AN: Most of this is random drabble: planning, travel, fast food and chocolate shakes... Enjoy anyway.
For Near fans, he will actually show up later, even though he's barely mentioned at first. Be patient.
Besides the soft clicking of the keyboard as slender, back-polished fingers moved across it, typing quickly and perhaps a little too aggressively, the room was silent, the only light coming from the gently glowing monitors of the two widescreen laptops trailing dozens of wires over the edge of the coffee table.
The pale blond was typing away madly at one, his face illuminated from below in a rather eerie glow made all the more forbidding by the firmly affixed scowl which flickered as new windows popped up bringing changes in the monitor's brightness. A wireless headset was buried underneath the thick mass of golden hair, the microphone peeking out on one side, right next to his mouth where occasionally the blond would give a sour mutter or two and continue banging away at the keyboard.
The other monitor bore a plain white screen sporting the bold Old English font letter N and trailing a wire leading to the headset as well.
Mello glanced down at the corner of the screen where the clock was annoyingly reminding him that it was two in the morning while his body reminded him he hadn't slept in nearly twenty-four hours. Useless thing, sleep. He had no time for that. He had always hated sitting still and had trouble falling asleep since childhood.
Maybe all those small amounts of caffeine in chocolate bars had built up over time until he was on a constant caffeine high.
Or something.
Tongue flicking out over his half eaten candy bar thoughtfully, Mello ignored the time and opened the new attachment Near had sent him, sorting through the mass amount of passwords and guards to get to the content that would allow them safe and easy passage to New York tomorrow.
Today.
Dammit. Viciously biting into the dwindling Almond Hershey's bar, the blonde's frown deepened, fingers moving ceaselessly upon the keyboard.
Clearance for guns, transportation of his bike, Matt's car, his further arsenal of weapons and explosives. Papers for a new apartment, a free lease, insurance. Fake identification, real identification, secret police identification, all kinds of crap of that sort. All the stupid beaurocratic red tape sort of shit he hated dealing with when working with Near's organization.
Growling some more into the mic, Mello took his hands from the keyboard for a few seconds to crush the plastic chocolate wrapper in aggravation. But just as he was about to hurl it onto the floor, he remembered suddenly that he had made Matt clean earlier and it was stupid to dirty the place again.
So he shoved it under the couch cushion and continued his string of verbal abuse at the one who was actually helping him despite the blonde's eternal state of prickishness, though amazingly the usually raucous vulgar comments that resulted from conversations with his white-haired childhood rival were strikingly absent.
After all, Matt was asleep and the other half of the couch, DS still held loosely in his hand, his goggles pushed up onto the top of his unruly hair, snoring softly in a steady rhythm.
At another time, Mello would have told him to get his lazy ass up and give him some space but today he had merely scooted to the edge after throwing a somewhat moth-eaten blanket over his sleeping comrade.
The clock ticked off another hour but Near still insisted on giving him more and more work, things to wire, papers to fill in, documents and other crap to read so he would be "well-informed" this time around. As if Near hadn't called him earlier that day to tell him to drop the case. As if this had been his plan all along.
Mello gritted his teeth but put up with it silently for once--except for a few muttered 'choice' words and a couple of hissed threats, anyway.
But before he knew it the sun was peeking through the missing chunks in the blinds and he was barely shutting down the hundreds of goddam applications he'd been juggling thanks to that stupid wanna-be albino brat.
He wasn't sure if he fell asleep after he shut off the computers or if dragging his scrawny ass to the bedroom to collapse onto the lumpy mattress for what seemed about an entire minute even counted as anything remotely related to the usual practice of sleep, but overall his only thoughts as he groggily lifted his head off the pillow at the sound of Matt's voice from the kitchen was that whoever thought of the phrase "catch a few winks" had certainly done no such thing and was as full of shit as the person who said "no dessert before dinner."
When his call elicited no response from the bedroom, Matt glanced at the clock and decided he could afford to give Mello another five minutes before he needed to go in and make sure the blonde was up. The brunette frowned slightly in the direction of the bedroom. He had no idea when his friend had gone to bed, but when he'd woken up somewhere around four in the morning, there'd been Mello, sitting in the exact same spot as hours before, and continuing to diligently type away. It was a wonder the blond had even managed to make it to the bed at all.
Taking a short reprieve from the task of packing his things, Matt stepped into the kitchen and began to put a pot of coffee on. From the looks of it, Mello was going to need it, and although obvious he'd gotten more rest then the blonde, he wasn't exactly an early riser himself.
After a few minutes of letting the coffee heat up, he carefully poured a cup into a large ceramic mug, being sure not to fill it up all the way. Once this was done, he grabbed two chocolate bars from the fridge, placed them inside of the mug, and stuck them into the microwave until the machine beeped at him, informing him that his concoction was ready. Pulling the hot mug out of the beeping contraption, he placed it on the table to cool off a little.
Taking another peek at the clock, he knew that if he delayed any more in waking his friend there was a chance they'd miss their flight. He knocked on the already slightly open door with a gloved fist.
"Hey Mello. Time to get up." Then with an afterthought added, "Coffee's on the table." Before proceeding back to finish his packing.
Bleary blue eyes peered over the edge of the bed as Matt came in, bending over his suitcase and systematically cramming in what seemed to be a minimal amount of clothes and a large mass of wires and electronics. Unfortunately, the sight only reminded Mello that he himself had not yet packed and he was forced to push himself out of bed with a massive and utterly dismal groan, too tired to sound angry, the sound mostly just depressed. He sat up, one side of his hair sticking up at an odd angle to give Matt a rather unfocused look, realizing slowly the brunette was gesturing and saying something. Mello blinked, eyes focusing finally with just a little trouble on the object of Matt's rather self-satisfied smile.
"You...packed for me?" he managed finally, half confused. When the hell had Matt even had time for such a thing? Unless he had done it before dinner... Whatever, thinking was not working at the moment.
