The first time Mello shows up at the door, it's only been two days since he left, supposedly for good, or at least until the end of the case. Near should be surprised, perhaps, but he's not, and he lets him in without comment.
Mello's drunk, of course, or he wouldn't be there. Angry, but that went without saying. Near watched him in silence, only listening to him rant with a small portion of his attention, wondering what had led him to do something so stupid and self-destructive. Drunk, he was vulnerable. He might spill important information, reveal himself to Kira... or do something reckless like this. Near only has to say the word and the agent on duty tonight will come into this room and shoot him.
They're alone, but not unwatched. Never unwatched, not here. The headquarters is a veritable Panopticon, every part under unceasing surveillance. Near learned his lessons well. He doesn't know if Mello realizes they are watched or not. Normally he knows he would, but not like this: weaving slightly as he paces, a faint slur underneath the ranting Near has entirely ceased to listen to.
Sudden silence, and he realizes too late that Mello has noticed his inattention. Quick footsteps, approaching, then Mello has seized his chin, forcing Near to look at him. Toys drop unnoticed to the floor, but he doesn't signal for intervention. He can still handle this.
"What is it, Near? Am I of so little importance that you don't even have to listen to what I'm saying?" Mello sneers, breath hot and alcohol-sodden, and Near wrinkles his nose at the odor unconsciously.
He didn't expect Mello to notice, but then he didn't expect him to notice that he wasn't listening either. Even if he had, he certainly didn't expect what happened next. "Think I'm disgusting, Near? Too fucking close for your comfort?" Before he could answer, if he intended to, Mello's lips crashed down on his with the sudden force of a hurricane.
It was a kiss, technically: a meeting of mouths matched the definition. But it felt like nothing Near had ever expected from that description. It was an assault, almost brutal, Mello's lips and tongue demanding, his hands gripping his shoulders with bruising force, and he could do nothing but surrender.
When Mello released him, he fell. Near hadn't even realized he'd been pressed against his rival like that, so much so that he couldn't balance without leaning against him. He wasn't surprised at the disgust in Mello's expression or the way he wiped his mouth vigorously with the back of one gloved hand. Sprawled helpless on the floor like this, mouth swollen, Near deserved contempt. For the first time in his life, he'd lost his own precious control.
Apparently ignorant or merely unappreciative of his momentary victory, Mello left without looking back. Near watched him go, mouth filled with the unfamiliar tastes of alcohol and chocolate and wondered how long it would be before he came again.