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Annals of Fear II	By : DeathNoteFangirl Category: Death Note > Yaoi-Male/Male > Mello/Matt Views: 5803 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note and I do not make any money from these writings

Chapter List
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At Deontic's instigation, the whole party strolled en masse a short distance up the track.   The tarmac had given out completely here, leaving a broad trackway, bisected with the grooves of tyres, though the sandy soil was rock hard.   It was also peppered with stones, which meant that Fenian was soon left behind, as he stooped frequently to dislodge another.   The rest of them rounded a gentle left-turn in the track, where the hedgerow stopped and there was nothing between them and the great, grey ocean, but a beach festooned with boulders.   They all appeared smooth, like gigantic, multi-coloured pebbles, though it was humbling to imagine the power of a current that could have shifted any one of them.

Kiana took one look and closed her eyes, as if hoping, with an infant's fervent belief, that all of the rocks would cease to exist then.   She murmured, "Oh no."

Mello grinned.   He was beside her, holding Matt's hand, with the sea wind blowing blond locks into his eyes.   He called back, "Fenian, you're going to die happy up here."     The Irishman affected not to hear him.   It was possible that he hadn't, as the wind was in the wrong direction.   Mello looked past him, back down the gentle slope.   They were roughly 20 yards above their chalets, with his and Matt's being the nearest.   In the near distance, they could see the town of Aberystwyth, with its twisting shoreline and a couple of grand looking buildings.   Behind that, rose the mountains with their clusters of grey-black houses.   Mello had been assured that there were a variety of purveyors of fine take-away food, who would deliver up here.   Where it was getting really cold in this wind.   He turned to demand that Deontic hurry up and open the door, only to find that he and Matt were all alone, save for Fenian, still combing his way up the track.   "Why didn't you tell me they were in?"

"You looked like you were enjoying the view."   Matt replied.

"Let's get in there."   Mello hurried forward, half towing his husband, until Matt jogged too.    They entered a reasonably large room.   It reminded him of the sports hall at Wammy's House, though there were no markers on the floor, nor climbing frames on the walls. A fifth of the space was taken up with tables and chairs, before a long serving counter.   He could just see a long, narrow kitchen behind it.   The rest of the room was plain polished wood flooring, with exposed brick walls.   To his right, there were toilets.   At least there were two doors, one with a stick figure in a skirt and one a stick figure without.   It was reasonable to deduce that they were the toilets. He didn't know what the large, white double doors beside them were.

"... our communal living area-cum-meeting hall."   Deontic was saying, with a puzzled frown crinkling her brow.   She hurried across to the white doors and pulled on the handle.   It took a few false tries, before she ascertained that they slid sideways, rather than pulled out.    Behind were more chairs and stacks of tables.    "Oh no.   I thought these would be set up for us.   I thought some kind of boardroom table in the middle here."   She gestured vaguely into the hall.    "Then that's obviously for our meals over there."

The entrance door was pushed open with a burst of salty sea-wind, that blew the papers on the noticeboard beside them.   Fenian entered, with the hem of his coat turned up to create a nest of pebbles, rocks and stones.   Kiana stared in horror, "You are not bringing any more rocks into our house!   Li... Fenian, they just lie there collecting dust!   You never look at them."

"I'll buy a cabinet."

"A cabinet?   You'd need the fucking Louvre to display them all, the way you're going."

"I'll get a shed."

Kiana looked like she wanted to say a whole lot more, but they were all watching the exchange and she fell silent.   Mello whispered into Matt's ear, "They're living together then."

Kiana met Fenian's eyes, as he returned from depositing his haul against a wall.   "You'll get them on a fucking cairn, if you bring many more into the croft.   I'll telling you that for nothing."

"Yeah. Fuck off."   Fenian retorted, his gaze sweeping across the others.   "And you can stop analysing our interactions to deduce the dynamics of our relationship."    Deontic affected injured innocence; Hal raised her eyebrows; Century just smirked.   "It's nothing to do with any of you."   Mello wasn't even trying to hide his fascination, but analysing social dynamics was a default setting and he didn't care who knew it.   "And anyway, we know that you fuckers are doing it, so neither of us are going to be acting naturally."   Only Matt was unreadable; but that was largely because his head was slightly bowed, leaving little of his face visible to read.   "And that goes for you too, Jones."

