A/N: Wow I finally write fanfiction again after, what, years and is it a chapter for any of my unfinished fics? Nope, it's this. For some reason Death Note snuck up on me and pulled me back into its clutches (admittedly I wasn't all that resistant) and don't ask me why I decided to write Mello and Near as ladies here. I honestly don't know. Fancy just struck me, I suppose. If that's not your cup of tea you can always just pretend I didn't do it while you're reading (or, y'know, hit the back button), the story wouldn't actually change a whole lot either way. Okay that's me done, I'll let you get to it now.

Manicure

There are footsteps on the carpet and the sound of several things clinking and jostling against one another as in a bag, but Near doesn't look up from her puzzle until Mello actually plops down beside her. She watches Mello smooth a stray lock of hair out of her eyes with one hand while unzipping the blue and gray handbag she's brought with the other. Her nails, Near notes, have been painted a deep, dark brownish color that glints red in the sunlight streaming through the playroom window. They make Near think of chocolate-covered cherries.

"Does Mello need something?" Near questions, as it is apparent Mello isn't going to offer an explanation. Near is curious, but careful to keep her tone casually reserved. She isn't quite sure why Mello hates her, but she knows she does, and antagonizing her has never been Near's intention.

"Duh. Hang on." Mello huffs shortly, eyes still on her bag, which she begins rooting around in. Near watches for a second longer before patiently turning back to her puzzle. A few more pieces are set neatly into place before Mello demands her attention again by poking her shoulder just a hair sharper than necessary. Near warily looks over, and is only mildly surprised to see the array of little bottles Mello has set out.

"Give me your hand." Mello says flatly, and Near is displaced for a moment, unsure whether to offer the one currently tangled in her curls or the one still holding a puzzle piece between two fingers. It occurs to her that she could simply refuse, but that's hardly an interesting option and would likely only lead to an argument and potentially pain if Mello is feeling violent. Mello usually is.

The decision is rendered moot when Mello heaves an exasperated sigh and snatches at Near's left wrist, giving it a businesslike shake to make her drop the puzzle piece, before firmly pressing the palm flat onto the knee of Mello's loose black jeans. Near says nothing while Mello impatiently tugs her fingers straight, giving the back of her hand a sharp tap in warning when she tries to curl them in again. When Mello seems satisfied with the position of Near's fingers, she lifts her hand again, apparently to better examine them.

"Who cuts your nails?" Near is caught a little off-guard by the question, and shrugs. Usually she goes to one of the orphanage attendants when the length gets to bother her, but it isn't something she thinks about enough to remember properly. Mello seems to guess at this, because she doesn't demand a more specific response. Instead, she reaches into her bag again and retrieves what looks a lot like a tongue depressor covered in sandpaper. A faint memory of something she read at some point tells Near that it's probably called an emery board. Her guess at its purpose proves correct as Mello sets about filing Near's nails into neat, even shapes.

Near has no idea why Mello is doing this, but she allows it without comment. Mello has a tendency towards the inexplicable that Near has found strangely appealing. Of course it's possible there is an ulterior motive to this, but it's far more likely that Mello is simply bored and fully aware that Near doesn't care enough to protest.

Mello finishes filing, and tilts Near's hand to blow the shavings away. The gentle coolness of Mello's breath over her fingertips sends an unfamiliar tingle down Near's spine, distracting her to the point that she almost doesn't notice Mello tugging her right hand from her hair and setting about to give it the same treatment as the left. At some point Near has subconsciously shifted in her kneeling position so that she now faces the other girl, making it easier for Mello to arrange her hands as she pleases, and suddenly Near is distinctly aware of how close together they are. She isn't sure why this should matter, apart from how she normally doesn't tolerate people within a certain proximity. Then again, Mello isn't really in the same category as anyone else.

If Mello has picked up on Near's distraction there's no sign. The blonde seems intent on her task, teal eyes darting from one nail to another as she examines her handiwork, pale pink lips pursing as she clears the shavings away again. Near feels her own breath catch for a second, and is confused.

She's so intrigued by the entire process and her own reactions, that she can't even find it in herself to be disconcerted when Mello's next move is to put the emery board back in the bag and pull out a small metal tool of some sort that looks almost like pliers. Near has no idea what it's for, which should be at least a little off-putting, especially since this is Mello, but she isn't worried at all. It turns out to be fine, since Mello simply uses the flat end of the tool to push at Near's cuticles in short, firm motions that feel a bit odd but not painful and then flips it over to cut away the excess skin in quick precise snips that never once result in blood. The feel of the cool metal on her fingers is oddly pleasant, especially juxtaposed with Mello's skin, which Near realizes is soft and warm against her own.

