Lani: Yay, another crack story! I haven't had one of these in a while. Anyway, some time back this came to me randomly and I wrote almost all of it at two in the morning. That's why Mello does something, er, weird. But! Thanks for reading and please enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, and Silent Samurai was slapped down randomly as a standard video game, I suppose. Future Note you'll understand once you read the story: If you say "Matako" in a drawn out kinda way, it sounds like an Internet dork going "mah taco." It's hysterically unintended but it made a certain romantic scene in the movie more entertaining to write than it should have been.

"Why are we here?" Mello muttered, cross as always as he trailed behind Matt, who opened the movie theater's door for him. Mello glared at the redhead's goofy grin, but breezed past him anyway. No doubt Matt wanted to see some dumb movie based off a video game, or something.

Matt hurried to catch up with Mello. "Hey, hey! We don't take fun breaks very often, and besides! This movie's based on the events in Silent Samurai 3: The Cursed Cherry Tree! How could I not see it?" He was practically bouncing in excitement.

Mello twitched. He was dead-on about it.

As Matt fished around in his wallet to ready their money for their tickets, Mello cast an eye over the people ahead of them in the line. "Matt," he growled, "we're last in line."

Matt chuckled uneasily, feeling the waves of annoyance rolling off of the blond. "Um, can't be helped."

Grumbling under his breath, Mello was distracted by a cute little girl in a yellow dress. She had her black hair in pigtails, and her front teeth were missing. Mello knew the latter because she, after meeting his gaze, stuck her tongue out at him and made a face.

Mello was indignant. He whirled and tugged on Matt's sleeve. "Matt! That brat – did you see that?!" He inwardly cringed; oh how he rhymed.

Matt was still counting the few bills his wallet had forfeited to him. "Hmm?" he mumbled, muttering to himself as he leafed through the money.

Mello pointed at the girl. "She –! That brat –!"

The words, "That person's dressed funny. I can barely tell she's a lady!" drifted to them from the little girl's place in front of them.

The male seethed. "That's it! Matt, am I feminine?! Honestly!"

That got his attention. "Do wha?" he squawked, lifting his head from his counting.

"Answer honestly!"

Under the thin yet deadly blond's hard gaze, it was difficult to spill the truth to him. In the end, Matt decided to lie through his teeth. He shook his head. "Not . . . no."

Mello narrowed his eyes, but let it go for the moment. The line had moved forward, so they had to move up as well.

Matt thought it wise to change the topic. "Er, there sure are a lot of people here to see the movie. I-I didn't think it was that popular. Huh, Mello?"

"Mm."

Sweat trickled down Matt's brow. They were almost there, almost to the ticket booth. Matt had to make it, but he felt anxious, for Mello seemed unnaturally calm. 'Calm before the storm,' he thought in horror, 'calm before the storm.'

In an attempt to appease Mello, Matt had tried to get them good seats in the theater. The lights were still on and the screen was still blank, but although they were early it was pretty crowded. Matt dragged Mello to their seats, which were situated in the center and close to the front.

Matt plopped down in a chair. "Okay! I'll save our spots. Wanna get some chocolate, or something?"

"Sure."

At Mello's, well, mellow attitude, Matt was reduced to a puddle of awe. Had he been seeing an anger management class without Matt knowing? Amazing!

Mello took off his coat and put it on the seat beside Matt. Although he was trying not to rip Matt's head off, he was slowly feeling twitchy. He pitied the next person to rub him the wrong way; they were in for an explosion.

And so he was off to the concession stand, stomping his combat boots all the way. He just couldn't get over that little brat. How dare she! And, and before that! He hadn't even wanted to watch some lame samurai movie for dorks. And Matt had jabbered all the way to the theater, grinding Mello's last gear, and then he was so peppy, and then he ignored him, and then he dodged his question! Matt was hardly "honest" on that at all.

Snapping Mello from an uncommon (for him, anyway) inner musing session, the cashier at the concession stand stuttered at the mildly frightening face of a tightly leather-clad blond, "C-c-can I help you?"

Mello was surprised. What had happened to the line he was in? Man, time flew when you angsted to yourself.

"Yeah," Mello said off-handedly, "two orders of large popcorn, two drinks. Oh, put chocolate on one of the popcorns."

"B-but, s-sir . . ."

Mello briefly felt warm and fuzzy inside. Sir! How good it felt to be called sir! To his chagrin, though, the annoying guy with the stutter problem continued, ". . . We don't do that at this theater."

Mello froze. "What?" His voice was low and bitingly cold.

The cashier gulped. "W-w-we don't put chocolate on popcorn, s-sir."

"Give me the chocolate."

"W-what?" A small crowd of curious bystanders was beginning to gather.

"Give. Me. The chocolate."

"Um, I-I –"

Mello had had enough. "Just give me the chocolate, man!"

Meekly, the cashier handed Mello's order – including a bar of chocolate – over to him. Mello tossed the money at him and marched back into the theater. Dangit, he'd melt the darn chocolate himself if he had to . . . or he'd just eat it plain . . . Whatever.

Matt sensed his approach (must have been the tidal waves of negative energy) and made the right choice to wordlessly take his drink and popcorn. Less is more, especially with Mello.

The lights dimmed and the previews were about to come on when Mello said from beside him in a frosty, commanding tone, "Give me your lighter."

"Huh?"

"I said – give me your lighter."

Baffled but not bold enough to risk his neck just to ask why, Matt pulled it from his pocket and handed it over. Mello took it, his popcorn, and a chocolate bar and left the theater. Matt scratched his head but was distracted – it was a preview for Silent Samurai 4, after all.

