Chapter Four

Coffee Shops and Distractions

"You know, it makes so much more sense now. Why didn't Katami-sensei explain it that way in the first place?"

"Because your teacher is an idiot."

It had taken one hour, three cups of coffee (mostly Light's), and a few sundry pastries (all Sayu's), but in the end they managed to complete Sayu's homework assignment. Had Light been doing it himself, it would have been done before his first cup of coffee could have cooled to an acceptable drinking temperature.

Unfortunately, he hadn't been doing it by himself.

The hardest part by far had been making Sayu focus on the paper in front of her, instead of letting her attention flit all over the place like it wanted – from the people wandering in and out of the shop to the subdued green paint of the walls to the persistent strand of hair that kept falling into her eyes. In retrospect, he realized a public coffee shop was not the best place to make her do schoolwork, but he felt he had managed adequately nonetheless.

It had required a few hard flicks to her forehead, but in the end he'd eventually been able to make her focus on and understand the simple concept of algebraic permutations.

"You think everyone is an idiot, Light," Sayu said cheerfully across the table. "But despite that, you're pretty patient when you're explaining stuff. You'd be a good teacher."

"Mm," Light hummed, not really paying attention as he fished a few bills out of his wallet and casually handed them over to the flushing, hovering waitress. Sayu actually had kept her word and paid for Light's coffee, but then realized she didn't have enough for the pastries she'd eaten and sheepishly turned to Light. Light had been spectacularly unsurprised.

"Thanks for covering the rest of the bill, by the way…"

Light glanced at her at that – a dry, sardonic glance that, with a single raised eyebrow, conveyed all his unamused feelings on the matter.

Sayu grinned back with a cheekiness Light thought unwarranted for someone in her position.

"I know, I know – I'll pay you back," she assured him, before stuffing the rest of an éclair in her mouth and licking daintily at her fingers. A drip of icing dropped from her finger to the waiting plate below, and she scooped it back up and sucked it up.

"That's disgusting," Light said indifferently, too used to Sayu's eating habits to really care. He stood, slipping smoothly out of the booth and pulling his jacket on, and eyed the now empty plates stacked in front of her. "And I don't know how you can eat that many pastries in one sitting without throwing up. Or getting fat, for that matter," he added as an afterthought.

"C'mon, I hardly ever eat sweets. And it wasn't that much," Sayu insisted, bouncing up from her seat as well and beginning to haphazardly scoop all her books back into her schoolbag. "Besides, there's a guy sitting over in the corner that ate like four times as much me – I watched him, and he was eating nonstop the whole time we were here. That's pretty impressive, especially considering how thin he looks. Maybe he's just coming off a diet and celebrating?" she wondered aloud, swinging her bag onto her shoulder and straightening her skirt.

"And maybe if you'd been paying attention to your homework instead of some stranger killing himself with a sugar overdose we could have been done sooner," Light said without any bite. He really couldn't care less about strangers in corners, no matter how much sugar they ate.

Sayu threw him a cheerfully sheepish grin over her shoulder and merely started towards the door; he trailed after leisurely, weaving between tidily arranged chairs and tables full with chattering patrons.

Sayu had begun chattering as well, about what Light was only vaguely aware, as he hardly ever bothered following her babble unless she asked him a direct question – which she didn't do until they reached the coffee shop's doors and were stepping outside into the fading light of the sun.

"By the way," Sayu said, pausing outside and fixing her large, curious eyes on him, "I couldn't help noticing the bruise on Mello's eye. Do you know what happened?" Though she kept her voice innocent, Light heard the suggestion of a smile in her voice and the saw the interested glimmer in her eye.

He was not surprised. Sayu's inquisitiveness was rivaled only by her cheerfulness.

"Quit nosing," he said, checking his watch, which told him it was time to get his meddlesome sister home and out of his hair. "It's not your business, though I bet you've already formed your own assumptions about how it happened." As always. Sometimes Light felt like his life was some sort of television drama that teenage girls and middle-aged women watched because their own lives weren't interesting enough.

