AN: I'd like to say that this isn't almost exactly what I'm like when I get a cold (as I had recently). That would be a lie, however. The tissue bit is nearly verbatim. Thankfully, I was alone at the time. Although, that might just be worse… I blame the Robitussin. :)

Darling Matsuda plays the role of our cats. Lovely creatures, but they just can't take a hint that I don't want them crawling all over me when I'm not feeling well.

I'm dedicating this one to you, Amarissia, just 'cause you weren't feeling well recently, either. :)

Excerpt is from Something From the Nightside by Simon R. Green.

Lyrics are from "I'm a Cucumber" off of Brak Presents the Brak Album Starring Brak.

And yes, that is a Harry Potter reference down there somewhere. Cookie to you if you pick it up.

Convalescing With You

Somehow or other, Light ended up being the first to arrive at the hotel suite that day. The general silence in the place alerted him to this fact before he'd stepped through the small entryway into the suite proper and for a moment he hesitated, unsure. He really hadn't expected to be first, even though he was much earlier than usual. As it happened, one professor had taken ill and cancelled all lectures for the foreseeable future while the other class he'd had scheduled for today had already been postponed until next week – it was a practical and apparently all the needed materials weren't yet available.

So, that left Light, alone, in a hotel suite he'd only been to three times before with a man he'd barely met and only dealt with in the company of others. Hence the hesitation. He'd assumed that the other officers – his father, Mogi, Aizawa, Matsuda – worked with L, here, all day. It now occurred to him that they must spend part of the day at their NPA office and part of the day at the hotel. A glance at his watch showed him that it was a little before noon. Perhaps they would arrive shortly, then. In the mean time, he could stop skulking about in the entryway like an unsure child rather than the self-confident young man he was.

Uncertainty still fluttering in his chest, Light nevertheless stepped into the first room of the suite with his usual poised air, shrugging out of his jacket and depositing both that and his bag on a nearby chair. But the lack of movement or sound in the suite was beginning to unnerve him again and, after wavering for the briefest of moments, he called out,

"Ryuuzaki?" Further silence was his only response and after a minute he tried, "Watari?" Still, nothing. At a bit of a loss, Light wondered if he should get to work while he waited for … well, anything, really. That idea was rejected almost immediately. He had no clue where things had been left off two days ago – the last time he'd been here – nor what L would want him to work on today. And, he thought, dubiously eyeing the rather daunting pile of papers, binders and tapes, he didn't much care to try and weed through that particular haystack without an inkling of what kind of needle he was searching for.

Which meant, at the very least, he would have to locate either L or Watari if he didn't want to sit around twiddling his thumbs for goodness-only-knew how long. Other than the door he'd come through, there were only two other options, one of which led to the bedroom, the other to the bath. And while Light really, really did not want to go poking around in his father's temporary boss's bedroom, at the moment he didn't see what choice he had. (He certainly hoped the man was in the bedroom anyway – he didn't want to entertain thoughts of the other option.)

Crossing quietly to the door which led to the bedroom, which stood slightly ajar, he rapped twice against the doorjamb and gently called,

"Ryuuzaki?" There was once again no answer to his summons but, as he stood listening, he thought he could hear someone breathing and perhaps a rustle or two. Steeling himself and trying not to think about how rude he was potentially being, Light carefully pushed the door open far enough to stick his head inside and peer around. He immediately saw a figure curled up on the bed, back to him. The tuft of dark hair spilling over the pillow let him know that it was L and not Watari he was looking at (not that Light would have expected to find Watari in bed under any circumstances, really).

"Ryuuzaki?" he tried yet again. The figure shifted slightly but neither turned nor spoke to him. Feeling even more uncomfortable by the second – a thing he hadn't thought possible – Light pushed the door opened further and entered the room, circling the bed to place himself in front of L's curled-up form.

He wasn't sure why he was so surprised to see that the detective was apparently sleeping (what else would he be doing in a bed, not responding to hails?) except that Light had never seen such a thing from L. Not, of course, that he would normally have a reason to observe L sleeping. It was really just the idea behind it, that L ever actually slept. And this especially, in the middle of the day when Light would have been expecting him to be diligently working away. Perhaps this was when L typically slept. Perhaps Light was horribly disturbing him.

Still, he needed something to do. And it wouldn't it be ruder to creep around in L's suite while the man was unconscious and unaware? Of course it would.

As gently as possible, Light laid a hand on L's shoulder, shaking him lightly and calling his name again. Thankfully, L was not shocked awake as Light half-feared he might be. Instead, he blearily opened his eyes, blinking slowly, seeming to have some difficulty focusing for a moment.

"Light?" he finally spoke, raspy and uncertain as though he still weren't seeing quite clearly. The word was followed by some compulsive but weak coughs.

"Yes. Uh, are you alright?" Light had removed his hand and now crouched down to put himself closer to eyelevel.

L shifted fitfully, rolling onto his back and throwing an arm over his eyes.

"No, I don't think so," he responded, his voice nearly as petulant as his movements and Light's brows rose. He certainly must not be feeling well to be speaking that way. Light had never heard that kind of tone out of L before. The man was probably sick, then. And it must have been a recent development as Light didn't recall his father mentioning anything of the sort in the brief time Light had seen him the previous day.

"Have you been up at all today?"

"What day is it?" Oh, that was not a good sign.

"Wednesday."

"What time is it?"

"Around noon."

"Oh. Then, yes, I think so."

"How … are you feeling?" Here L finally dropped his arm and looked as much like an unhappy child as it was possible for a twenty-four-year-old man to look.

"Bad. I'm tired and I'm coughing and sneezing! I hate sneezing! And my nose! My nose is leaking. It's leaking its life's fluids all over the place." L sniffed pathetically as if to prove his point and Light took a quick survey of the room, amazingly unable to locate any tissues. Digging in his own pockets, he found a slightly rumpled handkerchief and offered it wordlessly to L, who took it after a moment of staring to ascertain what, exactly, it was.

