A/N: This was actually really hard to write. I'm having writers block or something. But I just HAD to write something Matt/Mello. So I'm not sure if it's quite up to par, and I might scrap it later unless some people like it enough to keep around.

Oh well, I guess the only way to fix writer's block to to force yourself to write. :P

In other news, I totally have a date with a guy I met at a con a few weeks ago, and he's obsessed with Death Note. :D Full of win.

I love all you people on ffnet...you are so sweet and good to me. :) hugs and reviews would be peachy-keen.

Mello has that something about him that, when he walks in a room, all the girls faint.

No, seriously. I've seen it happen in person. Many, many times.

Once at Wammy's we walked into a convenience store, and I knew in two seconds that the cashier woman was going to hit the floor. Just then, Mello flipped his hair and gave her The Look, and she was down.

Clean up, aisle two.

I've walked into parties with Mello, and a few minutes later half the girls are hyperventilating. The other half are either lesbians or in the powder room.

Heck, even some of the lesbians lose it.

I've seen Mello turn men who were straight as a pole into rainbow-spouting, Edward Cullen-loving gays. In three minutes flat.

He knows he does it, too. It's really a conscious thing, because Mello loves the attention. He lives to be appreciated and admired. And while he's never been able to beat Near at intellect, no one can come close to his powers of seduction.

So, when he knows that the right look, or the correct sway of his hips, will make someone fall to their knees, he goes for it. Every time. Without fail.

And it works. Every person he's ever tried to make literally fall for him has eaten dirt.

Except for me.

But now…now Mello is gone. He left years ago.

And wouldn't you know it, the moment he left, I wanted him like I've never wanted anything in my entire life.


Damn fucking Matt.

I just don't get it. Of all the people who I should have been able to seduce, he tops the fucking list.

I mean, seriously. I lived with the bastard. I took my clothes off every night in his presence. And when I say took my clothes off, what I really mean is peel the leather that fits like a second skin off my ass like a million dollar stripper.

And he never bated an eye.

It fucking ticks me off. I can make married men beg me to run away with them just by snapping my fingers.

If I wanted to, I could get every single person over 15 within a 20 mile radius to blow me in a damn fucking alley. 15 or under, well, that's just creepy. Heck, 16 is pushing it.

The point here is, the one person I want, somehow I could never have.

So I resigned myself to it. And then I left.

I felt horrible, just leaving him like that, but I'm the first to admit I'm a selfish bitch, and I couldn't stand watching him day in and day out, yearning to just brush my finger against his wrist, but knowing that any contact was unwanted.

I thought the Mafia would cure me of any romantic notions. And it did. For awhile.

Until…I found him. And had the bugs installed in his shit apartment.

And when I look at him sprawled out on the couch like he is now, with his goggles pushed up and his hair mussed in his eyes, watching that stupid fucking Gameboy, or whatever the hell it is, like it's more interesting than I ever was to him

Well, it just makes me want to jump his bones. I think. Or maybe I want to just lay next to him and kiss up his jaw…mmm…

Unfortunately, I don't have any delusions of him wanting me now. He didn't before, and now that I dress in even more scandalous leather and have a hideous scar running the length of my left side…trying to seduce him would be completely useless.

But…seeing his fingers fly across his keyboard, eyes bright and intelligent, and somehow sad, I decide that I have to see him.

I won't try anything. I'm not going to put on my act. I just have to see him. Even if he rejects my friendship. I have to let him know I still exist, and if he ever wants me, I'm his for the taking.


I'm sitting sprawled on the couch when I hear a strange buzz sound through my crap apartment. Shrugging it off as one of the many unhealthy sounds that emanate from my various appliances, I turn back to the computer screen.

And then I hear it again. What the heck? And there it goes another time.

Deciding that this is worth investigating, I get up and wander into the miniscule entrance hall, looking up accusingly at the fire alarm.

But then the buzz sounds again, and it finally hits me. It's the doorbell.

