Disclaimer: I don't own Matt and Mello, but if I did, they'd be (CENSORED FOR INAPPROPRIATE CONTENT HERE). CB EDIT: Oh, and I also don't own Shakespeare's Romeo Juliet, obviously, there are many direct quotes from his play here. So yeah.
A/N: Yeah… I'm aware these aren't in chronological order… at all… shut up. XD
Holiday Recommendation Courtesy Of: Atreyl
Chars in This: Matt and Mello (again XD)
4. Talk Like Shakespeare Day (April 23)
After living with Mello the majority of your life, not a lot of things surprise you. Not getting an egg in the face on a random morning because you slept in far too long and your boyfriend got bored, not coming home to Mello passed out from apparently masturbating too much, not Near coming into the room in nothing but tighty-whities demanding Mello return his clothing immediately and no he was not going to wear that dress he left in his closet either.
Really, preceding all of those things, Mello shouldn't have been at all surprised when he woke up to Mello's voice through the window of their apartment exactly three stories downwards.
"Matty-o, oh Matty-o, where for art thou Matty-o? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a catapult!"
Matt raised his eyebrows in shock, stifling a surprised bought of laughter as he hurried to his balcony (how ironic) and peered over the edge, smirking at the blonde who was currently standing at the sidewalk beside their hotel, hand raised in a rather melodramatic way. (He he, melodramatic, get it?) Smirk widening, Matt called back, "It's Capulet, Mello, and that's Juliet's part – shouldn't you be on the balcony, you crazy bastard?"
Mello sniffed indigently, throwing his hair over his shoulder with poise that only he could accomplish with such an act. "Whatever, assha—errm, I doth mean… that of which thou speaks doth neither matter nor be relevant, for is thou not as much a man as I?"
Matt smirk widened, leaning over the edge with a certain twinkle in his eyes as he recited, "Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this… Melliet?"
Mello seemed to have trouble refusing the smirk that tugged his lips, peering up at the just-awoken redhead with what could only be described as a look of upmost affection. "Thou is comeith down thou stairs to meet thou's Melliet then, dearest Matty-o?"
Matty grins and winks at Mello, tossing him a teasing, "Thou's dear Shakespeare has done slippith, my lovely Melliet," his way before hurrying into the apartment to change out of his 1-UP boxers and into some decent clothing as well as to escape the yell of "DOTH MATTY-O HAD BEST GET THOU'S JUSTMENTAL ASS DOWN HERE!"
Once Matt had hastily changed into decent clothing (or as decent as you'd consider his usual attire) he ran down the stairs (the elevator was shit and full of old people, so) and threw himself at Mello, hugging him tightly in his arms from behind. Said blonde immediately shrieked in surprise, attempting to wriggle away for a moment before evidently giving up and going lax in his arms, realizing quickly who it was when the redhead pressed his lips to his ear and mumbled, "O! She doth teach the torches to burn bright."
Mello tried to fight the smile tugging on his lips, twisting his head and planting a tiny kiss on his lover's lips, ignoring the stares and rude gestures being thrown their way from pedestrians while he did, and mumbling into the kiss, "Not passing o'er the bounds of modesty, Matty-o?"
Matt grinned, breaking the kiss but not so far that they were not still nose to nose as he whispered, "It's… stepping, my love."
"Shut thou's mouth or Melliet shall shuttith it for you," he replied simply, blue eyes glittering happily. Matt rolled his eyes at this and, for whatever reason completely compelled by this exchange, he snatched Mello into a bridal-style carrying and promptly strolled through the crowd back to the apartment, ignoring the continuing not-so-great attention (and the fangirls, too, there were always those, not that Matt ever called that good…) as well as Mello's livid struggling until they reached the room, where he tossed him onto the bed with a grin.
Mello raised his eyebrows as Matt pulled off his shirt, tossing it to the floor with that same confident smirk on his face; for a moment Mello seemed to forget his sudden Shakesperian dialect, inquiring, "What the heck, Matt?"
"Well, Melliet," Matt began slyly, crawling onto the bed to lay bside the blonde, running his hand over to touch the others with a certain light in his eyes that did little to surprise the blonde at that point but still caused a tingle to go down Mello's spine as he whispered, "I will lie with thee tonight."
I'm pretty sure that's not how it went down in the play, Mello thinks suspiciously. But what he says is, "What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?"
Matt's grin grew and, drawing himself over to his lover with only a quiet reply of, "Tempt not a desperate man," he pressed his lips onto the other boys and lowered himself so that he was over the other, hand still clutching Mello's. The blonde hummed into the kiss and returned it with enough passion for the both of them, but then, Matt had enough passion to double it anyway. Slowly Matt drew himself even closer into the kiss, one hand coming to the side of Mello's face, tracing his hand over the rough texture of the scar there and the place where it ebbed away to soft porcelain skin. That, he knew, was far fom the worst scar his lover bore, however, for, he thought paradoxically, he jests at scars that never felt a wound.
