Redeemer

“Maybe he didn’t like the steak,” Matt muttered, shoveling in another mouthful of his own dinner. Mello didn’t reply, but his eyes went to L. Now was as good a time as any, L supposed—made easier if Light was out of the room anyway.

“Mello, please come here,” the detective said.

There was no hesitation on the blonde’s behalf, he was being overtly penitent since he and Light had had their tryst—but that wasn’t L’s concern, he was well acquainted with Light’s habitual promiscuity. “Close the door,” L added after Mello was in the room and the blonde complied, sitting on the bed.

“Do you need help?” He asked, noting aside from the tea, the food had not been touched.

“No, I’m capable of feeding myself,” L replied. “I want to speak with you in private right now,” he went on, picking at the tiramisu in his usual odd way. Mello, he could tell was still very much unnerved by his appearance—the vicious tracery of bruises, cuts and abrasions—it seemed to make everyone uneasy but L himself, which made L wonder if he was just insensitive to the matter, or if he’d actually blocked it out. That was a thought—it made him pause, but he caught the mounting look in Mello’s eyes and dipped his spoon back into the rich, creamy desert.

“Our Kira is in a strange place right now,” L said. He wasn’t going to begin with the topic of Light but in truth, his heart was beating a little too anxiously at that moment. “To explain is difficult, so I’ll just say he knows there’s a decision to make, and he can’t bring himself to make it. He can’t choose. His behavior illustrates his dilemma—it’s no secret to either of us that he has in his possession at least one Death Note; there’s a horde of worshippers and an army of followers and a veritable queen in the wings waiting for him, and he’s here with us—not because he has to be, but because he wants to be. I believe he wants to choose us, it just makes no plausible sense to him and he’s floundering.”

Mello was quiet for a moment. His skepticism had lessened as of late, and L suspected it was most likely because he’d begun to learn how to read Light, just like he’d learned how to better read L. “I know his love for you has confused him,” Mello muttered.

“That’s the prerequisite information to let you know I fear he’s on the verge of another breakdown,” L sipped the tea. “—At this moment, in fact. Light’s breakdowns are never pretty. I’m hoping he’ll contain it, but it’s coming unless his head clears and he’s able to think again. Usually that’s not possible until the anxiety peaks. If that happens, I’m going to need your help to calm him. I understand it is out of character for you, Mello—but I think we are both aware by now that Light is rather partial to you and is beginning to trust you in his own way…”

The guilt certainly creased Mello’s brow for a second and he went to speak, but L held up a hand. “I mean what I ask,” the detective said firmly, and changed the subject. “In addition….” And if Mello was to help defuse Light’s breakdown, it most certainly was about to fall to Matt to defuse Mello’s…

“In addition, I want you and Matt to take Light and set up a second headquarters in a new hotel. I plan on making contact with Near once he arrives and I anticipate having him send SPK agents to meet with me. Doubtful he’ll come himself, since I’m sure he at least suspects that Kira is alive. When they do, I don’t want any of you present—nor do I want any trace of you here.”

L dipped the cream into his tea. “Light is going to make this plan difficult,” and his eyes shifted up to Mello—he saw the anger knotting that pretty, scarred brow, he saw the thoughts in those piercing green eyes—L was in no condition to hold his own against the SPK, and definitely in no condition to be left by himself while they set up headquarters far apart from him. Light was certainly going to make this plan difficult, “And I have a feeling,” L muttered to Mello, “So are you…”

At least they were on the same page and there would be no risk of misconceptions as far as Mello's disagreement toward the seemingly horrific plan. He was already shaking his head as L murmured his regretful observation.

"You're in no condition to make contact with him now without us here,” Mello said. “It's going to have to wait. Give yourself some time to recover, goddamnit." And the fervor with which he said it hinted that there was more discomfort regarding L's current predicament than he'd initially let on. "You can't keep going like this," Mello continued, mindful of the volume of his tone. "You can't keep running yourself to the ground like this." That clear green visage bore upon the detective, brows knit with determination, with worry. "We may not be able to afford anymore days lost, but we also sure as hell cannot afford to lose you."

That's what it really came down to, wasn't it? That unexplainable fear that this was all for naught in the end, and L would be the one lost to them. Not Light, no Kira had been lost for a long time, that was a matter of struggle of desires and too-difficult to make decisions. This was real. This had been real from the day L had become tangled in Light's life - and inadvertently, his path to destruction. "Just this once, L, let us be the ones to look after you.."

L had stopped dunking his spoon in mid motion, his face a blank mask, but his eyes were alive, probing Mello. “You understand it’s better for me to contact Near before he finds a way to contact us. My hiding from him on this case will only further his suspicion about the three of you. Then his concern will not only be the 5th Kira, but our operations as well, which can’t afford to be compromised more than they already are. We’re going to have to move hotel rooms anyway due to the very likely possibility that the ring has tracked Light here—or perhaps he even told them.”

