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Light peered over L’s shoulder, safe in the knowledge that now was one of the few times he was not only permitted, but actively being encouraged, to look at the great detective’s laptop.
Of course, the only time he was allowed such a privilege was for the sole and unhidden purpose of buying himself food that wasn’t going to give him a stomach ache.
L, for all his oddities, wasn’t cruel enough to subject Light to his toddler’s diet. So here they were, and since Light wasn’t allowed any of L’s bank accounts, he was forced to sit here, and grudgingly tell L things he normally ate like each detail cost him valuable dignity to surrender.
“Fruit?”
“Just... assume I eat everything they taught us in high school we need to function.”
“High school was wrong about a lot of things. I thought you’d know that by now.”
“Not vegetables, actually.”
“Well, they can take their curriculum to the world’s greatest detective for approval next time.”
Light rolled his eyes, and deliberately leaned into and over L’s space, pointing at the screen.
“Rice. We can work up to something a normal adult would eat.”
“Don’t think I’m going to be touching this stuff, Light-kun.” Tongue pushing into the space under his nail, L clicked on the bag of rice Light recognised as the one his mother usually cooked with. “This is so you stop pouting at my lifestyle choices infringing on your disgusting tastes.”
“Disgusting- at least I eat something other than tea ingredients and toddler snacks.”
“You wound me, Light-kun.” L’s eyes flicked back and forth over the screen, then down, to where Light was still leaning into him heavily. “…Do you want to hold hands?”
The mockery was obvious, even if it was delivered with the same passivity with which L offered everything, and Light rolled his eyes. If L didn’t want him making a nuisance of himself, the detective could stop being such an annoyance himself.
“No. I’m fine.”
“Suit yourself. You’re quite clingy.”
Light raised his left wrist, waving the handcuff in front of L’s thick skull.
“Excuse me? Chained together? By whom?”
“Clingy, childish, and hates losing. I seem to be quite like both you and Kira.”
That shut Light up. He pulled his hand back down, scowling, and pushed his head up onto L’s shoulder to get a better view of the screen. He wasn’t clingy. L just had a privacy screen, because he’d spent most of his life in near-fatal states of paranoia, and it was difficult to see at any angle other than exactly where L was.
“…Tofu.” Light gestured vaguely again, the angle limited by the chain being caught a little awkwardly on something beneath them. “Hold on.”
L moved his hand sharply, and Light felt something unhook from L’s desk chair. A little blood flow returned to his left hand, and he narrowed his eyes, catching the barest hint of a smile playing across L’s otherwise blank face.
“If you want to cut my hand off, you might as well just do that-“
“Light-kun. Please. I am buying you food. We can save the graphic threats for later.”
“Oh, this is domestic, now?”
L’s eyes didn’t waver, so Light gave it up. Instead, he pulled his hand up—relatively—freely, and rested his wrist on where L’s knee was bent somewhat awkwardly between himself and the desk.
If L was really as bored about this little situation as he was putting on, Light had no doubts that he’d wave his hand away. Probably mutter something about how being touched decreased his logical capacity. But he’d had no complaint with Light’s chin on his shoulder, so, theoretically, a second point of contact should pass unremarked.
And it did. Impressively, L didn’t even seem to react. Like he’d been expecting it.
Maybe L was onto something. This was almost fun, if it came with no mortal danger to either of them. Light should make a habit of provoking little standoffs like this, it would be a great way to get his own back on the two weeks straight he’d been surviving on eclairs and biscuits.
“You said you wanted fruit.”
“Hm…” Light moved his hand, rotating his wrist until the cuff slid down enough not to be digging into his skin. It was mostly just to wind L up, pretending he was going to point at something. “Anything. I think… I like apples.”
“You think?”
“There’s some stuff in my head missing.” Light closed his eyes, feeling L’s pulse somewhere closer to his forehead, and his own faint exhaustion tugging at the back of his mind. “It’s...weird. I said, I might be Kira. Can we get apples?”
“Have you been sleeping?”
“Yes.” Light headbutted L as best he could, with about an inch of wind-up room, and sighed. “More than you, so it sucks that I feel like… shit.”
“It’s the stress. You’re not used to it. And I’m putting pressure on you.”
“Like hell you are.”
“Do you need medication?”
