Author's Notes: Well, here's just a little something that I came up with while I've been struggling with Tattered's next chapter. It's going to be a pretty short story, not too much plot, but I hope that it will still be enjoyable. Here's my attempt at doing a historical AU! I was trying to be authentic with phrases that people would use during the late 1960's as well as mannerisms, actions, and thoughts. Please have fun with the story!

As a side-note, World War II ended in 1945, and this story takes place in 1968, keep that in mind for later on in the story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or its characters.

Warnings: lemon, incest, angst, foul language, nudity, drug usage, discussion of religion, mentions of Vietnam War, AU

Do your own thing, wherever you have to do it and whenever you want. Drop out. Leave society as you

have known it. Leave it utterly. Blow the mind of every straight person you can reach.

Turn them on, if not to drugs, then to beauty, love, honesty, fun."

Friday Afternoon

Stretching out cramped legs, Mihael Keehl took a deep breath of the refreshing mountain air. It was especially welcomed after hours of being cramped in the back of his friend's 1964 Dodge 440 Station Wagon. The four-year-old beast had been packed full of camping gear, clothing, toiletries, and the ever important supply of food and water. Of course, he would have been able to sit in the front seat except for one small detail. His "friend" John had brought along some girl for the trip.

Said girl was currently squealing excitedly about the amount of people who were already at the gathering. John rushed off to pour affection on her, leaving Mihael grumpy, tired, and the only one available to unpack. Jackass. Resigning himself to his fate, the young German began to wander the immediate area in search of a suitable plot of land to set up their tent. Being in the mountains, there wasn't really an even place. Shrugging, he picked a spot and began the laborious work.

"Hey man, do you need some help?"

Looking up in surprise, Mihael saw a total stranger standing in front of him, complete with an afro, headband, and a pair of flares. Glancing at the tent he was currently failing at putting up, he decided that getting a little bit of help wouldn't be so bad. "Sure."

The man jumped in, and within the hour the both of them had put up the tent, gotten everything out of the junker vehicle and had even organized all of the stuff inside of the tent. Wiping the sweat from his dark brow, the man nodded. "Well then, feel free to run off and enjoy yourself here."

"Um, thanks. For the tent, I mean."

"No problem!" With that, the strange man was off to help other newcomers.

"Huh. Are all hippies that nice?" he mumbled to himself before turning to look at the sea of tents that was to his right. The different colors clung to the rolling terrain, and the people walking between them were like neon ants, bustling about slowly but with purpose.

Sitting on the hood of the car, he looked up in between the tree limbs at the blue sky dotted with fluffy cotton balls of clouds. Coming from a more strict family, Mihael had never gotten into the whole hippie movement. Sure, there were wannabe's at his school, but he had been too busy studying. Besides, it wasn't like people wanted to include him into any of their activities. He was a "Nazi" after all.

"Do you mind if we set up camp here?"

Bringing his eyes back down to earth, Mihael was surprised to see two very similar men standing in front of him. Dark hair, dark eyes, and pale skin. But the resemblance between them ended there. One stood tall and was dressed in darker colors where his counterpart had a terrible slouch and was dressed in tattered jeans, thongs, and a white t-shirt with a yellow smiley face on it.

"It's not like I own the place," the blond replied with a shrug. "Camp wherever you want to."

"He's not one of us," the taller of the two snorted. "Probably some sick fuck out looking for a thrill with the ladies."

Sneering, Mihael clenched his fists at his sides. "Listen, I'm just being honest. I don't want to sleep around with any of these used up gals! And it's none of your business why I'm here, anyway!"

"Oh, so you're a homosexual?" the hunched man stated matter-of-factly.

Blood rushed to the young man's face. "N-no! Why the hell would you say that?"

"Ah, a denier. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is L. This here is my brother, B."

Forgetting his anger and embarrassment for a moment, the blond just stared at them. "Elle? Bee? Like, a girl's name? And an animal?"

"No, like the letters in the English alphabet, you motherfucker," B responded, making Mihael wince at his foul language. He would have been whipped within an inch of his life had his strict mother heard such an utterance from his mouth.

"L," the hunched man repeated, this time holding out his forefinger and thumb in the shape of the letter.

