Etched 6b
Title: Etched
Summary: It was a brief fling that lasted much longer than it was supposed to. One a student and part-time forensic artist, the other the greatest detective in the world. When it ended, both were sure they'd never meet again. But fate had other plans. AU.
Pairing: L/Light
Rating: R
Chapter 6a
L had his feet tucked up under himself, his teacup and saucer balanced on his knees and a thoughtful frown on his face when Watari made his returned presence known in the suite.
"Is your guest gone, sir?"
"Mmm…" L replied in what was meant to be affirmation, but really just ended up sounding like the distracted hum it was.
Watari no doubt noticed this.
"You seem unusually distracted, L, especially when one considers the lack of cases you have taken for the past week. Is there something on your mind?" he asked politely but with an underlying fondness as he went about tidying the room, clearing dishes and stray candy wrappers - a fruitless endeavor, in L's opinion, as his three messy successors were to due to arrive soon.
Yes, there was something on L's mind. It was a certain brown-eyed minx of a man - hardly a man, he wasn't even out of his teens yet - who did things with his body and said things with his eyes that spurred L to do stupid, thoughtless things, the sort of things one wouldn't expect from the greatest detective in the world.
Yes, L was aware he had done something very stupid - there was no two ways about it.
And yes, L was aware of the logic behind the concept of cause-and-effect, of action-and-consequence. After all, he had been serving as the consequence to crime for all of his adult life and part of his childhood; he knew when someone did something idiotic it often came back to bite them one way or another.
And L had undoubtedly done something idiotic, as much as it pained him to admit it, even to himself.
L, in a moment of embarrassing inattention, had unconcernedly given his phone number to an eighteen-year-old (almost nineteen, but that was just details).
His L number.
The number for the phone he used as defender of justice, savior of the world - his goddamn batphone, for heaven's sake. To a teenager who not only was the son of the chief of the NPA, but had thus far proven very intelligent and resourceful and no doubt capable of piecing together L's identity, were he ever given enough clues.
And L had done it for the sole purpose of having sex together again. L wasn't even sure that was legal, let alone anywhere near intelligent.
It wasn't until a few minutes after the door had shut behind Light, far too late to do anything, that L had realized exactly which number he had so challengingly tapped into Light's contacts list. And it definitely hadn't been the number of the phone he kept for such sundry purposes as this, when he wanted to be Ryuzaki or Hideki Ryuga or anyone that wasn't L. It was the number he gave to his successors, to the current head of Interpol, and to men who ran their own countries; it was the number people used to contact L.
And he had just casually handed it out to a Japanese college student, like a street-corner proselyter handed out save-the-whales fliers.
He still had no idea what had come over him.
That was a lie. He had a very good idea what had come over him. His childish, competitive nature had come over him, in league with his libido, spurred by the challenge in Light's eyes and his own refusal to give in and say the words they'd both felt hanging over them but had balked at vocalizing.
You interest me, I want to see you again, I want to play the game with you again.
Words that would have been easy to say, but L wasn't interested in easy.
From outside eyes, the matter would have seemed silly, immature. And perhaps it was. After all, it sounded just like two school children refusing to tell their crushes they liked the other, giggling and blushing and hiding behind their friends as they peeked glances at each other.
…And that was…an interesting imagery. L had compared himself to a child many times before, but never a giggling and blushing one. Interaction with Light was obviously beginning to affect his brain.
And Light's presence had undoubtedly affected his brain earlier - L felt sure that, had Light not been staring at him with those piercing, daring, unavoidable eyes, he never would have made the cell phone number mix-up in the first place.
It was Light's fault. And the ironic part was that Light had just gained a rather major victory over L, and he had absolutely no idea. In fact, he probably thought L had won that particular encounter, what with the slippery way L had expressed his interest in seeing Light again without actually verbalizing it, successfully putting the play into Light's court by giving him the decision to call (a piece of work L would have been rather proud of, had he not messed it up by giving the wrong number).
And yet, what worried him the most was he couldn't quite manage to regret it.
"I gave Light-kun my number," he said simply, in belated answer to Watari.
He didn't glance up from the hole he was currently burning in the wall, the pad of his thumb caught between his teeth, but he could feel the flicker of grey eyes in his direction, however discreet the elder man may have been about it.
