Disclaimer: Not mine. I don't own Death Note, alcohol, or Ide's breakfast.

Note: Okay, TWO notes today. A long one at the end hich you don't have to read but if you've ever reviewed any of my stuff, especially Inferiority Complex or this, please do.

And then there's the usual pre-ficlet rant you've all come to love/hate/use as a target for spud guns. So I really like the dynamic between Matsuda and Ide (of all the wonderful character dynamics in DN, this might well be my favourite) and I just love the idea of Ide taking care of his dorky little friend. Also, as anyone who has read IC will know, Matsuda/alcohol is my OTP.

Though he'd even get topped by booze. Gamecrazy knows what I'm talking about.

x

Overnight

Prompt: 24. Drink

"Oh, you're joking."

Ide folded his arms, and leant against the door frame. "You know," he continued, "this is exactly why I wanted a key to your apartment."

Matsuda didn't respond. Mostly, this was due to the fact that he was unconscious. The position he was in (one leg thrown over the arm of a chair, the other one up over the back, head nearly snapping off his neck with the angle it was at against the floor) suggested that he probably hadn't exactly fallen asleep in this position voluntarily, and the whisky seeping into the carpet from a bottle a little way away from his left hand enforced Ide's suspicions.

"What was it this time, Matsuda?" he sighed, shutting the door behind him. "Nightmares again?"

He bent down and picked up the bottle. The label told him that it hadn't been expensive, which on one level he was grateful for, because it meant that spill wouldn't strain Matsuda's already thinly-stretched wallet that much. Then again, a cheap brand of alcohol…

So Matsuda had taken up drinking properly now. Ide shook his head and took the bottle into the kitchen, standing it by the sink for Matsuda to deal with when he sobered up.

"Matsuda?" Returning to where the cop was slumped, Ide prodded him with his food. "Matsuda. Wake up. Come on."

After a few moments, Matsuda made a strange groaning noise. Ide nodded, satisfied that he wasn't dead, and gave him a sharper poke. Matsuda groaned more loudly, and flopped a hand across his stomach. He opened one eye - reluctantly, blearily - and Ide noticed he was starting to look distinctly green around the gills.

"Uh - don't move," he cautioned, and darted back into the kitchen. A few seconds of fumbling under Matsuda's sink turned up a large plastic bowl that Ide supposed would have to do. He ran a little water into it, anticipating he'd be the one cleaning it out and he was damn well going to make it easier for himself, and returned to Matsuda's side. "If you need to throw up, use this, okay?"

Matsuda just groaned again.

"You're terribly articulate this evening."

Ide drew a breath and settled back onto his haunches. This had to have been the fourth of fifth time he'd found Matsuda like this. He'd known that the taskforce's youngest member was going to have problems readjusting after what had happened at Yellow Box, but none of them - not even Aizawa, who usually knew everything - had any idea it would be this bad.

Matsuda had nightmares. Ide wasn't sure what they involved, because Matsuda only ever spoke about Kira and Light and not being happy when he was at least three sails to the wind, making a deep conversation a little difficult. He knew they were pretty vivid, though, because one night (when Matsuda had been in an even worse state than this, and Ide hadn't wanted to leave him alone because he wasn't sure there'd be anything to come back to) he'd woken up and charged out of his bedroom clutching his gun. Ide, who'd be sleeping on the sofa, had jerked awake and tumbled onto the floor, in a mess of blankets and cushions. Then, Matsuda had seemed to come to, and hadn't had any idea what he was doing. He had blushed, mumbled excuses, and tried to pretend that he'd heard something outside.

The next morning Ide had insisted Matsuda let him have a key to his apartment.

Matsuda suddenly let out a small wail and leant over the bowl. He retched, and, pulling a face, Ide backed off and left him to it. He went back into the kitchen and started to fix coffee - strong, black, no sugar or Matsuda would end up vomiting until the sun came up.

Eventually, Matsuda would join him, lean against the counter, mumble something, smile at him and say that Ide was always there for him and he really loved him but not in that way, you know? He'd drink a couple of mouthfuls of coffee and stumble into his bedroom, and at eight Ide would call Aizawa and tell him that he and Matsuda would be a little late in for work that day. Ide would take Matsuda out for breakfast, and Matsuda would be quiet and embarrassed and unshaven while Ide was quiet and worried and had shaved even though he wasn't in his own apartment.

He really didn't know what he was going to do about Matsuda. But if he got him through to lunchtime, that'd be a hell of a start.

x

Plastic bowl with water in equals portable sick-bowl. Fact. Ignore any slash overtones you may get from Ide having a key to Matsuda's place.

Now, the note. Mainly, this is a thank you, to be honest with you guys. I know there are probably better places for this than hijacking a chapter of a story, but you know, whatever. At the time I'm putting this up, In Passing has 13 reviews, and three chapters (this'll be the fourth). Now I know that's probably not 'omg huge' or anything on a grand scale, but to me, it's massive.

When I came back to fanfiction in July, I put up Inferiority Complex and it took me twelve chapters to get 13 reviews. Now, it's taken me 3. So this is just a big, over-emotional thank you to everyone who has reviewed anything I've written, and especially the two fics mentioned here. Fifty chapters of short stories is a lot to find something new to say everytime, but for the people who saw me through IC, that's what you did. You constantly reviewed and I would wake up to an inbox full of compliments. Not only that, but now some of you have stuck with me and still review what I put out, still find new things to comment on, still give me encouragement when I start flailing.

Since starting IC, my stats tell me I've put up about 80,000 words of fanfiction. Trust me when I say that without you lot reviewing - again, especially the people from IC who've come over here - that'd be more like 5,000 and I'd have given up long before getting anywhere near the 50 chapter mark. The lot of you, honestly, are completely fantastic. So thank you so, so, so much for letting me feel that I can produce things that people like and are interested in, that I have some kind of talent that I can employ. Cheesy and geeky but whenever I start feeling depressed I usually meander back here and read over some of my reviews. To turn a phrase, you guys rock my cyber socks. Once again, thank you.

/ranting gratitude