Gloria Victis

A/N: I am so sorry for the delay. I got a little side-tracked but I think I’m good now. Hopefully no more interruptions!

Anyway - A break from the drama. This chapter was written to brighten your spirits as well as give you a look into the beginning of L and Mello’s relationship. I’m planning to have more chapters like this thrown in along the way – enjoy!

CHAPTER SIX
YOU KISS BY THE BOOK


"No, Mihael, you're not listening!" The young Lawliet whined, holding a hand out to help the little blond back up. It had been a simple move, and the six year old had messed it up again. The younger ones were easier to teach, L himself had begun to learn at their age. He was supposed to be instructing a class of his age group, but had quickly grown frustrated with their attitudes. They didn't want to learn his brand of martial arts; they wanted to go play football. That sport was boring, and how could it help them in real life? Not that the sixteen year old Lawliet had much use for Capoiera, other than to remain fit and keep from being bored, but Watari had said long ago that it would come in handy one day.

"B-but, L! Look!" The small blond pointed to his knee, the scrape was deep and had some pebbles stuck in it. Lawliet rolled his eyes, using the sleeve of his t-shirt to wipe the blood off, then carefully picking the rocks out. He was suddenly glad that his other successors had refused his offer. Mihael was more than enough to keep him busy, all forty pounds of him. "Ouch! If you're going to be so mean, I'm not playing with you any more!" Mihael crossed his arms over his chest, pouting as the older boy picked at a particularly stubborn pebble imbedded in his knee.

"We're not playing Mihael. I'm teaching you valuable skills that will be highly useful in your adult life." Mihael sat on the grass, slapping the older boy's hand away when he began to inspect the other knee. The brunette hauled him back up, shooting him a stern look. "Look, if you do this, I know where we can get some nice chocolate cake later. Ok?"

The small blond perked up, jumped up and down. Then his face fell again, and he held out his hand, fist closed except for the smallest finger. "Pinky promise? If you're lying to me, I get to break it." The little detective sighed, grasping the six year old's pinky with his own. "Ok! But it better be the good kind. Not that store bought crap. And with chocolate sprinkles too!"

Lawliet nodded, then crouched in a defensive stance. "Ok, just like me. You see?" The little blond copied the movement exactly. "Alright, see how it looks like you're sort of off balance, Mihael?" The child nodded, already wobbling in the strange position. "That's a good thing. That's what you want them to think." Quick as lightning, the little detective twisted his body, using his hands to support all his weight as he kicked out behind him. "Now you try."

Mihael did as instructed, trying to remember all the steps that his mentor had gone through to complete the action. It had been too fast for his eyes, and admittedly he'd been thinking about the treat he'd been promised instead of his instructions. He tried anyway, pouting when he twisted the wrong way, his arm getting caught under him as he fell sideways. The momentum of the short fall caused him to roll a foot away, landing on his back. His elbow stung, and he began to cry. "You meanie! That didn't work!"

The detective ran towards the child, lifting him up in his arms, holding him one handed while he stroked the soft blond hair. He'd had to help the little boy bathe this morning, because last time Watari had gotten soap in his eyes, and he had not trusted him since. It had taken several days to get him to even look at a full bathtub, and still he ran from the room shrieking in that awful high-pitched tone that only little boys could do. "It's not my fault. Mihael did it wrong." The blond was sobbing against his shoulder now, dampening his clean t-shirt. "I don't think Mihael deserves his treat anymore. He was obviously not paying attention to his lessons on purpose." The six-year-old bit the teenager’s shoulder, making the cutest little growling noise as he did so. Then he let go, still sobbing. "Ok! I lied! I want some too anyway."

By the time they'd arrived at the kitchen, the six year old had fallen asleep in L's arms. L informed the chef that two plates were to be brought to the playroom, extra frosting and sprinkles for both. And fresh strawberries too. And some ice cream. Maybe a few cherries…


L was almost twenty years old. It just wasn't fair; he had been out of England for almost three months now, helping on a case in America. The police there were so stubborn, so ungrateful, that they demanded he reside in the country while they worked. They'd met with Watari multiple times, yet were still not satisfied that L would not appear himself. Finally the detective cut off all communication with the bastards, personally firing them from the case and solving it himself in a matter of days. He'd left without another word, after receiving in invitation for an event held in his honor. He might have appeared, but they'd sent a menu of what was to be served, and he saw not a single dessert on it.

