Infatuation

Mello woke up to the sound of rapid typing and occasional slurps: definitely L noises. He yawned and stretched happily, slightly disconcerted by his own nakedness but willing to overlook it.

He wanted to get up to see what L was working on, but found that it hurt to move. After a few minutes of horrified lounging, Mello decided to ignore the pain and get up anyway.

The sight of his trousers and underwear strewn on the floor made him marvel for a bit—it was like in a film or something!—but the cold of the room coerced him into destroying the novel sight by putting them on. He noted that his shirt was still by L’s table, so that is where he went, wincing slightly, but still delighted by his earlier success.

As he came up behind L, he saw that his hair was quite wet and his skin was rather more ruddy than expected; it was really very startling to see the normally-pale L vaguely resembling a lobster.

“Er…what time is it?”

L glanced at the clock in the corner of the computer screen, then resumed his typing and sipping of the over-sugared tea.

“It is four-thirty a.m.” Mello faltered.

“But your hair’s still wet—you just got out of the shower, and it couldn’t’ve been later than-”

“One-thirty a.m.”

“…So…you took a shower for-”

“Three hours, yes.” L was speaking rather stiffly—it was making Mello uncomfortable, so he busied himself with eating a cookie from one of L’s many plates.

“How are you doing?” L inquired conversationally of the screen. It took Mello a moment to realize L was addressing him.

“Well, it hurts rather a lot, but I don’t care.”

L blanched; Mello wrapped his arms around L’s shoulders, resting his head on the crook of L’s neck to read the screen in front of him. It looked like a journal of some sort.

“I knew it would,” L muttered darkly. Mello just smiled.

“You know everything, L.” He kissed the tip of L’s ear and resumed the business of reading over his shoulder. Ordinarily he would have hesitated to ask L questions about his work—fearing that L would find him stupid and annoying—but he was feeling bolder now.

“What’s that? Looks like the diary of someone really boring.”

“THAT is a note written by the second Kira to the first Kira. It was sent after we replied, pretending to be Kira, and it undoubtedly contains hidden meaning.” L frowned at it and rubbed his thumb over his teeth. “’Twenty-second May, two thousand three—My friend and I showed off our notebooks in Aoyama.’ That has to be it, but-”

“You’ll figure it out, L,” Mello interrupted. “And I could help you do it, too. I mean, I think I could really-”

“You should go back to your bedroom now, Mello. In a building populated by aspiring detectives, it would not be prudent to have you leave my room, in pain, early in the morning.”

Mello’s jaw dropped at the sheer injustice. He was being KICKED OUT?

“But! You! You can’t just-”

“Mello, PLEASE.” As L turned again to look him in the eye, Mello saw that he looked more exhausted than normal—exhausted and exasperated and a little bit panicked. It wouldn’t do to argue.

Mello put on his shirt, hung his head, and shuffled to the door, hoping to inspire sympathy and a change of heart. L was too distracted by his growing tower of marshmallow peeps to notice, however, so Mello quietly exited the room and ignored any pain he felt on his way to his and Matt’s bedroom.

MATT! Mello hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. What if Matt was still awake? He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone that L was here, but Matt had only JUST forgiven him, so he couldn’t just waltz in with no good reason for having been gone for God-knows-how long. Mello pressed his ear against the door; there were no electronic beeps to signify that Matt was awake, at least.

He cautiously poked his head into the room and exhaled with relief when he saw that the lights were out and the vague outline of Matt’s thoroughly-wrapped-up figure was lying down on his bed. Mello nonchalantly got under his own covers, pleased at having avoided getting caught—he’d just tell Matt he’d gotten back at midnight or so—when a very sad and bespectacled face popped in front of his. Mello clapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself screaming.

“Don’t DO that! Jesus!”

“Five in the morning, Mello. Do you know how long I was looking for you? Do you know how WORRIED I was?”

“Matt, you sound like someone’s mum. Stop it.” Mello rolled so that his back was facing Matt. “Now go away. ‘M tired.” Matt poked his spine sharply.

