jusan.
The first thing that struck Mello in his wakefulness was a certain irritation, for two reasons.
For one thing, the sunlight was blaring against his eyelids, making it difficult to keep unconscious, which he was trying desperately to accomplish considering he had been woken up constantly by Matt. And speaking of Matt...
The blonde cracked an eye over at the heat that was plastered against him, finding it odd that he himself was clinging to the other as well. He attempted to detangle himself, muttering all the while.
Matt woke when he felt the leather pulling way from his cheek. He winced--in the night, he had been practically melted to the blonde's chest, considering that they were both quite warm and Mello was, indeed, wearing leather.
"Mnnf..." Matt grunted in a frumpish sort of manner, trying to keep the elder form going anywhere. Mainly, this was because he was fully aware that it was day time and Mello getting out of bed meant that he would have to, too. "Quit moving."
"Maybe if you'll get off me," Mello grumbled back, detaching himself from the younger male and failing to bring up the fact that he was the one who had initiated the embrace (whether he was conscious of it or not). He edged off the side of the bed and lazily breathed through his mouth, suddenly wondering why he didn't have any chocolate.
Oh, that was right: he had eaten it all.
The male let out a small humf of disappointment.
Scowling as he was forced to let go via Mello sliding off the bed, Matt sat up and brushed his red bangs out of his face, only to have them fall aback into his eyes. Where were his goggles again? Somewhere on the bedside table...
Grunting slightly in complaint to having to get up and move around, Matt forced his reluctant body into a sitting position and groped for his goggles.
"What's the agenda for today?" he questioned the blonde blandly. He clearly didn't want to do anything at all.
"I need some chocolate," Mello remarked blandly. That took precedence, after all.
Matt chuckled. Of course, Mello needed his sustenance, after all.
"Lots of it" Matt added. "And I need pain killers."
Lots of that, too. Especially if he was going to last all the way to Japan and sit still-- he was a fairly restless person when it came to plane flights. He just didn't like sitting there and doing the exact same thing as a good hundred other people. It was just so... banal. "I'll go out for you. You coming with me?"
Mello had plenty of reasons to stay in the apartment, many involving security and how redundant it would be to go with him when shopping was clearly a one person job, and one preferably done by Matt. But he didn't deny him for some reason.
"Fine," he said. "I don't trust you handling my chocolate, anyway." Of course that was why he wanted to go with; it didn't have anything to do with not wanting to stay alone in the room with nothing to do and no one to yell at.
Matt only smirked in response—he had gone out and done the grocery shopping by himself on more than one occasion, and always, always, his excursions had included buying and handling Mello's chocolate.
"Right," he said anyway, deciding to indulge Mello and his lucid excuses. With the air of someone who was getting completely freshened up and dressed, Matt fastened his goggles about his eyes, adjusting them by the bridge of his nose strap and sliding out of the bed to find his boots. "Let's go then, you possessive...whore."
At this, Mello raised an eyebrow, an amused expression spreading across his face.
"Whore?" he questioned, pulling on his own boots with a sense of satisfaction; that was, after all, his entire routine of readying himself for the day. "Did you come up with that all on your own?" Being insulted didn't irk the elder as much as one would think, whereas being told the bitter and unyielding truth pissed him off. Crazy, but it suited his lifestyle.
"Oh shut it," Matt growled at Mello, fastening his boots and heading out the bedroom door. He was going to get what was left of his painkillers and down them faster than he put on his clothes that time he woke up next to this really ugly chick. "Let's go."
Mello consented with a grunt and a sort of swagger toward the door, not even bothering to pick anything up as he went. This was Matt's trip, after all, not his; he could take whatever transportation he wanted and buy whatever the hell he pleased, as long as some chocolate was bought at some point in their excursion.
The male yawned, stifling it slowly as his hand toyed lazily with the rusted nails that held the doorknob securely onto the door before actually turning the knob and stepping out into the garish sunlight.
In record time, Matt was by Mello's side and heading out the door before he even realized that he'd left the keys. Whatever. It was a nice day, and he didn't feel like driving anyways. Besides, although he was adept at whipping the wheel around with one hand, he didn't really want to subject his left arm to such uselessness. Instead, he stuffed both of his hands into his pockets, his vest having been shucked somewhere yesterday and unable to be quickly retrieved that morning. However, he didn't mind. The crisp autumn air could do a body good, and Matt quite liked the coolness of the weather.
"We're walking to the convenience store," he stated. "Hope you didn't need anything other than chocolate."
"What is there to need other than chocolate?" pointed out Mello.
Whereas Matt liked the atmosphere, he found it repugnant for the sole reason that he had been rather enjoying his time holed up in the apartment, and emerging only to the glaring sunlight was something that he could have gone weeks without. Still, he supposed he could endure it for awhile, at least until he got his chocolate and got back. When there was a lack of it, it seemed to consume his existence.
Matt didn't need the sunlight, nor did he hate it, but he did like it. So he was somewhere in the pleasant middle. Satisfied with the weather, he continued on with his hands safely tucked in his jeans pocket. The store wasn't too far away--the walk was bearable, but sort of tiresome if you went too often.
"Right, of course." Chocolate, pain killers, and maybe a six-pack of coke.
And after that, Mello sought to discontinue the conversation, staring determinedly in the opposite direction of the light, which still managed to irritate him by warming his already sweating skin. Wearing perpetual leather tended to do that to you, especially when you had to wear a jacket in the scorching weather to keep a low profile.
Matt chuckled a little after a moment's worth of silence—he really couldn't handle this 'not talking' thing unless he was pissed at Mello. However, he'd hadn't had ample chance to really get pissed at the other and wallow in it, seeing as Mello, for the most part, had been in his company for the past two days.
"You know, you almost look more suspicious walking around in a winter jacket in the middle of this weather than you would just walking around normally." Matt pointed out. "And in leather. Maybe I should introduce you to jeans?"
"Nnnnn," Mello replied, disgruntled, shooting Matt a look. Nevertheless, he peeled off his jacket, feeling the next to immediate relief. Looking suspicious wasn't nearly as important as keeping his face concealed, but he supposed the other was right, though he wasn't going to voice this opinion any time soon.