Light cracked his eyes open again, eyeing L warily. It was obvious, that he suspected something might be wrong. Light knew he was acting out of character, being so physically inclined and practically dozing off on L’s shoulder. If he were L, he’d be suspicious, either that Light was trying to lull him into a sense of security, or that he was actually unwell or otherwise compromised.
Both of those were good options. Light wasn’t quite sure what the answer was, himself. It felt like something had given out inside him, and now a strange stockpile of lethargy was coursing through him.
“No. I’m just… tired.”
“Do you want me to figure out why?”
It was a quiet offer, made in that impersonal way that seemed the only one L was capable of, when he got the vague idea he might be doing a good deed for someone else. He certainly didn’t betray any goodwill towards Light, his shoulder remaining bony and uncomfortable as ever, and the tendons in his knee still held tensely where Light’s hand rested agains the very top of his shin.
If he said no, it might be for the better. That was probably what L was expecting, and true, it would be Kira’s move, to push L away, but that didn’t mean Light couldn’t want a little privacy too.
Yet, the offer alone meant something. Normally, if L wanted to know something, he merely crossed whatever line would stop normal people getting it, and figured it out. Now, it was like he was knocking at the door. It was strangely sweet of him.
If Light said yes, he could be Kira, setting up something to distract L while he enacted some other plan. Or he could just be tired, and kind of bored, and possibly too calm for his own good.
Light shrugged, his shoulder rubbing against L’s shoulder blade.
“Sure.”
“Your mind has finally made it past whatever mental blockade you set up after your time as Kira, and you are beginning to truly trust me going forward.”
“What?”
“Ok. Slowly, if Light-kun really is that tired.” L clicked on something else, but Light was busy trying to channel a glare through the side of his neck to bother to see what. “Presuming—as is somewhat unlikely, but far from improbable—that you are, or have been, Kira, the options now are either that you remain entirely Kira, and the current situation is one of many potential ones of your own ongoing devising. Or, you were at some point Kira, and you now have no memory of being so. There are more options besides, but those are the two I have been primarily focusing on.”
“Presuming I’m Kira at all…”
“Yes. Presuming that, when you were Kira, you would have planned for this period of time, fully expecting to be in my custody. Though, I doubt, in this precise situation.” At that, somehow, that was the moment L decided to look down at him, and Light didn’t have time to school his expression out of an idle wonder he always drifted in when L was talking for a long time. “While it would be to your benefit to tell me everything, Kira would have had deeply internalised ideas of what information he could and could not give me, in order to maintain both his advantage and playerhood in our game. So…”
“So I’d have wanted me to trust you. But Kira-me wouldn’t have been able to fully visualise the idea.”
“Precisely. It’s somewhat shaky psychological reasoning, but I like it. When you lost your memories, there would have been previously occupied, now empty, neural pathways that you have been rebuilding since, possibly with vestiges of the Kira that once used them.”
“So I’ve reached the end of that. Now I’m… really me again.”
“Hence the possible endorphin crash. I imagine being Kira was an adrenaline-heavy pursuit. Without the residual triggers to maintain high levels of those hormones, your body is readjusting to complete biochemical sobriety.”
“Shorter words.”
“You’re crashing. And, sleepy.”
“This… doesn’t mean I am Kira.” Light raised his head, careful to keep one wrist on L’s knee as he narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been holding me hostage for weeks. Maybe Stockholm syndrome is just kicking in, and that’s why.”
“Therefore, I am only marginally factoring this into the increase in your suspicion.”
“Dammit.”
“What do you expect of me?” With a small, almost carefree laugh, L’s hand moved between Light’s eyes and the laptop screen, and a moment later, it was scratching idly at his hair. “Feel free to correct me, and tell me where else this sudden physical dependence has come from.”
“Dependence?”
It was pathetic, the meagre challenges he was throwing back, but Light would swear he was even more tired now after listening to L’s surely over-elaborate explanation.
“Ok. Prove me wrong on that, too.”
Light would. His head had been drifting back down, with the detective’s hand in his hair, but now he pulled fully away. Even as his head swam, with the abrupt movement, he sat straight up, and glared at L in challenge.
“Your hand?”
L nodded, expression neutral, and Light sighed. Grudgingly, he withdrew it, feeling like he was prying each of his fingers off a freezing metal bar in turn.
