ju.
Despite Matt's care, Mello woke up at least an hour later. Though he had been drifting in and out of sleep, and therefore hadn't really had much of a rest, he hadn't planned to stay long in bed anyway...even though there wasn't much to do. Not until tomorrow, which was approaching too quickly for his comfort.
He sighed roughly and sat up, blinking and scowling, though undoubtedly refreshed. Even a five minute sleep would have done that for him. To be L, he had always trained his mind to work on minimal sleep, sometimes sneaking out at midnight and wandering the halls in hopes that he would see the great detective as well.
Matt, on the other hand, liked to sleep. He could work on obscenely low dosages of this thing called rest, but for the most part, he liked sleeping. Hell, he liked sleeping a lot. The only thing he really liked to do more than sleep was to play video games. At some point of his life, it might've been 'have sex', but he was over that now. At least, he figured he was, since he'd gone a while without getting laid with Mello around and all.
Acutely aware of bodies in the same bed as him (as he always had been), Matt grunted and rolled over onto his side when Mello woke. This was sort of a bad idea, because he ended up hissing in pain and rolling onto his back again when he realized that it was his left side.
"What're you up for...?" he mumbled sleepily at Mello, opening an eye to peer at him. This was sort of hard because he didn't have his goggles on—and it was dimly lit in his bedroom at all times regardless of the time of day.
The usual reply from Mello would have been "I have work to do", but for now, that wasn't the case. He could always spend time running his plan over and over in his head, but that seemed redundant when he couldn't stop thinking about it. Instead, a muffled exhalation escaped his parted lips, and he turned his head to regard Matt for a fraction of a second. "I got over my exhaustion," he said blandly. "And now I just can't fucking sleep."
"Ohh..." Matt answered with an unexpectedly long drawl to his words. Word. There was only one word. "I…think you should sleep." Evidentally, Matt was an idiot when he was half-awake. Or at least, he was more of an idiot than normal. "Because sleep is good...and if you call Hal, that probably means I'm going to die soon." He half-grinned bemusedly at his own sleepy joke, turning over to his right side in order to face Mello and blinking slowly in an attempt to stay conscious long enough to goad the other into sleeping some more.
"Shut up," growled Mello, shifting uneasily and lifting a lazy hand to brush a strand of hair from his face, leather-clad fingers coming across the rugged surface of his burn scar. "You don't even know." That was all he could come up with.
Matt threw an arm around Mello—pausing for a second. He'd meant to grab Mello's hand and complain about how he was wearing gloves to sleep and how idiotic that was because his hands were going to get wrinkly and pruny, but in his half-asleep daze, he missed. Big surprise. "Mello," he started, deciding that he ought to make his point anyways. "Your hands are going to get wrinkly, prune-like, and ugly. And your hands will look three times as old as you are. What are you, thirty?" He was teasing, of course. When Matt didn't tease was when the world fell apart.
"Does it really matter?" the blonde inquired exasperatedly. Even so, he examined his fingertips, as though staring at them through the stiff leather. It was sort of difficult to do, given that Matt's arm was currently over him, and he didn't really feel like disturbing it.
"No...?" Matt questioned blearily, closing his strangely bright eyes and resuming a sleeping position, making himself comfortable—which was kind of hard to do given that he just realized that the arm he literally threw onto Mello was the arm of his injured side, and now the semi-hole in his chest was throbbing like a bitch.
Thank you, gunshot wound.
"Hmmmm."
That sound was a sort of gesture of surrender, and Mello blinked a few times, glaring toward the redhead with something unreadable in his eyes. "You know, I'm kind of tired again."
"Good. Sleep. So you don't have to call Hal and I don't have to die."
"Shut the hell up," he hissed for the umpteenth time, scooting toward Matt to curl up next to him. Might as well get comfortable himself and punish the other for his pessimism by burying his forehead in the gunshot wound. The punishment elicited a grimace from Matt, his fingers instinctively clutching for something—but failing because Mello's shirt was leather and didn't much yield to desperate fingers.
"You could at least pretend like you're excited about getting closer to Kira."
