Want it. Take it. Love it. Keep it.

A/N: Its Matty's Birthday! What's Mello gonna get him?
Everyone always says that Mello is the instigator of all of their delinquent activities but I figure that Matt was a little boy too. I'm sure he had quite the imagination.
Angsty-ness - alcohol tends to bring out the worst in people.
I promise that Mello's increasingly strange behavior will be explained in due time.

Evermist: You are the light of my life right now. Honest to blog. But you're going to give me performance anxiety! I'm all freaked out that I'm gonna screw up! :D
And maybe Mello's just very mature for his age? I dunno. You got me...As for the dessert, I just happen to be about as obsessed with chocolate as our dear Mello.


CHAPTER 13


'U. ME. QLTY TIME.'

It must have been out of sheer negligence, or stupidity, that Matt and Mello still shared a few classes together. Over the years, they'd more than their fare share of hell. It started when they were very young, Matt having a great fondness of small creatures rather than humans even then, had taken to memorizing every female teacher's worst nightmare in the 'creepy crawley' department. One such poor soul had taken to enlisting her students to dig for writing instruments and rulers in her desk door, having spent every day of the previous week coming up with a toad (who on earth could be afraid of such a thing?) instead of what she had been searching for. Another woman had spent the remainder of her day locked in the women's bathroom, having hysterics after the snake that had been placed in her chair slithered it's way up under her shirt. Some of the braver girls moved to help her, as the boys stared on in a mix of delighted surprise and curiosity when she'd thrown the garment to the floor, standing there in her bra, still furiously batting at her skin as if the creature were still there.

Mello was somewhat crueler, taking to speading super glue on chairs, or breaking in the previous night to stack every desk into a teetering pyramid. Both of the boys had done their fair share of ringing fire alarms, flooding the bathrooms, and other such childish antics. As they aged, the pranks grew more sophisticated. They'd spend an entire day speaking in a forgeign language, or responding to questions by morse code, accomplished by rapping their desks with their knuckles or tapping a foot on the floor. These, among other devilish activities, were legendary. Most of the students either feared or respected them, and undoubtably the majority of the teachers hated them.

So, it must have been out of ignorance that today, Mello at the age of thirteen, Matt nearing his own thirteenth birthday, were sitting in classroom together. This teacher, having spent many years desperately trying to stay out of the boys' way, turned a blind eye to their current activity of text messaging one another. Out of respect, the two had switched the phones to vibrate mode. Usually they would not offer such a curtesy, Mello's phone playing an obnoxious mechanical version of a classical tune each time he received a respone, Matt's playing an equally obnoxious version of whatever techno song was his current favorite. It was amazing how they managed to be the third and second (first now, since November) ranking children managed to keep up with their studies. Then again, a preteen who knew at least five languages, not including their native tongue, then he sure as hell could give his attention to a lecture and text message simultaneously.

/Bday soon/

/SO?/

/ne thing u want/

Mello expected him to list some new games, a music cd of some kind. The response he got made him feel even more guilty than he had about ignoring his best friend. He'd tried to spend some quality time with him lately, but the redhead was always so distant, so quiet. They'd sit in silence, Matt playing one of his games, Mello lounging on the bed, not quite sure what was the point and why his friend seemed so interested in it. Once in a while, Matt would tear his eyes from the screen, long enough to stare into the blond's eyes, open his mouth to say something, then seem to reconsider and return his attention to the mission at hand. When Mello was tired of doing nothing, he'd ramble on about whatever L's latest case might be, and how the brilliant man was /this close/ to cracking it, how he was doing his part with research and filing. It wouldn't be long before L made him his official partner, finally achieving his ultimate goal and beating Near. Two birds, one stone.

/U. ME. QLTY TIME/

This response was equally more heartfelt than usual, most often being some form of 'let's hang out and get into trouble' or 'check out what I hacked into last night'. His friend was busy ripping open three pixie sticks at once, all different colors, tipping the sugar onto his tongue and chasing it with the remainder of his energy drink. Mello had tried to make a case against such activites, and how the mass amounts of caffeine was probably the reason why his hacker friend never slept properly. The younger boy had replied that, first of all, he had to consume these things during the day /because/ of his insomnia, and anyway, chocolate had loads of caffeine in it so Mello was a hypocrite. The blond had bought his friend a coffee pot for his last birthday. This was not his way of conceeding that he'd lost the arguement, he merely felt that the boy would enjoy it. And wasn't a warm drink much more pleasant on cold winter mornings than redbull and flavored sugar packets?

