Written for Blusparkles, one of the best damn Mello cosplayers ever. I couldn't finish her original gift in time for Christmas/birthday, so I decided to write up this little tidbit. It's directly inspired by her, and the idea is a certain idea she's been lusting after for some time. So yeah, I stole this from ya hun XD But something tells me you won't mind.

Merry Christmas everyone! Enjoy the fluff. And Mells, happy birthday 3

Disclaimer: Death Note is not mine, nor do I take credit for the idea inspiring this fic. That was all Blusparkles.

Matt grimaced, rubbing his wrist anxiously. The flesh of his inner arm burned, tender to the touch and barely covered by a thin layer of clear plastic. The medical tape keeping it taut was frayed and peeling at the corners, urging him to pick at it, smear his fingertips with the protective secondary barrier of viscous salve. He reeked of the foul smelling ointment, but it was necessary to keep the flesh and ink from fading. And fuck if that wouldn't be a waste; he'd spent his last few hard earned bucks on getting this damn thing, and hell if he wasn't going to keep his money's worth. "I just hope Mello likes it," he murmured, feeling the plastic ripple as he thumbed one of the thin black lines decorating the top of his wrist. It stung pretty bad.

Yeah, so, he was a pussy when it came to pain. Whatever, sue him. At least he didn't cry! He sat there and let the smirking woman with platinum hair drive tiny needles into his skin, taking it like a boss. She was a bitch about it too. Matt was pretty damn sure she deliberately drove the needles in deeper at some points, plus redoing so many of the stupid lines because "they weren't dark enough." He mimed her voice, the snicker and laughing grey eyes lodged in his memory. The tattoo artist herself had had plenty inking done herself, from what he'd seen from her sporadically tatted forearms and neck, behind the ear, ribs….

"….damn." Shuddering at the memory, Matt couldn't help but steal another glance at his tattoo. Potential craziness aside, the artist had done a damn fine job. Clean lines, solid black ink, a little bit smaller than a half dollar. The flesh was still puckered and pink around it, but that was ok. The tattoo was clearly visible, and would heal nicely. She'd only charged him forty bucks too, claiming good charity, 'cause it was Christmas and all that. Plus, he was a cutie.

He couldn't help a small grin. His Irish heritage came in handy. He was nowhere near Mello in looks, but with unruly red hair that was impossibly...well, red, Midori green eyes, and pale skin dabbled with a touch of freckles across his nose, he was a looker. The ladies loved fawning over him, at least until he started ranting about Mario or the newest Batman game. That never went over well, man or woman. Mello only put up with it out of love, and even that was sometimes tested. Last week had been one of those moments, when he kept ignoring the blond in favor of staring at the purring Catwoman on TV. Say what you want, but damn, the Arkham creators knew a few things about the female anatomy. How else could she have such a nice ass?

….in retrospect, it was that train of thought that'd earned him a slap upside the head, and getting locked out for the night. Matt flushed, a bit sheepish. Mello hadn't been happy, which was partly why he'd come up with this little scheme to give him a 'present'. He wanted to show Mello that he was the only one in his life, in the most permanent way possible. And what was more permanent than a tattoo?

Now here he was, a week later. He'd hunted down a tattoo parlor, a lesser known shop in the bowels of LA. There work was good, and the fee decent. He'd told them what he wanted, and they pushed him down into a chair, letting the smirking, mohawk wearing artist go to town. Hurt, no surprise there, and yet the finished project was fucking beast. Mello had no idea either, since he'd left earlier that morning to do some last minute Christmas shopping. That worked just fine for Matt. Saved any unnecessary questioning. And he could surprise Mello when he came home.

There'd probably be a lot of 'sap' and 'dork' comments coming his way. Eh, ah well. He'd been called worse, usually by Mello, save for the rare bystander that sometimes caught them making out in the mall's bathroom, or the back of his car in the apartment building's garage. "Good times, good times…."

"Matt! You home?"

Blinking, Matt nearly jumped a foot off the couch, hastily pulling the sleeve of his shirt down. "Y-yeah! I'm in the living room!" Shit! How did he do that? Mind reading man. Sometimes he swore the blond was Professor X's long lost son. Or maybe a cousin once removed. Mello was too hot to come directly from that gene pool.