If the blonde had the patience to be slightly optimistic about the outcome of the plan, the other could at least keep his mouth shut. Even if it was a joke.
"I'm pretending," Matt answered, waving a sole finger around in three complete circles. "You just can't see." He still sounded vaguely pained, but it was more amused than anything else.
"I wish I could," muttered the elder irritably. "Reminding me that you're going to die is not doing me any favours." Because if he did, who then would Mello go to for help? Who then would put up with his bullshit and still stick around after they had exchanged punches and bullets? No one. And if he died, the road to catching Kira would become bumpier. Matt had been the fall-back guy for so long, and with him gone, Mello had nothing but his knowledge and his motivation to beat Near at all costs. That alone wasn't enough to catch a killer, no matter what the blonde tried to trick himself into thinking.
Matt chuckled, feeling quite comfortable with his arm around Mello and Mello fairly close—even if that did mean he might start bleeding on Mello's forehead some time soon. He smiled at the thought. Now that was funny. Who else got the chance to bleed on Mello's forehead?
"Well, there's no guarantee that I'm going to die," Matt pointed out, somewhat more comfortable with the situation if he ignored the severity of it.
"Exactly," yawned the blonde, who was already drifting off.
Mello didn't soften his leaning, but did shift slightly so that he wasn't pressing directly on the wound. Matt had had his chastisement for now.
"Aw Mello, I was going to bleed on you," Matt complained, slightly disappointed at the fact that the other had unintentionally disrupted his plans. However, he wasn't much deterred because he was mostly falling back asleep, having never quite woken up in the first place.
Mello, too, was falling asleep, and eventually did so, rendering himself unable to reply directly to Matt's droll complaint. For awhile, he was out. The first stages of REM flitted over his eyelids, and unheard words danced across his lips, ghosting soundless breaths against the gamer's chest. Scenes of the worst possible scenarios substituted for his dreams:
Matt being chased down by Takada's guards.
Kira killing them.
Hal betraying them.
Near finding Takada before them...
"No, Matt," he said unconsciously. It could have been funny, Mello talking in his sleep.
Matt was just drifting off when he heard Mello speak—he'd grown quite accustomed to this sort of thing, this being asleep but not quite and waking when someone said anything—it was something that proved to be quite useful in Wammy's.
"'No, Matt' what?" the red-head questioned, oblivious to the fact that Mello had fallen asleep.
"Don't die."
Mello shifted again, bringing up a hand to cling vehemently on the other's sleeves. A sort of hum lingered in the back of his throat and he relaxed, letting his hold on the sleeves loosen slightly.
Matt...was undoubtedly awake now.
Maybe it was because Matt had always woken up when something interested him, and when he realized that Mello was talking in his sleep, he was...interested.
Not only was he interested, he was pleasantly surprised to find Mello clinging to his shirt sleeves. Granted, he really ought to not have been surprised because they hadn't slept together in a long while and...well. As much as Mello acted like it, he was not a hardcore rock with an unfeeling but violent core.
He was the person who clung to Matt in his sleep while they were sharing a twin bed back at Wammy's because he was having a nightmare. He was the person who knew well enough that he couldn't hold everything inside of him. He was the person who understood reality the best even when he pretended to believe his own delusions.
And Matt, Matt was not a badass, smoking video gamer who drove fancy cars and didn't care about anything but sex, as much as he made himself out to be sometimes, he was a bastard who cared about his best friend and showed it by way of poking fun at him and pressing buttons and getting himself shot.
All things aside, Matt would like to say they were a good pair.
Of course, as all good pairs had to do sometimes, Matt forfeited any chance of being cool to bring his hand to Mello's hair and fiddle with the strands, his fingertips moving subtly against the scar tissue.
"You know I don't make promises I can't keep."
Suddenly roused by the small movement, Mello frowned, wondering why ever Matt was touching his hair. "Go to sleep," he commanded.
