DN -- Enlightenment
Title: Enlightenment
Collection: The Margins
Fandom: Death Note
Pairing: Matt/Mello
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 442
Warnings: language, silly boys
Summary: Matt gets an enlightening phone call.
Author's Note: I love this one. It ate me.
ENLIGHTENMENT
The phone burbled. Matt, sprawled on a park bench to watch the orange-tinted world, flicked it open and raised it to his ear.
“What?” he demanded.
“You know,” Mello remarked, “I’ve been doing some research.”
Matt rolled his eyes. This again. “Enlighten me, O Researching One.”
“Smoking can make you impotent,” Mello reported smugly.
Matt glanced absently at the cigarette balanced between his first two fingers. “I’m not too worried.”
“You can’t have kids if you’re impotent, shithead.”
“Overwhelmingly flattered as I am that you’re concerned about my progeny,” Matt noted dryly, “unless you’re gonna have ’em, I don’t want ’em in the first place.”
“Oh, har har.”
“Really,” Matt insisted earnestly, “science is getting pretty advanced nowadays; I’m sure they could-”
“Fuck you,” Mello cut in. “Go ahead and smoke another after this one.”
“I will,” Matt confirmed. “And another after that.”
“Die of emphysema, for all I care,” Mello muttered.
“Workin’ on it,” Matt replied cheerfully. “How’s the Type II Diabetes coming along?”
“Well, thanks. Got your lung X-ray yet?”
“Yeah, and the scar tissue spells out ‘Badass.’ Is there a term for chain-chocolate consumption?”
Matt imagined Mello nodding, yellow hair swinging as he moved. “On the streets they’re calling it ‘non-fatal.’”
“Really?” Matt pursed his lips. “Last I heard, it was ‘PMSing.’”
“Well, when I was talking to your mother last n-”
Mello stopped, and there was a long silence.
“Hello?” Matt prompted uncertainly.
“Yeah,” Mello replied. “I was just… I dunno.”
“What?”
“I just had this image, like-of me sitting in one of those shitty-ass plastic chairs at the hospital, chain-chocolate consuming, and you lying there with lung cancer, all weak and white and fucked up from chemo and shit.”
This silence dwarfed its predecessor.
“That’s just fucking depressing,” Matt decided.
“I know,” Mello replied gloomily.
“Look,” Matt sighed. “If it makes you feel better, this’ll be the last one for today.”
Mello forced the first half of a laugh. “The boundlessness of your generosity never ceases to amaze.”
“Tell it to your therapist,” Matt suggested blithely.
“You are my therapist,” Mello retorted.
“Fair point. Is that all?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Is there any real food around there?”
Mello snorted. “Hell if I know.”
“Figures,” Matt sighed. “I’ll be back in a couple hours.”
“Hurry your cancerous ass up,” Mello ordered.
“Why?”
“Because I love you, imbecilic bastard that you are.”
“I love you too, you stupid motherfucker.”
“Later, Matt.”
“’Bye, Mello.”
Matt snapped his phone shut. He then made the mistake of surveying his surroundings.
A soccer mom was staring at him with saucer-sized eyes and a mortified expression.
He grinned at her. “What?”
Collection: The Margins
Fandom: Death Note
Pairing: Matt/Mello
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 442
Warnings: language, silly boys
Summary: Matt gets an enlightening phone call.
Author's Note: I love this one. It ate me.
ENLIGHTENMENT
The phone burbled. Matt, sprawled on a park bench to watch the orange-tinted world, flicked it open and raised it to his ear.
“What?” he demanded.
“You know,” Mello remarked, “I’ve been doing some research.”
Matt rolled his eyes. This again. “Enlighten me, O Researching One.”
“Smoking can make you impotent,” Mello reported smugly.
Matt glanced absently at the cigarette balanced between his first two fingers. “I’m not too worried.”
“You can’t have kids if you’re impotent, shithead.”
“Overwhelmingly flattered as I am that you’re concerned about my progeny,” Matt noted dryly, “unless you’re gonna have ’em, I don’t want ’em in the first place.”
“Oh, har har.”
“Really,” Matt insisted earnestly, “science is getting pretty advanced nowadays; I’m sure they could-”
“Fuck you,” Mello cut in. “Go ahead and smoke another after this one.”
“I will,” Matt confirmed. “And another after that.”
“Die of emphysema, for all I care,” Mello muttered.
“Workin’ on it,” Matt replied cheerfully. “How’s the Type II Diabetes coming along?”
“Well, thanks. Got your lung X-ray yet?”
“Yeah, and the scar tissue spells out ‘Badass.’ Is there a term for chain-chocolate consumption?”
Matt imagined Mello nodding, yellow hair swinging as he moved. “On the streets they’re calling it ‘non-fatal.’”
“Really?” Matt pursed his lips. “Last I heard, it was ‘PMSing.’”
“Well, when I was talking to your mother last n-”
Mello stopped, and there was a long silence.
“Hello?” Matt prompted uncertainly.
“Yeah,” Mello replied. “I was just… I dunno.”
“What?”
“I just had this image, like-of me sitting in one of those shitty-ass plastic chairs at the hospital, chain-chocolate consuming, and you lying there with lung cancer, all weak and white and fucked up from chemo and shit.”
This silence dwarfed its predecessor.
“That’s just fucking depressing,” Matt decided.
“I know,” Mello replied gloomily.
“Look,” Matt sighed. “If it makes you feel better, this’ll be the last one for today.”
Mello forced the first half of a laugh. “The boundlessness of your generosity never ceases to amaze.”
“Tell it to your therapist,” Matt suggested blithely.
“You are my therapist,” Mello retorted.
“Fair point. Is that all?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Is there any real food around there?”
Mello snorted. “Hell if I know.”
“Figures,” Matt sighed. “I’ll be back in a couple hours.”
“Hurry your cancerous ass up,” Mello ordered.
“Why?”
“Because I love you, imbecilic bastard that you are.”
“I love you too, you stupid motherfucker.”
“Later, Matt.”
“’Bye, Mello.”
Matt snapped his phone shut. He then made the mistake of surveying his surroundings.
A soccer mom was staring at him with saucer-sized eyes and a mortified expression.
He grinned at her. “What?”