A/N: Fancy seeing you here! It's been a while since we've posted anything new, but I'm here with a new story and a new partner in crime. "new" Leather and I have been working on this for a while. It started out as a sort of joke but morphed into something amazing. This is...this story is quite an adventure. There is intrigue, humor, and of course, the ever-present amazing duo of Matt and Mello.

Ahhhh, we love Matt and Mello.

So, without further ado, we would like to present to you the first chapter of Punch Drunk Love. Enjoy, and carry on, lovelies!

Cheers!

.:Chapter 1:.

"Mr. Spy and Mr. Trouble"

xxx

It was another slow night. Several regulars sat along the bar, chatting about nothing at all interesting. At least, not to Mello.

The blond washed the same glass for the fifth time, leaning back against the counter. He checked the clock on the wall, a frown spreading across this face. Several hours to go, and he was already over it. He sighed, rolling the cuffs of his black dress shirt up to his elbows.

And then it happened.

Slamming the door open, a red haired man stepped through the threshold. His jacket soaked through all the way to the plain black shirt underneath. He wore strikingly bright orange lensed goggles over his eyes, but he removed them the moment he walked in, dropping them to hang around his neck.

It was clear the young man wasn't in a chatting mood, his face scrunched in a very unpleasant expression. He strolled toward the bar, not even giving the bartender a second glance. His voice was low yet carried a strong urge behind the tone. "Rum and coke."

Mello turned to the man, quirking an eyebrow. "Rough night?" He poured the drink, sliding it across the counter to the other. "No offense, but you look like shit."

Green eyes narrowed toward the blond bartender, resentment and anguish shining behind them. Instead of answering, the boy lifted the glass and took a long drink from it. Reaching inside of his pocket, he pulled out a crushed phone and let it fall onto the bar. A small sneer erupted from his lips, "Do I really? Well," he paused, "you should see the other guy."

"Is he in the same condition?" the blond nodded toward the phone on the counter. "You don't seem like a big fighter."

The redhead took another drink from his glass, placing it gently back on the bar, half finished. "I'm not, that's why he didn't realize I was about to tackle him in to the river." He laughed, it was dry and full of pain, "Surprised myself, too."

The blond eyebrow quirked again. "And how, exactly, did that happen?"

Sitting back a little, he shifted his jacket off, placing it on a near-by chair. It dripped a little, but he made a mental note to get some napkins later. Resting on an elbow, he traced a sad circle around the rim of the glass. "Bastard slept with my girlfriend, then she called me to get a ride home. I, being a trusting boyfriend, thought she was simply there to study for an exam. However, they didn't realize how close to the library I was." A bitter laugh left his lips, "They didn't even have time to pull his dick out of her mouth before I walked in."

He ran a hand through his wet hair before finishing, "She followed me down the road, and when the asshole opened his mouth to call me a pussy for not fighting him, well..." teeth flashed as he looked up at the bartender, "he didn't realize I had lead him straight into a situation where I'd have the upper hand. I turned on him before he could move, and tackled him over the railing, down the hill, and into the river."

He laughed again, taking the last bit of liquid between his lips. It wasn't refreshing in the least bit, but he needed it. "Once we hit the water, I shifted out of reach and kicked him in the jaw. The asshole left me alone, and I walked off with my ex screaming at how crazy I was."

Another brief pause. "I don't think logic is crazy."

A small smirk spread across the blond's lips. "I agree with you there. Nothing wrong with shifting circumstances so that you're in a position to win," he poured another drink. "I can appreciate that. Just," he glanced over the man's soaking clothes, "make sure you take a shower as soon as possible. The river's filthy. Staph infections are terrible."

It was as if the redhead hadn't calculated that factor, his face distorting into disgust. "Oh crap.. you're right." He let his forehead hit the bar, "Just what I need, to have my butt cut off because of that bitch."

Mello paused, watching the other. He let a small laugh echo in the back of his throat, shaking his head. "How far away do you live?"

A muttered sound lifted from the bar, it wasn't very loud at first, but then the boy repeated himself. "I actually live outside town, so not far." He sat up and reached in to his pocket, pulling out a wet wallet and giving the blond a cheeky grin, though not entirely a happy one.

"Do you take debit? All of my money's wet, and I should really go home and shower."

The smirk widened. "Yeah, we take debit, credit, cash, you name it," Mello shrugged, running a hand towel along the counter. "Debit, huh? Poor college student?"

"Close enough to one, but alas, just a cubical jockey." He reached in to his wallet and handed the blond his card. "My name's Matt, by the way. The card says Mail, but no one calls me that."

"Mail, huh?" he looked at the card, swiping it on the register. "I think Matt suits you. I'm Mello." The blond handed the card back with a receipt, still curious about the other. "I really could have pegged you for a college student. Maybe an ICS major or something, who knows."

"Does it?" Matt asked, taking his card back. "Mello's a pretty unusual name, I don't think I've heard it around anywhere. A nickname?" It would have been rude of him to simply ask that, so he decided to offer a little more information on himself. Why leave questions unanswered? Not like he'd see this man again.

"Nope, never actually went to college. I was scouted straight out of high school. Guess my skills are special or something."

"It's a nickname, yeah." The blond leaned forward on the counter, "Skills, huh? What are you, exactly?"

On a normal day, Matt would have been more playful, more comical, but today he wasn't feeling too great. He tried to muster an ounce of civility, this bartender named Mello had listened to his story after all. He cracked a smile, "I'm James Bond."

"A spy? Interesting," he laughed. "Maybe you should steer clear of me, though."

"Oh really?"

"Yes."

"And why is that?"

A sly grin spread across Mello's lips, "I'm trouble."

Stepping back from his seat, Matt placed his wallet back in his wet pocket, both hands up turned. "That would be my note to leave. Thank you for the drink, Mr. Trouble."

"And thank you, Mr. Spy," Mello's lips quirked up at the corners. "You can get home okay, right?"

He thought about it for a moment before offering a salute to the blond. "I'll be alright, no worries." With that, he took a turn and headed for the door.

The blond smiled then, shaking his head and picking the glass up from the counter top.

The spy would return.

xxx