" 'Kay," he answered automatically, although after thinking about that for a second, he thought, 'wait a second. I don't want to.' So he just stayed awake and hoped that Mello wouldn't notice and go back to sleeping and taking in his sleep and being...vulnerable. It made Matt feel kind of good, to admit the truth and be completely selfish about it. He liked watching Mello when he slept because he kind of felt like he was watching over the other and being useful in other ways than doing Mello's bidding and complying to his every whim. It was…nice, to say the least.
And Mello fell asleep himself, meanwhile letting go of Matt and pulling away slowly. He curled, turning over onto his back. A small frown touched his lips, and he flattened his head against the side of the pillow to rest himself better.
Matt conceded that Mello wasn't too interesting when he wasn't talking in his sleep—but that was all right. He just enjoyed the close proximity of Mello's body to his, mulling over the past day's activities and conversations and general chaos. Matt rolled over onto his side, facing the blonde lying next to him and sighing his obvious content.
"Mello, you are such a douche…" he muttered under his breath.
When Mello was finished sleeping his full amount, or as much as he needed to replenish his mind and rest his waking thoughts, he became an incredibly light sleeper. All other times he was only awoken by himself or by nothing. This was rather convenient. Either way, however, he didn't wake in time to hear exactly what Matt had said. Maybe that was for the best.
"What're you saying?" he grumbled, bringing a hand instinctually to one eye socket to massage it thoroughly. He wouldn't deny that he had slept better than he had in a while, despite the fact that he was perpetually dreaming of what would and could go wrong.
"You're a douche," Matt answered.
Apparently, even though some things happened for the best...idiots like Matt made things happen for the better.
The red-haired youth sat up, flinching when he leaned back on his hands and realized that his left side really didn't appreciate such things. This was really starting to get annoying. Matt was beginning to wish that he had super-regenerate powers like in whatever video game it was that he had super-regenerate powers. He didn't really remember anymore with the mass amounts of video gaming he did.
"Were you dreaming last night...this night...a few hours ago?" Matt questioned, searching through his words out loud for one.
Mello raised an eyebrow. He couldn't imagine how Matt would figure he remembered...there was about a sixty-seven percent chance that a person remembered their dreams once they first woke up, and that percentage augmented only as the day progressed and their minds recalled things it had otherwise forgotten. Mello's memory pretty much landed in that remaining thirty-three percent margin. Though he knew he had been dreaming something, he didn't know what. The recollection was there vaguely, playing in his subconscious like a scene behind frosted glass.
"Sure," he stated dryly. "Why?"
Matt shrugged idly, wishing very hard for a cigarette. "You were talking in your sleep," he pointed out, looking over to Mello. "You told me not to die."
"Then don't," said Mello, sitting up only to swing his legs over the side of the bed and heave his rested body up onto his feet. It seemed fair to him; if Matt did whatever the blonde asked, what made this any different? Perhaps it was out of his hands, but you could do anything you put your mind to. That was the refrain always spoken in Wammy's house. Occasionally Mello wondered where exactly it originated from, given that L had died putting his mind to something. So much for that.
Matt faltered for a second, about to protest that indeed, the matter of his own death wasn't exactly something he was too keen on taking on, but the Wammy's dogma came fluttering back into his brain. He shut his mouth, hoisting himself out of bed and hunting out his goggles from the bedside table.
"You're calling Hal today, aren't you?" Matt questioned, thinking about this for a little while. "You know, if Takada meets with Kira, don't you think Kira's given her instructions on what to do if she gets kidnapped? It doesn't take a genius to realize that if you get Takada, you get to Kira pretty fast."
"It also doesn't take a genius to realize that if I'm going to go through with this plan, I've kept those things in mind," he said back, the edge to his voice cancelled by his unconcerned expression. "You think I would go out and try to kidnap the most protected public figure in Japan without having thought about it first? That's kind of insulting, Matt." He looked back at the other, shaking his head minimally before stepping away from the bed and sinking his feet back into his boots. He didn't need them, of course, but he liked wearing them. For this, he didn't have a reason.
