Pretext for this Humble Story: On the night that the Kira Investigation Unit captures Higuchi, the third Kira, they discover the Death Note. L holds this mysterious weapon in the helicopter, and when Light asks to see it... L says "hell no, man-bitch! Make me a sandwich!" and Light does, and there was much rejoicing. Our favorite sociopath therefore goes to college without a memory of Kira.
Rating: M for sexuality, language, and microeconomics
A Modest Proposal
Light was poor as hell.
Even with the scholarships he received (and that was a lot, considering his outstanding grades and credits), To-Oh University was damned expensive. It was a school targeted toward rich kids, and although Light wasn't poor, it would be a bold faced lie to call him anything above middle class. Tuition and supplies weren't even the only sources of agitation, but living expenses as well. The Yagami family had downright relinquished their son to the realities of the financial world, as Soichiro, Light's father, believed that it takes personal experience to conquer the beast that was economics.
As such, no help, except the occasional plastic plate of fresh made cookies, courtesy of the exquisite chef, his mother Sachiko Yagami.
Which he gave to L, since he rather detested sweets.
Ah, L. The only thing that in his life that wasn't reduced to the status of beggar was his sex life with the spindly detective. Ever since L had cleared Light of suspicion on the Kira case and captured the real criminal, he and Light had been hiding this peculiar little secret. L made his headquarters right in Tokyo, so after classes (or in between them... or during them...) Light would sneak through the security and give the man his cookies, and they would screw like dogs in heat.
"You really should compliment Mrs. Yagami, Light-kun," L said with a mouthful of double chocolate chunk pastries. "Also, tell her to make the peanut butter ones again, and suggest adding caramel."
"No," Light responded sourly, immediately stripping off his shirt because he only had twenty minutes before he had to get back to class. "If I suddenly expressed interest in her cooking then I might have to explain you."
"You're embarrassed?" L joked. Chocolate was smeared all across his lips, and renegade crumbs were on his cheeks. It was hard to believe that the sugar-coated male was seven years his senior.
(At least it was hard to believe when they weren't having sex.)
(Or trying to beat the snot out of each other.)
(Or both.)
Light shook his head in denial. "Telling them that I'm having sexual relations with someone wealthier than J. K. Rowling is far from the most strategic course of action I could take when it comes to begging money off of them. Speaking of which, hurry up and take your clothes off."
"Don't rush things, Light-kun," L chided while stuffing another cookie in his mouth with sophisticated dignity. "You can wait patiently on the couch for me."
"No, I really can't wait!" came the irritated answer. "I have eighteen and a half minutes before I have to start walking back to To-Oh."
"If you take the bus, then you have thirty-three minutes with me."
Light was really starting to get annoyed. "I can't afford a ticket. Not everyone in this room is a multi-billionaire!"
L put on an exaggerated startled look, as though he had only just realized this. "Ah, yes. I forgot. My apologies."
Your apologies my ass.
'Ass' to be taken somewhat literally.
When they were finally thoroughly naked (at sixteen minutes before Light had to leave), they sunk down into the cushions of the couch. Light could taste the remnants of sugar cookie in L's lips, a flavor that used to annoy him but he put up with it. He furiously made out with L, who was actions were languid as if in a deliberate effort to piss off the brunet. Lazily he fondled his manhood, as if he had all the time in the world. Irritation aside, the indescribable warmth erupted in his groin, and a near intoxicated college student was mumbling insensible things like, "More, faster you dumb idiot, I swear to God I'll kill you, I only have like five minutes before I gotta go, stupid, ah, fuck!"
To which L's face would be filled with a smug grin that made Light want to punch him, or at least return the sexual torture.
But even so, it was good. Real good. It never stopped being this good.
Kind of illogical, maybe. The truth was, though, that even after two years of seeing each other (or perhaps more accurately, shamelessly screwing) they still pissed each other off, and for some reason that was the greatest. It was a stress reliever, the cause of stress, a buzz, a drug, an addiction.
