I meant to post this the day after I posted the first part. Oh well. Oopsy.

[INSERT DISCLAIMER HERE]

Though the flea's lips stayed on Shizuo's for no longer than a second, the feel of his strangely cold mouth lingers on the debt collector's lips. Izaya is no fool and had quickly moved away from the easily-angered man as to not press his luck. He stands a good two yards away, positioned to flee on command, though he knows he probably won't have to for a while; as he had accurately guessed, Shizuo remains exactly as he had stood when the informant's lips had first touched his, staring straight ahead with a face of awe. Izaya decides that, despite his previous caution, it is a bit too good an opportunity to miss.

"Aw, Shizu-chan, what's that face for?" The abnormal yet familiar banter rouses Shizuo the slightest as he jerks his head at the mention of his terribly cutesy nickname.

Izaya - hands spread behind his back, face bursting into a smile, and feet bouncing on their toes - continues. "Oh-me-oh-my! Don't tell me I was your first kiss, ne?" His voice "squee"s a bit at the end, sounding girlish and innocent to any passerby who is unimaginably new to Ikebukuro and therefore unused to the two's great battles.

Shizuo, understandably, is not amused. While he reacted slightly to the slim man's tauntings, he remains motionless and - had he been the protagonist in a shoujo manga - looks as though he might softly touch his lips at the memory of the kiss. He doesn't, retaining as much pride as one could in such a situation, but continues to stare aimlessly forward.

Izaya giggles as he watches Shizuo's reaction with enjoyment. He can't help but feel a little disappointed at the lack of anger resulting from the kiss, though he quickly realizes that this leaves him with a perfect opening.

"Ah," he says, twirling around the blonde on his tippy toes, tops of his shoes wearing a bit against the asphalt, "did just one little peck on the lips affect you that much? Why, Shizu-chan, I would've never guessed you felt that way about me!"

His smile curls up almost menacingly, and the last sentence he speaks is whispered seductively into the man's ear as one of his hands' long fingers grasp at the sleeve of a bartender outfit. They trace the stitched lines near the cuff before dropping it as Izaya slides away, singing out, "Doesn't it make sense, though, Darling?" and then, quieter, "Yes, I think I ought to start calling you that..."

"See!" he announces, voice back to a louder volume, swinging his hips back and forth as he travels around Shizuo, who remains statue-still. He weaves in and out of the viewing bystanders who dare to continue watching the show; the rest have fled. "I'm special to you! Who else do you treat so roughly?"

He smiles coolly, leaning in so his lips practically touch the back of Shizuo's neck, a dangerous move. He continues his spiel, voice still loud despite the proximity. "I mean, you do seem to bully everyone - and I mean everyone - yet only I can pull such a wildly rageful reaction out of you!"

Backing up, he tilts his head a bit, mildly confused at the continuous lack of response. "Now, now, Dear, where is that strong reaction I was just talking about, ne?" He leans back toward him, shoulder encroaching riskfully close to the blonde's personal space. Then, he repeats the unthinkable.

Another kiss, equally short, but this time on the cheek.

Then, of all possible reactions that could've come from the blonde (at least he finally responded, though), he blushes. A deep red - no, crimson - that doesn't fit the strong, threatening man in the least. As though awaked by the heat filling his cheeks, he snaps out of his trance, moving for the first time since the unspeakable event in order to turn and glare at Izaya.

If looks could kill, Shizuo would be a lot happier.

The lithe black-haired man only smiles wider, his fur trim brushing against the debt collector's thigh one more time before he sensibly moves away, just in time to avoid all of hell's fury.

"IIZAAAAAAAAYAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Bringing a thin hand to his ear, Izaya hums, "Ah, there's the Shizuo we all know and love." He jumps back to avoid an impending sign post that the blonde had picked up in record time; the informant had hardly noticed it in time.

"Admit it," he continues to tease, ignoring the obvious one-sidedness of their conversation, "no one else can get you so riled up! It's a sign of your undying love for me!" He holds out the "o" in "love" longer, adding a distinct enunciation to the word and rolling it playfully on his tongue.