"Better?"
Matt gave the other a slightly quirky grin.
"Yeah." He didn't think that chances would have them encounter anyone of vital importance on the way to the convenience store either. Near already knew what Mello looked like, and Kira and all his forces were over traipsing in Japan and fighting with the SPK anyways. Upon reaching the store, Matt pushed the door open and turned to Mello to give a devilish smile. "Ladies first."
Mello allowed a very pronounced scowl to pass over his lips as he stomped inside, not before giving Matt a tiny shove. Of course, immature violence was the answer to everything.
They seemed to have not grown up much; perhaps this was because, despite all of their experiences and all that they'd seen, they still clung to Wammy's, not their elder selves.
Or maybe it was exactly because of all their experiences and what they'd seen that they still clung to Wammy's like Near to his toys, L to his sweets, Matt to his games, and Mello to his chocolates. It was a perpetual childhood that they didn't want to let go of, or else they'd be forced to face the fact that the world they lived in and the way they lived wasn't exactly the kindest thing. Therefore, Matt only smiled at the shove and continued along to pick up his things, leaving Mello to gather however much chocolate he could carry.
Which he did.
Mello, feeling none too merciful toward Matt's pocketbook today, took the entire display, which was a box of three dozen chocolate bars. He figured this would tide him over until they got to Japan. It was sort of a bizarre thought that the blonde could devour that much chocolate in such a short time span. Not that he'd give it up. To hell with diabetes.
Matt hunted out the strongest painkillers he could find—his body was really battering him for getting so little sleep and wandering around the city like an idiot with Mello. He came back with a six pack of coca cola and two bottles of opiate-based pain killers.
"Geeze, Mello, you buy out their whole stock?" he questioned, jesting—but he faltered a second when he noticed that the display was empty. "...Yeah just put them on the counter," he stated, still a bit in awe as he deposited his own wares and pulled out his wallet.
Mello did so matter-of-factly, because he did buy out their stock, in a matter of speaking, though it was likely that they had chocolate out the ass in the back of the store.
"Alright," he said loftily, moving out of the way almost immediately, because hell if he was paying, and standing in line was indicative that you had money. Mello never was the one with money; he just made everyone around him pay for things.
The total rang up to around sixty dollars, although Matt didn't flinch in the slightest. He didn't even seem to have qualms as he pulled out the amount in cash with precise change and handed it over, taking the bag containing the pain killers and the coke for himself, and then passing the monstrously heavy chocolate bars to Mello.
"Geeze. How long is that gonna last you, Mel'?" he muttered to the other as they headed out the door again.
The leather clad male picked out one of the many ravenously, peeling off its paper shell to hungrily begin to consume it.
Gauging this, he responded: "I have no idea."
Matt chuckled at Mello's near-instantaneous reaction. Feeding the other's addiction for almost forty dollars from a convenience store was well worth it for how ridiculously content it made Mello. For the most part.
"Just try to save some for the plane," Matt pointed out. Unless, of course, they cared to clean out the gift stores in the airport too.
"Yeah, I'll see what I can do," said Mello sarcastically, though he continued to gnaw at his sweet and dangle the bag lovingly from the crook of his elbow.
Matt really couldn't tell him he was less obsessed with his precious video games, or his cigarettes.
Speaking of, it was a real wonder why Matt wasn't a.) smoking, b.) playing his handheld, or c.) doing both. It was instinctive to nab his handheld on the way out, and it was nestled safely in his pocket—but he had yet to do anything with it all day. It was hard to think that maybe his gaming had lost its luster.
"You wanna play Mario Party with me?" Matt inquired suddenly.
Mello blinked.
He was used to watching Matt play his games day in and day out, probably losing brain cells by the second, but never was he asked to play with him. Maybe once or twice a long time ago, when solitary gaming had become dull in Wammy's, but not lately; he had been way too busy for that.
"Excuse me?" he said, thinking that he hadn't heard him correctly. "Are you asking me to play with you?"
Matt grinned. "Yeah," he answered, although his expression clearly stated that he'd probably tie Mello down to the couch and make him play if he refused.
"Don't lie and say you've got shit to do this week, you don't and you know it," Matt stated matter-of-factly, and he was right. It showed by the fact that the blonde had ventured outside with him just to get chocolate—Mello had nothing of great importance to be doing...except playing video games with Matt.
"Alright," Mello agreed languorously, chewing as if it was the most treasured action on earth. "Fine."
Matt's taunting grin subtly shifted to a genuine one--he was about to play Mario Party with an ex-mafia boss. Hell, that wasn't as impressive as the mere thought of playing a videogame, something that the other chastised as a brain-rotting exercise with him. Or getting Mello to play anything at all. This was Matt's lucky day, then. He seemed to quicken his step on the way back to the apartment. "I call Wario."
Mello rolled his eyes.
"I wouldn't dream of stealing it from you," he said dryly, seeming to be full of sarcastic comments today. Hell if he knew what a 'Wario' was in the first place, though he had a feeling he'd be finding out soon enough.
What made things all the more interesting, however, was how the ideation of Mello playing with him seemed to make Matt rather giddy, for a lack of a better term.
Matt just as well dashed up the stairs when they came to his apartment building, and even more astonishingly, had the door open before Mello had even turned the corner. He dropped his bag of convenience store wares onto the kitchen table before shoving his way through cords and controllers to whip out his trusty old game cube and pop in Mario Party 4. "C'mon, Mello, you're player two." He'd be damned if someone was player one other than him, even Mello.
An amused grin had plastered itself on Mello's face as he followed along behind Matt at his own pace. Stoic, he sat on the couch, ever-present, humoured expression following Matt as he sought out the game system. He wasn't worried in the slightest that he had been condemned to second player.
"Right," he remarked, following along.
"This game is made of crack," Matt remarked as it started up and he deftly guided his way to a minigames menu, selecting a versus game with two computer characters thrown in for the fun of it. Speeding through the directions, Matt opted to tell Mello out loud instead. "Okay, the book pages are gonna fall down and you've got to line yourself up with the holes before you're squashed. If you're squashed... tough luck 'cause you get to sit there until the next round."
