Disclaimer: Santa sucks. As such, I don't own Death Note. KTHNXSAKUJO.
NOTE: This isn't quite an AU (although, I guess it depends on your definition of 'AU'), but it's definitely not canon. Kudos to anyone who guesses what song inspired this.
Yagami Light sat in his chair, staring boredly at the scene before him. Once again, Matsuda and Ide were fighting; they never seemed to stop. He could go and stop the fight, but he couldn't quite seem to get the energy to stand up and calm Matsuda down. Besides, even if Matsuda calmed down, Ide wasn't quite so predictable, and Light really didn't want to be on the receiving end of Ide's anger. Light shifted his gaze, not especially liking the feeling in his stomach at the sight of the two men (who were so obviously in love with each other, it hurt sometimes).
The hazel orbs landed on Shuichi Aizawa lying on the couch. Light raised an eyebrow skeptically; Aizawa wasn't the kind of man who remained idle. It was only then that the young man realized that Aizawa was laughing rather raucously at something on the television. That was even stranger; Aizawa never wasted time like that. Vaguely, Light wondered if Aizawa was sick, or at least stressed out. After all, the man did have a child and wife to worry about. Light figured that he should probably pay more attention to the man next to him and slid his amber eyes to connect with the familiarly black eyes of L.
L paused to take a sip from his teacup; Light made a face imagining the drink to be more of a sugary sludge than an actual liquid. Light shivered slightly at the inhumane wide-ness of L's eyes, not to mention the large bags that only made his quasi-partner's appearance more pathetic and intimidating. He figured he should listen to the statistics and though-vomit spewing from L's mouth, if not tell the older man to stop talking, no one was really listening anyway. He didn't though; Light had picked up the bad habit of talking even when no one was listening.
"Five point six percent, Yagami-kun." Light barely heard L raise the percentage of suspicion. Any idiot could tell that L was lessening the percentage for Soichiro's sake. Light knew his father would possibly murder L if the detective told him the real percentage (which Light guessed to be somewhere in the high eighties or low nineties).
Light smiled slightly as he thought of the people in the room with him.
The fighting not-yet-lovers.
The bored and sarcastic husband.
The emotionless and intelligent genius detective.
'What pathetic friends I have.'