Oh. My. Goodness. I. Have. Written. A. Death. Note. Fanfic. Actually, I've written a bunch, but this is the only one that is (currently) decent enough for me to even consider posting!
But I love Death Note, so what the hey? I couldn't not write a fic!
It takes place…well, if you know anything of the series, you'll figure out where this little oneshot fits in. And if you haven't read the description, this DOES involve boyxboy stuff. So please, I would appreciate it if you didn't flame, because you have been duly warned. That being said, I hope I did an adequate job, and please drop me a review if you feel so inclined!
Disclaimer: Death Note is the property of Ohba and Obata, and certainly doesn't belong to me. I'm just a measly fanfic writer who manipulates the characters for her own purposes…
Something To Get Used To
His hand ran almost reverently through the drift of golden hair that spread across the pillow like a sunbeam, pausing slightly in its course to rest gently on skin. Good. His fever's broken. What the heck am I doing trying to play doctor, anyway? It's not like I have any experience. I'll probably just mess the whole thing up and he'll wake up and yell at me like he always does. The man sat back with a resigned sigh, glancing out the dirty window of his cheap apartment and pulling his orange-tinted goggles back over his eyes in order to cut the sun's glare. Another glance at the man laying on the bed caused him to shake his head as he reached for the handheld game console that was situated on the bedside table. Flipping it on, he turned up the volume so that he had something to listen to other than his own breathing and the uneven breaths of the other man.
It had been five days. Five days since he got two text messages on his phone. That in itself was odd enough; few people knew his number and fewer still would have the gall to call it. Cell phones were too easily tracked these days, and when you had the connections he did…well, let's just say he preferred not to be tracked.
But back to the text messages. Two of them. One reading, I know you're here. Now come get me. And another with an address. It didn't take a genius to figure out who had sent the messages…even on death's doorstep, he would never admit to actually needing help. He would never say 'please' or 'thank you.' In fact, when the man had arrived at the given address, he had merely glanced at him, given him a glare that clearly stated, 'about time,' and fallen unconscious. The man glanced up from his game long enough to light a cigarette and stick it in the corner of his mouth. He doubted that the other had even gotten a long enough look at him to know who it was, but it didn't matter. He just wished he would wake up already; let him know that maybe he'd done something right.
The burns were bad; extremely bad. They would scar; there was no question about that. He had no money for expensive treatment, and with the other's history…with both of their histories…it was too dangerous to go to a hospital. More than likely it would only lead to a jail cell, and he knew for certain that the other man would not appreciate that. So with his tiny first-aid kit and as much Polysporin as he could afford, he had patched up the other man as best as he could.
"Wake up already, Mels," he muttered around the cigarette before turning his attention back to his game. "Five years and you don't even seem to realize that I'm alive; that you left me without even saying goodbye; and now you expect me to be at your beck and call like some kind of lapdog. I never wanted to be first; I was never obsessed with it the way you were, but d'you think that meant I wanted to be a slave to you? I shouldn't have even come to get you, you ungrateful selfish little…"
"Matt?"
Matt nearly dropped his DS in surprised. He turned sharply to find one pain-filled green eye glancing blearily up at him; the other was firmly swathed in bandages. "Hey, Mels. About time," he snorted, placing his game down safely on the bedside table and jamming his cigarette butt into the nearby ashtray. "I was starting to think you were never going to wake up."
"I almost wish I hadn't," Mello groaned. "Where are we? Your place?"
"Such as it is," Matt nodded in agreement. "Not much of a place, but you know…I do what I can."
"You always have," Mello replied. "I took a chance on you, you know. I really had no idea whether you were here or not, but I thought…you were the only one I had left. Maybe the only one I've ever had."
"And your Mafia…really, Mels, what the heck were you thinking? The Mafia?" Matt snorted derisively. "I thought you were smart."
"You think I would stoop to the level of that butt-kisser Near, is that it? Sitting pretty in his safe little office with his computer screens where he never has to see anyone face to face; playing with his model trains and his Lego sets and his puzzles? You think that's me? He dishonours L with that behaviour. I'm trying to live up to him," Mello growled, attempting to sit up but falling back with the pain.
