(Sadly, I do not own Death Note.

BIG. BIG. BIG. BIG. BIG props go to my EPICALLY AMAZING FRIEND WHO'S MADE OF WIN Katie who gave me the prompt for this at 11:00 last night when I was all 'limbs-flailing-needing-plot'. GOD I LOVE YOU KATIE. The idea was 'someone making a big scene about two people being affectionate in public and the two people just doing it more and getting the other person mad.' Though, ummm, I'm pretty sure this totally isn't what you imagined it to wind up being, but this is how it happened, Katie! I had some issues with this but I still think it turned out nicely. Mmmmm. :D and OH GOD. This is the first story I've ever written that I get to put in the humor category! And is this insecure Mello instead of intimidating Mello?! I've....broken boundaries here.....)

matt and his lighter. mello refuses to allow it. point-Blankly.

"…..Matt?"

"Mmmmm?"

"Do you have to do that in public?"

"Mmmhm."

"You shame me."

"Thanks, Mels, it gives me great joy to know that."

"It'd better, dammit."

Y'know, sometimes, I question why I love this guy.

Besides the obvious reasons that he can put up with this leather-clad blonde with a chocolate fetish, which is a feat for any man. Or any living creature with beating organs.

But seriously, I swear, there are some days when I feel like running Matt through a blender. A vicious blender, y'know, the kind people throw away in junkyards when they 'supposedly don't work' anymore and then come to life randomly and devour unfortunate rats that have the terrible hazard of fate hanging over them to walk by and die a cruel and unusual death.

Sadly, though, on the streets of LA in the middle of the afternoon, I have no blender in reach. Damn.

…..well, I do see a particularly feisty Yorkshire Terrior, but I doubt Matt wants to die a death by a fluff ball with teeth the size of syringes. I don't think even I'd wish that on anyone.

Okay. Maybe Near.

But either way.

So Matt and I are walking down the street, normal as can be- well, as normal as we can get- when he decides that at 2:00 in the afternoon he needs his daily fix of nicotine.

Or his twelfth daily fix of nicotine.

I'm not really a vindictive person (most of the time), but I guess today I just felt like tempting fate, for the moment Matt raised his lighter to the cigarette shoved haphazardly between his lips, my hand shot out, grabbed the lighter, and I threw it into the air and watched it land somewhere within distance of the coffee shop a block down.

And I have to admit.

The scandalized 'oh-shit-Ace-of-Cakes-was-just-canceled' worthy look of mingled shock and depression that took hold of Matt's face was priceless.

"Mello, what the hell was that for?!"

"Oh, geez, I really did do that, didn't I? I thought I was just fantasizing…."

"Well thanks to your overactive imagination you just fantasized my lighter down the street, shithead."

"Mmm, I did, didn't I?"

"Dumbass," he muttered sharply, striding down the street, and I heaved a sigh, walking after him.

This is where it gets good, patrons.

Or, actually, uh, worse.

Matt retrieved his lighter from the sidewalk a few moments later, and when I caught up to him, he was seriously cuddling that thing like it was nobody's business.

Yeah.

You know someone has a problem when they reach that point in life where they are reduced to cuddling a lighter.

So ensued the aforementioned conversation.

And while Matt continues to give his lighter the Public Displays of Affection routine, I'm trying my best not to let it get to me.

But seriously.

I think I'm getting valued less then a lighter here, and, god, that's just damn demoralizing.

Even after lighting the cigarette, Matt still doesn't put the lighter away, still hugging the thing like there's no tomorrow.

Still creeping me out. (which is saying something.)

"….Matt."

"What?"

"It's a lighter."

"So? I've seen you do the same thing with a chocolate bar, Mels."

"That- that's different! You're hugging that thing like it's a human being!"

Matt pulls the cigarette from between his lips, leans over, and blows curls of smoke straight into my face.

"Well, it's got a better beating heart then you do."

Damn, I hate it when he says stuff like that.

So Matt goes back to murmuring to his lighter, plugging his cigarette back into his mouth, and I roll my eyes. Really. Really.

"You know, people are gonna look at you strange, Matt."

"No different then the way they normally look at me. What's wrong with showing public affection to my lighter?"

"Do you really need me to tell you all the things wrong in that sentence, Matt?"

"Mmmm, guess not."

"But really. I mean, it's just a lighter! A- a small piece of frickin' metal and plastic, or whatever the hell it's made out of! You flip it open and it lights up! That's about it! It is a goddamn lighter!"

"I happen to like my lighter, thank you very much, Mello."

"To the point of cuddling the thing like it's a puppy?!"

"Mm-hm."

"It's- a- lighter!"

"I'm well aware of what it is, Mello."

"Well, at least you are," I mutter, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jacket and walking down the street. Really. A lighter. And I thought I had issues.

Yeah, still pretty demoralized.

"You're jealous of a lighter," Matt calls, striding over to me, a grin stealing his face, and I give him a sardonic snort.

"Yeah, like I could be jealous of that. Just go enjoy your cigarette with your lighter."

Matt catches up with me by then, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth once more and blowing slightly. Smoke shoots through the air, rings of see-through ash fading softly, brushing against my ear. I turn to him, raising an eyebrow.

"…..that was so unromantic."

"I'm an unromantic smoker, what do you expect?"

"You know, I'm not entirely sure. But I never expected you to publicly fondle a lighter."

"What would you rather me fondle publicly?"

Yeah, there are some times I wonder why I love this guy.

And other times, I just decide not to question it.

Because really. The guy may fondle a lighter, but he's my lighter-fondler.

So take that, bitches.