Pulling himself out of bed with some more disgruntled moans and groans, the blond shuffled barefoot into the kitchen, sniffing the steaming cup waiting for him on the table. He wasn't a huge coffee fan but this thing smelled more like Hershey's than Starbucks so he grabbed it and shuffled back into the bedroom to commence wandering around trying to find articles of non-leather clothing since he vaguely remembered the last time he'd worn his usual outfit on a plane, everybody had assumed he was a terrorist or something.
And somebody had thought he was a woman.
At that thought, finally the familiar annoyed sensation that he had grown so accustomed to constantly lingering in the sidelines started to wake him up and he took a large gulp of the drink, only to gasp and splutter at finding the rest much hotter than the first few sips had seemed.
After that, things pretty much went about as smoothly as ever and Mello was once again energetically raging around attempting to locate his left boot amid the piles of games and collectible figurines Matt had dumped on the bedroom floor to "pack," in the meantime berating the brunette with questions as to precisely what he'd packed into Mello's own bag while managing to look oddly half-mad and grateful at the same time. Then, after much ruckus, as was to be expected, they hurried out of the house and had to speed madly to get to the airport in time.
The blond sat stiffly in his economy seat on American Airlines, his usual sour expression plastered on his face mixed with a sort of greenish tint as the plane quivered and veered upward.
Ugh, he could handle plane rides usually, but Mello absolutely loathed taking off and landing. It was just the sensation of this weird diagonal movement in this trembling and whirring metal death trap that made him the slightest bit uncomfortable, was all. Once they were up and the world was steady again, he was fine but now...
With a grimace, he glanced down into the pocket of the back of the seat in front of him, sincerely hoping he didn't actually have to use the little paper bag he saw sticking slightly out of it betwixt old magazines.
He groaned softly, mumbling, "Why Economy, Matt? First class never shakes this much..."
Grimacing in response to a particularly violent jerk of the plane, the brunette responded with a brief shrug.
"At least I managed to get window seats." He answered in a rigid voice. While he didn't exactly have any issues with flying, the take off was never his favorite experience of the ride. Having a window seat helped, at least a little.
Matt wasn't too picky about many things, but that was one thing he absolutely insisted on. If he was on an airplane, he had damn well better have a window seat. He couldn't stand the middle seats, being squeezed next to dozens of strangers, rowdy children, sick people hacking all over the place. It was suffocating.
He'd done it once, sat in a middle seat that is. It was when he'd come to LA for the first time, right after he left Wammy's. Ending up sandwiched between a much too friendly overweight woman and an obnoxious whiney child had taught him his lesson. The window seats were two to a row, and even if he did have enough misfortune to get stuck next to someone insufferable, at least he wouldn't be surrounded on all sides.
Just give him a window seat, and his DS and he'd be fine on any trip.
Another jerk made him grip the seat handle before the plane slowly began to even out and he could the feel his breathing regain a steady rhythm.
He pulled two small green pills that he'd stowed in his pocket earlier, and swallowed them. The gamer had never dealt well with pressure changes, and didn't want to give his head or ears a chance to hurt later.
Satisfied that he'd done what he could to prevent later discomfort, he took a minute to stare out the window at the checkerboard world below. It was surprisingly green. He lost interest when the lines of the checkerboard began to blend into everything else, and reached an arm up massage his neck. Mello had the seat closest to the window, and twisting his head around the blonde to get a view made his neck ache.
Though tired before they had taken off, the gamer found himself unable to fall asleep. It wasn't like he didn't want to, but considering the former occupation of his best friend, not to mention everything that had gone down with the Kira case, he'd made it a habit of not falling asleep anywhere where he could be caught off guard. It wasn't like he didn't trust Mello to watch his back, but it was now a habit that couldn't be broken. Besides, and he grinned at the thought, if something were to happen, it would probably be best if he were awake anyway. Mello wasn't always the most rational person, but more the type of person to shoot first and ask questions later. Or more likely shoot first, pistol whip, shoot some more, and then maybe, if he felt like it, ask questions.
Chuckling to himself, the brunette pulled his DS from his carry on pack, and began to diligently do what he did best.
And he'd be damned if was going to let that silver haired, one winged, freak, beat him one more time.
Mello stared out the window, his expression still rather tight-lipped and pale, but as the plane reached its desired altitude and stopped shaking so much, he did feel a bit better and began to dig around in the travel bag on the floor between them to pull out a couple chocolate bars which he stowed in the pocket in front of him, taking one for now. He munched on it, watching the ground below grow smaller and thinking how very ridiculous the world looked from up here, like a giant and badly-sewn quilt of greens and browns. Everything seemed so tiny and insignificant, so powerless.
He decided, as the scene began to be obscured by a white misty blanket, that he didn't like it and was glad the clouds had hidden the view that reminded him so unpleasantly of his own fragile humanity.
Somewhere toward the front of the plane, a baby was crying but though it would have usually set him off on a muttered ramble about how much he loathed the sound, Mello almost didn't hear it this time. He didn't know how long he sat staring blankly at the thick white canopy surrounding the plane, carefully mulling over what he had to do when he arrived, listening absently to the soft clicking and beeping of Matt's game. At one point he had a mass of maps and diagrams laid out on his lap, but after a while he began to feel sick again and realized they were landing to switch flights in Texas.
That meant he'd have to suffer another taking-off in a few hours.
Trying not to gag as the plane shuddered and rumbled to a stop, Mello shoved his stuff back into the bag and turned to Matt with a grimace.
They should probably get something to eat, Mello thought vaguely, since --if he remembered correctly-- the next flight was a little over 4 hours, but food sounded incredibly unpleasant right now. Still...
Sounding resigned, the blond questioned tiredly, "How long 'til our next flight?"
Glancing at a wall of clocks, Matt found the one that corresponded to their time zone, then scanned his ticket briefly.
"Looks like we have about an hour and a half."
Great. Just enough time to not do anything at all productive. Just as the thought crossed his mind, his stomach gave a loud growl, causing him to amend his thinking. That is, just enough time to grab a bite to eat.
Sweeping his eyes around the airport, it took him a minute before he found the 'Food Court" sign.
He placed his ticket back securely in the pocket of his jeans before turning to his friend.
He wasn't exactly sure why he did it, and looking back on it, it was kind of a risky thing to do, but one minute he was about to ask Mello if he wanted to get something to eat, and the next second the gamer had asked him something entirely different.
