Raito felt L's back stiffen as he continued to drive into him, each sopping push and pull, aided by the oil he'd been prepped with, further lubricating him until moving became almost effortless, friction giving way to pressure as L pressed down on him mercilessly in search of his orgasm and he in turn constricted around his member like a clamp.
L was having a hard time holding himself up as he fucked him with barely restrained frustration, forehead resting on his shoulder and a profile of his face revealing the defeat that had cast a shadow over his features.
As if contagious, a spring of that frustration welled up inside of him and Raito could not hold back the cry in his throat or the anger that wanted to surge forward as well. He dug his fingers into the thin waist above him, hoping that something would give, and receiving his wish as his nails bit into the incredibly soft and pale skin at his sides, blood rushing to the surface in a half-moon shape and trickling in small drops to the sheets.
L's pace seemed to shudder then falter, Raito taking satisfaction in that small torture as he watched L resume with a pained grunt that had more to do with hindering him in his motions than any physical injury he could cause to his being.
Raito slid his hands gently over the places he had dug into, as if he was trying to soothe him, and L relaxed in his arms again, practically clinging to him like a dream that he never wanted to wake from.
However, it did not take long for that gentle touch to turn unkind again.
L wrinkled his brow and made a feeble noise in the back of his throat, and Raito did it once more simply for chance to hear that sound again.
He was feeding off the sounds, he discovered after waiting with bated breath for the other vocal utterances that L could never hold back. It made his heart race; unequivocally, it excited him to the point where it did not matter what he had to do, he wanted to make L sob louder.
After that realization, it did not take much for L to completely spend himself, Raito working him so hard and so fast that he lost control of his lower body and hoarsely cried out, all the bones in his spine locking up all at once as he shuddered heavily and went slack in his arms.
…………………………
Yawning loudly and not caring to hide it, Raito pulled a book from the shelf in front of him and leisurely began making his way back through the aisles.
As annoying as it was that he was still having trouble sleeping, hecould not come up with any solution to fight his overactive imagination.
Those erotic dreams of his were starting to get out of control, as there was something a bit off about them lately. Actually, there had always been something wrong with them since he was dreaming about L, but now instead of seeing the logic in his nighttime affliction, he was thoroughly distressed over it. The clarity of each image disturbed him, the sounds and the phantom sensation of holding someone closer than he ever had made him feel confined.
It showed him in a different light, one that viewed him as twisted and sadistic, that would hurt someone else for his own pleasure…
Raito wasn't that kind of person. Deep down he knew he wasn't.
But despite his knowledge of himself, he still felt frustrated by the dreams, worse he was mortified.
And he suspected his embarrassment had nothing to do with the act of sex and everything to do with the people involved, since L was the person who had…in a sense… defeated him, so this man was going to be the source of all his insecurity and guilt from now on.
Raito felt his stomach churn at that thought and kept on walking past the wooden and dusty shelves.
But when he caught sight of something white and small in his periphery, his feet stopped of their own accord, and he turned in time to see Near stretching his hand up to reach a book on the second to last shelf.
The brunette walked over without another thought and slipped the desired object off the shelf. He then handed it over to him and smiled, because Mello might be a pain in his ass, but he had actually taken a liking to this one.
It could be because Near was so quiet -- after questioning him extensively for the first few meetings, he had immediately returned to his taciturn self. It seemed Near was not one to squander his words, only speaking when he felt it necessary. For anyone else it would have been viewed as an insult to withdraw back into himself after being so meddlesome, but for Near, it only seemed natural.
He still spoke to him off and on; if they happened to be in the same place he would walk over, say a few casual words, and then plant himself down next to him and play with his toys for hours at a time.
Last time Raito had been surprised by the sheer amount of toys this boy possessed, but now he was simply surprised by the amount of time he devoted to playing with each one. Near really should have been putting that time towards preparation for exams, but leisure seemed more important to him than hitting the books.
Which brought Raito to his next question --
When exactly did Near study?
"Thanks," Near said dryly and took the book with the hand not holding onto a multi-colored and clunky robot that looked like the result of a Gundam throwing up.
"You're welcome," Raito replied off-handedly.
Once he had shifted in his spot to look at the group of tables located in the corner by the stairs, he began to amble towards them, the small shadow off to his side telling him that Near was trailing behind.
