The Mello Code

Mello grinned, turning against the black brick of the bridge to face the road and the press of people on the pavement. Beside him, Matt blew smoke over the canal. Camden was a different place in winter. Without the hippies and the punks sitting around the kerb-stones, it seemed darker, grittier. Mello liked it. He watched a couple of Vamp Goths stomp past, him in heavy platforms, her in stiletto boots, their PVC bodies leaning towards their destination as if they couldn\'t wait to be there. Mello turned his smirk towards Matt.



"What?"



"How\'s your arm doing?"



"It\'s not too bad. I think I bigged the pain too much up in memory. It didn\'t hurt half as much as I remembered." Matt had had the second session of sleeve tattooing. It was currently covered up with a red and black striped, long-sleeved shirt. The blood didn\'t show through too much. He finished his cigarette and threw the butt into the inky canal below. "Let\'s go."



"Hold on." Mello pushed himself away from the wall and grabbed the fur collar of Matt\'s gilet. He planted a kiss right on his lips. Around them came a short burst of cat-calls and cheers. Mello winked at his husband and followed the sound to its source. It was a group of men walking into the market. They weren\'t even looking at them. It had been coincidental. Mello laughed and linked arms with his husband. "The kiss was to turn the pain into good pain."



Matt smiled. "I got it."



"I should be holding onto your other arm for that, thinking about it."



"I\'m amazed you\'re holding onto either."



Mello shook back his hair. "I\'m proud to be seen with you. Whatever made you think I wouldn\'t be?" Beside him, Matt chuckled, but didn\'t reply. Mello\'s shoulders shook a little with suppressed mirth. They strolled into the market past a stall selling hot chestnuts in a bag. Mello was tempted by the scent alone until he saw the queue. "By the way, Matty, I know that I said you could have anything you wanted, but that\'s got to include a proper coat. Your arm is cold. I don\'t care what you say. Sleeveless is not good enough for the middle of winter."



"You know, those roasted chestnuts smell really nice."



"Yeah, they do." Mello doubled back, taking Matt with him. "Still that queue though."



"Yeah, fuck it." They carried on walking. "What kind of coat are you making me buy?"



"A warm one." Mello glanced at him and rushed on. "From Cyberdog or somewhere. Proper Cyberpunk, geek friendly, Matt gorgeous, warm coat."



"Ok."



Mello blinked. He had expected more argument than that. "Great." They followed the crowds into the market proper. Stalls pressed closeted them in narrow alleys; the people just as colourful as in the summer, but the atmosphere felt changed. It felt like they had wandered into some secret place that was only known to the hundred or so people around them. An old school punk, all tartan, zips and safety pins in his flesh, pushed by. He was followed by a woman of indeterminable age dressed like the ghost from \'The Woman in Black\'. The two teenage girls coming towards them, dressed in High Street casual scruffiness, seemed almost dull in comparison. He caught Matt watching him, green eyes sliding sidewards beneath the orange goggles. Mello laughed. "What?"



"You." Matt laughed. "You hate the music. You think the ethos is tired and boring. You only put up with the clothing because it\'s on me and so you can take it off again. But look at you, you look like you\'re having so much fun. What has Camden got for you, Mello?"



"Truth?" Mello smirked. "It\'s got something that puts a spring into your step. You relax here, baby. You look happy. That is why I love Camden. I love seeing you like this. Alive."



Matt smiled. "Awww." Then got side-tracked by a stall selling Mario t-shirts. He found one with a mushroom on it and the legend \'1Up\' and would have bought it, if Mello hadn\'t quickly grabbed it. "Oh yeah."



"It\'s Christmas Eve, guapo. You\'re buying fuck all here." Mello paid for it and zipped it inside his jacket. "I can smell more chestnuts."



"Me too."



"They don\'t need subliminal advertising here. Fucking smells." They rounded the corner and Mello stared. "Fucking queues."



Matt shook his head. "Ok, Mell, I love you enough. You go browse around down that alley and I\'ll stand in this queue for you."



Mello turned to look. "Why would I want to go down that alley without you?"



"Because there\'s been a bookstall down there for the past three years. It\'s probably still there."



