Kitsune Tsaski sat with her chin in her hands, idly staring into the face of her co-worker, Matsuda. She had noticed that as the minutes went by, his face was becoming more and more annoying. So by the time her supervisor, L Lawliet, skulked into the room, she was on the verge of smashing her knuckles into Matsuda's face.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Lawliet," he gushed at the skinny man leaning against the wall.
L did not reply. Instead, he cast his eyes over at Kitsune, and then slowly and deliberately he pulled a small Tupperware container from his jacket pocket and smirked.
"Is that cake?" Matsuda whispered across the table to Kitty. She too ignored him, and stared, seemingly mesmerized, at the sugary treat in her boss's hands. L's smirk grew wider and he retreated to his poorly lit office, leaving the door open as usual.
"Well," Matsuda sighed, looking through the papers strewn in front of him, "we have a couple things to choose from today. We can interview possible Kira suspects, organize the stockroom or make arrangements for Mr. Lawliet's interrogation session. So, Kitty, what do you want to do?"
Kitty was still staring at L's doorway, her large blue eyes wide in determination. Sharply and loudly, she bellowed, "I want some of that cake!"
Matsuda rolled his eyes, sweeping his brown hair back and muttering, "Here we go again."
Kitty rose from her chair with the same posture as somebody who is going to fight to the death for their honor in some sort of arena battle. She took long, heavy strides across the hallway, past the coffee maker and through L's door until she was standing between him and his computer monitor, hands on her well-defined hips.
"Kitsune, you are hindering me from viewing my research. Is there something I can help you with?" he asked in that monotone voice that annoyed her to the point of insanity.
"I'm not leaving this spot until you give me a bite of that cake!" she announced, pointing a long finger at the triple chocolate fudge cake sitting temptingly on his desk. L raised his left eyebrow, a small smile threatening to cross his face. Ah, how he loved her challenges.
"Aren't we friends?" she asked sweetly.
"Well, I suppose—''
"So what's the problem? Let me have some cake."
"Very well then," he said.
Instantly, Kitty's shoulders slumped, her red and black hair falling into her face. Her eyes lost their icy glare, and she pouted, "What? Just like that? And I thought this was going to be fun."
"I see no reason to argue with you. After all, there is a 96% chance that I will end up giving you the cake anyway, so why bother with the argument?" he pointed out.
"But!" She spluttered, "But! You can't just give up! It's unfair!"
"I thought that eliminating the part of the process you desire most, the cake would be less enjoyable," he admitted happily. She crossed her arms and bit her cheek to keep from screaming profanity at her insufferable superior worker. Finally, she picked up the slice of cake he offered her and took an enormous bite, making sure to spew crumbs all over his shirt in the process.
When she was finished, he observed her thoughtfully. A strand of her hair was in her impossibly blue eyes, and he could not help but notice she was 26% cuter when she was pouting.
"Kitsune?" he ventured after a few moments silence.
"What?" she snapped, glaring daggers at him.
"You have a dab of frosting on your lower lip."
"Yeah, so?" her voice was becoming increasingly angrier.
He stood slowly, then in one fluid motion, he swiped the tip of his finger across her lip, clearing it of frosting and sticking his finger in his mouth.
"Why did you do that?! That's an invasion of my personal space bubble!" She accused, a tomato red blush creeping quickly up her neck and into her cheeks.
He shook his head and chuckled. He looked her in the eyes he loved so much and said quietly, "You are a very poor detective."
And he kissed her. It took every once of self control Kitty possessed not to collapse into his arms and tell him she adored him. When they broke apart, she grinned.
"Well, that was a different kind of fun then I expected, but hey, I'm not a picky person," she said, her voice drastically cheery. Then she plucked the piece of cake that he had been hiding behind his monitor and walked out of the room, munching and humming a song.
He shook his head and smiled. Maybe she wasn't such a bad detective after all.
