Death Note Fan Fiction ❯ PITCH ❯ Sparkle and Shine ( Chapter 11 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

 

Pitch: (def.) 

A substance commonly utilized to bind materials in construction... Tar pitch appears solid, and can be shattered with a hard impact, but it is actually fluid. Pitch flows at room temperature, but extremely slowly. To attain maximum fluidity, to be used, it must be exposed to heat.

 

Minds are like pitch. To reveal their full potential, they must be exposed to environs that apply stress. They must be challenged.

 

____________________________________________________________< /font>

 

Part 11: (Sparkle and Shine)

 

L trudged home, his thoughts a tangled mess. The walk from Raito's house to his own was about as short the brunette had promised. It did, however feel longer because an evil breeze was laying a chill upon his damp clothing. He shivered and jammed his hands deeper into his pockets.

 

In all of the brunette's efforts to engage and seduce him, this was the first time L had had to consider the possibility that he was not a special case. Actively consider the possibility. There was the classmate that had, not likely out of the goodness of his heart, offered Raito free room and board, and then there was Misa. If she was the daughter of someone influential... had Raito entered a relationship with her in order to advance his career? Or was that connection coincidental?

 

Still... 'Anything you want'?

 

He couldn't help but wonder about it, especially because of the tone it had been delivered in. Anything anything? Because of the timing, he would say that a date had been secured, but what else? Raito had not looked thrilled by the prospect, but how far did he go to appease the Chairman's daughter, or the Chairman himself? 

 

Raito was attractive... to a nearly unfathomable degree. It was not a stretch to assume this Misa person would desire him, especially if she was privy to that voice of Raito's which practically dripped sex, even when it was used in its watered-down form. If she were to get it in her head to ask for what that voice alluded to, would Raito meet her request? Would he sleep with someone in order to appease them and keep his career running smoothly? Would he easily classify that as just an extension of his job?

 

L chewed the inside of his lip, worrying the flesh mercilessly, ducking his head as a gust of cool wind swept over him.

 

It bothered him that he so quickly jumped to such a conclusion. It bothered him that it might not be inaccurate. But it really bothered him that he did not know for sure and that Raito was determinedly evading him on the subject. So maybe the brunette felt guilty over what he was doing? Or he thought I might have a problem with it if I knew?

 

Most of all, past happenings aside, it bothered L that Raito might do such a thing now, after having pulled him into this situation. After interring himself so insistently within L's mind and body.

 

I should just walk away. I know I should.

 

Raito had blindfolded him and spun him around, leaving him to navigate in such a crippled fashion that he was hopelessly lost. 

 

But he said he would explain...

 

I could have it all wrong.

 

How did Raito feel about him anyway? Was there something genuine there? It felt so, at times. In odd moments he could swear that he was seeing behind the masks he sensed slipping over the brunette's face like water. At other times, he was stranded amidst the fluctuations of Raito's temperament, afraid to budge an inch lest everything come crashing down. In those times, he could sometimes feel that he was being herded and given his role to play.

 

Raito was skilled enough that it was not so easy to perceive just when he might be insincere.

 

---

 

L spent the day being insanely productive and utterly useless in turns. 

 

He holed up in his room, not coming out to eat, as he wanted to avoid the continuation of the conversation Watari had set in motion when L had the misfortune to try and obtain one of his usual snacks from the kitchen. Pretzels and chocolate dip, while quite good, were not enough to offset the doomful glare of Watari as he started to pry into where exactly L had been all night after he had disappeared with Raito, nor the generally astronomical discomfort level of the whole affair.

 

The only saving graces were that Watari did not know precisely when L had gotten back (so L kept it vague) and that L had not been caught in his clothing from the night before.

 

"Where exactly do you know Raito from?" the older British man asked with a swishing of his white mustache. He was still peeved at being unable to reach L, or gain anything more specific than the paltry 'I might be out late' message L had sent him.

 

"Around," L said. What exactly had the brunette said to Watari in order to gain entrance to his room the other night?

 

"Around where?" Watari demanded in confusion. "Until recently, you never bothered to set foot outside the house. Suddenly you're well-acquainted with a young man who is practically a rising star in politics in this region - well-acquainted enough to stay out all night? I warned you not to get involved in local government and legislation. It only makes our job more difficult."

 

"You did a background check?"

 

"Yes, when you disappeared with hardly a word. Yagami Raito, 23, a native of the Kanto region. He currently holds the position of a Political Lobbyist. Officially anyway. He has way too much influence for that to be the extent of his job. Perhaps he started off doing the legwork that campaigning requires, but I doubt that is what occupies his time at this juncture." 

 

L refrained from asking any of the questions burning on his tongue. It would be strange of him to inquire, especially since he could obtain the information by doing his own checks. That, and he did not want to slip up and ask something that was, in effect, common knowledge. Like with Raito's father, it would be seen as extremely odd if he didn't know these things. "We did not really discuss his work, per se. I imagine that would get a bit dull after a while, and I tend to not disclose my own profession anyway."

 

"And you met him where?"

 

"One of the local drinking establishments. He is quite good with French. A bit of a let down to be told my own usage sounds rustic, though."

 

Watari relented a little, seeing that someone with a formidable intellect might be drawn to spending time with someone on or near their level. "I see. Well... just be careful that you do not get embroiled in one of the political flare-ups. It would not be the first time outsiders were involved, for one reason or another."

