A/N- As per usual, this is my holiday-themed story a day late! (It's kinda scary how this is becoming a tradition.) I sincerely hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas! I got footie pajamas this year - and, lemme tell ya, I rock them :P


"Okay, Near. Don't move. Don't move or we'll both fall," Mello looked down at Near, then focused on the task at hand—decorating the Christmas tree. He had his arms above his head, hands full of colorful lights. Standing on his Near's back, he reached the highest branches of the Christmas tree to place the lights there.

"You don't have to repeat yourself. I heard you the first time," Near replied, keeping his arms from shaking under Mello's weight by locking his elbows. He'd been forced into this uncomfortable position when Mello, having been unable to locate a step ladder, tripped up as he passed by, and, climbing on the poor albino's back, used him as the boost he'd needed to string the lights at the top of the tree.

"Just making sure." Mello said, shifting his foot to rest lower on the small of the white-haired boy's back to further support his stance. "'Cause if we fall, I just might strangle you with these Christmas lights." Mello blew his bangs out of his eyes. "I just want you to be aware of that."

Near stared ahead unamused. "Are you aware that, as I am the primary support holding you up, I could involuntarily shift, causing you to fall and break your neck?"

"And if that were to happen," Mello began, pausing to carefully space out where he let the strands of lights fall on the branches, "I'd find some way to take you down with me," he finished his thought with a smirk.


Maybe it was a bad idea. Maybe it was so insane it was brilliant. Maybe it could result horribly. Maybe the result would be less stress and headaches.

No. Nothing could cure a migraine when you've got an orphanage full of geniuses to keep from killing each other. Not when you've got to live with an overbearing rageaholic who can't get over perpetually being second best. (The combination of a neurotic perfectionist and sore loser is fatal by any means, I tell you!)

So whose idea was it to leave decorating the tree to possibly the two most destructive children on the face of the planet?

It was L's, of course. Maybe he had finally lost it.

Mello and Matt couldn't be trusted. Not with responsibility. Not with sharp objects. Not with vegetation. Not with anything remotely flammable. Never.

And, presently, the news had spread to Rodger that Near had gotten involved in the task.

Maybe the orphanage would go up in flames. Maybe it would actually become a peaceful place because maybe Mello, Matt, and Near coexisting in harmony—a feat even gods, Rodger figured, couldn't surmount—would deflate the chaotic atmosphere they created when in conflict. (And by 'they,' solely Mello is being referenced.)

Dear Lord…Mello, Matt, and Near decorating the Christmas tree…what had he agreed to?

Massaging his temples and squeezing his eyes shut, Rodger reached for his medication.

Maybe Rodger needed more medication. Or less.


"Where did Matt go?" Mello suddenly asked Near while he unraveled some of the garland of lights he'd loosely dangled around his neck so he could proceed to strangle the tree with them. "Did he ever go to get everyone else's presents to put under the tree like I asked?"

"No," Near ignored as Mello audibly gritted his teeth, "To keep the merriment going, he went bake cookies to serve as you decorated."

"Something about that makes me nervous. I don't think leaving him alone with anything slightly flammable is a good idea. He's probably not even watching the time 'cause he's got his eyes glued to his DS."

Near nodded in silent agreement. His shoulders were beginning to ache and his spine was sore from arching under the pressure it was suspending. "How much longer are you going to take?" He asked, unable to judge for himself because turning around would shift too much of his body—Near didn't risk the aftermath that would occupancy causing Mello to fall.

"Oh, I've been done. I just wanted to stand on your back as long as possible. I'm shootin' for a minor back injury as a result of this."

Near didn't respond. For as brilliant as he was, he sometimes couldn't grasp sarcasm, the freak.

"That was a joke," Mello explained crossly. "I used sarcasm with the intention of being funny…ha-ha?"

Nope. Nothing.

