Etched 3
Title: Etched
Summary: It was a brief fling that lasted much longer than it was supposed to. One a student and part-time forensic artist, the other the greatest detective in the world. When it ended, both were sure they'd never meet again. But fate had other plans. AU.
Pairing: L/Light
Rating: R
Chapter 2
Chapter Three
Detectives and Endings
Tuesday
L, as a general rule, had an unusually busy mind.
This should hardly have come as any surprise, as L had been working as the greatest detective in the world (a title not to be taken lightly) for over a decade. And, for not quite as long, after snatching the titles (and names) for safety purposes, he also had the pleasure of referring to himself as the second and third greatest detectives in the world.
A healthy ego came with the job.
Unfortunately, it also came with a substantial amount of responsibilities and worries.
That was why cake had been invented.
But yes, L had a considerable amount on his mind at any given moment in time. Currently, the matter of the most importance and the subject currently occupying the top twelve floors of his brain was the matter of his subordinates.
Had it been L's decision - and one would think it would have been considering the fact he was the greatest detective in the world - he wouldn't have had underlings working directly with him. Yes, it came in handy to have capable proxies to send out into the world and do grunt work, but it also meant he had to put up with them on a regular basis, not to mention concern himself with their training.
Unfortunately, it wasn't L's choice. It was Watari's. Watari, who thought the successors had reached an age old enough to be trained by L himself.
L had protested, claiming he could hardly work on cases and save the world if he was busy looking after three budding detectives (or rather, two budding detectives and one tag-along hacker), but Watari had pulled out the stern face he'd always used when L was a cake-sneaking child and insisted the three boys be allowed to work with him, lest complete havoc be wreaked worldwide.
One did not, Watari scolded, just let three young geniuses, especially Wammy-trained geniuses, out into the world willy-nilly. That was how wars were started.
So L was stuck. He was actually quite fond of all three of his successors, despite his poor-natured grumping, but it had taken some time to adjust to working in close quarters with them and their considerable quirks.
Now, three years later, he had become somewhat accustomed to working with the boys, though they were hardly young enough to be called just boys anymore - Mello and Matt had both already left their teens behind, and Near wasn't too far away from doing the same.
It helped that L was allowed to boss them around and that he could delegate less absorbing cases to their (sometimes) obedient hands.
At the moment, the four were all working together on a single case, tackling an international smuggling ring reaching from Japan to Hawaii to mainland America, flowing drugs into the US and firearms into the waiting hands of the yakuza in Japan. It wasn't a particularly difficult case, just one that took a fair amount of time and tedious digging - digging L was happy to push off on the boys. For the sake of training, of course.
It wasn't until a few days ago that they realized the smuggling case had recently become a murder case, a fact they had only stumbled upon through pure chance.
L supposed this was why it was useful to have underlings - on the off chance that one of them would end up dating a forensic sketch artist, flip through his boyfriend's sketch pad, and find an etching of a man they'd spent weeks searching for. It almost made up for all the times Mello had nearly blown a case up with his impetuousness - and 'blown up' was used in a very literal sense.
Jack Wilson - the man in the sketch. A slippery character who had been evading L for a few weeks - a praise-worthy accomplishment in and of itself - and one of the final pieces to the intricate smuggling system. He was a major player in the game of drugs and guns, one of the brains behind the operation and therefore important to take out.
And slicker than an eel.
He had a nasty habit of suddenly vanishing without a trace, right as L was about to close a trap around his throat, then reappearing on the other side of the globe along with more than a few pounds of narcotics. Two weeks ago, he had pulled that trick again, disappearing from under Near's nose, who had been following him at the time - but this time the slippery smuggler hadn't popped back up again.
Though now it seemed he was in Japan once again.
And, apparently, knocking off tenants in the Aioi apartment complex.
L had not yet uncovered exactly why Wilson had suddenly decided to terrorize the complex's inhabitants, but he suspected it had something to do with a rather sizable shipment of high-grade heroin that had gone missing recently. But whatever the reason, it was only a matter of time before L and company caught up with him, and murder was generally much easier to prove than smuggling. Blood was not as easy to erase as narcotics.
Wilson's days of wriggling out of L's grasp were almost over. At this point, L had decided to sit back and allow his successors to take the rest of the case, mainly for reasons of assessment. Now that they had ascertained Wilson's whereabouts, the case would be easily wrapped up, making it an ideal test for his underlings.
So, as the supervising detective, L really should have been focusing on the case and his successor's actions - and for the most part, he was doing just fine. The only problem was a stubborn pair of startling sensual brown eyes that kept sneaking up from the basement of his brain, distracting him from his more important work.
In L's opinion, eyes like that shouldn't be allowed out of the bedroom, as they were distracting enough to be considered a public hazard. They were the color of honey - a dark, raw honey not yet tainted by human hands - with a tapering angled shape that was perfect for casting sultry, sidelong glances beneath thick lashes. There was a thrilling mixture of warmth and aloofness, an icy passion. And terribly sharp - the hawk-eyes of a cunning observer, full of intelligence and will to act.
L felt a funny tingle in his spine whenever he thought of them.
Now, contrary to what some might think, L was not oblivious to sexual matters - nor was he actually asexual. He was a sexual being with sexual urges like the majority of humans; he merely often ignored them in favor of work, unlike most others of his age group.
That was not to say, however, that he always ignored them or that he was oblivious to what a funny tingle in his spine meant. He knew he was considerably attracted - physically - to the owner of the intense brown eyes, who was also in possession of a pair of mile-long legs and a remarkably fine ass.
The problem was that he couldn't quite focus on his work, and it was beginning to become noticeable.
"You're distracted," Near stated dully, not even looking up from the computer screen in front of him, one white strand of hair being gently twirled around his finger.
L turned his head to stare at his youngest successor, wiping all emotion from his face.
"What led you to that conclusion?"
"You have been blinking at a rate of twenty blinks per minute for the past eight minutes," Near replied evenly, his voice bordering on monotone. "Usually you blink eleven times a minute and only blink more when you're distracted about something."
"Dude, do you realize how creepy that sounds?" Matt, seated at the computer on other side of Near and across from L, pulled off his headphones and joined in.
"I believe it is called observant, Matt."
"It's called stalkerish."
"Matt, did you finish hacking into the video feed?" L decided to intervene, too impatient to wait for them to finish their battle of definitions.
Matt leaned comfortably back into his own chair, his hands snaking up behind his head, and grinned at L across the mass of computers. "Yep. Amateur stuff, man. Didn't even take any hacking - anyone with a computer and internet access could've done it. "
"Good," L nodded, satisfied. "Is Mello here yet?"
"Nah, he's always late though, you know that. So what are you so distracted about, as has been determined through observant and possibly stalkerish methods?"
This was why L didn't like underlings. They were efficient and capable, yes, but also frightfully nosy little buggers. Watari was never this meddlesome.
"I hardly see how that is your business, Matt," L answered, hardly noticing as he began chomping down on his thumb, digging the tips of his teeth into the ridged skin by sheer force of habit.
"It's not," Matt returned easily, a cigarette slipping familiarly between his teeth. "But I can't think when that's ever stopped us." The cigarette bobbed mockingly as he smirked over at L.
"Put that out or take it outside," L directed. Evasion seemed a good tactic for now. "You know Watari doesn't allow smoking inside the room."
"You're evading," Near decided to contribute once again to the conversation, rather unhelpfully in L's opinion.
"Aren't you two supposed to be focusing on the case? Or would you rather wait until Wilson kills another few innocent tenants." Where evasion failed, guilt often succeeded.
"We both know he isn't going to hit again until tomorrow night," Matt countered lazily, "and until then there's not much to do. So I think there's plenty of time to talk, especially since Mels isn't here yet. And the fact that you're so hesitant to talk makes me think you probably ran into a hot ass and can't get it out of your head. Am I right?" he asked, a knowing smirk playing around his lips - which still stubbornly were wrapped around a smoking cigarette. Even Near had looked away from his computer, his eyes shifting to peer at L's face.
What happened to the days L's successors used to respect and, dare he say, even revere him?
Now all they seemed to do was nose into his business and run the bills up with their unhealthy addictions. Not that L didn't have plenty of money - he could have started padding his furniture with the stuff if he wanted - but it was the principle of the matter.
"So," Matt prompted, "are we going to need to clear out of here tonight?"
"It is unlikely that will be necessary," L said candidly. "Now return to your work, or I'll dock your pay." Where evasion and guilt failed, direct threats were the last viable option.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. But if you need, we can crash at Mello's for the night, s'long as he's not got that guy he's seeing over."
"Work. Now."
Matt smirked and turned back to his computer.
Mello, who had been staying in Japan before the smuggling case came up - cultivating questionable contacts among the yakuza - already had an apartment and therefore had no need to suffer through staying in a five-star luxury hotel suite. He also stubbornly refused to take in any genius boarders (and thereby getting them out of L's hair), on the grounds that roommates tended to put a damper on sexual opportunities.
Which were rather important to Mello.
The blond was easily the most sexually active of the four of them, as he tended to be fucking someone whenever he wasn't working. Sometimes he had long strings of one night stands, sometimes he stuck with the convenience of one steady, though casual, relationship - like he was apparently in now.
L, Matt, and Near were only too aware of Mello's current relationship status; after all, he'd shown up enough times complaining about how L had called him right as he was about to get some of the finest ass in Japan - according to Mello's rather enthusiastic opinion, at least. L hadn't seen Mello's boyfriend and therefore couldn't judge, but at the moment he couldn't help but wonder if the mystery boyfriend could compare to the striking brunet L had run into a few days ago - the one currently distracting L from his work.
Somehow, he thought not.
After Mello, Matt was probably the next most sexually active. He was much more low-key about his alliances, but L knew he had a healthy share of them. Unlike Mello, who was more of a 'fuck them until he was bored, then leave' type, Matt had several acquaintances scattered across the world - mostly of the female persuasion, though there were a few men as well - that he met up with whenever he was nearby and in want of sex. Again, nothing serious, but much steadier than Mello's relationships that tended to end explosively and permanently.
Matt left with a kiss and a "See ya around." Mello left with a black eye and a middle finger waving him off.
As for L, he was much pickier than either of the M's and not as conventionally attractive - sometimes even called creepy, by the less aesthetically forgiving - but he also occasionally indulged in sexual desires, when his right hand just wasn't enough.