"I take it you enjoyed his company, then?" Watari inquired politely after the barest moment of surprised silence. "Well, this is nothing to fret so much about," he said bracingly, even a little indulgently - a sentiment L hadn't expected from Watari on this particular matter. "It is a common practice among young people who wish to arrange further meetings together to exchange numbers. Surely you know there is nothing wrong with this."
Ah. Watari evidently thought he was going through some sort of social insecurity, like an infatuated teenager, despite the fact that L had just passed by his twenty-fifth birthday several months ago.
"I gave Light-kun my L number," L clarified. "Not the Ryuzaki number."
There was a quiet pause as Watari processed this information and L did his best to separate his thumb from its skin.
"…I see," Watari eventually said, lightly. "That is a slightly different matter. Shall I arrange for a new number to give our contacts, as this one has been compromised?"
L debated. On the one hand, that could be a hassle and, if not handled correctly, could make him look bad in front of the world's leaders - something he generally tried to avoid. On the other hand… L thought of Light, the smirk in his voice and the laugh in his throat, the challenge in his eye and the resolute will in his smile. If, for any reason, L gave Light a reason to suspect his identity, it was possible Light would be capable of using the number to gain information on L. Cell phones, no matter how many encryptions were placed on them by top-notch technological geniuses like Matt, were always capable of being tapped by motivated eavesdroppers.
So, with Light's determined eyes in mind, L said, "Yes, I think we'd better. I'd rather be safe in this situation than regret not taking action. I would also like a slice of cake, please. The chocolate one I saw in the fridge - the Black Forest gateau, I believe."
"Very well, sir. Also, your protégés will be arriving within the next five minutes. They called ahead to…'make sure the piece of ass was gone,' is what Mello said, I believe."
L ignored the decided glint of laughter in Watari's eye and let out a noisy sigh of exasperation. This was not going to be fun. He knew he would be incessantly barraged with insufferable, curious successors for at least the next hour, as always happened in such situations, and there was little he could do about it.
"I see. You had better bring me two slices, then. And you might as well bring one for Mello. Perhaps it will distract him from digging obnoxiously into my business."
"Perhaps, sir," Watari agreed, a smile in his voice but his face carefully neutral as he plucked up L's empty cup and saucer. "Would you like some more tea?"
Light looked at the teacup and instantly thought of Light's face, smirking at him over his mug of tea, hiding a laugh in the rim, his eyes taunting. The image was a challenge, and even though it was merely from L's imagination, he couldn't let it pass by.
"Yes. And I think I would like it served in a mug today, Watari, if you don't mind. And bring the sugar cubes. Please," he added at a significant glance from Watari, who had never abandoned his attempt to pound some manners into L's stubborn skull and was probably one of the only people L actually cared enough for to make an attempt. With most other people, L had no need for manners, abandoning tact in favor of his usual brusque and blunt approach.
You're just trying to palm off being a manner-less bastard as being honest and genuine. I can tell you're really just a tactless prick that can't be bothered with courtesy or civility.
L smiled.
No, he didn't regret giving Light his number - he regretted stupidly giving the wrong one (L wasn't supposed to be stupid), but that was being taken care of.
He was beginning to understand why Mello had stuck with Light for over two months, longer than most of the blond's relationships. He doubted his own interest would remain engaged for that long, but he could understand why it had happened. There was something about Light that drew a person in, something intriguing and a little captivating, from his high-handed arrogance to his taunting smirk to his inherent sensuality he couldn't seem to help and didn't seem to mind.
The bottom line was that L was still interested in sleeping with Light, and he was used to getting what he wanted. So, until that interest went away, he intended to sleep with Light and overcome whatever challenges the other threw at him, playing all his fascinating games until it got boring, whether it lasted for two days or two weeks or even two months.
It wouldn't get in the way of his work; he could easily solve most of the cases waiting in his inbox without ever moving away from his computer, and Japan was as good a place as anywhere else in the world to stay. Just until he got Light out of his system.
That was all it was - simply another itch that needed scratching. It just needed a little more scratching than he'd previously assumed.
But for now, he needed to concern himself with how he was going to fob off his inquisitive successors, who would be arriving any minute now. They, particularly Mello, did not yet know the identity of the person L had slept with, and L intended to keep it that way, as he was uncertain as to exactly how Mello would react to finding out L had recently had sex with his ex-boyfriend. Fantastic sex, but that was beside the point.
