Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.

A/N: This is a short chapter fic. I don't know how many chapters, yet, but I'm guess it will be less than 5.

The alarm clock met an untimely death that morning at 4:30 when it had the audacity to try to awaken Mello.

I, on the other hand, had been up for hours. I was showered and dressed. I had dried my hair and eaten breakfast. I had my Pokewalker on my hip, filled with a level 19 Magikarp, soon to evolve at level 20 to the much less pathetic Gyarados. I had my PSP in my back pocket. I had laid out Mello's leather for him and made him a chocolate-intensive breakfast, which steamed merrily on our pathetic excuse for a dining room/coffee table.

I was ready. So ready. And now, all I needed, all I needed, was for Mello to drag his ass out of bed and into some clothes (as much as I liked him naked), and to possibly cram some breakfast down his throat. He didn't even have to be mentally awake.

It was a testament to how much he loves me that he preceded with the ass-dragging at 4:32.

The thing was, I had been nine when I went to Wammy's. That's older than a lot of kids who go, so I have a very rare thing that very few people at the House have- memories of my life before.

Mello, for example, was admitted at two years old. He has one random memory and one photograph of his parents, and nothing else. Near has been there since he was a baby. He knows nothing at all about his. And many of the other children are similar.

But not me. I was a very special case.

Now, the reason, fate-wise, that my parents died, was so that I could move from America to England, where Mello was- the same reason I was born a genius. I loved my parents, but I don't regret it; I exist because of Mello, for Mello, and that's what's important.

So, I don't regret leaving everything behind.

But I do remember.

Specifically, I remember my third grade best friend, James.

"Why is it 4:30 in the morning," Mello demanded as he sat down to the breakfast I had made and proceeded to shovel it in.

"It was the cheapest flight."

"Couldn't you have just hacked us into two seats on some plane that doesn't leave at ass-o'clock in the morning?"

"Too risky. Fifteen years ago, yeah. But now security is too tight."

He grunted as a response- he was never articulate in the morning- and poked at some eggs. He wasn't showing it, but I could tell that he was at least a little bit excited. He would get to live vicariously. More than that, though, he was thrilled for me that I had randomly remembered James' last name and had been able to track him down from there. And that when I had contacted him, he had remembered me.

"Why does he live in Maine? Could he be further away from us without being in a different country?" he complained good-naturedly. "And how does he remember your sorry ass?"

He was at least awake enough to be teasing me. This was good.

"Hurry up."

"Was he your grade school sweetheart?" he asked, pushing his mostly-empty plate away, suddenly serious. "Do people have those?"

"No, Mello, to both of those questions."

"Oh." He frowned. For the man's brilliance, he was not at all well-versed in the lives of normal people. Not surprisingly.

"Are you done? Are you dressed? The cab is already here. I put our stuff in it. Come on."

"I'm done, I'm done," he insisted, picking up his plate. "Why are you even bringing me on this trip?"

"Because you wanna go. Plus, you know as well as I do that we can't survive more than a day without each other."

He grumbled, but it was true, so he just followed me into the cab.

If I didn't love him so much, I swear I would have murdered him on that plane ride. It was a little-known fact that he was afraid of heights- I know, right?- and he sat in his chair, stiff as a board, the entire time, jumping every time the plane made any kind of noise.

But that's a story for another time.

When we landed, I dragged him out of the terminal, cursing security that James couldn't just meet us and pick us up from there. No, we had to find our way out of the airport and to the right door and the right car.

But, when we finally managed that, my old friend was exactly where he said he would be.

Blatantly disregarding the rules, James threw his car into park, flung his door open, climbed right out (ignoring the people honking and cursing), and rushed us. Before I was even sure it was him, arms were around me and a voice that was almost familiar was speaking a hundred miles a minute.

I grinned, nodding a lot, trying to match this man with the boy I had known so long ago, and I could see it. He was still thin, still taller than me (it had always been a point of contention- I'd hoped it would have evened out over the years), and he still had that big, bright grin. His hair used to be brown, if I remember, but now it was chopped short, spiked, and bleached blond. My mind immediately supplied me with "blond Adam Lambert," a suggestion that I would definitely have to run by Mello later. He didn't used to look like that... all the piercings, black nail polish, eyeliner...

But that smile. It was definitely him.

"Can't even believe it. It's so good to see you," I said sincerely, moving in for another brief hug.

He smiled, huge, and just stopped to look at me.

"You look exactly the same. Can't believe it. Mail fuckin' Jeevas, right here in front of me."

Mello's mouth dropped open. "Matt!" he hissed to me. "How does he know your-"

"Hey, you remember the government thing I told you about?" I said quickly. "I've gotta go by Matt now for secrecy reasons."

"Oh! Okay! Sorry, Mai...att."

"Also, we should probably get in your car before people start to riot."

"Good call! Okay, come on!"

I climbed in shotgun, Mello giving me a puzzled look before putting his hand on the door to the backseat...

"Hey, you! Hands off!" came James' voice.

"...What?" Mello asked, confused.

"Whoever you are, mitts off the car door. We're not hiring."

Yet another person who thought Mello was a prostitute! I would sooo laugh in his face about this later.

