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Annals of Fear II	By : DeathNoteFangirl Category: Death Note > Yaoi-Male/Male > Mello/Matt Views: 5803 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note and I do not make any money from these writings

Chapter List
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They had walked shivering down the slope in silence.   The instant that Mello and Matt were in their chalet, Mello turned on his husband.   "What the sweet bastard fuck has got into you?"    Matt stood there, impassively surveying him.    Mello glared.   "If you've got an issue, Mail, you'd better spit it out, because I am not playing the guessing game for months on end.   And I'm not putting up with you being a moody bitch, embarrassing me in front of,"   Mello waved a hand in the direction of their back wall, "them."

"Erm."   Matt shuffled, shifting position, then took off into the kitchenette to put the kettle on.   Mello waited, his glare piercing the air between them.   "Didn't you start it?"

"You want to learn the difference between fond teasing between friends and someone putting the boot in.   Because I'm quite willing to teach you it."   Mello looked around for somewhere to sit.   There was only the bed.    He leaned up against the wall instead.   "And trust me on this one, Jeevas, if we're going to score points off each other in public, then I will win."   His gaze followed his husband around the kitchen.   The tension mounted, as Matt finished preparing their mugs, but had to wait around for the kettle to finish boiling.    "Well?"   Mello spat eventually.

"Well what?"   Matt rolled his eyes.

Mello took a moment to count to ten.   "What's going on, Mail?"

Matt leaned on the worktop.   "Way I see it, you had a laugh with Hal, at my expense, in front of everyone..."

"Which was meant in fun and you took personally, blowing it out of all proportion."

"Then you apologised, but did it while trying to make me have an erection in public."   Matt tapped out a cigarette and lit it.   Mello glowered over by the wall.    "By touching me up and talking dirty in my ear.   So then I called your bluff and it turned out that you didn't have the guts."

Mello gasped. "What?!"    He took a step away from the wall, then reined himself back in.   "No, I'm going to hear this out.   The warped reality world according to Mail Jeevas.   Do carry on."

Matt frowned and turned his back to his husband.    He watched the kettle, willing it to boil, whilst flicking ash into the sink.    Eventually, he swung back around.   "Ok, Mello, I give up.   What other possible interpretation of that could there be?"

Mello sighed.   "You want me to carry through on the things that I whispered to you?   Do you?   Really?"   His blue eyes were blazing with suppressed ire.

"Yes."

Mello exhaled a long, drawn-out breath.   He spoke slowly and precisely, as if to an imbecile.   "No, Mail.   You do not.   Because the difference between me and you,"   Mello raised a finger, "the absolute and fundamental difference between us, is that I know the difference between reality and fantasy."   Across the room, Matt snorted in derision.   "No."   Mello paced forward, jabbing his finger towards his husband.   "Don't you dare just dismiss this, because you live in a dreamworld 90% of the time...."

"Fuck off, Mihael.   Your entire Mello persona is a constructed fantasy."

"Oh! For God's sake!"

"You deny it?"

Mello's whole body was animated with outraged incredulity.   He kept turning away and looking again, rolling his eyes, going to speak and then just huffing.   When he did finally manage to get his words out, his voice was shrill, "Of course I deny it!   And this makes me worried about whether the man I married knows me at all!"

"Probably better than you know yourself."   Matt retorted.   Behind him the kettle finally boiled, so he span around to attend to it.

"I doubt that."   Mello snapped.   He slapped the edge of one hand into the palm of the other; his leather gloves smacking out the beats of his words, like that would ensure their emphasis.   "There is no difference between Mello and Mihael.   Just two names for the same highly complex individual.   You constructed a difference. You did. But there is no difference."    He waited for a response, but Matt just raised his eyebrows and Mello couldn't see that, as his husband was turned away.   "How can you even think that Mello is a fantasy persona?   No-one could live, 24/7, in a persona that they had just made up out of thin air."

Matt's breath caught, "Oh really?   Only someone apparently thinks that I live one 90% of the time."