The young detective arrived at the orphanage at almost two in the morning, sneaking first off to the kitchen to raid the fridge, since Watari had kindly called ahead to demand that something be left for him. The sweet shops had all been closed, and Wammy's employed a lovely pastry chef, just for L. He picked out a few cupcakes, brewed a cup of tea, then headed to the library to read until morning. He'd always been a bit of a night owl, and with all the small children running around it was impossible to find peace in his favorite room during the daytime hours.

L flicked on a single lamp, heading towards his chair that had been set at the back of the room, by a large window that let the moonlight in, casting pretty shadows on the rows upon rows of literature. There was his pile of blankets to curl up with, a pillow to place under his back. He'd almost sat on the little lump that was a nine year old Mihael, when the blankets began to shake. "What in the bloody hell..."

A blond head popped out, sharp blue eyes already wide and alert at the interruption. "Just who the fuck do you think you are - oops, shit, umm, I mean, hi L!" The little boy covered his mouth, waiting to be scolded for the curses. The detective just laughed, picking up the boy and placing him on his lap as he sat back down. "You're back early!"

"Mihael should be in bed." The detective pulled a book from under himself, just noticing that he'd sat on whatever the child was reading. "Isn't this a tad advanced for someone Mihael's age?" The detective threw the book to the floor, holding out the one that he'd picked.

"Shh, L. That's not my name anymore. Don't you know we all had to pick new ones this year? Mail-err, Matt, picked mine, I'm Mello now. No 'w'. M-E-L-L-O." The nine year old took the book from L, raising an eyebrow and wrinkling his nose. "Poems? That's boring."

"It most certainly is not." The detective smiled, ruffling the blond hair. It is much more age appropriate for Mih- ah, Mello, than that tiresome physics textbook that put him to sleep." The detective began to read, and Mello laid his head in his lap, watching to see if L noticed when he stuck a thumb in his mouth, slowly lulled back to sleep by L's deep voice.

/There is a place where the sidewalk ends and before the street begins, and there the grass grows soft and white, and there the sun burns crimson bright, and there the moon-bird rests from his flight to cool in the peppermint wind./

The detective stopped to take a bite from his treat, waiting for Mello to whine, to ask him to continue. But the blond was already sound asleep, thumb tucked in his mouth, his small body curled into a fetal position in L's lap. He had to place a hand on the child's legs to keep him from sliding down his own thin limbs. Mello shivered, and the detective laid a blanket over him, watching in fascination as he, still sleeping, pulled it completely over his head. Mello had always been a quirky child, and this was just another adorable thing to add to the list of his strange behaviors. The detective was guiltily growing a fondness for this one that rivaled his affection for the others. Mello was so brilliant, but also so full of character, so sweet. He couldn't understand what Roger's problem was with him. Yes, he had a bit of a temper, but so had L at that age. It would surely get better soon. And right now, he just looked so sweet and innocent, L hated that he fought so hard to become his successor. His rival had a bitter coldness to his personality, would not be ruined by the trials of the job. Mello was so sensitive, so quick to tears, that L was sure all the bastards that he was forced to associate with would ruin this part of him. If only this one could be kept innocent forever, kept this small, safe from the outside world. L was already ruined, so bored with his life, so sick of having to deal with the horrible acts that human beings committed against their enemies and loved ones alike.

The blond child had slept soundly for a while, but was slowly beginning to mutter in his sleep. Then his voice grew louder, angry, and L heard 'Near', soon deducing that he was speaking to Nate River. The detective was given regular updates on the children's scores, and Nate was consistently just a few points ahead of Mello. They'd had verbal and physical confrontations on orphanage grounds, usually worse when L was away. Mello's little fist was beating against his thigh, and his voice shook with the beginnings of angry sobs. L shook him awake, finally unable to stand it. "Mihael!"

"Hmm?" The little boy rubbed his eyes, and when he felt the wet trails on his cheeks he tried to hop from L's lap, but was quickly caught, pulled close. "Let me go, please, L. I've gotta go to bed. Tired."