Even if it made sense on some level, Mello still wasn’t having it. And he sat there simmering in silence, which L of course read easily—as he was meant to.

The detective was quiet, deciphering every unspoken word in Mello’s face, before he sighed. “Very well, I’ll wait several days before making contact…” L wasn’t happy about the compromise, but it would do better not to have Mello and Light and most likely Matt bearing down on him in his condition—and theirs—so conflict was best avoided at the moment. “In that time, I do need Matt to begin setup of another headquarters, one I’ll eventually move to with you after contact with the SPK has been made and met with. Are we agreed?”

“That can be arranged,” Mello grunted. Meeting with Near at all was the last thing he wanted to entertain; but like L had already pointed out—it couldn’t be helped. The albino boy-wonder was going to find them sooner or later; it would be best if those of them who were supposed to be six feet under were not around at the time.

L sipped his tea.

“Please eat the soup too,” Mello inserted. The request was met with a child-like twist of lips. “I want to be sure you’re getting enough nutrients, even your body needs them.”

L outwardly frowned, looking warily at the steaming bowl. “Bring me the sugar then, please,” he said.

Mello sighed and got up from the bed. Upon opening the door he was met with the sight of Ryuk hovering over Matt’s head, and Matt none-too-happily complaining that he was being drooled on. To which Ryuk assured him that shinigami didn’t drool.

Ryuk looked up when Mello entered the room.

“Normally I would just let this one play out,” the death god cackled; “But seeing as how Raito locked the door, I figured I’d tell you he’s out cold in there—on the floor.”

It took a moment for the shinigami's words to sink in - or rather their meaning. Mello blinked at him as if it made no sense before he followed the line of sight to the locked bathroom door and suddenly the world caught up. The sugary request was immediately forgotten as he practically bolted across the living room with a hissed curse upon his lips. The door was indeed locked, and Mello wasted no time before kicking it in.

Once upon a time, his reaction would have been one of nonchalance, even amusement, after all, this was Kira. Though it was because it was Kira, because of what L had just told him - no, warned him - about, that Mello half-stumbled into the bathroom, coming down to the cold marble floor beside Light's fallen form.

"You goddamned bastard," he scowled with obvious frustration. "I'm going to give you a damned good reason to pass out one of these days." But the threat fell on obviously deaf as he took care rolling Light onto his back.

There was no doubt in Mello’s mind that whatever had brought this on was not necessarily on purpose, but had something to do with the imbalance L had spoken of months earlier. It had been easy to forget it, now that things seemed to have stabilized to some odd semblance of normalcy between all four of them, but here it was and for the first time it was in Mello's hands to deal with it. He only hoped Matt would jump to intervene any possible attempts L would put up to get out of bed and rush to his lover's side. It was the last thing they needed, and then Mello might truly feel tempted to beat Light senseless for giving L further reason to be aggravated.

Mello took Light’s wrist in his hand, feeling the beat of his pulse. Slow but even. It just so happened that he still wore his watch – convenient, and so Mello watched the ticking dials in silence. “Ryuk, how long has he been out?”

The shinigami had floated himself through the wall, or at least partially, which had Mello not already grown immune to, could have been rather unnerving. In fact, he did not shrink away from those bulging eyes and monstrous Cheshire grin, scowling instead at the death god. “How long?”

Ryuk might have been either impressed or unaffected by the display as he cackled his usual grating laughter. “Jus’ a couple of minutes.”

Which meant, Light should have been coming to shortly. “C’mon, you bastard,” Mello murmured, watching the time tick away. “Don’t do this now.”

But Light wasn’t budging, and Mello was shaking him, slapping him, though it was rather tempting to just haul off and give him a good hard crack to snap him out of it. Ryuk found it all thoroughly amusing, and as predicted, Matt was off the couch and hustling into the bedroom to keep L put. “Don’t worry,” Mello could hear him saying, “Mello’s got him, it’s fine, L—”

“Shit,” Mello growled, as it became obvious L wasn’t really interested in listening to Matt. “Goddamnit, Light, wake the fuck up,” and at that moment, his gentle slaps got just a bit harder. Still no response, and Mello had the sink on a second later, filling a paper cup.

The icy water hit Light once, twice, by the third splash he came to, gasping and choking and all startled back to movement. He swatted at Mello. “What the fuck?!” He snapped, perhaps realizing then he was on the floor and his head hurt and there was cold water soaking his bangs, leaking down his bare chest, …

"'Fraid that's what I should be saying right now," he countered with a hint of cool sarcasm. "You've been out for several minutes," he said in the same breath, reaching up to yank a hand towel off the rack so that at least some of the excessive water could be dried off. Surprisingly enough, instead of a perhaps expected demand as to what the hell had just happened, Mello asked instead. "You all right?"

