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The Mystery of Light's Yagami's Cold (Secret Santa for Kendaahll)


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Natto: Hey guys, this is my Secret Santa gift for Kendaahll. I used to write a lot of Death Note fic, and that was one of the things that they requested, so I thought I'd take a stab at it again. Like I said, it's been a while, so I might be a little rusty on the characters, but hopefully it will still make a good Christmas gift.

In this fic, Light catches a cold while handcuffed to L, and L decides he needs to find out how it happened. During this time, Light is not aware that he is Kira. Oh, and there's a small drizzle of L/Light here, so keep an eye out for that if you're interested. There's also Light/Misa because that's, y'know, canon. Anyway, on with the show! Happy holidays, Kendaahll, I hope you enjoy your present! Thanks to Purple for setting this whole thing up.


The Mystery of Light's Yagami's Cold

by Natto


At 4:30 AM, L's keyboard is clacking lightning fast, while Light is laying in bed trying to breathe through a stuffy nose. He started coming down with a cold early that morning, starting with a stinging throat and some sniffles. By noon one of his nostrils was packed shut, and once evening hit he couldn't breathe out of his nose at all. Right now, a trickle of snot is pooling on his upper lip, and he's trying to summon the energy to grab a tissue and wipe it off. This is easier said than done. Getting to the tissues means reaching across L, or asking him to toss the box over. Light isn't sure why they're on L's desk. He remembers taking the box into bed with him, but perhaps he's remembering wrong. Sighing, he sits up and coughs to get L's attention. The cough quickly spirals out of control and becomes a fit. He rubs his throat and groans. “L, cad you pass be the tizzues? Snf.” God his voice sounds awful. Not that he cares what L thinks, but he isn't looking forward to worrying his father when he arrives at headquarters in the morning.

“Of course,” says L, placing the box directing in Light's unchained hand. Then, after swiveling around on his computer chair to face Light he says, “how are you feeling right now? Is your cold receding, or has it gotten worse?”

“Itd's odly beed a day, Ryuuzaki.” He buries his dripping nose into a tissue, and issues a soft, gurgling blow. “Colds dodn't dissapear id a day. I'll probably be sick all week.”

“That is most unfortunate. There is nothing I hate more than having a cold. It makes it so difficult to eat.” Light thinks about quipping that anything that would stop L from eating would be a godsend, but he says nothing and instead tries to blow his nose into another tissue. This isn't helping. He's too congested to blow. All he manages to do is wipe away the mucus. Ryuuzaki is still talking. “I'd like to find out how you got sick in the first place. After all, you've been here for several weeks now. No one else here is sick, so I don't understand where the germs came from. To be honest, I'm getting a little tired of investigating Kira, so tomorrow I think I'll take a break and try to figure that out.”

“You cad't be tired of idvestigating Kira, he's a cribidal, he deeds to be sto...hhh...” Shit, he's trying to say something important, but his nose is itching terribly. He swipes at his with the underside of his finger, sniffles thickly. His mouth hangs open, his eyes crumple shut, and he pitches forward with a “hhpt-CHH!” And another “hhiishhIIIH!” Nose running a bit more freely now, he takes the opportunity to drain his nose. He's able to breathe through his nose for almost ten seconds before it seals itself shut again. “Ugh. Snnf. Snnk. Ryuuzaki, you cad't just give up od fiding Kira, especially dot for sobething so stupid.”

“It'll only be for the day,” says L, turning back toward his computer, and picking up a half-eaten Meiji bar. He takes a bite, then fixes Light with a deadened gaze. “I want to take a break and work on something different for a change. Besides, what is the answer is something we need to know about? Maybe somebody is in the building who shouldn't be here.”

Light coughs into a closed fist, then says, “I dod't thidk thad's likely. But if you must, thed go ahead. I'b goig to try to go to sleep. Cad you try to type bore quietly, please? Snnnnnrrk.” Fuck, he sounds atrocious. He pulls the down comforter over his head and groans. L makes no effort to type any more quietly, and in fact appears to be typing louder. Light chunks a pillow at him, then shuts his eyes and tries his best to fall unconscious.


"Dod't tell Bisa," rasps Light, as L dangles a cell phone between two fingers. "I dod't want her fideing outd thatd I'b sick. She'll cobe over here and be a huge duisadce about it. She'll wadt to take care of be, which I defidately dod't deed. Snnnnf."