"Well," Sayu smiled back, unabashed, "I happen to know you have a decent punch and a tendency to swing it when you get mad, and considering you recently broke up with the owner of an obvious black eye…"

Yeah, that wasn't exactly subtle – even an unobservant idiot could put the pieces together, which Sayu wasn't. But Light still had no intention of discussing his private life to that extent with her, seeing no reason to give her the juicy break-up details she clearly was fishing for.

So he smiled pleasantly and said, "Interesting, isn't it?" and enjoyed the frustrated pout that pulled down her mouth as she realized he wasn't dishing.

"Alright," she sighed in noisy resignation. "I didn't really expect you tell me. You're so stingy."

"Mm," Light hummed, not bothering to disagree, "speaking of stingy, make sure you pay me back for all that junk you ate. Don't think I'll just let you conveniently forget – I want payment by the next time I visit home, or I'm charging interest." Light was only partially joking about this; Sayu had an annoying tendency of forgetting important things, a tendency which she managed to charm others into overlooking with her sweet, genuine smile and gushing apologies.

Light was the exception. He'd watched Sayu grow up, and he was wise to her devious wiles. In fact, he'd taught her most of them.

Sayu grinned earnestly up at him and quickly tucked a bit of hair behind her ear.

"I know, I'll pay you back," she promised. "Thanks again, Light – you're the best! I'll see you later!" And, with a flurry of carefree exuberance, she hugged him and took off trotting down the street, giving him a final cheery wave over her shoulder.

Light just rolled his eyes at her abrupt departure. Despite her bright assurances, he knew if he didn't remind her she owed him it wouldn't occur to her again.

With another glance at his watch, he headed down the street, the opposite direction as his sister.

As he walked, an obstinate, black-eyed face slipped into his mind's eye, daring him to draw it, but he determinedly pushed it back down. Light wasn't used to being beaten, and he certainly wasn't ready to concede defeat to that impossible face that was slowly driving him to infuriating distraction, but he was at a bit of an impasse at the moment.

After days of unsuccessful drawing, he had finally decided he wasn't going to be able to etch it out to his satisfaction solely from memory; he'd need either a picture or the genuine article in front of him.

He had even hacked into To-Oh's enrollment files, searching for a picture of the man he'd seen at the lecture, but he had consistently come up empty. The face belonged to neither a student nor to a faculty member.

But Light was determined. He was going to find that face and put the damn thing down on paper.

Anything else was unacceptable.

At that moment, just as he was turning up the stairs to his apartment, his phone rang.

L had not visited the coffee shop with the intent to see Light. No, honestly, he hadn't.

It just so happened that they served some particularly tasty cakes there, for which he had suddenly acquired an intense craving that couldn't be satisfied elsewhere. The convenient proximity of the shop to Light's apartment was merely a coincidence.

Really.

Accordingly, he had been appropriately surprised to see the current object of his obsessive fancy stroll inside in all his long-legged, sultry-eyed glory and take a table – unfortunately with his back to L, but at least within L's sight.

And L might have been jealous of the cute high school girl sitting across from Light had he not already been certain Light was gay, and had he not recognized the cheerful teenager as Light's sister.

It was research, not stalking.

Speaking of research, L had now concluded satisfactorily that Light was neither an international criminal determined to take out L nor in possession of any pesky sexual diseases – both of which would have disqualified him as a potential sex partner. One had to have standards, after all, no matter how beautiful and distracting the other person may have been.

Luckily, Light's record was as spotless as his apartment allegedly was, if Mello's reports of Light's place of residence were anything to go by. Both were almost uncomfortably clean – but then, L supposed that was to be expected of the NPA chief's son. Crime was no doubt frowned upon in Light's family.

And L had to admit, Light was quite an impressive son: excellent grades throughout high school, a perfect entrance exam to a prestigious university, good-looking (a considerable understatement), well-liked, and, by all accounts, able to charm a fish onto dry land. He seemed almost too good to be true – the sort girls hoped to take home to meet their mothers.

