Matt x Mello

BY : Genevieve
Category: Death Note > General
Dragon prints: 8281
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.

It started out slow and gentle, but both Mello and Matt know that slow and gentle can’t last long between the two of them. So before long, it was mattress-spring-squeaking, frame-beam-rattling, wall-foundation-degrading, raw, perverse, wet, loud, dirty sex that left them both exhausted and hoarse-voiced and sweaty and in a great deal of pain as at last they collapsed on the mattress.

And also, both Mello and Matt know that, between the two of them, it can’t simply end there. So, exhausted and hoarse-voiced and sweaty, Matt rises from the mattress and begins crawling toward his older counterpart, breathing hard as again ensues the battle for dominance, and neither of them care that again Matt wins or that, partway through the next go, Mello somehow manages to kick him off and, practically dripping with sweat, manages for once to top him.

Matt lets him do it, and he lets him pull hard at his hair and mouth inaudible profanities as he thrusts into him from behind, until finally he, too, has had enough and throws him off, and then they begin fighting with each other, hitting and scratching and pulling hair as they roll wetly on the bed, and in a moment of triumph when at last Matt has managed successfully to hold his friend down, there comes the exasperating ringing of the phone. One long arm reaches out indignantly as Mello grasps the thing and then hurls it across the room, but even as it hits the wall, it doesn’t break, and the ringing continues.

“God-fucking-damn it!” Matt hisses, and he actually stops for a moment to stare at it. Mello takes the opportunity to throw him off, and despite his ridiculously low body weight, he holds Matt down and has at him again.

This goes on for another hour or so, and it doesn’t end until, somewhere on the stove top, Matt has managed to make Mello come in a way that will keep them from using the stove and, really, the kitchen in general, for the next several months.

“Fuck,” Mello hisses when at last he catches his breath. He can barely move his legs, and, shaking, he brings them slowly over the side of the counter. Matt is leaning against the stove, head hanging down and wet strands of hair sticking to his forehead, and, breathing hard, he gazes at Mello.

“So much for cleaning,” he says hoarsely, tongue running dryly across his lips.

Mello turns his head in his friend’s direction. “Yeah,” is all he says, finally hopping down to the floor.

“Ow,” he adds suddenly, one hand rubbing at his right ass cheek where, Matt notes, there is the perfect, circular imprint of the stove top corner, and before he can even point and giggle, he hears Mello mumble, “yeah, shut up,” as he meanders in the general direction of the shower.

Then he hears Mello call, “Fuck,” as, upon entering the bathroom, he realizes that he never did finish cleaning the tub.


--

Several weeks pass, and then months, and as time goes by, it becomes increasingly clear to Mello that, even if Kira is alive, it will be very difficult to find out anything about him.

Certainly he won’t get any information from L.

He continues doing projects for L, and, really, he greatly enjoys working with him – even more now than before, and, as always, L shows him nothing but kindness. L doesn’t mention Kira again, and Mello doesn’t ask, but Mello knows that, somehow, L knows exactly what Mello is thinking and that he knows all too well that Mello would love nothing more than to find some clue about Kira.

Mello, of course, loves puzzles, and even more so, he loves showing L that he can solve puzzles, so he doesn’t ask.

And L is L, so he doesn’t tell.

It is during another not-slow-and-gentle sex session, then, that, one day in the mid-afternoon, there comes a ring at the door.

“Ignore it,” Mello says hoarsely from beneath Matt’s shoulder, and they do, but whoever it is is very persistent and the ringing comes again, and then a third time, and, finally, Matt has had it, and, carrying Mello hot and sweaty and naked in his arms, he walks to the door, and, leaning close, he calls out,

“GO. AWAY.”

In return, there comes a woman’s voice,

“FBI. Open up.”

Mello and Matt exchange bewildered glances. “Oh, fuck,” Mello whispers. They stare at each other for several seconds until they’re brought back to reality when again the doorbell rings.

“J—just a minute,” Matt murmurs, and neither of them says a word as, arm shaking, he brings his fingers to the lock and flips it down.

Mello still in his arms, he takes several steps back as the handle twists open by itself. Naked and wet and disheveled, they both stare at the woman who walks in, entirely unfazed as she closes the door behind her, FBI badge dangling open from one hand.

“What the hell do you want,” Mello says, dumbfounded, when at last he finds his voice.

Matt’s eyes dart to her badge and back: FBI Special Agent Naomi Misora.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” she says, “and I know what you’re looking for.”

Very slowly, Matt lets Mello down.

“Your personal relations with L put you in quite the special position to find out information,” she continues, “but he won’t tell you anything about it. Will he.”

Matt and Mello stand frozen, eyes darting toward each other with a mixture of fear and very great interest.

Under any other circumstances, Mello would immediately reach for his gun, but they both feel it: she’s on their side.

“N…no…he wouldn’t,” Mello says very slowly, gradually coming to understand that this woman already knows who they are. She bloody found out where they live. Well – she is after all in the FBI.

And this is clearly about—

“Would you mind sitting down?” he asks, and, quickly, Matt adds, “and can we—you know—get dressed?”

She gazes across the living room, which, like the rest of the apartment, is a disheveled mess of clothes and papers and magazines and God knows what else, and, finally, she nods.

“Yeah, okay,” she replies, walking toward the sofa, where she pushes aside a mess of game controller cables and partly-eaten food.

Mello stares at her for a few more seconds before, following Matt, he goes into the bedroom to put something on.

--

Some time later, they are talking with her in the living room. Yes, she knows who they are.

Yes, she works closely with L.

Yes, they have an interest in common.

And yes—

Kira is alive.

They don’t speak aloud; they speak in written words scribbled in pen on the back of pieces of paper.

And she doesn’t tell them everything, but what she tells them is very interesting.

Even after Kira was tried for mass murder the likes of which no single person has committed before, he was, in fact, kept alive for the single, fascinating reason that, other than L, there had never been a detective with powers of deduction like his.

So, cuffed and shackled and drugged and blindfolded and restrained behind an intricate series of locks under maximum security and surveillance, Light Yagami is, in fact, alive, and his thoughts are inquired of him on difficult cases.

Much more interesting, however, is the fact that he does, after all, communicate with L during some of those cases, through a closely-monitored, high-security, fingerprint-enabled fiber optic device, and while they do not communicate directly and without close monitoring from security on both sides, they do, ultimately, get to work together by these means.

“Why are you telling us this,” Matt asks at last, tapping the glowing end of a cigarette against a mostly empty cup of coffee.

“She doesn’t like him” Mello answers, not taking his eyes off Misora. He doesn’t bother communicating by writing this time.” You want us to kill him. Don’t you.”

She says nothing, but her dark eyes dart from Mello to Matt and back. Yes. She does. He killed her fiancé. He almost killed her, too.

She’ll help them get to him—if they’ll do it.


To be continued...


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