The Five Reasons Matt Suspected,
And the One Way Mello Confirmed
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Temperature
They had been stuck inside for days, it seemed; the blizzard that had been raging outside wouldn't allow for any other options.
Although many said that an orphanage that large with only thirty-four children inside was, really, quite small and manageable, the truth was often the opposite. Thirty-four child geniuses, half of which were entering or well-within the stages of puberty, all with considerable skill in the fighting and deception categories, cooped inside the same building with no outlet for their pent-up feelings always equaled chaos.
Bored to tears, even Matt had to agree when some of the more gossipy girls invited him to join them in a game of Truth or Dare.
Even as he entered the annoyingly flowery bedroom, his eyes were instantly drawn to Mello and, shockingly, Near, who sat cross-legged on the floor amidst about eight other girls and at least one other guy.
The game started out simply enough; the clichéd questions of who liked who and would so-and-so kiss so-and-so, but when it came to Near's turn, the game morphed into something a little darker, with a little bit of a less friendly edge.
"Dare," Near accepted in his quiet voice, and Matt, again, felt surprised; he had pegged Near for more of a Truth person. Perhaps, like Matt, Near had some truths that he didn't want to speak?
An eyebrow quirked in a knowing fashion, Vex smirked darkly enough to rival Mello.
"Take off your socks," the dark-haired girl challenged without a moment's hesitation, making sure to add "and leave them off, for the entire game."
The other girls snickered at this, though Matt had no idea why; sure, nobody had ever seen Near before without socks, but… so what?
Vex leaned over to an equally-puzzled looking Mello and, with her lips far too close to his ear, whispered something; Matt could only catch the hissed words 'webbed', and 'freaky'. Mello pushed her away and gave her a dark scowl.
Near shrugged. "Sure." Completely unperturbed, he peeled both socks off in quick succession before folding the white fabric in on itself, sticking the bundle back in his pocket.
The room was silent as everybody examined Near's feet. Pale and tiny as the rest of him, there was really nothing that unusual about them… unless you noticed the thin webbing of skin between his fourth and baby toes on his left foot.
A few of the girls let out shrieks of delight and cruel mockery.
"That is so disgusting!" Vex howled out, thrilled. Mello rounded on her.
"What the hell's your problem? Shut your ugly-ass face!" The comment, though immature, did the trick, and Vex's wide mouth closed with a surprised pop. Matt himself couldn't really see the big deal either; syndactyly affecting the feet wasn't that uncommon.
Near met Mello's eyes and, to Matt's surprise, the wide, impassive orbs eyes softened for a moment before returning to their usual glassiness; it seemed the girls' teasing had affected him more than he let on.
The game progressed, and when it rolled around to Matt's turn, he predictably chose dare.
Face absolutely flaming, red-headed Bite pumped her fist in the air.
"Take your shirt off!" she hooted, and her friend gave her a high-five; it was clear that Matt had several fans in Wammy's house.
Mello rolled his eyes and grinned, laughing too. Somebody else shouted "Take it off!" Oh dear Lord… He tugged his long-sleeved, striped shirt over his head, standing in his white undershirt in front of everybody.
Bite pouted. "That's not fair! You have to take the undershirt off, too!"
Now Matt was the one smirking. "That was not part of the dare." He settled back in his spot between Mello and Near, ignoring the half-hearted boo's that called after him. That is, he ignored it until one of the girls to his right gave him a hard shove.
Falling sideways across Near's lap, his head crashing into Mello's hip Matt let out a little shout—not from pain but from the ice burning into his side.
Rolling away (and practically landing in a delighted-looking Bite's lap), the burning continued. Looking down, he realized that it was Near's foot resting on his ribcage. Matt struggled away from the frigid skin.
"God," Matt croaked out, even as he struggled to his feet, pushing Near's bare foot away. "Your skin is cold."
Near's familiar v-shaped smile tilted his lips upward.
"Why do you think I always wear socks?"
The door to Bite and Vex's bedroom opened, bopping a girl in the back of the head as it did so. Roger regarded the group of children squeezed together on the floor of the room.
"What's going on in here? Why is there so much yelling going on?"
They all regarded their headmaster silently, unsure how to answer. Finally Mello spoke.
"Truth or Dare." Those three words caused Roger to freeze.
"You know that game never goes over well at this school. I'm going to have to ask you to stop and return to your own rooms."
Grumbling, the group dispersed, Matt still rubbing the chill from his ribs.
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Blood
He was seated outside, despite the fact that it was a zillion degrees below 'too-cold-for-your-ass', legs spread comfortably with a hand-held game, his face as smooth and focused as it always was when he played.