Mello blinked stupidly for the second time that day.
He liked to imagine that he was intelligent, because hell, he had been close to succeeding one of the most brilliant minds in the world. And yet, he found himself unable to grasp what was going on, let alone how to work the controller. He managed to understand enough to move his character, however, because he found himself steering the pixilated figure on the screen in little circles before he realized that his thumb was resting on the button.
How smart.
"Mello, you idiot, run!" Matt scolded, seeing the game of keeping Mello alive was of strictest importance. Wario—a stout, yellow, uglier version of Mario—proceeded to push Mello's character (Matt had graciously jabbed a few buttons and Mello had unwillingly ended up as Princess Peach) to a safe spot. The page fell and they were safely within a hole to keep from getting smushed. "Now run," Matt instructed again, dashing off to find another spot that would save his character for the next page.
Now that Mello had mastered the basic control of his character, which Matt had so graciously left out of the general instructions, he found it easier to maneuver. This time, he managed to do as was required, and kept himself alive, at least for a time.
He wouldn't lie: he sucked at video games, and he knew it. They didn't mean, however, that he'd lose without a fight. That just wasn't in the blonde's nature. So he continued to run around, pretending like he knew what he was doing, and cursing obscenely whenever something didn't go as planned.
Matt snickered, elbowing Mello in the side and nudging him in the ribs, causing a general calamity of teasing that he subjected the blonde to as they played. He, from their younger years in the orphanage, knew full well how much Mello sucked at video games...which made it all the more fun to tease him. As a page of the book was coming down with only himself and Mello left against the CPU characters, Matt guided Wario with a flick of his thumb into pushing the pink-dressed princess into harm's way. A shower of confetti popped up onto the screen and declared Wario the winner--albeit the dirty winner... but the game didn't know he'd cheated. "Hah!"
Unfortunately for Matt, Mello did notice; or maybe that was just his tendency as a sore loser kicking in.
"Hey!" he cried, shoving Matt against the side of the couch and throwing down his controller down like a child that was just deprived of its favorite toy. "You cheating bastard." He punched the other, though lightly, in the shoulder, and folded his arms in a way that only added to his appearance of looking like a pouting child.
Matt hissed in pain, although he was grinning secretively as Mello displayed his discontent for being a loser. Of course, Matt had cheated...but there weren't any rules about pushing your opponents out of safety. The game just expected you to play nicely. He grinned, looking to Mello and nudging him with a boot-clad toe.
"Aw, come on, Princess Mello get her panties in a bunch?"
Oh, no.
Mello most definitely wasn't letting Matt get away with that, but punching him again while he was injured or threatening him with his gun was out of the question, and sulking just didn't get the job done.
So, with a lack of anything else to punish the other with, he simply frowned, stood up, and then sat heavily on the redhead, keeping himself firmly planted there, and not ready to get up until the repercussions were met.
Matt had been expecting Mello to be merciless—but not quite this merciless. That was, of course, ironic, seeing as this was the lesser of three evils.
"Mel'! What the hell?" he questioned in bewilderment at the sudden acquisition of a leather-clad blonde in his lap. If this were different circumstances, that would have been hot. Hell, it was hot, but he wasn't about to say that.
"You trying to kill me?"
"Something like that," muttered Mello, but he didn't get up quite yet. On the contrary, he stayed quite adamant in his place, even getting comfortable as if he planned to stay there for awhile. Which he did, if Matt wasn't willing to comply with his demands.
Matt tried to tip the blonde off, but to no avail. A little puzzled and somewhat frustrated, he looked up at Mello and eyed him warily.
"All right, Princess. What do you want?" he questioned, unable to help the jab, even in his current predicament. He could make some sort of lewd joke, too, but he decided to hold his tongue in case Mello was going to make him pay for it.
"Hmmm," Mello mused, contemplating his demands. "I want you to admit you're a cheater, for one thing, and..." This first was a given, though he couldn't fathom what else he'd want. "You're going to make something for dinner tonight. None of that TV dinner shit."
Matt rolled his eyes, breathing a sigh at Mello's demands as though they were heart-breaking and completely horrendous. "Fine, fine," he stated reluctantly. "I'm a cheater...but you know I can't cook, Mel'."
Well, he didn't suck per se, but he had no idea why Mello would want to willingly consume something he cooked. "I can make pasta and that's about it. And eggs. You want pasta or eggs for dinner? Should I go all out and get you candles too?"
"You're hilarious," Mello sighed, leaning back against Matt, because, well, he could, and because he wanted to chastise him for the crack. To be honest, the blonde didn't wholly care whether the other could cook or not, as long as he wasn't forced to eat frozen food. Then again, he could always just stick to his chocolate, but that wouldn't keep him up for long.
"Pasta will be fine." He said this all quite contentedly, and with an air of finality.
Matt grunted to show his displeasure, although he didn't make Mello get off. Not that he was capable of making Mello do anything at the present time, but all the same…he could pretend that he wasn't completely helpless under Mello's ass.
"Fine. Pasta. What about those candles? I'm completely serious."
"It'd be a shame to disappoint you," Mello muttered, adjusting his position for the hell of it.
Matt shook his head, wholly amused by the situation. It'd been a while since Mello was audacious enough to be ridiculous, and he was finding that the other's joking manner was lightening the prospect of going to Japan quite a lot.
"Pasta by candle light, then," he confirmed, rolling his eyes slightly again. "Now will you get off?"
"As you wish," droned the blonde, removing his leather-clad ass from its precarious perch and returning to his opposite seat on the other side of the couch. That was fun, to say the least; maybe he'd do it more often now that he knew it made more of an impact than merely punching him or scowling, which had grown to be his patented way of expressing disapproval.
Oblivious to Mello's devious plans for the future, Matt relaxed and leaned back against the couch, watching the Mario Party main screen glitter in front of them. Well, even if it did cost him making dinner, he would have to say that playing and cheating Mello in the old game was well worth the trouble.