Light blinked at him, shifting to sit against the cold porcelain tub. It took a moment, and perhaps he was just assessing his own mental state before he nodded. “Yeah,” he managed. “There’ll definitely be a bruise, but what’s one more right?” There was a sly glimmer in his eye, but he was joking, and instead took the offered towel. “I suppose I just got dizzy,” he justified, sloughing off all insinuations that it had been the direct effect of an anxiety attack moments after L called it. “Got up too fast, no food, you know…”

Mello eyed him a moment, wandering perhaps whether or not he should call Light on his shit. And, at the last moment, decided against it. “He’s fine!” he called toward the door, instead, hoping that the relay would be enough to cut Matt’s job in half and keep L put a little while longer. “Better get some food in you,” he murmured, that knowing gaze warning him silently. No use to verbally humiliate him just then. Not when progress had been made. “Keep this up and I might just be too tempted to give you a proper reason to pass out.” Ah, the complexity of the statements. Keep up this behavior, keep hurting L, keep being a douchebag. A number of insinuations, but the comment was passed off lightly as a jest nevertheless before Mello pushed himself up with a creak of leather and extended a hand down to him.

“Is that an offer?” Light muttered, taking Mello’s hand and getting back to his feet. He was still a little wobbly actually and steadied himself against the very counter they’d fucked over the day before. His eyes met Mello’s in the mirror…

Truth be told, Light had taken him by surprise and it showed, reflected momentarily across Mello’s features. One of those moods, was it? He’d been forewarned, but never did have to deal with it. Ah, it was a day full of lovely experiences. Hell, the entirety of that week had been a roller coaster ride of epic proportions. “Yea,” he returned, recovering just as quickly. “But unless you’ve also developed the ability to read my mind, I’d be wary of what you agree to.”

“Don’t know me very well, yet,” Light smiled, and for just an instant, that molten look than had driven Mello’s hunger just 24 hours earlier. Didn’t help that his nail marks were still faintly scored beneath Bella’s down Light’s back. This is what L had to live with it seemed. Yet jut as quickly as he’d turned it on, Light turned it off, and opened the faucet, splashing some more water onto the back of his neck. Mello watched.

“Food’s a good idea,” Light said simply. “Thank you for ordering.” He paused long enough to dry himself. “We’re almost out of hydrogen peroxide,” he added, “And I need to change L’s bandages soon.”

“Pharmacy’s closed by now. I’ll check if they have anything downstairs.” And with a last shared glance in the mirror, Mello backed away, certain that Light was not about to topple over a second time. At least not just then. “Pull yourself together, Light. If not for your own sake, than for his.” The request – order? – was made quietly but sternly nevertheless before, after lingering in the doorway a moment, he escaped the confines of the small space and heavy artificial light. Since when had it mattered? Goddamnit, these niceties would only last so long before it was Mello who’d lose his bloody mind. It was a wonder his patience remained, for the moment, intact.

Of course L was on his feet in the suite area, finger pressed to split lips, panda eyes wide and inquiring. Matt was exasperated because it was true, L was the most stubborn of them all.

“He’s fine,” Mello reiterated, and there went that patience test again.

“Sou desu ka,” L muttered, gaze lapsing to the bathroom doorway Light had yet to emerge from.

“It’s most likely what you said,” Mello muttered, “But he’s pretending it’s just exhaustion.”

“Then he’s most likely reset himself,” L muttered. “Hopefully we’ll avoid any dramatic outbursts this way.” He sounded so tired at that moment, and part of Mello wanted to drag Light out by the hair, force him to face L and demand that he realize just what he’d been doing to the detective.

“Could you please go back and lay down,” Mello tried, further tempted at that moment to spin L at the shoulders and march him back into the bedroom.

But just as he was considering that very plan of action, Matt cursed, the computer console beeped and there was suddenly a nice gothic ‘N’ on their screen…

A second curse echoed, only with a bit more emphasis from Mello. That was a sight he had most certainly not missed. The goddamned twit was early. In fact the fucker had preempted them all. Fuck! He thought furiously as Matt was a bit subtler eyeing the blindingly white screen with disdain, quickly tackling away on his second laptop that allowed him remote access to the SPK’s mainframe. How could this have gotten right past him? Goddamnit! He and Mello shared a look; his own devoid of all emotion that Mello was more than happy to relay. The computer was turned around, the mic hooked up to transmit only when instructed.

And it was then as Light appeared in the doorway, that Mello cast him a severe look, gesturing sharply the international sign for “not a fucking word” with a quick slice across his throat. He, of all people, could not afford to make a peep. He and Matt… well, as eager as he was for a heartfelt reunion with sheep-boy, it was best not even entertain the thought.