/duh. study 2nite. see u 2morrow. luv m./ He did truly love Matt. Not in the way he loved L, of course, but there had always been a deep connection between the two. They could have been brothers, though Jeevas and Keehl obviously came from two different backgrounds. The blond had been the first to admit how much he cared for his friend, one day when they sat on a tree branch, hiding from Roger and Watari. They had been giggling hysterically, when Matt's face suddenly took on a serious expression. After some pushing, Matt had shared that he was thinking that someday all the fun and games would be over. Mello was going to leave, go off to be a famous detective. The redhead admitted that he knew he'd never amount to anything half as great, and he'd be forgotten and alone. 'Next in line' didn't mean shit, not that he ever wanted to be first anyway.

"You'll always be with me, Mail. You're my best friend. I love you. Even if you wanted to get away from me you couldn't. Now tell me you love me back and quit being a whiny little girl." The blond's method of comforting almost always included various insults. That was just how he showed affection. This was something you had to come to terms with, because if he decided that you belonged to him you were indeed stuck, and just had to deal with it.

"I love you back." He couldn't look his older friend in the eyes when he said it the first time, he was already showing more emotion than he was comfortable with. People didn't tell him they loved him. They said they were proud, they complimented him on his achievements. They showed concern when he was ill. But no one /loved/ him. So a little discomfort was expected, but he meant what he said. After that first time, they said it every day, and it became easier and easier. Now, years later, to not say it made the boy uncomfortable.

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Mello had spent a good part of the day before Matt's birthday worrying about what he could possibly do to make the occasion as fun and exciting as he knew he'd made all the rest. He found himself taking pride in the fact that it was difficult to top the previous birthday experiences, but of course that made sense. He was Mello after all, and who how could you possibly have any more fun than when you spent time with him. He was brilliant, creative, funny, and sexy as hell. The last L had recently added to the list of things that made the blond the total package. Not that it mattered to his redheaded friend, but such a thing was always good to know about oneself.

It wasn't until the early morning, while he dressed in some more casual clothing than usual (who knew what messes the boys might get into), that he came up with his most brillaint idea yet. As far as he knew, Matt had never been intoxicated before. He himself had only sampled alcohol once or twice in his lifetime, and found the sensation of being completely calm and relaxed more than intriguing. Of course he would not let himself make a regular habit of such a thing, like Roger did. Alcohol did terrible things to the body when used in excess, but if used in moderation, especially in the company of a close friend, was perfectly acceptable. Never mind that either teen was five years away from being able to legally consume it in England, as well as another three across the pond. Both had indulged in many things that were most certainly not age appropriate.

Sneaking into Roger's office had been so simple it was almost disappointing. When Mello had stolen the old man's keys last, he'd had the forsight to make copies of most before he returned them. The item itself wasn't even locked in the bottom desk drawer (sheer negligence). He stowed the bottle in his backpack, along with the two cans of soda he'd taken from L's miniature fridge, and two paper cups. He'd done some research on the subject, discovering that cola was supposed to mask the taste of the brownish liquor. He remembered the last time he'd sampled it, straight, surprised at how it burned all the way down his throat.

The blond burst into his best friend's bedroom, singing the traditional tune at top volume. His friend stood to greet him, blushing slightly. No matter how often the older boy had tried to break him of it, Matt hated any kind of excess attention directed at himself, even if it was just the two of them.

"How's your very lucky thirteenth birthday thus far, oh best friend of mine?" The blond threw his bag of tricks onto Matt's bed, amongst the clutter. He practically skipped his way towards the other, hugging him and talking excitedly. "However it may been been, it's going to spectacular, now that I'm here. We've got the whole day ahead of us, hope you haven't made any plans, 'cause they're canceled."

"Just woke up ten minutes ago." Mello raised an eyebrow. The redhead had obviously slept in his clothes. Lazy fuck. The younger boy yawned, as if to further prove the fact that he was indeed the least motivated person /in the building/.

