"Stop your preaching right there 'cause I really don't care
and I'll do it again.
So get me out of my head, 'cause it's getting kind of cramped, you know.
Coming ready or not.
When the motor gets hot we can do it again."
-My Chemical Romance, Bulletproof Heart

The dinky diner was illuminated by flickering lights that buzzed loudly. A tired waitress who had been landed with the night shift to pay for her college loans stared blankly at the old television that was suspended above the dining area as she wiped down the greasy bar counter. The cook was occupying himself with scrubbing the pans he had to work with as the neon framed clock displayed the current time: 12:59. The waitress sighed as she too noticed the time and looked around the diner, eyes trailing to the three customers that inhabited the room.

One was a man who was sitting in the far corner of the bar with a newspaper opened to the sports page. A simple hat covered his greying hair and a faded jacket covered his form. On the bar near him was a steaming cup of coffee she had made for him. The accent he spoke with was one from the southern states which she found very enticing.

In the booth by the window sat the other two. One was a young woman with a pale complexion who seemed to be lacking sleep. There was a shaken aura about her, but she did her best to remain strong and composed. She was clad in a plaid flannel that was rather baggy but her pants were dark and tight. Black hair hung off her head and was constantly being brushed from her bright blue eyes that the waitress could almost see from where she stood. Sitting across the table from her was a figure coated in black. At first the waitress had thought it had been another woman until the figure spoke. That's when the minimum wage waitress had realized that he was a male.

The outfit choice of the male had surprised the waitress. He wore tight leather pants that gave very little comfort room. Also there was a jacket over his body. It was simple black with a bright purple collar and a multitude zippers covered the jacket. Both members of the duo had ordered coffee, one ordering more cream than the other. They appeared to be speaking, but the waitress knew that nosey actions would only get her in uncomfortable situations.

-

"So, Mello," Butterfly spoke lamely, taking a sip of her creamy coffee. Mello looked over to her with a bland expression, breaking off pieces of the chocolate bar he held in his hands. "You wanted to talk…?"

"Indeed," he responded, dropping piece after piece into the liquid. A tiny splash was heard as the small piece of chocolate fell to the bottom of the mug and was stirred around by the small straw that protruded from the brown liquid. "I know you're working with the white-haired twit and-."

"Was working for the white-haired twit," Butterfly corrected him with a smug smile. Mello's left eye twitched slightly at her interruption but he kept quiet.

"Yes… well I wanted to know if you would consider assisting me with my goals."

"You mean, join the dark side?"

Humor seemed to be the last thing on Mello's mind. He exhaled roughly, fixing Butterfly in his stern blue gaze.

"That's one way of saying it…"

"Do you have cookies?" Butterfly pressed with a smile plastered on her face. Leaning across the table she swore she could almost smell his anger radiating off his scowl. With a sly grin, she slumped back into her sit, picking up her coffee mug in a delicate fashion.

"Do you want to help me or not?" Mello snapped, angrily gripping the handle of his coffee cup and jerking it to his lips set in the angry fix. Parting his lips, he dumped the contents into his mouth from which many curses and threats have been spewed throughout his young life. He just about slammed the cup back to the surface of the table, miraculously not breaking it. The small cup, however, seemed to quiver as his hand pulled away. With a gulp, all the contents were swallowed.

Butterfly frowned at the approach and set her own coffee mug down gently without a splash or a wobble.

"I'll help you," Butterfly agreed, her face holding no vice. "I've been helping Near so I know a lot about the Kira case."

A small smirk appeared on Mello's face. "I know a lot about the Kira case as well." Butterfly cocked a dark eyebrow, her lips loosely set.

"Is that so? Then you must know that-."

"We can't talk about it here!" Mello scolded in a harsh whisper, his words even managing to be violent when hushed. An embarrassed blush pooled across Butterfly's face at the reminder. Even if there were only a few people who were near them (all out of earshot), they couldn't risk revealing any information about the case. Such a thing could easily become the cause of their deaths. Shrinking back into the torn foam back of the booth, she nodded thrice to show that she understood what he was talking about.

Mello nodded back firmly but kept his current position leaning over the table. Opening his mouth he continued to speak in a rough whisper.

"Now, we both know that Near was able to recover L's legacy."

Butterfly nodded to show he had gotten his facts straight. Mello seemed pleased with himself at that.

"Most of it I was able to figure out myself, but there's still some things even I couldn't have guessed." Mello's lips took a dissatisfied slant. "So that's where you come in."

Exhaling, Butterfly straightened her posture as Mello pulled back so his bottom was firmly on the cushion of the booth. "That's all." His voice had returned to a normal tone.

"So let me get this straight… You want me to give you all the details?"

"Indeed," Mello's tone had turned professional.

"Where?"

"Not here," was Mello's concise response.

"No shit, Sherlock," Butterfly hissed, rolling her icy blue orbs in irritation. Mello only chuckled dryly in response, jerking the mug roughly to his lips for another harsh sip. The silence that filled in after her comment was unsettling. So, to break it, Butterfly decided to start up more conversation.

"So…" she began awkwardly, still putting together the phrases carefully. "What have you been doing with your life lately beside dressing up and roaming the streets at forsaken hours?"

Mello snorted at her tone.

"I've been really busy, actually," he said with his tone still sharp. "I have a job that's mostly for my personal interests… but it involves a lot of underground work."

Underground work…

"Organized crime…?" she whispered barely audible. Mello gave her a mute nod, slurping his coffee now from the thin stirring straw. Butterfly gawked at him, her eyes wide with understanding. Mello gave no heed to her reaction and instead pulled a black ink pen from the pocket of his ridiculously tight pants. Gazing at the pen in wonder, Butterfly wondered how he even managed to fit that in those skin tight pants. Mello yanked a napkin out of the dispenser on the table and slammed it to the table's surface with his palm. The smacking noise it created caused everyone in the room to jump almost, rippling the image of the place. But it fell into its usual mode of sluggishness as Mello began to scratch at the surface of it with the pen, forming loops and letters along with the occasional number. He flipped the napkin around so that the words were legible to her.

