Making up for the 8th's shortness. Sadly, I got caught by the horrid thing called the nearing of the end of the semester, and I didn't quite get to finish this one, so it'll be a double chapter day. Reviewers are lovely and...will get extra chocolate this Christmas. :3 Oh, and there are some Shakespeare allusions so I'll have a cute little "translation" for those who don't like Elizabethan speak. LOL-worthy, methinks.

I don't own Death Note.

December 9
Pastry Day

As Light was brushing his teeth in the bathroom, getting ready for yet another day in the company of the world's most bizarre individual, he certainly didn't expect to see L waltz in wearing over his clothes a bright pink apron covered in little red hearts and lined with white lace. He wasn't completely sure if he was still asleep or not, so he stared dumbly until L actually started talking to him.

"Don't put on anything expensive. We're making tarts today."

That's right; it was Pastry Day, wasn't it? He'd just assumed that they'd order something from a bakery, or perhaps have Watari make some sweets for them as he did everyday for the detective. He didn't even think for a moment that L was willing to actually make some baked goods himself. Did he have any culinary skills to begin with? Instead of verbalizing these thoughts, he opted for going along with things. He was still groggy from another difficult night of sleep.

"What kind?" Oh, wait. He still had his toothbrush in his mouth. He took the object out and spat into the sink the liquid in his mouth.

"Cherry."

Light wiped off his mouth and turned to look to the detective who was clad in that ridiculous apron, but only found an empty doorway. The chain was stretched rather taut. He could tell that the man was waiting for him to get out of the bathroom so he could move farther away, because he could hear the detective's phone making sounds from the Tetris game it held. It was a habit L had picked up quickly when he was away from his precious laptop and had could only wait on Light for varying periods of time.

Light finished up mere minutes later and went to throw on a graphic tee and some jeans, which were in short supply in his closet. He had very little "cheap" clothes, as he far preferred to dress nicely. How could L stand to wear the same kind of shirt and jeans each and every day? It would have driven him crazy. At the very least, they weren't the exact same articles of clothing each day. In the closet there hung white long-sleeved shirt after white long-sleeved shirt along with countless blue jeans.

While dressing, he called out to L who was now half-way to the kitchen and still going at that Tetris game. "Ryuuzaki…do you even know how to bake?"

There was no reply from the hallway. Of course.

Scratch that, L did reply minutes later. "…I gathered the supplies listed in the recipe."

Well, it was a start. Light just prayed that nothing would catch fire. How was it that a genius couldn't figure out the basic mechanics of a mixer and oven? Things were not boding well so far.

Once properly dressed, Light exited the bedroom and headed to the kitchen along with L. Even while walking L kept at that game, clearing rows and raking in the points like nobody's business. Light never really cared for video games, so it confused him to no end how L found such a simple one so consuming. Or rather, when was L going to stop playing Tetris and actually focus on the matter at hand?

"Ryuuzaki, you do realize that you're going to assist in the baking process, not just gather supplies…right?" he asked, looking pointedly at L.

L, almost pouting, wordlessly pocketed the phone. "…I almost reached level 18, you know."

"Oh? I suppose we should call the waaah-mbulance, shouldn't we?"

"Your maturity is comparable to a child's, Light-kun."

Light crossed his arms, steadily growing annoyed. "You know, we could just not make the tarts."

Quickly L replied in his monotone, "That is highly unacceptable. We must strictly adhere to the calendar, else my suspicions regarding your guilt will increase exponentially."

"So you're concluding that people who don't celebrate frivolous 'holidays' are immoral and evil?"

"Are you opening the realm of possibility that Kira is a good person?"

"No, I'm not! Can we just start making the damned tarts already?" Banging his head against the edge of the counter sounded pretty appealing now.

"Very well, Kira."

Light could clearly feel his eye twitch, but he ignored the comment. Taking in a breath of air, he glanced down at the recipe. It wasn't all that complicated; the thing didn't even take up the whole front of a sheet of paper. The dough was first on their list of priorities so he went over to where L had placed the butter and flour, carrying them over the food processor. The detective shuffled over and eyed what he was doing with some interest. Well, as much interest as he could convey with his serious face on. The man wouldn't really be concerned about anything until their product started to look more tart-like.

Light began to chop the butter into smaller pieces. "Ryuuzaki, could you possibly measure out one and a half cups of flour?"

Wordlessly L complied, digging out measuring cups from drawers and attending to the container of flour. The task was not completed without messes. Apparently, L's hands were very shaky or the man wasn't very patient when making sweets. Light had glanced over to check L's progress, catching sight of the white powder that had found its way on the floor…and the counter…and L's horrid pink apron. At least that thing had served its purpose.

Though in the back of his mind he was thankful that L had assembled the ingredients far ahead of time – the butter was room temperature and thus easier to manipulate – Light was steadily losing his grip on his temper. Odd, how he'd never gotten so riled up by anyone before. Oh, right. Leave it to the world's greatest detective to figure out how to make him go completely mad. He wouldn't be surprised if that had been his plan all along and then –

A small clump of white powder found its way onto Light's shoulder, exploding in a miniature puff of smoke. Light stopped cutting the butter into smaller pieces to shift his gaze to L.

Seeming to pay attention to the most minute details, L was obsessively making sure that there was exactly one cup and a half within the glass container. His fingers glided with extreme control over the surface, making sure that it was undoubtedly level. The container held a near perfect amount of flour. He was being too diligent.

