Warnings for this chapter: Language and mature situations. Please mind the rating and enjoy!

Tell my mother, tell my father I've done the best I can
To make them realize this is my life, I hope they understand
I'm not angry, I'm just saying
Sometimes goodbye is a second chance
-Second Chance by Shinedown

"He'll probably be fine, you know. I've seen worse."

"That's reassuring," I murmur to my lap. My hands are pressed between my legs; I'm still covered in blood, despite the multiple offers I've had to receive medical attention or just, you know, go to a bathroom where I can wash up.

"Don't be so down, you already gave your statement, right? Mello's out of surgery, we're just finding some blood to give him a transfusion, and everything should be back to normal in a few weeks."

I glance at Karen out of the corner of my eye. "He needs blood?" I ask, voice faint compared to the chatter of the waiting room. "You can give him mine, I'm O negative. Isn't that like the universal donor or something?"

She chuckles. "Your blood would be about as helpful as giving him a kick in the stomach. You've been drugged out of your mind these last 24 hours, not to mention the trauma you've sustained yourself. You're probably bleeding out or going to get an infection, but I can't say for sure since you won't let me look at you." She sends me a pointed look.

I sigh faintly, looking down at my lap again. "I'm okay."

"Yeah, whatever." She props her feet up on the coffee table, right on top of last month's People magazine. She's still wearing skinny jeans, although she pretends to be professional by wearing a white doctor's coat. She's also adorning a rather official-looking stethoscope.

"Don't you have a conference to be at or something?" I mumble.

"What, you don't want my company?" She leans back in her chair; it creaks in weak, plastic protest. "Trauma is my specialty; no one cares that I took a call for a friend. Anyways, I kind of like this hospital, maybe I'll do a residency here. Have you seen the children's ward? There are dolphins painted on the wall. It's very Sea World-esque."

"What are you doing here Karen?" I ask, sounding irritated now. "You said yourself, Mello's out of surgery—isn't your job done? Go make rounds or go to your conference or do something. Stop just hanging around me, it's annoying."

She frowns slightly. "Listen Matt," She's serious now, "I don't know why you're refusing treatment, but it's probably a stupid reason. I know you lied to the police, but you can tell me what happened. I'm not going to do anything."

"I'm fine." I insist.

"Matt, you haven't even washed the blood off your hands. You could have killed someone for all I know—I actually wouldn't put it past you two at this point. So if you don't want to tell me what happened, fine, but at least let me make sure you aren't hurt?"

"I'm not hurt, I just need a cigarette."

It's her turn to sigh. She seems to realize that I'm not going to budge on this. "Let's go outside," She says, "I'll get you a cigarette."

I perk up a little at that, although I still feel like the world is pressing down on my shoulders. "Okay," I agree with a nod. We both stand, and Karen goes to talk to the nurse at the front desk. I head for the automatic doors that lead into the parking lot, standing to the side of them and waiting for the young doctor to rejoin me. She returns with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in hand; I can't help but be impressed. We head outside in silence. It's afternoon by now, and still warm.

I extend my hand to silently ask for the cigarettes, but she shakes her head, "Twenty-feet from the door, that's the law." We keep walking for a moment. I'm exhausted; I feel like I'm dead on my feet.

Finally we stop and I lean against the side of the building. She pulls a cigarette out for me and I take it gratefully, sticking it between my lips before lighting up. I drag deeply, releasing a contented sigh as I exhale. My eyelids are heavy, staring at the cracks on the sidewalk.

Karen watches me through all this, not saying anything.

After a few more satisfying drags I ask, "Do you smoke?"

Her nonchalant answer; "Nah. Lung cancer is a horrible way to die."

"It's worth it, trust me," I murmur, dragging again. I'm quiet for a long moment, and so is she. Out of nowhere I say, "I'm left handed you know."

"Oh?" She sounds mildly interested.

"Well, I'm ambidextrous but I like to use my left hand."

"Your arm will be out of the cast before you know it," She reassures me, although I still don't feel much better.

We're quiet for another moment before she finally says, "You can see Mello, you know. He probably won't be awake for a while, but you might want to get to him before the police take his statement. It would be nice if your accounts matched up."

"Mm," I take another drag on the cigarette. It's almost gone already.

She continues, "You might just want to see him to make sure he's okay."

"You already said he was okay—or not going to die, at least."

