Compy: Wow, not even a week and I'm back with another fic. THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE! XD
Anyways, again, rated T because swearing and chocolate are Mello's OTP.
Saturday at Wammy's House carried a strict routine for Mello and Matt. Sleep until noon --at least--eat a nutritious brunch of chocolate bars and whatever snacks Matt managed to scam from the cooks (the goggles were perfect for magnifying The Puppy Eyes), spend the day causing hell for Near/Rodger/everyone in the House, and then lock themselves in their room for the rest of the night, which was usually when Matt decided a game system had been woefully neglected all day and spent hours playing on it.
Which was all well and fine for Mello, but tonight he was feeling under the weather, and only wanted to bury himself in enough blankets to fall into a suffocation induced coma. Matt, on the other hand, was high on Mountain Dew and Mello's chocolate (being his best friend has its privileges…but the best chocolate still went to Mello), and was prepared to stay up all night playing Luigi's Mansion on his Gamecube.
But that wasn't the worst of it. Oh no, see, when Mello was on a sugar high, he only swore a lot (more than he usually did) and moved around enough to shame a kid with ADHD. But when Matt was sugar high…
"DIE, you little fatass, you and your waiters can just go to….to….hey Mello, what d'ya think Hell is like?"
When Matt was on sugar high, he got random.
'God help me,' Mello thought, burying deeper under the blankets and pretending he didn't hear. Matt wasn't having any of it, however.
"I'm serious, Mel. What do you think--STOP EATING, YOU BASTARD!--Hell is like? Really?"
"And it'll apparently freeze over when I eat healthy, according to Roger."
"Yeah? I always thought it was a personal thing. You know, everyone's Hell is different." Mello suddenly heard the furious click of buttons as Matt started screaming unintelligible words of anguish and torment and other negative adjectives. Ten seconds later, with a bellow of anger and the crack of a chocolate bar hitting the television, Matt had lost the level for the 26th time.
"Don't abuse my babies," he muttered, hoping that Matt would sulk long enough for him to fall asleep. Of course, if things went Mello's way just like that, Near would be hanging over a bridge in the path of a speeding semi truck. Or he could just choke on one of his puzzle pieces, Mello wasn't picky.
"Like, take L for example. His personal hell would be something like…there wasn't a case he could solve, his computer would be full of pornographic pop ups, and all the sweets in the world would turn to vegetables."
A sleepy mumble, "That's bad…"
"Oh, and he couldn't wear his usual shirt and jeans. He'd have to wear suits. 17th century suits!"
"Tights, yeah, now you're talkin' Hell." Mello figured that at this point his best bet was to just agree with whatever his friend said, and hope that he lost interest in the topic soon. Considering Matt's hyped up state of mind and that Luigi lay only three feet away from him, this would probably be soon.
"Near's hell would be a world without toys."
"No, no! His would be filled with toys, but!" Matt turned to grin widely at the Lump That Was Mello. "But they'd all be toys of you!"
"Yeah! Like, all his action figures would be you, all his finger puppets, his puzzles, his cards, all you! And he'd be going crazy, because he can't screw his toys!"
"WHAT?" The blanket mountain became a volcano as Mello shot up, gaping at Matt (who had the nerve to laugh, the bastard).
"Oh come on, like you've never thought of it too."
"Or the other way around." Matt laughed harder and ducked behind the couch as Mello threw pillows, the alarm clock, and everything else within reach at his head, swearing and protesting at the top of his lungs.
'Jeez, I was only kidding.' Matt snickered. 'Methinks the psycho doth protest too much.'
When Mello ran out of cuss words and things to throw, he fell back onto the mattress, feeling even more tired. "I've had it with you. I've had it. Just….just kill the fat ghost and leave me alone." He turned over, ready to shut Matt up by force if he kept this up. (Permanently if Near's name was mentioned again.)
Matt shrugged, still giggling, and picked up his neglected controller. "You know what? If--no, no, no--when you go to Hell, Mello…" He restarted the game, taking a swig from a Mountain Dew bottle, and looked thoughtfully at Mello's back.
"Everything would be vanilla."
Despite himself, Mello shuddered.
Compy: The MN reference was just Matt screwing with Mello's head, but if my yaoi audience wishes to interpret otherwise, I have no problems. XP Hope you enjoyed it.
(Look out, fandom, Compy's back.)