Redeemer

They strode across the street and while it was second nature for Mello to move freely around the city, he kept L’s warning loud and clear in the back of his mind, which caused him to keep glancing at Light as he led him along. It occurred to him then that, with the exception of the two times Light had either walked or ran out of the hotel room, he had had little chance to have so much as a simple stroll without supervision. Not that this was much better, but there were differences. Mello had a much different approach to life than L ever had.

Not an hour later, they stood in the grand salon of the fancy dealership. Matt was already there, waiting for him. What he hadn’t expected was Light to have already been taken out from under L’s wing. He’d handed his lover a copy of the keys. “Third floor, number five. The elevator’s dated, so you might want to rely on the stairs if you’re in a hurry.”

A second set of keys were deposited into his hand twenty minutes later – ten of those spent in heated bargaining. By the look of it, Mello had gotten his way. It wasn’t hard once cold cash was pressed onto the table. Kind of threw all complaints out the window and brought out the important paperwork – all signed for in a much different name specific for this sort of transaction, of course. “Let’s go,” was all Mello said, fisting the new keys without specifying just what he’d been haggling for.

Porsche. 911 GT2. Black Metallic. Matt only grieved at not being able to slide behind the wheel at that very moment, but there were more important things to attend to. L had been on his own all this time. “I went ahead and shoved a few essentials in the fridge,” he told Mello, leaning on the smooth metal and peering inside. “Got a delivery scheduled for you tomorrow morning. The stations are up and running, also I’ve mirrored my access to the SPK mainframe on secondary computer.” He paused as if considering any further instructions, but instead surprised them both. “Seeing as you didn’t think to get her, I’ll bring Noriko with me tomorrow.”

Shit. Mello blinked, then cursed inwardly. How could have they overlooked such an important detail? “Please do,” he agreed, and then added. “Watch over L tonight, kay?”

As if that needed saying. The redhead nodded and patted the hood lightly with a gloved hand, sending them on their way. Up above, the sky was turning ugly.

They weren’t driving for very long, and Light had been uncharacteristically quiet. Brooding even, head turned toward the glass staring out at the coming storm. He and Matt didn’t even exchange glances; but Mello was beginning to get a hang on Kira’s mood swings, and this was that introspective air—the one he’d had on the balcony that day they…

Almost to confirm Mello’s analyzing, Light spoke softly when it seemed he’d decided not to speak at all. “I lost against him—Near,” he said. “Never really thought about it in those terms…”

Mello blinked, eyeing him curiously as if he had just said something particularly surprising. “In what terms did you ever think about it?” Or had he just refused himself the thoughts all together?

"I'm still alive," Light muttered, "So I suppose it only ever registered as a temporary determent. There was a lot going on—obviously, and waking up immediately in L’s care, I never got the chance to deal with what happened…but now that Near’s back in the picture—I suppose it’s finally hit me.”

“Hm…” was all Mello murmured at first, turning his eyes back to the road as he drove them halfway across the city. It was when forced to stop at a red light that Mello shot him another glance, thoughtful. The light turned green. He proceeded, glimpsing ahead. “Some would have taken the first chance they had to exact revenge. I suppose now that you mention it, I’m a bit surprised that you didn’t.”

Light turned to him, studying Mello in the passing shadows. “Funny isn’t it?” He muttered. “I have his name—I have all the names of the SPK. But despite what he did to me, and I’m not just referring to the warehouse—after all, you played a big role in that yourself. I’m referring to the Interrogation as well…I suppose I’ve always considered Near…yours.”

“’Fraid I had a part in more than that investigation—” Mello began to say but any possible further words were silenced as Light’s latter comment sunk in. Brows were furrowed as he was clearly taken by surprise. “Mine?”

“Of course,” Light replied. And again, that honest tone to his voice he’d seemed to perfect for Mello’s sake. That level-headed open discussion method he’d used on the balcony. He fought with L, he talked down to Matt, but Mello he’d been quickly treating as…an equal. “Don’t get me wrong—I hate Near, I suspect the closer he gets to me now, the more tempted I will be to end him. But you grew up as his adversary, he’s been wronging you your whole life—I see how you get when L even says his name. I watched you yesterday when Near was on the com—my hatred can’t remotely compare to yours.”

