Note: Sooo what's gonna happen at Matt's home? How will his parents react to Mello? Let's find out! Oh, and you probably don't care, but I have to say it: my boss is a lunatic bitch and she's driving me crazy.

Mello
I would never have admitted it but I knew I didn't have any other choice than to accept Mail's invitation. At the moment I told him I'd be walking home, the sole move of straightening in the car seat made my head spin to the point I thought I would throw up. Morphine. I could recognise the effects since during my many years of sambo training I got my fair share of broken bones. It would usually appease the pain, but the side effects were hard to cope with, even for me.
I was lucky they had let me out after a small surgery, the damage wasn't as bad as it looked like since no nerve had been touched, only the side of my wrist was cut to the bone, and I would be fine without reeducation in two months.
I could still control my mind or speech, but, even if he couldn't see it now, I felt limp and unable to stand.
Which proved to be true once Mail parked and I tried to exit the car. My legs were shaky, and I just had time to catch the open door to support myself with my valid hand before I fell. Shit. Of all people, he was the last one I wanted to see me in that state.

He didn't comment, he just turned around the car and slid his arm under my armpits and not matter how much I tried, I was unable to refrain myself from leaning on him. Each time I tried to fight my weakness, I wanted to vomit, so I just let go and let him almost carry me inside of the apartment complex. I was even smiling inwardly at the idea that he wasn't even hesitating anymore to make physical contact with me.

As soon as we reached the front door of the apartment where Mail's family lived, he rang the bell, not letting me go. The door opened and a red haired woman open.
"Mail? Did you lose your keys again? I told you many times... Oh! You brought your friend! Come in! Hey, is he ok?"
Her eyes questioned him before going back to me: "Oh my, you don't look well, poor boy..."
She helped me with Mail to the couch, and I couldn't help but notice all the traits Mail had inherited from his mother as I sat heavily: the deep blue eyes, the frail frame, the red hair and freckles, but what shocked me was the sweetness in the voice. Now I finally managed to put my finger on what made him so special. It was more obvious with her as a woman and mother, but there was no denying it, Mail had that comforting tone in his voice, the thing that envelops you like a warm blanket, something soothing, calm and collected. Something deep that makes you feel like you can just melt into it and be protected from the whole world.
Of course, his mother was taking that to a whole different level as a motherly figure, but it was there in him.

Once sat on the couch, I felt better. As long as I wasn't moving, I didn't feel like throwing up. I looked up and there she was, smiling at me, bringing a hand to my forehead. This bright smile, God... I imagined Mail's father unable to resist that, and I instantly smiled back. Yeah, she could do that to me, but for some reason (probably morphine), I didn't really mind. And I couldn't scowl at the woman that was welcoming me in her house, after all.
"You don't have a fever. I'll bring you some water... Mail! Don't stay in my way like a stone, go check the pie in the oven and bring the plates on the table, honey, your father will be here soon and your friend obviously needs to rest so we won't have diner too late tonight. Hurry up sweetheart, hurry up!" she said, pushing him playfully while tickling him on her way to the kitchen.
"Mum!" he protested, and glanced at me. I smirked, and he sighed, probably knowing what I was thinking. Honey, sweetheart... that wouldn't be left forgotten.

I sipped my glass of water slowly, Mail and his mother busy in the kitchen where delicious smells came from. I just thought at that instant that it's been a long time since I had a real meal, something obviously cooked with love.
The effects of the painkiller were lessening and I was feeling myself again. That's when Mail's father arrived, and it made me slightly uncomfortable. Even more when he spotted me, a long haired guy dressed in leather, on his couch.
But he didn't show any sign of disdain or whatever, just a little surprise, and came to me, holding out his hand.
I shook it, introducing myself, he did the same, smiling to me, and that was it.

Mail came out of the kitchen with a huge meat pie, while his mother followed with a large bowl of salad. Once he had deposited the dish on the table, Mail came to me as I stood, but I could make it on my own this time, feeling a lot better (well, the throbbing in my wrist was now full force since the morphine had obviously left my system, but it was still bearable, and I had other painkillers to swallow that the hospital had given me anyway, if it got worse).

We sat around the table, Mrs Jeevas chatting with me joyfully, asking about my specialisation at the university, my hobbies, my mother land and so on, and it was surprisingly easy to talk to her, although I was usually quite the untalkative kind.
I politely complimented her pie, which was delicious, and as she talked about it being a family recipe, I learnt that they were from an old irish line. Thus the red hair. Not that I liked stereotypes, but there it was.

