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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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Mello awoke to the smell of stale sex and the memory of a disastrous day.   There was also an incessant beeping coming from across the room.   It was his 'phone in his coat pocket.   He could feel Matt's weight still against him and wondered at how he'd managed a whole night without his husband turning away.   Mello cautiously lifted the lip of the quilt and peered underneath.   Matt had burrowed down, but only so far as to have his head half on Mello's chest and half on the mattress beneath.    Matt's face was swollen with bruising and Mello winced.    It had all seemed like such a good idea at the time.

He slid out of bed and padded naked over to his coat.   The beeping had stopped, but he retrieved his 'phone anyway.   Outside, it was a grey day.   A murky, off-white sky over a darker grey ocean and the sound of gulls in the air above.   Mello flicked up the 'phone and read Hal's name beside the missed call.   He called her back.   "Yes?"

Hal didn't waste time on pleasantries.   "Look outside the window."

"I am." Mello replied, though now he looked more carefully.   He could hear voices.   "Where?"

"Century's door.   Hurry! You're missing it."

Mello moved to the far left and peered across.   There was a slim, extremely short girl just walking into Century's chalet.   He had the chance to form an impression of chunky platform sling-backs and a too short skirt, plus black hair piled high onto her head, before she disappeared behind a closed door.   "Tell me that that wasn't Siân."

"I'm almost certain that that was Siân."   Hal didn't sound impressed.   "Mello, she looks about twelve."

"Why is she here?"

"I don't know.   I just saw Century run past the window, then a short while later return with her.   They stopped by the ocean front for a while, then you saw the ending."

Mello frowned deeply.   "Didn't you challenge him?"

"He's 18 now, Mello.   Not a lot I can say, is there?"

Mello spotted the quilt cover on the floor. He should have put that to wash the night before.   They'd just have to nip into the town and buy a new one.   "So Fenian has brought a granny and Century is cradle robbing.   Joy."   He saw movement across the turf.   "Dee is on her way to your chalet.   I'm going to get dressed and go to see what's going on."    He considered it, watching Deontic knock on Hal's door, whilst hearing the same through the 'phone.   "What do we know about her?"

"Only that she's Welsh.    I think Chrissie has met her."

In the background, he heard Deontic.   "Chrissie has spoken with her over Skype."

Hal replied, "What did she say?"

"She just said that Siân isn't Century's intellectual equal."

Mello chuckled, "Let's assume it doesn't mean that she's a super genius."    He considered it a moment longer. "Which means that she's probably a really good shag.   Is this Century's first girlfriend?"

Hal relayed the question to Deontic, but neither of them knew.   "Mello," Hal asked, "has your headache cleared up?"

"Oh."   Mello opened the window to release some of the smell of sweat and cigarettes, but the draught was so cold that he immediately closed it again.   "Yes.   Much better now. Thanks."   They said their goodbyes and he hung up.

Mello moved around the room, having a quick tidy-up and listening to Matt's breathing.    His husband was still sound asleep and Mello was loathe to wake him, when it was going to be to a world of pain.   Guilt stabbed at that, then grew into real remorse, as Mello mentally picked it over, while in the shower.    He had dressed, done his hair and was just applying his eye-liner, when there was a knock at the door.    He glanced anxiously at Matt, but he slept on; then grimaced at the fact that he only had one eye outlined.   He dared not risk a second knock disturbing Matt though, so he answered the door.

It was Hal and Deontic.   Hal gave him the once-over and smiled at his half-applied liner. "We're going for some breakfast.   Do you pair want to come?"

Mello shook his head, "No, Mail's still asleep and..." He thought about the new quilt cover that he needed to buy.   Besides, it was around 9am, which was still the middle of the night, as far as Matt was concerned.   It could be hours before his husband surfaced and Mello was hungry.   "Where are you getting it?"

Hal indicated down the hill to where a sea wall ended in a lighthouse and buildings edged the shore in the distance.   "We thought we'd go and grab something in Downtown Aberystwyth."