The longer this- whatever it is- goes on, the more aware Near becomes of the sensations involved. She typically doesn't bother with the physical world more than she can help; her expertise is firmly rooted in that of the mental, and what little of the emotional spectrum she has experienced has proved bewildering at best. Her feelings regarding Mello, for example, have always been both simple and problematic, as she's fairly certain she has what most people would call a "crush" on the other girl, but what little effort she felt comfortable enough to make to impress Mello had only caused resentment.

Near doesn't have the initiative to try and sort things out, even thinking about it overmuch feels like venturing too far from her comfort zone, so she's simply learned to accept the fact that Mello hates her. Now however, with Mello sitting close enough to count her eyelashes, with Mello holding her hands and bothering with her nails, looking all bright blonde hair and beautiful sharp features, Near finds her chest suddenly aches most distressingly at the thought of Mello being out of reach.

"Which color?" Mello's voice, low and contemplative, jolts Near out of her thoughts and she looks dazedly at the row of nail polish Mello is considering. "I don't have white," she adds, though Near has already noted this. There's black, predictably, and the brown-red that Mello is wearing now. There's also a pretty plum color, and a shade of neon green that Near suspects was a gift from Matt. Hesitantly, as though not sure it's allowed, Near reaches for the last bottle, a light, vivid teal that matches Mello's eyes. She holds it up and averts her gaze, trying to look as disinterested as possible. When Mello takes the bottle, Near's automatic instinct is to twine her curls around a finger for comfort, but Mello catches her hand before it's halfway to her hair and pulls it back to her knee.

"How am I supposed to paint your nails if you're playing with your hair, dummy?" Mello rolls her eyes, setting her elbow on the back of Near's hand so she can make sure it stays in place while she opens the nail polish. Near spreads her fingers obligingly when her hand is picked up again, and Mello makes a faint noise of approval that shouldn't send warmth spreading through Near's chest, but does.

Mello gives two coats to each nail, painting every one of them with painstaking care and an expression of deep concentration that Near isn't sure how to interpret. She knows, logically, that it's a result of Mello's perfectionism, but some alarmingly illogical part of her wants badly to read some affection into the action as well. Even with one hand finished, she can't touch her hair until the polish has dried, so instead she tilts her head to hide behind a curtain of white curls. It isn't quite as reassuring, and her mind buzzes a little without the habit that has served to ground her thoughts for years now. However it does help somewhat, and she's endlessly glad of how it obscures her face when Mello blows on her nails again, to dry them this time, and she feels her cheeks go strangely warm.

"Done." Mello announces proudly, and releases Near's hands. They feel cold without Mello's wrapped around them, and Near waits a moment before peeking between her curls, unsure whether the blushing is visible on her face as she's never done it before.

Her hands look incredibly different, the shaped nails giving the illusion of longer fingers and the color accenting her pale skin surprisingly well. They're beautiful, elegant, Near can't stop tilting them this way and that in the light, staring with fascination. Mello snorts, openly amused, and Near finds even this attractive.

"Thank you," She says softly, and means it, offering Mello a small smile. Mello blinks at her, as if she can't comprehend the statement, and then suddenly wrinkles her nose and shrugs.

"Whatever," She drawls casually, "I was just bored, and Matt won't sit still when I try to paint his." Near thinks this is a bit odd, since it was actually a rather wonderful experience. Matt obviously doesn't know what he's missing. Near finds she's glad of this. It makes it feel even more special.

Near isn't the sort to get caught up in a moment. It doesn't happen. Even on those rare occasions when she truly feels something, it is buried swiftly under cold reason, logic, judgment. On top of this, Near is naturally disinclined towards significant movement. Even in cases of the intellectual, where she rules all, Near often needs a little prompting to find the motivation to act. She is, she supposes, really quite lazy in a sense; content to be dependent, calm to the point of inertia. This makes it all the more surprising when she leans forward and presses her lips against Mello's.

Mello goes frighteningly still, and Near pulls back with a speed she didn't know she was capable of. Honestly, she's probably the more startled of the two, although the stunned look on Mello's face proclaims it a close thing.

Near's mind races so fast it trips over itself and she has no idea if she's supposed to apologize or leave or, what suddenly seems the best idea, pretend nothing happened at all. She doesn't think Mello is going to hit her, but she doesn't have sufficient data to know for certain. What she does know is that Mello hates her, and people don't like being kissed by people they hate, and this is what happens when you let emotions get the better of you, this is why Near doesn't deal in emotions, this is why.

