More Mind Games

A.N: WARNING: LONG INTRO STARTS HERE LOL

This is a sequel to Mind Games, which I advise you read first, otherwise this is going to seem really random LOL. This one picks up right where the last one leaves off:

Just check my profile to find it, since stupid hates links so bad.

I had so much fun writing the first one, I just had to start another! Shizuo and Izaya are SO cute together, and their relationship can be taken into so many complicated subtexts.

IF you're lazy and don't want to read the first one (even though I would love you forever if you did!) here's the basic summary: Shizuo and Izaya, over the course of a day, suddenly realize their need for one another. Now, after saving Izaya from falling from a building, Shizuo is forced to think about what it all really means XD.

OKAY. So I had a kind reviewer of my last fic tell me that my Izaya and Shizuo were a little out of character, since they kind of went from "I hate your guts!" to "I LOVE YOU!" in about a day XDD. SO, I'm going to try and make this one a little more realistic XD. It's going to be a kind of "I'm coming off my 'I-love-you' high, and now what is this really even supposed to mean?" sort of thing LOL. Let me know if it works or not! ^^

I think this one's going to come out a little heavier and dramatic XD

Disclaimer: DO NOT OWN DURARARA OR ANY OF ITS AFFILIATES. THIS IS A WORK FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES THAT I AM NOT TRYING TO SELL.

Warning: This fic contains swearing and yaoi fluff! I promise it doesn't go hardcore, though XD

More Mind Games

1. Strange for Us

Izaya was asleep. How the hell he managed it, Shizuo would never know, but Izaya was most certainly asleep. Several hours had passed since they first climbed the rickety fire escape and ended up dangling over the side of a building. Shizuo was still hanging onto the same window sill, with the same stabbed arm, with the same look of pissy acceptance on his face.

He and Izaya spent at least half an hour kissing each other, nuzzling their noses into each other's hair and all that sappy crap. It was outlandish for them both, but the day had been so surprising, so truly frightening and wonderful at the same time, that they ceased to really care about how their logical minds felt and focused more on the passion, the intimacy. They felt the instinct to do what they did. After they stopped kissing, Izaya let his head lean against Shizuo's chest, and they talked together in hushed voices, mostly chastising one another, being coy and playful and spiteful in sudden bursts of emotion. Both of them were trying to keep one another awake. Shizuo's grip was iron, impossible to dislodge, but his eyes itched with tiredness. Damn Izaya was supposed to stay awake with him and help think of a way to scale the building, to get to safety, but the idiot fell asleep.

Shizuo watched him while he slept. Izaya was, in the most pure and unadulterated sense of the word, somewhat charming when he slept. His face mellowed out until even his grin vanished; an essence of dreamlessness washed over him. He made a little noise when he exhaled, almost like a small sigh each time. He had his lips slightly parted, breathing through his mouth—his throat sounded foggy. Shizuo, peering down at the raven-haired informant, concluded that the flea had indeed caught a cold. After all, it was late fall and they were hanging out in the open air with no coats. They shared body warmth, but it wasn't enough to incubate the heat. Izaya would sniffle and shift his position occasionally. Shizuo spent a great deal of the night trying to remember why he had kissed Izaya. What had prompted them to suddenly just forget all that hate? The whole thing had been so fast. Too fast. There was nothing else to feel. Shizuo glared at him. Izaya couldn't sleep forever. There was a big problem that needed addressed…

Now, the problem wasn't necessarily his arm. Shizuo ceased to feel it. His arm, after hours of stress on the torn muscle, lost feeling and faded into numbness like all of his injuries did. The blood was dry, crusty along his shirt sleeve—a blackish color in the waxing dawn. He needed medical attention, or at least a clean bandage, but he wasn't in the position to get it right this second. He wasn't slipping—he could probably hang around all day, like some sort of inverted bat clinging to its mate, and he scoffed at his whining last night. He attributed his uncharacteristic pain to the fact that yesterday had been the weirdest damn day of his life. He and Izaya-… what had he been thinking? Perhaps it was the lack of sleep.

