misura
in
springkink
fic: Phoenix (Death Note, Mello/Matt, PG-13)
Title: Phoenix
Author: misura
Rating: PG-13 for language
Warnings: Language.
Summary: Matt had a one-track mind and a one-word vocabulary.
A/N: Nothing comes to mind.
The first thing out of Matt's mouth when he saw Mello after the fire was: "Fuck." which was just typically Matt - the expression on his face was that of someone who's gotten a bit of a scare but was getting over it already; Mello deducted that Matt probably wouldn't require much of an explanation as to how Mello had gotten his new scars although he might be interested in the where and when, provided Mello prodded him the right way.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Like many people Mello had met, Matt had a mind that spent most of its time lying in the gutter. It was, perhaps, one of the things that kept Matt from being more like L, Mello and Near; it wasn't that Matt was dumb, precisely (although he was that, too, from where Mello was standing) it was, quite simply, that he got distracted too easily. Where Mello had chocolate, Matt had sex, and it was, at best, a very poor substitute.
Of course, Matt being dumb compared to Mello still meant he was a whole lot smarter than most people. Plus, unlike many people Mello had met and could have chosen to work with, Matt was quite comfortable with his mind being in the gutter. It made things easier, sometimes, when Mello felt up to something a little different from chocolate.
"Still the same old one-track mind, I hear," Mello croaked - in time, he hoped his vocal cords would recover, but for now, he tried not to talk too much.
Matt shut up halfway another 'fuck' and instead took a step back, giving Mello a once-over.
"You look like you've been through hell," he declared.
"They didn't want me, I'm afraid, so they sent me back here." Mello had never really seen the point of Hell being filled with fire before, really - sure, heat was uncomfortable, but so was cold, and torturing people by setting them on fire or poking them with heated irons? Rather primitive, really, and hardly imaginative. Now, he fancied his opinion had changed somewhat.
Good thing he'd never seen the need to become a Christian.
"They would," Matt grinned, moved forwards again, the expression on his face changing too abruptly for Mello to react in time. "You stupid idiot! What the fuck were you thinking? You almost fucking got yourself fucking killed!"
Pointing out that Matt was hurting him by pressing him against the wall like this would probably, Mello reflected, not be very productive. He could incapacitate Matt easily enough, of course, even in the poor shape he was in right now, only Matt might need to spend a few days in the hospital after that, and Mello didn't really feel like sticking around here for that long.
"I was thinking I'd give you something to yell at me about," said Mello.
Most people, when they yelled at Mello, expected him to do something - something different from what he'd been intending to do. Mello considered that kind of yelling rather annoying; if those other people were as smart as he was, they'd be the ones doing his job, after all, not Mello. It was unreasonable for them to expect him to waste his time listening to them, or even bother explaining why they were wrong and he was right. That was simply the way things were, and they should accept that and stay out of his way.
When Matt yelled at him, it was just because he wanted to make a point. Most of the time, it was a senseless point. Like now, for example. Mello didn't need Matt to tell him he'd narrowly escaped being burnt to death; he knew that already. In fact, he knew a lot better than Matt just how close he'd come.
"Fuck." Matt backed off a little and shook his head. He reminded Mello of a puppy sometimes; all teeth and clumsiness, with a tendency to pounce on anything that moved and in need of a firm hand to keep him from making a mess.
"Are you actually going to follow up on that offer, or are you just talking big?" Mello asked, smirking, already knowing the answer.
Author: misura
Rating: PG-13 for language
Warnings: Language.
Summary: Matt had a one-track mind and a one-word vocabulary.
A/N: Nothing comes to mind.
The first thing out of Matt's mouth when he saw Mello after the fire was: "Fuck." which was just typically Matt - the expression on his face was that of someone who's gotten a bit of a scare but was getting over it already; Mello deducted that Matt probably wouldn't require much of an explanation as to how Mello had gotten his new scars although he might be interested in the where and when, provided Mello prodded him the right way.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Like many people Mello had met, Matt had a mind that spent most of its time lying in the gutter. It was, perhaps, one of the things that kept Matt from being more like L, Mello and Near; it wasn't that Matt was dumb, precisely (although he was that, too, from where Mello was standing) it was, quite simply, that he got distracted too easily. Where Mello had chocolate, Matt had sex, and it was, at best, a very poor substitute.
Of course, Matt being dumb compared to Mello still meant he was a whole lot smarter than most people. Plus, unlike many people Mello had met and could have chosen to work with, Matt was quite comfortable with his mind being in the gutter. It made things easier, sometimes, when Mello felt up to something a little different from chocolate.
"Still the same old one-track mind, I hear," Mello croaked - in time, he hoped his vocal cords would recover, but for now, he tried not to talk too much.
Matt shut up halfway another 'fuck' and instead took a step back, giving Mello a once-over.
"You look like you've been through hell," he declared.
"They didn't want me, I'm afraid, so they sent me back here." Mello had never really seen the point of Hell being filled with fire before, really - sure, heat was uncomfortable, but so was cold, and torturing people by setting them on fire or poking them with heated irons? Rather primitive, really, and hardly imaginative. Now, he fancied his opinion had changed somewhat.
Good thing he'd never seen the need to become a Christian.
"They would," Matt grinned, moved forwards again, the expression on his face changing too abruptly for Mello to react in time. "You stupid idiot! What the fuck were you thinking? You almost fucking got yourself fucking killed!"
Pointing out that Matt was hurting him by pressing him against the wall like this would probably, Mello reflected, not be very productive. He could incapacitate Matt easily enough, of course, even in the poor shape he was in right now, only Matt might need to spend a few days in the hospital after that, and Mello didn't really feel like sticking around here for that long.
"I was thinking I'd give you something to yell at me about," said Mello.
Most people, when they yelled at Mello, expected him to do something - something different from what he'd been intending to do. Mello considered that kind of yelling rather annoying; if those other people were as smart as he was, they'd be the ones doing his job, after all, not Mello. It was unreasonable for them to expect him to waste his time listening to them, or even bother explaining why they were wrong and he was right. That was simply the way things were, and they should accept that and stay out of his way.
When Matt yelled at him, it was just because he wanted to make a point. Most of the time, it was a senseless point. Like now, for example. Mello didn't need Matt to tell him he'd narrowly escaped being burnt to death; he knew that already. In fact, he knew a lot better than Matt just how close he'd come.
"Fuck." Matt backed off a little and shook his head. He reminded Mello of a puppy sometimes; all teeth and clumsiness, with a tendency to pounce on anything that moved and in need of a firm hand to keep him from making a mess.
"Are you actually going to follow up on that offer, or are you just talking big?" Mello asked, smirking, already knowing the answer.