And- oohhh…
L had forgotten to wipe the security tapes from last night and this morning. That had the potential to be rather problematic.
L had the irrational urge to jump from his chair and throw himself at the mass of computers, which no doubt would have resulted in a lot of ungainly flailing and stumbling and considerable loss of dignity, when the suite door was thrown open and Mello himself bounded inside, an eager grin on his face (which L personally thought made him look about ten years younger, when he was an L-worshipping tyke barely introduced to the concept of leather), followed by a leisurely strolling Matt and an indifferently shuffling Near.
Oh well. L would just have to ensure they didn't get to the tapes before he did.
"L! Did you finally fuck something? I'm fucking sick of these two lowlifes hanging out at my apartment all the time. Well, Matt's okay, but the sheep here drooled all over my couch."
"You know that is untrue, Mello."
"My ass it's untrue! I walked out this morning and you were slobbering all over in your sleep!"
"My mouth was slightly relaxed, as is natural during sleep. There was no saliva whatsoever."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyway, L! Are you going to tell us anything about who you banged last night? Watari wouldn't say anything, the tight-lipped geezer. He wouldn't even say if it was a guy or a chick."
"As much as I hate to sound in agreement with Mello, L, I must also admit to being a little curious concerning the matter - not about details, you understand. I merely wish to know if you have relieved your distraction. Mello is very noisy when he has sex, and the unappealing people he brings home aren't much better. I was unable to sleep for very long last night. I would like to be able to stay in the hotel tonight."
Near must have really been perturbed; that was the longest uninterrupted statement L had heard him say for at least three months that didn't have to do with a case or a robot.
"What the fuck do you mean, 'unappealing'?"
"I was referring to the man with his front tooth missing and general smell of week-old alcohol."
"I wasn't fucking him! He's the landlord, he was taking a look at my broken air conditioner!"
"I wasn't aware that was what people were calling it these days."
"…That was actually kind of funny. But you're still a jackass."
And Matt just relaxed against the wall, a small smile on his face and a knowing gleam in his eye as he glanced at L.
L sighed and wondered if he ignored the three they would eventually fade away like smoke. Probably not. They were annoyingly persistent, and he doubted they would oblige him by changing their state of matter.
Bother.
He hoped Watari brought that cake in soon.
The door to a small breakfast café was pushed open and a slightly breathless body slipped in.
Light paused for a minute on the threshold, his eyes adjusting to the change to soft, subdued lighting and his face slipping into a cool, professional mask, making sure his suit had remained unwrinkled.
Damn that Ryuzaki and his distracting ways. It had been later into the morning than Light had thought, and he'd barely had time to change his clothes and make it to the café on time. Light would never do something as undignified as running down a public street, but he had been required to walk at a brisker pace than he usually liked. And typically he wouldn't care if he was late, but this was business, and so Light needed to maintain an air of professionalism and courtesy - and that included being on time.
He'd have to think of a way to get back at Ryuzaki later, the bastard.
Light scanned the tables, only a few patrons scattered throughout the room, quietly chatting. The person he was meeting was probably already here, waiting, but where Light couldn't see yet.
Until-
"Yagami-kun," a pleasant voice to his left said quietly.
Light turned with a slight smile to greet the man at his elbow.
Slender, sensible glasses.
Ink-black hair, a little longer than strictly conventional but tidy and well-groomed despite this (unlike a certain bastard's Light could mention).
A neat charcoal suit, with barely perceptible pinstripes.
Cool black eyes and a warm smile welcoming him.
"Mikami-san," Light returned just as pleasantly. "Have you been waiting?"
"Not even a minute; you're right on time. Shall we sit down?"
Light nodded, and Mikami led the way to a small, secluded table, almost hidden within a private alcove.
As Light slipped onto a bench, he pushed all thoughts of Ryuzaki and cell phone numbers and intense eyes and revenge plots from his mind. There would be time for that later.
"Would you like some coffee, Yagami-kun?"
An image of a teacup clutched beneath a sulky face rose unbidden to his mind, and Light suppressed the urge to grin, as it would be rather out of place.
Focus, Light. You can think about that bastard later.
"Yes, thank you. Coffee would be wonderful."
For now, he had business to attend to.
