Warnings: Minor language!
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note
Not all revenge is meticulously planned or even remotely effective. Slight RaitoL. Oneshot.
Comeuppance
L swiveled in his chair, and Raito almost winced at the harsh creak of the circular hinge, the only sign that L was added weight and not a part of the seat itself.
After all, L spent enough time crouched unmoving in front of his monitor- Raito should know. He spent enough time a couple of feet away, trying not to make such a racket when he jostled the chain around his wrist to scratch at the tick in his spine.
The clatter and drag of the chain, the biting jerk of the cuff, these came to replace the careful subtleties with which Raito had previously conducted himself. Everything was now announced with an awkward shiver of metal, his natural movements stolen and swapped with stiff mechanical actions.
Everything was restricted to how not to jerk Ryuuzaki's hands from the keyboard, how not to tip over his saucer of tea and land the links of the chain in Ryuuzaki's sundae, how not to accidentally choke himself during sleep- everything practiced and uncomfortable.
It was like being granted another limb, only longer, more attention garnering, and dead of life. A prosthetic limb that flapped around and mocked you incessantly by being completely superfluous, because you had all your outer appendages and you'd think you would remember if you were Kira, damn it!
Now Raito had a great deal of self control, and he was determined not to lose out to an inanimate object. If the chain wanted to rattle obnoxiously, he'd let it, to each his own.
But if Matsuda blurted out one more thoughtless thing about bondage he didn't know how long it would be before he gnawed off his own hand to escape.
It didn't help that Ryuuzaki just cocked his head to the side and inadvertently asked a red-faced Matsuda to elaborate on BD/SM practices.
The part time investigators, as Raito liked to think of everyone else because surely no one worked as long as he did, chained to Ryuuzaki and goaded into staying awake through ungodly hours by his simple challenges- "You're tired, Yagami-kun? It seems that Kira, too, would be interested in halting tonight's research."-, were assembled at the long table, poring over printed materials.
L tacked delicately at the keyboard, neck jutting out and lips pursed around his thumb.
Raito had no doubt that if he looked at the underside of the desk -with more motivation he'd try to pull up the security footage; Ryuuzaki managed to justify cameras everywhere- he'd see L habitually poking his toes around. The guy was becoming just too predictable in his eccentricities.
Raito would witness something like Ryuuzaki picking up a dropped chocolate with his foot, or organizing the tabs in his browser alphabetically, or walking in his favorite form of sitting: baby steps with his head bobbing over his still bent knees- Raito secretly found it extremely creepy to feel L tug at the hem of his pants, having crossed the room without reaching a height of four feet-, some impractical or reprehensible form of behavior that would go virtually unacknowledged by the rest of the investigation team.
It was business as usual, and Raito sometimes felt like screaming for the ridiculousness of it.
He didn't, though, and days crept by, marked by the clink of Ryuuzaki's fork and the ping of the computer's loading bar, and Raito was reminded time and again that under that mop of hair was a genius that rivaled, if not exceeded his own.
Raito did not hate sweets before he met Ryuuzaki. Sayu often snacked liberally and as the dutiful brother he protected her health by valiantly relieving her from a few cookies or a bar of chocolate.
That wasn't to say that his feelings toward most desert foods rose past anything but a mild interest, or that they held even a chance against Ryuuzaki's constant barrage of powdered sugar, settling in a toxic cloud over his workspace, and icing, ending up streaked on his crotch in some bizarre turn of events- an occurrence which was tough to explain away against his father's eyes of justice.
Currently L was working his way through a chocolate mousse cake dotted with strawberries, his first large slice but probably not his last, brow slightly furrowed as he sifted through onscreen case files. One hand was devoted to the maneuvers of his mouse while he groped around blindly with a fork in the other. Raito seethed as Ryuuzaki accidentally impaled him with the utensil on a few occasions, not even stopping to blink owlishly at him.
The shuffle of the china and the moist sound of L swallowing came at regular intervals, Raito sometimes glancing over to note with irritation the placid smile on Ryuuzaki's face.
When the pattern of sounds stopped; Raito looked and saw that L had paused with his fork a few inches from his still open mouth, eyes affixed on the monitor. Too proud to ask after his discovery, Raito leaned back in his chair and settled for observing his strange companion.
