It's only been two years since I last wrote for this fandom. :D Hi everyone. Have some genderbent L.
Disclaimer- Death Note is still not mine. You'll know when it is.
Of Bras And Ugly Detectives
"Why don't you wear a bra?" Misa asked. From her chair, the unkempt and sleep-deprived detective looked in her direction, black-on-black-on-white eyes artfully blank. On the other end of the thin chain that she shared with her intellectual equal, Raito Yagami slept deeply.
It had been many days since the last lead, and everyone was exhausted. When Misa was exhausted, she liked to engage people in trivial conversation. Of course, she enjoyed trivial conversation when she was well-rested, as well, but there was a special sort of feeling she got from it when she felt as though her head were stuffed with cotton.
L was many things. An attractive girl was not one of them. She was too scrawny, for one thing, and her black hair was a shaggy greasy mess. Her face was pitted from teenage acne (no doubt from eating all those sweets...), her lips were chapped and bleeding, her fingernails were ragged from her constant chewing, and most of all those breasts hung with all the grace of rice dumplings inside her baggy white sweater, just as shapeless as the rest of the world's greatest detective.
"Women wear brassieres so other people don't think less of them," L pointed out. "In case you haven't noticed, everyone here holds me in the highest esteem."
And with that, the conversation was killed dead. Misa pouted, and stared at the computer screen, though the morass of languages on display hurt her eyes and made her brain start to ache.
"I'm bored," she finally whined. "But I don't want to go to bed, because I know you've got cameras in there."
"I derive just as much pleasure from that arrangement as you do," L deadpanned. "If you don't want to go to sleep, order some food. Eating is an excellent way to stimulate the brain."
"Says Spotty," Misa huffed.
L didn't even seem to notice the jibe directed at her complexion, absorbed with a news update that had popped up on her screen.
At Misa's high school, the ugly girls were far easier prey than L if you wanted a reaction. They proclaimed, in hysterically rising voices, that they didn't care what the pretty girls thought. Then you would hear stories about them crying in the bathroom before gym because they didn't want people to make fun of their flabby thighs squeezing out of their gym shorts again. But L was unshakeable to any insults, from Raito or from Misa. It was annoying, and no fun.
"You just hang around men too much," Misa decided abruptly. "And then you start to act like them. I bet that old guy that makes your food buys your clothes too."
"Watari is an invaluable resource and my oldest colleague," L said.
"But you see, that's your problem! Don't you have any girl friends? Not like girlfriends, but girl friends?"
"I never claimed to have an equal opportunity mandate when it comes to choosing my colleagues," L said. "My criteria are slightly more complex and run deeper than such trivia as gender."
"I could be your girl friend. We could have a girl's night in. And I'll do your hair! Maybe a ribbon..." Misa said cheerfully, imagining with glee a bright pink ribbon lost in L's hair.
"...what?" Raito asked blearily from the other end of the handcuffs. "I go to sleep for two seconds, and you decide to get your hair done?"
"I decided nothing of the sort," L said sharply. "Welcome back, Raito. Add this report and these names to the archive."
It was at this moment Matsuda came in bearing coffee. Raito gratefully took one cardboard cup and deeply breathed in the bitter scent. L grabbed a handful of Sweet n' Lows from the tray and started putting them in her ever-present cup of tea. Misa sighed and shifted in her chair. So it continued.