A/N: I do not own Death Note.
Crossposted at the Death Note Kink meme: http://dn-kink2.livejournal.com/1491.htm
L unfolded himself from the sofa where he had indulged in a brief resting of the eyes, all the while still sitting in his signature crouch, before returning to work. L climbed into the office chair and turned on his laptop. As usual Watari had provided him with sustenance delivered on a silver cart and as usual L pulled up a case file and began his work for the day while shoveling food into his mouth, not really looking at what he was eating...
L coughed and spat in alarm after taking a spoonful of the innocuous looking milk and grains.
Watari was there in an instant. "What is it, Ryuuzaki?"
"This!" L sputtered aghast, rudely gestured towards the oatmeal. "What is the meaning of this?"
It was just plain unsweetened oats without any...
"No sugar, doctor's orders."
L fell out of his chair.
"W-WHAT?" L stammered in shock from the floor.
"Your test results came back and... If you keep consuming sugar at the rate you do you won't even have to worry about Kira. Your body will shut down. You will die."
No... sugar? Something broke in L's mind at the very idea.
"Watari!" to his eternal shame the World's Greatest Detective whined like a bratty teenager.
His caretaker was unmoved. "No. I have invested too much time and energy training you to have you die over something as stupid as this. I will not have you kill yourself with these destructive habits."
L glowered beneath his dark emo bangs. He was most certainly not stupid. He knew the risks. He had carefully calculated and weighed the consequences of his actions... and ultimately decided that a life without sugar wasn't worth living.
How could his caretaker have gotten it so backwards? Without sugar, he'd die!
Watari was like a father to him, one of the few people on Earth that L answered to. Watari knew all the tricks—had taught him all the tricks. There was no way to manipulate the old man into giving him what he wanted... And with Watari as his opponent he'd never see sugar again...
That meant no candy.
No ice cream.
"Please! I can't!" In an out of character moment L broke down, sobbing...
"You'll live," Watari said sternly.
As soon as L thought the old man wasn't looking he lifted the rug under his bed, revealing an unobtrusive looking floorboard under which was a hidden compartment where he stowed his hidden stash of candy he had saved over from Christmas time. But to L's dismay the bag was gone. In its place was only a note penned in Watari's handwriting that read in no nonsense gothic bold lettering:
"NO SUGAR MEANS NO SUGAR!"
Well, it was a long-shot that it would be there anyway. L never expected he'd need to hide his stash from Watari. Still L crumpled the note in his shaking fist.
A half hour later Watari found L curled up in a tight unmoving ball on the sofa moaning in hunger and agony.
The oatmeal remained untouched on the silver tray.
"I am not eating that," L said churlishly.
Watari was not amused.
The elderly butler did more than just serve tea. He was a special intelligence operative during WWII. He fought the Nazis. He wasn't going to put up with L's crap.
L got a reminder that Watari was still quite strong for an old man when his caretaker held him down and force-fed him that nasty unsugared crap which had of course long gone cold.
L forced himself to swallow though he knew that this would only serve to make him hungrier as his body was expecting sugar that didn't come. As L indignantly wiped his mouth of cold oats Watari causally informed him "I trust you already saw I found your stash. I found the others as well."
"Ryuuzaki if I catch you trying to sneak sweets again I will have no choice but to inflict The Punishment."
L shuddered and became white as a sheet. No, anything but THAT!
"I'll know if you do. As you know I'm always watching on the monitors."
"I'll be good," L answered in a small voice.
L groaned, drowsy and irritable from what was for him low blood sugar. He was attacked by ravenous hunger like a stabbing pain; it felt like he had a hole in his stomach. He couldn't concentrate, couldn't hope to think beyond his cravings for sugar. Seriously how was he supposed to lead the Kira case like this?
Just then the taskforce filed in. L forced himself to resume his usual bland expression—he couldn't let his men... and in particular Kira sense weakness and... speak of the devil, Light was here. L paid special attention as his suspect entered his hotel room, chatting sociably with Matsuda, a pink box tucked under his arm...
No. It couldn't be...
The top of the box popped open as Light sat it on the coffee table.
Today of all days Light brought cake to work.
L had never hated Kira more than he did at this moment...
Light had made a point not to eat sweets ever since his father took him aside when he was young and had that awkward little Talk about how men were expected to behave. Girls like Sayu like sweets. Boys don't. Sugar was a girly thing—a weak thing. Boy weren't weak. Boys were strong and protected little girls like his sister from the many myriad monsters that were out in the world. And of course Light worked hard to protect his sister... by killing anyone who might even consider looking at her wrong at some point in the indeterminate future. Funny how his dad never mentioned he might be hunted for being too efficient a protector.
The other lesson he had learned that special day was that on your honor as a man you kept your promises. Of course of all the promises Light made his solemn vow to "cleanse the world of evil" came first but if he could (and provided the other party wasn't "evil"—and in Light's book anyone trying to catch him fell under that definition-and thus void of consideration) he would. He was a good boy, a model teenager. He always helped his mother with the chores and he always made time for his little sister.