"When do you want dinner?" Matt asked after a while, realizing that they rarely ate at any specific time.
"Hmmm?"
To be truthful, Mello hadn't been listening all that closely, but he did manage to discern the question. Mello pretended to contemplate the question for a moment as he closed his eyes and leaned against the arm of the couch.
"The afternoon," he said, leaving the time generally open for Matt to get off his lazy ass and make dinner.
Dinner in the afternoon. It was just like Mello to do something like that...well, at least the other had been gracious enough to give him time to laze around a bit. Taking full advantage of the time, Matt proceeded to close his eyes and get comfortable.
"'Kay. Take a nap or somethin', Mel'."
Mello contented himself in opening one eye, and, being too lazy to move his head, only swiveled his gaze to catch a glimpse of the other. He regarded him for a moment, as though waiting for him to say something else. When he didn't, the blonde spoke:
"Are you telling me what to do?" he asked lazily.
Matt smirked slightly, not bothering to open his eyes and look at the other. He sounded lazy and harmless enough anyway. "Yeah," he stated without hesitance. "I am." More of giving him a very pointed suggestion, but it was as good as telling Mello what to do. Plus, the idea of him telling the fiery blonde to 'take a nap', was highly amusing.
"Fine," Mello murmured, but was already nodding off. He seemed to be fatigued at the oddest of times.
Once he had fallen asleep, his stretched out position over the couch shrunk as he curled into a ball, arms, however, draped over the armrests.
Matt chuckled at the sight of his friend curled up on the couch and stood up, proceeding to the kitchen to get dinner started. He was a slow cook—he either fucked things up badly enough that he had to start over, or he tried too hard to get things just right. Either way, he needed an early start without Mello over his shoulder to even begin hoping to have dinner ready by the time the other wanted it. Matt threw his vest over the sleeping form on the couch before he set to quietly gathering a couple of pots, noodles, and Prego sauce.
Mello woke up not long after, but succeeded in giving Matt his time to begin before he was roused by the movement in the kitchen and his own state of being wide-awake. Finally he felt like his time to sleep was adequate, and seeing this, probably wouldn't fall asleep again tonight until late.
Dragging himself off the couch, the blonde loped into the kitchen, staring at Matt a moment before disregarding him and veering off to retrieve a bar of chocolate.
By that time, Matt was attentively tending to the boiling bowtie noodles in the pot next to the one that he was heating up the sauce in.
"I hate canned sauce," he muttered to Mello as the other joined him long enough to grab some more chocolate. He knew Mello probably didn't care if it was canned sauce or not, but as it were, Matt had to have someone to complain to. He rummaged around until he found some cayenne pepper, throwing a dash into the sauce and stirring it. "Sleep well?"
"Better than I did when I was with you," he said. "I wasn't being woken up every five minutes."
Alright, so this wasn't necessarily true, because (whether he admitted it or not) he actually liked sleeping with Matt; it was damn comfortable and it was almost like things were alright, if just for a minute.
Matt scowled, unhelpfully unaware of Mello's actual content with sleeping with him.
"I didn't wake you up every five minutes." Only every few hours...all for good reason, he'd like to think! Well. He hardly remembered what his reasons were anymore, but that was all right. He stabbed at the noodles before deciding that they were ready and thusly poured them through the strainer situated over the sink. " 'Sides, you know that couch is hell to sleep on."
"I know," Mello replied, coming around to stare over his companion's shoulder and pace back and forth. "But you know I'd never admit to liking to sleep with someone unless they were a hot chick." He smirked, finding this minimally amusing.
The truth was, he had never slept with anyone (besides Matt, and that was for special reasons). His personal life was rather boring, which was why he hated talking about it. Wild Mello had never had an intimate relationship; he only felt they got in the way.
"So, are you saying you liked sleeping with me?" Matt questioned, a sly smirk sliding in Mello's direction as he managed to neatly get the noodles onto two plates to sit and cool a bit while he worked at the sauce a little more, tasting it as he went and adjusting accordingly. Matt knew that Mello's young life hadn't consisted of girls, but of course, that was back at Wammy's and neither of them were exactly horny--well. Almost.
Mello cocked an eyebrow.
"That depends," he said, backing up slightly to allow Matt to do what he needed to. "Are you a hot chick?"
The blonde continued to eat his chocolate, nearing the end of it quite quickly. This was convenient, really, because it appeared that the redhead was almost finished. For all of his talk about his lax cooking skills, the food looked appetizing.
Matt only smiled at Mello's shot back at him, his silence indicating that the other had won this round of the game. Indeed, no, Matt was not a hot chick. Although, he would like to say that he had the more flattering of the two covered. He ladled the sauce onto the bow-tie noodles, ushering Mello away.
"Make yourself useful—set the table or something. The candles are in the first drawer," Matt added, smirking.
Oh, yes, candles; Mello had almost forgotten. Nevertheless, he went to get them, rummaging around in the drawer and retreating with what looked like a misshapen, half-melted stick of wax. He examined it slowly, wondering why Matt had candles in the first place. Oh, well, that was his business.
The male took out some paper plates and silverware as well, slinging it half-heartedly onto the table, catching site of a cigarette lighter abandon on the counter. To add the finishing touches, he lit the wicks, stepping back to admire the sight with more than a little amusement.
Matt went to both places, serving the pasta that he'd cooked in not a long moment's time, admiring Mello and his handiwork with a pleased, whimsical sort of grin.
"The candles are from when the power went out a while ago," he offered, glancing at the single one between their places and realizing that it was probably weird for such a misshapen thing to be in his possession, even if it had been intact. "All right, come on, eat before the food gets cold...Princess." He couldn't help it now--he was grinning. Ever since he'd imagined Mello wearing Princess Peach's pink dress...
"Don't make me sit on you again," Mello reminded dangerously, dropping himself into one of the seats and gazing at the candles with something akin to odd entertainment. This was, after all, Matt and Mello's dinner. The corny candles and pasta were just too much. Nevertheless, the blonde was abnormally hungry, and began shoveling food down his throat faster than he could swallow it all. He would give the gamer props: it actually was good.
