Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor do I profit from writing this.

It echoed through the speakers – a voice that needed no introduction.

"Let me speak to Near." There he goes, demanding things immediately. His manner of speaking would lead many to assume he didn't think the speakerphone would be on, but I know Mello better than that.

Rester casts a glance in my direction, clearly expecting me to respond. I simply hold my hand out for the phone and he places the receiver in my palm, likely wondering why I wish to keep this conversation private. The press of a button shuts off the speakerphone.

"Mello." Telephone etiquette has never been something I cared to master.

He gets straight to the point. "I require a private meeting with you." Typical Mello. He truly believes that a meeting with me is a need, rather than a mere desire. I'll humor him.

"Why is that?" I pick up a dart and let my finger wrap around the body, long and narrow.

"I sent Kanzo Mogi to you. The minimal amount of information you provided in return was of little use to me. You owe me more."

His reasoning is poor. I send the dart flying through the air, a bit aimlessly. It strikes the inner ring and bounces off. "Mogi is of little use to me. He remains stoic and unresponsive. I owe Mello little, if anything."

"Regardless. It was no easy feat, Near." Harsh noises fizzle through the earpiece; he is no doubt ripping foil from a bar of chocolate. "Besides, stoic and unresponsive are traits you should be familiar with." A loud snap signifies that his mouth is occupied with a large chunk of the sweet.

He couldn't resist slipping in a dig at my personality. Playing games with Mello is something I am used to, but he usually fails to have an ulterior motive. "Be that as it may, if Mello is in need of the information I have gathered on Kira, it is pitiable, as it suggests Mello's investigative abilities are lacking."

"That you have failed to pull information from Mogi implies the same thing about your own investigative abilities." With that cool reply, he has confirmed my suspicions inadvertently. Under other circumstances, insinuating that Mello is incompetent would result in him becoming angry and defensive. He is retaining his composure, which indicates that this telephone call was carefully planned and prepared for.

I knit a finger in my hair and begin to twist a lock. "It is absurd to continue attempting to offend one another this way. My point is I was led to believe that Mello had no intention of working with me on this case."

I hear the soft squeak of leather and can almost see him making himself more comfortable on the couch, chair, or whatever he happens to be reclining on, lean frame spread languidly, a notable achievement, considering the amount of leather he insists upon wearing. "I don't." The reply is too straightforward and I wait for him to go on. "My stance on cooperating with you remains the same. You used my recent actions against Kira to gather information; you used me. I'm returning the favor." There's an edge of bitterness, but he's keeping himself in check.

Is he honestly expecting me to agree to being used so blatantly? He must sense my skepticism, because he adds, "This will benefit both our investigations. Surely you can't pass up such a chance." Oh, Mello, is that your trump card? For the sake of this game, I'll play along.

"Very well. Give me the location and I will have Rester escort me." The Commander's head turns to face me. I ignore his unspoken rebuttal, as I won't be influenced by him; besides, we are simply waiting for Yagami's next move at this point.

Now, it is Mello's turn to be skeptical; he sounds almost flustered at first, but rights himself quickly and tells me the hotel's address. "There will be no need for Rester to attend the meeting."

"Right," I murmur, hand poised to break the connection. Before I hang up, the click of his receiver is accompanied by the snapping of chilled chocolate, followed by the hum of a dial tone.

-x-

Judging by his stance, it doesn't seem as if Mello arrived at the hotel long before Rester and I, though that may have been premeditated. His posture is stiff, back to me, clad in his crimson jacket in addition to his usual leather. Turning sharply on laced boots, Mello's ice-chip eyes zero in on me through the shadow that the hood casts upon his angular face. He looks out of place in the lavish suite (which I imagine I will end up paying for), but I imagine I fit in no better.

He swipes the hood from his head in a swift motion, exposing me to the scar that now ornaments his features; its appearance is rather jarring, though I show no external reaction.

Mello once exuded confidence. Even as a child at the orphanage, he took excessive pride in his appearance. He now radiates bitterness, yet I sense vulnerability. His hair has grown longer, blond wisps invading his face, a possible attempt to hide the marred scar tissue that dances across the left side of his face. Or perhaps it's just that without the mafia at his dispense, survival has taken precedence over petty things like appearance. I know Mello has joined up with Matt, formerly third-ranked at Wammy's; things might be difficult for them, but I would not offer my aid, knowing they don't have need of it. That he exposed himself to me may mean that my presence is non-threatening and he doesn't anticipate judgment on my part, or maybe he just does not consider me worthy of being spared the sight of the imperfection.