If it'd been summer, a cricket would've chirped to break the silence. An icicle falling to the ground and shattering into a million pieces could've broke the silence. (There. That's appropriate.)

Mello rolled his eyes. "Hold out a little longer, sheepy. I'm almost done with the top, then I'll hop off for a sec to get the angel. It'll only be a little bit more after that."

Looking forward to the break he'd get shortly, Near continued the task he'd taken up to entertain himself—modeling the number of dots on the wall with the inverse of a logarithmic function. Since his eyes were focused on the wall, the window occupied some of his line of sight. With the floor-length curtains swept open a crack, he could see a small expanse of scenery outside. "It's snowing." He observed flatly.

"What?" Mello asked, not hearing him.

"It's snowing." Near repeated, tone unwavering.

"Shit, really?" Jumping off the white-haired boy's back, Mello padded to the window. Swiping back the curtain further, he peered through the glass, nodding his head approvingly. True enough, tiny white flakes were softly flittering down from the grey-black sky, stuck to every tree branch and blade of grass. Even the mud-snowman the younger orphans had made was lightly blanketed in snow. "Nice. It's going to be a White Christmas."

Near curled into a sitting position, loosely playing with the ribbon on a wrapped present nearby. "Yes, a White Christmas—the last occurred in 1987. The other children will be excited, if they haven't found out already. That's highly unlikely, though, since I haven't heard a chorus of shrill—"

Whoa, whoa.

Hold up.

Was Near seriously trying to engage in small talk with him?

Mello cringed at the thought, scrunching up his features in disgust. "Near." He said very seriously. "Don't tell me you're actually trying to small talk with me."

"Well, I thought of attempting once in my lifetime." He curled a lock of hair around his finger. "How would you say I'm doing?"

"Bad. Just bad. It's freaking me out. Don't do it."

"You were an inadequate subject to try small talking on." Near made the comment to himself.

Mello narrowed his eyes, catching the reflection of Near in the window, and watched as he toyed with a bow atop a square-shaped present with spidery fingers. He seemed to be contemplating whether it'd be right to retie it or leave it as is.

Something occurred to Mello, and as much as he wanted to deny it and reject it, he realized that Near had to be lonely. Had anyone even gotten him a present? Ever? Freaky albino had no friends…preferred to spend all his time locked up in the musty cave of a room he liked to play in.

And, impulsively, Mello decided to do something about it. Closing his fist around the chocolate bar in his pocket, he took it out. Falling back into a couch cushion, he lounged for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. Near didn't look up at all, just kept his gaze intently on the bow clasped in his hands. Mello snapped a piece of chocolate with his teeth, and chewed slowly, savoring the sweet flavor as it slide down his throat. Then, at the other end of the bar, he cracked a piece off and tossed it onto the floor just a few inches away from Near. "We're taking a break. Eat up. Or would you prefer some wheat-grass juice 'cause that's the next best thing we've got that tastes like a fresh meadow, sheepy?"

Near gazed at the small chocolate square meticulously, trying to judge what kind of gesture this was.

"What? What's wrong with it?" Mello muttered through a mouthful of chocolate.

Near shrugged impassively. "I don't eat chocolate."

"Why not?" Mello demanded, irritated that he'd volunteered a perfectly delicious piece of chocolate to try to be nice to Near, just to have land on the floor, uneaten.

"Eating it enables one to potentially suffer cardiac arrest, which I hope to avoid because I will be needed for as long as possible to solve crimes as L's successor." Near looked up at Mello, holding his cerulean gaze evenly with a slate one of his own. "And at the rate you eat chocolate, Mello, I've determined you'll die at the age of 23."

Mello's eye twitched. He vowed never to be sympathetic again.


Yeah, take that you stupid servant to the overload of Middle-earth! You need that huge spiky prism-thing to kill me 'cause the rest of your attacks suck! Haha, dodged you. AGAIN! I'm about to PWN your semi-transparent ass and I'm playing as a girl!