"So, why exactly are we going to New York?"
He regretted the question almost instantly.
Well, damn.
It wasn't as though Matt expected the blonde to shoot him just for asking the question, but he really hadn't meant to ask it. Sure it'd been on his mind since Mello had first asked him to get the tickets, but he thought he'd pushed it far enough to the back of his head so that it wouldn't bother him.
Apparently not.
Gritting his teeth at his own carelessness, he internally cursed himself.
Even if Mello didn't want to answer the question, the worst that could happen was that he could get pissed and tell Matt off. No, the gamer had no problem with that. What he did have a problem with was Mello thinking for one second that Matt didn't trust him. Because he did, he really did. He knew Mello would tell him in time, and as soon as necessary, and he also knew that the blonde had a good reason for going to New York, even if he didn't tell Matt what it was.
Damn his moronic curiosity.
"You know what? Forget I said that. You want to go get something to eat? I'm starving. I really hope they have something good to eat here. I remember this one time I got some food from an airport McDonalds that made me sick for like a week. It was disgusting. Okay, so lets not go to any McDonalds. What are you in the mood for? I bet we could find somewhere with chocolate shakes, though you should really have some substance first."
He prattled on, hoping by some Miracle that Mello would forget his initial question.
The blond gave him a sidelong glance, frowning, but more in a thoughtful than angry way.
"Well, I certainly can't stomach anything greasy right now," he growled. Actually, he wasn't sure he could stomach anything really, but he'd have to try because the thought of suffering through a four-and-a-half hour flight hungry seemed worse. They rode the escalator up toward the food court, debating food choices some more and deciding to split up and meet back at a predetermined table.
Mello wandered around for a bit to settle his stomach, eyeing the neon signs apprehensively. Mostly fast food, and that sounded terrible. He spied an Italian place that seemed okay but then the sushi bar caught his eye and he decided that a bit of rice and fish--cooked probably being best-- was probably the least sickening-sounding option right now.
Balancing the tray on one hand and scowling around at the noisy food court, Mello finally spied the goggled gamer and headed to join him at the table, then proceeded to spread papers with scribbled notes and maps and diagrams all across the table, slumping in his chair as he began to examine them while steadily shoving rice and unagi into his mouth.
"Matt," he mumbled thoughtfully around a bite, never having been one for observing the "no-talking-with-your-mouth-full" rule. He glanced up at the gamer for a moment, then frowned back down at his papers., Matt's earlier question coming to mind. He had held off from telling him on purpose. After all there was no reason for him to get involved but... Perhaps it would be best to tell him the minor details at least. After all, if something were to happen and Matt were completely ignorant, he would probably be rather useless.
Absently tugging at the collar of the black turtleneck he wore, the blond continued without lifting his eyes from the mess of papers on the table, some of which now sported small spots of soy sauce or rice grains.
"I need to get back at the bastards who escaped from me earlier," he declared in a rather malicious tone, "They're planning some bombings of major chemical plants and some factories in the New York area, but most importantly, they left me in the goddam sewers of LA and need to be taught a lesson." Not bothering to explain more in words, Mello shoved a couple of charts of buildings and some scans and profiles at Matt. "You don't really need to get involved," he continued roughly, shooting a glare the gamer's way to prevent him from getting any ideas of whatever sort about interfering in the blonde's personal vendetta. "They're mine."
Matt looked up at Mello's strong gaze, half surprised that his friend had brought up his earlier question, and half having expected it. He was surprised though.
It was not what the former mafia boss had said that made him feel like he'd been socked in the gut, no, it was how he said it. It was the furious determined look on the blonde's face and the cold tone of voice that caught him off guard. They were awfully familiar, and entirely out of place.
He'd never seen them in conjunction with anyone but Near, and right now, they were certainly not directed at the pale faced boy Mello so loved to hate.
No, now they were directed at someone else, someone he didn't know anything about, and he found that damn well unnerving.
Near he could handle, Near he was used to, Near he knew. Near was safe. Safe for Mello that is. Mello, Matt knew, though he would never on his life admit it, had some kind of unspoken respect for Near, and regardless of what he said, the gamer knew that given the choice, he would not wish the younger boy dead. A little maimed maybe, but not dead.
But this person, this other person, or persons whoever they might be, had a warrant on their head, and while Matt could care less about some idiot who was likely deserving of every malicious act Mello wished to do to him , he did care about Mello.
If the look on the blonde's face was any indication, Mello wouldn't back down until he felt his vendetta had been fulfilled.
And if Mello hated this person, whoever they might be, so much, he was going to handle the situation much in the same fashion as he handled Near.
Recklessly. Recklessly, and over emotionally, and way too heedless of danger.
And that scared the hell out of Matt.
If Mello had wanted to keep the gamer out of this, then telling him this much had been a bad idea, because there was no way in hell he was going to stay out of it now.
Not that Mello needed to know that.
So when Mello gave him that look that clearly said, 'stay the hell out of this.' And told him not to get involved, the brunette nodded and gave a grunt of confirmation, but, and he swore this to himself, he would do everything he could to watch his best friend's back. He'd just have to find a way of doing it without letting Mello know.
Mello gave a satisfied nod, finishing his food and leaning back in his chair. Perfect. He smiled inwardly. Of course, always the same reliable Matt with that overprotective fire in his eyes that Mello had come to depend on so much, but like hell he was ever going to say it. Good. He knew, of course, exactly what Matt must be thinking. And inwardly, he knew exactly why he'd just given Matt his plans, though of course he would never in all his days acknowledge such weakness aloud.
Not that he planned on needing to be bailed out, of course, the blond reminded himself fiercely. No, but it was still good to know he had a backup plan of sorts.
In a way, he almost felt guilty, knowing he was kind of manipulating Matt. But at the same time, he also realized it wasn't quite the same. No, there was another word for what this was, this silent bond between the two childhood friends, but Mello couldn't quite bring it to mind right now. He didn't really use sentimental words too often, of course...
