Death Note Fan Fiction ❯ Honey ❯ Honey ( One-Shot )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

By: Ratt9

The first thing Matsuda notices upon waking is that the room is dark. The next is that it is cold, and the ground is hard and largely uncomfortable. He sits up, briefly wondering where he is before the memory hits him.

Oh, that's right. I fell asleep on the floor of L's hotel room.

He estimates that it is around three in the morning. As his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, Matsuda sees that the room isn't completely submerged in darkness, as he first believed; the faint, flickering glow of a television makes itself apparent from the other room.

This makes sense. Of course L is still up. L is always up.

Matsuda offhandedly wonders if the man perhaps would like some company. He doubts it. The man is L, after all, and likely never has any company save for his handler, Watari. This does not deter Matsuda, however, for while L may not have any need for social interaction, Matsuda on the other hand is thoroughly and utterly bored. He doesn't really want to go back to sleep.

Decidedly, Matsuda gets to his feet, careful not to disturb any of his sleeping colleagues. He pads across the carpet, silently grateful that the room is mostly unfurnished. Were this not the case, he would surely bump into something.

Sure enough, L is sitting on the frumpy blue couch, staring at the dull subway station footage as if it is the most interesting thing in the world. The detective's back is to him, and Matsuda contemplates how to go about greeting the man without startling him.

Such considerations prove to be unnecessary when, with eyes that never even waver from the screen ahead of him, L mutters softly, "Matsuda. Is there something that you need?"

Matsuda suddenly feels very nervous and inferior in the presence of such a powerful man. It was only recently that they first met face to face, and although they seem to be close in age, Matsuda is still rather intimidated by the man's obviously superior status. After all, Matsuda is nothing more than a young police officer, while L is the greatest detective in the world.

"N-no," Matsuda responds awkwardly, eyes glued to the carpet. "It's just that I was, um, wondering if I could, uh, you know, sit with you and help you with…that." He rubs the back of his neck as he often does when he feels anxious.

"There is no need for you to ask me for permission to do so. We are all working on this case together. You may do as you wish."

"Ahh, right!"

Matsuda shuffles around to the front of the couch and sits down next to the detective.

The man takes a bite of cake, a strawberry set off to the side of the small white plate. L picks it up with two fingers and wraps his tongue around it, licking the frosting. Matsuda briefly wonders what else L can do with his tongue.

As soon as the thought passes through Matsuda's mind, blood rushes furiously to his cheeks as he immediately pushes the thought away.

It is then that L speaks, and Matsuda freezes, struck with the irrational fear that the detective has somehow managed to read his thoughts. "Matsuda-san," he says, "you are staring at my cake."

No, I was staring at you…

"Oh! Ahh…"

"I regret to inform you that Watari is currently asleep," L continues. "If you would like to have cake, you will have to wait until morning. Or rather, the later morning, as it is nearly four a.m."

"That…that's quite alright—"

"On second thought," the detective interrupts, "you may have some of my cake."

Before Matsuda even has the chance to protest, L has sliced a sliver of cake with his fork. He shoves the plate right in Matsuda's face, putting Matsuda in a position that allows no room for refusal.

"Uh…thanks, Ryuzaki."

Matsuda's fingers hover over the sliver of cake, unsure of whether it is acceptable to pick up the pastry with his hands. Making a last minute decision that displaying good manners in Ryuzaki's presence is a pointless endeavor, Matsuda tentatively picks up the slice before L withdraws his hand. Carefully, he plops it into his mouth.

The piece is larger than Matsuda initially estimated. He can feel the unwanted presence of cake frosting smeared across the lower portion of his face. In the midst of chewing, he slides his palm over his mouth to wipe it off. After swallowing, he focuses his eyes back on the subway station footage displayed on the television.

A couple minutes later, Matsuda senses L's wide-eyed gaze upon him. Pretending not to notice that he is being stared at, he does his best not to look in the detective's direction.

This, however, becomes impossible when L moves in so close that Matsuda can feel his hot breath right above his ear. Daring to peek to the left, Matsuda gives a quiet yelp as he realizes that the slightly younger man is mere inches away from his face.

