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The first time they woke up next to each other, it was because of a serious bout of depression on Izaya's part, and an equally serious case of inebriation on Kouji's, and a long row of miscalculations. Kouji had gotten drunk because he knew that Izaya would send him home if he got out of control, while Izaya had let him drink and drink and drink, because he knew that Kouji was far too paranoid to lose control completely. As fate would have it, they were both wrong, and once wrong they both wanted to see how wrong they could be, until finally they ended up where they found themselves that morning -
- sprawled and exhausted and naked on Izaya's brand new couch.
At seven, Izaya woke up first, stiff and sore but free from the hangover that Kouji was to suffer when the latter woke up an hour later. In the strange afterglow of their morning after, it felt uncomfortably like they had committed adultery, even though they were both very (unwillingly) unattached.
It may surprise you, however, to learn that neither of them decided to spare their first thought of the day to their situation. Izaya woke up thinking, "Do they clean couch cushions at the dry cleaner's?" while Kouji simply wondered, "Would it kill Izaya to stock up on better alcohol?" and it took a few hours for them to move from thoughtful pondering to actual conversation.
The answers to those questions, by the way, are NO and YES, respectively.
"You BIT me!" Izaya said, frowning at the mottled skin around his collarbone. When Kouji didn't respond, he began to prod the man insistently.
Kouji, nursing a painful headache, was understandably annoyed at this. "Leave me alone."
"But you bit me. I demand some kind of apology."
"You're not getting one."
Izaya emitted an indignant little cry.
"Shut UP, for god's sake," Kouji muttered.
Izaya sniffed. "This is my apartment, so I think I have a right to be as loud as I want - ow, ow, ow. Okay, I don't think I can move."
One blue eye cracked open as its irritated owner sighed. "Pity. You're heavy."
"You're weak, then," Izaya retorted, rubbing his neck. "Because I'm actually a kilo underweight."
"According to what scale?" Kouji muttered, shutting his eyes again.
"Namie's. And she has a medical degree, so there."
"Get a second opinion." Kouji was tense and unyielding under the Izaya's body, which made the skin contact between them seem less intimate somehow. "...how much did you drink?"
"Not as much as you," Izaya replied.
"That's a pity. Would've been easier if neither of us remembered last night." His sentences got longer and wordier as more parts of his brain woke up. The headache still pounded against his skull, but it was fading steadily.
Izaya gave the other man a calculated stare. "You don't remember, then."
"Probably a good thing. You do?"
"I didn't drink to forget." Unlike you, he added silently. And then he said it out loud, too.
"Fuck you."
"You already did."
Silence.
Izaya sighed. "You were so much nicer last night, you know. Maybe if you got drunk more, you'd have more friends."
"Not worth it. Way too many of them would become friends with benefits."
"Friends with benefits are fun," Izaya informed him. "They cause lots of drama and intrigue."
Kouji snorted. "There's already too much of that going 'round."
"Mmmmm," Izaya said, with his eyebrow quirked mockingly. "It keeps me in business. You, too."
"Don't care. Unlike you, I don't live for my job."
"I do not live FOR my job, I live my job."
Kouji gave him a look most people would have reserved for their worst enemies, but which Kouji had deemed proper to use on pretty much everyone. "You do both," he said, flatly. With an immense effort, he pushed his body up into a sitting position, ignoring Izaya's continued presence on his chest.
The informant cringed as the movement pushed and pulled at the sensitized skin around his thighs. "Could you, maybe," he pouted, "stay still for a bit?"
Kouji was obviously indifferent to his distress. "Quite frankly, you were enjoying yourself more than I was last night, so it's only fair."
"That's only because you were pissed. And pissed off."
He twisted his lips into a half-smirk. "So confident in your fucking skills?"
"Nope, just confident in my fuckability," he announced cheerfully.
Kouji dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. "My drunk self might have agreed with you, but my sober self doesn't."
