Genre: Fluff (L x Reader)
You had the day marked in your calendar. L wasn’t aware you knew, but Watari had told you.
You entered the investigation floor, early enough that no one else was present as you knew L wouldn’t want a scene made out of it.
“Happy birthday.” You greeted him cheerfully.
He narrowed his eyes, tilted his head at your words, but not turning his gaze away from the sea of screens he was often absorbed in.
You wasted no time, taking a seat next to him and diving right in, “So, I wanted to get you a gift and naturally I thought, ‘Cake’. But then I thought, ‘No. He has cake everyday. That’s nothing special’. And you’re really hard to shop for because you literally never ask for anything, you just get it. So then I thought, ‘Surprise party’, but then I was like, ‘No, he doesn’t seem like the type to enjoy surprises’. So then I thought ‘What is something he never gets? …Relaxation and being spoiled’. So, that’s the plan for today.”
He responded in his usual disinterested monotone. It wasn’t that he was ungrateful, he appreciated the thought you put into it, but he saw no point in celebrating. “I see. So you’ve performed a behavioral analysis to determine the ideal birthday experience for me.”
After a brief pause, he continued, a bit softer as if the emotional undercurrent had settled in after a lag, “You’re correct. I don’t particularly enjoy surprises… or gifts. But… I am curious what ‘being spoiled’ entails, in your definition.”
You took that as the green light to continue with notably more enthusiasm, “Okay, so I have a few ideas. If you’re wanting to go out and have fun, I already have tickets for an escape room, planetarium, and movie. And afterwards we can get dinner and have ice-cream at the park. And if you’re wanting to stay in and relax, I was thinking we could maybe read, watch a movie, bake something together, and then you get to take a relaxing bath and get a massage. Or if you’d rather do something else, the choice is entirely yours. You’re in full control of today - just, no case stuff. That’s the only rule.”
Your response genuinely surprised him. It wasn’t performatively caring - it was genuinely considerate. You had taken the liberty of meticulous planning, but ultimately left the decision in his hands, letting him choose what he wanted to do with no agenda behind it other than a genuine desire for him to enjoy the day.
“You’ve… accounted for nearly every variable, (Y/N). I see you put thought into ensuring I could enjoy today without discomfort. That’s… unusual.”He glanced down, thumb brushing the edge of one of the tickets, then added quietly, “I think I would prefer the version where we stay in. Reading and baking sound agreeable.”
You took that at face value pushing the tickets aside, “Okay, postponing the outing. Let’s go.”
You took his wrist, gently pulling him from his seat and leading to the kitchen. He didn’t resist, though his expression made it clear he wasn’t used to being led anywhere.
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Once inside the kitchen, you gathered supplies to make a cake - already knowing this was going to be a mess. On the counter sat a box of store bought cake mix, eggs, oil, icing, a bowl, and a pan. You already set the oven to the proper temperature to preheat as the two of you prepped the cake mix.
He watched attentively as you prepared everything. You poured the cake mix into the bowl and then grabbed the eggs, “Do you want to crack them? It’s oddly satisfying.”
“Satisfying?” He echoed back. “You’re referring to the tactile element, I assume.”
You didn’t respond verbally, rather looking at him awaiting his answer.
He conceding, “Very well.”
He cracked three eggs and added them to the bowl. “You’re correct,” he admitted softly. “It’s oddly satisfying. Perhaps I understand now why people bake recreationally.” Then, tone switching to almost faint amusement, “I doubt I’ll make a habit of it. But, for today, I’ll make an exception.”
“Hey, you chose this. You had options.” You quip back.
L’s gaze flicked toward you, the corner of his mouth tugging just slightly. “Mm. That’s true.”
Soon enough the cake was in the oven. You sat across from him at the table where he was scooping the residue on the bowl with his fingers and sucking it off. You smiled softly, seeing him in this state - not calculating, just existing - was a rare sight.
After several minutes of enjoying each other’s quiet company, the cake was ready to frost.
You had asked him if he wanted to frost it, to which he responded, “Very well. Though I can’t guarantee aesthetic appeal.”
“We’re not trying to win any baking contests here,” you volleyed back.
“Good,” he responded. “I suspect our chances would be statistically low.”
You huffed a laugh and rolled your eyes, “You haven’t even started yet.”
“Precisely,” he murmured, now beginning to frost the cake. “And already, my confidence is reasonable.”
“You’re taking this way too seriously,” you smiled as you rolled your eyes once more.