Which was why Light made a consistent effort to find time to come and see L a couple times a week. Or a couple times a day. And that was also why L hadn't left Tokyo, despite his excuses of Japan bringing him good cases and the reasons being entirely work-related.
It was a nice distraction from the incessantly bankrupt college life.
But it remained a mere distraction, nothing more - if certainly nothing less. (Light was quite certain that if he tried to 'break up' with L, for all that they weren't exactly dating per se, the persistently stubborn detective would find some way of again accusing him of mass murder and subsequently handcuff them together, just like in the old days. The days when they had shared their first hungry kisses.)
Not that Light would ever 'break up' with L. Their were too many benefits, such as intense sexual pleasure, the most engaging conversation he had ever participated in with another human being, and... more intense sexual pleasure. No, the day he gave up L was the day he was (as absurd as it was to even think about) actually Kira.
Yes, the benefits. Life was perfect with L in it. Minus the parts that weren't perfect, which was everything that did not involve the arrogant, cookie-munching bastard. And some of the parts that did. Okay, scratch that, life wasn't perfect but Light wasn't complaining.
Scratch that last bit, too.
The next morning, the mildly overwhelmed student retrieved the mail as heavy-hearted as he usually did. Uttering a cry of anguish, he uncovered multiple envelopes of bills. Electricity, cell phone, rent, loans. The 'pay us or we will have you crucified' type.
Oh, fuck.
That was it. Light was going to ditch light bulbs in favor of good old-fashioned candles. He didn't really need a phone anyway, since the only ones who called him were people demanding the money he didn't have. Paying off loans could be delayed at risk of increased interest rate, assuming one day he landed a well-paying job with the NPA (come on, optimism?). As for rent - yeah, right, how humiliating if most intelligent student in all of Japan, dwarfing everyone else at To-Oh in immeasurable skills, had to live in a cardboard box on the street.
Now that would inevitably result in a cheesy Lifetime movie. Oh God. That notion was more than enough incentive to keep the apartment, if nothing else.
He already worked a part-time job at a bakery. A strategically chosen line of occupation, because occasionally he was able to steal old loaves of bread that were about to be thrown into the garbage anyway. But he could only pick up so many hours before the shop closed at 9 PM, and he had to factor in time needed to study, go to classes, and screw L.
Maybe he needed a night job. He could always resort to prostitution. He wasn't bad looking, was he? Aside from the fact that his clothes were getting ragged and torn and he could hardly afford to take them to the laundromat, let alone buy a new wardrobe? Aside from the fact that he had sacrificed most of his body fat in exchange for a prestigious college education?
Of course, most of his night hours were already reserved for completing piles of menial homework that his professors had deemed him worthy to bestow upon. He flipped with irritation through his Advanced Microeconomics textbook, taking distracted notes in a black notebook and ballpoint pen. He had intended to spend the next nineteen and a half minutes studying before he sold his soul to Satan in exchange for some extra cash.
And then it came to him, like a jolt of lightning. Fool-proof. Extraordinary. Genius.
Advanced Microeconomics was, as far as he was concerned, the new God of this rotten world.
"Ryuuzaki, I have a proposal for you," Light announced as he laid his tattered coat neatly on the fancy leather couch.
"Where are Sachiko's cookies?" L immediately demanded skeptically. His heightened detective senses were already suspicious.
"This is a business proposition. And I think we can both benefit from it."
"Is that so?" L asked without interest, noting with dissatisfaction that Light had come to him empty-handed. "If you don't have cookies, you will have to appease me in other ways, so please remove your clothing."
"No, hold on-"
"That wasn't a request, Light-kun." The detective was clearly displeased that he was being deprived of Sachiko's desserts. Not the best way to open negotiations.
Light held back a glare and began to unbutton his white shirt. "Okay, listen to me, Ryuuzaki. I'll give you my side of things. I'm about to go broke with all the bills that I have to pay, and taxes are going up. I'm seriously tottering at poverty. However, if I'm legally married, I only have to pay a marriage tax. The money that I would save in that situation is just enough to pay rent once a month, and on occasion I could even buy food."