But now he was on the horns of a dilemma—seriously he hadn't had a moral conflict this bad since first discovering his Death Note was for real...
Being the good older brother, he had escorted his sister to a friend's birthday party. And at a birthday party there was, naturally, cake. And thus an elaborate mind game ensued, a social dance that would no doubt even put this twisted game he and L played to shame. Light had tried to avoid eating the cake by promising to eat it later. The cutesy little girl unknowingly made Kira pinky swear he would (cross your heart and hope to die... of course none of the others could hear the snickering Shinigami in the background...)
Now came the dilemma. To eat the cake would be girly and unseemly for the aspiring God of the New World, but to not eat the cake would be to break his promise...
Oh and one more important little detail he hadn't known when backed into this particular corner. Sayu's little friend was none other than Yumi Aizawa and no doubt his Afro-haired colleague would be glaring at him until he ate that thrice damned cake.
But seeing he had work that afternoon the solution seemed rather obvious. Light figured he'd put it in front of L and it would disappear. L would steal it and Light would be absolved of all guilt and / or responsibility on this matter.
So Light took his usual spot in the pink candy-striped comfy chair across the coffee table from L's to go over the pages of data on the Kira case carefully sitting the cake box on the coffee table between them.
Time ticked by and curiously the cake was left untouched.
Maybe L assumed it was poisoned or something?
Not that Light wouldn't try to be rid of L that way if he thought it would work; however the only way you could cut a lifespan short was with the notebook—if L still had time left he would survive such a poisoning attempt and worse would then have evidence against him. So such a move was too risky to consider.
Light still found L's apparent distrust disheartening. He thought he was making progress in that area. Maybe if he took a bite he could prove it wasn't poisoned and L would eat it?
Light stabbed a piece off the corner and forced the unwholesome treat into his mouth. He had to consciously avoid making a face. The texture was alright, it was soft and spongy but it was waaaay too sweet, with too much of that cloying frosting. Light could swear he could feel his teeth melting from this shit. But still Light smiled and made use of his amazing acting skills to convey that this was the best cake ever for the sake of the others in the room, but especially for L... Of course when L stole the cake he'd play indignant. There would be an argument, perhaps this could even spin out into an incident that would distract from them doing any actual work that day...
Light noted he had indeed succeeded in capturing L's attention. The detective was watching with his usual accusatory, unblinking gaze but made no move to take the cake...
Light set the fork down, angled in such a manner that it would be within easy reach of a certain sweet-toothed detective and resumed his work.
But now Aizawa was shooting him dirty looks, judging him (Light did not like that at all.)
Was his ploy really that transparent?
Now he was socially obligated to eat the cake. Because what kind of bastard breaks his promise to such a sweet kid? (No doubt Kira, according to the investigators, and that would raise their suspicions.)
Stab! Light forked up another corner piece of the cake and brought it to his lips, again locking eyes with a certain detective...
Come on, Ryuuzaki! Steal the damn cake already!
When L didn't move from his chair, Light took the cake bite in his mouth, chewing it slowly. The burning, cloying sweetness was beginning to creep on him, a cumulative effect...
Uck! Ryuk was wrong. There was a hell. It came in six layers of strawberry sponge that was sealed with abysmal chocolate frosting that was so sweet that it burned like acid going down his throat.
But Light did what he always did when he was suffering—he smiled and faked enjoyment.
For L's sake, Light made a satisfied sound that was borderline pornographic...
L's gaze was hungry.
Come on Ryuuzaki. TAKE THE CAKE; you know you want to...
Really, how was he supposed to eat the entire piece? It seemed like a totally unachievable goal. Maybe he could get away with only eating part of it and then tossing the rest when they weren't looking... or better yet maybe he could get Ryuk to eat it? That way there would be no physical evidence left behind...
Alas, there were no opportunities for breaks as they continued to pour over the data on the Kira case and thus no opportunity to dispose of the evidence down a Shinigami's throat. Meaning he had to continue eating it—he had to eat the entire thing—and he had to keep going at this same slow, torturous pace as well—otherwise that would be suspicious.
Nasty! And this thing's packing so many calories!
That was the other reason Light didn't like sweets. The 119 lb teen was worried about GAINING weight. He was well aware that his looks and charm were nearly as important tools in his arsenal as his Death Note. He'd have to punish himself for this tomorrow in the form of more grueling exercise, maybe he'd skip lunch...
Light occasionally glanced up, smiled and nodded at Aizawa and his father and the rest of them when they covertly checked on his progress at working... and eating the cake.
See, I'm a man of my word.
He wasn't at all thinking of how much fun it would be to write down all the names of the stupid people who got him into this mess... Nope not at all.
Finally the cake plate was empty.
So much sugar... Light's head swam. His mouth burned...
No, of course not.
But before he could end his suffering by chasing down that infernal pastry with the next best thing available, the unsweetened coffee...
"Light-kun, a word please."
Damn that Ryuuzaki! Light cursed as he followed L's deliberately slow, padding footfalls to the other room...