Disclaimer: Nuh uh.
Summary: Fluffy oneshot series. 3rd Oneshot: Sickness. "Why are Ryuuzaki and Raito taking so long in the bathroom?" LxRaitoxL.
Word Count: 2'690
A/N: Ahaha, the cliché of the clichés!
This is much longer, and a bit more friendshippy then the past two. Either way, there are some fluffy RaitoxL elements in this.
Yeah, I needed one of these thrown in here, because it is the fluffiest of the fluff. This doesn't slot in with the past two, but I did say that not all of them will be chronologically joined, or directly related with each other, so…here we are! Sick!L and pseudo-nurse!Raito!
Please note this was written at night when I was running on nothing but the caffeine that is my blood…and my whole horde of sugary foods and chocolate dip ¬.¬;
"First Law of Temporal Mortality: 'Good Guys' and 'Bad Guys' both die in one of two ways. Either so quick they don't even see it coming, OR it's a long drawn out affair where the character gains much insight to the workings of society, human existence or why the toast always lands butter side down."
-- The Forty Six Laws of Anime, Darrin Bright & Ryan Shellito
3rd SHORTCAKE: SICKNESS
L knew that there was something wrong when just looking at his cake made him feel queasy.
He had been feeling somewhat off that day. That morning, his usual half hour power nap had been increased to two hours, and even with the extra sleep, the insomniac had felt incredibly lethargic. Raito had even commented on it, the suspect squinting at him suspiciously when he waved away the light concern. It was probably fatigue from the case catching up, though it rarely happened to him. So, L was not at all worried. Just irritated.
His irritation only grew as the Task Force trickled into the investigation room, when a pounding headache began chiselling at the insides of his temples with blunt pick axes and caused the tiny black print on his laptop to blur at the most inconvenient times. Once again, probably fatigue and not entirely uncommon. He was probably getting the early symptoms of a cold and made a mental note to tell Watari to get some over the counter medication.
Then, just before his early morning cake was wheeled in, his stomach gave a very violent lurch.
As he was wedged into his usual seat, face hidden behind the monitor of his screen, and the other occupants were more focused on their own work, no one noticed the detective' pale face gain a slight green tint, lips pursing as he forced down the reflexive urge to gag. He regained his composure relatively quickly, pressing his thumb against his lips in agitation as he re-evaluated his health.
So perhaps it wasn't just fatigue or a cold.
Then Watari entered, placing his cake beside his laptop with his usual silent manner. It was a lovely cake too, a strawberry and cream cheesecake with an actual sugar glazed strawberry on top with a gracious amount of whipped cream slathered on top. Usually, L would attack his cake with vigour, savouring every bite while he thought up of new ways to trick Raito into admitting he was Kira, or calculating percentages.
Instead, all he could think about was that the sickly sweet aroma of his cake was making his stomach do Olympic style gymnastics.
"Hey…Ryuuzaki…" Raito whispered from behind his document, the concern shimmering in his sepia eyes. "Are you sure you're okay? You haven't touched your cake." The younger male shuffled down the couch until he was pressed against the arm, leaning over slightly and somehow managing to look inconspicuous to the other detectives in the room. "Are you sick?"
L turned wide, dull eyes to his suspect, blinking slowly as his headache's intensity increased. "Raito-kun has no need to be concerned. I am fine." And the he turned back to his laptop, curling his legs closer to his body as his stomach lurched once more, the detective actually tasting bile on his tongue. He steeled himself, gritting his teeth as he forced down the wave of nausea. He couldn't be sick.
L was Justice. And Justice did not have sick days.
Though, L winced when he almost gagged again, maybe Justice could have a quick break.
Raito could obviously read the danger signs (a green tinged detective looking ready to eject the contents of his stomach all over the floor was a particularly big danger sign) and, knowing that L's stubbornness would not allow him to do anything about it, decided to take matters into his own hands. "Ryuuzaki." He said politely, drawing the dull eyed insomniac's attention to him once more. "I need to go to the toilet."
L would usually make a snide remark, and add on an extra per cent to his already unknown percentage (Raito seriously did not know what his percentage was now, it fluctuated so rapidly that he doubted even L knew what it was), but instead the detective simply nodded, sliding from his seat and shuffling stiffly towards the bathroom, one arm curled unnoticeably round his torso.
Raito kept a close eye on the older man he was shackled too, noting how he seemed to shuffle slower then usual and the dark bags under his eyes seemed to have achieved the impossible and darken even more – that, or his pale skin had turned a sickly grey making it seem worse the usual. It was obvious that L was ill, hell, Raito was amazed no one else had noticed, but the insomniac's stupid stubbornness was stopping him from announcing this fact.
It was probably all that sugar he consumed mixed with lack of sleep that was the cause of his lapse of judgement.
They had reached the toilet without incident, Raito pushing the door open while still keeping an eye on the queasy looking detective, watching the muscles in the older man's neck flex as L fought against the natural reaction to retch. The two entered the bathroom, the younger male not moving to use the urinal or the toilet and simply stared at the insomniac.