Matt, on the other hand, preferred to walk around barefoot as long as he avoided the stains of his own blood on the floor. That, by the way, was starting to get a little bit perturbing. "And you're still going through with it?" he commented off-handedly, adjusting his goggles by the bridge piece. "You amaze me." Of course, this was undoubtedly a bad kind of amazement versus the usual good. "Just saying. In the event that I get shot to death by Takada's guards or something, it's not my fault."
"Of course it's not your fault," he said airily, stopping his sojourn to the kitchen when he remembered that there was nothing of value in there. Later he'd get some more chocolate, or maybe when he was at the airport. He did, after all, have to take a plane to Japan. If he could get on a plane unscathed, that was. It would take a lot of 'espionage' and finagling, but in the end, he imagined they'd get there safely. It was what they were going to do there that would be a little more dangerous.
After a long while of silence where nothing at all seemed to occur, Matt asked, "So we'll kidnap Takada and then what?"
"There's not a good chance that she'll tell us anything about Kira of her own free will, no matter what we do," Mello reasoned blandly, rooting around the living room for Matt's cell phone, which he must have placed somewhere obscure. Instead, he found an empty chocolate wrapper, which he had been at first hopeful for. He later realized, when he picked it up, that it was just trash. With a frown, he continued. "But Kira isn't likely to let someone in direct contact with him go unnoticed. He'll either kill her or try and get her back, though the latter is less likely."
Matt nodded, but with every passing thing that Mello said, he was failing to see the point of kidnapping Takada more and more. "And so...we're kidnapping her because she's really hot and you want to do her," Matt commented blandly and conclusively, as though this was indeed the final statement he had come to. Really, though, it was just his discreet way of asking Mello what the hell his point was. "And if you're looking for my cell phone, it's behind the couch cushion."
Mello scowled at the other, reaching behind the couch cushion to find the phone. "Hmmm," he said, in half-thanks for the assistance, but then went on to explain his true motives. God, couldn't Matt be a little patient? Perhaps the blonde wasn't such a good role model for patience, but the other was supposed to be nothing like him, his opposite in nearly everything.
"We're kidnapping her because if Kira kills her, we have him," he said, smirking slightly. There might not have been any clear reasoning as to how they had him, but then again, Mello hadn't quite explained everything to Matt. At least what he didn't need to know immediately. "And if he doesn't, we can use her."
Matt didn't exactly follow, but he shrugged. Hell, if Mello said so, that was good enough for him. For now. "Okay," he answered finally, tossing the glass that he'd used to have juice with the pills into the sink. Hell, if he managed to get out of this alive, he had a feeling that he was going to need a lot more pain killers. That, and he would make Mello buy them all. "So...call Hal or whatever, and then we'll go out and buy whatever we'll be needing. Another gun, for one." Unless Mello had another that Matt didn't know about, which was quite plausible actually.
However, Mello only had one gun, contrary to Matt's knowledge. Well, he only had one around the apartment.
"I'm doing it now," he said, lifting the phone indicatively and stomping over to a vacant chair, one that was sagging on one side, but somehow it was more comfortable than the couch. Maybe because the couch was a little worse for wear.
He searched for the number in the phonebook, finding it under a fake name. Sally. He decided that if the phone was ever lost or stolen, putting her in under a pseudonym would just be an added precaution. Alright, so he was rather paranoid. Bringing the object to his ear, he listened to the ringing on the other end in wait.
Matt fiddled with his box of cigarettes, managing to light one and at least stand by a window while he smoked. One, because he never liked to be too close to people who were talking on the phone for some reason, and for another, he just...didn't feel like he wanted to get too close to Mello so soon after such a...an unorthodoxly spent night. He could still remember the feeling of Mello's forehead against his chest, Mello's hands tugging on his sleeves—and he didn't want to ruin that with the feeling of Mello pushing him away. Literally or figuratively. So he kept his distance.
Even if Matt had come closer, it wouldn't have made any difference. The conversation was icy, and nothing was exchanged but business. Hell knew that Hal tried to coax something else out of him, and perhaps any other time he would have allowed himself to be a little more light-hearted, or as light-hearted as he could be, but now he wasn't in the mood. He was about to risk his life, after all, and Matt's.