L had stood up during this speech and walked over to a dresser, where he produced a bottle of lube and heavy blindfold. Light took little comfort in remembering that L was a renowned detective whose ears were always listening. Sure as hell seemed as though he was as single-minded as a thirteen-year-old boy with a Playboy magazine now.
"So I was thinking -- hey, come on, Ryuuzaki. It's my turn to take the top."
L didn't bat an eye. An uncompromising monster he was when things weren't going his way. "Take your pants off."
The brunet knew that this was the only way that L would pay attention, so he fumbled with the snap and the zipper of his khaki pants. "To sum it up quickly, if I get married there will be financial benefits. Dad will kill me if I drop out of To-Oh, but at this point I believe that the probability of me dying an untimely death is equally likely if I'm starving on the streets."
"Is that so?" There was a lingering air of disinterest about that predicament, as though poverty wasn't a concept comprehensible to the gangly lunatic armed with lube. "Light-kun, if you don't hurry up then we're going to do this right on the floor. I'm in no mood to be patient."
"It's just sugar, it shouldn't make you so pissy," Light cheekily remarked, which resulted in L, the hissing predator, lunging forward and dropping the blindfold over his eyes. Light shoved L away and tossed the cloth onto the floor. "Will you give me three seconds of undivided attention?!"
"It's been three seconds. Many intervals of three seconds." L looked at him with eyes narrowed under his unruly black bangs of hair. "And you still have your underwear on."
"Oh, I'm taking my time," Light said with the sole purpose of annoying the detective who so often was lazy and slow when he was in a hurry. "I don't think I'll take them off until you hear what I have to say."
"I heard it," L snapped. "Business proposal! I'll allow you seventeen seconds to speak and finish stripping before I do the job myself."
"Yeah, a business proposal. I want you to marry me."
The facial expression of the detective didn't deviate at all from its usual blank stare. "Ah, that kind of proposal. Light-kun needs to get down on his knees for that."
Reluctantly, Light obeyed and dropped down, fully aware that he was right where L wanted him. The detective's smirk suggested many, various things - none of which included taking the marriage idea seriously. Or, for that matter, taking anything seriously that didn't involve chocolate or condoms. "Okay, fine. Now hold on - hold on! For God's sake, Ryuuzaki."
"I'm impatient."
"Have you even been listening to me?" Light chided. "It's economically strategic for us to get married and become jointly liable for debt. Not to mention that I'm not the only one who would be saving money. You would, too, considering how you are in the highest percentile of wealth and we have a progressive income tax. The percentage of your income that goes to government must be quite substantial."
"Correct," came a curt reply. "However, your proposition, relative to my finances, is significantly less beneficial. My taxes pay for themselves directly off the interest I get from various banks. And furthermore, paying the government a meager sum of money has never been an issue to me. I'll have to decline unless I receive something of equal value in exchange."
Light grinned as he pulled out his trump card: "Cookies."
L had been carnivorously picking up the blindfold again, but he visibly paused as he looked at the brunet. "Keep talking."
"I can provide you with something without a price, something invaluable and that you can't get without me: my mother's home made desserts. She sends me a plate of cookies a week, and occasionally other sweets in between. Sachiko is also likely to double her cooking production if I pull a few strings and flatter her. Everything I earn will be immediately transferred into your kitchen inventory."
L's eyes slowly began to widen at this prospect. He seemed intrigued, and he chewed on his thumbnail thoughtfully.
Light continued. "So you can see, you have benefits and are not disadvantaged in any way. You need cookies, and I need alimony. After all, I'll be legally marrying Ryuga Hideki, your alias that is still enrolled in To-Oh university, and to keep the ruse going you don't have to do anything more than file Ryuga's taxes annually."
"Light-kun brings me cookies anyway..." L said slowly.
"And Ryuga Hideki exists anyway," Light countered. "The fact of the matter is, my finances are decreasing, as I've said before. I don't have much money at all to even feed myself, and my stomach can't get much smaller. If you reject this offer I will have to consume the cookies myself just to acquire the necessary calories to maintain enough body fat to avoid hospitalization."
