My Own Way

They stepped out together from the doors of the block of flats. The carpark was cross-crissed with children riding their new bikes, but they avoided them and walked on towards the road. Mello in his leathers and hooded coat; Matt all denim and stripes, his own jacket sleeveless, but the fake fur within warmed his torso in cosy defiance of the chill air. He turned back to watch as a child screamed with glee at finally getting the hang of the pedals, then caught Mello's smile and returned it. Matt lit a cigarette and they strode on along the road.

"I've got such a weird sensation." Matt muttered, the smoke drifting languidly in the air. Mello flashed him a questioning look. "It's like I'm outside myself watching us do this."

Mello frowned. "Is that because you're stoned?"

"No." Matt smirked. "It's like prolonged deja vu."

"It's probably the shock of being outside." Mello winked. "I've seen you do it twice since I've been living with you. You even get your groceries delivered. I'm beginning to wonder if it's agoraphobia or pure laziness."

"Efficiency." Matt grinned. "I could walk around the aisles or someone else could do it and leave me in peace to do my work."

Mello snorted. "Your work looks awfully like playing games for hours on end." They crossed the playing field, populated with a handful of teenagers wearing their new football strips despite the temperature. Mello watched them from the edge of his vision as they traversed the pitch, but it took until they were nearly at the alleyway and away from the game, until the ball finally flew in their direction. With undisguised delight, Mello dashed forward, chested it down and left-footed it back into the centre of play. He grinned as he rejoined Matt, falling back into step. "That was fun."

"You were waiting for that to happen."

"Yeah."

"I should have bought you a football for Christmas." Matt smiled, wryly. "You still play much?"

Mello frowned, "And where would I play football, Matty? That's the closest I've got to a game since I left Wammy's." They entered the alleyway, twin footsteps crunching the broken glass underfoot. "Watching games on my laptop and keeping up with the results on the BBC website is about my limit these days."

"Still support Man. United?"

"Yeah."

Matt frowned. "I never thought to question that. You aren't English, so there's no birthright loyalty. You'd have had more chance persuading Roger to let you go to a match if you supported Winchester City or Southampton. Why Manchester United?"

Mello smirked. "The only team ever to win the Treble, two seasons after being the only team ever to achieve the Double Double. They got the Treble right when I was learning to love the beautiful game." He glanced at Matt. "You wanted me to support losers? Heh."

"Yeah, I remember that season, now you mention it." Matt laughed. "Your face when you were told that you couldn't watch the final and then, insult to injury, they set an exam for the next day."

"Yeah." Mello's expression darkened, but he grinned. "Still watched it and passed the exam. Fuckers."

They had reached the pub, crossing into the lounge where Christmas Day meals were being served. The large, L-shaped room was gaily decorated and populated mostly with families and old people. They exchanged glances, then Mello moved forward zoning in on the sixteen year old waitress. "Table for two, booked in the name of Ashton."

"That's fine." She looked harassed. "Just find a table and I'll be with you shortly."

Mello made a beeline for a corner table, ignoring the fact that it was set up for four people. Matt trailed behind him, hands in his pockets, looking around with a faint expression of distaste. Though they sat on opposite sides of the table, they both contrived to sit so their respective backs were against the wall and they each had a full view of both sections of the lounge. Mello shook off his coat and had barely sat down before he was standing again. "What are you drinking?"

"I'll get it."

"No, I'll get it." Mello emphasised the point by squeezing out from behind the table. "What you having?"

Matt gazed at the bar. "The Guinness is nice in here. More Dublin than London, I'll have a pint of that please."

Mello was gone for several minutes, though always in view, draped across the bar like a rent boy. Matt watched him with an amused smirk, concluding that the staff must be over-stretched if Mello could be ignored. Across the room, a five-year-old had just received a smack for running around between the tables. She was responding with a loud wailing by the time the blond returned with a pint of Guinness and a glass of J2O. "Just heard the chef giving someone a real telling off in the kitchen. I think she was about ready to hand in her notice."