The detective sighed, wishing that he could just sit here and comfort the blond. But that wouldn't do any good; he'd just fall asleep and have another nightmare anyway. Roger had mentioned that the boy didn't look as if he was getting enough sleep. He studied so hard, always coming up just a little too short. "I was thinking I might help Mello study. Would he like that?" Bright blue eyes widened, and Mello's mouth opened in a wide grin.

"Really?" The nine year old sat up, wrapping his arms around L's neck. "Like, really? That would be so great! Are you sure? You don't have to."

"Of course. I would like nothing better than to do so." The little blond hugged tighter, then hopped down to retrieve his textbook and writing utensils. "I'm so stuck. That brat Near...uh, you know, Nate, thinks this is so easy. I just don't get it."

"That's just because Mello has not been given the proper instruction. I am an excellent tutor."

The next week, Mello found himself on the top spot for several days, and he thanked L by bringing him a plate full of cupcakes he'd made himself. They tasted terrible, the child had obviously forgotten some ingredient, but for the first time, L did not complain about a sweet thing not being perfectly tailored to his finicky taste buds. He ate them, watching the little boy bounce around the room, expressing the pride he felt at returning L's favor. The joy on that face was worth choking down a dozen lousy pastries.


L was able to keep the secret that Mello was indeed his favorite for many years. He was able to pay the child some special attention, to become friends even, without much complaint from his other successors. Sure, there were a few children who taunted Mello about being the favored pupil, made suggestive jokes even. But neither of them paid much attention to it, and neither Matt or Near seemed to have much of a problem.

At first it felt strange to find someone ten years younger than him who understood him so well, who seemed to match his intellect. Mello could even be a challenge some days, when he opposed a theory or plan, and was proved to be correct over the great detective. Well, three great detectives actually. But of course L wasn't bragging.

Mello was twelve years old, when the detective noticed that their friendship was taking an odd turn. He'd arrive home, and as usual the blond would bound out of the doors, run up to him and pounce as soon as he'd stepped out of the car. But just after his twelfth birthday, the hugs would last a little longer; the blond would lean in closer, pressing them together. L had caught the child breathing in deeply during one such display, and realized that he was smelling his hair. L did think this was somewhat odd, but he had been eating chocolate, and Mello had the habit of being able to sniff that out. Poor Watari would be jumped soon too, he'd thought, his pockets patted down for any special treats he might have brought back from whatever country they'd been in. But Mello didn't go to Watari, instead taking L's hand and dragging him inside. As the detective tried to keep the pace, he felt Mello's palm sweating, saw him glance nervously in the older man's direction, then quickly turn away just as a blush crept onto his face. But Mello had always been odd, that was part of his...charm.

Just a few weeks later, it had happened. The proof that something more than friendship was developing. At least in the blonde's mind. Mello had been called to L's room, where the detective had been awake for three days straight, working on a particularly difficult case. He barely acknowledged the blonde's presence, so wrapped up in his work. Then Mello was standing beside him, quietly reading over his shoulder. He’d nearly forgotten that he’d promised to help Mello with an assignment for his literature class.

"Hi L. I brought cake. And coffee. What are you working on?" The detective jumped, embarrassed at not having heard the teen creep up on him. Then there were treats set in front of him, a book tossed into his lap. Romeo and Juliet – one of his favorites. He couldn’t help himself; he’d always been a sucker for the romance of their forbidden love. “You ready? I have to practice so I can recite this in class tomorrow with Matt. Fucker’s too busy playing video games but he never has to worry about this shit. It’s not fair, you know? That someone so lazy was blessed with a photographic memory. He could be putting it to far better use if you ask me…”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for. Which part shall I read?” the detective asked, climbing out of his chair. Mello scowled. “What’s the matter?”

“Matt’s making me be Juliet…But that’s okay. I’m just mature enough to be more comfortable with my sexuality…” L thought he could see Mello’s cheeks flush pink but only for a second. His sexuality? Did that mean…

“Mello, are you a homosexual?” he asked before he even knew he was going to. It was rude, and certainly none of his business but L had never been very in tune with what was concerned to be ‘socially acceptable’. This time Mello did blush, bright red as he turned his eyes away. At first, L thought the boy would deny it, then he shrugged, wrapping his skinny arms around himself.

“Does that bother you?” he asked timidly, looking up to the detective, eyes begging for approval. The last thing the blond wanted was to make his mentor disgusted with him.