"Huh?" Century laughed. "What have I done?"

Fenian returned a fierce look.   "Just because you know shit, it doesn't mean you know shit."

"Like that makes sense."

Deontic wandered by, muttering, "Please don't argue, boys."   Which elicited gasping, half-laughs of indignation from both Celts.   She continued on into the kitchen and flicked on the light.    "Ok, lots of amenities in here."   She carried on into the room and was glimpsed through the serving hatch, testing the hobs to ensure that they worked.

Fenian watched her for a few seconds.   "The good news here is that we have three women. We won't starve."   Kiana's jaw dropped and Fenian grinned at her.

"And I have a pile of fucking rocks to throw at you."

Any further comment was interupted by a loud clattering behind them.    They all turned to find Hal single-handedly lifting a table as big as she was, her arms stretched out to grip its width.   She had caught a stack of chairs with one of the table legs and knocked it over.   Mello and Fenian both rushed to help, with Century, Matt and Kiana drifting half-heartedly in their wake.   Hal hoisted her freed table higher against her body and staggered out with it.   "Doughnut shaped or rectangular?"    She dropped it into the centre of the room.    "Century, don't you dare lift anything.   Your heart is still healing."

Mello had leapt up, balanced with a foot on each of two stacks of chairs.    He easily pulled free a second table and handed it to Fenian, with the bare minimum of wobbling.   "You're getting some grief today, aren't you, Century?"   He chuckled.   "Oh! And Kiana, we all know that his real name is Liam.   You don't have to correct yourself."

She didn't answer, other than glancing at Fenian.    Hal did though.   "Mello, are you stupid or what?   Get down off those chairs! Are you trying to break your neck?"

"I won't fall."   Mello assured her, handing another table to Matt.   He grinned, as he surveyed his husband stretching across it.   "Great view."    But Hal was beside him, staring up, her finger pointed to the ground beside her.   "Oh Halle, I love it when you try to mother me."    He smirked, then returned his attention to Matt.   "Are you struggling there, guapo?"

"It's a bit wide."   Matt mumbled, blushing to the tips of his ears.

"Short arse."

"It's not that." Matt stretched as far as he could reach, but could only just get a fingertip to the opposite edge.   "My height is all in my legs, not my top half."

Mello laughed aloud.   "That's bollocks on two counts.   You haven't got any height; and if you had, it's definitely not in those little legs."    His grin faltered slightly, as Matt glanced up with pursed lips.   "Sexy legs though."   Matt upturned the table and shoved it across the polished floor.    Mello winced and commented softly to Hal.   "That's me not getting any for a while to come."

She glanced at Matt, then back up at Mello.   "Don't make me lift you bodily off those chairs, Mello.   Please, get down."

Mello frowned.   "You really are taking this Watari role seriously."

Hal shook her head.   "If you must know, when I was at school, one of my classmates climbed up on a stack just like that and she fell off.    She broke her neck and is still paralysed today.    She was 12 at the time.    It's a personal thing and it makes me nervous.   Please get down."

He nodded, handed a table to Fenian, then vaulted down onto the ground.   "Anything for you, ma'am."

"Thank you.

"You're very welcome."    Mello reached across and prised another table from the stack.   "It's lower now anyway, so just as easy to do from down here."   He dropped it onto the floor and stretched to get a proper grip.   He did better than Matt, but not by much.   "Wow, they are deceptively wide.    You don't realise when you're raising up and dropping, because you don't need a decent grip."

"Short arse." Hal smirked.

Mello bobbed his tongue out, but this was secretly worrying him.   His mind span through the ways of conveying the table across without losing face nor admitting that his reach was inadequate.    Doing it Matt's way would be like advertising that he wasn't tall enough.   That would never do. He glanced out to find Fenian already on the way back for another, but Matt was standing up the window with his back to them and a cloud of smoke forming above his head.   On the wall beside him was a no smoking sign.   In fact, now that Mello looked closely, there were no less than ten no smoking signs, evenly placed at intervals around the walls.   Blatantly being ignored.   "Erm, Hal, will you excuse me one minute please?   I think I've pissed Matt off."

"Yes, I'll take your table for you, so that Matt and Fenian don't have to know that you're tiny."

