Disclaimer: Doesn't take L to figure this one out…

Author's Note: I cannot believe I actually fell into this fandom as hard as I did. I've known about it for years, even followed it for a time, but all of the sudden… weird.

Anyway, here we go—a little insanity for you. (As if The Crossover Caper wasn't crack enough.)


The Definition of Pie


Light was, as a general rule, against the attainment of the Shinigami Eyes. Oh, he didn't mind manipulating those who had chosen to make the sacrifice, nor did he discourage attempts to bribe Ryuk (with apples, of course) into helping him out with his natural pair. But as for paying the price himself… well, personally, he liked to keep his years of life safe with him. (…wherever it was one stored such things.) After all, dying was rather detrimental to his plans of living on as a God. Or just living in general, really.

Still, on days like this, he couldn't help but think a little harder on Ryuk's standing offer.

"Ryuuzaki," Light said coolly, careful to keep all hints of irritation out of his voice as he stared down the coffee table at the slouched detective, "please. Just eat it."

The reprimand was unspoken, yet implicit. Like the child he often seemed to imitate, L glanced up through his unruly black bangs and pursed his thin lips, allowing his features to be marred by a stubborn frown. "…I don't want to," he then replied, in a voice just as infuriatingly calm at Light's— testament to his own growing annoyance. With the very tips of his long fingers, Ryuuzaki plucked his fork off of the low table and tossed it away; it met the far wall with a tinny clatter.

Light was mildly surprised that L didn't tack on, "and you can't make me," as he threw this mini tantrum.

"Ryuuzaki," Light tried again, fighting to keep face as he pulled a spare fork (he'd learned, in all this time) from the pocket of his jeans, "c'mon. Just a tiny bite. One bite."

"I told you—I do not want to," L ground out, determinedly watching the monitors before them. He seemed to be under the impression that such tactics meant the conversation was over; keeping his eyes pointedly on the screens, Ryuuzaki reached out to grab a handful of sugar cubes for the remnants of his tea—

But instinctively yanked his fingers back when the clean fork rapped his knuckles in a sharp, reprimanding fashion.

"…that hurt, you know."

"More sugar is the last thing you need," Light huffed, pushing the other boy's dinner plate closer and pulling the sweets farther away. "And really, what you've got right there is pie. You love pie."

"Pie…" Those hollow, ebony eyes blinked once, the dark bags beneath them sagging as Ryuuzaki gave his plate of food a meticulous visual examination… before snapping his soulless stare upon Light again. "It does not look like pie to me."

"It doesn't need to look like it to be it," Light retorted firmly, crossing his arms over his chest in a decisive sort of way. "Do robins look like penguins? No, but they're both birds. It's called 'chicken pot pie' for a reason—it's pie."

L's scowl intensified. "By that logic, candy corn would be corn kernels wrapped in colorful paper. No, a pie is 'a desert consisting of a filling—as of fruit or custard—in a pastry shell or topped with pastry or both.' Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary."

"…that's the second definition, and you know it."

A guilty shift. The dark-haired teen glanced in the opposite direction, hiding his face behind his perpetually-raised knees. "No, it's not."

"Don't make me take out the book, Ryuuzaki."

L didn't bother answering this time, instead choosing to stick his thumb in his mouth and chew.

It's like I'm chained to a toddler! With an exasperated sigh, Light sunk deeper into the plush leather couch, raking his hands—for what seemed to be the umpteenth time that day— through his now-very-messy locks. "Fine, we'll do this your way," he groaned. "Fruit or custard… Well, there's fruit in there."

L's gaze flicked downward for half a second, nose scrunching as he eyed his (by now ice-cold) supper. "Looks like vegetables to me," he then droned, going go far as to scoot away from the innocent, gravy-drenched dish. "I know of no small, round, green fruits that appear—to the untrained human eye— identical to peas."

"Most people don't know that tomatoes are fruits," Light argued, countering sarcasm with more sarcasm.

"I don't see tomatoes," Ryuuzaki returned in his usual, monotonous drawl. "Only peas and broccoli and red peppers and corn and carrots and chicken—"

Light's already frayed patience snapped. "L!" he all but screamed, only just managing to keep from smacking his roommate upside the head. "If you only eat sweets you're going to die of diabetes before you turn 30!"

L shrugged, unfazed, as his big toes curled and twirled around one another atop the sofa cushion. "Well, we all have to go sometime."

Light shot him a deadpan stare. I don't believe this guy… "If you die, you won't be able to catch Kira," he reminded dryly, poking his companion with the prongs of his proffered fork.

Still, the detective didn't seem overly concerned. "Maybe it will be Kira's fault," Ryuuzaki countered easily, waving a hand at Light's three-pronged-attacks and inching his free fingers closer to the confiscated candy.

Of course, he temporarily forgot his sugary goal and his convenient Kira-scapegoat when the infamous fork dug deep into his thigh, accompanied by a dull glare from Light. "…and how the hell do you manage to spin Kira into this?" the university student questioned once he'd garnered his companion's attention, a single eyebrow arched.

Visibly pouting, L stuck his finger back into his mouth, curling into a tighter ball than usual. Probably to protect what remained of his thigh. "Well, Kira can manipulate deaths…" the deterred detective then muttered— all while simultaneously shooting Light one of his disturbingly-wide-eyed, accusatory stares.

Light's face fell flat. "…don't look at me like that," he droned, sounding tired. "If I was Kira, do you think I'd be trying to make you eat healthier?"

The black-rimmed glare narrowed. "No sugar makes my deductive reasoning skills decrease exponentially," Ryuuzaki reasoned softly, looking far more serious than he had any right to be in this highly-juvenile situation. "And as you are currently attempting to cleanse my bloodstream of it…"

Satisfied that he'd made his threat known, L snatched up the nearest cavity-inducing treat— a chocolate glazed donut—and bit down before it could be wrestled away from him. He needn't have bothered; Light had long since surrendered to the futility of it all.

A moment passed. L chewed. Swallowed. Licked his sticky palm musingly.

"…chances of Light being Kira have gone up .25 percent," he then announced, returning his steady gaze to the monitor display and allowing Light a private moment to compose himself. Lucky, really, as the young man was having a difficult time controlling his arms, and only just managed to keep himself from strangling the freak beside him.

Forget the Shinigami Eyes. Screw the Death Note. One day, Light was going to kill L with his own two hands.

"Oh. And if I ever do get diabetes, it will go up another 1.35 percent."

…if he didn't go crazy first.


In case anyone was wondering, the first definition given by the dictionary L quoted from is: "a meat dish baked with biscuit or pastry crust—compare potpie."