Lounging back in his seat and putting his ankle up on his knee in a comfortable position that seemed more suited to the couch at home than to a public food court, Mello flashed a sly smirk at the gamer.
"Where's that chocolate shake, Matt?" he demanded, though not harshly. "Or were you lying?"
Content with the knowledge that he would do everything in his power to keep his friend safe, Matt went along with the change of subject, even allowing a small smirk to slide onto his face. It also helped to know that Mello had understood the question was asked out of curiosity, and not a lack of trust in him. Mello knew him better then Matt sometimes thought, He shook his head to himself. Maybe he didn't give the blonde enough credit.
"I spotted a place that sells them over that way." He replied in answer to Mello's chocolate craving, the smirk still present in his voice. He motioned with his arm in the direction of their destination, and rose from the small table where they had been sitting.
Grabbing both of their garbage, he dumped it in a nearby trashcan, and returned to stand at the end of the table.
"We should probably get the shake and then start heading back to the gate. We've still got plenty of time, but It'd be better to get there a least a few minutes early."
The gloves he'd discarded earlier to eat were pulled back on, and he stood waiting for the blonde to join him.
Mello, who had been under the impression he was sending the gamer to fetch him the desired refreshment, looked a little taken aback, then scowling pushed himself up, brushing off his silky black pants.
"Sure," he grumbled out. "Back on the goddam plane we go. How thrilling." The exceedingly bitter, dry sarcasm in his voice made a couple people glance over, but it only took one withering glare in their general direction before the crowd sort of shifted nervously out of the way of the two young men.
The blond followed his companion to the smoothie/shake shop, still wearing the same surly expression which had been keeping the crowd ahead of them parting a bit to let them through, but he seemed to brighten up a tiny bit when Matt handed him the chocolaty drink. Sipping at the thick beverage, Mello contented himself with trailing a little behind Matt toward the gate and peering into the shops as they passed by. Other than a large box of Belgian chocolates that Matt was eventually able to lure him away from, though, nothing of interest caught his eye and they boarded the plane again without happenstance.
Predictably, Mello's calmness disappeared along with the chocolate shake and he was back in his aggressively annoyed mood as soon as they got back on the plane. There was a very short argument over who got the seat closest to the window this time, but Mello quickly won out as Matt had the sense to take back his suggestion that it was probably his turn this time before Mello began to shout.
Mello settled himself in the airplane seat with his general sour expression, hissing under his breath about how small the space was and how his legs weren't comfortable and the seat was hard and countless other complaints as if he weren't the one who had suddenly decided to take the flight. Matt, of course, merely took out his DS and proceeded to pretty much ignore the blonde's usual grumbling.
Eventually, the plane began to rumble and move forward on the runway and Mello's irritated mutters ceased as their ride lifted off the ground.
Regretting he had ever eaten, it took all the blonde's concentration to try to forget he was on a sickeningly shaking metal box of doom, which-- thankfully for those around him-- left no time for him to actually voice all of the curses running through his head. After a while, and after the turbulence had stopped a bit, he settled on staring blankly out the window again and going over his plans for the next day. More like the rough sketches of Near's suggested plans, which he very grudgingly admitted to himself were probably a better starting point than his original "find them and massively kick their asses" idea.
Still, he had worked out most of the details and--despite what most people seemed to believe of his pre-planning abilities--had thought through a possible path of action, including escape routes, methods of apprehension, perhaps even local police involvement. After finding out that the men he sought had rather substantial bounties on their heads, he had concluded with immense satisfaction that after maiming them properly, he would turn them in and gather the hefty sums and then buy himself a chocolate factory. Well, maybe not the last part for now, since there were things like living expenses and gas money to look after as well, he supposed. Although they were rather trivial when compared with buying out Hershey's.
Eventually, delicious thoughts of owning Hershey's or Nestle pushed away strategic planning and the boy's azure eyes began to lose focus, slowly closing as the exhausted blond slipped into much-needed sleep. His slim body slumped gently in his seat and another short wave of turbulence caused his sleeping form to fall a little to the right until his pale face, looking almost shockingly content, was unknowingly nestled in the soft fur decoration on the shoulder of Matt's vest.
Surprised by the sudden weight on his shoulder Matt looked over to see the sleeping form of Mello resting against his left side. He ignored the beeps of his disregarded game as his eyes were inexplicably drawn to his friend's face.
It was funny that someone as coarse and vicious as Mello could look this calm and serene when asleep. The constant scowl that seemed to be permanently etched onto the blonde's face was gone, only to be replaced by a tranquility that it seemed Mello no longer had the ability to produce in his waking hours.
Dragging his eyes away from his friend and to the endless blue skies that flashed past their window, he remembered the days before life was so complicated. Before Mello stopped smiling, and before Matt shut himself away from the real world. Before a psychotic teenager decided to play God, and kill their hero. Before the two friends were separated for an entire six years.
Back to when they had still been children living a simple life and going to school. Yes, perhaps their childhood hadn't exactly been normal or what one would call simple, what with the two of them being abnormally intelligent orphans enrolled in a school where being number one meant succeeding the greatest detective known to the world, but even then, life had been so much less complicated then it was now.
It may not have been perfect, but it was good. They laughed, they cried, they didn't spend weeks trying to right the wrongs of the world. It was a selfish thought, Matt knew, but it was how he felt. After all, he'd never really been into the whole 'succeed L' thing. No doubt he'd admired the guy just like every other kid at the orphanage. L was a hero, he was their hero. And while the rest of the world knew his name and reputation, the kids of Wammy's knew him, and though they knew of his amazing deductive skills, and brilliant mind, to him, he was not L the genius. No, he was L, the teenager with messy hair, and big curious eyes that always came to visit. L who talked to them about things like what kind of cookies were the best, and how the economy of Japan looked to be doing. L who understood them.
Certainly Matt idolized him like everyone else.
He just didn't want to be him.
He wanted to be Matt, He'd already given up on being Mail Jeeves.
But he'd never thought being Matt would be so stressful. Though he guessed, that was probably just a part of growing up. Even if he and Mello had been 'normal', they still would have had to face the real world sooner or later, if only to a lesser extent.
