DISClAIMER: I do not own or make money from the anime Death Note.

Suggested Listening: Where do we go from Here by Filter

Part 3

Mello sat on the uncomfortable hotel 'couch', those hard cushions making his ass numb, with a phone pressed to his ear. He froze as he listened to Rod speak. The man was technically his boss even though the roles seemed reversed more often than not.

Mello stared ahead at the perfectly bland walls of the room with the realization that he didn't have an answer to 'how long are you planning on staying?'

He didn't know. It wasn't something he could just make up a date for.

"As long as it takes." His voice was harsh without being disrespectful, and he didn't sound even an ounce of the uncertainty he felt. Everything since Roger's phone call had been sending him more and more out of his comfort zone. Each time Mello thought he had a grip on things something popped up that had him questioning himself.

It would be unfair to place the blame on Matt, but suffice it to say, he wanted to.

How long would he stay? Could stay? He obviously couldn't take Matt with him, not that Matt would currently go anyway, and he couldn't stay forever. Mello wished he had thought things out better before starting this. He couldn't leave Matt again, not like this. Not with things so fractured between them.

"Don't take too long Mello." Rod laughed in his ear, and the call was ended.

Shit.

Just what had he gotten himself into?

The last thing he needed was Rod getting suspicious of his activities, especially when he wasn't doing much of anything to warrant it. Ok, so leaving in the middle of the night with a note on the table for the mafia to read and a brief phone call later hadn't been exactly the best thing to do, but they should have been used to him doing strange things like that by now.

Mello shook his head irritably. This entire thing was becoming one giant mess, and he hadn't an idea of what to do about fixing it. So long as Rod didn't become paranoid and think him a spy, things would be alright.

Mello yawned slightly and snatched his keys off the table. He had rented a car, nothing like his beloved motorcycle back at base, but it was better than getting ferried around in a taxi all the time.

Mello took the elevator, too tired for the stairs, and swore to kill each and every of the hotels maintenance workers if he got stuck in it. He sucked in a breath every time it descended, more people filing in, and pretended he didn't have a slight phobia of the metal death trap they were in. Why the hell had he gotten a room on the fifth floor?

Surprisingly, the elevator did not get stuck or plummet down the shaft. If Mello's walking was a little shaky upon exiting the elevator, he was the only one to notice.

After that, Mello decided to indulge himself and went to Starbucks. He ordered a few different things: two coffees, one sweetened normally and one like Matt had made the day before, as well as a hot chocolate and two deserts.

If he was going to visit Matt, he wasn't going there without offerings and something he could also enjoy. Mello wasn't drinking that shit coffee Matt had made again, unless he had to.

He drained the hot chocolate long before he made it to the apartment, so he only had to balance two coffees and the bag whilst knocking. It wasn't so bad. He was a little late in the day this time, sometime around one. What he brought wasn't exactly a proper lunch or anything of the sort, but it was better than nothing. Mello didn't even know when Matt usually ate...

"You're back. Joy."

Mello rolled his eyes and left Matt to shut the door as he deposited the armful onto the counter. Why couldn't they have given him a tray like any other place? Freaking ingrates.

Mello turned and handed Matt one coffee while he rifled through the bag to pull out his brownie. They had been out of the chocolate chip scones. With his item safe in hand, he tossed the bag onto a surprised Matt's lap.

Matt cautiously took a sip of the coffee, and his mouth formed an 'o'. Mello had given him the sweetened one; it was how Matt had used to drink it when they had time to sneak into the kitchens and make some. Mello held the other bitter black coffee as he munched on the brownie but didn't sip it.

"This one doesn't have sugar, if you want it instead."

"No, this is fine. I just haven't had it this way in years. It will take a while to get used to." Matt took another sip and didn't seem to know how to react other than an awkwardly murmured "It's good."

Mello wondered if that was a subtle hint for him to continue to bring coffee. He decided that it was and vowed to bring coffee everyday he visited. Matt didn't have a choice anymore.

"Matt, do you have sugar?"

"In the cabinet to your left." Mello wasn't about to drink the coffee the way it was. No way in hell.

"I have milk in the fridge, but I don't need cream, so you're out of luck."

Mello hid a grin. It was almost a normal conversation. Mello didn't fool himself though; things were by no means anywhere near what he wanted them to be. You could converse politely with your worst enemy if the need arose-not that Matt seemed to have a problem being rude in the least-but Mello wanted friendship.

He couldn't understand the sudden need for friendship. Life in the mafia prevented it, and he had thought he had thrown all of Wammy's behind him, but the mere reminder of Matt had sent him halfway across the country to a place that seemed to have elevators galore. If that didn't speak of conviction, Mello didn't know what did.

Mello quickly dumped sugar into the coffee, nabbing a spoon to stir it, and once he was satisfied, he replaced the sugar, spoon going into the dishwasher that Matt surprisingly had. Though it made sense that he had it. He didn't see how, other than standing, Matt could reach the sink faucet, never mind reach into it.

Mello turned, and things were silent for a moment before Matt hesitantly placed the coffee in his lap and wheeled into the living room where he switched on a movie that Mello recognized as Boondock Saints. He rolled his eyes. Matt would like that movie, wouldn't he? Enough that he had it saved on DVR too.

Mello plopped down on the zebra print loveseat that he was quickly beginning to like, and Matt wheeled close but not next to it. Mello hoped that, someday soon, that distance would be breached. Which distance he meant, Mello wasn't exactly certain.

-End Part 3-

AN: :D thank Amour en Rayures for betaing this

Special thanks to reviewers: mxmsupporter, issagokurosaki, Rasiaa, brightnight003, Keono, Deadly Nightshade1395

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