#i just imagined him sitting in the salon chair with the foil in his hair. yelling that its not the “right shade of white”

[mostlyghostlyy]

I ment when he goes to steal hair for the dolls 😭

You're right it's funnier to imagine him wearing that shitty bathrobe and slippers. Scrambling on all fours, chasing around little tumbleweeds of cropped hair while one worker is hitting him with a broom and the other is one the phone with the cops.

[soundwavereporting]

last bit of writing for the night...more humankaiju for @fauveshumankaiju, starring gojirin, battra, and megalon. entirely un-proofread, save for spellcheck.

“So…” Gojirin said. “Are you going to tell me about it?”

She swiveled in her chair and gestured to Battra’s far-blacker-than-normal black eye.

“I told you,” Battra said. “You’d know if you were old enough to go into the bar.”

“I turn 21 next month,” Gojirin muttered, then prodded at Megalon’s chair with her foot. “Megalon’ll tell me.”

Megalon looked at Battra helplessly. Battra sighed and shrugged.

“He and Rodan tried to have a sword fight with the pool sticks.”

“Cues.”

“Pool cues,” Megalon corrected. “They tried to have a sword fight with the pool cues to commemorate Rodan’s birthday.”

“And then?”

When Battra shrugged again, Gojirin huffed, spinning Megalon’s chair with her foot. Agreeably, Megalon lifted his legs, sticking out his arm to push against the counter to spin faster.

“I saw my sister this morning. You don’t get a split lip and bloody knuckles from a pretend sword fight.”

“Oh!” Megalon stretched out his foot to bring his chair to an abrupt halt. “Battra’s boyfriend started that.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Battra snapped, though privately, Gojirin thought he would look far more intimidating were bits of his hair not wrapped in foil.

“I don’t even know his name,” Battra mumbled, and Megalon gawked.

Gojirin waited. Battra fiddled with his foil-wrapped hair and glowered. Megalon looked like he wished he was anywhere but here.

“Fine.” Battra peeled back a bit of foil, then crinkled it back into place. “Rodan and I were ‘fighting’, he got me in the eye, and then the guy lunged. Not for me, or even Rodan. For Goji—like he was just waiting for the chance to go after her.”

“Ah.” Gojirin smiled weakly, trying to push back the instinctive worry. As much as she loved her half-remembered father, he had certainly made multiple questionable decisions during his time in Monsuta, resulting in an unknown number of half siblings and step siblings for herself and Goji to find. Learning Biollante was their half-sister had been a shock, but in hindsight, Gojirin supposed she shouldn’t have been so surprised.

But Battra’s story felt a little too much like the ways Gojirin imagined meeting her other half siblings would go. She hoped that wasn’t the case—maybe the guy wasn’t related to them at all. Maybe Battra and Megalon had just missed something, some nonverbal cue, a perceived slight spoken when neither of them had been listening.

“The good news,” Megalon said, “Is Gigan didn’t get arrested! He helped Jet separate them, even when the new guy took a swing at him!”

This time, Gojirin’s smile felt genuine. “That’s great! How’s he liking the new arrangement?”

“Yeah.” Battra swiveled his chair to face Megalon. “Enough about me. How’s the new arrangement?”

Megalon smiled, and Gojirin was suddenly reminded of the kids she student-taught, the ones with half-realized crushes. The real, genuine happiness made Gojirin feel a little more at ease. If Gigan, of all people, could fall for Megalon and Jet Jaguar, surely there was a good chance the new possibly-sibling would turn out okay.

“It’s nice,” Megalon was saying. “We haven’t stayed at his place yet, but this Sunday he’s gonna come over to meet Antonio.”

Abruptly, Megalon snapped to attention, waving at the window. Gojirin and Battra turned to look.

Speak of the devil. Jet Jaguar was crossing the street, carrying two coffees.

They watched as Jet sauntered over to the hair salon. His smile, Gojirin thought, was nearly as wide as Megalon’s.

“Morning.” Megalon jumped up and pecked Jet on the cheek. “Brought you coffee—sorry, ‘rin, Battra. I didn’t know Megalon was having company at his appointment.”

From anyone else, it would have sounded wholly insincere, but Jet Jaguar, with his easy, kind smile managed to make it sound utterly genuine.

Battra waved his hand dismissively, and Gojirin shook her head. “I saw these two and thought I’d drop in,” She said. “Goji made Mothra and I breakfast.”

“She okay?” Jet asked, and Gojirin’s worry returned in full. “She took a couple hits last night, and so did you—”

Jet reached over to examine Battra, who scowled and pulled away.

“Your eye looks pretty bad.”

“’s fine.” Jet Jaguar pursed his lips, then turned to Gojirin. “I’m sure Goji told you this morning, but I’ve got a guy in lockup claiming to be your folks’ brother.”

Gojirin’s heart sank.

“I guessed as much,” she admitted. “I guess it was too much to hope that Dagon stopped with me and Goji and Bio.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Jet said. “Megalon and I will be there for you.”

