Day twenty of Drawlloween 2017, and today’s theme was, “Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Friday”. This one gave me some trouble at first, but then I remembered a certain NES game that was reviewed by a certain nerd. If I remember correctly, he was quite angry about it!
Shizuo didn’t want for much. He was a simple guy with simple needs. A roof over his head, food and a hot shower were enough to get him through most of the shit life tossed his way. He had his vices—well, cigarettes, but he depended on them too much to quell his anger when little else could that yeah he’d call them a necessity at this point.
If he had one indulgence, it was a good cup of vanilla pudding.
Pudding time was sacred. When days were tougher and the shitty people he had to deal with were done dragging his conscience through the mud, there was an antidote he could count on. He’d come back to his apartment, shower, change into his softest pair of sweats and a clean tee, and sit down on his couch with some vanilla pudding. There was something so comforting about the taste, the texture, the way it turned to goo on his tongue. With every spoonful he remembered less and less about why the day had been a bad one, because how could it be when this shit tasted so good?
Only one individual had ever desecrated what Shizuo now deemed his me time, and that was Kasuka. It wasn’t a memory he liked to dwell on for too long. His rage had kicked in to the point of endangering his own brother, and no amount of repentance would ever be enough to forgive himself. He was young, he was stupid, and he learned to control himself better when shit didn’t go his way.
Currently his self-control was in overdrive as a socked foot pressed itself to the side of his face. His pudding-laden spoon faltered on its journey to his mouth. With one deep breath and a mental mantra of don’t kill anyone calm down and think no need to lose your shit, he turned towards that foot and the flea it belonged to.
Izaya looked enormously comfortable lounging on Shizuo’s couch in a black hoodie and cotton shorts, one skinny leg stretched across Shizuo’s lap. From behind his cellphone, the louse was smirking. With a little hum, he began to nudge Shizuo’s cheek with his heel.
“You wanna lose a leg, flea? Cause that’s where this is going.”
The threat didn’t hold enough water for Izaya. “Remind me how old you are.”
Izaya’s smirk wilted and his phone dropped forgotten on his chest. “You’re twenty-five, Shizu-chan.” Beneath that disparaging stare, he almost looked concerned.
Shizuo swatted at Izaya’s ankle. The foot on his face retracted for a moment before planting itself right back where it’d been. “Dunno why you asked if you already know.”
“Of course I know.”
“Creep,” Shizuo muttered.
“Informant,” Izaya corrected.
Shizuo snorted, the sound wholly unattractive. “No one asked you to know shit about me.”
“That isn’t true.” A number of times Izaya had received visitors wanting info on the infamously known strongest of Ikebukuro. He could guess their reasons, but he never let them explain. Turning away those curious about Shizu-chan gave him more satisfaction than any amount of money ever could. “But Shizu-chan is my concern, ne. No one else’s.”
It was one of those comments that Izaya probably didn’t intend to betray his sentiments towards the blond, but did anyway. Shizuo glanced to meet Izaya’s stare, finding that deep crimson caught off-guard. All trace of anger was rinsed from him entirely in that one exchange. Keeping it simple to spare the flea any remorse for accidentally hinting at something he always tried so desperately to deny, Shizuo responded with a quiet, “Guess so.”
That foot still plastered to his cheek, he returned to his pudding. It took all of zero seconds for Izaya to get pissy.
“Is it really that good, Shizu-chan?”
Shizuo nodded, not sure what Izaya meant by that good. It only took him trying to decipher the comment for him to guess the louse might be jealous over a cup of vanilla pudding. “Jealous, huh?”
The glare sent his way was scathing. “You’d like that, ne. I’m just concerned that a twenty-five-year old man is this obsessed with a child’s dessert.”
Dragging his spoon from between his smirking lips and looking unfairly enticing (Izaya hated this stupid attractive protozoan so much), Shizuo teased, “Sounds to me like you’re jealous.” He nodded (as much as he could with a foot on his face), towards the kitchen. “You can have some, flea. Got plenty.”
It was in that incredulous moment that Izaya was once more reminded how desperately dense this gorgeous blockhead of a monster could be. Annoyed with reason, Izaya withdrew his foot from Shizuo’s face only to kick him in the side.
Shizuo recoiled, immediately enraged and confused. “Oi!”
“I don’t want pudding, Shizu-chan.” Lifting himself from his lounging position on the couch, Izaya reached out to snatch that stupid cup of pudding and spoon from Shizuo’s hands.
The blond watched on with untiring suspicion as Izaya settled at his side, invading his personal space as if it were his birthright. “The hell are you doing, Izaya?”
That feline gaze burned with suggestion, provocation a skin Izaya assumed with ease and so oft around Shizuo. Holding onto leonine gold, Izaya dipped the spoon into the stolen cup and pressed a glob of pudding against his tongue.
Pale fingers curled at the nape of Shizuo’s neck, drawing him forward into a messy vanilla kiss. Pudding muddied their lips and dried sticky on their chins and neither cared as all the sugar dissolved and left them to only taste each other. Breaking away to drag another swipe of pudding against his smirking mouth, Izaya replied with the opposition of someone being told they couldn’t have their cake and eat it too. “It’s called multi-tasking, Shizu-chan.”
Shizuo called it his new favorite way to eat pudding.
If you love Shizaya and aren’t already following 4nu then do so immediately, ne.