 

L nodded, itching to be away. 

 

Local drinking establishment... Feh. Sometimes even Watari believed him to be more obtuse than he was. But then, he supposed it was better than the alternative. Words like 'bar' just inspired all sorts of colorful images, and he was trying to sway Watari from thinking he might be personally involved with the brunette. 

 

Nope. He's just a friendly neighborhood brainiac.

 

No wild and passionate forays into the sexual realm here. 

 

"Well, I have to go give Sakizawa a call," L said, trying to move things along.

 

Watari looked confused. "You? But you hate calling clients..."

 

"Yes, yes, I do. Unfortunately, I feel compelled to resolve some loose ends and that necessitates a call. Aiber has been busy."

 

"You did tell him to stop contacting me when he cannot reach you?" Watari asked hopefully.

 

"For what it's worth, he says the two of you get along swimmingly.... I tried."

 

The older man muttered something and rubbed his face with a hand, white mustache twitching in self-pity. 

 

L crept out while he was distracted. 

 

Dammit, he didn't want to call Sakizawa. He'd much rather let Watari handle it. But he better get used to dealing with some of this stuff on his own. It would be good for him. Or at least, it wouldn't kill him. Navigating the maze of secretaries and dreadful on-hold music will be the worst of it, he told himself. The following conversation would be easy. Never mind the man's inability to translate my flawless Japanese... do I phrase things oddly? Use too many big words? It was daunting to be engaged in the verbal equivalent of a blank stare. Sakizawa was skilled in that. If he didn't follow you, he would just sit in silence and wait for you to say something else. A man of few words, Sakizawa. The initial meeting with him had been enough for L to be able to play out future scenarios in his head with 98 percent accuracy.

 

Email. Email was made for situations like these. Who the hell wants to play golf? He'd rather beat himself in the head with a club than endure hours of the man's presence. 

 

Grave Sakizawa, with his obsessively trimmed black hair and mustache... a feast for the eyes and a delight for the mind. If you were a vegetable, that is.

 

Might as well do it now, he told himself, noting that his feet were dragging on the stairs.

 

Sakizawa's inability to follow what he was saying at all times tended to make L feel stupid. Which was incredibly stupid in its own right, but the feeling stuck. Maybe he should try a video call so that he could draw little pictures and charts for the man. Not by hand, of course. That would backfire dreadfully. 

 

No, on second thought, he would just have to settle with a regular call - gesticulating rudely and pulling faces at the man for entertainment while he suffered silently.

 

---

 

At quarter to 7, L decided to break his seclusion.

 

He was hungry, he wanted to be left alone, and he wanted to spend some time deliberating on whether or not he should entertain Raito's request to meet him at 10pm. All of which could be rectified by a trip outside to one of the local watering holes. He supposed a restaurant might suffice, but more attention might come his way for dining alone and making no show of being in a hurry about it. He was thinking of treating this like his other excursions - nothing different than a progression in his experiment - though he knew that was far from the truth. Raito was heavy on his mind.

 

Somewhat out of habit now, he pulled on clothes that would not have him be the topic of idle conversation. Jeans that fit well, check. A black, long-sleeved pullover shirt, check. They'd both been ridiculously expensive for what they were, being from this or that designer, of which he had no interest in the slightest. On the plus side, they were closer to his normal attire, freeing him from the annoyance of rows of buttons that adorned the infernal collared shirts.

 

Yes, fashionably faded denim and a scoop-necked shirt of some high quality, soft material. He was a secret slob. No one would know the clothes took no effort and weren't uncomfortable. 

 

Last, but not least - shoes.

 

He still hated wearing shoes.

 

They were black leather, they slipped on, and he didn't need socks since the jeans were long. Several hundred dollars assured that they were also stylish. More secret slob attire.

 

He didn't bother with a jacket. Too much effort, since he only tended to wear them for the journey to his destination and not at the destination itself. Besides, he wasn't trying to impress anyone with painstaking layers of attire. He merely wanted to blend in. 

 

Fancy clothes were akin to camouflage in a social setting.

 

He'd learned this.

 

And god forbid he ever had to repeat the catastrophe that was his first visit to Guissupo's. If he had to dress up in order to not be stared at with pity and horror, so be it. Of course, not being soaking wet would help to tone down the staring.

 

He'd been taken aback and a little pleased that Raito had not looked upon him in disgust that time.

 

For someone so focused on appearance, he was amazingly unconcerned about L's.

 

Even more surprising, it had not diminished the brunette's apparently overwhelming need to seduce and ravish him.

 

Baffling.

 

But enough of that. Keeping things in perspective was crucial. He had no idea what Raito's true intentions were, and the brunette was also a few popsicle sticks short of sanity, by his estimation. He needed to assess things with an impartial eye, far away from heated looks and roaming hands. He couldn't think when Raito was around.

 

And, as Raito would be currently indisposed with his date, L had all the time he could have asked for in which to be impartial.

 

"Are you going out, L?" Watari asked, catching him as he came down the stairs.

 

"Yes. I thought I would go get something to eat."

 

Watari gave him an odd look. "You don't want to just order something in?"

 

"No. The walk will do me good." He paused. "Don't worry, I'll send you the location I decide upon when I get there." He wiggled his cell phone in the air briefly to demonstrate.  