Raito felt a corner of his mouth twitch up.
Near was so aloof, but there were times when he surprisingly (absurdly) reminded him of…
…a little puppy.
Taking a seat, he watched as the boy sat on the floor in front of his chair and rested his book down before taking the robot in both small hands and walking it across the floor.
Observing this child while he played, it was hard to believe that he was currently number one in the entire institution.
Mello, however much he was annoyed by him, actually appeared determined and, truthfully, more conscious of what was going on around him than this lethargic-looking thirteen year old.
Raito knew the old adage about not to judge a book by its cover – he'd had to reassess some of his values when he'd met the detective – but again, it was really difficult to take Near seriously when he walked around, day in and day out, with such a dopey look on his face, like he was sleep walking and they were all apart of his dream.
That obtuse and lazy expression of his, Raito had not been able to place it upon meeting, but it really did remind him of...L.
Raito blinked out of his reverie.
L had told him to keep a close eye on Near, but maybe he was being too exacting with details. He supposed he was too intrigued with the amount of weird that was this little boy. He did have a track record with that sort of thing -- my god look at L, couldn't get weirder than that.
"You scored a hundred," Near suddenly spoke up, the rattling of toy parts stopping.
"I did," Raito answered, matter-of-factly. He'd been wondering when Near would bring it up, but after approaching him with the same dopey expression, it had totally skipped his mind.
"Okay, I was just checking," Near replied casually and had oddly begun to smash his toy into the book that he had stood up seemingly for that purpose.
Just checking?
Did he not want to probe him further about something that would very well determine his future?
"You don't want to hear the details?"
"No need," Near told him and smashed the robot against the book again, this time a hinged arm popping out of the plastic socket and falling to the floor.
Baffled by his disinterest, Raito said, provokingly, "I'm going to take your spot, you know."
Near stared at him and dropped his robot to the floor, the toy lying limp and defeated. "No, you won't," he answered impassively but strangely confident.
Intrigued, Raito sat up straighter in his chair. "I won't?" he chuckled, laughter indulging. "What makes you think that?"
"If it were that simple, L would have chosen you to be his successor already. The fact that he has not made the announcement yet, despite your superior scores, says that you are either lacking in something or he has already decided that you are undeserving of it. And since the former would go against my opinion of you, I've come to the conclusion that he isn't going to give it to you because you are not what he is looking for in a successor."
Raito tapped a finger against the table.
He wasn't annoyed.
This conclusion would be evident to anyone in this house if they were able to detach themselves personally from the dilemma that "Kiyoshi" posed instead of letting their emotions get the better of them.
No, he wasn't annoyed at all.
Raito smiled in that patient fashion he had. He even got out of his chair, the brunette crouching down in front of Near so they were at eye level.
"I have nothing against you," he admitted, "in fact, I even like you. I think you're a really cute kid."
Raito leaned forward, smile widening as he whispered, "But child or not, if you get in my way, I'm going to crush you until there is nothing left in that brain of yours but how to play with your silly little toys and potty train. L is going to give me his title and there is nothing anyone in this house can do about that. Do I make myself clear?"
Near's eyes appeared to light up at the proposition. "Provoking me will get you nowhere," he stated, then tilted his head sharply, eyes glued to the floor. "I would also advice you to stop provoking Mello."
Mello?
"He's the one who's aggravating me," Raito asserted. "I don't see what's wrong with defending myself, nor do I see what it has to do with you."
It was commendable that Near had noticed he was rousing Mello up on purpose. It was so easy to single out the blond, and with his temperament and inferiority complex, he had simply been dousing the fire ever since he had agreed to L's plans.
But certainly, it wasn't his fault. Mello was falling right for it and letting himself get worked up so badly that he had not even left his room since he had confronted him with that test, as Raito had been told when he'd made a "casual" comment as to the whereabouts of a certain blond.
Near stood up and turned to leave, but instead of walking away, he stayed in his spot and began to play with his hair. "It's troublesome…" he vaguely stated in reply to Raito's earlier accusation, "…that's all I'll say on the matter."
Raito, watching his retreat, could not help but wonder what that had been about, and more importantly, why the white-haired boy had looked as if he was almost defending Mello.