Mello glanced sharply at her.   But she was right and they both knew it.   She smirked and hoisted it against her.   "Perhaps, but not what you're referring to."   Mello called after her, then winked as he passed.    He strode across to Matt's side and draped an arm around the redhead.   Matt didn't even cast a sidewards glance, but stared perfectly ahead, smoking his cigarette.   Mello leaned in close, nuzzling into Matt's thick hair to lick the tip of his ear. Matt pulled away slightly, but Mello held him close.   Mello whispered, very quietly, right into his husband's ear, "I didn't mean to upset you. I was teasing, that's all.   But I apologise for it. In retrospect, I recognise that it was insensitive, particularly in front of the others."     He waited, but he might as well have been talking to a lump of wood for all the reaction that he got.   He changed his strategy and licked Matt's ear again.   When his husband tried to move, Mello gripped him tightly and murmured into his ear. "You don't get a say in what I do to your body, any part of it, because I am your master, Mail Jeevas, and I'll do with you as I like, when I like."

"Jódete y muere, Croata hijo de puta."

A quick glance around the room told Mello that no-one else had heard Matt telling him where to go, though Hal was stealing frequent looks in their direction.   He placed his free hand onto Matt's stomach and saw Matt's eyes widen behind the goggles. Then Matt took a drag on his cigarette and acted like nothing was happening.    Mello moved his hand down, then up again, underneath his husband's gilet.   Mello's thumb hooked over the waistband of Matt's jeans, his hand dangling loosely down.   The message, be it interpreted as a threat or promise, was clear and now Matt's eyes slid sideways to see him. "Trying to read my intentions in my expression, Mail?"   Mello smiled, his expression carefully neutral.    "There's no great mystery.   It's the simplest of all conclusions.   You are mine and if I wanted to, I'd grope you until you came in your jeans in front of all these people."   Matt blinked a couple of times, watching him. "In fact, if I wanted to, I could meet your moods with dragging you into the centre of this hall, pulling down your jeans, putting you over my knee and giving you a bloody good hiding.   I could," Mello licked Matt's ear and this time he didn't attempt to shift, "strip you naked and make you kneel at my feet throughout our meetings with the others.   In fact, I could put a leash around your balls and ensure that you're led to the meetings like that. With them all watching. If I wanted to."   Mello smirked. "Did I mention that you're mine?"

There was a quick movement of Matt's head, that just about qualified as a nod of understanding.   Mello grinned and removed his hand, though he made sure that it brushed across the bulge in Matt's jeans first.   Then Mello winked and patted Matt's arse, before starting to walk away.    Matt's soft voice pierced the air after him.   "Go on then."    Mello stopped and looked back, trying to keep the incredulity from his face.   It was hard to tell whether Matt was joking.   The more Mello thought about it, the more he became convinced that Matt spoke in earnest.    The redhead flicked his cigarette butt onto the windowsill, then cast him a look of such calculated smugness, that Mello had to re-evaluate his conclusions again.   Matt slouched past him, "Good fight, Mello."

Mello had hesitated too long for a response to be credible now.   He filed this away under, 'To Be Discussed Later', and joined the others at the table.   A pile of take-away menus was scattered across the rectangular form.   He took one at random and pretended to read it.    Fenian saw him, "Way to turn up when all the fucking work is already done, Mello."

Mello looked up, but Fenian had already turned away and Mello wasn't in the mood to respond.   He did notice Hal trying to catch his eye.    Her expression was questioning and her eyes shifted to Matt and back.   Mello shrugged and made a dismissive gesture. He was surprised when the next voice he heard was Matt's, addressing them all.   "I can only see one 'phone line socket.   Is it WiFi in here?   And if not, why not."

They all stared at him.   Matt traditionally raised his questions through Mello.   The fact that he hadn't this time sparked attention across the board.   Mello could almost see the genius cogs turning behind the eyes of his peers.   In fact, they were so busy coming to silent conclusions, that none of them answered his husband's question.   It was left to Hal to fill the breach.   "I understood that the chalets above each of our chalets are to be used as personal offices.   So I think your computers will be set up there."

"Yes." Deontic confirmed.   "And there is WiFi down at the chalets.   Century, you were going to get some internet ports installed."

Century nodded, the lollipop stick moving up and down between his lips.   "It was done."    He paused, looking like he really was inspecting the menu in his hands. "I mean, I ordered it. I haven't checked that it's been done.   I'll check when I go back down."   Mello narrowed his eyes. He was certain that Century wasn't even seeing the menu.   For a start, it was from a seafood restaurant and delivery and Century was a vegetarian.    Mello waited and sure enough, Century's gaze flashed between Mello and Matt, as soon as he thought no-one was looking.