L’s eyes glued to the screen, and he made his way over to the couch before the mic, scrunching up as best he could into his favorite position. “For the record, Mello,” he said flatly, “I did agree to hold off contact for several days, but Near has come to us and this can no longer be avoided. Now everyone, not a word, please.”

L clicked the transmitter button. “Near, this is L.”

There was a scratchy pause, and then that equally low monotone voice filtered over the speaker: “L, you’ve had us worried. All previous attempts to contact you have failed.”

L leaned closer in to the mic, and tried to keep all pain from his voice. “My apologies, Near,” and he and Near were both speaking in their native English, which was visibly making Light antsy, though he could still understand every word. “I have been deep undercover on this case.”

“Undercover?” Near sounded concerned. “You’re on the field?”

“I’ve been left with little choice.” L replied. “My team has been eliminated, I’m the last here.”

“That’s unacceptable.” Near replied resolutely. “I’m going to send you back up.”

“You’ve arrived in Rome, then?” L muttered, looking at the screens Matt kept turning to him to keep him abreast of the SPK’s movements.

“Yes, we just landed,” Near replied.

“My current situation is compromised, Near,” L responded, “I don’t want any of your people near me until I can secure my location.”

There was an unhappy pause and then a hesitant: “Understood….How many Death Notes are we dealing with, L?”

L pursed his lips. “Undisclosed,” he said. “At least two that I know of, maybe more. How many do you still have?”

”One,” came Near’s reply. “Incinerated. Which means there’s still an allowance of 6 here in the human world.”

Light frowned, Mello frowned, hell L was even frowning. None of them believed Near had incinerated his Death Note, especially not after Ryuk had confirmed him as an owner.

“The SPK and I have come to establish this is the work of a ring of Kira worshipers,” Near elaborated. “We’ve tracked them here to Rome with connections to the Sforza family.”

“Correct,” L replied.

“Any connection to Yagami other than their equally misaligned belief system?”

“None,” L replied. “They worship Yagami-kun’s ideals, but don’t necessarily abide by them. Their ring has employed a good number of questionable persons, most with links to the mafia.”

“L,” and Near sounded frustrated; “Do you have further plans of going onto the field?”

“Not at present.” L replied, “But it may become necessary.”

“How long until you secure a new position?”

“3 Days,” L replied. Matt frowned, but nodded.

“Then I’ll contact you again in three days,” Near muttered. “—any orders?”

“Stay out of sight,” L said flatly. “It will be to our advantage if the ring continues to think I’m out numbered.”

“Understood,” Near said and the transmission was ended as abruptly as it had started.

The tension was palpable in the room. Mello had waited patiently until the connection was severed to bite fiercely into a new bar of chocolate, snapping off a bigger chunk than usual. Near had always had that unsettling effect on him. It just could not be helped. He was about to restate his utmost dislike for the twit when Matt beat him to the chase.

“Lying bastard,” the redhead muttered, lips firmly holding a cigarette, which was then lit. When Mello shot him a questioning glance, he shrugged. “What? I don’t have your adversity for the brat, but I don’t particularly like him all the same. And I sure as hell don’t buy that shit about incinerating the notebook.”

“Fair enough,” Mello allowed with another loud snap. “Three days?” he asked disapprovingly but did not argue, returning his attention to L. “Matt and I will clear out of the flat I secured for ourselves by noon tomorrow. I’ll get us new accommodations elsewhere and start making the transfer. Matt, what are the chances that anyone might’ve caught onto you?”

The redhead actually scowled at him. As if that was a question worth asking! “None. I just crosschecked for any trails and it’s clean. He didn’t access us through my connection, but remotely through the server as he’d been doing all those other times before without luck.”

Of course. Mello lifted a hand in apology. He knew better than to question his lover’s abilities in such manners, but there was still that need to make sure. As if they didn’t already have enough to worry about with Bella and her goddamned freak church. Now Near was knocking on their back door. It was downright stifling.

Light had yet to comment at all, but his face had unquestionably darkened especially given the fact that Near had mentioned him by name. Had done so most likely on purpose to hear L’s reaction—after all, Light was supposed to be dead, and even Near knew of L’s plans to save him, knew of L’s heart that loved him. To his credit, L didn’t falter in the slightest there, didn’t falter at all and seemed very much to be planning his next step.

“He’s going to send me backup,” L muttered. “You won’t have to worry about leaving me on my own then.” And of all the damn reactions—L picked the one that visibly pissed off each and every one of his companions.

Sure, because that goddamned fuckface was worth being trusted like this. Of course. Why the hell not! Mello was visibly fuming, although was doing a hell of a good job in keeping his outburst contained. It was only a matter of time before it exploded. A matter of time before every goddamned frustration mounted at that very moment. Great timing. Just fucking marvelous. He dropped himself into his previously occupied chair, draping one leg over the armrest. Restless. It showed by the continuous shake of his foot; by the way his eyes focused on one of the random paintings on the wall.

