ooc // fic: make yourself at home
title: make yourself at home
pairing: Badou/Mello
rating: idk, pg-13? could be R for the amount of swearing, I guess
summary: They've got a routine going, by now: Badou cooks, Mello does the dishes. They both put up with it.
Badou wakes up in the morning and remembers that, for the sixth time, Mello's asleep on his couch. He calls the kid 'fag' all the time, but what he should be saying is 'freeloader.' Pain in the ass.
He wakes Mello with the smell of fried eggs and bacon. They've got a routine going, by now: Badou cooks, Mello does the dishes. They both put up with it.
While they're eating, Mello does that thing again where he licks his thumb. God, what is this, 'the morning after' breakfast?
Badou grimaces at the thought, nearly drops his cigarette, and shovels some eggs in. Mello laughs at the way his face looks.
--
Four days later, they're both drunk again - not as heavily as before, because Mello won't allow it for himself, but enough that it counts. Badou's squinting at the wall, and cigarette smoke's getting up in his eye. He sprawls out along the couch. Mello sprawls out along his knees.
"Heeeey," Badou mumbles, "Get the fuck oooooff," but he's too lazy to move.
"Shut up, I'm sleeping," Mello says, with his face pressed to the cushion near Badou's thigh, and he swats at the air.
This has happened enough times by now that Badou knows Mello is asleep, so he just curses a little and lets his head fall back against the couch. In a while, he's out, too.
--
He, um.
He wakes up and finds Mello, in the kitchen, cooking.
"What the fuck?" he asks, and then again, for good measure: "What the fuck?"
"Shut up," Mello says. He's frying potatoes in a pan, for hashbrowns, it looks like, and there's a bowl of pancake batter on the counter, with chocolate chips in it. Where the hell did Mello get chocolate chips, anyway? Or potatoes, for that matter? Badou's been out of potatoes.
"... Have you been buying shit for my house?" Badou asks, incredulous, and Mello, standing with a hand on his hip and inspecting the batter, nods.
Badou stares, curses, and then laughs at him. Mello repays him with ketchup on his pancakes.
--
'You dress like a whore,' Badou always says, and Mello always says, 'You smell like a dog,' but they always end up hanging around each other, anyway. It's been another week; they're drunk again, and Badou would cross his eyes, if he had both of them, because Mello leans forward and touches their foreheads together. He tells Badou, "You're an idiot."
"Shut uuup, fucking brat," Badou mumbles. He doesn't realize, at first, when their mouths are pressed together, and their teeth are nipping.
Mello does, and he wonders what the backlash will be like.
--
In the morning, Badou wakes up, sits up, and fucks up by shouting.
"Fuck! Shit! Shit!" he says to Mello, who's sleeping beside him in bed; Mello's bare back is facing Badou, and the bedsheet rests at the sharp outline of his hip.
"Nails," Mello says, because he still uses the last name when he's angry, "Be quiet. Go make breakfast or something, I just got eggs yesterday."
"Holy shit!" Badou says. "I fucked you, didn't I?"
"Yes," says Mello, but it's in a bit of a hiss, "But it wasn't good enough for you to fucking wake me up like this."
Badou stares, fumbles for his eyepatch on the dresser, and stomps to the kitchen.
--
He's quiet during breakfast.
--
Three hours later, it's:
"MELLO, YOU FAGHOLE, YOU DATE-RAPED ME!"
"What?" Mello's putting his coat on, and he looks only mildly interested.
"You!" Badou is pointing. "You date-raped me last night! And it wasn't even a fucking date! You shitty asswipe, you took advantage of me!"
Mello yawns. Badou stays still, pointing, silent. Then, finally, with a snicker, "Yeah, okay, Badou. Don't flatter yourself."
"Oh, fuck you-"
But Badou stops. He remembers, clearly, his mouth going down on Mello's collarbone, and he remembers pulling Mello's hips onto-
"Huh," he says, "Well. Shit."
"Yeah." Mello takes his wallet from the counter, and tosses his hair. "I'm going out. Later."
"... Yeah."
Yeah, okay.
--
They do it again anyway, three days later.