L shook his head and smiled behind his thumb, opening the book to a page that had been marked. “No, it does not bother me at all. Have I ever struck you as the type to alienate another being for something so petty? I thought you knew me better than that by now…”

Mello’s face positively lit up, his confidence returning immediately. “I do know you better than that.”

“Good. Now lets begin.”

They read through the text together, perfecting the lines, getting more and more lost in the story, until they’d set the books aside, both unaware of the scene that was rapidly approaching. The scene at the party in which the lovers share their first kiss.

L stepped forward until there were mere inches between them. “If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”
If the two had been thinking clearly, they would have realized that this was a very good place to stop but Mello continued, staring up into the older man’s eyes. “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”
“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.” L stopped, his breath catching in his throat, unable to look away. He scolded himself for allowing his mind to get so carried away and meant to continue with the dialect but then soft lips were pressed against his own, Mello’s hand coming to rest on his cheek, until his own hand came up to hold the back of the blonde’s head. This was new, and strange, and so very inappropriate. Unfortunately, it felt better than anything he’d ever experienced in his twenty-two years, and the detective's mouth was falling open. Mello sucked on his bottom lip, teeth just barely scraping it before it was released. Then there was a new sensation, and the blonde's tongue was in his mouth, sliding over his own. The boy mirrored him, his own hands tangling in the nest of jet-black hair, tugging gently as they kissed.
“Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.”
Finally, Mello pulled away, breathless, staring deeply into his eyes, smiling gently. L couldn’t help himself, wanted to feel it again. “Then have my lips the sin that they have took.”

“Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.” This time, it was L who initiated the kiss, pulling Mello closer than before. It was deeper, more intense, teeth clicking together as tongues fought for dominance. It wasn’t until he felt the blonde’s arousal pressed against his thigh, until he felt the blood rushing to his dick that he realized just what he was doing and pushed the younger boy away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as if it would erase his sins.
“You kiss by the book,” Mello whispered, still smiling, then he noticed that the detective was not at all pleased and his heart sank. “What’s wron-“
"That- that was...it was highly inappropriate Mello!" The blond reached for him, but the detective moved away, almost falling when he backed into his chair. "No, that can not happen again, Mello. It can not!" L had backed away, almost to the door, the blond slowly following. "Mello!"

"You liked it. I could tell." Mello smirked, winked. "I could feel it. Couldn't you?" The teen was pressed up against the older man, the brunette's back to the wall.

"Yes...I mean, no! No, I think Mello needs to leave." The blonde's face fell as he stepped away, shuffling towards the door. He looked so much older, still dressed as always, though his jeans hugged his thin hips a little more, and when he raised his arm, the t-shirt that was becoming too small for his increased height rode up just a little, showing off a tanned stomach, leanly muscled from playing football and practicing the marital arts L had taught him years ago.

"Please forgive me. I thought you liked it. I'm sorry, don't be mad." L wasn't, he realized. He'd liked it very much. But Mello was just a child, and he was an adult. Also, he was the boy's mentor, practically his father figure, at the very least, an older brother. That last thought brought his resolve out full force, and the detective pointed at the door.

"Mello is not the first to develop romantic feelings towards a figure of authority, and Mello is very young. It is only natural, but I will not allow it to happen again. It is very inappropriate. Does Mello want to ruin our friendship? Does he want one of us to be thrown out of this establishment? There would be terrible consequences if such a thing were to be allowed. I have known Mello since he was a small child, I am ten years his senior. It is not to happen again. It is very, very wrong." The teen blinked back tears, slammed the door when he left. L slid down the wall, laid his head on his knees. What the hell had just happened? And why did he feel so badly for throwing the child out? The poor thing was so upset. He wished he could just comfort him, apologize for raising his voice. But those feelings had to be discouraged. Especially since they'd felt so very nice.

No! What was he thinking? Didn't he remember Mello as a baby, bathing him and dressing him? Hadn't he sung him to sleep, read him bedtime stories? Oh dear god, L was a pervert. No, he was sexually frustrated and that teenage boy looked several years older than he really was. L had never considered it before, even at his age, but he realized that he must be homosexual, which was the reason he'd yet to find a nice girl to distract him. Still, that was no excuse for his body's behavior. L looked into his lap, pointed at his traitorous anatomy. "No." He simply stated, banging the back of his head on the wall when it didn't work. "No." Still nothing. What did normal people do to make this go away? Oh, yes, that. L had always been too busy to take care of things like sleep, or his body's sexual needs. There, that must be the problem. His stomach always got all the attention, what about everything else? But just as L thought to do just that, the image of the blond teen popped into his head. He could still feel his lips against his own. "Pervert." He said aloud. Ah, there, it had been scared away. "Good man."