It ended with a sharp click of the phone where he had shut it off, and then sent it flying across the room to land safely on the couch. So much for being nice to technology.
He didn't say anything afterward, choosing instead to merely stand up grumpily and cross the room to pull on his jacket again.
"Are we going?" Mello demanded, referring to the preparations they needed to do before crossing the Pacific Ocean, gesturing toward the door.
Matt had heard bits and pieces of the conversation—not enough to piece too much together, but enough to hear that Mello wasn't messing around and that he wasn't in a good mood...and probably wouldn't be for a while.
"Yeah," he answered, shrugging his vest on with minimal difficulty, already having stepped into his boots. "Are we taking the car?" He questioned, feeling slightly apprehensive about that. They probably would have to, given the nature of their shopping, but Matt didn't ever let anyone drive his car…but under the circumstances, he might have to relinquish the keys to Mello. "And be nice to my cell phone."
"Yeah, we are," he said, glaring at the other as though daring him to oppose. Somehow, though, he didn't think he would. Mello disregarded the crack about the cell phone and brushed past the couch before wrenching open the door and looked over his shoulder for a brief second. He trusted Matt to get the keys and money, or anything they may need for a simple trip outside. Then again, it was always safe to give him one of his 'are you ready, moron?' stares before retreating into the outside corridor.
Matt, indeed, grabbed the keys and the obscene about of cash he kept on hand-- not to mention, the credit card that he had charged on one of his 'benefactor's name. He'd been using it for a while, and as long as he was careful, he could continue doing so. He stuffed his wallet into his pocket, and on second thought, grabbed his cell phone and his handheld too. Safely equipped, he followed Mello out of the apartment, swinging his keys around on his finger. The fact that they were going out for supplies for a potential suicide mission made the air a little more than tense, Matt found.
Mello slowed his pace, intending to let Matt step beside him. He had a thing for walking ahead, because it gave him a feeling of superiority, but he supposed he could make an exception to at least get the keys or have the way pointed out to where the redhead's car was kept. The tenseness didn't bother him at all, because he was already lost in his own thoughts. Plotting still occurred in his head, even after all the plans had already been laid out. These, however, were simply 'what if' questions. Obviously, something would go awry; no scheme went perfectly, no matter how premeditated it was.
The redhead might have quickened his step to accommodate the other, but then again...Matt wasn't exactly known for being the most convenient guy. So he simply continued at his regular pace until he reached Mello's side, giving him the keys and pointing out his sleek red car in the back lot where it wasn't easily seen from the street, nor from any of the windows in the apartment building. Matt, though he took precautions, wasn't as paranoid as Mello was. "Don't handle my car like you handle my laptops and cell phones," Matt stated warningly—and this time he meant it. His car was one of his prized possessions.
"All right," Mello said, snatching the keys. He actually didn't like cars. Motorcycles were okay, but cars, well, they weren't his favourite. Necessary for travel, maybe, but Mello always tried to refrain from using them when he could.
That still didn't stop the blonde from circling around Matt's prized possession and sliding into the driver's seat. Despite his odd hatred for cars, he could see why the gamer loved his so much. He waited for the other to get in as well, dutifully starting the ignition and running his hands along the steering wheel.
Matt lowered himself into the passenger's seat, feeling terribly odd on this side of the car. He slid against the leather interior, slouching in his seat and admiring the detailing around his installed stereo system from the right side for once. "It goes from zero to one-ten in three seconds flat if you want it to," he commented with off-handed admiration. He couldn't help but to brag a little. Not to mention, in the event that they needed to make a quick getaway for whatever reason, it would be good of Mello knew exactly how fast his baby went if you floored it.
"So anyway. Where to first?" Not that it mattered since he wasn't driving…but he was accustomed to asking.
Once Matt was fully inside the car, Mello switched gears and backed out of the parking lot, clearing a few meters before deciding to speak. He didn't address the comment about the speed, only nodding slightly and keeping that in mind. Who knew? It could be useful.
