Do Gay Penguins Go to Hell?

Pairings: Implied L/Raito

Rating: G

Warnings: None I can think of.

Summary: Too many New Year snacks bring about a family discussion about healthy diet, common sayings and nature of good and evil. And gay penguins, of course.

Disclaimer: Both Death Note and the book And Tango Makes Three belong to their respective owners. I do own Eriko, but I think she would be more than happy to be borrowed, if anyone so desired.

This story is dedicated to my dear friend Irime, who asked for a family fic. This is quite different from the stuff I usually write, so I hope I didn't fail too much.

A little girl of about seven or eight years of age stood in front of the children's section of the library in her school, her eyes roaming through the colorful volumes. There seemed to be hardly anything special about her; she was wearing her school uniform with one sock slightly rolled down her skinny shin, had her hair evenly cut just under her ears and her posture could surely use some improvement.

Her lips were pressed together as in concentration but her eyes, skimming through the titles, expressed only boredom. You could think that perhaps she had been forbidden to play computer games for a while, so she tried to find an alternative source of amusement in a previously unvisited territory.

You could think that, by the look on her face. So many stupid letters and they're not even moving, you would read there. You couldn't be more mistaken.

What the girl was really thinking went more like this: Why do I have to be stuck with all this juvenile stuff like some stupid first-grader? (she was actually in her second grade) I want to read some of those! She thought longingly, referring to the books pupils could access after they entered junior high school.

Seeing that the librarian was busy talking to one of the teachers so she wouldn't tell her off as she did numerous times before, the girl went where her little heart desired. The greatest mysteries of World War II. Now that sounds interesting. Unfortunately, the book contained few pictures and many difficult kanji she couldn't yet read. True, she knew a lot of difficult words, such as juvenile or precocious, because her parents often used them, even when talking to her, but reading was a completely different matter. She had put the book back on the shelf and was looking for some other reading material – preferably with more pictures – when she overheard a piece of the conversation the librarian was having with the teacher.

"…I still don't think it's suitable for little children," said the teacher whose name the girl didn't know, a middle-aged woman with fox-like face and unpleasant voice.

"I told you it has been officially approved by the ministry," the elderly librarian shrugged her shoulders. Her eyes were nervously moving from side to side, avoiding the teacher's gaze. She was obviously none too happy about where this conversation was going.

"But that doesn't mean that we have to have it, does it?"

"It has been suggested by various staff members that we order it."

"Can I have their names?" the teacher's voice gained a shrill note.

The librarian's eyes widened in shock at that request.

"I don't think that would be- that I'm allowed to-"

The girl, who had by now long forgotten all about books, be it for children or adults, stared intently at the scene from her hiding place behind one of the bookshelves. If you could see her face now, you would probably find it hard to believe that it was the same child. There was not a trace of boredom left in her eyes; they were instead sparkling with keen intelligence. She had a mission now – to find what this was all about, of course.

The teacher was now clearly losing it; a thick vein was pulsating on her forehead and her eyes were bulging out of their sockets.

"Children are easily influenceable. If they see such unnatural conduct treated as perfectly normal, they would just accept it and it can afflict the decisions they make later in life. They are not old enough to think for themselves; we, the responsible adults must do that for them. Are you going to deny that responsibility? Surely you must see the gravity of the situation!"

"Murakami-sensei, please try to refrain form yelling. There are children present and it might disturb them-" The librarian tried to placate her, but it was to no avail.

"That book, that's what will disturb them!"

The librarian spared an unhappy glance to the book in question, which was lying on her desk. From the place the girl was hiding she could see the bright cover with penguins on it.

"But surely it is not that serious? After all, it's only penguins."

"Penguins or not, if they are gay, they should burn in hell," the teacher spitted out. Then she got a glimpse of the clock on the wall.

"I have a class in five minutes, so I have to leave it at that now, but it's far from over. I shall definitely bring this up at the staff meeting this Thursday. I don't think you should let any children get their hands on that book until then," she said more calmly now, gave the librarian a court bow and left without waiting for a reply.

The librarian sat down shakily. The girl watched with fascination as she slowly regained her control and her previously frightened expression turned into one of an intense dislike. Her lips moved in a silent monologue, most probably containing some scathing remarks about hysterical teachers trying to order other people around.

The girl made a quick decision. She waited exactly sixty seconds – that was what her papa taught her to do, so she wouldn't rush in like some ninny - then grabbed a random book from the children's corner and headed for the librarian's desk. While waiting for her book to be checked, she looked at the book that had caused such a ruckus. And Tango Makes Three, it was called. The girl put on her cutest expression – the one that worked on her parents even though they knew it was calculated. People who had no idea didn't stand a chance, really.