Mello had always been a strong willed individual, determined, stubborn. He and his mentor shared that in their personalities, but Mello was also more friendly, social, and affectionate. These attributes would no doubt give him the resolve to continue pursuing the detective. L avoided him for several days, finally showing up on neutral territory. They were all in the playroom after classes, Near with his toys, Matt with a video game, and Mello curled up in a chair, studying as usual. L wandered around, speaking to some of the smaller children for a while, still avoiding conversation with his successors. Once in a while he'd glance in the blonde's direction, catch him watching, but the boy would quickly look away.

Finally, L took a seat, saying hello to his three favorites. Near pushed a pile of puzzle pieces in his direction, quietly working on his own. Matt moved closer, pausing his game and showing L the little character and the new secret weapon he'd unlocked from his high score. Mello still wasn't speaking to him, and he wondered if it was intentional, or the book was really that interesting. Usually nothing could keep the second in line from paying him attention, and L had to admit to himself that he was a little disappointed.

"Hello Mello." They couldn't ignore each other forever. First of all, it would be immature. Secondly, they were still friends, and the detective would hate to lose that. Mello set his book aside, stretching out, t-shirt riding high on his stomach. He reached to scratch the exposed flesh, a small smile on his full lips. He'd thrown a leg over the arm of the chair, caught up his book again.

"Hey L." Silence again, for almost an hour. Near's puzzle was finally completed, except for one centerpiece, which was suspiciously missing. L already knew where it was, but was not about to retrieve it. The albino had probably left his toy unattended for only a moment, maybe going to the bathroom or getting a glass of water.

"Mello has stolen it." The albino accused, his tone flat and emotionless. There was the sound of chocolate snapping between the blonde's teeth, and the other three looked at him. He smirked, sucking on the piece that dangled halfway out of his mouth.

"Bullshit. It isn't my fault Near is a flake. He's probably sitting on it." Mello turned a page; both legs now resting on one arm of the chair, head on the other. He'd set his chocolate aside, was still licking his lips to get the last bits off. Every morsel was precious. L watched his hand rest on his stomach, reminded of how wonderful that hand had felt against his cheek, how soft his skin was. The hand smoothed over his belly, running back and forth. L wet his lips, quickly looking away. This was so very, very wrong. He should go.

"L will retrieve it for me." Near commanded. He was dead wrong. He had no idea, but he was definitely mistaken. There was no way in hell the detective was going over there. No fucking way. "Please?"

"Yeah, L, Near's too much of a pussy to get it himself." The blond turned, sticking his tongue out. Near mimicked the gesture, but it went unnoticed, the older boy already going back to his book.

"I said that Mello had it. He has just admitted it." L had been told about the fights that broke out between Near and Mello lately, how they had turned quite violent. Was the younger boy scared of Mello? If so, he might have to speak to the blond on his behalf. This was not fair to Near. Of course he did tend to instigate fights, to taunt Mello as much as Mello threatened him, it wasn't right for the older boy to use his size and strength against the albino. L would just have to get this over with, retrieve the stolen toy. How bad could it be, after all, they were in a well-populated room, Mello couldn't try anything. And why was the detective suddenly worried about what a twelve-year-old was going to do to him? He was a grown man! He could control himself, could certainly handle the blonde's advances with dignity.

"Yeah, and?" That was it. Mello would not be allowed to continue behaving this way. L shuffled over, holding out a hand and waiting patiently for the child to turn his attention back to him. Mello smirked, innocently blinking, those long blond lashes framing bright blue eyes that sparkled with mischief. Watari said this habit was similar to one L had had at that age, before he'd become jaded and stopped being 'cute'. If only Mello would stay this way forever.

"Fine." Mello tapped one of the front pockets of his jeans, then went back to reading. L just stared in horror, looking back to see if Near and Matt were watching. Maybe he could get the redhead to...wait, he didn't have to do anything. Mello was going to hand it back, damn it.