Sleep deprivation was not necessarily the biggest problem either, or the fact the he needed a smoke. He was exhausted and craving and hopelessly bored, yes, but that didn't stop him from doing what he had to do. He had to keep he and Izaya safe, or at the least relatively unharmed. He had to keep hanging off the window sill, off this shitty apartment, above the street. He had to keep asking himself why he needed to do these things, sometimes. A shred of doubt gnawed at his mind. On one hand, if he let go because he wanted a nap, it would destroy quite a few things he had recently discovered and cultivated. Then again, if he kept hanging here throughout the day, it would certainly ruin everything.

And that brought him to the real problem, the exact problem. If he and Izaya didn't get back onto the ground somehow, people were going to see. It wasn't the fact that Izaya slept, that he wanted to sleep, or that his arm was numb. It was the sheer realization that within another hour people and cars would flood the streets, eyes would look up and the entire city would come to the shocking realization that Shizuo had saved Izaya from injury, and Izaya cuddled up to him during the night to sleep. They would most certainly suspect kissing, or hugging, or the inklings of love.

It would destroy them both. Izaya was the strange and untrustworthy information broker, not an adorable, kitten-like man with the coy smiles and coquettish banter. Shizuo was the frightening bar-tender and body guard, the one with the incomprehensible temper, not the hero, the passionate lover. Even thinking about it started to piss him off, his fists clenching up, teeth baring. If they didn't do something, if they didn't move, it would be game over, probably forever.

And then there was this nagging feeling. This feeling lingering at the back of his mind. Like all of this was just a big mistake. It's the feeling you have when you wake up hung over in a strange house, with a body you don't recognize laying next to you. Last night had been weird, a detached sort of high, and now when he was four dozen feet from the ground, bored as hell, eyes itching, body craving a cigarette he couldn't reach, and he felt unnecessarily mad. He felt angry with Izaya, a little, because of all this. The lovey-dovey blindness from last night was dissolving, and regret replaced it. He glared down at the drowsing informant.

He had to wake Izaya. The dark-haired man in question still slept, comfortable in the arms of someone perhaps special to him. Shizuo stared a little longer, trying to placate his growing temper.

"Izaya," he said, very quietly. He didn't want to startle him. If Izaya woke with a start, they might fall. The informant didn't stir. Shizuo sounded too much like the voice of his dreams, the voice of his murmuring subconscious. It was soothing, it was warm. Izaya smiled in his sleep, which made Shizuo frown in turn.

"Izaya," he said again, shaking him with the slightest of movements, just enough to jostle his head on Shizuo's chest. Izaya stirred a little that time, rubbing his nose on the front of Shizuo's shirt. The blonde grimaced at this, baring teeth with a intense scowl. His next attempt wasn't so tender.

"Get up, asshole." His voice was firm and rather sonorous. Izaya woke suddenly, eyes snapping open. He elbowed Shizuo out of disorientation, blinking furiously. He didn't say anything, eyes still shedding their dreamy film as he glanced around his surroundings, felt the morning wind. A groggy grin crossed his lips.

"So, it wasn't a dream," he said, closing his eyes again. A soft sigh passed through his lips as he rested his head against Shizuo's chest again, the smile never fading from his face. "Shizu-chan is so warm~."

Shizuo blinked down at the smaller man; his silky hair, his smooth skin. Last night he considered all of it attractive, but now it just seemed to irritate him again. The flea still made him incredibly angry, for the same reason the flea had made him angry all these past years. If he did love Izaya, it was turning into an angry love. He didn't really mean for it to happen that way—he had hardly any control over it.

"Whatever, flea," he muttered almost as an afterthought. Izaya glanced up at Shizuo, eyeing him. Izaya could sense a growing distance between them, a void that was lost last night and was now back again, dividing them, making things awkward, trying to return things to a status quo. Resistance.

"Does Shizu-chan try to run from his feelings~?" he said, snuggling up a little closer, his voice quiet, a little worn out from breathing through his mouth all night. He sniffled into Shizuo's chest, and then without altering his position, sneezed directly against him. That broke whatever mood remained.

"Damn it, Izaya," he growled, immediately adjusting his arm to pry Izaya off of his torso. "That's just plain disgusting! All over my good shirt-..." Shizuo was trying to keep his temper. He didn't want to start a noisy fight with Izaya this early in the morning while hanging off an apartment, but it was still revolting. Izaya could only smirk at this, rubbing his nose along the edge of his sleeve. The raven-haired man could see that Shizuo was holding back. The blonde wanted to fight him again, wanted to get back to the normal, destructive relationship they once had. That was perfectly fine with Izaya, though he hoped the kissing didn't have to stop.

