Challenge fic by YaoiCookie, who felt that an old man needed more love. I agreed, and thus, this drabble was born.
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.
Sweet and Sour
Floof. Watari blinked. Then he blinked again and sneezed. Maybe keeping a moustache wasn't such a good idea after all -- the flour had landed on it, and it was tickling his nose.
Watari brushed his moustache off and added butter and eggs to the flour in the bowl. Then he tipped sugar directly from the bag (a motion he had managed to perfect over the years) and mixed everything vigorously.
The old man tilted the bowl over the cylindrical baking pan until all of the batter plopped in, and put the pan into the oven. Then he started preparing the toppings for the cake, with lots of strawberries, just the way Ryuzaki liked it.
"Watari, is it done yet?" A deep voice came from somewhere outside the kichen.
"Ryuzaki, cakes take a while to bake. Please try to be patient."
"Ok, but will you please try to hurry?"
Watari smiled. It was always like this. Watari would bake a cake, and Ryuzaki would always urge him to hurry despite being asked to be patient. After the cake was finished, Watari would prepare drinks for both of them, and they would sit together with the cake in a comfortable silence. But nowadays, with the Kira case at hand, they had fewer and fewer moments like that together. Ryuzaki was often busy in his room looking for information, and while Watari could eat with him, he knew that Ryuzaki needed to concentrate, and that both of them could not afford the distraction. It was almost not worth it anymore to bake the cake from scratch when the their precious moments together were so few and far between.
Ding. The timer went off and Watari rolled up his sleeves and put on some mittens before he pulled the baking pan out of the oven. He inverted the metal baking pan and the golden-brown cake slid out. Watari left the pan on the counter beside him and began to add icing and strawberries to the cake.
Then he hissed in pain and fought the urge to swear. His bare arm had brushed against the still-hot baking pan, which had effectively burned him. The only reason he wasn't cursing was because he had forgotten Ryuzaki's obvious age; sometimes, Watari still saw Ryuzaki as the young boy he had found that cold winter night, the one he had sworn to himself to protect.
"Watari? Are you ok?" The deep voice floated into the kitchen again, this time laced with genuine concern.
"...Yes, Ryuzaki, I am. Why are you asking?"
"Usually, you have everything out 23 minutes after the timer goes off, but it has been approximately 38 minutes since the bell rang. Are you sure you're really ok?" In the past, Watari would have been amazed, but the years with his young charge had prepared him for his quick, and usually accurate, deductions.
"I'm really ok, Ryuzaki. I'm just adding the finishing touches." Watari lied as he sprinkled some blueberries from a bag on the cake. He made sure that he had his sleeves all the way down before he cut the cake into triangles. Then he loaded two slices onto plates and balanced everything (along with a cup of coffee and a cup of green tea) on a tray and walked out.
He headed towards a small table beside a window which overlooked the busy streets. Ryuzaki was already crouched on his chair, waiting for him. When he saw the old man, Ryuzaki's face split into a wide grin that revealed both joy and gratitude.
Watari was suddenly strongly reminded why he always went through all that trouble; why he always made the cake instead of just buying it. It was for that smile. That genuine, loving smile that he received each and every time he took the effort to bake the cake from scratch. It was very worth all that time and injuries.
Watari sat down facing him, deciding to treasure the memories even on his deathbed.
"How bad is the burn, Watari?"
The old man nearly fell out of his chair with surprise. Maybe he was not entirely used to Ryuzaki and his amazing deductions just yet.