"You wouldn't," said the detective darkly, as if trying to catch a bluff. "You don't like cookies."
"But I do like being alive," the brunet said sweetly, offering a honeyed smile. "Don't feel like there is pressure on you to accept. It's not as though I'll cut communications between us if you decline. And I know you like me even better than the confectionaries, right?"
"Well..." He appeared doubtful, gnawing on his thumb as though pretending that it was the cookie he didn't have.
"But communications between us will have to decrease by at least seventy percent," Light declared mournfully, closing the trap. "Because I'll definitely need to pick up more hours at my job to pay off my debts, and, no matter how pleasurable our meetings are, I do have to prioritize work before fun."
That did it.
L pounced forward, and his mouth crashed into Light's with the velocity of a gravity-captive meteor. The momentum of the flying body knocked Light onto his back, and his shoulder blades would have painfully collided with the floorboards had L not had his hands wrapped so hungry-tight around him. The detective's tongue plunged into the impoverished student's mouth, which the younger male was only too happy to allow. The famished desire was potent not only on their lips but in the very atmosphere, shivering down their spines. L clutched onto Light below him, snatching his wrists as though if he let go, his soul mate might actually make good of his threats.
It was an undetermined amount of time before L finally broke away from the kiss, probably aware that Light wasn't going to let him go farther until they had reached a business resolution. He looked down at Light very seriously, and said, "I'll accept your proposal, with a few minor modifications to the conditions."
"Such as?"
"Firstly, I will make written requests of confectionary suggestions that you will send, in person, to your mother. You can deliver the message verbally, if you want, but you won't leave anything out."
The brunet sighed. "Okay, whatever. Then in return to that condition, I'm allowed to make requests to Watari when it comes to transportation in your limousine. I won't abuse the privilege, but in case of emergency."
"Accepted." L's fingers constricted around Light's back, as the detective watched him. "Secondly, you must fulfill a minimum quota of time spent here with me. Twenty hours a week."
"What?" Light glowered. "I do have classes and a part-time job that you have to take into your calculations!"
"Then live here instead of at your stupid apartment," L reasoned childishly. "Though every hour that you spend sleeping at this location will only count as a third of an hour."
"Half," Light bartered. "And it counts as full if you engage in attempts to molest me in my sleep. If I were to spend the night here I would require at least six undisturbed hours a night dedicated exclusively to resting."
"As long as you fulfill the quota. You are, of course, welcome to exceed that quota."
"Then in return, some of that time has to be spent outside of your building," Light shot back. "You never leave. I'm referring to more tennis games in the sunlight, walking through the park. You know, healthy, outdoors exercise."
"Accepted."
Light smiled, assuming that the deal had been signed and concluded. "Get off of me, and I can take off my boxers now."
"No, one more term." At this point, L leaned very closely to Light, staring at him with his dominant wide eyes. "This one is more specific, but vital if you expect my contribution to this contract. It involves handcuffs, the blindfold, a bottle of whipped cream and some lube if you cooperate."
"What? Is that all?" Light chuckled. "Aren't you usually more perverted than that?"
"It also involves a clock that reads 10:34 PM."
Light didn't even have to look at his wristwatch to know that that meant right now. A modest proposal that he was more than happy to accept.
-Fin
Author's Notes:
1. Yes, I totally just wrote a fic where no one dies, and with minimal philosophical pondering! Ho' shit!
2. "A Modest Proposal" - the title comes from a satirical pamphlet written by Jonathon Swift in 1729 concerning Ireland's devastating poverty. His (half-)joking suggestion for getting the economy back on track was to raise babies to a year of age, and then eat them. Cannibalism and infanticide ftw?
3. No, I'm not kidding. And no, I do not condone eating babies.
4. Inspiration credit goes to Danielle Anderon, a fellow DN author, for exciting my imagination when she asked me what I thought a marriage proposition between L and Light would be like. I happen to think they are a pair of manipulative bastards with ceaseless ulterior motives in everything they do... but they are, of course, madly in love at any given point in the series.
Thanks for reading. I hope that no one's eyes are bleeding. -Serria