A/N: I've had no humorous ideas in the past month. My angst-fics have sucked that all out of me. But I guess all it takes is a chocolate fundraiser at my school to pull me out of it…
Warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of sex, and swearing.
It was that time of year again. That God-given, perfect time of the year, better than the days the older kids managed to score some alcohol. Hell, it was better than sex with Matt.
It was the day the fundraiser started. Which was a damn big deal. Raising us Wammy kids— aw, Hell, by that I mean me— requires a massive amount of money and attention. Every year, L had us "learn the value of hard work" (or some bullshit like that) by having us sell food to the families in nearby neighborhoods.
It was a big fucking deal. Since, after all, it was a fundraiser started by L— the best man in the entire world, who will kill that bastard Kira one day, and if he can't, I'll do it for him, with my bare hands, and rip out his trachea with my teeth— the greatest-quality-in-the-world sweets were on sale: cakes, cookies, pies, and even some fruit shit covered in syrup.
And chocolate.
Damn, I would do anything for that chocolate— and everyone knew it. L hadn't trusted me to sell it (not even in my first year; I'd never gotten my hands on the same amount of the glorious sweet as the others, the ones who couldn't appreciate it the way I could), but I had my ways of getting it, even though none of us had any money. Which completely nullifies L's "learn the value of a dollar" argument.
Everyone knew just what I would do for it, and the smart ones— because, though it's an orphanage for geniuses competing to be the next L, half the people here are dumbasses— stayed out of my way.
For damn good reason, too. Once, when I went out with Matt as he sold the sweets (I was allowed to go out, provided that I was supervised, and it was sure that I would not eat the chocolate, or even touch it) the family— I remember a small girl being there, at the door, watching us intently— bought some chocolate.
To prevent the catastrophe of someone besides me eating chocolate, I did what any perfectly sane genius would do: I tackled Matt roughly to the ground as he was about to complete the transaction and give the chocolate away wastefully, pried the chocolate from his hands, and ate it, then kissed Matty in front of them.
For some reason, that family sent us away, and I have a restraining order now. Tch. Homophobes. Their son didn't seem at all bothered by us, though.
The perverts, however, were another story. They would make me go to incredible lengths for my chocolate. Usually, I just punched them and took their entire box full of the precious chocolate. One year, though… A group of guys decided to jack themselves off— heh, losers, that's why I have Matt— and cum on the chocolate. My chocolate. They called it, oh-so-creatively, "milk chocolate."
Perverts. I wiped it off and force-fed them their own cum, then ate the chocolate anyway. And that was the closest they'll ever be to a blowjob.
No, by the way. I do not suck cock for chocolate. I do have standards— I'm so much better than that. I can do so much more. I am a professional, after all. I'm going to be the next L. No one else stands a chance against me.
I want some damn chocolate, now. I think I'll just go kick Near's ass; that's always satisfying, even when there isn't chocolate involved.
A/N: I literally wrote this five minutes ago out of boredom. It's kind of random and choppy, I think, but… Yeah. Hope you liked this one.