Hello fellow writers and readers of this site of fanfiction!

This was a simple attempt at writing something each day that got incredibly out of hand and has taken me a week or two to complete. It's not the first time that something like this has happened, but still, I believe it's too massive to remain a one-shot like I intended and has now turned into at least a two-chapter project.

This has what has slowed the continuation of Tropical Torment. I have one other story that's almost completed, and then I will return my attention to my first before too long. Hopefully I haven't lost any of my readers in the process.

I just wanted to try appealing to a bit of a different audience

–

And get a little fan-girly with my love of L from Death Note. :3 I am indeed a fan of his.

Following up on how I said it got out of hand, I believe near the end my heart wasn't really in it all that much anymore, at least with not the intensity that I'd started with. I feel like I kind of lost track of what I was doing by that point, but still, I think it's worth posting if just to get feedback on what I DID write. And I'm pretty happy with that I came up with. So lemme know what you think, what you loved and what you thought I could've done better! Reviews are love. :)

Thanks again! And Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Death Note and L belong to its creators, Takeshi Obata and Tsugumi Ohba.

Safe and Warm

Chapter 1

Time was passing but I didn't care.

Time seemed to exist outside of my little bubble of anxiety and attention.

I was so alert, you don't even know.

The atmosphere was the sort that would alleviate any sort of tension or turmoil, but it had very little effect on me. I was warm but not uncomfortably so, for the temperature of the room was ideal and my clothing wasn't suffocating or constricting in any way. My stomach was full and an undeniably delicious, sugary taste lingered within my mouth. I was satisfied on a basic level by the undoubtedly wonderful meal of gourmet treats and cakes that now resided sweetly within my stomach. I was lying upon my side, curled up in a tight little ball upon a black leather sofa. I was so tired, but I knew I wouldn't fall asleep. I couldn't fall asleep, not until...

My eyelids began to droop, startling me and making me jump with surprise. I licked my still-sugary lips, blinking furiously and trying to remove the sleep from my eyes. I didn't know how much longer I would have to wait, I had no idea whatsoever. The uncertainty was maddening, but I refused to succumb to any hindrances that attempted to get in the way of the promise I had made earlier. I wouldn't fail, not now...

I growled quietly to myself when my eyes dropped closed yet again without warning. Pushing myself up from my reclined position upon the sofa, I curled myself up in a blanket just for the heck of it, wishing for the feel of some sort of loving embrace and finding very little in the stretch of fabric. I shuffled into the kitchen and took a sizeable chocolate cake from the fridge. I set it upon the table and pulled up a chair, drawing a fork out of the drawer and simply digging in. I knew it wouldn't be a problem for anyone, my reckless denial of the proper etiquette concerning shared foods, especially since I had worse things to worry about. Either way, I needed more sugar. I wolfed down seventeen forkfuls and pushed it away across the table, resting my head on my arms and glancing at the clock above the stove. 3: 30 am. I groaned quietly, though it was short-lived with the sugar rushing through my veins.

I got up and paced around the couch for a while, holding the blanket close around me, wishing it was warm and strong and safe just like – but I could hardly think it, in the event that...that I never... I ran back and ate twelve more forkfuls of cake, accidentally and thoughtlessly smearing my mouth with chocolate frosting and not bothering to wipe it clean. I didn't care at this point. I sighed heavily and clenched and unclenched my hands for a while. I lost track of time once again, not bothering to pay attention to it. It somehow became 5: 45 am. I somehow finished the entire chocolate cake. I somehow found myself lying upon the striped armchair that...that he always sat in, when we were working or... It smelled like him, worn soft and smooth by the time he'd spent sitting in it. The curtains were still dark, the city outside still asleep. I felt as if I was the only one awake – no, the only one alive, especially since I wasn't all that awake.

It had been almost two months since I'd seen him last... My heart had a hollow sort of ache that no amount of sugary confectionary could fill. I sighed again, dropping my head heavily within the circle of my arms against the knees of my curled legs, letting the silence and the darkness have me. The TV was on, but it was muted. The flickering light was oddly soothing, reminding me of the many surveillance videos I'd watched recently and making me think of him... It took me a while, seeing as my mind was getting quite exhausted and dysfunctional, but I noticed through my closed eyelids that the light pattern had remained strangely consistent. I looked up, curious to what one scene would be occupying the news for so long.