"Drunks are more honest," he commented.
"Impulsive," Kouji corrected.
"Impulsive, honest, is there a difference?" Of course there was, as Izaya already knew - he had seen the effects of both on his beloved humans, and honesty was by far more interesting to observe. It wasn't like he could lump Kouji with everybody else, though. Every single successful person in their business had been forced to develop superhuman amounts of self-control. It would make sense that for Kouji, impulsiveness and honesty were very closely related.
Kouji gave him a slow, considering look. "Impulse or not, you're still the wrong gender."
"True," he agreed, "you're pathologically straight."
"Pathologically?"
"You don't like that adverb?"
"Not particularly."
"That's okay, most people don't."
"No surprise." Kouji shrugged. "Since most people are straight."
Izaya yawned. "Don't you ever think it's boring to be like most people?"
"Of course I do," Kouji said, because he genuinely liked being a devil's advocate, which was essentially the same thing as being Izaya's advocate. It had nothing to do with liking Izaya himself, only his methods.
"But apparently that doesn't prevent you from being like most people." He tilted his head. "There must be an appeal to it that I don't see."
"It's called inertia."
"Inertia is not appealing."
"Not for you, no. But habit is safe, and safe is usually appealing."
"Still don't see it."
"Yes, you do. Put yourself in the average person's shoes."
Izaya's lips twitched into a smirk. "Nope. Don't see it at all."
"I don't believe you," Kouji promptly informed him, rubbing a cool thumb over Izaya's wrist. Steady pulse. So steady that it was actually impressive, because it meant Izaya lied so much that it didn't even register on his body anymore. "You're far too good at blackmailing to be that blind to human nature."
"Don't be so rude, Kouji-kun."
Kouji actually hit him for that, a hard blow with the back of his hand to Izaya's temple.
"Ow!"
"You do not call me that."
"Why?"
"You know why."
Izaya smiled prettily. "No, I don't. Tell me?"
Kouji's gaze could have cut him open if it had been just a hair sharper. "Because there's only one person in the world who calls me Kouji-kun, and I'd like to keep it that way. As if you didn't know."
"What am I supposed to call you, then? Kouji-chan?"
"Better," Kouji told him tonelessly.
Izaya blinked. "You might be the first man to give me that reaction."
"That was not approval," Kouji informed him. "That was permission."
Red eyes regarded him calmly.
Kouji met his gaze and shifted his hands to brace Izaya's shoulderblades with grudging familiarity. "For what it's worth, it could have been worse."
Izaya didn't ask what it was supposed to refer to, but he had been playing with a strange little idea ever since they had started talking, and now it was mature enough to propose as an actual suggestion. "Let's do this again."
Kouji shoved him off fast - but not faster than Izaya could catch himself, slamming his palms backwards onto the floor, sliding the heels of his feet on the couch to either side of Kouji's nude body. Even in that awkward, bridge-like position, with his backside aching painfully, he didn't break eye contact with the other man. Kouji's eyes had gone lighter, brighter, becoming a strange ice blue color.
"Listen to me," Izaya said.
Kouji clearly didn't want to. "Where the hell are my pants?" he muttered, glancing around the room.
"Kouji-chan."
"I said it could have been worse. That was not an invitation," he snapped.
"I know," Izaya said, blinking, with a clear note of surprise.
Kouji looked at him scathingly.
"Two minutes," Izaya said, calmly. "Listen for two minutes. Then do whatever the hell you want. But I need you to stay with me for two minutes."
"You're down to a minute forty five," Kouji replied shortly.
"Fine. Look. I know why you fucked me last night. I know why I let you. And I know - and you know - that those reasons aren't going to go away tomorrow. Or the day after. Or maybe even months from now. You follow?"
"One minute twenty."
"Now, we can either do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way is to put this behind us. We'd cross paths maybe twice a month - Shibuya's close enough for that. We could limit ourselves to dealing with each other only when we have to. Personality wise, that'd be no problem for either of us."
