Matt x Mello

BY : Genevieve
Category: Death Note > General
Dragon prints: 8269
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

There was very long ago a time when L was away from Wammy’s, and Mello, then only five years old, was sick with an ear infection. He had wanted so, so badly to stay with L that, despite warnings and careful explanations from Roger and the other staff, he had put up such a screaming, crying fight, that nobody really knew how to deal with him. The pain was part of it, of course, and also the fact that he hadn’t slept properly in several days, and he was horrifically cranky and near impossible to care for.

L had actually come home a few days early specifically for this reason, and was faced with one of the caretakers, who, overworked and tired, turned to him with the boy in his arms, all but sighing in relief to see the young man’s face. L was fifteen then, but already quite preoccupied and busy, and when he turned to them, he was still carrying a large stack of disheveled papers in his wiry hands.

Mello, who was wrapped in a blanket in the man’s arms, gazed up at him, his little face puffy and red from crying, and he was all sticky mucus and tears and sheer misery, and immediately he reached his arms out toward L.

Without a word, L put down the papers in his hands and took him from the caretaker, adjusting the small body in his arms, and Mello entwined himself like a monkey around the wiry shoulders, the sticky skin of his face nestled in the crook of L’s neck.

“He’s been so miserable,” the caretaker said, tucking the blanket around him, and L gazed down at him quietly, and, after a long pause, he replied, “it must really hurt.”

It did, and Mello didn’t calm down then. He kept screaming and crying even after L took him up to his room and gave him a bath and a hot water bottle and let him sleep in his bed. It really was very tiring for L, who understood that Mello cried because it hurt, but, really, he wanted to get on with his work.

“Mihael is being a real pain,” he said simply, putting his pen down and kneeling beside the bed. Mello glared back with all the petulant fury a child can muster and sniffled against the pillow. He was a small, angry lump huddled toward the head end of the bed, silken yellow locks scattered on the rubber end of the hot water bottle.

“Are you angry because it hurts?” L asked.

“No,” came the reply, simple and disturbingly mature.

L gazed back, unblinking for several moments, before speaking up again. “Why, then?”

“You’ll go away again.”

Silence.

“This is true,” L said at last.

“I want to go with you.”

“Is that so.”

Mello nodded.

More silence.

“This is really what Mihael wants.”

Mello nodded again.

“I’ll think about it.”


* * *

Now that Mello has all but fallen asleep in his arms against the edge of the tub, L looks up at Matt, his slender fingers still brushing against the side of Mello’s face. “He’s passed out,” he says gently, “you’ll need to take him home.”

Matt nods. Completely soaked, he steps out of the tub and reaches for one of the towels on the rack, the water dripping from his wet clothes and quickly forming a puddle on the floor.

L watches this for several moments and finally suggests that he bring them something dry to wear. He asks Matt to watch Mello lest he slipped farther under the water, and, rising to his feet, he leaves the room. When he returns, Matt has stripped completely and is partway through drying himself, and L hands him a dry stack of clothes. L has dressed, as well, and Matt knows that he has a meeting soon, so he tries to be quick about things. He finishes dressing and, careful not to wake Mello up, he kneels beside the tub and gently begins drying the boy’s hair.

He begins reaching into the tub to draw Mello out, but then L asks him to wait, and, turning to the rack, he unfolds another towel and asks Matt to hold his arms out. After L has laid the towel between Matt’s arms, he reaches down very carefully, and, one hand behind Mello’s back and one under his knees, he lifts the boy out of the water. Mello is practically weightless when L brings him into Matt’s arms, and, very gently, he lets him go, and Matt watches as L’s long fingers tuck the towel around him.

“That should be okay,” the older boy says, and, after observing them for a few seconds to make sure, he motions for Matt to follow. It’s night already by the time they reach the elevator, Matt can tell because it’s dark outside the window at the end of the hall, and, showing him out, L asks one last time if Matt will be okay carrying Mello.

Matt nods and remembers to thank L again before they part ways, L taking the elevator back up and Matt turning toward the main exit.

I’ll see you in the morning.

It’s still warm out and Mello is getting a bit heavier in Matt’s arms as he walks toward the car, and then stops because there’s an AM/PM nearby and he thinks he should buy some cigarettes—and, gazing down at the boy in his arms—maybe also chocolate for Mello.

Mello is so fucking adorable, really. He lies sound asleep, thin arms wrapped limp around Matt’s neck and long hair gradually wetting his shirt, and Matt thinks he doesn’t mind at all having to hold him and carry him like this, and, really, he doesn’t even mind carrying him into the minimart, wet and asleep and naked and covered only by the towel.

He wakes up a bit when they’re at the register and Matt is asking the woman behind the counter for a certain brand of cigarettes, and when, sleepy and disoriented, blue eyes gaze up questioningly at Matt, the younger boy looks back and murmurs, “I’m getting you some chocolate, too—okay?”

“Yeah—okay,” Mello replies, leaning his head down and drifting off again. Without batting an eye, Matt simply smiles at the saleswoman and motions toward the Hershey bars on the counter.

When at last he reaches their apartment, Matt leans back as he arranges Mello in his arms, one hand fiddling with the lock until it comes undone, and, kicking it open, he walks in, cigarette in his mouth and the nylon shopping bag dangling from in-between his fingers.

“Okay…” he sighs, because, really, Mello has begun to get heavy, and he makes the last few strides quick as he paces down the hall and into the bedroom, finally lowering his friend down onto the mattress. Very carefully, he unravels the boy’s limbs apart from the moist towel, and, tossing it on the floor, he begins wrapping Mello in the blanket instead.

He sits on the edge of the bed for a few moments and gazes down at Mello before returning to the living room to go through the mail and put away the stuff he bought.

“Well, I hope you had fun today,” he says quietly, brushing wet strands from the boy’s face and tucking them behind his ear, but when he leans down to kiss him, he knows that this isn’t going to calm his friend down. Far from it – he knows that now Mello has a new interest and a new mission.

I know you won’t tell me, but I’m gonna find out.

Light.

“Whatever,” Matt whispers as, withdrawing from Mello, his lips brush softly against the boy’s mouth, “you know you’re mine.”

To be continued…


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