Mello's mouth opened and closed. Insecurity passed through his eyes for a brief moment, before he marshalled his thoughts back into order.   Then it was gone, replaced with a fiery determination to win this argument, if it killed him.    Matt witnessed none of this.   He was pouring milk into their steaming mugs and was aware only of a loaded silence behind him.    As Matt carried their drinks into the main area, Mello was composed and ready to debate his points.   He took his coffee, but immediately placed it down on the bedside cabinet.     "Right, let me walk you through this.   You really want me to strip you naked and make you kneel through meetings with the others on this case."   He watched his husband's expression intently.   Matt smiled, gave a half-shrug and didn't reply.   Mello grit his teeth, shaking slightly with the effort of self-control over his emotions.   His tone became more pointed.   "You would be quite happy for me to pull your jeans and boxers down, put you over my knee and smack you into submission," he hissed out the last, "in front of the others?"

"Doesn't matter what I say. You haven't got the guts to do it."

Mello closed his eyes.   "Do not challenge me on this, Mail.   I mean, honestly, do not under any circumstances challenge me on this," he swallowed hard and opened his eyes again, "because I will do it and that would be fucking disastrous."

Matt shifted his weight onto the other foot and sipped his tea.   "Why?"

"Why?" Mello gasped.   "Are you fucking insane?   Are you so self-deluded that you think you'd actually enjoy that?"   His eyes darted back and forth in an attempt to read the messages in both of Matt's eyes at once.   "It's a fantasy, Mail! For fuck's sake! Why can't you see that?!"   He growled in frustration, pacing around for a bit, before enough nervous energy was expelled for him to tackle the issue again.   "I know you get off on the idea.   I know that."   Mello nodded emphatically, tasting his words before speaking them. "Mail, I know that."

"Oh good."

"But it's just the idea!   The reality would fuck you up big time."

"No, it wouldn't."   Matt took another sip of tea, speaking with infinite calm and patience.

Mello clutched his head, with both hands fisted into his hair.   His whole frame shuddered.   "You're doing my head in."

Matt shrugged again. "Try it and then we'll see..."

"No!" Mello shrieked.   "Because that would be the end of all trust between us, because you'd fucking hate it and you'd blame me for doing it to you!"   He released his hair and shook a gloved finger at Matt.   "Do you know why I know this?   Do you?"

"I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"Because you can't even bear for them to see what is on show.   You hide behind all that hair and goggles.   When you're feeling scrutinised, you bow your head or else hide your chin in your gilet.   You are asking me to strip you naked in front of them, when you can't even bear for them to see half of your face."   Mello wiped his mouth, as spittle raged from it.   "And I won't do it to you, not because I'm scared, but because I fucking love you and I have no wish to mortify you beyond recall."   He was panting, fists clenched. "I am your master and it is my job to know what you can and can't take, because you'd never stop me.   You'd let it happen, even if it was breaking you.   I watch people and most of all I watch you."   He bounced a couple of times on his heels.   "How dare you say that I don't know you!"   He turned away abruptly, ostensibly to test the temperature of his coffee.

Matt watched Mello's back and the top of his bowed head for any sign that he'd made the blond cry.   He didn't think so. There were no sniffs nor surreptitious eye-wiping.    In the end, Matt started with, "And all I'm saying is that we could try it...."

"Mail, just stop."   Mello breathed. "Just stop.   Please."   He listened to the silence for a few seconds, then added. "Thank you."

Matt put his tea down on the windowsill, while he lit another cigarette.   He peered out, through the net curtains, at the deepening night with the lights of Aberystwyth as a backdrop.   There were no lights on in the other chalets. They were probably still up in the communal hall.   He heard the depression of springs and glanced over his shoulder.    Mello was sitting down on the far side edge of the bed, his elbows on his thighs and his head bowed deeply over them.   Matt turned around to perch against the windowsill.   Mello didn't move. Matt sipped his tea and took a drag of his cigarette.   "I like how you can rant and rage, but when I try to counter, I'm told to shut up."   He watched the set of Mello's shoulders stiffen even more, but the Slav didn't speak.   Matt knew Mello better than the blond thought he did.   Silence, on Mello's part, generally meant one of two things.   Either Mello didn't trust himself to speak right now; or else he was providing plenty of space, which Matt could presumably fill with enough chatter to condemn himself.   All things considered, Matt judged that they were in the first scenario here.   He sighed.   "I don't know why you're getting so het up about this."

Mello's voice emerged subdued and gruff, from the vicinity of his chest.   "Then you really haven't got a portion of the intelligence that you're purported to have."