"That's Mello. I told you I was bringing someone."

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry! Shit this is awkward. I thought you were a hooker, ma'am. Um... come on in and we'll get going."

I couldn't stop laughing long enough to point out his continued error.

Mello really does love me. He was scowling, fuming, but he didn't say a word, when normally he'd go off on a full-out rampage upon being called either of those things, let alone both within the span of a minute. And then talk in as deep a voice as possible until he got over it.

"So!" James said cheerfully when we were on the road. "I'm sorry about that first impression, Mello. If it makes you feel any better, you make a very hot and very badass prostitute. Is that real leather? How long have you and Mai... Matt been together?"

I snorted with laughter, my seatbelt locking and almost choking me, anticipating the look on James' face when he heard Mello's distinctly not-female voice. Probably the manliest thing about him, not including his huge-

"Almost ten years."

"HOLY FUCK." James swerved but I was prepared for that and I grabbed the wheel, laughing almost too hard to correct the car.

"J-James," I managed, gasping for air between my laughter and the seatbelt, "I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Mello, who is not a prostitute, despite appearances, and definitely not female."

Mello was smirking, legs crossed, looking out the window, clearly pleased with himself.

"Aaaand I'm an asshole. I am so sorry, man. You don't look like a chick. I mean, maybe a little at first glance, but I didn't get a good look at you and-"

"Believe me, he's used to it," I said, delighted, smiling innocently at Mello in the rearview mirror. He rolled his eyes in response. "This happens just about every time we meet someone new. I thought he was a girl when I first met him, too."

"Oh. Okay... so... he's not gonna shoot me, right?"

"Scary as he may be, even he couldn't smuggle his guns through security."

"I could have but you asked me not to," Mello pointed out.

"Okay, so, catch me up," James said. "What happened to you, man? You just disappeared on us one night." His voice went all sincere, and he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, unwilling to take his eyes off of the crazy traffic for very long.

"Well," I started slowly, running my story through my brain one last time to make sure it was consistent, "as I said in my email, there's a lot that I can't tell you. But I can say that my parents were killed the night before I disappeared. Shot right in front of me. I didn't have any other family so it was looking like an orphanage for me. At some point during this whole thing, they gave me some kind of test which said I had a certain attribute that a particular governmental program involving children wanted. So they took me to a special orphanage in another country and I wasn't allowed outside contact. Which is why no one knew what happened to me."

"So it's pretty secret stuff, huh?" James asked, chewing on his lip.

"Extremely."

"Can you give me a general... like... genre?"

"Sci-fi," I lied easily. I had weaved as much truth into it as I could, but Wammy's rules- and his training- were absolute. I was physically incapable of revealing any truth about Wammy's House.

"You always were a techie," James said agreeably.

"So I grew up there, with Mello and a bunch of others, training, until we were old enough to graduate and leave."

"That's super cool."

"What about you?"

He laughed. "Nothing compared to your Secret Agent Man/ Men in Black life. I grew up, went to school, went to college, dropped out of college to be an actor. By the way? I've learned that I can't act. So now I'm back in school to get a degree in anything. It's looking like I'm going into marketing. I have a little apartment near the school, which is where we're going. It's already a little crowded with me and Mark there, but if you don't mind pushing two couches together it will probably be pretty comfortable."

"Is your roommate gonna have a problem with me bringing a boyfriend around?"

Mello groaned and punched the back of my seat.

"I think he'll be okay with it," James chuckled.

"I apologize for him," Mello said, leaning forward. "He's got no gaydar. You could have been wearing rainbows head to toe and he still would have had to ask me."

They both rolled their eyes, sharing a moment at my expense. At least they were bonding. I sighed a little, but Mello was right- I really did have no gaydar. I'd never needed one. I never had to find someone. It had always just been Mello.

Cute, right? I know.

"I'd call you oblivious, but I'm the one who mistook your boyfriend's gender, so you're getting away with it," James teased me. I laughed, and the car was filled with pleasant chatter for the rest of the half hour drive.

Instead of just going in, James rang the doorbell to his apartment. An enormous and extremely stupid-looking man opened the door, smiling when he saw James. Then he noticed me.

"Hey guys."

"Mark, this is Matt, my friend from elementary school. Matt, Mark. My lover."

Mark furrowed his enormous brow, apparently trying to think. I had more than enough time to ponder how stereotypical this couple was. I mean, the little, cheerful femmy guy and the huge, thuggish and very-stupid lover? Oh well, if James was happy... and I was sure this guy had some redeeming quality of some kind...

Look, he had finally managed to form a thought! ...Okay that was mean.

"Didn't you say his name was-" The Incredible Hulk started.

James interrupted him hastily. "He has to go by a codename now. We're supposed to call him Matt."

"Okay. Nice to meet you, Matt. Come on in. Welcome home, James."

My old friend grinned and kissed the behemoth quickly, and I couldn't deny that Mark was looking at him the way I look at Mello. I was spoiled and I needed to get my head out of my ass. I was too used to being around people as smart as me and smarter. For all I knew, this man could actually have a level of intelligence that was completely normal and just seemed low to me because of my history.

Then Mello walked in, finally able to get through the door, and both the Mafia boss and the monster stopped dead.