And my blood ran cold.

Despite the hour, despite the circulated sugar leaving my system, and despite the lethargic fog enclosing my mind, I was completely and utterly awake.

I recognized the all-too-familiar insignia adorning the pale screen.

Four mockeries of Old English font.

One word, known around the world:

Kira.

I lurched and grabbed the remote, allowing the sound to return to the room and inform me of the blasted name's presence on my television screen. A reporter's monotonous voice filled the air around me, swirled throughout me, dove deep into my soul as I dug into his armchair with anxious fingernails that more closely resembled claws.

"...has now been revealed to the public that the mass murderer known as Kira has been apprehended by the Japanese police force. I repeat: Kira has been captured. The investigator leading the pursuit was none other than L himself. This adds to his impressive record of solved cases, a number that is in the triple-digits without a doubt. I repeat: Kira has been captured..."

I couldn't breathe. My relief had left me in such a ragged, crushing gasp, I lacked energy to even attempt to take in another lungful of air. Words deserted me. I gaped at the television without seeing the shots of the various testimonies of the members of the Japanese police force. The flickering lights didn't make my eyes respond in the slightest. I knew they wouldn't show Kira's face. And I knew they wouldn't show the face of the man I was truly interested in. My world seemed to slow to a bit of a halt.

I was waiting, utterly and completely waiting.

And then I heard it – the quiet footsteps in the hall, the quick insertion of the key in the lock, the smooth turn of the knob, and the barely-audible creaking of the door being pushed open.

Holding my breath still, I slowly turned my head and looked with wide eyes behind me into the slight darkness as the distance away from the television let shadows gather at the edges of the space that was currently inhabited.

I looked at the figure standing, slouched and silent, just within the room with me.

My heart stopped beating for just an instant – and then I launched myself out of his chair, barreling around it as fast as my legs could carry me, as swiftly as my lungs could take in and spit out air. I moved more in that moment than I feel I'd ever moved before. My feet barely seemed to touch the floor – I might as well have flown to him. The distance between us closed more and more like a dream, a dream that I was almost afraid of with how many times I had had it without it being real. But that didn't slow me down. I lunged toward him, another ragged gasp tearing from my trembling form as his long but strong arms spread wide to embrace me. His wrinkled white shirt shifted and slid across his pale skin with his movements. His legs, loosely-enclosed by a worn pair of simple and baggy denim jeans, carried him forward toward me with one determined, intentional step, his bare feet almost seeming to whisper across the carpet.

My heart screamed with heavenly delight as my body contacted his and he didn't disappear. His warmth and solidity and substance made all of the worries and pain and fear that had festered within me throughout the course of the many long nights without him simply vanish. I could almost feel our hearts beating as one as I locked my arms around his neck, holding him as close as I possibly could. His heart was beating – his heart was beating.

Still beating.

It was such an unbelievably wonderful thought.

He lifted me off of the ground, spinning me around in a series of circles, my momentum from my earlier travels resulting in his back colliding with the door and pushing it shut behind him, the two of us slowed to an abrupt but unproblematic stop. We sagged against the door, our breathing uneven, our positions rather unbalanced and uncoordinated but still in contact. Still he didn't release me – his arms stayed wrapped around me, enclosing me within their strength and security with such certainty, it felt as if he would never let me go again. I wasn't certain how true that observation was, but I brushed it and all other things aside. I concentrated on the feel of him against me, of his body heat seeping through our clothing and washing over me, his tangled black hair brushing so softly at my bare arms where they were wrapped around his neck.

I could smell him now, his familiar scent of the fabrics of his clothing, of chocolate and various other sweets, of the old papers of the files he'd looked through, of the clean leather of the limo he'd most likely ridden to get back to me, and most of all, of life. He was alive. He was still alive and he was still mine. I couldn't think it enough. Tears welled within my tightly clenched eyelids, spilling down my smiling cheeks as my jagged breathing continued to rip through me. He was so much better than a blanket – he held me more warmly and more safely than anything else could. Of that, I was certain. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, feeling his smooth skin against mine where the collar of his shirt failed to cover it, and against him, I cried. I cried against the reason I was crying – but they were tears of relief, of joy, of such euphoria and bliss.

