"You sound well," came the reply from the other end. Izaya couldn't read the tone of Shiki's voice, he never could, why should that be any different now? The Yakuza had a poker face to rival the very best, one that Izaya's keen eyes could never probe, not even now after years of practice reading those expressions.

"Am I not meant to be?" he questioned, shooting the words back quickly, not even pausing, not hesitating. Izaya wasn't sure if Shiki had refrained from making contact on purpose or not, he decided quickly he didn't really care either way.

"Perhaps not," Shiki laughed from the other end of the phone, and his tone sounded teasing, mirthful. Izaya's frown deepened. "You can see why I might be concerned when Mr Heiwajima comes to visit you, and so late too,"

Izaya faltered then, just for a second or so, uncertain of what he was meant to say in reply to that. He didn't question how Shiki knew that, because he knew the older man had contacts in all sorts of places, just like he did. He also knew that Shiki had taken to keeping tabs on him in the past few years; the people set to trail him every now and then didn't do a great job of keeping hidden, and it never took him long to slip them from his tail. This was something else though; this was touching on something that was still new to him, something uncertain and delicate, like a cut, like a bruise.

"How lovely of you to be concerned for me," Izaya spoke up again, "But I think I've already told you that's not your place to do anymore,"

"Oh?" Shiki laughed again. If Shiki had noticed the pause, he didn't mention it, didn't call him out on it. "I suppose that job will be for Heiwajima to do now then?"

"I don't need anyone to look after me," Izaya bit back. He didn't have the self-restraint to keep himself composed that time. He knew he was changing, step-by-step, kiss-by-kiss with that monster, but that didn't mean that—

Izaya had accepted he had feelings for the brute, that he was attracted to him, but the raven didn't like what Shiki was implying there. He was strong, just as strong as Simon was, as Shizuo was, he could look after himself just fine. When he had been younger, sure, he'd been weak, he'd been quiet and scrawny and too damn fragile; but now was different, now he had built up all his walls, all his confidence. He didn't need Shizuo to look out for him, just like he didn't need Shiki to do so either.

"Certainly not that damn brute,"

"Of course not," the older man replied. Izaya could hear him exhale on the other end of the line, guessed that he was smoking again. He could almost see it curling out and lingering around him in that little office in the underbelly of Ikebukuro. There was a little pause between the two of them then, quiet and awkward. Shiki was the first to break it again, with a little sigh. "One minute it seems that I understand you, and then you change completely. I half wonder if you do it on purpose sometimes,"

"Hm? But I never play games with you," Izaya hummed back, "Do you want me to start?"

"No," Shiki mused with another laugh, and for a minute Izaya half fancied the two of them were back in those old days, when their conversations weren't tainted with the awkward memory of the past, those hot touches and fleeting kisses. "But that's not what I meant really,"

"Do enlighten me then," the raven half challenged. He was intrigued now, his interest piqued.

"You and Shizuo, you fight and you hate each other for years, and now here you are meeting with him in the middle of night," the older man answered, taking a short pause again, as if contemplating whether or not he should, whether he should continue. "I don't understand what you intend to gain from this, that's all. If this is just another one of those games you like to play— sometimes I think that I really don't understand you at all anymore,"

"I don't understand myself either. Maybe people don't ever really understand themselves," Izaya replied easily, as if it were the most obvious thing in the entire world, as if Shiki should know that already. He was complex and he was complicated and even he couldn't define himself, so how could Shiki? How could anyone? There was another pause; Izaya had lost count of how many that had been now. He wasn't going to let that last though, he was tired of this now, tired of Shiki trying to pry past those walls that he'd raised again, trying to pry into somewhere that he had no right to be anymore. Then who did, Shizuo? Izaya supposed that was the logical choice, and yet he wasn't sure if he was ready enough yet to open all the way up to the brute, despite his bold actions, his near declarations of love and his little marks littering the blonde's body.

"All I can do is keep on evolving," he sighed, and without another word, clicked the little disconnect button on the phone to hang up. Shiki was left with nothing but the buzzing of the dead line. Izaya supposed that deserved him right for prying. The phone was quickly tossed back to where it had been resting before it had rung.

It was still morning, growing lighter outside with each breath of time that passed. He was already dressed, had changed into that tight t-shirt and black trousers when Shizuo had needed his shirt back to head out for work. He wondered if the blonde was home yet. He'd heard there was repair work being done on the train lines, but he'd neglected to tell the brute that. He'd remember to do so in future, just out of politeness of course. Spying his jacket on the back of one of the sofas, Izaya stood to head for it and shrug it on.

Letting the smile slip quietly away from his face, the raven flew the nest, off to Ikebukuro once again. He'd just keep evolving, on and on and on.