Love isn't logical.

He, more than almost any other, could attest to that- vocally. He was one of the most logical minds out there and this... there were so many reasons it shouldn't work.

It didn't work, but it worked even less when they were apart. It was... illogical. It was imperfect, it was a mess. It was torture, both mental and physical. It was-

Love. It was theirs. Or maybe it was just them. Surely love wasn't supposed to be so twisted.

He didn't question it most times, because it was just them. They circled around each other, they snarked, they snapped, and they collided- violently. But being alone, being separate, it was just wrong. It made the world cold and gray and boring. Which was probably not much of an improvement from hot and red and exciting, from a logical standpoint.

No one else could figure out why they fought in the first place. No one else knew. No one else could see below the mask that was Light, could see the darkness creeping there under the fake smiles, the open anger in his eyes that only L seemed to be able to bring out. Only Light could get beneath L's skin like he did, override all his logic and pull out the basest reactions that he did.

But there was no one else. No one who challenged him like Light did, no one at their level, no one their equal, except each other. That was most likely the draw of it: they challenged each other. There was not a single aspect of their life together where they didn't challenge each other.

From the very first, from the Kira Case. Light had only been a high-school student then, when he started what would eventually become the biggest cult in the world. They had clashed then, fought, confounded each other, hurt one another. Light had gone to prison, served his time, been released- and had it all wiped away when he reached his majority, his records sealed.

But that hadn't changed who Light was, what he did; just how he went about doing it.

L bit the side of his thumb and retrieved the bowl of kettlecorn from the microwave.

Love doesn't care about age.

A student. A high school student. A boy. A suspect.

L hadn't cared. Neither had Light. Rules had gone up in the flames that ignited between them, threatening to burn the very world. It had worried everyone around them, and their audience had only seen the heat of their anger, not the darker passions they'd shared.

Watari might have suspected, maybe Mr. Yagami had as well, but maybes hadn't stopped them. Hadn't stopped L from pushing Light up against the wall when the arrogant teen had smirked at him one time too many. And later, when he'd stood before a judge and been condemned, Light had looked at him with that same knowing, victorious smirk, and never said a word about what they'd done.

The message had been received: L so easily could have been standing up there with him, guilty of a crime that wouldn't just be washed away in a year's time. L had said nothing, even with as much influence as all his aliases held, it wouldn't have been enough to get him out of a statutory rape charge.

He bit his thumb and frowned. Even when Light lost, he still won.

Love is dangerous.

It started, as so many of their fights had, with that damnable victorious smirk on Light's face as the news report flashed across the bottom of the television screen: another prison inmate killed by a another criminal already serving a life term, all for the glory of Kira. Light hadn't needed to do anything but sit back and watch his twisted morals spread out and corrupt the world.

L frowned as justice slipped through his fingers, all his work on that case gone to waste. What was the point even bothering to gather evidence when the criminals would die in their holding cells? He might as well have handed them over to Light on a silver platter and saved on paperwork.

And what was more... Light knew it. He didn't bother to hide his vindictive pleasure, never masked himself when it was just the two of them because L's opinion was one -the only one- he didn't care about lowering- not that the detective could possibly think less of him.

It was nearly an instinctive reaction, and somewhat logical, he supposed, but most of all, it was satisfying. Satisfying to catch Light off-guard with his punch, to feel Light's cheek against his fingers, feeling the other's lip split against his own teeth as he was caught unaware. He toppled off the couch, his leg shooting out and slamming with perfect -practiced- precision against L's chin, snapping his head up and sending him careening back into the corner of the coffee table. He gasped as he felt the impact, in his side and towards his back; fuck, that might have bruised a kidney.

Tempers lost; that was a reasonable, logical conclusion to all that lost progress, and it was all Light's fault. They both dragged themselves up, Light's tongue moving against the inside of his cheek visibly before he turned his head, eyes never leaving L's, and spit the mouthful of blood out on the throw rug. L reached up and wiped at the crimson rill at the corner of his own mouth, his teeth having caught his lip when his jaw snapped shut from the kick.

Light probably had a lovely bruise forming on his elbow from hitting the hardwood floor that would match beautifully the one blooming on L's side from where the corner of the coffee table had dug into him when he fell back against it. A line had been drawn and crossed in the same breath, first blood had been spilled.

Love is destructive.