"Mello, give me the piece. Now." Mello smirked again, flipping a page, biting his bottom lip to keep from breaking into full out hysterical laughter. The detective had never looked so flustered. Mello had been depressed for days, when he'd thought that the feelings he'd developed wouldn't be returned. L had been so mad, had hurt him so deeply when he threw him out. Mello would never admit it, not even to himself, but he'd been purposefully pissing everyone off that stood in his path for days, was doing just that now. Anything that might even ruffle another just a bit was fair game. Near was such a baby; he might actually start crying soon. Well, all right, probably not, but the blond liked to imagine that he would anyway.

"Nope. Don't got it." L glared, sighed in frustration. Neither of the two had expected it when the older man reached into the blonde's pocket and extracted...nothing. "I told you." L was past being embarrassed for the moment, checking the other pocket. Still nothing. He pulled the blond up from his seat, holding him by the shoulders and attempting to appear authoritative, but just looking a bit flustered and nervous.

"Tickle him L!" Matt cried out, pausing his game to watch the much more interesting one between Mello and L. The blond had been a bitch to everyone lately, it would serve him right. "His ribs are real bad. He'll tell. I swear."

The detective had just been about to warn Matt to stay out of this, when the blond wrapped his arms around himself, his cheeks turning bright red. Oh. That was sort of adorable. L managed to get his hands under those skinny arms, poking the ribs that protruded on the thin frame, making the blond giggle and fall to his knees. L didn't let go, until Mello was kicking and crying out for him to please stop, he'd tell, he was sorry. L waited patiently, satisfied that he'd won, though trying not to notice the slight sway of the teenager's hips as he made his way back to the stand where his book had been left, flipping through the pages and extracting the puzzle piece. "Matt, you'll fucking pay for that one you little twat."

The piece was placed in L's upturned palm, the blonde's hand lingering there for just a few seconds too long. L felt his pulse speed up, felt that jolt of electricity that was supposed to be a romance novel myth travel up his arm. "Thank you, Mello." The blond winked, already going to sprawl out on his chair again. The two were both blushing deeply, and of all people, Near had to notice.

"Mello and L are quite out of shape, if such little physical activity causes them to flush so."

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The trouble with Mello was that if he was anything, it was persistent. That was a nice way of putting it actually, persistent being the word L always used to correct the professors and the caretakers of Wammy's when other words were used. The descriptions ran from the 'troublesome', which Roger spoke through gritted teeth, tugging at what little hair was left on his head, tapping his fingers nervously on his desk. The professors had had to be reprimanded a number of times when less appropriate words were used, the ever popular 'monster', 'terror', 'brat', 'demon' and the like. Many had left their positions due to the tiny blond, or at least requested that he not be allowed within ten feet of them.

L did not have the luxury of being able to distance himself from the boy, not that he would have even if he could. Despite his efforts to discourage the feelings that had developed on both sides, Mello made it nigh impossible to ignore him.

It was L's fault of course, and he damn well knew it. Deny it as he liked, he'd felt himself give in to the little touches here and there, to respond with a shiver, a blush on his pale cheek. Mello would giggle as he brushed against him in the hall, his hand just barely brushing over the loose denim at the back of the detective's thigh, his hip nudging the older man's own. Then he'd be gone in a flash of tight black clothing and bouncing blond hair.

When the detective couldn't stand it anymore, when they met alone in the hall and Mello pushed him up against the wall, just within reach of the door handle, where if L could just get a hold on it and turn, to escape inside then he'd be safe from the reactions that were damning him despite the words he spoke.

"Mello must stop this. It is inappropriate." L grabbed the blonde's wrist, saving himself from the palm that had been laying against his stomach, and even though the cotton of his t-shirt he could feel how warm the teen's skin was, could feel the muscles in his stomach tighten as he felt those claws digging in an effort to not be denied.

"Why?" Mello whispered, standing on tiptoe to brush their cheeks together, to breathe against the bare skin of L's neck. "Give me one good reason."

"I have given Mello several very good reasons." The detective's hand tightened around Mello's wrist. He glared at the teen, when Mello finally moved away from breathing against his throat. L was by no means a frightening man, and though he could more than hold his own in a physical fight, though he was indeed stronger than he looked, he rarely ever had to resort to using his strength to win the upper hand. But the look that the teen returned forced him to loosen his hold, to let his head hang and hair fall in his eyes, not to shield the emotions warring there now, but to keep from seeing the hurt in Mello's eyes.

