Author's Note: (Le sigh) Sorry I haven't updated in a while. My muse hates me. Bah.

Musings: Hmm. Right. Today's topic: names. Someone raised the question of why I'm not using the boys' aliases. Well, this is how I see it. According to supposed information from the L novel (Another Note) L was not an orphan at Wammy's; therefore, I'm not entirely sure how he grew up, but he apparently didn't live at the orphanage, which means that even if Wammy's had been established by that point, it wasn't for the purpose of looking for an L or an L successor. So, by this time in my story, L has been doing detective work for a while, but is only now starting to break onto the international scene. If you'll remember from last chapter, Mello was questioning the motives of the orphanage--none of the children have any idea who L is and as far as they know, Wammy's is just an orphanage/school for gifted children. I don't think it would make any sense for L/Watari/Roger to require aliases of the children before the race to become L's successor had ever even begun. In my opinion, they would probably get the aliases after they'd been established as the next generation of Ls. And on that note, as far as I know, nothing in the actual manga or anime ever said that Near, Mello, and Matt didn't know each others' real names. They grew up together! It makes perfect sense! ...In my little world, at least. Correct me if I'm wrong. Hopefully, I did a decent job of explaining my thoughts on the subject.

Anyhoo...

Disclaimer:Don'townitdidn'tdoityoucan'tproveanything'kaybye.

.III.

"So... you don't have a roommate, then?"

Mihael paused, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling as if to ask what heinous crime he had committed to earn a punishment the likes of Mail Jeevas. Dropping his pencil, he watched it roll to a stop in the spine of his notebook, before taking a deep breath and turning to glance at the redheaded boy over his shoulder. Mail stared innocently back at him from his spot on the rug, blinking as the corner of the blond's eye twitched ever-so-slightly.

"No," Mihael grit out slowly, "This was the only open room when I got here. There must be an odd number of boys."

Mail waved at him dismissively. "Eh, they could've roomed ya with a girl. No one would've noticed." He grinned toothily as the twitch made a more prominent reappearance.

"Jeevas..." Mihael growled in warning, before he closed his eyes, pursed his lips, and took another gulp of air—whoever decided that deep breaths calmed you down was full of-- "Can we just get the assignment done? Without stopping for your stupid questions every two seconds?"

Mail pouted, his shoulders slumping as he collapsed back to lay sprawled out on the floor. "We've already finished the assignment, Mihael!" he whined, sulkily watching the shadow of the leaves outside the window dance across the ceiling, "Ms. Atkinson said to paraphrase Act One, not the whole bloody play!"

His companion 'humphed,' turning pointedly back to the battered copy of King Lear and notebook on his desk. He rested his chin in the palm of his hand, flipping the page and scanning the dialogue lazily. "If he be taken, he shall never more Be fear'd of doing harm: make your own purpose, How in my strength you please. For you, Edmund, Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant So much commend itself, you shall be ours: Natures of such deep trust we shall much need; You we first seize on," he recited monotonously.

Mail sighed, languidly grabbing up his own copy and holding it high above his head, squinting. "I shall serve you, sir, Truly, however else," he droned dutifully in reply, before dropping the playbook onto his face with a groan, listening to the scratching of pencil on paper for a few minutes. "Mihaaaaael!" he finally wailed, "We finished what she told us to!"

Mihael whirled, slamming the pencil down on the desk as he glared at the redhead. "You want to be my partner!? This is what you get! She's going to ask us to do the whole play eventually, what's the problem with getting ahead!?"

"We're nine, Mihael! We're expected to slack off!" Mail groused, heaving himself up to meet the blond's pointed glare, "And besides, it's only the first week of class!"

"Yeah, and this is one of five other projects we've been assigned! In case you haven't noticed, Jeevas, you're in an orphanage for geniuses! It doesn't matter if you're nine or five, they expect us to do what they give us, and do it well! River's only—what? Seven?--and he's working on Romeo and Juliet! Go find somewhere else to slack off if you're so set on it! I can do the bloody thing without you!"

They glared irately at each other for a moment, shoulders heaving, before Mail sighed and toppled back to the floor. "I hate Shakespeare," he muttered in petulant defeat.

Mihael perched his elbows on the back of his chair and propped his chin in his hands, focusing his gaze on a dark purple bruise on Mail's left knee. "But... classes here are always like this, right?" he asked curiously.

"Not really," Mail huffed, propping himself up to meet the blond's stare, "They're actually a lot harder this year."

Mihael's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "It seems strange that they would change all of a sudden," he murmured quietly, scratching nervously at the back of his neck as he stared at the wall over the vacant bed across the room.