"Don't move. You're hurt pretty bad," Matt's glare softened as he put a gentle hand on the other man's shoulder to keep him from moving. "Your whole left side's messed up; it's gonna scar pretty bad, but there's nothing I could do about it."
"That's fine," Mello shrugged. "Not like I care. Who do I have to look pretty for, anyway?"
"You're still pretty," Matt informed him. "You've always been pretty. I thought you were a girl for about two weeks, remember?"
"Yeah, until you caught me in the shower," Mello countered, a slight blush tingeing his cheeks. "Can't believe it's been five years."
"Since you abandoned me?" Matt pulled his goggles down so they were hanging around his neck. "Since you…"
"Yeah, I heard your little monologue. Sorry." But he didn't sound sorry at all. Although even getting him to say that word seemed like a huge improvement. He looked up at Matt for the first time; the other man was glancing at him with a scowl, but it didn't change the fact that…
Mello blinked, trying to get his still-cloudy vision to clear. Matt crossed his arms, his skin-tight black-and-white striped long-sleeved shirt clinging to his slender body in all the right places. His dark red hair was tousled as if he had slept somewhere that wasn't a bed; and he could have, Mello realized, since he was probably in the only bed there; and his features…the same boyish features Mello remembered from Wammy's, but somewhere in the time they had been apart he had turned into a man. And, he had to admit, he preferred it when Matt didn't have his goggles on, as his eyes were far and above the most expressive part of his face…not to mention an incredible shade of cobalt. And he was hot. And…wait. He just admitted that Matt was hot. But it was just a statement, right? It didn't mean that…no, of course not. Just because he looked like a girl didn't mean that he was…
"Mels? What is it?" Matt leant forward, looking concerned.
"Nothing," Mello waved him off. "So, despite the fact that I knew you were tailing me, I still don't know why. Or how. How did you find me?"
"I wanted to chase after you the moment I heard you'd left, but Roger wouldn't let me. He made me promise to stay put until I was sixteen, and I did. The day I turned sixteen, he told me where Near was and how the updates from the Kira case were going. He hadn't heard from you, of course, but he…both of us…knew you too well. We knew you were close to Near; you'd never let him take the credit for this by himself; so he sent me here and eventually I snooped around enough and talked to enough people as to get a pretty good idea of where you were and what you were up to. And so I stayed put, waiting for any sign that maybe it would be a good time to make my presence known to you. You took a real chance, calling me," he finished, lighting another cigarette and taking a long drag.
"You smoke?"
"I have been. Practically ever since you left."
"That's gonna give you lung cancer," Mello snorted. "I thought you were smart."
"Maybe it won't. Chocolate's supposed to make you fat, after all, and yet you're as skinny as a twig," Matt countered. "There's some on the table beside you."
"Thanks. But how did you know…"
"Mels, it hasn't been that long. And I'm willing to bet that you haven't changed that much. I knew that would be the first thing you'd ask me for, so I thought ahead," Matt replied, glancing back at the other man.
Mello's face twisted in a grimace of pain as he turned over to reach the chocolate; his shoulder length blonde hair hung in front of his face and partially obscured the bandages, and his exposed eye glanced suspiciously out at the world. No; he hadn't changed one bit. Except for his fetish with leather, perhaps. Matt wasn't about to tell him that the too-short shirt and the tight…far too tight…pants only served to make him look even more feminine; not to mention the way his hair was cut and the fact that he had always been abnormally pale and graced with unusually dainty features. Matt was willing to bet that not many girls would chase after him…and by the time they figured out he was a man, his temper would probably scare them away.
Did Matt think he was attractive? Well, sure, if that was what floated your boat. For himself, he didn't much care who he slept with…it broke the monotony of life, that was for sure, and although he couldn't remember most of them, he knew that there had been members of both sexes in his bed at one point or another. It didn't matter, anyway. If Mello wanted to sleep with him, so be it. It would just be another night of the same; he knew that the fact it was Mello didn't matter. He'd never felt anything more than a basic wanton lustful desire…something he knew shouldn't fill him but he let it anyway, because it was better than feeling empty.
And it wasn't like Mello was a friend…not really. More like…an acquaintance. They had never been more than roommates back at the orphanage, and usually Mello was too busy trying to outshine Near to even pay attention to Matt.
"Matt?"