Then the two strange men stared at him for a few long seconds before he realized that since they had given out their names, it was only polite to reciprocate the gesture. "Mihael. That's my name." B shuddered and L just grimaced making the quick-tempered youth angry again. "What? What's wrong with my name? I'm an American just like you two, and I can pronounce my name any way that I want to and it doesn't make me a Jew-hater or Nazi!"

"Chill, man," another voice jumped in. A slender Asian man with a blond attached to his arm came around the Volkswagen bus that was currently parked next to John's car. "No one said anything about you hating Jews or being a Nazi."

Looking at the other two, Mello felt his face flush in humiliation again. "Sorry. I mean, I get called those things all the time, and I thought-"

"Tch, just because you're German?" L sighed. "Stupid people say stupid things. No, we just don't like your name."

"What?"

"It's too formal," B explained.

"We shed those names," the newcomer clarified as he strutted over. His auburn hair was impeccable with the bangs swept to the side to reveal his honey colored eyes. Both sideburns grew past his earlobes and the rest of his hair hung just below the collar line. Aviator sunglasses were clipped on the front of his striped button-up shirt and a matching pair of flares. "Here, we take new names, and free ourselves from the old man."

"No more fears about our images, or complacency with the norm," L added.

"Conformity can go to hell," B muttered darkly.

"Okaayyy. Sure."

"My name's Kira. This here's Misa-Misa."

L rolled his eyes and leaned closer. "Her real name is Misa, but she just couldn't remember her flower child name so we made it as easy as possible."

"I got a quick question," Mihael stated. "If you're all anti-conformity and stuff, then why bother asking for my permission to set up camp? Isn't politeness and asking for permission a rule of the greater society? Isn't that what hippies are against?"

The three men in front of him shared a meaningful smile before looking back at him. "Do what you want, when you want, and wherever you want to," L replied cryptically.

"We are our own society," B added, not helping the blond's confusion.

"So, we'll be your neighbors for the weekend," Kira stated, looking down at his clingy and sleepy girlfriend. "And you might want to get some rest. The real party doesn't start until sunset."

Just as they turned away to set up camp, B turned on his heel and stared at Mihael for a long moment. Then, with a slap of fist into his palm he nodded. "Mello. You're name is Mello."

/_/_/_/

"Oh, man this is going to be awesome!" John chattered as he got dressed.

Mihael pointedly stared at the tent flap as he nervously smoothed his perfectly cared for hair. "You seem excited."

"You should be too! Weren't you the one practically begging me to take you along?"

"I didn't beg," he mumbled in embarrassment. The truth was that he had been ready to get on his knees and beg the only person who had given him a time of the day. "And I am excited."

"Then why are you still dressed like that?" John questioned as he unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt.

Mihael looked down at his high-waisted dress pants and his dress shirt accentuated with a clean-cut tie. His mother had carefully picked out all of his clothes and he had never been one to question her tastes even with all the teasing he got at school. "I don't have to dress like them to observe."

John shook his head. "Mihael, you came here to experience a bit of freedom before being shipped off to Vietnam. How do you plan on experiencing any freedom if you're just going to do all the stuffy stuff your parents made you do?"

The blond just sighed. John was right, but he found it hard to throw away all the years of strict upbringing for one weekend. Yes, that was the whole point of coming, but he still couldn't find the resolve to change. This thought made him remember what those weird neighbors said. They shed off the old man along with their names for the sake of…of whatever the whole hippie movement meant to them. That's where he was puzzled the most. What was the big deal about crazy teens and young adults who wanted to shirk their responsibilities and live for the day? They were nothing but druggies who divulged in free sex and offered nothing back to society.

"I think…I think that I'll just watch tonight," he replied softly, looking up at his friend.

John ruffled his hair a little before heading out. "Well, enjoy your night. I know that me and Lisa will." With that he was gone.

Falling back on his blanket and pillow, Mihael couldn't help but notice how hot it was in his current outfit. It would be nice to wear something a little less constricting, but he didn't own anything else and asking strangers to loan him some clothes was ludicrous. He would just have to make do with what he had. Loosening up the tie around his neck, he leaned to his side and decided to take Kira's advice. Rumors had it that the hippies got really wild at night and he wouldn't want to miss that.

/_/_/_/

"So, care to explain yourself, honey?"