"Thank God," I gasped against his chest, my entire body shuddering with relief. I felt his grip upon me tighten in response, his hand moving slowly, softly, consolingly against my back, making small chills ripple at the base of my spine.

"I do...when I'm able to return to you, after all the past few months has revealed," he murmured in a low, almost-whispering tone against my hair. It was the first time his wonderful voice had graced my ears since his arrival, and I relished it with every chamber of my heart and all of the marrow in my bones. It seemed to pour deliciously across my skin like an enlightening, sensual rain, making my bottom lip tremble slightly with pleasure as a few more tears dribbled from my eyes, no doubt splashing softly upon his neck. He sounded almost as incredulous and unbelieving as I felt, and the thought made me simply smile wider with delight.

I held him for a period of time that I didn't bother to keep track of and he held me back, his arms still a sanctuary that I had no intention of leaving, his long white hands gripping me tightly and holding me together as I happily broke down. We remained against the door, not bothering to move. I listened to him breathe, felt his warmth and his softness and his strength, and tried to believe that the one I loved was really there, safe and secure in my arms.

"It's truly extraordinary...to be alive and here with you now..." I heard him murmur softly, speaking aloud the thoughts that I had slightly lost in the heavenly symphony that filled my head. It made my heart swell to hear the truth in his voice, the wondrous love for me and the immense gratitude that we were still together.

"It almost seems impossible," I whispered against his skin, a small drip of ice slipping down my spine as the twisted, mockingly-lettered name flashed through my mind. ...Kira... I was aware of some of the details of the case, though the last few weeks were a mystery to me. It had gotten to the point of me knowing anything else being dangerous, and he'd wanted me to stay safe and get involved as little as I could – I'd refused to completely stand back and let him go, seeing as we'd discussed different aspects of the case for hours on occasion, but all in all I'd respected his wishes. My limited knowledge of the Kira case made me aware, to some extent, to how very lucky I was to be holding him right now. It still seemed so hard to believe that we were together again and that everything was all right.

"Almost..." he agreed quietly, sharing my incredulous doubts that were fading more and more as this lovely reunion continued. I felt him smile against my hair, his delicate fingertips trailing down and up the length of my spine multiple times, making me shudder with still-unbearable delight. I couldn't resist any longer – I pulled back enough so that I could look at his face, my movements making his hand cease in its travels and settle warmly on the small of my back. He looked at me with deep black eyes, like flawless, undisturbed pools of liquid ebony. They drank in the sight of me with relish, drawing me into their endless depths, washing their wonderful warmth over me. They were so simply expressive, clearly depicting his heart-felt emotions despite their usually secretive appearance. I saw his immense relief at safely returning home to me. I saw his glowing euphoria as he stared back at my smiling, tear-streaked face. I saw his love as he savored the sight of me, seeming to see all that I had been and all that I was with him now, slipping deliciously into my soul where I had nothing to hide.

The shadowed bags beneath his eyes were prominent, revealing that he'd been worrying and thinking deeply and had therefore had many sleepless nights, just as I had had lately, but also just like me he seemed none too concerned about them now. His tangled hair was the same dusky hue as the nighttime heavens above us, spreading out in an unpredictable mass of countless black spikes atop his head that glossily reflected the light from the television that neither of us were paying any attention to. His skin was pale and perfect, not disturbed by blemish or scar, a flowing expanse of firm, sculpted ivory flesh that never ceased to appear distractingly able to be caressed. Fresh tears sprang to my eyes at the wonderful sight of him as I traced his lovely features with my mind, unable to look away from him.

"I just... It seems so unbelievable, that you're truly here..." I muttered quietly, smiling with my slight embarrassment as I laughed softly, lowering my head the smallest amount. Despite my usually-reliable grasp on logic and reasoning – my ability to feel him holding me so tightly – it seemed so difficult to apply the laws of reality at this time. My breathing strayed even further from its uneven course when I felt his hand against my face, his pale fingertips delicately trailing along my jaw and tilting my face up to his. My heart rate increased when I comprehended just how close I was to him – it wasn't a new realization in and of itself, but it dawned on me that the atmosphere of our embrace had changed ever so slightly. As I stared at him, my cheeks reddening a bit more, he smiled at me, his smooth pallid lips spreading, revealing his glimmering white teeth. The sight was so beautiful that it made my very breath catch.

