31_days | August 22 (Durarara) Tranquilizer

Title: Tranquilizer
Theme: August 22 // longer ways to go
Series: Durarara!
Character/Pairing: Celty, Shizuo
A/N: I'm glad I can finally write about my OTP for this fandom. =D I think Shizou is a little OOC, but I'm not sure....>.>
Summary: When it gets too much, he come to her, a ticking time bomb and she's the only one who can stop the detonation.
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"Are you free?"

Celty's finger fly across the keyboard almost before she even thinks of a response. Glancing at him curiously, she holds up the screen, her font glaring against the bright background. Yes?

"Good." Shizou pulls out his cigarette, releasing a long puff of breath, before continuing. "Take me somewhere."

Celty pauses at her typing, from her message about smoking and cancer.

(She hates cigarettes because his time is limited as it is and she doesn't want to lose a second. The time when he disappears, the way the centuries and civilizations have, ticks closer and closer. His heartbeat counting down.

And then, all too soon, it'll hit zero and she'll be left alone once more.)

"Anywhere," he adds, tossing down the cigarette and stamping on it.

He's not saying it in any special way, not doing anything odd, but she understands immediately.

Okay.

Her hands are already creating a helmet and she tosses it at him.

He's surprisingly gentle when he sits behind her, his arms wrapping around her stomach. She's always amazed by it. There is no sign of that superhuman strength, only his long sleeves contrasting with her black suit.

So when he talks to her of his brother, of his boss, she understands the awkward feelings beneath his words. They are hidden in this loose embrace, in his mumbled rebuke, in his tilted face.

She rather likes that about him.

They ride, for an hour. Miles upon miles are eaten away, the scenary a passing blurr and they a distant spec in the horizon. He says nothing and she stares straight ahead and eventually, they arrive at their destination.

It's a wall by the sea this time. Shizuo remains silent, getting off and placing the helmet on the ground. He takes three steps foward, slow and calm as he glances at the setting.

Then he dashes into the water and Celty watches, bemused, as he trashes about angrily.

He gets like this sometimes. While he doesn't (can't) control himself, the anger doesn't always leave with each outburst. Sometimes it remains, a volcano building, and eventually he has to explode.

That's when he comes to her, with a request to go somewhere, anywhere. She picks fields and forests and abandoned warehouses. Places where he can just let go without destroying anyone.

"Celty." He's back already, picking up the helmet. Already he looks calmer (though she knows that energy is just bubbling under the surface, lying in wait). He smiles, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it as he leans against her bike. "Nice place."

I know. It's too cold for most swimmers, apparently.

"...It was cold." He seems to realize at that moment just how wet his clothes are, his hair matted to his face, and Celty would sigh if she could.

As it is, she makes do by making him a jacket for the ride home.

"Thank you."

He gets on behind her, his cigarette still hanging limpy off his mouth, her helmet under the crook of his arm.

She'll deal with that later. For now, they still have time.

His arms are as warm as ever as they ride home.