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So they're both covered in strawberry frosting and L's dinner is a sad mess on the carpet, but who started it? Of course it was Light. He's been having these bursts of rage lately, as he does, but this time instead of throwing a punch he dug into L's cake and ground it into L's hair. Probably he remembered the beatings they gave each other before and prefers his eyes unblackened.
"You are deranged," Light hisses, squirming beneath L's grip.
Light's got pink icing on his forehead, and his nose, and his mouth. Especially his mouth. There might be some in his mouth. That's all it takes: L kisses him, savage and smug, licking past parted teeth into slick, sweet wetness. Light startles, then stills -- kisses back and then doesn't. L opens his eyes to find Light's brow furrowed like it does when there's a complication in the case.
"Excuse me?" Light says.
"You had some" -- L gestures vaguely -- "over there."
The confusion is clearing, fading into what L recognizes as the patronizing look of the preternaturally attractive when hit on. It doesn't work, mainly because there's a glob of frosting clinging to his eyelashes.
"Does this mean you don't think I'm Kira?"
"Close your eyes," L says gently.
Light says nothing, but as L leans in, he squeezes his eyes shut. L's mouth lands on Light's lashes. Beneath him, Light's whole body jerks.
To his satisfaction, L gets the frosting in one go. He moves up to Light's forehead and starts licking.
"Get off, Ryuzaki, you're not a dog!"
Light's face is flushed pink, anger back with a vengeance. L lets Light shove him away this time. Head buzzing blank, filled with a pleasant, sated warmth.
It's no surprise, he muses. He's always had a weakness for sweet things.