"Well, do whatever you need to to wake up. You're not napping on me motherfucker." Mello spoke like his usual, unpreoccupied with L, self. 'Motherfucker' was just one of many terms of endearment.

Matt leaned across the bed, reaching into his bedside table for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He set one between his lips, quirking an auburn eyebrow in a silent, do you mind, sort of way. The blond shrugged.

Mello stood, emptying his pack. Matt watched in silent curiosity, flicking ashes into a nearby container as Mello poured the beverages. He filled each cup with half of the liquer, topping each off with the cola.

"It tastes like shit. The soda is supposed to cover it up. Don't know, haven't tried this yet myself." Each boy took an experimental sip, both grimacing, setting the cups back down. Mello should have known not to trust the internet, but he couldn't very well have asked Roger, or even L, if the information was factual. If anything, the whiskey tasted that much worse when mixed with the sugary, fizzy beverage. After taking a moment to recover, the blond shrugged, took a breath, swallowed another sip. His friend, not wanting to be left out, did the same.

Mello got up to peruse Matt's collecting of dvds, selecting a horror flick he hadn't yet seen. They lounged on the bed, laughing when someone ran /up the damn stairs/ from the slasher villain, commenting on how the blood was too red, the weapon was obviously fake, or 'hey, wasn't he in that other flick, you know, the one with the tarantulas?'.

While they watched, Matt had rather stealthily (which was his style) slid closer to his friend. He ended up laying on Mello's outstretched arm, watching his expressions instead of the screen. He noted how those big blue eyes widened when the character's guts spilled to the floor, agreeing that yes, that was indeed watered down ketchup, and no he would not be enjoying spaghetti for the next month at least.

The blond teen had lost his breath in a fit of hysterical giggles at some particularly bad acting, rolling onto his side to face his friend, who suddenly looked very serious. Mello saw the way Matt's green eyes had darkened, the way they looked straight into his own, for once not hidden by the ridiculous goggles. They were very close, almost nose to nose. The younger boy had slipped his hand behind his friend's head, forcing his face that much closer, then he took a deep, steadying breath. They were kissing, Matt now rolling his friend onto his back, resting on top of him. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but he hadn't been slapped away yet, so he continued. His tongue slid between Mello's lips, attempting to mimic what he'd seen in the movies, read in books. This was when their tongues were supposed to meet, when Mello /should/ grab the collar of his shirt to keep him from pulling away. Mello was /supposed/ to make little pleased noises into his mouth, he was supposed to be pulling at the hem of his shirt, wildly trying to undress him.

The blond lay very still, somewhere between suprised and frightened, as Matt caressed his cheek, still kissing him. He never thought to kiss him back. In all their years together, it had never once crossed his mind. Friendship wasn't the kind of thing you let get screwed up for the sake of experiment. It wasn't that his friend wasn't a great person, attractive even, but they were /best friends/. What the hell was going on? Was Matt drunk? Out of his mind? He'd never expressed these feelings before, and now he was just kissing him like it was to be expected. Had he been giving off some kind of signals?

Matt broke the kiss as soon as he noticed that Mello wasn't responding. Oh shit. He didn't want this. At all. As much as the younger boy /did/ want this, he couldn't keep pushing if he knew both of them weren't enjoying it. He rolled off of his friend, going to sit at the head of the bed, avoiding eye contact.

"I'm sorry. Really. I'm really really sorry." It had been the most amazing feeling of his short life, lips touching, warm body underneath him. Not just any warm body, but that one. Mello was /so/ pretty.

"It's not you. Honest it's not."

"Yeah, sure it's not. I get it. I should have known that I wasn't enough."

"It's not like that! It's...I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't. It's supposed to be a secret. It's so complicated. It's why I haven't seen much of you. And I'm a shit for it. I should have just told you." When did everything get so complicated? Why was Matt going from embarassed, to obviously angry. He couldn't help how he felt. "It's really not you."

"No, I get it. It's L, isn't it? I fucking should have known." He was jealous, he was offended. He was mad. At Mello? Yeah, what was so great about L? And why couldn't Mello have told him. Didn't he trust him? Apparently not.