But like Matt and Mello, his relationships were never serious; his career choice was hardly the ideal for a serious romantic relationship. In fact, most of the time his sexual instincts were satisfied after a single night - the other person always thoroughly researched and ensured to have been recently tested for any sexual diseases. L was much too cautious (Mello would call it paranoid) for anything else. Sometimes he called the person again, but usually he lost interest after one night and had neither desire nor need to sleep with anyone for, typically, about another month.
And then there was Near. L wasn't quite sure if he was even sexual - after all, a small percentage of the population was considered asexual, so it was possible, if statistically unlikely. But then, Wammy children tended to defy expectations and statistics, even in matters of sexuality. L theorized it was partially due to the open-minded environment cultivated at the orphanage, which prompted the children to be more open to their own natures and discovering what they liked.
Mello, Matt, and L all considered themselves bisexual, though L was closer to the homosexual side and Matt was a bit closer to the heterosexual end, while Mello was happily smack dab in the middle. And Near…was Near. Whatever that was, he kept it strictly his own business.
He really could have been action-figure-sexual, for all L knew - and again, one would think, what with L being L, he would have been one of the more likely candidates to know. Greatest detectives in the world were supposed to be observant, after all.
But perhaps thinking of sexual matters at such a time wasn't the best of ideas, considering his preoccupation with a certain pair of attractive and unfortunately anonymous eyes and the observant nature of his underlings.
"L's thinking about that ass again," Matt announced to the general room. It was unfortunate that the announcement coincided precisely with Watari's entrance, so the elderly man was also included within the room's boundaries at the time.
Watari, however, had never yet been fazed by anything his charges said or did, and was unlikely to start now.
"Put that out, Matt," he said in gentle reprimand, echoing L's earlier order and placing a cup of tea and a bowl of sugar cubes in front of the detective.
Without protest, Matt snuffed the cigarette out on the hotel's ashtray, and L scowled at the discrepancy. His underlings were unerringly obedient to him in the field (usually), but on casual matters, they only obeyed Watari consistently. L would have to do something about that.
"Has Mello arrived yet?" L asked quietly, erasing his scowl as he began methodically dropping sugar cubes into his waiting tea, one by one.
"I don't believe so, sir. Would you like me to call his cellular?"
"That won't be necessary, Watari. I was merely curious."
"And trying to distract yourself," Matt muttered with a suspicious quirk of his lips. The only sound from Near was a seemingly innocent click of a mouse that nevertheless managed to sound more mocking than any appliance had the right to be.
L decided he spent too much time with his subordinates; they were beginning to be become annoyingly capable in reading him.
It was true he was a bit distracted by thoughts of the mysterious brunet - after all, it wasn't every day one stumbled across such a markedly attractive person. L could already feel his libido waking up in definite interest. The problem lay in the fact that L had no idea who the gorgeous stranger was or what his orientation might have been.
Typically, when L decided to sleep with someone, he researched them extensively before he ever approached them. He couldn't exactly afford to take chances. So when he had bumped into the brunet, instead of starting up a conversation or asking his name, as a more conventional person who was interested in the man might have, L had simply muttered an apology and quickly left, not wanting to stand out in the memory of someone who could be potentially dangerous. It was safer, but also dramatically reduced his chances of getting sex.
Particularly with that distracting man whom he'd bumped into.
It had only been chance that L had been at the lecture hall in the first place. Watari had thrown him out of the hotel room that afternoon, as he tended to do about once every two months, insisting L had been inside much longer than healthy and wasn't allowed back until eight o'clock that evening.
L, grumpily, had spent most of the day in a nearby coffee shop, steadily depleting them of all their baked goods, until he eventually grew bored of watching the other customers and decided to seek some sort of intellectual stimulation. He overheard a few students mentioning a visiting professor who specialized in criminal psychology and who had written a paper L vaguely remembered reading (and probably critiquing rather harshly), and he'd figured that was as good a way as any to pass the time - if only for the sake of mentally tearing the professor's statements to shreds.
However, when he'd arrived, he'd found the lecture hall too crowded for his tastes and quickly left, intending to eat more cake until his forced exile was completed.
And so he'd bumped into a god.
That was perhaps an exaggeration. All right, definitely an exaggeration. But L was bored and mildly horny and therefore not accountable for any embellished comparisons his brain might make.
He hoped Mello would arrive soon, so L could question him about the assignment for the case he'd given him and distract himself somewhat. Except Mello would probably show up looking satisfied and unapologetically recently fucked, which really wouldn't help matters.
As though summoned by the sheer power of L's thoughts, the inner door to the suite slammed shut, and a pair of heavily-booted feet could be heard stomping into the room. L knew it was Mello without looking up, so he didn't remove his eyes from the steady glow of the computer screen in front of him.
At least until he heard Matt say, "Damn! What happened to you, Mel?"
Mello, now lounging comfortably along the hotel's coffee-cream sofa, had a rather magnificent bruise circling his left eye with an impressive range of colors, from a dark plum purple directly beneath it to a grotesque yellowish-grey lining the top. L felt himself rather prophetic, considering his earlier thoughts on the nature of Mello's relationships and, specifically, how they were terminated.
"Boyfriend punched me," Mello answered simply, toeing one boot off after the other, and they fell noisily to the floor in two dull thuds. "Twice."
"Did you deserve it?" Matt pressed, a grin sneaking up to his lips. Near was unwaveringly looking at his computer, but L could tell he was interested in the story as well - his head was tilted slightly towards Mello, a sure sign he was listening.
"Yeah, probably. He walked in on me with my dick in some chick's mouth. I was pretty smashed at the time. And she had chocolate," he added, as though it was a crucial point - and for Mello, it probably was.
And L was not even a little surprised. Mello would probably do just about anything if he was drunk enough and there was chocolate.
Matt was laughing now, loudly and unapologetically, his shoulders shaking slightly. "I'm impressed he actually marked you - not anyone can do that, and I should know, man."
"No shit," Mello agreed emphatically, looking oddly smug for one in his situation. "He's got a nasty right hook. You wouldn't think looking at him, but he's pretty damn fast. Just slips in and pops ya one before you even know what he's about."
"He was the one who drew the sketch of Wilson?" L interrupted in his typical abrupt manner. While he felt some measure of sympathy for Mello, he also felt a bit of vicious satisfaction that he wasn't he only one currently with sex difficulties.
"Yeah, Light's the artist," Mello answered, stretching his arms languidly above his head. "A bit bitchy sometimes but one of the sexiest bastards I've ever met. He has this way of glancing at you out of the corner of his eyes that makes you want to just throw him down and fuck him. He's got really, really nice legs too. Long and toned. Man, it sucks it's over. I probably could have fucked around with him for at least another month."
"Broke up?" Matt asked, a little sympathy mixed in with his laughter. But L wasn't entirely listening anymore, struck by the remarkable similarity between Mello's description and his own earlier distracted imaginings. Could it be…?
No, it was more than likely a coincidence, facilitated by the fact that he had just been thinking of the unknown brunet and L's own hopes the man was homosexual. After all, there had to be many young men in the area with sultry eyes and long legs. Those were hardly specific descriptions.
"You better fucking believe he broke up with me," Mello was laughing, with the barest touch of regret to his throaty voice. "Don't blame him , of course. He told me at the beginning if I ever cheated it'd be over - a pride thing, I think. Has a strict exclusive dating policy, even though he never gets emotionally serious with anyone. And he really is an arrogant son of a bitch. He's got an ego to rival yours, L."
But L wasn't listening, still occupied with his previous line of thought.
"Mello," he interrupted, "what did you say his name was?" There was no harm in checking, even if there was less than three percent of a chance it was the same person.
Mello crossed one socked foot over the other, propped up on the sofa's armrest. "Light Yagami," he answered simply, without fuss. "You might recognize the family name - his old man's pretty high up in the NPA. Why?"
But L didn't bother to answer, his only reply the rapid clicking of his keyboard as he typed the letters in. Matt, realizing what L was up to, hoofed it around to L's computer to peer over his shoulder, and even Near, making it seem like a pure coincidence, wandered over to watch impassively as a surprising number of photographs popped up.
Yagami Light.
Junior high school tennis champion.
Son of the chief of the NPA, helped his father solve several cases while still in high school.
Perfect entrance score to To-Oh University, class representative.
Featured in several of the campus newspaper articles, mostly for his artwork.
And, most importantly, the owner of a pair of particularly distracting brown eyes L had run into a few days ago.
And he was gay, evidently.
L felt a very pleasant twist in his gut, a twist of excitement and potential, and wondered if this was a reward for all the times he'd saved the world. A gorgeous, homosexual man, recently single and clearly not opposed to casual sex, had practically been dropped in L's lap, and he'd barely even needed to lift a finger. The only thing that could make this better was cake.
And cake could easily be arranged.
To L's left, his white-haired successor leaned a little closer to the screen, then pulled away with a shrug.
"He looks like Matt."
Had L not been L, he wouldn't have noticed the minute tension in the other, lankier body hovering over his shoulder, a slight stiffening after Near's bland remark. But he was and he did, and he also noticed the hidden flash of surprise in Mello's eyes as they flickered over to the team's hacker.
Then Mello smiled and laughed and said, "Hey, the albino's right! They do look kinda similar," and the strange, awkward tension dispersed as Matt chuckled back and lit up a fresh cigarette.
"It's just the hair cut," Matt said plainly with a grin in his voice, the words slipping easily out around his smoke, which L didn't bother telling him to put out because he was too busy studying the computer screen in front of him. "And the fact that we're both damn sexy."
Near, finished with his assessment, padded quietly back to his own computer and returned to his bubble of indifference, hardly noticed by the other three.
And L scrutinized the photos of the not-so-anonymous-anymore brunet with highly concentrated interest. Near was right; on the surface, there were several notable similarities, but-
"Their energies are completely different," he announced, satisfied with the conclusion. "Matt has a very relaxed and somewhat unflappable manner, while Light-kun's aura is significantly more intense."
"Did you just call him Light-kun?" Matt's surprised and slightly suspicious voice asked.
At the same time, Mello laughed and said, "Intense is bloody right. Every single thing he does is intense. Makes for fucking fantastic sex, though."
"L," Matt cut in again, a grin gradually beginning to color his voice once more, "did you call him Light-kun?"
"This is Japan, is in not?" L asked innocently, not looking up from his screen. "And he is Japanese."
