Summary: Matt tends to remain a fortress on a hill among advanced civilization, but she supposes that's what keeps her guessing, what keeps her in sync with his life. Matt/Misa
"What are you doing?" Matt places his cigarette in the ash tray. It's nearing full. It seems like every time he looks at the ashtray, it's full. He'd get to that in a second. Right now, Misa's messing with the monitors again.
"Can't you go on the internet or anything?" she whines as she repeatedly pushes an unresponsive button. "I need to check my Facebook."
Matt's fingers curl around the stem of his cigarette. "Social networking, huh? I guess I should've expected that."
"Why's that so wrong? Are you against having a social life? Do you even have friends?"
Matt's arm lazily sweeps the room of monitors and the river of wires that run through them. "With friends like these…" he says. "You know, there's a lot of important information on these babies, and I can't afford to lose any of it."
"Are you a secret agent or something?"
"If I told you, then I wouldn't be a secret agent anymore."
She isn't sure why, but there's just something so naturally appealing about his expressions. His eyes are easy and tranquil, so undeterred by anything aside from the danger of losing a life or points in a video game. Matt can soothe someone out of anger and pique curiosity with only a brief glimpse.
"You aren't a secret agent," she decides.
He smirks in that way only he can.
Her heart floats to a place unfamiliar. At the same time it revokes her and places something heavy and shivering in her stomach. These are things that should only be stimulated by Light, yet she finds herself feeling these things because of him.
Misa studies him. "Yesterday when I tried to take you outside you got nervous and dragged me back in."
"How do you think my employer would react if I went on a shopping trip with someone I'm supposed to be spying on?" Matt counters, and lights another cigarette. The previous one's already shortened and died.
She doesn't want to keep on the subject of Mello, even though Light would kill to have any information on the guy. Misa only knows him as a man elusive in face and motive. He has a bad temper and a special place for Matt somewhere in his heart that seems to arouse conflict between them. At least, that's what she imagines from Matt's testimony.
Just like with Light. Except that they aren't really lovers, because Light has miraculously resisted every sexual pass she's ever made at him. Because of this she believes he's either fiercely homosexual or asexual. Of course, an idea like that is appropriately repressed because that can only mean that her lucky stars have erred and they've been poorly matched as some kind of joke.
Whereas Light is a tempest of plan, devise, and execute, Matt is a simple wave of work, play and hide. Matt tends to remain a fortress on a hill among advanced civilization, but she supposes that's what keeps her guessing, what keeps her in sync with his life.
"You know, you're a sweet guy. If you didn't shut yourself up in here all the time, we could have a lot of fun."
Matt leans back on the couch. He doesn't always respond to everything. Misa can't infer anything from behind those dumb goggles, and it's frustrating sometimes.
Later that night they lie in an old, worn mattress with weary springs after what's loosely-termed lovemaking. While Misa takes warmly to the romantic sentiment that such a term embodies, Matt prefers to interpret it as a simple form of recreation.
Matt's calm blue meets hers. His hair is adorably disheveled and distributed unevenly around his forehead. Misa doesn't want to compare him to Light but, considering who she is, she'll always end up doing just that.
If circumstances would permit it, Matt would love her better. At the very least he wouldn't slave-drive her into carpal tunnel by commanding her to murder people she's never met with a supernatural notebook. She's sacrificed so much for Light's love (and is rightfully beginning to doubt its existence). She can honestly say she's gained nothing from the arrangement, except uncertainty and self-pity.
This affair with Matt is substantial to her womanhood. All that lacks in Light is alive in Matt. It's shameful to know.
"What's on your mind?" he murmurs.
"Nothing. I should go before your 'employer' gets here."
Matt flicks his gaze to the ceiling. "He won't be here for another three hours. He's always late."
"I don't want to take the chance," she says, and stands from the bed with elegant nakedness. Misa showers, dresses, and leaves him with a warm smile and a wave of her perfectly manicured hand.
Matt walks back into the living room feeling just a little lonelier than usual. Since he reunited with Mello he's developed a taste for company. All the wrong company, he might add.
Matt lights up for the umpteenth time that night. His grin swerves the cigarette to the side as a wisp of smoke tails into the air.