"Thank you," he mumbled between blows and Light grimaced.

"Where is Watari? Has he gotten you any medicine or anything?"

"Watari? Um…." L's eyes rolled up to the ceiling as he pondered. "Greece? That's a country, right? Or is it…?" He rubbed some fingers together in a gesture that apparently made sense only to him, as he thought more. "What language am I speaking?" This question seemed to be directed at himself and he mumbled a few more things under his breath before concluding, "Ah. Japanese. Then, yes. Greece is a country. That's where Watari is. In Greece. With the Greeks. You know, the ones in Greece."

Light's jaw had dropped slightly during this little monologue and now he rubbed his forehead thinking, Why me? Alone with a sick, babbling man he barely knew, with no idea when help of any form might be arriving. Fantastic. Unfortunately, there was nothing else to be done. He would simply have to care for L until a better solution presented itself.

"How long have you felt this way?" Light inquired, not really expecting a lucid answer and he wasn't disappointed.

"You said it's today, right?"

"You mean Wednesday?"

"Yes."

"Yeah."

"Just now, I think." Alright, then. Light assumed he probably had just been hit by a bad cold. L didn't look flushed, a good sign, but just to be sure….

"Can I…?" Without really waiting for a response, Light carefully stretched his arm out and laid the inside of his wrist against L's forehead while the prone man looked at him with wide, unnervingly trusting eyes. He didn't feel warmer than normal. Shifting his arm, Light checked each cheek next. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. Although, Light himself was flushing just a bit, partly at the proximity and partly at unbidden remembrances of the way his mother used to check him for fevers, forehead to forehead.

"Well, you're not hot" – L wrinkled his nose a little – "but you've obviously got a cold. It doesn't seem too bad, though. It'll probably run its course fairly quickly."

"But my nose, Light!" L whined, cupping a hand around said feature. "What about my beautiful nose? It's leaking. And sneezing!" As if choreographed, this statement was punctuated by two sneezes which suddenly wracked his thin frame and L gazed up at Light pitifully.

"Alright, it's alright!" Light soothed perfunctorily. "Hang on a minute." Regaining his feet, he did a sweep of the room, again looking for tissues and again finding none. Quickly, he tried the bathroom instead and happily found a box of them sitting by the sink. Light snagged the box and returned to the bedroom to the detective who had pulled himself into a more or less upright position and was anxiously waiting.

L took in the sight of the box with a disturbingly high level of glee. He put his arms out and wiggled his fingers in the universal gesture of "Gimme!" When Light dubiously handed it over, L practically squeaked with delight and hugged it to himself.

"Tissues!" he declared joyfully. He took a moment to look at the box and then made another happy noise. "With lotion! Lotioned tissues! These are mine. My tissues. Henceforth, everyone shall look at this box and know that these are L's tissues. All mine." This all ended with an odd sort of giggle and Light just barely tamped down on the expressions that were attempting to work their way onto his face, something between horror and entertainment. Should L actually remember any of this, Light did not want to have to deal with the repercussions of any perceived insubordination on his part.

Instead, Light retrieved the small waste bin and set it by the bed as L began to make ardent use of his newly-acquired treasure. (The handkerchief seemed to have disappeared and Light wasn't honestly sure if he wanted it back or not.)

"I should probably go and get you some medicine," he offered, "something to help with the running nose and the coughing. And I could see about getting you something to eat as well."

L had abandoned his beloved tissues and was giving Light the most wretched look he'd seen yet.

"Please don't leave me." The request was made in a very tiny voice which successfully squelched Light's mild but rising exasperation.

"You'd feel better if you let me go get something for you," he cajoled.

L pouted, just a little.

"I don't want to be alone again," the detective admitted, worrying a half-used tissue. Light stifled a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. Honestly, he'd never even had to take of Sayu when she was sick and now he was supposed to be responsible for a grown man who acted even more childishly than his little sister?

"When are my father and the others due?"

L squinted up at the ceiling for a moment before recalling, "Around two." That wasn't so bad. Less than two hours. Light could surely handle the ailing man until then.

"Okay. I'll stay here, at least until they arrive, and then someone can get you medicine. But in the mean time, I think we need to get you fed. Is there anything you feel like you could handle right now?"

L bit his lip and tilted his head, considering, and then answered with a smile, "Ice cream."

Light barely suppressed an eye roll.

"You are not having ice cream for lunch when you're sick. Pick something else. What about soup or broth? Or even fruit?"

L scrunched his nose. "I don't really like soup. Or broth. And I don't feel like a fruit."

"Toast?" Light offered gamely.

This time L stuck out his tongue. "Too dry." Then he looked up hopefully. "Croissant?" Light thought about it and then nodded. Smiling, L added (more hopeful still), "With jam?" Light gave him a mild frown but eventually relented.

"Alright. But just a little. You don't need to be dehydrating yourself with all that sweet nonsense. And I'm getting you some fruit, too, anyway." An obnoxious expression passed over L's face, gone almost as quickly as it had come, and Light fixed him with a short glare.

"Behave yourself, and maybe I'll let you have that ice cream later."

"…Alright," L mumbled into a tissue, blowing his nose in a distinctly snarky manner.

"Good. Okay, then, I assume you can get room service delivered?"

L nodded. "They'll leave it outside the door for me." With a sigh, he slouched back into his pillows and murmured, "I wish Watari was here."

You and I, both, Light thought ruefully. Promising to return as soon as the order was placed, Light exited the bedroom and found the phone in the main room of the suite (inexplicably shoved under a chair, the cord snaking haphazardly through the piles of information and, at one point, wrapping around a table leg) and placed his order: the croissant, plus a few scones, and jam as well as whatever fruit they had fresh for L, and a light sandwich for himself. He also ordered black tea with a side jar of honey.