"Retail store," he said. "We need to pick some things up." Not much, just a few odds and ends that they would have to use. Once they reached an intersection, rather than slowing down, Mello sped up, ignoring the warning Matt had given him to be careful with the car. It wasn't as though he planned on wrecking it.
Matt nodded in response to hearing where they were going--the retail store wasn't exactly the first place that he'd guessed, but that was all right. It wasn't like he really cared where they went. Matt grunted in protest when Mello sped through the intersection, though, knowing that on the off chance that there were two people like Mello going in opposing directions, his poor car would not be in such good shape.
"Careful," he hissed warningly to the blonde beside him.
"I will be," he assured. Despite the fact that he disliked cars, Mello maneuvered this one with surprising accuracy, and kept its speed the entire way. Unfortunately, the rules of the road still had to be adhered to, to avoid being stopped by the police. That would have been less than favourable in the blonde's position.
He randomly picked a store, not really caring where he went. They were all the same to be quite honest, even if some of them claimed to be cheaper or have more merchandise. The car turned a sharp corner, venturing into the lot beyond to nimbly park the car a good five spots down from the building.
Matt nearly clocked Mello in the head at his reckless driving--although he did have to admit, for being so reckless, Mello did handle his car quite nicely. So he let the mention of the other's driving go and instead, got out of the car as quickly as possible when they pulled into their parking space.
"Jeeze," he muttered, appreciatively patting his car's hood before he closed the door. "Keep to the motorcycles, Mel'."
Mello climbed out of his side and slammed the door behind him, chancing Matt a teasingly disdainful glance. "Trust me, I will," he said, turning to march toward the sliding doors of the building ahead. His hood had been pulled as far as possible over his eyes for his own protection, though it made him look slightly like a shoplifter. Oh, well. He could deal with the nervous glances he received from the greeters in the front. No matter how nervous they appeared, however, one of them did manage a tiny "welcome" before scooting off to address a woman and three children who appeared lost and irritated.
In contrast to Mello, Matt followed behind with his hands stuck into his pockets, wandering in like he didn't quite know what in the world he was doing in a retail store. To be honest, he wasn't. He did look fairly out of place and rather cheerful in comparison to Mello, though—that was the brilliance of him having long since deleted any records on him. Mail Jeevas was as good as nonexistent. "So what're we buying?" He asked eventually, his meager curiosity getting the better of him.
The blonde looked over at the other, as though wondering whether this question was serious, which, he figured, it was. So, he deemed it important enough to answer, but gave an irritatingly vague answer.
"Things we need," he said plainly. "You'll see." Because honestly, Mello wondered why exactly he had brought Matt with him to begin with. He didn't need his help to buy things, other than the fact that Matt had the money. Then again, he could have always just asked for it. Oh well. Maybe he just liked him being there.
Matt, despite the fact that curiosity had driven him to ask the question in the first place, merely shrugged his right shoulder in response to Mello's answer and let the other go on being vague. He would, after all, know within the next ten minutes what they were buying--neither he nor Mello liked to dabble while running their errands, after all. And, granted, fathoming things to be picked up for a kidnapping wasn't exactly hard.
What Mello had in mind for this kidnapping, however, wasn't as typical as would be expected. He first headed for an aisle centered on bedding, searching it thoroughly before picking out an unmarked and completely unremarkable blanket. Sure, he could have used one of the ones in Matt's apartment, but most of those were stained in god knew what or smelled as if they hadn't been washed for years. Which they probably hadn't been.
Tucking the object under his arm as though it was totally ordinary. It was, in essence, but not for Mello.
Matt seemed to find it horrendously funny that Mello was walking around with a blanket under his arm. He chuckled lightly as he wandered after Mello, sneaking in close enough to whisper 'I knew you wanted to do her,' in the other's ear before he meandered away in hopes of dodging any potentially damaging blows to his ego.
Mello snarled and reached out to shove Matt from behind, but wasn't all as angry as he seemed. "Do me a favour and shut the hell up, Matt," he muttered. He strode in another direction, not really caring if the other followed. Mello, after all, had the keys. Then again, the redhead had the money. Alright. They were equal.