Megalon nodded eagerly. “And Gigan, too,” Megalon added. “Maybe.”

“I’ve gotta get going,” Jet said. “The guy’s lawyer is scheduled to arrive in a few minutes.”

“Good luck.” Megalon pulled Jet down for another kiss. “See you tonight?”

“Of course.” Jet Jaguar’s eyes were soft. “Giovanni’s? Beef lasagna with a side of garlic bread.”

Megalon grinned. “And an order of ribollita for Gigan?”

Jet held up his notepad. “He told me this morning.”

Jet Jaguar’s phone vibrated insistently.

“Gotta go.” He hesitated, then leaned down to kiss Megalon’s forehead. “Later, Battra, Gojirin.”

Gojirin waved as Jet Jaguar raced out the door.

“Bye!” Megalon said. “Love you!”

Megalon froze, and his face turned bright red.

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Yep.” Battra’s voice was dry.

“I mean I do,” Megalon said. “But I thought I’d say it at a better time. During a candlelight dinner, or a sunset cruise, or…”

Megalon slumped in his seat. “Yeah. I wasted it.”

“Does Gigan know?” Gojirin asked.

“That I love him? I don’t know. I think so. I hope so.” Megalon ruffled the barber’s cloth and watched the stray strands of hair fall to the floor. “I haven’t told him, because I don’t want him to…I don’t know. Freak out or something.”

“Seems fair,” Battra said. “I’d probably leave if someone said they loved me.”

“Even if you loved them back?”

“Probably.”

Gojirin wondered if Megalon’s frown matched her own.

“Why?”

Battra shrugged and reached for his bag. He rifled through it, pulling out a palette of eyeshadow and tossed it to Gojirin. “Here. For your channel.”

Gojirin turned the palette over in her hands, squinting suspiciously both at the package and at Battra’s blatant attempt to change the subject.

She decided to take the bait. For now.

“Have you thought about cutting down on the makeup?” She asked.

“As a makeup YouTuber, isn’t that contrary to your brand, or whatever?”

Gojirin tossed the eye shadow back to Battra. “It’s expired. That thing’ll give you an eye infection.”

Battra mumbled something inappropriate under his breath. “Hedorah gave that to me for Christmas.”

“Welp.” Gojirin leaned back in her chair. “Getting back to the topic at hand—”

“Should I tell him?” Megalon asked. “I want to—I really want to. But I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

“What you need to do,” Gojirin said, drawing on all her previous experience from watching a multitude of rom-coms. “You gotta tell him. Maaaaybe not when Jet’s around, but you just need to sit down and let him know how you feel.”

“You think it’d be okay if I did that?”

“Well, he loves you, doesn’t he?”

Megalon hesitated. “I think so,” he said, finally. “Even if he doesn’t, I still do. Is that okay?”

Gojirin shrugged helplessly. Megalon had quickly reached the upper limit of advice she felt qualified to give. “You know him better than I do. Probably better than anyone does.”

“I wish more people could get to know him,” Megalon said. “When he smiles—when he really smiles—it lights up the room.”

“My hair’s done,” Battra said, peeling off the bits of foil to reveal obnoxiously yellow locks of hair. He splashed water from the faucet into his hair, only succeeding in getting it all over his face. “Gotta run.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Battra had stood and moved to leave, but paused, looking at Megalon, then Gojirin.

“I don’t want to be my sister,” Battra said. “That explanation enough?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine. I don’t want…” Battra gestured at the salon window. “I don’t want to be the crappy carbon copy of my sister. She’s the responsible one, the caring one, the one who knows who she loves and they love her back. The one that’ll take care of kids because their dad can’t be bothered half the time because he’s busy trying to win a game of pool and pick up guys whose names he doesn’t even know. I don’t want to be her,” Battra said. “Because then I’d hate me.”

Megalon wiped his eyes.

Gojirin swallowed.

“She doesn’t hate you.”

“I know.” Battra sighed. “I’ll figure it out. Besides, at least I know I’ve only got one sister, huh?”

“Heh.” Gojirin’s final, best attempt to distract herself faded away. “You’ve got that, I guess.”

“Hey.” Megalon reached over to squeeze Gojirin’s hand. “I’ll be okay. I think. Goji’s tough.”

“She is,” Gojirin admitted. “But I don’t know if I am.”

“Out of the three of us, you’re the only one who can handle a pack of 30-plus kids,” Battra said. “I can barely handle two.”

Gojirin managed a weak smile. “Thanks. I’ve gotta go too, actually. Bio asked me to meet her for lunch and I don’t want to be late.”

“I’ll walk you there,” Battra said. “If you want.”

“I’ll come too.” Megalon had removed his own foil and peeled off the barber’s cloth. His “Let me just pay and I’ll catch up.”

“‘kay.” Gojirin wiped her eyes and watched as Megalon practically skipped to the counter. He was happy, Gojirin knew, and Battra was…happy enough, or would be, she supposed.

Which just left her, and everyone else in Monsuta.

[sachigram]

Hearts like Ours chapter 9

((click here to read on ao3!!!!))