"If you don't want me, just fucking say so. Don't play with me!" Mello backed up a few paces, and immediately L relaxed, just now noticing that he'd been standing to his full height. Reclaiming his usual posture helped to clear his head, helped him to shake the feeling that he was at fault yet again.

"I have denied every advance that Mello has made, yet he still persists. I would never dream of playing with one's affections. I have made it perfectly clear that I will not allow anything more to come of our relationship than friendship." Mello's fists clenched at his side. He squeezed his eyes shut, and when they slowly opened back up he did nothing to brush away the frustrated tears that fell.

"There's a difference, and you fucking know it! You say no, but the way you /react/ L, I can't take it! I know how you feel about me, I can practically taste your pulse speed up when I touch your hand, I see how you look at me. Like it or not, you're attracted to me." The blond screeched, the noise reminding the older man of when he'd been just a baby, when it had been bath time and he hadn't wanted to get in, or when he'd been denied his favorite chocolate treat due to bad behavior. It was that noise that showed just how young he was, the high-pitched shriek of a boy, not a man. "Oh, but I'm so stupid, aren't I? I thought you could look past my age, I know you're intelligent enough to know that our minds are on an even level, that we're more than just our physical ages. And you would, but that isn't the problem is it? It's just /me/. I'm not good enough. How could I ever have thought that I was anyway? You're L, and I'm just a stupid kid that's in your way."

"Mello is anything but stupid. He misunderstands me." L tried to reach out, to touch the blonde's shoulder. His hand was shrugged away, and though he desperately wanted to pull Mello close, to comfort him as he had always done when Mello was upset and only L knew how to make it better. No candy would work, no sweet words. What Mello wanted, and what no one else could give, was just to be held, to be shown that he was special, that he wasn't just another runner up, that he was a person. A person that L admired very much, that he cared about maybe too deeply.

It was that more than anything that made the detective hold back, because he knew that Mello sought him out for that which was missing. If not a father figure exactly, Mello wanted someone who had experienced what he had and gotten past it, who was older and wiser and knew that while it might not be ok, at least someone else /understood/.

"No, I get it just fine, thanks." Again L wished that he could hide from the look in Mello's eyes, because the expression that had replaced the anger, the pain, was far worse. The thing that the detective respected most about Mello, while also driving him insane, was his persistence. He never gave up on anything he desired, could do whatever he put his mind to, even if it meant that it might come close to destroying him. So to see the defeat there, the decision to just give up, was by far the hardest thing to see. It wasn't the expression Mello wore when Near again beat him in scores, or when he lost a soccer match. There was always a hint of hope there, the stubborn self-assurance that next time he'd do better. No, this was the face of a boy, no, a man, who was just tired and giving in. Mello looked years past his age now, like he'd just finally seen the world for what it was and in an instant had had to grow up and leave behind the hopes and dreams that only children could keep.

L hated himself then, not for what he was about to do, but for what he had done. Despite how miserable Mello looked as he pulled a shield of blankness around him, as his eyes set to stone and his shoulders slumped, the detective knew that he would have to remain firm. He could not give in, not even when all he wanted to do was make that go away, to confess how he really felt even though he knew it was wrong. He had to stop this before it spiraled out of control.

"I am sorry, Mello." And he was, sorry that he wasn't stronger, sorry that for once he was letting his feelings guide him instead of his instincts, his knowledge that placing a hand on the back of Mello's neck and pulling him close was wrong. L regretted that even though his mind knew how perverse this was, that he was pressing his lips against the teen's, that his mouth was falling open and their tongues were colliding as instinct took over.

Mello's arms remained limp at his sides, until the detective took one and pulled it around him, then Mello's other arm was flung around his neck and they were pressed close enough together that when Mello rose on tip-toe they could feel each other's hearts beating in their chests.

It lasted until both were out of breath and had to pull away, and even then the blond still clung to the older man. "I'm not." He whispered, touching L's cheek before spinning on his heels and fleeing down the hall.

What had he done? Just what happened, and why could he still taste the teen on his lips? Why did it still feel like he had two heartbeats and they were both about to stop?