Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. It is the rightful property of the great Tsugumi Obha and Takeshi Obata.

AN: I know, I know, I made a pledge to not write anything else until Riches to Rags is finished, but I've been singing this song all day and I've wanted to write an LXLight high school AU for a while, I just think it works so well! XD Forgiven?

And you may have noticed that this story is rated M. This is because, if you, my dear readers request it, I shall write a lime or I might even stretch to write a lemon if you so wish. But for that, I will need a LOT of delicious reviews to keep me fuelled up in the long nights of writing juicy citrusy loveliness. So you have been warned, although it won't be for a while because I want to have quite a bit of story leading up to it, which also means that if you're not a citrus fan, you can read the story without fear of there being a giant hard-core lemon straight away. Enjoy!

Teenage Dirtbag

Written by iFluffRaver
(with a little inspirational help from xXMidnightWingsXx, xXDappledAXx and spaghettimonster)

Chapter 1: Gym Class

His name is Light; I had a dream about him. The same every nigh . Got gym class in half an hour. Oh, how he rocks in kit and white socks! But he doesn't know who I am, and he doesn't give a damn about me.

'Cause I'm just a teenage dirt bag, baby.

Yeah, that's me; L Lawliet. Even my name's weird. No wonder I don't have any friends, huh? I'm the class nerd; I know everything except how to act around people. It's not that I don't want to speak to them, it's just I don't know what's considered socially 'acceptable'. And most of the time they do get on my nerves by being complete idiots. But that's beside the point.

There's no one who I can relate to, they're all just about looking good - not having the brains to back them up. My classmates are all superficial.

All, that is, except one.

Light Yagami.

He somehow manages to be the complete opposite of me at the same time as being identical. It's like our minds were created in exactly the same sweep of God's hand – if such a being existed, which according to scientific proof is highly unlikely – but who am I to rain on people's faith?

Light's genius rivals my own. We are at the top of the class – Tokyo High School 2nd grade, class B – and have both achieved 100% on every mock exam this year and the entrance exam to the high school itself. He can speak almost as many foreign languages as I can – I do have an unfair advantage, having lived in a large number of countries throughout my life, but I would never admit that in a direct confrontation with him as it may be my only trump card.

As if his intelligence weren't enough, he's drop dead gorgeous, too. He has glowing tanned skin and a flawless complexion. His eyes are like glistening pools of glossy milk chocolate – oh, hell, I'm beginning to sound like Mello – and his hair! When looking up the word 'perfect' in a dictionary, the only definition that is fit for it is 'Light Yagami's hair'. Ever strand seems to obey direct orders from him to sit and remain in an artistically positioned order on his head.

This is one of the ways in which he's completely different to me.

Not only am I socially retarded and unable to hold a conversation longer than 'Hello,' 'Fuck off.' But my appearance leaves much to be desired. If stood next to Yagami, I'm sure we would be mistaken for a super model and something that he threw up after eating something bad. My hair, unlike his flawless locks of auburn gold, refuses to do anything I instruct it to, but simply sticks out in all directions in a confused un-cut hedge-like manner. I have resigned to fate on this issue and so no longer even bother to do anything with the mangy black frizz on the top of my head, just let it be and live its life as free as it wishes. I'm sure there's something living up there.

And then there's my choice in clothing. Whereas Yagami, I'm sure picks out each and every item carefully each night to ensure his perfect image, I have no desire to pretend to be anything other than I am. So why should I wear clothes to impress people? Each morning is enough of a rush as it is, without the faff of choosing different clothes, so I opt for an easily accessible and easy to put on in a hurry long-sleeved white T-shirt and jeans. The only shoes I have are a pair of worn out tennis sneakers with exactly thirteen holes – not like I count them when I'm bored or anything…

Yet another endearing quality I possess is my somewhat questionable posture. I have never been able to stand up straight. Well, not since I can remember, anyway. My back has always been arched over and my legs have always been slightly bent. I get stared at – a lot. But it's too painful to change now, so I don't bother. I get stared at when I sit, too. I crouch with my knees pulled up to my chest and my finger is usually up to my lips. I sit like that because it feels comfortable, but just to piss people off I tell them some bullshit about it increasing my deductive ability by 40%. My finger is comforting. I don't know quite why I keep it to my lips; it just gives my some sense of security. But, the price of comfort is acceptance.