In fact, it was possible Light was even a certifiable genius, though L had no way of knowing without administering any intelligence tests or interacting with him face-to-face (or rather, face-to-monitor). Even grades as immaculate as his didn't necessarily indicate genius-level intelligence.

But in all honestly, L didn't really care if the boy was a genius. He merely, to borrow Mello's vulgar phrasing, wanted to fuck him. L wasn't overly concerned about Light's intelligence, beyond hoping he could apply it in bed, as L had become rather horny during the days of research his paranoia demanded and could use some creative sex.

According to Mello, L didn't need to worry.

So now, having gathered sufficient information, it was time for him to plan his attack.

L, having by this point had worked out a system with the coffee shop waitress, pulled his legs closer in to his body and raised a bony finger, indicating he wanted another slice of cake.

Shameless as those near to him may have claimed him to be, L didn't actually want to approach Light in the middle of what appeared to be a homework session with his sister (smart, gorgeous, charming, and a good brother – apparently Yagami Light was the poster child for upright perfection). It wouldn't really further his purposes of getting Light to sleep with him if L just irritated him.

And L really wanted to sleep with him. He was in-tune enough with his body to recognize that.

So, the straightforward tactic of merely walking up and asking to fuck him was out, satisfying as it may have been.

Had the sister been gone and Light sitting by himself, it would have been the ideal situation to approach him and feel out his interest. As it was, L wasn't quite sure how to proceed. L wasn't the most social of creatures, and while he understood the concept of social etiquette better than most, he wasn't as solid in the application of it – mostly because he just didn't care to be.

Right on time, another slice of brain-boosting cake was placed in front of him, and he happily dug in.

The cake really was superb. He'd have to see if Watari could get the recipe. Moist and firm, with the right ratio of cake to icing, and covered with surprisingly juicy strawberries for the season – definitely worth the trip.

And, even better, it gave him the unplanned opportunity to observe Light, even if it was just the back of his head.

(Honestly. Completely unplanned.)

L glanced up from his already nearly depleted cake, intending to lock his eyes on that now-familiar head, but discovered to his disconcertion that while he had been distracted with his admittedly delicious cake, the head had already wandered off, along with the rest of the body.

The table that had formerly held the Yagami siblings was now empty, save for a few drained mugs and crumb-covered plates, which the waitress was already clearing up.

Oh, bother. L's chances of getting sex tonight had just decreased significantly – about eighty percent, by his own calculation.

And, not that it mattered to him, his nosy successors were going to be a little upset with him if he allowed another day to pass without relieving his distraction. They kept urging him to, as Mello phrased it, get his ass going and fuck someone before he drove them all insane. L wondered if Mello would feel the same if he knew it was his ex-boyfriend he was urging L to sleep with.

In any case, all his minions were getting impatient with him – while Matt and Mello were the more vocal, Near seemed to have no problem making his opinion on the matter known with a few twirls of his hair and a dry, monotone observation or two. Even Watari had started putting his two cents in, stating unobtrusively that if L had nothing else to take care of in Japan, there were cases elsewhere that required his attention.

And the situation was getting on L's nerves.

His successors claimed they were being tolerant towards him and his disrupted work ethic, but L had felt it necessary to remind them several times the past few days of two important facts: first, he was L and therefore above reproach from his underlings (and he made sure to stress the fact that they were his subordinates); and second, they should have been familiar enough with his pattern of occasional sexual preoccupation by now to be able to deal with him and his distraction.

He was L; if he wanted to take a week off in order to satisfy one of his biological needs, then he was going to.

After all, this was hardly a new cycle to them. L's interest in things (and particularly people) tended to run like quicksilver – his obsession was intense and comprehensive, but it flared then fizzled out quickly, as soon as he became bored. When he was interested in something, he dug into it with all the tenacity and thoroughness that had been ingrained in him during his days at Wammy's, but once that interest passed, it was hard to recapture.

There were very few things (and again, people) in L's life that managed to hold his attention for more than a fleeting moment.

Detective work, for one, though even then, individual cases were dropped as soon as they were solved and he moved on, finding a new case that would catch his interest.

Watari, for another example – a constant presence in his life for as long as he could remember.

