Death Note pairing short story prompt, take your pick of either:
Watari and L, familial... something about how Watari has been acting as L's butler, handler, personal assistant etc for so long that line between "caregiver" and "employee" has become blurred in L's adulthood... but he has a memory, a conversation, a moment of reflection, something, that stirs the feeling of L as his own son.
Or something weirder: Near and Halle, one-sided crush (from Near to Halle), references to Near's extreme isolation and implications that it could also be because she resembles Mello a bit.
Halle didn’t understand why Near had called her here.
He sat with his back to her, building up a tower of cards, in thought. His voice was flat when he spoke.
“Lidner,” he said simply, cutting her off as she expressed her exasperation. “Thank you for coming.”
Halle took a step in toward him. “Why did you call me here, Near?” Not hostile, but not pleased, either.
“I invited you here because I wanted to talk to you,” he said simply.
“About what? It’s the middle of the night.” Another step, this time angled off to the side, like she wasn’t really sure she wanted to come closer to Near. “I thought your current case was mostly solved.”
“91 percent, yes.” As a general rule, Near didn’t start a new case until his current one was 96 percent of the way through. He twirled a strand of his own hair around his index finger, soft against his skin, even as he pulled it taut. “Were you expecting company?”
Over his shoulder, Near saw Halle flush lightly, up to her ears.
“That is not appropriate,” she said imperiously. Then sighed, and drew her finger across her throat as if to sign suicide. It had become a slight habit of hers in recent times, when she wished to ground herself. Near couldn’t blame her. He may even have done the same, if he had a neck like that.
“I am sure whoever you had booked for the night was quite disappointed to lose a woman like you,” Near drawled. “They would likely be perfectly pleased to reschedule. You needn’t worry.” He smirked.
A red-painted lip curled in displeasure. “You–! Near, I respect and care about you, but as my employer, there are certain respects you need to show.” Halle’s tone was clear, like a strict guardian setting house rules, but not quite harsh. “And I understand you… prefer to be alone,” she put it lightly, “But that doesn’t give you an excuse to cross boundaries like this.”
Near frowned, and bent a card (three of hearts) slightly between his fingers.
He looked at Halle. Clear peach skin, well-maintained blonde bangs, a black outfit. Something in his stomach curled.
Near didn’t like Lidner’s golden eyes. He didn’t like her bright cherry lipstick or her voice, firm enough but clearly female.
He turned his head back to his cards so he wouldn’t have to see her.
“You’re quite right,” he murmured, embarrassed. On some level, he had been trying to rile her up, as he always used to do to people when he was young. A bad decision, which would lower how well she and Near worked together by up to 19 percent. “My apologies, Agent Lidner. That is not what I called you in for.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t,” Lidner sighed, fixing her sleeves. “Go on.”
Near hesitated before placing his next card. He had been planning on asking Lidner to perform a trivial task that would require them to be on call for long periods.
Not because he was growing tired of the precious quiet of his quarters, no. Not because the ring of silence was starting to feel like a torment, a limbo.
Not because every moment that wasn’t filled with real noise took the form of a news reporter’s voice, trilling that “The kidnapper’s body has been badly burned”. Not because the atmosphere here was indistinguishable from the atmosphere after seven men and women shot themselves, one after the other. After the culprit walked away scot-free, and Near said no goodbye, sure he’d come back.
No, Near just liked her voice.
But she would pick up on his true intentions instantly. Of all Near’s extensive talents, acting had never been one, and Lidner was both a professional spy and a very perceptive woman.
“I wanted to ask,” Near said slowly, weighing his options, for he was in a social quandary. The most dangerous type of quandary there was. “Do you like your job, Lidner?”
A pause. Halle pretended to cough, and instead sighed deeply into the crook of her elbow. She was weighing her options.
“I care about justice,” she said finally. “And I’m grateful that you do such good work preserving it. Admittedly, overall, working with you has been… Subpar, as of late. But my feelings aren’t your concern.”
Near nodded, rubbing his thumb against the side of a Jester, before he placed it on the tower. “Thank you,” he said. Shame was once a stranger to him. Now it was a constant in his life; A new wave of it stirred at the pit of his throat. Near exhaled, long and slow, and banished all emotion. “You are dismissed.”
He listened to Lidner’s receding footsteps as she walked away and down the hall, the clack of her shoes against the cool floor reminding him vaguely of the click of a fitted puzzle piece. He listened and listened until he could hear no more.
He sighed, and picked up a neglected toy car from the floor. Ran his thumb over the wheel, watched it spin. He’d had this one for a long time. Near didn’t throw things out anymore. That way, none of them would question his decision to hold onto the empty wrappers for two dozen chocolate bars.
He rolled Halle’s words around in his mind, processing. Dissecting.
Justice. Such good work. Subpar… not your concern. That, at least, had been a very good response. He’d expected nothing less.
