Chapter 2

"You could learn how to do stitches on your own, you know," Shinra said.

Izaya kept his arm on Shinra's desk, refusing to flinch even as the needle jabbed in and out of his skin. He smiled. "Why would I do that," he said, "when I know just how much enjoyment you get out of this?"

"I'm not a sadist like you," Shinra said, laughing anyway.

"And who's the one stabbing a needle into me right now? You won't even give me any painkillers."

"It's a lot easier to steal a few needles and thread than painkillers," Shinra said, tugging a little on the string. Izaya didn't move, but his fingers twitched. "Anyway, you're right. You're more a masochist than a sadist."

"More like you're trying to justify your actions right now," Izaya said. "But it's ironic, isn't it? Doctors, as healers, are almost constantly surrounded by pain and suffering. They're even the ones who deal it, sometimes. I wonder how many of them actually are sadistic, choosing their profession only as a simultaneous denial of their nature as well as fulfillment of it?"

"Uh-huh."

Izaya cocked his head, smiling. "You don't think you're one of them?"

"One of what?"

"The evil doctors."

"What does it matter?"

Izaya leaned back in his chair as Shinra finished up, looking at the neat, white bandage on his forearm with the apathy of experience. "I guess it doesn't," he said vaguely. He looked back at Shinra. "By the way, how's it going with your dear friend, Shizu-chan? You haven't mentioned him since that matsuri a few weeks back."

"Well there's nothing to tell," Shinra said as he put away his equipment. "He still won't give me any DNA samples to take back to my lab, and he got kind of angry after I tried to take some blood from him while he was sleeping. So now even if I do go to see him, Tom won't let me."

Izaya snorted. He forgot just how weird Shinra could be sometimes. "Where does he work, anyway?" he said, rolling down his sleeve.

"Shizuo? He works at a debt collection agency in West Ikebukuro. It's pretty small but easy to find if you know what you're – " Shinra stopped mid-sentence as he sat back down at his desk. He looked at Izaya with a small, mocking smile. "Before all that, though, why the interest? Also, what happened between you two at the matsuri? I never got the chance to ask."

Izaya leaned on the desk, forgetting for a second that he had a three-inch cut on his forearm. He didn't flinch. "I should be asking you that," he said. "How come you ditched your date with Celty to come running after us?"

"It's not like I wanted to!" Shinra said, predictably. "I did all I could to convince Celty that you guys were fine, but you know how she is, she kept on trying to look for you guys no matter what I said, and then we find you guys actually fighting – or whatever you guys were doing. You know how bad that made me look? She was all like, 'I told you so', and I couldn't say anything back. Now how am I supposed to have another not-date date if she spends all her time worrying about what everyone else is doing?"

"Well, you're the one who invited that idiot along," Izaya said. "How exactly did you find him, again?"

"He works for my senior from high school, the one who won't let me see Shizuo anymore. But really, what good is a senior-junior relationship if he can't help me out with getting just a little bit of blood..."

Izaya got up, reaching for his jacket. "You should probably reflect more on your desire to collect Shizu-chan's blood instead of ruminating on senior-junior relationships," he said, laughing. "Anyway, thanks for fixing me up! I'll see you later."

"Okay," Shinra said, turning off his desk lamp. Then quickly, he turned it back on. "Wait," he said, "But you didn't answer my – !"

Izaya walked out of the room. "Good night!" he said.

He closed the door on Shinra's scowl.

Shizuo stared at the selection of bentos before him. Each and every one looked delicious, especially when laid out right in front him, all ready-made. He wanted to eat all of them, but that wasn't practical, of course.

He scratched his blond head.

Which one should he get?

After another painful grumble from his stomach, Shizuo gave up. He grabbed the one that he'd been eyeing from the start, the one with donkatsu, and headed for the front register.

He left the store thinking that maybe he should have gotten the one with more rice.

"Oh, Shizu-chan."

Shizuo whipped around. It wasn't the name, of course. It was the voice. The voice of a man ten feet away, who was wearing different clothes from the last time Shizuo had seen him – a shabby-looking, fur-trimmed jacket with a black shirt and pants – but the same exact smirk.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he said.