Maybe those two were friends…
Though the files were specific about Mello's dislike towards Near and Raito had witnessed it on the few occasions they were in the same room.
But aversions, however intense he thought, did not always run both ways. Near's files had not mentioned anything about sharing the same sentiments – it had not said he liked him either – but Raito could only assume his outlook of the blond was not as negative as the reciprocation.
Well whatever…
Like he had done with Mello, he would deal with Near in due time. It was not something he needed to do, but Raito felt hard-pressed to ignore him when the boy was so certain that he would be no threat to his position.
No matter, no matter, Raito thought, as he opened his book and skimmed the pages with mild interest. By the time he was done with both of L's successors, it would be perfectly clear who the BEST was in this damn house.
…………………………
Getting off the phone with Watari, L slid his phone into the usual place and was already out his door by the time it settled into his back pocket, the quiet of the morning ebbing away as floorboards creaked and rowdy speech alerted him to the presence of others.
L turned around in time to see a group of children approaching.
"Roger baked cookies," a voice said among the crowd, a few of them greeting him with the same "hellos" and casual waves.
"Then I am thankful for the vigilance," he answered back and patted the boy on the head roughly, the child making a face and smoothing his hair back down.
L watched the group carry on down the hallway and he could not help but think how quickly children grew; it had only been a few years since his last visit and now the majority was chest level.
It would not be long until the older children were ready to leave the orphanage and explore what was beyond these gates.
It was a somewhat sad tale.
He would probably never see any of them again after he left this time -- these children knew how to blend into obscurity, and being already faceless within the society that was going to admit them, they would all disappear without a trace.
But that was the life story of everyone that came through these halls.
Anonymity was their greatest weapon, and it was also somewhat their curse, since many of the children that left here ended up in "high-risk" jobs, and he did not mean they worked in law enforcement – though for many of them there was a likely chance of involvement with the police.
L did not turn a blind eye to the side-effects that came along with giving children their age the resources to realize their full potential, despite the danger it posed to their moral development. But he also did not do anything about it. He acknowledged that Wammy House produced geniuses as well as social cripples that viewed themselves as separate entities from everyone outside the institution; a good number of them had already developed an anti-social disorder.
Nevertheless, sacrifices needed to be made for them to grow intelligent and strong-minded. It was just how things went and how they would continue to be. L did not see any reason to change a system that for the most part worked, especially when he respected what Wammy and Roger had created so long ago.
Coming up to Raito's door, L prepared to knock, but two girls who were walking in from the opposite direction called out to him before he could.
"He's not in there, check the library," informed one.
L made an "ah" noise and headed in the stairwell's direction.
It could be those two girls had been to the library and had come across Raito, but it was more likely that they were keeping tabs on him, as everyone else was probably doing now that they had heard the news.
Well, it could only be seen as a good thing: the more eyes to watch Raito, the better, he supposed…
……………………………
L looked down at the brunette, seated in a chair with his head resting on the table and his arms tucked under, so they were cradling him and part of his face was hidden.
He had been surprised to hear that Raito was visiting the library at seven in the morning, but looking at him now, breathing in deeply and body too slack to even sit properly, not to mention with a book serving as his pillow, it was probably safe to say that he'd come here to find relief from a restlessness that L had noticed frequently bothering him.
Moving over to his other side, the detective crouched down so he could get a look at his face, and noted how exhausted he appeared.
And here he had been planning to wake Raito up so he could keep him company…
L sighed restlessly and twiddled his thumbs.
After a short amount of time had passed that felt longer than it actually was, he stood up and pulled out the nearest chair, climbing onto it. L looked around the library, trying to will the time away, but unfortunately, it did not take him long to find himself again at the end of his patience.
He was not used to having to wait when he wanted something, but then again, when Raito was involved, it seemed inevitable that he would be stripped of his usual priority status.
Though that did not mean he was complacent to sit here and watch the paint dry.
"Raito," he whispered, testing. If he woke him up, he'd say it was an accident and then apologize.
He called to him a little louder this time, and waited a minute for it to sink in, before he began to prod his big toe against the upper leg of the table, the movement shaking it just a bit.
"Raito," he called normally as he looked around without turning his head, "wake up. I want to have breakfast."