She looks irritated with me. "Are you that dense? Yeah, he'll recover from the stab wound, but you've both been through a very traumatic event. It might be good to talk about it, make sure that he's okay mentally." There is an implied 'Make sure you're okay mentally.'

I stamp out the cig before it can burn down to my fingers, gesturing for another one. Karen provides it and I light up again. I am so going to become a chain smoker after all this shit. "Mello can handle himself."

She glares at me. "I swear, you must be emotionally retarded. You like him, don't you? Usually people go see people they like when they're in the hospital."

"Well I haven't left," I point out. "I'll just wait until he's awake and stuff."

"You're horrible at this." She says, exasperated.

"Horrible at what exactly?" I drag, exhaling before continuing, "I think you're seeing things that aren't there."

"I think you're denying things that are obvious." She looks about ready to throw her hands up and call me a lost cause, but instead she decides to continue, "Listen Matt, I guess I don't really know how you feel about Mello. You should just know that he's alone in that room with one of those freakish thugs outside the door; he's safe, but when he wakes up he's probably going to be upset and lonely. Maybe how you're feeling now. If you're lonely and upset together, maybe it'll make you both feel better."

I raise an eyebrow while dragging. "I'm sorry, who's emotionally retarded again? That didn't even make sense."

She throws up her hands then, just like I thought she would. "Fine, idiot." She pushes the pack of cigarettes at me. "But if you somehow grow some common sense while I'm gone, you know where his room is. Or better yet, grab a doctor and tell them that you've probably stressed your body into a getting an infection. Or better still, find me and I can look at you while we're in Mello's room. Best of both worlds! Or you can just stay out here and smoke like a chimney; it's your life kid."

She leaves me out there, leaning against the building, looking out at the parking lot. I huddle further into myself—even though it isn't cold—and smoke my way through the remainder of the pack. Usually I feel good after a cigarette, but I'm not feeling much better. The blood on my hands is dry and starting to flake off. I hate hospitals.

I don't know how long I stood out there smoking, but it was quite a while. I watched the ambulances and cars come and go, taking advantage of the quiet to just…be. Not think for a while.

But I know I have to go back. I guess the only reason I haven't gone into Mello's room yet is that I'm trying to show this one small rebellion, an exertion of my free will—if there is such a thing. I'm starting to doubt it. I still don't know what I'm going to do, but at this point my options are rather limited. I just need to make sure that both of us are safe.

I go back into the hospital, stopping at the bathroom by the door. I wash my hand and splash some water on my face. My shirt is still covered in blood, but I don't care if people keep giving me funny looks. I head into the hospital, taking the elevator to Mello's floor. What am I going to say to him? I could just keep everything to myself, pretend that nothing is going on…but then I'd be lying. I have to be smart about this. I don't need to figure out everything today. I take a deep breath and head down the hall, recalling the room number that Karen gave me when she first joined me in the waiting room.

Just as she'd said, there's one of Rod's men—or Mello's men, I guess—standing outside the door. Because that's not suspicious. At least he's protected…although I have a feeling the threat isn't going to be so direct for a while. The man in front of Mello's door doesn't say anything as I put my hand on the knob and open it, stepping inside and shutting it quietly behind me.

The curtains are shut, casting everything into darkness and shadow. The hospital bed is in the center of the room, the machines Mello is hooked up to casting a dim light on the blankets. It looks like he's asleep, his eyes closed, head falling to the side on the pillow. The cut on his cheek has been taped over with gauze; I can't see his stomach because he's covered with the blanket.

Don't ever tell him I said this, but he looks a lot less intimidating like this. He looks…small. For perhaps the first time since I've met him, he doesn't seem menacing. There is no tough-guy front. He looks younger and softer.

After standing there for a moment and just staring at him, I feel like a creeper. So instead I step up to his bed, sitting gingerly on the edge. It moves a little under my weight, but he doesn't stir. He looks very pale, especially with his hair still black. Next to the monitors beside his bed are two IV bags, one blood and one a light yellow color.

I look down at him again, studying his face. I reach over to gently touch his uninjured cheek with my fingertips. His skin is soft; I hadn't taken the time to really appreciate that in the bathroom, I was a little preoccupied. He's very handsome, but it's scary to see him so pale and in such a vulnerable position. I didn't even think it was possible for him to be so exposed.