"What a surprise." Mello came into the living room, arms laden with plastic bags, and one carton containing dewed plastic containers that had fucking delicious smells wafting from the cracked lids. The blond himself had a self satisfied smile, likely due to one of the bags containing a mountain of Godiva chocolate bars. "Damn. Rob a chocolate store, Mells?" Matt offered a hand, eagerly taking the carton of food. Yep, Chinese. Thank you Mello. He'd even gotten those little donuts!

Raised in a household that adored sweets, Matt didn't enjoy much sugar himself. But those donuts were the shit.

"Not quite." Mello smirked, setting his bag on the coffee table. "But Macy's better hope they have a new shipment of Godiva coming in soon. I'll need more after Christmas."

Matt rolled his eyes at the savory-totally sexy-addiction of his lover, unpacking the various containers and setting them down beside the chocolate. Lucky them, the food came with plastic utensils. Neither one had done the dishes lately. But seriously, it was Christmas! Everyone knew you let work pile up until after the holidays. It was…tradition and shit. Maybe? Yeah, he was gonna stick with that. Saved him from a slew of inward lazy comments, courtesy of his angel winged conscience. If it even existed. He doubted it, due to his hacking nature. Having a blond bombshell who had a hand in mafia workings didn't help either.

"Matt? Maaaaatt? Hello? Anyone in there?" A gloved hand suddenly waved in the air in front of his goggles, snapping him out of his stupor. "Fuck, what had you thinking so hard?" Frowning, Mello put a bowl of egg drop soup in his hands. "Were you thinking about Catwoman's ass again?"

Oh yeah, like he was stupid enough to do that again. "No." Matt grumbled, dipping a spoon into the golden colored liquid, wrist twitching as the skin was stretched. "Not all I think about y'know."

Mello quirked a thinly arched brow. He didn't need to say anything to show his disbelief. It was written all over his handsome face. "…whatever." Setting down his food, which Matt hadn't even noticed him scooping out onto paper plates, he reached into one of the other bags and plopped a can of Coke down onto the coffee table. Matt knew it was for him, and eagerly cracked the tab, taking a healthy swig. Mello didn't drink regular Cokes. Tch, like he needed the extra caffeine. His chocolate supplied more than enough of that.

"Thanks." He wiped his mouth, taking a proffered plate of food from Mello and spooned YumYum sauce all over his rice. Added to the flavor. "How'd the shopping go?" Matt smiled, watching the shudder visibly crawl down the blond's spine. "…that bad?" Sheepish again, he took a mouthful of rice and chicken, trying not to laugh at the expression on Mello's face. "Hate to tell you babe, but it was kind of a stupid idea. It's Christmas Eve. Shopping anytime in LA is crazy. Today just made everything worse." He cringed. Traffic alone was chaotic. He'd feared for his baby's life, driving over to the tattoo parlor earlier that morning. Fuck if he couldn't imagine what Mello had been through, riding only a motorcycle.

….how he even managed to bring all those bags back, PLUS the food, was a mystery.

"Tch. Shut up Matt." Mello scowled, flicking a few granules of rice at him. "Didn't have much of a choice. Your lazy ass wouldn't get off the couch last week, so I had to do all the shopping myself." Which mostly consisted of chocolate, some canned foods, and luckily a few packs of smokes that Matt had spotted, buried under a can of Campbell's beef stew. Approval or not, least Mello was nice enough to buy them for him.

"Hey, not my fault. You try collecting all those Riddler trophies." He ignored Mello's exasperated sigh, digging heartily into his food. It wasn't the perfect Christmas dinner, but he loved Chinese food, and it was better than living off ramen and bologna sandwiches. Though he could make a mean bowl of ramen. A pack of the instant noodles, some eggs, two hot dogs, a bit of cheese, and hot sauce. Gamer he was, but he was a classy kind of guy. He even had the decency to use a pair of chopsticks when eating, and that took skill. Controller in his left hand, chopsticks in the right. His eyes barely had to leave the screen; he was that skilled at directing food into his mouth. Years of practice, much to Mello's chagrin.

Personally, he thought it was a worthy skill. He should draft up a resume. Matt, professional gamer and hacker. Specializes in multitasking, pwning, drooling over a certain ass clad in tight leather-

"What's that?"

Matt had a spoonful of soup nearly to his lips when the blond spoke, a finger pointing incriminatingly at his right wrist. "What's what?" Playing it off as nothing, he looked at the spot, and boldly groaned as he saw the sleeve bunched up and the plastic clearly showing. Well, fuck him two ways sideways with a keyblade. He'd been planning on waiting, saving the surprise for later on that night. "Oh. That."