Mello was stunned, downright stumped even, that Light should have disclosed such insight. Or perhaps that he even cared that much. “…perhaps…” he murmured, if a bit awkwardly. This wasn’t the sort of discussion he’d imagine they’d be having just then, or anytime soon for that matter. “Despise him as I may, I’ve lost my chance to do much about it.” He’d lost it the night he’d decided to sacrifice it all for the sake of giving his competitor the last pieces of the puzzle. And even though he’d survived the night, to anyone else that knew him prior, both he and Matt had fallen that night.
“A bullet in his head will not give me the proper satisfaction it would to have beat him at his own game and while in the background I might’ve been one step ahead, it doesn’t make a difference now.”

Light laughed softly. “Seems we all have the same problem don’t we? It’s not good enough to just defeat our enemies, we have to beat them at their own game. It would be so easy to write his name down. It would be so easy for him to write mine—neither of us have done that obviously.” Light’s eyebrow rose and he slid a knowing glance at Mello. “Do you honestly think he’s not going to find us? It’s only a matter of time…you’ll get another chance.”

“I have no doubt that he’ll catch on sooner or later,” Mello murmured, fingers tapping on the stick shift as he geared down and rounded a corner. The first drops of rain hit the windshield and he had to chuckle at the all too ironic sense of dejavu. Only they were both in a slightly better mood. “The priority here isn’t to keep us out of sight and off his radar, it’s to keep you out of sight.” And while it wasn’t a good idea to just stroll in and ask the twit how the last few months had been treating him, it was still not so bad as having Near and Light come to face to face. At least not just yet, although Mello had a feeling the brat already suspected it.

“I’m sure he knows already,” Light said, tracing a finger down the window, following a rain drop. “That’s why he’s so insistent on being here. Bella, her church, all of that crap—that’s not Kira, and we all know it.” His lips hitched slightly. “He just wants visual confirmation. You on the other hand—I’m not sure he knows about you. He’s underestimated you this whole time hasn’t he?”

The slightest twitch at the corner of Mello’s lips gave him away. “I guess you could say that,” he muttered, the bitterness all too obvious in his tone. Another corner rounded. A large park extended along their left, capped by the illuminated red “M” of the station. “We’re here,” he announced gruffly, obviously piqued at the direction this conversation had taken. Mello did not speak of Near, not unless he had to for damn good business reasons. It was a personal rule he had mostly abided to all this time until now. Until Light’s observations and questions had gotten him to say more than he normally would have. He pulled the little sports car into a spot outside the wide building and killed the engine.

The rain fell more steadily now, he noted darkly, stepping out into what promised to be a downpour. The trunk was popped and their bags retrieved. Mello ascended the short steps to the narrow entrance door, holding it open until Light slipped past him. “Don’t bother with the elevator,” he told him, tugging Light away from it and toward the marble stairs, which were ascended two at a time to the third floor. The proper door located, unlocked and pushed open.

The lights were flicked on to reveal a – for the moment – somewhat plain living room. The computer station was the only thing fully set up along the far corner of the room near the ceiling-high windows. A couch, a love seat, a coffee table, a desk, few lamps. It was a work in progress. Mello dropped the bags and ran a hand through his hair, shaking off the excess water that had managed to seep through blonde strands. “Not exactly the luxury you’ve been used to lately, but it’s untraceable and the only thing I could get in this short notice. We’ll work on it.”

Light’s reaction to the non-luxurious surroundings was well contained—in fact it was downright…polite. Instead he shook out his hair. “I’m utterly soaked,” he said, seemingly good natured.

“There should be some towels in the bathroom…” he paused. Where was the bloody bathroom? Mello ventured further into the flat. Two separate doorways led to what he assumed to be the two bedrooms. “Here,” he announced, finding the decently sized bathroom just beyond. The light was flicked on and indeed, Matt had even tossed some towels on the sink. Mello allowed a brief appreciative grin.

