DN -- Marshmallow Peeps
Title: Marshmallow Peeps
Collection: Fifteen
Fandom: Death Note
Pairing: Matt/Mello
Rating: PG
Word Count: 387
Prompt: marshmallow peeps (a.k.a. these guys if you don't know 'em)
Warnings: Matt in TEIN-worthy pun mode, wtf? syndrome
Summary: In which Matt is unexpectedly creative.
Author's Note: Yes, I come up with puns about Peeps in the shower. I thought everyone did that. Also, Yes, Matt and eltea are secretly related. I thought everyone knew that. 8D
14. MARSHMALLOW PEEPS
Saturday evening before Easter, and Mello was off to the Vigil.
He was, in essence, the best-worst Catholic he knew, possibly the best-worst Catholic of all time.
Though Vito Corleone was stiff competition.
He paused in the kitchen, noting Matt bent over the table, wire, cardboard, glue, and scissors spread about his elbows, something uncannily bright and yellow in the middle of the explosion of inexplicable creativity.
Mello stared.
“What are you doing to those Peeps?” he asked.
“They’re Peups,” Matt replied-calmly, and completely nonsensically.
Mello considered backing away slowly, but curiosity won out. “They’re whats?”
“Peups,” Matt repeated. “If they were people, they could be Peeps, because it rhymes, but it’s ‘peuple’ in French, so they’re Peups.”
Mello went back to staring. “Why are they French?”
Matt raised a Peep with angry eyebrows drawn on. “Because,” he answered, “this is Robespeepierre.”
Mello stared at the bizarre construction on the tabletop-and, sure enough, a length of wire suspended a tinfoil guillotine blade from a popsicle-stick frame. There was a severed Peep head on one side of the blade and a matching Peep body on the other side.
“You’re sick,” Mello decided.
“I will be once I eat all the survivors,” Matt remarked.
Rolling his eyes, Mello proceeded to the door.
When he returned the next morning-eyes gritty, knees sore, more than willing to trade his newly-cleansed immortal soul for a chocolate bar-Matt was still hard at work. Morbidly curious again, Mello went over to look.
Matt had arranged a few old crone Peeps, who were possessed of wispy cotton-candy hair, evil expressions, and collections of severed Peep heads-which were now elaborately decorated (or desecrated) with red frosting. Robespeepierre had earned a cotton-candy wig, and one of the crone Peeps drove a My Little Pony-drawn wagon past him and below a portcullis made of toothpicks.
Mello did not want to know whence Matt had acquired the My Little Pony.
“You’ve been reading A Tale of Two Cities again,” he concluded.
“Nope,” Matt responded cheerfully. “The Scarlet Pimpernel.” He pushed shredded-coconut hay off of the bed of the wagon to reveal a small treasure trove of Cadbury eggs.
Mello stared again. He was fairly certain that staring was the only logical reaction.
Matt winked and proffered the chocolate. “Happy Easter, Mel.”
Collection: Fifteen
Fandom: Death Note
Pairing: Matt/Mello
Rating: PG
Word Count: 387
Prompt: marshmallow peeps (a.k.a. these guys if you don't know 'em)
Warnings: Matt in TEIN-worthy pun mode, wtf? syndrome
Summary: In which Matt is unexpectedly creative.
Author's Note: Yes, I come up with puns about Peeps in the shower. I thought everyone did that. Also, Yes, Matt and eltea are secretly related. I thought everyone knew that. 8D
14. MARSHMALLOW PEEPS
Saturday evening before Easter, and Mello was off to the Vigil.
He was, in essence, the best-worst Catholic he knew, possibly the best-worst Catholic of all time.
Though Vito Corleone was stiff competition.
He paused in the kitchen, noting Matt bent over the table, wire, cardboard, glue, and scissors spread about his elbows, something uncannily bright and yellow in the middle of the explosion of inexplicable creativity.
Mello stared.
“What are you doing to those Peeps?” he asked.
“They’re Peups,” Matt replied-calmly, and completely nonsensically.
Mello considered backing away slowly, but curiosity won out. “They’re whats?”
“Peups,” Matt repeated. “If they were people, they could be Peeps, because it rhymes, but it’s ‘peuple’ in French, so they’re Peups.”
Mello went back to staring. “Why are they French?”
Matt raised a Peep with angry eyebrows drawn on. “Because,” he answered, “this is Robespeepierre.”
Mello stared at the bizarre construction on the tabletop-and, sure enough, a length of wire suspended a tinfoil guillotine blade from a popsicle-stick frame. There was a severed Peep head on one side of the blade and a matching Peep body on the other side.
“You’re sick,” Mello decided.
“I will be once I eat all the survivors,” Matt remarked.
Rolling his eyes, Mello proceeded to the door.
When he returned the next morning-eyes gritty, knees sore, more than willing to trade his newly-cleansed immortal soul for a chocolate bar-Matt was still hard at work. Morbidly curious again, Mello went over to look.
Matt had arranged a few old crone Peeps, who were possessed of wispy cotton-candy hair, evil expressions, and collections of severed Peep heads-which were now elaborately decorated (or desecrated) with red frosting. Robespeepierre had earned a cotton-candy wig, and one of the crone Peeps drove a My Little Pony-drawn wagon past him and below a portcullis made of toothpicks.
Mello did not want to know whence Matt had acquired the My Little Pony.
“You’ve been reading A Tale of Two Cities again,” he concluded.
“Nope,” Matt responded cheerfully. “The Scarlet Pimpernel.” He pushed shredded-coconut hay off of the bed of the wagon to reveal a small treasure trove of Cadbury eggs.
Mello stared again. He was fairly certain that staring was the only logical reaction.
Matt winked and proffered the chocolate. “Happy Easter, Mel.”