Izaya has a list of odd habits Shizuo is starting to notice. It's impossible not to, since Shizuo insists on being in Izaya's space more often than not, but Izaya seems to take people knowing him so personally, like it's something foul and rude. Shizuo wonders a lot why Izaya is the way he is. That, at least, is something from high school that hasn't changed between them.

Izaya cares a lot about his appearance. It's funny, actually, that someone who belittles others for such flippant things probably cares more than anyone else. Izaya has a skincare routine that has at least ten steps. Shizuo never remembers to count them all, but Izaya's skin always smells like different things. Izaya also seems to have an obsession with his nails. He always mentions getting a manicure, but Shizuo doesn't really notice a difference in Izaya's nails. He just notices Izaya picking at them a lot.

“Don't you have a scale?” Izaya asks the day after Shizuo forcefully held him all night to make him sleep.

“No,” Shizuo says.

Izaya gives him an incredulous look, and then disappears into Shizuo's bathroom for a long time. He comes out looking perfect as always, but he looks unhappy about something. Shizuo knows better than to ask, since Izaya seems to just like to blurt out things on his own terms. Shizuo is in the middle of brushing his teeth when Izaya finally voices his thoughts.

“Your place is so basic. You don't have anything to groom yourself! Not even tweezers. How does someone like you even keep up with bleaching his hair?”

“It's easy. Roots show, go to the salon. It's not hard,” Shizuo says after he spits into the sink.

“But what salon do you go to? How do you afford it? It's not cheap. And you don't make jack shit, I already know how much you make,” Izaya says flippantly.

“Wha— Shitty flea! Don't snoop into my stuff!” Shizuo growls in vain. He knows Izaya already knows most of what there is to know about him.

Izaya hums and crosses his arms while he looks up at Shizuo inquisitively. Always thinking, that's two words Shizuo would use to best describe Izaya.

“Why don't I take you to my salon?” Izaya finally asks. There's a gleam in his eye Shizuo doesn't trust. Old habits die hard.

“No.”

Izaya pouts. “Oh come on. You aren't doing anything better, and you're going to follow me even if I go, right? So you might as well agree with me now.”

“Why do you care how I look?” Shizuo asks. Izaya rolls his eyes.

“I don't. It'll be fun just to watch you try to fit in with the other patrons. Also, it might be good for you to learn some proper grooming habits, lest your beastly facial hair consume your entire body.”

Shizuo rubs a quick inconspicuous hand over his chin to make sure he doesn't have stubble growing in. He doesn't. Izaya is grinning at him smugly when Shizuo returns to glaring at him.

“Don't you have something better to do today than to give me a makeover?” Shizuo huffs.

“Nope! I'm all yours for the day, Shizu-chan, isn't that exciting?”

“It's annoying. You're annoying.”

“And yet, you insist on being around me anyway. Perhaps you're a masochist. It would explain a few things.” Izaya turns on his heel and goes to grab his coat.

“Maybe I'll just stay here,” Shizuo says, but Izaya is already going out the door.

“That's fine. I've got no problems going alone. See ya!”

Shizuo waits a full ten seconds before following after him.

“Goddammit,” he mutters as he locks the door behind him.

***

The place Izaya drags him to is swanky and reminds Shizuo of the embodiment of a higher tax bracket. It's filled with women, some in chairs getting their hair done, others on the opposite side, getting their nails or toes done. The smell of acetone, bleach, and shellac burns at Shizuo's nostrils, but he has to admit, this is definitely nicer than the little hole in the wall he usually frequents every few months for touch-ups.

“Izaya-san!” A woman with wild red hair motions them over. Shizuo follows behind Izaya, who greets the woman like an old friend.

“Jeni, how are you?” Izaya asks, taking her hands in his and smiling in a way that makes Shizuo want to walk quickly in the opposite direction. He rarely sees Izaya being genuinely nice to people. It's weird.

“I've been great! Business is booming, as you can see.” Her curious eyes land on Shizuo. “You brought a friend?”

“More like a rescue,” Izaya says. “He doesn't even have tweezers, Jen.” Izaya takes his hands back and motion to Shizuo, then makes a face that the woman laughs at. “I'm hoping to shower him in my wisdom and have him actually retain at least a third of it. He's very stupid, you see.”

“I-za-yaaaaaa...” Shizuo growls menacingly.

“Well, this is something else!” Jeni laughs and then smiles warmly at Shizuo. “I don't see the great Orihara Izaya in forever, and when I do see him again, he actually brings in someone else.”

“Oh, make no mistake. I'll be getting my nails done while I'm here,” Izaya assures her. “Only if you're free, though. I don't want anyone else touching me.”

“Of course,” Jeni says flippantly. “I know how peculiar you are.”

They end up waiting a while. Izaya didn't call to make an appointment, and the salon is really very busy. Shizuo sits beside Izaya in cushy chairs, frowning as Izaya opens a fashion magazine. Izaya crosses his legs and seems completely content, and Shizuo has only sat for about five minutes before he can't stand it anymore.