Mail cocked his head to the side, taking in the glowing halo the setting sun cast over Mihael's hair. It had been nearly a month and a half, and he still wasn't used to the blond's abrupt mood swings. He shrugged noncommittally. "Maybe they're gonna start kicking kids out if they can't keep up." A very brief flash of alarm glinted in Mihael's emerald eyes as he turned to glance out the window. Mail blinked in confusion. "But hey!" he chirped after a moment of awkward silence, "You've got no worries, right? I mean... you're right up there with Na--"

"I'm going to get a chocolate bar," Mihael interrupted quickly as he jumped to his feet, gritting his teeth angrily at the mere thought of being lumped in with that albino freak.

Mail snapped his mouth shut, turning to watch him storm toward the door over his shoulder. "Oi, wait for me!" he yelped, scrambling up and trotting out into the hallway after the blond. Catching up quickly, he easily paced himself to the shorter boy's strides, lazily pulling his handheld out of the pocket of his shorts and flicking it open.

Mihael glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as they rounded the corner, wondering how Mail could navigate so well with his nose buried in the game. "Why do you play that thing so much, anyway?" he asked testily.

"Why do you eat chocolate so much?" Mail threw back, never taking his eyes off the screen.

The blond scowled, clenching his teeth and choosing to drop the matter as he kicked the door to the kitchen open and stomped irately over to the pantry.

Mail paused the game at the enraged growl that erupted from the other boy's throat, glancing up worriedly to make sure that nothing breakable was in the near vicinity. "...What's... wrong...?" he asked slowly, stepping up to peek over Mihael's shoulder curiously. His gaze fell on the empty stretch of shelf right between the Skittles and the Sugar Babies.

"Chocolate's gone," Mihael snapped, angrily clenching the material of his jeans in his fists.

"Mm," Mail hummed unconcernedly, whirling around to lean against the wall off to the side as he unpaused his game, "Betcha L stashed it all in the basement somewhere."

Mihael gnashed his teeth, glaring daggers at the naked shelf as though he could make a bar of chocolate appear by force of will alone. Finally, after a moment of idle silence, he whirled, storming back through the kitchen doorway and down the hallway. Startled, Mail pushed off the wall quickly, running to catch up with him.

"Where're you going?" he asked in confusion, snapping the handheld shut and shoving it back into his pocket.

"I'm going to go buy some," Mihael said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Mail stopped short, staring at the back of the blond's head like he was expecting it to explode at any second. "Wait... what? Mihael, you can't leave the orphanage! It's after hours!" Shaking off his shock, he scrambled after the other boy. "And besides! How're you gonna pay for it?"

Mihael threw open the door to his room, heading straight for the bedside table. "I have money, of course. How else did you think I was going to pay for it? How'd you get that Gameboy of yours, if you didn't pay for it?" He yanked the drawer open, throwing things aside in his search for the worn wallet he'd stored there on his first day at the House.

"I... actually, I fixed it. It was broken and they were gonna throw it out... but I fixed it, so... they let me have it." He patted his pocket fondly.

Mihael spared him a cursory glance over his shoulder, before returning his attention to the wallet and counting out enough notes to pay for several chocolate bars.

"A-anyway!" Mail protested again, "We can't go out after hours! Roger'd kill us!" He tugged imploringly at the hem of Mihael's shirt as the other boy stalked past him toward the closet.

"Who's this 'we?'"the blond asked incredulously, yanking a black sweater over his head and staring at Mail curiously as he patted down his hair, "I didn't ask you to come with me."

"Well, of course I am!" Mail stood up to his full height, glaring down at the other pointedly, "You could be killed!"

Mihael rolled his eyes, heading over to where his boots were tucked under the foot of his bed. "Like you'd be much help if I got myself into a life-threatening situation. You'd probably die long before me." He grinned up at the redhead cockily as he laced up his shoes.

"Would not!" Mail protested, a furious blush creeping up his cheeks as he snatched up his own sneakers and plopped down to irately shove his feet into them.

"Fine," Mihael shrugged, getting to his feet and stretching like a cat, "tag along, see if I care. But if you get us caught, I'll kill you myself."

"'m not gonna get us caught," Mail mumbled petulantly, stuffing his hands into his pockets and dutifully following the other boy out the door.

It was far easier than Mail felt that it should have been for the two to crawl unnoticed past the still open door to Roger's office; the creaking of the front doors was much quieter than he remembered as Mihael beckoned him hurriedly out onto the steps. There were no shouts as they made a mad dash across the lawn toward the front entrance, and no alarms went off as Mihael pressed the button to swing the large gates back on their hinges.