Mello prayed that no one was in the men's bathroom at that moment. Lo, his prayers were answered; not a soul was in there. Mello slipped into a stall, careful not to touch anything. He unwrapped the chocolate and flicked the lighter. He just wanted to melt it a little bit – it would go better with his popcorn that way.

Really, there was no sane or hygienic excuse. Mello acknowledged that. However, he also acknowledged that he was going to have his chocolate fix one way or another.

Once it seemed gushy enough, Mello plopped the chocolate on top of his popcorn. He was about to leave the stall when suddenly it opened on him (stupid broken latches).

Mello whirled, hunched over his molten chocolaty popcorn as he let out a surprised guttural "EEEHHH?!" sound. Not a moment after Mello, the buff intruder thundered, "Miss, what are you doing in here?!?"

That. Was. It.

Mello snarled, "One, I'm a guy! Two, it's none of your business! Three, SHUT UP and get out of my way!"

And blushing only slightly, Mello stormed out of the bathroom, leaving a very disturbed random guy.

When Mello finally returned, he collapsed wearily onto his seat as if he had run a marathon. But when he tossed the lighter back to Matt, the redhead giggled. Mello gave him the evil eye, wondering what the heck was so funny. Matt pointed at Mello's shoe. Mello looked down.

He closed his eyes and really wished for a moment that he could pull out his gun and –

Stuck to his shoe was a piece of toilet paper.

Matt asked with raised eyebrows (he took off his goggles so he could watch the movie), "Why'd you go to the bathroom with your popcorn, Mello? That's kind of gross."

Mello hissed, "Shut up." He didn't really want other people to hear them; while he was gone, the theater had filled up with even more video-gaming, samurai-loving, virtual blood-spilling dorks.

Mello used his other shoe to paw the paper off and push it down the aisle away from him. He was in such a bad mood – and the movie hadn't even started yet; it was still on a preview!

"Oh Shonosuke, I'll never leave you!"

"Matako . . ."

"Shonosuke . . ."

"Matako . . .!"

"Shonosuke . . .!"

"Oh, shoot me now," Mello grumbled, and only gained a chorus of "SSSHHH!" from those around him.

Mello ignored them and, in boredom, licked his chocolaty, buttery fingers. He'd already burned through a stack of napkins; what could he say? Add butter and gooey chocolate and you get a mess.

Mello glanced around. Were Matt's eyes tearing up? Mello shook his head, disgusted. He suddenly wished he had brought a watch. They had to be at least halfway through the movie, they had to be. It sure felt like it, anyway . . . .

A strand of dialogue caught his attention again. What, were the two destined lovers still saying each others' names? Sigh. Oh, was that something about how the Matako or whatever chick only had so long to live? Boo-hoo. The tragedy.

Right when Mello was about to nod off, a gush of cold liquid fell on his head. Ice cubes fell down his shirt, making him jump up hissing. Matt leapt up too, handing him napkins and saying something, but Mello wasn't paying attention. Through his dripping bangs he glared at the little girl in a yellow dress sitting in the seat directly behind him. She grinned through her missing front teeth. A large soda cup was clasped in her hands, but it was empty now.

Mello was enraged, and was about to slaughter the wretch if it hadn't been for Matt who gathered their things and dragged him from the theater.

Matt held Mello's sticky coat as the blond attempted to towel off the soda from his entirety. "I'm NEVER – EVER – coming with you to this stupid place AGAIN!" Immediately following this declaration was a string of profanity, but the author wishes to preserve the kid friendly rating. Thanks, Mello.

The redhead did not notice the broken fourth wall. He flinched. "Gee, I'm sorry Mello –"

He tried to count to ten in his head, but then he saw his hair. He fingered it mournfully. "Let's – Can we just go home? Please? If you wanna finish the movie, then I'll just buy it on DVD for you, okay?"

Matt sighed, but understood his friend's problem – he must've had a really bad day in order for him to say "please," after all. Still carrying Mello's coat over his arm, he clapped a hand on the blond's shoulder and herded him towards the exit, saying in an optimistic tone, "Well, once you shower off that Dr. Pepper and are satisfied that your hair's not doomed, we can watch this documentary on the Mafia I saw on the guide yesterday. It comes on in, oh, about an hour, so we've got plenty of time! Wanna watch a documentary on Discovery about yourself, Mello?"

Mello couldn't help it. He normally wouldn't agree, but Matt's smile was sincere and he was trying really hard to cheer Mello up. He sighed. "Shut up. But okay."

"Hmm, which is it?"

"I said okay, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but you also said 'shut up.'"

"Shut up." Matt was just teasing again, wasn't he?

"Heh-heh-heh." Yes, he was.

Lani: The Silent Samurai Shonosuke doesn't say more than like, seven words at a time. Or something. And he's on a quest to break all of these cursed things, as seen by the titles of the four games: Silent Samurai 1: The Cursed Nun, Silent Samurai 2: The Cursed Broom, Silent Samurai 3: The Cursed Cherry Tree, and finally Silent Samurai 4: Be Cursed No More. So I take it a nun was sweeping underneath a cherry tree when she got cursed and so now Silent Samurai Shonosuke is out to save the world with his terminally ill love Matako, who is not a taco. Oh yes, what a great premise for a video game. I really have too much time on my hands.

But anyway! Though the ending is a little sappy and rushed, I hope you liked it. Thanks for reading and any and all comments are appreciated!