Mello kept staring at him, blue eyes narrowing suspiciously. He was waiting for an answer, and Matt knew he'd get it. Like he could keep a secret from him. Mello was naturally curious, and the years at Wammy's had only heightened that curiosity, fueling it with a detective's zealot. Plus, he was a mafia boss. Getting what he wanted was second nature by now. "Yeah, that." Snatching Matt's hand, he drew the limb towards him, nearly making Matt dump his food on the floor. "What the hell is that?"

Blushed red, Matt sighed and drew his sleeve up all the way. There went the surprise factor. "I got it earlier today. It was supposed to be a surprise. Well," he rubbed the back of his neck, "a Christmas present. Kinda."

"A Christmas present." Deadpanning, the blond plucked at the tape keeping the plastic flush against his arm. Surprise, he was gentle about taking it off, his expression one of fascination and barely hidden wonder as the tattoo was bared to the warm air of their apartment. Then it shifted, his eyes sparkling with joy. "Matt….."

Relatively small, the ink was the color of charcoal, etched deep into the flesh of his wrist. Each line was done in neat, precise strokes, and they all connected to form an elaborate M. He'd had a hard time picking the font, since it was a tattoo dedicated to him and Mello, and they had completely different tastes. But finally, after a few suggestions from the artist, he'd kept to their roots, picking the very same font L used in his work.

"Um-" Matt gave a soft smile, extending his wrist closer. "You like?"

Mello smeared a bit of ointment across the bottom curve of the M, thoughtful in his touches. The tattoo still stung though, and he winced, letting Mello turn his arm every which way. "Just an M?" He smiled, teasing the redhead. "Always pictured you getting one of those things from Mario."

"What? The mushrooms?" Green eyes flickered, hearty with amusement. "Worried I wouldn't be able to one up without it?" Matt snickered; now there was some food for thought. If only the mystical powers of Mario would work like that, he'd have mushrooms rolling all up and down his thigh. "Na. Thought I'd get something a little more personal."

"Personal…" gently, Mello sat his arm down, fixating him with a smile that meant more to Matt than any video game, PS3, or X-Box ever could. Hell, he'd give up cigarettes, if only he could see that smile every day, for the rest of his life. "So you got an M." His smile twitched, carrying a sense of satisfaction. "That stand for anything, Mattie?" He tapped the spot above the half quarter sized M, careful not to press on the reddened flesh. While having no ink himself, Mello was well aware of how sore the skin could be after enduring an onslaught of needles and pain.

Not that 3rd degree burns could ever compare to a simple tattoo. Matt had no delusions about that. The pain he'd gone through had been a walk through the park, compared to Mello's after the explosion.

"What do you think?" The Chinese food long forgotten, Matt pecked him on the cheek, chuckling as fingers threaded into the hair at the back of his head, teasing the strap of his goggles before shoving them up high into the garnet strands. Midori eyes were completely bare to the world, just the way Mello liked them. It's why Matt let him get away with touching the near priceless accessory. He was the only one who could. He was the only one important enough. "Like you said Mells. It's just an M." Matt shared a look with the blond, smelling chocolate as Mello brushed his lips across the sweep of his jaw.

"Just an M." Mello shook his head, taking Matt's chin in a gentle, but firm, grip. "Bullshit. I think we both know it means more than that."

Matt didn't bother to deny it, or add his own two cent. They could practically read each other's minds at this point, and he was no stranger to Mello's way of thinking, just as Mello knew his inside and out. So he merely offered up a grin, tossing the greasy plastic that'd been protecting his tattoo into the empty food carton. "Just don't go getting any weird ideas. M'not a pet. This isn't some dog tag." Matt ninja'd a forkful of noodles off Mello's plate, soy sauce flecking his lower lip.

"I was thinking more of a tramp stamp."

When Matt paled in horror, Mello laughed, smearing the sauce with his thumb. "I'm kidding." Licking it clean, he glanced at the black ink, then took a long look at the redhead himself. There was so much understanding in those icy eyes, it was almost unbearable. Were it anyone else, Matt would've been recoiling, goggles pulled down and head lowered. But Mello was the exception. Always had been. He'd been working his way into Matt's heart since the day they met, a similar winter afternoon all those years ago. Mello had been the first Wammy child to approach him, and after that the redhead had been under his wing, and Mello under his. Despite all their arguments, and Matt's near obsession with sexy, spandex clad women in animated form, they understood each other.