"Ok." Mello took two steps in that direction, then turned on his heels and returned. "No, I\'ll wait with you."



"Paranoid bastard."



"No, I just want...." Mello wrinkled his nose, trying to think of something that wouldn\'t make Matt laugh at him. He settled for saying nothing at all. They shuffled forward, as the queue moved, and Mello listened. "Who\'s this singing?"



"Dunno."



A girl standing behind them supplied the information. "It\'s Amy Winehouse, \'Some Unholy War\'." As Mello thanked her, she added. "You might see her if you hunt through the pubs. She\'s from round here."



Mello nodded interest, though he had no intention of doing that. "Thank you." He turned his back on her, listening. The song was coming from a pub just to their right. Inside the lighting was dark. He could see people cuddling on the settees. Amy Winehouse sang, \'he still stands in spite of what his scars say.\' Matt turned and stared at him. Mello flashed a smile. "Make a note of that. I\'d like to hear this properly." Matt moved his hand the couple of inches that it took to hold Mello\'s. The song finished. "I quite liked that."



"It\'s unlike you to like anything that isn\'t heavy guitars and someone screeching."



"My musical tastes are very eclectic, Matty. Thank you."



"Yeah." Matt slid another cigarette between his lips. "You knew the lyrics to that Abba song for a start." He groaned, as Mello crushed his fingers together. "Ok! Ok!" They were at the front of the queue, so Mello released him. "Git." Matt bought two packets of chestnuts and they drifted away to eat them. "Fucking hard to open with one hand and gloves on, aren\'t they?"



"Yep." Mello laughed. He veered off towards a bench and sat on it. A moment later, he was chewing on the nut. "And they never quite taste as nice as they smell."



"Nope." Matt smacked his lips together, then dumped his bag into Mello\'s lap and rose. "Mulled wine."



"Eh?" Mello looked sharply up. But Matt was only a few yards away, his cigarette trailing smoke in the air, as he pulled his wallet out. Matt glanced back, but Mello shook his head. Matt bought just one and sauntered back. "How are you going to open nuts with a cigarette and a cup of wine in your hand?"



"Like this." Matt sat back, smoking and sipping his wine.



Mello looked from him to the nuts. "That\'s just smoking and drinking wine." Matt grinned. "So you didn\'t want the chestnuts?"



"I did when I smelled them. You can have them now I\'ve tasted them." He raised his cup. "Chin chin." The contents steamed in the air.



Mello sighed. "First time I\'ve seen you turn down hot nuts in your mouth."



"Poor. Very poor." Matt leaned forward suddenly. He squinted at one of the open fronted shop fronts and, for a moment, Mello thought he was looking at the multi-coloured fairy lights. "No way!"



"What?"



Matt didn\'t reply. He took another heavy drag on his cigarette, then rose, casting it away onto the tarmac floor and stepping on it as he dashed inside. Mulled wine still clutched in one hand, Matt reached onto a shelf and pulled down a small metallic item. Even from that distance, Mello could tell it was going to be some kind of games console. He doubted there was a system in the world that Matt didn\'t already own, in triplicate in one instance, but he was buying it anyway. Paper cut held between his teeth, as he hunted through his wallet. Mello smiled, unashamedly watching. He wondered if Matt actually knew how sexy he was and how utterly gorgeous. Especially now, with the cup in his mouth, his hands hovering over the contents of his wallet, as he listened to whatever the stallholder was telling him. He looked gormless. Gormless, geekish and gorgeous. Mello felt love shoot through himself, as if Cupid was standing right there with the arrow. He let himself think thoughts that he could never tell Matt. The redhead just would never get it.



Money exchanged hands. Matt retrieved his cup and shoved the game into his pocket. Then he gulped back the mulled wine and reached out towards the out of sight stallholder. Mello sat up straighter, at the sight of the amplifier and the small case that appeared over the counter. Matt lifted them and carried them back towards him, a grin plastered across his face. "Atari Lynx." He announced as he came nearer. "Then I saw this electric violin behind the counter and..."



