Sickness (completed)

Sickness

AN:This fic turned out a lot longer than I thought it would when I started it :3 but I hope you enjoy it :D Sorry about any OOCness, but it's so hard to write fluff AND keep these two in character. I'd like to think that Izaya would act a lot more human if he were sick. Everyone acts weak and not at all calm when faced with terrible sickness, Izaya is human and every human has a weakness. Izaya doesn't cope well with sickness

:D Constructive criticism is more than welcome!
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Izaya was grumpy, miserable and extremely fucking sick. His head was spinning ferociously as he tried to sit up in his bed. He must have been sweating as his clothes stuck to his lithe body. He felt his forehead which felt as if it had been boiled like a kettle- he half expected steam to start sprouting from his ears.

"Fuck-" He exclaimed as he held his pounding head in his hands. He needed to get up, at least to grab some pain killers for his aching head and body- but his vision was a little blurry and he could hardly move with his aching limbs. He wondered how exactly he had gotten sick in the first place. It must have been when Shizuo had chased him through the freezing snow the other day.

"Damn Shizu-Chan." He cursed, hoping the blonde protozoan was suffering just as much as he was right now but he knew that because of the way Shizuo was it was very unlikely that he could even get sick. The thought made Izaya extremely angry, he had even planned to go to Ikebukuro specifically to play with him too. Izaya sighed, coughing as he noticed how parched and sore his throat was as he breathed. Finally willing himself out of the bed he threw his legs over the side. They felt heavy and foreign like they weren't attached to his body at all. He was tempted to call Namie, but he realised it was her day off and she would be attempting to occupy the attention of her brother all day and probably wouldn't even answer the phone at all. He was shaky as he stood- trying his best not to fall over, he made it out into the kitchen and he quickly rummaged around in the cupboards looking for some kind of pain killers, finding none he almost ripped the draw out in frustration, but he willed himself to keep his calm. He finally decided to just call Shinra- then he could be prescribed exactly what he needed. He hobbled over to the couch falling face first into the comfortable cushions- relishing in how cold it was to touch on his burning face. He felt for the phone on the table next to him, dialling the number he put it against a free ear and closed his eyes, waiting for the underground doctor to answer.

"Hello?" Izaya breathed a sigh of relief that the doctor had answered.

"I need you to come over," He made sure to clear his throat so he wouldn't sound pathetic over the phone. He said it bluntly, if he were in his right mind he would have added a taunt or a tease but he didn't feel up to it.

"Izaya? I'm a little busy-" Izaya made an annoyed sound cutting the doctor off.

"But I need you~" He tried his best to coo but he had to stop and cough as his throat had started to close over.

"Are you sick?" Shinra sounded incredulous, like it was impossible for Izaya to be sick, like he wasn't human. Izaya wanted to come back with something witty- but his brain had decided to vacate and cool off somewhere else.

"No shit-" Was all he said, "Now get over here." He was impatient, he wanted the doctor to get there now and cure him quickly- he couldn't do any work like this.

"Well I'm already seeing to someone and it might take awhile-" Izaya cut him off again with anger in his voice.

"Fine- I'll come to you then," Izaya was extremely pissed off at this point- he hated being weak andvulnerable like this.

"I don't know if that's a good id-" Izaya hung up the phone before the doctor could finish- not interested in what he was going to say- he was tempted to stomp on his phone in anger- but he couldn't get up at that point so he decided to forget about it. The informant hated how this sickness was making him lose his calm- how it was making him act so weak and pathetic. Izaya willed himself to stand from the couch, his limbs whining in protest. He hobbled his way back into his bedroom to change into his trademark jacket, black pants and black shirt with difficulty. His head was spinning in pain, making him feel dizzy and almost making him lose his balance. He stumbled to the door- almost tempted to call a taxi- but there was no way he was going to rely on someone else to get him to his destination.