The blonde walked on with an air of knowing what he was doing, which he did. Well, in part. This first trip to the store was halfway improvised; a place to go to pick up whatever seemed suitable, along with a few things he knew were necessary.
"Aw, you know you love it." Matt stumbled forward a couple steps, although he was still grinning somewhat. With all the time he was spending with Mello, it was hard for him to be rightfully pissed at the other as he should have been for being an asshole. Granted, with impending doom riding for them head on, Matt supposed that he ought to enjoy the other's company rather than be angry with him for being a douche. That decided, Matt continued to follow Mello around like a lost puppy.
A roll of the eyes was the reply.
"But wouldn't you be jealous if I did?" he mocked, casting his eyes over the store like a cloud, but only finding a few things he found worthy to pick up: a flashlight, some batteries, a bar of chocolate. Some things were only precautionary, while others (like the chocolate) he thought to be immediately useful. It took him awhile of meandering to decide that he was done shopping.
Matt considered elbowing Mello, but decided that it wasn't worth the effort to show that he was any sort of riled by the comment. "I'm not the one who hasn't gotten laid in a year," he stabbed vocally; although he wasn't really sure when the last time Mello had gotten laid was, seeing as it was 'personal'. He suppressed a smile at the bar of chocolate on their list of kidnapping essentials—it should have figured.
"As far as you know," Mello reminded the other, placing himself in an express lane and dumping a handful of items onto the conveyor belt. He then stepped out of the way and eyed Matt, seeing as he was the only one who could pay. Meanwhile, he cast a wanton glance at the last-minute buy shelf and added another chocolate bar to the pile, knowing that one was never enough, even though two was just pushing it.
Matt pulled out his wallet, deciding that he would use the credit card for the retail store, and then the cash to cover the more wayward of things they had to buy. He looked at the chocolate for a moment, closing his eyes and shaking his head with a smile coming onto his lips, despite his greatest wish that it didn't.
"Get another," Matt told Mello, knowing well enough that three wouldn't be good enough either, but at least it would tide the blonde over.
Mello smiled eagerly, almost like a child, and complied all too willingly by dumping another bar onto the stack of three. Hell, who was he to object? The blonde stepped, annoyed, away from the mob that had formed around the queue, wondering when express lanes had become the opposite of express. Then again, he didn't go shopping all that often, especially not in places like this. He really had no place to judge or question; he was just happy he had gotten more chocolate.
Matt smiled faintly at seeing how easily pleased Mello was over candy—chocolate, of course, but all the same...
He paid their total of twenty-two fifty-six and took the bag when it was handed to him, offering it to Mello for the chocolate he so desired. Matt really must have damn well liked Mello to let him eat in the car and more so let him eat while operating the car.
Mello took the bag, immediately doing what was expected: rummaging around in the bottom of the bag for a bar of chocolate and tossing the rest into the back of the car as he clambered into the front seat, pausing before he turned the key in the ignition to peel open the cocoa-based sweet. As he brought it to his mouth, he felt like it had been ages since he had eaten it, and had downed a little less than half of it before deciding to turn on the car and wait for Matt yet again.
Matt climbed into the car, taking time enough for his view of the chocolate bar to go something like this:
Once there was a chocolate bar...
And then there wasn't.
He gawked for a second before settling in the passenger seat and deciding that Mello was excused because he hadn't had the sugary sweet since...yesterday. Man, that guy was pitiful. Matt smiled inwardly at his private thoughts, settling in the seat again and giving a yawn, despite a pretty restful sleep the previous night. "All right, where to now, He-Who-Inhales-Chocolate?"
"We need to get you a weapon," Mello replied blandly, ignoring the remark. "Something similar to mine, preferably, because it handles well, but you shouldn't have to use it. And you also need...a flare gun." The blonde backed out of the parking lot slowly, then gained speed, though took the car considerably slower than he had before. It was best to appease Matt when he had nothing to lose. The traffic had begun to cram tighter, only making Mello's naturally impatient nature worse. He revved the engine a few times as he waited at a particularly crowded light, lips screwing into a frown seconds before they were occupied with the chocolate again.