The sadistic bastard known as Roger had shooed everybody outside after four days of being cooped up inside, claiming that now that the blizzard had run its course, everybody needed some fresh air.
Wrapped in a gray quilt, Near huddled, breath leaving his lips in small, clouded puffs. He was dressed, as always, in his thin, white cotton pajamas. Idiot.
Matt lost his focus on the game completely when he noticed the tremors with his peripheral vision. Flicking his green eyes upward, he glanced, irritated, at the small fourteen-year-old who was shaking violently, blue lips clamped shut, eyes likewise.
Matt tried to return to his game, but the shivering continued, soon followed by an involuntary chattering of the teeth. Grinding his own teeth together, Matt looked around for Mello, already knowing it was useless; in an attempt at warmth, Mello had started up a half-hearted game of football with a good percentage of the rest of the school.
Finally Matt could take it no longer. Hissing a groan through his teeth, he stood, setting his game down with a thunk. He stripped off his outermost layer (he had on both a coat and a sweatshirt over his long-sleeved T), he threw it at the ball of vibrating Near.
"Put it on; you're annoying me," he grunted out, trying to quash the feelings of concern that welled up when he looked at the boy.
Black eyes flashed up to examine Matt's face, searching for any sign that he was being had, before the blue lips parted with a very quiet "thank you."
Standing on shaking legs, the quilt fell away as Near slipped first one arm, and then the other in the coat. Matt was not a big person, but it seemed as if the coat would swallow Near whole, the arms ending long after Near's did, the coat reaching almost to Near's knees.
But before the coat had time to settle, and before the curly-haired boy was able to once again wrap himself up in the quilt that he had, no doubt, snatched off of his bed, Matt's eyes saw it.
A small blossom of red, the stain hardly bigger than the petal of a rose, was gleaming wetly on the front of Near's pajama bottoms. Matt figured his eyes must have landed on it because it was the only spot of color for quite a while; white snow, white pajamas, gray wall… red stain.
He felt puzzled; Near was always so neat; Matt couldn't recall a single other occurrence of Near getting anything smeared on his clothes—not mud or paint, or… was that blood? Matt felt his stomach squeeze as if it were a tight fist—he was not good with blood.
"Near," he began awkwardly, not sure of what to say. "You have some paint on your clothes…"
Near looked down, saw the stain… and froze.
"Oh," was all he said, his voice quieter than usual, but with a harsh undertone that made Matt stare. There was most definitely emotion in this word—not something Near usually articulated.
Without saying another word, Near began walking, legs taking large, fast strides, back towards Wammy's house. It was quite clear that the boy was ignoring Roger's commands that they "don't come back in until they could all behave themselves,"—Near seemed bound and determined to get back inside that building.
Matt frowned; he couldn't recall ever seeing Near use paint in his life.
Settling back down in his seat with a shrug, Matt resumed his video game.
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Birth Control
"Can't you just leave it in front of his door or something?" Mello shifted from foot to foot, obviously aware that they were about to enter Forbidden Territory, and without a doubt very nervous over this fact.
"No," Matt was insistent. "He still has my coat in there, anyway; I want it back. And he's at breakfast, so he won't know we've been in here until we're long gone."
"Fine…" Mello pretended to sound resigned, but really, Matt could easily recognize the eagerness, the curiosity in those familiar blue eyes. Without further ado, the blonde pushed Near's bedroom door open, and the two teenage boys stepped inside.
It was small, much smaller than the room Mello and Matt shared, but this was perhaps because it was Near's room, and nobody else's. Although some complained that the small albino got a room to himself, Roger always argued that, because of Near's borderline strange needs, as well as his privileged position as "most likely next to be L", he had to have his own space.
Mello walked around, looking at the various toys stashed neatly throughout the room; robots on the shelves, puzzles in a plastic crate, what looked like several hundred boxes of dice forming a tower in the corner of the room… the blonde snorted; it was all so very Near. He was a bit alarmed at the affectionate warmth that filled his chest at the thought, and he quickly pushed it out of his mind.
Matt strode to the ridiculously tiny bed (it obviously used to be a baby's crib but the bars had been removed, it was so small) and began removing pillow after pillow, setting each gently on the floor.
"What is his problem; does he have to sleep in a cocoon?" Mello was incredulous—there were more pillows than mattress, it seemed.
When the last pillow was slid off the floor, something fell; a clunk and a rattle resounded through the room.
Dropping to his knees, Matt stuck his head underneath the bed, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dim light under there as he searched for whatever had fallen.