 

"Ok..."

 

"Goodnight, Watari," he said and shuffled out the door. Really, was it so odd that he was going outside of his own volition? It didn't seem quite that strange a proposition... 

 

Being out of the house was a relief. He'd earned a respite from the tension. The night air was welcome and refreshing. It was a little cool and damp though. He'd just have to hope it didn't coalesce into rain.

 

He ended up going into a small bar that he had never been in before. It smelled as if they served food, and possibly even good food. The brass door handle felt less than savory beneath his fingers, so he made a mental note to wash his hands vigorously before attempting a meal.

 

Much like other bars, it was dark, too loud and smoky. He picked a not-so-smoky table and looked at the menu. 

 

Grease.

 

Grease.

 

Salad. (Would it even be fresh? What was the call for greens in a place like this?)

 

More grease.

 

Nothing really caught his eye. Everything was battered or fried or messy to eat.

 

In the end, he decided on french fries and a shot of whiskey. A milkshake would be an optimal choice but he was definitely in the wrong place to get one of those. Maybe later he could loiter around and locate a likely spot.

 

He didn't feel particularly ill-at-ease in a place like this tonight. A sign of progress? Or was it only that he was too preoccupied to notice those around him? 

 

He got up and left his order at the bar before going to wash his hands. What was it about bathrooms and sticky floors? One could hope it was the cleaning agent that caused that effect, but it really probably wasn't. The knob creaked as he turned the water on. Was she attractive? he wondered again as he thought on Misa. Even if Raito felt annoyance at dealing with her... was she attractive? Would something happen? Was something planned to happen?

 

He glanced up at his own face in distaste. He was too unique looking. Too pale. A palate of contrast between his light skin and black hair, dark eyes, and the bruised circles beneath them. Why had the sales people insisted that he buy so much black? Didn't that worsen the effect?

 

---

 

Raito had his hands full. Dinner had turned out to be a more social affair than he'd expected. Not that he was unprepared - one of the reasons he'd brought extra clothing in the garment bag he often brought to work. He was never without the appropriate attire, no matter the event. When Misa had shown up at the office around 5:30 in a strapless, black velvet dress and glittering with white diamonds, he knew he had his work cut out for him. 

 

With all the enthusiasm of a man going to his own execution, he dressed in his formal clothes. He did not appreciate the catcalls from coworkers who were staying late. He made a mental note to make them pay for that at the first opportunity that presented itself as he and Misa walked out the door and to the waiting car.

 

"You look stunning," he said with a smile, as was expected of him.

 

Misa beamed and tossed her head a little. Her upswept hairdo did not budge. How many pins did she have in it anyway? 

 

"Daddy is meeting us at Charlemagne's, and then we need to drop by Du Ponte's."

 

"What, is Le Fontain out of season now?"

 

"They stopped serving Senator Oba's favorite Chardonnay." 

 

Christ. "All right," he said amiably. 

 

If he ever became one of those people who just could not be without their favorite drink or food, to the point of absurdity, he'd shoot himself. Le Fontain was the best restaurant they'd found for a multitude of reasons, and also had the advantage of having at least one thing on the menu anyone they were meeting could be quite happy with. But nooo, the Senator had to have his wine. God forbid he do without, or drink the house label for one night.

 

"Congresswoman Maye is looking forward to seeing you," Misa pouted, clinging to his arm. "I don't like her."

 

There was nothing wrong with Maye, except that she had the habit of leaning entirely too close when speaking to him, and used every opportunity to touch his arm, shoulder, or on rare occasions, his thigh when speaking to him. She was something that could be endured without too much strain. That she was an older women actually worked out great - it prevented her from being more forward. Certainly there were others who topped his list of being unpleasant to deal with.

 

"If she decides to go along with our proposal, it will be instrumental in getting backing for Ito's project, thereby securing your father's interests. Learn to like her."

 

"Rai~to," she huffed. "I know that. Misa would never mess things up because she was jealous."

 

Who ever implanted it in people's heads that speaking in third person was cute? It wasn't. Used intermittently, it was even less so. "There's no need to be jealous, Misa." If she was on about jealousy this early, it was going to be a long night. He brushed her face with the back of his fingertips and graced her with a smile. "She can't hold a candle to you."

 

Her eyes shimmered at him and she happily resumed her death grip on his arm, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Ito never says those kinds of things to me," she pouted. "He's no good."

 

"Misa, you should refer to your boyfriend in a less formal manner."

 

"I don't like his given name," she complained.

 

"There's nothing wrong with 'Takahiro'. It's a respectable name."

 

"It's a common name," she stressed. "Not like Raito." She drew the name out like she was savoring it. Poor Takahiro's name was probably just too long for her to feel bothered with saying. Ito, on the other hand, offered a nice and snappy speaking experience.

 

"I'm not sure what my parents were thinking," Raito said. "And the kanji always throws people off."

 

"I think it makes you look mysterious," she said worshipfully. "Your name suits you. I can't imagine you as a Naoto* or Kenta or something like that."

 

"Neither can I."

 

He opened the rear door of the shiny black car for her to get in. 

 

Raito didn't know every name that would be in attendance but, regardless, he suspected Misa was trying to dress up to impress him. He had no doubt that that she had plans to get him alone just as soon as business was concluded. The question, he thought as he got into the car, was whether he could deter her.