The brunette continued to sleep.
"You can go back to bed after I eat."
Still nothing…
Far from deterred, L looked around again, this time a mischievous smile turning up the corners of his mouth.
"If you do not wake up, I might do something to you that would make better use of the table you're lying on."
It was not wise to mess with Raito this way, as he had gotten a taste of his own medicine before, and it had upset him to the point where he needed a full day to sulk.
Even if Raito was taking him in stride, he should not press him so.
L knew that. But he just couldn't help it. Provoking Raito, he had found, had become one of those habits of his that he could not, nor would not, enjoy breaking, like eating sweets or sitting with his legs up.
At this point, he knew it was impossible to fight his desire for Raito, but suppressing it was not too difficult.
He simply had to bear with it, like any other responsibility he had taken on in his life.
And the key to maintaining his emotions so they would not overwhelm him was to compromise with himself.
Things like talking to Raito for more than he should, "blurting out" comments that made the brunette get that overly offended look on his face, and persuading (ordering) him to join him in various activities – those were endeavors that he needed in order to keep himself from acting on the stupider impulses, i.e. anything that had to do with touching and sex.
Of course the urge was still there, strong as ever and harassing him when he least expected it to. He assumed it would be a long time until he grew indifferent to it, but until then, he would simply have to console himself with the fact that Raito, despite being brilliant, handsome, and good in bed (really good in bed)…
… was also a mass-murdering sociopath with a god complex.
He merely had to keep that in mind when his body was acting funny.
L prodded his big toe against the table some more.
"You are lucky that I can somewhat control myself…" L paused and stared down at his feet "If I was as smart as I believe I am, I would have erased your memories and instead of giving you that journal, I would have told you we were going out…"
His cheeks puffed out mildly, annoyed that Raito had not woken up yet.
He was hungry and his mood had quickly gone south after having depressingly irrational thoughts.
L looked at Raito up and down, and suddenly kicked his chair.
The sleeping teen began to breathe louder…
Getting up impatiently, L stood closely off to Raito's side, a part of that oblivious face now viewable to him.
L might have been half-joking at the time he had said it on the plane those months ago, but Raito really did look like an angel when he was fast asleep… the kind that broke your heart and then stabbed you in the back (repeatedly) when you weren't looking…
L frowned at his conclusion as he continued to gaze at Raito and hoped that he would wake up.
He could always…shake him… That would definitely get him up. But the idea itself went against his usual policy of not touching.
There was always the option of kicking his chair some more; he knew if he kicked hard enough Raito would probably wake up, but it would probably be attributed to him falling out of his seat, and L did not want to have to explain to a cranky, floor-bound Raito, why he had felt the need to kick him out of his chair.
Staring down at the hand that was fast becoming his only choice, L made up his mind and suddenly wiped it on his shirt -- for some reason it felt clammy -- and began to prod Raito in the neck.
The brunette made an annoyed sound and shifted.
L scratched his head contemplatively.
Guess he had no choice but to go for it.
Gently resting his hand down on Raito's back, L was about to shake him, when he felt the body under his fingers stiffen and startle awake, his hand being knocked off in the process and the teen shoving him away so hard that he hit the bookshelf behind him.
L stared back at him wide-eyed, stunned at the response he had been met with.
While at the same time, Raito, breathing loudly, sat back in his chair, his eyes wild and mind obviously disoriented.
After a minute, his breathing began to slow down, and warily, L leaned away from the bookshelf he'd been knocked into and took a step towards the brunette. Toffee-colored eyes jumped up to meet his and halted him in his tracks.
"Don't –" Raito said, voice groggy and rasping, "don't ever touch my back like that again…"
L nodded and looked away. "I apologize… I wasn't thinking with my head…" He really should know better than to lay a hand on the part of Raito that was scarred and sensitive.
Raito, rubbing at his eyes and waking up in earnest, nodded in response, as if suddenly realizing how harsh his words sounded and wanting to take it back. "Don't worry about it…" he said, eyes closed and a hand on his temple, "…just don't startle me like that again." He raised his head and looked directly at L, sleep-fogged gaze now lucid. "Did you want something?"
L scratched behind his head in an attempt to delay his answer. "I did…but it doesn't seem that important anymore."