"Hn?" Matt glanced over, holding his cigarette between two fingers and letting the smoke drift up to the ceiling. "What?"
"I…nothing," Mello subsided. "I…are they…everyone?"
"Dead," Matt said tonelessly. "You expected anything else? What were they, your friends?"
"I don't have any friends. It's just inconvenient, that's all," Mello retorted. "It took me a long time to find men that good; now I'll have to start looking all over again."
"You don't have to," Matt informed him.
"What does that mean?"
"You've got me. I'm as good as ten regular men. You want me to spy on someone; they'll never even know I'm following them. Want me to hack into someone's computer system and steal all their files, just ask. That's what I do," Matt said.
"What makes you think I even need you around?" Mello turned a glare on him, sitting up slightly. "I was doing perfectly fine on my own. In fact…"
"No, you weren't."
"What do you mean?" Mello asked suspiciously.
"I've been watching you, Mels. You lost the notebook."
"I hate you," Mello replied, crossing his arms and leaning against the headboard; obviously sulking.
"Besides, there's something I've never told you…"
"What?"
"Well, the reason that I was never in the running to become L was because I never wanted to become L," Matt said truthfully. "And L knew that. But he also knew something else, and you're not gonna like this, but here it is: the reason he never picked you or Near to be his successor was that he knew that neither of you were good enough to succeed him."
"WHAT?" Mello leant forward, his face set in a fierce glare.
"Hear me out! He knew that you and Near would have to work together, because you each have a tragic flaw: you're too hasty and Near isn't hasty enough. He also knew that while Near might consent to working with you, you'd never agree to working with him. And so that's where I came in. Near he could count on to do his job to the best of his ability, but you…you were a mystery. Not even he could predict how you were going to react, and so he enlisted my help; gave me a job…to keep you alive as long as it was within my power to do so. I'm not as impulsive as you are, but neither am I as uninspired as Near."
"So you're…what? The moderator to make sure that I don't do anything stupid and wreck my chances of solving this thing?" Mello looked offended. "I thought L liked me."
"He did, Mels! You think that if he didn't he would have done something to ensure that you'd stay alive? He did this for you!" Matt was starting to get angry, so he clenched his fist and then leant back in his chair, calming himself down.
Mello didn't say anything, but a quick flash of guilt crossed his visible eye as he sunk back against the pillows. "I'm cold," he finally said, his tone of voice implying that Matt had better fix it, and soon.
"It's always cold in here," Matt returned. "I can't afford heat."
"I'm cold," Mello repeated.
"Well apart from me climbing into bed with you…" Matt stopped as he realized Mello wasn't going to contradict him. "You want me to climb into bed with you?"
"If it's the only way to get warm…" Mello shifted again before a sudden realization struck him. "M-Matt?"
"Yes?"
"Am I…naked?" he asked suspiciously.
"How else was I supposed to see how badly you were hurt?" Matt snorted.
"But…you…" Mello fingered the rosary around his neck.
"Yes, I left that on, because otherwise you'd kill me," Matt responded tonelessly. "And besides, it's not like we haven't seen each other naked before. Back at Wammy's…"
"Back at Wammy's we were boys, Matt!" Mello exclaimed. "Now I'm…I'm…"
"A man," Matt finished. "And, if you want to know, I didn't pay that much attention to…whatever assets you possess," he said truthfully.
"Well, I'm still cold," Mello smirked. "Get in here."
Matt sighed but complied, kicking his shoes off and removing his gloves before sliding in the other side. Mello was obviously favouring his right side; his left was pushed into the mattress to reduce the pain. Matt slung an arm over the other man's back and rested his hand on Mello's hip. Mello shuddered involuntarily as Matt's cool fingers traced over his bare flesh. "Hey, Mail?"
Matt glanced up at the sound of his name. He hadn't heard it in four years. "Yes, Mihael?" He responded in kind.
"You a virgin?"
"What kind of question is that?" Matt scoffed. "Of course not. I've had my share of women and men," he added. "And you?"
"Ah…same. I mean, the guys in the Mafia always had a cheap prostitute or two around, and sometimes they didn't care if I looked like a girl…and other times, when there were no women to be had…" he shrugged. "It was all the same, I suppose. But you can afford whores and you can't afford heat? How does that work?"