Matt shut up at the threat—he didn't actually mind Mello sitting on him, but he would find it incredibly difficult to eat in peace with a leather-clad blonde in his lap--hot or not.
"Geeze, don't choke," Matt warned as he ate his own cooked food—he did have to say that it was a lot better than frozen food, but to hell if he was going to be forced into performing CPR on his best friend.
Mello shot him a look, one that said 'leave me alone; I'm hungry.' Still, his pace slowed considerably, and he was able to taste the food better. That didn't stop him from finishing his first plate of food, and, after examining what was left in the bowl, scooped some more onto his plate and began to devour it again.
"I'm hungry," he reasoned between bites. Chocolate was delicious, but it didn't satiate hunger like a real meal.
Matt laughed, still eating at his snail's pace. He'd never been bothered to eat fast—even when he was hungry. He'd just eat a lot and cart it all to his room if he couldn't finish it in time, or something. He was too lazy to eat any faster than a normal person under normal circumstances. He didn't blame Mello, though, even if he himself could only stomach about two thirds of his plate. The rest, he pushed around until he made random shapes. Then, he grew bored of the game and got up to grab a couple cans of soda, placing one in front of Mello before taking the other back to his seat.
"C'mon, wash it down with something before you stuff yourself to death."
Mello complied almost immediately, popping open the can of soda and downing it in one go. Okay, he wasn't thirsty, but once he got in his tempo it was impossible to stop. Besides, he felt famished, like he hadn't eaten in days, weeks even. That just went to show how unsatisfying microwaveable food was, in comparison to food that had been made—if not from scratch, then close to it.
"Thanks," he said, being surprisingly genuine in his gratitude.
The blonde was, for some reason, horrendously funny when he was acting like a starved animal. Maybe it was just interesting to see the other acting something other than impassive. Matt smiled a little over his own soda—although, the smile was slightly mischievous. "Sure," he answered, pushing his noodles around a little more before finally flinging one across the table at Mello. Thusly, his smile widened a little, swiftly shifting to a smirk.
"Hey," growled the distracted Mello, who had enough noodles left on his plate to throw two back, resisting the temptation to stick his tongue out as he did so. It was one thing for him to sink so low as to engage in the food throwing game, but it was another thing entirely for him to stick his tongue out. He decided he wouldn't turn to that level of maturity, because hell knew he had already ruined his reputation of sophistication long before now.
Matt blocked the noodles with a napkin, the feat proving to be easy enough because he'd figured that Mello would throw something back at him. "Hah!" he snorted in the other's face, although he refrained from throwing anything else back. He didn't exactly want to turn his apartment in to more of a mess than it already was, what with the blood and computers everywhere. The pasta sauce would just make Matt thing of a deranged murder scene.
"You just had to ruin a nice dinner, didn't you, Matt?" inquired Mello sardonically, grinning before allowing it to disappear as he picked up what was left of his plate and tossed it in the trash. Eh, he had lost his appetite, anyway, and his stomach had finally caught up with his monstrous eating, making him feel rather full.
He cast a waning glance at the sack of chocolate on the counter, debating with himself on whether or not he would demolish another bar.
"Aw come on, I didn't ruin it. You just have to be a spoil sport," Matt responded, clearing the rest of the table, and, with a bemused smile, blew out the candle. He decided to pop a couple of those new painkillers to see if they lived up to what they boasted, carrying around his can of coke and daring to light up a cigarette.
"Go ahead, have one for dessert," the gamer teased as he noticed Mello eyeing the bag of chocolate.
Mello snatched a bar from the bag, peeling it and commencing to eat it slowly, as though that would fix his 'problem' of cleaning through his chocolate too quickly.
"Hmmm," he said, glaring at the newly lit cigarette. "Go outside with that." The elder knew that there was only a slim chance of him doing as he was told, but he could at least try, as he always did. Stubborn Matt...and he said Mello was an asshole.
"I just cooked dinner and you're going to make me smoke outside?" Matt protested, occupying the length of the couch and settling in it quite comfortably. He smirked a bit, blowing smoke off in some other direction that wasn't towards Mello. At least he was kind of nice about it.
"Damn right I am," Mello said, returning to the living room as well to stare over at Matt with a haughty gaze, as though waiting for the other to get up and leave. When it was clear that he wasn't going to, the blonde jabbed him smartly in the side. "Fat bastard. If you're not going to go outside, the least you could do is move over so I can sit down, too." Not that he'd stay there for very long; restless Mello would end up getting up to pace eventually.
Matt jumped a little, groaning his complaints at Mello before drawing his legs up to make room for Mello. He only did this because he knew that Mello would be getting up and about again soon, or else he wouldn't have bothered moving.
"Geeze. you could just ask, Mel'," Matt quipped at the other, rolling his eyes a little bit as he readjusted to his new position on the couch.
Mello sat contentedly, receiving that thrill for getting what he wanted immediately when he demanded. Then again, this usually was the case with Matt, because he never said no, not to the blonde. Sometimes that irked him, and sometimes that made him feel superior.
"Mhhmmm," he said dully. "And what makes you think you can still call me Mel', Matty?" Two could play it that game; if Matt was going to be obnoxious, Mello would be obnoxious right back, and enjoy every second of it.
"That," he stated pointedly, wrinkling his nose at the name bestowed on him. He wasn't so keen on hearing that—Mel' at least had the smallest shred of awesomeness—'Matty', on the other hand, did not. "And even you have more dignity than to kick a man when he's down, right?"
"Obviously, I do," Mello said curtly, making himself as comfortable as possible on the couch, which was admittedly less comfortable than Matt's lap. Go figure.
He still wasn't tired, and his restive nature probably played a role in that. That worried him slightly, because if he couldn't sleep tonight, he'd return to his bad sleeping habits, and therefore would begin to grow even more tired.
However, the chances of that happening were fairly slim, because Matt was bound to fall asleep holding Mello tightly to his chest like the previous night, just because Mello was that damn comfortable and that damn good to hold. The expletives were necessary, of course, to retain all needed badassery. He smirked at Mello's obvious discomfort, making a point of shifting his knees slightly to adequately taunt the other.