Cake, certainly. No debate there.

Even his successors, despite how much he grumbled about their company, were tolerable enough for him to put up with consistently, which actually was a rather significant feat.

This was why L had never engaged in a serious romantic relationship, or even a relationship that lasted beyond a week at most. People, as a general rule, were just too boring.

Though L really wasn't complaining. His pattern of one-night sexual relations suited him – and more importantly, his career – just fine. Greatest detectives in the world had no time for romance, and L had always felt that a logical approach was best for taking care of sexual needs, with no requirement for emotional attachment or long-term commitment – or any commitment at all.

Emotions were messy, and sex was already messy enough without them.

L felt certain that Light, however distractingly attractive he might have been, would likely be out of his system after one night.

A pair of sensually half-lidded, cognac-brown eyes flashed into his mind.

Maybe two nights.

Abruptly, a friendly voice cut across his musings, calling his attention back to the unfortunately Light-empty present.

"Is there anything else I can get you, sweety?" It was his waitress, smiling down at him with ill-hid affection.

During the three hours L had spent there, she had take to calling him 'sweety' and generally treating him like a little kid, no doubt a reaction which resulted from the amount of cakes and pastries L had eaten under the shop's roof.

Well, the little-kid reaction was much better than the creepy-pedophile-freak reaction, which he sometimes got. He thought it might have something to do with his unconventional manner of sitting and his wide, potentially unnerving stare that he didn't hesitate to level on anyone who came within his vicinity.

And Watari wondered why he didn't like to go out.

"No thank you," he said shortly but politely, hoping Watari would somehow be aware of his efforts to be courteous and award him accordingly, preferably with something sweet and unhealthy. "I think I would like my check now, please."

There. 'Please' and 'thank you' within two breaths of each other. Watari should be pleased.

"I'll get that right for you right away," his waitress assured him with another borderline patronizing smile and bustled away, taking a few of his empty plates with her.

L waited impatiently for her return, now ready to return to his hotel and plan how he was going to approach Light; he also needed to inform Matt and Near it was safe for them to stay the night there, as they had taken to wandering over to Mello's place in the hopes of pushing L along in his 'ridiculously detailed and paranoid plans to get laid', as Matt put it.

But as the waitress approached once more, bill in hand and her short heels clacking against he hard flooring, she was suddenly waylaid by someone L hadn't expected to see again today.

"Excuse me, miss," L heard a certain Yagami Light saying, with his hair looking appealingly windswept and a charismatic smile on his mouth, a smile which L had to admit would be formidable against even the most cold-hearted. "But my sister apparently left her wallet on the seat over there. Did you happen to find it? It's dark blue with green trim." His tone was polite and apologetic, with a charm that sounded so natural it seemed likely he had been born smooth-talking, his first victim the delivery nurse.

In any case, this was unexpectedly lucky. And perhaps a little irritating, L thought as he watched the waitress blush and stammer and pull the described wallet out of her apron pocket, then blush even harder as Light turned his smile up brighter and thanked her.

This was an excellent opportunity to carry out L's plan, if only that encroaching waitress would shove off.

Light was only about five paces away, easily within reach, and it would be a simple matter to ask him to join L for a cup of coffee (or something else, as he might not be in the mood for coffee after the three cups he'd already had), and if he agreed, L knew there was a good chance he could persuade him into his bed for the night.

It wasn't ego; it was intelligently applied experience.

However, L didn't even get the chance to begin to put his plan in action, for at that moment Light's eyes slid around the small shop and locked onto L.

"You!"

The voice was smooth and lovely and felt wonderful directed at L, but he had to admit he was a little surprised at the strange mixture of accusation, shock, and eagerness which someone to whom he should have been a stranger was using against him.

Did Light remember bumping into him? That seemed unlikely; L couldn't imagine anyone being quite that upset over such an insignificant collision. L hadn't even spilled anything on him.

Then Light's jean-covered legs were carrying him swiftly towards L, but L didn't have time to be distracted by his legs because Light had reached him and begun talking to him now, and this certainly wasn't going how L had expected.

