Title: The Runaround
Author: Tread Softly
Rated: T (sensuality, language)
Disclaimer: I don't own/have anything to do with Death Note.
Archiving: Usually anywhere, just ask first.
Author's Note: Bleh.
There were many things that Light found infuriating about the detective, all of which he believed to be entirely within reason. After all, the world-famous sleuth extraordinaire had no more than forced him into captivity, coerced him into submission, and utterly cornered him in a relentless theory that he was a bloodthirsty mass-murdering deviant.
That in itself could cause one to generate not-so-friendly feelings towards said captor, Light mused.
But despite all the eccentricities: the odd posture, the unforgivingly blunt way of speaking, the malnourished, uncouth, and consistently bed-raggled appearance; the one thing that grated most intensely on Light's nerves was L's undaunted ability to consume a ludicrous amount of sugar.
And it was on that uncharacteristically slow day, as both sat hunched in front of their humming monitors, that Light was watching in morbid fascination as L tackled a practical mountain of cream-filled pastries. For the past few minutes he had been stuffing two or three of the cylindrical confections in his mouth at a time, the effect comically puffing out his cheeks like a chipmunk as his free hand continued to click erratically at his computer mouse.
L hadn't seemed to notice his close scrutiny, and if he had, he wasn't letting Light know about it. He finished stuffing the last of the dessert into his mouth just as Light finally lost his restraint.
"Honestly, where do you put it all?" he asked incredulously.
L turned to him with wide-eyes, as if seeing him in the room for the first time. He swallowed what had been stored in his cheeks with an audible gulp before opening his mouth to speak, a courtesy that Light was very grateful for. "Where do I put what, Light-kun?" he inquired, eyes innocent and gleaming.
"All that junk you eat!" Light exclaimed in exasperation. "The idea of you burning all that off with your brain is just illogical."
"Was that a crack at my intellectual capacity or 'lack there-of', Light-kun?" L smirked, tongue darting out to savor a stray remnant of cream at the corner of his mouth.
Light visibly twitched and decided to ignore the remark. "Well haven't you ever heard of the food pyramid? A balanced approach to nutrition? Didn't your mother teach you anything?"
L tilted his head slightly to one side, dark eyes suddenly aglimmer with something Light couldn't put his finger on. "Is that a question Light-kun is asking, or that Kira is asking?"
Light's gaze narrowed pointedly. "Either way, I take it you won't be supplying me with the satisfaction of a straight-forward answer," Light muttered as he watched L attack a small cup of vanilla pudding that seemed to have materialized out of nowhere.
"Correct you are, Light-kun," L smiled lop-sidedly around the silver spoon between his teeth. "Of course, if straight-forward answers is territory you'd like to explore, I'm sure we could find plenty of alternate topics to discuss."
"Such as?" Light asked, face already fixed with a steady glare.
"Such as your being Kira, for example," L noted casually as he placed the spoon back in the empty glass with a tiny clink.
"Do you enjoy provoking me to the point of physical confrontation?" Light asked, tensing almost unnoticeably in his chair.
"Not entirely, no." L wrapped his slender arms around his knees and leaned forward slightly to rest his chin atop them. He returned the other boy's gaze calmly. "However, I am willing to pursue this investigation by any means necessary. Justice will prevail."
"You're a broken record, L," Light quipped.
"Perhaps so, but I will keep looping until we come full circle. You, me, and the epic end," L murmured against the denim of his jeans, his eyes faraway.
"And tell me, what exactly would it take to clear my name and release myself from your suspicions?" Light pressed, feeling the anger starting to course through his veins. He cursed the detective internally, unwilling to admit that there was only one person who could make his blood run this way, only one person who could shatter his carefully constructed composure. This person was L, and L was perched on a chair spinning back and forth aimlessly, like a dazed child, right before him.
"That question and mode of thinking is entirely inconsequential," L insisted, halting his spin by letting one bare foot drop to the floor soundlessly. "You are Kira. And I will prove it."
Light acted on an impulse, a whim, something he had trained himself to avoid doing entirely and at all costs, and yet there he was, extending a hand into the fabric of L's white shirt, yanking roughly until a set of very surprised lips were against his.
He beckoned and prodded his way into the honey-sweet warmth of L's mouth, groaning despite himself when he felt the other man begin to respond in earnest, curious hesitant tongue curling about his own.
L was perplexed to say the least, and such was quite a rare experience for him, but as he felt Light begin to worry the flesh of his lower lip with sharp possessive teeth, all theories and inquiries as to why Light was acting out in such a manner and how it would benefit Kira seemed to waver and fade beneath the heat uncoiling in his stomach.
Light finally drew back, lingering just over L's parted lips, the pressure for constant witty banter lost on him for the time being.
Despite his now-breathless composure, L managed to gasp out a handful of carefully chosen words. "Are you...quite finished...proving your innocence, Light-kun?"
After a few moments, Light shifted and rested his forehead against the pale skin of L's shoulder. "I hate you."
"I know," L whispered.