Chapter 7a
Summary: It was a brief fling that lasted much longer than it was supposed to. One a student and part-time forensic artist, the other the greatest detective in the world. When it ended, both were sure they'd never meet again. But fate had other plans. AU.
Pairing: L/Light
Rating: R
Chapter 6a
L had his feet tucked up under himself, his teacup and saucer balanced on his knees and a thoughtful frown on his face when Watari made his returned presence known in the suite.
"Is your guest gone, sir?"
"Mmm…" L replied in what was meant to be affirmation, but really just ended up sounding like the distracted hum it was.
Watari no doubt noticed this.
"You seem unusually distracted, L, especially when one considers the lack of cases you have taken for the past week. Is there something on your mind?" he asked politely but with an underlying fondness as he went about tidying the room, clearing dishes and stray candy wrappers - a fruitless endeavor, in L's opinion, as his three messy successors were to due to arrive soon.
Yes, there was something on L's mind. It was a certain brown-eyed minx of a man - hardly a man, he wasn't even out of his teens yet - who did things with his body and said things with his eyes that spurred L to do stupid, thoughtless things, the sort of things one wouldn't expect from the greatest detective in the world.
Yes, L was aware he had done something very stupid - there was no two ways about it.
And yes, L was aware of the logic behind the concept of cause-and-effect, of action-and-consequence. After all, he had been serving as the consequence to crime for all of his adult life and part of his childhood; he knew when someone did something idiotic it often came back to bite them one way or another.
And L had undoubtedly done something idiotic, as much as it pained him to admit it, even to himself.
L, in a moment of embarrassing inattention, had unconcernedly given his phone number to an eighteen-year-old (almost nineteen, but that was just details).
His L number.
The number for the phone he used as defender of justice, savior of the world - his goddamn batphone, for heaven's sake. To a teenager who not only was the son of the chief of the NPA, but had thus far proven very intelligent and resourceful and no doubt capable of piecing together L's identity, were he ever given enough clues.
And L had done it for the sole purpose of having sex together again. L wasn't even sure that was legal, let alone anywhere near intelligent.
It wasn't until a few minutes after the door had shut behind Light, far too late to do anything, that L had realized exactly which number he had so challengingly tapped into Light's contacts list. And it definitely hadn't been the number of the phone he kept for such sundry purposes as this, when he wanted to be Ryuzaki or Hideki Ryuga or anyone that wasn't L. It was the number he gave to his successors, to the current head of Interpol, and to men who ran their own countries; it was the number people used to contact L.
And he had just casually handed it out to a Japanese college student, like a street-corner proselyter handed out save-the-whales fliers.
He still had no idea what had come over him.
That was a lie. He had a very good idea what had come over him. His childish, competitive nature had come over him, in league with his libido, spurred by the challenge in Light's eyes and his own refusal to give in and say the words they'd both felt hanging over them but had balked at vocalizing.
You interest me, I want to see you again, I want to play the game with you again.
Words that would have been easy to say, but L wasn't interested in easy.
From outside eyes, the matter would have seemed silly, immature. And perhaps it was. After all, it sounded just like two school children refusing to tell their crushes they liked the other, giggling and blushing and hiding behind their friends as they peeked glances at each other.
…And that was…an interesting imagery. L had compared himself to a child many times before, but never a giggling and blushing one. Interaction with Light was obviously beginning to affect his brain.
And Light's presence had undoubtedly affected his brain earlier - L felt sure that, had Light not been staring at him with those piercing, daring, unavoidable eyes, he never would have made the cell phone number mix-up in the first place.
It was Light's fault. And the ironic part was that Light had just gained a rather major victory over L, and he had absolutely no idea. In fact, he probably thought L had won that particular encounter, what with the slippery way L had expressed his interest in seeing Light again without actually verbalizing it, successfully putting the play into Light's court by giving him the decision to call (a piece of work L would have been rather proud of, had he not messed it up by giving the wrong number).
And yet, what worried him the most was he couldn't quite manage to regret it.
"I gave Light-kun my number," he said simply, in belated answer to Watari.
He didn't glance up from the hole he was currently burning in the wall, the pad of his thumb caught between his teeth, but he could feel the flicker of grey eyes in his direction, however discreet the elder man may have been about it.