"Well, then perhaps you are in need of convincing..." he murmured, his voice containing subtle undercurrents of amused anticipation and gleeful knowledge of possibly-mischievous intentions that I did not possess, though the core of his tone masked the emotions well as it so often did. My pulse quickened even further as he brushed his thumb across my cheek near the corner of my mouth, removing a small smear of chocolate frosting that I had missed earlier and glancing at it with interest for a moment before audibly licking it off of his finger with a pleased smile.

"...And I may have need of it, as well..." he said after a pause, his tone more intense than before as he stared at me, the blackness of his eyes heating hungrily. I stifled a shiver as his hands moved once again to my face, his fingertips curving around the corners of my jaw, delicately holding me steady as he tilted my face the rest of the way up to his. As he began to lean toward me, he applied minor pressure upon my chin with his thumbs, helping my lips to part ever so slightly. My heart was pounding now, my breathing quiet and weak. His shadowed black eyes flashing was the last thing I saw before I let my eyes slip closed in surrender. I tasted his breath, sweet with sugar, upon my tongue.

And then his lips met mine.

My chest swelled with my quick, jagged intake of greatly-needed oxygen as passionate warmth spread through my veins like fire. My arms tightened slowly around his neck, my fingers burying themselves into his tangled black hair, reveling in the feel of the many silken strands and pulling him even closer. In that moment, it was as if a truly delicious reality came screaming into perspective – no dream or illusion was this good. He tasted like the sweets he so often ate, creamy pies and fluffy cakes and decadent chocolates and flawless fruits. His mouth was positively delectable, something I knew I would always be hungry for. It seemed to satisfy me like no meal of food and drink ever could, a different kind of nourishment and sustenance – a satisfier for my very heart and soul. My metaphorical wounds healed. My cynicism and hesitation were seared out of existence. I felt truly and completely alive again, as if I'd been made whole once more.

He truly was here – no figment of my imagination could do what he was doing to me now. My toes curled against the carpet, neither of us wearing shoes. His lips moved softly, sinuously against mine, savoring our contact with a sort of blissfully confident certainty, as if he too had had his doubts destroyed by our marvelous kiss. He managed to hold me even closer, our hearts beating together in a sort of uneven, ecstatic, adoring duet, separated merely by clothing, flesh, and bone. His soft white hands moved against my face, gently brushing my tears away with his fingertips, leaving thin trails of coolness across my cheeks. His touch seemed to spark my skin wherever he contacted it, sending lively pulses through my pores right to my chest, lifting my heart higher and higher into warmth and light and love. My knees felt weak, but still I pressed him back against the door. A quiet moan rose from his throat, the sound low and luscious as it caressed my ears and electrified my blood with the realization of how I certainly wasn't the only one enjoying this.

Finally, for need of oxygen and veracity, our lips separated, though his tongue sinuously and sneakily licked the rest of the chocolate frosting at the corner of my mouth away before he pulled slightly back, allowing me to attempt to regain my composure and rejoin the world of the sensible and coherent. Dear God... I leaned against him, requiring the support and enjoying the embrace as I continued to gasp quietly, my blood warmly surging in my tingling lips. His strong, wiry arms curled around me, his head resting atop mine as he chuckled quietly.

"Do you believe that I'm here now..?" he asked me, a smirk barely detectable in his tone, his voice still low and soft with a heated roughness to it.

"One-hundred percent," I replied with a smile of my own, my voice rather breathless and disorientated as well. He chuckled again at my use of percentages, a habit that mirrored his own investigative tactics, and he lightly kissed the top of my head, his fingers idly playing with my long brown hair. My heart sang in my chest. Wrapped in his arms, feeling his warmth, tasting his lips, I could deny it no longer – he was really here with me. It was really over. The case was really solved – he would have never stopped unless the criminal had been brought to justice, that I was certain of – and Kira was really captured. With that realization of the mass-murderer's defeat came the knowledge of my love's victory. He was undefeated, unbeaten, and unconquered. He was still the greatest detective in the entire world... L.

Many faces and many names, but still the same.