Light stripped off his jacket and followed him inside, and Mello turned to hand him the towel, perhaps not as surprised as he could have been that Light was standing a little closer than would have been normal. And Light had that Ambercrombie thing going on again, especially since his hair was dripping and stylishly mussed, and his smile was both warm and inviting and flirty without being vixen-esque. There was a sparkle in his eyes, the kind of sparkle that could go either way—laugh it off as though they were a couple of bonding friends, or take it further…

He was certainly feeling it out and the front door had barely even closed behind them.

Mello eyed him quietly, gauging Light’s intentions perhaps. He’d been strangely, not to mention uncharacteristically, good humored – all conversation and laughter and smiles. It was bizarre seeing as Mello had never truly been on the receiving end of such a lighthearted attitude, especially given the circumstances that crumbled around them. But he could play this game, whatever it may be. There was no reason not to take things in stride and see where it would lead them.

Thus, Mello dared a quiet chuckle, drinking in the sight without bothering to hide the fact that it was indeed appreciated, but he would not fall so easily this time. “Get cozy,” he told him. “We’ll be here for a while.” And with that, he slid past him, leaving Light to dry himself off as he went to investigate their current living conditions.

Light smiled, and Mello did catch that instantaneous glint that the chase was on, had he not been looking for it, it would have slid by. Light took the towel, toweling his hair, lingering in the bathroom as though everything were perfectly normal, better than normal.

“What do you want to do for food?” He asked. Neither of them had eaten, and it was the kind of nonchalant question that could have been so terribly disarming coming from him—especially given what had already happened that day, knowing he’d upset Matt, seeing him and L and their smoke and mirrors back-and-forth; the two of them essentially devastated that they had to separate, but neither willing to admit it. L wouldn’t even give Light a simple goodbye kiss, and Light was now trying to fill the void ASAP. That and he seemed to be on a quest to seduce his way completely into Mello’s good graces. L had said Kira needed to be the center of attention…

“I spotted a café across the street,” Mello returned, hiding a grin. Unwarranted game as it may be, he too could play it well and if Light wanted to pursue, Mello could bounce him off. It’d keep him occupied, to say the least. “It’s only five past six, I expect they’ll be serving dinner for a couple hours longer.” One bedroom inspected, he peaked into the second across the hall, discovering where their things had been abandoned on and around the bed. Matt had already brought over their meager belongings from their previous residence. This would do. It was spacious enough that they would not be bumping elbows at each turn. Mello unzipped his jacket, peeling off the damp leather and tossed it over the back of a chair. Only then did he reveal himself once more, leaning against the doorframe and lifting a brow. “Shall we head down there, or will you melt in the rain? In which case it’d be better to call up an order?”

Light laughed. “Last I checked I wasn’t the Wicked Witch of the West,” he commented. “Though I suppose opinions vary around here.” He slid Mello an inviting smirk. “And as much as I’d love to get out, it’s probably not the wisest maneuver to risk being seen in public—especially together.” He closed the bathroom light and followed Mello back into the living room, leaning casually against the doorframe. “But it’s up to you.”

Ah now wouldn’t that be a sight? Mello and Kira enjoying a relaxing dinner at the local café without a worry in the world. Mello just about lost his composure on that one, which was unusual to put it lightly, passing it off with a chuckle-turned-clearing of his throat. “Fair enough,” he gave him that much. And it was obvious that he wasn’t about to leave Light behind unattended – not that there was much of anywhere he could run off to, but old habits died hard. “Check the fridge, there’ll be at least something to drink in there,” he told him with a sidelong glance, reaching for his phone. Although Matt did mention having dropped enough in there to get them through the night. Not that he much felt like preparing a goddamned meal just then.

Light shrugged, “Or we could just run down there and grab something to bring back.” Mello blinked at him and moments later they were doing just that. The rain had increased of course—coming down in bloody bucketfuls, and they made a dash across the street, ironically cursing and laughing at the weather as they shoved into the small café enveloped in a wealth of wildly delicious aromas. And there was something Mello just never thought would happen—he was apparently getting along with Kira. Light had done the extraordinary and made himself… likable. He was open, he was congenial, he suddenly had a sense of humor and was actually laid back, and he and Mello were tossing mundane small talk back and forth waiting for their food to cook—comments and quips on nothing and everything and it felt entirely natural.