"I was going to tell you, but with Near already knowing...if we're found out..."

"You told Near, and not me? Not your /best friend/." His worst enemy knew. He wondered how long. And he was so nice to Near. The least the little brat could have done was told him. It was probably obvious to everyone how he felt about the blond. He followed him around like a trained dog. He sat and begged and fetched like a good boy.

"I didn't tell him! He just knew. I don't know how. We're so careful." The redhead looked so upset. He placed his goggles back over his eyes, effectively hiding whatever it was that he was feeling. He took some more sips of the now warm whiskey and cola, lit a cigarette. Mello finished off the rest of his own drink, not bothered by the taste anymore, he was too terrified to notice. If Matt hated him for this...oh God help him.

"Did you have sex?" The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Matt, please."

"Shouldn't I know when my best friend, /only/ friend, has lost his virginity? You would have told me if it was anybody else."

"That's exactly it! Do you want me to get kicked out? Do you want L to get thrown in prison?"

"Maybe." Honesty isn't always the best policy, but sometimes you just can't help yourself. Surely he'd meant to say no. He recalled that this type of mistake was referred to as a 'Freudian Slip'.

"We'd never work Matt. You let me do whatever I want. You can't help it. He balances me. You should find someone who's not going to take such advantage of your passiveness. I'd destroy you."

"I don't care."

"You don't mean it. It's just a crush. You'll get over it. Don't wreck our friendship on some silly whim."

"I don't want to be friends. I want you to love me back. I can't take another day of looking at you and not being able to touch you." Matt wished that he could pass this admission off on a freudian slip as well, but this was not a subconcious desire. This was in the forefront of his mind /constantly/. It was unbearable. He wanted his friend to feel the same way, knew that if he just tried, it could happen. /He/ belonged with Mello, not L. L was like something out of Dario Argento film. A walking corpse. Mello was just too fucking beautiful for that perverted freak.

As Mello heard it, his friend was telling him that he could either he give him what he wanted, right now, or they would never see eachother again. He often had to read between the lines with Matt, who really could be very cryptic. It wasn't as if he was trying to be mysterious, or that he was shy (Mello could not stand shyness, he loved to talk, and damn it, you would respond, or suffer the consequences) this was just the way Matt was. The blond was devoted to his lover, so much so that he would die for him if he could, but he could not let his best friend leave. If this was what it would take to keep their friendship, then he had to do it. He would not be abandoned. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey on the nightstand and took a long drink. Then another. The burn didn't even bother him anymore.

Mello crawled across the bed to where the redhead sat, head still bowed. The blond grabbed his chin, somewhat forcefully, tilting the younger boy's head up, faces again just centimeters apart. He kissed him, tongue pushing past his lips. He met little hesitation from the other, whose eyes were open wide in shock, but whose hands were already sliding up under the blond's shirt. Mello closed the gap between the rest of their bodies, sitting between Matt's legs. He broke the kiss, yanked the goggles off of his friend's face, made eye contact. Determined blue staring into confused but excited green.

"You can have me if you want me. If that's what it takes," the blond spoke with his mouth nearly resting on his friend's neck, "I'm yours." He licked the spot, right below the ear, that drove L crazy. He tried to push his lover from his guilty mind, but it was hard when Matt reacted so much like the other. The only difference was that the detective would have already been frantically stripping the blond's clothes, then his own. The redhead just sat there, stunned still, though his breathing was speeding up and Mello could feel his heart slamming against the wall of his chest, as they were pressed so closely together.

"Mello, I..." What, he didn't know. 'I thought you didn't want me like this,' possibly, or 'I don't know what I'm doing.' Definitely the second, since right now his heart and mind (as well as his lower anatomy) were cheering that finally the beautiful boy was returning his feelings. This couldn't be more perfect.

Mello was trying to picture L as he pulled Matt's black and white striped shirt over his head, then took off his own. He kissed down the younger man's chest, trying to imagine his lover's voice when he heard his name moaned softly. It was difficult, though Matt had a similar monotone, L's voice was much deeper.

As much as Matt had wanted this, he was terrified that he wouldn't know what to do to please Mello in return. The older boy had already had sex, probably more than once, and obviously knew what /he/ was doing. However, sometime during the internal struggle between self doubt and desire to /just keep going/ his hands found their way to Mello's belt, though they were immediately slapped away.

