Chapter one:

In which impossible things occur

Everyone around them was of the same mind: this shouldn't work. Nothing supported it, at least in theory. One of them should have been irritated far beyond his own (extremely subjective) willpower, and the other should, as a result of that irritation, have ended up with a bullet through his pretty head. Everyone's instincts said "no!" to this odd couple.

At yet, somehow, this was happening and, what was more, it was actually working.

Eventually everyone got used to it. After a while they only ever thought of their original objections fleetingly. It became a fact of life they all grew used to, like the third music room's strange additions, or the way the original L was – had been. Tamaki and Mello became a part of everyone's lives. Eventually.

The two of them did wonder on their own relationship from time to time too – especially Tamaki. He could recall more than a few nights where he had lain awake, thinking about Mello and why the scarred young man put up with him. If it had been anyone else, he would have put it down to his good looks, and that they found his lust for life and youthful exuberance endearing, but he knew Mello better than that. Finally, he asked the man himself, and was rewarded with a slightly uncharacteristically thoughtful look before Mello replied with a quiet "You make me feel like a better person."

It was a simple statement but Tamaki beamed. He had chosen the time to ask (and afterwards to shower Mello with kisses) well: a post-coital, sleepy Mello was less likely to hold a gun to Tamaki's neck out of annoyance.

"That and you give me chocolate."

Mello was a volatile creature. If provoked, he would waste no time whipping out his gun, reflexes sharp. If relaxed, he was charismatic and funny – and sometimes affectionate. And then there was the chocolate: the near-constant cracking and snapping sounds of it breaking, interspersed with chewing. Most people found it profoundly irritating (not that they would dare to say anything about it though). Tamaki, however, accepted it on the basis that everyone had their own faults. He had even, in the transition between his host club years and now, learned to acknowledge his own faults, hence why he had often thought on his and Mello's relationship. But apparently his sometimes-annoying tendency to exclaim loudly about things which delighted him was, for Mello, eclipsed by the way he made the detective feel – and so they stayed together.

Not that Tamaki got away with it completely. In the nearly-two years in which they had been together, he had been poked, prodded, pinched, kicked, punched, threatened and tied up; still the relationship seemed strong. Everyone now supposed that Tamaki must be some kind of masochist on top of everything else.

It shouldn't have worked.

Somehow it did.

One evening, Tamaki came home to the large, comfortable house in which he and Mello lived together. Usually he got home before his lover, but tonight said man's long black leather coat was hung up on the row of hooks by the door, and his boots had been left lying on the floor below. Intrigued, and more than a little pleased, Tamaki went through to the kitchen and found Mello stirring a pot on the stove, which was emitting wonderfully scented fumes. He went and stood beside the other man, arms around his waist and looking into the pot.

"Hi," Mello greeted him, teeth clearly clenched in concentration.

Tamaki kissed his bare shoulder and smiled against the scarred skin. "Did Near not need you today?"

Mello turned in the circle of Tamaki's arms and scowled at him, almost nose-to-nose. "Near is not my boss. We work together as L – we're equals now. I just made an executive decision today because it's a special occasion." He paused, and then added, "Happy birthday, by the way."

Tamaki grinned as Mello tugged him into a kiss by his tie and kissed back, used to Mello's tongue licking his lip before pushing immediately forward and touching his own. Shortly they both heard a bubbling and hissing noise and Mello extricated himself with a string of gruff words.

He had prepared a simple pasta and sauce meal for the anniversary of Tamaki's birth, but Tamaki enjoyed it as much as he would have enjoyed a top-class, gourmet meal, glad just to have Mello to himself for a night for once. Sure, the Kira case had ended several years ago now, but Mello, Matt and Near were all continuing on the path L had set them and working together as the greatest detective in the world. It was frustrating for Tamaki when a case was going on that kept his lover away from him for days at a time, and so he cherished every evening he could be with Mello.

Later, they left the plates on the table and Mello almost dragged Tamaki upstairs, closing the door behind them.

"Rose petals?" The Suoh was surprised as he looked at their bed.

"Yeah... Don't you like them?" Mello was staring at him intently and still had one hand on Tamaki's wrist.

Tamaki looked back at him, head tilted. "I love them... but I didn't think you'd –"

"You like them and it's your birthday," put in Mello simply, squeezing Tamaki's wrist for just a moment.