It crossed Mello’s mind sort of like a freight train that here in essence was what Light Yagami used to be. The guy everybody liked and idolized and wanted to befriend; the guy most likely to succeed, the Golden Boy who was refreshingly down to earth. Just wow. If there was truly one thing that could be said for Kira—he was certainly chock full of surprises—and he was never, ever boring. Mello didn’t say any of this of course. After all the shit that had been going on, day after day of incident and agony and drama—an hour or two to just pretend like everything was perfectly normal was greatly needed; and Mello found himself actually enjoying Light’s company.

They got their food and made the short trek back and were so severely drenched by the time they got inside that there was really no choice but to find a change of clothes—which of course meant clothes had to come off. And Mello stopped, as the two of them were attempting not to drip all over, and Light was grabbing towels again from the washroom, and it all clicked the moment he pulled his shirt over his head to wring it out. Ah. Clever bastard.

It was truly saturated, and under any other circumstance that would have been the end of it, but Light caught Mello smirking and there was that glint again. “What?” he said. Oh but it was a loaded question.

“Nothing,” Mello snorted, unzipping his drenched vest—baring a svelte muscular torso and a brutal patchwork of scars.

“You have that look,” Light simpered, and was he blushing? Or was Mello seeing things?

“What look?” Mello purred knowingly. Light had used the rain to his advantage in his little ploy—and he’d done it knowingly; probably from the moment Mello rejected his first advance.

Light stopped, his gaze smiling like his lips, all honeyed and amber and liquid. He used the shirt to blot the dripping ends of his hair and then tossed it aside, inching back, he sunk down to sit on the couch. Mello was watching with acute interest, because he had to give Light a point for that little strategy, because in a way it was slightly fun and slightly humorous, and yet devious enough to be appreciated. Get drenched, take off clothes.

“C’mere,” Light beckoned, crooking an elegant finger.

Mello was not about to shy from the challenge at that point, and boldly walked over to him, shirtless, leather pants drying quicker than any other part of his person.

Where he was seated on the couch, Light’s face was at belly button level, and he titled his head back, eyes gleaming, lips parted in that impish smile as his hands curved around the back of Mello’s thighs, pulled him closer—and then fingers were deftly working the laces on the front of Mello’s pants, that gaze fluttering coyly upwards, and Mello ran his fingers through that choppy wet amber hair, brushing it back, scooping through it and letting it sift through his fingers. He was painfully hard the moment Light had touched the first rawhide lace, so when Light bent down and took Mello’s length between warm moist lips, Mello couldn’t help but groan. And Light sucked him deeper, bracing Mello’s hips—guiding him so he could adjust his technique accordingly until he was essentially deep throating the blonde, nice and excruciatingly slow.

Goddamnit.

Kira gave good head.

That initial gentle touch had soon become more desperate; fingers tightening their grip around slick, damp strands of that precious amber as Mello gasped sharply through gritted teeth. That all-too expert mouth doing a number on him without - seemingly - even trying. The bastard. Must he be perfect at everything and anything under the sun? His groans just barely stifled beneath the delightful onslaught of lips and tongue that were guaranteed to drive him mad. That was so like him. Whatever Kira wanted, Kira got. May it be someone's death or yet another striking victory in the art of seduction. Whatever the case, he would push boundaries until that goal was met, and as black nails dug instinctively into his shoulder and a groan spilled forth from Mello's lips, Kira won again.

The notion of standing was, for the moment, a foreign affair and thus Mello leaned heavily against Light's delectably damp body before sinking down onto the cushions, gasping for the breath that was being denied of him just then. Fucker.

"Must always get what you want, huh?" Mello murmured when he trusted himself to speak without sounding completely winded. The aggression was not present, however. In fact, Mello sounded almost amused by the turn of events. His gaze still held that glint that had sparked upon his features the moment Light's plan had come full circle several minutes prior.

And just at that moment, before so much as waiting for a response, Mello threw his head back against the cushions, tossing still-drenched blonde strands messily across flushed features and much darker upholstery, and laughed. At the ridiculousness of the situation - at the unlikely probability any of this was even happening, at the fact that no one would ever think him the least bit sane for indulging, for going along with this overly complex game - a game not only Light was playing, but Mello quickly reciprocated. Ah the delightful complexity of it all. A hand fell over his eyes as he all but lost it, sounding more than likely completely unhinged at that moment, and yet he found that he did not particularly care.