"You want to sit in my lap again, Princess?"
Mello treated him to a sneer, though was inwardly exasperated by the fact that the name 'Princess' had stuck. It was a good thing he could whip out 'Matty' when he needed to add a name to his retort; otherwise, he would have to get even with something equally humiliating.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he said, eyeing the other surreptitiously.
"Well, you are a hot blonde." Matt pointed out impishly, doing his best to not start cracking up over nothing--or at least, just Mello being a hot, blonde princess in his lap. Oh yeah.
Mello stood, staring at Matt gravely, and then stalked over, unabashed, and climbed onto the other's lap, straddling him with a smirk.
"Now you can say you've had a hot blonde on your lap not once, but twice," he said. "Hell knows you couldn't say that about all of those hookers of girlfriends you've had in the past."
He then commenced to punch Matt in the shoulder, showing little mercy. "And that's for calling me Princess."
Matt was a little surprised that Mello had taken the initiative in straddling him rather than simply plopping his ass down--but he didn't complain. He did yelp, though, when Mello punched him in the shoulder.
"Mello!" he half-whined, squirming underneath the other. "You jackass." Although, it was pretty called for...
"What?" the elder inquired innocently, but was unable to conceal that smirk that was yet again crawling over his face.
"You know, since I know you're not going anywhere today, and I'm comfortable where I am, I think I'll just stick around." He took a brief bite of his chocolate, which, since he had taken the initiative to eat slower, wasn't even half gone, whereas any other time it would be gone already. Afterward, he folded his arms, busying his gaze by pretending to be fascinated with the wall opposite him. He figured this was pretty good pay back for everything Matt had subjected him to this past week.
Matt groaned, wriggling slightly and laying his legs flat on the couch, scowling. All right, so he didn't really object to having Mello sitting on him, but he was going to bitch and groan about it because it was absolutely necessary. Besides, his legs were going to fall asleep some time. Eventually, though, he gave up and closed his eyes again, looking highly disgruntled behind his goggles.
"You're going to get uncomfortable sitting up like that," he stated pointedly, opening his eyes again to look at Mello.
"Hmmm, you think so?" Mello said. Now that he provoking irritation from the other, this was getting rather fun. Matt was right, though: Mello would eventually grow tired of his sole entertainment, but for now he would remain, polishing off what was left of his chocolate and doing whatever possible to get even. The redhead had, after all, humiliated him one too many times that day, and the past days for that matter. Mello was like a dog; he liked to establish dominance.
"Yeah, I mean, what did I ever do to you?" Matt challenged, knowing very well that he had done something or another during these past few days to merit this treatment...he just didn't remember what these things were. And hell, Mello had shot him, so he would like to think whatever small tortures he could inflict upon the other would be worthy enough of payback that he wouldn't need to have Mello assault him like this.
Mello's gauge of revenge, however, didn't work the same way that Matt's did. Being shot was not the same as being looked down upon, and since Mello had been looked down upon his entire life, getting the same treatment from Matt warranted something beyond the extent of a physical wound. Besides, he had treated that...
"You're being a douchebag," he pointed out dryly.
"I am not!" Matt protested, opening both eyes fully now, for he had been half-lidded and slightly falling asleep before. Even with Mello on him. Hell, the other's ass was keeping his hips warm, so he did have to say that he was quite comfortable, sandwiched between the couch and Mello's crotch or not.
"Tell me how I'm being a douchebag," he argued, propping himself up on his right side without so much a twinge of pain--these pain killers really did one hell of a job. It was a good thing, too, for the money they'd cost him.
"You really are a moron, Matt," sighed Mello lowly, keeping himself upright by snaking his legs around the other's waist. "Think about it. That's what got you this far, hasn't it?"
It was clear that the blonde wasn't going to give a straight answer, that was, not until he felt like Matt deserved to be spoken straight with. Until then, he would skate his true point with vague answers and constricting questions.
"Am not," Matt offered as a childish protest, scowling still as he attempted to rack his brain for what he'd done to piss Mello off as of late. Of course, he'd done a lot of things, but he couldn't think of anything off the top of his head that would merit this punishment. Awkwardly, he shifted when Mello secured leather-clad legs around his waist, preventing the possibility of comfortably lying down again.
"Come on, Mello, you're being an asshat on purpose now."
"Yeah, I am," said Mello flatly. The thing was, he would take revenge on people even if he didn't want to divulge his reasoning for said revenge. It was an inside kind of thing, to where if it made sense to him, it was an acceptable reason to be a douche. However, thinking of his true intentions of torturing Matt, he realized that he didn't feel like explaining.
Matt groaned and leaned back as best as he could, because, even with the pain killers, the strain that he was putting on his muscles was really starting to get on his nerves. He was silent for a couple minutes before he turned to look at Mello with a roguish smile. "Think if I kissed you again, I could figure it out?" They both knew that Matt's mother's reasoning was bull shit for a child's brain, but Matt couldn't help but ask. That just meant that Matt was asking now for the sole purpose of the thing itself, which, though it didn't really assuage Mello all that much, coaxed that smirk to broaden. As it was in the redhead's nature to kiss hot blondes on his lap, it was in the elder's nature to egg him on.
"Maybe," he said airily.
Matt was game for that, but he wasn't going to give in so easily. He did, however, manage to sit up completely, careful not to dislodge Mello from his precarious place.
"Yeah? What are my chances?" he questioned, playing along with this whole game that they were finding newly established.
"Well, I never did succeed L," Mello said. Despite the fact that he was joking, there was a certain bitterness in his tone. Still, he played the game expertly; after all, he was the one who had encouraged it in the first place. "But I'd say your chances are..." He paused in mock thought. "Ninety-five percent."
These were bullshit figures of course.
"Oh yeah?" Matt stated pointlessly, although the words did give him the chance to inch his lips just a smidgen closer in tantalizingly slow time before he brushed them against Mello's. Still playing the game.
