Authors note: It's crack. I was reading another story and suddenly went, maybe I should make Mello a cat. It's all good. It won't be long probably, or maybe it will. Who knows, I guess it just depends on how I feel.

So basically this chapter is a cracked out version of how Matt views the world and then gets the hell scared out of him. Warning, if you don't read this it's not my fault. There is some serious language and mentioning of drugs but nothing too bad. I couldn't stop laughing while I wrote it so I hope you that you laugh too. If you enjoy, review and I'll keep going. Anyway, read, review and enjoy.

Fix me right meow

Chapter one

Matt groaned stifling a yawn that threatened to release itself from him lips. He used the coffee table to pull himself into a sitting position, something that Mello would definitely frown upon if he were home. For once Matt was actually happy that he wasn't. If Mello wasn't home he was free to roam and do whatever he pleased. He could leave the shower running for hours and forget about it because some fucker shot him in the face on Call of Duty and it called for some serious amount of ownage. He could order pizza and ask the pizza man to draw the most bad ass picture of a dragon pissing on Kira or he could fall asleep in the living room blaring music at three in the morning. Yeah, sometimes life was really good when Mello wasn't home.

That wasn't to say that he didn't worry about the blond and he didn't want him to come home. Of course he wanted Mello home but he also liked to feel like the King once in a while. When Mello was home everything went Mello's way because there would be hell to pay otherwise. Hell meaning the second the blond realized he wasn't getting his way he freaks out. He throws stuff, screams and worst of all punches. Mello was all order and anger and Matt was…Matt. There was no better way to explain himself.

1) Everything didn't always have to be clean. Cleaning was for losers with the exemption of Mello. More because Mello would get pissy if Matt called him a loser. Sore point, Near, you wouldn't understand.

2) Everything did not always have to have a set time and place. Okay, maybe Matt liked to sit up and play games until three in the morning. So fucking what? That's what he wanted to do. That's what he did. When he was winding down the motherfuckers in Asia were just getting up and that meant more fucking ownage than they could handle. Umad Asia? Good.

3) Videogames weren't just something to do. They were a way of life. Fuck. Motherfucking. Yes. Mello had once asked Matt if he would put his own mother on the street corner to fund his game addiction because it was breaking him. Matt's answer? FUCK YEAH. Okay, no, not really. Maybe he had only thought it. Mello would have been pissed with that whole honor they mother and father cult thing he had going on.

So right now Matt was feeling pretty damn good. Well, he would be when he figured out what was really going on. He stood shakily eying the door. He was positive that he would have known if Mello came home. Typically the blond was irritated and kicked him awake. He didn't feel bruised so Mello wasn't home.

He checked his shirt. Hole. He frowned, he must have dropped another cigarette…which meant he fell asleep holding a cigarette…oh hell. He glanced down at the floor and nearly lost it. He had burnt a hole in Mello's carpet. If he knew he didn't have a call to action right then and there he would have passed out. Mello was simple as he was hard.

1) Don't put your hands on the wall.

2) Don't burn holes in the carpet.

3) No, Matt seriously. If you put a hole in my carpet I'm going to kill you.

He winced at the thought. Mello had the eyes of a cat. They zeroed, narrowed and everything. It was like he had videogame vision without playing videogames. Matt guessed it was useful when they were in trouble. Mello was always in control. That part sucked though.

He grabbed his keys, jacket and cellphone heading out the door. He dialed Mello's number. So what if Mello said not to call him at work. Some things were more important like not getting fucked over by your own poor decisions. It rang. And rang. And rang before the voicemail picked up. He glanced down at the phone, hopefully he was on some kind of deadly mission and wouldn't make it home. Soon. Wouldn't make it home soon.

He unlocked the door, "Mello's going to take my head off. I have to put down new carpet. Got to get to the carpet store. Got to get to the carpet store." He paused slamming the door heavily behind himself before nearly tripping over something on the floor. He cursed, stumbled, caught himself and then stumbled again.

"Mother fucking cat. I hate cats." He hissed covering his nose quickly. He just didn't like animals, they made him sick. The cat gave an indignant hiss before swatting at the red head lightly. "Get away."

It hissed again swatting at his leg again, claws digging into his pant leg, as if to get his attention. Matt ignored it pulling himself back up and heading towards the lift. He didn't have time for minor things like that. Right before the doors closed Matt heard the sound of scampering…paws? He turned and that cat was sitting in between the closing doors glaring daggers in him with the brightest blue eyes he had seen in his life.

It actually made him pause in lighting his cigarette. "The fuck are you looking at? Creepy ass cat. I hate cats, don't you get it." He thought that he heard it cough, almost as if it were mocking him. He had a right mind to kick it. "Move the hell out the way. I have somewhere to go.

Another the cough came. "Matt, don't freak out."

Matt glanced around lightly. He thought back to the previous night thinking about all the things he did.

Played games? Check.

Owned people online? Check?

Checked all his scores? Check

Texted Mello? ….No. Damn.

Gotten high? …No.

No seriously, gotten high? …..Still no.

He blinked several times before the voice said again, "Matt, don't freak out."

He glanced down watching the cat's eyes watch him. It was still sitting there preventing the doors from closing. It was still staring at him. It was still watching him and then it clicked. A fucking cat was talking to him and telling him not to freak out.

There was no use in lying. Matt freaked out. He made a noise mixed between a scream and a squeal backing himself almost painfully loud against the walls of the lift. His eyes never left the cat which watched him with uncomfortable eyes. How the hell could the cat look uncomfortable? He was the uncomfortable one. THE CAT WAS TALKING. HOLY HELL THE CAT WAS TALKING. HOLY MOTHERFUCKING MARIO THE CAT KNEW HIS NAME.

"Matt." The red head blinked his eyes gazing up at the ceiling. Man, whatever he was tripping on he should never touch it again. It had him hallucinating. Usually it was something nice…like Mello in full stripper gear on a pole that materialized in their living room. He liked those hallucinations because they weren't hallucinations precisely they were fantasies. "Matt you fainted. Bitch." The voice sounded again.

He blinked again. "God…is that you? I'm not even going to lie I didn't know you were real. I mean…you seem so impossible. Bullshit actually but there's this guy that I know named Mello. He'll totally vouch for me."

A sigh. "Matt, what are you talking about?" The voice was annoyed and surprisingly quiet. "Sit up before someone comes." The cat, golden furred that looked brushed to perfection watched him. Aloud it said, "Thank you. Can we go in the house before someone sees me."

Matt shook his head frantically. "I'm still tripping out." He closed his eyes tightly. "Tripping the fuck out. Hard. So hard it makes that time I stripped down and danced on the balcony look soft."

"What? I don't even…Matt get up." The voice was strict, annoyed and suddenly so familiar. "Matt, I swear if you don't get up I'll shoot you in the face."

Matt blinked, "But kitties can't pack heat." He replied in a serious voice.

Blue eyes narrowed, "Does it fucking matter? Fine, I'll claw your eyes stop. Take me in the house. It's me Mello."

Authors note: I needed something to laugh at and Matt freaking out got more than a chuckle. This is also what my brain does 72 hours without sleep. I'm so tired. It sucks. Anyway review.