Author's Note: So sorry for the recent lack of updates. I've just finished moving to my new home, and our wireless internet was finally hooked up today. So here's a new chapter of Ad Interim for you! Thank you for sticking with me so long. I like how Matt and Mello act in here. They're always fun when they're drunk. And I couldn't resist tossing in some fun stuff. ;P Onward!

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. But GOD, I wish I did!

Warning: Contains abuse, language, some boyxboy, etc. Readers beware.

December 13, 2008

"Hey Boss, I got you somethin' pretty from the last gig!" Mello glanced up from his seat on the leather couch, acknowledging his underling.

"It's a wicked coat, stoled right from under this prick's nose. Of course, prick died after. But the coat's still pretty nice." The goon grinned like Christmas had come early. Mello accepted the gift without a word of thanks.

"You may go," he sighed, tossing the coat over the arm of the sofa. He snapped his fingers once, holding his hand out for the chocolate bar he was expecting. A young girl, no older than sixteen, quickly leapt from her perch behind a large black man and scurried to the cabinet, pulling a bar of dark chocolate out and sliding it onto Mello's open palm.

"So, Rod, what's the word on the Kira case?"

"Seems like Kira's stuck again. Seems like SPK's getting close. What else is new?"

"You piss me off, you know that?" Mello smirked before standing and walking over to the window. He gazed out over the city's skyline. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, a vision of rolling hills and a white orphanage flickered briefly before being replaced with the rushing traffic and towering buildings of Los Angeles. "I'm heading back early today."

"Take care, Mello," Rod grunted, pulling a blue-eyed beauty closer to him.

"Yeah." Mello answered absently. He strolled out of the base, changing his pace to a brisk stride as he hit the sidewalk. He nearly ran up the stairs to his apartment. L.A. made him paranoid.

As he entered the barren front room, he frowned. Something was…off.

"If there is somebody in this apartment," he said slowly, cocking his gun, "You have less than two seconds to get the fuck out." He listened hard, daring some half-assed intruder to show himself. A muffled shuffle resounded from the bathroom area, catching Mello by surprise. "If someone is in here," he repeated, "Show yourself. Get the fuck out."

"Isshatowyureaanolfren?" came the whispered, hesitant response from the bathroom.

"Speak up. I'll shoot you." Mello carefully side-stepped a coffee table as he inched his way toward the intruder.

"I said," came the voice, "Is that how you treat an old friend?"

"…Who the fuck are you?" Mello frowned, daring to sneak a peek around the corner. A shock of red hair greeted him.

"It's been a while, Mihael. I mean, Mello."

"…MATT?"

December 25, 2008

"Merry fucking Christmas, pal!" Matt laughed, taking a fourth shot of vodka. Mello sucked greedily at the bottle of gin in his hand, smirking in content satisfaction.

"Merry Christmas to you, too," he chuckled. "Nothing like good times with good company, right Matty?"

"You said it!" Matt laughed, chugging half a soda before pouring another shot of vodka down his throat. "Just like the old days, right?"

"The old days…" Mello sighed, setting his bottle on a wobbly table. "Not at all like the old days, Matt."

"Aw, come on, Mel," Matt joked, "You remember. That one time at Wammy's? It was our last Christmas there. We snuck a beer in and we each drank half. We were drunk off our asses."

"I remember that," Mello smiled faintly, "But I also remember the hangover that followed. Now I can shoot straight whiskey without blinking. Do you remember our other Christmases, Matty?"

"Don't remind me," Matt groaned. He covered his eyes with one hand, pouring soda into his cup with the other. "Think of the good ones, Mel. The ones at Wammy's were usually good. Remember?"

"The ones back home weren't," Mello said curtly. "I distinctly remember that Christmas when we were young. I'm sure you know which one I'm talking about."

"Yeah…" Matt winced. "We really got whipped good that time, didn't we?"

"My first time trying to stay up for Santa Claus…" Mello said dreamily. "We hid under the kitchen table on Christmas Eve. We fell asleep. Your father woke us up at the crack of dawn the next day. Santa brought switches that year."

"I remember, Mello," Matt said softly. "He beat us both right there in the kitchen. Together. Momma cried when she woke up to all the noise. She brought gingerbread cookies to our rooms. Father wouldn't let us have any presents."

"This shit's depressing," Mello huffed, reaching for his gin. "We never had any good Christmases at your house. Or at the River, come to think of it. Matron wouldn't even tell us when it was Christmas. Didn't we get whipped on Christmas there, too?"

"Yeah, but that wasn't anything special. We realized what day it was and stole snacks from the kitchen. She beat us with that belt until we bled. Nothing new for us, right?"

"Sadly. But then again, all the abuse that our skin suffered in our childhood made us stronger, you know?" Mello swished the gin around before taking a long gulp. "I've been shot twice now, Matt. One bullet crashed into my shoulder. The other grazed across the length of my back. Those bullets barely made me flinch compared to the beatings we'd get. They were nothing. I kept shooting, and that's how I reached my current status. I'm King here. I've got fifty people working under me, and more willing to cooperate with me. I'm all-powerful in the underground. But you know what, Matty?"

"What?"