Raito gave him a weird look before standing up, a hand running through chestnut bangs and pushing the hair away from his forehead in a tired sweep. "I'm up now," he yawned, "so go ahead and tell me."
Raito had long stopped speaking to him politely, his words now more casual and many times more insulting than when they had first met. But as mean as he could get some days, L still saw traces of that polite and accommodating personality within the brunette.
It wasn't all for show. After all, Raito had grown up with parents that expected him to act in a way that would not shame them. Being outwardly well-behaved was just a natural response to people (note outwardly, as being sneaky about bad behavior was also his forte).
L sighed and thought that when it all came down to it, Raito was always going to be the "one" that got away. It was useless to fight his attraction for him, not only that, it was safer to leave things be.
He'd been so lovesick in France that it made him ache merely recalling that time, worst it embarrassed him that he could let someone gain that kind of power over him so easily and in so short a time.
How foolish he had been to ever entertain thoughts that Raito was a good person.
But never again! He'd learned from his past mistakes in dealing with him, and knew the only way to handle the brunette was to keep his head clear of any and all distractions; to hold no sympathy and no illusions about what Raito Yagami was and what he was capable of doing.
He was, first and foremost, a criminal.
One that was here simply because L had wished it.
The leash he had him on may have a long reach now, but once L went back to work, he would take a firm hold of it and rein Raito back in. He did not think it was a good idea to restrict him now, after so short a period since captivity, and even if he did not want to admit it, his leftover affection for the brunette was still swaying him to not take that route yet.
Not yet. Not right now.
He would worry about punishing Raito when that time came – when he could honestly look him in the eyes and not feel pained over it, when his confidence was restored and he knew with that blind belief in himself that he would be able to see it through.
For now, he simply wanted to concentrate on healing his physical injuries and maybe, if it were not too ambitious of him, to establish some sort of understanding between them before he had to severe it completely and turn Raito into a tool of his making.
Putting it off was all that he was doing now, and as selfish as that was, he wanted that last reminder of why he had been so taken with Raito in the first place…
…that last bit of happiness before he could truthfully move on.
………………………………
"Are you no longer getting along? And here I thought you two would be friends forever" L said, wiping his hands off the shortcake he'd had for breakfast and half-taunting Raito, when the brunette described the tone Near had been taking with him earlier that morning.
Raito rolled his eyes. "Don't play dense; you're the one that's making me out to be the villain in this house. If you hadn't lied to Mello, then I wouldn't have to deal with this."
"My lie has nothing to do with it. It's the fact that you cannot help but show-off when someone challenges you. If you were more humble, then you would not have so many problems."
Raito glared at L as they walked down the hallway to his room. "I'm not showing-off," he said indignantly and walked up to his door to turn the knob. "I can't help it if I'm better than them." There was one of those superior chuckles in his voice as he opened his door and the vision of his room suddenly lay before him…
The smile on Raito's face fell away completely and his eyes widened as he took in the state of his bedroom: the sheets on his bed ripped up and pillows gutted open, his stuff thrown all over the floor and his furniture knocked over.
As quickly as shock had dawned on him, anger was faster on the uptake: Raito's eyes going narrow and dark, his lips pulling back in an ugly snarl.
"That little --!"
Raito turned around and L caught him by the arm, not the smartest thing to do with what had happened earlier, but it was enough to stop the brunette.
"Where are you going?"
Raito tried to push him away with his elbow. "Where do you think I'm going? I'm going to make Mello clean this up."
L gave him a funny look. "Do you have any proof that it was him?
Raito pointed at his room furiously, "Who else could it be?"
"Do not get defensive; I am merely pointing out that without evidence, it seems futile to go up to his room and accuse him. Roger can only punish someone when they are caught doing the 'crime' not when someone gives an assumption. Sorry, but that it not how things work here. We like to operate on the law of empiricism at this institution."
Raito stared at the detective in disbelief.
No wonder these kids were such insatiable brats --
They got rewarded for getting away with bad behavior.
"L…you know this kid came into my room and you're not going to take my side on this."
"When have I ever taken your side, Raito-kun?" L asked, an implicit smile on his face. "You are cute, but I am not dumb."
As if now remembering that an appendage was not currently in his possession, Raito abruptly yanked his arm away from L.