 

---

 

The french fries tasted fabulous, L thought, though it might have been extreme hunger that made them so saltily divine. Luckily the serving was an enormous basket, so he had plenty to munch on and fill his stomach with as he brooded.

 

After his first glass of sipped whiskey (still bitter to L's tastes, but fitting his current mood), he decided that he was most certainly not going to Raito's later, and the brunette could just chew on that and stew over L's refusal to cooperate like a trained animal. 

 

After the second glass, he was back to fixating on what the brunette and Misa would be doing until the appointed time and feeling, if he cared to admit it, a little depressed.

 

He looked out the thick windows he'd stationed himself next to, glad at least that the area he'd chosen remained fairly abandoned as people did not wish to be seen from the street. L couldn't care less. He preferred less bodies milling about and less smoke. The windows were a boon from heaven as far as he was concerned.

 

Where had he gone wrong? he wondered, tilting drink number three to his lips listlessly. Grateful as he was for the numbing effect of the alcohol, it wasn't really taking care of the digging feeling in his chest. He'd liked it better when he was angry... 

 

He could only hope that with the third drink, he could flop back from angst to anger again. He wasn't cut out for angst. It sucked. What could be solved by obsessing over this? Thinking upon it in unrelenting fixation would not change anything. Raito would do whatever he was going to do - he would sleep with whomever he wanted - and L's opinion did not affect that at all. It was even likely the brunette would find his objection to be irritating or dismissible. 

 

Was sex such a casual thing? It didn't feel casual. It had him twisted up in knots. 

 

But then again, he wasn't an expert in what public opinion deemed acceptable. He only had his own thoughts on the matter.

 

But that should count, right? 

 

Finally, irritation was filtering back in. Of course it should count. If this wasn't all just some sort of game for the brunette, then some note should be taken of his feelings on this. He should have the right to say that he didn't find the prospect of infidelity acceptable and he didn't care if everyone else may be doing it.

 

(Is it infidelity if you aren't even properly in a relationship?) his inner voice asked.

 

Shut up.

 

"Well, hello beautiful," a showy voice said at L's elbow, nearly causing L to crush his glass in his hand.

 

L did not look up. Do I have a homing beacon on me or what??

 

"Aiber," he ground out, not in the mood for the man's frivolity, nor his presence in general. "I have not had nearly enough alcohol to make me consider speaking with you in a reasonable fashion."

 

"Want me to buy a round?"

 

"No, I want you to leave."

 

"You're more caustic than usual," the broad-shouldered blonde man commented unconcernedly as he helped himself to the chair across from L. He sprawled into it and rubbed the designer stubble on his chin as if in thought, the other hand on a tumbler of alcohol. "Was it something I said?"

 

L glared at him. "You took a contract that infringed on my right to remain anonymous."

 

"Oh, that." Aiber smiled and waved off the accusation. He took a pull off of his drink and said, "Yagami Raito, political prodigy. No worries - I didn't tell him anything."

 

"Thanks to you, he deduced my line of work."

 

Aiber scoffed artfully. "Anyone could have figured that out."

 

Aiber was pissing him off. People didn't just figure things like that out. And the point of the matter was, Aiber had accepted a contract that violated his privacy, whether he entirely upheld it or not. "You are not making me like you any better right now." The man's glitzy, scam-artist veneer was also pissing L off. He even had sunglasses perched on top of his head like an accessory to his wavy blonde hair as if he just might find cause to use them at night. Frivolous, just like the pristine white blazer he wore over his burgundy, collared shirt, which was a button-less affair that showed a good bit of his chest. 

 

"Lighten up, L. Not everything is the end of the world and not everything is about work. Come on, let's hang out, talk about things that aren't work." He looked at the remnants of L's meal. "I'll even buy you dinner, how about it?" 

 

Like hell he was going anywhere with Aiber, the rotten bastard. "I hate you," L said flatly. 

 

"Now that's disappointing," Aiber said, unfazed. "I thought you held more of a grudging respect."

 

"Not likely."

 

Aiber leaned back in his chair, balancing it on the back two legs. L wouldn't have minded seeing him unbalance and topple to the ground. "Well, you've always been rather contrary." Aiber sipped his drink, looking all the more like a Nazi with his icy blue gaze and his subtly militant demeanor. "I like that about you. Keeps things interesting."

 

"I'm going back," L said shortly. 

 

The last thing he needed to hear was that Aiber liked him, in any sort of fashion. And the last thing he wanted to be doing is suffering the man's presence, let alone 'hanging out' with him voluntarily. How had he even known where to find me? Had Watari finally snapped under the harassment of incessant calls and told Aiber where he was tonight? He spared a glance at the windows and wondered if maybe it was just his bad luck.

 

He found himself staring at a small crowd of darkly-clothed people a little ways down the street. What a commotion. It seemed an affair with the press, judging by the couple of bright flashes that sparked off in their midst. What a pain, you would think they could do that where they weren't clogging the sidewalk. He'd have to cross to the other side when he left.

 

"What for?" Aiber said unhurriedly. "It's early, you have Sakizawa, so you owe me..."

 

L turned his attention back to the Nazi. "You said that he was not yours to return! Now you're going to go back and say that you did me a favor?"