Still he couldn't help but wish for the more pleasant times of their childhood. He missed it. He missed L and Watari, and he missed Roger, hell, he even missed Near. Then again, he didn't really hate Near, so much as he hated what the younger boy did to Mello. There had even been a brief time shortly after he had arrived at Wammy's, and before Mello had come when the gamer had even considered Near his friend.
At the time they had been numbers one and two after all.
He glanced at the blonde sleeping silently at his side and gave a wistful smile.
Then Mello had come and changed everything.
He wondered for a second, as he watched the steady rise and fall of Mello's breathing, what it would have been like if the three of them had gotten along, Matt, Mello, and Near that is. If instead of being the two of them, they had been one complete team of three. He tried to picture it, but couldn't. The idea was probably too foreign even for his own imagination to ponder.
He did wonder though, if he'd reached out to Near, if he'd really tried to be his friend, if perhaps things would have been different. If Near would have been different. Near was just so…closed off. It was like the white haired boy was broken. It wasn't unusual or anything, they were orphans after all. Half of the children that came to Wammy's were broken. But with Near, Matt couldn't help but feel like he was silently calling out for help.
And while Matt in no way felt responsible it just bothered him knowing that maybe he could have made a difference. Then again maybe he was giving himself too much credit.
It was how he'd felt Near was as a child of course, not anymore. The crying voice had been silenced long ago, before it had ever even been vocalized.
Matt laughed at the direction his thoughts had taken him in.
He was pretty sure if he had been normal he would have ended up a teacher or youth counselor or something. Despite his lack of interest in saving the world, he seemed to have some kind of weakness when it came to wanting to help kids. Because Near had been a kid when all of that happened, and really he still was.
Matt realized he'd been lost in thought for longer then he'd expected when he felt the downwards tug of the plane beginning its descent. Bracing himself, he gently steadied Mello's body with his arm, knowing how much the blonde hated landing, and hoping he would have the luxury of sleeping through it. It was only when all of the plane's wheels hit the ground and began to coast that he nudged Mello gently in the side and informed him of their arrival.
Eyes the color of the clear sky outside fluttered open slowly. The blond didn't move for at few moments, blinking groggily in the light, clearly not understanding at first where in the world he even was. Hell, the last he remembered, he had been the proud owner of all the world's chocolate industry...
After a few seconds though, Mello became aware of something soft and warm propping him up and sat up in alarm. "Shit, I fell asleep!" he realized, blinking at Matt in slight confusion. ...wait... no way. Glaring in the opposite direction quickly, the blond began rummaging under his seat for the travel bag. He had barely had time to realize it, but now he was sure. He'd fallen asleep. On Matt. What the hell?
Not that he thought Matt minded particularly, it was just that... He hadn't really done that in a long time. In a VERY long time. Not since they were very young and at the orphanage when they used to sit around drawing or playing games and then as the evening wore on, one of them would usually end up pretty much passing out on the other in happy exhaustion.
But those days were long gone. Mello had basically avoided much human contact since then. Even with Matt.
True, they were forced to share a bed occasionally, but never actually touched. It was incredibly strange and almost awkward thinking about it. Sometimes they fought and punched. Sometimes they even slapped each other on the back in congratulations or encouragement. But it had been a very long time since Mello had been able to relax like that, especially in a public place. Usually, if he slept anywhere other than his own bed, it was only a worrisome half-sleep full of uncertainty and visions of enemies lurking in the shadows, guns glinting ominously.
But now, Mello realized slowly as he pretended to be organizing his papers while they waited for the crowd leaving the airplane to thin, this time, he had actually had... a pleasant dream. Those didn't happen often. Certainly not when he never should've let himself fall asleep in the first place! He had so much work to do still and who knows what kind of people could've been on that plane with them, and there he was, frikkin' sleeping like some little kid.
Appalled, he realized suddenly he might've even drooled on Matt!
And then, for the first time in what seemed like forever, the blond burst out laughing, and not the usual barking, sarcastic laugh of recent years. For the first time in ages, he actually found himself incredibly and sincerely amused and just snickered softly as he shoved the papers back in his bag.
The thought, alien at first, now seemed so very reasonable. After all, if he were going to fall asleep anywhere, there was nobody else he could ever do so in the presence of. There was only one person he trusted unconditionally to watch his back no matter what.
And, with a lopsided little smile as he glanced out the window and across the runway toward New York City, Mello realized he had remembered the word which had escaped him at lunch.
The word he was trying to think of earlier when he had seen that protective fire in Matt's eyes and had known that no matter how badly he screwed up, the brunette would always be there to save his sorry ass.
Trust.
He could always trust Matt to pull him from the flames.
Standing up and shouldering the travel bag, Mello proffered a black nail-polished hand toward the boy who had never failed come to save him from the wreckage of his own recklessness.
Matt wasn't sure which surprised him more, the sound of Mello's honest and unburdened laugh, a sound it seemed he hadn't heard in years, or the hand now held out, waiting for him to take. He also wasn't sure which of the abnormalities caused him to break out into a full on grin, but grin he did, as he grasped the blonde's hand and allowed Mello to help him to his feet.
It was as he stood there grinning like a fool, and trying to decipher exactly what had happened to Mello to make him so, well, so happy, when the thought hit him.
Maybe, things could get better.
He released Mello's hand as he grabbed his own belongings above the seat, and the two began to make their way out of the plane, and out of the airport.
Stupid as it was, the idea had never occurred to him, that perhaps the way they were now, the way they had been left after the Kira case, well maybe it wasn't as permanent as he thought. Maybe they could heal, and move on with their lives.
The more he thought about it, the more it became obvious, and he wondered when on Earth he had become so pessimistic as to believe that things could never change. Perhaps his wish for the happiness of their youth wasn't completely in vain.
Yes, of course it wasn't.
Mello had laughed. Not the cruel malicious laugh of recent years, but the authentic and genuine laugh of someone happy. If the blonde was still capable of such an honest laugh, then of course things would get better.
Of course it would take time. They would not wake one day to find themselves rid of the scars of the Kira case or the shadows of their pasts, but they could slowly, and together, overcome it.