"Holy shit, Matt was right." Mello says suddenly, in a funny strangled sort of voice, and abruptly springs to her feet and races out of the room. She's left her bag and nail polish behind. Near hugs her knee against her chest and considers the situation. She hasn't exactly tried to hide her feelings for Mello, but since Mello herself had either not seen or completely misinterpreted them, she'd concluded they were unnoticeable. This conclusion was, it appears, wrong. Matt had noticed. Matt had told Mello. And Mello had not believed him, until now.

Near doesn't know if this is good or bad. She suspects she won't until Mello comes back. If Mello comes back. No, when she comes back, she will, she left her things here.

She does. It's almost an hour later, and Near hasn't known quite what to do in this time so she simply went back to what she always does, finishing her puzzle and playing with her favorite toys, although somehow it just isn't as satisfying with her nerves frayed at the edges. When Mello walks in again she does so with her usual cavalier posture, like she owns whatever room she enters and everything in it. It's only when she approaches Near that her pace slows to something wary, and she stops a few feet away.

Usually, Near doesn't pay attention until someone gives her a reason, but she already has one now and so looks over at Mello without any further incentive. Mello is watching her with crossed arms and slightly narrowed eyes, an air of expectancy hovering around her stance, as if trying to figure Near out but also waiting for her to explain herself. She thinks maybe she's supposed to apologize after all, but she isn't sorry.

"I won't kiss Mello again," Near says finally, because this much at least is true. She isn't sorry, but she knows better now, she'll be prepared should such occasion ever rise again, and she'll control herself. Mello arches an eyebrow. When Near doesn't offer anything else, Mello stomps forward, dropping down to sit on her knees and bring herself to Near's level.

"What if I want you to kiss me again?" She demands fiercely. Near blinks, running the unexpected data through her processing systems. She's quite fast, even considering the circumstances, and it's only a second or two before she begins to reply, "If that is the case then-" But it turns out to be unnecessary, since she is cut off as Mello kisses her with a frustrated growl.

It's a bit rough but still just as nice as the first kiss, nicer actually, because Near has time to appreciate it. It gets a bit scary since Mello's lips are soft but she's pressing hard and Near isn't actually sure what to do, and then she has her hands on Near's shoulders and is pushing her down on the carpet and Near knows she's supposed to be doing something but she still doesn't know what, she just holds onto Mello's shirt and tries, tentatively, to press back a little. When one of Mello's hands slips into her hair it tingles, Near makes a soft noise between surprise and pleasure, and Mello pulls back. Near doesn't like that, and without thinking about it tugs on Mello's shirt to pull her back in, but the other girl laughs a little and pushes her down again easily.

"Whoa, hold on," Mello grins, and it's one of those nice grins that Near never thought would be directed at her. "Man, you're kind of pathetic at this, aren't you?" Near isn't sure what to say to that, she thinks it should sting a little but Mello sounds so amused and-and yes, affectionate, that Near just stares at her for lack of response. Mello sighs and shakes her head a little. "Jesus, here I was thinking you were trying to show me up when this whole time you were actually crushing on me. I thought you were an asshole but you're just unbelievably socially inept. That's kind of adorable."

"Mello has a strange way of paying compliments," Near observes dryly, but her racing heartbeat betrays how thrilled she is.

"I'm still pretty fucking frustrated with you." Mello informs her, and Near shifts a little under her, not sure what to say about this. Her legs brush against Mello's knees, reminding her that the other girl is essentially straddling her and she really does not know how she feels about that. Mostly positive, she ascertains, but nervous as well. Nervous is a foreign feeling. Mello doesn't appear to be nervous, actually she's acting as though these are perfectly natural circumstances to be carrying on a conversation in. "And I still fully intend to prove that I'm better than you." Near kind of thinks that's strange, she always has, since Mello has never been less than her. It's just that their talents veer a little differently and Near has the memory and calm and attention for detail and Mello has action and fire and improvisation. Mello has what Near lacks, and Near has what Mello lacks.

For the first time, she tries to explain this, thinking that if there's ever a chance that Mello would listen, it would most likely be now. "You don't need to," Near says, "Mello is already better than me at many things. Mello is the same level, she just has different traits."

Mello's eyes narrow again, and she stares at Near as if trying to see through her. Near stares right back, tilting her head curiously, and after a few seconds that feel longer than they should, Mello's expression changes. Her eyebrows raise, her eyes widen incredulously.

"You actually mean that." She says, and her tone is wondering. It isn't an inflection Near has heard from Mello before. She likes it. She likes almost everything about Mello. She wants Mello to kiss her again.

"Right, okay," Mello clears her throat and, as if sensing Near's thoughts says, "I'm going to teach you how to makeout properly now." And then she does.

End.