Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.
A/N: Let's see if Dlvvanzor can still write het.
Mary "Wedy" Kenwood was not amused.
She sighed, pushing her sunglasses up further on her nose. Normally she wouldn't be this sweaty over something so trivial. She was a thief, after all; "staying chill" was kind of in the job description. But tell that to her sweat glands.
Her heeled, leather boots tapped more slowly along the cement of the sidewalk as she tried to control her pace. It wouldn't do to show up early and look as anxious as she felt. Largely because she wasn't supposed to feel anxiety. Not ever, but especially not now. There was no reason that she was technically supposed to be anxious, and if it showed she was pretty much screwed.
And if it was on her face, it would show.
At least to a professional like him.
Sighing aloud (again) in frustration, Mary turned the corner. She hated Japan, but she didn't hate L, and therein was the problem. Regardless of anything else she might say on the matter, she had a soft spot for L and that was why she was here.
It truly was the main reason, and she liked to pretend that it was the only reason. That it had absolutely nothing to do with...
Damn.
She had never been very good with self-control.
The building was way too big to miss, and luckily it was enough to distract her for a moment as her mind raced with possibilities, analyzing. She wasn't worried about getting in. In fact, she wouldn't even bother knocking; it would probably be a much more dramatic entrance if she just broke in. L probably knew she would do it, and she was, of course, loathe to disappoint the world's three greatest detectives.
Besides the fact that it was potentially fatal, it would also just be tacky.
There was someone already in front of the building. A lot of people, actually, and Mary's heart stopped for a second. After the brief moment of certainty that Kira had gotten her passed, she figured out the real reason.
Then she mentally bitchslapped herself a few times.
Because, really. What was she, fourteen? No, she was a grown woman and she damn well expected her internal organs to begin behaving accordingly or they were going to have to have a serious talk.
But damn. Until swooning like a teenager, Mary had been so sure that she was over this man... and yet she had been able to pick him out of a crowd, instantly.
He noticed her as she approached the building, and the cocky smile that she simultaneously worshipped and despised came across his lips.
Yeah. No. She wasn't over this asshole at all.
"What can I call you?" he asked when she got close.
"Wedy, for now. And you?"
"I've been going by Aiber."
Where he came up with these names, Mary would never know.
She'd also never know his real name, and that broke her heart a little bit. Hell, she might already know it now and never know that she knew it...
"What a name."
"Rolls off the tongue."
They stared at each other for a moment, and Mary hated herself for it. She knew that, even with her sunglasses, he could read her like a book. Conmen had to be masters of psychology, after all, practically mind-readers, and "Aiber" was one of the best in the world.
"So," he said with a big, fake grin. So obviously put-on, but it worked nonetheless, just like he intended. Mary always had liked fake things. "You gonna get us into this building?"
She rolled her eyes. "Of course I'm getting myself in there. I wasn't aware that I'd have a passenger. You don't have a security-breaking reputation to keep- take the easy way in."
"You don't want to catch up? Been a while."
The grin faltered. Just barely, though, and only because she was watching him so hard. Which he knew, which is why he made the grin falter a little.
She knew every expression that face was capable of, except sincerity. But Mary was willing to bet that even his wife had never seen that one. Maybe he hadn't even seen it himself.
But damn could he fake it. And that was why it almost physically hurt her to see that smile dip down a little more when she answered, sighing, "Not really, Aiber."
He followed her to the security panel that she immediately began to disable. It was the best that money could buy, but so was she.
She pretended to focus. She didn't need to, and unfortunately it let her mind wander to other areas... such as the man standing so damn close to her that she could just reach out and touch him. It could be just like before. Like that one perfect week in-
"Are you thinking about Tulsa?"
She clenched her fist. Bastard. He couldn't just keep it professional. And he had to stand so, so close to her. Of course he had to, it was what he did. To her and dozens of other girls, hundreds, sometimes for work and sometimes for fun until he met his wife who didn't even know he was a conman. Regardless, he couldn't turn it off, so she would just have to deal with his scent as it brought images cascading back, his breath, the heat of his body.
Too much.
"That was one week, six years ago," she said matter-of-factly. "Don't flatter yourself."
She winced. Because-
"You know how many years right off the top of your head. You are thinking about it." He shook his head and took a little, calculated step back just as she managed to get through the first of a long series of locks, cameras, and alarms. It was going to take a really long time, and she wasn't sure how much Aiber she could handle. Not again.
The second lock came away much faster, and Aiber nodded approvingly. "Well done."
"You have no idea what I'm even doing."
"Not true. You taught me a few things. Don't you remember?"
She remembered every single moment of that week. She also remembered that she had, in fact, taught him a lot the first time they had met, and a little bit more the second time. Anyway, Tulsa had been the craziest job of her life- big enough to involve a thief and a conman- and she remembered the endless hours with him.
So, yes. "Now that you mention it, I do remember," she said casually.
"Why are you playing coy?" he accused her.
"Dunno. Why'd you marry a skank?" she snapped back.
...
Well, she hadn't exactly meant to bring that up. But Aiber didn't seem surprised. Maybe he'd wanted to talk about it for as long as she had.
Unlikely.
Lazily, he leaned his tall frame against a wall, letting his head rest on the cement as he folded his arms.
"I can't explain that to you."
"You met her on the plane back from Tulsa, and you married her two weeks later."
"I know."
"Doesn't that seem a little fucked up to you?" she demanded, undoing with a flourish another set of locks and a few cameras.
"Our definitions of right and wrong are a little different than most people's, Wedy."
"I'm using my skills to make money. Just like everyone else."
He held up both hands. "You know I'm on your side."
She worked in silence for a while longer.
"Do you love her?"
He shrugged. "Not really."
"Why didn't you pick me?" she finally asked quietly.
"Because you're too good."
She snorted. "I'm not good."
"No. You're too good at what you do. At being what you are."
"What?"
"I need someone who'll never, ever be able to read me. Someone oblivious. And that just isn't you."
Mary stared at the next lock for a moment.
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
"No, is that seriously what you give me after all this time?"
"What, did you want an invitation to the wedding? Even my wife would probably figure that one out."
"Maybe, I don't know, a phone call? So that I didn't have to find out two years later, from someone else?"
"I didn't promise you anything."
Actually, that was a lie, and they both knew it. He had promised her the world, but even then they had known he hadn't meant it. He couldn't not lie.
For whatever fucked-up reason, it made her heart pound every time he did it, at the same time as it made her want to stab him in the perfect-plastic face.
"Wedy... Mary... it would have been you, you know."
All of a sudden he was holding her shoulders and spinning her around, looking her in the eyes. He wore the same cologne. He still did his hair the same way. The expression was the same. Such a lovely lie.
She nodded stiffly. "Understood. Can we do this now, please?"
He let go and his expression changed again, and suddenly he was cocky, teasing, and "just a touch of insecure." It was one of his old faithful, and Mary loved it.
"'Course," he said cheerfully. "Beam me up, Scotty."
"Why am I Scotty?" She rolled her eyes and, with a few more taps, they were as free to step into the Kira Investigation Headquarters as if it were a public park.
Mary was good at holding back tears. Any woman accustomed to mascara had to be. But at the same time, she was glad that L was a freak of nature because he might be able to distract her enough to focus on the mission.
However, as she and Aiber snuck in, taking a seat on the couch to wait for L to notice them, and as Aiber sat so close that his warmth and that damn scent washed over her, she knew that it was unlikely.
Even someone like L would never be able to take Mary's eyes off of Aiber.