A/N: Hey there you guys! I'm back! Again! I feel bad about not updating yesterday, but right when I was afraid people would think I didn't have a life, BAM! Life [and a few people] dragged me out of the house and away from my laptop to the Strawberry Festival, which if your ever in West Tennesse in the spring, you should check out! Very fun for one of those small [SMALL!] town parades!

I like this chapter. Everyone's comments about rats and kidneys really inspired me, and this chapter is pretty light hearted . . . until the end. BWAHAHA! Then my bad habits start showing again.

The Art of Drowning

Not My Definition of Fun

"Light, I cannot find the sugar bowl. Could you please find me the sugar for me?" asked Lawli.

Light smiled brilliantly at his best friend. "Sure, Lawli."

"Thanks, Light. I'm happy when you give me sugar. You're very good at it," said Lawli, holding up a tea cup the size of a basketball for emphasis.

Light blushed, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why he was so flattered by the strange compliment.

"Yeah, yeah, Lawli," muttered Light, avoiding the other's penetrating gaze.

Light stood up from the small table, frowning when he couldn't find his way to the kitchen. He walked away from the staring detective, not noticing as the table and detective got smaller and smaller the farther he walked.

After Light passed a third dairy farm, he looked around. Where was the kitchen?

He looked down. Where was his pants?

He looked up. Where was the ceiling?

He shook his head, smiling a bit to himself.

The sugar must be in the bathroom then. That was the only other logical place to keep it, after all.

"Yous needs to 'ave another drank, Lightie!" slurred a voice from behind him.

Light turned, confused, only to reel back in horror at the thing that stood behind him.

"Yer not drunk 'nough yet!" exclaimed a large, scruffy looking rat with bent whiskers, a cowboy hat, and one lone golden tooth dripping with what could have been blood.

The rat towered over Light, it's eyes a manic yellow. The thing held an especially large shot glass full of amber liquid that sloshed out whenever the monstrous rat overcompensated because of its dramatic swaying.

The rat grinned at him, shoving the drink into his face. "'Ere ya go!"

Light screamed.

"Bloody 'ell, stop screaming in m' ear!"

Light's eyes snapped open, and he immediately regretted it. He slammed his eyes closed with a dull groan.

"First hang over?" asked a disgustingly cheery voice somewhere to the side of him.

Light grunted.

The voice, who Light successfully identified as Greg, just laughed. Light cracked his eyes open when he felt the bed shift, only to yelp in horror.

"Why the fuck are you naked?!" he yelled, immediately regretting it when his headache worsened.

Greg shrugged, seeming for all the world not to even notice his nudity. "Vice is nice, but incest is best."

It took all of a second for those words to sink in to Light's pounding head. "WHAT?!"

Greg was silent for a moment, looking down at a horrified Light with a hurt expression, before it suddenly mutated into a maniacal grin.

"Oh ho! Ya should 'ave seen the look on ya face, Lightie!" cackled his very naked uncle, bent over and slapping his knee hard.

Light, ignoring the degrading nickname, checked to make sure his clothes were securely covering his body before sitting up in relief.

"You bastard! You can't just make up stuff like that!" yelled Light, his anger being fuelled by the throbbing pain in his head.

Greg shrugged. "Ya need to learn how to take a joke. Yer surprisingly uptight for a Layfield, Lightie."

"Ugh, why do I feel like someone beat the shit out of me?" asked Light, clutching his head and ignoring his annoying relative. Light didn't know how he could possibly be related to someone as annoying as Greg Layfield.

"Yer experiencing a hangover, Lightie. S'not all that bad, once ya get used to it, and if I 'ave my way with you -" here Greg stopped to cackle at his distastefully bad joke, "- then you'll definitely be getting used to it."

Light groaned, falling back into the bed. "What happened anyway? Everything's fuzzy and -"

He seemed to realize that his grinning uncle was still naked. "-and why the hell are you naked? How did I end up in your bed, and -"

Light felt his stomach lurch. "Oh, God. I think I'm going to be -"

Greg jumped back from the bed, a grimace marring his face as Light proceeded to purge the previous nights activities all across the floor.