And the case that had exclusively threatened his precious life was now ended. It was over. A small, ragged laugh slipped from my lips, a sense of fullness and safety and belonging enclosing me securely just as his wonderful arms were at that moment. It was very refreshing and restorative, flitting on the verge of ridiculous, but still, the longer he held me, the more I believed. The more his lips brushed against my hair, the more I was convinced that everything was okay. We embraced in silence for a brief instant, just basking in the glorious warmth of the moment. I closed my eyes and rested my head against his chest, listening to the soft pulse of his wonderful heart beat that still seemed to happily dance almost exactly in tune with my own. I closed my eyes, the sudden lack of my anxiety and worry and waiting leaving peaceful lethargy in its wake.

After a moment or two, however, my stomach chose that instant to growl quietly. It had been a few hours since I'd last eaten, and the meal of cake hadn't been utterly substantial, but still, I looked down at my abdomen with slight irritation. It irked me that basic human needs had selfishly decided to impose upon my reunion with L. However, my concerns weren't entirely disruptive, seeing as I soon learned that he was actually hungry himself. I felt and heard him lick his lips, my attentiveness immediately increasing.

"Though it pales in comparison to the lovely sweetness of your lips, that cake was quite appetizing.... I don't suppose any remains?" he asked me inquisitively, his lips traveling slightly lower to move with maddening softness against my forehead. A faint blush rose to my cheeks at his words as well as at his proximity, and I smiled at his question. I lacked the knowledge of how long it had been since he'd eaten since returning to me this night, making whether or not the intensity of the Kira case had prevented him from acquiring an adequate meal for any reasonable amount of time a mystery. But I knew from experience that his hungers for sweets were frequently reoccurring – and let's face it, there's always an appropriate time for cake.

"I'm afraid that particular cake has been consumed, but I saved a better one for your arrival," I murmured as I gazed up at him, my tone subtly excited with my anticipation of the sweet I had saved, reminding me of how wonderful it was that he actually had come back to me and that we could now partake in a deliciously-sugary morning snack. Something softened in his deep black eyes.

"You were that certain..." he said quietly, sounding slightly surprised that I had maintained such faith that he would return to me despite the inherent dangers of the Kira case, almost as if he'd doubted his return himself. Truth be told, I'd been quite unable to think of losing him – I'd more or less rejected every other option except for him making it safely back to me, thus making a magnificent, celebratory cake undoubtedly necessary. But then again, I suppose it had been a matter of faith – it had to be to endure such adversity and create such unbelievable results. I smiled reassuringly at him, grateful that my faith had certainly not failed me, and he smiled so very warmly at me in response, the movement of his smooth, pale lips slow with his heart-warming amazement. His black eyes clearly depicted how much my devotion meant to him and how appreciative he was to be here now and have it paying off in the most wonderful way. He leaned closer to me, his long, spastic black bangs just barely brushing against my forehead as his fingertips trailed beneath my chin, tilting my face squarely up to his.

"Whatever the cake, sharing it with you will make it the very best," he murmured to me and only me, the feeling in his voice making my blood warm, his thumb brushing delicately just below my lower lip. My smile widened without any conscious direction from my blissfully-swirling brain, chills rippling behind my legs as my chest seemed to swell with warmth and pleasure at his utter acceptance of me.

"And besides," he added with an air of casualness, applying a stunning ability to alter the pacing and tone of his speech without any warning whatsoever as he took my hands lightly in his, "I've learned that our tastes in sweets is quiet similar in many areas, so I'm certain that if you believe this confectionary delight to be superior to the one that I had the absolute pleasure of tasting on your lips...then there's no doubt in my mind that it is." I blinked with slight surprise, another blush rising to my cheeks at the calm manner in which he addressed our kisses as he lead me with purpose into the kitchen and flicked one of the lights on. Standing in his usual slouch, he remained close beside me as I moved to the fridge and drew out his 'welcome home' cake with a dramatic flourish that would've been much more lively and impressive if I'd been a little more awake. But nonetheless, his black eyes widened as I set the sugary monstrosity upon the table for him to examine.

