Breakdown
By: Melissa (I finally said, "Screw it." in regards for pen names. I hate all of mine.)
Chapter One
Standard Disclaimers Apply
Author's Note: Look at me attempt to write Matt and Mello. HA!
'Italics are thoughts.'
- - - - -
Matt stepped into the crowd as if it were his first time getting out of an airplane. He hated flying; he really did. It was long and boring and the food was never good... the list could go on and on, especially in regards to the awful flight movies that played, or his bad luck when it came to never, ever getting a cute stewardess. Sometimes Matt felt like God just hated him or something. It sure seemed like that sometimes.
Regardless of Almighty Beings planning on smiting him further, the redhead made his way past the airport gates where more crowds awaited him, all waiting for their respective friends, families, or coworkers to get off the plane so they could greet them and whatever else people did in those situations.
Matt was never greeted by friends, family members, or coworkers because he never had any. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He did have one friend. A certain blond hellion with a chip on his shoulder the size of Antarctica and a bad attitude that would send Chuck Norris running to his mother. Well, maybe not Chuck Norris. But the point was made.
Not really paying attention, Matt glanced down at the plane ticket in his hand. "Destination: Los Angeles, California" was imprinted on it in bold letters, and it all but mesmerized Matt. As fun as flying here from New York was (or not, as the case were), he was happy to be off the giant metal craft the defied all common sense and flew through the air. If you had been in one big city, you had been in them all. Matt just wanted a beer and someplace to sit, in all honesty. He was tired and cranky, and really not in the mood, when suddenly two arms wrapped around his middle from behind.
In his self induced haze, at first he wasn't sure if he was getting assaulted or hugged, but in a matter of moments, it turned out to be the latter when a blond head poked out from behind him, a small smug smile playing on the delicate face he'd know anywhere despite how long it had been since he'd seen him.
"Did you miss me?" the coy voice asked, icy blue eyes meeting his own navy ones.
"Noooo, not at all!" Matt snickered, unable to stop the smirk turned smile that graced his features. Mello always had a way to unintentionally make his bad moods go away, even if it was Mello's fault he was in a bad mood to begin with.
Mello chose to ignore the obvious lie laced with lots of sarcasm, and stepped around to face a man he hadn't seen in person in about three years. Matt was dressed as casual as one could get, what with his black, short sleeved T-shirt, and ratty, holey blue jeans.
"Nice Chucks," Mello commented with a small smile, eyeing the redhead's shoes.
"Hey, they're cool!" Matt protested at the jab at his attire. "I'm not gonna take that from a dude in a belly shirt!"
As if suddenly self-conscious, Mello instinctively tugged at his leather vest a bit, trying to tug it down the last few inches to cover his exposed midriff. The vest wouldn't ever reach his waistline as tiny as it was, but the act was enough to make Matt smirk.
"You never mentioned any of your new fetishes on the phone," he grinned, making eye contact with the older man.
"You're just jealous you can't pull off leather as well as I can," was the curt reply, but Matt could hear the humor in the words. He knew Mello couldn't stay mad at him today. Maybe tomorrow, after he got used to having Matt around again, but not today. And same went for him. Just seeing that hair, those eyes... it was like he was at Wammy's again, goofing off with his best buddy. And he loved that feeling.
"Well, yeah," Matt agreed. "I don't have the legs like you do."
Mello rolled his eyes, letting the compliment-slash-jab soak in. He didn't mind if Matt thought he had nice legs.
"Or the hips for that matter," Matt added, crouching a bit as he stared at the red laces that held Mello's pants together. "You could pop out a baby no problem with those!"
Mello rolled the magazine Matt hadn't previously noticed he had and bopped him on the head with it.
"That's taking it too far!" Mello growled at him, a half-hearted, icy blue glare aimed in his direction. Whenever those piercing eyes were on him, the word 'winter' always came to mind. He wasn't sure why, it just did. Then again, when it came to Mello, his mind had a whole arsenal of words he related to him. Like "gorgeous" and "whack-job" and "nut-case". Mostly words like the latter, but a few words like the former always crept into his Mello-Thesaurus. Matt could honestly say he liked women– actually he didn't like men at all– but even the straightest guy had to admit Mello always had some sort of twisted, maniac, angelic kind of beauty about him.
