Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note. Duh.

A/N: I was definitely listening to The Outsider by A Perfect Circle for the majority of this chapter. It was a fitting song to write to. I had a lot of fun with this chapter, once I figured out what was going on and figured out why Matt (for once, it was him and not Mello) was refusing to cooperate with me. I think I may start writing longer chapters - this one seems to flow pretty well, rather than being chopped off close to 1,000 words. Anyway, enjoy, and sorry for the (once again) slow update.

Chapter 15: Outsider

I couldn't remember falling asleep, but I must've, because when I woke up, I could see sunbeams starting to creep through the half-open door, and my arms were still around Mello, who was curled up against my chest, still fast asleep. I was also cold, presumably because the blankets were bunched up at the end of the bed. I started to sit up to grab them, but my left arm was pinned under Mello, so I couldn't get far.

Mello grunted in his sleep as I moved, then shifted a little closer. If I didn't know better, I would've said he was cuddling. It was cute. …Not that I'd ever tell him something like that. I cautiously put my other arm around him again. He slept on, looking content. I smiled and closed my eyes again. Screw it – I would just go back to sleep and wait for him to wake me up.

As it turned out, that didn't take as long as I'd expected. It was only seconds later that I found myself being shoved off the bed and onto the floor by Mello, who seemed to have woken up enough to register that I was in his personal space. I felt rather bruised from that landing, on both my pride and my butt. I was also rather annoyed, since I didn't appreciate being shoved off the bed by someone who moments ago didn't want me to get up to grab the blankets.

To his credit, Mello looked a bit sheepish as he looked over the edge of the bed at me. "Sorry. Are you okay?"

"Fine." I sat up, pulled my goggles over my eyes, then stood up. Yeah, I felt bruised. "How'd you sleep?"

It was hard to tell though the orange, but Mello seemed to turn slightly pink. "Better." Before I could say that was good, he hopped out of bed. "I'm going to go eat," he informed me, then headed into the kitchen.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to make sense of everything. I decided to think in the shower, since my hair could use a scrub, judging by the feel.

* * *

When I got out of the shower ten minutes later, Mello was sitting on the couch, several laptops spread before him on the coffee table. I could tell from a distance that one of them was the one that was linked to the SPK system. Another looked like a news website, and I couldn't identify what the third one was. Curious, I made my way to the couch and leaned on the back of it, reading over Mello's shoulder.

It was a minute before Mello noticed me. "…Matt, what are you doing?"

"Reading," I said, studying the news report on the screen. It was in Japanese, so I couldn't just skim. Though I wished I could, because there was an awful lot of waffle in there between actual bits of information. "I haven't been staying on top of this."

"You're not getting involved," Mello said, looking at me with a warning in his eyes, "so you don't need to keep on top of anything."

I shrugged, ignoring the warning. "I want to help. I don't think this is something you want to take on solo."

"Matt." I looked at him, glad that my goggles insulated me somewhat from the glare he was directing at me. "You are not getting involved." His tone of voice clearly meant that this discussion was over.

Not that tone of voice would ever stop me. "Backup's always good to have."

"What part of 'you are not getting involved' did you not understand?"

"Um, the part where you're telling me I can't get involved? Because from what I can see, you don't have the high ground on that issue."

"Matt! This isn't a game! If you get into this, you could get killed!"

"Yeah, I got that. You could get killed, too, but that's not stopping you." I returned my eyes to the Japanese article on the laptop.

Mello slammed the laptop shut. "I am not letting you get yourself killed in this!" he snarled. "So stay out of it!" He gathered up the computers, stood up, and went into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

If he thought I was going to let him end the argument like that, he was mistaken. I crossed the room and pulled the door open again. "Mello, I just want to help you. You can't say you don't need someone to watch your back."

He spun around. "I don't need help! Get out!"

I abandoned my position in the doorway and walked into the room properly. "Mello, I get that you want to make your own way in this. I don't want to stop you. I just don't want you getting yourself killed in the process, okay?"

"The fact that I could die is all the more reason for you to stay out of it! I'm not going to let you get hurt! Dammit, I won't let you get killed watching my fucking back!"

By that time, I was reaching the point where I was more focused on winning whatever argument this might turn into than sticking to my original guns. Of course, years of dealing with Mello told me that if I could win one argument, he would temporarily give up and I could regain the ground I'd lost when I'd gone off course. So I shrugged. "Fine," I said, but before he could look properly triumphant, I continued, "I'll just do it on my own then."

Mello went from triumphant to enraged in roughly two and a half seconds. "No you won't!"

"It's my right as much as it is yours. You can't stop me."

"Just watch me!"

I spread my arms and walked closer until I was right in front of him – all the better a target to hit. "What are you going to do? You can't stop me."

"Don't push this," Mello snarled. "Stay the fuck out of it. You don't know what the hell you're doing, getting into this."

"Mello, you can't win. There is nothing you can do to stop me."

That was calculated to make him flustered and force him into trying to out-yell me. When that stage was reached, I could usually win. But within moments I realized that I had miscalculated. Badly. I had left the painkillers out of the equation, or the pain, or something else that I had missed entirely. Whatever the case, Mello was certainly angry, but he didn't start yelling.

He socked me in the face instead.