"Mhhmmm," confirmed Mello, tensing up at the contact. Sure, he had been kissed once before by the other, but that went by quickly and painlessly, whereas this game was dragging on longer than intended. He exhaled sharply, before finally catalyzing the events by meshing their lips together.
Matt knew that he was being a horrible person; prolonging harsher contact with tiny ministrations that were enough to drive any person up the wall. So of course, it was terribly fitting that he subject Mello to them, he who was impatient as fuck. Really, as well as Matt knew Mello, he should have at least expected some semblance of impatience coming from the other—but the blonde taking the initiative completely caught him off-guard. Nevertheless, he had his reputation to hold up as a kisser, so he shucked aside all manner of shock and quickly kissed back.
Now that Mello wasn't being tormented by the other, and had gone through with the point that their little game was intended to end with, Mello felt that it was appropriate to draw away, and maybe get up as well. But he didn't. Whether his aim was to annoy Matt (which he probably wasn't doing in the first place) or something more self-oriented, he kept put. Hell, he even opened his mouth a little.
Matt, on the other hand, had what you called insatiable carnal hunger--that, or just plain 'he was a horny git'. He could say that he was trying to seek meaning in this or whatever, but that wasn't true. In his defense, though, he didn't necessarily want to get into Mello's pants or anything...he just wanted to kiss Mello and mean it. By hell, he did. Shattering the barrier between friendship and whatever else was in the great beyond, Matt's tongue slid forth across their lower lips before daring to cautiously venture farther.
If anyone else had tried a move like that on Mello, he would have punched them off of their seat.
Matt, however, was a different story for some reason that the blonde didn't know and didn't want to know. So his mouth opened wider, tongue reaching out hesitantly to meet the other's.
Matt's head was wandering away into the clouds now. That, or it was just slowly storming over into a big black nothingness that he couldn't quite handle--it made him want to a.) kiss Mello harder, or b.) break away. Of course, he had felt this just two seconds beforehand, so…he figured...why not. It couldn't hurt, could it? And Mello, for the most part, seemed to be pretty willing. Satisfying himself over the qualm that he might be forcing anything on the normally assertive blonde, Matt kissed his friend full on and hell, he enjoyed it.
Though he'd never admit it, this was the first real kiss he'd ever had, and if he'd ever before been told that it would be with Matt, he'd have laughed his ass off. Or maybe shoot that person; it depended on his mood. Now, though, he wondered why the hell he hadn't done it before. It put a whole new spin on the term 'friends', though he knew he'd never really considered the redhead a friend in the generally accepted sense of the word.
But that was to be worried about later, when he wasn't currently occupied by the foreign invader in his mouth. Once he had gotten used to the sensation, Mello sought to establish his place as the dominant one, pressing harder against the other, taken by this sudden newness.
Throughout this, Matt concluded that Mello...tasted like chocolate. He tasted like chocolate and a damn virgin of a chocolate bar too--not that you could tell who was a virgin kisser and who wasn't by locking lips with them, but Matt generally figured that Mello would go for it first, even if it was with him—so he was willing to venture a guess that Mello a.) hadn't kissed anyone in a while b.) hadn't kissed at all, or c.), was generally weirded out by kissing Matt.
However, with the fact that the other quickly pushed forward and took control of the situation, Matt abandoned all his ideas and just settled on the fact that Mello was a damn good kisser, and if he hadn't done it much before, he certainly was a natural. In a few seconds, though, he broke away by just a half inch or two--he needed to breathe. There were those who could breathe through their nose while kissing, and Matt wasn't one of them. Or at least, he didn't want to, because it just felt weird and animalistic.
"I taste like nicotine," he reminded the other, smirking between breaths.
Mello's breaths were ragged, because he had forgotten about the need for breath during their little session. Now that he had recalled his human necessities, he felt like he was about to pass out, and immediately thought of his chocolate when they had broken away.
"You know," he said, though the thought of snogging Matt while the other had smoked only moments ago was still repulsive, "I don't give a shit." It wasn't as though he tasted phenomenal; it was just the feeling itself that superseded every notion of revulsion.
Matt laughed—he hadn't been expecting to hear that from Mello, the one who was so completely repulsed by his smoking habits. He was slightly put off by the idea of kissing Mello—maybe because he was finally succumbing to those sorts of feelings—he'd...well. When you were wholly devoted to someone the way Matt was, to skirt around them and be wary of their temper all the time and to never hug them or hold them—basically, to be left to your own devices with such a strong feeling just…it really messed with you.
Now that he'd just kissed Mello, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. All he did was lean forward slightly, his head coming to a rest against Mello's shoulder.
"You okay? Don't die on me now." He questioned casually, his lips sneaking upwards again, curious for another taste of fueling his desire—carnal or not.
"Yeah," Mello said fiercely, though he didn't know exactly what he was agreeing to. The only things he detected off the bat were those things that were familiar to him, since he had just been introduced to something totally new. The gamer coming back up for more was something he noticed, oddly enough, and he sought to meet the other halfway.
Matt wasn't so tentative this time—hell, he was close to ravishing Mello's mouth for the answer to all his whims before the other could take over again. He didn't like to think too much before, during, or after a kiss, but he was finding that his mind was absolutely reeling. He had to try very hard to keep focused on the moment, despite the fact that the moment was definitely something to be focused on.
Mello, though, was absolutely gone.
He was beyond thoughts, feelings (besides the ones that were tracing infinitesimal patterns in his gut, making it even more difficult to breathe than usual), or any knowledge all. Kira? For all the blonde could comprehend, he didn't exist. Near? Fuck him. He probably wouldn't have known that Matt existed if he wasn't here now, tasting the other, sensing him under his insensitive fingertips, which had anchored themselves on his shoulders.
In due time, though, Matt pulled away again--this time for both breath and his sanity. He was subjected to slow, heavy breathing against Mello's chest, his fingers latched somewhere at the other's ribcage. He had been at Mello's leather-clad hips, but his hands had slipped higher to prevent any inappropriate activity. He felt slightly faint—although he wasn't sure if that was from the sheer insanity of kissing Mello, or the fact that he seem to have deleted the option of 'breathing' from his mind.