"Aww, these penguins look so cute! Can I borrow this one, too? Pretty please!"

It had been two hours since Ryuuzaki left to take care of some urgent matters at work. He said that he wouldn't be long, so Raito decided to wait for him. He was tired, but felt like a movie and a beer before bed.

The leftovers of New Year Eve dinner were now carefully wrapped in a plastic foil and stored in the fridge, the table was clean, the working space practically shone and the dishes with gold linings that were only used on special occasions disappeared in their respective cupboard. A faint smell of sweet rice hanging in air was the only remainder of the festive occasion.

Raito admired his handiwork for a moment, only slightly frowning at the leftovers. He just disliked the idea. Food rations should be proportioned in the way that would constitute just enough for one meal. Fresh food was best for your health, of course. But somehow, every now and then they would end up with leftovers. He sat at the table with a cup of green tea in his hand and tried to retrace all the steps of the careful preparation of their dinner. His past observations provided him with the approximate amounts of food he, Ryuuzaki and Eriko ate and he tried his best to use this data to-

"Papa, my stomach still hurts."

Raito put down his tea and turned to face the little girl at the door. The biggest mystery here wasn't why they ended up with leftovers, but how they ended up with them with Eriko eating so many mochi that it made her stomach sick.

"Even after the medicine I gave you?"

"Uh-huh," Eriko nodded and made a sad face, "will you help me sleep?" Raito inwardly smiled. So that was what this was about. The little princess was trying to postpone her bedtime. Well, it was not like he was exactly busy and it was holiday, so he could let her have her way. Just this once, of course.

He followed her upstairs to her bedroom. Eriko slipped under the red and blue covers and was now eyeing him expectantly. Raito sat at the edge of her bed and rearranged her blankets.

"Do you want a bedtime story?" he asked.

"No, papa, I just finished reading a book."

"That's nice, sweetheart. What about a card game, then?"

"Card games are boring," Eriko distorted her face in disgust, "whether you win or lose depends just on the cards you get. So it is about luck, not your skills. Booo-ring. " For a greater emphasis, the girl ended her sentence with a heartfelt yawn.

"There are exceptions, you know," Raito said, but stopped there. He mentally winced at the image of Eriko playing poker. If she beat him – and he had the feeling she would, the little beast – he could never face their friends again. Lost in poker to an eight-year-old. Can you get any lower than that?

"Another idea?" he quickly asked before Eriko had the chance to implore about those not-boring card games.

Her eyes instantly lit up. She didn't have to say anything; Raito immediately knew what she was up to. He suppressed a groan.

"Question time?" he asked just to be sure, while harboring a little hope he was wrong and she just wanted to show him her new pokemons on Wii or something equally harmless.

"Uh-huh," Eriko nodded with a huge grin on her face, crashing her father's hopes.

"Okay," Raito agreed resignedly, "go on with it."

Eriko started to ask these questions when she was about three years old. Raito, upon consulting his baby books, told Ryuuzaki it was a perfectly normal phase. Phase indeed, he snorted, looking at his daughter some four years later. When he remembered some of the things Ryuuzaki asked him at times, it was more like a way of life. With Eriko, though, he could at least try to restrict the amount by introducing the question time. She could of course ask what the dinner was or when they were going to see the new panda in the zoo anytime, but things like why the hands of the clock move from left to right and not the other way around or why do we get baby teeth when they fall out so soon were restricted to their allocated time. And "Why can daddy eat so much sweets and I can't?" belonged to the last group, which consisted of questions that were forbidden altogether.

"Do gay penguins go to hell?" Eriko asked with her eyes staring intently at her father.

Were Raito still drinking tea at the moment, he might have spluttered it.

"What?"

He had never imagined that the first time he would hear the word "gay" form his daughter's lips it would be followed by the word "penguins".

"I said do gay pen-"

"I heard what you said, thank you. And you're gonna have your answer, don't worry. But first, may I ask you what brought this on?"

Eriko briefly told him about the incident in the library.

Raito was disappointed that Eriko didn't know that bitch of a teacher's name. Well, a little research could remedy that. And after that, a word in front of the board of governors was due. A crooked smile spread on his face. After all, they were one of the school's greatest contributors; that surely had to account for something.