“Oi.”

Izaya glances at him, closes the magazine, and offers his attention with only a hint of underlying smarmy asshole lurking beneath. It still makes Shizuo's teeth clench from reflex, and he's having to pry them apart before he slips and gives Izaya what he wants, which is clearly Shizuo's aggression.

“Why the fuck are you doing this?” Shizuo asks.

“I've never been thanked in such a roundabout fashion before, but I'm still happy to receive your praise, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says.

“I'm not thanking you. I don't see why we're even here. If you wanna do this namby-pamby shit, that's fine, but maybe just do it to yourself.”

“The fact you consider basic grooming as 'namby-pamby' is exactly what's wrong with the patriarchy. This is a lesson in hygiene and masculinity.” Izaya hums, and then smirks in that way of his. “Besides, you're too high-strung. I don't even know what an amoeba like you has to worry about, but I get tired of hearing you think. I can practically smell the fumes from your brain short-circuiting.”

“Yeah? And who do I have to blame for that, huh? Oh, let's see, the same guy who's been a pain in my ass since the second I met him?” Shizuo barks.

“Yes, but I don't even have an ulterior motive here. I'm not bothering you. If you want to leave, leave. The door is there, and honestly these ladies would probably be happy to not bleach your hair today. It takes a while, you know? But I am staying. I need some r&r.”

Shizuo chews his cheek, tastes blood, and then huffs. He watches with irritation as Izaya opens the magazine back up, and then in a last ditch effort to annoy him, Shizuo takes the magazine and throws it as far as he can across the salon.

“You know what I hate?” Shizuo asks when Izaya glares at him.

“Is it me? Please say it's me.”

“I hate the way you do things. How hard is it to say 'hey you've been stressed so I am taking you out today'? Is it that hard for you to admit when you're doing nice things for other people? It's like you coat every action in bullshit and then expect everyone to get it.”

“I don't know what you mean, as usual. You're here because you refuse to leave me alone. I'm here because I want to be. Thinking I'm doing any of this for you is incorrect, but if you want to see it that way, I can't stop you.” Izaya glances wistfully at his nails. “I really do just want to be pampered by beautiful ladies. Surely you can relate.”

Shizuo can't, actually. The woman who usually bleaches his hair could probably give Simon a run for his money as far as muscles go, and she wrenches at Shizuo's hair with a Godzilla grip so tight it's a miracle he has hair left to bleach. Sometimes Shizuo considers going back to his natural hair color, but he doesn't want to get confused for Kasuka. People only ever say he looks like Kasuka after getting close to him, but from a distance, with his golden hair, it's easier to differentiate.

“Yeah, okay, fine,” Shizuo says. “Thanks anyway.”

Izaya blinks, and then the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. “You're welcome.”

Izaya is called first, and he chats it up with Jeni, who seems so immersed in her work it's a wonder she can carry a conversation. Shizuo is collected by another pretty woman, who comes to escort him to her chair, and wants to know how Shizuo usually gets his hair done.

Shizuo doesn't have any answers other than the obvious one, and the girl's smile remains a patient one, and she's more than happy to take the reigns. Izaya wanders over a little while later, and takes a seat on the arm of Shizuo's chair.

“You look like one of those conspiracy theorists who wrap their head in foil to stop the aliens from reading their thoughts.”

“Yeah, this is taking forever,” Shizuo says.

“It's supposed to.”

“I do this all the time. Swear it's taking longer than usual.”

Izaya rolls his eyes, and then lifts his hand to take a piece of Shizuo's foiled hair between his fingers.

“It's being done right. Learn some patience, Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo considers this, and also considers his life at this point, which is definitely more bizarre than he ever could've imagined. He's in a beauty salon with Izaya Orihara, and they're behaving like old friends rather than two people who have tried to kill each other more than once.

He wants to voice these things and talk them out, but it's pointless. He can't articulate, and even if he could, Izaya is a human blender who mixes up the words and jumbles them into something else so it's insulting even when it wasn't originally. Izaya isn't ready to hear things that Shizuo wants to say. Still, Shizuo wants to say them.

“How do you know that chick anyway?” Shizuo asks, his eyes on Jeni.

“She works at the strip club Shiki frequents. She came to me for a job once.”

“What kind of job?”

“Ah, ah, Shizu-chan, what have I said about asking me about work? Don't. I'll never say anything you like.”

Shizuo wants to see Izaya's face but can't, mainly because Izaya is perched at his side and looking away, but also because Izaya rarely looks right at him anymore.

“Sorry, Orihara-san, but we have to rinse the bleach out now!” The peppy girl appears at Shizuo's other side and whisks him away to the sink, but Izaya is still perched on the chair arm when Shizuo comes back, though he's looking at his phone. He looks up at Shizuo finally and nods.

“Much better. Your roots were really bothering me.”

“Yeah, no shit. You only mentioned them all the time.”