"Well I'm not cleaning that shit up," remarked his uncle, crossing his tattooed arms.

Light gave him a muted glared, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Suddenly his uncle grinned, and Light wasn't surprised to see that is was a vicious grin. "To answer yer questions, tequila happened. So did whiskey, beer, and vodka. I was born naked, and I'm not to sure m'self why yer in my bed when I went to all the trouble of putting new sheets in the guest bedroom."

Light seriously doubted those sheets were clean anyway, and he refused to grace his uncle with a verbal response. Instead, Light let his smoldering look do the talking.

"Y'know, the only way to get rid of a hangover is to drink yer self sober," said Greg knowingly.

"Bullshit," growled Light in disbelief.

The man only chuckled. "Ya don't believe me, huh? Well, when ya change yer mind, I'll be in the living room. See, Manchester's playing, and I ain't going to miss it. I got fifty pounds riding on the ruddy thing."

Greg left the room, still distressingly without clothes.

Light closed his eyes briefly, before valiantly lifting himself out of the bed. He deftly stepped aside the yellowish puddle and stumbled to the bathroom. His head pounded at the higher elevation, and his body protested at the movement, sore and bruised feeling.

Light decided that he looked worse than he felt once he saw himself in the bathroom mirror. His hair was in disarray, and slightly greasy. His clothes were rumpled, and gave off a faint smoky smell. His face was pallid, and dark circles ringed his eyes, vaguely reminiscent of someone he decidedly did not want to think about just then.

He took a steady breath before opening the medicine cabinet. Luckily, his uncle kept pain reliever, along with a dozen or so other pill bottles that Light really didn't want to know the contents of. He washed his mouth out before swallowing the medicine.

Light glanced ruefully through the door at the mess by the bed, before doing a classic double take.

"What the hell?!" he yelled, jumping in shock, and catching himself on the sink before he could tumble to the ground.

Not a second later, a still very naked Greg burst into the bedroom.

"What? What's the matter?" he asked, his words jumbling out in a rush.

"Th-there was a rat! Eating my . . ." trailed off Light, his hands making exaggerated movements, unsure how to voice the scene he had just witnessed.

"Huh?" asked Greg, cocking an eyebrow, his hands on his bony hips.

"You do have rats, don't you!" accused Light, finally finding his voice.

"What? 'Course not!"

"But -"

"Yer still just a bit out of it from last night, yeah? See, I'll get ya a beer. We'll have ya fixed up in no time," said Greg soothingly, patting Light roughly on the shoulder before walking back out to the living room.

Light blinked and shook his head, once again staring at the mess by the bed, but whatever had been there was gone.

Maybe he was still drunk. Light wasn't sure. The only other experience he'd ever had with alcohol was as a freshman in high school, and even then he had only tried it with a friend before deciding that sake wasn't to his liking. He hadn't had nearly enough to get drunk.

Light sighed, running a hand through his greasy hair. Maybe if he took a shower he'd feel better.

Twenty minutes later, a clean Light was cleaning up a decidedly unclean bedroom floor, and it was all he could do not to repeat the morning's incident at the sight and smell. In fact, he was so preoccupied, that he didn't know that Greg had come back into the room until the man spoke.

"'Bout finished yet?" asked the man.

Light jumped in surprise, turning to face the other man. "Don't do tha -"

Light, who had been kneeling on the floor cleaning his mess, stopped short when faced with a still naked Greg standing behind him. Except this time, Light was face to face with something other than Greg's face.

"Gah!" Light made a strangled noise in the back of his throat before looking away quickly.

Greg took a swig from his beer. "Yer a mighty jumpy bloke, ain't ya? Must get it from yer mum's side, eh?"

Light refused to comment, and steadfastly cleaned the rest of the floor, sneaking glances underneath the darkened bed for any critters that might attack him.

Greg chuckled lowly before heading back into the living room.

