Work Text:
Do you overthink your Xmas gifts?
On the table in front of L, four gifts lay waiting to be wrapped. He had thought long and hard about them, choosing with utmost care. He had ruminated for hours upon the nature of that most complex emotion; love.
As far as he had been able to deduce, love came in four parts. Hence, four presents. No more, no less.
L worked with care and attention, folding, cutting, sticking, each line made straight, each ribbon the perfect length. A plethora of decorative holly, robins, pine cones, and dogs wearing santa hats covered each gift, the wrapping paper concealing it and thus, as far as L understood the matter, contributing to the surprise .
He had heard that surprise was welcome in the tradition of gift giving.
He laboured to wrap the four special gifts perfectly.
Over on the table a feast had been laid, complete with festive diversions (“crackers”), sustenance (“roast potatoes”), and his best cutlery. He set the four gifts in pride of place on the coffee table, to be opened in the most particular order. The symbolism of the gifts was the most important element. Each one must be taken, tasted, savoured like a delicacy on the tongue, and lead on to the next in an elegant dance of metaphor and feeling.
Through each item, revealed in turn, the depths of his passion would be conveyed. And finally, finally , Light would understand his feelings, and then become his.
The theory was infallible. Nothing could possibly go wrong.
The doorbell rang and L bit down on his thumbnail. He gave the room one final sweep of attention. Had he forgotten anything? Of course not. He’d been planning this for weeks.
He opened the front door.
Light wore a winter sweater featuring a reindeer motif, appropriate for the season. He held a box in front of him—presumably a gift, potentially an explosive device (unlikely, but the possibility was more than zero). There was a look of restrained suspicion in his eyes. A look that asked “ what’s this about?” even as his cherry lips said “Merry Christmas, Mr Lawliet”.
“Merry Christmas, Light-kun.” L drew back from the door like he was allergic to outside air. “Why don’t you come inside?” Smooth and slithery as a snake.
Light stepped past him, and L breathed in. Cologne. Not Old Spice. A seasonal option? Frankincense and cinnamon. An undercurrent of mulled apples. That was promising. And rather delicious. Something like a sticky Christmas danish. L had a habit of licking off the icing first, one long, slow lick at a time. He imagined pulling that Christmas sweater off, like he was unwrapping a gift of his own.
“I have presents,” L explained as Light bent to remove his shoes. “For you.”
Light stood in the entranceway, his feet very appealing in his Christmas socks. Soft, they seemed. Solid. Kissable. L’s bare toes rubbed against one another as he admired them.
“How kind.” Light held out his own box. “This is for you.”
L took the gift and set it aside. “If you will sit in the living room,” he pointed, “I will give the gifts to you. As per tradition.”
“Right,” Light’s smile was small and wary. His handsome face was well-proportioned, L always noticed. The young man had particularly good genes. Such a thing made him attractive to the opposite sex, L understood, as well as to older, well-accomplished, world-renowned detectives.
Light took a seat at the centre of the sofa, leaving no option but for L to take the armchair opposite. He had intended to sit beside Light, and breathe in a little more of his cinnamon. But this would work out better; he could see him more fully from here. Admire each moment of Light falling further and further in love with him.
“Should I just-?” Light reached out a hand to one of the presents in the centre of the row.
“No!” L stopped him. “This one first.” He pointed one crooked finger at the gift on Light’s left.
Light took the gift in two hands, his fingertips causing small ripples in the paper, and gave it a shake. The box made no sound, but the size and shape was familiar.
Light gave a chuckle. “It seems the right size for an iPhone.” He looked at L, and his smile was light-humoured and casual. His eyes, however, were dark. There was always a little something behind Light’s smile. That was something L found attractive about him. “Of course you wouldn’t buy me an iPhone.”
L did not respond. The paper tore open, and the box fell into Light’s lap.
“Oh. It is an iPhone.”
L nodded. A cell phone, for Light to keep on hand, and pour all his secrets into. This symbolised the first part of love. The desire for contact. The need for connection.
L had worked alone all his life. He had a team, but they didn’t work with him, only for him. They were tools. One would never describe a pencil, a pen, or a bag as a colleague or a friend. But when L looked at Light, it was different. Light, and Light alone, was not dull in the way everyone was dull to L Lawliet. L wanted to hear him speak. Wanted to know what fresh lie would escape from him next. L wanted to reshape the world into the images that Light Yagami mistakenly perceived. Wanted to experience the world that Light saw. Wanted to live in it.
