Ok, this is the first fanfiction I have ever written, so go easy on me!

It's a one-shot and there's some OOCness on Near's part, but I think under this situation, all actions would be justified... Not that this situation would probably ever arise.

So, as the summary said, Near has decided to make a cake. This is a real cake that I made earlier today (that's where I got the inspiration). It's quite a nice cake, too... You can try it out if you want. I think you can get all the details from the story. I hope it doesn't sound too much like a recipe, though. There should be a story in it somewhere.

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note. I would love to own Near, though and I'm making my best attempts to find him. I'll keep you updated. L would be nice too. And Mello. And Matt. And all the others...

R&R if possible. :)

Gevanni was out of breath from running by the time he reached the kitchen. He had been relaxing with Restor and Halle when they had heard a loud bang from the kitchen, by the sounds of it. The kitchen being on the floor below them, it must have been a pretty loud bang, and considering the only other occupant of the building was Near, that either meant that he was in trouble or there was an intruder. Both situations required help. Near was incapable of looking after himself.

Standing in the doorway of the kitchen, he stopped and stared at the scene before him in disbelief.

Near was crouched on the floor in his usual sitting position, rummaging through the cupboards. The sound Gevanni had heard had almost definitely been a large metal bowl hitting something else in the room - no cause for alarm. Except that Near seemed to be cooking something, by the looks of the bench.

On the bench was a tub of margarine, a large bag of self-raising flower, a tub of sugar, a small box each of cocoa and bicarbonate of soda, three eggs, a carton of orange juice and an orange.

Gevanni blinked once and looked down at the boy who seemed to have finally found what he was looking for. Near placed the electric mixer on the bench and plugged it into the nearest power socket. Gevanni thought that was a good time to intervene.

"Er... Near?"

"What is it, Gevanni?" Near replied without looking at the man.

"What are you doing?"

"I would have thought that would be obvious, even to you, Gevanni."

Most people would have taken the 'even to you' as an insult, but Gevanni knew better by now. Near only dealt in facts and the fact was that he was smarter than everyone he had ever come into contact with. That meant that he often had to explain what he was doing to the rest of the SPK.

Gevanni waited for him to continue, knowing him well enough to know that he would.

"I am making a cake," Near announced, shuffling over to the oven. Gevanni had never expected Near to know how to turn an oven on, let alone set the temperature. He stayed in the doorway, watching the scene unfold.

"Why?"

Near still didn't look at him. "Does there have to be a reason?"

Gevanni raised an eyebrow. Obviously there had to be a reason - this was Near. "Yes," he replied.

"Oh." Near seemed thoughtful for a few seconds as he walked back to where the ingredients were strewn over the bench, pulling a thick cookbook towards him and scanning the recipe on the page it was open to. "I want to know what all the fuss is about." What kind of answer was that? When Gevanni didn't say anything, Near continued. "L loves cake and Mello loves chocolate. I would generally prefer fruit to sweets, so I am making a Frosted Choc-Orange Cake to combine all three elements."

Gevanni was silent as the boy placed a set of electric scales in front of him and opened the margarine, placing the lid on the scales before turning them on so that they read '0'.

"You enjoy cooking don't you, Gevanni?" he asked as he started scooping chunks of the margarine onto the lid on the scales. He got to 126 grams and frowned, removing a small amount of the margarine. The scales now read 123 grams. He added and subtracted more margarine until he finally reached 125 grams.

"Yes, but... why now?" Gevanni asked in reply.

"Why not?" Near said, scraping the margarine into the bowl to his right.

Gevanni suddenly and finally regained his composure. "Well, what can I do to help?" he asked. "What would you like me to do? Are you sure you don't want me to make the cake for you? After all, you don't have any experience in cooking, as far as I know, right? You could hurt yourse-"

Near held up a hand to silence him. "To answer your questions in order, Gevanni, there is nothing you can do to help, I would not like you to do anything, I would not like you to make the cake for me and, no, I do not have any experience in cooking, either as far as you know or otherwise. However, I will not hurt myself. I know what I am doing, despite having not done it before." There was a new confidence to Near's voice that Gevanni hadn't heard before. He supposed it must be because Near didn't try things as diverse as cooking often. Cooking for him was probably like... like trying to walk everywhere on your hands for a 'normal' person. Basically, nobody would ever really stop to consider it, let alone try it. It just wasn't natural. Near cooking wasn't natural.