"You're just pissed off that I called your bluff."   Matt waited, but there was no response. "You've mingled with Wammy people and that little 14 year old hiding inside you is coming back out to play."   Nothing.    "And he has to win everything, even stupid little back and forths between me and you."   Nothing.   Mello was sitting utterly immobile.   Matt sighed.   "Let it go."   He waited.   Long minutes passed. It felt like an hour or more, but his watch said it had only been 4 minutes.   The annoyance started to tell in Matt's tone. "Are you actually crying?"

"Ok."   Mello moved all at once, leaping to his feet and pivoting around to face his husband.   Even now facing him, Matt still couldn't tell if Mello had been crying.   He wasn't wearing eye liner that could run and he'd been up late the night before, doing some follow up reports on the Belarus case.   He'd arrived with red-rimmed eyes, complete with embryonic bags forming beneath them. If there had been tears glistening in those eyes, then they would have burned away with the passion blazing there again now.   "Ok. You win. We'll do it."

Matt froze. He hadn't expected that.   He peered into his empty mug to buy some time, then answered slowly, softly, "Ok."

"But I'm your master, so we play by my rules."   Mello stared at his husband, daring contradiction on this point.    Matt nodded.   "Right. Good."    Mello paced, his gestures all jagged.    He hunted in his toiletries bag for ages, but rose out of it with nothing; only to descend upon his suitcase instead.   "Fuck. Didn't bring it.    If I'd known that this was going to happen, I'd have got supplies in."   He stood, thinking hard, which was always a rare sight.    Mello usually made thinking look so effortless.   He snatched up his coffee and gulped it down in one go.   "Wait here. I'll be right back."    Mello snatched up the key from the table, where Matt had left it. Then he was gone, rushing out into the night with the door banging behind him.

Matt sat down, his shoulders sinking with finally exhaling a deep breath.    He'd technically just won a bout with Mello, but it didn't feel like a victory.    Nerves had settled in his stomach, while he racked his brain to try and predict the Keehl mind.    He didn't have a clue.   He retraced his tracks through the argument, trying to work out why he was becoming increasingly more nervous.   He dismissed the fact that he'd persevered with the argument, despite Mello producing his whole repertoire of emotions and reason.    Mello was dangerous to other people, not him.   In fact, Mello was mostly dangerous to himself.   But Matt knew he was personally safe.   Ok, perhaps he might occasionally get the odd slap outside of sex, but Mello was never going to zero him.   The Slav needed him too much for that.   No-one else would put up with the diva behaviour.

He heard voices out on the track, approaching, and his stomach twisted into knots.   Matt bit his lip.   He'd got it.   There was a distinct possibility that Mello had been right all along.   Matt wouldn't really like to go through with something that exposed, in front of people like those.    However, Matt was blowed if he would admit that to Mello now.    The voices were louder, closer.    Matt craned his neck to see Mello and Century walking across the turf.   Matt stood up as they passed out of view, then watched them go into Century's chalet.   Matt pondered the implications. Was this a test run?    Just watched by Century?   Now that Matt thought about it, Fenian and Deontic were probably the last two people on Earth that he would wish to witness his sexual humiliation.   His mind got lost in the scene and he amended that to 'in reality'.

"Diolch."   Mello's call came from just outside the door.    Matt hurried to sit back down and affect a nonchalant air.    The key sounded in the lock and Mello rushed back in, bringing the cold night with him.    He was clutching something in one hand, which was quickly hidden behind his back, as he closed the door again.   Mello stood for a suspended moment, staring at him with a supercilious expression.   "You are so shitting yourself, Mail."

Matt's jaw dropped and he frowned, twisting to follow Mello's progress across the room and into the bathroom.   "What?"   He heard Mello snigger.   "Mihael, you don't just win because you say you do."

Mello arrived at the bathroom door, one hand up on the jamb.   "You've been alone in here for several minutes. During which time, you've taken out a grand total of no games and you haven't switched your laptop on."    He licked a gloved fingertip and stroked it into the air.   "Enjoy your sitting there trying to fathom out what I was up to?"    He turned on his heels and disappeared into the bathroom without even waiting for an answer.

"Bastard."   Matt said, under his breath.