There was no 'he moved, he responded'. There was no 'first this and then that'. It was a blur of perfect motion as they moved in sync. Light swung for him and L easily jumped onto the coffee table, kicking the remote towards Light's head. The brunet dodged with the ease of long practice, hooking his foot around the leg of the coffee table and heaving up with all his strength, flipping it completely and sending L reeling back into the flat screen television.

The TV teetered on its stand before falling back to the floor with a deafening crash neither of them heard. The empty bowl that had held kettlecorn not long ago was the next projectile aimed for Light's head. He wasn't able to dodge that one, arm raised to defend against it instead. The rust-colored bowl hit high and shattered on impact with his skull, sharp shards leaving bleeding nicks across the upper right portion of his face and a sizable lump forming on his temple.

With the table already out of the picture, Light dug his toes deep into the plush of the throw rug and pulled it while twisting his body, pulling it right out from under L's feet and sending him back against the television stand again- only this time, lacking the television as a buffer and with nothing else to catch himself on, he went over the small stand and crashed onto the television laying behind it. Glass fractured under the force of his body, plastic digging painfully into his lower back hard enough to scratch and draw blood.

He pulled himself together to look up with a wince- and roll to the side just in time to avoid the powerful drop-kick Light had aimed at his stomach, the ruined television cracking further under the assault. Light made no sound that indicated the pain he must be feeling from the force he'd put into the attack and the now certainly-forming bruise on his heel. He calmly pulled it from the wreckage that had once been their TV, seeming to not even notice the new bleeding scrapes on his foot.

Without the least remorse, L smirked at him and watched as the brown eyes narrowed and Light swung for him again. L slipped to the side and grabbed the extended arm, shamelessly using the lack of friction Light's now-bloody foot would have against the hardwood floor and swung his boyfriend over his shoulder to crash into the hallway flooring- stone tile flooring.

Light let out a pained wheeze, but wasted no time in tangling his feet with L's and rolling over, slamming the detective into the wall and floor himself. L pushed up and watched his opponent, his equal, his lover, his abuser... his victim.

Love is a battlefield.

No one knew that better than they. They, who turned everything into a competition. They, who fought, who bled, on a regular basis, using each other as their emotional -and at times; too many times, physical- punching bag.

It was surprising, and yet not, when their fight took a right turn, when the desire to see each other smeared with blood became so much more personal in the space between one breath and the next. Between instants. Their eyes caught, held, flashed, and they were up again, wary and ready for the newest round. L was the one to move that time, shoving Light back against the hall wall hard enough his head cracked off the plaster and he released a pained hiss.

L didn't care, the brunet's throat exposed to him and he latched onto it with his mouth, teeth sinking deep into the giving flesh until he tasted copper. Light hooked his foot around L's and yanked them right out from under him, making sure L was on the bottom when they landed, his own skull colliding sharply with the floor and making him gasp. Light's hands reached under L's white shirt, digging his nails into the skin there and raking them down until the raven-haired man groaned.

L managed to get his leg pulled up and kicked out, catching Light across the stomach and sending him sliding down the slick hallway. He stood up and discarded the shirt before more crimson could stain it, ten perfect trails of blood carved into his abdomen as he stalked down the hall. Light lay in the middle of the floor, curled around his stomach, not ten feet away from the bedroom door, and L knew... they weren't going to make it that far.

He shoved Light over onto his back with a foot, crouching down and ripping open the white button-up the other favored, buttons flying everywhere and landing with little 'plinks' around them. Light was far from defeated, his arm snaking up around L's neck before he rolled, hauling him over and down, quickly straddling him. Light looked down at him, panting, ruby drops escaping between his lips to dot L's pale chest, complementing so well the trickles of red from the abdominal wounds he'd given him, his own face a mask of crimson leaking from the nicks on his face, his foot slippery with his own blood, his chest painted with it from the -deep- bite wound on his neck.

No matter which of them won this, they were both going to hurt afterward. It wasn't even about sex, it was about pain and blood and anger and love\hate\die\kill-me\I-fucking-dare-you\FIGHT-ME!

L reached up and dug his fingers into the bite on Light's throat, pulling him down to smash their lips together with a clack of teeth. There was no kiss, it was a fight, as much as tossing each other around the living room had been, as much as slamming each other into walls had been. He shoved his tongue into Light's mouth, hissing and kneeing the other in his already-tender stomach when Light dared to bite his invading tongue. Light smirked against his blood-smeared lips and L smiled viciously back. This was the only kind of communication they knew.

Love is...confounding.

