Summary: My first Death Note drabble! Matt and Mello have somewhat of a cat fight concerning a long-established pet peeve of Mello's. Matt centric.

Disclaimer: Neither Death Note nor its characters belong to me. I'm writing this for fun, not profit.

Author's Note: So, I meant for this to be slashier, but that never actually happened. I really wanted to use the phrase, "Kissing you is like licking an ash tray" somewhere. Oh well, there's always next time...As it is, you probably wouldn't be able to tell that it's supposed to be Mello/Matt unless I told you. Which is what I'm doing now. :P But it's only slashy if you choose to read it that way.

Nicotine

I waited until I heard the shower turn on before sneaking over to the living room window. I opened it a crack and then paused again, giving the scent of Mello's shampoo time to fill the bathroom. It was vanilla – supposedly the next best thing after chocolate. Not even Mello would be crazy enough to use chocolate-scented shampoo.

When I was sure I could get away with it undetected, I pulled a pack of Camels from my pocket, shook one out, and lit it. I took a drag and then glanced guiltily over my shoulder. But the bathroom door remained firmly closed, so I relaxed, inhaling again. Ah, bliss, I thought, being careful to tap the ashes out the open window.

I didn't even hear him come up behind me.

"Matt?" Mello growled, his voice dangerously low. "How many times have I asked you not to smoke in here?"

Not again, I groaned internally. I didn't want another fight because arguing with Mello sucks. It really does. Not to mention the fact that every time we had this particular dispute, I always seemed to be missing something important. Mello always had an indefinable edge that baffled me every time.

But his condescending tone was enough to make me snap and my stupid mouth was already saying stuff without me again.

"About forty-five times this week," came my unchecked reply to Mello's rhetorical question. Even as I said it, my brain was shrieking, Shut up, shut up!

"So?" Mello demanded. "Why the hell are you sneaking cigarettes with the window open while I'm in the shower?" He, at least, was attempting to keep himself from exploding. I had no such qualms.

"Maybe because I'm sick of your bitchy nagging?" I offered sneeringly. "Your control issues are getting really old, just so you know."

"Control -!" The accusation seemed to strike deeper than I had anticipated and Mello dropped all pretenses of calm, getting right up in my face. "You have no right to make my apartment smell like a fucking forest fire!"

"It's my apartment, too, and I'll do whatever the hell I want!" I snarled.

To prove my point, I took a drag and blew a stream of smoke into Mello's face. His scarred features twisted with fury and my head snapped to the side with the force of his open-handed smack.

I turned back to look at him, stunned. Our fights had never come to blows before. And Mello's eyes still held that incomprehensible expression that made me feel like I was hopelessly out of the loop. I could tell from the way his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides and from the thin set of his lips that Mello still had something to say. He opened his mouth angrily, but shut it again just as quickly. Finally, his eyes drifted from my face to the cigarette in my fingers and he muttered, "It's just so bad for you."

He turned abruptly away, flinging a small object at me which hit me squarely in the chest. The apartment door slammed behind him and I stared at the place he'd been a moment before. Smoking was bad for me? Well, that was certainly a new angle. We'd been over the odor issue countless times, but the health risks had never even come up. 'It's just so bad for you,' he'd said. That made it sound almost like Mello was –

I remembered the object Mello had thrown before storming out and stooped to retrieve it. I stopped mid-motion and re-read the label incredulously. Mint-flavored nicotine gum? You've gotta be kidding me. A warm, tingly feeling slowly spread through me as I put the gum and Mello's words together. He was worried, a fact which I should have picked up on sooner. Nothing pissed Mello off more than being worried. And this time, he was worried about me, of all things.

With that in mind, I looked speculatively from the still-smoldering cigarette in one hand to the gum in the other. Grinning, I unwrapped the latter and popped a piece into my mouth, tossing the former out the open window.