"Do you want me to get off now?" the blonde inquired, quite seriously, because if left to his own devices he may just sit on Matt some more, because this thought was most definitely not objectionable in the current delusional mind of Mello. He watched black splotches dance hypnotically in front of his face, which had been conjured simply by the lack of breath, and maybe partially by lack of sense.
"No, then I have to move," Matt He pointed out, seeing as he was, indeed, leaning against Mello and still ardently clutching to him like his very life and mind and body depended on it. That, and he was quite comfortable. Mello wasn't heavy in the least bit—probably because Matt's legs now lacked circulation--and he was warm besides. The leather also was a weird, slick texture beneath his fingers, and quite frankly, he liked to hear Mello's fervidly beating heart in his chest. At least the other wasn't impassive to this.
"Well, then," Mello said. "I have good news."
He blinked a few times, blonde hair dusting his face with its golden tips, having been abandoned and left to hang in front of his face. He didn't mind so much, but the pleasant warmth that Matt had begun to be had evolved into a sticky heat, which, no matter the circumstance, didn't sit well with him.
"I'm sufficiently exhausted. Good job." It was true; he felt like dropping off to sleep right there.
"Yeah?" Matt commented, sounding amused. "You have no stamina. I can't imagine how bad you must be in bed."
Trust Matt to come up with something like that. He nudged Mello slightly, leaning back and feeling a stuffy heat rise in his system that, oddly, hadn't been there when he was just as well fastened to Mello.
"Come on then. We'll head to bed before you pass out right here," Matt warned, letting go and leaning back against his right hand to let Mello up.
"Shut the fuck up," Mello murmured, but had no desire to argue any farther than that. He detached himself from Matt and stood slowly, forcing himself to stand fast to avoid swaying on the spot. He had never felt this weak in his life, and to be honest, it kind of scared him. Still, he kept himself upright waiting for Matt before heading straight to the bed. Not even bothering to discard his boots, the male threw himself roughly onto the blankets.
Matt was wary of the pins and needles racing up his legs and the fact that he felt like he was going to keel over and die at any given moment. He would blame that on the painkillers and Mello's intoxicating kiss—hell, both of them gave him a run for his money.
Ordinarily, Matt didn't like sleeping with his shoes on, but when he showed up a moment or two after Mello, he crawled into bed and only barely managed to throw his goggles off to the side before burying his face in a pillow.
Geeze. He just kissed Mello.
Mello just kissed him.
Fuck it, they just made out.
Perhaps if Mello had enough strength to stay awake for awhile longer and think, the way Matt was doing, he would be fathoming along the same lines. Just because he was asleep when he hit the pillow didn't mean that he still wasn't bothered by all of this.
That was probably why he dreamed of it all night, that hum that usually rose in the back of his throat silenced by strange images of Matt...yet none of those nightmares about Kira or Near surfaced in his mind. He didn't know who to thank for that.
Matt, despite his tire, laid in bed for a while—a long while. He wallowed in the heat of his sheets and clothes—eventually shucking his shoes and shirt to opt for the cooler air of the room on his bare skin, his blankets lay to waste beneath him. He was drowsy but wide awake all at once—the sluggishness in his veins from the pain killers begged him to go to sleep, but watching Mello and listening to him just lay there and breathe enticed him to stay awake. Finally, though, he fell victim to a restless, conflicting slumber—the kind that he hadn't had in a while, actually.
Not since Mello left.
--
Mello was tired as hell, and yet he still woke up in the middle of the night, finding himself wide awake and unable to ease himself back into sleep again. He cast a look at Matt, regarding him as if watching would determine everything. Unfortunately, it didn't, and a sudden craving for chocolate reminded him that he had abandoned his earlier bar during their kiss. An odd feeling gripped him as he recounted this, but he shrugged it off so that he could properly find his way into the living room and pick up the bar, which was left exactly where he had remembered it.
Matt, still impeccably in tune to whenever Mello woke up and got out of bed, stirred and propped himself up just a few moments shy of when Mello did. Figuring that maybe Mello was hungry or something, Matt slid out of bed without bothering for his shirt again—it was still ridiculously hot. He wandered out to the living room and smiled faintly to see that Mello was just after his chocolate.
"Cravings wake you up again?" He teased, idly sticking his hands into his pockets.
Mello turned his gaze over to the other, chewing on the chocolate wantonly before taking a few measured steps back toward the room. He could at least try to get some more sleep...
"You could say that," he said, resisting the temptation to yawn, and preventing it by shoving a good majority of the leftover chocolate bar into his mouth.
The male was vaguely aware that he was still wearing his boots, but didn't bother to take them off, even if he did plan to go back to bed. It was just an unnecessary effort.
Matt gave the other a sort of half-grin before meandering back into his room, waving a hand unguidedly at Mello.
"Well, try to get some sleep, Mel'," he pointed out, like the other wasn't thinking that already. You couldn't blame him, though--it was equally, if not more, likely for Mello to wake up and stay up all night than it was for him to go back to sleep. The gamer proceeded to crawl back into bed, lying flat on his stomach for once. The pain killers did just about that—completely killed the pain. Matt relished in the feeling, closing his eyes, but waiting for Mello to come back.
After a moment's hesitance, the blonde did just that, returning to the bed to sit on the side of it, dangling his legs off as he devoured the rest of the chocolate, crumpled up the wrapper, and then toss it on the floor. He'd get it later...if at all.
After his dedicated task of seeing to the rest of the sweet, Mello slid onto the bed, stretching himself out upon it like a particularly indulged cat. It wasn't the most comfortable of places to sleep, but he amazingly found himself slipping off again.
Satisfied that Mello was going to stay put for the rest of the night, Matt's mind wandered off to lala land again. The thought of edging up to Mello and chancing falling asleep close to him again crossed the gamer's mind, but he decided to heed his better senses. Sneaking up to Mello would a.) be too hot, and b.) could result in some bodily injury. After an interesting turn of events, Matt was slightly concerned that the other would be more unpredictable now than ever. But he could be mistaken.