Mello nodded.   "Ok, I'll meet you in the car. Give me two minutes tops."   He closed the door in their faces, then ran around getting ready to go.   He did consider waking Matt, but that was rarely a good idea.   Instead he scribbled a note and left it with the pile of Matt's things, that he'd collected on the bedside cabinet.   He blew a kiss at the mound in the quilt, then left. He raced across the turf and jumped into the back of Deontic's BMW.   "Thank you for waiting, ladies."

Deontic pulled away.   They were halfway down the road, before Hal turned to survey him, smiling slyly from the passenger seat. "We were wondering why only nail varnish and eye liner, but never lipstick, eye-shadow or blusher."

"So this is what women discuss."   Mello smirked.   "Me."

"You're an endless source of conversation, Mello." Hal laughed, while Deontic impassively drove.

"You don't think I'd look really camp in full make-up?"   Mello countered, enjoying her guffaw.   "You're hurting my feelings."

"You look hurt."

They stopped talking as Deontic stopped at a junction with no obvious access to the town beyond the marina.   It took several false turns and one U-turn, before they eventually crossed over a bridge and Mello spotted a sign. "Canol y dref!" He proclaimed proudly. "It means town centre.   I've been learning Welsh." He shrugged, as Hal looked impressed.   "It annoyed me that I couldn't understand the language."

"Talking about the Welsh, what do we think of Siân turning up?" Deontic asked.

Mello wrinkled his nose. "She's going to have to go.   I suggested that everyone bring one person with them. Century has brought three.    This is getting out of hand."   He pointed out a car-park, but Deontic had already spotted it.   She parked up and Mello dashed out to put money into the meter.   He soon returned. "My thinking there was that we'd all have someone to calm us down.   Last time, you and Century were quite isolated, while I had Mail.    It was supposed to be a tactic to keep us on solid ground, but it's backfired somewhat."

"But if it keeps him from having another heart-attack..." Deontic let the sentence hang, the question implicit in it.

Mello bit his lip.   Hal looked around her. "It's out of my hands. He turned 18 on me.    We appear to have found a mall."   She scanned the store names.   Lidl, Iceland, Argos.   None of them seemed to contain a restaurant.

Mello pushed his hands into his pocket. "I fancy walking."   He set the pace, which Hal matched, but they were soon leaving Deontic behind.   Mello hissed a quick question.   "Have you brought firearms?"

"Yes."

"Me too."   He quietened as Deontic caught up.   "Sorry, we'll slow down."

Deontic looked around her. "Where are you going? Because I've triangulated the distances, based on what we could see from the chalets and where we've driven since.   I think we need to head west, not north."

"The road turns west at the end of this street." Mello pointed.   "It's ok. I won't let you get lost.   I've noticed things like the railway station, from which I deduced there's a railway track blocking our way directly west."   He didn't mention that he'd also seen another town centre sign, pointing out the route to take.    They still seemed to walk through a lot of residential streets, before discovering shops and cafes.    Mello and Hal had kept up the banter all the way there, despite Deontic seeming ill at ease with small-talk, as she was never any good at it. The atmosphere felt a lot lighter than at the chalets and infinitely more so than in the manor in the mountains above.    They found a cafe and ordered their food, before Hal excused herself to use the restroom.    Mello turned his attention to his other companion, "Are you ok, Deontic?"

"Why do you and Hal flirt with each other?"

Mello laughed.   "Do we?"

"Does Matt know?"

"Mail really doesn't have a thing to worry about."

Deontic looked at the toilet door.   It remained closed.   "Hal said you look really cute with your hood up."

Mello smiled, "Don't you think that I look really cute with my hood up?"

"No." Deontic bristled.   "I mean, well it doesn't matter what I mean, I think that Hal is coming on to you."

Mello laughed aloud, then leaned in to state, in hushed tones, "But I like hot, juicy cock."   He sat back amused at Deontic's flustered blushing.    "So, Dee, what's up?"   When she didn't reply, he directed her. "I mean with the others.   It felt like everyone was out to get me yesterday.   Is this an ambush?"

Deontic shook her head. "Things did get out of hand, but from where I was sitting it felt more like it was you and Fenian doing it."