Though he could undoubtedly deduce that it was three layers high, seeing as he knew his way around delicious desserts, it still made me smile gleefully when I realized I knew things that he didn't concerning the cake, like how the layers were two thick slabs of moist, decadent, mouth-watering chocolate with a layer of cool vanilla ice-cream in between and that each level was separated by a rich coating of deep brown fudge. Though the inside was an almost-sinfully-delicious secret, I knew the outside was also impressive. The frosting was thick and white and creamy, like sweet clouds from heaven, lovingly enclosing the cake's interior like a soft, fluffy ivory blanket. It was topped off with chocolate and caramel drizzle and a dozen stout whipped cream turrets atop which full, round, ruby strawberries were placed, rearing directly upward and glimmering like jewels in the light from the bulbs overhead. L and I stared in silence for a moment, a mutual appreciation for fantastic desserts between us. The sight and smell of them was admittedly quite enjoyable, but the taste was by far the best. As my mouth filled with saliva, I drew two forks from the drawer beneath the table, holding them up to him.

His black eyes drew slowly away from the cake, settling with delightful wonder upon me and the utensil I was offering him, the method to devour the sugary sensation that resided before us. He reached out with one long white hand, his pale thumb and forefinger closing delicately upon one of the forks and drawing it directly up out of my grasp. Now, both of us armed and dangerous and hungry, we pulled up chairs and dug in. He crouched, his knees pulled up to his chest, somehow balancing upon his bare feet atop his seat, carefully bringing a loaded forkful up to his mouth and engulfing the entire thing in one bite. As he made a low sound of appreciation deep in his throat, his fork almost immediately returning for another taste, I had my first, sitting with my legs contracted in a position similar to his as I closed my lips around a large mound of cake. The sugar seemed to give me a slow, sensual kiss at the back of my throat, the taste swarming throughout my mouth, washing sweetly against my teeth and caressing my tongue. I couldn't help but moan with delight as well, swallowing with relish and coming back for more. We didn't even speak for a period of time akin to seven bites.

"Were your earlier deductions correct concerning this cake's superiority to the other?" I asked with an amused smile, my voice quite distorted by the amount of cake that currently inhabited my mouth as I sensed that I already knew the answer. He met my gaze and smiled himself, his black eyes glimmering.

"One-hundred percent," he murmured, his own voice difficult to understand with his mouth's current fullness of cake. I laughed quietly, digging my fork back into the ridiculously tasty mound of chocolate and vanilla and strawberry before us. L swallowed audibly, taking a brief moment to lick a smear of creamy white frosting from his pale lips. My blood warmed slightly as I watched him, vividly remembering how it had felt to have his lips moving against mine... It was amazing. I felt so whole, so complete, and so peaceful. I was sitting at my kitchen table at 6:30 am eating cake with the man I loved, who had just gotten back alive and triumphant from a life-threatening investigation. Life was good. No, life was wonderful. I smiled around another forkful of cake, my mood positively elated. Licking my fork clean, I needed a bit of a softly-sour tang to counteract all of the sweetness in my mouth. I reached for a strawberry, plucking the bright red fruit from its proud location atop a fluffy mound of whipped cream and carrying it to my lips. I licked the cool, textured surface of the fruit, swallowing the light coating of cream that my tongue had easily removed and then taking a bite out of the berry itself.

"Mmm..." I murmured, the sweet, juicy taste filling my mouth after the moist, subtle, satisfying crunch, less than an apple but more than a banana, positively wonderful... As I moved to pop the rest of the fruit into my mouth, the sense that I was being intensely watched made a warm blush color my cheeks. I moved my eyes to L, my heart rate quickening when I noticed how he was looking at me with such focused eyes, their black depths swirling with a hunger that had nothing to do with the cake resting untouched upon his fork. Our chairs were mere inches apart, my shoulder almost touching his. Without looking at it, he speared the cake with his fork, leaving his bite untaken, his eyes never leaving mine. He then used the hand he'd just freed to brace himself against the table and lean toward me, keeping his balance and giving me very little time to prepare before his lips met mine once again. My eyes widened for a moment or two before they rolled back slightly and slipped closed. The strawberry slipped from my fingers and thumped softly upon the table, almost completely outside of my realm of perception as he commanded the attention of each of my senses.