"Ryuuzaki," Light bit off harshly. "Don't act so innocent, please."

L continued to examine the container and its contents. "I'm afraid I don't follow. I've been at work with the flour, you see."

"Oh? And how did I get this?" Light pointed to the small mess on his shoulder. "I don't suppose it was the work of any swallows or what have you, seeing as though we're the only ones here. And, I don't particularly like coating myself in flour."

"An interesting question," he said, still avoiding looking at the fuming younger man. "Perhaps Light-kun is merely a 'klutz,' as some call it?"

Breathe in… Which, in the end, had little effect.

"Funny, and for two irrefutable reasons. First, I am nowhere near the flour which you are. And secondly, you seem to have made quite the mess all over yourself and the kitchen, klutz." The foreign word felt strange on his lips, but its awkward sound felt suiting for the detective.

L rolled his eyes. He almost couldn't believe it with the professional front the man kept nearly all of the time. It was something he'd expect out of his sister, really. The detective's retort came quickly. "My Lady Disdain, are you yet living?"

Light was thrown off-balance for a moment. Had L quoted "Much Ado About Nothing"?Because that line seemed awfully familiar from his English Literature courses… Moreover, was that line really necessary? Of all the lines, he had to be called a woman. Of course…and this was coming from the man in the pink frilled apron? He'd play this game, then. Beating L at something sounded like just what he needed. Oh, and how he would rub his face in defeat.

Quickly fingering through the files of his memory, he was able to find that first scene from the Shakespearian play. "Is it possible Disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as L?" He saw the detective halt in his efforts with the flour, causing Light to smirk and continue (while fixing things where he was still referred to as a woman, of course). "Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in his presence."

L set the flour down, just staring at Light. It was almost a little creepy. "Then courtesy is a turncoat." His bony fingers twitched, hand resting on the counter. "But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a heart; for, truly, I love none."

Shit, he had the whole play memorized, didn't he? It was a brief stroke of luck that Light had bothered to read this particular scene enough. He still stood firm, meeting the detective's gaze. "A dear happiness to women: they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God," Light said, having to chuckle mentally at the line, "and my cold blood, I am your humour for that: I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me."

L frowned slightly. "God keep your ladyship still in that mind; so some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate scratched face."

Light could feel a smirk come across his face. "Scratching could not make it worse, an 'twere such a face as yours were."

Rather than the atomic bomb landing somewhere in Japan, though it may have very well been, a great "bomb" of flour exploded on Light's face. He stood in shock for a few fleeting seconds before he roughly pushed past L to the bag of flour. With one hand brushing the powder from his eyes and the other delving into the bag, he threw a handful in the detective's direction.

Damn, he missed! L had dodged by dropping to the ground, but just barely. The stuff was floating down now and he swiftly moved over to avoid the falling particles, almost like snow.

Light was still attending to his eyes and muttering obscenities. Feeling satisfied that he'd have his work cut out for him, L quietly began crawling away on the kitchen tile. The table was in sight. He'd make it there in no time at all with chain to spare, and it would provide adequate protection. As always, Light's vanity would be his undoing.

Or so he thought.

Seconds later, a large amount of weight came down on L's low form. Almost losing the breath in his lungs from the abrupt impact, L turned to look at what it was…

…and came face-to-face with a very unhappy Light. He gulped, not quite so confident anymore. And then, suddenly, all he could see was white. Upon further inspection, he was most certainly not knocked out or dead, as his profuse hacking told him. Light hadn't just thrown some flour on him, oh no. It was highly likely he'd dumped the entire bag over his head. Death by inhalation of profusion of flour didn't sound very admirable.

In a brief flash of anger, L groped madly for the fabric of Light's clothes. Oh, he definitely felt the need to "scratch" the man's undoubtedly smug face. He was robbed of his vision for the time being, relying merely on touch. His hands came in contact with the fabric of Light's shirt, he was certain. Light had clearly not expected the detective to react as quickly as he did, losing his balance…

…and landing flush on top of the flailing detective. It didn't take a genius for them to figure out how close exactly their faces were, with how hot breath so easily hit the skin. But, as quickly as it had happened, L brought up his legs and kicked the younger man off. The dark-haired man scurried back into his feet and began brushing flour off of his face with the speed unheard of.

One hour later Watari finished cleaning the abomination of a kitchen and brought L the freshly made cherry tarts. None were shared with Light.

The Shakespearean translation/argument in a nutshell!

L: hai ther lady hatefulness. haha, i called you a chick. shouldn't u be dead?
Light: lol, how could meanness die when ur around? even nice me turns into a meanie.
L: but that makes u a traitor, stupid. everyone luvs me, except u. you suck. it's kinda sad tho that i'm cold-hearted, cuz i won't luv anyone. in other words, i hate u. oh, and ur still a woman.
Light: STFU. women r lucky then, cuz u suck as a suitor. i'd rather listen to the most maddening sounds in the world than listen to ur voice. btw, love is stupid.
L: stay single, then. some dude will be saved getting his face getting scratched up by u and ur pms...cuz ur a chick.
Light: :D if they had a face like ur face, then it wouldn't make a difference lololololol.
L: *releases the great force of the Flour-Bomb (not to be confused with the F-Bomb)*

I hope that clears things up. XD