To Mello's quiet displeasure, though, Matt broke off the kiss, still nose to nose with the other. Something, to Mello's surprise, however, had changed in his gaze when their eyes met.
"I dreamt my lady came and found me dead," he whispered, drawing a hand across to brush the stray blonde hairs from his lover's face. Mello's blue eyes glimmered with a lost kind of expression for a moment, but he focused enough to slowly register what was on Matt's mind at the deep, serious emerald gaze staring back at him.
"What sayest thou? Hast though not a word of joy?" Mello whispered back, drawing his arms carefully around the redhead's neck. The look in his eyes was almost pleading, begging him not to go on and say what he already knew must be true.
A small smile tugs on Matt's lips and he leans downwards, putting a loving and yet somehow chaste kiss on Mello's lips before drawing back just enough to speak, his breath still to be felt on the other's lips: "These violent delights have violent ends . . ."
Mello's throat closed up for a moment then, suffocating him, because he knew then all too well. "How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath to say to me that thou art out of breath? Is the news good or bad, answer to that." When he spoke those words, once heard so powerful in his mind, he had to think that his own voice, now breaking and quaking, did not convey them nearly as well. But Matt knew the meaning as well as any Romeo.
"Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath, hath had no power yet upon thy beauty," Matt whispered back, pressing his lips onto the border between Mello's scar and perfect cream of skin to catch the single crystal tear that had escaped the blonde's blue eyes without his even realizing it. After a moment of breathing in Mello's lavender-shampoo educed scent, he mumbled, "I know your plan to kidnap Takada. I'm going with you – I can't live without you. You know how the quote goes."
Mello choked out a sob, a rain of guilt falling over him because he knew he shouldn't have kept the plan on his laptop – he should have known Matt would check. Perhaps, in a way, Mello knows he wanted him to – because really, he's always been selfish.
"But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun," Mello answers quietly, feeling the meaning more than the words on his tongue.
Matt smiles still, even as he knows they speak of his death, their death (Mello's perhaps far more painful than his own in his heart's dear opinion) and leans down to return to the kiss. This one is not chaste, far from it, and soon limbs are tangled in limbs, teeth clashing with teeth and clothes are tossed wildly across the room, their landing left to anybody's guess. They are wordless throughout, do not cry each others names nor whisper sweet nothings, the only words exchanged being but another quote from nowhere, escaping in the lost haze of frenzy from Mello's bruised lips: "Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace…"
The sex is frantic, desperate, loving, passionate, a grand finale to their love life. They'll be exhausted afterwards, but they have nothing to go to that day and when they are spent completely, their faces red from exhaust and overexertion, they simply lay there together in bed, listening to each other's breaths.
Though this moment is most tragic for the both of them Matt does not cry like Mello did throughout the process – the tears had only just stopped coming by the end of the sex – but he would not judge him. In fact, Matt had pretended not to see them entirely, save for catching them in their transparent cascade with his kisses when he had the chance. He pretended none of it was, instead simply savoring the then, the now, the now that, for the time being, included holding the one he loved in his arms.
Mello manages a smile, nuzzling his face into Matt's chest and not caring how pathetic he sounds when he mumbles, "That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet; so Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, retain that dear perfection to which he owes without that title…"
"Did my heart love 'til now? Forswear its sight. For I never saw true beauty 'til this night," Matt recites back, trying to keep back a bought of unpredicted laughter from bubbling past his throat at the irony of it all. For all the lack of romance he'd had with Mello previously, he had truly never expected Shakespeare quotes today.
But then, Mello nuzzles his nose against his chest again, mumbling softly, "Happy Talk Like Shakespeare Day, Matty-o."
Matt quirks an eyebrow, peeking down at his lover with a surprised, confused expression. "Isn't… that in April, Melliet?"
"Hmm, yes," Mello chuckles back, reaching upwards to comb his hand through Matt's red mop of hair with a glitter in his blue eyes. "But I can't really wait till then to plagiarize Shakespeare to woe you, can I?"
Matt closes his eyes then and, because he cannot help himself any longer, he bursts into laughter; though he knows it is pointless now, he can find humor in this and though the end is nearer than even he thought for him he can still find joy in having his lover in his arms. And, to his upmost relief Mello laughs as well, the same chortling, maniac-esque laughter that Matt had fallen in love with all those years ago.
Despite knowing they will die, and that they will die not for themselves but for each other, they laugh, for what more can they do but enjoy the last little moments?
Really, Matt has to think, he does quite love the holidays.
A/N: How did this become depressing all of a sudden at the end? Hell, I don't know, but I blame Shakespeare. :P I probably abused and botched most of those quotes, but leave me be, I haven't even read the book XDDD
Oh and, random babble: Microsoft Word is such shit, it kept trying to correct SHAKESPERE'S grammar. Yeah. -_- not joking.