Mello bristled. It was time to change the subject. "I don't get you, Century."   Mello fixed the teenager with a penetrating stare.   "You spend years avoiding Wammy's House like the plague.   Then the second you can just walk away with no comeback, you move into the place.    Why?"

Century sucked his lollipop.   "They have a really good library and access to some otherwise classified historical documentation."

"Ha!"   Mello's eyes opened wide and his finger rose into the air.   "I know what this is!    You're afraid to go home!   Because whatever was in that house followed us.   You don't want to be leading it back to Chrissie and Salvo," Mello paused, then brightened further, "or the baby!"

Century gave a half-shrug, "Maybe."

"So you're perfectly willing to expose a house full of little orphans, but Heaven forbid it touch Chrissie and Salvo's baby."   There was no response, but Mello hadn't expected one.    Century knew better than to take the bait, when Mello was so obviously fishing for information.   The Slav hadn't finished though.   After a short pause, he smirked.   "Not because you're unwilling, but because you can't!    Chrissie's banned you from coming back until you've definitely solved the case and there is no longer any threat."

Everyone looked towards the Welshman.   There was a loud pop, as Century extracted the lollipop from his mouth.   He surveyed it, before looking up.   "No."

Fenian grinned.   "Unlucky, Mello!   You were doing so well until then as well!"

Mello shrugged.   "I don't know why Century's looking so smug. This means that we're back to him deliberately exposing poor, innocent orphans, who haven't..."

"Nevermind." Fenian interjected.   "They're Wammy House kids.   They'll have to get used to extreme danger and the possibility of an early death for a single mistake.   It's what they're there for."

Hal's head rose. "Hey!"

Deontic's arm bobbed up momentarily, her index finger extended.    She was surveyed with amusement by her foster brothers.   Mello inclined his head and rolled his hand, palm upwards, in her direction.   "You have permission to speak, Deontic."

She looked blankly at him.   "I always have permission to speak, Mello."

Fenian snorted, "God, no!   They're giving suffrage to the women now?   Fuck!"

Century nodded sagely, "I know, it's weird innit?    Next thing you know, they'll be extending it to the Irish."

"Excuse me."   Deontic interjected firmly.   "I was speaking."     Century and Fenian burst out laughing, while Mello and Matt just smiled.   "I give up.   You four are being exasperating today."

Kiana stretched.   "The male of the species.    It takes them several years longer to grow up than the females."

Hal grinned her solidarity, but Deontic just looked confused.   "There's actually no evidence that that is so.   Sexual maturity occurs at different ages, but that's a biological response to child-bearing.    As for socio-developmental functionality...."    Hal and Kiana had exchanged glances, which Deontic spotted and grew silent.

Fenian walked around the table to slide an arm around Deontic.   She instantly froze, but he gave her a quick squeeze before letting go. "Thank you for defending us."   He looked back at Kiana.   "And this exercise has highlighted a problem.    We need more female geniuses.   Deontic's getting sidelined, because none of the other ladies know the big words."

"You carry on showing off, Fenian."   Kiana replied, coolly.    "It's only to be expected of little boys."   There were hoots, laughter and the sucking in of breath all around the table.    Only Deontic remained unmoved.   She wasn't really listening. She was staring at a spot on the table in front of her, with a faintly worried expression.   "But amongst the big words that I do know are: castration; celibacy; emasculation in his sleep."

Century grinned up at his friend.   "Wow!   Fenian's met his match."

"Ah, she won't cut it off.   She enjoys it too much."

Mello tapped on the table a couple of times. "You lot, Deontic has been trying to say something for a while now.   Shall we let the lady speak?"

All eyes turned to Deontic, who flushed and sat up a little straighter.    "Right. Yes."   Her gaze flickered towards Kiana, then back to her own hands, folded together on the table.    "I mean this with all due respect and honour towards our guests.   But..."   Fenian moved back around the table and sat beside his girlfriend, his gaze unerringly upon Deontic.   "Today, for the first time, I have met Kiana and she seems very lovely.   Very nice. And polite."   She nodded rapidly, not really enjoying having to discuss this.   "But we are all freely mentioning aspects of our childhood and, indeed, our childhood home.   Yet we have signed official secrecy documentation and..."