Matt, sitting on the counter in the kitchen, hunched over his DS screen, punching buttons rapidly. Surrounding him were stacks of cookbooks, bowls dirty from remnants of dough, and packages of the various ingredients he'd used to make several hundred cookies. Russian teas cakes, chocolate chip, date-nut drops, sugar, potato chip, eggnog-flavored, peanut butter, coconut-cranberry bars—oh yeah, he'd gone all out. He was sitting back, soaking up the satisfaction of successful cookie baking. And damn, the kitchen smelled great. What could be better than this?

He was so close to making the Witch-King his bitch (or Eowyn's, really) that he wasn't paying attention when several timers sounded simultaneously.


Mello trudged over the nearest table, sifting through miscellaneous crap associated with holidays. "Nutcraker, no…creepy collection Snow Babies that weirdly remind me of winter-themed Teletubbies…snowman mugs, a demonic Santa Claus doll, hot chocolate mix four years expired, a wooden baby Jesus without a manger, a half-chewed Advent calendar…aha! The angel for the top of the tree…oh wait, she's got an ice skate blade lodge in her little wooden skull, aw damn..."

"Don't we have a star for the top of the tree?"

"You mean the star that I punted into the forest on a sugar high last year, and couldn't get back because an insane homeless man thought it fell from the sky, and for that reason, ran around in circles, slurring passages from that week's ASDA coupon paper, which he claimed to be the Bible?"

Near started at Mello, wordlessly and expressionlessly. Then, he asked, "…Is the event you're describing the same one where you displayed the same behaviors of slight intoxication after drinking an excessive amount of hot chocolate?"

"If you're saying I was tipsy, then yeah, I kinda did get drunk of hot chocolate last year...oh, what a little extra foam and hot fudge can do to you...it's dangerous, Near. Fatal. You should try it."

"Another reason to avoid chocolate at all costs."

Mello narrowed his eyes. "Shut up, Near."


Why didn't the kitchen smell delicious anymore?

Why was this game too easy, even on the hardest setting?

Why do cookies take so long to bake?

Why do people actually pair Legolas and Gimli together?

Why does something smell like its burning?

Why couldn't Matt get to the oven fast enough to save his batch of potato chip cookies?

Why was Matt so stupid sometimes?


"Aha!" Mello exclaimed, finally dislodging the ice skate blade from the angel's head. "Take that, bitch! I'M BEAST."

Near wordlessly got back into his position as a table for Mello to stand on. He didn't want to point out that the angel hardly resembled a female dog, so he kept his mouth shut. Or by Mello's use of a colorful metaphor, was he referring to the ice skate? This puzzled Near, and he put off finishing his dots-in-the-wallpaper-counting equation, and tried to decipher the meaning of other colorful metaphors in different contexts.

When he was situated, Mello climbed onto Near's back and rose to full height, enjoying the view of the room from a different angle. It was cool to look down at the world, pretend for a moment that you're above it. Especially Near. Mello extended his arm as far as it would go to get the angel suited on the highest branch, which he did successfully. Taking extension cord for the lights and fitting the plug for the angel in, Mello jumped off Near, ready to behold his tree in all its brilliant radiance.

"Are you ready for this, Near?"

"In what ways do I need to be ready?"

"Stop talking. Just watch, okay?"

Mello inserted the plug and tree to shot into a bright, full shine…expect the most important part of it. "Oh, damn." He said, frowning at the tree disappointedly. "The angel won't light up. The candles she's holding don't work anymore. Fuck, I'm gonna get blamed for this. Yo snowball, got any bright ideas?"


Matt drew his head from peaking inside the stove, shutting it as returned to full height. Man, those cookies look horrible, he thought. He had recovered from nearly burning the kitchen—the casualties resulting only to a few trays—and had tried to start again with a new batch of potato chip cookies. He scratched his head as he went revisit the recipe. What did I do wrong?