"Shizu-chan cares so much about appearance~!" Izaya chuckled. He started using his snot-sodden sleeve to wipe at the wet area on Shizuo's clothes. "Here, I'll fix it~."

Shizuo could see that Izaya, despite the grin, was truly trying to be helpful, but it was just making it worse. He cringed, closing his eyes. "Shit! I can feel it! Uggghh!" He began to squirm, literally physically restraining himself from lashing out. "STOP IT."

Izaya paused in his rubbing, his rust colored eyes staring into Shizuo's haze ones. Neither moved for a moment, both their faces slightly masked by the morning sun, half-coated in shadow. Izaya finally broke into a smirk.

"Shizu-chan is so cranky when he wakes up~."

"I didn't sleep, asshole," Shizuo said, not without a taste of malice in his mouth. Now that he was coming back to his senses, he blamed Izaya for the whole thing, really. He had been forced to put himself through several hours of wakeful pain for the bastard. Izaya's grin fell.

"Seriously, Shizu-chan~? No sleep?" he asked. Then he reached up and pinched Shizuo's cheek, pulling at his face a little. "Naughty~! Sleep deprivation is bad for your skin, and it certainly shows~."

"I couldn't just go to sleep, stupid flea! Do you want to die?" he said, wrenching from Izaya's squeezing fingers. His fists tightened again. Much more of this, and he would just have to drop him. Izaya just hung there in his grip, wearing a look of mild thoughtfulness, before pasting on his smirk again. He chose not say anything. He just smirked.

Shizuo growled, already irritable from his lack of sleep, lack of nicotine, and growing sense of complete and utter remorse. Why had he saved this monster again? What had he been thinking? He should have just let him fall. He should drop him now. He didn't want to play this game at this time of day. It was just too damn early.

"Izaya, shut the hell up," he said, sighing, his rage settling into a quiet flame at the back of his mind. Even though the flea wasn't saying anything, that damn smirk said infinitely more than words would. He was just too tired to continue to argue. He wanted a warm bed. He needed to reserve his auxiliary strength. Izaya could feel the warm rising and falling of his chest. "Just shut up."

Izaya could understand why Shizuo was a little aggravated with him, but he felt that it dishonorable that the mood was shattered so quickly. He hoped for a little more cuddling in midair with Shizu-chan. Apparently this wasn't going to happen.

Things were suddenly different. The casual cuddling from the night before had deteriorated into an awkward hug as Shizuo (who grew more furious by the moment) continued to support Izaya's weight. Izaya expected it, of course. Humans were fickle beings, and while Shizuo was not entirely normal, he exhibited human characteristics and tendencies. Last night cleared the table, allowed them to say things they wouldn't normally say to one another, but he knew it wouldn't last. Disappointing, he thought. Izaya sniffled again, and then snapped his head away to sneeze into the cool, open air. He stifled it through clenched teeth, but it still managed to break through. Another sneeze on Shizuo, and the blonde might explode. Izaya took immense pleasure in provoking the man, but doing it now would be unwise. When he swiveled back around, Shizuo was staring at him—glaring, really. Izaya gave a liquid sniff, then grinned with only half his mouth.

"Is Shizu-chan admiring me~?"

"You have a fever," he said blandly, with no real, detectable concern. Izaya scoffed, only smirking and glancing in the other direction.

"Shizu-chan has such a fascinating imagination~!"

"Don't be a smart ass."

"I am not. My health is in peak condition, Shizu-chan~."

"So you're sneezing because…?"

"Namie certainly enjoys gossiping about me~."

"You're sick, you damn flea. Try not to infect me too."

Izaya, now a little defensive and eager to deflect the spotlight, turned his head to face him, smirking sarcastically. "Oh, and you're one to talk? You're arm has got to be killing you."

Shizuo bristled at the mention of it, growling as he adjusted his hold on Izaya's waist. The man wasn't getting heavy, but his arm was starting to fall asleep.

"You mean the one that you stabbed? Like hell it is. I hardly feel it."

A few hours ago, Izaya might have felt a little guilty about it. He might have even tried to apologize. Now, however, he just grinned wider. Izaya observed a small twitch in Shizuo's iron grip. He wasn't human, this man, but he certainly wasn't a god. Shizuo would have to let go at some point.