Huh. I didn't even know this place had a doorbell. Certainly never expected anyone to ring it.

I almost turn away and leave the door unanswered. I've never appreciated door-to-door salesmen. They always try and get me to buy their fucking vacuums.

Now, though, there's an insistent knocking accompanying the buzzing, which has become one constant sound, like someone is holding down the button. Which they probably are.

So I sigh, getting ready to fend off a tirade on the benefits of bag-less vacuums, and open the door.

And there, surrounded by rat feces, cobwebs, and an species of mold unknown to the scientific world, is the most beautiful person I have ever seen in my entire life.

It's Mello, and he takes my breath away.

Maybe it's because he doesn't have his mask on. He's not trying to get to me; he's just himself. Perhaps it's that I haven't seen him in goddamned years, and every second of that time I've been pinning after him. Or maybe it's that he's taller, his hair is shaggier…it could be the insanely sexy scar running from his face down his neck and into his…God damn his outfit.

I gulp, my eyes nearly popping out of my head behind my goggles.

He pushes his way in without a word, rummaging around in my cupboards like he knows the place, searching out the stash of candy I have in with the knives and pulling out a chocolate bar.

When he unwraps it and sinks his teeth into the edge, I start to sweat.

When it starts to melt and drip down the corner of his mouth, I wonder how I could have ever not found him attractive.

And when he looks at me without one ounce of seduction in his eyes, only longing and apology with a hard ice underneath that is distinctly Mello, I feel my heart leap into my throat and lose control of my body.

It rushes to him without my consent, scooping him up and carrying him over to my ratty couch, laying him down like most delicate, precious jewel in the world and holding myself over him, breath coming in shallow gasps.

I can see surprise in his eyes, along with questioning, and just a glimmer of hope. I've always been able to read him so well, and for once I pray he can read me, too.

I try to convey how much has changed, how much I've longed for him over these years, and how much I love and adore and want him now, and then I lean down to those perfect lips and kiss him.


I barely have time to process the emotions radiating from Matt's eyes, and then he's pressing his lips to mine.

It's everything I ever wanted, and so much more.

I gasp, running my hands up his surprisingly strong arms, feeling the muscle clenching and moving beneath his skin, working my way up to his face where I all but rip his goggles off, tossing them carelessly aside and pulling him down to me.

I fell him hesitate to put his full weight on me, so I run my tongue along the seam of his lips and moan, and that does the trick. He isn't too heavy for me; instead, it fells wonderful to have him on top of me, every part of our bodies touching.

His arms go on either side of me, hands cupping my face as his kissing intensifies, lips moving harshly against my own as he growls and tugs at the neck of my leather vest.

I help him pull it off, then set to work on his shirt, forcing us to break the kiss for a second as it passes over his head.

Then he's back on me, and the feel of his bare skin on mine is so burning that it almost reminds me of the time I melted half my face off, but in such a more pleasant way as to be completely opposite.

I lace my hands behind his neck, pulling him further down as I arch my back, pressing my torso and groin into his. He gasps, and then starts kissing down my neck with fervor.

He hits the soft spot just above my pulse, and I can't wait any longer. I hastily unbutton his pants, working my hand between his boxers and skin, moving down as he moans and leans into me…and then I reach my destination, stroke once…

And he collapses in a dead faint. Right on top of me. If I could have breathed, I would have laughed hysterically. Finally, after all these years, I've gotten to him. When I wasn't even trying. I allow myself a giddy smile as I wriggle out from under him, going to clear a space where I can sit and wait for him to come to and finish what we've finally started.

p.s. The first line is something I heard an announcer at the Golden Globes about 4 years ago say about Jude Law. You know, back when he was hottttt. Oh, and I totally used a bag-less Dyson vacuum at school this past year, and the frickin thing was impossible. I couldn't figure out how to even make it tilt! Once I finally caved and read the instructions it worked pretty well, but I'm set in my vacuum habits. _