Puzzling over it a while, he decided to just call for help. When things got out of hand or dangerous, of course he'd drag his best friend into it. Making a cone around his mouth with his hands, he shouted, "MELLO!"

"Hold on, Matt!" Mello called back. "I'll be there in a sec—I just gotta finish shoving lights up the angel's ass!"

That seemed perfectly plausible, so Matt shouted, "OKAY! SEE YOU IN A MINUTE!"

"Wait, what?" Matt heard Mello exclaim suddenly, voice muffled by the wall that separated them. "Near, what did you just say?" Then he shrieked, "I shove what up whose ass?"


"You are so creepy." Mello glared at Near, trying to hide that fact that he'd blushed at his last comment.

"So my assumption was correct? You have yet to deny—"

"Near, whatever I say, you'll take the wrong way. And besides, what do I need to prove to you? That's right, nothing."

"I am right, though—you and Matt are dating."

Mello blanched. "Okay, maybe we should just stop talking about this." Avoiding the conversation before it started, he pushed a large cardboard box in front of Near. "This has more lights. I want you to untangle them and put them on the tree. Go on, we're almost done with the lights."

"Mello, I noticed you hadn't tested any of the lights out. Are you sure they work?"

"Why wouldn't they? They've been in the attic all year and we haven't used them for anything since."

Near just stared at him.

"Okay, fine! I'll test some out. God, you don't have to be so pushy! You go help Matt with the cookies, and I'll stay here to see if all the lights work!"


"So why couldn't Mello come?" Matt asked, tying the string to Near's apron.

"There appears to be some technical difficulties with the lights."

"And he sent you to here to help with the baking?"

"That is correct."

"Okayyy," Matt walked Near over to oven, and jabbed a finger at it just as smoke billowed out. "Do you want explain to me why I'm burning every batch of cookies I put into the oven?"

Near didn't even look in the direction Matt was pointing, for took to surveying the trays of cookies he had lined up on the counter. "Simple." Near tilted his head at Matt's misshapen cookies. "You can't make cookies different sizes or they burn like that."

Matt put his hands on his hips, appearing more feminine then usual with that stance and the frilly pink apron he put on. "You mean to tell me—" The redhead didn't finish his sentence, for both he and Near were encased in shadows, the lights suddenly being cut off, making the room go black.

They sparely let out a breath before Mello shouted, "GODDAMMIT! DON'T TELL ME I BLEW A FUCKING FUSE!"

"Mello, you blew a—" Near stopped short when Matt threw a hand over his mouth.

"Shh." Matt whispered. "Just don't."

Near mumbled something incoherent into Matt's hand.

Matt took his hand away. "What?"

"I said, 'We don't have to worry about the cookies being baked anymore since the oven won't work now.'"

"Yeah, I'm going to take care of that." Matt declared, putting his arms out in front of him so he wouldn't run into anything in the dark. Of course, he took two steps, and clutched his head, cursing. "Ow, fuck! Damn wall came out of nowhere…"


All the lights had turned on by the time Matt found Mello, twenty minutes later, and perfectly illuminated was the fact that the blonde was tangled from head to toe in about thirty strands of lights. Matt arched an eyebrow.

"I can explain." Mello offered.

The redhead shook his head. "No need."

"It's all Near's fault—"

"Should I get the hedge clippers or something?"

Mello made a face. "And waste all these lights? That spells detention, or worse—having to spend more time with Near."

"Well," Matt said, yanking at the wires around the blonde's shoulders. "I left him in the kitchen, so you don't have to worry about seeing his pasty, disgusting face for a while."

"Actually, he hasn't been bothering me much today. Can you believe it?"

"Seriously?" Matt was now pulling a wire with both hands, his foot digging into Mello's leg in an attempt to have more leverage.

"Seriously."

Matt grunted when the wire wouldn't unravel. "Wow—talk about getting in the holiday spirit, Mels. You're on the road to Heaven. Who would've thunk it, huh?"