Neither of us is uncomfortable under the weight of the silence. After a few seconds of unabashed ogling on both our parts, a smirk blossoms on Mello's face, so wide it seems to split his face in half. That smile, however off-putting, proves that the old Mello lies dormant within him, though I suspect he hasn't indulged in a grin of that caliber in some time.

"Near," he states simply, turning to drape his discarded jacked on the back of an armchair, which he then sprawls himself out on, long arms elegantly falling about his frame. The slick quilted leather of his vest draws my eye to the scar that ends after spreading jaggedly along his shoulder. He doesn't offer me a seat, knowing that the prospect of him extending such an invitation would be laughable. A bar of chocolate is pulled from someplace hidden on his person and the grating tune of tearing foil assaults my ears. He places his tongue on the bittersweet food, not licking it, just letting it lie there inexplicably, pointlessly. The move may not be as casual as he makes it seem. "You haven't changed a bit." Blue eyes roam my white-clad frame, voice condescending.

I take my time replying, shuffling across the room to the armchair opposite his, which is conveniently large enough that I may assume my preferred sitting position, one knee drawn to my chest. Perching an elbow on my knee, I let my finger wander to my hair and entangle it in a single curl, twirling indolently. "Mello has changed a good deal, physically," I intone smoothly, returning his smirk from earlier. Something flickers across the slightly tanned face, as if he's been pinched, and I decide to continue before he can lure me into the territory of paltry conversation and bickering, as I know he wants to. "Though I doubt such frivolous discussion is the reason for Mello's requirement of a meeting with me."

In a flash of piano-key teeth, a crack pulsates through the quiet air of the room as a chunk of chocolate is transferred from its starting point into his mouth. "You already know why I requested a meeting with you."

I begin to regret agreeing to this. I was up to Mello's challenge, but this back-and-forth is inane and could drag on forever, so stubborn are we both. "I'm afraid I must claim ignorance. Now, Mello may have time to fritter away, but I do not have the same luxury. May we progress?"

He feigns annoyance, narrowing his sapphire orbs and letting his nose crinkle in a subtle leer; a possibly convincing performance if directed toward a different audience. It's clear he's aware that I see through the act and rises from his seat, no longer bothering to adopt an expression of anger. The leather that molds to his skin squeaks in complaint at the sudden movement and protests even more insistently as he slowly moves toward me with exaggerated swaying of slim hips; undeniably masculine yet gracefully feminine.

Long fingers curl around the armrests of my chair as he looms over me. My personal space being violated is immensely displeasing, but Mello has never minded invading me and has exploited this weakness of mine more times than I care to count or recall since we've known one another. We are playing a game, and I do not allow myself to pull away as his mouth finds my ear, though the desire overwhelms my body. I cannot help but tense, though, and if he notices my muscles seize, he makes no comment. "Gladly," he responds, voice a low purr; the single word is hot against the sensitive shell of my ear and I force myself to meet his eyes. The twirling of my hair that never once stopped during our exchange becomes more rapid; something about his close proximity is making my heart thump painfully.

The reason for this discomfort isn't my being naïve; I had been well aware what this meeting with Mello could possibly entail. He feels as though he has controlled me by persuading me to agree to this get-together; I've let him believe that I am none the wiser, but I believe he sees through my act, just as I've seen through his. As the situation progresses, I must exert some effort to keep my head clear, I'm having difficulties determining where and when the exploitation began and if it will end.

And as Mello dips down to kneel between my legs, fine golden hairs splayed upon the white linen of my pants, I can't shake the feeling that the manipulation began long before I picked up the phone earlier today; it has been a part of our relationship from the very beginning.

A/N: This began as a writing exercise to explore the manipulative nature of Mello and Near's relationship (as well as a much needed break from my other fic). I had fun writing it, so I hope other people will enjoy reading it. I would like to continue for a little while and am considering making it into a two-shot, or a three-shot at most, likely containing a lemon (shocker!), hence the rating. I normally wouldn't ask this, but I'd appreciate some insight on this one, a few opinions on whether I should keep going or not.

Thanks so much for reading!