Mello shoved both packets of nuts into his pocket and then stopped, unsure how to react. The violin seemed like such a childish instrument from another world. He had lived another lifetime since he had last picked up a bow. It was evocative of a time and place. It was a Wammy\'s House trigger, from a time when all he worried about was beating Near and gaining privileges through whatever means were necessary. It was a time when he believed that L would save the world and that he, Mello, would grow up to work at the great detective\'s side. Even if he wanted to, Mello doubted he still knew how to play. But Matt had seen it and he had bought it for him. That great pang of love rushed through him again and carried him forward, taking the case from his husband\'s hand. Such a familiar weight. Mello smiled. "That\'s actually quite sweet. Almost romantic." He wiped his mouth, sat back down and unfastened the latch. It wasn\'t his violin. He had no idea where that was and suddenly really wanted to know. But it was a fine looking instrument nontheless. Fear flashed through that he wouldn\'t be able to tease music from it.



As if reading his mind, Matt chose that moment to say. "Even if you have forgotten, which I doubt, I reckon you could get it back with a bit of practice."



Mello laughed. "You want to be in a house with someone learning to play a violin again?"



"I have music and headphones."



Mello closed the case and fastened it back up. He took the handle and stood. The feel of it in his hand was right. It felt like an old friend. He stood inches away from Matt and smiled into his face, licking his own lips and staring into those huge, green eyes, before leaning forward for a kiss. "That was really thoughtful of you. Thank you."



"De nada."



Mello didn\'t move. He stood close enough to kiss, but just lingering there, his eyes sweeping up to lock onto Matt\'s gaze. Mello\'s hand could have gripped Matt\'s backside, but it didn\'t. It hovered in the air behind him. His violin case, though, slowly stroked up and down the denim of the back of Matt\'s thigh. "You just keep collecting those brownie points, don\'t you, guapo?"



"I do?" Matt was attempting to act cool, but Mello knew his husband. He knew the flare of those pupils and the pace of his breathing. If Mello continued, then the redhead would be aroused and they would be going into the darkened pub to grope each other on the settees. Mello grinned. Matt stepped almost imperceptively backwards. "Market shuts in an hour."



Mello nodded. "Better find you a coat then."



"We didn\'t precisely come in for a coat. We came in for Christmas presents for me."



"And got one for me." Mello kissed him, then moved away smirking. "Ok, let\'s shop." He set off at speed, then glanced back after a handful of paces to smile at his husband, slowly following. "Fucking gorgeous, aren\'t you, Matty?"



Matt actually blushed. He covered it by veering off under the canopy of a stall with soft blue lighting. His chin ducked under his fake fur collar, until nothing could be seen of his face, but Mello had seen it. He was tempted to make him blush harder, but inside just joined him there and looked down at the array of UV glowsticks and reflective jewellery. "Nope." Matt commented eventually. "No coats."



Mello swung the violin over his shoulder and took Matt\'s hand. "Let\'s go and find one then." He led him away into the aisle. "You ok with that amp?"



"Yeah."



"Thank you for my violin, baby."



"You\'re good. It\'s this way." Matt tugged him down a wider avenue. Mello could hear Cyberdog before he saw it. Memories of the last time they were here passed through his mind. At the doorway, Mello reached to take the amplifier off him anyway. "What?"



"Fly, be free." Mello nodded into the shop. "Go play." Matt gave him a long, appraising stare, then ran inside without so much as a kiss in the doorway. Mello followed more slowly, the amp heavier than he had anticipated, more so than his own. He paused. This was his own. The other was lost in time. Mello stopped, distracted by binary watches, which he could certainly imagine Matt wearing. He glanced up to see where the redhead was, but he was nowhere to be seen. Mello wandered around the corner and could see him there, leafing through the CDs. He returned and quickly bought the watch, stashing it in his jacket. It could be a surprise, along with the \'Mighty Boosh\' DVDs, which amounted to about the only things that Matt didn\'t know he was getting.



Mello moved around until he found a section of wall to stand against. He ate chocolate and watched the redhead shopping. A small pile of CDs had migrated from being clutched in one hand to being balanced against Matt\'s chest. It was all quite surprising to Mello, who had believed that the bulk of Matt\'s music collection came from illegal downloads. Matt turned and saw him. He paused for a few seconds, presumably looking at Mello from behind his goggles. Mello just smiled and Matt went on, leaning over glass counter to peer at the contents. He returned with a smaller haul than Mello had imagined he would, but wore a Cheshire Cat grin above them. "These and the games I had on that list."



