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“I’m cold.”
Light didn’t look up from his crossword. He had two more to go, and he planned to send his finished puzzle to his father. They enjoyed each other’s successes.
L whined and scooted closer. They were seated side by side at a café in some dogwater small town Light didn’t really remember the name of. A case went sideways, and after threats from disgruntled police officers whose private improprieties L had made public, Light found them a room nearby. Watari said he’d call when new plans were in place, hence their café waiting area. Conditions were poor, but life went on.
His other half felt differently. L scrunched his fingers into Light’s shoulders and tugged him closer. Light tapped his pencil eraser to L’s pert nose.
“Drink the coffee I ordered you if you’re so cold.” Before them on the table was Light’s half-drunk black mug and L’s full latte – pink via strawberry milk. “Or go get your coat from the hotel room.”
“I don’t want to do either of those.” Gray half-moons around impossibly large black irises bore into Light. “Can you get me a lava cake? Or maybe a hot apple?”
“Read the menu. They don’t have hot apples here.”
“You could do your Kira face and make them do it.” L put his chin on Light’s shoulder. “I’m putting my hands in your coat pockets.”
He shoved them in with a quickness that jostled Light. Even through corduroy the other man’s chill came through, and Light regretted not forcing L to wear his coat. The minute L turned his big baby eyes on him, though, Light couldn’t give the order. Next time he’d just wrestle the brat into layered clothing – a scarf and hat, too, so L could be cute.
Not that L was lacking cuteness now. His mussed lacquer-black waves stuck to his cheeks, which themselves carried a pink wind-chapped flush. A bruise lurked under his shirt collar – evidence he’d been ravished that night. Light had to remind L several times of their hotel’s thin walls before he gave up and got out the ball gag.
L snuggled in until their bodies fitted without seams. Around them, other patrons flitted in and out paying little attention to their affectionate attachment. It was these times Light appreciated how different his life now was from his youth. No one cared about their affection here – unless they were the cops from the city whose extra-marital affairs he and L exposed.
“You’re always warm,” L murmured in Light’s ear. “My personal space heater.”
“Well.” Clearing his throat, Light couldn’t fight a rising blush. “Better me than a non-existent lava cake.”
“Hm.” A pout plumped L's lower lip. “My face is cold, too, Light. Warm me up all the way?”
Light enjoyed kissing L. His soft lips were smeared by the strawberry lip balm Light bought for him at every airport newsstands. During kisses, his dark lashes spread like raven feathers and brushed his peach-fuzz cheeks. When they drew apart, L’s ear tips were cherry-blossom pink.
“Am I your favorite person?” Hazy gray eyes blinked in slow, sweet flutters. “I have to be, don't I? You'd only be this nice to your favorite.”
“Oh!” Light grabbed his pencil and wrote in his last Down answer: favorite. “Thank you, angel.”
“You’re welcome.”