“Can’t say I’m keen on the idea,” the redhead commented, staring down at his screens. “Forgive me for saying so, but just because you’re going to have backup does not mean that I’m not going to insist on some sort of bug.” Though that would not solve all of their problems. Up until that point, they could still walk freely. Hell, Light himself could walk freely and now..? Were they doomed to remain in doors bashing their heads into the wall until something drastic enough happened that there was no choice but to say fuck it all, compromise their position and get this mess done and over with?

After all, the truth had been proved many a times over throughout the length of this chaotic week. Light was the key to this case, sure enough, but he could not do it alone. Just like L could not do it alone. Just when they thought the situation could not get any more fucked up.

L blatantly ignored them and got off the couch, moving slowly into the kitchen to get the sugar Mello had neglected. “Everything will be bugged and wired,” L said from inside. “I trust you to take every necessary precaution. I will allow Near to send me his people for a time, and then I will dismiss them when I see fit. He’s only sending them for surveillance purposes—he wants to see how I’m operating. My newly acquired bruises should be enough to convince him that I have indeed been working the field. Raito-kun,” and L was still rolling off his orders, but he stopped there—where he most likely would have informed Light that he was to be relinquished into Matt and Mello’s care and had to obey them because it was open season on his ass otherwise, instead, L said none of that.

Maybe he sensed his lover stiffen even from inside the kitchen, since it was obvious given Light’s tall, straight posture, that the proverbial stick was back up his not-so-proverbial ass. Whatever the case, L didn’t say what they were all expecting him to say just then.

“Raito-kun, could you help me?” L said instead. And at that, Light moved to comply, but had yet to speak a word on the matter. That was either good…or very bad.

Mello glimpsed up just in time to watch Light disappear into the kitchen, but did not comment. Did not have it in him just then. They all knew the truth about what was to come regardless of whether or not L was to be blunt and downright specific with his orders. It wasn’t going to be a comfortable living arrangement, this much he already knew. Whether or not he had grown to stand Light’s guts, however slightly, there was still much improvement to be made on Matt’s part. Although, sometimes he wondered if it was better off this way. The redhead was supposed to be his reason, after all. But without L’s buffering force, things were going to turn interesting fast.

“You’re quiet,” his lover murmured with a sidelong glimpse, causing Mello to frown because indeed, he had been uncharacteristically quiet. In past days, he would have cursed up a storm and said his fill until properly satisfied. Such was not the case. Another troubling thought. He shook his head, dismissing Matt’s worried look. “I’m just annoyed.” And indeed there was a litter of things to be annoyed at. Mello was livid, however, and that silence containing the eruption would doubtlessly unleash itself at a later time—during an argument, during a rough bout of sex, during a seemingly innocent stroll down the street. The possibilities were endless.

In the kitchen, L couldn’t reach the sugar, or at least that was his excuse. Reaching up would have been painful, but he could do it, he just wanted Light there, and he watched his lover effortlessly grab the small silver container to hand it to him. L had him cornered against the counter when Light turned around, and their eyes met; silent communication passing between them. But Light was difficult to read at that moment, and L’s gaze twisted because he couldn’t get a gauge on it. That disturbed him—Light had pulled down his strongest shield, and whereas not minutes earlier he had been at his breaking point, he was now as stifled and enclosed as he’d perhaps been when L had first met him all those years ago.

“Here,” Light said quietly.

L’s head cocked to the side like a curious puppy, and his eyes were terribly wide. There was too much going on inside of that brilliant mind he adored, and Light was at present hiding the key.

“Raito-kun,” he said. “Bathe with me.”

It was Light’s turn to look confused. “Now?”

“Yes, now,” L replied. “Everything hurts, soaking will do me some good.”

“I’ll draw you a bath then,” Light returned calmly, that unnerving cool demeanor he was so very skilled at.

“I want you to bathe with me,” L said a bit more forcefully.

“You’re in no condition,” Light returned.

“To sit in a tub of water with you?” L playing dumb was always frustrating.

“You know what I mean.” And Light was of course alluding to sex.

“We can eat in there,” and the matter was decided because right now, L didn’t want Kira out of his sight. If he’d had a pair of handcuffs, he would have slapped them on. After all…the easiest way to rid themselves of the current problem, would be for Kira to jot down several choice names in the Death Note…and that just may have been what Light was thinking.

That was a thought that had crossed all of their minds at some point or another. And again, Mello watched L exit the kitchen with Light closely in tow, but there was an air of hesitation about him. He was stern – perhaps justifiably so – as he followed the detective back into the master bedroom only to exit moments later, dinner tray in hand. Mello lifted a slender, unscarred brow but did not comment. It was best not to. He merely shook his head as the bathroom door was pushed to rest on its frame, somewhere between ajar and shut.