"Probably keeps a stupid toy car underneath there," spoke Mello, who had moved to the closet and was poking through all the identical white clothes in there, looking for Matt's familiar jacket.
Matt's wandering hand found something round and plastic, but when he withdrew it he noticed it wasn't a toy at all; it was a small, circular case.
Curiosity overtook him and he popped the little latch open, only to stare incomprehensively at what was inside. Row after circular row of miniscule pills encased in plastic, with typed dates underneath each pill filled the case to the brim. Seven pills were missing and, Matt noticed with interest, the dates that the pills had been taken started the day after he had loaned Near his coat in the first place.
Suddenly feeling as if he were intruding too much, Matt snapped the case closed and quickly fluffed Near's quilt over the bare mattress, smoothing the corners down before he rearranged the pillows on top, hastily stuffing the pill case underneath the bottom pillow.
"Ok, we need to leave." He grabbed for Mello's elbow as the older boy rifled through the closet. "M-kay," the blonde agreed vaguely, before loudly proclaiming "found it!"
Withdrawing Matt's coat from the closet and quickly putting the hanger it was dangling from back in its place, Mello allowed himself to be dragged from his rival's bedroom, shutting the door gently behind himself.
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Breasts
Capoeira was anything but an easy art form. It took years of training, heavily linked to balance. Before L became, well, L, they had taken a much more generic form of self-defense, a medley of blocking and attack.
But after L had discovered the usefulness of this particular style, Roger had set it up so that everybody at Wammy's house who was physically capable of such strenuousness take it, starting as early as possible.
Well into his ninth year of the art form, Matt didn't often trip. But the one time he did, it was a disaster. Pausing as the instructor insisted he did, his left leg stretched to its fullest extent, toes pointed smoothly, Matt and Near posed for the beginning students, who watched, awed.
Near was bent almost double, his belly arched in the air, legs bracing his full weight without trembling, bowed underneath Matt's unmoving form. It went without saying that they were good. However, apparently they—or at least Matt—had yet to achieve perfection.
Perhaps it was the placement of his right leg, or perhaps it was simply because he had been standing too long in one difficult position, but when his leg began to buckle, it was as if everything slipped into slow motion.
Tipping forward, trying to slam his leg down in time, missing his target completely, and closing his eyes as a last-ditch attempt at protecting his face.
He took a few seconds to open his eyes.
His chin rested squarely on Near's sternum, and his face rose and fell with every pained breath the fourteen-year-old took. Hands on either side of Near's head, the rest of his lower body was, thankfully, at an angle, protecting Near from being crushed. Everything was very quiet, and Matt felt strangely as if every sound in the world had stopped.
And then the beginning students began to exclaim their various emotions. Gasps, squeals, giggles, and one exclamation of "Those are your best pupils, instructor?"
Matt felt a large, beefy hand seize the scruff of his neck, pulling him to his feet.
"What were you thinking, Jeevas?" his instructor roared in his face. "Your form was bad from the start! Why didn't you adjust?"
Ignoring the man, Matt shook himself free and stooped to gently help Near to his feet.
"Is anything broken?" he asked the dazed-looking Near, tentatively. "I didn't hear anything crack, but…"
Near, refusing to meet Matt's eyes, looked sharply away. Folding his arms tightly in front of his chest, Near stared at his own toes. "I'm fine."
Matt's face was jerked back towards his instructor. "Are you listening to me, Jeevas?"
By the time Matt managed to shake off the instructor for good and turn back around, Near was gone.
But there was no way he was forgetting the two small, fleshy mounds that cupped his face through Near's thin, loose shirt.
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Birth Certificate
Standing outside Roger's office, Matt fidgeted awkwardly from side to side.
The coincidences were piling up, and he just had to… no, needed to know. His curiosity would not let him rest otherwise.
He glanced at his watch, and then bit his lip. Shit. There was no time…
He scurried to hide between two trophy cases that lined the hallway. If nobody took their time to look, they wouldn't be able to see him.
Plan commencing in five… four… three…
BOOM!
The building swayed, and Matt heard a few of the trophies inside the cabinets tip over onto their sides, rattling a little in their cases, as well as quite a few screams throughout the building.
…two…
The overhead sprinklers went off, and Matt's hair and clothes were soon absolutely saturated with water.
…one…
SLAM!
There. Right on time, Roger came hurtling out of the office in his bathrobe, shock and anger written across his face. He was in such a hurry he didn't even notice a half-drowned Matt start to crawl his way out from the cabinets.
He had done it, but now the real trouble started.
