Author's note: if you're looking for Shirai Phoenix, well you're in for a GRAVE disappointment. Just kidding, she'll be back next chapter.
This is ultimma. gothicca of the Kuroshitsuji fandom, now attempting to sail the ship of the most loved DN couple: Matt x Mello.
It started while I'm high with Cheetos, chatting with this great author from Vampire Knight fandom. We decided, in all divine epiphany:
Dude, let's collaborate. Zack and Miri make a porno, now to be portrayed by DN characters.
This fic will be dirty, bold, dramatic, and crack. And some romance, you know, for underage readers.
I, ultimma, will be cussing it out the great Mello's pov, while Shirai will impress you with a sexier, hotter Matt that you will never forget.
Warning: Sexy, broke teenagers making porno. Nope, no one's underage, I think. AU and OOC.
Disclaimer: None of us owns this masterpiece (Death Note). Not anything, not even the plot (We took inspiration from Zack and Miri Make a Porno). Aren't we broke?
We love you!
Mello's POV:
"Mello, Mello...
Mello, so mellow...
Pretty and yellow...
Rise and shine! Say—"
"Hello." The cold Beretta faced the abomination that woke me up from my sleep. Not bothering to look afraid, a pair of exposed green emeralds rolled in an unsympathetic gesture before pulling the blankets covering my naked sexiness (protest, I dare you), and I clung obstinately to my comfort. I shoot guns better, but Matt proved to be stronger as he succeeded in taking it off me.
"Five fucking minutes bitch," I complained. "And your poetry sucks." I lifted myself from the creaking bed, eggshell colored sheets sliding from me as I walk like a zombie to my mirror.
Blond, layered hair messed up like some bitch hated me.
Puffy, sky blue eyes barely open to see the light of the day.
Toned but lean body, slightly sweaty from my sleep.
I glance back at Matt, who was still in his boxers, looking like a hot model from Playgirl magazine* (at least put some pants on).
Why does he look better than me during mornings?
"Take a shower, you reek of manliness~" he stuck out a pink tongue and whipped out a PSP from who knows where, fingers swiftly dialing combinations from the game. "By the way, your admirers dropped some love letters today."
"Electricity, rent, water, and internet bills." Damn, I knew I shouldn't have bought that Godiva chocolates and French Truffles last week. "Fill me out, please."
"Can't." My best friend rolled to my bed, dropping his game to the floor. Uh oh, this looks bad. "I was going to ask you to fill me out, now."
My eyes narrowed cynically. "You just got your pay check last week."
"Funny story there," he messed up his flaring locks and avoided my glare expertly. "The new Final Fantasy game was released, and you know I just have to—wait a sec! You had your pay last week, too!"
"Godiva took it, so haha." it was my turn to avoid him. I waltzed to our shared comfort room and started the shower. Matt followed me, opened the door (our lock was broken and never fixed) and started a sermon about budgeting.
"You see, Mells, it's always: needs over wants. You always have to put the necessities first above all—"
"Like you're the one to talk, Mattie." I continued my shower nonchalantly as I cut off his words. "You put your games and cigarettes first above all things. Try quitting, sweet shit, and you'll see how much we'll save."
"Do that, I dare you, Mihael." I stop midway from scrubbing my armpits as his voice lowered dangerously. Damn, I know that tone. "I will hunt down your chocolate stash; yes, that involves Van Houten* and Ferrero Rocher*, and even Hershey's. I'll burn it and dance around the coal. You wouldn't want to see me dance."
"Try selling or pawning that game console of yours if you are so worried about the fucking bills."
"Sure thing. But sell your Beretta first."
Fuck, fuck, fuck. "I won't win this shit, will I?"
Victory grin. "Nope."
I laughed at how childish he looked, perfect teeth exposed from the smile and wide eyes twinkling like a puppy. So fucking cute. "We'll find our way around this. Positive thinking."
Deep within me, I'm worried if we'll still have a roof over our heads at the end of the month. But Matt shouldn't know that.
Another boring day at a boring job. I sighed in sheer 'boredom', annoyed as hell.
The fucking 'Callie's convenient store' hat was itchy, the stiff polo uniform in a horrible shade of YELLOW was, err stiff, and the fucking lose pants aren't doing justice to my figure. I look around the store, from the neatly arranged potato chips (which will be messed up later by stupid window shoppers), to the stacks of inexpensive beer frozen beyond Kelvin zero.
In the middle of an unknown town, I dreamed of running the Mafia and exploding buildings. Maybe be a rockstar, or a model. Hell, if I'm in New York, I'd probably be a famous writer or a gang leader.
"So we need condoms, energy drinks, and-"
Before I can say welcome to the customers, I froze in shock in utter surprise. Who would've thought, in the middle of nowhere, I'd meet...
Wispy blonde hair a lighter shade than mine...
Cold eyes in icy blue...
The well-known pair of tight booty shorts...
Alois Trancy. Famous author of Bedroom Courtesy and Whip Your Lash. The best at writing Gay Porn!*
What? You thought I'm straight? I wouldn't bother painting these nails black if I was.
"Oh, hell, aren't you AL?" I managed to hide the fanboy squeal from my voice. Blue eyes smirked, and leaving his blue-haired friend in fur (currently deciding which brand of condoms to buy), he leaned at the counter and spoke.
"Hell yeah, I am. What's up, hottie?"
"I am a fan!" My declaration made his friend's eyes roll, but I didn't care. Damn, where's the pen? I need his autograph!
"No shit! That's so sweet." The writer looked happy enough, although I did get a little uncomfortable at how he looked at me like I'm dinner. "So happy I have a fan as hawt as you."
"Alois, he works at a convenience store. Get some taste, man."