I want to kiss him. It's a silly notion, but I really really want to. Maybe it's because I need comfort like Karen said, or maybe it's because I just want to feel his breathing on my lips to know he's really alive. I don't know to be honest. So I don't think about it, simply cupping his cheek in my hand and looking down into his face. Just one kiss. Then I can get him out of my mind and focus on what I'm going to do next. I need a plan. But first, I'm going to kiss him.

I lean down, pressing my lips to his. It's a soft kiss; both our lips are chapped and I haven't brushed my teeth in a day, but it's nice.

Then, suddenly, I'm looking into crystalline blue eyes. "What are you doing?" He asks against my lips, his voice a little rough.

I blush, immediately pulling back. "Er…" I have no good explanation.

"You reek of cigarettes," He mumbles, his eyes becoming hooded. He looks tired, but at least he isn't yelling at me. Maybe he just doesn't have the energy.

I shift uncomfortably, trying to steer the conversation away from my awkward advances. "How are you feeling?" I ask meekly.

"I've had better days," He says, his eyes shutting completely again. He releases a sigh. "Why the fuck am I in the hospital?"

"I had to call an ambulance; you were hurt really bad Mello."

He grunts. "But what the fuck happened?"

I fall silent for a moment. "I don't know, I was unconscious for most of it. When I woke up they were torturing you, then something happened and they just left."

He stares at me then, his eyes sharp and appraising. Shouldn't he be groggy from the anesthesia or something? I look away, not saying anything for a moment. Finally I feel his hand on my arm and I look back at him. My stomach twists. His face is so serious. He licks his lips, and I think he's going to say something, but he doesn't for a moment. Finally, my heart in my throat, he says, "Go get me some chocolate pudding."

I can't help the hoarse laugh that gurgles up from my throat. "W-What?" I ask in disbelief.

"Pudding. Chocolate. Go find some."

I just blink, finally shaking my head a little and smiling faintly. "Sure."

I leave the room, going to the nurse at the desk and asking if we could get some snacks. She informs me that Mello isn't allowed to eat until morning, which I immediately know won't go over well with him. "They're for me." I smile sheepishly. "It's been a long day." She looks at the blood on my shirt, no doubt believing me. I think she wants to say something about it, but something makes her stop. Maybe it's the scary guard in front of Mello's room. She gets me the pudding and a spoon. I thank her, and go back to Mello's room.

As I reenter his attention is immediately on the pudding; he's eyeing the cup in my hand with a hungry gaze. I smirk a little, setting the pudding on the tray by his bed. "You're not supposed to eat yet, you know." I tell him, because he doesn't scare me. Nothing he does at this point can be scarier than what I'm facing on the road ahead.

He scowls at me, meanwhile pulling the cover off the pudding. "Fuck you." That was exactly the reaction I was expecting. It's funny; I barely know him but I feel like I know him. He takes a bite of pudding, licking the spoon clean before scooping another. "So you're an idiot."

I raise an eyebrow at him, unperturbed, leaning against the far wall.

"Let Karen treat you." He says plainly. "And take a shower while you're at it."

"It's not my fault that you bleed a lot." I mumble.

"But it is your fault that you're not getting treatment. Do you really want to screw with your chances of healing and getting better?"

I sigh. "You don't have to lecture me."

"I'm not lecturing. I just want you to know that your idiocy doesn't go unnoticed." He takes another bite of pudding.

I can't help but smile, just a ghost of the action pulling at my lips. He cares. It's unfounded and rough around the edges, but the sentiment is there. Maybe he doesn't really know me, but I like to think that if I was gone he would notice. If I was dead, he might think twice before dismissing my memory. There's a comfort in knowing he cares, even if I am reading too much into his words. I need this sense of reassurance, just for a little while. I'm probably lying to myself, but I don't care. It feels nice.

"I think she should check your head again after looking at the rest of you." He interrupts my train of thought. "I think you've lost your mind. You're standing over there grinning."

"I wasn't grinning." I wipe the expression off of my face, sliding back into the safety of apathy.

Mello just grunts, setting his empty pudding cup back on the tray. "Well get out of my room." He sinks back down in the hospital bed, which doesn't look very comfortable. "Come back when you've been given a clean bill of health and you're not covered in blood."

I roll my eyes. "Fine." I say begrudgingly, but I'm silently thankful that he's trying, in his own way, to look out for me. If only I could do the same for him.