Shizuo, in his own mind, agreed. He felt his bad arm begin to tingle. His eyes squinted. It was numb now, but it wouldn't be long until that arm started cramping. Pins and needles, the whole shebang. He would handle it, hardly feel it, but that didn't mean he wanted to hang around all fucking day.

Izaya wasn't making anything easier—the raven-haired jerk yanked Shizuo's hair as he tried to scale the bigger man's body, attempting to get in viewing range of his arm.

"Here, let me see~," he said. He didn't want to assess the injury for Shizuo's sake. He wanted to see his work. Izaya decided it was something to be proud about. Shizuo rumbled warnings underneath his breath, but Izaya would not be deterred. He gave Shizuo a playful, but challenging look.

"Stop muttering about me under your breath. I might sneeze again~." He grinned at Shizuo, but Shizuo didn't think it was very funny. Shizuo, by now, just wanted to beat the shit out of him. But it was getting to be more and more of a challenge to keep his grip steady. He was strong, he was amazingly strong, but he was still human. He was still fatigued and cold and sore and injured and in need of a smoke, and quite pissed off about all of it. Izaya reached out for Shizuo's arm, gingerly peeling back some of the brackish, crusted fabric to have a look.

All the blood soaked through the gauze overnight. Due to Shizuo's constant force on the injury, it had continued to bleed. The bandage was even staring to come off, since Izaya hadn't wrapped it well. He could see the exposed muscle, the torn pieces of it. It was stringy, pink and blue in all the wrong places, exposed and perhaps festering. He had a strong stomach, Izaya did, but the wound was pretty repulsing. He swallowed. Shizuo, always nonchalant when it came to pain, was unimpressed.

"What's with the face? It can't be that bad," he said, adjusting his grip again. Izaya's voice wavered from his customary mockery.

"You have to see a doctor," he said. Shizuo could hear perhaps a faint tint of-… was that guilt? Probably not even possibly, with the flea. Izaya didn't feel guilt. Not for anything. He rolled his eyes at it and didn't dignify it with a reply. He wasn't going to see a doctor, probably, unless it didn't go away after a few days of ignoring it. Shizuo grunted when Izaya started stirring again. One of his legs moved up to position his foot on the edge of Shizuo's good arm.

"What the hell are you doing?" Shizuo asked, growling. He could handle Izaya's weight, but the constant repositioning made it difficult. He would drop him, if he wasn't careful, and by this time he wasn't so sure he didn't want to let the flea fall to his death.

"Well, I don't know about Shizu-chan, but I'm certainly not going to hang around here all day~," he said, reaching for the window sill above them. He yanked out his blade, putting it between his lips so he could use both hands. He, whether by accident or on purpose, leaned against Shizuo's injured arm the wrong way, crushing it against the building. While Shizuo was, in every sense of the word, a tank when it came to pain, it was early in the morning, it had been a long night, he was exhausted, his defenses were down, and he was looking for an excuse to kill Izaya.

"SHIT!" Shizuo's exclamation was brief, but that didn't stop him from yanking at the waist-band of Izaya's jeans, nearly jeopardizing the fragile hold Izaya had on the sill above. Izaya squirmed, kicking his legs for balance. He kicked Shizuo's arm. Shizuo roared. "FUCK-! WILL YOU STOP THAT!"

"Shizu-chan is the one causing all the trouble~," Izaya said, looking over his shoulder to stare coyly down at his blonde adversary. "Perhaps if you stopped trying to kill me, I wouldn't be moving so much-."

Too late. Shizuo had already snapped. It had been a long night. He was tired, he wanted to go to bed, he wanted a fucking smoke and Izaya was no longer cute as much as he was infuriating. There was, possibly, a tiny piece of Shizuo that recognized Izaya as enchanting but that piece of him was smothered but his sudden rage.

"TRYING TO KILL YOU?" He voice rasped, a smile curling his lips. "OH, YOU'LL KNOW WHEN I'M TRYING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!"

Izaya, quite familiar with this passionate Shizu-chan (the Shizu-chan he loved and preferred), did not panic. It was just another tantrum, and it would pass. Humans were so moody, sometimes. Always jumping from love to hate and back again. He took his blade from his mouth with his right hand, using his left elbow to hitch himself up onto the small width of the window sill. He sniffled, trying to keep his running nose under control. He wished he had a tissue. The morning wind was only making it worse.