And as long as Matt could hear Mello laugh like he had just a minute ago, he didn't doubt it could happen.
There was evidence enough in the warmth radiating off of his hand, despite the cold weather into which the duo had emerged.
Stopping as they came to the curb of the airport, he turned to Mello, maniacal grin still plastered onto his face.
"So, where to?" he asked, genuine curiosity evident in his voice seeing as he honestly had no clue as to where they were headed.
The dark-clad youth gave a small start, apparently having completely forgotten what he was supposed to be doing here in the first place and began to rummage around in his pockets.
"I had an address somewhere," he muttered, finally procuring a wrinkled wad of notebook paper from his pants. "It's an apartment owned by the SPK so they're paying our rent." That last part was still growled through gritted teeth, but didn't seem nearly as malicious as such a sentence may have at other times. Apparently, even Mello, who professed to hate Near more than anything else in the world, could grudgingly admit some small inkling of appreciation, if only by keeping his voice down where usually he would've probably shouted.
"So... guess we'll get a taxi then," he mused aloud. "The bastard should be sending our vehicles by tomorrow morning, probably sometime during the night. A taxi driver would certainly know the place better too," he admitted, leading toward the pick-up area where a line of yellow cars stood waiting for potential customers. He glanced at the darkening horizon with a small frown. "Damn time difference," he mumbled, breath misting in the winter air. "And goddam cold!" he added, rubbing his hands together briskly and heading to the nearest empty yellow taxi, the sharp clicking of his boot heels against the concrete punctuating some more muttered curses toward the biting evening breeze.
Mello dived immediately into the front seat of the heated interior of the taxi, showing his winkled little paper to the driver while Matt was left to load their bags and suitcases and then slide into the back seat silently. The blond gave him a glance as if to make sure he was safely in, then haughtily ordered the driver to go.
The ride took about half an hour, which could have been disastrous had Mello remembered he didn't particularly like car rides or small spaces, but as soon as the car had pulled out of the parking lot and gotten on a large road lined with silver, ice-covered trees and fields blanketed with snow, the blonde's eyes were glued to the window. Having lived in Southern California for the last few years, it had been a very long time since he'd last seen snow and he found the sight rather pleasant, at least as long as he was out of the unfamiliar cold now.
Other than one or two instances where Mello had gotten angry other stupid cars on the road and tried to do some side-seat driving, much to the apparent annoyance of the taxi man, the ride went without occurrence and they arrived at a decent-looking apartment block in Manhattan. While Matt made sure to pay the driver--and give him a rather weighty tip for putting up with Mello's road rage-- the blond boy set about unloading and dumping their stuff on the curb, his energetic manner probably inspired by a sincere wish to get the hell out of the cold as soon as possible.
Leaving Matt with to tend the bags in the front desk lobby, he disappeared in the manager's office for a short while. Some sort of minor altercation drifted through the door, but eventually Mello returned with a key for each of them and a satisfied smirk. The manager, though only very slightingly connected with Near, came slinking out and disappeared somewhere in the back of the building to recover from the shock of Near's most aggressive rival storming into his office to demand information on all of the white haired boy's "schemes" regarding this place.
Pale face still a little flushed from the cold, Mello led the way to the elevators, muttering the number of the room to himself so as not to forget, and held the door open for Matt--loaded like a pack mule with everything but the small travel bag Mello was still shouldering-- to slip through.
Happy to give his arms a break, Matt gratefully unloaded his burden onto the pale apartment carpeting.
Giving their temporary home a once-over, the brunette quickly came to realize that Near had spared no expenses when it came to what the two would be needing for their investigation, or rather, Mello's investigation. Though, despite the blonde's reluctance to get the gamer involved, Matt knew that Mello would still be requiring his help when it came to any kind of hacking or video surveillance. Near obviously figured this out as well, as was shown by the three computers already set up on a short desk, as well as two that remained on the floor, and one laptop that sat neatly on their new bed. Under the desk of the three computers Matt could also see the familiar forms of a port scanner and a root kit.
Well, he was impressed. It seemed he wouldn't need to go out and buy too much in order to get their systems up and ready.
He flopped down lazily onto the bed but cringed when the feel of his head meeting the pillow aroused a dull ache. Sighing, and rubbing his temple with one hand, he realized he hadn't had a smoke in more then twenty fours hours. Certainly something he had done before, but not exactly a pleasant experience.
Reaching a hand into his pocket for a much-needed cigarette, he was dismayed and upset to remember he had none left. He frowned, annoyed at his stupidity to have forgotten to buy a new pack. He resigned himself to go out as soon as Mello deemed they were settled in enough, and sighed wearily as the mere knowledge that he would not be relieving his cravings for at least a few hours just seemed to make his head hurt all the more.
Reluctantly sitting up, and feeling the throbbing in his head worsen a bit more, he ignored the pain and began the time consuming task of setting up their computer system. He glanced up at Mello out of the corner of his eye as he began untangling multicolored wires and hooking them up to the various machines.
"Hey, you mind if when I'm done with this, I head out for a bit?"
The slim blond glanced over for a second from the large metal cabinet he was rummaging through at the back end of the living room, hefting a .33 Tokarev in his right hand, testing weight and balance. He gave a noncommittal grunt and shrug, then disappeared again into the fully-stocked weapons arsenal, trying not to let himself remember who had provided it... and how he was just letting himself be used by the little bastard who was living his life as goddam 'new L.'
Resisting--with some difficulty--the urge to let loose the loaded cartridge into the nearest piece of furniture, threw the gun back onto its rack and continued checking the others in a rather aggressive manner with much clattering and banging of metal.
"Turn the heater on, Matt," he barked, suddenly noticing the cold as he scowled at the .45 in his hand. "And when you go out," he added in an undertone, "Make sure to get me chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate."
Maybe that would put his mood swings to rest for a little bit at least, he thought dryly.
Hopefully.
Probably not.
Not as long as he was living under a roof provided by the person he hated most in the world. Hell, it hadn't even been an hour since their arrival, and he was already regretting this. How could he just let himself be used by Near like this? Even if the younger boy was 'helping' them, he was helping them help him...
