Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.
A/N: The length of time it took me to write this fic is not proportionate to the depth of it. XD I'm sorry if that was misleading. But, well... last chapter! XD Also, cheesy ending is cheesy.
Needless to say, dinner was kind of awkward.
Not for James, no. He had absolutely no idea that the other three of us were tense, which kind of terrified me a little. I can understand not being able to read Mello. I can also understand not remembering how to read me after so, so long. But not being able to read one's own lover?
Or maybe he was just really good at hiding it.
We did end up going out for lobster. Every time Mello opened his mouth Mark looked ready to tackle him if he so much as inched the conversation in the direction of revealing him. I tried to focus on not cutting my hands open on the bits of shell and having a decent conversation with James, which wasn't difficult because he's possibly the most pleasant person on the face of the earth.
We got through it without incident, though, and that night James fussed over us, making sure Mello and I would be comfortable, kissed us both on the cheek, and went to bed, Mark close behind.
When I was sure he was out of ear shot, I whispered, "So you're not gonna tell him, then?"
"No, I'm definitely gonna tell him."
"Mello, you can't! You said you wouldn't!"
"Yeah. And he said he would follow my rules and not kill children or go MIA."
"You can't do it. It would destroy James to not hear it from Mark himself. Plus, he said he's changed."
"Matt, he's a horrible person."
"So are you!" I whisper-yelled.
He didn't say a word but he looked at me steadily, unashamedly.
"Look," I said after a moment of us staring at each other. "Is he going to hurt my friend?"
Mello scowled, punching his half of the pillow to fluff it as I climbed into 'bed' next to him. "How should I know? No? I doubt it?"
"Then just leave it. He's done. You saw him, he's sorry. Besides, I bet James already knows."
He snorted. "You didn't know I was in the Mafia until I told you."
I raised an eyebrow. Because, duh, I had at least had a pretty accurate idea.
"Okay, fine. James probably knows. But would he really still be with him if he knew specifically that he had brutally murdered two children?"
"He loves him. I'd still be with you right now."
Mello was silent, curled up on the couch, staring at me and trying to see my eyes through the darkness.
"Really? You would?"
"Yeah, Mel."
"Even if I had tortured people? Raped people?"
"I'd still love you."
"Funny," he said, and I felt his fingers moving a lock of my hair. "The reason I didn't was because I thought, if I ever saw you again, that you wouldn't."
I smiled and burrowed closer to him, burying my face in his chest. "That's just part of unconditional love."
His arms came around me and he held me tight.
"So I'm not gonna tell him?"
"Correct."
Mysteriously, the visit went by without confrontation.
Well, there were a few incidents with Mello's temper and innocent passersby, but these were largely ignored and even more largely laughed at by James (and not at all by Mark). Somehow, my oldest friend seemed to think Mello was kidding when he went on his more fearsome rampages, which served our purposes well. I'd like to stay in contact with James after this visit, and him hating or fearing Mello (like just about everyone else did) was not conducive to that.
So, besides the few terrified pedestrians that got a very stern talking-to, no one got confronted, much to my relief.
Before I knew it, it was time for us to go back to LA. Reluctantly (but honestly relieved to be on the way back to my games), I packed us up, saying my goodbyes to James and exchanging promises to meet up again.
"I'm sorry I can't drive you to the airport," James said for the umpteenth time. "I won't make it to work on time if I try it..."
"Totally fine," Mello cut in. He had never liked it when people repeated themselves. I was kind of impressed about how relatively polite of a response this was. "We're tough— we're from LA. We won't get mugged."
James laughed. "Okay, okay."
He and Mark saw us to the front door of his apartment building, then headed back up with one last wave. For a split second, when Mark and Mello's eyes locked, I was certain that Mello was going to spill.
But he didn't, and the split second passed, and the glass door swung closed behind us.
Taking to the streets, Mello and I walked in silence, lugging our baggage though the crowded sidewalks to where we would most easily be able to hail a cab.
Despite the fact that this was out of character for our relationship, I knew that it needed to be said.
"Thank you."
He looked at me for a second. Then: "He's a monster! He's the absolute scum of the Earth and you're just letting him fuck your oblivious best friend!" Mello exploded.
Ah, so he had just been holding it in.
"Do you know how he killed them? I mean, it wasn't like he just shot them in their heads. He brutalized them. They were unrecognizable. You know what their mother said when she saw her children?"
"I..."
"I saw the bodies. I know I really did, because I couldn't have dreamed it up, because my nightmares are prettier than that. You can't make this shit up. I couldn't have done what he did to anyone— not Kira, not the guy who killed my parents, not Joseph-fucking-Stalin— and Mark did it to two kids. A man like that does not deserve to live. Period."
I wasn't sure what to say to that.