L had never felt such a thing before. Connection . A path to hearing Light’s voice. A way to his very thoughts.
L was proud of the profound depths of meaning that one cell phone represented.
Light set the phone aside, thanked him, and picked up the second gift.
So far, everything was going to plan.
This was a good one. L could not resist leaning forward in his seat to watch the sight unfolding.
Light’s brow creased as he unwrapped the paper bit by bit. This gift was as long as a shoe box, but nearly so big. The soft sound of tearing paper filled the room, punctuating the sounds of their breath.
“What could this be?” Light muttered.
L leaned further forward, his eyes fixed on Light’s moving hands, the dark shadows under his eyes deepening with each passing second.
Fall in love , the words hummed in his heart, willing it to be reality. You’re falling in love with me. Love me. Love me.
“Oh,” Light finally uncovered the box. “It’s… it’s string of fairy lights.”
A shiver ran through L’s body and he leaned back in his seat, savouring the wave of satisfaction. Yes. This gift was his favourite. The meaning? The desire for physical contact.
This one was particularly brilliant. You see, apart from the fact that the lights were strung together in a line, very obviously symbolising the nature of intimate physical connections–the kind of connection L was seeking with Light–and the fact that Light’s name was itself… light (how brilliant), there was also the nature of the lights as a rope. A weapon, one might say. One of L’s most persistent personal fantasies was one where he would tie Light up, (with rope, or with a string of fairy lights just like this one), and touch him however he wanted for as long as he wanted. The whole scenario was incredibly lewd and merely looking at the fairy lights caused him to blush. Having gifted it to Light was about the single most sexually forward act he could think of. His brain was quite giddy with both embarrassment and excitement just looking at Light with those fairy lights in his hands.
Light glanced around for a wall plug. “Should I… put them on?”
Put them on your struggling naked body? A hot flush moved through L’s body at that simple sentence. “No!” he said quickly. “No need.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a handkerchief to dab his neck.
Light looked at him askance.
L indicated the next box, trying to keep his breathing under control.
Light collected the third gift. This time, he did not dally but removed the paper in one, determined rip . What fell into his lap was a boxed stainless steel kitchen knife. Looking slightly baffled, Light removed the knife from the box. The point glittered, hard with the promise of pain. It looked good in Light’s hand as he turned it, one way, then the other. The metal twinkled cold in his fist.
“A knife?” Light finally asked.
L nodded. A knife. The third aspect of love. The desire for exclusivity .
This gift was crude, so obvious. Threatening. The meaning was clear. I’ll kill you before I lose you to another . L had had nightmares about someone else’s hand in Light’s hand. Someone else’s lips on Light’s neck. Someone else’s tangled legs and ankles in Light’s bed, beneath Light’s sheets, gripping Light’s ankles, sucking Light’s skin. L rarely felt possessive, but his feelings for Light Yagami were too huge to remain calm in the face of failure. There was a volcano bubbling just beneath his skin. Control felt all too easy to lose.
Light lifted his eyebrows as he looked at the knife. “I do like cooking,” he acknowledged. He rolled his tongue over his lower lip as he puzzled over the kitchen utensil. L weaved his fingers together into a mesh and squeezed his palms tight together. The skin was hot and damp. Do you see it yet? How much I… How much I want to…
“Perhaps I’ll… cook you dinner some time?” Light suggested, his voice tilted in query, feeling his way through the myriad of possible meanings behind the gifts. Bumping against one, and then the other. His mind must be awhirl, L knew. Putting the clues in order. Each gift with its own special meaning, an essential component of the whole. The symbolism was coming together. Any moment now, Light would see it.
But first, the final gift. And then all would become crystal clear.
This was the smallest gift. Flat and thin. Lightweight. The decorative wrapping showed dogs in santa hats. Light picked it up slowly, his eyes zeroed upon it, the dots connecting in his mind.
L’s heart pumped hard. He worried his lip between his teeth, rubbed his big toes together harder than ever. This is it. This is it . You’re finally going to see it all. My deepest secrets, all laid bare.
Light’s palm moved over the face of the gift, wrinkling the paper, feeling it. He slid two fingers along the thin edge, then bent it gently to test its sturdiness. A calculating look moved in his face, his remarkable mind clutching at each delicate thread, bringing the tapestry of symbolism together.