He didn’t even look up, but you caught the barely perceptible note of humor in his tone, “I was told to relax, not to abandon standards.”
You just rolled your eyes again, knowing better than to respond if you didn’t want him to just volley it right back.
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With the cake finished, you both took a slice and made your way to a lounging area where two chairs sat facing a fireplace with two large, floor to ceiling, dew covered windows, on either side of the fireplace that provided a lovely view of the city during these early morning hours when the sky was still dim. The fireplace crackled as you turned on a classical music playlist and took your seat in the chair beside him.
You opened the book he had chosen and began reading aloud to him.
His eyes flicked towards you immediately as you began - alert, faintly incredulous. “That’s unnecessary,” he said, as if clarifying a misunderstanding. “I’m perfectly capable of reading on my own.”
You smiled, undeterred, “I know. But you spend all day reading case material and you’re getting spoiled today, so … cry about it.”
He hesitated as if weighing the situation, then let out a soft sigh, “Very well. However, if you mispronounce something, I will correct you.”
“Fair enough,” you responded before continuing.
Your tone was soft, monotone, slow. Each word deliberate, every syllable pronounced cleanly. Not because of his threat to correct any mispronunciations, but because you wanted it to sound calm, clean, unhurried - something he could sink into rather than analyze.
He sat angled slightly toward you in his usual crouch, thumb to lip, gaze fixated on you.
You eventually noticed his gaze, and kept your tone soft and light, “What?”
He blinked once, as if surfacing from thought, “Nothing.” He paused long enough that you almost went back to your reading, before adding with a softer, slower tone, “I was observing your cadence. It’s . . . very precise.”
“Grounding?” You offered, knowing ‘precise’ is not what he actually meant, that it was a cover for the emotional subtext.
“Yes,” he replied quietly, eyes narrowed, gaze shifting to the floor - a safe, neutral territory.
You offered a soft, warm, reassuring smile and continued to read rather than linger in the moment.
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After a few chapters, when your mouth grew tired of speaking, you decided it was time for the movie. You moved over to the sofa and turned on the television, asking him what he wanted to watch and commenting that you could find something relaxing to watch.
He lightly drummed his fingers on the armrest before resting his face in his palm. “Relaxing may be a novel variable.” He spoke as if he still didn’t fully trust the idea of relaxing all day. “Let’s choose something with minimal plot complexity.”
You laughed softly as you grabbed a blanket from a hamper in the corner of the room, “So, no thrillers or detective movies?”
“Correct,” he said, voice neutral but laced with the tiniest edge of restrained warmth. “I’m willing to trust your judgement on the selection. I assume you’ve curated a suitable list?”
You snuggled up next to him, provoking an instinctive subtle stiffening before he quickly caught himself and relaxed.
“That would be a correct assumption,” you replied with a light smile, taking that as the green light to put on one of the various movies you had saved to your watch later list.
However, true to both you and himself, the two of you couldn’t resist adding observational commentary and pointing out loopholes throughout the duration of the movie. But, at least for once, the dynamic between you two felt almost domestic, mundane even. Although, lacking the usual boredom that comes with the mundane as the mundane was a novelty to the two of you.
You spent the next two hours that way - snuggled together, making dry comments, accusing the creators of lazy writing, and simply enjoying each other’s company without having to be on high alert for once.
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As the movie ended, you both lingered on the sofa, critiquing the movie and overanalyzing - as to be expected.
After a few minutes of your exchange, you instructed him to lie down on his tummy.
He narrowed his eyes, skeptically, “Why?”
“I already told you. Birthday massage.”
He made no move to comply, prompting you to roll your eyes and help guide him into a lying position - you knew he wasn’t one to trust something until shown firsthand, even after all this time.
Once you got him to lie down in that stiff manner of his, you began massaging his neck and shoulders first, kneading at the tension he carried in his muscles. He stiffened at first, but after some time he relaxed into it. So much so that you hadn’t even realized when he drifted off to sleep.
You smiled, soft and tender, at the realization of how much he deserved this - rest, care, human comforts. You planted a light kiss on his cheek as you pulled the blanket over him.
“I hope you enjoyed your birthday, L.” You said to yourself, knowing he couldn’t hear you.
“Very much so.” He responded softly.
His voice startled you as you assumed he had been asleep. However, you quickly recovered, smiling and rolling your eyes before glancing over to see his own barely open yet fixated on you. Soft, exasperated endearment laced your voice as you spoke, “I love you.”
“I know,” he murmured, sleepily. “I . . . love you too.”
