Matt x Mello

BY : Genevieve
Category: Death Note > General
Dragon prints: 8311
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.

Matt left.

Mello knows before he opens his eyes the next morning.

He knew before he fell asleep the night before, and before the sex was over, and really before the sex started.

He pulls himself up to a sitting position, rubbing his right eye with the bent point of his wrist and brushing hair back from his face, and then he looks around the room and blinks slowly.

His head hurts.

It's hot this morning, and Mello detangles his naked legs from between the cocoon of sheets that has managed to wrap itself around him somehow during the night.

What time is it?

And where the hell is Matt?

He sits down at the kitchen table, fingers reaching for an old newspaper that lies there and he flips through it sleepily, waiting for his morning wood to go away so he can pee.

He still has a lot of work to do.

There is dust floating in the sunlight coming in through a crack in the blinds, and Mello squints as he looks through it, yawning softly and scratching the back of his head and wondering why Matt had to get so freaking emotional about stupid shit.

He left a pack of cigarettes lying on the table with a few cigarettes still in it, and after staring at it for a few seconds, Mello reaches for the box, fingering the cardboard edge and the foamy cylinders inside.

He pulls one out and sniffs at it, and it smells like Matt, and Mello wonders why Matt has to smoke these nasty things. His eyes flutter shut and he leans back in his chair, thinking how usually around this time of morning, Matt is sitting there at the table with him, bath towel wrapped around his abdomen and damp hair messy and one of these disgusting cigarettes hanging between his lips as he reads the paper.

It's not helping his morning wood.

He leans back in his chair, tentatively placing the cigarette in his mouth and brushing his hair away from his face.

God damn it, Matt. So I wanna screw L. You've known that for years.

He sighs.

It's not like that means I don't like you.

"Since when has this been such an issue, anyway?" he says to the empty room, and then adds, "and since when are we an us?"

"…and it's not like he'll even let me!"

And if he does, do you actually expect me to decline?

Wow – could it actually be possible that L will let me—

Mello gives up on his morning wood. He takes the cigarette from his lips and tosses it on the table, then leaves for the shower.


The FBI listens to L. And the CIA listens to L, and really the major investigative organizations of most leading nations listen to L.

And only select agents from each organization have actually spoken directly with L, and fewer still have actually met in person with L.

And also Mello met with L.

After long hours of meeting and investigation and negotiation and secret, secret stuff that even prodigious little kids like Mello can't possibly understand (but would give the proverbial left testicle to sit in on) L finally excuses himself because he promised Mello he'd meet with him that evening.

"Watari, please inform Dr. Müller and Dr. Weinberg of the meeting's outcome and forthcoming objectives," he says as he climbs out of his chair, "we'll finish this later tonight."

He leaves the room to find Mello already waiting for him in the hall, hands hooked in his pockets and eyes looking up from behind his hair.

"We finished late tonight, I'm sorry," L says as he motions for Mello to follow him down the hallway.

"That's okay," Mello lies, "I just got here."

An hour ago.

"Is that so," L doesn't believe him, "I'm glad to hear that. Oh – and here," he says, handing Mello a Snickers bar, "it's a little melted but I thought you'd like one."

"Hey, cool, thanks," Mello smiles, fingers automatically reaching to unwrap it.

"So then, what has Mello decided?"

They turn the corner to walk into a different office, and L motions for Mello to sit down.

Mello looks up from the Snickers bar.

"Huh? It's your decision. You already know what I think."

L smiles. "Mello doesn't usually conduct business for work in the evening, does he?"

Mello swallows, surprised.

"What are-?"

"Your lower lip. That's a domestic fight."

Blue eyes go big. L is good.

"He must have been pretty mad if he actually hit you."

Mello stares in astonishment, not sure what to say in response.

"You got that between our meeting yesterday and sometime later that night, judging by the progress of that wound."

"He's just being stupid," Mello says quietly, staring at the corner of the desk.

"Ah, but this is about you now," L says, big eyes staring through long strands of hair, "isn't it?"


"So please tell me, Mello, what you have decided."


"I thought as much," L says quietly after several moments.

He smiles at Mello, rising from his chair. "Mello is conflicted now."

I'm not conflicted, I wanna fuck you, Mello thinks, but he knows better than to doubt L.

"You understand this isn't something I really deal with very often," L continues, "and really I'm not sure what to think. I have some time on Thursday, why don't the two of you come by then."

"He left, I dunno where he went or when he's coming back."

"He'll be back tonight, I'm sure of it."


Matt returns later that night to find Mello mostly naked and partly asleep on the couch.

Mello rises to his elbows, staring at Matt in surprise, and while he'd never admit this to himself, relief.

"I—bought shampoo," Matt says quietly. "…and conditioner."

(On to Chapter 8)


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