"I take it you enjoyed his company, then?" Watari inquired politely after the barest moment of surprised silence. "Well, this is nothing to fret so much about," he said bracingly, even a little indulgently - a sentiment L hadn't expected from Watari on this particular matter. "It is a common practice among young people who wish to arrange further meetings together to exchange numbers. Surely you know there is nothing wrong with this."
Ah. Watari evidently thought he was going through some sort of social insecurity, like an infatuated teenager, despite the fact that L had just passed by his twenty-fifth birthday several months ago.
"I gave Light-kun my L number," L clarified. "Not the Ryuzaki number."
There was a quiet pause as Watari processed this information and L did his best to separate his thumb from its skin.
"…I see," Watari eventually said, lightly. "That is a slightly different matter. Shall I arrange for a new number to give our contacts, as this one has been compromised?"
L debated. On the one hand, that could be a hassle and, if not handled correctly, could make him look bad in front of the world's leaders - something he generally tried to avoid. On the other hand… L thought of Light, the smirk in his voice and the laugh in his throat, the challenge in his eye and the resolute will in his smile. If, for any reason, L gave Light a reason to suspect his identity, it was possible Light would be capable of using the number to gain information on L. Cell phones, no matter how many encryptions were placed on them by top-notch technological geniuses like Matt, were always capable of being tapped by motivated eavesdroppers.
So, with Light's determined eyes in mind, L said, "Yes, I think we'd better. I'd rather be safe in this situation than regret not taking action. I would also like a slice of cake, please. The chocolate one I saw in the fridge - the Black Forest gateau, I believe."
"Very well, sir. Also, your protégés will be arriving within the next five minutes. They called ahead to…'make sure the piece of ass was gone,' is what Mello said, I believe."
L ignored the decided glint of laughter in Watari's eye and let out a noisy sigh of exasperation. This was not going to be fun. He knew he would be incessantly barraged with insufferable, curious successors for at least the next hour, as always happened in such situations, and there was little he could do about it.
"I see. You had better bring me two slices, then. And you might as well bring one for Mello. Perhaps it will distract him from digging obnoxiously into my business."
"Perhaps, sir," Watari agreed, a smile in his voice but his face carefully neutral as he plucked up L's empty cup and saucer. "Would you like some more tea?"
Light looked at the teacup and instantly thought of Light's face, smirking at him over his mug of tea, hiding a laugh in the rim, his eyes taunting. The image was a challenge, and even though it was merely from L's imagination, he couldn't let it pass by.
"Yes. And I think I would like it served in a mug today, Watari, if you don't mind. And bring the sugar cubes. Please," he added at a significant glance from Watari, who had never abandoned his attempt to pound some manners into L's stubborn skull and was probably one of the only people L actually cared enough for to make an attempt. With most other people, L had no need for manners, abandoning tact in favor of his usual brusque and blunt approach.
You're just trying to palm off being a manner-less bastard as being honest and genuine. I can tell you're really just a tactless prick that can't be bothered with courtesy or civility.
L smiled.
No, he didn't regret giving Light his number - he regretted stupidly giving the wrong one (L wasn't supposed to be stupid), but that was being taken care of.
He was beginning to understand why Mello had stuck with Light for over two months, longer than most of the blond's relationships. He doubted his own interest would remain engaged for that long, but he could understand why it had happened. There was something about Light that drew a person in, something intriguing and a little captivating, from his high-handed arrogance to his taunting smirk to his inherent sensuality he couldn't seem to help and didn't seem to mind.
The bottom line was that L was still interested in sleeping with Light, and he was used to getting what he wanted. So, until that interest went away, he intended to sleep with Light and overcome whatever challenges the other threw at him, playing all his fascinating games until it got boring, whether it lasted for two days or two weeks or even two months.
It wouldn't get in the way of his work; he could easily solve most of the cases waiting in his inbox without ever moving away from his computer, and Japan was as good a place as anywhere else in the world to stay. Just until he got Light out of his system.
That was all it was - simply another itch that needed scratching. It just needed a little more scratching than he'd previously assumed.
But for now, he needed to concern himself with how he was going to fob off his inquisitive successors, who would be arriving any minute now. They, particularly Mello, did not yet know the identity of the person L had slept with, and L intended to keep it that way, as he was uncertain as to exactly how Mello would react to finding out L had recently had sex with his ex-boyfriend. Fantastic sex, but that was beside the point.