That task completed, Light put the phone back where he'd found it (he'd briefly thought about righting it and then decided he just didn't feel like dealing with it) and warily went back into the bedroom. L had sat himself upright once more and turned on the television that was sitting in the cabinet across from the bed. At the moment he was frowning at it, one arm slung over his head while the other lay on his lap, loosely grasping the remote. The program was a news broadcast and even as Light was about to ask what they were discussing, L groaned and made a face at whatever had just been said.

Light took a few moments to determine the subject being reported and was nonplussed to find that it seemed to be something about a food-eating contest. He wasn't sure why L should care about such a thing but decided that it was definitely not worth his wasting what was surely a waning energy supply and moved over to not-so-surreptitiously remove the controller from L's palm and switch the channel to one of the generic soap programs, turning down the volume as well so that the only form of distraction was the flickering picture.

L sighed but said nothing about it. His feet pushed fitfully at the sheets. When Light had first come in, L had been half-wrapped in the thinnest sheet, though his toes poked out from underneath. Now L's restless movements had left it twisted around his torso, his denim-clad legs fully uncovered as he sprawled. And Light had to admit that, despite how the detective might be annoying him at the present, he really was rather cute this way. Not that that was a thought that needed to be dwelt upon, of course.

"The order's placed and it should be up shortly. Is there anything you want while we're waiting?" Although, Light wasn't really sure what was within his power to offer.

L gave another little sigh.

"I suppose a shower would be good," he answered, sounding distinctly unenthusiastic about the idea. But, regardless, he began pulling at the sheet, attempting to get up. He was unable to figure out how to disentangle himself, however, and Light ultimately had to step in and lend a hand, finding a corner of the sheet and giving a good yank to free the ensnared man.

"Uh, are you going to be able to manage yourself, or…?" Light let the question trail off, really not wanting to follow through on the half-assed offer but feeling that he ought to make it anyway.

L gained his feet with only part of his usual grace and fixed Light with a blank but not entirely unkind look.

"I believe I will be fine. If I haven't emerged in half an hour, then I suppose you could call the hospital." Even his sarcasm was lacking its edge. Of course, just the fact that he was being blatantly flippant at all was unusual. Though Light had only known L a short time, one thing he'd picked up on almost immediately was that L was a man of subtlety. Not today, apparently.

Light simply raised a brow at the detective and didn't respond as he shuffled off into the bathroom, taking a change of clothes with him. As soon as the door closed behind him, Light released his own sigh and ran a hand through his hair, the incredible awkwardness of the situation hitting him once again. He really wasn't sure what he should be doing. Unfortunately, he would just have to wait until his father and co-workers arrived and take his cues from them.

The noise of the shower disappeared after only five or ten minutes and shortly thereafter L reappeared, a towel slung around his neck to protect his fresh clothing from his still-dripping locks as he ambled back to the bed. The outfit he'd chosen was similar to the one he'd changed out of (and the ones that Light had seen him in those few times before), though the pants were cotton rather than denim.

While L was in the shower, Light had retrieved a notebook and was sitting in a chair near the bed studying his notes. He'd planned to continue doing so while they waited for their lunch to arrive but L's hair was proving to be irrefutably distracting. Well, really! How could someone just sit around with a wet head like that? And on the bed, no less. His pillow was going to get all damp.

With a low noise of exasperation, Light set aside the notebook and pushed himself out of the chair, moving back to the bed where L had settled himself, propped up on a couple of pillows that were slowly soaking up the moisture from his thick mane.

"You can't sit around like that," Light admonished, not bothering to ask for permission or even attempting to persuade the man to take care of the situation himself – he was pretty sure he'd be rebuffed anyway. Instead, he took hold of one of L's wrists, pulling him to sit at the edge of the bed. It took a few moments as L was not exactly in the most cooperative of moods, but Light finally got him sitting upright on the side of the bed so that Light could sit beside him and do something about that hair. He took the towel from L's thin shoulders and set to vigorously but carefully drying the bedraggled strands.

L took it all with surprising complacency, saying and doing nothing but sitting patiently, slightly hunched, with his hands lying loosely in his lap. After a little while Light realized that L had in fact closed his eyes and seemed to be giving himself over to the sensation if not actually enjoying it. The sight made something warm swell in Light's chest, a feeling he couldn't quite identify, though he was aware that the barest hint of a smile was curling his lips.

He firmly squashed the expression down as he finished up. L's hair was still rather damp but no longer dripping by any means although it could certainly use a combing.

"Do you have a comb?" Light inquired as he pulled the towel away, shaking it out out of habit.

L opened his eyes to fix Light with a vaguely peevish scowl. "Of course I do. It's on the desk," he stated, as though such a thing should be obvious, pointing to the piece of furniture sitting just to the side of the window. Stifling an eye roll, Light got up and went to retrieve the item. The desk, thankfully, was in much better shape than the main room of the suite but Light still had to shift some papers and even L's laptop before locating the implement.

When he came back to the bed he could have, of course, given the comb over and let L fix his own hair, but … Light was starting to enjoy himself a little bit now. That warmth was still radiating in his chest and it was similar to feelings Sayu brought out in him but different at the same time. Whatever the cause or the exact condition, Light wanted to indulge himself just a little longer, as long as L would let him.

As before, he didn't even ask L, just sat beside him once again and gently began pulling the comb through the damp strands, straightening and organizing them. He was mildly surprised to find that, contrary to his earlier assumptions, L's hair, though clean and unknotted, simply would not adhere to any way Light was attempting to style it. The mass clearly had a mind of its own and would not be bullied into any semblance of neatness.

"Why don't you cut it?" Light finally asked, realizing he was fighting a losing battle with the tenacious locks.

"Believe it or not, it's easier to deal with this way," L responded quietly, his eyes closed once again. "It's too much work to keep it cut short. And no one cares what I look like, anyway." This last was the quietest yet and Light felt a little stab of something uncomfortable, recognizing the mildly self-deprecating tone.

