dancinglex
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It started innocuously – Misa, being a habitual party-goer and social drinker, begged him to try a drink as they celebrated their victory over L.
Unlike seemingly everyone else his age, Light had never felt the urge to get drunk; the idea of losing control just wasn't desirable to him. Besides, inebriation could make him reveal critical information, and L would grasp onto any mistakes with the strength of a constrictor.
But there's no more L now, is there?
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"You're not too good at following orders, are you," she quips.
"Depends on how good you are at givin' em," he counters. He knows she's good at giving them, because he knows who she is. It's just a tease, but it accomplishes what he wants it to – she presses down a little harder on his chest in warning. Such chilling pressure makes him tremble.
His mouth keeps moving, because that's what it tends to do. "A leader's gotta prove that they're worth followin'. The thing is…" he looks at her appraisingly, "I don't think you're there quite yet."
Oh, and that gets her attention, for better or for worse. Her eyes pin him in place almost as well as her hand, and he squirms a little under her gaze. The upward quirk of her eyebrows indicates her pleasant surprise. So she likes being provoked.
"I'm sure you'll find that I'm very good at leading."
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"I thought about doing this for months, Ryuuzaki. Did you know that?" Light muses, eyes contentedly watching his own hands as they work, lazily tracing the tip of the knife down the ridges of L's chest. Smug bastard, of course L knows. They both knew, it was the unacknowledged (now tangible) threat hanging over them for months. It didn't need to be said.
Light continues on, seemingly disinterested, but it's a facade. The blade pauses in his hand, resting along the tender underside of L's rib cage. "Even when I had no memory of being Kira, I dreamed of this, of avenging myself for the suffering you've caused me and my family." Light allows some of his hatred through now, and L watches as he puts pressure on the blade, creating a small indentation in his skin. But he goes no further. It's as if he's pausing in thought, reconsidering. Another lie.
"I wanted you at the mercy of my own two hands."