That sent me staggering back a few steps. Fuck, he could throw a punch. Of course, the last time I'd been punched with any intent to injure was when I was about eleven, and it hadn't been Mello. As a rule, Mello never did anything more than smack the back of my head when I was being particularly stupid. Once upon a time, he used to send anyone who punched me like that running for the hills. And I could see why. That fucking hurt. …Which pretty much shot his 'I don't want you to get hurt' argument to hell. It also really pissed me off. I wasn't going to let him win this on sheer shock value.

Unfortunately for me, I never had gotten the hang of fighting. That was Mello's territory, and he proved it when he caught my kick before it connected and used my own momentum to send me flying across the room. I hit the wall next to the door hard enough to see stars. I dizzily wondered exactly what the point of this fight was, but that took a backseat in my mind to figuring out how to win the fight. …Not that I could see a way to do that. It was pretty clear by then that the best I could hope for was dignified failure, which I was perfectly okay with. I wasn't so competitive I couldn't walk out on this.

Well, I wasn't competitive enough to keep fighting, but I was mad enough to flip Mello the birdie before I turned and walked out the door. It certainly made me feel better about walking away.

It apparently didn't give Mello nearly the same emotional satisfaction, though, because I'd barely gone two steps out the door when he tackled me from behind with enough force to slam my head into the – thankfully carpeted – floor. My first instinct was to push myself up and throw him off me, but he was a step ahead of me. Before I could even think of reacting, he'd grabbed my left arm and wrenched it up behind my back. "Do what I tell you and stay the fuck out of this!" he growled.

I forced myself to ignore the pain in my arm. "Fuck you. I'll do what I want."

Mello twisted my arm further. "Stop fucking contradicting me to be difficult! You are not going to get into this! You'll end up dead!"

That was the last straw. If he was going to be like that, fine, but I wasn't going to let him lie to me about it. "Yes, your concern for my health and safety is really touching, especially now." I turned my head as far as I could, but unfortunately couldn't glare at him. My goggles blocked my line of sight. "Stop fucking lying to me. If you don't trust me not to fuck it up on you, fine, just don't give me some bullshit about wanting to protect me."

Mello was still for a few seconds, then the grip on my arm loosened. "How can you think I don't trust you?"

"Well what the hell am I supposed to think?" I snapped. "You're quite obviously not trying to keep me safe. I'm just a liability who doesn't know what the fuck he's doing! You say that, then ask me why the fuck I think you don't trust me?"

He released his grip on my arm. Then, before I could collect myself to try to throw him off, he smacked me in the back of the head. "I let you take care of me in the weakest state I've been in, drugged enough that I can't see straight, much less think straight, and you think I don't fucking trust you?"

"It's not like you had much choice," I spat back. "And I know you're going to walk out again as soon as you think you can make it on your own again!"

I couldn't see Mello's face, but I knew I'd hit the right nerve with that. "Yes. Because this isn't your fucking war, Matt. I'm not dragging you into the line of fire. I'm trying to protect you."

"How the fuck are you being protective right now?" I yelled, finally getting my arms underneath me and shoved myself off the floor, which sent Mello rolling off me. I backed out of range before he could pick himself back up off the floor.

He didn't pick himself up off the floor, though. He just sat up and looked at me. His eyes didn't look as cold as I'd expected them to. "I'm keeping you out of a war that you could get killed in."

"And when you get killed? What then?"

"You'll be safe."

I felt like I was starting to run out of steam, and judging by his tone of voice, Mello was too. "What's the point of me being safe if you're dead? What's left to live for?" I couldn't believe I'd said that. It had been out of my mouth before I'd had time to stop it. Stupid.

But Mello didn't call me on it. "And what am I going to do if you die?"

I blinked behind my goggles. "Then you won't have to worry about me anymore."

Mello fixed me with a look of…disbelief? No, horror. Then, after a moment, he looked away. "So. You really think I see you like that. You really think that I'd be okay if you died."

"Well, you'd be more okay than I would be. Than I would be if you died, I mean."

"No!" Even his exclamation wasn't enough warning for me to avoid being tackled once again. Mello locked eyes with me through orange lenses, holding the front of my shirt in a death grip so I couldn't push him off again. "I would not be fucking okay if you died! You have no fucking idea!"

That confused me even more than I already was. "So what did I get wrong, then?"

"Nothing." He put his head on my chest. "There is nothing wrong with you."

It occurred to me then that I had no idea what was going on anymore. All I knew is that Mello sounded like he was almost ready to burst into tears, which was alarming in and of itself. I wrapped my arms around him, hoping that would calm him down. It was pretty clear to me by then that I'd read Mello entirely wrong.

"I don't want you to die," he said quietly, voice muffled.

"I know."

Mello relaxed his death grip on my shirt and went limp, face still buried in my chest. "…Don't die," he said after a minute, sounding very small.

"I'll try." I started rubbing soothing circles on his back, not sure why, but hell, at least it was something. "Don't you die either."

"…I'll try." His tone told me that he didn't truly expect to survive this. I hugged him tighter, not wanting to lose him.

It was a few minutes later that Mello finally said, "If I let you help, will you let me keep you safe?"

"Yes." In truth, I'd forgotten the original argument that had started all this. I supposed I'd won. But it didn't feel like a victory. It felt like we'd both recognized our death sentences.

"Thank you…"

Mello sounded tired. For a minute I considered asking him to let me up so we could go somewhere more comfortable, but I knew if I did that, I'd lose this moment. So I just laid there and let him fall asleep, still holding him tightly.