L sat in their bed, Light's bruised and bloodied form lying next to him, illuminated by nothing but moonlight pouring in through the curtains, his breathing deep and even, signaling sleep. From a neutral standpoint, they were both beat to hell. Mostly superficial injuries- mostly. He had a bruised kidney and the bump on Light's head was slightly concerning, but mostly flesh wounds. Both of them probably had bruised ribs, but nothing broken or sprained or dislocated- this time. They weren't always so lucky or restrained.

When he brought himself to think about it, think beyond the destructive, magnetic attraction that wouldn't release either of them, he couldn't figure out how they could even stand to be in the same room together without genuinely trying to kill each other. He hated everything that Light was: his arrogance, his supremacy, his twisted views of justice, his mask. Light's entire countenance was so fake. Every smile he gave people, every word out of his mouth. Light was not a good person, he was vengeful and vindictive. He was entitled and scheming- there had never been a single more scheming person born in the world.

Light was the antithesis of everything he was, everything he couldn't stand, everything he hated. He hated who and what Light was. Hated him.

And yet... He loved him. Loved him so much that it hurt -sometimes physically, such as in cases like they'd just played out- loved him fiercely. For all those same reasons. Light challenged him on every single level of who he was as a person- and he loved it. Light smirked and undermined him and his efforts, his cases, played god by sitting back and letting his underlings -people he'd never met in person and who could never legally be traced back to him- ruin weeks of L's work. Light did everything he could to get L to hate him, then sat back with that damn smirk on his lips and dared L to love him in spite of it all- because of it all. And L did. He couldn't help himself.

And he could see the same thing in Light's eyes every time they met his own. The anger when a new criminal was successfully put away behind bars alive, the mounting frustration when L outmaneuvered him and his plans. It was a dare of his own, and beneath it all, the hate for who he was, the barrier to Light's ambitions, was that same intoxicating satisfaction of being matched move for move. Light hated the way that L didn't care about what anyone thought when Light himself was so chained by his own insecurities that L was the only one whose opinion he could ignore. It was a release, and it was explosive.

They couldn't help but be the thing that got under each other's skin. Couldn't help but hate that, couldn't help but love it at the same time. He wasn't good for Light; Light wasn't good for him, either. They brought out the absolute worst in each other, but they kept coming back to them, he to Light and Light to him. It was an addiction that they couldn't shake, a compulsion, a need, like they were the last breath of air the other needed to survive.

It didn't make any sense, it went contrary to every rule of logic L could think of. Light was confusing, their whole relationship, violent and compulsive, was confusing.

Light shifted in his sleep and groaned from jostling one of his injuries. L carefully removed his teeth from his thumb where they'd been digging in before he could break the skin -last thing he needed at the moment- and stroked Light's hair. The younger man settled at his touch and sank deeper into sleep. L didn't know whether to be grateful for the trust that showed in him... or pitying.

Love is challenging.

They rode up in the same elevator in mutual silence, both of them sporting a variety of bandages like children who'd gotten into the medicine cupboard while their parents were away. The elevator opened with a cheerful ding that was met with absolute quiet as the rest of the detective squad caught sight of its leaders.

Matsuda was the first one to speak, "A-are you guys... okay?"

Light slipped on that -fake- comforting smile of his, "Perfectly fine. Just a minor scuffle, nothing that will distract us from the case."

They both stepped forward slowly, carefully, determined to appear the less hurt. That quick, that undeniably, it was another competition between them. Who was less injured? Who had hit harder, who had won? Light hid his limp well- not that L had room to talk when he'd pissed blood that morning.

It was always a competition, always a new challenge between them- always. They really were worse than frat boys. Competitive to a fault. Because there had to be a winner, a loser.

They couldn't leave grocery lists or notes for each other without it surfacing once more. Always their messages were encrypted, coded. Different languages, number ciphers, pictograms and hidden clues, puzzles within puzzles. They couldn't interact without challenging each other.

Light smirked at him and held out the black coffee, "No triple chocolate mochaccino, sorry. I didn't manage to figure out what you'd written until I was already on the way back."

L held the cup of coffee as Light gave him that condescending look that said he'd won even though he'd lost- and that he knew it. L calmly took a sip of the beverage, "Yes, I figured, it's a similar code to the one you used when you asked me do the laundry this morning. I forgot to take out my shirt, by the way. I hope you don't mind pink sheets."