“It had to be mentioned. Otherwise you would've kept thinking you looked fine, which you didn't.” Izaya goes with the girl and Jeni to pay the bill, which Shizuo doesn't even want to look at. Sometimes he feels bad about how little money he makes, but then he remembers it's not from lack of trying, and Izaya is the one who kept getting him fired, so then he just usually ends up angry about it.

“Your nails look the same,” Shizuo says bitingly when Izaya returns. Sometimes, most of the time, Shizuo can't help needling at Izaya, because he still thinks Izaya deserves it.

“You're lying,” Izaya says, clearly unconcerned. “If you're going to insult me, you should mean it.”

“I do mean it!”

“Please, Shizu-chan. You can't lie to me, and trying is pointless.” Izaya has his phone out again. “Shinra is adamant, and I'm tired of dealing with him. Don't you have your phone? He's trying to talk to you through me, and it's insulting.”

“Oh, no, I left it. Not working today, and you're here, so I don't need it.” Shizuo wishes now he'd sat still to have his hair dried, because it's cold and windy, but he's also just so happy to be out of that salon. Fair trade, he decides.

“How pathetically simple.”

“What does he want now?” Shizuo asks.

“Our presence. He's having a New Year's gathering.”

“I hate gatherings.”

“We can agree on that. Also, I'm not a fan of anything relating to the new year, though I do love watching people get so worked up about it. There's a certain thrill in the air when people convince themselves they can change everything in their lives in one night.”

Izaya has that manic gleam, and Shizuo tries not to be bothered by it.

“It's not even Christmas yet,” Shizuo says.

“It's almost Christmas, and Shinra always gets up in arms about the holidays. He uses them as an excuse to be even more obnoxious.” Izaya tucks his phone away.

“Do you celebrate the holidays?” Shizuo asks, feeling stupid because he's sure Izaya will be a condescending prick about it. Shizuo loves the holidays. Or at least, he loves what they represent.

“Not usually. My sisters sometimes invite themselves over, but we don't have a tradition. I suppose you do?”

“Kasuka is always busy, and I find reasons not to go to Shinra's. But yeah, I like Christmas. And New Year's. It's fun to do different shit.”

“Shinra would probably shit himself if we showed up to his gathering then. I never go either.” Izaya pauses. “I haven't been invited the last couple years, actually. But that's understandable.”

Shizuo can tell from Izaya's tone that Izaya doesn't find it understandable in the least, but surely some part of Izaya does understand just how intolerable he was for a while there. Shizuo understand how intolerable he was, so consumed by hatred. He and Izaya certainly used to bring out the worst in each other.

“So, let's go together,” Shizuo says. Izaya looks up at him like his head is on fire.

“Why, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says, a grin forming on his face, “are you asking me out?”

Shizuo frowns. He shrugs. “Sure. Yeah, I am. Let's go.”

“In that case, it's a definite no,” Izaya says, going back to walking. Shizuo growls and wraps a hand in Izaya's hood, pulling him back forcefully. Izaya glares hatefully up at him, his hand in his pocket, probably holding a knife handle.

“What's wrong, flea? Scared of a crowd?” Shizuo baits. He can see Izaya not wanting to rise to it, but Izaya's eyes darken at the challenge.

“Of course not. But going with you—“

“So then we're going. Or I'll drag you there myself.”

Izaya's eyes narrow further, and then he huffs, looking away. He kicks his legs out, and it's only then that Shizuo notices he's lifted Izaya off the ground a bit. Izaya really does weigh nothing.

“You're the worst. I hate you.” Izaya straightens as his feet land safely on the ground, and then he turns his back on Shizuo again, resuming his walk. Shizuo follows, of course, noting that Izaya never said it wasn't a real date they're going on.

***

Christmas comes and goes. Neither of them acknowledge it. Shizuo meets up with Celty in the park to exchange gifts, but otherwise life remains the same. Izaya gets himself some swanky hotel room and Shizuo is given the privilege of having his own key, though Izaya maintains it's only because Shizuo would break down the door otherwise.

He's sitting on a bench with Celty, smoking a cigarette as she fawns over her alien stuffed toy Shizuo gifted her with. Finally she turns to him, her PDA already lifted.

How are things with Izaya?

Shizuo blows out some smoke. “Fine.”

Her helmet turns to the side. Define “fine”.

“We don't fight as much. But we sill fight a lot.” Shizuo shrugs. “I don't think we'll ever really not fight. But he's not so bad.”

Celty's shoulders shake with silent laughter. Wow. I never thought I'd see this day. You and Izaya. Who would've thought?

Shizuo smiles. “I used to think if I'd given him the time of day back in school, things would've been different. If maybe we'd have been friends. He was always around people though, and it pissed me off because I thought I couldn't be. And now I see he was around them, but he wasn't part of them. Izaya has no idea how to be with anyone. I think we could've helped each other there.” Shizuo takes another puff of his cigarette. “But maybe I'm overthinking it. Things probably wouldn't have changed much.”

Celty takes a moment to respond. You've grown so patient. It's wonderful to see, Shizuo. I'm glad you and Izaya have worked things out. You've even made him more tolerable. I'm happy for you.

