A.N

Short chapter is short, sorry. I'm having a mental block and my muse is all bleh. So I give you some Matt enjoy children and Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, have a great Kwanzaa or whatever you're doing for the festive season!

Disclaimer: We do not own Death Note.

Matt.

Mello was confusing me, one minute being what can only be describes as cunt (And that's me trying not to be vulgar) and the next so sweet. He pressed me up against the edge of the ceramic bath before I gently pulled away from his lips something finally clicking into place.
"This isn't you is it?" I murmured, stroking his arm lightly. The sheer look of panic on his face confirmed what I was thinking, the facade was crumbling around him. I was shocked when silent tears overflowed running down his face. I reached up wiping them away.

"How...who...how the fuck can you manage to reduce me to this." He whispered dangerously, eyes squeezed shut as his fingers gripped the edges of the bath for all it was worth.

"If I knew I would tell you." I replied, prying his fingers off the jacuzzi before he shattered it. "You look like you need a cup of tea." I told him. "It's good for the soul." Mello smiled weakly as I handed him a towel which I had managed to snatch from the ground. Wrapping it around his waist he stepped out from the bath with a sigh.

"You're such an idiot." He told me, as I flashed him a grin (And just plain flashed him) stepping out of the tub after him, grabbing the only tower which wasn't soaked from the sudden cascade of water that overflowed the bath when Mello decided he wanted me. Covering myself up, I padded out after him in search of some clothes. I only packed enough clothes to last me about five days thinking I wouldn't need much and I'd already gone through three pairs of pants with it being two days into the shoot. With a sigh a dragged out my almost last pair of pants. I would have to get my stuff cleaned while I was here, something I was hoping to avoid. After all there's something about washing your clothes in a hotel which is not right. Your clothes never feel the same again.

Struggling into my pants and preforming the skinny jeans dance, which I am sure most people have preformed at some point in their lives, I could see Mello laughing at me from the corner of my eye.

"What?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"You're such a dork." He laughed, I rolled my eyes at him and stuck a cigarette in my mouth, lighting the tip. "Ohh excuse me Mr badass."

"Shut up." I quipped, grabbing a shirt from my suitcase and pulling it over my head, damp strands of hair sticking to my face. "Tea. Now." I told him, grabbing his wrist in between him pulling on his own shirt, much to his protests, and dragging him out the door. Jumping down the last two stairs and into the lobby we walked past the fire damaged room, charcoal clinging to the walls.

"Do you still think they're even serving?" Mello asked, sticking his head around the door and taking an eyeful of the room.

"If not I don't want to know where Misa got that ice cream sundae from..." I shuddered just thinking about the possibilities. "That's just weird."