Chapter Text
Shiki had no way of knowing, of course, what a volatile situation he was walking into. All he knew, at the time, was that both Shinra Kishitani and Izaya Orihara seemed to be ignoring his calls. He could still get through to the information broker by email, but he’d also heard, via the old rumor mill, that neither boy had been seen in person for nearly a week. It wasn’t unusual for Izaya to drop off the radar, but when he did it was usually entirely–not this partially-maintained email-only contact. Sightings of the Black Rider had also drastically and mysteriously dropped, and Shiki had been unable to get in touch with her for business purposes. Shinra, finally, had never been known to vanish in such a way–his chosen profession didn’t allow him that luxury.
That led him, naturally, to investigate. There were times when spare keys came very in handy, and he didn’t think twice about using his spare to the Kishitani residence.
The apartment was dark–almost pitch black, save for the light coming through the door past him. Shiki didn’t often flinch and there was nothing about this situation that made it an exception, but his mind was immediately churning through worst-case scenarios. The air of the apartment smelled stale.
Shiki closed the door with a soft click, plunging himself into darkness. He wondered idly if he should call out to the young underground doctor.
There was the scuff of feet; Shiki pivoted, moving instinctually even as his eyes tried to adjust to the dark. He made out a shape; reached out, feeling his hand grasp a bony wrist. He felt the person twist, and then a familiar, cold blade pressed against his throat.
“Orihara?”
Shiki felt, through his grip on the younger man’s wrist, his assailant jump. Then the blade flicked away from his throat; there was a cross, “Tch. Shiki-san. It’s you.”
“It’s me,” the Awakusu executive confirmed mildly, releasing Izaya’s wrist. There was a soft shuffling of feet as the informant put a bit if distance between them. “What’s–”
“Get out.”
Shiki blinked in surprise; his eyes were beginning to adjust more, and he could see the outline of his companion. He could also see, from the barest glint of metal, that Izaya hadn’t put his switchblade away; it hung, limp, at his side.
“No. I came here to see Kishitani-kun. He isn’t answering his phone, you know.”
“He’s still asleep,” Izaya answered flatly, his voice low. “I’ll tell him you came by.”
“You and I both know you won’t.” Shiki wasn’t yet sure what was going on, but he was willing to bet on that, at least.
“You won’t disturb him,” Izaya replied, his voice unyielding. It was so different from the honeyed tone he usually struck that he sounded like an entirely different person. “I won’t let anything disturb him.”
“Is Kishitani-kun in good health?” Shiki queried; his vision was getting better by the heartbeat, and he could now tell that Izaya was clad in a thin robe and house slippers–something he hadn’t expected.
“Good enough. You certainly don’t need to worry about him.”
Shiki didn’t trust that; he was also struggling to piece together exactly why Izaya Orihara was in the apartment, in what was arguably a partial state of undress, and acting like an over-zealous guard-dog on top of it. Even if he assumed he had blundered into something scandalous–and it wouldn’t have been the first time, with Shinra Kishitani–several things weren’t adding up. Izaya was acting far too aggressively; Shinra’s absence was too conspicuous; the headless rider’s involvement was a huge question mark; the dark, stale state of the apartment was simply too strange.
And then the new, groggy voice:
“Izaya-kun…?”
Instantly Izaya was moving, Shiki seemingly forgotten in the doorway. “Shinra. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
The doctor made a soft, almost soothing noise, then flicked on the light. Shiki narrowed his eyes, then blinked rapidly to clear his vision. There was Izaya, standing straight and protective at Shinra’s shoulder–his switchblade, however, had vanished. Shiki spared a moment to wonder where he was hiding it, considering the near-translucent fabric of the robe he wore. Shinra looked to be in one piece, clad in flannel nightclothes; his gaze was sleepy but alert, and the expression he wore was an earnestly curious smile. But what he held, clutched to his chest in frail arms…
“Shiki-san,” he greeted the visitor cheerfully, stepping past Izaya. “Hello. What brings you to visit? Has Izaya-kun offered you tea yet?”
The informant’s expression twisted into one of the utmost irritation. But he didn’t argue. “I was on my way, Shinra.”