"Oh my god, it is you," Light breathed, staring down into L's face in apparent amazement as he leaned forward across the table towards L. L blinked – in considerable surprise, but Light didn't need to know that.

Chances that Light remembered bumping into L increased by forty percent.

Chances L would get distracted by the proximity of Light's breath-stopping face and fascinating scent and say something inappropriate increased by sixty.

Chances that…

…Just what was so engrossing about L's face? Light hadn't taken his eyes off L once, staring deeply into his face with a single-minded intensity that, while potentially flattering, was actually beginning to make L a little paranoid.

Did L have some icing on his chin? Had Mello finally managed to write something dirty across his forehead while L slept, like he'd been trying and failing to do for years?

Or, L wondered with growing worry, had Light somehow realized L's identity? It was unlikely, but there was a possibility, in which case L had some serious damage control to take care of and a certain blond successor to interrogate.

L kept his face guarded and stared back into the smooth face studying his with fascination. This could require some delicate handling, and, as always, L would be cautious until he understood exactly what he was jumping into.

"Were you under the impression I was anyone other than myself?" he asked neutrally.

"What?" Light blinked as though he'd forgotten L was there, despite the fact his nose was about four inches away from L's and he'd been running his eyes all over L's face for the past minute. "Oh, right," he said as he seemed to realize what he was doing, and he straightened back up abruptly, though even then he made the movement look smooth and natural.

And L was glad, because as nice as it was to have Light close to him, his body seemed to take it as an invitation to get even closer, which was unacceptable until L's paranoia was satisfied. Or before they had even been officially introduced.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" Light asked with an easy smile and a polite voice, somehow creating the feeling that suddenly invading a complete stranger's personal space and staring at him like he was a zoo animal was perfectly acceptable behavior, and L was silly for thinking otherwise.

L was beginning to think Light could toss his drink in someone's face and they'd just be grateful for the refreshing dunk.

L nodded warily and Light sat down, and then the two were sitting across from the other with nothing but air and silent intentions between them. L just wished he knew what Light's intentions were and if they were compatible with his own, because seeing Light face-to-face again was reminding L just how distracting and intoxicating those eyes were.

Light smiled and spoke first.

"Sorry if I startled you earlier," he apologized, his mouth politely smiling and his upper body leaning forward slightly in the perfect image of eager reconciliation.

L, frankly put, was suspicious. It was a natural response; he was paid to be suspicious.

"Allow me to explain," Light continued, clearly intending to explain whether L allowed him to or not. L had the nonsensical urge to refuse, just to see what Light would do, but he stopped himself in time; the likelihood of Light being willing to sleep with him decreased inversely proportionately to how much L annoyed him.

And yes, L still really wanted to sleep with him.

So L nodded again, and Light smiled again.

"I'll get straight to the point," he said smoothly, and L found it surprisingly hard to focus on his words and not the alluring timbre of his voice. It was a nice voice, light and cultured with a sharp edge hidden beneath sophisticated tones and-

"I'd like to draw your face."

L blinked, not having expected that – though he supposed it wasn't terribly surprising, considering what he knew of Light's profession.

Unless…was this a euphemism for sex? Had L just been propositioned? After all, "Would you like to come up and see my etchings?" was traditionally perhaps one of the most clichéd innuendos for inviting someone in for sex.

But such obvious and overused methods didn't fit with what L knew about Light's style. It was almost certain he was using the phrase literally and actually wanted to draw L's face.

"I don't know if you remember this," Light was explaining, "but we bumped into each other a week ago, at the university." Yes, L remembered this. "I noticed at the time that you have a very unique face, and I'll admit I've been a little obsessed with drawing it ever since then."

Well. This was unexpected. How ironic that Light had been just as preoccupied with L as L had been with him, though perhaps for not quite the same reason.

L could use this.

"I guarantee the drawing won't be used for anything besides my own practice, and I won't take up more than a minute more of your time. All I need is to take a picture of you, and I'll be out of your hair, I promise. You won't have to wait at all, since I have a camera on my phone that works fine." Light said this with a warm smile that would have melted anyone else and no doubt made them instantly jump to do whatever that smile wanted, even if it involved questionable legality or possible self-harm.