Light was amused by Mello at that moment, and stretched back nonchalantly, hands behind his head, feet already bare. “It sounds so inconsiderate when you put it like that,” and he laughed, because he was joking just a bit. But his smile said it all—yes, Kira got what Kira wanted—always. So what did he want next? Mello could probably guess—but it would be so much more fun to let Light pick the strategy. No, this wasn’t going to drift from a blowjob to direct fucking right there on the couch; Kira wanted to play—that was fine by Mello.

“Our food’s getting cold,” Mello breathed, recovering from his laughing fit, but more amused than he should have been. And why was Light’s smile always so just that way? It wasn’t fair he could wield such charm and sexuality whenever he wanted, and he glanced at Mello, drinking him in; studying every feature—plotting.

Let him, Mello thought. Seeing Light’s strategies at work only made dealing with him easier…perhaps easy wasn’t the best choice of word. It was educational; kept Mello on his toes. He met Light’s gaze and noted Light’s lips were still glistening just a bit—and god he’d swallowed hadn’t he? Mello bit his own lip and Light of course, made note of that.

This was not the kind of game Mello was going to win, mostly because Kira’s aim was sex, and frankly, Mello didn’t want to altogether avoid that outcome. But he was going to make him work for it—round one went too easily to Light, it was time to up the ante.

Everything was a game and was that a habit Light was naturally imbued with? Or had he picked it up from L? Practiced with the best? L and his impenetrable self, Mello had to wonder when those charms of Light’s finally won the detective over? Was it during the time they were handcuffed? If that was so…Light hadn’t been Kira then, and the tragedy of course would be if L had fallen in love with the true Light Yagami, but because the situation was what it was, and although brilliant, perhaps Light Yagami was not capable of holding the detective’s deeper interests for very long—here L was, very much involved with Kira.

“Hmm, it would be a shame to let it get cold,” Light agreed, a moment later, crossing his outstretched legs as the glow of the lamp melted like butter over that pleasing torso. “I’m still hungry,” and he smirked.

"Mm," Mello allowed with a grin, pushing himself back onto his feet now that he had regained some semblance of control over himself. "I'm sure." Laces were tugged shut, the belt holding precariously in place. Whether his actions were meant to provoke or were downright innocent in that way Mello had to always drip sex even without the slightest of intentions, it could not be told, but he strode into the kitchen, leaving Light behind on the couch to follow along if he wanted his meal. Now that desert had been had.

By the time Light arrived, Mello had already located appropriate dishes and silverware, setting them on the wide table and was digging the neat little containers - which were still quite warm by the way - out of the bag. The fridge proved to be decently stocked as promised, but he had to grin, pulling a bottle of beer from the door. "'Fraid I can't offer you wine. But then again, you don't drink do you?" he asked, glimpsing to Light curiously. The thought had never truly dawned on him until now.

Light slid into a seat, resting his head on his hand, eyes drinking in Mello with that low-lidded gaze and no shortage of appreciation—the blonde was still quite shirtless after all, belt open, snug pants fitted low on his hips. Light was still shirtless as well—the two of them loitering around like a pair of familiar lovers already? The odds.

“Hmm, not really.” Light droned. “Drinking and my prior occupation didn’t mesh well.”

Mello stopped and looked at him and Light smiled. He meant Kira. He meant writing in the Death Note—suppose a drunken Kira scrolling the wrong names in a Death Note was as funny as it was disturbing; but he was joking about killing thousands of people, and Mello was brushing it off.

“But I was never much for liquor anyway. Misa drank enough for the both of us.”

Oh, Amane. There was a topic Mello hadn’t anticipated. “Misa, huh? ‘Fraid I never understood that.” He hitched an eyebrow at Light, dishing out their respective dinners. “I suppose she was fuckable enough, but forgive me if I say you just don’t strike me as the type.” A sling at Kira’s obvious sexual preferences, Light could seduce and have any woman he wanted, but normally he just didn’t want women did he? Not that Mello was really one to talk.

“That was never my choice,” Light justified.

“But you never killed her,” Mello responded, cracking the lid on the beer.

