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asimaiyatTitle: Living In My Head
Fandom: Death Note
Pairing: Mello/Near
Rating: PG
Spoilers: through the end of the manga.
Summary: Near's not type to hang on to mementos, but some things are just hard to let go of.
AN: For yoruichiyoshi12's prompt "Mello/Near, toy box" on Comment Fic. This is actually sort of two drabbles in one, or a ficlet in two parts.
Those who are dead are not dead, they're just living in my head
And since I fell for that spell, I've been living there as well. -- "42," by Coldplay
1.
At 11:43 PM, Near let himself in to the SPK headquarters, and found Mello sitting in the biggest chair, going through the box of toys that was supposed to be in the hidden drawer of his desk.
"Why am I utterly unsurprised to find you here?" he asked, but it was not exactly a question.
"Just my way of showing that I care," said Mello with a shrug, without really diverting his attention from snooping. "Does anyone need this many finger puppets, really? You've only got ten fingers, you know."
"And I suppose you need one hundred and twenty three guns."
"How the hell...?" That actually got Mello's attention. Of course, when it was his own privacy being threatened, it was an outrage. He slid out of the chair and stalked across the room to where Near was now leaning lazily against the wall, and invaded his space just enough to rest one uncomfortably pointed elbow on the other man's shoulder. "So you care, too, huh? I'm touched. Pissed, but touched."
Near shrank away from the contact, instinctively and on general principle. "That is one interpretation. A narcissistic one, but that's what one would expect from --"
And there was that dangerous smirk, cutting Near off in the middle of a sentence without even a word. Hot fingertips brushed the hair away from his ear, as Mello leaned in to whisper, "Narcissistic, huh? I couldn't help but notice that you've got a puppet of yourself in there... and one of me. Wanna tell me what you make them do?"
Near rolled his eyes in contempt, but it was difficult to deny the splash of hot pink across his paper-white cheeks. This time he didn't pull away.
2.
Lots of things were better now. As the current L, Near had his own, personal office, and when other people worked for him they were generally not complete idiots. He had won, and being a winner had undeniable rewards.
He had not, however, been quite able to finish unpacking his beautifully minimalist new office. A single, large box sat ignored in the corner, marked with the word PERSONAL in extremely large and clear letters, just in case anyone thought about trying to be helpful. He had thought that starting fresh with a new toy collection to match his new address and his new title would let him forget about the old ones -- but he couldn't quite bring himself to throw them away, either. Every time he reached for the box, whether to open it or to put it away in a closet or to throw it out the window, he was never sure, he ended up shying away at the last second, as if it would be hot to the touch (like those fingers had been). So it stayed there, and no one who came to the office attributed it to anything but laziness.
And slowly it just became part of the scenery. It wasn't comforting, exactly. It wasn't depressing, either, most of the time. It was just difficult after a while to imagine the office without the background knowledge that inside that box in the corner there was a complete collection of playmobil dinosaurs, and an incomplete collection of dominos, and a few antique toy planes that were actually worth something, probably... and a little L, and a little Teru Mikami, and a little Light Yagami (his eyes narrowed involuntarily just thinking the name), and a little version of himself and, probably nestled just too close for comfort against the former, a little Mello.
He got new toys, over time, but the box stayed. Just my way of showing I care.
Fandom: Death Note
Pairing: Mello/Near
Rating: PG
Spoilers: through the end of the manga.
Summary: Near's not type to hang on to mementos, but some things are just hard to let go of.
AN: For yoruichiyoshi12's prompt "Mello/Near, toy box" on Comment Fic. This is actually sort of two drabbles in one, or a ficlet in two parts.
Those who are dead are not dead, they're just living in my head
And since I fell for that spell, I've been living there as well. -- "42," by Coldplay
1.
At 11:43 PM, Near let himself in to the SPK headquarters, and found Mello sitting in the biggest chair, going through the box of toys that was supposed to be in the hidden drawer of his desk.
"Why am I utterly unsurprised to find you here?" he asked, but it was not exactly a question.
"Just my way of showing that I care," said Mello with a shrug, without really diverting his attention from snooping. "Does anyone need this many finger puppets, really? You've only got ten fingers, you know."
"And I suppose you need one hundred and twenty three guns."
"How the hell...?" That actually got Mello's attention. Of course, when it was his own privacy being threatened, it was an outrage. He slid out of the chair and stalked across the room to where Near was now leaning lazily against the wall, and invaded his space just enough to rest one uncomfortably pointed elbow on the other man's shoulder. "So you care, too, huh? I'm touched. Pissed, but touched."
Near shrank away from the contact, instinctively and on general principle. "That is one interpretation. A narcissistic one, but that's what one would expect from --"
And there was that dangerous smirk, cutting Near off in the middle of a sentence without even a word. Hot fingertips brushed the hair away from his ear, as Mello leaned in to whisper, "Narcissistic, huh? I couldn't help but notice that you've got a puppet of yourself in there... and one of me. Wanna tell me what you make them do?"
Near rolled his eyes in contempt, but it was difficult to deny the splash of hot pink across his paper-white cheeks. This time he didn't pull away.
2.
Lots of things were better now. As the current L, Near had his own, personal office, and when other people worked for him they were generally not complete idiots. He had won, and being a winner had undeniable rewards.
He had not, however, been quite able to finish unpacking his beautifully minimalist new office. A single, large box sat ignored in the corner, marked with the word PERSONAL in extremely large and clear letters, just in case anyone thought about trying to be helpful. He had thought that starting fresh with a new toy collection to match his new address and his new title would let him forget about the old ones -- but he couldn't quite bring himself to throw them away, either. Every time he reached for the box, whether to open it or to put it away in a closet or to throw it out the window, he was never sure, he ended up shying away at the last second, as if it would be hot to the touch (like those fingers had been). So it stayed there, and no one who came to the office attributed it to anything but laziness.
And slowly it just became part of the scenery. It wasn't comforting, exactly. It wasn't depressing, either, most of the time. It was just difficult after a while to imagine the office without the background knowledge that inside that box in the corner there was a complete collection of playmobil dinosaurs, and an incomplete collection of dominos, and a few antique toy planes that were actually worth something, probably... and a little L, and a little Teru Mikami, and a little Light Yagami (his eyes narrowed involuntarily just thinking the name), and a little version of himself and, probably nestled just too close for comfort against the former, a little Mello.
He got new toys, over time, but the box stayed. Just my way of showing I care.