L rolls his eyes and hands Light a tissue. "First of all, you sound like you've been snorting pixie sticks and you need to blow your nose. Second of all, Amane Misa is the least trustworthy person with access to this building. There is no professional code preventing her from inviting intruders, only our requests. She is the most likely source of your ailment, and I must question her to make sure she isn't bringing friends here without my knowledge or consent." L shrugs, and begins dialing Misa's number.

Light blows his nose. Though what appears to be a small, yellowish alien has emerged from his nose, he isn't any less congested. Again, he tries to clear his sinuses, and again he fails. He is still sniffling uncontrollably. By the time he gives up, L has already finished talking to Misa. He heard nothing over the sound fo his own nose. L says, "Misa is coming right over. She sounded terribly worried about you. I know you're in a bad mood, but do try to be kind to her."

"You're the one who's rude to her, dot be." An itch skitters through his sinuses, and he sneezes, hard, into his elbow. "Ughh. I'b going to see if I cad fide a saditary bask. I dod't wadt to gedt Bisa sick...hhkk-SHH!"

"Ah yeah, do that for Misa. Of course, taking such precautions for the person who is never less than 30 feet away from you at any given moment would be ridiculous," says L, jangling the chain that keeps them locked together. "I have a terribly weak immune system, you know."

"Y-you...you cou-ou...iishh-SHOO! you could have told be that. Snnff. Happchh!" Fresh tissues clamped to his nose, he makes his way to the supply cabinet near one of the bathrooms, L hopping behind him. Hopefully, he'll find a sanitary mask there.


Misa appears with a shopping bag loaded with tissues, cough drops, and hastily constructed rice porridge. "My poor baby!" she squeaks, hand slapping Light's forehead in search of a fever. "I'm so sorry you got sick, you look awful! I mean, not awful, you're still totally handsome, but you look so miserable, you know?" Light shrugs, and tells her that it's nothing serious. "Nothing serious! Well, I guess it's good that you feel that way, but this definietly looks serious to me!" She puffs out her cheeks, claps her hands to her hips, and stares at L. "How'd you let him get this sick, huh Ryuuzaki? What are you doing to my Light? Keeping him up all night? Not letting him eat anything except cake?"

"It's nothing that I did, Amane-san, I assure you." L pops a spoonful of chocolate sorbet into his mouth. "Actually, I called you to help solve the mystery of how Light got sick in the first place. I didn't ask you to come here, but you seem to have done that anyway. Now that you are here, though, could you answer some questions for me?"

Misa nods. Light coughs violently into his elbow, then sicks back on the couch with his legs crossed and his arms folded. "Okay Amane-san, first of all, have you yourself been ill recently?" Misa shakes her head. L scribbles something into a notebook. "Okay, have you been spending time with any sick people?"

"Um, the photographer I usually work with has diabetes, but that's not contagious or anything, so I guess telling you that doesn't help much." Misa twirls a lank of hair around her finger, purses her lips. "I don't think so, no. Light-kun, do you want me to feed you your rice porridge? It'd be so romantic." Sniffling, Light tells her that he doesn't think it would be romantic at all. Pouting, Misa kicks at the couch under L, and demands that he ask her his next question.

"Has anybody ever come into the building with you, or have you ever invited anybody inside?"

"Of course not! I'm not stupid! You explicitly told me that I wasn't allowed to do that because it would compromise the case." She folds her arms, and flings herself backward in her chair. "Light should be in bed, not sitting here listening to you interrogate me. Isn't that right, darling?" She leans forward, bats her eyelashes. Light sniffs thickly and apologizes, unsure whether he's apologizing for Misa's behavior, L's behavior, or his own disgusting disease.

"One more question," says L. "Do you have any theories as to how Light got sick? Like, do you know of any sick people he may have been exposed to?"

"Well like I said, you keep him up all hours of the night, there's never any food around here that isn't junk, and he's probably really stressed out, being accused of being Kira and never having any time to spend alone with is girlfriend! So maybe that's why." She sticks her tongue out at L, then says, "Light-kun, I promise we'll make up for lost time once these handcuffs come off, okay? Maybe you can use handcuffs on me."

"I would appreciate not being exposed to unwanted sexual material, thank you," says L. His chocolate sorbet is beginning to melt. He sighs. "Amane-san, that's all for now. I need to interview the others now, so if you could make yourself scarce..."

"I came here to take care of my boyfriend, not to answer your stupid questions! Light-kun, what do you need me to do?"