But soon the futile chatting became a little bit more serious when Mail's father began to talk to his son.
"Mail, I know you have an excuse for tonight, but that doesn't make up for yesterday. You know I count on you at the garage, and your absence has made me late on Brownhill's car. I still have to change the motor and I need your help for that, you know it. If Brownhill doesn't have his car at the end of the week he won't pay, and we can't afford that, so I expect you at 6 at the garage tomorrow afternoon, and no excuse, ok?"
I looked at Mail who was nodding to his father, but I could tell he was struggling inside. We still had countless of hours to do for the community work, and it only left him less than one hour to do it everyday if he had to be with his father at 6pm. And we were supposed to stay until 7pm, whatever the work was.

"That was my fault, Mr Jeevas." I was a bastard, but not to the extent of leaving him alone in this, especially not when he was accommodating me, "He was helping me, that's why he was late."
Mail looked at me with eyes as wide as plates. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, making me thing of a goldfish.
"Well, I guess we can't be mad at him if he was helping a friend, but Mail, you have to understand that your family obligations have to be fulfilled, your father is working hard and you can't just abandon him like this without warning."
Mrs Jeevas scolded him lightly, but Mail was still silently looking at me, surprised.
"I'm sorry Mrs Jeevas, I didn't mean to distract him from his family obligations, and I'll amend by helping him or his father anytime, well, I mean, as soon as I can." I stated, raising my wrist.

I was slowly understanding why all this struggle in Mail's eyes. The apartment was clean but it wasn't hard to see it was small and old, and the poor neighbourhood itself said a lot about the Jeevas family's income. So it wasn't difficult to imagine how needed his work with his father was. I briefly worried about the community work making them lose a lot, but after all, it was easy not to let that happen.
And his parents obviously loved him a lot, they were a very touchy and cuddling family and he didn't want to disappoint them. It clashed with the other side of him though, the one that fucked girls on the backseat of his car and didn't care about their feelings.

Just thinking about that side of him brought back the will to tease him. I couldn't help it, it was stronger than me...
And Mrs Jeevas just served the right moment on a silver plate.
"Mihael, you do look like an angel, but now I see you really are one! That's so kind of you to offer your help!"
Mail almost choked on his water.
"Mum!" he protested again.
"Oh Mail, I can say that your friend is cute, it's not a crime, is it? And it's true after all!" she giggled, ruffling her son's hair, "But you're cute too honey! Don't be jealous, you'll always be my little fox."
She stood, bringing back the pie to the kitchen, laughing at Mail's crestfallen expression.
"That's what I keep on telling him." I stated, winking at him.
Silence. I win.

Mr Jeevas' eyes went from me to Mail and back. I was smiling innocently while Mail was reddening, standing brutally to gather the empty plates and bring them to the kitchen, and his mother stared at us, probably trying to guess if she heard right. Crossing his mother's look, he shrugged and suddenly exclaimed: "I'm not gay! He's always teasing me, don't look at me like this!"
Mrs Jeevas then said something I wouldn't have expected, not from a homophobe's mother's mouth:
"And so what if you were? Mail darling, be careful of what you say, your friend could be offended because even if I know you didn't mean it that way, it sounded slightly homophobic."
"Your mother is right Mail, even if Mihael is your friend and probably knows you have nothing against him, other people could take your words the wrong way." his father added, and this time I was the one to be silenced.
How on earth could these two lovely parents have given birth to someone as homophobic as Mail?

Mail looked at me, mumbling a 'sorry' then heading for the kitchen with his mother, who kept on bugging him:
"Mail, you can tell me if he's your boyfriend, I won't mind you know, neither will your father actually. Mihael is so cute!"
I didn't see Mail's face but it was more than certainly priceless and I couldn't help but laugh when he came back with a big bowl full of cherries, scowling at me.
"I would be less worried about you bringing home a pregnant girlfriend if he was your boyfriend, actually." Mr Jeevas teased him, pushing Mail's shoulder manly and chuckling.
Mail rolled his eyes in a 'they're all against me' manner, and I decided that I loved his parents. They kicked ass.
But I knew, with that remark, that Mail's father was more than aware of his son's many girlfriends.

We spent the next hour eating cherries and doing a cherry knot tying contest.
It was very pleasant, I was not used to such a family atmosphere at all. My parents and me were happy together too, but our diners were usually more formal, for the rare times we ate together since they were almost always invited at a congress or by very important relationships, or just ate in restaurants the rest of the time. It was more and more a mystery to me that Mail was so narrow minded, surrounded by so much love and understanding.

I tried not to show it, but looking at Mail's mouth while he was giving a try at tying the knot of the cherry he had just taken began to arouse me, and I was thankful when his mother decided it was time for us to go to bed, before it became too obvious in my pants.

"I'll sleep on the couch." Mail suddenly stated, "I'll just help you change the sheets of my bed but we're not sleeping in the same room."
Shit.
"Mail honey, I'd rather like you to stay with Mihael, he was not well at all a little earlier and I want you to stay with him just in case because I'll be worried otherwise." She turned to me: "Mihael, I expect you to behave, don't take that as an invitation to... tease Mail, is that clear?"
Wow. She could be scary.