"He probably wants to fuck him," Mello said bluntly, looking a little too contented and unconcerned for someone whose ex was being discussed in such a light. "I think this is the first time we've had the same tastes in men."
"I don't know, I think L already has his eye on someone," Matt commented, blowing a huff of smoke towards the ceiling, as L debated the effectiveness of telling him to put it out, or if he should just wait for Watari to return from the kitchen, where he'd retreated shortly before Mello had arrived. "He's been distracted all morning," Matt continued. "Actually, he's been a little distracted for the past few days. You notice that?"
"I thought he was just thinking of cake, but now that you mention it, it has been pretty bad, huh?" Mello agreed after a short moment of quick pondering. "L, you need to fuck someone and get it out of your system. You know how you get when you haven't had sex recently enough. Don't make all of us suffer," he warned, with more than a suggestion of a threat drowning out any concern his tone might have held.
"I appreciate your dubious concern for my well-being, Mello, but I assure you the matter will not affect you or my professional performance," L stated dryly. Nosy underlings. L had every intention of sleeping with Light, so long as the other was equally agreeable to the idea, but that didn't mean it was any business of his successors.
Especially when one of the successors was the recent ex of the man L intended to sleep with. There was a lot of potential for mess in that situation. But then again, it was Mello he was talking about here, who was more likely to ask to join in than get upset.
"That's where you're wrong," Matt countered, smooth and unconcerned, and L nearly growled because one did not so casually tell the greatest detective in the world he was wrong, no matter how truthful the statement might have been. "You get distracted and don't focus on work, so it does affect your professional performance. We've worked with you for three years, L. We know how you get."
"Yeah," Mello chimed in, eager and unhelpful. "So hurry up and fuck whoever it is on your mind, or we'll just get a whore for you. You're going to be unbearable until you get some ass."
"If I may interrupt," Watari interjected from the kitchen's doorway, clearing his throat loudly.
It was wonder, considering his unfortunate and timely entrances, that Watari did not yet think L a sex-obsessed fiend. Or perhaps he did - it was sometimes hard to tell with Watari, even for the greatest detective in the world.
"But I believe," Watari continued with an air of patience and admonition, "that you all are supposed to be working to catch a murderer, if I am not mistaken. Please return to your task. And Matt, kindly extinguish that cigarette."
He fixed them all with a stern, authoritative stare that snapped them back into their Wammy days, and they all hastily turned to their own computers, muttering a chorus of, "Yes, Watari," as they forgot they were adults and acted like a bunch of reprimanded schoolboys.
The interruption was a relief, though - for L at least - as he presently had a great deal to think about and needed no meddling successors nosing into his sex life.
L allowed himself a small grin of victory.
Yagami Light.
He had a name now - a name to go with a face, a name to go with a distraction, a name to go with a fantasy.
A name to go with a plan.
"Light! Wait! Oh fuck - get off, will ya? - hey, wait up, Light! Fuck it, where are my pants…Light!"
A rustling of clothes and a pounding of bare footsteps running after a slower, smoother pair.
"Hold up…! Ah, Jesus, Light, I'm really fucking sor- Aah! Fuck, that hurt! Who the hell taught you to punch like that? Gah, my ears are ringing."
"Right, Mello - let's not make this into a bigger deal than it is."
"That's really fucking easy to say after popping me one in the eye! Fuck, you know this is gonna bruise, right?"
"With any luck, yes. Are you saying you didn't deserve it?"
"No, no, I did, just - damn, that's one hell of an arm. Aren't you supposed to be an artist? But listen, Light, I'm really fucking sorry about this. I drank a little too much and she was really hot and kept giving me chocolate, and-"
"Mello. I honestly don't need to hear your explanations. What's the point? We both know I'm not going to get heartbroken over this - we've always been on the same page in this relationship. It was just fucking. Yeah, I'm a bit pissed at the thought of anyone cheating on me, but let's not blow this into some needlessly huge, dramatic affair. It was fun, you were great, but it probably wasn't going to last much longer anyway. And, to be frank, I suspected since the beginning it'd end this way. It's just they way you are - an impetuous ass who thinks with your dick more than you should."
"I won't argue with that. So...I guess it's over then?"
"Yes, Mello. It's definitely over. You know how I feel about cheating."
"Uh, fuck yeah. You made that really clear."
"Yeah…you might want to go put some ice on that."
"No shit. Hey, how about one last fuck? Round of break up sex."
"You're shameless, Mello. And drunk. Go home."
"I guess I deserve that. But still, you're real cold, babe. Fucking gorgeous, but cold as fuck. But really, really fucking sexy."
"How much did you drink? Your vocabulary always goes down the drain when you're smashed. And… Are you really trying to grope my ass right now?"
"Uh…it looks like I am."
"Hands. Off, now."
"See? Frigid, babe. Glacial."
"Mello…"
"Huh - fuck! Holy shit, Light! Give a guy some warning! Aah…fuck, that hurts. That was the same eye, you know? How'd you get so bloody fast, anyway? I mean, I know I'm a little plastered, but-"
"Mello. Go home. Ice your eye. It was fun. Maybe I'll see you around."
"All right, I'm going. See ya later, babe."
And two men walked away, neither looking back.
Thursday
The Aioi murder case had been solved. Quickly and efficiently, as to be expected from L.
Light had heard the details yesterday when he'd been called down to the station for a sketch, the witness given by the victim of a rather nasty mugging.
Apparently, the murderer's name was Jack Wilson. American father, Japanese mother - which explained the western name. And, as it turned out, he was rather heavily involved in a large smuggling ring L had supposedly been taking out.
Wilson had disappeared from under L's surveillance, however, something Light was grudgingly impressed by, especially considering the smuggler had done it several times. The final time that he slipped away, it seemed a large shipment of narcotics had also gone astray, hidden in the back of a used television that was mistakenly sold to one of the tenants of the Aioi apartments - exactly which one apparently wasn't known.
Cue outbreak of small murders disguised as random robberies.
Wilson, pissed off and in want of his shipment, had been sent to fish out the drugs and silence anyone who may have found out too much. He had methodically begun searching each apartment, and the murder victims were those unfortunate few who accidentally walked in him.
Annoyingly simple, once all the details were in place, and hardly a case of the caliber the great detective supposedly accepted (or hijacked, in this instance). The only reason he'd evidently even taken the case was the odd coincidence that the murderer also happened to be the man the detective was already searching for.
Which was a considerable relief for Light.
He had known it unlikely that L was interested in the case because of his sketch, but it was much less stressful now that he knew for sure.
After all, L was the last person Light wanted interested in - and in particular, suspicious of - his art.
Light dropped onto his couch, stretching along its full length and arching his back up in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension in his muscles. His fingers sneaked up to rub at his temples in gentle, soothing circles that nevertheless did little for his headache.
This often happened shortly after he broke up with a boyfriend. Even casual relationships required an adjustment once they were gone, creating just a little unwanted stress in Light's life. And when he was stressed, he drew.
Even now, he could feel his fingers twitching to pick up a pencil and notebook, to feel the power of pinning down a personality on paper.
Maybe if tried drawing that impossible face once again, that paradoxical black-eyed face Light had been attempting - and failing - to draw for a week now. To be honest, that was probably what was causing him the most stress, not his recent, minor lifestyle change.
The worst part was that every time he failed to capture the face satisfactorily, his usual source of stress release - art - became a massive source of frustration instead.
And that just pissed him off even more.
Light was shaken from his brooding irritation as, with startling abruptness, a soft but unhesitant knock on his door suddenly echoed through the room.
He rolled smoothly to his feet and padded over to the door, idly rubbing at the back of neck. He had no idea who could be at his door. Despite his surface popularity among his peers at school, none of his friends would drop by unannounced, particularly in the middle of the week, as Light only ever got together with them on the weekends, and not very often at that. He wasn't even sure any of them knew where he lived.
Mello knew where he lived, but Light hadn't seen him since Monday night when they'd ended the relationship, and he found it unlikely it would be him. And in any case, Mello was accustomed to letting himself into his boyfriend's apartment without so much as a warning knock; Light doubted that would change even if they were no longer dating.
It was probably some sort of annoying door-to-door salesman selling something Light apparently couldn't survive without but had somehow been managing all these years.
With that unpleasant thought in mind, Light opened the door.
"Light!"
It was Sayu.
She flung herself at him, energetically latching on around his neck and doing her best to squeeze all the life out of him. He disentangled himself before she succeeded, and the door slowly closed behind her.
"Sayu, what are doing here? Do Mom and Dad know you're here?"
"Nah," she grinned. "I told them I was visiting a friend's house, not that it really matters. Am I not allowed to visit my brother? You told me I could!"
"Well, yeah, but I expected you to call first."
"Oh…"
As he noticed her falling face, he rolled his eyes and teasingly rubbed the top of her head, mussing up her formerly neat hair, and she immediately bristled beneath his hand.
"Idiot. It's fine, you just surprised me. So what did you want?"
"To meet Mello of course!" she laughed, her smile once more as bright as ever as she beamed up at him. "I've never met any of your boyfriends, except for that stupid boy you dated in high school who snorted whenever he laughed. Ugh, he was so disgusting. I have no idea why you dated him," she jabbered, not giving Light time to jump in. "So I want to meet Mello, because he sounds really cool! Is he home? Is he here? Is now a good time to meet him?"
"Sayu," Light finally interrupted the string of chatter and questions, snapping his fingers in front of her face, making her blink in surprise. "We broke up."
Sayu blinked in surprise again, this time from his words, before a horrified expression crept onto her face.
"Oh…I'm so sorry! And here I was just babbling on… Are you doing all right?" she finished worriedly, looking up at him with painfully blatant concern.
Light couldn't help but laugh at the guilt evident in every line of her body; her level of self-reproach would have been more fitting had she dug a knife into his thigh then rubbed salt in it, rather than merely asked after an ex boyfriend.
"Don't be stupid," he chuckled. "Didn't you listen to me Sunday? Mello and I weren't serious. It's hardly a big deal - of course I'm fine."
Sayu visibly relaxed, adapting quickly to his obviously casual attitude over the affair. "Oh yeah. I forgot you're Mr. Too-Independent-For-Love. Well, that's too bad. I really wanted to meet him. Couldn't you have waited a few days to break up?"
She giggled at his exasperated look and slipped farther inside the room, unashamedly peeking around, her schoolbag tucked close in to her body.