Light's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to start an argument, L's muscles already tensing up for another confrontation, when the brunet's cell phone went off. He pulled it out of his pocket while sending L a scathing glare, "We'll talk about this at home."

"I look forward to it."

Love is unpredictable.

The cell dropped from Light's fingers and L watched it fall curiously, unable to comprehend when it actually hit the floor. He had honestly not expected Light not to catch it, that just wasn't Light. His lover didn't move, didn't appear as if he could move, eyes wide and unseeing, and a tendril of concern wormed its way through his system.

"Light?" He forgot to even add the suffix he knew aggravated the other to no end. When he stepped closer, he noticed that Light wasn't completely still: he was trembling- all over, minutely but certainly. He reached out for the other's shoulder, "Light."

He started under L's hand, "That was Sayu... My father is in the hospital. He just had a heart attack."

There was no hesitation in his own voice, "I'll drive." He'd be reckless and surpass the speed limit by a factor of two at the very least, probably have Light with his head out the window begging for death before they were done, but he'd get them there the quickest. Light didn't protest.

Love is protective.

If someone had told L yesterday that he'd be sitting in a waiting room, in public, holding Light -holding Kira- because he was too afraid and emotionally distraught to control himself, he'd have had them hauled off to the nearest mental institution for twenty-four hour psychiatric hold -twenty-four day- psychiatric hold.

He held Light's trembling form in his arms in one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs, forced to sit normally to do so -'forced' being a misnomer as he'd done it of his own volition and pulled Light into his lap- and he still couldn't quite believe it. This wasn't his equal, his opponent, the one he hit who hit him back and vice-versa. This... was a Light he had never seen before, one so completely not in control of the situation, had no idea how to even take control of it, and who was terrified of losing someone he loved.

Before that moment, L had not even been certain it was possible for Light to truly love someone. Love a person not in the twisted, broken way they fell in together and called their addiction to tearing each other down love. This was an outside force exerting pressure -pressure enough to break- on his Light. No one and nothing was allowed to do that. Not another person, not an unseen force, not a medical condition. Light was his, his to torment and torture and hurt and heal. His to break and beat up and bandage, just as he was Light's to do the same.

He ran his fingers through Light's hair, "He'll be fine. I called Watari, the best doctors and surgeons are working on him now. Money is no issue. He's got the best possible treatment: he will be fine, Light."

He didn't know where the words came from, where the urge to do what he did manifested from, but when Light finally relaxed against him, he suspected it was the right thing.

Love is uplifting.

L couldn't figure out what was wrong. Surely, logically, Light being told that it was all well and that his father would survive by one of the most prominent doctors in the country would be reassuring. Surely being ushered into the room to see Souichiro resting safely, even smiling at his family, should have been reassuring.

So what was Light doing strangling L's wrist in his hold and never stepping away even when his sister threw herself at their father and his mother moved beside the berth with teary eyes? Light stood beside him in the doorway and smiled- yet another one of those painted on, fake smiles, and waved off his family's concerns. As soon as they could without appearing rude, Light made their excuses for them and dragged him out of the room, the windows showing the outside world and pouring rain.

It didn't make any sense at all. Wasn't Light just as relieved as his mother and sister? Why was he still shaking? L brought his free hand to his mouth and bit his thumb thoughtfully as he attempted to puzzle it out. He didn't have to wait long for his answer, Light dragged him ever faster down the sterile white hallways until they came upon a less-active wing, and then pulled him into the first vacant room they came across, closing and locking the door behind them.

L waited in wary readiness. If Light wanted to continue their fight from earlier, demand a price in blood from L for seeing him in a vulnerable state, he was more than willing to play it out. That was, apparently, the very last thing Light wanted. L froze in place when Light stepped close to him, waiting for the first blow to fall, and found himself unable to contain his gasp when Light leaned up and pressed his lips against L's throat.

Light opened his mouth and L tensed, waiting for the pain of teeth sinking deep, a retaliation of his own actions the previous night. He groaned for a completely different reason when Light sucked gently on the skin at his throat. Well that was... different. "L-Light-kun?"

Light clung to him, trembles running through his whole body at irregular intervals, "Please." He whispered against L's skin, "Help me forget. Help me remember. I want..." He made a frustrated sound that vibrated right through L's neck in fascinating ways. "I want to know."

Help him forget- his helplessness? His shaking? Remember- what? Light pressed against him and L pressed back, it was all he could do. His hand snaked up into Light's hair and for once he didn't pull harshly at the brunet locks. Light sighed against his throat and a shiver worked its way up his spine. They had never done this before, this... gentleness. It was always a battle, a competition with a winner and loser. But that wasn't- this.