Then he gave him "the look" and slammed the door right in his face.
"That is mature," L grumbled and scratched his head, wondering if he should think twice the next time he felt like kidding around with the brunette.
Despite the perfectly delicious looking strawberry chiffon cake set in front of him, L would not stop gnawing on his thumbnail.
It was now past six (almost eleven hours since Ratio had slammed his door in his face) and despite that, he had yet to go see Raito and straighten things out as he had wanted to do thirty minutes after their "fight."
He recognized they bickered over small things (they were still uncomfortable with each other so that was bound to set off sparks) but even stubborn Raito had his reasonable side.
Obviously, L was not in the wrong this time.
Obviously…
L tapped his fork against his plate pensively.
Maybe he should just go apologize.
He tapped his fork against his plate again, and absently looked down at it, an idea starting to form in his head.
Raito should like cake (what human being didn't). He could give him his slice of strawberry chiffon as a peace offering.
L looked down at the red and white pastry and rethought that idea.
He'd give him half.
"Hey," a familiar voice casually called, suspending his thoughts for the moment.
The detective looked up in time to see Mello plopping down on the chair across from him, Matt not long in following.
Currently, L was seated at the large table in the dinning room. Roger had always been the type that liked to keep his traditions, and so even though many of children did not eat here on a regular basis, the older man still had his dinners here nonetheless. Remembering this place from his childhood, L would sometimes join him even though eating in the kitchen was more convenient.
"Hello," L greeted back, watching as Mello pulled out a candy bar from his pocket and tore the foil off slowly, as if doing it any other way would spoil the chocolate. He bit into it daintily, savoring it unlike usual, and L could not help but notice that the teen was in a good mood.
Well, that figures. Wrecking the bedroom of the person who was trying to show you up was probably good therapy for the blond. If only he had seen the look on Raito's face when the brunette had opened his door. It certainly had been priceless, L thought, as Raito had such interesting expressions for every occasion.
It might have been childish what Mello had done, but who was he to dishearten the boy when he was only doing what was in his nature. If Mello wanted to destroy Raito's room, then let him destroy what he wanted. It could be cleaned up and the parties involved would get over it. And again, who was he to punish Mello when he had gotten away with much worse when he was his age.
L was about to say something, but he saw Near coming into the room next, the boy looking around and taking the seat closest to the entrance, which happened to be right next to Mello.
"I was saving that seat. Don't sit there," Mello told him moodily, offended that his rival would have the nerve to park his butt there. However, before the blond could jump up from his chair and switch seat with the nearest willing participant, Roger walked by and rested down today's dinner and a large side of vegetables on Mello's place-mat.
"Eat it all," the man said and walked off to go prepare plates for the other stubborn children who also did not like vegetables.
Usually it was eat whatever you liked at the institution, but Roger still had to occasionally get them to consume actual food and preferably something green while they were at it. Growing children that they all were, it was important for their development.
"This is… nasty," Mello griped, forgetting about his unwanted neighbor, and turning to Matt, who was eating his food with no problem. "Let me see your plate for a second."
"Huh?" the redhead said as he watched Mello scrape the greener half of his dinner into his.
"Eat it for me," he said as an explanation.
"I don't think so."
"Please," the blond said, tone changing a bit, not drastically, but enough to get Matt to turn his fork around half-heartedly in the mush before nodding his head.
It seemed Mello was learning the finer points of getting others to do things for him without violence coming into play. It was a good skill to have. L had never been a very charismatic person in the first place and he had learned how to do without it when dealing with people, but at least when one of his successors was grown-up, they would have the looks to lead people around. It was superficial, but this was business, and being good-looking was a tool that could be used to your advantage.
It was little details like this that he had to keep in mind in his search for his successor, and when he had to pick between two individuals that had their different strengths and weaknesses, it was going to be tough for him.
L licked his fork contemplatively, the scrape of chair legs beside him causing him to turn to his right.
"Misa is so tired!" He watched the girl throw herself down in the seat next to him and stare back. "Ew, stick your tongue back in your mouth, Ryuuzaki," she told him and L promptly snapped his jaw around the prongs of his fork.
What exactly was going on, he had no idea, especially when Raito was now standing next to his chair.