My cast is red this time. Despite my arm being fully enclosed during the whole ordeal at the warehouse, I somehow managed to pull out three of my stitches and bleed into the old cast. Karen was more than happy to cut it off, resuture my wounds, and put me back in another cast. She then took me to the doctors' locker room, enclosed my arm in saran wrap, and pointed me in the direction of the showers.

"Am I supposed to be in here?" I ask, looking around the empty locker room, paranoid.

"Nope!" She says, walking around and trying the locks on the lockers. (What the fuck is she doing?) "But don't worry; shift isn't off for another 4 hours. No one is going to be in here." She waves me away again. "I won't look while you're naked. Now get on with it."

I sigh, pulling off my pants. (I'm already shirtless, Karen having declared my clothes a biohazard.) I step into the shower room, turning on the water. I take longer this time, carefully soaping up my hair and body, enjoying the feel of the warm water against my skin. I reach up to the back of my neck, skimming my fingers lightly over the tender skin just below my hairline. I count one, two stitches with my fingertips. I think the incision is small, probably not more than two inches wide. I didn't let Karen look at the rest of me, having feared that she'd discover the mystery wound on my neck. I still don't know what to do about the tracker under my skin.

I turn off the shower, stepping out into the lock room, dripping water all over the floor. Karen thrusts a towel into my hands, meanwhile rooting around in an open locker. I watch her with an eyebrow raised, patting myself dry before wrapping the towel around my waist. The saran wrap crinkles, my arm aching faintly. She gave me more medication, but I don't think it's kicked in yet.

"What are you doing?" I dare to ask.

She pulls out a neatly folded outfit, giving me a smile.

I raise an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're a doctor? What happened to your moral code or whatever?"

"I vowed to always put my patients' needs first. This is fully justified."

I shrug one shoulder, taking the clothes from her. I guess whatever it takes to get me something to wear. I'm so tired of all this. I just want to sleep for a week.

Karen gives me some privacy so I can dress. The doctor's clothes she stole consist of a pair of black slacks, boxers, a belt, and a button-up shirt. I don't know if it's better to wear someone else's underwear or go without; finally I just decide to forgo the boxers because it seems gross. I get the pants on, but it quickly becomes apparent that they're baggy and about four inches too long. I roll up the cuffs, and with the belt they should stay up. I don't know what to do about the shirt. I take off all the saran wrap, but I can't exactly stick my arm, cast and all, into the sleeve. I get it on one arm, then call Karen back in. She's able to maneuver me and the sleeve until somehow it fits. I guess it's a good thing the shirt is as baggy as the pants. She helps me button it, because one-handed I don't know how well that'll go over.

"There!" She announces, seeming pleased as she looks me over. "Good as new."

I look down at myself. Bare feet, pants and a shirt that swallow me, one shirt sleeve bulging from my cast…I look like a mess. "I don't have shoes," I point out weakly.

"Oh! I forgot." Karen smiles. "I saved the shoes you were wearing when you came in. They didn't have any blood on them."

"Great," I mutter, watching her go pick up my—well, Henry's son's—shoes off of the bench against the wall. I should have noticed them sitting there before. I sit down, pulling them on without socks. I should feel clean and refreshed, but I feel kind of gross and out of place. I want my own clothes, my apartment, and my video games. I want another cigarette. I want to forget everything.

"I have to go fill out some paperwork, just visiting doctor stuff." Karen interrupts my thoughts. "How about you go get something to eat at the cafeteria?"

"I think I'll go see how Mello is." I say, standing.

"Don't forget to eat." She reminds me before we go our separate ways.

A girl on the elevator is carrying a balloon and a bouquet of flowers. In loopy writing the balloon declares, 'Feel Better Soon!' I smile to myself. I bet Mello would hate one of those. I almost want to get him one, just to make him irritated. These normal emotions help me forget my worry for a while.

I nod to the guard outside of Mello's door, and he nods back. I enter without knocking, but stop as soon as I'm inside. My mouth falls open, shock anchoring me to the spot. "What…are you doing?"

Mello stands in the center of the room, his damp hair back to its natural blonde, but the water and darkness of the room make it appear almost orangish. Tight black leather pants hug his narrow hips, a jacket pulled around his torso. The light from under the door catches on his pants, reflecting shiny, ever-changing patterns as he moves. He's putting on a pair of sunglasses, even though the curtains aren't even open.