But still... Ugh! Goddam conscience! What a troublesome thing, this stupid guilty feeling as if he owed the world something, as if it was his duty to capture criminals in some lame-ass attempt to maybe, in a twisted, farfetched way, redeem himself or atone or something...
Unable to suppress the need to let the overwhelming frustration out in some sort of violent manner, Mello suddenly twisted around to kick the metal cabinet as hard as he could with the bottom of his right boot, the heel leaving a satisfyingly deep dent in the metallic surface.
"Shit, you know what, Matt?" he growled out, clenching his fists at his sides to prevent himself for reaching into the weapons cabinet and taking out his frustration on his surroundings. "Go get me that chocolate now."
Matt didn't question, just grabbed his wallet and was gone. Even if he hadn't had a massive headache from nicotine withdrawals, the tone of Mello's voice was more then enough motivation to get him out of the apartment as quickly as possible.
As he left the apartment he closed the door gently, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to himself. Especially since Mello had been inspecting his newly acquired arsenal.
Checking his pocket to make sure he had remembered his key, he began to make his way towards the apartment complex exit when he realized he had no idea where to go
He stood in thought for a minute trying to decide what to do. The idea of walking around a few blocks and getting to know the place didn't sound too bad until he remembered the temperature outside. Probably not the kind of weather conducive to his meager jeans and thin gray long sleeve shirt. (He had discarded his usual vest when he'd begun to wire the computers and forgotten to put it back on in his hurry out the door) Even inside the building he could begin to feel the cold seep through the thin fabric.
Veering in the opposite direction, the gamer made his way to where he remembered the front desk to be. When no one appeared to be there he rung the tiny gold bell and waited. For one minute. Then two. Then five.
"Hey, Excuse me?" he shouted in the direction of the office behind the front desk, irritation evident in his voice.
After some noises of shuffling and another minute, a middle aged man finally appeared behind the desk. It seemed he was quite flustered and somewhat annoyed to have been disturbed.
"Yes?" The clerk voiced with undisguised annoyance written across his sagging face.
Matt grinned brightly at the clerk, completely aware of the man's sour mood, and reveling in it. He really hated people who were rude for no reason. They just pissed him off. With a somewhat downcast outlook, he realized it was going to take a while to get used to the new level of rudeness that New York's reputation so proudly claimed. So far they were living up to it.
He opened his mouth to ask where the nearest market was, but stopped short. Initially his plan had been to ask directions, but now that he had obviously annoyed the guy, he figured it might just be safer to ask for a map, and changed his question accordingly.
Map acquired, he was lucky enough to find another guest in the lobby able to point him in the right direction. As it turned out there was a 7-11 not too far away. Thanking the guest who had helped him, he made his way out of the door and was immediately assaulted with a gust of icy cold wind.
Cursing his memory to have forgotten to bring a jacket with him downstairs (It was New York for God's sake!) but not wanting to risk Mello's anger if he returned to the room without said blonde's chocolate, he trudged onwards, glad at least that his boots were water resistant, or in this case actually snow resistant.
It took only five minutes for him to make his way to the convenience store, but for all his body warmth said, it had felt like hours. Stepping into the warmth of the heated store he pulled off his gloves and tried desperately to rub some feeling back into his frozen fingers.
Well, he was sure he would never EVER forget his jacket again. He didn't even bother to figure out which chocolate Mello wanted, instead grabbing about five of each kind and ending up with a grand total of thirty something chocolate bars.
He grabbed a few packs of cigarettes, enough to last him the rest of the week (assuming Mello didn't do anything to almost get himself killed, in which case he could consume the same amount in only a few hours) and made his way to the register.
He ignored the look the cashier gave him, what with his cigarettes and thirty-seven bars of chocolate. He paid and stopped in front of the store exit, savoring his last few seconds of heat before plunging back into the below zero weather outdoors.
The way back was faster, probably because he half ran.
Damn. He really didn't want to get sick, but he could already feel himself shivering.
Glad for his good memory (well, when it came to some things…) he recognized the apartment building and sprinted the rest of the way, only stopping to stand just outside of their door. Waiting a few minutes to catch his breath, he graciously lit up one of his newly purchased cigarettes and sighed in relief as the familiar taste put his mind somewhat at ease. As he opened the door and walked in, he prayed that Mello either wouldn't notice or wouldn't, for once, care about the smoke. Matt really didn't want to smoke outside,
He temporarily pulled the addiction from his lips, not exactly trying to hide it, but not wanting it to be in his mouth when he spoke, and informed Mello that his chocolate was on the table, before making his way back to his earlier spot on the bed, and pulling one of the blankets up over his legs.
If he wanted to be any help to Mello, he definitely could not afford to get sick, and judging from the way his hands were still shaking from the cold, he hadn't exactly gotten off to a great start.
The blonde took a second to disentangle his limbs from the mass of wires protruding from the computers and other electronics he'd surrounded himself with and sprang up, making a mad dash for the table and tearing open the first cold little rectangle his fingers reached. The raw frustration and anger simmering in the pit of his stomach seemed to subside a little as the chocolate bar met his sharp front teeth and its demise and Mello sighed, turning his gaze back toward the living room floor. In the short time it had taken Matt to run his errand, Mello had managed to cover most of the floor with maps and charts. There were also a few suspiciously boot-shaped marks on the wall and a couple of semi-automatics spread out ominously on the kitchen table in varying states of disassembly.
Skulking back toward his 'workspace,' the blonde stole some pillows off the couch to make himself more comfortable when he plopped back down into the Mello-shaped clear spot amid the paperwork, munching on his chocolate with a semi-satisfied little smirk.
For a moment he wondered where the hell Matt had gotten to, but that thought was quickly forgotten. He had his chocolate now, plus a few hours' sleep, and his mind was working much better finally. He had the info and the intelligence, now he just had to put them to use.
It didn't take as long as he'd thought. Granted, he was just double-checking everything he'd already worked out last night, but it still surprised Mello how much more productive a bar of chocolate had made him. Well, at least that's what he was going to attribute this to. Certainly it wasn't Near's input or his scouts and maps and times.