“This where we sit and mind our business?” Matt’s question bordered on sarcastic around the butt of a cigarette. Mello had to chuckle. “Yea, I suppose so.” Already the PSP was out and the game booting up in one hand. Mello instead, watched the screens with a frown. What are you up to, Near? How much do you know, you little shit.

Aabruptly, Mello pushed himself up, rapping lightly on the bathroom door but unlike earlier, did not push it open. “Will you two be all right on your own for a couple of hours?”

“We’re fine,” was Light’s rather stiff reply, and a moment later the tub water was running. That left Mello to go do whatever was in his mind just then, and L paused by the sink, a finger in his mouth, ready to inquire after him, but Light was blocking his way.

L was already shirtless, he had been all day, but the amount of bandages more than made up for it. Carefully, Light began unwinding them. “Don’t worry about him,” Light muttered, paying careful attention to what he was doing. “Mello can take care of himself.”

“Unlike the rest of us, I suppose,” L replied, and his lover’s gaze flickered up at him defensively.

“Don’t deny it, Yagami-kun,” L said, “I depend on you as much as you depend on me.”

“I’m not denying it,” Light muttered, tossing the used bandages into the too-small trash. His gaze again fluttered to L’s face, and unlike earlier, L had re-adopted his patented owl look—the one that usually made Light frown—as he was at that moment.

Light stopped—everything was a challenge wasn’t it? Even if it was just the act of wiping that annoying expression off of L’s face. “I hate what they did to you,” Light said bluntly.

L blinked. “So I realize,” he replied.

“And yet you have hardly even acknowledged what happened.”

“What’s the point?” L replied; “It happened. No use dwelling on it—the subject seems to draw discomfort from everyone around me.”

Light gave him that look that blatantly called L on his lie. “Don’t pretend to be strong for our sakes,” he said.

“Why not? Someone has to be, you’re falling apart on me.”

Light’s brow knit. “I’m not falling apart. I’m upset; I’m upset about what happened, what she dared to do to you, what I had to do with her—I’m pissed, L, and now I’m about to have Near breathing down my neck—and you’re about to pull yet another stupid maneuver and force the three of us away from you to cater to him.”

L blinked. “Well said, I suppose.”

Light’s frown deepened and he left the detective standing there to check on the water. “And I hate it when you do that,” he added.

“Do what?”

“Play dumb. I’m tired of it.”

“And I’m tired of your mood swings, but that doesn’t stop you from having them.”

“I don’t feel like bathing,” Light grit.

“I don’t care,” L replied. The dumb act was gone, and L’s eyes had narrowed. Light stood there for a moment, determining whether to test the detective’s resolve. Judging from L’s stance, he decided against it, and took his watch off, his pajama pants soon following suit. One long leg went in the water, followed by the other, and Light crooked a gaze over his shoulder—“Well?” He grumbled. “Come on. You want to pretend like you’re fine, I’m not going to baby you.”
“If you say so,” L shrugged, and stepped into the water.

* * *

Mello had lingered outside the doorway a short while longer as if expecting L to say something, but with no response, he wasted little time in backing away, taking a moment to disappear briefly into the guest room so that he could secure himself a less wrinkled shirt and a jacket to go over it. It was either becoming easier to ignore the pain in his shoulder, or he was recovering quicker than anticipated.

“Where you going?” Matt asked just as one of his vests landed on his lap in a heap.

“We,” Mello accentuated. “Are going out for a bloody walk before I lose my goddamned mind tonight. C’mon.” He urged him, shoving his gun into the back of his pants, leaving Matt little choice but to follow. But then again, he always followed. They could be in the middle of a heated argument, and he would follow. Perhaps not the healthiest of relationships, but they understood one another. They worked, one way or another. It had been business before it became pleasure. It had been friendship before all that, but even then Mello’s personality had been overpowering while Matt had always been too much of a damn passive, nondescript figure in the background. Such a terrible misconception.

The door closed behind them and Mello headed straight for the elevator, which emptied them out onto the lobby mere moments later. And as they swept through the rotating doors with a brief greeting at the doorman, he had given his lover no hint as to where they were going. It would be one hell of a wonder if he knew it himself. But Matt still followed, hands tucked in his pockets as he kept in pace, too used to those long determined strides.

Mello was pissed. Mello did not know what the hell to do with himself. It was a lose-lose situation for everyone at this point and thus, perhaps this was the best course of action. Especially if they were to be stuck bunking with Light for the next undetermined amount of time. This bit of freedom was good. It was damned refreshing. Since the accident, L had barely let them out of their sight.Truthfully, Matt was surprised that his lover had gotten his way so easily. A cigarette was lit and he exhaled deeply. “Are we talking, or just walking?”