 

"I put in a good word for you." Aiber swirled the liquid in his glass. "Your conditions were clearly delineated on Sakizawa remaining in your services, you did not specify anything further. It's hardly appropriate to split hairs on giving a few moments of your time."

 

"You've had a few moments, and I have things to do--"

 

"Besides," Aiber said pointedly, leveling him with pale eyes, "our mutual friend seems to be a little too busy for you at the moment." He gestured languidly towards the street with his drink and then took a sip.

 

"Huh?" L turned to look at where Aiber was is pointing. All he saw was that same crowd, closer now, faces distinct. It's just some lousy reporters... Then, in the next moment, one of the men turned and it was Raito's face that came into view - Raito's windswept bangs, keen eyes, and effusive charm. He was speaking to someone in the crowd, a reporter, looking candid and effervescent as they hung on his every word. And there on his arm was a young blonde woman who shimmered each time she moved, drenched in what had to be expensive jewelry. Diamonds sparkled like that, didn't they? She had her arm looped in his in a very familiar manner. She tugged on it and said something to him, smiling brilliantly, and the brunette... 

 

That knowing smile... the perfect ease with which he flirted with his eyes...

 

"Where do you suppose they're going next?" Aiber asked lightly, stabbing his sore spot. "Hotel? His place? Hers?"

 

L was seething. Work? Work?? Right. 'Explainable'. 'Complicated'. He tipped back his whiskey and threw some bills on the table.

 

"L?" Aiber said in surprise as L stalked away from the table. "Hey - where are you going?" he hurriedly tipped back his own drink and jogged after him. "L!" he called once he got outside.

 

---

 

Raito looked up with a vague frown. He could have sworn he heard...

 

"So, Yagami-san, is it official that you have been selected to represent..."

 

Raito tried to refocus on the interviewer. "Yes, as of earlier this week..." He spoke on automatic pilot, making the appropriate responses and being generally captivating. It was ridiculous to think he'd heard someone calling out L's name. He was just being preoccupied. 

 

"Senator Maye speaks highly of your division, and of you in particular. Do you think that..."

 

From the corner of his eye, Raito noticed someone striding down the street at a clipped pace. Their hair was dark and spiky, just like Lawliet's. That couldn't really be him, could it? 

 

"Raito?" Misa whispered, squeezing his arm. "What is it?"

 

He realized he was dropping the ball. The interviewer was looking at him expectantly. "Nothing," he said under his breath.  "I apologize," he said to the interviewer, brightening his smile and adding a touch of ruefulness to it, "It's been a long day."

 

Still, the scene on the street was unfolding and he watched surreptitiously as a tall blonde man - a foreigner, judging by his more solidly built frame - caught up to the dark-haired man. The blonde grabbed the slighter man's arm and pulled him around. Now Raito was almost certain it was Lawliet. How could he mistake that baleful glare, or the dark jags of bangs that fell messily into his face, even at this distance? 

 

Lawliet roughly shook the other man off and seemed to be arguing with him vehemently. One of his feet started to lift from the ground as if he were going to kick the blonde, but he was not given the chance as the foreigner threw him into a choke hold and dragged him, protesting, into a nearby bar.

 

---

 

"Bartender, a shot of 151º, please," Aiber said.

 

"Let go of me! I don't want to be here!"

 

"Sure thing," the blonde main said congenially, not letting go before grabbing L's face and tipped the shot of liquor down his throat.

 

It burned as it went down, exacerbated by the strong arm locked around his neck and the unexpectedness of it. Aiber released him then and he folded over in coughing fit. The bartender looked worried. "Damn it, Aiber," L said weakly, his eyes tearing from the strength of the alcohol which tasted like lighter fluid. He'd had too much already. Too much.

 

Aiber pulled out a chair and slung L into it. L sank into it miserably. His head was spinning a little. 

 

"What's wrong with you?" the blonde man asked. "You hate me, but like a guy like him?"

 

"No, I just hate you."

 

Anger and depression were warring within him again. He hadn't wanted to see that. Didn't need to see that. Now he had a pretty face to attach to the name Misa. She was a real person, attractive like he'd feared, and seemed to have more than a passing familiarity with Raito. And they were well matched, both at ease in the circle of attention like a pair of celebrities... happy to play for the cameras...

 

"They say that hate is merely one side of a coin."

 

L made a face. "That's utterly ridicu--" the word was stifled as a hand on the back of his head pulled him forward sharply against an unfamiliar mouth. He triple blinked, wide-eyed and too startled to react as he suddenly found himself being french-kissed by Aiber. Aiber. His brain was so unhinged from the shock of it that for a moment he reflexively kissed back, proving that emotional trauma could, in fact, induce temporary insanity. I think I'm having a nightmare, L thought as he tried frantically to pull away. Aiber didn't have any trouble thwarting him. Wrong. This is so wrong! Damn Nazi! What did he have, super-human strength?!

 

"I can't leave you alone, can I?" a pleasant voice said with a chill edge. L stiffened. He knew that voice. Raito. Dear god, please kill me. 

 

"Hi, boss," Aiber jovially, having broken the unsolicited contact. 

 

His arm draped casually over L who was utterly shell-shocked. "I'm free to do whatever I want in off hours, just as you are able to spend time with your lovely companion there." He winked at Misa who preened under the praise.