"Ah, Shizu-chan," Izaya said, chuckling a little. "Such an empty bluffer. A terrible poker face, too. I-"

Shizuo snatched his leg, jerked, and Izaya's precarious grip came free of the ledge on which he hung. For a brief moment of pure terror, he was falling backwards through the thin air. Shizuo wasn't holding on to him anymore. Shizu-chan was trying to kill him.

Oh, no.

Izaya wasn't about to have that.

He squeezed his body slightly, allowing himself to back flip forward so that he faced right-side-up again, and then he sunk his knife into the soft flesh of Shizuo's thigh. The blade, holding all of Izaya's weight, slid down through Shizuo's skin and stopped when it lodged in Shizuo's knee cap. Izaya rooted both his hands to the handle as blood began to rain down upon him in thick globs. It coated his face in a spray.

"Ungrateful bastard," he hissed, staring up at the blonde with red eyes. They gleamed out from his blood-coated face. He was still smiling though. That psychotic little smirk. "Did you forget about last night~?"

Shizuo had felt the blade pierce him, but only after he looked down to see it. It was painful, but pain seldom registered anymore. Fatigue was overwhelming him. His arm shook slightly. He had lost his glasses last night, so his brown eyes flickered as the sun peaked in the sky. Another half hour, and people would flock the streets.

"Far as I'm concerned, last night never happened," he said. His voice was cold, firm, but Izaya only grinned wider. He reached up, inching his hand up Shizuo's thigh, sliding his fingers along his leg, near his crotch.

"Oh~?" He watched Shizuo's face slowly tint pink. "Is that so, Shizu-chan~?"

Shizuo felt the rising heat of his own body, especially around his neck and ears. He kicked Izaya in the face, as hard as he could. A wavering relief descended upon him when the hand withdrew.

"GET THE HELL OFF ME!" Shizuo started thrashing his lower limbs, trying to shake himself free of the damn flea. The parasite. Why could he never seem to get rid of him? Izaya wrapped his arms around Shizuo's leg and hung on for the ride. Within perhaps a ten minutes, Shizuo was tired out. He hung there, panting a little. Izaya glanced up at him, and in truth the informant wasn't really feeling all that up to it either. His cold was settling in. He sniffled powerfully, the sound liquid. Shizuo cringed, glaring, shaking his leg a little again. Izaya grinned.

"Shizu-chan can't get rid of me that easily~," he said. Shizuo hung his head, blonde bangs over his eyes. His voice was deep.

"Go die. Just fuck off and die."

Izaya frowned, pouting slightly. "Now, is that anyway to speak to me~? You could at least be cordial."

When Shizuo didn't say anything, Izaya peered up at him, squinting his eyes. More blood from Shizuo's leg leaked onto his face, and he sputtered, having to reach up and wipe it with the sleeve of his jacket.

"Shizu-chan is so quiet all of a sudden~," he said. He wanted to jog a reaction. A small twinge of panic rose within him again. Shizuo wasn't going to try and play that nasty 'make-Izaya-mad' game, was he? Izaya hated that game. The raven-haired man reached up again, squeezing the inside of Shizuo's thigh.

"Is Shizu-chan having a change of heart~?" he asked, voice quiet and snaky. Shizuo stirred, groaned, and gave Izaya another square kick in the jaw. Izaya's face snapped to the side, and he spit blood. Oohh, Shizu-chan was angry. Izaya grinned a little. While hanging on to Shizuo's leg, he wrenched the knife from his thigh, then plunged it back in, a little higher up, around the hip. And again, this time the waist. Each time Izaya stabbed, he moved closer and closer to Shizuo face, until they were right where they were before, face to face. He sniffled again, wiping his nose on his bloody sleeve, smirking at Shizuo's impassive face, half hidden by his bangs.

"Shizu-chan~?" Izaya whispered the question. "Do you still want me?" He leaned closer, putting his arms around his neck. "Need me~?"

Shizuo didn't move at all. He spoke. "I'm going to let go."

AN: Hey! I've already had one reviewer voice concern about the seemingly 180 degree turn in the relationship. They're coming of a "love high" no doubt, but there WILL be extensive cuddling in later chapters :D. Just wait it out guys, I promise it's coming! 3