His long black hair brushed against my forehead. The sound of his soft, swift breathing mingled with mine, a song without lyrics for both of us to dance to. I sank into the feel of his skin, warm and smooth and sweet, moving melodically and marvelously against my own, the taste of the cake swirling within our mouths. My blood began to race through my veins, heating my lips and further coloring my cheeks. My hands tightened against my knees until my left hand broke away and repositioned the grip of my fingers to the collar of his soft white shirt, pulling him even more securely to me. My heart pounded with fervent pleasure in my chest, my toes curling once more against the edge of my chair. Unexpectedly, his passion suddenly increased, and he nimbly traced the shape of my lips with his tongue, making my entire body shiver almost violently. I whimpered softly and pulled away for need of oxygen, my sense of self-control about as trustworthy as Kira... I swallowed roughly, a breathless smile adorning my face. L remained close to me, but graciously allowed me to catch my breath, his own rate of breathing noticeably uneven as well. His black hair had fallen slightly, hiding his eyes from my view, though a smile of silent pleasure curled his full, pale lips as well. He slowly settled back into his usual crouched position, peering at me with fond affection through his tousled hair. I'd almost stilled my racing heart, though my lips still tingled with heated feeling and awareness. I licked them and then met his gaze with an undeniably joyous smile, beginning to release the collar of his shirt but quickly ceasing when he closed his hand around mine, keeping it in place.

"Please forgive my amorous fervor...but I simply could not resist..." His tone was quiet and fairly collected once more, the pale fingers of his free hand closing delicately around the bitten strawberry I'd dropped earlier and holding it out to me with a playful smile. Giggling, I accepted it, drawing him closer with the hand that still clutched the front of his shirt.

"I assure you, I don't object in the slightest. I've been without you for far longer than I ever care to again, and you being here now is an undoubtedly fantastic experience... I find every aspect of your presence, whether it be physical or emotional, quite delicious," I responded smoothly, popping the strawberry into my mouth as soon as I'd finished and smiling around the succulent fruit. I felt a mad surge of glee when I noticed his large black eyes widen, surprising him quite a feat in and of itself. L then chuckled at my choice of words, his adorable smile widening even further in response. I couldn't refrain from laughing a little at myself, at the words that had slipped from my mouth, at the emotions I'd so enthusiastically admitted to. True, it wasn't as if they were a secret, or that I wanted to keep any aspect of how I felt from him, but still, there was a subtle, simple sort of hesitation with so boldly spilling my heart's contents before him. But then... in a way... what I had just done, vocalized, proclaimed... It felt good. Liberating.

His dark eyes gleamed, looking at me unblinkingly from behind the ragged obscuring curtain of his black hair.

"Amazing..." he murmured, his tone soft and yet serious, a truly deep mental process currently commencing as so many often did in the vastly intelligent realms of his mind. "...I often ponder for hours upon the topics of why and how you care so very much for me... and though I sometimes struggle to summon satisfactory answers to such vexations, I find that I cannot help but be so unrealistically euphoric that you do and so unbelievably grateful for what you've so freely and so graciously given me... When I face so many less-than-ideal situations and mind-whirling puzzles and nerve-testing cases where it may seem so very difficult for justice to prevail – and no passed cases have challenged me like the Kira case has – you... You remind me, of all there is that is still worth standing up and fighting for, and I cannot thank you enough for that..." As his voice, not altering its pace or octave much during his impossibly wonderful words, faded from a low murmur into a whispering silence, I could only stare at him. My heart seemed to absorb every syllable that had left his lips, taking each of them tenderly into its chambers and filling up with them until its rims had welled over with gratitude and devotion and affection, spilling a warm, whimsical feeling all over my insides, soaking me through with its ridiculously peaceful and satisfying senses of belonging and acceptance and most of all – love.

I could hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes.

Spending so much time with him and partaking in his occupation, I'd learned quite a lot about the signs and signals of love that humans tended to reveal or expose, whether they wanted to or not. I'd listened and watched often during many interrogations and learned just what to look for to deduce an accurate motive for murder or theft or anything at all that we humans do. And now, all of my experience made it clear to me that, with no dark and desperate motive...he loved me. All of my deductive abilities told me it was true, and I didn't need the precise and intuitive and professionally-detached mind of a first-rate detective to tell me that I certainly loved him in return. It was a truly wonderful experience, discovering such a thing with an intelligent mind. When I'd spent so long believing that such belonging and acceptance and devotion and affection and adoration had at most a twenty-three percent chance of being mine, I couldn't deny that it felt positively spectacular to be proven so very wrong in this one instance. I'd never been happier to have been inaccurate concerning my capabilities in securing for myself a truly loving relationship...