"See?" Mihael beamed cockily as the metal clanked shut behind them, "Piece of cake."

Mail bit his lip, simply nodding in hesitant agreement as he sent covert glances into the shadowy trees flanking each side of the lane up to the orphanage.

"It shouldn't take us too long to reach town," Mihael was muttering to himself, counting things off on his fingers as the two walked, "We'll be back before they do the final room checks, and--"

"Mihael," Mail whispered edgily, "We really shouldn't be out here."

"Shut up, I'm trying to concentrate."

The redhead pursed his lips determinedly. "But... Miha--"

"Shut up, Jeevas! If you're so scared, why the hell'd you come!?" He glared at the other boy, quickly shaking off the hand that had latched onto his wrist. "Why don't you just go ba--"

"Hey, who's your girlfriend, Jeeves?"

He paused, eyes narrowing at the voice yelling from further down the lane. He glanced back at Mail again, expecting the younger boy to already be stuttering out an embarrassed excuse, only to find the redhead hunching into himself with a tiny sigh. He blinked, taken aback by this reaction.

"Oi! I'm talkin' to you, freak!"

Mihael spun around, coming face to face with a pack of four boys who seemed to have materialized from the woods behind them--all older, larger, and stupider than both he and Mail. He stood up to his full height, shoving his hands into his pockets unconcernedly and attempting an intimidating scowl. Beside him, he felt Mail reluctantly turn to join him, shifting closer to his side unconsciously.

"Who're you?" Mihael spit out venomously.

"Oh ho, lookit here, boys," the large brunet upfront sneered with a grin, "We were wrong. Mailman's got himself a boyfriend. I'n'it cute?"

"He's not my boyfriend, Wood," Mail muttered indignantly, a tinge of barely visible pink painting itself across his cheeks.

Mihael's brows furrowed in confusion, glancing back and forth between the redhead beside him and the group of thugs leering at them. This subdued, passive Mail was so different from the excited, energetic boy Mihael was used to. The transformation disturbed him far more than he wanted to admit.

"Oh, really, Jeeves? Sure looks like it!" one of the boys pressed with a snicker.

"Hey! He said it wasn't true," Mihael snarled, taking an angry half-step forward, "Sod off! Don't you have anything better to do!?"

"Ooh. Kitten's got claws," one of the goons in the back grinned, nudging the leader--Wood--in the shoulder, "Can we play with him?" The two shared a vicious grin as a cacophony of snickers and grunts erupted from the others flanking them.

Mihael tensed, automatically balling his fists and squaring his shoulders defensively. Mail swallowed, straightening up and hastily grabbing Mihael's arm. "Leave him alone," he growled at the boys more confidently than he felt, "You came to pick on me, leave him out of it."

"Aw, but he's far more entertaining, Jeeves," said the second crony, stepping around Wood to leer at Mihael more closely, "Prettier, too."

Mail bit his lip, shooting a furtive glance back up the lane out of the corner of his eye as he felt one of Mihael's hands clench convulsively at the back of his shirt. When had they gotten so far away from the orphanage? If they yelled... would anyone even hear them...? "'m serious, Phillips!" he squeaked, "Just walk away!"

"Oh, get out of the way, nerd!" the goon growled, shoving Mail roughly aside. The younger boy hit the ground hard, letting out a small, surprised grunt at the impact as the gang of teenagers laughed cruelly in the background.

"Mail!" Mihael yelled on impulse, watching the redhead cradle his wrist to his chest, before turning to glare at the boy still closing in on him. Gritting his teeth, he wound back and aimed a fast, hard punch at Phillips' sneering face.

The teenager reeled back with a pained howl, clutching his nose. "Fuck!" he shrieked, stumbling back toward his shocked companions as Mihael darted quickly over to Mail's side. "I think the little bastard broke my nose!" he snarled, tiny rivulets of blood seeping between his fingers.

Mihael dropped to his knees next to the other boy, uncertainly placing a hand on his shoulder as Mail instinctively curled more tightly around his injured wrist. The blond bit his lip frantically. "Mail, are you okay...?"

Wood gestured toward the two, grinning sadistically. "Well, we'll just have to return the favor, won't we, boys?" The group started forward slowly, leaving the bleeding Phillips to grin nastily at the two over their shoulders.

Mihael's head shot up at the sound of crunching gravel and he shifted back, pulling Mail with him. He glanced around frantically, assessing the situation as quickly as he could, looking for any advantage the two young, scrawny geniuses might have over three burly, angry teenagers. Wood, flanked by the two still anonymous thugs, had come level with them now... was reaching toward them with one large hand--

"Is there a problem here, gentlemen?"

