A/N: Please forgive this horribly random fanfiction. XD

"AAAAUUUGGGHHHH!!!"

Mello howled in anger, ripping a page out of the notebook in at his desk and angrily throwing it to the ground, letting it fall into a growing pile of similarly crumpled papers beside it. His hands were shaking with frustration as he threw himself back to the chair, elbows slamming on the desk furiously before letting out an exhausted sigh, covering his eyes with his hands.

The redhead sitting on the floor near the steadily growing pile of papers peeked up from the glowing screen of his game boy, which he'd been staring at for the last two hours. Flicking the pause button he tossed the device onto the rug beside him, turning to look at the blonde beside him. His roommate was currently muttering to himself and rubbing his eyes with his palms, a half-empty notebook sitting on the table in front of him.

The goggled boy frowned, raising an apprehensive eyebrow at the other. "Um, dare I ask why you're abusing some poor notebook?" he asked, pointing to the discarded pile of papers on the ground.

Mello glared at him from between his fingers, scowling. "Writers block, Matty. Writers block," he hissed, eyes narrowed into angry slits as he slowly moved his hands away from his scarred face. Matt frowned.

"Writers block?" he inquired, a bit unnerved. He hardly even knew what the term meant, much less that Mello did; the blonde wasn't one that he ever expected to be writing for at his own leisure, or doing anything artistic, unless you counted singing in the shower.

The blonde sighed, throwing his head back and looking up at the ceiling, leaning back against his office chair with an annoyed expression. "Yes, Matty, writers block. It's a serious disorder."

Matt snorted, trying to keep a smile from appearing on his current blank expression, but failing quite miserably, the edges of his mouth tugging into a lopsided grin. Mello glared at him, as if to say 'you're an idiot.' Matt was almost certain that was what he was thinking anyway, since it was what he thought about most everybody.

Tentatively the redhead scooted closer to the pile of papers, grabbing one in his hands and unwrinkling it. He heard Mello suck in an angry breath when he did, grumbling, "Those are my mess ups, they suck."

Matt raised an eyebrow at the papers. It was in Mello's usual scrawl, illegible and pressing with such pressure onto the thin paper that it threatened to rip at any moment. The kind of writing that only Matt could read.

"Beyond Birthday?" the redhead inquired, scanning the paper. It was pretty good, he had to admit. Mello snorted.

"Yeah. It's hard, though - I need to get this out of my system, but it'll never come out, not in this style…" Mello muttered, turning back to his papers and starting back to work at his scribbling. The redhead sighed, a smile brushing across his face - Mello hadn't had any trouble telling Matt all about it the day he had gotten the speech from L. Then again, Mello had always been good at talking - when it wasn't about him, that is.

Trying to make an understanding smile Matt hopped to his feet, strolling over to the blonde and peering over his shoulder. The paper he was writing on was blank, with only some angry scribbled lines in the margins. He knew better than anyone that, in this mood, Mello wouldn't get anything done - he was a genius if he ever knew one, passionate too, but he got into moods like this and it set him off course.

Which was why Matt reached over and brushed his fingers trough the blonde's hair, trying futilely to calm him down. Mello hissed in irritation, glaring at him, but didn't swat his hand away.

"Writers block is so stupid. I hate it. It's pointless, and painful, and… I swear to god, I'll kill whoever invented it," Mello ranted angrily, dropping his pencil and leaning back in his chair again, rubbing his temples with his forefingers. Matt raised an eyebrow at him, pushing his goggles off of his eyes and onto his forehead to get a better look at him, and because Mello liked to see his eyes when they were alone.

"I'm pretty sure nobody invented it, Mells," Matt replied as casually as possible, though he couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of Mello so frustrated. He was pretty cute when he was frustrated, though he'd never tell him that.

"Whatever," Mello muttered, tapping his fingers on the armrest. Averting his eyes from Matt's he looked up at the ceiling, irritation obvious on his face; he hated when he couldn't finish something, it made him feel like a failure.

Matt let his hand rest on Mello's scarred shoulder, feeling the rough texture there and not being at all bothered by it. The blonde flinched at the touch, evading eye contact from the redhead and looking at the hardwood floor below the chair.

"Why don't you take a break?" Matt suggested gently, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. The other boy scowled, looking up at him with a slight blush.

"I'll never finish it if I take a break," the blonde growled, shaking his head. Matt sighed - he had been doing that a lot lately, hadn't he? - rolling his eyes at him.

"Come on. Please?" the redhead tried again, grabbing the blonde's hand with his, giving him a gentle tug in effort to coax him out of the chair. Mello didn't budge, glaring at him stubbornly. Matt sighed. "Mell, honestly. The only cure for writers block is a break."

Mello paused for a second, eyes finally flicking upwards to meet with Matt's green ones. For a second the icy, uncertain gaze held there, wavering between looking away and returning to the papers or melting and giving in to the emerald gaze it was locked on.

"Please?" Matt tried again, voice raising with hopeful endeavor.

The blonde sighed, giving in to the temptation and standing up, kicking the chair out from under him as he stood, sending the rolling office chair a few feet across the room in his haste. "Fine, whatever," Mello muttered nonchalantly, rolling his eyes, as if he didn't appreciate the attention. Matt grinned - he saw right through him, every time.

"Good," he chirped, throwing his arm around his leather-clad companion with earnest. Mello sighed in faux-irritation as he was led out of the room, hastily tugged out of range of his paper and pencil. "What do you want to do?"

Mello paused in the hallway unexpectedly, causing Matt to almost trip over himself in attempt to stop in time with him. Slowly, he looked up, a mischievous smile on his face. "Anything I want?"

