DN -- Chocolate First
Title: Chocolate First
Fandom: Death Note
Pairing: Matt/Mello
Rating: light PG-13
Word Count: 150
Warnings: language
Summary: In which Mello is hungry, and Matt is unimpressed.
Author's Note: ...
CHOCOLATE FIRST
“Matt.”
“What?”
“I’m hungry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Ex-fucking-scuse me?”
“You’re not hungry. You just ate.”
“Chocolate. Now.”
“Fuck you, Mel.”
“Chocolate first.”
Matt jumps indignantly to his feet. “You-”
Mello leans back into the pillows, slender arms folded behind his head, and laughs.
Matt glares at him for a second, and then he grabs the semiautomatic out of the top dresser drawer and swings it suddenly around, pointing the barrel right at Mello’s forehead.
Mello stops laughing.
Matt flicks the safety, grips the trigger, and puts on his best sneer.
“Bang, bang,” he mutters. “You’re dead.”
Slightly uncomfortably, Mello shifts.
Matt snaps the safety back on, pops the magazine, and tosses it at Mello’s chest.
“Eat bullets,” he suggests. “There’s chocolate two feet from your head.”
Mello turns and notices the stack of foil-wrapped bars.
“Oh,” he says.
“Yeah,” Matt says, dropping the gun back in the drawer. “‘Oh.’”
Fandom: Death Note
Pairing: Matt/Mello
Rating: light PG-13
Word Count: 150
Warnings: language
Summary: In which Mello is hungry, and Matt is unimpressed.
Author's Note: ...
CHOCOLATE FIRST
“Matt.”
“What?”
“I’m hungry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Ex-fucking-scuse me?”
“You’re not hungry. You just ate.”
“Chocolate. Now.”
“Fuck you, Mel.”
“Chocolate first.”
Matt jumps indignantly to his feet. “You-”
Mello leans back into the pillows, slender arms folded behind his head, and laughs.
Matt glares at him for a second, and then he grabs the semiautomatic out of the top dresser drawer and swings it suddenly around, pointing the barrel right at Mello’s forehead.
Mello stops laughing.
Matt flicks the safety, grips the trigger, and puts on his best sneer.
“Bang, bang,” he mutters. “You’re dead.”
Slightly uncomfortably, Mello shifts.
Matt snaps the safety back on, pops the magazine, and tosses it at Mello’s chest.
“Eat bullets,” he suggests. “There’s chocolate two feet from your head.”
Mello turns and notices the stack of foil-wrapped bars.
“Oh,” he says.
“Yeah,” Matt says, dropping the gun back in the drawer. “‘Oh.’”