"Shut up, Ciel," the blonde reprimanded the surly male, wagging a finger at him. "Can't you see the potential? I'd bet he'd be great as a porn star."
I cringed, my thoughts blocking out the blabbering in the background. I never thought about that kind of idea before. I mean, sure, I am sexy. But shit, a porn star? Yeah, sure, I can only imagine myself in leather, whipping random chicks and forcing them to call me master. No, I'm not sadistic. I think...
I do think I'd look good in leather.
"If you ever want to get away from this lonesome place~ text me!" A series of numbers written in a lip liner on a tissue was shoved inside my pocket as I hand him the change.
"We'll give you a shout out on Candy and Whip, and even a discount at all those great sex toys." Skipping to the glass door, Alois blew me a kiss and winked. "Just make that porno~"
The duo sauntered away, with 'Ciel' saying, "that's a stupid joke" to my idol. I pulled the tissue out and felt a little happy. Alois kindly placed his autograph on it. Such a sweetheart.
A porn star? I mean, should I? I remembered Matt saying that some people paid a lot for a porn flick, as long as it's well done. When was the due of the bills again? Two weeks from now? And our pay will be arriving 3 weeks from this day. Ugh, why the hell am I considering Trancy's suggestion? Wasn't it a crazy joke from an effing porn writer?
Glance at the clock. 1pm. 8 more hours to go on my shift. Ugh, making money is fucking hard. Wish I could go illegal and start robbing banks or something. Hell, what bank? We're in the middle of nowhere!
No matter what, I ain't selling my Beretta. Even if my finances are as tight as an asshole.
30 minutes before my off time. My coworker, Matsuda, was already ready to take over, judging from how the idiot messed up the newly arranged cigarette shelf. Fuckity hell, he would've been cute if he wasn't so stupid. The black-haired epitome of awkwardness walked around the fucking store, "trying" to clean, and make himself useful, only to end up as another work for me. I'm only 19, but I swear, I have more common sense than this 23-year-old idiot.
To keep myself from being stressed, I focused my gaze on a customer, who was sitting here for about 2 hours. A handsome one with light brown hair and cinnamon eyes. Asian, I supposed. He wore a nicely pressed polo shirt in deep maroon, the fabric looked soft and comfortable. With neat, black slacks and dress shoes to boot, and you have a scholar student in front of you. Or a model posing as a scholar.
The only thing he bought was a bottle of distilled water, which he was nursing like a baby. Kinda like in Starbucks, where people order a cup of coffee and sit for hours with a laptop on their table. You get the picture.
St. Marian's town (the middle of nowhere), in Boston*, despite the country style picturesque you may see when passing by, is a place mostly inhabited by foreigners, due to cheap women and food, and booze. You know, unlike the other expensive places here in America where you can barely afford a burger. However, it is also notoriously known for low class syndicates targeting newly arrived people and stealing their luggage and stuff. Whether or not he is a victim is something I will discover later.
Smash!
As soon as I finish cleaning up the idiot's mess.
"Hi, I'm Mello. I work here and, I'll be frank, you look like you're in trouble."
The Asian tried to look at me straight in the eye, however I can see his confidence falter, what with the way he bit his lips nervously. "Light Yagami. I was supposed to study here. But my stuff was, how should I say this...taken by some goons," Damn. For a foreigner, he got good accent.
I sat beside him and nibbled on a Hershey's, tossing another bar at his direction. "This is how it is. And you're not even in the big city yet."
He bit harder on his lower lip in anxiety, and I can tell he's very, very upset. Poor kid.
"Passport, cellphone, ID's, clothes, lost 'em all, right?"
"Left with a change in my pocket," he mumbled. Clearly, I hit home run.
I remembered when I was like this. Alone and at my wit's end. It was the same November chill, same melancholy...
Then, I met an angel.
"Tell you what." I patted his shoulder to dismiss him from his own thoughts. "You can stay in my apartment. I mean, it's shitty and I live with a friend, but at least there's the couch where you can sleep."
I wanted to laugh at his uncertainty. Indeed, he suddenly became wary of strangers after being robbed off by the street rats. His eyes flickered with an internal struggle, and hands wrung nervously against each other. Cute. Not as cute as Matt, though.
Do I really look like the big, bad man?
"I work here, right? You can ask our manager whether or not you can trust me. I'm just doing you a favor since I can relate to you."
He exhaled deeply, as if exhausted. Leaning at the table, he looked at me straight in the eye for the first time, as if assessing my character. With a critical nod, he replied, "Well, could it get any worse? Thank you, and I'll accept your offer. Sorry for being an inconvenience."
"No problem!" I led him outside the Callie's, where my old car waited patiently for me. Opening his door and taking my place on the driver seat, I remembered: "Not gonna lie, we're pretty broke right now so, you know, we can't offer anything fancy. We'll get by, though. So it's okay."
"Honto? I mean, are you sure? I wouldn't want to be a burden."
"Nah. It's fine. I have a plan." I took the tissue note and placed it in my wallet. Why am I such a soft motherfucker?
Now, how to make a porno again?
*Playgirl magazine introduces - shout out to a favorite fic in DN fandom.
*Ferrero Rocher etc. - not sure if I spelled the brands right.
*Alois Trancy and Ciel Phantomhive - cameo appearance since we will use most of the DN characters at the main plot. Refer to my fic "Fingers Intertwined" for the story behind Ciel and Alois.
*Boston - St. Marian is a made up the town. Used Boston, coz I heard it's less populated than NY
Light - I portrayed him as childlike and very much similar to when he forgot about being Kira.
Mello - I strongly believe he's nice. Actually, that's what killed him in the first place.