"It just does, Mels. Somehow," Matt sighed.
"How did you get the money?"
"Doing odd spy work for people, selling a few drugs, winning a lot of Guitar Hero and Halo tournaments…"
"Video games came in handy, after all," Mello grinned wryly. "Never thought I'd see it."
"Yeah, guess they did," Matt mused softly, his hand trailing up the older man's side.
"You…prefer men or women?"
"Doesn't matter," Matt shook his head. "As far as I'm concerned, sex is sex. Unless I find the one person I feel more for than just basic carnal lust, it won't matter."
"And that person? Do you think you'll ever find them?" Mello gazed into his eyes, and Matt found himself looking back. "Has anybody ever told you you're one sexy devil, Mail Jeevas?"
"Maybe, but they didn't mean it," Matt replied. "Has anybody ever told you you're prettier than any girl?"
"Is that a compliment?"
"What do you think?" Matt smiled, causing Mello to sigh in annoyance.
"Darn you and your mysterious half-truths," Mello scowled, resting his forehead against the other man's. "I want the truth. What was the real reason you came to save me?"
"The real reason? Because you're the only one I have left. Because you're my friend. Because…"
"Because…"
"I love you," Matt finished quickly before leaning forward to kiss the blonde. Mello immediately responded, his right hand finding a way under Matt's tight shirt and trailing up his chest as Matt tangled his fingers in Mello's silky blonde hair.
Matt immediately recognized that this felt different; that this was different, as Mello nipped as his bottom lip; but never asking permission, more like demanding, and who was Matt to refuse? He opened his mouth to allow Mello to deepen the kiss, and by the time they broke for air, both men were gasping and hazy-eyed.
"Love's a strong word, Matt," Mello finally said.
"I've never been afraid of strong words," Matt replied.
"True enough. When can these bandages come off?"
"You're that eager, are you?" Matt smirked.
"If you'll let me. It's hard to get intimate with these annoying things in the way," Mello growled, dipping his head to suck gently on Matt's exposed collarbone. For once, he was glad the younger man wore low-collared shirts.
"Well, it'll be a few days yet. Can you hold on for that long?" Matt was smiling.
"I suppose," Mello looked thoughtful. "As long as you promise to get me a continuous supply of chocolate, that is."
Matt nodded in agreement; he had expected that.
"And…were you serious when you said that you'd work for me?"
"Of course," Matt assured him. "I told you, I'm the only man you need."
"I hope you're right, because I have a job for you."
"What is it?"
Mello pulled back for a second to study the other man before leaning forward to kiss him again. "I need you to follow somebody; tell me everything they're doing. Where they go, who they speak to, what times they leave their house…and you cannot be seen."
"That's my specialty," Matt grinned. "Who is it?"
"Her name is Misa Amane."
"Misa? Is she pretty?"
"Not as pretty as me," Mello smirked.
"Well, it would be difficult for someone to be as pretty as you," Matt said with a serious expression. "So, I have to stalk her?"
"Basically. Can you do it?"
"No problem."
"Good. Now, what I want you to do for me right now is figure out a way to get these bandages off as quickly as possible so that I can have my way with you," Mello growled threateningly.
"I don't see you as being in much of a position to make threats, Mihael," Matt responded, sounded mostly unconcerned.
"Haven't you learned, Mail, that my threats are always serious?" Mello lowered his voice dangerously. "Don't test me."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Matt replied. "Now, get some rest."
"You're going to stay?"
"If you want me to," he shrugged. "As long as you don't mind me playing Nintendo or smoking."
"You know very well I mind," Mello growled at him.
"I'll turn the sound off and blow the smoke in the other direction," Matt promised.
"Whatever." Mello lay back and attempted to get comfortable. "You're not going to leave me." He made it a statement rather than a question.
"Not as long as I'm alive," Matt smiled. "Go to sleep, Mihael."
"All right…Mail."
It was only a few minutes before Mello's breathing evened out and he was truly asleep. Matt leant over without breaking the two men's embrace and pulled his DS over, turning it on and turning the volume down as he had promised. Lighting a cigarette, he stuck it in the corner of his mouth and went back to his game, thinking that, with everything he had put up with, this was something he could get used to.