"Ugh, it's not like we've made peace. There's nothing I'd like to see more than him a pathetically miserable failure, but, I'm just saying, I've been with him a while, and I haven't killed him yet, you know?"

Another yank. "Sure."

"Ow! God, that hurts! Could you not pull so hard?" Mello snapped.

Matt frowned. "Yeah, I'm getting the pliers or something…"

"Wait, don't go! You dumbass, it's not going to work!" Mello moved impatiently, trying to move after Matt, but stopping at the constriction of the wires.

Determinedly, Matt took a step forward, but promptly got his foot caught in the loop of a wire. "Oh, shit!" Knocking Mello over in his fall, both became tangled up together in the strands of Christmas wires, and landed nose to nose. Underneath Mello, Matt, blushing embarrassedly, grinned awkwardly back at the blonde, who glared at him. "Uhh…I-I can't move my arms." The redhead said pathetically.

"Nice one, genius."

Matt's eyes went wide defensively. "It's not my fault you tangled yourself in Christmas lights in the first place! I was just trying to help."

Cobalt eyes rolled.

Matt cringed when he felt Mello's breath on his face. He gulped. "Could you not do that?"

"What?"

"Breathe on my face. We're close enough already, and it's weird, and that isn't making it any better. So don't do it."

Mello frowned, irritated. "Um, you're going to have to deal with it until we get out of this mess. I can't not breathe. Unless you want to try to roll me off of you, I can't do anything. Deal with it."

"Hey, hey." Matt chided, suddenly calm. "Don't freak out, I got it. We can just get Near to help. NE—"

In that moment, the door to the kitchen burst open. It was swung with such great force that it hit the adjoining wall, causing the glass frame of a painting to crack.

"KYA! TIME TO USE MY SUPER NINJA POWERS!"

Near ran out into the parlor, his pajama shirt tired around his head like a bandana. He had a dirty spatula grasped in one hand, and a rubber chicken in the other. Traces of cookie dough, flour, and streaks of eggnog were smeared across his bare chest, face, and clumped in his tousled white hair.

With wide slate eyes, Near rambled mindlessly, skipping around the room. "The great chicken overload made me cookies but we can't lick them until feathers protect him from demon lawn mowers!" To emphasize his point, he squeezed the rubber chicken. One of its beaty black eyes grew disturbingly larger as it squeaked.

Leaping onto a table, ignoring as its contents crashed to the floor, Near hummed to a random tune frantically, and banged his spatula against the wall. "Remember to protect the feathers from the demon lawn mowers!" He chanted as the spatula took up the tune he'd stopped humming.

Mello and Matt didn't, couldn't, wouldn't utter a word.

Unhappy with this, Near scrunched his face, like a child refusing to take their medicine as the spoon was poised against their lips. Then, throwing the rubber chicken on the ground, and stomping on it with both feet, Near screeched, "How dare you defy the king!"

As if hearing something in the totally silent room, Near whipped his head around, his expression one of pure elation. "Do you hear the lambs? They sing so beautifully! They will hide from me when I reach them at their office." Near closed the distance to the door, arms spread out wide like he were an airplane. "WEE! It's time for take off! In tomorrow's July I'm going to straight to the moon, daddy! Heehee—you'll be so proud of meeee!" He pranced away, his apron, unfastened from his waist, trailing after him like a cape.

For the longest time, neither Matt nor Mello could muster a coherent thought, much less form a sentence.

Visibly in shock, Matt just shook his head back and forth speechlessly.

Then, voice shaking, Mello spoke, "Matt…did you happen to leave spiked eggnog on the counter?"

The confirmation of Mello's assumption was plastered on Matt's face. "Oh God…"


Several hours later, kind of unsure how the hell anything presently or previously had happened, Mello, Matt, Near sat together of the front steps of the orphanage, the snow falling softly around them.