Kouji didn't respond, but he was listening, and that counted for a lot.
"Or we could do this the hard way, the more satisfying way. My life is a clusterfuck, and so is yours. I need a good lay every once in a while, and that doesn't happen when you're the god of Ikebukuro - or the official street cleaner of Shibuya."
"Street cleaner," Kouji repeated, snorting. But he seemed to approve of Izaya's nickname for him, certainly more than he respected his official job title.
Izaya ignored him - by his count, he had maybe thirty seconds left, and he was getting to the most important part. "Therefore, I propose an alliance of sorts. You've probably had, what, two partners in your entire life?"
"Three. Not that it matters."
"Right. I've had even less than that, don't worry."
"Hmm." Kouji wasn't surprised - which was a good sign. It meant that they understood each other well enough to pull this off. Maybe. Possibly.
"I'm guessing that none of those three people will put up with being a fuck buddy," Izaya continued. He had used up his two minutes already, but Kouji hadn't stopped him. That was also a good sign.
Kouji gave a tiny shake of his head, still expressionless.
Izaya sighed, and said reluctantly, "I have zero chances of getting the person that I actually want to fuck. You're in the same position. If you don't mind acting as a...substitute, I don't either."
Silence.
"So. Verdict?"
Finally, after a long, hard look at Izaya, Kouji said, "I like biting." Which could have been a protest, or an insult, or simply a comment.
Izaya looked at him carefully, and replied, "I don't like being bitten."
"Fucking deal with it. I don't even like men."
Ah. Not a protest. A condition. Izaya nodded, feeling inordinately pleased with himself. "My turn. No drinking next time," he told Kouji. "Or, at least, not as much."
"No promises. I might need it to need you."
"We'll see," Izaya retorted. He filtered through his knowledge of Kouji's little blonde Izumi-chan, and frowned. "I hate peanut brittle, by the way. Don't expect me to indulge your fantasy that far."
"And I don't smoke cigarettes," Kouji said.
Izaya blinked and smirked. So Kouji had done research on him after all. It was actually quite flattering. "I don't care," he told the other man honestly, "seeing as I've never gotten close enough to associate the smell or taste of cigarettes with him."
"I don't care about the brittle either," Kouji countered. "I'm not willing to blur fantasy and reality that much. Also, it's a moot point, because I'm not kissing you."
"Not at all?" Izaya raised an eyebrow.
"No."
"Because you don't like kissing, or because you don't like me?" he asked, genuinely interested in knowing the answer.
"The second one. Mostly."
"Oh!" his grin was wicked. "Then I'll have to warn you - I'm a screamer."
"I remember that much," Kouji muttered. "I'm still not going anywhere near your mouth. Even if you scream yourself hoarse. That's not permission to try, by the way. I'm perfectly willing to gag you."
"No gags, please," Izaya said. "I don't like the taste of cloth."
"Fine. While we're on the topic - no kinks, besides the obvious."
"The obvious?"
"Pretending to be fucking other people," Kouji reminded him impatiently.
"That's not obvious," Izaya pointed out.
"It should be. Are you telling me nobody else in Ikebukuro knows that you want to fuck Heiwajima?"
"Don't tempt fate, I don't like people to know about my personal life," Izaya said, frowning. "That should be a condition, too - don't be obvious about it."
Kouji snorted. "As if you have to ask. Also, no public spaces."
"Does my office count?"
"No. Actually, that's not a bad idea. We should make your office the default location."
"That seems a little one-sided, don't you think?" Izaya would have preferred to do it in Shibuya, honestly. Less opportunity for people to report his activities.
"If it's your office, nobody's going to be surprised if they hear screaming," Kouji explained impatiently.
"Good point," he admitted. "Also, no commenting on names."
"Names? What?"
