Disclaimer: Death (NO)te.

Author's Note: Challenge #2 for my livejournal's Drabble Writing Meme, as requested by Yinake-san. :D




"Why do you suppose they call it a 'lemon'?"

Yagami Light didn't even bother glancing up from his newspaper; he had long since learned that looking at Ryuuzaki would only encourage him unnecessarily. Much like a child, half of the things that came out of that (quite literally) sugar-coated mouth were said only for effect. "You're the detective," the chained brunette drawled instead, propping his chin up with his left hand as his right flipped the page. Ooo, look, the comics section. "You figure it out."

From the comfy depths of his spindly chair, L chewed the flat of his thumb. "Truly, it is a conundrum," he muttered, twisting idly back and forth. The chain and chair squeaked in tandem; Light resisted the urge to sigh. "Do these 'fangirls' believe that sexual intercourse is some acerbic act of perversity?"

"They're all about the 'acts of perversity,' or so I here," Light muttered, only half paying attention. Heh, that Garfield. "In the face of all of their other kinks and problems, I somehow doubt the fact that they named smut-related stories after misshapen yellow fruits is high on their list of concerns. Though if they had to pick a misshapen yellow fruit," he concluded under his breath, "you'd think they would have chosen a banana…"

"Have they ever even had sexual intercourse before?" the detective pondered aloud (rather, louder than Light), dark eyes on the ceiling as he mused. "It's more salty than it is sour."

The criminal mastermind (albeit the criminal mastermind with memory problems) leveled his companion a wry glance. "They're writing stories about guys doing guys and guys doing little boys and I don't even want to know what to girls. No, I think it's pretty safe to assume that they're not getting any. Moreover, why waste time writing about it if you could—"

It was then that something occurred to Light. "Wait." He scowled, brow pinching in irritated realization. "You talk as if you've had first-hand experience with sex."

"Then again," the older man continued, glossing over Light's commentary in classic L fashion, "perhaps it all comes down to who one has sexual intercourse with."

"Hey!" Light glowered, leaping to his feet with an audible huff. The newspaper, comics section, and Garfield's amusing antics all flew from the teenager's mind in the wake of his hormonal fury. "You haven't even touched me yet! Who have you been screwing around with? If you say Matsuda—"

"Perhaps," L finished, a creeping smile tugging on the corners of his lips, "if I were to have sexual intercourse with a cruel, bitter person…"

"Dammit, Ryuuzaki—you answer me when I'm talking to—!"

An unexpected yank on their chain; Light flew forward, knees colliding with the floor as his torso smacked into the leather seat of L's chair, directly between the taller man's spread legs.

L smirked. "I can think of no better candidate with whom to test this theory than Kira."

Light glowered as the elder boy laced spidery fingers through his amber hair. "I'm not Kira," he reminded, in an ironically acerbic fashion.

"Ooo, a liar, too," the detective teased. "All the better. If you don't make a decent lemon, I can think of no one else who could."

The teenager opened his mouth to argue this point, but found it difficult to continue once L's tongue was inside it.




"How disappointing," L sighed, bare knees to his chin and a frown upon his lips. "Still more salty than sour."

Beside him on the bed, his attention once more committed to the comics, Light rolled his eyes. "If it means that much to you, we can try again later," he droned, flipping through the grayscale pages.

Heh. That Garfield.