Mello called out, "Mail, did you bring your glasses?"    He followed through, carrying a couple of brushes, a comb and a pot of hair gel.   "Did you?"

"No."   Matt replied, knowing now what this was about.

"Really no, or 'oh shit, he's going to make me wear them in public' no?"

"Really no." Matt eyed the hair stuff, now dumped on the bed behind him.   "Don't make me look like a twat."

Mello smiled.   "If you survive even 10 minutes up there, with your hair off your face, then I might re-evaluate what you're capable of." He peeled off his gloves and ran his hands through his husband's hair.    Mello's nose wrinkled and he spoke aloud, half to himself, "The trouble is that it's so thick.   I don't think gel alone is going to do it."

A cold core was growing from deep inside Matt.   He knew that it was being kept from his face, but it was gripping him nontheless. "Please don't cut my hair."

Mello smiled.   "I won't, baby."

Matt licked his lips and sat still.   "I'm your 'baby' again now?"

"You always were."   Mello winked.   "My baby, my guapo, my bonito, my cariño; my impossible and infuriating asshole of a spouse." He was experimenting with just brushing hair out of the way, but it kept falling back.    "You know, I always thought that you just found a hairstyle that you liked and stuck with it forever..."

"Like you did?"

Mello laughed, his own demeanour much lighter now.   "Yeah. I'll give you that."    He tried a centre parting as a last desperate measure.   It didn't hold.     "But now I'm finally getting that you're just one of those people whose head comes with a built in hairstyle; and all you can do is trim it."

Matt blew out his cheeks and let the air escape his lips slowly,   "It kind of starts growing at the scalp and extends outward on thin strands."

"Idiot."   Mello laughed.   "Ok, this isn't working.   It's time to try the gel."    He took out a great handful of it and teased Matt's fringe, layer by layer, back onto the top of his head.   They were nearly two thirds of the way through the pot before Mello admitted defeat.   "I can get some of it back. There's a whole chunk pretty well cemented into place there, but I can't get all of it."    He frowned, staring at the clumped mass.   "How about if I just thinned it out a bit?"

Matt squirmed away.   "Don't cut my hair.   It's not worth it."

"This shouldn't be this hard."   Mello commented, sitting back watching him light a cigarette.   "But the fat lady hasn't started singing yet and I do have some last desperate measures in reserve."

Matt's eyes moved sidewards.   "Like?"

"Hal had a scrunchie in her pocket."   Mello smirked.

Suspicion dropped over Matt like a blanket.   "What's a scrunchie?"

Mello took it out of his pocket and showed him.    He stretched it.   "Probably elastic inside this material."

"So what?   I have a ponytail?"   Matt's expression conveyed very eloquently what he thought of that idea.   "Mello, I'd look ridiculous."   He pulled his hair back and tested it in a bunch.   He glanced into a mirror, then let it fall.   "No. Just no.   I'd rather just say that you were right and so pull out of this whole thing."

"Heh!"   Mello shook his head.   "So defeatist."   A faint smile played on his lips, but he didn't enunciate what thought prompted it. "And Deontic says that she has an Alice band in her chalet."

"Only if I can wear it like Naruto."

Mello started to grin, then his whole expression changed to one of delighted triumph.   "Oh my God!   Yes!   Yes!   It's been staring us in the face all this time! Fuck yes.   Absolutely perfect."

Matt peered warily at him from beneath the remaining fringe. "You're worrying me now."

Mello crawled on all fours across the bed, then kneeled in front of his husband.   He used his hands to carefully scrape all of Matt's hair off his forehead, periodically smiling at his work.   "Hold this up."    Matt held his cigarette between his lips and let Mello guide his hands into securing the hair.   "Heh." Mello beamed.   He reached out and lifted the goggles from Matt's eyes, then placed them high on his head.   There was a moment's contemplation as they both let go, but the hair held.   "Kickass and gorgeous."   Mello declared.   "Probably best to wash all that crap out of your hair first though.   You don't need it."

"But now I can't see."

"Your eyesight isn't that bad, Mail. Stop whinging. You can see almost perfectly for at least four feet.   You can see your immediate vicinity and that's the important bits."   Mello sat back, looking really pleased with himself.   "It's just perfect on so many different levels.   It does the job.   It looks great.   It allows them to see your eyes too.   And, if there's an emergency, you have your goggles with you to see with."   His face lit up with delight. "Fantastic."