He scowled, annoyed that he even had to explain, but of course Kouji wasn't a mindreader - and they didn't know each other well enough to follow along with a half-unspoken conversation yet. They would probably get there soon enough, though. For two people who had officially known each other for less than 72 hours, they were already doing quite well. "No matter which name either of us screams," he clarified, "don't comment on it. Don't dwell, don't analyze, don't think, don't overthink. No matter what, those names mean nothing, got it?"
"That seems like it would be harder for you than for me. You are a professional busybody, after all."
"Indeed," he acknowledged. "But I'll restrain my mouth. I refuse to have that kind of conversation with you."
Kouji nodded, taking it for what it was: a concession. He restored the balance with his next words. "No holding back."
"On what?"
"In general. I'm not your Shizu-chan, but I'm still pretty fucking strong."
"Do you like it rough?" he asked, speculatively.
"No, but you do."
He nodded appreciatively. "How charitable of you."
Kouji shrugged, as if to say that it wasn't his ass on the line. Quite literally.
"No shower sex," Izaya said, next.
Kouji raised an eyebrow. "That's an odd request."
"Why? If I take a shower after fucking you, it's to get your smell off of me," he retorted. "Shower sex is a useless combination."
"Useless or not, I happen to like it."
Izaya sighed. "Bother."
Kouji rolled his eyes at him. "Your office doesn't have a shower, does it? Just forget about it."
"No, actually, it does, and it's a nice shower."
"I propose a compromise," Kouji replied, smirking slightly, "separate showers afterwards, if we do have shower sex."
"Waste of time and water." At Kouji's exasperated look, Izaya grinned. "But acceptable."
"Cheeky bastard." Kouji muttered. "Next one. If you want lube, get it yourself."
"May I propose a lube fund?"
"No."
"Oh, fine." Izaya thought for a moment before asking lightly, "Preferred positions?"
"I top, no exceptions," Kouji said flatly.
"Really?" he frowned. "Exception requested, then. Sometimes I get in the mood to ride."
Kouji shrugged. "Request it in advance, on your own time. When I want a fuck, I don't want someone to ride me. Doesn't satisfy."
Izaya grinned. "And you know this from experience?"
"Of the...pathologically straight sort, yes."
"It's different with men."
"I don't care to find out before I have to, thank you."
"You're no fun! You never answered the question, by the way."
"Which?"
"Do you have any preferred positions?"
"Besides me on top? Not particularly."
Izaya made a faint disappointed sound. "You're not a missionary position type of guy, are you?"
"Cuban press, actually," Kouji threw back, short and to the point, with slightly red cheeks.
"Ahh, that's better...but still, you should get more adventurous - "
"No. And no photos, recordings, or videos. No exceptions. Absolutely none." A pause. "Unless you're the only one starring in them."
"Aw, that's rather flattering..."
Kouji's voice was deadpan, but he was smug. "You have any idea how much people would pay for Orihara Izaya porn? I'd make a killing."
"But then I'd have to do some killing," Izaya replied, just as sly.
"Killing me?"
"Of course not, why would I kill my only fuckbuddy?"
"I notice that you haven't ruled out the option of killing me after we stop," Kouji commented absently.
"Oh, speaking of which..." Izaya glanced at him. "Last condition," he announced, "When one of us wants it to be over, that's it. No more sex, no questions asked."
Kouji looked amused. "No questions? Absolutely none?"
Izaya grinned. "Don't push your luck."
"If I had any, I wouldn't have to use you for sex."
"I could always make it so that you wouldn't be getting sex at all." He flicked open his switchblade and ran the blunt side of the blade up Kouji's thigh.
Kouji snorted. "Spoken like a woman."
Izaya smirked slowly. "Now, isn't that convenient, my pathologically straight friend?"
"Does Shizu-chan know that you're half transgender?"
"Does Izumi-chan know that you get turned on by poking holes in people with your teeth?"
"Fuck you."
"What, now?"
"...hell, whatever. Sure."