"How about moving over one so I can sit there?" the brunette asked and placed a hand on his shoulder, his tone friendly and alarmingly warm, however the gleam in his eye off-putting as he stared straight ahead at Mello.
The detective gave up his seat without a word and climbed onto the chair beside him. Raito pushed his plate over to him and smiled with one of those bogus, but undeniably charming expressions that could fool anyone into thinking he had never uttered a mean word in his life.
"It's nice to see that you're joining us for dinner," Roger said as he noticed them amongst the other children. "I'll go set two more plates."
"It's alright Roger-san, I can see that your hands are full," said Raito, already two steps ahead and putting down plates for him and Misa. "Would you like some help?" he then added politely.
Off on the other side of the table, a certain blond snorted rather loudly.
Without moving his head in any obvious way, Raito's eyes refocused on Mello, the gracious expression on his face unwavering. There was something very scary about how absolutely contained and still his smile was, like the calm before the storm struck.
Under that composed façade, however, the brunette was probably burning like a thousand suns. He was spiteful, that much L was assured of, so it did not take a stretch of the imagination to conclude that he had planned or was planning something.
"You don't have to," Roger said.
"Oh no problem," Raito answered, almost cheerfully before picking up a bowl of what looked like steamed carrots and dumping most of it in Mello's plate.
Oblivious to what was going on their side of the table, Roger turned his attention from making small talk with Misa over to Raito, asking him what he'd been up to, to which the brunette answered with a smile, "Redecorating my room."
"I helped too!" Misa said, proud of herself.
They continued on in this fashion, Raito gradually drawing away from the conversation.
L watched him pick up his silverware and start to eat, those impeccable table manners of his making it seem like the rest of table was inhabited by savages. It really did not help that the children were playing with their food more than eating it.
Scratching at his head and also absently paying attention to what he was doing, L accidentally hit Raito in the back of the head with his elbow in passing, causing the teen to drop his fork in his potatoes.
L looked down at the mess and then back up at Raito.
Then he nudged his plate over to him.
"Do you want a piece of my cake?"
Raito looked at him as if he was retarded. "No, that's okay." He picked up his napkin and wiped his hands. "I'm over it, so you don't have to act so stupid around me," he added unexpectedly.
In the middle of returning the slice of cake over to his side, L stopped what he was doing and fixed him with a stare. "I did not think you dropping your fork was such a serious offense."
"That's not what I meant," Raito answered, exasperatedly, "I'm talking about earlier. I'm not mad anymore, so you can cut it out."
L glanced down at his cake. "You were upset with me -- I had not noticed," he said, inserting foot in mouth.
Raito rolled his eyes, instantly seeing through him, but speaking with a patient voice nevertheless. "I know better now since I've had time to calm down. Plus it wasn't you who I was angry at," he clarified and punctuated his sentence by looking across the table, Mello now scraping out his carrots in Near's plate since Matt's was already full, while the white-haired boy did nothing but let it happen.
L also observing the scene came to the conclusion that two out of his three potential successors did not possess a backbone. Near was eating the forced-upon carrots indifferently and Matt was still working on the broccoli that Mello had given him in generous helpings.
"At any rate," interrupted Raito, picking up his fork and cleaning it off with his napkin, "I'm over it now. It would be immature to fight back against someone who likes to vandalize property like a little criminal."
Doubtful, L gazed at the person beside him. "Your face tells another story." And indeed, it was hard to believe that Raito was not going to find some way to get even with Mello when he was smiling like that.
"Does it? Then I think you're mistaken if you think that."
Raito could try to act like a grown-up, but however good his performance appeared, he was still as childish as anyone of the inhabitants of this table, quite frankly if more.
"You are not fooling anyone," L told him, strangely feeling more relaxed now than he had in months, "but I admire the effort you put into maintaining your reputation."
1. Antisocial personality disorder – or the conman disease as I like to call it. People who have this cannot conform to social norms and will repeatedly break the law because of it. They're deceitful, liars, and thrill-seekers, meaning they don't care about their safety or the safety of others for that matter. And most important, they don't feel remorse for anything they do, and will either act indifferent or rationalize their behavior.
2. Empiricism – the application of observation and experiment, and not theory, in determining something.