"No. I was bad. I'm apologizing." Matt ignored the strange comment and did as he was directed, letting Mello continue to kiss and touch and rub against him. The blond was unzipping Matt's fly, sliding a hand inside. The redhead knew he could let it go on like this, but he did want Mello to feel good too. That was what sex was supposed to be about.

"Please, I want to touch you. It's not fair."

Oh. So this wasn't enough for Matt, he wanted more. Mello read between the lines, seeing something much different than what his friend had meant. He figured it was probably going to hurt, /a lot/, Matt not knowing what to do, so he took another drink from the whiskey bottle, then removed his jeans, laying down on his stomach. "You can do whatever you want. I won't stop you."

So this was what Matt had been daydreaming about, lying there naked, inviting, skin seeming to glow with that permanent golden tan. He almost let himself do it, until he realized that, no, this was not what he was daydreaming about. There certainly hadn't been rosepetals and candlelight, but the tempermental blond was /never/ submissive either. He should be clawing, growling, not laying there waiting like a sex doll that breathed...And shivered? When had that started? He cursed himself for not having noticed before. Sure, it was February, but the room was anything but cold. He reached for the blond's shoulder, hating himself when the other boy instinctually jerked away.

"Mello, are you crying?" He received no response. "Mello?"

"Just fuck me already." The answer would have sounded more threatening if it weren't for the shivering, or the muffled sniffling that followed the words. He /was/ crying. He was crying because he really didn't want to do it. Because L might be mad. Because Matt was his best friend, and while he had used to think that he could trust this person not to hurt him in any way, /ever/, he had lost his faith. Matt didn't love him. He just /wanted/ him.
"Come on, get up. Get your pants back on. I can't do this. Not like this."

"What did I do?" Mello rolled onto his back, spreading his legs, trying to entice the boy to finish what they'd started. If he just let it happen, it would be over. Matt would have what he wanted and he wouldn't leave him. He had to make this right. Maybe once would be enough, it'd be out of his friend's system, and they could go back to normal.

"You're right. Being friends means too much to do this. This is wrong. I was wrong." So, so wrong. Mello obviously didn't want it. Had never wanted it and never would. Even now, when the blond was smirking in that evil way of his, running a hand up his very very naked thigh, they weren't making eye contact. Mello always looked everyone straight in the eye, he imagined that this behavior was for the same reason as a wild cat, to challenge, to show dominance, to scare the unholy hell out of anything that dared cross it's path for any reason other than to worship it like it deserved. This was obviously all wrong. The boy did not submit to anyone. Matt wondered, perversely, if his friend topped their favorite detective, then immediately pushed the image out of his head. His thoughts were scattered in a thousand different directions. Must be the lack of blood to the brain.

"Really, it's ok. I want it. I love you." Mello jumped into his friend's lap, pleading with his eyes. He looked desperate, crazed. There were still tears in his eyes that he hadn't even bothered to wipe away.

"Me too. That's why it's not happening." He lifted the blond out of his lap, retrieved his jeans, handing them over and politely turning his head. "That's why I can't make you do something you don't want to. That's not what you do when you're in love."

"People do it all the time." Calmer now, the older boy was sliding his jeans back up, fastening them, then reaching for his shirt. He wasn't yet convinced that his friend had given up, but he was so cold, and for once very uncomfortable with being nude in front of someone he thought of as the brother he never had.

"Those people only love themselves. Mello, I get more satisfaction out of your achievements than you do. I'm happy just because you're happy. You think I'd ever make you do something you don't want to?" He must have drank too much, to be so straightforward. But once the blond got an idea stuck in his head, you had to walk through the fires of hell to shake him out of it.

"Swear you'll never leave me." The blond was so demanding. Offer him your very soul in a bottle and he'd ask for half your heart along with it.

"I fucking swear it. I'll take whatever I can get. Just promise /me/ I'll see you more, and no more secrets. It's my birthday. That's what I want."

"I swear, on my honor." Mello smirked. "But I'm not giving you any details pervert."

"But it's my birthday!" The boy whined, mostly kidding.
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