Hurtling without hesitation into Roger's office, he made his way straight to the filing cabinets. Thankfully, Roger was an absolutely predictable neat freak. Each cabinet was professionally labeled in Roger's looping, cursive handwriting. Grading, L, staff, records… Aah, that was it! Records! Matt tugged on the metal drawer, but wasn't surprised to find it locked.
Think like Roger, think like Roger… Matt paced throughout the room, peeking in the potted plant, checking behind the frame of Roger's creepy dead-pinned-butterflies collection. Then it hit him.
Running his hand along the underside of the old man's desk, Matt's hand quickly encountered a small bundle. Yanking on it, Matt found a small set of three keys on a ring taped under Roger's desk. He could have smacked himself in the forehead; of course—the oldest trick in the book!
Quickly shuffling through the keys, he found the right-sized one and jammed it in the lock.
Within seconds he was rifling through the thirty-four files, helpfully arranged in alphabetical order, until he found what he was looking for. Near. He snatched it from the drawer and flipped through the papers; there weren't many.
And there it was. Matt was almost giddy when he happened upon it; the thin, yellow-and-red document; Near's birth certificate, given to Wammy's House by whichever orphanage Near had had to live at until it was discovered just how smart the quiet, white-haired child really was. Matt felt lucky on this; not all orphaned children had birth certificates; he knew he didn't…
He scanned the document with eager green eyes, unable to stop himself; perhaps it was because of his gamer's personality, but once Matt was on a case he had a hard time letting something go. Name: Nate River. Date of Birth: August 24, 1991. Length: 21 inches. Weight: 7 pounds, 4 ounces.
And then there it was; printed right there in red ink.
Sex: Female.
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Closets
Matt scurried down the hallways, relieved that the spraying water had finally stopped, though feeling guilty over the soggy carpet. When he got caught (and, knowing Roger, it would be a "when", not an "if"), he knew it would be him alone with armloads of towels dabbing up the sopping floor.
Reaching his destination, he began knocking on the door.
There was no response from the inside, but he knocked harder; he knew Near was there; after nine o'clock at night, Near was always in his room.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the door creaked open, and there… there she stood, white hair as curly as always, baggy shirt as ambiguous as always.
Near eyed Matt with her unchanging dark eyes.
"Can I come in?" Matt asked, feeling breathless. Near hesitated, but finally gave a nod, standing aside for Matt to enter and closing the door behind him.
Matt didn't wait to be questioned. Holding up Near's birth certificate in her face, he whispered loudly.
"Near? You're a girl?"
Those black eyes regarded Matt for a long time, long enough for him to begin feeling very foolish. Then Near gave a sharp nod.
Matt felt as if a lightning bolt had struck his chest; it was one thing to suspect it, and even to see it on paper, but to actually have it confirmed by Near herself…
"Why didn't you ever tell anybody?"
Near settled herself down on her bed, crossing her leg, regarding her sock-clad toes absently.
"If you've been through what I've been through," she mumbled quietly, "you wouldn't want to be recognizable either."
Matt wasn't sure what she meant, but it sounded serious, and he didn't interrupt.
"Well, I—I just wanted to say that… um… I won't ever tell anybody, if you don't want me to." He coughed awkwardly, and Near regarded him solemnly.
"No, you won't," she agreed, and Matt could definitely hear the threat in her tone. She changed the subject.
"Matt, did you set off a bomb in the kitchens?"
Matt could feel his face heat up, if only briefly.
"Yes, but… I made sure nobody was nearby! And it was only a small one; no real damage."
There was a rustling in the closet, and Matt twitched sharply, in surprise. Near turned her head towards the closed closet door.
"You can come out, Mello;" she called. "It's only Matt."
There was a pause when Matt stared, absolutely uncomprehending, at the closet door, which finally creaked open. A shirtless Mello stumbled out, a grin on his cherubic face. He straightened up to his full height, and Matt noticed a few small, round red bruises around Mello's neck, and the fact that Mello's lips were slightly swollen.
"Took you long enough to figure it out, mate," Mello commented, trying very hard to keep from laughing. "Aren't you supposed to be a genius?"
End
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DBL here! Just a silly little one-shot that popped into my head. I know I said I wouldn't be writing any more DN fanfics after Snapshots of Time, but this just came to me and I had to write it out. And in case anybody's confused, a recap:
Temperature: Women almost always have a colder body temperature then men, and a lot of women I know have absolutely FREEZING hands and feet at all times.
Blood: yes, Near's getting a period.
Matt finds Near's stash of birth control
Basically Matt falls so his face is directly between Near's breasts (which are very small and hidden under very baggy clothes)
Birth Certificate: self-explanatory
Closets: Yes, Mello was making out with Near.
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