"Dothig, thadks," croaks Light. While he apperciates the thought, Misa is shrill and demanding, and his head hurts too much just now to interact with her. He takes his mask down for a moment to blow his nose, then sighs and asks L how long he plans to spend interviewing people.

"Just enough time to find the answer," L says, shrugging, and popping a syrupy spoonful of sorbet into his mouth.

“That could take days. There bight dot eved be ad adswer. Snnf.” Misa passes him another tissue, which he gratefully accepts.

Misa puffs her cheeks out. “You'd better let my Light get some sleep,” she says. “If he's still sick by our date night on Friday, there's going to be hell to pay!” Date night rarely consists of anything interesting, since Light isn't allowed more than 30 feet away from L at any given moment, and he isn't allowed to leave the building. Although L has said that they're welcome to do whatever they please, even have sex so long as they give him fair warning, neither one of them feel like doing that with L around. Misa because she wants Light all to herself and it's just plain creepy, and Light because, well, frankly he's a little more interested in L than in Misa, and that problem is thrown into stark relief whenever Misa starts pawing at him in front of L. Date night is unlikely to happen this week though, with Friday only two days away and Light feeling sicker by the minute. He says as much, and Misa croons, “awww, you poor baby!” and wraps her arms around his shoulders.

“I'b fide,” he snaps. He isn't, not really, but he doesn't feel like being hugged just now, especially not with L smirking like that. Especially not with fire ants crawling around in his nose pitching him forward in a huge “HUHHHCHH!” Misa leaps nimbly away, then says she hopes Light gets L sick.

“He'd deserve it for being such a butthead. Anyway, Ryuuzaki, do you have any more questions?” L has already concluded the interview, but as Misa has apparently forgotten, L answers again.

“No,” says L. “I'd prefer not to interact with those who wish me harm. Besides, I've asked enough questions. Amane-san, you're dismissed.” Misa insists, with a stomp of her foot, that she isn't going anywhere, but she's quickly convinced when Light croaks,

“Bisa, hodey, if you stay here buch longer, you're goig to get sick. That will bake it buch harder for you to work, wod't it? I would't want to hurt your career.” This is true. A model with bleary eyes and a floodlight nose isn't likely to be chosen for an ad unless it's for cold medicine. Light cares about this, but mainly he just cares about Misa leaving so that he can get this over with and go to sleep. He sneezes again, wincing as it scrapes past his throat. Misa kisses him on the cheek, and says he's a big sweetie to be so concerned.

Then, in a flash, she flounces out the door.


"Matsuda-san, have you been ill lately?" asks L. He has now finished the sorbet, and has moved on to a thick slice of strawberry cheesecake. Just looking at it makes Light feel nauseus. They are seated in the common room, L perched like a bird of prey over his food, Matsuda ramrod and awkward in an uncomfortable chair, and Light slumped over with his aching head bent toward his knees, and a dwindling box of tissues camped out on his lap.

Matsuda says, "no, but he sure is. Light, you look awful. You sure you should be out of bed?"

"Itd's fide." Light coughs, hard, into his cupped hands, then gathers more tissues to catch further fits. "Itd's just a cold. It looks worse thad it is."

"Well I sure hope so, because it looks awful. I haven't seen you looking this bad since you got out of that jail cell. Um, not that I wanted to remind you of that. I probably shouldn't have, I'm sorry." Matsuda laughs, rubs the back of his neck. "But really, you look super sick. I hope you feel better soon." Matsuda is still talking, but Light's left ear has just locked up, rendering it temporarily useless. He can hear him, but not easily. After moving his face mask aside, he blows his nose again to try to pop the thing, but all that does is make his ears ache. He mutters a congested thank you, and sighs.

“Matsuda-san, there's more to my question than simple concern for your health.” L pops a carefully shorn away sliver of cheesecake into his mouth. “I'm trying to figure out how Light caught a cold when he hasn't been out of the building in ages, and nobody here appears to have been sick. Perhaps somebody tracked germs in with them without realizing. Perhaps one of your friends has been sneezing more than usual lately?”

Matsuda rubs the back of his neck and laughs sweatily. “To tell you the truth, I haven't really been seeing my friends lately. None of us have. We've all been working ourselves to the bone, you know? There's no time to meet up with anybody. My friends are actually getting tired of me turning down their invitations...” He looks down at his feet, then looks up again, perky as ever. “When I was coming to work today, I did pass by a guy with his nose buried in a handkerchief, but I think Light was already sick by then, and anyway I was only near that guy for a few seconds. So...sorry, Ryuuzaki, I really can't think of anything.”