Orihara put his hands in his pockets. "And what are you doing?" he said, walking closer. "Out for a smoke?"

"No, I was – wait, how do you know I smoke?"

"It doesn't take a genius to figure it out, Shizu-chan," he said. Swiftly, Orihara took a step into Shizuo's personal space and leaned in close, inhaling audibly. "You reek of them, after all."

Shizuo flinched, stumbling back.

"Oh?" Orihara said. He looked up at Shizuo, his brown eyes red in the light of the convenience store. "Did I scare you?"

"Like hell you did!"

Orihara's small smile thinned, broadening. He was close enough that Shizuo could see that his hair was wet, as if he'd just taken a shower. He definitely smelled like he had, his scent fresh like laundry but with the edge of something that reminded Shizuo of hospitals. Then he sighed. "Well," he said. "I'd love to play, but I do have some business to take care of. I'll see you later, Shizu-chan. Maybe I'll stop by your agency sometime, it's called Collect-A-Debt, right?"

"How the fuck – ?"

He passed Shizuo, waving. "Shinra told me, of course."

Before the pest could get away, Shizuo shot out a hand and grabbed his arm. This time, Orihara flinched. Shizuo smiled.

"Scared, Izaya-kun?"

Turning around, Orihara stepped close, looking up at Shizuo with a sharp smile. "As if a mongrel like you could scare me."

The flea's stare was physical. Shizuo felt it burn straight through his skin and into his blood, making his veins roar against the intrusion. He tightened his grip, pulling the enemy a little closer. "What the fuck kind of business do you have in the middle of the night?" he said.

"That doesn't really concern you, now does it?"

"I don't like you," Shizuo said. "And you're shady. Don't drag that stupid doctor into whatever the fuck you've got going on."

"So you're concerned for Shinra now." Orihara laughed a little. "How kind of you, considering you've only known him for four months."

Shizuo leaned closer. "I hate you," he growled.

"Likewise." Quickly, Orihara reached forward and grabbed Shizuo's plastic bag. "Now, I wonder what's in here?"

"Hey!" Shizuo tugged on Orihara's arm, reaching for his dinner in righteous fury. Orihara gasped. Shizuo glanced at the flea's face, forgetting about his bento for a heartbeat, and instead of the usual smile, he saw the briefest flicker of pain. Shizuo let go.

Orihara stumbled back.

"Hey," Shizuo said. "You okay?"

Orihara looked at him sharply. "What?" he said. He laughed. "Anyway, this has been fun. Here." He tossed the bag back to him, and Shizuo caught it without thinking. "Enjoy your dinner. I gotta go."

"Wait!" Shizuo grabbed Orihara's arm again, but he twisted out of it, smacking Shizuo away.

"Don't touch me."

Shizuo hesitated, but only a little. He caught Orihara's hand before he could react and held it up to his eyes. There was a dark stain on the fur of his coat. "You're bleeding," he said.

"Well great," Orihara said. He wrenched his hand back, and this time, Shizuo let go. "Looks like you opened up my stitches. Why don't you learn to control your strength, beast?"

"You could have told me I was hurting you!" Shizuo said. He ran a hand through his hair. "Still...sorry. Want me to look at it?"

Orihara glared at him. "What?"

"I could probably help if it's just stitches. I have experience."

"What are you, an underground doctor?" he said, frowning.

"Nah, I just get hurt a lot. Come on, I'll look at for you. My apartment's not that far away."

Orihara stared for a second, as if he was actually considering the offer, but then he smiled, small and bitter. "Well," he said. "As much as I would love to spend the night at your place, like I said, I have an appointment. I can't miss it."

Shizuo found himself glaring. "It won't take that long," he said.

"I can't guarantee that you're not luring me into a trap either."

"What?! Why would I – ?"

"So, nighty night, Shizu-chan!" He started backing away, knife suddenly in the air, pointed at him. "Don't let the bed bugs bite."

When it was clear Shizuo wasn't going to follow, Orihara turned around, pocketing his knife. He walked away.

Shizuo stared after him, his bag of bento shaking in his hand.

God, he fucking hated that guy.