Death Note (Light/L)

[worblehat.livejournal.com]

Title: Bring on the Noise
Author: worblehat
Fandom: Death Note
Pairing: Light/L
Rating: R
Prompt: Death Note, Raito/L: Regret - "it's lonely here/there's no one left to torture"
Warnings: Spoilers for the end of the series.
Word Count: 829


L's silence used to keep Light up nights. The unceasingly even breaths, the every-now-and-again rustle of sheets as L stretched or curled up. Usually L lie on his side, watching Light through insomnia-filled eyes. Sometimes he pretended to sleep and Light would be left wondering if that was supposed to be for his benefit: to let the suspected Kira sleep more easily.

It was the sort of ironic thing L would enjoy. Consideration in the face of death.

Light twisted onto his side, ignoring Misa's breathing next to him. While he hated sharing a bed with someone who inevitably tried to curl closer to him every few minutes, he found himself thinking of the way L's presence seemed to stretch across the room, almost suffocating; keeping his eyes open as his mind flipped through the different nights spent together, across from each other in the small room, sturdy handcuffs tying them together. His brow furrowed and he closed his eyes, breathing out.

Misa reached out from behind him, hand resting at his shoulder blade. She sighed happily, murmuring his name with content.

He removed her hand firmly, turning her over so that she faced away from him. She muttered something he couldn't make out and he looked down at her, considering how much longer he'd need her around before getting rid of her. The longer he looked, the quicker the boredom he sometimes felt would creep in.

He hadn't always felt bored. It had only started recently, and it always stuck hardest at three-fifteen in the morning. That was the time when L - back when he was alive - would whisper Light's name. Why L did it, Light wasn't entirely sure; for his part, he answered that he was awake about half the time. The other half he simply waited to see what L would do.

Regardless of Light's answer, L would stay where he was, staring back with seemingly empty eyes, in the loudest silence Light had ever heard. His hair would slide lower over his face, shadowing his cheeks, his eyes and his lips. Sometimes he would fiddle with the edges of his covers; others he would scoot closer the nightstand between them, reaching for the box of cookies or cakes or chocolate bite-side candies that he kept there, munching on them thoughtfully. The sounds used to grate on Light's nerves, but he liked the sound. There was a challenge there, a drive to get rid of L faster.

He would watch the moving lips and smile, memorising every movement - recording each frustration for later, when he knew he would triumph. Sometimes, L would spend time licking at a particular sweet and Light would go completely still.

Tonight Light felt that tug at his stomach - the one that seemed to pull him, to crumble his resolve. It was a strange, reckless feeling. His hand slid down to his stomach, playing absentmindedly with a stray thread from his trousers. L's face came clearer into focus, nothing but ridiculed memory; nothing but eyes and suspicion an affinity for sugar. Frustration melted into something else, something that had Light slipping his hand over himself, beneath his clothes. Keeping it at "something else" allowed Light to keep his eyes fixed at a point just below the ceiling, recalling night after night of sleeping next to L: possibly the only true adversary he would ever encounter. He heard the faint, measured breaths in the back of his memory and his hand began to move, turning breaths into faint, barely-heard gasps. L's eyes burned into his mind, whispering "Light" and Light stroked faster, close to coming as he thought and thought of L's mouth, moving around sweets, tongue lolling back and forth as he tasted and bit.

Light bit down hard on his cheek when he came, not wanting to wake Misa. He'd almost rather be dead than be caught doing this. The L that lives in his mind, in his memory is always taunting him - more and more lately. This would be the fourth time Light got off to thoughts of L. It got a little easier each time, especially when Misa was asleep, leaving him alone enough to remember his victories and close-cramped times that excited him in all the best ways.

He stroked his cock slowly just before spilling out over his fingers, beneath the covers where Misa could see. Light would have to shower before Misa awoke or she would nag him about why didn't he wake her up, if he was in the mood - and other things Light never felt like answering. For now, he lie there, eyes still open, his past staring back at him. He saw the corner of L's eyes twitch upward slightly and he smirked.

So maybe he lost this time. And maybe he would lose again, and again after that. It didn't matter.

He'd won where it counted.

Comments

[ann89103.livejournal.com]

Ooh, very nice! Light and L - it's hard to imagine one without the other.

[worblehat.livejournal.com]

Hah, how true. Thanks for reading! :)

[ravenbell.livejournal.com]

Creepy little scenario and utterly plausible. Nice.

[worblehat.livejournal.com]

Hah, thanks! Hope it was a decent read. :)

[fallen-woman.livejournal.com]

Oh, Light. Terrific and in-character. I love the last line, especially -- how Light admits to his weakness (fondness?) for L, but it doesn't matter because L is dead and Light thinks that's a victory and he just doesn't see how *sad* that is.

[worblehat.livejournal.com]

Thanks for getting that! About the fic, I mean. I'm never sure what comes across in my writing and what doesn't. I'm glad to hear you liked it. :)