Uncannily enough, it wasn't the fact that he was currently handcuffed to a creepy insomniac, sugar-addict, possible drug-addict (for the love of God, what else would keep him so damn gaunt?!), and suspected sexual deviant Greatest Detective in the World that kept him lying stock-still, watching translucent patterns dance across the darkened ceiling of their luxurious apartment room. No, he could deal with the relentless staring and incessant clattering, clinking, and clacking as the almost inhuman man worked, and ate, steadily through the night.
He'd done it at the hotels just fine. Sleep, that is.
However, ever since they'd moved into the excessively huge building that L built specifically for the occasion, Light hadn't gotten a moment's peaceful rest. At first he'd put it down to restlessness – after all, it had only been a few days since the initial chaining. He was just having a belated reaction to having to spend every single moment in L's presence. Perhaps he'd unconsciously become wary of being left so prone, defenceless for hours on end whilst his owlish counterpart was very much awake and analysing his every breath.
Days went by, and that notion slowly crumbled along with his sanity and ability to function normally. He'd been under harsher stress than that only weeks before in his fifty day confinement. He'd been perfectly able to sleep then, if sparsely and more coma-like bouts of apathy induced exhaustion than actual rest.
The answer to the irritatingly difficult riddle of his sudden insomnia had not occurred to Light until the sixth night, when he was successfully immersed in a vivid daydream about talking wispy shadows which somehow involved a puppy and Mickey Mouse. The abrupt revelation jerked him out of it, and he actually bolted upright in a delirious 'Eureka' moment.
The bed.
It was the Lumpiest Bed in the World.
Light was positive.
L regarded him with veiled curiosity over the top of his laptop, his pale face reflecting the screen's artificial glow in an eerie way. Ghostlike; ghostly owl... Panda... Man. Thing. Light, once a proud wielder of impeccable masks of false emotion, could not hide his sudden spike of incredulousness, disbelief and annoyance.
"Why does this bed feel like a thrice pre-loved foam clump picked up at a yard sale?" he asked in a conversational tone. His words slurred more than he cared to admit. His head pivoted around to stare at what he was pretty sure for a moment was an imp in a black wig. Damn, L's smile was downright creepy. Light wouldn't have been at all surprised if 'L' secretly stood for 'Lecherous'. It would strengthen the 'Ryuzaki is a perv' hypothesis that was currently highly popular.
Light realised he was getting distracted and refocussed his attention on the (still very creepy) detective who spoke past the finger to his lip.
"That's because that would be strikingly close to the mattress' history." L replied in something akin to amusement. The man patiently waited for a reply as Light balked. Did he want to know? A shudder crawled up and down his spine.
"Is... There any particular reason for that?" Light asked after a few moments of horrendous images. He felt his body try to subtly lift itself off the demon bed. For God's sake, the man was rich enough to build a skyscraper, fill it with expensive, state-of-the-art equipment, and furnish every other room rather nicely, but he'd chosen this... Dumpy mush of synthetic material as their bed?
Their bed?
The logic was escaping him.
"It ensures that I do not oversleep and lose time." Stated L simply. Light was pretty sure he resembled some sort of bug-eyed fish. He certainly sounded like one with all the sputtering noises he was making.
"Lose time on what?!" he finally managed. "Last time I checked you were too depressed and unmotivated to work on the case!" And it was at that moment that he realised that he actually had no idea of what the man had been working on ever so diligently whilst tapping away at his trusty laptop computer. He didn't have to wait long for the answer, though, for L supplied it with casual indifference, seemingly losing interest in the conversation and going back to aforementioned answer.
"Neopets." He paused. "And, sometimes, World of Warcraft but I find the former more relaxing. It is oddly addictive..." Normally, Light would have commented on L's inherent addictive personality but he was too gobsmacked to even begin to formulate an intelligent reply. He settled on closing his open mouth, giving L (what he thought looked like) a dismissive shake of the head, tossing his pillow to the floor and yanking the covers down with him as he slid tiredly off the edge.
Creepy, Lecherous L and lumpy beds aside, he would take advantage of his disgruntled and disbelieving mental numbness.
At least L had the Softest Carpet in the World...
Once Light's obnoxiously loud snores filled the room, L smiled his sneaky smile as he crept off the bed and proceeded to tug at the bundles of clothing stowed beneath the mattress. He perched himself in the very middle of the now exceedingly comfortable bed victoriously, and made a mental note to celebrate his successful conquest of the mentioned slab of foam with a particularly large and creamy cake.
---
It was the Lumpiest Cake in the World. L was positive.
AN: Prompty from http:// writing fix .com / right_brain / Story_Starting_ Titles1 . htm :D Reviews are appreciated, critique would be loved so much that it would become lumpy and sport suspicious stains.