L looked up from the bucket of candies that he was digging through. Boston Baked Beans, Bottle Caps, Candy Button Stips, Chick-O-Stick, Jujubes, Mike & Ike, Parachute Man, Pixie Stix, Chuckles, Smarties, Atomic Fireballs, Mary Jane, Tootsie Rolls, Razzle, Payday, nothing was beyond that sugar hungry mouth. Thus the sickeningly sweet nickname Beyond held for his dearest brother Lawliet.

Finishing a Pixie Stix, L set the tube down and tilted his head cutely. "Whatever do you mean, B?"

"About that German brat," he clarified, dropping himself next to the ever-hungry man. The smell of weed was heavy in the air and B wrinkled his nose. "I told that stupid Misa to take her smoking outside."

"Well, first off, it wasn't her who was smoking in here recently. Second, I had a flash of inspiration and decided to follow along with it."

Snatching a bag of Razzle, B glared at his brother. "Okay, you should stop smoking in here. I don't want to be high when I'm driving. Again."

"Try and stop me," L teased.

"So what 'inspiration' did you have?" he asked as he fought to open the Razzle packaging.

"It's about him. Mello would be perfect, don't you think?"

"Hmm, I can't see how you got to that conclusion."

"It'll work. Trust me."

Finally tearing the bag open, B dumped the entire contents into his mouth. "Donth I alshways?"

Grinning at the popping sounds coming from his brother's mouth, L leaned in to the open-mouthed invitation and dipped his tongue into the fizzling candy. B immediately closed his mouth around the invading tongue, teasing the fleshy member that was dragging through the jumpy candy. The taste of marijuana mixed with an overload of sugar made the younger brother moan in appreciation and giving L an opportunity to push deeper into the kiss, running his bony fingers through the other's dark hair.

"Ugh, not this again," Kira groaned as he stepped into the comfortable vehicle. "Why is it that every time I walk in on you guys, you're swapping spit?" The brothers ignored the interrupter and L focused on bobbing his head while thrusting his tongue into his younger sibling's mouth. B held him closer, lifting his hips to reveal how excited he already was. "I swear to Buddha, Misa-Misa will flip her wig if she catches you two."

Parting lips, B glared at the brunette. "Shut it and join, or shut it and go find your skank."

Kira curled his lip in dislike. "Misa-Misa's a righteous sex pot. You don't have a right to put her down."

"She's stacked, that's it."

"Well, maybe compared to you, B," L purred. "She's got nothing upstairs."

"Quit dissing her!"

"Aww, Light-kun, it's just teasing," L chuckled.

"Don't call me that," the Asian sighed. "You sound like my sister."

"Would your sister join us?" B questioned as he wiped off some saliva that had slipped down to his chin.

"Absolutely not."

"Would you?" L invited with a waggle of non-existent eyebrows.

"Of course," Kira replied with a hungry smile.

Friday Evening

Music was blaring through the mountain in a crash of chaos. There were people playing their own instruments beside the large bonfires, and there were car radios screaming with some of the more popular bands. Even more disturbing, there was a lot of lascivious dancing accompanying the music. Staring in a mixture of embarrassment and curiosity, Mihael sat at the edges of one of the bonfire's orange light and watched as a brunette woman danced practically hip-to-hip with her male partner. Both of them were barefoot and dancing in a primal way, tossing their heads and splaying out their arms like eagle wings. It was entrancing as they danced with sweat presenting a sheen on their exposed skin and the smoke from hundreds of people swirling around them. One by one, more couples began to join the strange contortions, adding their own styles and yet all moving, pulsing with the beat of the music.

Another heavy breeze blew by, twisting the excited flames and lifting hair and skirts. Still, they danced on with feet pounding the earth and voices singing to the sky. Biting his lower lip, the young blond wondered how they felt. What was it like to free yourself from shame and to dance like that? What was it like to wear tight clothes and to not mind all the hungry looks being sent your way? How did the girls feel, revealing underwear and not caring? Eager to sleep with anyone and offer them a good time? Trying to imagine it was more than enough to make him blush deeply.

The smell of cooking meat caught his attention amidst the scene of revelry, and his eyes were drawn to a man drinking heavily from a dark bottle and heating some meat over a smaller fire. His head was bobbing to the beat and a trail of the liquid he had been drinking shone against his wiry beard. Hunger, one of man's three greatest desires, took a hold of Mihael, and he wondered if he could buy some of it. The food that awaited him back at the tent couldn't compare to fresh hot meat. Taking a deep breath, he began to make his way to the man, hoping not to attract too much attention. It was dark and with the flickering light of the fire he was hoping that it was enough to disguise his horribly out-of-fashion clothing.