L held his breath as the first corner of the paper broke away. A little more, and a little more. The sound of paper tearing moved like electricity through L’s ear, sparking in his brain. His chest clenched hard. Tight. This was it.
From within the paper envelope, Light’s fingers closed upon the gift and pulled it free, the santa dogs tumbling away. And there. There. There it was.
Light gripped it in two hands, and stared hard.
“It’s a notebook.”
L let his breath out in a rush.
Light turned the thin booklet over and over. The cover showed lilies gilded in golden foil. The pages were perfect bound. Flipping through the sheets, each one was ruled, and blank. There was a space for the date. Light swallowed hard. He looked up at L. And he looked down again at the notebook.
“Thank you,” he said.
L nodded. The fourth and final part of love, revealed. The Desire for Defeat . For Light, and only for Light, was he willing to fail. The symbolism of the notebook came in multiple parts. Firstly, a tool using which Light could continue his work opposing L. Secondly, a symbol of Light’s murderous power. L had long suspected that writing was connected to Kira’s killing technique, and L had long known that Light was Kira. Finally, the gilded lilies on the cover represented that which was already perfect, ruined by improvement.
L pressed his lips together and watched Light through hooded eyes.
Everything was in place now. Everything.
Lined up on the coffee table were the cell phone, the fairy lights, the kitchen knife, and a blank notebook.
Surely, if there was ever a deeper and more profound expression of love, it was beyond mortal comprehension.
The minutes passed. Light’s eyes roamed from one gift to another. L leaned forward, watching. Savouring. He must remember this moment, forever. The delicate balance of a dewdrop hanging from the tip of the leaf. Any moment, it would fall. Any moment, Light’s eyes would delight in sudden and awesome understanding.
When Light’s eyes finally lifted, he met L’s gaze with a tightly schooled gaze.
“Thank you,” he repeated. His expression gave no hint of his inner thoughts.
L felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. Had Light finally understood? Was the whole world changed, and new? Could they…? After this… might they really… even…?
Light’s eyes flickered towards the doorway. “Why don’t you open my gift?” he suggested.
L’s whole body numbed. His skull felt cold. His consciousness drifted apart from himself, like he was separated from his own body. What did this mean? Was he being rejected? Was it possible that Light hadn’t… understood?
No. No. Impossible. He’d chosen every gift with so much care. Of course Light would understand the meanings behind each item. He must. He must!
L rose from his seat and approached the side table where he had set Light’s gift. He had been so focused on his own gift giving that he’d not set any importance upon it. Perhaps his answer… was in here? He took it up and returned to his seat, clutching it in two hands, holding it against his chest.
“What is it?” he asked, and looked enquiringly at Light.
Light shook his head softly, and motioned that L should open it. Suddenly, L didn’t feel like surprise was all that great for gift-giving after all.
He shook the box, but it was silent. It was small. Too small for a teddy bear. Too big for an engagement ring. And so lightweight it seemed like there was nothing inside at all.
He sent Light a pleading look– just tell me– but Light only shook his head again. There seemed to be a touch of a grin at the corner of his lips, but when L looked at him again, the smile was gone.
L took a breath, and tore away the pretty wrapping. Beneath, the cardboard box was plain brown. No logo. No name. Just an unmarked box. It seemed more like an explosive device than ever, in more ways than one.
Trying to conceal the way his hands were shaking, L managed to fit his fingers into the edge and lever open the lid. He saw a little hint of fabric inside. What was this? His two fingers pinched it and began to lift it out. Could it be a knotted scarf? A symbol of inseparable loyalty and devotion, ancient symbol of the goddess Parvati? Could it be a woven fabric with two hummingbirds, the traditional Incan symbol of love and reciprocation? Or instead perhaps it was batik fabric; the sido asih motif, opening wing-like symmetry into a blessed marriage.
L pulled the item from the box and held it aloft.
It was a man’s leather thong.
He turned it, twisting his wrist so the tiny thing spun around. It was really… very small. The leather was soft and brown, and the strings holding it together were narrow loops through which he could see Light’s face across the coffee table.
Very slowly. Very, very , slowly. L lowered the thong back into the box. Then he looked up.
Meeting Light’s stare, he wet his lips. “But–” L stammered cluelessly. “What- does this mean?”
THE END