"I wasn't criticizing your looks," Light offered softly but firmly. "I was just curious. Do you cut it yourself, then?"

L nodded, little more than a bob of the head.

"You do a good job," Light complimented with a smile and it was the truth. There was no style to speak of, of course, but given what he had to work with, L did more than a fair job of managing to keep it even.

"What are you doing, Light?" Startled, Light paid attention to his hands and found that while his thoughts had been wandering his hands had been entertaining themselves in the form of gathering the top half of L's hair together as though he was going to put a tie or pins in it. Focused now, Light eyed the effect critically and stated,

"You know, I think that look might actually work for you." He messed with it a bit more, gathering it more neatly, pulling strands out randomly around L's face (and determinedly putting out of his mind the fact that not only was he playing with someone's hair, but he was playing with his father's male boss's hair). Nodding, Light said again, "Yes, this could definitely work."

Apparently L had reached his limit of being played with like a doll and scooted away from Light's hands, shaking his hair out and running a hand through it.

"I am not a female," he declared flatly, leveling one of those deadpan looks at Light. "I do not want shiny barrettes and things in my hair."

Light smirked. "Wouldn't be that weird, you know. There are guys who do that kind of thing."

"Well I am not one of them." L attempted to back this up with a haughty air which was ruined by the fit of coughing that followed. When it concluded, L sighed tiredly and collapsed back onto his pillows.

Light was interrupted offering anything to help by a polite knock at the door. With a concerned glance at the wilted man on the bed, he went to the door to find a tray sitting outside with their lunch order neatly arranged. Grinning, he picked it up and carried it back to the bedroom.

"This should make you feel better!" he enthused, smiling hopefully at the detective who cast a baleful eye at him as he honked into another tissue. "Where would you like to eat?"

Wordlessly, L pointed down at the bed. Light grimaced – eating in bed was a rather large taboo for him (the crumbs!) but he wasn't about to begrudge L anything that might make him feel better at this point. So he carefully set the tray on the first uncluttered flat surface he came across – which happened to be a chair – and went into the bathroom to collect a couple of unused towels. These he spread out on the bed, one in front of L and one next to it, then got the tray and proceeded to lay their lunch out. Then he toed off his shoes and joined L on the bed.

L finally perked up and Light was slightly amused and exasperated at the same time to see that he seemed to be most excited by the jam, although the scones were also a welcome surprise. The fruit the kitchen had sent up were a couple of mikans which L ignored in favor of his sweeter fare but which Light carefully peeled and separated and pointedly placed in front of the saccharine-mad detective.

They ate in relative silence, L in particular engrossed in his meal which he finished off with a speed that Light was surprised but glad to see. L had been disappointed at the lack of sugar cubes for his tea but seemed more or less satisfied with the honey and sipped it with quiet contentment as Light finished his sandwich, trying his best to keep even the smallest crumb from leaping onto the bed and taking up residence.

When Light finished up, he cleared the plates and utensils, putting them back on the tray and setting it on the chair again, and bundled up the towels. Not sure what else to do with them, Light simply placed them back in the bathroom and then returned to L. At this point there wasn't much time left before Light's father and the other officers should be arriving. L was looking distinctly sated, lounging against his pillows, quietly coughing every now and again, staring in the general direction of the television but not really looking at it.

"Do you want anything else?" Light asked kindly, a spark of compassion flaring briefly within him.

"Would you read to me?" The request was given on a sigh. "I would myself, but my eyes…." L indicated them vaguely with a hand. "I'm just tired."

It was an easy enough thing and so Light acquiesced. L gave him a small but genuine smile and handed over a paperback book he pulled out of a drawer in the nightstand.

"Where would you like me to start?"

L waved a hand again. "It doesn't matter; you can start at the beginning." With a shrug, Light positioned himself against the headboard on the other side of the bed and did so. His recital was a bit slow and stilted at first as the book was in English – Light was skilled in the language but not entirely fluent. The pace picked up, though, as he settled into the rhythm and he couldn't help a quirk of the lips when he realized the book was about some kind of private investigator. Go figure L to read stories about detectives in his spare time.

"...'Earned reputation for doing things my own way, for tracking down the truth whatever it takes, and to hell with whoever gets hurt in the process. Including, sometimes, my clients. They always say they want the truth, the'—" Light stopped, momentarily startled, when there was a knock at the door. It opened without waiting for a response and he heard the voices of Aizawa and Matsuda conversing (or arguing, more like) loudly, then his father,

"Ryuuzaki?" Closing the book, Light gave L an encouraging sort of smile which was returned with an incredibly diluted replication and got up to greet his father and co-workers.

"Light!" Soichiro Yagami was clearly taken aback to see his son present already and coming from the bedroom no less.

"Good afternoon, Father. Aizawa. Matsuda. Mogi." Light nodded to each in turn before turning his attention back to his father. "My classes were cancelled today so I arrived here early. I'm afraid Ryuuzaki's not feeling very well. He seems to have caught a cold." Matsuda gasped histrionically, while Light's father and Aizawa frowned, one in concern, one in annoyance. Mogi displayed no discernible reaction.

"Is Watari still in Greece?" Light's father asked.

"Apparently," Light answered with a grimace. It looked as though his father was going to ask another question but L took that moment to make a subdued, shuffling entrance. Matsuda instantly blustered over to the pallid man, offering anything from an ice pack to his own blood should it be desired, all with an energy level far higher than L would reasonably tolerate under the best of circumstances. As it was, he was beginning to look a bit cross-eyed and torn between retreating back into the bedroom or conceiving the best manner to shut Matsuda up, perhaps permanently.

Stealthily, Light insinuated himself between the two men, using his body as a physical barrier and his charm as an intangible one.