Mihael whipped around, wide eyes landing on the familiar, hunched figure shuffling out of the shadows behind them. A foreign feeling of relief flooded him at the very sight of those large beetle black eyes as the older teenager moved forward, placing himself none-too-discreetly between the two huddled children and the advancing gang of boys.

"Shit," Wood hissed, already beginning to backpedal rapidly.

"It's the head freak!" one of the other boys said loudly, turning tail and beginning a hurried jog down the dirt road.

"L…!" Mail exclaimed, eyes lighting up with relieved shock as the detective half turned, crouching down to their level while keeping a constant eye on the retreating figures disappearing down the lane in the direction of town. Mihael let out a slow breath, relief morphing into a strange feeling of calm at the sight of L hovering over them.

The sharp crack of a twig stole his attention and he glanced up, catching sight of Phillips glaring furiously at them from just inside the foliage flanking the road. "This isn't over, Kitten," he hissed, before melting back into the shadows after his friends.

Mihael blinked, turning the threat slowly over in his mind. "Mail, let me see your wrist." He wrenched out of his thoughts abruptly at the request, hastily letting go of the other boy as L reached toward him expectantly. Silently, Mail held out his arm, allowing L to take it gently in his hands and examine the slight swelling at the wrist. The three sat in silence for several long moments, before L got to his feet slowly, burrowing his hands back into his pockets.

"Your wrist is sprained," he said simply, "I assume you twisted it when you fell." He turned, heading back in the direction of the orphanage. "Well, come along, then," he called lazily over his shoulder when the two boys remained glued in their place.

Lunging up hastily, Mihael reached down to help Mail, taking care not to jostle his injured wrist, before they followed dutifully after the teenager. Taking care to keep close to the redhead lest any other unnoticed injuries decided to pop up, he stared thoughtfully at the back of L's head, watching silvery moonlight play off the spiky array of unkempt black hair. What was it about this messy, awkward twig of a man that managed to spark such a deep sense of awe? L looked as though a simple breeze could send him toppling over to shatter into a thousand pieces against the rocky ground—and yet he'd just sent four large, healthy boys scrambling for home with their tails between their legs...

"Mihael." L glanced around at the blond as he opened the gate, not seeming to notice him jump at the sudden attention. "Please accompany Mr. Jeevas to the Infirmary."

Mihael ducked his head, not daring to say a word as he turned, waiting for Mail to reach his side before starting off across the lawn in the direction of the warmly lit windows of the House. "And please be more cautious," L said simply from behind them. They paused for a brief moment. "It was no coincidence that I came across you when I did, but you might not be so lucky in the future."

The blond grit his teeth, blushing furiously as he stalked the rest of the way to the front steps, Mail barely keeping up with his troubled gait.

The nurse on duty insisted on inspecting Mail's wrist for herself, despite the fact that they had told her, off the bat, that it was a sprain. She ushered the young redhead onto the foot of the closest bed, forcing Mihael to keep his distance behind her as she fussed over him, cooing sympathetically and worriedly asking what happened.

"I tripped," he replied simply, meeting Mihael's steady gaze over her graying bun.

When she bustled off into her office in search of a brace--entirely unnecessary, but just a precaution to see that he didn't damage it further--Mihael took the opportunity to plop down on the bed opposite Mail, clasping his hands in his lap and staring studiously at his feet. …He didn't feel guilty for what happened to the younger boy… of course not… it was just--

"You called me 'Mail.'"

His head shot up in a flurry of gold, confused emerald eyes searching out the calm cerulean gaze across from him. "Huh?" he replied eloquently.

"When Phillips--the blond one--pushed me down… you called me 'Mail...' not 'Jeevas,' like you usually do." He smiled, and Mihael averted his gaze quickly, biting his lip.

"S-so!?" he asked, annoyed and embarrassed at his slip.

Mail shifted, glancing around the room as he let Mihael attempt to get a hold on his composure. "So… it was nice. You've never done that before. It… it means you… we're getting closer." He smiled to himself.

"Whatever," the other boy snapped, feeling his cheeks heat up and internally screaming at his obnoxious and entirely unhelpful blood flow. "Who were those morons anyway?" he bit out, desperate to peg the attention on anything other than himself.

Mail cleared his throat uncomfortably, listening to the sounds of the nurse searching through her cabinets. "Just... some guys. They used to come make fun of us during free time. Y'know... they'd stand outside the fence, calling us all nerds 'n' stuff. I guess I'd forgotten about them... they haven't been around for a while." He fidgeted awkwardly, before glancing up suddenly, beaming as he jumped up to join Mihael on the opposite bed. "But you sure showed Phillips, di'n't ya? Man, when his head snapped back like that...! Just, bam! Man, it was awesome!" He shook his head admiringly.