L, however, was made of slightly sterner stuff than the rest of the population and had a couple of problems with what Light was proposing. First, L couldn't exactly allow pictures of himself to float around unrestricted, no matter what their purpose. Security, and whatnot. Second, if L allowed Light to merely snap a picture of him then wander along his merry way, L wouldn't have a chance to sleep with him. And that was the point of this whole interaction, from L's point of view.

This situation would require some quick thinking, as L wanted to give Light an acceptable reason for refusing to have his picture taken without making himself look like a freak – because again, the main objective here was the get Light to sleep with him (did that need to be reiterated?) and freaks were less likely to get sex.

So.

Traumatic experience as a child? No, that would just make him into an object for pity, and possibly scorn.

Allergic reaction? No, that was clearly ridiculous. There was not a single recorded case anywhere of a person having an allergic reaction to cameras.

Then the only thing left was-

"It is against my religious principles to allow my photograph to be taken."

-perhaps not the most creative or viable excuse, but definitely worth the momentary loss of composure that flitted across Light's face. However, the artist got his surprise under tight control once more – quickly enough that most others would have missed the slip at all, but L caught it.

L was rather pleased with himself; he had a feeling there weren't many who could break through Light's composure that soon into a conversation.

But Light's smile was back in a blink, along with a skeptical glint in his eye and a stubborn set to his jaw which intrigued L, in spite of himself.

"Sorry, I hope I didn't offend you by asking," Light said in a pleasant way that made it clear he didn't believe a word L had said, and L wondered if perhaps he was getting off to a bad start.

It was hard to care when he was finding it surprisingly fun to try riling Light up.

No, he needed to behave, or he wouldn't get sex.

And unfortunately, the more time he spent near Light, the more sex-driven his thoughts seemed to become. That probably wasn't entirely healthy.

It definitely wasn't healthy for his profession.

With that in mind, L said evenly, "I'm sure you had no intention to offend." He kept his face empty of any hint of dishonesty or devious intent, and unconsciously the tip of his thumb rose to his lips, offering itself up for nibbling. "And while I can't allow you to take my picture," he continued obligingly, "I would feel it unfortunate if I couldn't do something to assist you in this matter. Would it be enough to do the drawing live? I assure you I can sit very still."

Ha, L had surprised him again. The reaction was barely perceptible, unnoticeable to the casual eye, but then L was very skilled at reading people's expressions.

This was fun.

And he had to admit, he was somewhat curious as to how and why this Yagami Light had learned to control his expressions so well. Not that it was an uncommon skill, but most civilians L had come in contact with didn't have the same level of proficiency as Light seemed to have. On the other hand, Light had already shown himself above and beyond the norm in other areas of life, so L saw no reason why that shouldn't apply in this case.

Light was regarding him with a pleasantly unreadable expression. "Are you implying you'd be willing to sit for me?" he asked, smiling once again, and L decided it would be better for himself in the long run if he stopped focusing on digging into Light's psyche or past and instead on getting him into his bed. L wasn't here for any reason but to relieve his itch. Light's mind might have been potentially interesting, but L was more concerned with his body at the moment.

"Yes," he answered succinctly, tracing circles absently on an empty plate with a single finger. "As long as it does not take an unreasonable amount of time, I would be perfectly willing to sit and allow you to draw me. Would this be acceptable to you?"

"That would be just fine with me – preferable, actually," Light replied, his face blank of anything but gratitude and the courtesy ingrained in Japanese society, but L could feel his calculating confusion; Light was wondering why L was willing to accommodate a complete stranger to such a length.

L wondered when he'd figure it out.

"I'm sorry to inconvenience you about this," Light continued courteously. L doubted it was sincere; Light seemed the sort to never truly worry about inconveniencing someone else, only repeating the words for the sake of civility and not because he actually meant them.

A trait L found rather interesting.

"It's not an inconvenience," he stated, completely honestly – if he got sex, it wasn't an inconvenience at all.