“She was as loyal as they came—had I depended on Misa rather than Takada and Mikami, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. But that was my mistake after all.”

Mello’s lips spread into a smile. “You defend her.”

And Light was quiet for a moment.

“You did have feelings for her then?” Another observation Light hadn’t counted on. Point for Mello.

Light’s silence was thoughtful, and he was either weighing how he’d really felt on the matter, or weighing which answer Mello really wanted to hear. “I suppose there were times,” he said at last. “Times I felt for her. Under that personality she was a very sad girl—highly delusional,” --a funny comment coming from Kira. “She used to cry in bed afterwards, she knew my heart was never on her—especially not after L…died.” He was quiet, but the moment passed. “Usually she just drove me nuts, however...and you're the second person to ask me about Misa today. A conspiracy going on I don't know about?” He was back to being flirty, but his views on Amane were interesting.

She hadn't just been an ornament to him after all--well she had, mostly-- he'd used and abused her unabashedly and she let him lead her wherever he wanted; but it was a sad arrangement, and it seemed, they both knew it. She'd disappeared off the radar after Light’s “death”. Matt had checked in just to make sure—she chucked her career and that was it, no more Misa. God knows what she'd become without Light in her life. And why was that mildly depressing? Why did Mello even wonder at that point? Or was he attempting to stab around to see if Kira had a heart after all? Did Light know what he'd done to Amane? It seemed he did.

...shit.

"I asked, but you brought her up," Mello returned, setting a can of flavored iced-tea in front of Light as he sank into his seat opposite. Even at the kitchen table he fulfilled that need to sprawl, which in this case brought a heel up to the edge of the chair, elbow resting upon the lifted knee as he took a swing. Both had chosen that particular moment to fall silent, and that was all right. Mello was still trying to figure out just what the hell was going on here - what had spawned this familiar normalcy between them when weeks prior Mello would have relished every chance to beat Kira’s face it?. Now they sat, discussing topics never before dreamed of and sharing a fucking meal. The world was off its axis and rolling off the galaxy.

And yet, the kicker of it was that, it was because it was Kira, that it was happening in the first place. Because this relationship interested the both of them. Light played his games, Mello gained his trust and even though at first the intentions had been a bit darker, they had faded around the edges. This right here and now seemed as honest as it ever had. Differences set aside so that they could survive a few days on their own without incident. It was easier than anticipated.

That in itself was a frightening concept.

Dinner went off without incident, heavy topics trailing off to idle chatter which to some seemed nothing of the sorts and again came that impression that Light's behavior toward Mello had changed considerably. Where had the gears turned? Where along the lines of arguments and curses and dangerous games of seduction had Mello become someone so far below on Light's scale of greatness to become something of an equal?

Mello was still trying to do the math, but it couldn’t be denied, Light, it seemed, genuinely had some respect for him—was absolutely trying his damnedest to win him over, and it wasn’t antagonistic, it hadn’t been for quite some time. And maybe Light was concerned that once Matt moved in with them, he’d be reduced back to prisoner status, and maybe he was trying to desperately create all the ties to Mello he could before that happened. But maybe it was also something more.

Dinner was done, dinner was cleared, and Light went domestic and actually did the dishes. Mello sat there, swilling his beer, watching the contours of lean muscle move in Light’s back as he washed the few plates and pieces of silverware. They were still chatting randomly, those strange topics Mello would have never even dreamed he’d ever discuss with anyone outside of the orphanage—which, by and by, Light was very eager to know about. Seems L hadn’t told him much; but his questions were innocently phrased—he was curious as to the academic curriculum; and coming from the former top student in all of Japan, it made sense his mind would shift in that manner. He did say he had a hard time picturing Mello hunched over textbooks and studying for exams, to which Mello could only laugh, because even though he’d spent his youth that way—he had a hard time picturing it himself.

But in that momentary pause between observations, his eyes snagged on those two appalling scars carved down Light’s back. And since Mello had only recently thought of Lidner, his gaze caught and stuck.

“I can’t picture it,” he said thoughtfully.

Light was drying the last dish. “Hmm?”

“Her doing that to you—it’s not her style.”