Mihael gave him a small smile, glancing up from his hands clasped in his lap. "Yeah. I would've wiped the woods with them if L hadn't showed up." Mail cocked a disbelieving eyebrow, grinning. "No, really!" the blond insisted, glaring indignantly, "I just had to make sure the damsel in distress—that's you, by the way--was okay before I got distracted by pummeling their faces in. ...Didn't want you to die or anything. Roger probably would have had a heart attack or something."

"Right, of course," Mail agreed, rolling his eyes as the nurse puttered back in their direction.

To be continued.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking: "Um... what, now?" lol, but don't worry, loyal readers! This is all important later! Plot development and such... you know...! Bwahaha. Yay, our boys are bonding. Wootwoot. And... L! ...And sorry if they're mildly out of character... it felt like I was slipping a bit at the end... but it's 4:47am and I'm quite tired. I think allowances can be made, yeah?

Anyhoo, drop a review! I'd be ever-so-grateful!

Reviews!

Mattress: (Beams) Excellent! You had me worried for a second, heh. Yeeeeah... the Mario Kart thing actually spawned from a comic... but the Toad thing was all me. Near is so Toad. (Rolls eyes) No problem on the responding. And the way I see it, you took the time to give me feedback, the least I can do is personally thank you, right? Which transitions right into the "Thanks for reading! Keep it up!" Hee. Esoteric Memories (formerly known as sei mong)Or... is it the other way around...? Ugh. (Is so confused) lol. Thanks for that! I actually thought is was pointless fluff... thanks for the reassurance! I actually quite hate the end of that chapter... it's blatantly obvious I was just fishing for a way to end it. (Blushes) I hope my ramble at the beginning explained my take on the names thing...? Anyhoo... thanks for sticking with it, hope you liked this one, too! Trinity Spark Eek! Thanks so much! You just gave me little warm fuzzies of happy goodness. (WTF? Lol. No, I dunno what that means, either) I'm glad you like it... I'm trying so hard to stay true to my take on the characters and keep them relatively cannon at the same time... (even though that's pretty hard in MattyMattMatt's case, yeah? Humph.) Well, I hope you keep liking it!They Call Me SoysauceI did, I did! (Bounces excitedly at the sight of the cookie) And look! A whole other chapter, too! Ohohoho. Princess Mello's gonna shoot joo. Lawlz. Though, personally, I think Matt is, by far, the "prettier" of the two. Seriously, have you seen the "official" picture of him without goggles!? He's so friggin' pretty and girly! It's hilarious! ...Ahem. Anyway. Thanks for sticking with me! ...And for the virtual cookies. Woot! judikickshineyDude, that's quite a mouthful. Haha. Don't worry, I'm sure Matt has garnered nastier jokes than that... ( insert censored thought bubble here) Yeah. I think I'm losing my touch on the lame-Near-front. I hate Near! ...Hm. Hopefully that will be remedied in later chapters. Heh. Thanks for reading! Ev: Yay! I'm so glad I could make your day better! I've been having the crappiest... well... I s'pose it's been about a week now... but it makes me happy to know I brightened your day, thanks for letting me know. Hee. I hope you liked this chapter, too! My Sublunary Soul: Your beseechings worked! Huzzah! Yeah, I'm sure it'd be kinda hard for Mello to conduct a functional relationship with anyone, really... so, yeah... Matty gets just as much bitchiness as everyone else! ...Poor guy. And as for Near... well... erm... yeah, I got no excuses, there. He's just Near.Haha. Thanks for reading! youreverlastinglight: Yeah, you better be sorry for the emo! ...O' course, I've got no room to talk, when I angst, I angst hardcore... as you will probably soon realize... But I love this soundtrack you've got going! I don't have any happy enough music to portray their childhood... lol. Except maybe "I Think We're Alone Now," (though not for this story... maybe my oneshot. Heh.) Hope you liked this chapter, can't wait for the song! Book case: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you like it and hope you keep reading! Dawn-at-Midnight: Peach is a shameless cheater. I hate her so much. Almost as much as Toad. ...who I hate for entirely different reasons. lol. I'm glad you've liked it so far. I really don't mind reading the intros either... but I'm a very dramatic person by nature and just wanna skip all the fluff and get straight to the angst and drama! ...Ahem. Yeah. Anyhoo... thanks for sticking with me! Hope I didn't disapoint!

...Bwoff!