 

L wished he could become insubstantial and just sink through the chair and on down through the floor. He couldn't look at Raito. Had he seen all of that? His hand crept up to cover his face. And the blonde woman who looked like a model would be Misa, up close and personal. He felt pale and insignificant next to her, and was still massively malfunctioning over the fact that Aiber, Aiber, had just... just... ugh.

 

"Misa," Raito said cordially, his tone cool and flawless once more. "This is Aiber, one of the detectives we have on retainer."

 

"A pleasure, Miss," Aiber said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. She giggled. "You make a lovely couple."

 

L felt ill. He sort of waited for Raito to refute Aiber's words, and hated Aiber for rubbing this in so enthusiastically. They undeniably did look like a couple. 

 

Maybe he could try and flee this awkward situation and hide in the bathroom until it blew over? L's hand was twitching with his need to chew at his thumb.

 

"And who is your friend, Aiber?" Misa asked.

 

"L," he said mysteriously. "We often partner on cases."

 

"Oooh," Misa said with interest. "Can you tell me more?"

 

"An excellent idea," Raito said, a sharpness riding the enthusiasm in his voice. "And I would like to have a word with your partner, if I may. We've been looking to expand our private investigations team."

 

L saw a hand being extended to him through the cracks in his fingers. His stomach lurched. 

 

"We're all friends here," Aiber said, his arm growing heavier on L's shoulders. "Why don't you talk it out right here and I'll buy a round of drinks?" He was deliberately trying to derail Raito's attempt to get L alone.

 

"Aiber," Raito sighed as if explaining something for the umpteenth time, "our policies are strict about this sort of thing." To L, it was a voice that was growing obviously displeased. "I can't conduct an interview in mixed company."

 

L was torn between helping Raito and staying rooted at the table. Either one was not going to be a bucket of fun. But Raito's gaze upon him was growing palpably more severe by the second. It would be better for him if he didn't let this drag on. It would only make things much, much worse, that gaze promised him. 

 

"Aiber," L said. "I'll be right back. Policy is policy." He accepted Raito's hand and cringed as it telegraphed barely contained anger. He avoided Raito's eyes and flashed back to all the times even simple social situations could make him feel this cowed. Oh, if only he'd known then what he knew now. 

 

"I'm Yagami Raito," the brunette introduced himself, shaking his hand as if it were the first time they'd met.

 

"L," L said. 

 

"If you'll come with me..." Raito gave him the introductory speech as he was herded to the next room. Smooth. It was all smooth and flawless once more.

 

But they didn't stop in the next room which housed the larger bar. They continued down a small hallway, L being dragged at this point, and into a tiny room that housed several surveillance monitors and a startled looking kid who had to be barely 20. 

 

"Get out," Raito said shortly, shooting him a look that brooked no argument.

 

"Y-yes, sir," the boy stammered, not overly surprised to see Raito, but giving L a once-over.

 

"Now," Raito snapped, lighting a fire under his ass.

 

As soon as the door flapped shut behind him, Raito shoved L up against the wall, his hand fisting in the front of L's shirt. "What in the hell are you doing?"

 

L quailed under the lashing storm of his words, his arms lifting a little as if to defend himself. How had this gotten turned about? Wasn't he the one who should be angry with Raito instead of the other way around? He stammered, feeling off-balance and somewhat wronged, "Nothing, I--"

 

"Stop looking away from me!" The authoritative whipcrack of his voice made L jump. Raito grabbed his chin, staring into his face with blistering anger. L reflexively held his breath as he met the fire in his eyes - that gaze threatened to intensify and level him to the ground. 

 

A moment later, however, the mask of it cracked slightly with a fissure of surprise. "You're drunk."

 

L blinked, not expecting such a shift. Calmer words, and yet Raito's grip on him had not lessened in the slightest. His face was still being held captive and being scrutinized unrelentingly. "Well, Aiber, he--" L tried to explain the forced shot, to maintain coherence despite the discomfort of this sort of inquisition and the steadily gaining haze of the alcohol. It had been too much. He felt somewhat unsteady on his feet. Even before that, he'd had too much. Everything would have been fine if he could have kicked Aiber in the head like he'd wanted to...

 

"Lawliet." Raito's voice was steel. "Do you have any idea how malleable you are when you're drunk?" 

 

"What?" He asked stupidly in his surprise. Was Raito admitting to having plied him with alcohol intentionally all those times, then? Distracted by that thought, he uttered in faint confusion, "No, I..."  

 

"Idiot!" The brunette spat, raising L's hackles. "Why would you put yourself in this position? Or are you fine with him putting his hands on you?"

 

The bombardment was too much - uncalled for and disorienting as the effect of the alcohol was muddying his thoughts and surroundings, making him feel attacked and unable to properly defend himself. "Stop it!" L shot back as he curled into the stability of the wall. "I didn't do anything!" This was unfair. He hadn't solicited anything. He'd actively avoided the whole thing. These circumstances had been out of his control. And Raito was assuming he'd wanted to have Aiber do that to him? He'd felt somewhat violated by it.

 

"You didn't seem to be fighting his advances all that hard," Raito sneered intimately. "Perhaps I'm interrupting?"