Shizuo laughs. “He isn't more tolerable. He's the worst guy I know. Don't put those expectations on me.”

The next message on Celty's PDA has him choking on smoke.

Do you love Izaya?

He coughs, accidentally crushing his cigarette and splintering some of the wood of the bench in the process. He looks at Celty with watering eyes. “Celty—what the fuck, don't ask me that!”

It's funny that even without a head, he can see her expression perfectly. She's pouting at him, it's clear to see.

I think it's okay you love him. I was worried about you for a while. But then Shinra said you two were the only ones who could handle each other, and I thought about how right that sounds.

Shizuo grinds his teeth together. “I never said I love him!”

But you do.

Shizuo stands and brushes the ashes off his pants, hating where this conversation has gone. This isn't how any conversation should go.

“I'll see you later. Gotta get back to work.”

Her hand catches his wrist.

Are you coming over New Year's Eve? It would mean a lot to Shinra and me!

“Yeah,” he says.

Is Izaya?

He chews at his cheek. “Yes.”

She lets him go, looking entirely smug, and never has Shizuo so badly wanted to throw a bench in his life. He hurries away and tries not to think about what she said.

He fails miserably.

By the time New Year's Eve rolls around, Shizuo feels anxious in a way he never has before. He's never had to worry about things like this. No one has ever wanted to date or be around him. He has an awful reputation, which he built himself to keep people away, but somehow he still ended up in this position with Izaya, who is very vocal about not wanting to be around Shizuo either.

But Izaya is the only person who really ever stayed.

“This is so stupid,” Izaya says for probably the tenth time in an hour. “Why did you agree to this? Why did you insist I go? I already suffered one gathering with these people.”

“You were gone a long time,” Shizuo says, pulling on one of the sweaters he brought to Izaya's hotel room. Izaya's apartment will be ready in the morning actually, but Shizuo has already gotten used to this huge hotel. Still, the TV can't compare to Izaya's. Neither can the couch.

“It's not like I was missed,” Izaya says. “They only want me to come because they know you won't go without me.”

It's actually funny how mad Izaya is getting about this. He somehow seems more pissed than he was that night they tried to kill each other. Izaya is huffy and keeps throwing stuff around. His shirt is short sleeved because Izaya hasn't been able to find anything else to wear yet, and Shizuo is getting an eyeful of the mark on his arm.

“What are you looking at so smugly?” Izaya snaps, looking from Shizuo to his own soulmate mark. “You've seen it before. Stop looking at it like it means something!”

“You're so mad. Just pick a sweater. They're all overpriced and swanky, what does it matter which one you pick?”

“Appearances are everything in my line of work,” Izaya huffs.

“You aren't working. You're going to a party.” Shizuo crosses his arms and grins at Izaya, who scowls at him.

“I'm always working!” Izaya snaps. He finally picks a soft black sweater and pulls it on. The static dishevels his hair, and his expression is still sour.

“Cute,” Shizuo says without thinking. Izaya pauses and looks up at him, some of the anger replaced with surprise. Then he scowls again.

“Don't look so smug, you stupid beast,” he says, but his cheeks are tinted pink. Shizuo's stomach tightens, and then feels weightless somehow.

“Are you almost ready? It's been an hour of you throwing around your clothes.”

Izaya throws a pair of socks at his head in answer.

By the time they arrive at Shinra's it's after dark and freezing outside. It's already snowed a bit the last week, but the clouds are ominous overhead, promising a snowstorm soon. Shizuo loves the snow, but he doesn't want to get stuck at Shinra's. They'll have to keep an eye on the weather outside.

“You guys made it!” Shinra shouts, hurrying to them. He lunges at Izaya, capturing him in a nonnegotiable hug, which Izaya looks mortified over. Shinra releases him and turns to Shizuo.

“Don't even try,” Shizuo says, holding his hand in front of himself. Shinra laughs in that stupid way of his.

“Come on guys, it's an exciting holiday! Live a little.”

“You're more annoying than usual. Have you been drinking all day?” Izaya asks.

“I've had a bit! It's a holiday!” Shinra reiterates.

“On that note, I'll be going to where the alcohol is,” Izaya says, leaving Shizuo's side. Shizuo frowns after him.

“Remember last time!” he calls. Izaya waves him off.

“Well,” Shinra says, “if there's ever a time to drink too much, it's a holiday.”

“If you say the word 'holiday' one more goddamn time, I'm throwing you out the window.”

Thankfully, Celty comes over and saves him from a drunk Shinra, who goes back to his usual mode of clinging to Celty, barely caring at all when she shoves her fist at him.

Don't mind him. He's been cut off until further notice from drinking.

“Probably best for everyone here,” Shizuo says. Celty nods sagely while Shinra wails, somehow knowing what her screen said without even reading it.

There are a bunch of people in the apartment. Some people, like Kadota's gang, Shizuo recognizes. Others, he doesn't. But he's wary of everyone. Some of these people could know the guys going after Izaya, and Izaya is probably going to drink himself stupid again.

Speaking of, shit, Shizuo should find him.