Light was visibly confused for a moment before he realized what Mello was referring to. “Oh,” he said. “Half the time I forget they’re there.”

“That happened after I left?”

“Obviously,” Light replied.

“Did you provoke her?”

“I probably told her to fuck off, but nothing more than that as far as I remember—things were really starting to blur by that point; I was in a lot of pain.”

“And she just cut you,” it seemed awfully sadistic, even though it was Kira. Halle was well trained and could kick a lot of ass, but she’d never struck Mello as sadistic.

“You forget they were trying to get me to talk,” Light muttered. “I hadn’t confessed yet.” He paused.

“You healed well, though.” Mello added almost as an after thought.

“I do heal well,” Light admitted. “You wouldn’t think I was on life support a few months ago.”

Mello scoffed, oh the things they’d each endured. “You have a lot of scars Light.” He smiled.

Light leaned against the counter, and glanced at his shoulder where Mello’s bullet had grazed him during the SPK Interrogation, scant trail scored into smooth flesh. “This one’s yours,” he purred—and that was true, Mello had shot him during that unpleasant encounter. But the conversation had just visibly shifted. A moment ago, speaking at all about his torture was making Light uncomfortable, he’d been quickly taking on that detached way of handling it; but suddenly, it became intimate. And Light closed the short distance between them.

He stood there for a moment, Mello glancing up at him, waiting with an expectant glimmer in his eye, and Light reached out, gently dragging the backs of his fingers down Mello’s scarred shoulder. “I did this,” he said, his voice heavy and dark and low.

Mello’s breath caught, and he met Kira’s molten gaze. No, Light hadn’t planned that explosion, hadn’t pressed the detonator—but it never would have happened if not for Kira, if not for the notebook, if “L” who was actually Light at that time, hadn’t sent in his task force to turn Mello’s whole operation into a serious cluster which resulted in what was probably the worst physical pain Mello had ever endured…and that’s what Light meant. He’d been the catalyst for Mello’s pain, and in a way, that made it his.

It took Mello a moment to come to himself, not by any means having expected the sudden turn of attention toward himself and the dark ridges that marred the greater part of his features and practically half his torso. Scars that had taken him some time to get over, even though their cause had never been given too much thought. Take it in stride and move on. But Light's comment had brought the event, seemingly a lifetime away, back into perspective. "You pushed me to carry out the most suicidal escape plan in existence," he stated flatly. It was true, nevermind the fact that the escape had been nothing short of narrow. Too narrow. That hadn't meant to be an escape route, but a scare tactic. How was he to guess that things would get so goddamn out of hand beyond repair? He'd lost everything that night.

And yet, he had never directly blamed Kira for what had happened. As far as plans getting fucked beyond belief, yes, he had cursed him every night he woke up in agony reaching for the bottle of pain killers that was kept out of reach less he cause more harm than good. He'd cursed him every night since for the next couple of years, but after a while it was easier to let go. After all, he'd miraculously made it out in one piece and because of that, could still finish what he had started.

What had not been in the plans, however, was sitting in the same kitchen as the man who had pushed him to such extremes and discussing the mechanics of that night and those that followed. It was too bizarre to even comprehend.

Light didn’t move away, and he was so eagerly gauging Mello’s reaction deep down in those wells of his amber eyes that Mello could practically reach out and touch his anticipation. Surely Light already knew it was a sore subject, but so too had been talk of his Interrogation—and every time the warehouse came up.

“Do you have any idea how much I hated you?” Mello said lowly. Past tense. Light’s lips quirked. He cupped Mello’s scarred cheek—the second time he dared a touch like that, and his thumb slid gently over those grotesque ridges….and Mello let him.

“Do you know how I begged my father to kill you while he was on his death bed?” Light replied, and the edge of seduction he leant a statement like that was downright sinful.

Oh.

And Light’s other hand found its way to Mello’s good side, slipping a warm palm against the smooth skin. Mello was quiet, staring up at him, Light so close, already standing between Mello’s sprawled legs, shirtless and golden, the warmth of his skin emanating against Mello’s own.

“So what is this then?” Mello said. Was it cheating that he even asked?

