A/N: Please accept my mostly-sincere apologies.

BOYCOTT

"Uh oh."

Mello gives him a quick, almost fond glare. "What do you mean, 'Uh oh'?"

"You've got that look," Matt says.

Mello frowns. "Pray tell precisely what 'look' you mean."

Matt makes sure his eyes are massive, limpid, and desperately innocent before he replies. "The one that means you're either planning world domination or developing lyrics to a Lady Gaga parody that starts out 'Whoa-oa-oa-oa-oa-oa, oh, I'm gonna boycott pants.'"

There is a long, long silence. Mello's mouth has fallen open a bit.

"Computer hacker," Matt says, helpfully.

Mello's mouth snaps shut, and he bares his teeth. "You promised you weren't going to dig into any files in the folder marked Private."

"Yeah," Matt says, "just like you promised you weren't going to eat any of the chocolate Fox biscuits I bought online."

Mello seethes for a moment before he settles again with a tantalizingly pink-lipped pout. "Fine. We're even. You fucker."

But he doesn't have that look anymore.

Matt hides his grin and gets back to work.