Best for Last

"Ryuuzaki?"

"Hmm?" He cocks his head to the side and stares at me out of the corner of his large owl eyes. "What is it, Yagami-kun?"

"Why do you eat the strawberry last?"

Where most people would narrow their eyes, his widen.

"Why is it that you want to know?"

I can hear a note of wariness in his voice. I sigh.

"I've told you, Ryuuzaki-san, I'm not Kira. I know you're thinking I could use it to my advantage if I was." I swivel my chair to face him. "But I'm not. I'm just curious about the person chained to my wrist. Is that such a crime?"

"No…" His voice is soft, his eyes downcast. Louder, "You're right, I do save it for the very last, even if I have other things to eat as well."

"But why?" I lean forward in my chair slightly.

"Because, it's my favorite part. I save the best for last."

I lean back in my desk chair; I'm not satisfied with that answer. "That's somewhat odd."

"How so?"

"Most eat the best thing first if they can. That way they don't lose the opportunity to do so. I rest my chin in my palm. He looks at me strangely, as though trying to puzzle out the meaning of my words. He frowned.

"But I always get to eat my strawberry."

I turn back to my work. "I don't know who it was, but I vaguely remember having a friend who would always eat his favorite thing first so no one would steal it from him."

"Why would anyone want to steal my strawberry?" I glance over to see his brow wrinkled.

"I don't know, Ryuuzaki. It doesn't matter." My tone is tense and final.

But he doesn't know when to let it drop.

"Are you going to steal my strawberry, Yagami-kun?"

"No."

He looks down at his last few bites of cake. He looks back up at me, his lips pursed in the cutest expression I've ever seen on another man.

"Do you want my strawberry, Yagami-kun?"

I'm taken aback. I've never known Ryuuzaki to ever offer anyone a bite of his precious cake, let alone his favorite part. For him to offer me, the person he suspects of being Kira…Kira.

I narrow my eyes. "Why are you offering it to me? Is this some kind of test?"

"What information could I possibly gain by giving you a strawberry?"

I remain silent, gauging his expression. I don't answer his question. "Yes I would like to eat your strawberry."

He turns back to his monitor and pulls the plate closer to him on the desk. "I'm not sure I want to give it to you now."

"Fine."

Silence. I continue to analyze private corporation documents. I glance over at the hunched detective to my left every now and then.

Night falls, though deep in the fluorescent light of our residential office. What other unseen workers there may have been have left or retired to other rooms. Ryuuzaki and I may as well be completely alone. I glance again in his direction.

The lone sugar-coated strawberry remains uneaten.

He notices my stare. "What is it, Yagami-kun?"

"You didn't eat your strawberry. I thought you finished your cake a long time ago."

He shrugs, an obviously American gesture and returns to his silent investigation.

I, unlike him, am able to take a hint and don't press the matter. Though I'll admit, it is extremely tempting to inquire about the fruit that cannot be considered fruit any longer.

And even more tempting just to take it.

I sneak a glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He doesn't appear to be paying me ay attention. Or the strawberry. It would be so easy just to reach out and…

I shake my head. I don't even like sweets, yet for some inexplicable reason I have the urge to snatch it off his plate and gulp it down before he can protest. I peak over at him again.

I sigh quietly to myself. I may as well take the risk. There's not much else he can do to me if I took it; he already has me chained to his wrist day and night.

Slowly, I stretch my left hand towards the treasured fruit. I watch my progress with my peripheral vision, not daring to turn my head and look openly. My fingertips steal past the edge of the plate.

Only for me to receive a sharp smack to the back of my hand. I release my held breath.

"You should know better than to take what's not yours, Yagami-kun."

I cradle my stinging hand to my chest. My pride is wounded as well as my hand. "You're right, Ryuuzaki-san. I'm sorry."

Only now does he spare me a glance out of the corner of his eye. "If you wanted it, you could have asked me for it."

I'm speechless; there's no other term for it. He was offering me the coveted strawberry, for a second time, even after I had tried to rob him of it. My eyes are undoubtedly as large as the plate on which the fruit in question sat.

Sat, indeed, as he now holds the fruit speared on a fork out to me. My brows knit in confusion, I look from him to the out-stretched fork and back. My lips try to formulate a question, but my vocal cords are still not working properly.

"Do you want my strawberry, Yagami-kun?"

I clear my throat in hopes of gaining my voice again.

"Yes, I would like to eat your strawberry."

"What's the magic word?"

I roll my eyes. That's exactly what my mother would do when I was a child. "Can I please have your strawberry?"

He nods and extends the fork closer to my lips as though he means to feed it to me. having to rise from his chair to do so. When I hesitate, he holds the fruit even closer, lightly pressing it to my lips. My gaze flicks up to him again and my eyes lock on his.

Slowly I part my lips and close my mouth over the strawberry. My body's initial reaction is to spit out the taste bud-burning substance but instead I chew the fruit thoroughly. I keep my eyes on his the entire time I masticate. With difficulty, I struggled to swallow the syrupy sweetness. I scrape my tongue against the roof of my mouth to rid it of the sugary film left behind.

Ryuuzaki cocks his head to the side. "Well? Was it good?"

My nod is quick and jerky. The taste wasn't pleasant but it was good. It was his.

He smiles a little smile, obviously pleased with himself. He rises from where he had leaned over.

I catch his wrist before he can tug away and pull him back down so that his face is level with mine. I release his arm and cup his pale, wide-eyed face in both hands. I then press my lips firmly against his dry chapped ones.

The fork hits the ground with a metallic clatter.

Through half-lidded eyes, I see his eyes widen even further, the moisture glistening in the sterile light of my computer screen.

I release him and lean back in my desk chair. He hastily stands up as straight as his customary hunch allows him. His fingertips fly to his lips and a bright pink tinge is visible on his porcelain cheeks in the dim glow of the electric light.

"I like to save the best for last too."

-Fin-