Matt sat in front of a mirror.   It wasn't bad, but he was already feeling exposed and this was only with Mello, who had seen his face a billion times before.   They definitely needed to set terms.   "How long do I have to wear it like this?"

Mello considered it. "I'll let you off, if you keep it like that for an hour."

"They're going to know I'm short-sighted.   If I'm asked to look at anything, I'll have to pull my goggles down and they'll work out that they're prescription."    He turned huge, worried eyes into Mello's direction and watched the grin forming.   "But you don't give a shit, because you're a sadistic bastard."

"So, you go in looking like you always do.   They've got the whiteboard set up in the room now.   They were telling Fenian and Kiana every last detail about what happened before.   By the time we return, that board is going to be covered in stuff.    You have a good long look at it," Mello paused for emphasis, "my eidetic genius."   He winked.   "Then you push your goggles onto your head, sit down with your laptop and I'll start the clock.   You can see me clearly here and I think you'll be able to see most people at the table, if we choose your seat strategically.    Like halfway down the length of it.   In fact, thinking about it, if you do that on the side nearest to the whiteboard, you should be able to see that too."    Mello shrugged. "Not a problem.   I'll just cover for you, if there is one.   So go and wash your hair."

Matt sat there, looking at him, and periodically blinking.    He wasn't used to such dull colours in a world ordinarily tinged with orange. His mind turned over the entire conversation in search of a fatal flaw to get him out of this.    He found one.   "Hold on! You'll 'let me off'?"   He frowned.   "You will let me off what?"

Mello inclined a shoulder, coquettishly, and smiled sweetly.   "I thought I'd got away with that."    He nodded towards the bathroom. "Hurry up with it. They were ordering pizza and I'm starving."    He opened a fresh chocolate bar.   "In fact, if I hear the delivery van go up, I might just leave you to it and go and feed."    Matt raised his eyebrows and scrambled off the bed and into the bathroom. Mello chuckled to see the speed of him now.

It wasn't until Matt was using Mello's hairdryer that Mello spotted the pizza van crawling up the track past their chalets.   "Fuck yes. Come on, time to go.   Just put a hat on to keep the wind off the damp. You'll be fine."   Mello hurried about pulling on gloves, hat and coat.

"It's nearly done."

"And I'm nearly dead of malnutrition."   Mello chivvied.   "Come on. It'll dry off in the hat."

"Go on. I'll catch you up."

Mello sighed and sat back down again.   A moment later, he jumped back up and collected together Matt's essentials for leaving the house and put them into a single mass, so they could leave more quickly.   As soon as the hairdryer went off, a couple of minutes later, Mello was back on his feet.   "Come on. Boots. Coat. Goggles.   I've got your handbag with your cigarettes already in it."

"It's not my handbag.   It's my laptop carry case with side-pockets."

Mello smirked. "I know."   He clapped his hands to inspire the pace of movement.   "Let's go, let's go, let's go."

Matt was feeling pressured enough, without this.   He flashed a warning in his glance, but nevertheless quickly got ready to leave.   "I don't know how you ever get hungry.   You do nothing but shove chocolate in your mouth all day."

Mello didn't reply until Matt was standing beside him, ready to leave the chalet.   Then Mello handed him the laptop case and followed through with placing a hand on each of Matt's shoulders.   "Right, now for the truth."   He smiled reassurance. "I am hungry, but that's not the real reason that I'm excited by tonight."    He let his gaze drift over Matt's features.   "I want you to think of the world from my perspective for a moment.    You know that you're successful if you can afford the nice house, the fast car, the holidays abroad and designer clothes.   But the best success of all is to have the trophy husband on your arm and to know, 'fuck me, I pulled that'."

"Mello."   Matt started to inch towards the door.

"Mail Ricardo Sebastian Jeevas-Keehl, get back here and hear me out.   This is my time."    Mello batted Matt's hand off the latch and pushed him back against the wall, holding a wrist in each hand.   "But there are two sides to the trophy husband.   The first is getting to fuck him, which is always good.   The second is to have people out there look at you with envious eyes."

"I'm actually getting quite hungry now too."