"I think the situation is under control, Matsuda. But perhaps if you could go out and pick up some medicine…?"

"Sure! No problem!" Without waiting to find out what type of medicine he should be buying, Matsuda streaked out the door like a man on a mission of national security. L breathed a nearly inaudible sigh of relief and Light looked back over his shoulder to see the detective casting him a grateful look. He smiled back and stepped to the side to allow L to address the other men.

"I would like you to continue where we left off yesterday," L began without preamble. "Mogi, please continue sorting through the phone and email records. Aizawa, I would like you to try to determine where the materials for the bombs were purchased. That information as well as the M.O. should help us narrow our list. Yagami, please review the tapes of Ihara and Yamanaka. Matsuda can help you when he returns." Here L faltered a bit.

"I apologize," he finally continued, standing hunched with his hands in his pockets but staring resolutely at the group. "I am not able to concentrate today and feel I would be more of a hindrance to our efforts."

"We understand," replied Light's father as the unspoken yet duly elected representative of the officers. "It's more important that you rest now and regain your health."

L nodded shortly and added, "If you have anything to report, you may do so. Light, if you would…?" He turned and went back into the bedroom, not bothering to wait for Light's response. Light smiled weakly and shrugged at his father as if to say What can I do? and followed L. He closed the door about half way, enough to afford the detective some privacy but still relay the message that intrusions would be accepted.

Climbing entirely gracelessly onto the bed, L flopped back onto his pillows, letting out a long breath that ruffled some of his more errant raven strands. Feeling a touch awkward despite or perhaps because of the fact that they were no longer alone, Light covered his unease by crossing his arms and standing casually at the foot of the bed.

"What would you like me to do?"

L suddenly grinned, a frighteningly impish expression.

"Entertain me."

Light scowled and immediately replied, "Are you serious?"

"Li-i-i-ight…" L pouted, pulling up his knees to wrap his arms around them, and rocked back and forth. "Please? I'm no use right now and I don't feel myself. I need some distraction." The eyes L cast at Light were sappily baleful and yet genuinely pleading. And there was that feeling again. Light just couldn't say no, even if he felt that the day would be a total waste of his talents. Damn it.

Dropping his arms, Light heaved a sigh and straightened out his shirt – his already-perfectly-straight shirt.

"Alright," he grumbled, exaggerating the tone just a bit. "What do you want to do, then?"

"I don't suppose you'd do a dance for me," L inquired rhetorically with wide eyes around the thumb that had found its way into his mouth. At Light's heated glare, his grin widened, looking more diabolical than impish now. "I didn't think so. How about cards, then?" It seemed a rather lame suggestion to Light, but it was also a sound one and he hated to think of what else the semi-lucid detective might come up with given the chance. A deck of cards was produced from the same drawer that had kept the book and they sat facing each other on the bed, Light cross-legged, L with one knee drawn up.

The game was something L called "Zero" and which Light was nearly positive he must have made up on the spot. The objective was apparently to score the lowest number possible, thus winning the hand, with the ultimate goal of accumulating negative forty-two points, thus winning the game. Each card had a particular value which Light was fairly convinced was entirely arbitrary in some cases. Such as the King which was worth "fifty bajillion" points. At least, he was pretty certain that was what L had said. It was difficult to be sure as the man had spoken it in English and it didn't seem to be a word with which Light was familiar. Nevertheless, the rules were explained, were more or less comprehended, the hand was dealt and the game began.

Light learned quickly that L's strategy was … well, honestly, he didn't seem to have one. That didn't stop him winning a majority of the hands, though, leading Light to believe a bit tetchily that he was either cheating or hadn't explained everything Light ought to know. At times, L would allow the hand to go long enough that by the time he knocked, he was holding negative five in his hand. Other times, he would knock straight off, leaving him with as much as forty-four (although he was still, inexplicably, able to beat Light most times that way). It was utterly erratic, enormously frustrating, and also thoroughly entertaining.

Light actually managed to lose track of time and was startled far more than he should have been by the sudden arrival of Matsuda bearing what very well looked like half the pharmacy. The young officer gibbered excitedly, going over each and every item he'd procured, eagerly attempting to determine which would be best in bringing L back from the brink of death, as he seemed to think he was.

It took a great deal of cajoling and far more patience than Light ever thought he possessed to get Matsuda back out of the damn room and working with Light's father as he should be. Both he and L heaved sighs of relief when the officer finally went through the door, calling a last, "Just let me know if you need anything else!" on his way. Unfettered now, Light quickly sorted through the mess of medicine and came up with two things, one to help the cough and the other to help with L's nasal issues. They were given over and L took them compliantly.

It didn't take very long for the drugs to kick in but, unfortunately, the effect wasn't quite the one Light had been looking for.

"Nnn." Light looked over from the desk, where he was attempting to clear a space to organize the medicine upon, to see L glaring petulantly at the television. The device was somehow once again showing the results of a food-eating contest and Light gave the man an incredulous look.

"What is the matter with you?" he demanded, coming over to take the remote which L only relinquished after a rather pitiful struggle.

"Why is it always hot dogs and things?" L wanted to know. "Do you know what's in hot dogs?" He pulled Light closer and stage-whispered conspiratorially, "Meat. Beef and pork and stuff." This horrified statement was accompanied by a shudder.

Light couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled out.

"I take it you're not much of a carnivore, Ryuuzaki?"

L gave a moue of disgust which faded into a wistful look.

"If only it was parfaits or something. Cherries. Marshmallows. I would totally clean house." Though Light didn't necessarily doubt the veracity of that claim, he still rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure they have those kinds of competitions somewhere, and even if they didn't you could probably just invent it."

"You really think so?" The look in L's eyes was so ridiculously hopeful and earnest that that warm feeling swelled in Light again.

"Yeah, why not?" he smiled.

L's answering smile was interrupted by a series of sneezes, ending in a miserable ritual of nose-blowing.

