#l dn

For if L was the brains, then you were the eyes and the ears.

And the force needed you both, because the Kira case was the most maddening thing it had ever known.

After all, it was a case of endless reports and unexplained deaths, following such precise patterns that were so precise that the whole situation just felt… wrong, in a way that wasn’t natural. You’d seen criminals with all sorts of egos, vendettas and levels, but this was something far more complex and isolated.

It managed to shake even the most hardened veterans on the force nationwide.

Except L—who sat there from day to day—seemingly unfazed.

When you first met him, he was midway through spooning a horrendous amount of sugar into a cup of milky tea, studying patterns on a whole spread of screens that were stretched around a dark room. You thought he looked almost ghostly then, pale with wide, staring eyes with tired bags beneath them that begged him for respite.

His indifference annoyed you at first.

Until you understood that it was just all… focus.

Real and raw determination that glinted behind his tired eyes, that was so strong that he had forgotten how to sleep, how to eat, let alone anything else. His attendants were the ones who were shoving food directly into his mouth when he stayed in there too long—and for cases when he stayed up far beyond what should have been healthy—he was forced to sleep then, too.

And as frustrating as he was, you found yourself admiring him.

Which was why, when he cracked a crucial lead, you decided to do something nice for him:

Something small.

You were so careful with it, too, setting down a plastic container beside him on his desk the first thing in the morning.

“That flaw you caught out in Kira’s behaviour was incredible,” you softly praised before clearing your throat. “Heard you have a bit of a sweet tooth, so I got you something as a sign to keep it up.”

However, L didn’t seem too pleased—turning his nose at the offering—pushing it away.

“I don’t like caramel,” he stated flatly.

You blinked in disbelief. “What? But I was told that—”

“I like sweet things, yes,” he clarified in a tone that was not unkind, tucking his knees against his chest to hide his discomfort in the confrontation, “but… I don’t like caramel. It is too sweet.”

“H-hang on,” you stammered, “I’ve seen you eat sugar cubes straight from the jar.”

L simply shrugged at your accusation. “That’s a different type of sweet.”

You inhaled sharply at his words, forcing yourself to take a long, deep breath, because the alternative meant losing your composure on the spot and potentially getting taken off the case.

“Alright,” you said with a strained smile, “I’ll go for something else next time. Like… a nice, plain sponge.”

“Not plain,” he corrected you without missing a beat.

Your eyes twitched slightly. “Please.”

He shakily blinked at you. “I would actually prefer if you didn’t bring me cake at all, if you intended to reward me.”

“But you did a good job, and I wanted to do something nice for you,” you quickly replied, defending your actions.

“And it was unnecessary,” he corrected you.

Another deep breath passed through you. “Alright. It won’t happen again.”

L tilted his head to the other side that time. “You sound irritated.”

“I wonder why,” you muttered.

He paused for a moment before attempting to continue the conversation. “Did I do something wrong? I don’t always read people so well.”

You forced a smile and shook your head. “No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you admitted, blinking away from him for a moment. “Maybe I was the one who overstepped.”

Then, as the silence settled between you both, and you returned to work as normal, a deep sense of horror rooted in your gut. It was a feeling so uneasy that it shocked you. A sweeping sort of realisation that vibrated beneath your skin, as you understood that his pushing you away didn’t make you angry, nor sad, but quite the opposite—it pulled you closer.

Had anyone else dared to interact with you in such a manner—had they challenged your gesture, your patience, your kindness—you would have marched into the office of your superior and would have demanded reassignment, the consequences be damned.

L didn’t give you that feeling, though.

He left you wanting him.

Which infuriated you, because you could not understand for the life of you, as to why.

~*~

Fast forward to a couple of days, and the mood inside the workspace felt more suffocating than ever before. A crushing tension had risen and filled the air with an unseen humidity which was thick as it was draining. The Kira investigation had stalled yet again, and the silence between everyone directly working on it had turned brittle; even breathing or clearing one’s throat felt like it might trigger something volatile.

You felt it the most through L, strangely enough. Not that he was too big on talking to begin with, but he had his tells. You just so happened to understand what exactly they were. What you once perceived as an unwavering calm was not the case at all. The fact that he remedied his stressed state with short hums, and fingers that tapped impatiently on his desk with creased brows and bleeding lips—was clear that he was not feeling like himself either.