And of course, that name would also appear in his personal hate list – list of people he secretly wished to disappear from the face of the earth. Throughout the years, quite a lot of people would find their way onto it. Mainly people from his old work – the state police – that made him realize he wasn't a proper member of the team anymore after he became open about being gay. They didn't say anything like "we don't accept who you are so we don't wish to associate with you any longer". Those were subtle things, really. Like an annual party invitation omitting the part that he could bring a companion. Like that time when they collected money for a colleague's wedding gift but didn't ask any from him, because he would of course never be able to receive anything in return. "We felt like it would be unfair to you," one of his co-workers told him later. Well, he could definitively do without their false scruples.

He ended up working for Ryuuzaki in his detective agency, just as Ryuuzaki was trying to persuade him to do for some time. He was even better off like that. But those things still hurt, even now.

No, a list probably wouldn't be enough. A note, that was more like it. A note full of names-

"You didn't answer my question!" Eriko protested and forced Raito to snap out of his reverie, "do gay penguins go to hell?"

"Of course they don't. Only evil humans go to hell. There are no evil animals, therefore they don't go to hell."

Eriko pouted.

"But papa, what about that nasty dog that bit me when I was four? It was totally evil!"

"So I would say," said a voice coming from the open door.

"Daddy!" Eriko squealed happily, while Raito scowled. I was trying to prove a point here, you know, his annoyed glare conveyed.

"But Raito," Ryuuzaki intervened, "remember that saying – the dog takes after its master? Following this simple logic would make a dog belonging to an evil master evil as well, correct?"

Raito's eyes twitched in further irritation.

"Since when do sayings constitute valid arguments?"

"Why, common sayings contain the concentrated wisdom of our ancestors. They don't speak to us directly, but use instead a metaphorical language to convey the universal, time-tested truths discovered by the previous generations. I shall demonstrate this further by giving you a couple of examples," Ryuuzaki used his fingers to count, "first one: the early bird catches the worm. What it means is this: to gain certain things you have to be fast, or someone else would get it. See?"

"Like when we went to see the new Harry Potter movie and had to buy the tickets a week before that?" Eriko asked.

Ryuuzaki gave her a satisfied smile.

"Exactly. Here's another one: an apple a day keeps the doctor away."

"What an apt choice on your behalf, with your diet," Raito snorted. Ryuuzaki ignored him.

"Remember, we mustn't take it literally," he continued talking to Eriko, "will you try to tell us what this saying means?"

Raito's scorn turned into amusement at this. Ryuuzaki, you're a sly one. Getting her to learn things on holidays – and without any complaints, too.

Complaining really was the last thing on the girl's mind. This was fun. Just like her home had always been.

"That's easy," she said self-assuredly, "you have to eat healthy stuff like apples or broccoli so you won't get sick."

Ryuuzaki gave her a small nod.

"The general idea is correct, but try to elaborate. I would expect that kind of response from a four-year-old."

Eriko frowned a little, but didn't argue. Instead she said:

"Fruits and vegetables have vitamins that help our immunity system. But you know," she dropped her voice a little as though she was going to impart a great secret, "I don't really think my immunity system supports broccoli. I think that it makes it sick, full of vitamins or not."

Raito sniggered.

"A picky immunity system you've got yourself there."

Eriko nodded gravely.

"It can be quite annoying, really. Sometimes I feel that it'd be most happy if it could take all the vitamins from chocolate."

Raito threw an accusing glance in his Ryuuzaki's direction. Happy with your influence?

"That was a much better answer, but I suggest that you read about the human immunity system some more. Your idea of it seems to be somewhat confused. Anyway, back to the sayings. The last one might be slightly difficult: birds of a feather stick together."

Upon hearing this, Eriko went silent for a moment with a focused expression on her face. She absentmindedly raised a thumb to her mouth.

"Remember what I told you about that," Raito admonished her slightly.

Eriko nodded obediently and removed the offending digit from her mouth. Then she wriggled out from under the blankets and sat with her arms tightly hugging her pale green pajama-clad knees.

Raito couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight. Oh, the famous thinking pose. Like that could actually help.

"It does help, you know," Ryuuzaki said, easily reading his thoughts, "any ideas yet?" he asked his daughter.

"Well," Eriko started slowly, "maybe it's like, that their feathers are glued so they stick to one another?"

Ryuuzaki, who finally left his observing spot at the door to move to Raito's side on Eriko's bed, rewarded Eriko with a grave nod.

"An interesting way of looking at this. However, does the saying mention any glue?"

"Erm…no?"

"There you go. Try again."

More silence came, in which Eriko stared on her oh-so-tempting thumbs.

"Can I have a hint, daddy?" she said at last.

Ryuuzaki shook his head.

Eriko looked at Raito.

"Papa?"

"Alright, Eri. Try to think of it as a rebus. Like there is a missing word somewhere."