He sends me an irritated, 'it should be obvious' look. "I'm getting out of here." He says, seeming to read my mind and stepping over to the window, pulling open the curtain. I catch sight of several water droplets falling from his hair and slinking down the back of his neck, disappearing under his jacket collar.

"You-you got stabbed!" I say in disbelief. "You were just in surgery this morning! You can't leave!"

"Everything is so melodramatic with you." He turns back to face me, setting his boots apart, sliding his glasses off to meet my gaze. "I'm fine. It's not safe to stay here."

I hold his gaze. His eyes, usually such a sharp, cutting blue, are subdued. Drugged, pained, I don't know. His skin looks paler in the light. Paler than usual.

I swallow. "Okay," I murmur. I can't tell him that it's okay, that we're safe for a while. Or that anywhere he goes with me, he won't be hidden. That I'm putting him in danger. That he should get rid of me now. Protect himself. I don't say any of this. I have time. I have time.

"You look ridiculous in those clothes." He says, sliding the sunglasses back into place. "Let's get out of here."

So despite the loud protests of the nurses and Karen, we leave.

It goes without saying that I'm going with him. I could have objected, stood up for myself, used my brain, but I don't. Selfishly, I want to go with him.

We leave the hospital in a limo. "How nondescript," I mumble, half to myself, looking out the tinted window. Mello is sitting on the seat across from me, getting himself a soda.

He grunts. "We're going on the offensive. Trust me, this thing is like a tank. We're safe, but we're not hiding. I'm going to put a bullet in that sucker's head."

I smile a little. That would be nice. I hope he's as effective as he is confident. If anyone can do it, it's Mello. But I have information that can help him…I look out the window again. Not yet. We both need time to heal. I need time to think.

Mello's compound appears heavily guarded as we drive up but we don't loiter outside. "You'll stay here, until we figure something else out." He leads the way into the building and down a narrow hallway. I shiver faintly, feeling claustrophobic. There aren't any windows in this area.

"Don't you have a safe house?" I ask, biting my lower lip. Not like he'll really be hidden if I'm with him; maybe he could go without me.

"I have several, but I don't think we've reached that point." He catches the look of disbelief on my face and shrugs a little. "The fact that they allowed us to escape means that there is either a problem within their ranks or they don't need us as hostages. We'll remain on the lookout until we have more information, but I don't want to go run into a hole just because someone's angry with me. If I did that every time there was a threat, I'd never see daylight."

I guess he's used to this sort of thing.

"We'll get you a room to sleep in," He continues. "Are you hungry?"

"A little."

"Take a seat then." We've reached the same room where we were after the Expo. It's empty.

I pause, turning to look at Mello. This is perhaps the first time since we left the hospital that I've really looked at him. His skin is ashen, and I notice he is lifting a hand to touch his stomach. He notices my stare though, and his hand diverts to smooth his pants instead. I frown. "How about I get us dinner? Is there a kitchen or something around here?"

I think he's about to shoot down my offer, but he hesitates. "Yeah, it's just through the hall, to the right." He gestures with his chin.

He must be really hurting, not like I'm surprised. "Okay, I'll be right back." I try to manage a smile, heading off in the indicated direction.

The kitchen is grimy, but I find a box of half eaten pizza in the refrigerator. Perfect. I don't even heat it up; my cooking skills have always been limited but with only one working hand I've got nothing.

Mello is sitting on the couch when I return. I set the pizza box on the coffee table and sit down next to him, about a foot of space between our bodies. "Thanks." He says, subdued, leaning forward to flick open the lid and take a slice of pizza.

I just nod. "No problem." I take a piece as well and we eat in silence.

Mello puts me up in a room at the compound. It's small, but appears to be clean. The twin sized bed is butted against one wall, a TV standing on a rickety dresser across from it. There's a bedside table and a lamp that fill up the remaining space, leaving only a small area to walk.

I don't know why I'm staying here. I'm going through withdrawals—I don't have my computer, my games, or my cigarettes. What am I doing here? I can certainly take care of myself. I'm not afraid. I'm afraid for Mello, maybe, but not for myself. And I guess therein lies the reason I'm here. A certain blonde Consigliere is keeping me here. For whatever reason, I can't stay away from him. I think the worst part is that he knows the affect he has on me. He uses it to get what he wants, and for whatever reason he wants me to stay here. Maybe to keep me safe or to keep an eye on me for other reasons, I don't know.