Checking the corner where the computer's watch always portrayed the time, the blond realized it was getting pretty late. New York time, anyway. His stomach grumbled in response to the hour, even though it was technically supposed to be early evening. Stupid time difference.
"Matt!" he called, propping himself up on his elbows to look around from his position laying on his stomach in the middle of the living room. "Did you get anything for dinner?"
There was no answer and the blonde frowned, sitting up. He could've sworn the brunette hadn't left again. Probably had his stupid headphones on, letting those damn games rot his brain again.
"Yo, Matt!" Mello called again, a note of impatience in his voice. "Get your ass out here!"
Sitting up at the sound of his name, Matt groaned as the world seemed to come rushing up to meet him. He steadied himself with a hand against the bed and after a minute of confusion realized he'd just been asleep.
Damn, he hadn't meant to fall asleep, he'd just wanted to get some rest, not to mention warmth from the covers of the bed. Glancing at the clock and gawking at the time before he remembered the time difference, he realized he had no clue how long he had been asleep. He hadn't thought to check the clock before, and a combination of jet lag and being out in the cold had him too disoriented to distinguish for himself. For all he knew it could have been anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours.
Holding his hand out in front of himself he was pleased to see that he had stopped shaking, and sprung from the bed with a stretch.
Only to have to catch himself when a wave of dizziness caused him to nearly keel over onto the floor.
Ughhh. So maybe he wasn't doing as well as he thought. Now that he stood he could feel a dull throbbing in his head, that had nothing to do with withdrawal systems. Reaching a hand up to massage his temple, he was surprised at the temperature of his skin. Oh well, he had wanted to warm up. It was nothing a good night's sleep couldn't fix and he was sure he'd be fine in the morning.
At Mello's second and somewhat more annoyed summons, Matt managed to drag his aching body, (and now that he thought about it, he wondered why it was aching seeing as he hadn't done anything to make it feel that way…) to the door, only having to pause twice in order to orient himself.
He opened the door slowly, and stood there, supporting his body with the door frame and hoping whatever it was that Mello needed didn't require much movement.
Or any at all.
"Yeah, what's up?"
"Did you get anything for dinner?" Mello repeated in clipped tones, giving the gamer a disapproving glare. "Jesus, Matt, it's only a three-hour difference... it's only 6 o'clock for us. Why the hell were you sleeping, you lazy ass?"
Matt gave a noncommittal shrug while wracking his brain. Was he supposed to get dinner? Damn, he couldn't remember.
"Just tired, jet lag, you know…" he trailed off. He wanted to make his way to a chair, but was scared that if he left the support of the wall he might not be able to walk straight, and so stayed in his spot.
The blond sat up a little straighter, squinting at his friend and frowning a little. "Jet lag?" he questioned, arching an eyebrow. "That's pretty sad, Matt, if three hours can make you look like that."
He pushed himself to his feet, yawning widely, and resumed frowning at Matt. "Forget it," he growled after a while of the brunette merely blinking at him in a bit of a confused fashion. "I'll go. Jesus, Matt, are you hung over?"
Despite the fuzziness in his head, Matt snorted.
"Right, Mello, and when exactly would I have had the time to get wasted?" He had, after all been with the blonde for the last twenty four hours straight. No time for getting sloshed in between.
He did his best to walk over to a chair without falling down, and did surprisingly well. He sank down into the chair gratefully and lay his head down in his arms, wishing he were in bed.
Mello eyed him warily as he tugged on his thick leather jacket and gloves, the annoyance in his blue eyes slowly being replaced by something vaguely reminiscent of concern.
"Hey, Matt, are you ok?" he called, peering at the gamer from the kitchen where he had decided to grab a chocolate bar for the trip. "You look like shit. Did the airport crap-food get to you again?"
When there was no response, the blonde edged closer, the look in his eyes becoming one of definitive worry. "Matt? Hey, look at me when I talk to you, you bastard. Where's the nearest place we can get some food?"
The gamer lifted his head to meet Mello with weary eyes. Ugghh. He really hadn't wanted to get sick, but he knew that the spinning sensation in his head was due to a fever. He grumbled curses at himself before answering his friend's question.
"There's a Seven-Eleven about three blocks east of here, and I vaguely remember seeing some fast food place in that direction. I think it was something to do with burgers."
As an after thought he added with an ironic smile, "And Mello, if you're planning on walking, wear a jacket. It's kinda cold." He then promptly allowed his head to thunk onto the table once again, hoping to drag himself to the bedroom after Mello had gone.
He was pretty sure whatever he had would go away after a good night's sleep, and he intended to get as much rest as possible.
"Well, duh, Matt," the blonde snapped, zipping the jacket he was already wearing. "Any idiot would figure to wear a jacket when it's goddam snowing outside!" He prodded Matt in the arm. He frowned suspiciously, suddenly understanding the note of sarcasm in that last comment. "Hey, don't tell me... Aw, shit, Matt! You dumbass!"
Mello sighed, shaking his head at the sheer idiocy. "You picked a hell of a time to be sick, you jerk," he growled out. What if I need you tomorrow? But he didn't voice that last part and merely let another sigh escape his pale lips, tossing the chocolate bar down onto the table by Matt's head.
"That'll make you feel better until I can get you some Tylenol," he grumbled. After all, it always made him feel better no matter how shitty he was feeling. "Fing dumbass," Mello repeated, turning away. "I'll be back in a few minutes, got it? I'm locking the door." Yeah, as if it matters. Still, he felt as if it was something he should say when Matt was looking so... defenseless.
Though he was sure Mello hadn't wanted him to hear the slight worry in his voice, Matt heard it anyway, and it made him want even more to get over this stupid fever.
He remembered the blonde's words about his timing, and sighed into his arms. Mello was right. They'd just gotten to New York, and Matt was sure Mello was going to start on his case the next day. Recalling his thoughts from the airport, the brunette growled a little in frustration. He had to be in condition to help if something went wrong.
With these thoughts passing through his head, he wasted no time in sitting up and dragging himself to the bedroom and burying himself under the comforter on the bed. Hopefully, with any luck, he'd be doing better in the morning.