Truthfully, all Light wanted to do was crawl back in bed and sleep the day away, but he figured coffee might help him with his hangover, despite Greg's claims that beer would do wonders. The thought of drinking anything with alcohol in it made him want to vomit all over again.

Light made his way into the kitchen, ignoring the naked man sprawled on the couch drinking beer and watching a pathetically small television with bad reception. He opened the pantry, hoping that his uncle had the decency to at least have coffee in his kitchen.

However, he jerked his hand back after he encountered black pellets littering the shelves of the pantry. Was that . . . ?

"Is this rat shit?" yelled Light, surprised and disgusted.

"What? 'Course not!"

"Greg -"

"It's raisins! I'm a messy eater!" yelled the man.

Light's eye twitched. He wasn't feeling up to anything that the man had to offer him from his kitchen anymore, what with the raisins and all. With a resigned sigh, Light plopped himself down in the ratty armchair, only glancing at the other man when Greg sighed in satisfaction after scratching himself.

"I'm dead serious, Lightie. Grab yerself a beer. You'll feel loads better," said Greg, his eyes glued to the television.

"No, thanks," said Light coolly, trying to ignore the aggravating nickname that his uncle had given him sometime within the last night.

Greg shrugged. "Well, don't let it be said that I didn't try to help ya."

Light ignored him, looking down at the coffee table that lay broken in half, all the junk that had been on there before lay littering the floor. Obviously Greg didn't care enough to pick the stuff up.

"What happened there?" asked Light, gesturing to the broken furniture.

Greg grunted. "Ya fell on it."

"I fell on it? But, I don't remember that," frowned Light.

"Well, I 'spect there's a lot ya don't remember 'bout last night," smirked Greg.

Light glared, but didn't reply, instead he turned his attention to the flickering images on the television. He wanted to ask Greg questions about his parents, but he really didn't feel up to it. He wasn't at his best, and he wouldn't be able to really concentrate on the answers, so Light gave in to the pounding headache and general sick feeling, and just stared mindlessly at the television in misery.

"I got fifty pounds riding on this ya know," commented Greg.

Light rolled his head, too tired to actually put the effort into lifting it, to glare at the naked man.

Greg just smiled. "Oi, Light. You ever been to a club where people wee on each other?"

Light's head snapped up, and he ignored the stabbing pain it caused. "Excuse me?"

Greg laughed. "Guess not."

"Why the hell would I want to go somewhere like -"

"Just keep yer schedule clear, yeah?" said Greg, a decidedly evil grin splitting his face.

Light narrowed his eyes. "You're joking."

"Aye, I'm pulling yer leg. You really do need to learn how to take a joke."

When L made the call down to room service, he hadn't expected anything untoward to happen. He really hadn't expected to slam down the receiver in a bout of unexpected anger, nor did he expect Watari to quietly leave the room before returning half an hour later with a bucket sized container of ice cream.

L chewed his thumb violently as he thought back to the phone call.

"Room service?"

"Yes, what are your specials this evening?" murmured L.

"Well, we have a lovely grilled chicken fillet on a bed of rice pilaf with a side salad. We also have fresh steak and kidney pie -"

And that was as far as the lady got before L slammed the phone down.

Now, he was glaring at his ice cream while Watari made a show of tidying up the living room of their suite.

"I find that I am not amiable to staying in this particular hotel any longer," said L around a mouthful of strawberry ice cream.

Watari shot L a look. "That's why we're checking out in the morning and going to the Waldorf across town."

L nodded, satisfied. "Thank you, Watari."

"Not a problem, L."

If living with Gregory Layfield for a week taught anything to Light, it was that you weren't obligated to like your family. Yes, he could admit a grudging fondness for the perpetually drunk and oftentimes naked gambler, but that probably stemmed from Greg being his father's little brother than anything else.

If Greg wasn't trying to take him back out to a pub or the horse track for a friendly wager, then he was "at work." Of course, he wouldn't actually tell Light what he did. Somehow, someway, Greg would find a way to turn any needling questions away, too often leading the discussion back to where he wanted it to go. In this, Light finally found a familial trait they both shared besides the similar hair color.