"Understood."   Mello inclined his head.   "So if I'm a good boy and use my diplomatic charm to negate the Irish, then all will be well?"

"It would be an improvement."   She met his eyes.   "Are you working with us or are you now a lone vigilante?"

"That depends upon how it all plays out."   He smiled.   "I'm going to swing by the location later on today and install the..." He glanced at the neighbouring tables, but the cafe was practically empty and no-one was close enough to hear.    He did notice Hal returning and nodded at her, but then continued.   "I'm going to fit the cameras and shit, after making sure that the place is secure."

Deontic frowned, "That the bottle is in place, you mean."    She glanced up as Hal resumed her seat.

"Yes."   Mello leaned back, looking out of the window.   "I'd rather Fenian and I were never there at the same time.   Too risky."

"I agree."

Their food arrived and they switched to lighter subjects, dominated by Mello and Hal.   This was not the place to be discussing the case, but Deontic had never been one for small talk.    She read a tourist leaflet instead, taken from a rack on the wall, and occasionally read out items of interest.    This was a university town.   There were the remains of a castle overlooking the sea.   The latter sparked some attention from Hal, to the disdain of Mello, but otherwise there was nothing that excited any of them.   After their breakfast was eaten, they began a slow progression back to the car, stalled occasionally by one or another nipping into a shop.    Mello was teased for his pack of three quilt covers; which he countered with trying to impress them with a novel, written in the Welsh language, which he intended to read.   The atmosphere remained bright and convival, almost a holiday air despite the grim drizzle.

They turned the corner into the street, along which Deontic's car was parked.   "Ha!"   Mello pointed.   "The railway station!   I'm so good."    Hal rolled her eyes, but Deontic pursed her lips.   She had been the one certain that they were heading in the wrong direction. Then both Hal and Deontic's 'phones beeped an alert that text messages had arrived.   Mello raised his chin, surreptitiously touching his own 'phone.   But it hadn't vibrated and it hadn't beeped.   He watched their expressions change.   Hal looked almost hurt.   Deontic's features blanked out into that studiously unrevealing visage so beloved of Wammy House alumni.     They both surveyed Mello.   "What?" He asked with a half-laughing sneer. "I'm apparently not on the mailing list."

Deontic carried on walking, but Hal held out her 'phone for him to read the text.   'Mello has badly beaten up Matt.'    There was no signatory.   Mello did not take it to scroll down for the sender's name.   He just nodded.   "I need to get back there.   Mail's up and about."   He scuffed the tarmac beneath his boot, then set off at a run.   "I should have been there when he woke up."    He passed Deontic. "Hurry! I need to get back!"

Hal had dashed forward too, but she fell into pace with Deontic and neither seemed inclined to rush.    Mello had reached the car long before they were even in view at the entrance to the car-park.   He raced back to chivvy them along, but both women looked furious with him.   Hal raised her hand, "Don't start, Mello.    What have you done to him?"    She wasn't a fool. She had been wrong-footed by their sexual practices before; and had even had her fears about conceived domestic violence exploited in the past.   It was the word 'badly' that was inspiring her ire.

"You don't understand." Mello gushed. "You really don't understand.   Just text whoever that was back, tell them to leave him alone." Neither appeared ready to do so.   "Come on!   You both know what a cunt he can be if he's cornered!   Remember the infirmary!   You were both there.   You both saw him take Madeleine hostage and threaten to explode the institution.   Same situation!"   He had his 'phone out of his pocket and was speed-dialing Matt.   The women carried on walking and Mello danced around them in agitation.   His call was answered. "Baby!"

"Si?"

"Are you alright?   I'm sorry I wasn't there. I've got you a bacon bap."

"Thanks."   Matt's voice was utterly devoid of emotion.   Mello wasn't sure whether he hoped that that was because his husband wasn't alone or not.   Both scenarios had dire implications.

"I'm just getting into Deontic's car now. We're only downtown.   I'll be there in ten minutes, if that."   He clambered into the back seat and stared at the driver. "Faster if Dee puts her foot down."