"This is my phone number," he explained, pointing to the combination of black numbers. "This is the quickest way to contact me. I will also contact you via this number. You must not show this to anyone, by the way."

"So professional…" Butterfly grumbled as Mello began to scratch at the material with his pen once again.

"If I was professional at this, I would have made you memorize them and destroy the evidence. However, since you fuck up numbers, I wouldn't put you through that."

Butterfly gave a little snort. "How nice of you."

"I'm the embodiment of generosity," Mello added with a smirk, finishing the second set of numbers and letters. "Anyways… I need you to go to this address once we're done here." Once again the message on the napkin was revealed.

"Why?" Butterfly asked, taking the napkin in her hands, reading over it before she shoved it into her breast pocket. Mello shrugged, dumping the last of the coffee into his mouth with relish.

"You need a place to stay, don't you?"

Butterfly nodded, looking down at the remains of her own coffee, so creamy it was more white than brown.

"Also, there's someone else I was able to recruit to this case."

-

Mello's words still rang through Butterfly's ears as she walked towards the apartment Mello had given her the address to. It wasn't in the best of neighborhoods, but with Mello working with underground crime, she supposed the setting fit. Part of her had wanted Mello to accompany her there, but he had claimed that he had a bed waiting for him at the headquarters. The girl wasn't stupid; she knew the identity of the person willing to assist Mello. There weren't many people who could work well with the competitive blond. So, other than herself, there was only one being masochistic enough to handle that task.

Fingering her breast pocket, Butterfly fished out the napkin with the apartment number and address. Holding it up to her eyes, she triple checked the apartment number (there was much truth to Mello's claim about her and difficulty with numbers). Confident she had the right apartment she rapped her fist lightly against the door. The sound of footsteps reached her ears and she released a breath she had been unaware of holding. The sound of locks being undone with simple clicks also played through her head. Perhaps it was paranoia, but every little sound, including her heartbeat, was amplified by many octaves.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened to reveal a familiar face.

Matt…

But that little boy had grown up.

He had finally hit the growth spurt, his height now greater than hers by a good few inches. His hair wasn't much longer, but it was shaggier than it was when he was a child. The roundness of his face had vanished, though he still had a bit of a baby face. A black and red striped shirt covered his lean body and Butterfly noticed that there were a few crumbs on his collar. Those oh so familiar goggles covered his eyes which he moved up to his forehead to reveal his deep blue eyes that were wide in surprise.

"Butterfly…" he exhaled, his voice more deep and masculine. The indifferent set of his lips stretched into a smile that caused her stomach to flutter and her own lips to stretch into a warm smile.

"Long time no see," she breathed, eyes never leaving his. He may have been a grown man now, but Butterfly had made a metamorphosis as well.

She was taller, her face less child-like and more woman-like. Her body was more curved and more mature, her hair longer and more straight. All the blemishes from her face had all but vanished and her eyes were full of more awareness. However, her clothing choice hadn't changed (similar to how his hadn't), and she still chewed on her fingernails, shortening them majorly.

She was beautiful in his eyes.

Before either could find more words, Matt enveloped her in a tight hug, pulling her close to his rapidly beating heart. Instinctively, Butterfly wrapped her arms around him, clinging onto him for what seemed like an eon.

"What are you doing up this early?" was all Butterfly could force out.

"I haven't slept yet," remarked Matt in response, stroking her soft, raven black hair. "I was lost in Final Fantasy."

The fact that he was playing video games did not surprise Butterfly.

"You haven't changed," she laughed merrily.

"Neither have you," Matt teased, ruffling her hair. "Mrs. plaid shirts." Chuckling, he pulled away from the hug. "Come on into my lair."

"Lair?" Butterfly raised a dark eyebrow as she entered the apartment. Things were scattered but weren't very messy (probably due to Mello and his OCD). But the messiest place was near the television set which was surrounded by a tangle of wire and controllers. The couch held a two liter of some sort of soda and a half eaten bag of chips, some crumbs dotting the surface. "You're a pig," she teased, walking further into the "lair".

"Oink."

"Smartass…"

The petite kitchen was spotless, making it clear that no food had ever been cooked in the small area. But the two bedrooms were a different story. Mello's was cluttered; an uncommon trait for him. However, the bed was made nicely and there were many upon many stacks of paper in the area and the trash bin was filled with an assortment of crumpled up balls of paper and foil wrappers.

Matt's room was in disarray though it wasn't completely trashed. There was order to his sleep corners though the order was the disorder. His bed appeared as if it had never been touched or laid in. The floor held the discarded wrappers from games and the occasional cigarette packet. A few books were lying on the nightstand and a couple lay on the floor beside the wrappers.

"I didn't know you read," Butterfly joked, looking about the room more.

"I don't just play video games and let my brain rot."

Butterfly didn't respond, for her eyes were locked with a pair of unseeing ones on Matt's neat bed. An orange body, multi-colored limbs, a familiar stare…

"Baby…" Butterfly whispered. The dog/bear's black eyes almost seemed to twinkle.

Matt placed a hand on Butterfly's right shoulder. "Told you I would keep her safe." Swallowing back the tears that threatened to spill, Butterfly reached into her pocket on her pants and pulled out something big enough to fit into a handheld gaming system.

"My starter's name is Mail…" she said honestly.

The sweet kiss that came once she turned to look at him was one she had been waiting for.

One she had been waiting years for.