L groans, voice muffled by a mouthful of cheesecake. Light coughs violently into the crook of his elbow, snuffles hard into a handful of tissues. It feels like his brain is about to slither straight out of his nose. “Stop idterrogatidg Batsuda, he clearly doesd't...SHHKCHHOO! HPPT-CHH!” God, why the hell is he even trying to talk? Back to the tissues. By this point, his upper lip and the rims of his nostrils are sore and chapped; he knows that blowing his nose will only worsen the problem, but there's nothing he can do.

“Okay, Matsuda-san, have you let anybody into the building without authorization? You're not in trouble if you have, but I need to know about it...” Matsuda shakes his head vigorously, which draws L's lips into a tight frown. “Are you sure?” he asks, tipping foreward on the balls of his feet.

“Of course I'm sure! I know that that's against the rules. Be careful man, you're going to fall.” Matsuda pushes L back into the couch. Light almost laughs, but the laughter quickly transforms itself into a choking fit of coughs. “Awww, Light, that sounds really bad! You know what I do when I have a cough? I know it sounds crazy, but I eat ice cubes. The cold numbs your throat so much you hardly feel anything. You want me to go get you some ice?” Light shakes his head, coughing too hard to mutter a thank you. L thunks him on the back with a lazy fist, then tells Matsuda that for now, he's dismissed.


When they meet with Aizawa, Light can barely focus on the conversation. All of his attention is centered on his nose. The itch marching through his nostrils is so intense that it's making his breath hitch, his mouth hang open as he waits for a desperately needed sneezing fit. It doesn't come. L says words to Aizawa, asking him if he's been sick recently, if anybody he knows has been sick, or if he's let anybody into the building unauthorized. Light gasps, then starts coughing from the sudden intake of breath. His nose burns. He pinches it shut, digs a tissue from the box he's been toting around with him, and holds it to his face in anticipation. Aizawa looks at him with a raised eyebrow, while L stares at him with no expression whatsoever. What the hell are they looking at, isn't it obvious he's trying to sneeze?

They wait for him, utterly silent. Maybe they just don't want to start talking and then be interrupted, but that doesn't make it any less unnerving. His jaw hangs open. “hhhhahh...” his nostrils twitch. “ehh-KSCH! APK-SHH! SHH! Chh-OU! HHKKSCHH! AHHSCHH! Snnf.” This waiting tissue does little to contain the resulting mess, so he adds several more and drains his still-itchy nose. Touching it with the tissue sets him off again, and he ducks his head in another wet sneeze. “Hppt-CHH!”

“God bless you,” says L, gnawing on his left knuckle. “I certainly hope that you feel better soon, that looks terribly uncomfortable. Are you alright?”

“I'b fide. Snf. Just sdeezig...a...hkkPPH-CHH! CHH! A lot. Srrrk.” Light dabs his nose again, then coughs into his sodden handful of tissues. “Ryuuzaki, how buch longer do we deed to do this for? The security caberas would tell us if there were ady udauthorized visitors. Snnf. By head hurts, I deed to lie dowd. HKK-PSCHH!”

Light doesn't hear anyone come in over the earsplitting sound of honking into a tissue, but when he looks up, he sees his father through bleary eyes. Yagami Soichiro is standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, frownlines etching his mouth. “I didn't know you were sick,” he says, walking towards him, scraping Light's forehead with the curve of his hand. He doesn't mind this as much as he minded when Misa did it, but he would still rather it not happen. It's embarrassing, and anyway he's sure he's going to sneeze again. Since he doesn't want to sneeze on his father, he twists around and aims for the floor.

“I think you have a fever,” he mutters, withdrawing his hand. He looks at L with knitted eyebrows, says, “he really ought to be in bed. Do you think you can continue your conversation with Aizawa some other time so that Light can get some rest?”

“Certainly, but may I ask you some questions first?” Light coughs violently into a closed fist, leading Aizawa to slap him across the back.

“Enough with the goddamn questions,” snaps Aizawa. Thank God for Aizawa, always willing to disagree with the great and powerful L about anything and everything. “Light's hacking up a lung, the kid hardly gets any sleep as is, he's asking you to go to bed, and now his father's asking you to let him go to bed. If somebody was keeping my sick kid up with inane nonsense I'd kick their ass. Metaphorically, I mean, but come on.” Soichiro nods, while Light sniffles his rapidly filling nose into submission.