Mello, unable to make eye contact with the other two boys, cleared his throat, speaking up in the awkward silence. "There's nothing really to say, is there?"

"No." Near responded monotonously, eyes dully staring ahead, finally back to his typical indifferent, detached demeanor. And for that, Matt and Mello were infinitely glad.

"Well, I'm never going to forget this Christmas, guys." Matt said, his side of his mouth tugging up a little ruefully.

Mello nodded in agreement.

Matt turned to left, having to get this off his chest. "Just so you know, Near, I'm never going to look at you the same again." He declared, and Mello joined in his nervous laughter.

Near didn't respond.

But Matt didn't want to leave their relationship off like that. He had to make sure everything was okay between the three of them. "Okay, seriously, though. Let's pretend none of this happened. It's done and over and we should forget about it." He looked up, between the other two boys on either side of him. "Agreed?"

"Agreed." Mello and Near said together.

Matt extended a gloved hand to Mello. "Shake on it?"

The blonde nodded and grasped his hand, giving it a firm shake.

Matt turned to Near. A bit hesitantly, he put his hand out for the white-haired boy. "Yeah?"

Curling a lock of hair around his finger, Near stared at Matt's hand.

"Come on, it'll be okay." Matt gave him an encouraging little grin.

Near nodded and curtly stuck out his hand, quickly closing it around Matt's, then sharply withdrew it, not actually shaking Matt's hand, but wordlessly agreeing to the gesture.

A slight tension built when Near's eyes raise to meet Mello's. The blonde teen had his arms tucked around his waist, refusing to submit his hand to this truce. Near equally kept his arm down, hand resting on his knee.

Emerald eyes guarded by orange goggles rolled. "Come on, guys."

Near swallowed and reached over to put his hand before Mello, who grinned. Instead of shaking the hand Near offered, Mello threw a handful of snow in Near's face. Grinning teasingly, Mello ran back in the house laughing all the way to the door, which he quickly shut behind him, keeping Matt and Near in the cold.

Looking down at Near, Matt said, "He's definitely warming up to you."


Minutes later, all three boys stood before the fully decorated Christmas tree, admiring the tall spruce in all its glory.

Mello, bent behind it, held up each end of the plug that would ignite it with bright color. "Ready for the grand light display, guys?"

"Hell ya, Mels." Matt clapped his hands together. "Light this bitch, I'm ready!"

"3…2…1…VOILA!" Mello exclaimed as his features were drenched in a blinding white light.

Near sheltered his eyes with his arm. "Was it necessary to cover every inch of the tree with lights?"

"Yeah, I can smell my eyes burning, Mels." Matt added.

"Good." Mello smiled, coming out from behind the tree. "Then I did my job right."

Matt smirked. "I can't get over how evil you are sometimes."

"Oh, hold on, forgot something." Mello left the room, and returned with his arms full of blankets and pillows.

Near raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Pointing, Matt asked, "What are those for?"

"What?" Mello's tone suggested Matt had just asked the stupidest question in history. "You want to stay up for Santa, don't you?" He looked down at Near. "You're not getting out of this." He thrust a blanket into the arms of the younger boy. "Now help me make a fort."


Monitoring the parlor from the vantage points of several hidden cameras, L leaned back in his chair, fist closing around a cup of tea. Bringing it close to his lips, he smiled before sipping the hot liquid.

On the screen before him was the clear image of his three top successors huddled up together by the Christmas tree on Christmas morning. Near, curled into a ball with his back nestled into Mello's side, shifted a little to tug at the corner of the blanket they were all sharing. Mello, lying on his back between the two other boys, yawned and flipped to lay on his stomach, distributing Matt, who had attached himself to Mello's other side, clasping his arm tightly and resting his head on the shoulder of his best friend. Matt, grumbling sleepily, rolled to his side and cocooned himself in more blankets, robbing more from Near.

L was proud of his work. After all, there was a reason he was the most brilliant man in the world.