As if responding to the noise, L whispers harshly, "Matsuda-san, you idiot."

The young police officer wastes no time in shifting his head farther away from the detective. "Wha—what did I do?" he stammers awkwardly. He cannot think of anything he has possibly done wrong in the time he has been sitting down.

L exhales loudly through his nose, as if Matsuda has just asked a question to which there is an obvious answer. "You are wasting perfectly good sugar. This absolutely will not do."

Matsuda doesn't even have a chance to understand what is happening before there is something wet and sticky pressing up against his cheek.

"Eh—? !"

L is licking him. On the face.

Dangerously close to his lips.

"Wh-wha—what are you doing? !" exclaims Matsuda, forgetting to be mindful of the other people sleeping in the adjacent room. He is blushing so intensely that he thinks the room might just light up. He attempts to distance himself from his boss, but this action only causes L to lean in further.

L doesn't reply immediately, apparently opting instead to run his tongue delicately over the other man's soft lips. Then, the detective pulls back, using his thumb to wipe off any excess saliva that might have dribbled down onto his own chin. Wide-eyed, Matsuda can do nothing but sit and stare, completely struck dumb by shock and disbelief. L wears the same blank expression as he always does, as if he hadn't just been sliding his tongue all over his coworker's face.

"There," he says simply, "I believe I got it all." He then cleanly turns his head once more to the security tapes, leaving Matsuda too flabbergasted to speak.

I-I can't believe he just did that! And for sugar? That…that definitely isn't professional! He was practically kissing me!

Matsuda suddenly feels a sharp curiosity as to what L's mouth might taste like. Feeling a bit light-headed, he faintly flickers his tongue over his lips, which are still wet with L's saliva.

They taste much too sweet, Matsuda decides. They taste sweeter even than the cake, maybe.

Matsuda kind of likes it.

He wonders if he's brave enough to try and taste the detective just a little bit more.

Gathering up his courage, he locks eyes with L—trying hard to ignore the intensity of his stare—and slowly, very slowly, leans in closer. L watches him very carefully as he does so, but doesn't seem to protest when Matsuda's lips brush ever so gently against his face. Taking this as something resembling permission, Matsuda puts a bit more pressure into the kiss, finally resulting in his own tongue penetrating L's mouth.

The younger man's eyes are wide as ever, but he skillfully knots his tongue around Matsuda's like he would a cherry stem. After what seems like forever, they break apart, looking away from each other awkwardly.

Remembering himself, Matsuda suddenly stammers, "S-sorry, about...erm, that."

L doesn't even look away from the screen. "Do not apologize. We were both participating in that equally."

"Erm, that's right."

They don't say anything after that, eyes averted to the surveillance videos. The two men sit next to each other in silence for the better part of an hour.

L's eyelids begin to droop ever so slightly, and he appears to be having a slightly harder time focusing on the screen in front of him.

Without warning, something warm collides heavily against Matsuda's shoulder. Startled, Matsuda whirls his head around, only to discover that L has fallen asleep against him. He remains sitting in his odd little crouch.

Matsuda's eyes widen considerably, decidedly feeling a bit awkward. It is odd to see the detective sleeping. Matsuda knows how illogical it is to think that the detective (justice) never sleeps—he's still a human being, of course—but sometimes, he finds it difficult to remember that fact.

In any event, he isn't sure what to do.

He briefly considers waking L up, but then decides that if the pronounced dark bags under the detective's eyes indicate anything at all, it is that Matsuda should let him sleep. He has likely been awake for days. Matsuda thinks that perhaps he should move him, but doesn't want to risk waking the man.

Cheeks tinted pink, perhaps permanently, Matsuda decides to do the only thing he can think of. Carefully curling an arm around his superior's severely underweight body, Matsuda lets his own head rest softly against L's.

Matsuda cannot help but note that L's hair—or whatever shampoo he uses—smells wonderful. Matsuda guesses that it is honey scented. He breathes in deeply, taking in the aroma, and smiles against the detective's earlobe.

L snores softly, unconsciously nuzzling further against the elder. Matsuda allows his own eyes to slide shut, determined not to let L be the only one to catch up on sleep this morning.