Meanwhile, Near had picked up a cheese grater (an object that Gevanni would usually have been reluctant to see him anywhere near, but in this case...) and was grating the rind off the orange and into the bowl. Once he had what he seemed to think was a reasonable amount, he took a tablespoon measure and poured one spoon on top of the margarine. Despite saying himself that he had no cooking experience, Near cracked the eggs as if he was a professional cook. To Gevanni's slight annoyance (who was going to be doing the washing up?), he used four separate measuring cups for the one-and-three-quarter cups of self-raising flour and one-and-a-half-cups of castor sugar. A half cup of cocoa, half teaspoon of bicarb (Near seemed thoroughly annoyed that he had to estimate this because he couldn't find a half teaspoon measure), half cup of orange juice and quarter cup of water later, Near placed the bowl under the electric mixer and Gevanni took an automatic step back as the mixer was turned on, despite already being a few meters away. Near took a step back too, but nothing bad happened. There was a small cloud of flour, but that eventually subsided. A minute later, Near turned up the speed.

"Now I just have to wait three minutes, or until the mixture is 'changed in colour and smooth'," Near read from the instructions and Gevanni shook his head. Near truly was full of surprises.

About three minutes later, Near (finally) turned the mixer off and poured the cake mix into a pan that he had already greased and lined with baking paper. After carefully putting it in the oven, he set the timer for fifty minutes and opened a cupboard. In the cupboard, there happened to be a few toy soldiers which he took out. Near sat down in his usual position in front of the oven with the toys and went into what Gevanni and the rest of the SPK called 'Near-mode'. That meant he was usually thinking over something important while playing some game or other. Near-mode was when he had his best ideas. It was best not to disturb Near while he was in Near-mode, so Gevanni waited.

Fifty minutes later, Gevanni jumped when the timer beeped, but Near didn't seem affected. He turned the oven off and stood up, placing the toys back in the cupboard and taking the cake out of the oven. After a few minutes, he managed to make turning the cake onto a tray look easy and he set the timer for a little over an hour.

"I can make the icing and apply it to the cake," he told Gevanni (although he probably would have said it even if Gevanni hadn't been there), "when it is cold. By my calculations, this should be in about eighty-two minutes."

So he had found a way to apply his Near-logic to making a cake. Probably something to do with the size of the cake and the heat of the oven. Gevanni sighed and prepared himself for waiting another hour. Sure, he had better things to do with his time, but he couldn't help worry about Near. He felt that the boy had to be supervised in a situation like this, especially considering he hadn't done this before.

Gevanni jumped again after the eighty-two minutes was up and Near checked the temperature of the cake with his hand. He decided it was cool enough and collected a carton of milk from the fridge and a bag of icing sugar from a cupboard.

Another sixty grams of margarine and tablespoon of orange rind were beaten together and Near poured in three half cups of icing sugar and two teaspoons of milk. He proceeded to spread half the icing over the top of the cake, before adding a tablespoon of cocoa to the rest and spreading it around the sides of the cake and using the excess chocolate icing to draw a pattern on the top. He then grated some more orange rind over the top.

When Near was finished, he stepped back and Gevanni was sure it was the most amazingly decorated and most delicious looking cake he had ever seen in his life.

The boy took a knife from a drawer and every protective instinct within Gevanni screamed at him to cut the cake himself, but this was Near's cake. He couldn't intervene now.

He cut two slices and put them each on a plate, along with a small fork. He handed one of the plates to Gevanni and looked at him without touching the other piece of cake.

"Not hungry?" Gevanni asked and Near tilted his head to the side, as if to say, 'You first.' Gevanni sighed and cut a small piece out of the cake. He brought the piece to his mouth, chewed it, held it in his mouth for a few seconds to ascertain the flavour and swallowed. Near was still looking at him in the same way, waiting for his opinion. "Mmm. Delicious!" Gevanni said, completely truthfully. He was only half surprised that it tasted so good - surprised because Near had never cooked before and not because he seemed to succeed at everything he tried.

Near picked up his plate and took a few steps towards Gevanni - no, towards the door to leave.

Gevanni sighed again. "Aren't you going to wash up?"

Near tilted his head again, as he always did when he was thinking or waiting. "I am afraid I don't know how to 'wash up', Gevanni," he said, sounding sincere but probably lying.

Near walked past the man and out the door and Gevanni looked at the mess, shaking his head.

"I'll have to teach you someday," he muttered to himself, eating another bite of the cake.