"And to this damn day I don't know why he did it. Why he did it like that, or why he did it at all. They were just two random children, seemingly completely innocent, and now they're dead for reasons I can't even begin to speculate on. Mark is a monster. He's a monster, and you're letting him fuck your best friend and you're not even doing him the courtesy of telling h-"
"Okay, I get it," I interrupted. Worryingly, we weren't getting strange looks from the people we were passing despite the content of our conversation. "Look. What do we need to do? Do you really want to go back there and tell James? How do you have that talk? 'James, I can't tell you how I know this, but your lover is an ex-Mafioso and he tortured and killed two kids. Have a nice day at work, see you around.'"
"Yes. That's what I want to do."
I dodged a woman with a stroller; not an easy task considering the population density on this cement.
"Really. You want to walk up to him and just say that. Exactly that."
"If I have to! Dammit, Matt, would you just-"
"Boss!" someone shouted.
Mello's entire expression changed in a fraction of a second and he whipped around, instantly putting himself between me and the owner of the new voice.
He had taught me what to do in case this happened. Pretending I didn't even know the love of my life, I gave him a weird expression for spinning around and kept walking at a thoroughly unremarkable speed.
Conveniently, we were near a corner, so I just ducked around it and was still able to hear the proceedings.
"Tommy? The fuck are you doing here?" Mello said in a voice that was foreign to me. It was like ice.
"Same as you, Boss. Hunting down the traitor."
"I didn't order you to do that!"
"Rod did. Didn't he order you on this job, too?"
"Of course," he spat. "Why else would I be in this shithole? Whole fucking place smells like fish."
"That it does. But hey, man, good job finding Mark! Gonna go back for him tonight?"
Mello paused for a split second that I was certain only I noticed. "Obviously. Can't very well kill a man in broad daylight in his apartment in front of his lover."
"Lover?" Tommy said, sounding genuinely surprised. "Mark's a faggot now?"
"Just another reason to wipe him out," Mello 'confirmed,' and damn that must have hurt him to say.
"Good, good. Then I guess I'll head back to LA. You don't need me and I wouldn't want to get in your way."
"Yeah, you go."
Neither of them said anything for a moment and I assumed that Tommy started to head away. Then Mello said, "Actually, come with me first. I wanna get your opinion about something."
Uh-oh, there was gonna be blood.
"Sure, yeah. Where to?"
"Just follow me."
I dived into an alley, knowing what Mello would do now, and I was right. He had counted on me to be listening and to know to get out of sight, because he was leading Tommy around the corner I had just been hiding behind. He glanced into the alley I was in, seeing me but keeping his face totally impassive, and kept going, his stride all power and confidence.
As a side-note, this was a really nasty-smelling alley.
After checking my immediate area for rats or spiders, I faintly heard Mello say, "Here, yeah. I stashed it behind that dumpster..."
Silence for a few long moments. I held my breath...
Unnecessarily, of course. This was Mello. It wasn't long before he was in my alley, rejoining me, looking none the worse for the wear, not a speck of blood on him.
"I thought you didn't have a gun?"
"I don't need a gun to kill someone, ass," he replied mildly.
"What are you gonna tell Rod Ross?"
Mello didn't miss a beat. "Tommy went rogue. I found him fucking his supposed target and took the opportunity to kill them both."
"You found them fucking?" I laughed.
"I did," Mello said sagely. "In an alley. It was the most disgusting thing I've ever seen. They deserved to die just for that."
Trying to get my real point in before I got caught up in the artificial conversation, I said, "Thank you for protecting Mark."
"By killing him for being a gay traitor?" he asked, trying to sound confused.
"Yes, by killing him for being a gay traitor. I hear the guy who used to be his boss isn't quite that forgiving, so you probably did him a favor."
"Well, he did say he'd changed. Couldn't very well let that psycho in the leather hunt him down and kill him his way."
"You're so merciful."
"I am, aren't I? But I didn't really do it for Mark. I did it for Mark's lover's oldest friend. You probably don't know him"
"I haven't, but I've heard he's brilliant, painfully handsome, and great in bed."
"Eh," Mello shrugged.
I punched him in the arm and he rolled his eyes. "I need to teach you how to actually punch."
"Shut up."
"You know, you're really high-maintenance. Most guys just have to get their boyfriend chocolate or flowers or something. I had to actually kill someone for you."
"Yes, but the sex you're gonna get when we get home tonight will make up for it. Remember? I'm brilliant, painfully handsome, and great in bed?"
"Speaking of which, did you see us this weekend? We totally kept our hands off each other for, like, several days in a row."
"I know. I'm pretty proud of us."
He replied with something witty and we fell into a comfortable routine. It was times like these that were my favorite with him. I loved him all the time, of course, but this was something special. He wasn't like this much— so normal that it actually made my brain hurt a little bit. To see someone as intense as him actually approaching relaxed? Happy?
I loved that he could still make my brain hurt after so many years.
The man would literally kill for me. He would also not kill for me, and he had and would drag himself out of bed at 4:32 in the morning to fly across the country just so that I could go see an old friend he had no interest in meeting.
If all I had to deal with to get that were some of his old sins and a few sharp shards of plastic from clocks being thrown across the bedroom and into the wall, then it was so much more than worth it.
"Hey," I nudged him. "Remind me— when we get home, we need to get a new alarm clock."