When Tamaki said nothing the detective rolled his eyes and let go of the former's wrist, reaching into his trousers.

"Tamaki, I'm kind of horny right now and if you don't like them you'd better just ignore them because –" he lifted his gun, pointing it at Tamaki's chest – "one way or another you're getting on that bed."

Tamaki raised his eyebrows, laughed nervously and pulled off his tie. Mello was here and in a good mood; for that alone he was grateful.

It was mid-May when Tamaki noticed the biggest change in Mello. Rcently he had been more sleepy than usual; Tamaki had blamed work, telling Mello that he was working too hard and too long. Mello had disagreed, but now he was sitting across from Tamaki at the table, his bowl of chocolate cereal in front of him entirely untouched. His face was slightly flushed and his expression one of apparent concentration.

"Are you okay?" asked the half-French man.

Mello looked up and nodded. "Yeah... just not hungry."

Tamaki's eyebrows rose incredulously. "But you love choc –"

"I'm going to work... See you later." Mello leapt up and hurried out of the room, leaving a confused Tamaki still at the breakfast table.

Tamaki was at his desk at work that day when he got a phone call.

"Hello?"

"Tamaki?" The emotionless voice was not Mello's but –

"Near?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"It's Mello. He's just vomited."

"What?" Alarm bells started ringing in Tamaki's head.

"He's just vomited."

"I get that; I mean 'what?'"

"He's in the bathroom now but the monitor that was in his firing range is going to need replacing. Fortunately we weren't handling the evidence today."

"Is he okay?"

There was a distant groan and a splattering noise on the other end of the line.

"I don't think so."

"I'll come pick him up."

"Look, are you going to co-operate or do I have to stick this thing up your –"

"I don't need it!" objected Mello, bottom jaw stuck out determinedly.

Tamaki sighed in exasperation. Despite the fact that he had left work early, gone to the detectives' headquarters, brought Mello back and carried him to bed, the scarred blonde was now refusing to do one little thing for him like let his temperature be taken. Instead, Mello was stubbornly refusing, arms folded around his legs, which he had drawn up to his chest. There was a sulky set to his expressive mouth and he looked thoroughly annoyed.

Tamaki sighed again, wondering how best to get his lover to simply comply. Suddenly Mello leapt from the bed and rushed into the ensuite bathroom. Tamaki heard retching and more splattering, and groans laced with profanities (or, at least, the sentiments of profanities).

"Now will you let me take your temperature?" the Suoh asked, but Mello was saved from answering by the sound of the doorbell.

At the front door, Tamaki met a dark-haired young man bearing the Ohtori insignia on his jacket and carrying a small package. The deliverer bowed.

"Ohtori-sama asked me to deliver this package to you, sir." He handed over the package and bowed again, before getting back into the car behind him and driving away.

Tamaki closed the front door and opened the packet, finding a note inside.

"Tamaki –

I heard about Mello's sudden

illness and thought I'd send

something that may help.

Kyouya"

Tamaki blinked, but looked at what else was in the packet.. All at once, his eyebrows rose. His eyes became wide and his cheeks flushed. Surely that couldn't...? No... Was that even possible?

He returned to the bedroom to find Mello sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hand.

"What's wrong?" he asked as Tamaki entered the room. "You don't usually blush like that unless I've got my hand wrapped around your –"

Wordlessly, Tamaki held out the item he had just received and Mello went silent.

Half an hour later, the two of them were sitting side by side on the floor by the ensuite.

Tamaki checked his watch. "It's been three minutes."

Mello glared at him.

"You're not going to check it?"

"You do it," Mello murmured.

Tamaki sighed once more and shakily stood, going into the bathroom. Mello heard him give a gasp, both joyful and terrified and the taller man re-emerged, nodding at him.

Mello gaped at Tamaki, disbelief on his face quickly turning into a scowl as his thoughts raced.

"What the fuck? I offer to ride you once and suddenly I'm the one who's pregnant?"

Author's notes: So, I haven't been around for a bit. I've just finished my first year of university and am just starting to get back into the whole fanfiction thing now that I'm not so busy!

I had the idea for this ages ago and needed to write it. I think the whole thing came to be fully-formed. Please let me know what you think; I love reading reviews!