Matt was Mello's. Mello was Matt's. That was just the way it was.

"….I guess you like it then?" Matt was the first to break the staring contest, not surprisingly. There was only so much eye contact he could take. "Maybe you should get one. It'd be a piece of cake for you."

"Oh God, please tell me you didn't cry. No way it could hurt that bad." Retrieving his plate of food, Mello scooped up some noodles, choosing to ignore Matt's indignant scoff. Of course he hadn't cried. Ridiculous. …it just hurt. A lot. To the point of teeth gritting. "Maybe you're right. I could get one too. Heh, maybe even one to match." He wiggled the fork, but, instead of eating its sample of noodles himself, held them out to the redhead, wearing a playful smirk. "Open wide."

Matt pursed his lips, grudgingly accepting the morsel of food. Stupid tease. Understand he did, and it made him no less the sarcastic jerk. The imagined remarks of sappiness were suddenly sounding like a blessing. "Y'know, pretty sure I already said this wasn't some dog tag. I'm not a pet, jerk. You don't need to feed me." He wiped his mouth of the sauce's residue, almost wanting to smear it on Mello's arm. But it was freezing outside, and he didn't feel like getting kicked out on Christmas. How sucky would that be?

"Never said you were a pet." Eyes flicked to the top of his head, and Mello smirked. "You'd look cute with some kitty ears though." His smile widened, taking on a tone Matt knew all too well. "Actually, I saw this really hot cat suit when I was out shopping. All leather, and it had a tail and ears." Sliding out of his chair, Mello leaned over Matt with the grace of a panther, and a hungry look to match. "Maybe I should go back and buy it. Hmm? What do you think, Mattie? You thought that Catwoman was pretty hot, right? And that suit sure looked a lot like hers…."

Flinching, Matt recoiled into the cushions, legs forcefully parted as the blond pushed close. Damn, and he hadn't even finished eating. "Umm….leather's not really my thing," he shuddered despite himself, wrist giving a twitch as it was bent against the couch. "Ahh, Mells-my wrist. Careful!"

Mello easily freed the trapped limb, moving it out of the way. It didn't hesitate his seduction though, as he kept the whole arm pinned above Matt's head, his eyes feral and gleaming, matching the way he straddled the redhead's hips and ground down onto them. Matt moaned, his body responding quickly. "Dammit Mello-it's Christmas-shouldn't we-"

"Shhh…" a finger pressed to his lips, quieting him. Figures. "C'mon Mattie. You gave me such a good present," he looked at the tattoo, a flicker of warmth coloring his perverted grin. "Let me return the favor."

"Ah-" the hips kept grinding down onto his, and Matt shuddered harder. "How is buying me a catsuit a-a present for me?"

"Hm?" Devilish, his whole body arched and fluid as the leather clad fiend Matt drooled after in Arkham City, the blond purred, nipping the side of Matt's neck. "Oh, the suit's not for you." He carried on, ignoring the confused sound his lover made. "You like to look at leather, not wear it. So that'd be kind of pointless, buying it for you. But me…." he grinned, brushing fingers through Matt's bangs. "Well, we both know I look damn sexy in it."

Matt blushed, his mind flooded with images that really didn't need to be there. And Mello knew very well the direction his mind had taken, using his chance to hiss in his ear, a dangerous growl in his voice. "Sound good to you? Instead of staring at a TV screen, you can look at something much better….."

"Uhh…fuck yeah…."

Mello looked triumphant, and Matt, exasperated, yanked their faces close with his free hand, kissing him hard on the mouth. Well damn, Merry Christmas to him. Santa, fuck you. He had a leather cat suit waiting for him in his future, and a sexy blond straddling his body in the present. Matt grinned, a warm tongue snaking into his mouth, and he succumbed eagerly, falling back onto the couch.

If this is what came from video games and tattoos, then hell yes, he'd get in trouble more often. Merry fucking Christmas, and a happy new year!

Ending is gay, but whatever. Deal with it XD I have Christmas presents to go open, and family to hang with. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed the cuteness (and slight perversion), especially you Mells 3 Merry Christmas you guys!