DN -- Little Red Riding Hood
Title: Little Red Riding Hood
Collection: Fifteen
Fandom: Death Note
Pairing: Matt/Mello
Rating: G
Word Count: 162
Prompt: Little Red Riding Hood
Warnings: none
Summary: Matt's brain makes some odd connections.
Author's Note: I have no excuses. XD
11. LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD
Mello parts his hair around his neck and tucks it behind his ears, the better to raise his hood and settle it just so, dense white fur spreading tendrils like the arms of some soft anemone.
Matt considers the metaphor, wondering what he’s been smoking and why he didn’t notice he was smoking it.
He gets up and swaggers over to blow at Mello’s face-ostensibly to set the fur to rippling; actually to make Mello wrinkle his nose.
“Don’t get lost out there,” he cautions, tugging the coat’s zipper two teeth higher, “Red.”
Mello rolls his eyes but cedes a fur-tickled kiss before he goes.
Matt loiters by the window and watches him tear up the sidewalk four floors below, the last gleam of sunset winking on red leather.
He’s got chocolate instead of butter, and there’s no grandmother to speak of, but the wolves are out in force.
Then again, Little Red Riding Hood didn’t have a gun.
Collection: Fifteen
Fandom: Death Note
Pairing: Matt/Mello
Rating: G
Word Count: 162
Prompt: Little Red Riding Hood
Warnings: none
Summary: Matt's brain makes some odd connections.
Author's Note: I have no excuses. XD
11. LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD
Mello parts his hair around his neck and tucks it behind his ears, the better to raise his hood and settle it just so, dense white fur spreading tendrils like the arms of some soft anemone.
Matt considers the metaphor, wondering what he’s been smoking and why he didn’t notice he was smoking it.
He gets up and swaggers over to blow at Mello’s face-ostensibly to set the fur to rippling; actually to make Mello wrinkle his nose.
“Don’t get lost out there,” he cautions, tugging the coat’s zipper two teeth higher, “Red.”
Mello rolls his eyes but cedes a fur-tickled kiss before he goes.
Matt loiters by the window and watches him tear up the sidewalk four floors below, the last gleam of sunset winking on red leather.
He’s got chocolate instead of butter, and there’s no grandmother to speak of, but the wolves are out in force.
Then again, Little Red Riding Hood didn’t have a gun.