Not worth it.
Giving up, Light gritted his teeth, and settled for slumping in his chair. He’d settle for keeping one hand on L, and he’d officially given up having any input on his own groceries. It would all come down to L what he actually got, anyway.
“I have to say, I’m a little worried.”
“Don’t be. Maybe it’s a sugar crash.”
“Oh, then I’ll have to carry on as we have been. You’re far more likeable like this, Light-kun.”
“Get me real food.”
L sighed, then laughed again. At least one of them was enjoying Light’s sleepiness, even if it might have become something of a self-perpetuating cycle, as his body got no negative responses to forcing drowsiness into his mind. It was a little comfortable.
“As you wish.”
Maybe it was as simple as the fact that he’d stopped being scared of L. That could have happened for any number of reasons. It could have been this itself, when the last one of Light’s lingering anxieties about this setup was resolved with the knowledge that he was actually going to be fed.
He was relaxed. That was basically all it was, just that he’d been in such a state of tightly-wound anxiety about L’s constant presence, and the pressure of proving his own innocence, and the terror of lacking his own memories that to come down from that, for whatever reason, was dizzying.
Somewhere beside him, L was still crouched, working quietly through his mental shopping list for whatever he’d decided Light needed to function. He didn’t seem bothered, either by Light’s faint prickliness about realising his state, or by the hand on his knee.
It had taken a while, to fully communicate to L that he needed adult food. Light was pretty sure L didn’t realise that vegetables were genuinely part of a balanced diet, and even less than one could miss the presence of them. So it had taken some determined pleading, for L to agree to get him normal food in regular stock.
Light should have asked earlier. He knew that. But he’d been wary of L, and even warier of trying to impose himself in any way. This was L’s domain, and he was just a prisoner in it.
“Done.”
In the end, that had taken maybe all of half an hour. Light could probably have demanded L do this anytime.
He was stupid. He should have asked.
“Light-kun? Are you asleep?”
“What are you expecting? Yes?”
“I was going to logically conclude that a lack of response would indicate an affirmative, yes.”
“I hate you.”
“I was also going to offer hugs, since you seem to have an inclination for touching at the moment.”
Light considered it. Inside his own head. Aloud, he grumbled, faintly, trying to kill time while he brought his head back online. It must be possible. If not, he really was going to go to sleep, so he didn’t have to deal with L.
The chain moved, and his hand rest disappeared from underneath him, making Light open his eyes and stare grumpily up at the detective, getting to his feet with a strangely hesitant energy.
“…sure.”
Not much point arguing. If he did, he’d end up clinging to L’s sleeve anyway. If he didn’t, at least he could pretend to himself that L had taken advantage of him.
L didn’t give any kind of verbal response. The thought that he might be scared drifted across Light’s drowsy mind, and he smiled, getting to his feet with minimal ungainliness. That would be funny. If the great detective was worried about Light wanting a little physical affection.
Light felt like a puppy, lead across the sprawling floor by the chain around his wrist, idly watching L move smoothly around the now-familiar territory like he was staring out the window in a car. He had a certain grace, when he had an idea of where he was going. It was rare, to catch him going anywhere with and for a purpose.
Somehow, he blinked, and he was standing dumbly in the bedroom they were sharing—their bedroom, surely—and L was looking at him critically.
“If you’re not back to normal after tonight, I’m doing a check-up on you.”
“What, because-“ Light interrupted himself with a yawn, and scowled, pushing it down as best he could. “Because you won’t let me out to see a doctor?”
It had been a struggle, to gather himself enough for that. For the first time, Light wondered if L had drugged him. It wouldn’t be impossible, and perhaps not even improbable, if L thought he had something to gain. Maybe, when he thought he was asleep, he’d be questioned about something.
That wasn’t even unlikely. This was a trap. L was going to catch him saying something stupid, and he was going to be way too far out of it to catch himself. He’d already primed him for it, with all that theorising, and now Light could feel himself thinking that maybe, theoretically, if he had been Kira…
He’d zoned out.
L was in his space, the moment Light returned to reality—truthfully, he must have already been, that must have been what brought him back. Staring up at him, wide-eyed, and studying the way Light felt himself fail to react appropriately, as true fear grasped his throat from the inside.