“Walking for now,” came the short response. “I needed to get out of there.” That went without saying.

* * *

“I don’t want to hurt you,” and this was stupid, this was so stupid, but it just couldn’t be helped. Why? Because they were both idiots, in the tub, water sluicing over them, L under Light, limbs firmly wrapped around his golden body, strong hands urging Light to do exactly what they agreed would not be done.

“I don’t care,” and L was already gone, because Light had that sort of effect on him when the situation was down to the marrow. Things hurt, ached, bruised, threatened to rip open, but it was all inferior to that moment. And maybe they wouldn’t get this chance again…. But L wasn’t about to think about that.

“Need you,.” L didn’t beg often, in fact, he never did, and it made Light nervous because yet again it felt like there was some impending doom in the air, hovering over them—but that sort of plea was one he couldn’t deny because there was a time he would have sold his soul to hear L beg…had he not already sold it to begin with.

The hot water made it easier, gave them that weightlessness, eased the pain as Light braced against the porcelain, L’s body cradled in his arms, hand clutching the side of the tub as he pushed inside his lover, slowly, trying not to hurt him, and yet still turned on in the worst way when that initial gasp of agony fell over L’s lips.

“I’m sorry,” Light breathed, straining, trying not to push too hard even though his every primal instinct wanted to pin L down and fuck him raw—it wasn’t like that this time, and everywhere he touched he was trying to be careful—all that tender abused flesh, the water was already pink from opened wounds.

“We shouldn’t—” Light grit, L’s nails digging into his shoulders, gripping for dear life.

“Don’t stop,” the detective breathed, dark eyes closed, head thrown back, Light’s arms already supporting him fully where he wasn’t pressed against the tub. “I want this—I need you.”

Light held him tighter, rolling his hips forward, stiff flesh sinking deeper into that searing tightness, and L’s gasps were unlike they’d ever been—lost, pained, audible… they were as encouraging as they were ragged, and Light managed to find a rhythm despite that part of him that still wanted to pull back, pull out, do the smart thing. He couldn’t stop because it felt so damn good—so good to be inside L this way, to have him responding like he never had in the past. He cradled the back of L’s neck, fingers wreathed in soaking strands of black hair, and L was hanging on to him, leaning up, capturing his lips. Light tasted blood—coppery—the jag of healing cuts against his tongue, and he sucked gently, as though he were trying to mend those wounds, and L was sighing his pleasure because somewhere they’d crossed that threshold. Pleasure was pain now it seemed, for both of them…

Light was thrusting harder then, he couldn’t get off without it and neither he knew, could L; whose gasps were interspersed with cries of pain, sharp jerks and nails digging deeply in protest; but L was right along there with him; matching Light’s movements the water already half on the floor by this point as they moved harder against each other, climbing that last peak of pleasure—strangled moans and straining bodies until the ecstasy just flooded them both and they were left panting and hurting and bathed in red water…

* * *


It was a weeknight – although frankly neither was quite aware as to what day it actually was at that point – and thus the bar was not overcrowded as it would have been during the weekend. It was lacking that press of bodies, the raucous laughter and flirting and aura of sex it tended to gain when classes and work were on break for those two cherished days and it was instead time to live. And it was there, at times like these that their reality was put into perspective.

They took over one of the corner booths and Mello had pressed his back to the corner, watching the rest of the room with the same intensity he watched his drink – cognac tonight – as if it were about to jump out at him regardless of how quickly he drowned the glass’s contents.

Matt sat beside him, the PSP sitting quietly on the table beside the empty bottle of Heineken. The seconds was held gingerly between his fingers. The silence was not particularly thick between them, but the tension was there and while this time it did not affect their personal relationship, it put a hell of a damper on the general festivities. They could sit like this for hours – in fact, it would not have been the first time, but it just seemed like a waste just then. “Talk to me,” the redhead urged him after several minutes, sipping at his beer and idly skimming his gaze through the thin crowd.

“Not in the mood.” At that, Matt actually chuckled and cast him a look.

“No? Then what the fuck are you in the mood for, Mello? I know you well enough to know that you won’t sit here the rest of the night drinking yourself into oblivion. It’d take too long and cost too much money to be worth it because you’re paranoid about that whole loss of control thing. So what is this all about?”

Green eyes settled on him, and they were not particularly friendly. “You have a better idea?”

“Sure, I have plenty of ideas, only you generally never like to hear them.”

“Oh, fuck off, Matt.” Mello released a breath. Weary. The anger was there, but it was misplaced. He took a swig of the cognac, draining the glass. Ice toppled to the bottom as it was set down on the table.

“That’s one of the ideas.”