"A missing word?" Eriko repeated, rolling the words on her tongue. Then her eyes suddenly sparkled.

"I've got it!" she exclaimed triumphantly, "it's the same. I mean, the missing word is the same. Birds of the same feather stick together, which means that birds – well, or people who are alike stay close to each other! Just like the three of us."

"Well done," Ryuuzaki said and patted her head.

Raito gave him a smile that held an unusual amount of warmth for once and leaned to kiss him. Yes, just like the three of us.

"What were you talking about before I came?" Ryuuzaki asked, ending the cozy moment.

"About the nasty dog that bit me," Eriko was quick to answer.

"Yes, and before you interrupted me I was just trying to explain that it couldn't be evil, because that is a concept that only applies to humans. The dog acted the way it did because it was trained to, not because it chose to."

"What if we could say that about the master, too?" Ryuuzaki asked, his face completely blank.

"Pardon?" Raito asked, perplexed.

"What if the master of the dog was abused as a child? Had never met with human kindness until it was too late? What then, would you still consider him evil?"

"Well, there are exceptions, of course, but generally speaking, yes, I would, because unlike dogs, we have a choice."

"Do we really?" Ryuuzaki asked softly and Raito shifted his gaze uncomfortably. He didn't feel like this kind of debate now. Especially not in front of Eriko.

The said child too decided that she didn't like feeling left out of the conversation and impatiently pulled at Raito's sleeve.

"Ne, papa, don't forgot my question," she reminded him.

"Did I ever?"

A long sigh escaped Raito before the library incident was narrated for the second time that day.

"Do you still have that book?" was Ryuuzaki's only reaction.

Eriko jumped out of the bed a rushed to get it.

Ryuuzaki stared silently at the cover for a moment before opening it and skimming through the pages.

"Look what happens after she actually read a children's book for once," Ruuzaki said with a hint of dry amusement in his voice, referring to the argument they shared not so while ago on the subject of Eriko's reading material. While Raito thought that she should read books suitable for her age, or at least work-safe adult books, Ryuuzaki's opinion remarkably differed.

"You know who gets captured by pedophiles and such? Children who don't know who pedophiles are. Children who think that a stranger offering them candy must be some kind of a fairy-godmother."

He even came up with a theory that Cinderella was made up by some abusive step parents who wanted to make their step children believe that not reporting the abuse would eventually lead to a miraculous rescue and a cheesy happy ending. Raito agreed that Ryuuzaki had a point there, but what finally made him give in was Ryuuzaki's argument that any forbidding would make Eriko only more curious and she would try everything in her power to get her hands on the forbidden fruits. They finally compromised to quietly store some of the most disturbing books away, and let Eriko choose from the others as she pleased. At the result of this, she was currently obsessed with World War II and ghost stories. An illustrated book about penguins therefore came as a surprise, and only made sense together with the library back story. It was a book someone was trying to ban, so it was bound to be interesting.

In fact, it wasn't what Eriko expected at all. Two male penguins at the New York zoo named Roy and Silo created a couple. They wanted to hatch an egg like all the other penguins, but couldn't produce one, obviously. So one of them try to replace it with a rock, which unsurprisingly didn't work. In the end the zoo keeper took pity on them and put a "stray" egg to their nest, which they successfully hatched and a female baby penguin called Tango was born. End of the story; it took her about ten minutes to finish it.

"Definitely no on going to hell for those two," Ryuuzaki said, "trying to hatch that rock was a little bit dumb, though."

"Did you two try to do that, too?" Eriko asked.

Raito questioningly raised his eyebrows.

"Are you asking if we tried to hatch a rock before we adopted you?"

"I'm asking metamorphically, of course," Eriko said haughtily, "like, if you thought of keeping a dog or something."

"It is metaphorically, sweetheart. Actually I would have liked to, but unfortunately, Ryuuzaki here is allergic to dogs, so…"

"And it's a good thing that I am, because we might have been so happy with the dog that we wouldn't think of an adoption. I can't imagine a dog eating my secretly stored and locked up chocolate supply, hmm?"

Eriko tried her best to look innocent.

So it wasn't just the mochi, Raito thought and took the book from Ryuuzaki's hands.

"Well, since your stomach seems to no longer trouble you… " he said pointedly and laid his eyes to the last page of the book:

"At night, the three penguins returned to their nest. There they snuggled together and, like all the other penguins in the penguin house, and all the other animals in the zoo, and all the families in the big city around them, they went to sleep. Good night, little penguin girl," he said and kissed Eriko on the forehead.

Ryuuzaki mimicked the gesture and they both left the room, after carefully turning off the light.

The End