Sirius Matters
Prompt: "Red and Gold"
Premise: "In which Mello and Matt have unexpected ties to Wizarding Britain."
Warnings: A bit of AU, as the characters of Matt and Mello are a bit older than canon (M and M born 1980 to L's 1979). Also: THIS might very well be the vignette where this collection earns its M rating (for language, at least). You can thank Matt AND Mello for that. Oh, and L is a jerk. UNBETA'd.
Honorable Mention To: allietheepic7. This short was already in the works when I received the review. So, since we seemed to be on the same page, I'm dedicating this one to you, allie.
.. .. ..
Matt blinked, squinting against the light, as his bedroom curtains were wrenched open in a fury of motion. He grunted, turning his head away in disgust, his hand scrambling across his bedside table for his goggles, his lighter, and his cigarettes.
"You know, if you'd knock it off with those goddamn goggles, you wouldn't have this problem."
The redhead ignored his roommate and sort-of best friend, lowering the tinted eyepieces deliberately over his bright green, extremely photosensitive eyes. Mello snorted, and he flashed him the two finger salute, even as he lit a cigarette and flopped back against his mattress.
"Th'fuck you doing up so early?"
"It's eleven, shit-head."
"Tha's what I said...early."
Matt hid his smirk at the disgusted twist to Mello's mouth as he flounced—yes, like a goddamn prima donna ballerina—across the room, brandishing a rolled up newspaper like a goddamn sword. Idiot.
"Read it."
"...why?"
"Because it's fucking interesting, jack ass."
A pale hand ran through mussed red locks, and he bit back a yawn. Damn, but he was exhausted. "Define interesting."
"There's an escaped convict that has Interpol going bat-shit, but the guy has nothing on file."
Matt blinked, finally rolling to face the leather-clad blonde leaning against his headboard. "But...that doesn't make sense."
A slow smirk twisted thin lips. "Yeah, which is why I said it was interesting. Some guy with no fucking record escapes from a prison nobody can name, and it's a big enough deal where the big wigs contact L to track him down?"
It took him a moment to catch the implication, which he blamed on his complete exhaustion. "You...you fuckin used my computer to hack L's email, again."
Matt watched, eyes narrowed, as his friend shifted, not looking guilty, per se, but more...uncomfortable. "Well, it's not like you were using it at the time—"
"Goddamn it, Mello! Roger'll throw a wobbly, if he finds out. He already took my other one, because of you."
"It's not that big of a deal. L knows we wouldn't—"
Matt struggled to sit up, scowl firmly fixed on his face. "It doesn't fucking matter if L knows we wouldn't compromise him. You think he fucking cares? You know what he's like."
Mello frowned, looking away from Matt's scowl.
. . .
Harry...or, well, Matt, he supposed...blinked wide, bespectacled eyes up at L, all long limbs, dark hair, and wide, tired eyes. He exchanged a quick glance with the blonde at his side...Draco, he'd called himself.
"Matt and...Mello?" The gentleman at L's side looked at the older boy, taking in the smirk twisting thin lips as a long-fingered hand mussed a thatch of black hair.
"Doormat and Mellow-Yellow, of course. Please try to keep up, Watari."
He flinched, almost as if he'd been slapped, but stayed quiet. Rule Number One of life with the Dursleys, after all, had always been Don't Talk Back...oh, and Don't Ask Questions. Harr—er, Matt was pretty sure Mr. Watari wouldn't slap him, but he couldn't really speak for L. He seemed like the kind of person who'd hit, or bite, if you made him angry.
He felt Draco...no, Mello...shift at his side, fists clenching. He reached out, grabbing at a thin wrist. Green met silvan-blue, and he shook his head. The blonde, still scowling, turned his red face away, but at least didn't get in trouble for talking back, like he'd been obviously planning to.
Matt watched, a frown pulling his mouth into a pout, as L slumped out of the room, the mean smirk twisting his lips, as if he was so goddamn funny.
What a jerk.
. . .
Matt sighed, took one last drag off his cigarette, and ashed it on his bedside table, which bore countless scars from previous cigarettes. "Who's the unlucky bastard, then?"
A curtain of blonde whipped around a pale, narrow face as Mello turned to look at him. Matt rose an eyebrow, challengingly. "Well, we're already fucked once L finds out, so we might as well just go with it. So..."
Mello flashed him a smile that was more smug grin than anything. "From what I could dig up, the guy was accused of mass murder, but...they don't have any victims listed. The only mass death that really matches up with the time line they put out for his "murder spree" was supposedly caused by a fucking gas explosion."
Matt tsked, waving his hand impatiently til Mello slapped the rolled up newspaper into his hand. There was silence for a moment as he unfurled the paper and took in the headline.
"Sirius Black, huh..?"
[end]