“Sorry I’ve been out of communication, Shiki-san,” Shinra continued, motioning for the visitor to follow him. “Oh, you must have been worried, right?”
“Mildly concerned,” Shiki replied, padding after the younger man. But he paused when Shinra flopped onto the couch, the dullahan’s head resting in his lap. “I’ll go assist Orihara-kun with the tea, then.”
“Oh, but you’re the guest!” Shinra objected. Shiki only turned away, raising an acknowledging hand over his shoulder.
The kitchen was in worse shape than the rest of the house. Dirty dishes were piled to the roof in one corner, and Izaya was cursing at the stove as he worked. When Shiki entered, he turned.
“Do you know how hard it is to get him to sleep peacefully?” was the first thing he asked, sorely; Shiki shrugged.
“Can’t say I do. But I can take a guess.”
Now that the lights were on, Shiki could tell that all was not well with Izaya Orihara. His eyes were narrow and haunted, with black circles beneath them as though he hadn’t slept in years. His hair was tangled–not dirty, but not well kept, and he was dressed only in that thin robe and standard house-slippers. His whole body was tense, knuckles white as he grasped the kettle.
“What’s going on here, Orihara? Really?”
“If you upset him in any way, I won’t forgive you.” It was a line straight out of a manga, and not the type of thing that would frighten someone like Shiki.
But, for perhaps the first time, the Awakusu executive found himself taking a threat from Izaya Orihara seriously.
“I get it,” he said, hands raised. “I’ll leave now, if that’s what you want.”
“No…” Izaya sighed, surprising him. “Shinra wants you to stay and visit. So stay and visit. But watch yourself,” he added. “And whatever you do, do not mention that dullahan.”
Shiki blinked, but put his hand up. “On my honor.”
“Good,” Izaya muttered, then handed Shiki a tray of tea. “I’m going to go change.” Then, after a beat, “Come with me.”
“What?” Shiki asked, surprised.
“I’m not leaving you alone with him,” was Izaya’s clipped response. “And I’m not suffering the indignity of being dressed like this in front of company for a minute longer. So you’ll just have to come along with me. We’ll drop the tea off with Shinra, first.”
“What’s that about?” Shiki asked, jerking his chin to indicate the tower of dishes. Izaya didn’t look pleased at being questioned.
“I hate doing dishes, and god knows I can’t have anyone in the house, not with his attachment to that head. I’ve just been ordering new ones.”
Shiki choked on an unexpected laugh. “Why am I not surprised?”
“There’s a neighbor-kid who comes and takes out the trash for us,” Izaya continued idly, scuffing his way toward the living room, “and my new secretary brings pre-made meals. Anything else we need can be delivered.” He fell silent when they came within earshot of Shinra, still sitting where Shiki had left him. “I’m going to go change, Shinra,” he told the doctor, leaning over the back of the couch to rest one hand on his shoulder. “Shiki’s coming with me, but we’ll be back in just a minute.”
“Okay,” the doctor agreed easily. “Hurry back!”
“We will,” Izaya said soothingly, then indicated that Shiki should leave the tea. The Awakusu executive followed him patiently into the master bedroom.
“This has something to do with Celty Sturlson, doesn’t it?”
“Doesn’t everything?” Izaya grumbled, then ducked into the closet and closed the door down to a crack.
Shiki took the chance to peer around the bedroom. There were two pillows on the twin-sized bed–one blanket, but two pillows. When he craned his neck to peer into the bathroom, there were two sets of personal hygiene tools, one on either side of the single sink.
“Why didn’t you just move into Celty-san’s room?”
A barking laugh from the closet startled Shiki. “Firstly, because I don’t want to take her place!” Izaya replied. “Secondly, because I want nothing to do with her or her room or her bed or her belongings–I'd burn the lot, if I could. Thirdly, because I don’t trust Shinra alone for more than five minutes.” With that he emerged, hair still tousled but now dressed in jeans and a black shirt. “This is better. Now let’s get back, shall we?”
“Right…” Shiki murmured, then followed Izaya back into the living room. Shinra hadn’t moved, and waved cheerfully when they returned.