I felt my eyes moisten with awed, euphoric tears, though they did not spill over. Searching for the words to further convey to him how I felt and all that I wished to tell him but finding none, I investigated a way to communicate the more complicated thoughts and feelings that were swirling warmly within the overflowing chambers of my heart. When one subtly but certainly came to me, I enthusiastically embraced it, leaning slowly toward him until I felt his lips against mine. This kiss was slower, simpler than the ones before it, much more certain of the wonderful reality I had opened my eyes to only moments before. It searched for no evidence of truth, having found it already. It was not disbelieving or doubting or desperate. Into it, I poured all of the wonderful words I wished to say but couldn't quite pull the sentences together, all of the elated emotions that seemed to go beyond even my educated grasp of words, all of the sights and sounds and senses of the moment – of all of the moments I'd had the pleasure of spending with him – everything...

I poured all of the warm love that was now soaking me through to my core into my lips that were now pressed against his, hoping all that I wished to tell him was accurately conveyed by such a lovely union. I trailed my hand down the side of his face, brushing my thumb softly along the dark shadow dwelling constantly just beneath his eye, the feel of his smooth, pale skin against mine still a remarkable marvel to experience after so long without it. I felt his fingertips brush deftly across my cheek before they carefully braided themselves into my long hair, holding my face close to his. His lips moved against mine in silent, savoring, heart-felt reply – and I knew my message had been received. Our hearts were both overflowing, pouring all of their contents out and letting them splash spectacularly into our souls. When our lips finally separated, we sighed quietly as one. His forehead pressed against mine, his hair trailing softly against my skin, our noses brushing.

"I love you," I managed to murmur almost inaudibly into the warmly heated air between us, pressing my lips softly against his yet again for just a moment as my heart began to race in my weightless chest at our proximity.

"I love you, as well" he said in soft, whispering reply, his lips returning my delicate kiss.

We smiled, effectively making human words inferior to expressing our mutual happiness at the moment. Our breathing was rather uneven and weak, my skin warm all over with the swift travels of my blood in vessels underneath it. As the air of deeply-rooted, mutual adoration steadily seeped into the back of my mind until it happily permeated each of my thoughts and allowed for a general lightening of the surrounding atmosphere, I wondered rather playfully if the temperature of his skin had risen as well. As my smile slowly widened, I leaned forward and down, tilting my head and softly pressing my lips to his throat. His skin was warm and smooth, his lively pulse able to be felt just beneath its surface in response to my savoring contact. I heard him sigh, the sound low and deep and pleasant. He murmured one word in a husky whisper into the top of my hair:

"Delicious..."

My scalp prickled with feeling in response, my own heart rate increasing because of his warm, wonderful voice washing slowly and sensationally over me. I scooted my chair closer to his and settled my head against his shoulder, pausing for just a moment as I collected myself and smiled with my awareness of all of the wonders around me. He curled one of his long arms lithely around my shoulders, holding me close as I traced the shape of his collar bones with my fingertip in a state of bliss.

"...Like Kira's head on a platter?" I asked curiously, remembering the reason for the possibility of me no longer having the man I loved. There was no bitterness in my tone, though part of me noticed that and thought of it as strange. It was like I was too warm and comfortable and full of sugar and surrounded by love to be angry or hateful toward the mass-murderer for all that he had or had almost done. I couldn't help but think of it as rather nice – liberating, to not feel the cold, crushing weight of such negative emotions. L so easily chased them all away.

"Hmmm...An interestingly comparative question..." I heard him murmur softly, his tone noticeably thoughtful. That piqued my interest, having sparked such an obviously deep thought process with my rather simple-minded question.

"What happened, L?" I asked inquisitively from where I was nestled against his neck, though I soon found that I wanted too badly to gauge his facial expressions during his explanation and repositioned myself close beside him, sitting up and staring intently as he began.

Well, let me know what you thought! Read and review, puh-lease! :)

A couple thousand more words to go - supporting my theory that it was too long for a one-shot.

I think it's easier to read this way, but if I'm wrong, let me know and I'll change it.

Thanks again for reading!

And it isn't over just yet. :)

~SD