Mello squeezed his thumbs against Matt's wrists, until he felt the tiniest repressed flinch.   "Now, in my case, I get to have the fuck, but not so much the envious glances.   Because no-one knows what the Hell my man looks like.   Because he's always hidden under all that hair."   He leaned in and pecked a kiss onto Matt's lips.    "But tonight, for one hour only, they will see you. And Mail, you are gorgeous. You are really, drop down dead gorgeous."

"This is all very flattering, but I can work out the ending.   Shall we...?"

"You have these huge eyes; a really dark emerald, that is definitely not apparent through orange lenses.   I love making you half wake up, when I get out of bed in the morning.   Listen to me, because this is a true confession.    You open your eyes and I get to look into them, before you kind of go, 'nghh', and go back to sleep.   And it's the only time I see them, because every other time, you have your goggles on or it's dark.   And do you want to know a secret?"   Mello's smile flickered encouragement.   "A really big secret?   That's to your benefit."

Matt nodded, smiling.   "It would be rude not to."

Mello grinned, nodding along with him.   "You could wrap me around your little finger with those eyes.   Yeah, I know I've shot myself in the foot there.   But you ever want anything that I'm immovable on, you just uncover your eyes and try just looking at me.   As long as it isn't fundamentally stupid and/or fatal, then I'll probably bend to your will sooner or later."

"And all along, I thought it was my arse you liked."   Despite himself, Matt had turned slightly pink around the cheeks.

"I like all of you." Mello winked.   "And your arse and cock certainly have their high points; as indeed does your mouth and tongue. All very appreciated.   But I can have those anytime.   Your eyes, that's like a glimpse of a rare, magical creature."

Matt snorted.   Then he nodded towards the window.   "Pizza man just left."

"Good.   Then we have hot food waiting."   Mello's expression glowed with wonder, as he stared at Matt.   "When you open your eyes in the morning and I see your beautiful eyes, I go weak at the knees and that's the truth."   In his pocket, his 'phone beeped.   "That will just be the others telling me that the pizza has arrived.   I ordered you pepperoni."

"Thank you."

"Do you get what I'm saying to you, Mail?"    Mello watched Matt nod.    "What am I saying to you?"

Matt smiled back at him.   "You're saying that I'm a short-arsed, freckle-faced, red-headed, four-eyed geek...."

Mello bowed forward at the waist, groaning, but kept his grip on Matt's wrists.   "No, no, no, you're not listening to me!"

"... but you're making me be exposed tonight, so you want to make me feel good about myself...."

"Mail, you're fucking gorgeous. Listen to what I'm saying."

"... so when I'm all self-conscious, I'll think to myself.   Oh!   It's ok, because Mello said I'm gorgeous."

Mello stood back up.   "Have you even seen your eyes in a mirror?   I would die for eyes like yours.   You don't even need mascara to open them up."   He fixed his gaze onto Matt again.   "I'm not just saying it, Mail.   You really are gorgeous.    Oh! God! I wish you could see yourself through my eyes."

"But then I'd have to give up my rare, magical creature, stunning, emerald eyes of pwnage."

Mello laughed.   "I really love you."

Matt nodded.   "Mello, can I do something please?"   He bit his lip.   "It's really quick."

"Does it involve the internet?"

"No.    I'll be standing right here."    Matt smiled winsomely at his husband, who nodded and released his wrists, before stepping back. Matt reached up and pushed his goggles onto his forehead.    He looked straight at Mello and smiled.   "Now that I've unleashed the epic eyes of persuasion, can we go and get our pizza?"

Mello laughed, looking back fondly with his hand at his mouth.   "Yes.   Yes, ok."

"Woot."

Mello leaned in and snogged his man.   He lingered to drink in the sight of Matt's eyes and stayed until he felt Matt shiver. "Believe it, baby. You're beautiful."   He stroked a gloved finger down Matt's cheek.    "I lose myself in you."

"You're not bad yourself."

Mello winked and opened the front door.   "Come on!   Let's go, let's go!   I need to show my trophy to the world."   He waited until Matt had shut the door, then took his hand.   "Thank you so much for this.    I'm so excited."    They set off along the track.   "And God, I'm going to fuck you senseless tonight.   Just so you know."
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Annals of Fear II