But that made it no less exciting, because it was exciting. New, untouched territory, and L was more than willing to explore it if Light was. He tilted the other's head and lowered his own, determined to share the new sensations Light had elicited in him, trailing his lips across the column of Light's throat, kissing softly. Temptingly, tauntingly, he scraped his teeth and felt Light's breathing hitch. But the brunet refused to pull away, he arched, exposing more of the slender expanse, putting his trust in L and daring him not to break it. It was intoxicating.

Light trailed his hands under L's shirt, careful to avoid the bandaged gouges from the night before, and there was no pain in the action, just a strange heat, a surprisingly breath-taking tingle that ignited just below the surface. That decided him: he wanted to know, too. Wanted to know more about what this was, what it could be.

He was determined, like every challenge Light had ever put to him, every puzzle, every dare, L would never back down. If the game was trust, he would win that one, too.

Love is...

Light's soft sighs and sharp gasps were hidden in the sound of the rain coming down outside. Their groans as they came together lost in the crack of thunder rolling across the land.

They lay still on the hospital bed, breathing softly against each other as they basked in the odd, welcome peace between them. It was new, strange. Normally they were quiet after, not from any sense of calmness, but because at least one of them had no more energy left to fight.

This was nothing like the times before, Light resting in his arms contently. It wasn't that neither of them had the energy to argue, there was just... nothing to say. They never had been able to really communicate with words, but L had never imagined that they could 'talk' like... this. Without pain or blood or anger. It could not always be like this, he knew for a fact, even if they would both prefer it, but that it could be like this at all in the first place... He found himself smiling.

Love really was destructive, it had destroyed his very definition of it. Apparently there were still things he had yet to learn about their relationship, what it was... and what it could be.

He pulled Light closer, feeling the younger man's heart beating against his wrist, Light's ear pressed to L's chest to hear his own, and they stayed like that as the rain trailed off. As the clouds finally parted and the late afternoon sun bathed the room in amber. Light was no longer shaking, and L knew now. More than before, but, he also knew, there was so much more to know. His chest expanded as he pulled in the breath to speak, "Light-"

"I think..." The brunet interrupted, "I think, no, I know now." He turned his head and kissed L's chest, "...I love you."

The whole world stopped, tilted on its axis, then continued on, completely unrepentant of the way it had just forcefully altered his views on life. "...Hmm?"

Light smiled at him and he felt something in his chest -his heart, logically- stutter; that wasn't one of Light's fake smiles. It was real. He shamelessly reiterated: "I love you."

A day ago -six hours ago- he'd have heard those words and known that it was only Light's attempt at manipulating him. One of the dozens of lies that fell from his lips every single day. But right now, right here, with Light in his arms, he couldn't tell. He rolled them over, pinning Light under him and staring at him with narrowed eyes, "Again."

"I love you."

He couldn't tell. Either Light was better at lying than he'd believed, his own musings had rendered him incapable of telling, or... the least likely of all options, Light was telling the truth. In spite of his own thoughts over the past few days about what exactly their relationship was, using the term 'love' for lack of a better one, neither of them had said those words before. He leaned down, trailing kisses to Light's ear, "Say it again." He had to know.

Light's arms wrapped around his shoulders, not to get a grip and roll them so he had to advantage, not to throw him, not to hurt; just to hold him. He could feel the brunet's smile in his quiet laugh, breath whispering past his own ear, "I, Light Yagami, love you, L Lawliet."

His breath caught. Was that what the smothering hot feeling blooming in his chest was? The need he felt to hold Light closer? Protect him and stand with him and still prickle him with pointless arguments all at the same time? Light didn't protest being trapped in the cage of his arms, didn't argue when L crushed him to himself even when it probably pressed on his bruised stomach, and then it was L's turn to tremble.

Light's hand ran through his hair comfortingly, "I love you. Even when I hate you, even when we're trying to kill each other, I love you."

Yes, that's what the feeling had to be. Maybe they did bring out the worst in each other, but they brought out the best in each other, too. L was the one person, the one place where Light could be himself unapologetically, and Light always pushed L to be the best he could be, do his utter most in all aspects of his life.

L found himself giving his own honest smile, "I love you, too."

Light gasped against him, and there were no more words after that. They'd never communicated best with them, anyway.

Love is... Worth it. Always.