"Whoever compared sneezes to orgasms was a freaking idiot," L muttered darkly when he finished, glaring at nothing in particular. "Orgasms, my ass." Light really had no idea what to do with that, so asked the only question he felt he could.

"Are you … feeling any better yet? Does the medicine seem to be working?"

L frowned thoughtfully, biting his lip and eyeing the bed sheets.

"I don't know. My head feels funny. Different funny. I don't think I'm quite right."

"No, I don't think you are either," Light responded with only slight teasing.

"I'm … tired, too. More tired than before." This was punctuated with a yawn. He looked up at Light, a little unsure. "Do you think I should…?"

"Go ahead and go to sleep. It won't hurt and you'll probably feel better when you wake up."

"Will you … would you still stay here? With me?"

Light smiled easily.

"Of course. That's what I'm in here for, right? What else would I do?" Honestly, he'd been thinking that perhaps he could assist on the case as he should have been doing, but at this point keeping L in a relaxed state of mind seemed just as important and conducive to their efforts. And really, Light didn't mind, not now. L's grateful smile was certainly worth it. Not that he needed to know that, of course.

L got himself situated under the covers, curled onto his side with his feet sticking out from under the covers, much in the same way Light had found him that morning. Light himself sat next to L on the other side of the bed, propped against the headboard, long legs crossed at the ankle stretched out before him. He disinterestedly flipped through the television channels for a few minutes as L slipped quietly and quickly into unconsciousness before giving up and turning to L's novel instead. Picking up where he'd left off, he rapidly became engrossed despite himself, confused but intrigued by the private detective who apparently had some kind of magic power and worked in a city that was full of the same magic and violence.

There were few disturbances, but all were, of course, odd in their own way. The first was when Light realized that L was saying something under his breath. Thinking the man wanted something, Light leaned over him, gently asking, "Do you need something, Ryuuzaki?" only to realize he was still asleep. And he wasn't speaking, he was actually singing.

"—mber, I'm a cucumber, I'm a cucumber…." The look of disbelief and confusion that crossed Light's face as he listened was really quite comical, though there was no one else around to appreciate it. "Please don't take me to the pi-ckle fa-a-a-arm!" And that was that. L quieted, breathing gentle breaths and never stirring.

After a great deal of contemplation, Light renewed his resolve to study English more thoroughly. This day with L was showing him that he was clearly lacking a great deal of education in the finer points of the language. He went back to the book with renewed fervor.

The second disturbance was about half an hour later when L actually did wake up. He rolled onto his back, squinting and blinking at the ceiling for a few moments while Light observed him in silence, waiting to see if the detective required anything. L rubbed his forehead, a small frown creasing his brow.

"What's playing?" he asked groggily.

"I'm sorry?"

"Movies. What movies are playing right now?"

Light looked at him in surprise.

"I'm not really sure. Hang on a minute." He got up and went to the desk where he was sure he'd seen a copy of today's paper. Finding it quickly thanks to his earlier attempt at organization, he flipped to the section that listed movies currently in the theatres and read it off to L, whose frown only deepened.

"None of those sound really interesting," he commented. "Which one did you want to see?"

Light raised a brow and scanned the list again, unimpressed by the generic schlock.

"None of them, really."

L's frown was now one of confusion.

"Then why did you ask me if I wanted to go see a movie?"

"Uh, I didn't?"

"Oh. I suppose I must have been dreaming, then. Huh." That seemed to close the matter for L and he curled up once more and dropped back to sleep. Light indulged in a few moments of staring incredulously at him before shaking his head and taking his place back on the bed.

The third disturbance involved L waking again, slightly more lucid this time but still not quite all there and craving peanut butter of all things. He'd spoken the request loudly enough for Matsuda – who had been hovering around the bedroom door like a demented butterfly, kept at bay by Light's presence and Soichiro Yagami's occasional insistences that the man actually help him – to overhear and immediately run down to obtain it before Light could decide whether or not L should have peanut butter. Hopefully, at the least, Matsuda wouldn't come back with whole gallons of it.

Light half-hoped that L might fall asleep once more by the time Matsuda returned but sadly he did not and seemed, instead, overjoyed to see the peanut butter. Matsuda also brought a few slices of bread and a knife for spreading with him. Speaking thanks on behalf of himself and L, Light managed to push the officer out the door and turned just in time to see L about to forgo the bread and knife in favor of sticking his finger straight in the jar.

"Hey!" Light exclaimed, pointing. "No! Put the jar down. You will not be eating that with your fingers." L pouted profusely but did as he was told. Light waited a beat just to be sure he wouldn't be immediately disobeyed and then slipped into the bathroom to grab one of the towels he'd used for their lunchtime picnic. He returned quickly but found that L was still sulkily obeying him, gazing longingly at the forbidden jar. Stifling an eye roll, Light spread the towel out directly on top of L and prepared a slice of bread with the peanut butter under L's directions ("More, please."). The tousled-haired man finished off two pieces before deciding that was plenty and now he would like something to drink to wash it down, milk preferably.

Good old Matsuda went streaking away again, coming back with a glass of milk that he somehow managed not to spill in his haste. By that point, L was nearly asleep once more but he roused enough to drink down the liquid and hazily thank Matsuda before dropping off completely and Light couldn't help but wonder how long he'd be out this time.

As it turned out, it was the longest nap yet, but the third time L woke up – the fourth disturbance, as it were – was the weirdest of them all. Light was hoping that by that time the medicine would have worked through L's system a bit and leave him a touch more lucid. Alas, this was not the case, although Light supposed he should be grateful on L's behalf that at least his coughing and sneezing was severely reduced.

"Feet are strange things," L declared after spending several minutes after waking staring avidly at his wiggling toes which were peeking out from under the sheets.

Here we go, thought Light, sighing inwardly as he set the book aside to give the detective his grudging attention.