And, unlike me, Yagami knows exactly how to conduct himself in public. He's charming, polite, just the kind of guy you want to take home and meet your mother – I you have a mother. He is the person to be seen with. If Light Yagami thinks you're worth talking to, everyone does.

I doubt Yagami listens to the music I do, either. I listen to what is known amongst the 'popular' crowd as 'mindless screaming' or 'that stuff that makes your brain go mushy'. Yeah, right, hasn't done me any harm. But, alas, the music of today is much more tame, soppy love songs about flowers and hearts being given away and other such nonsense. Iron Maiden made much more sense…

So, all in all, Light Yagami – Super smart, super attractive, super popular, super perfect. L Lawliet – Teenage Dirtbag.

Everything would be fine if we lead our separate lives in peace and completely ignored each other. The problem is that I seem to have fallen for him.

And as I sit here, ignoring whatever it is that Aizawa-sensei is saying right now about micro-organisms or some such that I am already fully aware of, I can't seem to stop staring at him.

Every blink of his eyes as he stares – evidently as bored as I am – out of the window onto the courtyard beneath on his left. Every sigh that escapes his mouth as he watches the blossoms from the Sakura trees drift onto the path. Every flick of his pen against the desk that quite artistically frames his form and seems to almost trap him like a wild bird. Every twitch of his lips as he thinks of things I long to share with him.

Shit, I really am turning into Mello. Mello – being my younger cousin by adoption – is obviously having an adverse effect on me by living in the same house. The house we share with our other 'cousins', Beyond Birthday – a year my senpai, Matt – being the object of Mello's affections and the very cause of his 'mushy' behaviour, and Near – both in Mello's grade which is two below my own. It is, to say the least, chaos.

We were allowed to live on our own by our guardian, Quillish Wammy, while he tends to his orphanage in England. After he adopted us and experienced the joy of bringing up talented children – he must have ignored Mello completely because living him may include a lot of things but joy doesn't come into it – he wanted to share his life with others, and so set up Wammy's House in Winchester. A beautiful place, if I may say so.

I wish I was back there right now, I love visiting my little cousins. And there's no Light Yagami to distract me.

The bell for fourth period broke my nostalgic day dream and brought my eye focus back, revealing to me that I had indeed been staring at the perfect Adonis of a seventeen year old who sat directly on my left. But now he was staring back. Oh great, he thinks I'm a freak for staring at him… Shit, how long has he been staring at me for?

As I battled with emotions of horror and tried to look away, discovering I was unable to due to some failure of my limbs to obey my head, Light Yagami, the Light Yagami smiled at me.

And it felt like I had died and was beholding an angel in heaven.

I swear people would kill for that smile.

The most beautiful views in all the world seemed like rubbish dumps when compared to the dazzling sight that my eyes had found themselves looking upon. The most radiant flowers of the Brazilian Amazon rainforest would seem shrivelled in their prime if held up to his face.

I'm going to have to have words with Mello when I get home. Seriously, I have no idea where that wussy spiel came from. It sounds like something Mello would say to Matt if he knew Near wasn't in the house. Of course, when Near was in the house, not a single romantic word would leave Mello's lips, for fear of giving his albino rival more ammunition against him.

But I, L Lawliet, do not speak – or think – like that.

At least, I didn't until I first saw Light Yagami.

Who, I noticed, was still smiling at me.

Great, now I look like even more of a retard because I've been gaping at him this whole time. Quickly regaining my composure as I swear I feel some drool retract from the corner of my mouth, I forced the best smile I could back at him. I remembered not to open my mouth, as I had been informed that last time I did that, I looked like a deranged paedophile. So, lips locked firmly together, I smiled at Light Yagami, and it took all the concentration I had not to have a nosebleed right there.

Wait, the bells gone… I finally found the strength to move again once Light's eyes had released , I'm being melodramatic, but why not? Light fucking Yagami just smiled at me.

I stretched out one of my legs to the floor and grabbed my gym bag from under the desk, catching a glimpse of Yagami's oh-so magnificent ass as he bent over to get his. Now that's just perverted…

I hate gym class for many reasons.

The main one being that we are almost always expected to choose groups or pairs to be in. Today was no exception, it was tennis, and that meant working in pairs. And there is always one person that everyone tries to avoid, and some unlucky idiot is always abandoned by his friends and put with said person that everyone tries to avoid.