I turn on the TV and hop onto the bed. It creaks and whines in protest. It's too early to go to sleep. I'm not even tired, but after eating pizza I agreed to part ways with Mello. Maybe some sleep will do him good; he looked like he was in a lot of pain. I still don't know the full extent of his wound or what Karen did to fix it. I just know that he left the hospital too soon, and now he's paying for it.

I prop the pillow against the wall, leaning against it and flipping through channels. There's nothing on—not anything interesting, anyways. I finally stop surfing when I reach Animal Planet. There's something soothing about watching animals kill each other. I settle back and half pay attention to the happenings on the screen. I fall asleep somewhere between a pack of lions ripping apart a zebra and a crocodile stalking water fowl.

I don't dream of a damn thing.

I wake up because the cell phone in my pocket is digging painfully into my hip. I guess it's serving as a reminder that I shouldn't be sleeping peacefully. There are bigger things to worry about—like the reason I have this phone—but they're things I don't want to deal with.

I don't know how long I slept; I don't see a clock in the room. What I do know, though, is that my arm is aching. It's not like a 'I bumped my shin on the coffee table' sort of ache (which clearly I've experienced,) but more of a 'someone is digging white hot knives under my skin' sort of ache.

I drag myself from the bed, borrowed clothes rumpled, joints popping and limbs cramping, and shuffle out of the room. The entire compound is quiet, but I know that there are still people up and around. They're probably outside guarding the place, or hanging out in an area that I've yet to explore.

I wander down the hallway, my sneakers dragging. I never even took them off. I really need my own clothes back. I need my life back.

I enter the living area and stop. Mello is sitting on the couch, leaning his forearms on his knees, staring intently at a medicine bottle placed in the middle of the coffee table. I just stand there for a moment, waiting for him to acknowledge me, but he doesn't move.

"Um…" I clear my throat softly. "Everything okay…?"

"You need pain medicine." He doesn't even phrase it as a question as his gaze flickers over to me.

I blink, startled. "Yeah, kind of."

"Have some then."

I hesitantly step forward, picking up the bottle and reading the label. Narcotics, but nothing too strong. "So what are you doing?" I ask, meanwhile struggling to twist open the childproof lid with only one hand. I end up holding it against my thigh, pressing down and twisting my hand to the side. This is a successful technique because the bottle opens, and I'm able to shake a pill the coffee table. I pick it up and swallow it dry, recapping the bottle and setting it back in its place on the table.

Mello sighs, sitting back against the couch cushions. "I can't have any more pain medication for two hours."

"Oh," I say softly, waiting a beat before moving around to sit beside him on the couch. "Have you tried sleeping?"

"Yeah." I guess that means he's in too much pain to sleep.

"You should just take some more," I offer, smiling weakly. "Two hours it's that early."

"I've already taken two doses too many in the last six hours." He frowns, looking at the bottle with distaste. "But I'm fine."

His tone is so decided, so stubborn; I can't help but smile slightly. He's going to be fine. "Do you want to eat some more pizza?" I ask.

"No, I'm going to bed," Again with that unfaltering resolve. He stands. "Come on."

I stand automatically as he does—I don't know why, I just do. I can already feel the pain medicine taking effect. My eyebrows go up. "Come on…where?"

"To bed."

"My room's that way," I point.

"And now you're sleeping in mine." He sends me a withering look that clearly asks me to challenge his authority.

I consider denying him, but decide against it. I actually don't mind the idea. Regardless, I can't make this seem too easy for him. I would cross my arms in this situation, if I was able to. "You probably snore." I say lamely.

He snorts. "And you'll probably warm your feet on my calves."

"Will not," I insist. "You're probably just trying to rape me!"

He rolls his eyes. "If I wanted to have sex with you, I doubt there would be any objections on your part." My cheeks tinge with color as he continues, "You're the one who was spreading his legs in a motel bathroom, if memory serves."

I glare at him, but it's more out of embarrassment than anything else. I try to think of a comeback but it's late, I'm on pain medication, and I can't think fast enough.

"Come on," He says, seeming irritated. He turns, walking down the hall opposite the one where my room is.

I only hesitate for a moment before following after him. He stops at a door on the left, opens it, and I follow him inside. His room is larger than the one I was given. The bed is still made, and I wonder if he's been in here at all tonight.

