Raito grunted as he struggled to make his way to the computer room, his handcuff digging painfully into his wrist.

It was an early morning on a sunday, the Kira-investigation-team were not in the building, and the only occupants were L and Raito, and maybe Watiri. Raito had been cuffed to L for six months, and so far, Raito had only learnt that L abhors pickles, loves bubble-baths, eats honey with a spoon whenever he can, has a thing for transparent computers, and, once every blue moon, falls asleep.

But the problem when L was sleeping, nothing could wake him up.

Nothing.

The first time, L had fallen asleep with his face pressed against his keyboard. Raito had tried from poking L in the shoulder, to clapping giant cymbals over his head –why L has cymbals placed under his bed, Raito never asked– but nothing helped.

Two strait days of coma-like rest later, L had awoken, refreshed and happy, and the first thing he said, was "Goodness, Yagami-kun. You look terrible."

Raito had looked terrible. He had had to do the night shift because L wasn't able to. As soon as L was awake, Raito had given him a glare, and promptly collapsed into the demented detective's lap. Asleep.

The second time, Raito had been mildly surprised. The two of them had been talking about Kira while drinking tea –more like L asking the questions, and Raito answering–, and L had been halfway through a cake, when his eyes suddenly glazed, then closed, his hand dropping the piece of cake, before being placed onto his knee, L's nose snuggling itself in between his pale, spider-like hands.

Twenty-seven point four hours later, L's eyes fluttered open to see a mouse nibbling at his forgotten cake, and Raito, sleeping in a rather painful position on his chair that would make chiropractic surgeons shriek.

The third time, Raito was far from ready. He had just climbed out of bed, tripping slightly on L's couch, which was pressed up against the side of Raito's own bed, where L would do what he needed to do on his laptop while Raito slept, L stood up to follow Raito, and placed his laptop onto the couch, L then followed Raito into the bathroom. Raito was about to pull off his shirt that he slept in, when he heard a loud 'THLUNK'. Turning, Raito found that L was in a crumpled heap on the floor of the bathroom, a bruise forming on his forehead, a small content smile on his face.

And, after Raito had taken his shower, with slight difficulty, he had decided not to pick the detective off the floor, but merely drag him around by his handcuff.

"What a drag..." Raito muttered to himself, grabbing onto one of the doorways with his spare hand to heave himself out of the room, toward the computer room, cursing the ruffly, friction-filled carpet he was currently dragging L along, hoping, dearly, that L would get carpet-burn all over his body.

What Raito did not see, however, as he entered the computer-room, was a large dark eye open, under a messy dark fringe, glittering with mirth, before it closed again, waiting for the train-ride to finish.

((Second drabble soon to come! Please don't ask me where i got this idea. I don't know.))