"I haven't been here since you moved out. It looks nice - you've done a really good job with it," she said, smiling earnestly at him, only innocence in her bright eyes and cheerful grin.
Light, not fooled in the least by her casual act, merely crossed his arms and lifted a single eyebrow at her. "All right, what else did you want?"
Sayu grinned mischievously. "Well, since I took the time to come all the way here to see you and meet Mello, only to find you've selfishly broken up already, don't you think you owe me something?"
"No," Light said bluntly. "But what are you after?"
Her smile turned sheepish as she indicated the bookbag in her arms. "My maths teacher hates me. He doesn't explain things at all! And it's just one assignment, so could you please help me understand!" she began slowly and finished in an eager rush, as though he'd be more likely to agree if he couldn't understand the jumble of words. "Please! What's the point of having a genius brother if he doesn't help you with your homework?" And she obviously understood the value of flattery and guilt tactics, which unfortunately didn't work on Light.
She pulled her face into a pleading pout and stared deep into Light's unswayed eyes, no doubt pulling up every innocent-sister wile in her arsenal.
Light stared back, unaffected and unmoved by her wide, bordering on teary eyes; a pregnant silence stretched between them, as she silently begged and he silently deliberated.
"All right," he finally consented. He actually had time to spare today, and it was always a good idea to have someone owe him a favor, even if it was just Sayu. "But," he added, as she tried to maul him in enthusiastic gratitude, "we're going to that coffee shop down the street on the corner, and you're paying."
"Okay!" Sayu agreed happily and immediately. "Thanks, Light - you're the best!"
Light just threw her an unimpressed look and strode leisurely over to his kitchen to pluck his keys from the counter, along with his wallet - Sayu may have agreed to pay, but he'd long ago learned it was much safer to carry it anyway.
"Let's go," he said unceremoniously, "so we can get you home before dinner."
"Yep!" Sayu chirped agreeably, and together they slipped out of his apartment, Light pausing to lock the door and Sayu bouncing cheerfully beside him.
About halfway down the stairs, Sayu tilted her eyes up to him and asked curiously, "Hey, Light? How do you afford your apartment? Does your job really pay enough?"
"It almost does. The rest comes from money I'd saved up for college, but didn't need all of when I got a scholarship. It's a little tight, but I cope fine. It just takes good money management." He kept his voice light and easy, hiding the lie beneath layers of half-truths. Some of the money did come from his job, after all; it just wasn't all from his sketch artist job, as he let her assume.
"Stupid genius," Sayu grouched good-naturedly, if rather oxymoronically.
"Very funny - oh shit, my phone," he cursed, stopping suddenly as he realized he had left his cell phone waiting on the coffee table. "Go ahead on down; I'll meet you at the bottom." He turned and started up the stairs two at a time, his long legs easily reaching the distance without problem.
Sayu giggled and yelled after him, "Right. And I'll be sure not to let it slip to Mom and Dad that you swore in front of me."
Light, not worried, paused to smile pleasantly down at her. "Of course you won't. And I won't let it slip that you really went to that concert last month they said you couldn't go to, instead of sleeping over at a friend's like you told them you were."
"Light!" Sayu sounded scandalized, but there was hint of a smile playing around her lips. "How did you know?"
"As if I'm going to tell you," he laughed, resuming his ascent once more. "I'll be back in a second; just wait at the bottom like a good girl."
Her indignant reply was lost to him as he reached the landing of his floor and turned down towards his door. It barely took any time at all for him to reenter his apartment, snag the phone from the table and lock the door behind him once more, and he soon was heading back down the stairs in an unhurried lope.
As he neared the very bottom of the stairs, he heard Sayu's cheerful tones giggling at someone, though he couldn't determine her conversation partner.
Then he heard a deep, throaty chuckle, and realized exactly whom she was talking to.
A smirk pricked at his lips; this could be interesting.
He slowed to a casual stroll, stepping quietly down the final few steps, and slipped closer to the two rather friendly chatters, though both were still oblivious to his presence.
"Do you live around here?" one was asking with a confident grin. "I don't think I've seen you before, and I'd remember a cute girl like you."
Light frowned. That was a little too friendly.
"Mello, it would be very a bad idea to try to pick up my little sister."
Two heads whirled towards him and two voices exclaimed at the same time:
"Mello?"
"Your sister?"
Because he was watching - and quite observant - Light noticed the flicker of Mello's eyes across Sayu's face as he gauged her reaction to his identity, the realization that she hadn't been told of his cheating, and the flash of surprise as his eyes darted very briefly over to Light. It all happened quickly enough that if Light had blinked, he would've missed it. But Light'd had two months to learn Mello's subtle tells, and he'd come to recognize how Mello's face was accustomed to reacting.
Light also was pleased to notice Mello's left eye still bore the mark of his punches, though the bruise had begun to fade somewhat and was mostly taken over by a sickly yellow-grey.
It was then that Light noticed Sayu staring at him with undisguised shock, her mouth even hanging open slightly. Well, nothing subtle there.
"What?" he asked, a little snappily.
"You dated this person for two months?" she questioned incredulously, rolling her eyes obviously over to Mello to take in all his tight-leather-wearing glory. Mello cocked an eyebrow back at her, his smirk confident but his eyes betraying the slightest confusion. "But-"
"But what?"
"But he's so cool!"
There was silence for the stretch of a stunned moment, then Mello burst into noisy laughter, practically doubling over, and Light fixed his sister with an unamused stare.
"And what exactly," Light said, mixing just the right amount of subtle superiority and indifference to his tone, "are you saying? Think carefully, for the sake of your homework."
"Oh!" Sayu backpedaled frantically, clearly realizing how her comment would've sounded. "I didn't mean it that way! You're really cool too! But you're cool in a classy, sophisticated way, and Mello-san seems more…" she trailed off and stared helplessly at the smug something that was Mello, unable to put his coolness into words.
"Fucking awesome?" Mello supplied obligingly, grinning.
"Whorish?" Light put in, ignoring Mello's unashamed snort of laughter. "It's the leather; whenever he wears it he looks like a prostitute working the streets."
"Don't be jealous, babe."
"Yes, because it has always been my ambition to be mistaken for a whore."
"Um," Sayu actually blushed a little as she interjected, "you two just don't look like the type of people who'd date each other. I guess I'm surprised you two were together for so long."
Mello's mouth suddenly stretched into a wide grin, a sure sign that Light wouldn't approve of whatever he was planning on saying.
"That's 'cause the sex is fucking amazing."
Yep. Light definitely wouldn't have approved. Besides-
"Was," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Was fucking amazing." If they were going to discuss their sex life they might as well use the correct verb tense.
"See, you think so too."
Sayu had already burned an even darker red, but Light could see the interest in her expression. Then her eyes suddenly lit up with a thought, and she turned to Mello in excitement and, despite her obvious embarrassment, eagerly said, "Mello-san! I have to ask you, because I know Light won't ever tell me - does my brother top or bottom?"
Oh god, Light should have realized this would be a horrifically bad idea. He had guessed they'd get along well together - and thus far, it seemed he'd been right - but he'd forgotten what that would mean for him personally, caught between the two.
Especially considering Sayu's unnatural enthusiasm for his love life and the fact that Mello was the most shameless of any of Light's boyfriends. This was a terrible idea.
"Sayu," he snapped sharply, throwing his iciest warning glare at Mello, who grinned winningly back through his blond fringe.
"What?" Sayu asked innocently, though her widened eyes didn't fool him, and eventually the ingenuousness in her features dripped away and she smiled sheepishly. "Just curious…"
"I don't see why you would even be curious about that," Light told her, but he kept his eyes narrowed distrustfully on Mello. The blond looked more than usually suspicious, with his smug smirk and mischievous eyes flitting between the two siblings. "And I find it just a little creepy, honestly."
"C'mon, Light!" Sayu whined. "It's not creepy. You're just the only gay boy I know well, so where else am I supposed to get information?"
"The fact that you even want information is worrying. And don't believe anything Mello tells you," he added, noticing his ex-boyfriend's devious expression. "If you must know, I switch, depending on my mood and the other person." This wasn't a conversation he ever wanted to have with anyone in his family, but he figured it was better to tell her than wait for Mello to feed her skewed information.
"Yeah," Mello agreed, smirk still firmly in place, "but he takes it like a-"
"Mello, if you finish that sentence, I promise you I will slice off your tongue, and you'll never be able to taste chocolate again."
Mello fortunately stopped, giving Light a sly and overly pleased smile, and Light thought it was definitely time to go or he might end up giving Mello a matching bruise for his other eye. Sayu, however, jumped in before he could speak.
"You guys are funny," she giggled, smiling between the two of them. "Why did you break up?"
Mello's and Light's eyes met, Light's smirking and calculating, Mello's confident and unconcerned.
"Difference of opinion," Mello said with an easy smile, turning back to Sayu, but Light just held up his pinky finger and glanced significantly at Mello's crotch, the action seen only by Sayu.
His sister's eyes widened in shock before darting involuntarily to that area as well, and she burst into laughter as she got the implication.
Mello, understandably surprised, squinted suspiciously at Light, who smirked back and decided now was a good time to make their exit.
"We better go, Sayu, or you'll be getting home too late. Nice to see you, Mello," he said pleasantly.
"Yeah, you too, babe," Mello returned, his eyes still narrowed at Light. "See you around."
"It was nice to meet you!" Sayu smiled earnestly, pulling a grin from Mello as well. "Thanks for taking care of my brother," she added as she bowed politely.
"Oh I'll take care of him anytime," Mello replied, his salacious smirk leaving no doubt to his meaning. "Take care, Sayu-chan." He flicked two casual fingers in a wave at Light. "Anytime you wanna play around, babe," he said in way of farewell, and Light rolled his eyes as the blond sauntered up the stairs with a final parting grin at Sayu.
When he was gone, Sayu turned a brilliant smile on Light.
"He's awesome! I'm so glad I got to meet him. But you're right - it wouldn't be a good idea to introduce him to Mom and Dad."
"You think?" Light said sarcastically. "It'd probably give them a heart attack. All right, let's go. I want at least three cups of coffee, and I'd like them now."
"Yeah, yeah, but don't forget you're helping me with my homework too."
"You know, your earlier reasoning was that I owed you because you came here and didn't get to meet Mello. You've just met him, so I'd say that agreement is now void."
"Light!"
"I'm just kidding, stop squawking. Come on."
"Stupid brother."