"Well, perhaps not feet so much as toes. There's really no reason for toes, is there? People don't use them for anything. I mean, I do, but I don't think most other people do. So what's the point?"

"I think it might have something to do with balance."

L considered that and then made a face, clearly dismissing it as a possibility. He wiggled his toes animatedly for a little longer.

"They don't look very happy," he observed finally.

Oh, good lord, Light thought, not sure that he wanted to know what exactly constituted "happy" toes. The answer was no, no he did not. Because, apparently, what made toes happy was smiley faces. So Light watched with a sense of surreal detachment as L found a pen and drew smiley faces on each toe of his left foot. All while trying to bear in mind that this man was the most skilled and dangerous detective in the entire world as well as the smartest person Light had ever met. It was a difficult feat.

L wiggled his toes again when he was done, smiling with pure joy.

"There! That's better!" He looked up at Light with an expression of one expecting praise of some kind and really, what else could Light do but laugh? L seemed a little put out by Light's reaction so he choked down the semi-hysterical snickers.

"They, uh, certainly do look much happier," he offered stiltedly, trying vainly to restore a normal tone of voice. L pursed his lips.

"Let me see yours," he demanded suddenly.

"What?"

"I want to see yours. Sock! Off!" Despite his wiry frame and sickliness, the detective proved to be stronger than he looked, grabbing Light's right ankle in a vise-like grip and whipping his sock off. Not that Light put up much of a resistance given that he was too stunned by the order. When the offensive item had been removed, L matched their feet together, heel to heel, toes to toes. The first thought that trickled its way through Light's addled brain was that L's foot was warm and surprisingly soft given his general lack of foot coverings. The second was Why the hell am I allowing this? There was no satisfactory answer to that one but allow it he did, honestly not even caring that much.

"Hmmm…." L viewed their joined feet from as many angles as possible, contorting his body rather impressively a few times. "Your toes are longer than mine. But our feet are the same size. Does that mean my toes are too short? Maybe I'm disproportioned!" L seemed to become more agitated as these conjectures sank in and he suddenly removed his foot from Light's, placing his own two against each other instead. "Li-i-i-ight!" he whined as he observed them, "they're not even!"

"Ryuuzaki, I don't think—" Unfortunately, Light was cut off trying to explain to L that one could hardly compare the relative size of one's feet to each other when they couldn't be still for even a moment.

"I bet my hands aren't either!" The detective clapped his hands together and let out a soft wail when the tips of his fingers quite clearly did not equal each other in length.

"Okay, Ryuuzaki? First of all, calm down. Second of all, you don't have your hands together evenly. Look." Light rearranged L's fingers, lining them up properly, showing him that his fingers were even, or at least nearly so. However, L remained unconvinced and insisted on having them measured. He produced a tailor's tape measure from what Light was now secretly calling the Magical Drawer of Everything and handed it over for Light to perform the measurements. Light did so, placidly enough although he was feeling a touch of his earlier exasperation coming back to him.

Each number was read out to L, each proving that he wasn't a disproportional anomaly as he seemed to be on the verge of believing. Confronted with the evidence, L's earlier panic disappeared and his childish humor made a resurgence as he insisted Light measure various other parts of himself for no particular reason.

They were in the midst of measuring the distance between L's nostrils when Light's father knocked on the doorjamb and stepped inside. Light quickly put down the tape measure while try to maintain an appearance of nonchalance. If his father noticed anything amiss, he neither said anything nor let it show on his face.

"It's seven o' clock, Ryuuzaki," Light's father announced. "We've been researching the records and going over the tapes, but have yet to make any solid connections. Would you like us to continue?"

L sighed and slipped readily into "detective" mode, as though his freak out just half an hour ago over the emotional state of his toes had never happened, and Light had to admire the seamless switch.

"No, thank you, Yagami. You've worked hard enough for today. Tomorrow we'll attempt a different approach. You may all leave."

"Alright," Light's father acknowledged with a nod. "Light, would you like to ride back with me?"

"Actually," L cut in smoothly before Light had a chance to respond, "I was hoping Light would stay here with me, until Watari returns."

"Oh. Well, I…."

"When, exactly, is Watari due?" Light's father wanted to know, a hard look in his eyes.

"I do not know the specific time," L answered, his own face suddenly an impenetrable mask. "However, it should be within a few hours."

"I'd like to speak to my son for a minute." Light followed his father out into the other room, posture straight and tall in defense against the sudden tension between the two authoritative men.

"Light," his father began in a low tone that would not carry, "Ryuuzaki is my boss, not yours. You needn't feel that you have to accede to his wishes. I know you have class tomorrow and I can't imagine you were able to get much studying done today…."

Light smiled reassuringly, the same smile he'd been giving to his father – actually, to everyone – for years, the one that was half truth and half lie.

"It's fine, dad, don't worry about it. I've been keeping up with my studies and I won't have any problem getting to class tomorrow, even if I'm here late. And even if I did, I'm sure my professors would excuse one absence. I don't mind, really. Ryuuzaki is … interesting company."

"Yes, you could say that," Light's father replied with a quirked brow. "Still…."

"It's fine," Light repeated with another smile. "Really. I don't mind. And if it makes him feel better and gets him back to health more quickly, I think it's worth it, don't you?"

Light's father gave him a searching look and then a small sigh.

"Well, the decision is yours, Light."

"Then I'm going to stay." Light's father nodded once and the matter was closed.

"You should eat supper, at least. And see that he eats as well." The last was said with a sort of bemused half-smile as though Soichiro couldn't believe he was giving his son advice on taking care of his boss and Light found himself mirroring the expression.

Led by Light's father, the officers packed up and departed for the night, Matsuda, of course, having to be more or less physically carted away by an extremely irritated Aizawa who Light was pretty sure was about one eye twitch away from throttling the younger man with his own necktie. When the door closed behind them Light gave a silent sigh, somehow feeling less awkward now that he was alone with L again. He couldn't even begin to make sense out of that.