"Um, excuse me," he called to the man currently dancing with his large fork waving in the air. "Excuse me!"

"Wha-? Oh, hey man. How can I help ya?"

Yelling to be heard at all, Mihael leaned closer and forced himself to stay even with the stench of alcohol wafting from the man. "Can I buy some of your meat?"

"My meat?"

"Yes, your meat! It smells good!"

"Hey, what's a panty waist doing here?" a nearby man called out. There were a flock of girls around him and the turned around to laugh at the insult.

Mello flushed red, his color hidden due to the reflection of the flames. "Look, I'm not here for trouble! I was just hungry!"

For some reason this made the whole group burst out laughing and even more eyes were turned to his direction.

"Look at that dude trying to be one of us!"

"Go back home to your mama!"

More laughter, and all at his expense. Fury boiled in his blood as he struggled to keep a straight face. These people weren't different from all the others at home. They all still pointed fingers and laughed at him, mocking him because he was different. All that crap about taking in those who were unique, and sticking out from the crowd were lies. Hippies didn't want you to be different, they just wanted you to be different than those currently in charge. If you didn't blend in with their crowd, they would mock you and kick you out the same.

Something hurt in his chest as he thought that there really was no hope for someone like him. Someone whose blood cursed him and whose desires were far more condemning. Turning on his heel to rush off to the tent, he ran straight into another man. "S-sorry," he muttered with every intention of rushing away, but gloved hands took a strong hold of his shoulders.

"Hey, who's making fun of my friend here?" the stranger yelled none too happily. The crowd quieted down a bit and some of the people began to look a little embarrassed. No one spoke up, so the stranger continued. "Motherfuckers! I invite a friend to party with us, a new one who's interested in the only true way of living and you guys treat him like this?"

Finally looking up at the man who was defending him, Mihael was literally shocked. Blazing red hair framed a young pale face, a face that couldn't disguise the fact that he was probably no older than the blond himself. In the darkness, they other's eyes shone a shocking bright green with a tint of brown and Mihael found his heart racing for reasons other than humiliation.

"Aww, Matt, we're sorry!" a girl called out, looking very remorseful.

"We just thought he was another one of those fuckers who just wanted to make fun of us!" another guy called out.

"Well, he's not!" Matt snapped, pulling Mihael closer. "Never judge a man without giving him an opportunity to show his colors!"

And to the blonde's surprise, the group nodded in obedience. Then, as if it had all been a dream, the music began to play again, hands clapping together, bodies gyrating in the flickering light, and everything was as chaotic as it had been before. Everything was the same, except that Mihael was still being held by a stranger. A stranger who was actually about an inch shorter than he was. Jumping back, he was thankful for the darkness as it covered his blush. "Thanks," he muttered, forgetting that practically nothing could be heard in the din.

Matt offered a strangely heartbreaking smile. The edges of his lips were upturned, one higher than the other, and yet his brilliant eyes seemed empty and distant. It was almost as if they swallowed the light and never reflected it back. Mihael felt his mouth go dry and his heart pounding painfully against his ribcage. Even in the cool mountain air, he felt like he was on fire, burning up from the inside and it was suffocating. Clenching his fists, the young man found himself racing away. Dodging others, jumping over couples rutting on the grass, anything to get away from those poisonous eyes.

Dropping to his knees inside the tent, Mihael found himself clenching his rosary and mouthing out the prayers etched into his mind. The prayers that had been whipped into him, choked down his throat, all for the sake of shoving those feelings away. In a night full of the sounds of pounding feet, slapping flesh, sucking mouths, and thrumming fingers, his prayers seemed to fade away, nothing more than a tickle to the leaves shaking above him.

Author's Notes: Here's a link to what John's car looks like (take out the spaces): http:/ /welovedodges pastpresentandfuture. blogspot. com/2009/04/1964-dodge-440-station-wagon-built-to .html

"Flares" refers to bell-bottom pants. It was the hip term for them at this point in the history of America. I went all out and decided to use a lot of 60's slang, so here's the reference that I used if you need some translations (take out the spaces): http:/ /cougartown. com/slang. html