L glared, feeling his nerves beginning to fray from the constant torture of nausea and pain mixing in a lovely cocktail of crappiness. He was not in the mood to play the customary mind games with his suspect and simply wanted to curl up in a corner and die (but, of course, he couldn't do that because he was L and L was Justice, so he had to grit his teeth and bear it). "Well? Is Raito-kun going to use the bathroom's facilities or not?"
"Actually, I'm waiting for you to use them first, Ryuuzaki." Raito instantly retaliated, crossing his arms and returning the glare sternly.
"I do not need-" Here, L had to give a small pause as his stomach flailed violently once more. "-n-need to empty my bladder."
"No." Raito agreed, tugging on the chain between them. "You need to empty your stomach contents into the toilet before you throw up in the middle of the investigation room and embarrass yourself." Seeing that the detective's stubborn glare wasn't relenting, the younger male decided to force him. "I mean, it would be pretty disgusting. You vomiting up half digested substances mixed with sickly yellow bile…"
L's stomach gurgled warningly at the imagery from Raito's words, his hand flying involuntarily to his mouth. "Raito-kun…" He groaned.
"But fine, if you want to go back in there and make yourself barf by eating your heavily frosted cake saturated in sugar, thick and extremely sweet…"
Now hunger was making his stomach clench as well as flip, L unable to hold back the gag. "R-Raito…" He couldn't throw up in front of his main suspect! No matter what sense of friendship (affection) he was starting to feel for the boy, blatantly displaying his weakness was a bad move. "St-stop…"
"And the smell of it too! No matter how much cleaning products you use, the bitter sour smell is always strong enough that you can practically taste it. But whatever, you can go and throw up all over the wo-"
L couldn't hold it in any longer.
He fiercely shoved the younger male out of the way and dove for the toilet (almost tripping over the chain between them in the process), not caring at all if he looked weak or pathetic or whatever. All he cared about was getting rid of the rebellious stomach acids from his gut and possibly passing out for a while as his headache reached epic proportions. All dignity as L, the world's greatest detective, was heartily thrown out of the window.
So it was with wounded pride that L gripped the edge of the porcelain bowl and retched.
Distantly, the detective felt slim fingers scrape his ebony hair back as he emptied his stomach's admittedly small contents (he was only able to consume a brownie, three slices of strawberry cake and a batch of cookies during the night – which is a small snack for him) into the toilet, shoulders shaking from the exertion and his throat burning from the acids travelling up his trachea. He moaned involuntarily, feeling dizzily light headed from the monster headache threatening to evolve into a migraine. "Ugh…"
Those slim fingers were massaging his scalp soothingly now as L's heaving died down, the detective coughing to clear his airways of any leftover bile and groping blindly for the flush on the toilet. Already L felt better, his stomach settling somewhat as he pulled down the flusher and stayed half sprawled over the porcelain bowl. His logical part of his mind did another re-evaluation of his health, noting that this brief respite was only going to last for a few blissful minutes before his stomach rebelled once more. The childish part of his mind told the logical side to shove it. "Raito-kun…" He groaned hoarsely. "I think I am ill."
"No shit, Sherlock." Came the dry response, a wad of toilet paper being offered to him. "Clean up, you're having the day off."
"Gnn…" Not even L knew what his grunt was supposed to convey, accepting the wad of toilet paper and mopped up the 'yuck' from around his mouth. He dumped it in the toilet, wrinkling his nose as the bitter taste invading his mouth and nose. It almost made him want to vomit again. His stomach gurgled. "But Kira-" He protested.
"Can wait." Raito interrupted firmly, entering what L affectionately called 'Mother Mode' (attempting to make L eat healthier, make L sleep more, etc, all insinuated that Raito had maternal instincts buried somewhere inside of him). "You won't be much help clinging to the toilet seat and throwing up all over the place, and…" Raito's fingers moved from wild ebony tresses to the disgruntled insomniac's forehead. "You're running a temperature. You may have the stomach flu."
"Oh joy." L grumbled, resting his forehead against the rim of the porcelain bowl he was hugging. The fingers returned to massaging his scalp and it actually helped with his headache somewhat. "Raito-kun should get comfortable because I do not think I will be moving from this spot anytime soon."
"Ryuuzaki…" Raito sighed. "You'll only make yourself worse if you sit on the cold bathroom floor all day. You need to go to bed and rest." The younger male wrapped an arm round the detective's thin waist, hauling up the lighter body with relative ease. "Man, you're light."
L groaned again, the pressure against his stomach not helping and sagged in Raito's unrelenting clutches. This was degrading, the world's three greatest detective being reduced to needing help from his prime suspect just to stand. L made a mental note to wipe this event from his mind and pretend that it never happened once his health was back in the green zone.
Ah, denial was a wonderful thing sometimes.