 

L put his hands to his head, desperately wanting some sort of distance. God. I can't take this. "Why did you even come here?" L demanded in an anger-strained voice. The corrosive force of the brunette was destroying his composure. You accuse me of the very thing you're guilty of? You dare act jealous and imperious when what you're doing is a thousand times worse? "Was it to show off the girl on your arm? To make it obvious how stupid it is to take you at your word?" 

 

"I didn't expect to see you." Raito's expression was closing off, covering itself with a flat, arrogant look and obscuring the evidence. 

 

"So that makes it okay??" he asked incredulously.

 

"I meant on the street just now," Raito said coldly. "It looked like you were in over your head. Or maybe you like being tugged around like a little doll?"

 

"You're no different," L snapped, "dragging me and pushing me around like you own me!" 

 

Is this another instance where you feel free to do what you like, as if you are exempt and no one else is? 

 

Raito's expression darkened considerably. "So, we're the same, are we?" he said in a low voice, dripping with mocking sensuality. "Would you let him do what you've let me do to you?" He pushed close, speaking in L's ear. "He's had your mouth, what else would he be able to take so easily?"

 

L shuddered, eyes clenching shut against the acidic words. "I didn't want to come out here," he tried to explain in a paling voice, breaking at the other's closeness. "I didn't want to be around Aiber--"

 

"But you did and you are," Raito persisted.

 

The blatant disregard for L's unwitting part in this set L off again. "What do you care?!" Anger was rising swiftly to the fore once again, some of it reserved for himself for starting to wonder if Raito's harsh words might be borne of jealously or concern. It was obvious it was nothing more than an attempt to control his actions, while remaining unaccountable for his own. "Leave me alone and go have a nice time with your girlfriend!"

 

"She's not my girlfriend." There was an illusion of entreaty in the cold denouncement, and the dim light of understanding flickered elusively in Raito's gaze. The hands upon L eased.

 

"What good is it denying it now? You make me sick." He pushed out from around Raito. He didn't want to see those things now. It changed nothing and couldn't erase the words that had been exchanged. What good was understanding after you'd already flayed someone else open with your accusations and hypocrisy? What good was denying a relationship, but only behind closed doors?

 

"Where are you going?" the brunette asked sharply.

 

"Back to the table," L stated tonelessly, without turning back, tension making his posture rigid as he strode towards the door. It was too late for Raito to realize that his strong-arm approach had had the opposite effect than what he'd intended - that it was driving an even deeper wedge between them and was losing him his precious control. Far too late for him to recognize the damage he'd done and try a different tactic. Teetering between harsh and earnest words, Raito seemed unable to decide how to proceed. L wasn't going to gift him with the time to figure that out. This farcical 'interview' was over.

 

"Lawliet. Don't." Raito's tone shifted, became less scathing, but somehow commanded L's body to halt more expertly than L could convince it to move forward. 

 

L stared hard at the dull shine of the doorknob that was now mockingly within reach and clenched his hands as Raito's arms enfolded him from behind. "Please," Raito said softly, and the word tumbled within L like a stone disturbing a still pond, each ripple deconstructing his resolve as he lay within that heart-crushing embrace. "I couldn't bear to see him touch you..." Contrite lips brushed the curve of his ear, breaking him down. "I don't want to leave you with him."

 

It's no excuse. No excuse for the way you acted.  

 

"Then I don't want you to stay with Misa," he heard himself say tightly, offering an avenue of compromise almost against his own will.

 

Show me then, he thought, show me how much it means to you that I do what you want by doing what I ask.

 

Raito sighed, resting his head on L's shoulder, further caging him. "Lawliet, it isn't so simple. I've already agreed... I don't know how I would accomplish it without making a scene. As it is, I left in the middle of an interview..."

 

"Whatever you say, I'm not ok with you sleeping with her," L said stonily. "I don't care if it's for work."

 

Raito drew back. "You think I'm sleeping with her?"

 

"Are you?" L challenged.

 

"No," the brunette answered, a frown marring the sensual curve of his lips. "Where in the hell did you get that idea?"

 

"I'm not the only one who thinks it."

 

Raito shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous. It's nothing like that."

 

L latched on to the thread of reasoning with single-minded determination. "So there should be no problem with you calling it a night." Focusing was warding off the slight nausea in his stomach, and the brusque words could almost make him convince himself he wasn't starting to feel weakness slipping into his body like a phantom. 

 

He was not holding his liquor well, not at all. He even felt off-kilter at the way his thoughts were being expressed so directly - from his own mouth - pushing back against Raito's words with equal obstinance and fading care for retaliation. Amazing how not feeling well could change things such as this. Suddenly, Raito's disapproval over his bluntness was taking a backseat to L's desire to wring a non-evasive and satisfactory response. Maybe even a modicum of commitment. 

 

It's deceptively simple, isn't it? L thought. Her or me? That's what it all boils down to. Like you, I'll disregard circumstance, be generally difficult and unrelenting, and make it that simple.

 

Raito gave him an assessing look. "Do you have any idea what you are asking me to do?"

 

"It's your choice." 

 

"Lawliet..." he sighed and ran his hand through his perfect hair. "That isn't much of a choice."  