Then, suddenly, when everyone else had surrendered to the quiet, L stood upright at once.

It made almost everyone, but especially you, jump.

“This might be it,” he muttered, quietly at first, then again, louder that time so that everyone else could hear. “I think that I might have a lead.”

Quickly, he brought up a seemingly insignificant pattern in the timestamps displayed on his screen. At first glance, it seemed like nothing, but in the context of an ongoing investigation, it was a solid thread that could threaten to unravel everything else.

It was a connection.

“Incredible,” someone else leaned in, their words becoming hazy and muffled as you fixated on L with an almost devoted focus, “whoever Kira is… this narrows down the potential identity to a mere handful of candidates.”

The room shifted, and everyone around you seemed to breathe for what felt like the first time in days.

However, you just about collapsed with relief.

All of that pressure—all of that dread—the sleepless nights, the fear that the case was slipping further and further away—broke something inside of you and before you could register what you were even doing, before your thoughts caught up to what you had just committed to—you—you—

—kissed him.

Kissed L.

On the mouth.

His lips were soft, parted slightly in surprise, staring at you with his wide, exhausted, but ultimately shocked eyes.

You froze.

You stumbled back a short moment later, staring back at him with a look that could have perfectly mirrored his own. A bright and furious blush spread across his cheeks—so vivid that it looked almost scalding—as if you had scorched him.

“I’m—I-I I’m so sorry—” you began, gasping wildly, your breath catching on every word. “I-I didn’t— I-I mean, oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

Within a flash, you bent over to grab your documents, dropping them a few times in the process. Several curses left your lips as you struggled to retain your composure. Even Watari turned away quietly, avoiding your gaze, like he hadn’t seen what just happened at all.

L, meanwhile, remained quiet.

You tried to skirt around the desks, tripping over nothing, apologising so quickly that the words came out all jumbled. Your voice rose in pitch, and tears pricked at your eyes over the sheer amount of embarrassment you felt right then and there.

“I didn’t mean it—no—I did mean it, but not like—not like that—I wasn’t thinking—I’m so sorry—pretend that it didn’t happen—or—no—”

At that point, too, you were almost ready to fake your own death.

Maybe even move overseas to somewhere new.

Then, you heard a soft voice behind you, just as you were about to leave entirely.

“Wait,” L called out.

You stopped, but you didn’t turn around.

“So… it’s like that,” he followed up, not quite talking to you that time, rather to himself.

You weren’t sure what he meant, but truth be told, L didn’t fully understand either—because it was his first time feeling something like this, too.

Giving it a few more agonising seconds, you slipped out completely that time, letting the door click shut, leaving everyone behind in the awkward, now-charged silence.

All the while, L stared at the space where you had been, his fingers pressed to his lips, a furious blush staining his cheeks, and wondered why, for the first time in his life, his thoughts felt like an unsolved case.

~*~

The next time you saw L, you made sure to set your expression to something that looked professionally unavailable. If anyone would tease you for it, or bring it up at all, you would tell them that it was their tired mind playing tricks on them—anything to disguise the fact that you had kissed him and then fled the room.

You even arrived early, hoping to set the record straight, but then your superior officer intercepted you on your way in.

“Heard you and L had a moment,” he brought up.

Your soul just about left your body, a small, unheard curse uttered out of your lips as your eyes screwed shut for just a moment. You blinked up to meet his gaze, your face suddenly unsure and ashamed. “S-Sir, I can explain—”

Though all he did was wave his hand dismissively. “It’s alright. You’re not in trouble. It’s surprisingly common in high-pressure environments.”

You blinked again. “...What?”

He left out a soft laugh. “But L? That guy? Really? I’m just surprised that’s all. Didn’t think he would be your type.”

“This is so humiliating,” you said, bowing your head in continued shame. “I’d rather have you fire me.”

He patted your shoulder with a shrug. “Relax,” he soothed. “It’s just… surprising. That guy doesn’t notice much beyond the pixels on his screen. If he even looked up from it, then…” he trailed off, his weathered face wrinkling with thought, “perhaps it isn’t as one-sided as you think.”

Then, just like that, he walked off, leaving you frozen in the middle of the hallway, looking mortified.