"Can't be fun working on Christmas Day." Matt replaced the menu he had been playing with. He hadn't brought a portable game player, of any description, with him, as Mello had argued that there would be no time when it would be necessary. They were going to have a real conversation over their meal like normal people. He watched Mello scanning the menu waiting for the exact moment when he noticed that 'Death by Chocolate' was the alternative to Christmas pudding for dessert. "You are a happy boy today, aren't you, Mell?"

"It's an improvement on the last few years indeed." He pushed the menu into its holder and sipped his drink. "Are you having a good day?"

Matt glanced around the room. "It's been different." They had risen at eight and opened presents, before Matt had cooked them a full English fry-up breakfast. They had watched a programme where people were surprised with reunions or special treats, before Mello caved in enough to let Matt try out a new game. They had fought each other across digital universes, before Mello had cried off to flick through a pile of new books. He had already eaten a bar and half of Bournville Dark Chocolate and the coffee table was shrewn with wrappers from an assortment of Belgian specialities. It had all been very domesticated, almost desperately so. "What's on your agenda for this afternoon?"

Mello smiled, "I thought we could watch the 'Annie' and 'Oliver Twist' DVDs that you bought me." His grin broadened at Matt's expression. "Or see what blockbuster is on the telly. Watch the Queen's speech."

"I can't tell if you're joking."

"It's what people do, Matt." Mello frowned slightly. "Stop being so cynical."

"You want to listen to the Queen's speech?"

"Yes, actually. I want to see if she mentions Kira."

Matt sighed and checked the time on his phone. "You made it to one o'clock without mentioning Kira."

Mello glanced up sharply, a cloud passing over his features, but he pushed the emotion down. "What are you having for your starter?"

"Soup."

"I might have the melon." He smiled across at Matt. "This is nice. I've never been out for a meal with you before." His fingers touched the plastic holly, which lined the edge of the table, complete with plastic bells and berries. "I never thought that I'd be doing it now. Having a nice Christmas. Carols." He gazed up at a speaker, which was piping out seasonal songs, then back at Matt. The redhead was looking out across the lounge, at a five-year-old being smacked for running around the tables and an elderly couple eating in silence. Raucous laughter sounded from those around a large table at the far side of the room. "Matty, will you please just pretend you're enjoying yourself? It's Christmas Day."

Matt sat back in his seat and surveyed the blond, "Are you enjoying yourself, Mello?" His tone held a challenge and Mello's eyes hardened momentarily in reaction. "I was just wondering what you're trying to recreate here."

Mello straightened his back and shook his head. "Stop goading me, Matt." He turned his head, inspecting the tinsel draped along a picture on the wall behind him. He carefully pulled it free and waved it in the redhead's face. "Oooh! Shiny!" Mello grinned wildly. "Shiny, pretty thing!"

Despite himself, Matt laughed. "What...?"

"Look how it catches the light. Shiny pretty." Mello chucked it and Matt caught it. "Play with the shiny pretty." The blond suddenly sat back, decorum falling over him like a veil. Matt realised why only when the waitress appeared to take their order and the tinsel disappeared under the table. "Yes, thank you, ma'am." Matt snorted and the waitress stared.

"He's been in the States." Matt clarified. "He wasn't calling you a prostitute."

Mello reddened. "I'll have the melon to start." He surreptitiously kicked Matt under the table, as the redhead stifled a giggle. Predicting the questions she was about to ask, he continued, "New potatoes with my main and 'Death by Chocolate' to finish. Thank you."

"Soup, mash and Christmas pudding please." Matt added. He waited until the waitress had finished her pleasantries and left them to it. "Fancied her melons, did you?" He grinned. "Surprising."

Mello bowed his head, shoulders twitching with mirth. "Git." He peered up under his fringe. "Ma'am is just an honorific, it doesn't necessarily mean a prostitute. You really embarrassed her."

"It was what she was thinking you'd called her!" Matt sipped his Guinness and threw the tinsel back at Mello. "Put that back and stop wrecking the place."

Mello dropped it quickly under the table. "On second thoughts..." He dived underneath to retrieve it. "I'm going to keep it right here on my lap for next time you need a shiny pretty boost."

Matt raised his hands, "I don't know where you get this idea that I like shiny pretty things."