L himself seemed to be hovering somewhere between his earlier less-than-coherent childish state of mind and his usual clarity, a little worn but not nearly as exhausted as he'd appeared before. He smiled when Light informed him that they were alone once more, settling back comfortably into his pillows. At Light's suggestion, he consented to eating a light supper, even agreeing to the soup he'd earlier scorned, for which Light rewarded him with dessert of green tea ice cream. He ordered soup for himself as well as the chai tea L requested with wide eyes.

They entertained themselves with a game show while they waited for their food and when it arrived ate once again on the bed, the towels spread out as impromptu picnic blankets. Light was mildly surprised but glad that L dutifully ate all his soup before diving whole-heartedly into the ice cream like a man who had been denied his greatest pleasure. The noises he made while consuming it were certainly questionable and gave Light's cheeks a pink tinge which he resolutely ignored.

It was early when they turned in, only a little after nine, but L had had another dose of his medicine and was quickly dropping off, but not before he could ask Light to stay in bed with him (after, that was, absolutely insisting that he remove his other sock as the garments were forbidden when one was preparing for bed).

"Do you mind?" L asked sleepily, his eyes barely open as he scooted closer and closer to Light until he was forced to lift his arm so that L could tentatively nestle his head between Light's shoulder and chest.

"I— No, I don't, uh … I mean, it's – it's fine with me," Light stuttered, taken aback both by the detective's nearness and the fact that he even wanted to be that close to begin with. "I, uh, I didn't think you liked to be touched."

"I do," L answered vaguely. "Just by some people sometimes. Not anybody all the time." A contented little sigh wisped out as he shifted slightly into a more comfortable position. " 'S nice," he mumbled, the words slurred by fatigue and Light couldn't help a smile. Neither, apparently, could he help the hand that came up to hesitantly and very softly stroke through L's locks. But L just smiled and made another contented noise and within a few minutes was completely asleep.

Light watched him for a while, trying to hold on to the utter bizarreness of the situation but unable to do it in favor of enjoying the sight and the physical and metaphorical warmth he was getting from L. One thing stood out quite easily though – he would have never in his life imagined himself in this circumstance. But … he couldn't say that he regretted it, either.

Light had not intended to fall asleep but assumed that even if he somehow did, he would at least wake up when Watari arrived back in the suite. So he was more than a little surprised when he opened his eyes to see a pair of storm-grey ones hovering over him. He sucked in a sharp breath and scrambled to sit up while L moved back a little, thumb planting itself between his lips. Light took in the state of light behind the curtains and quickly consulted the clock on the night table, confirming his fears that it was the next morning. He groaned and rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes. How had he managed to do that? His father was going to kill him after he'd said he would return last night. Not to mention the general embarrassment of the situation.

"Good morning, Light," L said simply.

"Uh, morning, Ryuuzaki. Is, um, Watari back?"

L nodded. "Yes, he returned rather early this morning. He thought it best not to disturb you."

"Oh." Yeah, of course not. Why should he do that?

L suddenly cocked his head as he stared at Light who was growing more uncomfortable by the second.

"Why are you here, Light?"

Light gaped for a moment and then gave a weak smile of sympathy.

"You were sick yesterday, Ryuuzaki. You asked me to stay."

"Hnn." L somehow seemed disappointed with that answer.

"Don't you remember? You asked me to stay." Hell if Light was going to get blamed for this. He'd just been trying to be nice.

"Yes, I remember," L sighed and Light was instantly confused. The detective sounded even more disappointed, as though Light had given the wrong answer. But it was the truth. L had asked him to stay. Of course, Light hadn't minded. Really, if he admitted it to himself, he'd even wanted to….

The light bulb went off inside Light's mind and he smiled in comprehension.

"I wanted to, too," he told L quietly, the confession easier than he thought it would be. "Yesterday was … entertaining. I mean, except for you being sick," he added quickly.

"Oh?" L questioned with a quirked brow and a tiny smirk and Light smirked back.

"Alright, that was incredibly entertaining. You'd make an interesting drunk, Ryuuzaki."

"Maybe someday you'll find out," L answered with an enigmatic smile.

Light's response to that was interrupted by a series of sneezes capped off with an undignified sniffle.

"Oh, man…" he groaned, suddenly aware that his body's responses were not quite what they should be. L frowned and stepped closer.

"Are you not feeling well, Light?" Without waiting for a reply, L pushed back Light's hair and laid his forehead against Light's. L had closed his eyes but Light's remained frozen open in shock. L's gentle breath was mixing with his and he would swear he could feel little flutters of L's long lashes against his cheek. When the man finally pulled back, Light felt as though his face had just spontaneously combusted.

"You don't feel warm," L reported, "but your face is quite red. I think I may have given you my cold."

"Uh, yeah, maybe…."

"You should stay here and rest. Watari's gone to get breakfast; you can eat and then relax. It's the least I can do for your indulgence yesterday." L gave him a smile that was full of many things and Light grinned back.

"That sounds nice." They both knew Light likely hadn't caught anything but they also both so did like to pretend…. "I'll have to call my father and my professors, then."

"Already taken care of." Light smirked at L again. Devious man…. The expression was returned with a look that positively oozed false innocence.

"We need to make sure you're warm and comfortable enough," L continued, bypassing their wordless exchange, climbing back into bed beside Light. Like the night before, he scooted over until he was pressed against Light head to toe, except this time he was the one who lifted his arm to act as a pillow for Light's head. With a nearly silent chuckle, Light allowed it, relaxing back into the older man's shoulder. It seemed ridiculous to be this comfortable in L's presence after so short a time, but then again, L was … L. Although, it did leave one burning question.

"So, Ryuuzaki…."

"Hmm?"

"Why the hell were you singing about cucumbers?"

19 April '09