A/N: Bllllllaaaaarrrrrrgggggghhh. Sorry about the delay. *hangs head* But, I didn't feel very inspired...and my life, believe it or not, does not revolve around fanfiction. I hope. :P In any case, I probably shouldn't feel guilty for not updating this earlier. But I do. So I hope you like it.
OH! And here's a shout-out to AuraBlackWolf, who suggested part of the plot (which I won't reveal here so as not to spoil it) It was just too good not to use. You rock!
ONWARD!
EDIT: Imaginary prize if you can find the most suggestive paragraph. I wrote it, looked back at it, and decided it could probably fit in the middle of a lemon, which was NOT the intention. :P
Chapter 6
Light was ironing his favorite button-up when L finally decided to rejoin the living, albeit unhappily.
His detective was groaning and moaning and generally complaining, rolling about the gigantic bed and trying unsuccessfully to fall back into blissful sleep.
Smiling indulgently, Light focused on the task of ironing around his pocket protector, knowing from experience that L would get out of bed when it suited him and not a moment sooner.
"Light-kun, what time is it?"
"In Florida, it's 10 A.M., back in Japan it's 11 P.M."
"Room service was supposed to have delivered our breakfast by now…perhaps I should call and remind them exactly how much we are paying to stay in this establishment, an amount which I assure Light-kun is quite extravagant…"
"No need".
L looked moderately confused. "But…I require sustenance in the mornings, otherwise I will be quite useless on our search today…"
"Not to worry. While you were sleeping I took the liberty of arranging for us to attend the character breakfast in the Park Fare restaurant downstairs".
For a second L's face was entirely blank, and then it lit up with a smile rivaling the shine of Light's hair. Which, for the records, was considerable.
After a quick shower, which they shared in order to conserve water (cough), the two men dressed and headed down to eat.
The restaurant was as equally stunning as the rest of the hotel, with hand-embroidered table clothes and little gold-foil Mickey Mouse's decorating the glasses and plates.
It was also crawling with screaming children.
L took this in stride, having been raised in an orphanage, but Light cringed, and his eye started twitching. He liked children well enough, but…there were so many. And they were so loud.
A stream of maple syrup flew in an elegant arch across the dining hall.
And messy.
Noting Light's discomfort, L slipped the waiter a cool hundred, feeling very Humphrey Bogart, and quietly requested a table in the corner, a bit removed from the hub-bub.
It also afforded enough privacy for Light to plant a gentle kiss, tainted with longing, on L's cheek.
L blushed and swallowed, taking Light's hand underneath the table and playing with his long fingers.
They were just progressing to playing footsie when the waiter, dressed smartly in an all-white tuxedo kept syrup-free only by long practice dodging, appeared to take their orders.
Unsurprisingly, L ordered the strawberry cream pancakes, while Light went for a veggie omelet with whole-wheat toast and coffee.
As soon as the waiter left, the footsie recommenced, only to be interrupted once again by the arrival of Winnie the Pooh.
Light's eyes sparkled in a way L had never seen, and he was momentarily jealous of a person in a giant plaster and fur oven.
"L! It's Winnie the Pooh! My mom read me those books when I was young."
"Actually, Light-kun, you are still young, and furthermore it is simply a man in a bear costume".
Light fixed L with a glare and got up from his seat to hug the lovable bear, who ruffled his hair and hugged back.
Digging a pen out of his (protected) pocket, Light requested an autograph with all the glee of a small child, and Pooh complied, signing the napkin in Light's outstretched hand.
Then the bear lumbered off to the next table, leaving Light with a happy smile. The man reseated himself next to L, taking his hand once again to reassure him that Winnie the Pooh could never replace him.
"The investigation team is never to hear of this".
"Oh, but Matsuda-san would be so jealous…".
"Shut up" Light demanded, but his tone was playful, suggesting that he had several ways in mind to make L stop talking, the majority of them far from PG-rated.
Fortunately for the sanity of the small children surrounding them, the waiter chose that moment in time to present their food.
And present it he did; removing the silver domes covering the dishes with a flourish and smoothly laying the plates in front of their intended recipients.
L's eyes dripped with hunger, and his tongue worked its way around his lips.
Light knew it was no good trying to get L's attention when the man was focused on what was probably the most diabetes-inducing stack of pancakes either of them had ever seen. Therefore, he focused on nursing his cup of coffee and meticulously cutting up his omelet.
L dug into the stack with fervor, relishing each sweetened strawberry coated with real dairy cream, working his way to the pancakes underneath, layered with pure maple syrup flown in fresh from Wisconsin.
He was so absorbed in his task that, for several seconds, he refused to notice that someone was tugging insistently on the back of his shirt. In fact, he probably would have persisted in ignoring whatever was going on, had Light not chosen that moment to snicker.
Now, L had heard Light laugh before, on several occasions. He'd heard joyous laughs, humorous ones, even rather evil sounding chuckles, but never, ever had he heard Light emit something as undignified as a snicker.
His curiosity peeked, L diverted his attention from his pile of saccharine goodness to glance over his shoulder.
He abruptly found himself facing a large, round, black, and decidedly plastic nose. Holding back an unbecoming yelp, L turned his gaze upwards, meeting a pair of unblinking phony eyes underneath bushy polyester eyebrows.
The whole look was crowned by a tippy orange hat, and framed by long, floppy black ears.
By now, Light had dissolved into gasp-inducing heaves of laughter, and was nearly falling out of his chair.
L frowned, unsuccessfully attempting to escape his captor, who had decided that it was entirely appropriate to forcefully hug grown men in the middle of their breakfasts.
"Light-kun! Stop that incessant giggling and help me dissuade this…thing from holding me captive!"