Swallowing your pride, your panic, and everything else since that fateful incident, you marched back to L’s surveillance room, trying to move on without sacrificing what was left of your dignity even more.

L was sitting inside like usual, hunched over his keyboard, in deep focus. Or, no, he wasn’t. You knew him well by now: his tapping was off-beat, his posture was rigid, he wasn’t even working, but rather staring at a blank spot on his screen.

You cleared your throat. “I’ve managed to triangulate the possible operation zones based on Kira’s patterns. If we combine it with the previous analysis, then maybe we can narrow—”

L nodded quickly. “Yeah. You can leave the files here.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “But you’re not even looking.”

“I am,” he replied, almost mechanically.

You placed down the documents anyway, taking a moment to observe him and just see in general how he was doing. L sifted through the data, skimming idly through the files, but his fingers twitched whenever he heard you shift or breathe or exist. His brain was just as addled as yours, because, well, you kissed him.

He tried throwing himself back into work, just like you did, but every single thought in his head was stuck on that instance.

He had never been this distracted in his entire life.

Not that you were doing any better—no matter how much you tried to move on—your mind drifted to the very same thought, too.

Then, finally, after roughly half an hour of excruciating and tense silence of trying to function and work side by side like professionals, the silence finally broke.

L took a deep breath, sighing.

“About last—”

You froze. “—Oh, that was nothi—”

“Wait,” he tried to catch you again before you dismissed him entirely.

Though you could still only shake your head. “I’m so sorry, okay, I really am. It was unprofessional of me, and I didn’t think—”

Your breath caught, and you couldn’t quite finish your words, nor could L reply for a long time, but then, his throat cleared. “It was… mutual,” he went on to reveal.

You went silent, staring at him, unable to respond at all.

Then finally, you managed to blurt something out. “Wait… what?”

L didn’t dare to look up anymore, choosing to return to work, or at least try to do so.

“No, wait,” you called out, taking a step closer. “Can you please elaborate on that?”

Though he didn’t reply. His knuckles might have tensed and his jaw might have tightened, but he didn’t act on anything else.

“Fine,” you softly scoffed, letting out a frustrated sigh, refusing to be humiliated a second time. “We’ll just move on from this, alright? It never happened. Let’s just… focus on work and then I’ll be reassigned and… you’ll never have to see me again after.”

L’s breath caught and he gulped down everything that raced in his mind that he just couldn’t tell you. He wanted to reciprocate with equal indifference, to pretend that it was all fine, but he internally battled with the part that struggled to confess, because he just wasn’t good with expressing his feelings.

Therefore, L remained quiet, unable to tell you anything else. What he couldn’t tell you was that he was focusing on you—but all of you—your lips, the way your eyelashes fluttered, the way your clothes sat on your body and what must have been underneath. That’s right. He couldn’t admit it. He couldn’t tell you that just the kiss left him wondering what more there was.

And beyond even the lust, how he didn’t want you to be reassigned, how he wanted to work more with you. How he wanted to see you every morning now, how you could probably now get him cake if you wanted to. How he liked having someone that for once, he got along with. How he liked your mind and how it worked—but—he was left frozen on the spot.

Though, it wasn’t just him who was grappling with oneself, for you too, were overcome with all sorts of things.

Had you been a little bolder or if had he hinted towards anything at all that could be deciphered as reciprocated interest, then…

You swallowed it all down, even if you did want to know…

More of what he was like, whether he would be shy in bed or if he would be gentle or if that’s where he would show his passion—whether or not he matched the stereotype of a shy nerdy guy with an absolutely big cock—if he would finish quickly or focus too much on you.

Or, if he was loving, if he was gentle, if he’d notice all the little things about you like he did while at work and life with him would be easier than every other guy you’ve ever come across. You wondered how you’d spend your time with him if you were together, if you’d be more of the indoorsy type or if you’d quietly go places and just… exist together.

That sounded nice.

(But then you choked on your own breath.)

You exhaled deeply, crossing your arms in irritation, trying to hide how you were overcome with a new realisation—different from the one from before—because you had just learned that L liked you too, and that he was equally as terrible at dealing with it.

Which meant that this case just got a hundred times more complicated.

(Because what did that mean for you both from now on?)