Izaya is speaking to some guy in a suit, a glass of wine in one hand, his other hand moving through the air as he emphasizes his words.

“Everyone here is probably thinking of how different they'll be tomorrow. It's like an archaic process that still holds true and has meaning for a month or two, but then everyone gives up on the resolution and goes back to their basic habits. It's ridiculous to celebrate but somehow we get roped into it every year,” Izaya is saying.

“Is this your way of saying you don't have a resolution, Orihara-san?” Suit Guy asks.

“Of course not. True change comes from life experience and human trauma. But I do love hearing what other people are doing. How about you, Nikimura-san? Are you starting anything new tomorrow?”

“My wife signed us up for weekly pottery classes.”

“How nice. Do you have any interest in pottery?”

“No, but it makes her happy. And the deposit is non-refundable. So we'll be sticking with it.”

It's incredibly amusing to see Izaya partaking in such mundane conversations. It seems more likely that Shizuo should approach and find Izaya talking about blowing up the world or something. Then again, Shinra works with the same people Izaya does, and the suit guy has probably killed more than a few people. Shizuo decides to go get something to drink himself, because unlike Izaya, he does enjoy the spirit of letting go on a holiday. At least a little.

“Shizuo!” Simon barks at him. Simon is in the kitchen, standing by the food and drinks. “You come to party, too?”

“Wow, Shinra even roped you into this, huh?” Shizuo asks.

“I bring sushi. Sushi good for New Year.”

“You think sushi is good for everything.” Shizuo decides on some of the fruity looking punch he finds. It's sickeningly sweet. He's sure it's filled to the brim with alcohol, too. Who makes stuff like this?

“Shizu-chan!” Erika calls, bounding over to him. “You're drinking our punch!”

Of course.

“What's in this shit?” he asks.

“Stuff,” Erika says, grinning deviously. “It's a tipsy punch.”

“It's full of bad decisions,” Walker says, joining them.

“I'm not drinking this,” Shizuo decides.

“Good, your teeth will fall out,” Izaya says, suddenly beside Shizuo. “Why not drink something nice? Then again, your alcohol tolerance is through the roof. I don't suppose anyone brought straight vodka, did they?”

“Shut up, I can drink what I want.” Shizuo sees beer, doesn't want it. He grabs some of the same wine Izaya has. It doesn't taste good, but it'll shut Izaya up for a moment. He can nurse this all night and keep an eye on Izaya, who has a flea-sized alcohol tolerance.

Izaya smirks at him, and Shizuo is reminded again of the last time they drank together, and how Izaya wound up sick and miserable.

“Relax,” Izaya says, seemingly reading Shizuo's mind. “I won't overdo it.”

“Good. Don't.”

“So, are you guys fucking yet?” Erika asks loudly, drawing stares from everyone around them. Shizuo spits out some wine. Walker slinks quietly from the room. Izaya gives her a placid stare.

“Yes,” Izaya says. “Shizuo is a power bottom.”

“What?!” Erika shouts, looking at Shizuo with glee. Shizuo glares at Izaya, who looks pleased with himself.

“What's that even mean?!” he barks.

“Erika, really, clearly he's a virgin. I don't know what you want from me,” Izaya says, motioning to Shizuo.

“I can give you some pointers...” Erika starts, and Shizuo stomps over to Izaya, picks him up with one arm, and carries him to the other side of the apartment.

Throughout the course of the night, Shinra somehow gets even drunker despite being “cut off”, and at some point he starts playing music on the stereo, some fast, techno music. He dances, and no one really joins him, but clearly no one is as drunk as he is either.

“This reminds me of high school,” Izaya says into Shizuo's ear. He has to get close to be heard over the music, and Shizuo thrills at the feeling of Izaya's breath against his skin, feels goosebumps.

“Why?” he asks.

“Shinra and I have drank together before. He came over to my place because my parents were never home and of course I knew how to get alcohol. He said Celty would never forgive him for underage drinking so he stayed the night.” There's a gleam of joy in Izaya's eyes. “He got wasted, danced, and threw up the rest of the night.”

“Sounds like you, minus the dancing,” Shizuo says. Izaya pouts at him.

“I rarely drink that much!” Izaya defends. “Clearly I overdid it last time, but here I am, on my second glass of wine, completely fine!”

“Did you dance with Shinra? Back then?” Shizuo asks, trying to picture it. He never really hung out with the two of them together. Each and every time he got near Izaya, they would start their usual shit despite Shinra's wailing.

Izaya smiles widely.

“Yes,” he says. “Does that make you jealous?”

Shizuo grumbles. “Yes.”

“Well then,” Izaya says, downing the rest of his glass in one gulp. Shizuo tries too late to take it from him. “You're about to get really jealous.”

When Izaya crosses the room to Shinra, Shizuo at first can't believe what he's seeing. But then, Izaya has always been good at pretending to not care what other people think. At the end of the day, he's always posturing, but for now maybe, with wine coursing through him, he really might not give a fuck. Shinra makes a gleeful noise and the two of them drunkenly sway together to the cheers of the crowd. Celty is shaking her head, helmet gleaming in the apartment lighting. Shizuo is jealous, but he's also glad to see Izaya having fun. He doesn't notice Kadota by him until Kadota speaks.

