Title: Endless Devotion

Author: AnachronistPanda

Disclaimer: Light Yagami and Mikami Teru as well as the Death Note series belong to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. No profit is being made from this story.

Warning(s): Slash (male/male pairing), suggestiveness, and Mikami's constant referral to Light as God (but you probably expected that), AU one year after Kira's victory

Summary: Mikami Teru's love for his God is purely religious. …Right?

Pairing: Light/Mikami

-x-

Mikami Teru's love for his God is purely religious. Sure, his breath hitches, his heart races, and he becomes overly self conscious—but this would happen to anyone, in the face of God's prescence…And what a pretty face it is. …No, not just pretty, Mikami thinks. Golden brown hair, which frames his face like a shining halo. Fair, smooth skin. Hazel eyes filled with intelligence, which seem to pierce through his very being—Though he quivers under it, Mikami surrenders himself, all of himself, to that gaze. Sharp cheekbones and a shapely nose. Soft lips—not that Mikami would know—that never cease to mesmerize the lawyer. Of course, all of God mesmerizes him, but this part in particular…This part he wants to worship the most…Mikami's cheeks heat up shamefully, as he realizes he's staring, and worse yet, as Kira-sama realizes it too.

Mikami hopes to God that those divine lips do not twist into a frown. At this moment, his greatest fear is that his master will be disgusted and hate him. He knows, he knows he's not worthy too look upon God, to behold his divine beauty, even though his God is merciful enough to allow it. However, God's lips curl upwards in amusement, with a hint of that slightly condescending smirk Mikami loves. In a purely religious way.

God says his name-in that smooth voice that he first heard on the telephone, the voice responsible for his mornings of waking up tangled in dirty, soaked sheets (obviously the result of some religious miracle), moaning "Kira-sama"—God says his name, "Mikami…" and he can't help but selfishly wish that He would say it again and again…

"Kira-sama…" Mikami breathes, watching as a divine tongue darts out to moisten those lips and then retreats. An elegant finger brushes along them in its place.

Feeling eyes attentive to his every motion on him, Light inquires, "Is there something on my mouth?" and in his tone there is amusement and some other emotion Mikami cannot discern.

The dark haired follower answers, incoherently, something like "N-no, my Lord…!" only less eloquently, because he is distracted by God's actions.

Light wipes his mouth with a napkin anyway. He could continue teasing the other further, but he doesn't and instead goes to what he was originally going to ask. "Why this, all of a sudden?"

The question is vague, but Mikami understands His meaning. God is referring to how he dared, with uncharacteristic boldness, to nervously ask his Lord out to dinner the other day (you know, the way a servant would with his God? For there was certainly no other relationship could such an act imply) and how they are sitting in the plush seats of the classiest five star restaurant in all of Kanto. An immaculately white tablecloth covers their table, at which fancy tableware and exquisite china plates are delicately placed. A chandelier dangles from the ceiling above them, and the walls are decorated with oriental patterns in gold. One wall is not so—rather it is a large window that stretches the length of a wall, providing a panoramic view of the outside cityscape, with its lights, the neon in the foreground and faded in the distance, displaying a lucid vision of the world cleansed of the scum, the filth that once inhabited it prior to Kira's reign. It's beautiful, but Mikami pauses to only a few moments to admire their surroundings, before he decides he'd much rather admire his God.

Eyes filled with mirth, Mikami smiles brightly, saying "To celebrate this momentous, joyous day-the anniversary of Your victory, my Lord," then quietly adding, "…And also because…You must be growing tired of my inadequate cooking." It is always a source of worry for him, that his food is not worthy of being eaten by God, who deserves better. Like being fed plump, ripe grapes, from Mikami's hand, while lounging on a royal luxurious bed, being draped in silky sheets of shining red satin, while naked—no, it was best not to go down that dangerous line of thought, with that image (along with several others) that had appeared in his dreams the other night… best not to, because Mikami Teru's love for his God is purely religious.

Of course, Light already knows the answer. After all, how could he forget the date of his grand triumph, the glorious birth of the New World? But Light wants to hear that answer pour forth from his devout servant's reverent lips, to feel the surge of power that accompanies that slight tremor of barely contained worship and devotion in the other's words. A shock of pleasure shoots through him at that title—"my Lord"—it excites him more than he'd like to admit. He craves it, that appellation, despite having been around Mikami long enough to become used to being thus addressed. However, he allows none of that to show as he sits back coolly, carefully taking in the other's expression as he corrects him, "You're wrong. This is not merely a celebration of my victory—it is of our victory." Watching as Mikami's eyes widen, he softly adds, "Also, I'm actually rather fond of your cooking." And its true. Mikami's cooking reminds him of his mother's. But it would be entirely inappropriate to give voice to that sentimental idea, so Light doesn't.

"God…" Mikami is delighted—no, more than delighted, he is overjoyed, not just that God actually enjoys eating the food he prepares, but especially that God-God is allowing him to share His victory! His God is so generous, even though Mikami is unworthy to share His glory. "Thank you…I-I don't deserve such kind words." He is smiling blissfully, yet traitorous tears well up in his eyes. He filled with happiness, but what God says is so incredibly moving that he can't help it and—Soft fingers, entirely too soft fingers reach over, thumb pad brushes Mikami's cheeks and oh oh God's fingers are so warm and he wants to feel them like that forever oh—he gasps lightly, and God withdraws his hand, leaving Mikami desperate to experience that touch like that again and—The tears are gone.

"On the contrary, you do deserve them, Mikami. You are very much a part of the reason we are able to celebrate like this, a year later. Mikami, my angel…Although much of the evil in the world has been eliminated, will you continue to be as noble and loyal as you were then, will you continue to serve…" God pauses, leaning forward to tuck a strand of Mikami's hair behind his ear in a manner that seems casual, yet his expression is anything but. God's burning gaze is directed straight at Mikami, causing the prosecutor's breath to halt. Then God continues in a dead serious whisper, "…as my right hand, as my sword of justice?"

Mikami shivers delightfully at that word. Only God's voice can bring out its full magnificence. And God…God had called him his angel…! Mikami is proud that he does not even have to hesitate to answer. "Yes, my Lord!" his voice ringing out passionately.

"Then, I'll hold you to that." Light begins to raise his glass, and, as if in sync, Mikami in the same moment does too. "A toast!" Light proposes, smiling, "To victory, of that of the past, and those to come in the brilliant future of our New World!" Their glasses clink together harmoniously, and in downing this holy water Mikami feels as if he could look forward to any future, as long as God is in it.

A/N: Mikami is doing a very bad job at being in denial. My first real attempt at writing fanfiction, hope you enjoyed it. And don't hesitate to tell me if they're too OOC. …I'm likely to continue this…