"Over a decade of sharing a room with you." Mello bobbed out his tongue. "More empirical evidence than you can shake a stick at in those memories." He tilted his head, smiling flirtaciously. "You know what attracts you. Are you going to deny it?"

"You're flirting with me."

"I am not."

Matt smirked. "Now who's in denial?"

Mello looked to the ceiling, grinning, "Let's talk about football."

"Very manly pursuit, football. Lots of hot, sweaty men running around in shorts."

"Matt!" Mello gasped. "I can't believe..."

"Denying it?"

Mello was speechless, too many words trying to escape at the same time for any of them to make it. His hands rose in jagged movements, before he settled and regained his composure. "It's been fucking years since someone made me splutter like that. But," he leaned back, absently twirling the tinsel, "the point of football is the strategy. You've got your rules and your team..."

"Young, fit men."

"... or women, there is such thing as women's football, you know." Mello glared, but his heart wasn't in it. It emerged more akin to a pout. "It's up to the manager how... stop looking at me like that." He aimed another kick under the table, but it didn't connect. "It's the strategy, Matt."

"Of course it is."

Mello bit his lip. "I know you're attempting to wind me up."

"It's not an attempt. I've already succeeded."

"Matt, shut up now." Mello grinned. "God! I'm so enjoying myself. You are too, I can tell." He nodded. "Our starters are coming. Settle down now."

"Yes, Dad." Matt whispered, as the waitress came closer. Mello only had time for a quick narrowing of his eyes, before she was placing food down in front of them with a bright 'there you go'. "Thank you very much."

"Thank you." Mello waited until she left again, poking a slice of melon with his fork. "Do you know what I like most about hooking back up with you?"

"The kinky sex?" This time the kick did connect, but only so far as the steel shin-guards of Matt's boots. "Unlucky."

Mello flashed a warning glance at him, but there was still a smile under it. "The exchanges of words like that. You've got your response before I've even finished handing you mine and it's back and forth without a beat in the middle. Your mind is so quick! I've been with people who you have to explain things to over and over and over and over again."

"I think that's been well established. You keep glomping me with demands to debate the quantum physics of time travel."

"You're still wrong about that."

"No, I'm not." Matt sighed. "You check out the research coming from Princeton. It's been proved without a doubt that cosmic strings exist and..."

"Yes, but you'd need a time machine which was half the mass of our galaxy!" Mello interupted. "Where are you going to build that? Your garage? I'm not arguing with you about it anymore until you learn some basic Physics, then you can come back and..."

"That's just terrestial mass! Oh! For crying out loud, Mell, think back to your Einstein. Fundamental stuff now... what?" Matt paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. He couldn't tell if Mello was laughing, crying or choking on a piece of melon.

"Nothing." Mello smirked. "I'm just sitting in an English pub, eating Christmas lunch with my oldest friend, listening to carols and arguing about quantum gravity. Sorry, you were going to teach me about Einstein. Please go ahead."

Matt shook his head. "That's one of the thirty-six dirty tricks of debate if I ever heard one. Interupting my flow with changing the subject." He winked, slurping down his soup. Then uttered a tiny laugh. "What could I teach you about Einstein?" He glanced up at the blond. "You're a real headfuck sometimes. You spend half your life telling me how stupid I am and the other half orgasming over the brilliance of my mind. Ok, not a lot changes there, but it would be nice to know what you really thought."

"About your intellect?" Mello finished his melon and dabbed his lips with a serviette. "I think that you are a walking contradiction. When you're bad, you're incomparably stupid and when you're good, you could give me a run for my money. Your problem has always been consistency. Is your soup nice?"

Matt pulled a face, "I suppose I did ask." He scooped the last of the soup onto his spoon and ate it, pushing the bowl back. "Are we really going to watch 'Annie' and 'Oliver Twist' this afternoon? I only bought them for you as a joke."

Mello stretched back, languidly, "I suppose that if you're really, really good, I might play with you instead." They exchanged looks which could not be misinterpreted. "But only if you're good and play nice with the other children." He licked his lips and slowly winked. Across the table, Matt smiled.