Chapter 4
Summary: It was a brief fling that lasted much longer than it was supposed to. One a student and part-time forensic artist, the other the greatest detective in the world. When it ended, both were sure they'd never meet again. But fate had other plans. AU.
Pairing: L/Light
Rating: R
Chapter 2
Chapter Three
Detectives and Endings
Tuesday
L, as a general rule, had an unusually busy mind.
This should hardly have come as any surprise, as L had been working as the greatest detective in the world (a title not to be taken lightly) for over a decade. And, for not quite as long, after snatching the titles (and names) for safety purposes, he also had the pleasure of referring to himself as the second and third greatest detectives in the world.
A healthy ego came with the job.
Unfortunately, it also came with a substantial amount of responsibilities and worries.
That was why cake had been invented.
But yes, L had a considerable amount on his mind at any given moment in time. Currently, the matter of the most importance and the subject currently occupying the top twelve floors of his brain was the matter of his subordinates.
Had it been L's decision - and one would think it would have been considering the fact he was the greatest detective in the world - he wouldn't have had underlings working directly with him. Yes, it came in handy to have capable proxies to send out into the world and do grunt work, but it also meant he had to put up with them on a regular basis, not to mention concern himself with their training.
Unfortunately, it wasn't L's choice. It was Watari's. Watari, who thought the successors had reached an age old enough to be trained by L himself.
L had protested, claiming he could hardly work on cases and save the world if he was busy looking after three budding detectives (or rather, two budding detectives and one tag-along hacker), but Watari had pulled out the stern face he'd always used when L was a cake-sneaking child and insisted the three boys be allowed to work with him, lest complete havoc be wreaked worldwide.
One did not, Watari scolded, just let three young geniuses, especially Wammy-trained geniuses, out into the world willy-nilly. That was how wars were started.
So L was stuck. He was actually quite fond of all three of his successors, despite his poor-natured grumping, but it had taken some time to adjust to working in close quarters with them and their considerable quirks.
Now, three years later, he had become somewhat accustomed to working with the boys, though they were hardly young enough to be called just boys anymore - Mello and Matt had both already left their teens behind, and Near wasn't too far away from doing the same.
It helped that L was allowed to boss them around and that he could delegate less absorbing cases to their (sometimes) obedient hands.
At the moment, the four were all working together on a single case, tackling an international smuggling ring reaching from Japan to Hawaii to mainland America, flowing drugs into the US and firearms into the waiting hands of the yakuza in Japan. It wasn't a particularly difficult case, just one that took a fair amount of time and tedious digging - digging L was happy to push off on the boys. For the sake of training, of course.
It wasn't until a few days ago that they realized the smuggling case had recently become a murder case, a fact they had only stumbled upon through pure chance.
L supposed this was why it was useful to have underlings - on the off chance that one of them would end up dating a forensic sketch artist, flip through his boyfriend's sketch pad, and find an etching of a man they'd spent weeks searching for. It almost made up for all the times Mello had nearly blown a case up with his impetuousness - and 'blown up' was used in a very literal sense.
Jack Wilson - the man in the sketch. A slippery character who had been evading L for a few weeks - a praise-worthy accomplishment in and of itself - and one of the final pieces to the intricate smuggling system. He was a major player in the game of drugs and guns, one of the brains behind the operation and therefore important to take out.
And slicker than an eel.
He had a nasty habit of suddenly vanishing without a trace, right as L was about to close a trap around his throat, then reappearing on the other side of the globe along with more than a few pounds of narcotics. Two weeks ago, he had pulled that trick again, disappearing from under Near's nose, who had been following him at the time - but this time the slippery smuggler hadn't popped back up again.
Though now it seemed he was in Japan once again.
And, apparently, knocking off tenants in the Aioi apartment complex.
L had not yet uncovered exactly why Wilson had suddenly decided to terrorize the complex's inhabitants, but he suspected it had something to do with a rather sizable shipment of high-grade heroin that had gone missing recently. But whatever the reason, it was only a matter of time before L and company caught up with him, and murder was generally much easier to prove than smuggling. Blood was not as easy to erase as narcotics.
Wilson's days of wriggling out of L's grasp were almost over. At this point, L had decided to sit back and allow his successors to take the rest of the case, mainly for reasons of assessment. Now that they had ascertained Wilson's whereabouts, the case would be easily wrapped up, making it an ideal test for his underlings.
So, as the supervising detective, L really should have been focusing on the case and his successor's actions - and for the most part, he was doing just fine. The only problem was a stubborn pair of startling sensual brown eyes that kept sneaking up from the basement of his brain, distracting him from his more important work.
In L's opinion, eyes like that shouldn't be allowed out of the bedroom, as they were distracting enough to be considered a public hazard. They were the color of honey - a dark, raw honey not yet tainted by human hands - with a tapering angled shape that was perfect for casting sultry, sidelong glances beneath thick lashes. There was a thrilling mixture of warmth and aloofness, an icy passion. And terribly sharp - the hawk-eyes of a cunning observer, full of intelligence and will to act.
L felt a funny tingle in his spine whenever he thought of them.
Now, contrary to what some might think, L was not oblivious to sexual matters - nor was he actually asexual. He was a sexual being with sexual urges like the majority of humans; he merely often ignored them in favor of work, unlike most others of his age group.
That was not to say, however, that he always ignored them or that he was oblivious to what a funny tingle in his spine meant. He knew he was considerably attracted - physically - to the owner of the intense brown eyes, who was also in possession of a pair of mile-long legs and a remarkably fine ass.
The problem was that he couldn't quite focus on his work, and it was beginning to become noticeable.
"You're distracted," Near stated dully, not even looking up from the computer screen in front of him, one white strand of hair being gently twirled around his finger.
L turned his head to stare at his youngest successor, wiping all emotion from his face.
"What led you to that conclusion?"
"You have been blinking at a rate of twenty blinks per minute for the past eight minutes," Near replied evenly, his voice bordering on monotone. "Usually you blink eleven times a minute and only blink more when you're distracted about something."
"Dude, do you realize how creepy that sounds?" Matt, seated at the computer on other side of Near and across from L, pulled off his headphones and joined in.
"I believe it is called observant, Matt."
"It's called stalkerish."
"Matt, did you finish hacking into the video feed?" L decided to intervene, too impatient to wait for them to finish their battle of definitions.
Matt leaned comfortably back into his own chair, his hands snaking up behind his head, and grinned at L across the mass of computers. "Yep. Amateur stuff, man. Didn't even take any hacking - anyone with a computer and internet access could've done it. "
"Good," L nodded, satisfied. "Is Mello here yet?"
"Nah, he's always late though, you know that. So what are you so distracted about, as has been determined through observant and possibly stalkerish methods?"
This was why L didn't like underlings. They were efficient and capable, yes, but also frightfully nosy little buggers. Watari was never this meddlesome.
"I hardly see how that is your business, Matt," L answered, hardly noticing as he began chomping down on his thumb, digging the tips of his teeth into the ridged skin by sheer force of habit.
"It's not," Matt returned easily, a cigarette slipping familiarly between his teeth. "But I can't think when that's ever stopped us." The cigarette bobbed mockingly as he smirked over at L.
"Put that out or take it outside," L directed. Evasion seemed a good tactic for now. "You know Watari doesn't allow smoking inside the room."
"You're evading," Near decided to contribute once again to the conversation, rather unhelpfully in L's opinion.
"Aren't you two supposed to be focusing on the case? Or would you rather wait until Wilson kills another few innocent tenants." Where evasion failed, guilt often succeeded.
"We both know he isn't going to hit again until tomorrow night," Matt countered lazily, "and until then there's not much to do. So I think there's plenty of time to talk, especially since Mels isn't here yet. And the fact that you're so hesitant to talk makes me think you probably ran into a hot ass and can't get it out of your head. Am I right?" he asked, a knowing smirk playing around his lips - which still stubbornly were wrapped around a smoking cigarette. Even Near had looked away from his computer, his eyes shifting to peer at L's face.
What happened to the days L's successors used to respect and, dare he say, even revere him?
Now all they seemed to do was nose into his business and run the bills up with their unhealthy addictions. Not that L didn't have plenty of money - he could have started padding his furniture with the stuff if he wanted - but it was the principle of the matter.
"So," Matt prompted, "are we going to need to clear out of here tonight?"
"It is unlikely that will be necessary," L said candidly. "Now return to your work, or I'll dock your pay." Where evasion and guilt failed, direct threats were the last viable option.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. But if you need, we can crash at Mello's for the night, s'long as he's not got that guy he's seeing over."
"Work. Now."
Matt smirked and turned back to his computer.
Mello, who had been staying in Japan before the smuggling case came up - cultivating questionable contacts among the yakuza - already had an apartment and therefore had no need to suffer through staying in a five-star luxury hotel suite. He also stubbornly refused to take in any genius boarders (and thereby getting them out of L's hair), on the grounds that roommates tended to put a damper on sexual opportunities.
Which were rather important to Mello.
The blond was easily the most sexually active of the four of them, as he tended to be fucking someone whenever he wasn't working. Sometimes he had long strings of one night stands, sometimes he stuck with the convenience of one steady, though casual, relationship - like he was apparently in now.
L, Matt, and Near were only too aware of Mello's current relationship status; after all, he'd shown up enough times complaining about how L had called him right as he was about to get some of the finest ass in Japan - according to Mello's rather enthusiastic opinion, at least. L hadn't seen Mello's boyfriend and therefore couldn't judge, but at the moment he couldn't help but wonder if the mystery boyfriend could compare to the striking brunet L had run into a few days ago - the one currently distracting L from his work.
Somehow, he thought not.
After Mello, Matt was probably the next most sexually active. He was much more low-key about his alliances, but L knew he had a healthy share of them. Unlike Mello, who was more of a 'fuck them until he was bored, then leave' type, Matt had several acquaintances scattered across the world - mostly of the female persuasion, though there were a few men as well - that he met up with whenever he was nearby and in want of sex. Again, nothing serious, but much steadier than Mello's relationships that tended to end explosively and permanently.
Matt left with a kiss and a "See ya around." Mello left with a black eye and a middle finger waving him off.
As for L, he was much pickier than either of the M's and not as conventionally attractive - sometimes even called creepy, by the less aesthetically forgiving - but he also occasionally indulged in sexual desires, when his right hand just wasn't enough.