“Have you brought us news of the outside world, Shiki-san?” he asked eagerly, leaning forward when Shiki sat across from him; after a beat, Izaya sat beside the young doctor. “Izaya-kun hasn’t been letting me outside, you know. Not that I particularly want to go outside, you know.” He laughed sheepishly. “I understand why he doesn’t want me to go outside…”
Shiki glanced over at Izaya, who hadn’t reacted to the doctor’s words. He was sipping his tea in an almost meditative way, gazing disconnectedly into the steam.
“And you’re okay with that?” Shiki asked, as if to verify. Again Izaya didn’t react, but Shinra nodded jerkily.
“Oh yes! Izaya-kun is only looking out for me; I know that. It’s just exciting to get word from the outside all of a sudden! Tell me, Shiki–how’s my Celty doing?”
Izaya went rigid, fingers tightening around his teacup. Shiki wondered if his ban on the subject extended to these sorts of circumstances–when Shinra himself had broached the topic.
“… I don’t know,” the Awakusu executive said at last, truthfully. “She’s been as unreachable as you. Pity, too–I have a few tasks I could use her for.”
Shinra sighed, disappointed but not cripplingly so. “Pity…” he echoed, then chewed briefly on his lip. “I wonder where she’s staying… I hope she’s found another place… perhaps with Ryugamine-kun…? He’s a good kid…”
Shiki’s gaze flicked to Izaya; it was one piece of information he did have. He was fairly certain that the informant knew it, too, with how closely he watched that particular man… the blonde demon who Shiki, too, deliberately kept an eye on.
Sorrel eyes flicked over to him; met his questioning gaze with a severity that nearly had Shiki reaching for the small gun concealed at his side. He hadn’t wandered into such an uncertain situation unarmed, though he hoped that physical conflict could be avoided.
“Sorry,” he said nonchalantly, forcing himself to look away from Izaya’s challenge. “I don’t know that, either.”
Shinra sighed again. “It’s alright… I mean, I’m fairly sure that Izaya-kun knows, anyway,” he said, with a chuckle that startled Shiki. Again Izaya didn’t visibly react, only returned to his tea. “I could press him for the information, if I really really wanted to find out.”
“But you… don’t?” Shiki asked, bewildered. Shinra hummed thoughtfully, letting his head drop back so that he was gazing up at the ceiling.
“If Izaya-kun doesn’t want to tell me, then I’ll play like I don’t want to know. The barest courtesy I owe him is to avoid actively causing him pain.”
Again Shiki looked over at Izaya, who was once again seemed wholly apathetic to the conversation. He looked tired, Shiki reflected, and the Awakusu executive could only fumble for another topic as Shinra lapsed into an idle humming.
The obvious subject, held loosely on Shinra’s lap, was most definitely taboo.
… … …
“Don’t come here again, at least not unannounced,” was Izaya’s farewell at the door. Shiki nodded.
“Not unannounced,” he agreed, and Izaya’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t bother calling here, either–I’ve had all three of Shinra’s numbers disconnected. Email me if you need to get in touch for whatever reason.”
Again Shiki nodded. “I will. By that same token, reach out to me if you need anything. The Kishitanis have always been friends to the Awakusu, more so than you.”
Then it was Izaya’s turn to nod. “Got it, though I doubt I’ll take you up on it, beyond our usual business.”
Shiki shrugged, then bowed briefly. “Take care–of yourself and of him.”
“I will,” Izaya replied, and then was altogether too pleased to close the door.
“Shiki-san is a good family friend,” came Shinra’s gentle voice from behind him. “There’s no need to act so hostile.”
“I wasn’t acting hostile,” was Izaya’s clipped response. “If I’d been acting hostile, dear Haruya would have left here with a knife in his innards.”
Shinra chuckled faintly, them wrapped one arm around Izaya’s shoulders from behind. The information broker bent his head, knowing instinctively that the other arm still held the dullahan’s head.
“Thank you for looking out for me so diligently, Izaya-kun.”
Izaya’s shoulders trembled, just briefly; Shinra must have felt it, but didn’t acknowledge it. And when the informant spoke, his voice was cheerful.
“… Right! Let’s go have some supper, then. What do you feel like eating?”
“Whatever you’ve got for me will be fine, Izaya-kun.”