"Sure."   Fenian replied grimly, already firmly on edge.   "And I broke the terms of mine months ago.   Kiana knows all about Wammy's House and the Watari Network."    The four Wammy alumni, around the table, wore almost identical expressions of blank neutrality.   Hal had winced, but immediately looked to Mello, which informed those watching immediately who she considered to be in charge here.    Kiana's posture was rigid, statuesque in her seat.   Fenian growled, "So fucking sue me."    The longer their silent contemplation went on, the more Fenian appeared ready to fight them all.

No-one was surprised when it was Mello who stirred first.   He flicked a hand towards Fenian, a holding tactic, while Mello turned his stare onto Century.   "And how much does Siân Morgan-Jones know?"

"I claim the 5th."

"You're not American."

Century shrugged.    Across the table, Kiana spoke up, the very fact of it causing raised eyebrows amongst those listening.   "No relationship between one of you and one of us will work without knowledge of Wammy's House and all it did to you."   She gave a short cough.   "He changes. When he's with you."

"Ki."   Fenian grimaced.

Kiana placed her hand onto his thigh, addressing Fenian, but looking at each of the rest of them in turn.   "Liam, it was raised and therefore it should be addressed.   I think that I'm in a rare position here of being an outsider, who is nontheless intimate with an insider.   That gives me a clearer perspective, I think...."

"Bollocks." Mello commented.

Hal leaned forward, "Hear her out, Mello."

"Thank you, Hal." Kiana flashed her a smile.   "It gives me a clearer perspective, because there is certain behaviour which I'm seeing in all of you, which simply isn't normal."

Deontic clicked her tongue irritably, "There is no such thing as normal.    That's just localised consensus, which can change substantially even within established cultures.   It all depends upon the historical era, the location, the peer environment, the..."

"Maybe I used the wrong choice of word."   Kiana smiled in conciliation.   "And let me take this opportunity to thank you for the amendment to your policy, a couple of months ago, which means that I can officially know about you without either Liam or I getting shot."

Mello frowned. "Shot?"

"Or whatever punishment was previously meted out in such situations."

Mello ignored her, his attention fixed on Fenian.   "Why did you think you'd be shot?"   He frowned, as Fenian shrugged, but didn't answer.   "You were never going to be shot."

Fenian shifted uncomfortably.   "I'm sure that Jonny, Mairoo, Nathalie...."

"That was a civil war." Mello dismissed it with a gesture.   "That's different."

Kiana nodded, "And there's one.   Civil wars within orphanages are not normal.    I can point these out as I spot them, if you like."

Deontic rubbed her hands through her hair.   "We are so far off topic here that I can't even see the way back.    The important thing is where do we draw the line?    If we're allowed to tell just anyone, then the secrecy documentation isn't worth the paper it's printed on...."

Matt looked up. "For the record, I don't remember ever signing that."

"You did, Mail."   Mello replied airily.

"When?"

"Well, I signed it, so you must have."

Matt looked dubious.   "Why?   Did you sign one for me?"   At Mello's flash of disdain, Matt continued, "Then you signing one doesn't necessarily imply that I signed one.     Is this old Wammy's?   Before you left?"    Mello nodded.   "Well then. You'd have signed anything they set in front of you, if you thought it would help you become L.    I mostly shoved them under my bed and forgot about them."

Mello tutted, "I did read things before I signed them."

"Yeah, but what you mostly read was, 'I can has L title, plox', and then signed it."

"I'm not arguing with you, Mail. You're being a bitch."   Mello began an intense study of his opened chocolate bar.

Matt shrugged, "And you've just broken the terms of the contract that you signed and I didn't.   You called me Mail in front of Kiana."

"You and I are going to have such a chat later on." Mello hissed.   He subjected Matt to a warning glare, before switching his attention to Hal.   His whole stance became much more formal and, for the first time in his adult years, his accent erred more towards Estuary than Trans-Atlantic.   "Watari, please forgive my transgression.   I hereby apologise and promise that I will refrain from addressing my colleague here as anything but It Matters, whilst on Watari business."

Beside him, Matt flinched.   "Kuja."

"And I believe that the correct phraseology here is: good fight, It Matters."
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Annals of Fear II