"I can't begin to express how disappointed I am." Watari's sigh was deliberately strained.
One head flax, one milk, one russet sat before him.
Mello was growing operatic in his show of grief. First he had begged for mercy, throwing himself across Wammy's desk until peeled off rather roughly by an entirely unsympathetic Matt. Then he had begun wailing of the other two's machinations against him until this fell flat with many a cool stare. He switched to a welcome tirade against B, bolstered by understanding nods, before dissolving into a mess of tears and mucus.
Watari proffered a near-transparent handkerchief and this was enough of a gag to diffuse.
"You have underwhelmed in every area and now things are advancing at a critical pace," the old man hissed. He grabbed a ruler and smote his desk thrice. "A. Critical. Pace. Where are L and Light?"
Eager for reparations, Mello bubbled over. "In Japan and Light tried to—"
Matt's head lowered as he choked on giggles. Near snorted.
Mello decided the sentence was best left a fragment. Not only had that tape been too uncomfortable for them to review, the idea that both L and Light had reached a level where both were besotted and refused to communicate clearly about this was personally painful to two of the campers, as it mirrored their own lives in such a way that there was many an uncomfortable silence and sulky glance throughout the proceedings.
"But they DIDN'T," Watari bellowed with such force Mello dropped his sodden hanky. Mello didn't quite understand why he felt so guilty in two separate spheres of his life.
Near made a face, guilt needing permission to enter his thoughts. "You want them to?"
"My boy," said Watari gravely, looking down his nose, "that has been the entire point."
"If you had let us—" he snapped, standing abruptly.
"It was beyond my power unless you wanted L to know," Watari interrupted, each word leaving his teeth with vinegar. "But we are to that point."
Near ignored Matt and Mello's stares, scrutinizing Watari with annoyance. "We're taking over," he informed the old man. "L is too consumed by his feelings to be a leader anymore."
"It is with a heavy heart," droned Watari, "that I must say I cannot allow that."
"When have I ever needed permission?" Near leered.
Mello felt a little flutter of happiness at the vitriol on Near's face that matched his own exactly in a wash of warm narcissism. Evidently in an unsullied, literary foil-ish sort of way, Near now harmonized with Light in motives. And whilst L was his idol, Near was the boy who had his heart, and his heart always won.
"Near!" Mello grabbed his wrist and threw him to his chair. "Listen to Watari. He knows what's best for L."
Watari beamed. "Thank you, Mihael. It is time for the three of you to prepare for Wilderness Survival Week. L and Light will be dealt with. By me alone. Thank you, and good day." He grabbed a thousand-page tome and began to flip to his bookmark, and with that the campers were told good riddance.
Flax, milk, and russet head bobbed down the hallway and whispered. Surely not tonight. L and Light's journey was long. Watari may even not let Light back onto camp property. It was rather a disaster from any angle they fought from and the trio decided to sleep on it after Matt suggested a visit the kitchens to see if anything of import could be sweet-talked from the blondes. Ugly rumor had escaped that they had been handed the addition of a man named Mikami whose purpose had not yet been tortured out of either a hard drive or a person and it was time to see if anything could be wheedled forth.
Besides, they had a bit of time.
Mikami had decided that every child he'd met so far had been good, his word that spanned a thousand connotations to equalize in one solid feeling of pleasant geniality—a dullard's estimation of the world around him.
But he wasn't hired for intelligence. Rather, it was through fact-checking his physical appearance against Light's previous paramours that had led to the interview, the acceptance of a signed contract, and Mikami's flight to the wilds of the United States.
The kitchen staff adored him. He was obedient, attractive, and docile. Misa was overjoyed that such a becoming man was open to so many hugs over the course of a single day. He even allowed her to watch his morning workout, which Wedy had become participant in once she had been impressed enough by his routine. Misa had refused the invitation to join. In fact the entire delight had lost charm with the addition of a third and she quickly found excuses to be elsewhere.
"I still don't really know," Halle said to the campers when they demanded an explanation for Mikami's hiring. Mello acted as mouthpiece—Near already was certain he knew and Matt went mysteriously mute around Halle with enough regularity to be openly teased.
("She looks like Mello," Near had implied once when the two were alone. Near had been snuffling out barriers to very personal feelings at the time. Matt had shoved Near over and farted on his face. "Maybe if Mello was anywhere near decent-looking. And a girl. I'm not L. Penis no-no," had been the reply once Near was released from odious confines, and Near was sated.)
"But it has to do with Light," snapped Mello, waving chocolate in Halle's face.
She snatched it out of his hand with reproach. "Your teeth will rot, child. Of course it had to do with Light. How do you know Light is returning? He assassinated a PM. And how do you know L himself is returning?"