A beauty Matt didn't think a guy should have, really, but Mello did and pulled off quite well. And now that he was older, that gorgeousness only increased tenfold. Matt couldn't help but poke fun at his old friend's figure just so he wouldn't feel really gay for staring at it so intensely.
"So, in all seriousness, how are we getting out of this awful crowd and where are we going?" Matt asked, standing up straight once more.
Mello chuckled a little bit as he tossed the magazine into the nearest trash can. "I forgot you hated crowded places."
"I hate people period," Matt snickered back. "I'm as anti-social as you get, trust me. I don't know how you can be such a people person. Honestly, nobody in Wammy's was social. No one but you."
Mello's small smile resurfaced. "It's not hard."
"For you, nothing's hard."
"Mm." Mello hummed in response, starting to head out of said crowd and towards the nearest parking lot.
"Hey, you never answered me," Matt continued on, jogging a bit to catch up to the blond.
Mello stopped in his tracks and turned to his companion who was less than a foot behind him. Point blank, he asked, "Matt, have you ever ridden in a limo?"
The question took Matt off guard, and he retorted in his normal dry tone, "I'm an orphan from England. What do you think?"
Mello's point blank expression slowly molded into a smug smirk. Matt began to realize where this was going, but posed the remark anyway, "Did that question have a point?"
"Follow me." was all that was said, but it was enough to get the redhead's curiosity peaked and he began to follow him.
- - - - - - -
Matt hadn't been joking when he said he'd never been in a limousine before. And had Mello asked, he would have guessed Mello never had either. Boy was he wrong. As the two sat quietly in the back of the long, black, intimidating limo, Matt couldn't help but fidget.
"It makes you feel important, huh?" Mello asked, still feeling rather smug it seemed, as he leaned back in his seat. Matt seemed hesitant to reply, and the blond seemed to take notice, and added, "Don't worry, the glass is sound proof." in regards to the only barrier between them and whoever the hell was driving.
"I didn't notice before, but..." Matt started, not really looking at Mello. "You have an American accent now." 'It's cute.'
Mello's crystal blue orbs widened a bit at the observation. "Well, I have been here for quite a few years now. I had to pick it up to avoid unnecessary suspicion. It's not like it's anything new. You've always had this accent."
Matt made a face. "I'm American. What do you want from me?"
"Don't you think any outsider would think it's strange an orphan from England has an American accent?"
"I can't help it. Once you learn to pronounce everything a certain way, it becomes hard to just up and change. I mean, I didn't get to Winchester until I was seven, so that was seven years of good ol' American slang into my system before they threw me into an orphanage where 'Sod off' is an insult."
"I'm sure you prefer 'Fuck off' then?"
"Oh yes. That's the real way to piss off people you hate."
"Charming. You know, I up and changed my accent twice. It really isn't that hard," Mello said idly, as if looking for some more conversation.
"Twice?" Matt asked, interest peaked. Mello had been in the orphanage before he was, so Mello had always spoken to him in English with that British accent as far as he could remember.
"Oh, well, I lived in Germany before I came to Winchester, so..."
"Germany? Hell if I knew that!" Matt blinked, partially mad at himself for raising his voice despite the supposed sound proof glass. "Ha, I should have figured from the blond hair and blue eyes. You're such a Hitler-baby."
"A what?" Mello asked, eyes narrowing into that familiar icy glare. The word 'winter' flitted through Matt's head again.
"Never mind. So what's up with you and this limo anyway? I mean, I know you mentioned the mafia on the phone, but I didn't think you were... you know, one of the big wigs."
Mello paused, as if trying to think of a way to explain it. "Well, I took out a mafia boss that escaped even under Kira's radar to get in with the group I'm in now."
"Took out?" Matt asked, mouth falling agape. "As in, you–?"
"I killed him."
Matt sunk a bit into his seat. It was hard to imagine the kid he used to play tag and soccer with during recess as a murderer. Mello eyed his stiffened body, but continued anyway. "I... well, I'm not really the boss per se. That'd be Rod Ross. Rod, he... likes me enough, I guess. So he doesn't mind giving me all the luxuries he would normally only get himself."