But like Matt and Mello, his relationships were never serious; his career choice was hardly the ideal for a serious romantic relationship. In fact, most of the time his sexual instincts were satisfied after a single night - the other person always thoroughly researched and ensured to have been recently tested for any sexual diseases. L was much too cautious (Mello would call it paranoid) for anything else. Sometimes he called the person again, but usually he lost interest after one night and had neither desire nor need to sleep with anyone for, typically, about another month.
And then there was Near. L wasn't quite sure if he was even sexual - after all, a small percentage of the population was considered asexual, so it was possible, if statistically unlikely. But then, Wammy children tended to defy expectations and statistics, even in matters of sexuality. L theorized it was partially due to the open-minded environment cultivated at the orphanage, which prompted the children to be more open to their own natures and discovering what they liked.
Mello, Matt, and L all considered themselves bisexual, though L was closer to the homosexual side and Matt was a bit closer to the heterosexual end, while Mello was happily smack dab in the middle. And Near…was Near. Whatever that was, he kept it strictly his own business.
He really could have been action-figure-sexual, for all L knew - and again, one would think, what with L being L, he would have been one of the more likely candidates to know. Greatest detectives in the world were supposed to be observant, after all.
But perhaps thinking of sexual matters at such a time wasn't the best of ideas, considering his preoccupation with a certain pair of attractive and unfortunately anonymous eyes and the observant nature of his underlings.
"L's thinking about that ass again," Matt announced to the general room. It was unfortunate that the announcement coincided precisely with Watari's entrance, so the elderly man was also included within the room's boundaries at the time.
Watari, however, had never yet been fazed by anything his charges said or did, and was unlikely to start now.
"Put that out, Matt," he said in gentle reprimand, echoing L's earlier order and placing a cup of tea and a bowl of sugar cubes in front of the detective.
Without protest, Matt snuffed the cigarette out on the hotel's ashtray, and L scowled at the discrepancy. His underlings were unerringly obedient to him in the field (usually), but on casual matters, they only obeyed Watari consistently. L would have to do something about that.
"Has Mello arrived yet?" L asked quietly, erasing his scowl as he began methodically dropping sugar cubes into his waiting tea, one by one.
"I don't believe so, sir. Would you like me to call his cellular?"
"That won't be necessary, Watari. I was merely curious."
"And trying to distract yourself," Matt muttered with a suspicious quirk of his lips. The only sound from Near was a seemingly innocent click of a mouse that nevertheless managed to sound more mocking than any appliance had the right to be.
L decided he spent too much time with his subordinates; they were beginning to be become annoyingly capable in reading him.
It was true he was a bit distracted by thoughts of the mysterious brunet - after all, it wasn't every day one stumbled across such a markedly attractive person. L could already feel his libido waking up in definite interest. The problem lay in the fact that L had no idea who the gorgeous stranger was or what his orientation might have been.
Typically, when L decided to sleep with someone, he researched them extensively before he ever approached them. He couldn't exactly afford to take chances. So when he had bumped into the brunet, instead of starting up a conversation or asking his name, as a more conventional person who was interested in the man might have, L had simply muttered an apology and quickly left, not wanting to stand out in the memory of someone who could be potentially dangerous. It was safer, but also dramatically reduced his chances of getting sex.
Particularly with that distracting man whom he'd bumped into.
It had only been chance that L had been at the lecture hall in the first place. Watari had thrown him out of the hotel room that afternoon, as he tended to do about once every two months, insisting L had been inside much longer than healthy and wasn't allowed back until eight o'clock that evening.
L, grumpily, had spent most of the day in a nearby coffee shop, steadily depleting them of all their baked goods, until he eventually grew bored of watching the other customers and decided to seek some sort of intellectual stimulation. He overheard a few students mentioning a visiting professor who specialized in criminal psychology and who had written a paper L vaguely remembered reading (and probably critiquing rather harshly), and he'd figured that was as good a way as any to pass the time - if only for the sake of mentally tearing the professor's statements to shreds.
However, when he'd arrived, he'd found the lecture hall too crowded for his tastes and quickly left, intending to eat more cake until his forced exile was completed.
And so he'd bumped into a god.
That was perhaps an exaggeration. All right, definitely an exaggeration. But L was bored and mildly horny and therefore not accountable for any embellished comparisons his brain might make.
He hoped Mello would arrive soon, so L could question him about the assignment for the case he'd given him and distract himself somewhat. Except Mello would probably show up looking satisfied and unapologetically recently fucked, which really wouldn't help matters.
As though summoned by the sheer power of L's thoughts, the inner door to the suite slammed shut, and a pair of heavily-booted feet could be heard stomping into the room. L knew it was Mello without looking up, so he didn't remove his eyes from the steady glow of the computer screen in front of him.
At least until he heard Matt say, "Damn! What happened to you, Mel?"
Mello, now lounging comfortably along the hotel's coffee-cream sofa, had a rather magnificent bruise circling his left eye with an impressive range of colors, from a dark plum purple directly beneath it to a grotesque yellowish-grey lining the top. L felt himself rather prophetic, considering his earlier thoughts on the nature of Mello's relationships and, specifically, how they were terminated.
"Boyfriend punched me," Mello answered simply, toeing one boot off after the other, and they fell noisily to the floor in two dull thuds. "Twice."
"Did you deserve it?" Matt pressed, a grin sneaking up to his lips. Near was unwaveringly looking at his computer, but L could tell he was interested in the story as well - his head was tilted slightly towards Mello, a sure sign he was listening.
"Yeah, probably. He walked in on me with my dick in some chick's mouth. I was pretty smashed at the time. And she had chocolate," he added, as though it was a crucial point - and for Mello, it probably was.
And L was not even a little surprised. Mello would probably do just about anything if he was drunk enough and there was chocolate.
Matt was laughing now, loudly and unapologetically, his shoulders shaking slightly. "I'm impressed he actually marked you - not anyone can do that, and I should know, man."
"No shit," Mello agreed emphatically, looking oddly smug for one in his situation. "He's got a nasty right hook. You wouldn't think looking at him, but he's pretty damn fast. Just slips in and pops ya one before you even know what he's about."
"He was the one who drew the sketch of Wilson?" L interrupted in his typical abrupt manner. While he felt some measure of sympathy for Mello, he also felt a bit of vicious satisfaction that he wasn't he only one currently with sex difficulties.
"Yeah, Light's the artist," Mello answered, stretching his arms languidly above his head. "A bit bitchy sometimes but one of the sexiest bastards I've ever met. He has this way of glancing at you out of the corner of his eyes that makes you want to just throw him down and fuck him. He's got really, really nice legs too. Long and toned. Man, it sucks it's over. I probably could have fucked around with him for at least another month."
"Broke up?" Matt asked, a little sympathy mixed in with his laughter. But L wasn't entirely listening anymore, struck by the remarkable similarity between Mello's description and his own earlier distracted imaginings. Could it be…?
No, it was more than likely a coincidence, facilitated by the fact that he had just been thinking of the unknown brunet and L's own hopes the man was homosexual. After all, there had to be many young men in the area with sultry eyes and long legs. Those were hardly specific descriptions.
"You better fucking believe he broke up with me," Mello was laughing, with the barest touch of regret to his throaty voice. "Don't blame him , of course. He told me at the beginning if I ever cheated it'd be over - a pride thing, I think. Has a strict exclusive dating policy, even though he never gets emotionally serious with anyone. And he really is an arrogant son of a bitch. He's got an ego to rival yours, L."
But L wasn't listening, still occupied with his previous line of thought.
"Mello," he interrupted, "what did you say his name was?" There was no harm in checking, even if there was less than three percent of a chance it was the same person.
Mello crossed one socked foot over the other, propped up on the sofa's armrest. "Light Yagami," he answered simply, without fuss. "You might recognize the family name - his old man's pretty high up in the NPA. Why?"
But L didn't bother to answer, his only reply the rapid clicking of his keyboard as he typed the letters in. Matt, realizing what L was up to, hoofed it around to L's computer to peer over his shoulder, and even Near, making it seem like a pure coincidence, wandered over to watch impassively as a surprising number of photographs popped up.
Yagami Light.
Junior high school tennis champion.
Son of the chief of the NPA, helped his father solve several cases while still in high school.
Perfect entrance score to To-Oh University, class representative.
Featured in several of the campus newspaper articles, mostly for his artwork.
And, most importantly, the owner of a pair of particularly distracting brown eyes L had run into a few days ago.
And he was gay, evidently.
L felt a very pleasant twist in his gut, a twist of excitement and potential, and wondered if this was a reward for all the times he'd saved the world. A gorgeous, homosexual man, recently single and clearly not opposed to casual sex, had practically been dropped in L's lap, and he'd barely even needed to lift a finger. The only thing that could make this better was cake.
And cake could easily be arranged.
To L's left, his white-haired successor leaned a little closer to the screen, then pulled away with a shrug.
"He looks like Matt."
Had L not been L, he wouldn't have noticed the minute tension in the other, lankier body hovering over his shoulder, a slight stiffening after Near's bland remark. But he was and he did, and he also noticed the hidden flash of surprise in Mello's eyes as they flickered over to the team's hacker.
Then Mello smiled and laughed and said, "Hey, the albino's right! They do look kinda similar," and the strange, awkward tension dispersed as Matt chuckled back and lit up a fresh cigarette.
"It's just the hair cut," Matt said plainly with a grin in his voice, the words slipping easily out around his smoke, which L didn't bother telling him to put out because he was too busy studying the computer screen in front of him. "And the fact that we're both damn sexy."
Near, finished with his assessment, padded quietly back to his own computer and returned to his bubble of indifference, hardly noticed by the other three.
And L scrutinized the photos of the not-so-anonymous-anymore brunet with highly concentrated interest. Near was right; on the surface, there were several notable similarities, but-
"Their energies are completely different," he announced, satisfied with the conclusion. "Matt has a very relaxed and somewhat unflappable manner, while Light-kun's aura is significantly more intense."
"Did you just call him Light-kun?" Matt's surprised and slightly suspicious voice asked.
At the same time, Mello laughed and said, "Intense is bloody right. Every single thing he does is intense. Makes for fucking fantastic sex, though."
"L," Matt cut in again, a grin gradually beginning to color his voice once more, "did you call him Light-kun?"
"This is Japan, is in not?" L asked innocently, not looking up from his screen. "And he is Japanese."