"The games go without saying." Mello took the items off him, skimming through the CDs. He didn\'t recognise any of the artists and briefly wished that he did. "This all?"



"Yeah." Matt nodded towards the door. "I\'ll be outside having a cigarette." He lifted the amplifier and violin, taking them with him. Mello caught himself watching Matt\'s backside, just visible under the hem of his gilet. Worse, Matt looked back right at the door and noticed him doing it too. He chuckled as he left the building.



Mello joined him outside and stole a kiss between drags on the cigarette. "Where now?"



"Drink?"



Mello wrinkled his nose. He had had his fill of pubs and clubs during his Mafia days and London was always a precarious location. He might run into someone who recognised him. He nevertheless shrugged and nodded. "Ok." He took the violin back. "Want me to have the amp?"



"You\'re good." Matt led them through the warren of stalls, then stopped so suddenly that Mello had carried on a few paces before realising he was alone. "Coat!" Matt grinned, pointing to a garment that seemed very familiar to Mello. It was similar to that worn by Neo in the Matrix films. Mello stared from it to him. Matt held up a sleeve. "Sleeves."



"It would make you look very short, Matt." Mello shook his head slightly, trying to communicate in non-verbal ways that it wasn\'t a good coat. His husband, however, wasn\'t taking a blind bit of notice. He had muttered something to the stall-holder and taken the coat off the hanger. His gilet was thrust into Mello\'s hand and the long, faux leather, black coat was slipped on. Matt looked across, quizzically. "Honestly, you look like someone manning Checkpoint Charlie. It really doesn\'t go with the goggles."



"It\'s got sleeves."



"I know it\'s got sleeves, Matty, but really..." Mello shook his head and hoped that that would suffice. Matt stepped over to the full-length mirror and turned around, viewing his reflection. "Baby, with all the best will in the world, you don\'t look like Keanu Reeves."



"I\'m starting to get the sense that you don\'t like this coat, Mello."



"You can get what you like. I\'d never put you off buying anything that you wanted." Mello grimaced. "It does knock a foot off your height though. It\'s the length."



Matt chuckled and looked back at him. "Mello, just say that you hate the fucking coat."



"It\'s not the best."



The stallholder was not losing a sale so easily. He complimented the cut, then produced several more. Matt dutifully tried a couple of them on before reclaiming his gilet from Mello. "No, we\'re good, thank you." He picked up the amplifier and fell into step with Mello. The stallholder called out, with another option to try, but Mello put his arm around Matt and smirked over his shoulder. The conversation was over. The man\'s audience with Matt was no longer permitted. "What was your problem with the first coat?" Matt asked, as they marched away.



"It looked cheap."



"You\'re such a snob."



"It wasn\'t even real leather."



Matt rolled his eyes. "Didn\'t you start life as a Communist?"



Mello frowned. "What?" His husband didn\'t reply, his mind having already played out the probable conclusion of that line of argument and discovered it untenable. "I can\'t say that I was much into politics when I was four." Mello cast him a sidewards glance. "What\'s that got to do with that coat anyway?"



"Oh look, a chandelier." Matt pointed. There was indeed a chandelier, made of coloured plastic beads, hanging from the canopy of a stall. "Put it in our hallway? You could swing off it for fun?"



Mello stopped dead and stared at him. "You are so random."



"Black nail varnish."



"I repeat..."



"No, on that stall there. You said to remind you that you needed nail varnish." Matt wandered out from under Mello\'s arm and picked it up. "Black nail varnish." He grinned as he handed over a pound coin, then pocketed the bottle. Mello was under no illusion that Matt didn\'t know precisely what he was saying. He retraced the conversation in his head and was ready for him, when Matt returned to his side. "I treated you."



"Thank you, baby. Now, what the fuck has Communism got to do with a fake leather coat?"



Matt chuckled. "Damn. I thought I\'d got away with that."



"You hadn\'t."