"...Are you sleeping with him?"
The question caught both of them off guard, and Matt felt his cheeks flush. 'I can't believe I just asked that!' It was rude, and he knew it, but the curiosity overpowered his brain and went straight out his mouth.
"Of course not!" Mello growled out, flustered and angry. "It's nothing perverted!"
"Oh, Just asking, sheesh," Matt defended, but he really wasn't sure himself why he asked. It didn't matter.
"He thinks it's impossible for me to be wrong about anything. It's a nice feeling, but I'm just good at tailing people without them catching on. I use that to keep Rod well informed. Before I even joined the mafia, I had learned as much as I could about all his lackeys so I could rat them out to get in Rod's favor. My intelligence is his ace up the sleeve, if you will."
"Nice," Matt said, not really having anything to add. "So this mafia thing is working out then?"
"I think so. I think we're about to hit a breakthrough," Mello said, his tone sounding less agitated and more hopeful.
"Still out to get ahead of Near, are we?"
"Of course! Don't be stupid." Mello sneered at Matt. 'So that topic is still touchy with him. Fun stuff.' Matt mentally groaned.
"Let me tell you about a thing we call the "Killer Notebook"."
- - - - - - -
Mello told Matt about L's findings on the Kira case, such as a couple suspects that were released after being "proven" innocent, a man named Higuchi who was arrested for being associated with Kira to help boost his company, Yotsuba, up the ranks and then later died on the scene, and the supposed killing weapon– a little black notebook.
"Wait, wait. You expect me to believe the Almighty God Kira kills people with writing utensils? Please, spare me."
Mello wasn't surprised by the outburst in the middle of his explanation. It was nothing new, really, when it came to Matt. Mello used to help Matt with his homework on a nearly nightly basis, and the redhead was not fond of learning, hearing boring things, or having to contemplate things that were beyond his comprehension. Sighing, Mello sat up on the hotel bed and rolled his eyes. "Did you expect his killings to be done in a human way? He didn't have to touch them and they'd keel over dead. It makes sense that it'd be some mystical form of murdering."
"'Makes sense' my ass! I always theorized it was a virus or something. I never stopped to consider the horrors of notebook paper," Matt replied dryly, obviously not amused by the discovery.
"Look, it's what L discovered, not me. And L was never wrong."
"Whatever you say, Mel, but he still died 'cause of this freak. Regardless of what Kira uses to off people, you should be careful."
"He only kills criminals."
"You are one!" Matt shouted, scrambling up from his position on the floor and onto the bed with his friend. Once he was successfully sitting across from his favorite blond hellion, he continued, "In case you didn't know, the mafia's little dealings of organized crime is illegal!"
"Kira won't kill me," Mello said confidently, lounging more onto the stiff hotel pillows.
"That's what L thought," Matt pressed on, not wanting to let this go. "I don't want to lose you."
"You won't," Mello said cooly, shrugging the comment off as he checked his watch. "Well it's about that time. I should probably be heading back to headquarters before Rod starts calling me and complaining."
Matt tried to hide his disappointment of being dumped alone in a hotel (nice as it was). "Why would he nag you?"
"He likes having me around 24/7. I do the thinking for him, and he knows he can trust me to do the job right. He doesn't make any decisions unless I'm there, so he needs me."
"A little too much."
"Please." Mello hopped off the bed and began to put on and tie his combat boots. "Besides, you have my number. If you need me, just call. I'm not that far away."
"Well what do you want me to do for the time being?" Matt asked, cocking an eyebrow. "I was under the impression that you needed my help for something. That's why you flew my ass down here."
"I do," Mello said simply, all ready half way across the room, hand on the doorknob. "I'm going to need you to help me hack into the government's system so I can... borrow a missile."
"A missile?" Matt gasped, the word almost choking him. "Are you fucking serious?"
Mello just gave him a half-crazy smirk and a small wave as he ducked out the door.
"Bastard..." Matt mumbled once said bastard was out of earshot. "What the fuck is he thinking?"
- - - - - - -
Author's Note: And so, that's the end of chapter one. Hopefully the plot will pick up a bit faster in chapter two. But that's the way introductions go, I guess. Review peeps!