--
Two weeks in, Badou stops and thinks that Mello's been in his apartment for four days now. There's stuff piling up around, slowly - books, and clothes, and crosses and things.
He finds Mello doing a newspaper crossword at the table. "What," he says, and it's sarcasm, "Are you fucking living here now?"
Mello doesn't look up from the word he's solving, but he does respond: "Yeah, I guess."
That leaves Badou floored for about ten seconds. Then- "What the hell! Fuck you!"
Mello completes the puzzle, drops the pen, and glances at Badou. He's grinning.
"Exactly."
--
It's not too bad a deal.
Sure, they fight all the time - they're around each other so much that on the one hand, they become used to things about the other that used to piss them off.
On the other hand, they're picking up new things to bitch about, too.
"Fuck you!" Badou's shouting, "Fuck you and your girly-ass pansy-fucker makeup shit!"
"If you'd done the laundry the way I said to-!!"
"DON'T LEAVE EYELINER IN YOUR GODDAMN POCKETS, FUCKING PAIN-IN-THE-ASS BRAT! I LIKED THAT COAT!"
"Nails," Mello says quietly.
Badou sleeps on the couch that night. There is no sex.
--
They're out shopping, later, grocery shopping, and when they're finished, Mello drags Badou to a store because he's decided he wants a hat.
"What the fuck do you want one of those for?" Badou says, and Mello glares at him, so he fixes it up with, "You're always working on your hair, don't see why you're hiding it now."
Mello seems appeased. Why does Badou even put up with this kid?
"I just want one," Mello says (spoiled brat), so they look around the racks. It's when Mello grabs Badou's sleeve and runs down an aisle with him that Badou has a revelation.
They live together. They shop together. They fuck regularly, and they each go places with the other that they wouldn't really otherwise.
"Oh, holy fuck, holy fucking shit," Badou says, and his eye is wide. "I think we're dating."
Mello stops, Badou's sleeve still in between his fingers, and looks over his shoulder at Badou.
"... You think so?"
"... Yeah."
"Oh. Huh."
They leave without getting a hat. Sex that night is strangely awkward, but for some reason, neither of them mind that too much.
pairing: Badou/Mello
rating: idk, pg-13? could be R for the amount of swearing, I guess
summary: They've got a routine going, by now: Badou cooks, Mello does the dishes. They both put up with it.
Badou wakes up in the morning and remembers that, for the sixth time, Mello's asleep on his couch. He calls the kid 'fag' all the time, but what he should be saying is 'freeloader.' Pain in the ass.
He wakes Mello with the smell of fried eggs and bacon. They've got a routine going, by now: Badou cooks, Mello does the dishes. They both put up with it.
While they're eating, Mello does that thing again where he licks his thumb. God, what is this, 'the morning after' breakfast?
Badou grimaces at the thought, nearly drops his cigarette, and shovels some eggs in. Mello laughs at the way his face looks.
--
Four days later, they're both drunk again - not as heavily as before, because Mello won't allow it for himself, but enough that it counts. Badou's squinting at the wall, and cigarette smoke's getting up in his eye. He sprawls out along the couch. Mello sprawls out along his knees.
"Heeeey," Badou mumbles, "Get the fuck oooooff," but he's too lazy to move.
"Shut up, I'm sleeping," Mello says, with his face pressed to the cushion near Badou's thigh, and he swats at the air.
This has happened enough times by now that Badou knows Mello is asleep, so he just curses a little and lets his head fall back against the couch. In a while, he's out, too.
--
He, um.
He wakes up and finds Mello, in the kitchen, cooking.
"What the fuck?" he asks, and then again, for good measure: "What the fuck?"
"Shut up," Mello says. He's frying potatoes in a pan, for hashbrowns, it looks like, and there's a bowl of pancake batter on the counter, with chocolate chips in it. Where the hell did Mello get chocolate chips, anyway? Or potatoes, for that matter? Badou's been out of potatoes.
"... Have you been buying shit for my house?" Badou asks, incredulous, and Mello, standing with a hand on his hip and inspecting the batter, nods.
Badou stares, curses, and then laughs at him. Mello repays him with ketchup on his pancakes.
