Summary: Because we should know better. Join the slightly delusional character known as O in this silly "investigation" as she assumes the position as L's girlfriend and identify with her pain. Slightly crack.
The Audience Needs to Know:
~Hi. First Death Note fanfiction. If you have any suggestions throughout this silly story, let me know through a PM. Thanks.
~Have an awesome time with this. It IS humor, so don't prepare to chop my head off for some ridiculousness.
Why L Isn't Good Boyfriend Material
By: Beryl Bloodstone
Reason One
"Too Many Aliases"
In a hotel room located in a busy Japanese city, a tense-looking young woman stared at the side of a barefoot, crouching man's head. He was perched atop a striped chair, pointedly ignoring her as his pale fingers darted across the keys of his laptop. When he realized that the intensity of the female's stare was not letting up, he stopped his typing and addressed her with tired black eyes.
"Yes, O?" the messy-haired man said, his voice flat and emotionless.
The young female known as O relaxed now that she had caught the man's attention. She uncrossed her arms and blew a black strand of hair out of the lenses of her smudged glasses.
"L," she started, her tone incredibly patronizing considering who she was talking to, "why the hell are you-"
"It is Ryuzaki here," he softly reminded her, watching O as her arms crossed over her chest again. "Continue."
"See!? That's my problem!" the bespectacled girl fumed.
L and O were boyfriend and girlfriend, with glaring differences. L was a sugar-loving, super-genius detective, who made his living solving many difficult cases, but only if they personally interested him. O was simply a nineteen-year-old who was good at debating. Now, one might possibly wonder, what did this O girl have that attracted L? Well, there was nothing he actually adored about her except the fact that she was an extreme critic. She was a troll, almost constantly harping on the way he sat, ate, and wore the same clothes almost every day they spent together.
No one really complained that much about him; they mostly called him out for his eccentricities then let it go after realizing that his habits weren't going away. But hearing O's constant bitching about every single thing he did awakened some kind of strange, masochistic pleasure in him.
What a weird bastard he is.
"I'm afraid I don't follow you, O," L replied casually, in a teasing tone that O could not possibly bother to hear.
"How is this relationship thing going to work if we can't call each other by name?" she asked furiously. "My name doesn't even start with an O!"
"The last time I checked, Original Character does."
"What?"
"Nothing important. Continue your argument."
O stuck out her bottom lip, scrutinizing L with dark-brown eyes. She realized that she was being highly unreasonable considering the fact that there were plenty people in the world that wanted the genius detective dead, and that the many aliases he used to avoid the detection of those people were not just for kicks. It was to protect himself. Possibly her, too.
But, in the highly unlikely situation they were to get married, what the hell was she going to call him in the moment of consummating their marriage? LL Cool J?
"Ryuzaki, honey?" O began sweetly, walking behind the chair he was seated in and wrapping her arms around the man's shoulders.
"And my deduction rate just went down by ten percent," he commented quietly, prior to sighing and closing his laptop. "Yes, O?"
"Am I getting paid for this?"
"For what, exactly? You're going to have to be more specific than that."
"I think trying to a love a guy that's in love with pastries deserves compensation," O replied, releasing L, and thus, returning his deduction rate back to its desired state.
"I'll give you a strawberry, if that's what you want," he bargained, reaching for a bowl of the tiny, red fruit to offer to the sighing girl.
"This, L, is why you aren't good boyfriend material…"