"He probably wants to fuck him," Mello said bluntly, looking a little too contented and unconcerned for someone whose ex was being discussed in such a light. "I think this is the first time we've had the same tastes in men."
"I don't know, I think L already has his eye on someone," Matt commented, blowing a huff of smoke towards the ceiling, as L debated the effectiveness of telling him to put it out, or if he should just wait for Watari to return from the kitchen, where he'd retreated shortly before Mello had arrived. "He's been distracted all morning," Matt continued. "Actually, he's been a little distracted for the past few days. You notice that?"
"I thought he was just thinking of cake, but now that you mention it, it has been pretty bad, huh?" Mello agreed after a short moment of quick pondering. "L, you need to fuck someone and get it out of your system. You know how you get when you haven't had sex recently enough. Don't make all of us suffer," he warned, with more than a suggestion of a threat drowning out any concern his tone might have held.
"I appreciate your dubious concern for my well-being, Mello, but I assure you the matter will not affect you or my professional performance," L stated dryly. Nosy underlings. L had every intention of sleeping with Light, so long as the other was equally agreeable to the idea, but that didn't mean it was any business of his successors.
Especially when one of the successors was the recent ex of the man L intended to sleep with. There was a lot of potential for mess in that situation. But then again, it was Mello he was talking about here, who was more likely to ask to join in than get upset.
"That's where you're wrong," Matt countered, smooth and unconcerned, and L nearly growled because one did not so casually tell the greatest detective in the world he was wrong, no matter how truthful the statement might have been. "You get distracted and don't focus on work, so it does affect your professional performance. We've worked with you for three years, L. We know how you get."
"Yeah," Mello chimed in, eager and unhelpful. "So hurry up and fuck whoever it is on your mind, or we'll just get a whore for you. You're going to be unbearable until you get some ass."
"If I may interrupt," Watari interjected from the kitchen's doorway, clearing his throat loudly.
It was wonder, considering his unfortunate and timely entrances, that Watari did not yet think L a sex-obsessed fiend. Or perhaps he did - it was sometimes hard to tell with Watari, even for the greatest detective in the world.
"But I believe," Watari continued with an air of patience and admonition, "that you all are supposed to be working to catch a murderer, if I am not mistaken. Please return to your task. And Matt, kindly extinguish that cigarette."
He fixed them all with a stern, authoritative stare that snapped them back into their Wammy days, and they all hastily turned to their own computers, muttering a chorus of, "Yes, Watari," as they forgot they were adults and acted like a bunch of reprimanded schoolboys.
The interruption was a relief, though - for L at least - as he presently had a great deal to think about and needed no meddling successors nosing into his sex life.
L allowed himself a small grin of victory.
Yagami Light.
He had a name now - a name to go with a face, a name to go with a distraction, a name to go with a fantasy.
A name to go with a plan.
"Light! Wait! Oh fuck - get off, will ya? - hey, wait up, Light! Fuck it, where are my pants…Light!"
A rustling of clothes and a pounding of bare footsteps running after a slower, smoother pair.
"Hold up…! Ah, Jesus, Light, I'm really fucking sor- Aah! Fuck, that hurt! Who the hell taught you to punch like that? Gah, my ears are ringing."
"Right, Mello - let's not make this into a bigger deal than it is."
"That's really fucking easy to say after popping me one in the eye! Fuck, you know this is gonna bruise, right?"
"With any luck, yes. Are you saying you didn't deserve it?"
"No, no, I did, just - damn, that's one hell of an arm. Aren't you supposed to be an artist? But listen, Light, I'm really fucking sorry about this. I drank a little too much and she was really hot and kept giving me chocolate, and-"
"Mello. I honestly don't need to hear your explanations. What's the point? We both know I'm not going to get heartbroken over this - we've always been on the same page in this relationship. It was just fucking. Yeah, I'm a bit pissed at the thought of anyone cheating on me, but let's not blow this into some needlessly huge, dramatic affair. It was fun, you were great, but it probably wasn't going to last much longer anyway. And, to be frank, I suspected since the beginning it'd end this way. It's just they way you are - an impetuous ass who thinks with your dick more than you should."
"I won't argue with that. So...I guess it's over then?"
"Yes, Mello. It's definitely over. You know how I feel about cheating."
"Uh, fuck yeah. You made that really clear."
"Yeah…you might want to go put some ice on that."
"No shit. Hey, how about one last fuck? Round of break up sex."
"You're shameless, Mello. And drunk. Go home."
"I guess I deserve that. But still, you're real cold, babe. Fucking gorgeous, but cold as fuck. But really, really fucking sexy."
"How much did you drink? Your vocabulary always goes down the drain when you're smashed. And… Are you really trying to grope my ass right now?"
"Uh…it looks like I am."
"Hands. Off, now."
"See? Frigid, babe. Glacial."
"Mello…"
"Huh - fuck! Holy shit, Light! Give a guy some warning! Aah…fuck, that hurts. That was the same eye, you know? How'd you get so bloody fast, anyway? I mean, I know I'm a little plastered, but-"
"Mello. Go home. Ice your eye. It was fun. Maybe I'll see you around."
"All right, I'm going. See ya later, babe."
And two men walked away, neither looking back.
Thursday
The Aioi murder case had been solved. Quickly and efficiently, as to be expected from L.
Light had heard the details yesterday when he'd been called down to the station for a sketch, the witness given by the victim of a rather nasty mugging.
Apparently, the murderer's name was Jack Wilson. American father, Japanese mother - which explained the western name. And, as it turned out, he was rather heavily involved in a large smuggling ring L had supposedly been taking out.
Wilson had disappeared from under L's surveillance, however, something Light was grudgingly impressed by, especially considering the smuggler had done it several times. The final time that he slipped away, it seemed a large shipment of narcotics had also gone astray, hidden in the back of a used television that was mistakenly sold to one of the tenants of the Aioi apartments - exactly which one apparently wasn't known.
Cue outbreak of small murders disguised as random robberies.
Wilson, pissed off and in want of his shipment, had been sent to fish out the drugs and silence anyone who may have found out too much. He had methodically begun searching each apartment, and the murder victims were those unfortunate few who accidentally walked in him.
Annoyingly simple, once all the details were in place, and hardly a case of the caliber the great detective supposedly accepted (or hijacked, in this instance). The only reason he'd evidently even taken the case was the odd coincidence that the murderer also happened to be the man the detective was already searching for.
Which was a considerable relief for Light.
He had known it unlikely that L was interested in the case because of his sketch, but it was much less stressful now that he knew for sure.
After all, L was the last person Light wanted interested in - and in particular, suspicious of - his art.
Light dropped onto his couch, stretching along its full length and arching his back up in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension in his muscles. His fingers sneaked up to rub at his temples in gentle, soothing circles that nevertheless did little for his headache.
This often happened shortly after he broke up with a boyfriend. Even casual relationships required an adjustment once they were gone, creating just a little unwanted stress in Light's life. And when he was stressed, he drew.
Even now, he could feel his fingers twitching to pick up a pencil and notebook, to feel the power of pinning down a personality on paper.
Maybe if tried drawing that impossible face once again, that paradoxical black-eyed face Light had been attempting - and failing - to draw for a week now. To be honest, that was probably what was causing him the most stress, not his recent, minor lifestyle change.
The worst part was that every time he failed to capture the face satisfactorily, his usual source of stress release - art - became a massive source of frustration instead.
And that just pissed him off even more.
Light was shaken from his brooding irritation as, with startling abruptness, a soft but unhesitant knock on his door suddenly echoed through the room.
He rolled smoothly to his feet and padded over to the door, idly rubbing at the back of neck. He had no idea who could be at his door. Despite his surface popularity among his peers at school, none of his friends would drop by unannounced, particularly in the middle of the week, as Light only ever got together with them on the weekends, and not very often at that. He wasn't even sure any of them knew where he lived.
Mello knew where he lived, but Light hadn't seen him since Monday night when they'd ended the relationship, and he found it unlikely it would be him. And in any case, Mello was accustomed to letting himself into his boyfriend's apartment without so much as a warning knock; Light doubted that would change even if they were no longer dating.
It was probably some sort of annoying door-to-door salesman selling something Light apparently couldn't survive without but had somehow been managing all these years.
With that unpleasant thought in mind, Light opened the door.
"Light!"
It was Sayu.
She flung herself at him, energetically latching on around his neck and doing her best to squeeze all the life out of him. He disentangled himself before she succeeded, and the door slowly closed behind her.
"Sayu, what are doing here? Do Mom and Dad know you're here?"
"Nah," she grinned. "I told them I was visiting a friend's house, not that it really matters. Am I not allowed to visit my brother? You told me I could!"
"Well, yeah, but I expected you to call first."
"Oh…"
As he noticed her falling face, he rolled his eyes and teasingly rubbed the top of her head, mussing up her formerly neat hair, and she immediately bristled beneath his hand.
"Idiot. It's fine, you just surprised me. So what did you want?"
"To meet Mello of course!" she laughed, her smile once more as bright as ever as she beamed up at him. "I've never met any of your boyfriends, except for that stupid boy you dated in high school who snorted whenever he laughed. Ugh, he was so disgusting. I have no idea why you dated him," she jabbered, not giving Light time to jump in. "So I want to meet Mello, because he sounds really cool! Is he home? Is he here? Is now a good time to meet him?"
"Sayu," Light finally interrupted the string of chatter and questions, snapping his fingers in front of her face, making her blink in surprise. "We broke up."
Sayu blinked in surprise again, this time from his words, before a horrified expression crept onto her face.
"Oh…I'm so sorry! And here I was just babbling on… Are you doing all right?" she finished worriedly, looking up at him with painfully blatant concern.
Light couldn't help but laugh at the guilt evident in every line of her body; her level of self-reproach would have been more fitting had she dug a knife into his thigh then rubbed salt in it, rather than merely asked after an ex boyfriend.
"Don't be stupid," he chuckled. "Didn't you listen to me Sunday? Mello and I weren't serious. It's hardly a big deal - of course I'm fine."
Sayu visibly relaxed, adapting quickly to his obviously casual attitude over the affair. "Oh yeah. I forgot you're Mr. Too-Independent-For-Love. Well, that's too bad. I really wanted to meet him. Couldn't you have waited a few days to break up?"
She giggled at his exasperated look and slipped farther inside the room, unashamedly peeking around, her schoolbag tucked close in to her body.