"Ok." Matt\'s next step was sidewards. He forced Mello half into the wall, then intercepted him with a kiss. A woman, following close behind, tutted loudly as she had to abruptly stop to avoid colliding with them. Matt\'s mouth moved slowly, tenderly, over Mello\'s. The blond responded in kind, though a small laugh escaped. Matt drew back. "Volim te, moj dragan."



"Te amo." Mello grinned. "So, what\'s the coat got to do with Communism?"



"Mello. Shush." Matt\'s gaze locked onto Mello\'s, attempting to look stern. Mello\'s grin grew wider. "Ok! Ok! You won. It had sod all to do with Communism. I hadn\'t thought the comment through before I spoke it, then there was no way back."



"Owned?"



"Yes, Mello. Now shut up." He sealed the comment with a kiss. Mello immediately tried to speak. "Mello. Don\'t make me have to cave your skull in with an amp."



Mello shifted position. "I was going to say that if you really want the coat, we\'ll buy it."



Matt bowed his head. "Why did I marry you?"



Mello considered it. "Luck?"



Matt chuckled, turning away. "Something like that. Probably." He started to walk away, but Mello didn\'t follow. "Drink?"



"Coat?" Mello pointed back the way they\'d come. "I\'ve changed my mind. We can get you some Matrix glasses too and then..."



"Drink!" Matt carried on walking until rushing footsteps behind him brought Mello back in step. "I\'ll get you something fruity with umbrellas in it." Beside him Mello frowned and opened his mouth. Matt interupted before he could speak. "Because right now you seem like someone who drinks something fruity with umbrellas in it." He raised a hand before Mello could speak again. "It\'s not supposed to make sense. If you wanted pure logic in your conversations, you should have married Deontic." He led Mello into the pub. "And I\'ll ensure it\'s non-alcoholic, because I know..."



"I\'ll have a red wine."



"... you\'re a contrary fucker." Matt didn\'t miss a beat, as he ploughed forward towards the bar. "Pint of Guinness and red wine please."



Mello leaned with his back to the bar, a quick gaze around ensuring no Mafioso ex-colleagues were there. He handed Matt a ten pound note without looking at him. "After this, we\'ll go and get you a proper coat."



"I\'ve got it and no. Change of plan. I\'ll first decide if I want a coat, because mostly it\'s you wanting me to have one and going on and on about it until you wear me down. Then, if I do, I\'ll order one on-line, where you\'re not with me to comment until it\'s a fait accompli." Matt rubbed the arm that had been carrying the amplifier. "Sound like a plan?"



Mello shrugged. "Whatever makes you happy."



"Oooh! Look at your face. Oh noes! What\'s he going to do without micromanagement of the coat situation?"



"He\'s going to ignore the twat trying to turn a lovely day into an argument." Mello bobbed out his tongue, took his wine and led the way to an empty booth. The instant that Matt sat down, Mello was on his feet again. "Watch the things, I\'ll be right back." He caught Matt begin to sag, before Mello ran out of the door and back into the market. He raced through the maze of aisles before finding the stall again. His eyes searched the hangers, but the coat was gone. "Excuse me, we were just here. There was a long, black, PVC coat...?"



The stallholder regretted that it had been sold, but assured Mello that another could be ordered and would be there in a few days. Mello debated offering serious money for it to turn up within the hour, but he was distracted by his \'phone beeping in his jacket pocket. Mello took it out and read the text. It was from Matt and informed him that he was missing sight of the tightest arse that Matt had ever seen. The text went on to state that, though Matt was trying not to make it obvious that he was looking, he was pretty sure that the man was well endowed too, judging by the bulge in his skintight jeans. Mello started to text back a retort, but thought better of it. If they entered into a serious game of oneupmanship, then it could easily carry on all night, if not into Christmas Day. He considered the situation. He doubted very much that Matt was ogling anyone, as he was evidently typing long texts into his \'phone instead. Paranoia pricked, but Mello further reminded himself that Matt existed in a world bubble of his own and therefore was highly unlikely to be attracting any attention to himself. Mello was willing to bet that, if he raced to the pub again now, he would find Matt already playing whichever handheld game he\'d brought with him. There would be a victorious grin in Mello\'s direction and teasing for the rest of the night.



