Hello. You can think of this as a "deleted scene" of sorts to my fic Come Sweet Death.

Also, hoo boy, 'tis my first real mature work, so go easy.

He's running, running across the shallow squares of light in the darkened building. Blood pounds inside his head with each step. He leans against the wall, to catch his breath.

Vision made clear from adrenaline, he darts around. Where is he? Where's the bastard?

Then suddenly pain rips through his chest, clenching in his ribs.

He drops to his knees, struggling desperately to breathe. As he glances up, he can see the faint silhouette of the man looking down at him, with glowing red eyes of wicked triumph.

Kira

Mello sits up in bed crying out in terror. Panting, he slowly glances around. He's in his room. In the darkness, he can see the faint outlines of cluttered work from the case.

In relief he sinks onto the sheets, the cloth scratchy but gratefully cool against his sweat-soaked skin.

A dream…

Mello places a hand over his heart. It's still beating, albeit a mile a minute. He breathes deeply, willing for it to slow.

"Mello?"

Mello rolls over in the direction of the sound. Matt is standing in the doorway.

"What happened? Is everything okay?"

Of course. He must have heard him scream.

When Mello doesn't reply, Matt turns to leave, seeing that Mello is in no immediate danger.

"Matt."

Matt turns around. Mello beckons toward him with a jerk of his head.

Uncertainly, Matt obeys, coming toward the bed.

He stands there patiently, waiting.

In a quick motion, Mello wraps his arms around Matt's neck and pulls him onto the sheets. Placing his hands on either side of him, Mello straddles him and kisses him roughly.

Matt startles a moment, but then, slowly understanding, opens his mouth to invite Mello's greedy tongue inside.

Mello wretches Matt's shirt from his bony shoulders and rips the jeans off his waist. Then, with no impromptu, Mello begins riding him, fear propelling him forward. Each thrust assures him that he is alive, that he is in control. This heated passion means to drive off the image of the nightmare and replace it with that of Matt's face, Matt's body, every little crease and curve of it. Anything to make it go away.

Finally, as they reach the climax, Matt gives a strangled, guttural scream, and they both collapse exhausted back onto the bed.

Later, the murky gray of morning is beginning to seep into the room. Mello lies awake beside a sleeping Matt, staring blankly up at the ceiling. If he fell back asleep afterwards, he doesn't remember it.

Yes, it was only a dream, but the threat of it is very real. Who is to say that he won't die that way, writhing on the ground and staring into the cold, laughing face of his killer?

Mello turns over to face his partner, sprawled out asleep. Damn, he'd been too rough with him last night.

Matt-why'd you ever choose to put up with someone like me?

Matt's eyes blink open.

"Hey," he cocks a sleepy grin at Mello. "What's up?"

Mello suddenly leans his head into Matt's chest and meekly buries it there.

Matt sits up in surprise. "Mel?" The beast he saw last night now seems like a frightened child.

"I don't want to die, Matt," He whimpers softly.

He needs Matt, Mello realizes. Not just for the obvious things; Yes, Matt is dependable, Matt is skilled, he's capable. But it's more than that.

Matt is able to understand Mello. He protects him.

Not for the obvious things, like guns or henchmen. Mello can hold his own against those just fine. No, he needs Matt for the dark, subtle things, things that creep into your mind at night and steal your breath away.

"Mello-" Matt reaches out to him.

"Don't," Mello stops him. Even in this state, he won't allow any more contact than is necessary. "Just-let me stay here for a little bit, okay?"

Matt lets his hand drop, and brings his chin to Mello's head, letting him bury deeper. "Okay."