Shizuo reacts as expected, with a severe lack of a sense of humor. Another weapon, this time a considerably large chunk of the demolished column, narrowly misses its target, smashing up a storefront window terribly. Izaya tsks disapprovingly. "You only serve to prove my point for me!"

Even as he is faced with such immediate danger, Izaya reminisces on his own words, the ones he just spoke. Of how he must be special to Shizuo, seeing as only he could get such a reaction from him. He was a special exception.

Yet, no matter how hard he tries to force the unwanted thoughts down, he cannot help but wonder, however briefly, if his own words could be twisted in order to actually prove his own romantic feelings toward Shizuo? He considers Shizuo an exception, the only human whose presence is unbearable, the only human he cannot bring himself to "love." Could the very lack of love actually mean he loves him more? He waves the thought away just as he bats away another projectile that helps to secure in his mind that he truly hates the man in the bartender suit.

The man throwing said projectile is trying his best to keep very similar thoughts out of his mind - a much simpler task, seeing as his brain moved at speed that couldn't compare to that of the informant. The words had gotten to him a bit, and, even as his body is entirely focused on chasing down the damn flea, the pathetic insect's words echo in his mind. Of course, it was a ridiculous thought, for never could such outstanding hatred be mistaken for love, not by anyone besides the certifiably insane Erika.

Izaya (very maturely) sticks his thumbs in his ears, wiggling his fingers mockingly, and any hint of a doubt of his hatred vanishes from the debt collector's mind only to be completely replaced with a wave of anger.

After his short little taunt, Izaya decides abruptly - subconsciously from his own unsure feelings and avoidance of confronting possible unwanted emotions - that Shizuo has become boring, fading back into the hum-drum fight of thrown items and mocks. Swiftly, he runs at the man, prepared to make his exit with a bang - just as a much, much bigger bang hits him.

Lips hit his, a feeling never felt by the man usually on the dominate side of everything. Lips that taste like smoke, rough and chapped. The dusty taste fills his mouth both repulsively and warmly. He lets it in, allowing the unexpected move to continue. Never did he give anyone the upper hand, but for now, this was becoming incredibly interesting, thanks to a tool named Shizuo. Even as his mouth takes the upper hand (in a kiss that seems longer than it is, for it is fairly short) he gives Izaya power, for he is reassured by humanity's unpredictability. He manages to find comfort in the surprise kiss, for it only proves the fickleness of humans and consistency of himself. Even as he kisses the man, Izaya becomes more assured that he doesn't like Shizuo. And yet...

Shizuo lets go, a little shocked at himself but trying not to show it. He makes a face as though pretending that it was his own way of getting back at Izaya, even though it was just as impromptu for the both of them. His lips had moved by themselves, though he's never say so aloud.

They meet each other's glares, a knife held passively by one and fists clenched but not moving by the other. Silence from not only them but everyone around, too, envelopes the street.

Izaya continues his exit then, making one last detour to slap Shizuo's ass obviously before taking off away from there, coat flying out behind him as he calls, "Bye-bye, Shizu-chan!"

The only response received, as the small crowd holds their breath in anticipation, is, "IZAAAYAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

The informant accepts it as though it's a pet name from a lover calling good-bye. Running backward for just a second, he forms a heart with both hands, winking at the blonde, who is left fuming at the black-haired man and himself, wondering how many different things anger can translate into and why Izaya seems to always stand out as an exception to all of his rules.

And though he'll never know, Izaya is pondering the same thing as he glides down the streets ninja-like. Why did Shizuo always manage to break his consistent views of humanity?

Was wanting someone in the palm of your hand love?

Was thinking of someone forever and always in a way you did with no one else love?

Could being a mere exception to personal convention really mean more?

I feel like this is written really awkwardly. Oh well, I probably won't write Shizaya again – I like it alright, but it's not my cup of tea to write. I don't like it and WHY IS THE LAST SENTENCE FULL OF BIG WORDS? Ugh, whatever.

DFTBA!