DN -- Flukes
Title: Flukes
Collection: The Margins
Fandom: Death Note
Characters: Light, L
Rating: PG
Word Count: 211
Warnings: mild referenced violence
Summary: Flukes don't happen twice.
Author's Note: idk, my bff Light?
FLUKES
He thinks about it, after the second time they crash together with fists drawn and hackles raised. Flukes don’t happen twice, and he wants to know. He sneaks glances at the unmoving, unorthodox profile like a child stealing sweets, and a wayward tendril of his mind sketches a wide-eyed L with a head too big for his narrow shoulders and a shock of hair he’ll never quite grow into, standing with a thumb to his lips and gazing longingly at the cookie jar balanced atop the refrigerator.
He drags himself back to the original train of thought before he can imagine the method by which L acquires the thing, because he would get it somehow.
It’s watching L lick compulsively at his new split lip that makes Light realize-realize that they fight because words are inadequate; because actions speak louder; because there is something horribly, desperately intimate about the way their flesh meets, seeking to break.
Because it’s disgusting how much he loves the bruises that blossom, stark purple, on L’s white cheeks.
Because he loves the undeniable evidence that he was there, and the proof that L can bleed.
He shivers happily and stifles a grim smile, because it would make him look like he was up to something.
Collection: The Margins
Fandom: Death Note
Characters: Light, L
Rating: PG
Word Count: 211
Warnings: mild referenced violence
Summary: Flukes don't happen twice.
Author's Note: idk, my bff Light?
FLUKES
He thinks about it, after the second time they crash together with fists drawn and hackles raised. Flukes don’t happen twice, and he wants to know. He sneaks glances at the unmoving, unorthodox profile like a child stealing sweets, and a wayward tendril of his mind sketches a wide-eyed L with a head too big for his narrow shoulders and a shock of hair he’ll never quite grow into, standing with a thumb to his lips and gazing longingly at the cookie jar balanced atop the refrigerator.
He drags himself back to the original train of thought before he can imagine the method by which L acquires the thing, because he would get it somehow.
It’s watching L lick compulsively at his new split lip that makes Light realize-realize that they fight because words are inadequate; because actions speak louder; because there is something horribly, desperately intimate about the way their flesh meets, seeking to break.
Because it’s disgusting how much he loves the bruises that blossom, stark purple, on L’s white cheeks.
Because he loves the undeniable evidence that he was there, and the proof that L can bleed.
He shivers happily and stifles a grim smile, because it would make him look like he was up to something.