A/N If I owned Mello, Matt, or Death Note, we'd all be in a parallel universe in which there exists a Life Note, which could bring people back to life, and the guys who I KNOW no one wishes died (you know who I mean) would all be alive, kicking, smoking, eating candy, wearing leather and no socks….yeah you get it. The Life Note was not my idea.

Nothing too graphic (excluding some language) in this one.

That's not the point XX; ; The point is, I hope you enjoy this :)

Matt loved the holidays. I don't get it, but I could see it in him. Someone who doesn't know him well probably couldn't see the difference in his behavior, but I guess when you know a guy for literally a lifetime, you pick up on some stuff. Like how he replaced his cigarette with a candy cane every time December 24th rolled its white self around. And…uh… how he was currently walking in the apartment with a giant dead bird.

"Matt…" I groaned from the couch. My laptop was heating up the leather on my lap in a very pleasurable way as I did some work on the fricken Kira case that was ruining – no, actually, that was my life. "Why the fuck are you carrying a turkey? If you're getting tired of canned soup and pasta, you should have ordered Chinese or something."

He grinned back at me.

"No way in hell, dude. Not this time. The turkey's gotta defrost before Thursday." I'd say the grin lit up his face, but it didn't need to. His goggles were perched amid his snow-dusted hair, exposing his pale pink cheeks and shining eyes. The weirdo was actually glowing.

I don't get him, I swear.

"Why do we have to bother with a turkey? There's only two of us, for Christ's sake, Matt, d'you think we can finish a whole damn bird? How much can you eat?! We're gonna get fat, you idiot." As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I had just made myself into a huge hypocrite. Matt looked at me, eyebrows raised. Both of us looked to the three foot pile of chocolate wrappers beside me on the couch, then to my admittedly barely-twenty-five inch waist.

"For some freakish reason, weight and appetite don't seem to have that 'when one grows so does the other' effect on you," he chuckled through his cigarette. "You should be making the most out of that, instead of wasting it on chocolate!" Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow.

"If I ever hear the words waste and chocolate escape that stupid smoke-filled mouth of yours again…" My hand shifted to the corner of the cushions which we both knew concealed a fully-loaded revolver. Matt laughed as he walked into the kitchen and set down the turkey.

"You're going to have a happy Thanksgiving, Mello. Your first one ever." He strode back into our tiny living room, unbuttoning his vest and laying it on an armchair. He looked at me with his head tilted to the side for a second, a weird yet familiar look in his eye. It was the look he got whenever he was trying to figure out exactly how to maneuver a tricky move in Halo 3 or something.

"What the – hey!" The next thing I knew, he had sprung at me, clicked Control+S on the Kira case files, and slammed the laptop shut on the floor. This all took place within a matter of seconds, and it somehow ended up with Matt replacing the laptop below my stomach. "You have negative zero seconds to get off me," I growled up at him. Now he was pinning my wrists to the couch and grinning even more.

"No," he said briefly, and I could tell he meant it. I struggled against him, but the truth was, sitting around and eating chocolate didn't give me much of an advantage over his inhuman hand-eye coordination, despite his puny lung capacity. "And negative zero doesn't exist, Mel." Goddamn it, if my gun was in reach and he was ANYONE else…brains would be raining down in my version of autumn's red. But he wasn't anyone else, and the gun was burrowed beneath the couch cushions. I took a deep breath.

"I know it can't just be my good looks," I scowled, blowing a few blonde strands out of my eye, "so why are you so determined on this?"

I was a little taken aback to see genuine confusion and compassion soften Matt's teasing face. It also kinda took my breath away – though I'd never admit it – how good he looked when he was all cold and pink and, well, on top of me.

"Look, every holiday season, you mope and whine and kick the Macy's Santas and eat chocolate bars while everyone else gets into the spirit." I couldn't deny that. "And every year I just watch you and don't do anything about it." He shook my wrists slightly, and I was about to kill him for it, but then I saw this stupid faraway look in his eyes. He was smiling again, and it was such an honest, child-like smile that I just couldn't bring myself to smack it off his face. "Maybe it's cuz you never had a real holiday, or a real Thanksgiving, for that matter! Well, you know what? Neither have I. But all that is about to change. Now I can actually make a Thanksgiving dinner and decorate the apartment, and in December I actually have the money to buy presents. So this year, I'm gonna."

We were very quiet for a few moments after this, as I stared up at his ecstatic expression, framed by the hair falling gracefully past his eyes. There was something else in that face. It kind of looked like…desperation?

And it dawned on me. Yeah, maybe this year he wanted me to have a great holiday season or whatever. But this was for him too. It was true; we never really had much of a Thanksgiving at Wammy's or anyplace else. He stuck by me…and I guess it's because of that that he hasn't been able to have much of anything "normal". So maybe I owe him one of these stupid holidays. Hell, the guy pretty much gave up everything to get wrapped up in this fucking insane world of Kiras and crime. It might be time to throw him a bone…or, in this case, a turkey leg.

"Matt."

"Yeah?"

"If I let you 'enjoy the holiday' and escape unscathed…will you get off me?"

His body relaxed from the tense position I hadn't been aware it was stuck in, and a devious gleam sparked in his eye. I knew that look – he was about to push his luck

"Will you help with the mashed potatoes?" He actually sounded hopeful! Eh…why not give him a break. Just this once.

I let my chin tilt into my chest in a nod. Matt flew off me, his smile morphing into a full-on beam.

"YES! Oh jeez, thank God we're gonna get to lighten up this place a bit!" He ran into the kitchen. "Aw man, there's so much to do! At least these yams come with instructions – hey Mello, what exactly is a yam?" Matt's voice echoed cheerily.

I sighed and pulled my laptop back into position. Tuesday, it read. Two more days til Thanksgiving.

What had I just gotten myself into?