“No. Where were you? What were you doing? Who were you with? Tell me. Tellmetellmetellmetellmetellme-”

“ALL RIGHT! Christ. I was-” Mello had no idea what to tell him. Perhaps, he thought, the best thing to do was tell Matt the truth. He wouldn’t believe it, and Mello wouldn’t have to feel guilty about lying. “I was having sex with L.”

Matt pulled a face. “Mello, that’s just gross. He’s, like, ten years older than you. Seriously, tell me!”

“I WAS.”

“No. L’s in Japan working on the Kira case; he’s not at Wammy’s buggering unsuspecting young boys.”

“Shows what YOU know.” Matt just snorted derisively.

“I’VE already slept for a few hours—I have enough energy to keep up bothering you until dinnertime. You might as well tell me now.”

“Just go to bed, Matt.”

“Pft. You’re bitchy when you’ve been out all night.”

Mello was now torn between the desire to keep L’s stay a secret, like he’d been instructed to do, and shocking Matt into amazed silence at his supreme maturity. Unable to see the irony, Mello chose the latter. He spun around to face Matt, surprising him and making him fall onto his bum on the floor.

“You know what? I’ll PROVE it to you.” Matt looked truly horrified.

“Mello, I don’t know how you’d prove to me that you’ve been having sex, but I don’t think I want to see-” Mello boxed his ears in response. “OW!”

“I’m going to prove to you that L’s here. Now come on!” Mello grabbed Matt’s wrist roughly, pulling him to his feet and out the door.

Matt was obviously uncomfortable with the idea of sneaking around to find L, but he was dreadfully curious, and Mello was giving him no choice. They rounded the corner that led to L’s doors, but Mello hesitated. How the hell would he-

Ah. Mr Wammy. Mello unnecessarily placed a finger to his lips to signify to Matt that he should be quiet and crept up to the door next to L’s. He hoped Matt understood what he was doing so he’d be able to react in time, but didn’t see fit to warn him. It was more fun that way.

After a few moment’s careful waiting, Mello rapped firmly on the door, then bolted behind the corner with his head just barely peeking around. Matt quickly scrambled to follow him and disappeared just in time—Mr Wammy emerged in his ridiculous dressing gown and night cap, his slippers haphazardly jammed onto his feet and his glasses askew.

“What the—you kids! Stupid miserable bleeding orphans.” And he slammed the door behind him.

Mello turned triumphantly to Matt. Mr Wammy wouldn’t be here if L weren’t here, after all— therefore, this was solid proof.

Matt, however, did not seem to be quite as awed as Mello had hoped. Instead, his face was working furiously—he seemed to be struggling to either yell or cry.

“Did you REALLY?” he asked through clenched teeth. Mello didn’t know how to respond. He had expected Matt to admire him for being so grown-up, and this particular reaction did not fit.

“Er…let’s go back.” Mello stood up quickly, making him wince slightly. Matt seemed to take this as confirmation, and he was clearly not pleased.

“Oh. My. God. You DID.” He was making Mello feel like he needed a good scolding or something.

“Whatever. Can we talk about this in the room?” Matt glared and leapt to his feet before stomping, more loudly than Mello would have liked, back to their bedroom. Mello cautiously followed, worried that Matt would stop talking to him again. This was completely stupid! He shouldn’t have to defend himself for doing something he’d wanted to do—yet Matt made him feel as if he needed to.

As soon as they were back in their room, Matt flopped onto his bed, looking fatigued and miserable. Mello sat next to him. Matt turned away.

“What the hell, Matt?”

“Nevermind. Just…Congratulations for your sex. Now leave me alone; I’m going to sleep.”

“But you JUST SAID you weren’t tired ‘cos you’ve already slept-”

“I don’t care what I said! I’m going to sleep!” Matt covered his head with his pillow. Mello ripped it away.

“What’s your problem?”

Matt’s chin quivered.

“I don’t have a problem. You’re seeing problems that aren’t there. You should—you should see someone about that.”

“Fine! If you don’t wanna talk to me, I’ll just go to bed!”

“Good!”

“Great!”

“Bloody fantastic.”

“Fucking wonderful!”

Matt seemed to understand that Mello needed to have the last word, so he simply put his head back under the pillow and was snoring within minutes. Mello smiled; Matt had probably just been tired and cranky, bless him.