Light shook his head. “I don’t know,” and his voice was barely above a whisper. He pulled on Mello gently, and Mello stood up—in his boots he was taller—and he slid his hands around Light’s taut waist, pulling him closer, leaning in for the kiss.

“I love L,” Light whispered, his lips a breath away from Mello’s.

“I love Matt,” Mello replied, arms snaking around Light’s back—scars meeting scars.

“Good, as long as we have that settled,” Light breathed, smiling as Mello’s grip around him tightened—and a moment later Mello’s lips were grinding hard and deep into his own…

It was a kiss akin to those previously shared. Ardent and borderline desperate, tipped by short intervals that served little to regain lost breath but made the touch that followed all the more eager. Fingers tangled into Light’s hair, taut but not all together forceful. At least not just yet.

But there was no such thing as a simple kiss between them, that much had already been proven several times over. That heat, that passion, borne out of years of antagonism and hatred had morphed itself into something a hell of a lot more dangerous: a desire neither could properly explain. One thing was certain: neither was in their right mind. And so as Light pressed against him, Mello had little issues in leaning back against the table and sliding up to sit on the smooth surface, which essentially brought them closer together as one leather clad leg wound itself rather forcefully around Light’s frame. The latter released a faint gasp, and Mello grinned against his lips, wasting no time to turn this game around, to regain that upper hand even if it would only last for however long Light was distracted.

Fingers tugged at amber strands, severing the kiss as Mello forced Light’s head back ever slightly; mouth firmly planting itself to his jaw, his throat, delighting in the little sounds it drew from Kira’s lips with each demanding kiss pressed to his neck and shoulder. His nips tugged at smooth flesh, but were not meant to mark – Mello meant to tease. Playing with his food as it were.

And those delicious ragged moans falling from Light’s moist lips only increased the more aggressively Mello kissed him—teeth on skin, fingers twisting in hair, controlling Light, pulling him close to devour his lips again. And it was most impressive how submissive he went in Mello’s arms—the only time it seemed Kira was capable of submission, it made Mello begin to wonder just how far Light would be willing to go? And was this part of the game? Or was Light’s appetites the only thing actually ruling him in this moment.

Mello wrapped another leg around Light’s hips, pinning him close against his body, hand still buried in his hair, so that when Mello pulled Light’s head back again, he pulled slower, harder, and leaned in close against the whorl of his ear.

“What do you want me to do to you?” Mello purred, dark, dominant. The very tone of his voice had Light going weak in the knees against him.

“Anything,” was the ragged reply.

Mello quirked an eyebrow. “Anything?” His voice dropped another octave, husky and feral, lips grazing Light’s neck, pulling teasingly at his earlobe. “Do you want me to hurt you?”

Mello felt him shudder. “Yes,” the response was so hoarse, it was barely recognizable, it pooled in Mello’s groin like ice in a shot of bourbon, and his grip in Light’s hair tightened. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,”

“Own you?”

“Yes.”

“Humiliate you?”

“Yes…”

Mello smiled. Kira wanted punishment. Perhaps this was the only way he could serve his penance after all…and god, they had all night didn’t they?

“Light,” and Mello’s voice came back to normal for just a moment, pulling Light’s head into the crook of his neck, black nails drawing lazy circles over Light’s shoulder. “Listen to me,” and for an instant Mello couldn’t believe what he was about to say—and to Kira no less. “I’m going to give you a safe word…”

He felt Light stiffen—had he just called his bluff? “If you want me to stop—really stop…” and Mello’s grin turned slightly devious. Penance it was. “Then you have to call me—Kami.”

Light was frozen against him for a good several seconds. Mello’s grin widened, obviously having received the response he’d wanted. But seeing as Light had already handed himself over into Mello’s care, there was little room for discussion as far as that one simple word was concerned. “Is that acceptable?” he purred, dropping his tone once more as he carved a narrow path of nails on flesh along Light’s spine. Some would say he had just manipulated that one brief nod and groan that touched Light lips, but since when had Mello ever played by the rules?

“Good,” he murmured and in the same breath, shoved Light back just far enough so that Mello could descend off the table, then without so much as a word, sauntered from the kitchen, shooting Light a brief glimpse over his shoulder as he beckoned him to follow.

Make him walk willingly into this punishment. Oh hell yes.