Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, Mello, or Matt. (Sadly i_i) I don't own Mario, but I do own their apartment, or flat, or whatever you want to call it.
Chapter 1: Mario, Beer and Dorito-eating Contests-Mello's POV—
"Mwah ha ha! Go to hell, Bowser Jr!" Matt pumped his fist in the air, making Mario do a victory dance with the controller in his other hand.
"Mario is boring," I complained, just to be a bitch, "His mustache is weird."
"I don't know, I think it would look pretty smexy on you." He made his hands draw a mustache in the air, "Like this, yep." He shook his head solemnly, a nod that didn't match his grinning face. I gaped at him; my face feeling like it was on fire.
"I was kidding, gawd." He took a swig of his beer, then he trust the bottle towards me. "You look really flushed, you're prob'ly dehydrated."
"Thanks." I mumbled, grabbing the beer from him, I rolled from my sprawled-out-on-the-couch position to my lean-my-elbows-onto-my-knees-and-lean-forward position. The couch was leather-Black, of course! I had insisted-And stained from cheap wine and many a dorito-eating contests.
Oh, how I missed those dorito-eating contests. When we were but sixteen and didn't know what the shit a Kira was, and there was no sexual tension between us.
Oh, gawd. Did I just think that? No, no, no! We were just close friends is all.
I shook my head repeatedly, letting my carefully cut blond locks whip my face, calming me down. That was the only reason I didn't hack off my supposedly "Girly" hair. To quote Matt.
"Um…are you okay, Mells?" Matt looked from his game to me; worry spreading thin lines against his goggle-covered forehead.
"I'm alright, just, can we have a dorito-eating contest sometime?"
So tell me what you think, flames are NOT appreciated.
-Cleo :3