"I suppose that Raito-kun is l-looking…" L's hand flew to his mouth again and Raito grimaced at the implication. "Is looking for a reward of some kind for this?"
"What are you talking about? This is what friends do, help their friends." Raito sighed, exasperated, and slowly guided the grumbling L from the bathroom out into the hallway. "No strings attached."
"Hm…" L seemed to relax slightly in the younger male's grasp, a subtle sign of defeat – for the moment. "I'll trust Raito-kun with that." He muttered, recognizing the route they were taking. "I will need to contact Watari to bring in my laptop so I co-"
"No." Raito snapped firmly, tightening his grip round the other's waist and eliciting a hiss from the wild haired insomniac. "No working. You'll just make yourself even worse and slow down your recovery. I will tie you down to the bed to make you rest if I have to."
L would blame the comment that came out of his mouth on his illness later on. "I never knew you were that kinky, Raito-kun."
"…" Raito ignored the comment with grace. "I don't want to hear any complaints, Ryuuzaki." The younger male warned sternly, still in Mother Mode, as they finally arrived at their shared bedroom. "And if you're going to throw up, just say, because I don't want vomit all over the bed sheets and floor, okay?"
L's stomach did a flip flop and the detective coughed lightly. "Alright, Raito-kun." He paused. "I am going to throw up."
Raito sighed, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath and practically dragged the insomniac towards the bathroom joined to their shared bedroom, kicking the door open (and ignored the almost slurred declaration of "ten per cent, Raito-kun"), leading his sick companion to the toilet.
As expected, L practically hugged it as his stomach lurched, heaving over the porcelain bowl.
Raito grimaced as he scraped back the wild ebony strands from the detective's face, pressing the tips of his fingers into the scalp in an effort to soothe him. With his other hand he tore off some toilet paper and pressed it against the white knuckles of the insomniac, L taking it clumsily and wiping his mouth.
Raito knew that L was not only feeling miserable and ill, but uncomfortable as well for other reasons aside from his impromptu sickness. He knew L liked to be in control, and when that control is wrenched from his hands he immediately becomes anxious and uncomfortable. Throwing up in the bathroom, with your prime suspect stroking your hair and looking after you, did not scream 'control'.
So he decided to hold off the teasing until later.
"Finished?" Raito asked lightly when L rested his forehead against the rim of the toilet for at least a minute.
L turned his head to pin his suspect with a hazed glare, looking completely and utterly miserable. "I hope so." He grumbled, turning his face so he was pressing his uncomfortably hot forehead against the cool porcelain. Damn bacteria, damn virus, damn Kira, damn whatever gave him this sickness! It was probably the other detectives walking in from outside, carrying all sorts of microorganisms on their bodies!
L knew he was being silly, irrational even, but at that moment he would've blamed the fucking plunger next to the toilet for his misery if only to make him feel better.
"Come on." Raito murmured soothingly, carefully hauling the sickly detective from the floor and half carried him to the bedroom. He knew that Watari was probably observing the whole situation via security cameras and was on his way with something to ease the insomniac's grief. Hopefully.
God knows an unhappy L is a very cranky L, and a cranky L spells unhappiness for everyone around him.
L practically collapsed on the bed, pressing his face against the softness of his pillow with a sigh. He felt the mattress dip beside him, and the handcuff's chain sprawl over his clothed thigh, as a hand ruffled his ebony tresses. As usual, whenever the younger male touched him, his stomach flipped crazily and his breath caught (something that always put L on edge because he wasn't quite sure what to make of it), but the near affectionate touch filled him with a nice sort of warmth that soothed his agonizing headache and his rebellious stomach.
Raito has magic hands. He thought dreamily, forgetting his initial discomfort and misery for the moment as those slim fingers continued to massage and pet him gently. Curled up in fetal position, thumb pressed against his lips, L began to drift off in a state of relaxation, not quite sleep, but not quite awake. He, for once, forgot about the ominous Kira Investigation that always occupied his thoughts and the calculated percentages of Raito being Kira (twenty per cent? Fifty per cent? Hell, he didn't know anymore).
Unknowingly, a small smile tugged at his lips as he began to slip into lala land, a wonderful dream world where everything was made out of chocolate and gingerbread and there was a never ending supply of strawberries. He snuggled into his pillow with a contented sigh; smile growing as Raito was added into his dream.
With bemusement, Raito could only wonder what L was possibly dreaming about to make the normally stoic genius smile like that.
Back in the Investigation room, Matsuda noticed something off when he looked up from the documents he was reviewing. "Hey guys…"
Aizawa grunted. "What?"
"Why are Ryuuzaki and Raito taking so long in the bathroom?"
There was silence and everyone turned to Soichirou, who was valiantly ignoring the innuendo hidden in that innocent question.
"We…probably don't want to know, Matsuda."
A/N: Hmmm…maybe I'll continue this one in the next oneshot…oh well.
Ideas are still welcome! Hope y'all enjoyed!