A scoff was his response, and Matt lifted a brow. The bottle was set down and he was up, shoving the PSP into his pocket before coming around the booth to practically drag his lover up by the collar of his shirt. “Just what the fuck are you doing?!” Mello scowled furiously, scrambling forward as to avoid falling rather ungracefully on his face.

The swinging door was shoved open and Mello was cast inside. The bathroom was dimly lit and grungy as all hell – seemed an ideal setting since Mello was ready to kill. But the next words out of Matt shocked the blonde into silence. “Hit me.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Fucking hit me!” And with those words, the lock was flicked shut and the gun removed from the bridge of his pants, cocked and pointed unflinchingly at Mello who stared at him, stuck somewhere between disbelief and outrage.

“Take that out of my face,” he snarled, shoving that hand away, only to have it bounce back seconds later. Matt was determined. God only knew what his purpose was, but if it was to anger the blonde, then he sure as hell was succeeding. “Matt,” his tone was low, a quiet warning.

“What?” he taunted him with a crooked grin. “You expect me to be all right with all the shit you’ve been pulling lately? Should I go on as if nothing’s happening? Have I not done enough of that all day… and now here you were, crumbling around the edges because Near’s back in the picture and you cannot stand the thought of him stepping on your toes.”

The blow came then, sure as merciless as Matt had invited it. But it hurt a bit more than previously expected. His lip split beneath the pound of knuckles and leather, causing him to take several steps backward in order to steady himself. “That make you feel better, you bastard?”

But Mello was upon him within seconds, hand twisting into the collar of his shirt, shoving him back against the wall. His breath was ragged upon slightly parted lips, those eyes narrowed, dangerous. And yet even then, regardless of how much danger Mello was emitting, he still emitted sex. Pure and unbridled. Sometimes Matt had to wonder if his lover even noticed it. It was doubtful, given how many times it happened. How many times he caught himself looking at the blonde and finding himself stiffening at the mere sight of him at the most mundane things possible. And here, this right here, pressed against the wall beneath the fierceness of that hold and that gaze, Matt could not help the slight grin that touched his lips, or the way his body inadvertently responded.

It was the grin that Mello caught, that gleam, that danger Matt suddenly reflected and Mello’s mouth went wicked, forcing his lover harder back against the unyielding wall, fists half lifting him by the shirt. “Make me feel better?” he growled, “Yeah,” and he pushed in, teeth clashing, the kiss bloody, heated—violent, sucking Matt’s breath away and the redhead shoved at him, not playful, but hard—fighting back.

Mello resisted as Matt knew he would, wrestling him to the wall, hands grappling and grabbing—face, neck, hair—they knocked against the grimy paper towel dispenser and jarred it from its fasteners; it clattered, nearly dropped but neither of them cared, Mello struggling for dominance as usual, slammed Matt against the sink, half kissing him half clawing him, his holding bruising; hands tearing up under the redhead’s shirt, gouging at the fly of his jeans. Matt couldn’t help the groan that broke from his throat, Mello grinding his hips against Matt’s pelvis, shoving into him with a brutal demanding sort of passion that hurt as much as it made him want to cum; striking sore and tender all at once.

“Any other demands?” The blonde snarled.

“What,” Matt managed half breathless, “Like—fuck me?” and Mello grinned that shit-eating grin. “Yeah, that’ll do,” he quipped and Matt’s mouth quirked—an answer unto itself, which had Mello dragging him around by the shirt collar, pushing him forward over the sink so that Matt’s hand shoved against the mirror and Mello suddenly caught the reflection—had a flash of Kira’s face looking up at him—and he fought it off, belted it back.

“No,” he grit, yanking Matt away, “Not here,” and he pushed the redhead hard into the stall instead, “Against the wall,” and that was familiar territory, Matt’s palms flattening to the stone, head bowed, hips at Mello’s mercy as the blonde grabbed them back—hot turgid length of flesh ready and that first thrust deep inside had Matt wanting to pray, and he braced himself hard, tried to withstand Mello’s onslaught of angry sex—it was the best fucking kind after all as Mello’s hand shoved between his shoulder blades, trying to get the angle he wanted, hips like a piston, stabbing into his lover over and over.

Matt’s breath was strangled, grit tense, trying to ride it out as he was ridden—pleasure sharp and blinding behind his eyes as Mello fucked him with abandon, hissing with the threat of release—release he needed so goddamn bad, release Matt knew he needed. He fisted a handful of the redhead’s hair, muscles constricting, straining, jagging hard over the sharp edge of ecstasy that slit him open and spilled out—and Mello was gasping hard, pounding Matt harder, bringing his lover over into the abyss with him; rebelling even as he embraced the pleasure—until it had spent him, until Matt had bit his own lip through with the pain of it all—and the blood dropped into the toilet beneath them—and rippled.