Pairing: Shizuo/Izaya
Theme: college!au

“Get me a mug, Shizu-chan?”

“All right.”

And when Izaya looked up, it was just in time to watch Shizuo reaching towards the highest shelf in the cupboard. Shizuo was tall but the mug in demand was pushed near the back, so even someone of his stature had a little difficulty in locating it. Over the black rim of his glasses, Izaya watched his childhood best friend reached up and stretched his body, causing his white shirt to ride up and revealing a sliver of fair skin. 

The essay Izaya had been working on all morning was suddenly of absolutely no concern.

After being accepted to universities that were relatively close to each other, the two decided to get an apartment together. Izaya had known Shizuo since kindergarten; as far as he was concerned, he would look at the nineteen-year-old and see the five-year-old shyly offering to share his stuffed cow and then trip and get his head stuck in a sand pail. He’d grown up but, to Izaya, Shizuo had never quite shed that endearing image of his little kid self. Izaya would tease him from time to time, enjoy the way Shizuo would blush furiously.

Shinra was wrong. Izaya didn’t harbor undying love for Shizuo. Shinra was wrong and stupid.

But then Shizuo reached up and Izaya saw his partially exposed midriff.

His sweatpants hung low on his hips; he hadn’t bothered to tie the drawstring and so they were a bit lopsided, one side so low that Izaya could see the entire elastic and part of his boxers, black in comparison to the grey. And above that, Izaya stared at his childhood best friend’s hip, his skin and how soft it seemed. Shizuo grunted; he reached even more, exposing more of his body and Izaya finally realized what years of soccer and track could do to someone.

And then, before he realized it, he was licking his lips.

Izaya was disappointed when Shizuo finally got the mug. He walked over and placed it on his coffee table; just as Izaya was returning to his normal, daily life, Shizuo reached a hand up to scratch the back of his head.

Up went his hand, up went the hem of his shirt, up went Izaya’s gaze, basically eye-to-eye with Shizuo’s hips thanks to the soft cushions of their couch.

“…Izaya? You okay?”

…Damnit.

Two weeks later after Izaya did laundry:

“Uh… Izaya, why did all my shirts shrink?”