 

"I'll make it easy," L offered flatly. "I am... intolerably drunk right now and I probably cannot make it home under my own power. Whether I rely on Aiber to bring me back home, or call Watari to pick me up, I will most likely be stuck with him for a while. I think he's gone completely mental and I would rather avoid staying in his company." He paused, laying his dark eyes upon the brunette's face in an impassive gaze, willing his words to force the ghost of discomfort he saw there into a more corporeal display. "If seeing him push himself on me bothers you as much as your ranting implies, I would think the natural thing to do is to help me out." 

 

"You're manipulating me," Raito said grudgingly, seeming a little put out. "My hands are tied and yet you paint such a picture... How can I be sure he'd even take you home?"

 

Something about Raito's manner interred itself within his mind and gnawed at it until he ran his own words through his head again several times. The reality of it dawned on him sickly... 

 

Did I just imply that...

 

L put his hands to his head, slowly sinking down into the room's lone chair. If Aiber was anywhere as insistent as Raito had been, he might not make it out of the car unscathed. It was horrifying how blasé he'd been as he said all of that. If he forces himself on me, it will be your fault... And he had felt momentarily vindicated at the thought - of causing anything like the mixture of possessiveness and regret lurking in the brunette's drawn expression - to be able to extract that even more solidly from him, even at the expense of his body and well-being... 

 

"My mouth was moving," L said faintly, "but only now am I hearing how that sounded." Any sort of future triumph in eliciting a personal reaction was smeared away by the reality of Aiber's forced kiss still fresh in L's mind and the lingering feeling of the blonde man's arm draped over his shoulders in ownership. He could only imagine the harsh reality of being dragged into the man's bed against his will, let alone allowing it to happen for such a twisted purpose - thinking the entire time of how it might be used to upset Raito. It was such a vile and repulsive notion. What was wrong with him? "I think I'm going to be ill."

 

How much of that was due to the alcohol and how much was self disgust, he wasn't at liberty to analyze.

 

"Oh hell," Raito muttered. He pulled out his cellphone and punched a few keys. L could hear the dial tone, ringing and the click as someone picked up. "Misa? Listen, I need to care of something for the office." Raito moved away from him as he spoke. "It's really important and absolutely cannot wait." There was a lengthy pause. "No, I'm sorry, I'm heading back already." 

 

A disappointed wail carried over the line, followed by what sounded like 'Rai~toooo!' 

 

"Why don't you drop by to see Ito?" the brunette asked. "It's a shame to waste the rest of the night on my account when you look so lovely."

 

The wailing was beaten back, and as Raito's pacing bore him closer once more, words could be distinguished that bore an upwards lilt.

 

"Yes, really," Raito confirmed, in a convincing tone that held a smile. 

 

Shortly thereafter he snapped his phone shut and said dourly, "She'll be properly pissed off later when there aren't any witnesses." L felt Raito's gaze settle over him. "Well, I suppose Aiber's good for something then, isn't he?"

 

---

 

Raito looked down at Lawliet who was clutching his head in his hands miserably. He really did look ill. Raito reached out to place a hand upon his head, but the compulsion to do so was foreign and he took it back at the last moment. "You don't look so good," he said quietly, dropping to a crouch. "How much have you had to drink?"

 

"Three on my own," the dark-haired man said cryptically. "What is 151º?"   

 

"It's an over-proof rum."

 

"Ah. It was awful."

 

What did he mean by 'three on my own'? "We should go," Raito said, "while Aiber and Misa are still at the table."

 

"Shouldn't we wait until they leave?" Lawliet sounded peaky. "They're right at the front..."

 

"We'll go out the back. Come on." He slipped a hand under Lawliet's arm and pulled him gently to his feet.

 

"I think I'm going to be sick," the detective said faintly, his body sagging against Raito's.

 

"No, you're not," Raito said soothingly. "You'll be fine." He was surprised that he wasn't recoiling at the possibility of having Lawliet get sick in his care. It would be unpleasant, of course, but he didn't want to leave the other man stranded in his misery. Raito also wasn't adverse to the way Lawliet was leaning against him for support, tucking his dark head into his shoulder as if to hide from the nausea. He was surprised then, with how easily his own arm slid around the other man's slender frame in a gesture of comfort. "We'll go outside," Raito said against soft, dark hair. "The fresh air will make you feel better. I'll call a car."

 

Lawliet nodded infinitesimally.

 

Raito glanced at the monitors again. Aiber was getting up, and he wasn't looking towards the front door.

 

"Come on, Lawliet," Raito encouraged softly, getting his charge in motion and leading Lawliet into the hall. The boy who typically watched the monitors was nowhere in sight. That was for the better. He didn't want to be held up or deal with Aiber at the moment. He just wanted to drag Lawliet's limp body outside and get him somewhere that he could lay down and be forced to drink some water to offset the dehydration.

 

____________________________________________________________< /font>

TBC

 

A/N: A real author's note this time!

 

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"I think it makes you look mysterious," she said worshipfully. "Your name suits you. I can't imagine you as a Naoto* or Kenta or something like that."

 

"Neither can I."

 

*Misa says she can't see Raito as a Naoto. It's an unintentional (on her part) play on words as the name Naoto means honest+person. Raito confirms her unwitting statement.

 

--------

 

Also, I'll do my best to get updates pushed out. It is difficult because of time constraints, but I really miss writing, and not being able to post new installments is very frustrating. Like having a bird pecking at your head. Anyway, until next time! :)