Mello narrowed his eyes, fighting the urge to do just that. He wanted to be with Matt. He wanted to be with Matt in Camden. He didn\'t want to lose the game. In fact, he didn\'t have the will to win it. He saw the pub ahead and turned right, along another aisle, where the stallholders were starting to pack up. Quick eyes scanned the wares being lifted down, dismissing all of them until he\'d run out of stalls to see. He doubled back along the parallel row and was halfway along it before he saw a coat which he could imagine Matt wearing. He asked for it to be taken down, then tried it on himself. He mentally adjusted the fit and determined that it would just cover Matt\'s backside, which Mello personally thought was a shame, but would be warm. There were stripes, but they were subtle, existing mostly in the stitching, and therefore wouldn\'t clash with all the other stripes that were apparent whatever Matt bought for himself. It was lined, heavy and warm. Mello bought it.



He was just outside the pub door before his \'phone beeped again. It was Matt asking where he was. Mello smirked. He had won the game anyway. He didn\'t text back, but walked into the pub, draping himself over the edge of the booth, so to lean over his husband. "Suddenly feeling all abandoned, are we, baby?" Matt reacted with characteristic aloofness, hardly even jumping, though he had been startled. Mello looked languidly around. "And where\'s this Adonais that is supposed to be sexier than me?"



"Oh, I gave him a quick..." Matt began airily, but a coat in a carrier bag landed in his lap and he stopped. "Orly?"



Mello leaned closer and kissed him. "Yarly." He sat back down and nodded towards it. "Have a look then."



Matt pulled it out of the bag and held it up. There was a small pause, then, "Actually that\'s a nice coat."



"No need to sound quite so surprised, guapo." Mello smirked. He raised his glass in a toast, as Matt stood to try it on. "It\'s even got stripes."



Matt smiled, fastening it up. "I thought you were going to come back with the Neo coat." He looked around for a mirror, but there was none, not even behind the bar. He glanced back at Mello. "You did go back to get the Neo coat. What happened?"



"I did go back for the Neo coat, but somebody had bought it." Mello shrugged. "You obviously wanted it. You got prickly after you couldn\'t have it."



Matt blinked. "Oh." He smoothed down the folds and stripes at his front and looked again at Mello. "I didn\'t mean to sound prickly. I\'m having fun. I\'m sorry if I did sound it." He beamed suddenly. "And now I have a nice, warm coat, with sleeves."



"A nice Communist coat?"



"Eh?"



Mello smirked. "You look gorgeous, baby. Really gorgeous." He took a sip of his wine. "And happy." Mello rose, his fingers at Matt\'s throat. "And I can reach your collar more easily with this coat." He drew his husband towards him and kissed him on the lips. "Mine. Mine to dress how I please. Mine to keep warm in winter." He saw the shivery attentiveness in Matt\'s smile. "Always and forever mine." Matt grinned and Mello kissed him, long and hard, uncaring about what any onlookers saw or thought. This was his man in his element and the Lord knew that he loved him. Just in case Matt didn\'t, Mello added, "Te amo, guapo. Mío." With one hand still on his collar, the other slid down to the small of Matt\'s back. Mello pressed him closer to himself. Their kiss ended with Mello holding Matt\'s bottom lip between his teeth. Then he smiled and let him go. "Drink up, baby. We still have more of Camden to see and then," He laced his gaze with promise, "get ourselves home in time for Christmas."



Matt nodded. "Yes."



Mello sat back down. "Whereupon, of course, I\'ll be playing my violin and will therefore ignore you."



Matt laughed aloud. "Yeah." He picked up his pint glass and took a long gulp out of the half a pint remaining in it. Another three gulps finished it. "Let\'s go do that." He held his hand and and Mello placed the wine glass in it. It was soon despatched and Matt burped. "How uncouth. Let\'s go."



Mello shook his head and picked up his violin and the back full of presents for Matt. He waited for his husband to grab the amplifier and to stuff his gilet into the empty carrier. They walked out side by side, the city bright before them, the smell of roasted chestnuts still heavy in the air. Mello smiled. He loved Camden because he loved Matt and, this year, it actually felt like a Christmas worth celebrating.