“Man. You've got it bad.”

“What?” Shizuo asks, turning from Izaya's laughing face to Kadota.

“When Shinra told us you were Izaya's soulmate, we all didn't really know what to make of it. But clearly it's working out. You're good for each other.” Kadota takes a swig of beer and nudges Shizuo, who feels extremely warm.

Maybe he is tipsy. He forgets how much he's had at this point, has been too focused on making sure Izaya hasn't had too much.

“Shut the fuck up, Kadota,” Shizuo grumbles, but of course Kadota isn't bothered by it at all.

“Are you having The Talk with Shizu-chan?” Erika suddenly shouts, coming over and draping herself over Kadota's back. Togusa is with her, who waves at Shizuo.

“Yeah,” Kadota says.

“I tried to, but he ran from me!”

“Probably because you made it nasty,” Togusa says.

“I don't need a talk!” Shizuo snaps. “Get away from me!”

Celty appears like an angelic vision and shoves her PDA in Kadota's face, who shrugs. She turns to Shizuo and puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Don't listen to them. You can make move on Izaya in your own time!

“Is everyone here drunk but me?!” Shizuo shouts, wondering how the hell Celty even could be without a head. “Shut up about me and Izaya!”

“Are we torturing Shizu-chan?” Izaya asks, joining them as Shinra basically tackles Celty, begging her to dance. He holds his hand out and Erika hands him another glass of wine. Shizuo growls at her.

“No one's trying to,” Kadota says.

“I am.” Izaya grins deviously and pulls Shizuo to him, who goes willingly, albeit confusedly. “You're going to dance with me.”

“You're drunk,” Shizuo accuses, but he still holds onto Izaya, who is swaying in his grasp.

“Guilty,” Izaya agrees. “But I'm not wasted. That's about all you can hope for.”

“It is a holiday,” Shizuo says, and Izaya smiles up at him in such an unguarded way and Shizuo can only think of how beautiful Izaya is like this, and like always, even when he's being a pain in the ass. Other people are dancing now too, though Shizuo doesn't notice anyone else really. He can't look away from Izaya, who seems to really enjoy the attention.

The party winds down later after people start filing out due to increasing snowfall outside. Celty invites them to stay the night, which they both turn down. Izaya is definitely verging on wasted by this point, and so is Shizuo for that matter, who had to drink twice as much just to match Izaya. Shinra hugs them both, weeping big tears, saying they're all going to dance at his and Celty's wedding.

Izaya arranges a cab for them and they stumble outside together, Shizuo drunkenly holding Izaya upright, though Izaya is draped over him for the most part. It's even colder than before somehow, and the snow is drizzling on them threateningly, telling them to get home soon or else. Izaya's cheeks are red from the cold, and he still just looks so happy. Shizuo's mind is a hazy fog and he finds he's forgotten half the night but he doesn't think he'll ever forget this, Izaya looking up at him through glazed eyes, windswept and gorgeous. Shizuo touches his cheek and leans down, capturing Izaya's lips in a kiss.

Izaya pulls away quickly, wide eyed and panic stricken.

“What are you doing?” he asks, though it comes out soft. “You can't do that.”

“Sorry,” Shizuo says dumbly.

“We're drunk,” Izaya says. “So it's...excusable.”

“I wanted to do it sober, too,” Shizuo says. Before Izaya can respond, their cab comes, and they get into the warm car in silence. The driver looks back at them and asks where to, and Izaya gives him the hotel address.

“Looks like you guys will barely beat this storm,” the driver says. Izaya strikes up a conversation with him but Shizuo barely listens to it, too busy thinking of Izaya's lips on his and how much he liked the feeling. And maybe it's because he's drunk and barely aware of what's going on, but when the car stops and Izaya helps drag him outside, Shizuo is confused by how they got back so fast.

“Really,” Izaya huffs, tugging at Shizuo, “you were worried about me overdoing it. You're the wasted one.”

“Sorry,” Shizuo says again.

“Whatever,” Izaya says, a sturdy anchor at his side. They reach the room and Izaya helps Shizuo reach the bed. Shizuo topples into it face-down, ready to sleep a thousand years.

“Oh,” Izaya says suddenly. Shizuo looks up at him blearily. “It's after midnight.”

“Wha...”

He finds himself cut off by Izaya's lips on his again, Izaya's weight settling beside him on the bed. Shizuo groans and lifts his hands, pulling Izaya closer, licking wetly at Izaya's lips until Izaya opens to him. It's definitely uncoordinated, but neither of them are sober. And Izaya isn't pulling away even if Shizuo is sloppy. Izaya tastes like wine and like everything Shizuo wants, and when Izaya pulls away at last, pupils fat and lips red from abuse, Shizuo decides he loves him more than anything, then and there.

“Happy New Year's, Shizu-chan.”