… Well, not need. He wouldn’t live up to the standard you hold him to (and rightfully so) if he needed you to perform. Knowing you, he believes you wouldn’t want him to need you, anyway. At least not for his job.

But your presence definitely helps. He believes he analyzes up to ten percent more critically when you’re in the room. Up to even fifteen when you two are making direct physical contact. L prefers to sit perched as he usually does, so you sitting in his lap is not an option. (Oh, and he supposes it’d also cause even more of a stir with the task force than there is already.) But there are other ways for you to maximize his critical reasoning: you sit right next to him, head on his shoulder. You hold his hand and stroke languidly with your thumb. You swipe, with that same thumb, cake frosting from his lips.

It should be distracting. It should make his skin jitter in that strange way it did when you did those things at night. During the rare times of you forcing him away from the computer and Kira and everything else. When he wasn’t working, and when you did those things – and when you did even more things –­ it was all he could think about.

L considers abstaining from these displays in front of others. Your protection is the most obvious motivator.

“Hmm. If I died… I think it’d be okay if I died for you,” you say, thinking. You say so curiously in tone, as if it isn’t death he was talking about. You were from Wammy’s House as well, so you came with your own array of aliases and fake backgrounds and fake references. Finding you was an enigmatic as finding him would be. He made sure of it.

But still it bothers him.

“It wouldn’t be for me,” L corrects, eyes falling from you and onto a tower of sugar cubes that is teetering dangerously. “It would be because of me.”

“I think that’s fine, too,” you say softly, cheeks warm. The amount of honesty in your voice makes him twitch, but no one except you would notice.

It’s after hours, and it’s been a few days, so he’s about to sleep. That’s the only reason I’m letting you sit on me, is something he would’ve thought a few years ago. Now, he knows that he’s letting you sit in his lap because he has feelings for you. And by the way your body behaves, he knows you have feelings for him as well.

For a behavioral analyst – the world’s best, actually – your tells are almost comically textbook. When you look at him, your pupils dilate. In group conversations, your body is usually turned towards him. You ‘brighten up’ when he enters the room.

“Ryuzaki,” you say, sitting eye-to-eye with him on his lap. Your arms are on his shoulders and your fingers are laced behind his head. “I like you.”

“Mm. That much is clear.”

You scoff, smiling. “So, when are you gonna say it back?”

L doesn’t know when, or if, he will ever say it back. Saying it means there will definitely be a following conversation to determine the exact nature of this relationship. There will be some sort of labelling. And despite some part of him, admittedly, wanting that conversation to occur, another part fears you will be at the forefront of all his thoughts from that moment on.

After that conversation, you will, finally, become distracting.

And with Light not even six feet away from him, working at his own computer, distraction means death.

L does not deny the implied “you like me too,” though. L finds he rarely cares to lie without reason. Namely, for a case.

He’s brought back to earth because you’re jabbing him with a pointed finger in his side, demanding his attention. His eyes train themselves back on you. He is suddenly painfully aware of your entire weight resting on his thighs – not in a bad way. It’s just that he is realizing you are present right in front of him. He has all of you, being cheeky and coy, right in front of him. His hands find your waist, and you settle down, like a mollified cat.

“When are you going to say it back?” you ask, but you’re not really searching for an answer. You know better than that. You’ll look for an answer once Light’s behind bars.

L’s leaning in, the corners of his lips gently upturned. When your lips connect, your eyes flutter shut and you lean into him. As is customary of kisses, he decides to close his eyes too.

Besides him just not caring to lie, denying anything at this point would also just be ridiculous.