"Just so we're clear," He interrupts my musings, "I only invited you here because I need a distraction."

"How considerate of you." I roll my eyes. I step on the heel of my sneakers, slipping out of them. I consider kicking them so they make his immaculate room look messy (or just lived in) but I don't end up doing it. It would be too obvious.

"Take off your clothes." He says, looking at me squarely, crossing his arms over his chest.

I let out an indignant sound that, much to my chagrin, sounds like a squawk. "Fuck off!" I snap.

He scowls at me. "Your pants look like they're about to fall off, idiot."

"Well they're fine to sleep in!"

"Matt," His voice lowers a little. He steps up in front of me, eyes pinning me in place. "Take. Off. The. Pants." He enunciates each word, voice barely audible. I can feel his breath on my face; I have to resist a shiver. Damn him and his emotional manipulation.

I grit my teeth. "No." I try to say firmly, but it sounds weak.

"Take them off," He says in that same low tone. I feel his fingers slide along the belt keeping my pants from dropping to the floor.

"No…" I breathe, but with even less conviction than the last time.

His lips brush mine faintly, his fingers curling into the hem of my pants. I feel each word, memorizing the way his lips move as he speaks against my mouth, "Lose the pants Matt."

I swallow hard as he steps back, and begin unfastening my belt. The pants slide off of my hips; I don't even have to undo the button and zipper. I feel his eyes on me as the slacks pool around my ankles.

He smiles slightly. "No underwear?"

"I've been a bit short on creature comforts lately."

"True." His smile grows. "Can you manage to get the shirt off yourself or do you need help?"

"I can do it," I grumble, indignant. I start fumbling with my buttons. The belt was fairly straightforward, but with only one hand the tiny buttons are near-impossible.

"Here, hold on—you're going to hurt yourself." He muses, stopping my hands and instead unbuttoning the shirt himself. He seems in better spirits; I'm glad he isn't focusing on his pain anymore.

Mello gets the shirt off of me with only minor struggling around my cast. Now I'm standing in front of him, naked, something he seems to appreciate very much. It wouldn't be so embarrassing if he was naked too, but he's wearing a tank top and a pair of jeans.

"Why are you blushing?" He chuckles. "I've seen you naked before."

"Against my will."

"Hardly." He smiles.

I scowl at him.

Mello rolls his eyes. "Come on, get in bed. It's late."

Grumbling all the while, I go to the bed and pull back the covers, climbing beneath them. My cheeks are flushed because I can feel his eyes watching me the whole way.

Mello, much to my chagrin, gets into the other side of the bed fully clothed. I glare at him, but I don't think he notices before flipping off the light. We're plunged into darkness, and since I can't feel his eyes on me anymore I feel a bit better.

Silence stretches for a moment, and I wonder if he's going to say something. (How did I end up naked in his bed again?)

"I'm not going to snuggle with you or something like that." His voice breaks the stillness.

I can't help but smile. "I'm not much of a snuggler anyways." I say with as much seriousness as I can muster.

"And I'm getting up in two hours to get pain medication."

"Mm," I say into my pillow. "Fine, but go to sleep. I'm tired."

He grunts, and I feel him turn over. My eyes are still adjusting, so I'm not quite sure what direction he's facing. Currently I'm lying on my right side, my injured arm tucked against my chest. Is it weird that his sheets feel really nice on my skin? My eyelids starting to get heavy.

"Goodnight," He says softly.

"Goodnight," I return the sentiment, resisting a yawn.

I imagine I feel his hand in my hair, but the touch disappears after only a moment and soon I'm falling asleep.

AN: I figured that after all the drama happening in the last chapter, we could use a lighter chapter as a pick-me-up. The plot got put on hold so they could get fixed up and unwind a little. I hope everyone enjoyed the smattering of fluff; I made this one extra long since I'm so late on updating! I wish I had more time to write, but until this semester is over I'm going to be a bit preoccupied. But don't fret, come December I'll be doing some serious writing! =) I plan to start some new projects during that time as well.

The response to the last chapter was phenomenal! You guys have no idea how much it means to me. =) When I'm feeling tired and overwhelmed, I go read some reviews and it lifts me right up. They really keep me motivated to write, and I appreciate all your feedback and support! I have the best readers in the world. =) Have a great day guys!