L gingerly set his fork at the edge of his plate, and Raito thought he saw him cast a reluctant glance at the last bite, a piece featuring a large strawberry and dollop of icing.
Raito groaned inwardly as Ryuuzaki appeared to silently reassure the cake that he would be right back.
A wave of petty anger rolled over in Raito's gut. This guy was the top three detectives in the world and the head of the Kira investigation?
Shuffling through a stack of papers, L offset his pen, which rolled pitifully off the edge and underneath the desk, settling near a bundle of wires on the floor.
L extracted a sheet from the pile, only to look back to find his writing utensil missing. After moving his mouse, keyboard, and about ten file folders with his thumb and forefinger Raito was ready to explode.
"It's under the desk," he practically growled.
L gave Raito a crooked half-smile. "How helpful, Yagami-kun."
He then proceeded to try and reach the pen from his awkward seating position in the chair, which made the relatively simple task a battle of motor skill and balance.
Really, it was a wonder he had any credibility at all. The meticulous protection of his identity was probably to ensure people would still take him seriously. Raito felt a spike of frustration as the binding around his wrist tugged because of Ryuuzaki's movement.
He glanced contemptuously at the scene, L, practically clinging to the chair with his feet while his hands flapped about for his pen, screen buzzing and cake lying unattended.
Raito never exactly lost control of his mental faculties, and knew that the idea that hit him then was at once brilliantly vengeful and tragically convoluted.
Blame it on sleep deprivation, 24 hour supervision, or the type of irrationality spawned by constant exposure to Ryuuzaki, Raito figured he'd roll with it.
Reaching out and forgoing the fork entirely, Raito took advantage of Ryuuzaki's momentary absence to blatantly grab the last chunk of cake in his bare fingers, icing squelching encouragingly, and stuff it wholly into his mouth, swallowing with a lopsided grin that suggested a lapse in the activity of the synapses in his brain.
He almost gagged; he hadn't realized he'd developed such an intolerance, either that or there was no ingredient in this "cake" other than varied sugar compounds.
Taking care to wipe any residue on the underside of the desk and licking his lips thoroughly, Raito was half way through a written summary of his latest findings when Ryuuzaki surfaced.
The response was not the immediate reaction Raito was anticipating, although admittedly he wasn't sure what type of response he was going for- spontaneous combustion?
Ryuuzaki set the pen down carefully, at an angle to discourage further wandering, and Raito heard the telltale screech of the swivel chair.
"Raito-kun."
Raito waved his hand and pretended to finish up a few sentences before turning slowly to face him, a look of the utmost innocence plastered on his face.
"Yes, Ryuuzaki?"
Raito was confident that whatever consequence, he was more than equipped to meet it, having spent over a month in Ryuuzaki's close company.
L reached up with his hand, and Raito realized with what felt like disappointment that he could already tell: there would be the nibbling of the thumb, then the seemingly random inquiry, resulting, theoretically, in a slipup ending in a five point hike in his percent tally.
Raito grinned maniacally in his mind's eye. Bring it on.
Unfortunately, L made a slight variation in the itinerary, and instead of reaching his hand towards his mouth, he instead extended it to where Raito's rested on the desk surface.
Again with characteristic thumb and forefinger, L plucked Raito's hand up by the wrist and brought it towards him, examining it closely before using his other hand to separate Raito's fingers.
Now holding only Raito's thumb, Ryuuzaki disinterestedly stuffed it into his mouth.
Raito's sputter caught the attention of the other inhabitants of the room, who looked over to see L, daintily holding Raito's thumb between his lips while other boy looked on, horrified and unsure of how to react to the tongue rolling over the pad of his finger.
Raito's father exploded in strangled outrage, "Ryuuzaki, wha-!"
"Mes, Mamami-san?" L mumbled from around Raito's thumb.
"Does this come with the hand cuff thing?" wondered Matsuda, whose brain did not have the series of checks and balances that told normal people what questions were OK to pose in what social situations.
L pulled out Raito's thumb with a loud pop, and licked his lips.
"Chocolate mousse," he stated, eyes narrowed.
Raito groaned and slumped lower in his chair.
"I know, I know, eighteen percent."
A/N: I apologize if it's unoriginal. :-(