Okie dokie, here we have the second chapter. Let the NearXOC-ness commence!

p.s. cookies for Magette, Spoon Face, and Fanadiction. But! I frown upon all those who refuse to review! REVIEW!

p.p.s. withdrawal your animal urges, flames are not welcome in this here fanfiction.

~*~

Near's thoughts were shattered suddenly when the bus drove up and swung its frost-encrusted doors open for them to step through. When did she bring us to a bus stop? Near though absently as he and Web stepped on and dropped their fare into the money slot. Amazingly enough, they were able to find two seats in the already tightly packed bus. It's like a circus in this place.

Web found herself plastered to Near, trying to avoid the shady looking man sitting next to her. His eyes were wide and delirious, red lines marbling the whites. He had an estranged grin on and thick drool was leaking in threads from between his teeth. Hands clasped together he was hunched forward, the brim of his hat pulled low over his face, matting down the tangled tufts of black hair.

Web twirled her own hair nervously, truly frightened even if she was strong. Determined she tried to focus on her face, reflected in the snow covered window across from her.

Black hair reached down to her earlobes, died a steady blue at the tips. Wide eyes sat on either side of her snub nose, leading down to pale lips, a chin, and her long narrow neck. Which, in fact, you couldn't see because it was muffled by her long black and gray scarf. Her old, worn-through suede jacket was wrapped tightly around her, and warm boots came up to her knees. Damn! She swore in her head, she had forgotten her gloves.

Near himself was wearing gloves, as well as a hat, scarf, and battered snow boots.

But, no matter the dark-haired girl concentrated, her thoughts always traveled back to the deranged man sitting next to her. Web jumped when she felt Near's hand grip her upper-arm. Shit. I must look really wimpy if he's getting all protective on me. And, even as she continued to swear like a drunken sailor up in the place she called her mind, Web felt her heart slowly pull itself into her stomach. She mentally kicked herself thereafter. What the hell was that? She thought angrily, as if she were talking to her obviously confused organ, Don't you ever do that again. I am not a schoolgirl in a manga. This was like her calming exercise, reminding her what she was and what she was not. I am a Wammy kid. I am second in rank. She shifted in her seat, stilled unnerved by the awful man sitting next to her, I am emotionless. Web hated how this last thought came out resoundingly bitter, but she knew that was the only way to keep her rank, to keep herself alive. To be alive is to be emotionless. Emotions are for fairytales. Logic is what matters. Of course, she knew full well she was not emotionless, if she was she would be in Near's shoes (if he had any of course) instead of him. But even then, she knew that was not what she really wanted. What did she really want. As much as she hated to admit it what she really wanted was-

The bus gave a horrid jolt, and the drooling man leaned drunkenly towards her. He had noticed her staring at him. At this he grinned wider, slipping a beefy hand onto thigh suggestively. Now this, this was too much. Without thinking of the consequences Web smashed her hand into his teeth, hard enough to dent a well-made sauce-pan.

Even with this blow the man righted himself, fixing both teens with a bloodshot eye, threatening evil things under his breath. A tooth fell from his gum and fell to the floor, bouncing a few inches before stopping. Another one followed that one. All in all, Drooly lost two teeth from crossing Web, the aggressive Wammy orphan. Yeah, she liked that title.

Near himself was quite embarrassed over the whole thing. At the next stop, he jumped up, grabbed his companion by the arm and hurried off the bus, muttering a quick "thank you" to the driver as he went.

He turned and sighed in relief as the bus drove away, happy to be off that death vehicle to hell. It was like the Mystery Machine gone terribly, terribly wrong.

"Oh goody." Web said these words in monotone, but even so she truly was pleased. Near turned to see what the dunce was "oh goody"-ing about. There, stretching in front of him in all its glory, was the market.

"How convenient." He couldn't help it, sarcasm was his thing.

"Well, we might as well get a move on." She cast him a look that he wasn't too fond of, "task number one: get you knew clothes." Near opened his mouth to protest but she was already yanking him along, zooming through the throng of people that were milling around. "Christmas shopping galore." Web called back at him as he stumbled after her, grumbling quick apologies to the countless people he was being thrown into. She gave him yet another distasteful look, swishing daintily through a narrow crack in the pulsing crowd. "Not that you'd buy anyone something." The small break in the crowd she had just slipped through instantly closed, jerking him from Web's grasp. At least six people bashed into him, and he fell, hitting the ground hard.

