Matt was, according to Mello, a "lazy fucking ass who does nothing but sit around all fucking day and play video games" and "can't do shit for himself."
Mello was, according to Matt, a "fucking dumbass bastard that needs a goddamn cap popped in his ass and a fucking haircut" because he had "fucking chick hair, man."
Mello and Matt were also the very best of friends, and would do anything to make sure the other was safe and sound; this included threatening each others' lives if they ever did something so fucking stupid again, so help me God.
But, they were just friends. Nothing more. Nope. Just. Friends.
They were just friends when Matt hugged Mello to get him to stop crying "like a damn girl."
They were just friends when Mello grabbed Matt's hand to keep him from running away when a noise scared him at night.
They were just friends when they needed to learn CPR and ended up paired together.
Yep, just friends.
"Matt, you fucking useless piece of shit," Mello swore, walking into their shared bedroom at the Wammy House with his face shoved into a towel, drying his hair, "you used up the last of my shampoo. Do it again, and I swear, I will strangle you in your fucking sleep with the PS2 cord and then proceed to beat your lifeless body with an X-box controller, after which I will shove that DS of yours up your ass."
A dark chuckle made Mello take his face out of the towel, damp hair falling into his eyes. "Oh, you wouldn't do that, Mels," Matt purred, squeezing chocolate syrup onto his bare chest and stomach, rubbing it in and licking his fingers, satisfied with Mello's face as he tried to control himself. "You couldn't possibly handle living without me. I'm what, your only goddamn friend?"
Mello dropped the towel on the floor and pounced across the room, landing smack-fucking-dab on Matt; hips to hips, chest to chest, mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue. Hot damn, did he taste like chocolate, and that only further sparked Mello's desire to lick every inch of his body. The blond made a move to straddle his redheaded shithead of a best friend, wiggling around and grinding and creating delicious friction; Mello released the gamer's mouth from being his prisoner, and instead focused on that hot, sweaty, chocolate-covered chest teasing him. Slowly, torturously, painstakingly slowly, he ran his tongue from the waistband of Matt's boxers up to his neck, eliciting a series of gasps from the other teenager. Mello smirked; this was going to be fun.
Matt sprawled out on his back onto Mello's chest, bottle of chocolate syrup in hand and panting for breath as the blond put his arms behind his head and grinned in triumph and satisfaction, having solved his need for chocolate and sex in one fell swoop. The redheaded game master groaned, laying one arm across his eyes in a dramatic show of pain. "My ass hurts, you bastard," he moaned, irritation pointed directly at Mello.
"Hmph," Mello scoffed, raising an eyebrow and looking at the boy on his chest, "serves you right for teasing me like that, you sick son of a bitch."
"You," Matt started, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance, "are the biggest fucking asshole I've ever met. You're a bigger asshole than even I am, and I'm one goddamn asshole, you fucktard." He held up a fist towards Mello, which he bumped with his own fist. "Best friends forever?"
"Best friends forever," Mello agreed, sitting up with the help of his hands. "Now, hand over the bottle, you prissy assed bitch."
Author's Note: And that, ducklings, is the closest I'll ever get to writing a sex scene.