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Mello stares at the pile of dishes in the sink that have accumulated over the past few days.
Plates, bowls, silverware, cups- none of which are rinsed in the slightest. They might actually be dirtier than normal. Since when does Near even eat this much? Irritation wells up in Mello.
He marches into the living room, where Near sits unbothered, building a castle of stacked matches.
“Near,” he says flatly.
Near does not look up. He leisurely places another match on his castle.
“How many times have I told you to rinse your dishes.”
“Eight,” says Near, voice mild.
“So why aren’t you doing it?”
At this, Near’s eyes flicker up, finally acknowledging Mello.
“Mm..” He hums. “I don’t think it’s really necessary.”
“You- you don’t think it's..” Mello’s stunned more than anything. “I’m telling you to do it. I’m the only one who does the dishes, right?”
“Right.”
“And I don’t tell you how to vacuum or dust, right?”
Near selects another match. “..Correct.”
“So why the hell are you telling me how to do my job? Rinse your fucking dishes, Near. Jesus, it's not that hard, and when you leave the bowls to- soak or whatever, it’s disgusting. The oatmeal alone is fucking gross, you just leave it to congeal, and- and..”
Near is staring up at him now. Not looking, staring. And he’s sort of.. blushing?
Something stirs in Mello. His words fade away, and he's left staring back at Near.
His surprise is making his irritation melt away, and he has a thought: hasn't this happened more than once?
Not just more than once- there’s a pattern.
Several times in the past month or so, Near has started these petty little fights, only to give in at the last second and agree to whatever Mello’s opinion is. Arguments about stupid things, unimportant things that Near never cared about before. Where to go on their daily walks. Whether the lights should be on during sex. What to order for dinner.
A part of Mello has been worried that Near is beginning to dislike him. That he’s tired of him, and wants to break up.
But this- this is new. This is the most irritated Mello’s been during one of their petty spats, and Near just looks..
He's looking up at Mello like he wants to memorize him. His cheeks and ears are turning pink. His eyes are a little hazy.
He looks.. Turned on.
Mello’s brow furrows, but his mouth twitches into a slow, disbelieving grin.
“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you,” he says.
Near’s cheeks grow redder. He doesn’t look away.
“I don’t know what you're talking about,” he murmurs.
“You like it.”
“Like what?”
“Near.”
“Mello.”
Mello bites back a sigh. He steps forward, closer; Near looks up to him, growing still.
He slips a hand into Near’s curly hair. Tugs at it, a little, watching Near visibly relax into him.
“If you want something,” Mello says, “you can just say it.”
Silence. Mello waits.
“It’s embarrassing,” Near mumbles.
“How am I supposed to know what you’re thinking if you don’t tell me?”
Near pauses. Then:
“I feel like you’re so much nicer to me now,” he finally says. “Um. I miss how- in bed, you used to- um-”
His rare stutter is coming out; Mello twirls at his hair again, soothing.
“Go ahead,” he says.
Near takes a breath, lets it out loudly. “When we first- started sleeping together, before we were really in a relationship. You were a bit more.. Harsh. In bed, I mean.”
“And..” He nudges at Near to continue.
“And I liked it.”
Mello can't stop from grinning. It’s a rare treat to hear Near struggle with his words. Even more of a treat to hear him be honest about how he’s feeling.
“You're much, um. Gentler, now. And I still like it, but it's different. I know you’re probably just trying to be nicer to me but I think I've been, um. Wanting you to- to be rough with me again. I like when you’re mad, it makes me think of- how we used to- yeah. ..Sorry about the dishes.”
Mello hums his approval. His smile’s gone soft.
“You're ridiculous, you know that?”
Near’s eyes flick up to him. His hand drifts up Mello’s leg.
“Can I..”
Mello hums. He makes a show of thinking about it.
“..No. ”
Near’s hand stills. “No?”
“No. I want you to promise not to pick fights just because you think it’s hot when I'm mad at you.”
“I promise.” A smile plays on Near's lips.
“Good. Now go clean up the mess you made in the kitchen.”
His smile vanishes. “Right now?”
“Yep.”
“..And then, can we-”
“Do whatever you want? Yeah.”
Mello can't help but laugh, after that. He's never seen Near get up from the floor so fast in his life.