And- oohhh…
L had forgotten to wipe the security tapes from last night and this morning. That had the potential to be rather problematic.
L had the irrational urge to jump from his chair and throw himself at the mass of computers, which no doubt would have resulted in a lot of ungainly flailing and stumbling and considerable loss of dignity, when the suite door was thrown open and Mello himself bounded inside, an eager grin on his face (which L personally thought made him look about ten years younger, when he was an L-worshipping tyke barely introduced to the concept of leather), followed by a leisurely strolling Matt and an indifferently shuffling Near.
Oh well. L would just have to ensure they didn't get to the tapes before he did.
"L! Did you finally fuck something? I'm fucking sick of these two lowlifes hanging out at my apartment all the time. Well, Matt's okay, but the sheep here drooled all over my couch."
"You know that is untrue, Mello."
"My ass it's untrue! I walked out this morning and you were slobbering all over in your sleep!"
"My mouth was slightly relaxed, as is natural during sleep. There was no saliva whatsoever."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyway, L! Are you going to tell us anything about who you banged last night? Watari wouldn't say anything, the tight-lipped geezer. He wouldn't even say if it was a guy or a chick."
"As much as I hate to sound in agreement with Mello, L, I must also admit to being a little curious concerning the matter - not about details, you understand. I merely wish to know if you have relieved your distraction. Mello is very noisy when he has sex, and the unappealing people he brings home aren't much better. I was unable to sleep for very long last night. I would like to be able to stay in the hotel tonight."
Near must have really been perturbed; that was the longest uninterrupted statement L had heard him say for at least three months that didn't have to do with a case or a robot.
"What the fuck do you mean, 'unappealing'?"
"I was referring to the man with his front tooth missing and general smell of week-old alcohol."
"I wasn't fucking him! He's the landlord, he was taking a look at my broken air conditioner!"
"I wasn't aware that was what people were calling it these days."
"…That was actually kind of funny. But you're still a jackass."
And Matt just relaxed against the wall, a small smile on his face and a knowing gleam in his eye as he glanced at L.
L sighed and wondered if he ignored the three they would eventually fade away like smoke. Probably not. They were annoyingly persistent, and he doubted they would oblige him by changing their state of matter.
Bother.
He hoped Watari brought that cake in soon.
The door to a small breakfast café was pushed open and a slightly breathless body slipped in.
Light paused for a minute on the threshold, his eyes adjusting to the change to soft, subdued lighting and his face slipping into a cool, professional mask, making sure his suit had remained unwrinkled.
Damn that Ryuzaki and his distracting ways. It had been later into the morning than Light had thought, and he'd barely had time to change his clothes and make it to the café on time. Light would never do something as undignified as running down a public street, but he had been required to walk at a brisker pace than he usually liked. And typically he wouldn't care if he was late, but this was business, and so Light needed to maintain an air of professionalism and courtesy - and that included being on time.
He'd have to think of a way to get back at Ryuzaki later, the bastard.
Light scanned the tables, only a few patrons scattered throughout the room, quietly chatting. The person he was meeting was probably already here, waiting, but where Light couldn't see yet.
Until-
"Yagami-kun," a pleasant voice to his left said quietly.
Light turned with a slight smile to greet the man at his elbow.
Slender, sensible glasses.
Ink-black hair, a little longer than strictly conventional but tidy and well-groomed despite this (unlike a certain bastard's Light could mention).
A neat charcoal suit, with barely perceptible pinstripes.
Cool black eyes and a warm smile welcoming him.
"Mikami-san," Light returned just as pleasantly. "Have you been waiting?"
"Not even a minute; you're right on time. Shall we sit down?"
Light nodded, and Mikami led the way to a small, secluded table, almost hidden within a private alcove.
As Light slipped onto a bench, he pushed all thoughts of Ryuzaki and cell phone numbers and intense eyes and revenge plots from his mind. There would be time for that later.
"Would you like some coffee, Yagami-kun?"
An image of a teacup clutched beneath a sulky face rose unbidden to his mind, and Light suppressed the urge to grin, as it would be rather out of place.
Focus, Light. You can think about that bastard later.
"Yes, thank you. Coffee would be wonderful."
For now, he had business to attend to.
Chapter 7a