"Uhh…" Matt coughed, a bit confused by the question. He saw the mischief in Mello's eyes but wasn't sure how to interpret it. For a second, his mind went right to the gutter, but he regretted it immediately.

"Let's blow something up," Mello suggested out of no where, a grin that was both childish and demonic spreading over his face as he sped out of the room, towards the kitchen. Matt paused, flabbergasted by the turn of events.

Blow something up?

"What exactly are we exploding, Mells!?" Matt cried, hurrying after the boy. Mello was already throwing ingredients together on the table, a grin on his face.

"I don't fucking know! Something!" Mello announced, eyes dancing with excitement and mischief. "Don't you remember when we blew stuff up at Wammys? When we killed Roger's toilet?"

Matt smirked. "I remember…" The smirk fell away to a worried frown as he hurried into the kitchen after the blonde. "But…"

"No buts," Mello snapped, cracking his knuckles and flashing him a smile. The redhead sighed and rolled his eyes - this was so Mello to pull something like this. "It doesn't have to be a real, like, explosion kind of bomb. We could always blow up the neighbors room. A stink bomb or something."

Matt raised an eyebrow at the other boy, pondering this. "Which neighbors?" he inquired.

"The Hollywood looking people. That lady with the boob job?"

"Oh, the ones who filed a complaint because you used the men's public restroom downstairs?"

"YEAH! Those ones!"

Matt recalled the memory all to clearly in his mind. The man, who turned out to be kind of old compared to his trophy wife as well as extremely closed-minded had originally mistaken Mello for a girl, only to get flicked off and told, in exact words - "It's GAY not GIRL, bastard." The man had requested he use the girls restroom, and promptly been flicked off again. They'd filed at least eight complaints against them, despite being told time and time again that it was illegal to tell Mello not to use the public restroom, despite being gay and looking feminine, or in the possibility that he was a transvestite (even though he wasn't.) Mello made a point of using that restroom as much as possible now.

"Yeah," Matt replied slowly, a grin spreading across his face as the more wild side of him crept to the surface. "Let's."

Two hours of bomb making later, they had the most crude bomb in history sitting on their kitchen table. It was roughly made, but it would work, and - more importantly - it would stink. Mello had his signature "maniac Mello grin" on his face, sapphire eyes dancing as he rubbed his hands together, mimicking a mad scientist as he did.

"Step one is COMPLETE!" Matt announced in his best evil-voice - which wasn't really that good, by the way - throwing his arms up into the air dramatically. Mello replied with an evil laugh - which was unsurprisingly quite the scary sight - crackling and rubbing his hands together maniacally.

After their "horror movie spoof" moment Matt carefully snatched the bomb and headed down the hallway, Mello in tow with the lock pick. They knew for a fact that their two neighboring people - who happened to be across the hall, not right beside them, which was convenient because it was a stink bomb and would probably stink for them, too, if it was too close.

The redhead grinned, feeling like a little kid again as the other boy slipped in front of him, squatting slightly to pick at he lock. Mello was skilled at this, had been since he was at the age of eight, and had the door open in seconds. As soon as the handle made it's first "click" Matt was moving, adrenaline rushing through him as he chucked the "bomb" into the room.

Mello squealed with childish joy as the thing exploded, giving off literal fumes as "the stink" escaped. The blonde whirled around, grabbing Matt's hand and almost knocking the redhead off of his feet in his race back to the room. Mello laughed hysterically as they raced down the hallway and back to their room, barreling in and slamming the door closed behind them as if someone was after them, despite the fact that nobody had even spotted them.

"That was so awesome!" Mello cried happily, throwing his arms into the air and spinning on his heel, collapsing backwards onto the couch with a howl of laughter. Matt laughed too, eyes glittering happily behind his orange-tinted goggles, which had been returned to his eyes during the bomb-making process. "I can't wait to see their faces!"

"Hah. Yeah," Matt replied happily, dropping to sit beside his companion with a grin on his face. It wasn't every day that Mello loosened up and acted so childish - ever since the blonde had left Wammys he'd stopped "acting a fool" as he said. But, in Matt's opinion, he always looked a lot happier w hen he was acting this way.

And happy Mello was, giggling and wiping his eyes, a wild, manic grin spread across his face. "Do you think they'll know it's us?" he inquired through his laugh, eyes dancing happily.

Matt shrugged. "I doubt it," he replied, then laughed, shaking his head. "That would be just our luck. Years of working with the mafia and doing illegal hacking jobs, and we get busted for a stink bomb prank."

Mello shook his head, grin still evident on his face. "That would be our luck, wouldn't it?" the blonde teased, chuckling. Matt grinned back.

The childish moment was gone as soon as it had come, though, and when the laughter died down Mello kicked his legs forward, jumping off the couch and heading back for his desk. Matt sighed, watching with distain as the blonde plopped himself into his chair, setting to work on his papers once again.

"Well, that was fun," Matt muttered to himself, shaking his head in distain at Mello's bipolar attitude. Oh well, he thought, grabbing his game boy and returning to his place, sitting on the floor beside the desk.

He was at level seven when he heard the groan, eyes flickering up to find Mello chucking yet another abused piece of notebook paper though the air, the wad knocking the redhead straight in the face.

"I hate writers block."

A/N: This story SUCKS. XD Oh well. I have writers block, obviously, which is what inspired me to do this. Then I started thinking how much it stunk I the office, since there's a litter box in here, and… yeah.

If you know me, you're probably ready to choke me to death - "WHY ARE YOU WRITING LAME ONESHOTS!? WORK ON HEARTBURN! YOU FOOL!" - but I assure you I will work on Heartburn soon. Eventually. Baww.

~Holli