That person being me. And that unlucky idiot never being Light Yagami.

Until today.

I stared in disbelief as the most popular boy in class strode up to me in his usual, radiant way and his soft hair bounced lightly on his forehead with each step he took, still wearing that dazzling smile.

"Y-Yagami-san?" I continued to stare as the most sought-after gym partner gracefully approached me as if nothing was wrong. Had they all abandoned him? Were they taking turns at who went with the weirdo? Impossible, no one would miss the chance to be with the Light Yagami. "Did you draw the short-straw today?"

For a moment he stared blankly at me. Then he face lit up as he realised what I meant. "No!" He said as he began to laugh. Why the hell was he laughing? "I just…" My heart shouldn't have been beating so fast. My mind shouldn't have been rejoicing at the possibility. No, there was some other explanation; he couldn't have wanted to be my partner… "Mogi-sensei wanted me to go with you because apparently I beat the others too quickly."

I'd been telling myself that there had to be another explanation, and here it was. So why did I feel so disappointed?

"And so do you." He flashed me another smile, this time it was different. It wasn't as pure and angelic as last time; it held mischief and something else. But I was too busy staring dumbly at him to think about what it meant. "So…" he said, obviously feeling awkward by my lame silence. "Shall we get started?"

I'm good at tennis. At least I thought so until I played him. Every shot I threw at him he would return just as hard and fast as I dealt it. He was fast. The other matches had finished long before Yagami and I had even reached the second set. Each of us determined not to slip out of rhythm. Because that what it was, a dance. We moved in sync with each other, as if we could read the other's mind before each shot was played.

I could feel the sweat running down my spine in a cold line. I had never broken into a sweat in gym class before. This guy was making me work. Every time I thought I was safe to relax because there was no way he'd reach that in time, the ball would be flying over the net right back at me.

A crowd had gathered around our court and I could hear vague chants of 'Light-kun!' over the loud thudding of my heartbeat. Even without hearing properly, I knew that there were no shouts of my name. Mogi-sensei had left a poor boy with a bleeding nose sitting on a bench at the side in favour of watching our game. Even the boy himself had neglected his nose long enough to lean past the others to get a better view. I felt thirty pairs of eyes on me and I swallowed hard. They weren't just looking at me, they were glaring at me, because I was challenging their Light-kun, and I had no right.

Well, screw that. I had every right to win this game, and I would.

Unfortunately, at the very moment that thought entered my mind, Yagami's shirt flew up from his arm swing and revealed the smooth, tanned skin of his torso and I may have become somewhat distracted for a few vital seconds. By the time I had dragged my eyes away from the offending visible flesh; the ball had passed me and hit the wall behind.

I lost…

There were no 'Commiserations' or 'Better luck next time's, just smug glances in my direction. The crowd swarmed around Yagami until he was no longer visible. As I was about to turn around and head back to the changing room, as lunch had officially begun ten minutes ago, I spotted a rather familiar golden arm reach out from amongst countless bodies.

"Lawliet! Wait," The voice soon accompanied the arm, shortly followed by the rest of Yagami's body, pushing the congratulating class-mates out of the way. He made his way over to the net and extended his arm. "Well done, I've never had to play that hard in my life."

Ignoring all of the resentful comments and venomous glances from the crowd behind him, I took Yagami's hand. Fuck, it's so soft… he must moisturise or something…

"Y-you, too, Yagami-san, I've never lost a game before."

"Really? I must play you more often then, maybe next time I'll get to see what it feels like to lose."

And then he winked at me.

This morning, he hadn't even looked at me before, and here he was, shaking my hand and winking at me.

Suddenly the warmth in my palm was gone and Yagami was dragged away. At first I thought it was just the guys in our class taking him to lunch, but then I heard that annoying squeak of a voice and all my previous hope was gone. The one thing that meant that I couldn't get anywhere near Yagami ever again. I hadn't noticed the girls come into the gym…

"LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT! You won! I'm so proud of you!"

Misa Amane.

AN: So, what do you think? I've got a pretty good idea of where this is going, but if you want me to add something in particular then fire away! I'll try and put as much in as possible (as long as it's plausible) and I'd love to hear what you'd like to see in it.

Review please! Reviews give me the will to go on.

^.^