"Why would L not return?"
"A PM was assassinated," Halle repeated gently. "Really, boys, think it through. L is not infallible."
To Mello, L's most grievous mistakes were always the consequence of some shadowy other, currently taking Light Yagami's form. He made an impatient gesture. "Thanks, Hal. Is there any pie left?"
"No. Go back to your camp." She gave Mello his chocolate back. "If you are going to interfere, act quickly. Watari expects Light and L back this afternoon. I doubt it's a conversation you want to miss hearing."
There was no time to hear it, staging a coup and all. They Cheshire-grinned in turn, shrugged shoulders, and turned away to laugh. Halle sighed, noting that the three's laugh was close to becoming identical. She watched them walk away, seeing the accidentally-on-purpose touches of Mello and Near's hands, the forgotten DS in Matt's back pocket.
At least if L were to fail, those three would not.
It was Mikami who sat at Watari's desk when L and Light walked in.
He was a fluster of fed apologies. Watari's new personal assistant, he explained. Kitchen staff a glut, Watari having fired his personal attendants just a day ago (something about an assassination—Mikami smiled gently and murmured he wasn't exactly sure).
L wasn't surprised. It was unexpected, but not an unsatisfactory or really shocking change. He thought of Mikami as a sort of dog that only needed the right training and knowing Watari thought the same, or would use this for his own gains was not out of the ordinary. To Light, he was grateful. The return to camp (his polo a lurid pink this time) was both a relief and a forgiveness and any stutter in the normal pattern was a minor hiccup to what his life had been for the past few weeks. He fell into a chair before Watari's desk relaxed, fingering the tassels decorating the arm.
L refused to sit. "Well, Mikami, what's next?"
"Wilderness Survival Week starts tomorrow!"
Light sniffed. "Do you usually participate, L?"
"No," L responded. "It's a gross exercise in survival skills. Foraging. Trench-digging. Tarp-fighting. I can use my time for greater purposes."
"I bet you would excel, Light," murmured Mikami in the duo's native tongue.
L was not annoyed by Mikami's attraction. It was unremarkable. If L was supposed to feel a stab of jealousy every time Light was approached, flirted with, or pandered to, he'd have been dead from the start.
"Yes," Light said, also in Japanese. "Except perhaps for the cooking bit." The supper of his first night still haunted his nose.
"I'm an excellent cook." Mikami made his way round the desk until he was in front of Light, leaning back against the mahogany with the relaxed posture of Light himself. L felt the situation shift, now an outsider to the two's private conversation. It irked.
Light only had eyes for Mikami. L watched his eyes drag down the body before him, before examining the tassels running through his fingers with nonchalance. Was that a blush?
"Well, we always need a connection to Watari wherever we go. Maybe if I participated—if I'm allowed to keep my duties as counselor—you could be my personal cook for it." The smile he gave Mikami was warm, fluid, an invitation. It teased, non-serious. In his eyes was an intentness L had really never seen before. This was real flirting.
"Watari's PA always stays with him," was L's disposal of Light's solicitation. It was time to leave—it mattered not where to. He had learned enough.
"I want to go," Light said as soon as they were in the hallway, on their way to pick up the Aston from the garage. "If I am supposed to be a counselor—"
"—You've never—"
"—Facades are important."
"Like your attraction to Mikami?"
Light winced. "Did it show?"
No facade. True attraction. Mutual attraction.
"Not everything I do is a trick," came the rest with a flush. "Sometimes I'm attracted to someone because I think they're attractive."
Why had L hired Mikami, again? Oh, that was back when he was cautious, before he had given himself over fully, back when he wanted to give Light a plaything to stifle his own crush and keep Light from becoming any sort of emotionally attached to L himself, had that ever been a possibility.
Ah, how much ache it caused when plans worked only halfway.
"Perhaps this could be your first real relationship," L offered with a numbness to his lips.
Light laughed, bright and yielding. The sound went straight to L's gut. "I think I'll try to be more professional this time, L. What am I going to do anyway, help you with casework?"
"No," said Near, behind them.
They turned with mutual vexation.
Said L, "I always concentrate on casework during WSW. Light can join me or he can join the campers. It doesn't matter."
Oh dear. L was choosing to lose. They could not let him.
"I would prefer to camp," said Light. "I want to be a real counselor this time around."
And Light now thought that winning meant something much more tame than he had previously. He was humbled and acquiescent.
Oh dear.
"Alright," Near shrugged, fingers going to his hair. "Light, good luck. Same to you, L. Jane Doe 451 is getting interesting." He turned on his cottoned heel and trod off.
Oh dear oh dear oh dear. His shuffling quickened.