"I haven't been here since you moved out. It looks nice - you've done a really good job with it," she said, smiling earnestly at him, only innocence in her bright eyes and cheerful grin.
Light, not fooled in the least by her casual act, merely crossed his arms and lifted a single eyebrow at her. "All right, what else did you want?"
Sayu grinned mischievously. "Well, since I took the time to come all the way here to see you and meet Mello, only to find you've selfishly broken up already, don't you think you owe me something?"
"No," Light said bluntly. "But what are you after?"
Her smile turned sheepish as she indicated the bookbag in her arms. "My maths teacher hates me. He doesn't explain things at all! And it's just one assignment, so could you please help me understand!" she began slowly and finished in an eager rush, as though he'd be more likely to agree if he couldn't understand the jumble of words. "Please! What's the point of having a genius brother if he doesn't help you with your homework?" And she obviously understood the value of flattery and guilt tactics, which unfortunately didn't work on Light.
She pulled her face into a pleading pout and stared deep into Light's unswayed eyes, no doubt pulling up every innocent-sister wile in her arsenal.
Light stared back, unaffected and unmoved by her wide, bordering on teary eyes; a pregnant silence stretched between them, as she silently begged and he silently deliberated.
"All right," he finally consented. He actually had time to spare today, and it was always a good idea to have someone owe him a favor, even if it was just Sayu. "But," he added, as she tried to maul him in enthusiastic gratitude, "we're going to that coffee shop down the street on the corner, and you're paying."
"Okay!" Sayu agreed happily and immediately. "Thanks, Light - you're the best!"
Light just threw her an unimpressed look and strode leisurely over to his kitchen to pluck his keys from the counter, along with his wallet - Sayu may have agreed to pay, but he'd long ago learned it was much safer to carry it anyway.
"Let's go," he said unceremoniously, "so we can get you home before dinner."
"Yep!" Sayu chirped agreeably, and together they slipped out of his apartment, Light pausing to lock the door and Sayu bouncing cheerfully beside him.
About halfway down the stairs, Sayu tilted her eyes up to him and asked curiously, "Hey, Light? How do you afford your apartment? Does your job really pay enough?"
"It almost does. The rest comes from money I'd saved up for college, but didn't need all of when I got a scholarship. It's a little tight, but I cope fine. It just takes good money management." He kept his voice light and easy, hiding the lie beneath layers of half-truths. Some of the money did come from his job, after all; it just wasn't all from his sketch artist job, as he let her assume.
"Stupid genius," Sayu grouched good-naturedly, if rather oxymoronically.
"Very funny - oh shit, my phone," he cursed, stopping suddenly as he realized he had left his cell phone waiting on the coffee table. "Go ahead on down; I'll meet you at the bottom." He turned and started up the stairs two at a time, his long legs easily reaching the distance without problem.
Sayu giggled and yelled after him, "Right. And I'll be sure not to let it slip to Mom and Dad that you swore in front of me."
Light, not worried, paused to smile pleasantly down at her. "Of course you won't. And I won't let it slip that you really went to that concert last month they said you couldn't go to, instead of sleeping over at a friend's like you told them you were."
"Light!" Sayu sounded scandalized, but there was hint of a smile playing around her lips. "How did you know?"
"As if I'm going to tell you," he laughed, resuming his ascent once more. "I'll be back in a second; just wait at the bottom like a good girl."
Her indignant reply was lost to him as he reached the landing of his floor and turned down towards his door. It barely took any time at all for him to reenter his apartment, snag the phone from the table and lock the door behind him once more, and he soon was heading back down the stairs in an unhurried lope.
As he neared the very bottom of the stairs, he heard Sayu's cheerful tones giggling at someone, though he couldn't determine her conversation partner.
Then he heard a deep, throaty chuckle, and realized exactly whom she was talking to.
A smirk pricked at his lips; this could be interesting.
He slowed to a casual stroll, stepping quietly down the final few steps, and slipped closer to the two rather friendly chatters, though both were still oblivious to his presence.
"Do you live around here?" one was asking with a confident grin. "I don't think I've seen you before, and I'd remember a cute girl like you."
Light frowned. That was a little too friendly.
"Mello, it would be very a bad idea to try to pick up my little sister."
Two heads whirled towards him and two voices exclaimed at the same time:
"Mello?"
"Your sister?"
Because he was watching - and quite observant - Light noticed the flicker of Mello's eyes across Sayu's face as he gauged her reaction to his identity, the realization that she hadn't been told of his cheating, and the flash of surprise as his eyes darted very briefly over to Light. It all happened quickly enough that if Light had blinked, he would've missed it. But Light'd had two months to learn Mello's subtle tells, and he'd come to recognize how Mello's face was accustomed to reacting.
Light also was pleased to notice Mello's left eye still bore the mark of his punches, though the bruise had begun to fade somewhat and was mostly taken over by a sickly yellow-grey.
It was then that Light noticed Sayu staring at him with undisguised shock, her mouth even hanging open slightly. Well, nothing subtle there.
"What?" he asked, a little snappily.
"You dated this person for two months?" she questioned incredulously, rolling her eyes obviously over to Mello to take in all his tight-leather-wearing glory. Mello cocked an eyebrow back at her, his smirk confident but his eyes betraying the slightest confusion. "But-"
"But what?"
"But he's so cool!"
There was silence for the stretch of a stunned moment, then Mello burst into noisy laughter, practically doubling over, and Light fixed his sister with an unamused stare.
"And what exactly," Light said, mixing just the right amount of subtle superiority and indifference to his tone, "are you saying? Think carefully, for the sake of your homework."
"Oh!" Sayu backpedaled frantically, clearly realizing how her comment would've sounded. "I didn't mean it that way! You're really cool too! But you're cool in a classy, sophisticated way, and Mello-san seems more…" she trailed off and stared helplessly at the smug something that was Mello, unable to put his coolness into words.
"Fucking awesome?" Mello supplied obligingly, grinning.
"Whorish?" Light put in, ignoring Mello's unashamed snort of laughter. "It's the leather; whenever he wears it he looks like a prostitute working the streets."
"Don't be jealous, babe."
"Yes, because it has always been my ambition to be mistaken for a whore."
"Um," Sayu actually blushed a little as she interjected, "you two just don't look like the type of people who'd date each other. I guess I'm surprised you two were together for so long."
Mello's mouth suddenly stretched into a wide grin, a sure sign that Light wouldn't approve of whatever he was planning on saying.
"That's 'cause the sex is fucking amazing."
Yep. Light definitely wouldn't have approved. Besides-
"Was," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Was fucking amazing." If they were going to discuss their sex life they might as well use the correct verb tense.
"See, you think so too."
Sayu had already burned an even darker red, but Light could see the interest in her expression. Then her eyes suddenly lit up with a thought, and she turned to Mello in excitement and, despite her obvious embarrassment, eagerly said, "Mello-san! I have to ask you, because I know Light won't ever tell me - does my brother top or bottom?"
Oh god, Light should have realized this would be a horrifically bad idea. He had guessed they'd get along well together - and thus far, it seemed he'd been right - but he'd forgotten what that would mean for him personally, caught between the two.
Especially considering Sayu's unnatural enthusiasm for his love life and the fact that Mello was the most shameless of any of Light's boyfriends. This was a terrible idea.
"Sayu," he snapped sharply, throwing his iciest warning glare at Mello, who grinned winningly back through his blond fringe.
"What?" Sayu asked innocently, though her widened eyes didn't fool him, and eventually the ingenuousness in her features dripped away and she smiled sheepishly. "Just curious…"
"I don't see why you would even be curious about that," Light told her, but he kept his eyes narrowed distrustfully on Mello. The blond looked more than usually suspicious, with his smug smirk and mischievous eyes flitting between the two siblings. "And I find it just a little creepy, honestly."
"C'mon, Light!" Sayu whined. "It's not creepy. You're just the only gay boy I know well, so where else am I supposed to get information?"
"The fact that you even want information is worrying. And don't believe anything Mello tells you," he added, noticing his ex-boyfriend's devious expression. "If you must know, I switch, depending on my mood and the other person." This wasn't a conversation he ever wanted to have with anyone in his family, but he figured it was better to tell her than wait for Mello to feed her skewed information.
"Yeah," Mello agreed, smirk still firmly in place, "but he takes it like a-"
"Mello, if you finish that sentence, I promise you I will slice off your tongue, and you'll never be able to taste chocolate again."
Mello fortunately stopped, giving Light a sly and overly pleased smile, and Light thought it was definitely time to go or he might end up giving Mello a matching bruise for his other eye. Sayu, however, jumped in before he could speak.
"You guys are funny," she giggled, smiling between the two of them. "Why did you break up?"
Mello's and Light's eyes met, Light's smirking and calculating, Mello's confident and unconcerned.
"Difference of opinion," Mello said with an easy smile, turning back to Sayu, but Light just held up his pinky finger and glanced significantly at Mello's crotch, the action seen only by Sayu.
His sister's eyes widened in shock before darting involuntarily to that area as well, and she burst into laughter as she got the implication.
Mello, understandably surprised, squinted suspiciously at Light, who smirked back and decided now was a good time to make their exit.
"We better go, Sayu, or you'll be getting home too late. Nice to see you, Mello," he said pleasantly.
"Yeah, you too, babe," Mello returned, his eyes still narrowed at Light. "See you around."
"It was nice to meet you!" Sayu smiled earnestly, pulling a grin from Mello as well. "Thanks for taking care of my brother," she added as she bowed politely.
"Oh I'll take care of him anytime," Mello replied, his salacious smirk leaving no doubt to his meaning. "Take care, Sayu-chan." He flicked two casual fingers in a wave at Light. "Anytime you wanna play around, babe," he said in way of farewell, and Light rolled his eyes as the blond sauntered up the stairs with a final parting grin at Sayu.
When he was gone, Sayu turned a brilliant smile on Light.
"He's awesome! I'm so glad I got to meet him. But you're right - it wouldn't be a good idea to introduce him to Mom and Dad."
"You think?" Light said sarcastically. "It'd probably give them a heart attack. All right, let's go. I want at least three cups of coffee, and I'd like them now."
"Yeah, yeah, but don't forget you're helping me with my homework too."
"You know, your earlier reasoning was that I owed you because you came here and didn't get to meet Mello. You've just met him, so I'd say that agreement is now void."
"Light!"
"I'm just kidding, stop squawking. Come on."
"Stupid brother."
Chapter 4