After a week of living with the man, Light had found out surprisingly little about his family. Apparently his father had been in the military, where he had met Light's mother. Not surprisingly, Greg hadn't known exactly what branch they had worked in, but he mentioned something along the lines of Light's father never speaking about his work. Greg being as young as he had been, didn't question his brother's lack of information.

The only concrete piece of information that Light had to work with was that Light's father and mother traveled regularly, never staying in the same spot for more than a month, and that Light's father had been friendly with the prime minister.

On a more personal note, Light's father had been a master poker player and his mother was a horrible cook. And while both his parents had been intelligent, it was Light's mother who had graduated college at seventeen. His father, as Greg said was common to Layfield's, had been more of a slacker, but had still graduated at the top of his class from one of England's most prestigious universities.

When asked about their murder, Greg hadn't known much. He had just moved to America to live with his father before it happened. He only knew that Light's parents, and he had assumed Light also, were murdered at their flat in London. Speculation was that the serial killer who was loose at the time, called Fortune, killed the family. It had fit with the man's profiled victims. However, nothing was ever proven, and the case was still unsolved to this day.

Light sighed, trying to piece together all the information he had gleaned over the past week. What little of the picture he could see didn't tell him much, and he figured that he would have to seek out his other relatives. Hopefully they could give him pieces to add to his puzzle.

Light settled deeper into the ratty armchair, which he had grown fond of over the past week. Greg was currently at work, whatever that was, and Light was flipping through the channels on the shoddy, old television. It was late, and the only thing on was infomercials.

He stopped his channel surfing at one infomercial featuring cookware. The smiling lady on the telly was showing how the special cookware made baking so much easier and faster than regular bake ware. Light's heart gave a painful twinge when he saw the lady pull out a cheesecake.

He had been trying not to think about Lawli. It was better if he just forgot about him, and Light was certainly making the effort. He avoided all reminders of his friend if possible - it just hurt too much - and that was why Light quickly turned the channel.

Of course, the next channel had to feature an endangered species commercial. A panda bear blinked innocently at him through the television.

Light viciously punched the remote, and the channel changed to a crappy late night movie on some channel geared towards women.

Ryuk glided through the apartment wall, chuckling to himself. Light was thankful for the distraction.

The shinigami had been unusually agreeable lately. Apparently, Ryuk had been remarkably bored without Light's presence. Of course, the apples that Light provided didn't hurt in keeping the shinigami agreeable or Light in Ryuk's good graces.

Light didn't pay much attention to Ryuk as he went back to idly flipping through the channels.

"We're about to have some fun," remarked the shinigami.

Light looked over his shoulder, noting the devilish grin splitting Ryuk's face.

Light lifted an eyebrow. "What kind of fun?"

Ryuk only chuckled. "You'll see."

Light glared, feeling his temper flare. "Ryuk-"

And then the door was kicked open.

Light jumped up from his seat, almost tripping over the blanket his legs were tangled in.

"LAYFIELD! You owe me money!" yelled a large man who was flanked on either side by two equally unsavory looking companions.

Light felt his throat constrict and his mind go numb as he stared down the barrel of a gun pointed directly at his face.

EDITED: 7-4-09

A/N: Sorry you guys. Cliffhangers are MY definition of fun. XD

And I take all the drinking related info from my own life. Yes, it is possible to drink yourself out of a hangover. I've done it before, and it really works! [hair of the dog that bit you and all] If you mix beer and hard liquor, usually the effects aren't pretty, and you end up not remembering a whole bunch of the previous night [especially with tequila. I can't drink that shit anymore!] Don't mix sugar, beer, and liquor either. Thaaaat's a bad idea. I've also fallen and broken a coffee table in a fit of drunken stupidity, which I decided to incorporate, lol. Anyway, if you're gonna drink, do it with people you trust and be prepared to face the consequences the next morning!

Soooo, SAY SOMETHING! [what's your definition of fun, huh? LOL!]