L takes a bite from his slice of pecan pie, nods quietly, and stands up. Light stands with him, gathers up his tissue box, and lets himself be dragged to their mutually owned bedroom.


“So you'll be going to sleep now?” asks L, deftly slicing open a packet of mochi. Light nods, tissues pressed against his streaming nose. He doesn't know if he'll actually be able to fall asleep. He's so violently congested that he isn't sure he'll be able to breathe if he tries. He crawls into bed, shifting the blankets when they get caught on the links of the handcuffs. L sits down right away and starts typing something on his computer, keyboard clacking at mind-numbing volume. Covering his aching ears, Light asks L again if he can try to do that more quietly. “I doubt it,” says L. “But don't worry, once I start up the security tapes I won't be typing anymore. I'll put headphones in so you won't have to listen. You have an eyemask, right?” He does. An eye mask is an absolute necessity when all your nights are spent with someone who stays up all night with his computer.

L plucks the eyemask from the night table on Light's side of the bed, stepping over Light in the process. Usually, Light would object to this. L's constantly bare feet are caked with dirt, and if Light could smell anything he's sure they would stink. Right now, though, it's hard for him to give a shit. L hands him the eye mask, then asks if there's anything else he needs. “I could have Watari bring you some tea,” he says. Light coughs, and concedes that tea would be nice. “How much sugar do you want?”

“I dod't wadt ady sugar. HAKK-PSCHH!” L nods, then calls Watari, who arrives ten minutes later with an unsweetened cup of sencha with ginger root. The spicy flavor burns Light's throat a bit, but it seems to take some of the burning with it. After finishing the tea, his throat hurts only slightly. L asks if there's anything else that he can do to be of service.

Truth is, Light's back is killing him. This is actually a bit worrisome, since aching muscles are often the sign of the flu rather than a cold. Then again, so is a fever. With any luck, this is just a particularly bad cold. Either way, his back still hurts, and a massage, even one from L's awkward birdhands, sounds heavenly. Somehow, though, he can't bring himself to ask. Part of it is that it hurts to talk, but it also feels, somehow, that it would be asking far too much. This is ridiculous. After all, Light's been locked up in this building for weeks on end, subject to torments ranging from baseless accusations of his being a mass murderer to L's childlike refusal to bathe. He groans and tries to get comfortable, then gives up and asks L, “could you rub by back a little? Snnf.”

L doesn't respond with words. Instead, he scuttles over to Light, straddles him, and starts kneading his back like a lost kitten kneading a blanket. Soon, he switching to karate-chopping his shoulderblades at lightning speed, which doesn't help, just hurts. Light winces, triggers a cough. L slows to snail's pace, then starts working his back like bread dough. “Better?” he finally says, crouching inches away from Light's head. He nods, forehead dusting his pillow.

“Thagk you,” sniffs Light, lifting up slightly to grab a tissue and blow his nose. “I'b sorry I'b so gross. I cad't ibagine I'b ady fud to be arou....hkph-chh!” That sneeze leaves him with snot dribbling out of his nose, so it's good that he's already got a tissue plastered to the spot.

“Think of it this way—if you are Kira, than you deserve any punishment you could possibly suffer, and if that includes a bad cold, so be it. If you're not Kira, than I just feel terribly sorry for you, because you look miserable.” Light nods, indulging in a moment of self-pity. He does feel awful, and it's nice to have L acknowledging this instead of dragging him all over the place asking everyone stupid questions. L starts rubbing his shoulders in circles, swiping up and down his neck. Light thinks of telling L that this isn't nearly the sort of punishment Kira deserves, but his mind feels to fuzzy to string the words together.

“I'll keep this up until you fall asleep, okay?” says L, stroking the small of his back with his knuckles. Light nods, too leaden with sleep and sickness to say thank you.


Light is jolted from a fitful sleep at 3 AM, awakened by L's yelped, “I knew it!”

