A/N: This is what happens when you begin writing aimlessly right before hitting the gym. DISCLAIMER: I don't own L, Light, or their handcuffs. If I did, then Death Note would be a hell of a lot sexier.
"Light," L said cheerfully one morning when they were going through their daily shower routine. Light had been staring at himself in his half-naked glory in the mirror whilst performing the monotonous task of brushing his teeth. "You're fat."
Light almost choked on his toothpaste, sputtering in a rather impolite manner as it sprayed across the previously immaculate surface of the mirror. "What?" he said, although it sounded more like 'hoff?' through the white minty foam. He stared at the shaggy man as though he'd grown another head – not that it would actually surprise him, the guy was more alien than the likes of those in science fiction. L was grinning rather mischievously, looking much like an imp with a slender pointer-finger pressed to his bottom lip.
"I said," L paused for dramatic effect. "'You're fat'." Light didn't even bother telling the man that he knew what he said in the first place – it would spur a rather roundabout argument that they had pursued many times before. L was a man who liked to annoy people, clearly shown in his habits and rather 'holier than thou' attitude, but Light had never expected L to come out and say something like that, just to get a rise out of him.
Although… Looking back at himself in the mirror – now with the added effect of toothpaste splatter – Light realised that yes, he had gained weight since being chained to L. It'd been little more than a month, but because of the circumstances there was very little exercise and a lot more snacking (Light did like to steal L's red M&Ms, and the little caramel-filled squishy things weren't too bad). It was only natural that Light would fill out a bit; gain back the weight he'd lost when he endured the fifty-day confinement.
Was L insinuating he was fat because Light no longer possessed the rock-hard abs that had degenerated after months without rigorous training?
He was.
"I'm not fat, Ryuzaki." Light said. He sounded just a bit defensive and inwardly cursed himself for it. L's grin didn't go away. In fact, it grew wider as he slowly reached towards Light and firmly poked him in the hip. He made the exaggerated motion of his finger sinking into flesh and did not wither in the slightest under Light's glare.
"But you have love handles, Light," L said in a mock gasp. "Keep going like this and… And…"
"And?" Light practically grunted.
"You'll become a fatty boomstick!" he cried, theatrically waving his arms in the air. Light's glare became harsher; as though he were trying to reduce L to cinders with just his gaze. "Wouldn't it just be terrible? Your good-looks would go down the drain and then what would you do?"
"What would I do?" Light asked, turning to face L completely – although when L's grin widened even more he felt just a tad self-conscious. "I would probably bodily crush those who insinuate such silly things. Grow up, would you?"
"But Light," L gasped again. "I don't want to grow up! Then I wouldn't be able to sit the way I do due to excessive weight like yours and I would lose roughly forty percent of my reasoning abilities!"
Light growled, loud and deep in his chest. "You're a bastard, Ryuzaki." He snapped, and then decided to ignore his fellow chainee, returning to the task of brushing his pearly whites. He mumbled as an afterthought; "And I'm not fat."
L simply grinned maliciously the whole time.