He felt and arm wrap around his own, pulling him up anxiously from the ground, and suddenly pop! they were out. It was Web who had helped him up and out of the mass, and she pulled over to the fountain in the middle of the square, helping him sit down. Only then did he feel the sharp pain piercing his lower lip.

"I'm sorry." She muttered, but she wasn't looking at him, she was already pulling a pack of tissues out of her pocket. "I should've waited. And now you've got a cut." She licked a corner of the Kleenex as she said this, and he was genuinely shocked at how sorry she really did sound. For the first time since they left the throng she met his eyes, something, he had found, she did very often. He even thought she liked doing it. "Now stand still." Her gaze flicked back to his lip as she dabbed it with the tissue, wiping at the stream of slowly-flowing blood. Near quickly found his voice.

"Ow! And you licked that." She looked up again, frowning.

"Its just saliva Near, grow up."

"Speaks the person who did this to me."

"I told you I was sorry! And it's not that bad either. See? It's already clotted." She stepped back to admire her handy work. As she stood there, examining his swelling lip, she licked a smudge of his blood from her thumb absently, squinting to see if it really was healing. He felt a shiver crawl down his back as he watched her lick the blood from her finger, and suddenly he frightened himself. What that just a shiver of…desire? He shivered again, this time out of self-disgust. Something's wrong with me. But then, isn't this sort of thing perfectly natural for maturing teen boys?

"-to the shop" he looked up, only catching the last of Web's sentence.

"What?"

"You really should listen more." She scolded, glaring at him and rubbing her cold hands together. "I said; if you're feeling better we'd best make our way to the clothing shop." Near remained silent for a moment.

"Yes, yes we should." And so they did.

~*~

(in the clothing store) A tall lady with a cloth strap draped around her neck for measuring came up to them. Large, horn-rimmed glasses sat on her nose, making her look young. She smiled a charming smile as they trudged up to her.

"May I help you?" her voice sounded like Christmas bells. Web swallowed her jealousy.

"This one needs new clothes." She replied, sticking her thumb in Near's direction. Near's expression was utterly offended. The lady, whose nametag said "Martha", looked the white-haired boy up and down.

The sleeves of his pajamas constricted his arms, which, in the recent years, had grown terribly long. Near had stopped trying to do up the buttons long ago so his shirt hung open, revealing his chest. His pants were much too tight, and so short they climbed to his knees. Martha "tsk, tsk"-ed dramatically.

"You're right, he will need new clothes." At this she began to lead the horrified-looking Near towards the dressing rooms.

"Have fun!" she called after them, snickering at her companion's misfortune. Whistling softly she wandered into the forest of clothes racks, walking along the shelves stacked high with scarves made of fuzzy material.

She ran her hand over a pile of sweaters, sighing wistfully. Children at the Wammy house usually didn't buy their own clothes, actually, they were encouraged now to, and she felt so horribly restricted.

Web heard a door open somewhere near the back; the changing room. Near and Martha walked out, Near clutching something that looked like clothing.

"What'd you choose?" Web asked, strolling over to the two of them as casually as she could.

"This." He held out his arms and Web sighed in exasperation, her arms going limp at her sides and her shoulders slumping in disappointment.

"Neeeeeeeear!" in his hands he held two sets of white drawstring pajamas, identical to the much smaller ones that L had given him. In his size, of course.

Near turned on his heal, not wanting to here Web's lecture on clothing, and walked coolly to the checkout counter.

Martha smiled at him as she put his purchase in a bag and he nodded, a solemn expression set on his face. Web turned her head back and forth in confusion. What is with these two? Near ignored her plain cluelessness.

Giving up Web sighed and, dragging Near out of the shop, said a quick thank you to Martha as she did.

~*~

Stuff gets more serious after this chapter so get ready! Sadly enough, this chapter is over so it's time to….review! I'm not fond of flames; please scream at me nicely, criticism is always welcome! ^^ the more reviews I get, the faster I'll release the next chapter.

-Valkyrie