--
'You dress like a whore,' Badou always says, and Mello always says, 'You smell like a dog,' but they always end up hanging around each other, anyway. It's been another week; they're drunk again, and Badou would cross his eyes, if he had both of them, because Mello leans forward and touches their foreheads together. He tells Badou, "You're an idiot."
"Shut uuup, fucking brat," Badou mumbles. He doesn't realize, at first, when their mouths are pressed together, and their teeth are nipping.
Mello does, and he wonders what the backlash will be like.
--
In the morning, Badou wakes up, sits up, and fucks up by shouting.
"Fuck! Shit! Shit!" he says to Mello, who's sleeping beside him in bed; Mello's bare back is facing Badou, and the bedsheet rests at the sharp outline of his hip.
"Nails," Mello says, because he still uses the last name when he's angry, "Be quiet. Go make breakfast or something, I just got eggs yesterday."
"Holy shit!" Badou says. "I fucked you, didn't I?"
"Yes," says Mello, but it's in a bit of a hiss, "But it wasn't good enough for you to fucking wake me up like this."
Badou stares, fumbles for his eyepatch on the dresser, and stomps to the kitchen.
--
He's quiet during breakfast.
--
Three hours later, it's:
"MELLO, YOU FAGHOLE, YOU DATE-RAPED ME!"
"What?" Mello's putting his coat on, and he looks only mildly interested.
"You!" Badou is pointing. "You date-raped me last night! And it wasn't even a fucking date! You shitty asswipe, you took advantage of me!"
Mello yawns. Badou stays still, pointing, silent. Then, finally, with a snicker, "Yeah, okay, Badou. Don't flatter yourself."
"Oh, fuck you-"
But Badou stops. He remembers, clearly, his mouth going down on Mello's collarbone, and he remembers pulling Mello's hips onto-
"Huh," he says, "Well. Shit."
"Yeah." Mello takes his wallet from the counter, and tosses his hair. "I'm going out. Later."
"... Yeah."
Yeah, okay.
--
They do it again anyway, three days later.
--
Two weeks in, Badou stops and thinks that Mello's been in his apartment for four days now. There's stuff piling up around, slowly - books, and clothes, and crosses and things.
He finds Mello doing a newspaper crossword at the table. "What," he says, and it's sarcasm, "Are you fucking living here now?"
Mello doesn't look up from the word he's solving, but he does respond: "Yeah, I guess."
That leaves Badou floored for about ten seconds. Then- "What the hell! Fuck you!"
Mello completes the puzzle, drops the pen, and glances at Badou. He's grinning.
"Exactly."
--
It's not too bad a deal.
Sure, they fight all the time - they're around each other so much that on the one hand, they become used to things about the other that used to piss them off.
On the other hand, they're picking up new things to bitch about, too.
"Fuck you!" Badou's shouting, "Fuck you and your girly-ass pansy-fucker makeup shit!"
"If you'd done the laundry the way I said to-!!"
"DON'T LEAVE EYELINER IN YOUR GODDAMN POCKETS, FUCKING PAIN-IN-THE-ASS BRAT! I LIKED THAT COAT!"
"Nails," Mello says quietly.
Badou sleeps on the couch that night. There is no sex.
--
They're out shopping, later, grocery shopping, and when they're finished, Mello drags Badou to a store because he's decided he wants a hat.
"What the fuck do you want one of those for?" Badou says, and Mello glares at him, so he fixes it up with, "You're always working on your hair, don't see why you're hiding it now."
Mello seems appeased. Why does Badou even put up with this kid?
"I just want one," Mello says (spoiled brat), so they look around the racks. It's when Mello grabs Badou's sleeve and runs down an aisle with him that Badou has a revelation.
They live together. They shop together. They fuck regularly, and they each go places with the other that they wouldn't really otherwise.
"Oh, holy fuck, holy fucking shit," Badou says, and his eye is wide. "I think we're dating."
Mello stops, Badou's sleeve still in between his fingers, and looks over his shoulder at Badou.
"... You think so?"
"... Yeah."
"Oh. Huh."
They leave without getting a hat. Sex that night is strangely awkward, but for some reason, neither of them mind that too much.