“Panicking.”
L announced it like a diagnosis. It might as well be, with how it made terror crash down around Light, nearly crushing him as he was yanked roughly to their bed, the world beginning to blur at the edges.
A second later, L was on top of him, and this was going to be how he died. L had microphones everywhere, cameras, too, all it would take would be to catch Light off guard, and he’d probably be enough of an idiot L wouldn’t even need to push him into it, it was just that a few of his walls were down, and L was going to use it to prove something he didn’t even know was true.
“Light-kun, eyes on mine.” L was close, above him, head about a foot away with his hands near Light’s shoulders. “I haven’t done anything to you. And I won’t. I can go sit over there right now and let you rest if you promise me you won’t die in your sleep.”
Light might like that. He closed his eyes, willing himself to simply breathe, even if it wasn’t what L was asking of him, he just needed a moment. He might need some space. If L was to be believed, then he’d regret it, knowing he’d miss the closeness more than he’d be comforted by the distance.
It was just so difficult to gather his thoughts enough to work out if L was lying. It should be possible. He should be capable. Light could feel his head pounding, as he tried to think faster to make up for his own failings.
“I can figure it out for you. You must be actually tired.”
L’s hand was on his face. His forehead, and despite his soft voice, Light wasn’t so far out of it he couldn’t recognise the motion. L was checking if he was sick, and he genuinely might be. Maybe his temperature would be a signal that L could move on to the next stage of whatever plan this was.
“Light-kun, if your exhaustion is anything to do with me, and I do use it as an excuse to question you, I swear to you that any evidence I acquire would be inadmissible both in a court of law and to myself.”
L lowered his head, and somehow, Light felt his chest loosen a little as he got closer, until he could feel the detective’s breath on his cheek.
“And if this really isn’t my fault, and I am correct about everything, the point still stands. I will not take advantage of this. I am a little offended you think I would, but I accept you might be more irrational than usual right now.”
It was really, really nice, for L to be so close to him. Light was just tired, and over-stressed, and L was a lot. This was all a lot to deal with.
“I have no intention of you becoming unwell under my care. That’s my only purpose right now.”
Near-meaningless reassurances, yet somehow Light latched onto them. There would never be a time when he could fully trust L. Except for the part of him that wanted to, that said now was a better time than later, with no logical justification.
It was like logic had abandoned him, when L settled carefully on top of him, tugging Light gently onto his side so he wouldn’t crush his lungs. There were no questions, no voices at all. Just Light’s own fear of himself, more than the detective, and the rushing of blood to his ears.
L’s head was buried somewhere under his chin. Hiding his face, and making it perfectly clear to Light, as if he were an idiot, that this wasn’t going to lead to questioning. Even if Light’s body was still struggling to accept that, adrenaline and melatonin vying for dominance.
Some soft sound built somewhere near his chest, somewhere between a hum and a purr, and Light managed to startle himself out of a panic attack, in order to look down at whatever new weird noise the detective curled against him was producing.
“Are you… purring?”
“Shush. I haven’t done this since I was a child.”
L carried on, testing the sound until it was a little lower, a little more full-bodied. However he did it, it was enough to leave Light somewhat reeling, shocked into absolute silence by the world’s greatest detective reteaching himself how to purr against his chest like an oversized, mangy cat.
It was an oddly soothing sound, once Light had calmed down enough to pay attention to it. It had L’s cadence, if he listened closely, but the longer he spent ironing out the tonal quirks, the more Light could feel it more than hear it, and it went straight up his spine and reverberated through his skull.
“Were you…” Light was breathing a little shallowly, so as not to disturb L, as he shifted a little. “Raised as a cat?”
L’s gentle hum upturned into something a little more human, a noncommittal noise of secrecy and amusement, before dropping back down.
“It’d make sense. You’re disgusting and have no respect for personal boundaries.”
This time, L shushed him gently, and Light felt that ever-oppressive wave of soporific calm wash back over him like a tide coming back in. It knocked him deeper into the mattress, forcing his eyes shut, and he exhaled softly.
L’s theory was probably right. The chances were good, that he’d once been Kira, and if so, L should only have advantages, to keeping him in this supposedly docile, memory-less state.
That must be why L’s presence was so calming Light could feel himself falling asleep.