Mello handed Matt the other cup of hot chocolate and sat down on the bench next to him. The December air was cold, and their breath hung between the snowflakes. St. Petersberg was much colder than LA. Heck, it was even colder than England. Mello remembered a few frigid winters before Wammy's, but he was mostly kept indoors, a common thing for a mafia kid. As a birthday present, Matt had given Mello plane tickets to spend Christmas together in Russia, his native country. It seemed pretty sappy to Mello, but there was a part of him that loved Matt's nonsense. He would have to do something like this for Matt's birthday. Valentine's Day in Ireland sounded like fun.

They had spent the day shopping and sightseeing, and now they sat in the square watching the snow fall and enjoying the brightly colored lights. Well, Mello was watching the snow. Matt was playing his game. To his credit, this was the first time he'd pulled it out today. This was so silly, like something out of a bad movie, but somehow Mello didn't care. As long as he was with Matt, he could be a little bit silly. Besides, there would be some less G-rated fun in the hotel room later.

Mello's thoughts were interrupted by an unfamiliar hand on his shoulder.

"Yuri, there you ar-" the strange man stopped, stunned.

Mello stood up and turned around to face the intruder, his hand instinctively going under his coat toward his gun. He quickly relaxed, seeing that this other man was obviously unarmed and more surprised than Mello. He was a tall, muscular man about five years older than Mello, with short silver hair and bright blue eyes.

"Oh, I am so sorry, I'm looking for someone else." the silver-haired man blushed sheepishly as he babbled in fluent Russian. HIs companion, a dark-haired man with glasses, looked like he was about to die of embarrassment.

"He must be a real good-looking guy." Mello said sarcastically. He may have left Russia at age seven, but he could still speak the language fairly well.

Matt had looked up when Mello stood up, and now he stood next to Mello.

"What does this guy want?" Matt's Russian wasn't very good, despite Mello's best attempts to teach him.

"He's looking for someone named Yuri, no big deal." Mello said in English.

Before things could get any more awkward, some kid came sauntering up.

"Hey Victor, sorry I'm late. I had to take a different route to avoid my fans." he said unapologetically.

Matt burst into a fit of laughter that seemed to take over his whole body, bringing him to his knees in the snow.

"Is something funny, Matt?" Mello looked down at his fallen companion. He would probably be embarrassed if he hadn't stopped caring years ago.

Matt took three minutes to compose himself to the point where he could speak.

"Mel, this kid, he looks just like you. He even has your ego." he managed to say.

Mello looked at the Russian teenager in front of him. He was slender and on the short side, with jaw-length blond hair and cold blue-green eyes. He was wearing a leopard-print coat and pleather leggings. Arrogance surrounded him like an aura, and he looked thoroughly annoyed with the world.

"I don't see it." Mello said bluntly.

"I see it. The hair, the leggings, the...uh...expression?" The dark-haired man was trying to break the tension, unsuccessfully. His Russian was slower, so Matt understood it.

"You should have seen him at fourteen, he looked just like that." Mat said, still snickering.

"Hey! Don't go comparing me to some random little brat! I was way cooler than this emo edgelord." Mello said, insulted.

"Ugh, I just hope I don't end up as weird as you mafia-wannabe freaks." The little twerp shot back.

"See? He even has your mouth." Matt was laughing again.

"Yuri, come on, don't pick a fight you can't win." The silver haired man, presumably Victor, took the kid's arm.

"What do you mean 'can't win'? I can win this" the brat, Yuri, said, pouting.

Matt leaned on Mello's shoulder as he laughed weakly, clearly getting tired.

"Thank you for your help, but we must be going." Victor said, putting on a flashy smile, "Oh, I never gave you our names. My name is Victor NIkiforov, this is my husband, Yuuri Katsuki, and this is our rinkmate, Yuri Plisetsky. We're professional figure skaters."

"Cool. My name is Mello, and this is my partner, Matt. We're here on vacation." Mello nodded in acknowledgement.

"Well, thanks again, and enjoy your holiday!" Victor turned and walked across the square, leading a glaring Yuri and still-blushing Yuuri.

Mello whacked Matt on the back of the head before sitting back on the bench, arms folded.

"Nice to know I look like a teenage figure skater." Mello sulked.

"Aw, c'mon Mels. I didn't say you still looked like that. I said you used to." Matt sat down next to him, "I like you better anyway" Matt nuzzled Mello's neck affectionately, and his scowl broke into a smirk.

"All right, I forgive you. But I may need something for my wounded pride when we get back to the hotel." Mello said with that devilish glint in his eye.

"I think I can manage that." Matt said, returning Mello's smirk.