“Whad did you dow?” mumbles Light, rubbing his eye and dragging himself from his nest of blankets. Right away his spine starts jumping with shivers, so he tunnels back under the covers. His congestion is spilling all the way down to his throat, forcing a coughing fit. L passes him the box of tissues, which he gratefully makes use of. Still too stuffy to actually blow his nose, all he manages to do is make awful noises, but after seven or eight tries he clears a 10-second spot for breathing. This makes his sinuses prickle, pitches him forward in an thick, itchy quartet of sneezes. L is drumming his fingers, waiting for him to finish. When Light has scaled back to merely sniffling, L says,

“Take a look at this security tape.” Light sits up again, this time with his blankets still clamped firmly around his shoulders. L rewinds and unpauses the tape, revealing Matsuda accepting a pizza from a delivery man. The delivery man's mouth is hanging open, and his voice is leaden with congestion, just like Light's. Just before fishing the pizza box out of its protective sleeve, he roars a sneeze into his handkerchief, and keeps it clamped to his nose for the rest of the interaction. When Matsuda pays, him, he coughs before accepting the money. “Obviously,” says L, pausing the tape, “Matsuda ordered pizza, which is completely against the rules. Matsuda hasn't gotten sick yet, but he didn't do a good job disposing of the germs—instead, he passed them on to you. Case closed, and Matsuda's in huge trouble.”

“Great, so I have to be sick for pizza that I didn't eved get to eat,” Light rasps. “Batsuda's such an idiot.”

“Indeed. Well, you're welcome to go back to sleep if you'd like. It's 3 AM, and I'm aware that you normally like to be asleep at this time. Besides, you need more sleep than usual to recover, correct?” Something about the way L says this seems utterly alien, as if he doesn't need to sleep himself.

Then, L wrinkles his nose, and gives a small, squished, “ksch!” He plucks a tissue from the box and blows his nose. “Hm. I wonder if I'm getting sick too? I'm a bit congested.” He sighs, scratches the side of his nose. “I really need to get back to investigating the Kira case...”

“Baybe you cad getd back to it id the bordig,” says Light. He pats the spot on the bed where he's never seen L sleeping, but which allegedly belongs to him. “If you're sick, you deed to sleep. Believe be, I dow.”

L appears to be about to protest, but within five seconds he's sprawled out under the blankets next to Light, with nothing poking out except the crowfeather tips of his hair. “You're right,” he says. “I'm not sure if I'm sick, but I'm very tired. Anyway, the body heat will do you good.” He slings an arm across Light's chest, closes his eyes, and falls instantly to sleep. It takes Light a little longer, but he soon falls asleep too.

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AHHH I came on the forum for like ten seconds just to see if anything was new and I find a story for me?!? Best day ever :D

OMG, Natto, there are six gazillion things I love about this, but I think I should start by just saying THANK YOU SO MUCH. This is fantastic, and I haven't read a good Death Note fic in FOREVER. You are awesomeworshippy.gif

First of all, this part

Light-kun, do you want me to feed you your rice porridge? It'd be so romantic." Sniffling, Light tells her that he doesn't think it would be romantic at all.

made me laugh forever laughingsmiley.gif Light's disdain for Misa was one of my favorite parts of the show

And Light was SO SICK, I felt so bad for him, and L carting him around asking people if they know how he got sick, oh L...

AND there was contagion?! Good God, girl, you know how to press literally EVERY button

Oh, also this part:

Anyway, the body heat will do you good

L being sweet and thinking about Light's well being? Sounds like he IS sick ;)

Thank you times 5 billion, Natto, this was brilliant. Happy holidays to you too!

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@ Kendaahll: Yayy, you liked it! You are very welcome. I'm glad I was matched with someone who liked a fandom I knew anything about. I was heavily into the Death Note fandom for like four or five years...basically the whole time I was in college. It was fun going back and writing about those characters.

I like Misa, but it's obvious that Light doesn't really...though he's certainly much more polite to her when he doesn't think he's Kira. I can certainly see her wearing on his last nerve while he's sick. And yeah, I tend to go WAY overboard with the sickness...I don't like writing about a mild case of the sniffles, I want to go all out. Contagion is also basically my favorite thing (and a good part of why I prefer colds to allergies...).

L probably does care about Light's well-being to SOME extent, he can just easily ignore it when convenient and also doesn't properly display it when he does care. Also, maybe he wants some body heat of his own...

Anyway, glad you enjoyed the story! Thanks for commenting.

@ Artygirl22: I'm so glad it worked for you! I actually was never much of a fan of this pairing, so I'm glad that I could write it reasonably well. I wasn't sure I'd be able to, so thanks for that.

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  • 1 year later...

wow ! this is one of the best Death Note fics I've read on the forum. not only did you have sick light aaand a sneeze from L, but you had their possible romantic feelings and contagion ! and L being L.

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