Crack-ness. Think of it what you will.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing at all.

Matt sighed in happiness as he sank into the familiar, worn couch cushion. This was what life was all about. Forget Mello and Near with their aspirations and their dreams and their plans and their (it pained him to even think the word) work.

No, Matt thought as he surveyed his comfy resting spot. This was the pinnacle of happiness, the ultimate good time. A brand new video game waiting to be played, a freshly opened bag of chips, an ice-cold soda, and best of all, no Mello bitching in the background and cutting through Matt's gaming concentration.

Yes, Matt certainly had it made. Well, at least for the next three hours until Mello got home.

"Alright Sephiroth," Matt muttered as he reached for the game controller. "This time I'm gonna make you my bitch. Get ready cause I- Ah, what the hell?" Matt paused as he heard the noise of the front door being opened and (by the sound of it) probably ripped off the hinges.

He recognized that particular brand of inanimate object abuse. Mello was home early. Matt quickly counted down the seconds in his head until the usual-

"MATTTTTTTT!" Mello's special, ear-splitting form of greeting echoed through the previously silent apartment. Matt sighed (for an altogether different reason this time) again and set the controller down, gazing longingly at the frozen figures on the screen before turning to face a slightly disheveled blonde man in skimpy leather.

"Can't whatever it is wait, Mello? I'm just about to fight the final boss."

Mello's eyes narrowed in anger as he reached into his back pocket to dramatically pull out- his cell phone?

Matt laughed, removing his hands from hands from in front of his face when he realized Mello was brandishing a rather beat up green Nokia, instead of his usual handgun. Mello's eyes went even narrower as Matt chuckled, and he thrust the phone directly under Matt's nose.

"What is this, Matt?"

"Umm… your cell phone?" Matt replied, puzzled. "Could you tone down the spaz a bit, man? I happen to like my functioning eardrums, and your screaming is not helping that."

"No, Matt! I will not tone it down! Not until you explain! Now, what is this devilry?!" Mello pushed the phone so close to his face that Matt went cross-eyed.

"Did you take something?" Matt was a little bit concerned now. This was strange behavior, even for someone as odd as Mello.

"No, I didn't! I was just working trying to bring down one of the world's worst criminals, you know totally easy work," Mello's crazed eyes met Matt's as he said the word easy, making his sarcasm apparent. "And this damn thing," Here Mello shook the phone threateningly, brushing the tip of Matt's nose with the hard plastic, "keeps beeping. It keeps happening, and just when I think it's done, it happens again! I-" The phone let out a short beep and Mello screeched, "There it was again! Didn't you hear it?!"

Matt struggled to answer Mello as he convulsed with silent laughter. Finally, he managed to splutter, "I-it's a text message Mello. I s-s-signed you up for it when I paid the l-l-last cell phone bill. F-figured it was time you moved into the twenty-first century with the rest of us." That said, Matt collapsed in another fit of giggles, spurred on by the look of disbelief on Mello's face.

Mello eyed the phone suspiciously. He was not fond of new things. "Ok, fine," he said, willing to give it a try for Matt's sake (and secretly a little pleased that Matt had done something so thoughtful for him, not that he would ever admit it though). "How do I do this?"

"Figure it out yourself," Matt snorted, picking up the abandoned game controller and finally resuming his game, "I was nice enough to pay for the damn service, but no way in hell am I patient enough to teach you how to text message, Mello.

"Fine," muttered Mello, any residual feelings of good cheer towards the red-head pushed away. "I will. Just you watch."

"This should be interesting," Matt mumbled to himself as Mello stalked off to the kitchen to acquaint himself with this new (to him, at least) technology.

X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X

Half an hour, and several garbled messages sent to Matt's phone as test subjects later, it seemed Mello had finally gotten the hang of texting, and Matt was beginning to regret ever getting it for him.

"Ha!" Mello's triumphant call rang out from the kitchen. "I completely got it, Matt. And guess what?"

"What?" Matt asked, not really paying attention.

"I just sent you a really dirty message, Matt."

"Great," replied the gamer. "Now I've provided an electronic outlet for your lechery."

A few minutes later, Mello's voice, sounding expectant, greeted Matt's ears again. "Well… did you get it?"

"Huh?" Matt glanced down at his cell phone in surprise, having completely forgotten about the message in the wake of his epic battle with Sephiroth. "No, I didn't. That's weird. Maybe-"

"Uh, Matt?" Mello interrupted the red-head. "Near just tried to call me, but I accidently hung up. What do you think he wants?"

"I dunno." Matt's cell phone lit up, accompanied by a small beep as he spoke. "Hey, I just got a text message from Near." Matt read the message silently to himself.

Matt, I have received a quite sexually explicit message from Mello. I have attempted to contact him, but he has not answered my call. Therefore, I ask you to pass this reply along to him:

Mello: I have decided to take your message as a blatant homosexual advance towards me.

Which I fully accept.

I will be over in approximately five minutes with the whipped cream.

"Mello," Matt called, his voice cracking in mirth. "Did you, by any chance, send that message to Near?"

"What? No, of course I didn--Oh god."

"Yeah… You've got about three minutes to get the hell out of here unless you want to be raped by Near." Mello yelped, and faster than Matt could say 'albino', he was halfway out the door. "Oh and Mello—" Matt called after him, "You're never allowed to text again."

This, my dear readers, is what happens when you write an entire fic based off of one sentence. Virtual cookies to anyone who can guess which sentence it was that inspired this fic.

Reviews keep Mello from getting raped. (Or they make it happen, if you're into that sort of thing.)

Beta-ed by: Emo-Nerdy-Insane-Writer