"'kay."

"Te amo, cariñó."   Mello could hear the clicking of a keyboard.   Matt was using a computer.   He was probably alone. That was good.   He hadn't responded to the comment.   "Are you alone, Mail?"

"... ish."

Mello frowned, aware that Deontic hadn't even switched on the engine yet.   "One moment, guapo."   He glared at her. "Dee, I really need to get back."   He watched Hal and Deontic exchange glances.   "Or I could just get a fucking taxi!    Mail, what do you mean by 'ish'?"

Matt took a drag on his cigarette.   "Vrata su zaključana."    The door is locked.

"Ok."   Mello imagined the four Celts, as a frenzied pack, battering at the thin wood.   Though, in fairness, he couldn't hear them doing so.   "I'm on my way back, I promise.   Just don't hurt the natives."    He flashed a relieved smile, as Deontic finally turned the key in the ignition.   She reversed, then waited for a group of shoppers to cross before her.    Mello tapped the window with his finger in impatience.   "What are you doing, baby?"

There was a long silence, then, "Talk when you get here."    Matt broke the connection and Mello wanted to scream.    He immediately redialed, but there was a click and he went straight to voicemail.   Mello angrily closed his 'phone and glared at the back of the seat in front.

"So." Hal had twisted in the passenger seat.   "What happened last night?"   Mello did nothing but glower and tap his foot; his gaze swinging around to stare blankly out of the window instead.   The Welsh countryside sped by, not nearly fast enough, in overgrown hedgerows and empty sheep fields.   His unfocused, inwardly turned vision nontheless noted something tiny and squashed at the side of the road.   "Mello, you left the hall in a bit of a mood.   Now Matt is badly beaten up.   What are we to make of that?"

A thought had occurred to Mello.   "You are taking me back, aren't you?"

Deontic replied, shortly, "I haven't decided."

"It was sex.   It's always fucking sex.   You don't understand."   He drew his heel back and kicked the seat beneath him in frustration. "Why is it this same fucking accusation over and over again?   How much evidence do you need?"

Hal interjected, patiently, "I know that you have a BDSM relationship.   I'm convinced that both of you are willing parties in this and..."

"I wanted a cuddle!"   Mello replied, shrill.   "I just wanted a fucking cuddle!   But you have to handle Mail in..." He stumbled over his words, flustered by everything, "You have to know how to handle Mail.   You don't just get a cuddle. You have to engineer a cuddle on his terms."   He appealed, with wide-eyes, to Hal, "I'm not the baddie here."

Hal's expression softened into uncertainty, but Deontic snapped, "You beat him up to get a cuddle?"

"No!" Mello spat, then a split second later, "Yes!   Oh! Why the fuck am I explaining myself to you?   It's none of your..." He saw the turning,   "Here!   Turn right!"    Mello didn't think that she was going to, but she did.   He took his hand off the car door, since he had been willing to jump out had she carried on.   "Thank you."   He looked from Hal's worried, unsure expression to Deontic's furious face, reflected in the rearview mirror.   "Thank you for trusting me."

Deontic exhaled an exasperated sound.   "This is not trust.   This is me wondering what I'm doing here."

"Ok." Mello was breathing more easily now that he could see their cars and the nearby outline of the chalets.   "But whatever the scenario is in your head, please edit out any reference to 'sweet, innocent, tiny Matty' because I doubt that he ever existed."

"I grew up with Matt."   Deontic hissed.   "I'm well aware."   She gritted her teeth and made to turn into a parking bay.   "But he still doesn't deserve..."

Whatever she was going to say was lost, as Mello opened the door and half rolled out of the slowly moving car.    His plastic bag was gripped in his right hand, as he ineffectively shoved the car door and sprinted away behind her vehicle.   The door didn't close, it swung back open, causing Hal to have to get out and finish the job.   Mello had already vaulted onto the low, stone wall, landing effortlessly on the higher level of pavement and turf.   He careened across the green to his chalet door, ignoring Century's shout.   Mello pressed the key into the lock, but some sixth sense told him that Matt wasn't in there, even before he pushed open the door and confirmed that with a glance.