Of course Light only laughed harder. "wheeze…L..haha..I think…wheeze…Goofy likes you!"
"Well, I most certainly do not like him!"
Goofy abruptly released the detective, and did an extremely convincing act of being hurt and weepy.
L noticed with some discomfort that the majority of the restaurant was looking at him. A couple children looked positively stricken, and the adults were glaring.
Sighing resignedly, L gave Goofy a hesitating pat on the nose. The…dog?...jumped in the air, obviously happy, and crushed L in another hug before finally moving on.
Good thing, too, considering the fact that Light was starting to turn blue from lack of oxygen.
Well, before his face was plastered with a well-aimed cream-covered strawberry, that is.
L's innocent act was Oscar worthy, but Light had always been a tough critic. Fortunately, some underlying sense of propriety restrained him from retaliating by flinging a chunk of egg-white omelet at the man seated opposite him.
Besides, he was hungry.
Therefore, he simply sluiced the creamy mess off his face, licking as far around his mouth as he could. This maneuver had the double-benefit of both effectively eliminating the stickiness surrounding his lips and punishing L for dirtying him in the first place.
Oh yeah, L was sweating up a storm over there. Light could practically feel the low-pressure system moving in. He could imagine he heard a clap of thunder in the distance. Wow, he even thought he saw some lightning from the corner of his eye!
Light congratulated himself on being a remarkable empath, before he turned to look out the window and was confronted with what appeared to be a hurricane.
Just then, the maître' de entered.
"Ahem! Can I have your attention please? We've had a storm warning, nothing too serious, but we're going to have to ask you all to go into the basement until it's blown over."
Immediately, parents started panicking, children were alternately screaming or unnaturally silent, and the whole restaurant was in chaos.
The poor maître de attempted to control the stampede, but soon L, Light, the waiters, and several adolescents dressed as cartoon characters were the only people left in the restaurant.
Light was a little disturbed when Pooh popped his head off and started eating the remains of some erstwhile child's chocolate chip French toast, but L seemed to be taking it in stride.
A harried waiter, who appeared to be second in command, appeared beside them. "I'm afraid I must insist you two take cover as well".
"Do we have to? All those…children…" Light grimaced.
"Well, you didn't hear this from me, but the supply closet is a designated storm shelter area as well."
Light almost hugged the man, who proceeded to guide them to said closet, unlocking it and letting them in.
L shut the door behind them and turned to investigate their living quarters for the next few hours.
Turns out, supplies translated to costumes, and calling it a closet was a gross understatement. The thing was practically bigger than their suite, excluding the Jacuzzi tub.
Light stood in the middle of the mess, hands on his waist, surveying.
L had to admit, he looked particularly attractive standing with his hip jutted out like that. Big grey eyes took in the scene, making special note of the rack of Prince Eric costumes lining the left wall. L had always been a sucker for The Little Mermaid. Or, at the very least, for men dressed like royalty. Okay, maybe just Light in a really sexy suit.
The detective felt his lips curl up at the edges in an un-meditated smile. He had Light, in a giant closet filled with Disney costumes, for half a day at least.
Light chose that moment to turn around, and had the good grace to look moderately terrified and definitely turned on before all thoughts took flight like a flock of little white singing birdies. Hey, this was Disneyworld, after all.
~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~
The maître de shook his head in exhaustion. Those idiotic weather men. The storm, in truth, hadn't been too severe, but it had lasted the entire day.
Now night had fallen, and the hotel staff had to deal with enraged patrons demanding a free night's stay since their day had been ruined.
To make matters worse, Julie had gone and ripped her tail. Well, he supposed you couldn't blame her; it was easy to forget you had an extra appendage on your rear.
But now he had been recruited to go get the extra costume from storage. What was this? He was supposed to be running a restaurant, not retrieving a Tigger costume. This, he knew for a fact, had not been in his job description.
He fumbled with his ring of keys, attempting to find the correct one. Of course, it was the 14th one he tried.
Fatigued, overworked, and generally stressed the hell out, the man could only stare in mild dismay at the sight greeting him.
Two men, each rather good-looking, probably in their twenties, were lying in a nest of poofy Technicolor dresses, arms wrapped around each other, fast asleep.
Now, the maître de was a very well trained man. He didn't bat an eye at people requesting tables arranged in a special formation to represent the bride and groom's Celtic family crest. Two men snogging; yeah, he'd been there, seen that.
But…they were wearing the costumes for goodness' sake!
He'd probably never be able to see Prince Philip and Prince Eric stand next to each other ever again without hyperventilating.
Snatching the Tigger costume out of the dresser, the maître de wrote the day off as a complete and total failure and left the two men to their beauty rest. Maybe he'd send one of the rookies back in a few hours to make sure they got out of there. And didn't steal the costumes.
Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiip!
No. No, no no. This couldn't be happening. Did he seriously just rip a gaping hole in Tigger's tummy? Shit.
You know what? Screw it. The men could keep the damn costumes for all he cared.
He'd always wanted to work in Paris, anyway. He was catching the first plane out of here. Wait. Disney Paris.
Vaguely wondering if Disney's influence had reached as far as Uzbekistan, he turned a corner and caught an un-fortuitous glimpse of Princes Eric and Philip being illicit in the gold-cage elevator.
Uzbekistan it was.
A/N: WOW, I want what Light had for breakfast. It sounds sooooooo good! Unfortunately it's 1 A.M. Maybe in the morning. Like, the MORE morning morning. Ah, I love Disney. And character breakfasts. And Prince Eric *swoon* (totally my favorite Disney price). Oh, you know what else I love? Reviews. ;)