Birthday
BB x L, kinda
"Happy birthday," B stated. Stated – just that. There was no emotion in his voice, nothing which could even be remotely mistaken for happiness or affection. It wasn't as if, it was that it was an unnatural thing to hear from B.
B thrust his sticky fingers in the pocket of his faded blue jeans and extracted a grubby-looking package. The shinigami-eyed boy thrust the object in L's direction. L blinked a few times, staring blankly at the gift, then took it from B's hand. The awkward young man (or rather, the one called B; L certainly was awkward as well) then, still maintaining his crooked posture, sauntered away,
"Aren't you going to watch me open it?" L called after the retreating B.
"Why would I?" Beyond Birthday hollered back, not even bothering to turn to look back at L, nor stop his departure.
L stared listlessly for a moment or two down the hallway where B had disappeared, then turned his empty, black-rimmed eyes to the crusty package in his hand. The great detective slowly peeled away the crinkled, brown paper with which the parcel was wrapped. Out of the crumpled paper and into his hand tumbled a small jar filled with something... sticky.
L knew not whether to smile softly or be extremely alarmed at the diminutive jar of strawberry jam that B had given him.
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((Honestly, I don't know what possessed me to write about Death Note. SO not my forte. But I suppose, this is alright. It's not complete lame-ness.))