Century was beside him.   "Matt's upstairs.   What...?"

Mello nodded and careered past him, taking the stone steps to the upper floor two at a time.   Fenian and Kiana were outside the door to the computer hub.   Fenian raised his hands to signal peace or surrender; Kiana straightened with a sigh.   Mello ignored them.   He pushed between the couple and hammered on the door.   "Mail, it's me."

"He won't open up."   Kiana commented, accusation in her tone and eyes.

"Mail!"   Mello snapped.   There was a shuffling sound from within and the door was unlocked.   Mello flashed a tight, smug smile at Kiana and rushed in before either of them could do so.   He slammed the door shut behind him and stood against it.   Matt had returned to his desktop computer.    He stood, rather than sat, awkwardly before the keyboard.   Mello reached down to lock the door again, then moved across to inspect his husband.   Matt's face was almost unrecognisable beneath the puffy swelling of bruising.   It ranged in colour from red to black; lurid purples and yellow.   His top lip, on the right hand side, was almost twice its normal size. Mello stared in horror.   He hadn't imagined it to be quite so bad.   "Guapo," he began, but faltered, having no words to say to this.

Matt took a cigarette from the packet on the side and lit it.   The ashtray by his keyboard was already littered with butts, yet he couldn't have been in here long.   He took a deep drag, then flicked ash into it.   His gaze flickered sideways, from the screen to Mello, and he whispered, "You have the bacon bap. I'm not hungry."

Mello released a breath, "Have you used anti-inflammatory gel?   And arnica?"

"Some."

Mello's gaze moved down to Matt's backside, hidden beneath the denim.   A memory of the night before rose with nauseating vividness.   If Matt's face was this bad, then his rear end had to be a lot worse.   "I..."

"Don't."   Matt turned to face him.   His eyes were remarkably unbruised, though there was still puffiness around them from his cheekbones.   "Just don't."

Mello swallowed.   "I went overboard."

Matt's eyes flashed annoyance.   "I hate it when you do that."

"What?" Mello frowned, but Matt didn't respond.   Instead, he returned his attention to his screen and resumed scrolling through a wall of complex code.    Mello stared at it, trying to determine its importance to their world.    It could be anything from a programme related to the case through to Matt hacking a game for cheats.   Mello placed his bag on the side and stepped forward.   He placed a hand onto Matt's back and kissed his neck.   "I enjoyed it at the time, guapo.   I don't enjoy seeing you in pain now.   It is acceptable to admit that I went overboard, without that being a reflection upon our sex-life in general."

"Fine."

"Do you need proper medical attention?"   He waited until Matt shook his head.   "Is that because you can't be bothered or because you don't?"

"It's just bruises."

"I didn't break anything?" Mello sought for clarification.    Matt shook his head again.   "You're not sitting down. Is that because you can't?"

Matt cast another irritated glance, then turned bodily to pull the executive chair closer.   Mello noted how stilted his husband's movements were.   Matt sat down in the chair, but did not wince.   That meant nothing, though Matt evidently thought it was proof enough.   "I'm fine."

Mello took out his chocolate and sucked on it.   "I don't think you're fine.   I think that you're trying to make me feel better about this, in the mistaken belief that if I feel guilty, it would result in vanilla sex for the rest of our lives.    I think you're hurting pretty badly and you're embarrassed by the others knowing that you were beaten up."

"Fuck...."

"No!" Mello raised his finger.   "Because of what they'll think of me."   By the silence, he knew that his theory was correct. "You are precisely wrong.   Knowing that you will cover up any bad injury will make me refrain from wanting to hurt you, just in case; and I don't give a fuck what the others think of me.   So I will ask you again, are you badly hurt enough for hospital treatment?"

"No."

"Then may I go and get the anti-inflammatory gel and arnica and use them to help you?" He watched Matt correct some code. "Mail?"

"If you like."