"I still feel like I'm six years old half the time. Whenever I have to…take care of someone…I feel like I'll be caught any moment. There have been many sleepless nights where I swear I've heard your father's footsteps in the hallway. I swear I can still hear that sickening crack of his belt on our skin."

"I feel the same way whenever I'm hacking," Matt sighed, dropping an empty Pepsi can to the floor. "I feel like I'll hear his voice yelling, 'Mail, what the hell are you doing, Boy? I'll beat you 'till you bleed!' And then I'll feel that tingling all over my back. Say, Mel, can I ask you something personal?"

"Depends on what it is," Mello slurred.

"How many people have you killed?"

"…Twelve. But I've had many more killed for me. I've got the blood of fifty or more on my hands. What about you?"

"Zero that I know of. But I've probably gotten a few other hackers killed. While I was trying to find you, I took odd jobs for shady guys. They're the sort of people who kill those who aren't worthwhile to them any longer. And I'm one of the best hackers in the nation." He ran a hand through his hair nervously. "I don't think I could kill, Mel."

"You never get used to it. The eyes haunt you. I was still a kid when I killed my first man. I was about fifteen, I guess. It was in Spring. I was the lowest rank in the mafia, and they ordered me to wipe out a wealthy businessman. I had two adults with me. We cornered the man in an alley during the night. He screamed and begged for his life. Said he had kids. Said he had a wife. I wanted to let him go. But the guys behind me, they shoved a pistol in my hand. Before I could think, I had fired two shots into the back of this guy's skull. He sank to the ground like a sack of rocks. I stole his wallet. He had pictures of his family in it. Three kids, all girls, and a young wife. They had a dog. He had a brother. It took me a long time to get over that one. But after a few months, I was numb to the guilt of murder. You…learn a lot when you're forced to kill."

"Man, I don't think I could do it. I couldn't fucking do it." Matt shook his head slowly.

"That's why nobody else knows about you," Mello laughed gently, "I couldn't put you through this mafia shit. I never told you how they initiate new members in these parts, did I?"

"No, you didn't."

"Good. You don't need to know." Mello shuddered involuntarily, nestling himself deeper into the cushions of his overstuffed chair. "The initiation is bad enough, but the killing will scar your soul."

"I guess that makes me your little secret, huh?" Matt grinned, finishing off his vodka.

"Guess so," Mello peered deeply into Matt's glazed eyes. "And I intend to keep you that way."

December 31, 2008

"Countdown starts after this commercial break. You'd better get in here or you'll miss it," Matt laughed.

"I know, I know," Mello called from the kitchen. "I'll be there in a second. Pour me a drink, will you?"

"Sure thing," Matt snorted, popping the top off the whiskey bottle. He poured them each a tall shot, adding more to Mello's than to his own. The television announcer popped a miniature confetti bomb in his co-announcer's face. The audience laughed.

"And now, it's time! Everyone, count with us!" The television screen flashed from the enthusiastic announcer to a giant timer. "Ten, nine, eight…"

"Mello! It's started! Get your ass in here, damn it!" Matt yelled, not taking his eyes off the television screen.

"…Seven, six, five…"

"Matt," Mello said smoothly, sneaking up behind the entranced redhead, "Get ready to take a shot when they say One." Mello picked up his shot glass and handed Matt's over to the gamer.

"…Four, three, two…"

"One," Mello whispered. The boys quickly took their shots, but before either could swallow the bitter whiskey, Mello forcefully grabbed Matt's chin and, without warning, pressed his lips to Matt's, pushing his tongue deep into Matt's awaiting mouth. The double dose of whiskey burned his tongue, making him internally wince. Matt's eyes bulged in surprise.

"…Zero. Happy New Years!" Sirens and fireworks exploded in a jumble of lights and sounds on the television screen. Confetti filled the streets, streamers flew through the air, and balloons flew high into the heavens. Yet time stood still.

Slowly, Mello withdrew his tongue from the redhead's mouth. He sucked at the hot whiskey dribbling down his own lips and chin, smirking mischievously. His eyes pierced deep into Matt's, begging the redhead to react.

"…Mello?" Matt asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, Matt?" Mello's heart pounded against his ribcage.

"…What the hell?"

"…" Mello's face fell. A fierce blush crept up his cheeks as he dropped his eyes.

"…What the hell took you so long?"

It was Mello's turn to be surprised. Wide eyes shining, he looked up to see Matt's grinning face. With only a moment's hesitation, Matt reached over and pulled Mello's lips into another embrace. Their tongues danced in a rhythm of their own until each boy pulled away, gasping for air.

"M-matt?" Mello stuttered, licking his lips.

"Yeah, Mello?" Matt produced a cigarette from his coat pocket, lit it, and inhaled deeply.

"You really scared me for a minute," the blonde mumbled, dropping his eyes again.

"Did I?" Matt laughed heartily. "Well you did a fine job of startling the shit out of me, too. We're even. By the way, how long did it take you to gather the courage to kiss me?"

"…Four shots of tequila. I was talking myself into it while I was in the kitchen."

"…Figures. Hey Mello?"

"What, Matt?"

"What have we gotten ourselves into?"

"I'm not sure," Mello said, "but I've never felt this good in my life."

"Same here," Matt smiled. "I can't think of any other time I've felt so fucked up and so right."

"Happy New Years, Matt."

"Happy New Years, Mihael."