"Thank you."   Mello leaned over Matt's chair and planted a kiss on his swollen lips.   "I love the bones of you, Mail Jeevas." He waited and he was rewarded with Matt meeting his eyes.   "I'm sorry that I went overboard and I apologise for not being here when you woke up.   What do you need to happen next?"

Matt blinked slowly behind the goggles.   "A cup of tea would be nice."

"Then I'll bring you a cup of tea."   Mello smiled. "In fact, I'll bring the whole kettle, if this is where you're going to be hiding away." He reached out and thumbed the hair to behind Matt's ear.   "Anything else?"   Matt glanced once at the door.   Mello nodded. "I'll keep them away from you.   Anything else?"

Matt whispered, "It does hurt to sit down."

Mello nodded and mouthed, "I'm sorry."   Then kissed him.   He asked more loudly, "But was it good at the time?"   Matt nodded, which wasn't helpful for convincing eavesdroppers.   Mello replied brightly, "I'm glad.    Now I'll go and get you that cup of tea."   He took one last kiss, then strode across to his bag.   Leaving the bacon bap on the side, he marched to the door, unlocked it and flung it open.   There was nobody out there.    "Mail."   He waited until Matt looked around and showed him the empty staircase.   "First request already completed."   Matt nodded.   Mello closed the door behind him and fled down the stairs.

The whole area seemed deserted.   He had half expected a committee ready to pounce on him for crimes against humanity, but the others were nowhere to be seen. It occurred to him to look up and he found them.   At least, he could see shadows behind net curtains, in the upper chalet next to the computer hub.   "Fuck."   Mello murmured, but went on into his own chalet anyway and deposited the bag, with his quilt covers and book, on the table.   Matt hadn't made the bed and the place smelled of old cigarettes.    Mello tidied up and opened the window, despite the light rain, while he made a cup of tea.    He gathered up his ointments and, for extra measure, dropped his First Aid kit onto the collection.   Packing them alongside the accoutrements of tea-making, he carried the whole lot back upstairs. He wasn't stopped, though he did have to kick the door for it to be unlocked again for him.

Matt was standing up again.   Mello resisted the urge to hug him close or cry for his pain.   Instead he handed over the cup of tea and carried the rest of his box into the kitchenette.   He unpacked it, for something to do, then walked through the nearby doorway to ensure that there was really a bathroom in there.   There was, complete with a bath and a shower, identical to the chalet downstairs.   Mello turned the tap to check that there was hot water.    Matt called through, "Do not make it humid in here, Mello."

Mello frowned and returned to the main room.    "What?"

"Use the bathroom for a slash, but don't leave the hot water on." Matt indicated his electrical equipment.

Mello shrugged, "I wasn't going to."   He pointed towards the connecting wall and mouthed, "They are next door."    He saw Matt nod, then spoke more loudly.   "Do you want to go home?"

"No."

"What do you want?"   Mello pushed.   "This is your call, baby.   Your scene."

"I want to go up to the house and fit my cameras and sensors."

Mello frowned. "I'm going to do that."

"I am." Matt stated with finality.   "My scene."

"How are you going to get up there if you," Mello's voice descended to a low hiss for fear of eavesdroppers, "can't sit down?"

Matt sipped his tea, staring across at the window.   As a delaying tactic, he lit another cigarette.   Eventually, he replied, "I'll manage."

Mello sighed and moved to guide Matt into the kitchenette, with a hand on his back.   Once there, Mello began the task of damage limitation, by kissing each bruise before massaging gel into it.    As he worked, he murmured platitudes about how much he loved Matt and needed him; how beautiful he was.   With each barely expressed wince, Mello whispered apologies, but on the whole, Matt stood stoically through it. Even when he was turned around and his jeans and boxer shorts eased to the floor, exposing worse bruising below, Matt did not make a sound.   Mello kissed every stripe and welt, gently wiping in the ointment to ease the pain, with guilt threatening to engulf him at any moment.   But Matt sensed it or knew from the look on his face, because Matt turned around and laid a hand onto Mello's head.   It was like a benediction.   Absolution.   Mello whispered, "Forgive me."

Matt smiled out the lie, "It's already forgotten."
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Annals of Fear II