"Then would you mind waiting a few minutes for me to get my sketchbook? It won't take long."

It was time to escalate the game.

"That is acceptable. I propose I send for my car, and it can return us to the hotel I am currently residing at. After all," L said in perfect innocence, "surely you would have a greater likelihood of success there than here, as it's busy and noisy here?"

Ah, and there it was – the shrewd flicker of eyes, the beginning of realization. Light had most likely picked up on L's true intentions now, a little faster than L had hypothesized he would. L hadn't even needed to eye Light's ass to get his point across, not that L would have minded.

Now all that remained was to see if Light would react favorably to the idea. L knew that even if he agreed, it didn't necessarily mean he was agreeing to sex, but it was considerably more likely to happen than if he insisted on remaining in the coffee shop for the drawing session.

L waited as Light studied him silently across the table for a moment, a space of a few seconds that felt much longer than they really were.

Then-

"That's fine," was the carefully relaxed reply. "I understand if you're uncomfortable, and want to do it in a familiar environment. You'll enjoy it more that way – being drawn, I mean. Many people feel it awkward to sit for a portrait."

L immediately stopped the grin that wanted to stretch across his lips, as it would no doubt end up looking like the creepy sort of grin that tended to scare people off.

That comment had been more in keeping with what L expected of Light's style - not only a condescending masterpiece of a civilly hidden snub, but in the same breath it had a barely-there double entendre, really only made significant by the subtle, corner-of-the-eyes glance Light gave with it.

That cocky little minx. L wasn't sure if it made him seem more appealing or infuriating. Probably both.

"Thank you for your understanding," L stated, with out a trace of sarcasm in his voice or a bit of sincerity in his heart, but a great deal of piqued interest in his libido. "Would you like a ride to pick up your art tools?"

Light flashed him a tight but still flawless smile. "That won't be necessary; I'll just meet you in front of the shop in five minutes." He stood in one fluid movement, using his new position to tower in seemingly unintended advantage over L, and held his hand out for the standard western greeting.

"I don't think I've introduced myself yet," he said smoothly. "My name is Light."

L looked at the outstretched hand, up at Light, then back at the hand. Then he lifted his own hand and let them meet, grasping for a long moment.

Light had a perfect handshake, by western standards – firm and leaving an impression of reliability, but not too tight that it felt like was trying to weld a person's hand bones together.

"You may call me Ryuzaki," L rejoined simply as their hands released each other. "I'm curious – what led you to believe I am not of Japanese descent? After all, my coloring is more Japanese than your own. Or do you typically greet people in the western manner?"

A smile. "Just a lucky guess. You are, aren't you?"

L could see no point in denying the truth, so he nodded once.

Light smirked – there was no other word for it – knowingly, and for a moment their eyes just met over empty plates and L's as of yet unpaid bill, left earlier by the waitress. There was nothing else of meaning to say, and both recognized it so both stayed quiet and studied the other briefly.

Then Light spoke, beginning the exchange of necessary but meaningless words of pointless courtesy, assurances of speedy recovery of art supplies, and agreements to meet at the corner; then he was walking out of the coffee shop with a confident stride and a small, victorious smile on his face.

And L's brain began to reevaluate events.

He had made contact with the target (or the target had made contact with him – semantics, really).

The target had agreed to return to L's hotel room with him (not explicitly for sex, but the implication was there and had been received).

The target was even more interesting than L had supposed, and just as gorgeous up-close as he remembered.

All three successors were currently spending the night at Mello's apartment (a fact L found more than a little ironic, considering Light lived on the floor above), and Watari would, as he always did, understand the situation and discreetly stay in another hotel room for the night after dropping them off.

Likelihood of sex that evening: eighty-nine percent.

Light was fully aware of the potential ramifications of what he had agreed to.

He wasn't an idiot, and he certainly wasn't blind to the interest in Ryuzaki's gaze or the implications of being invited to his hotel room.

At first, when Ryuzaki had declined having his picture taken, claiming religious reasons, Light had thought he merely didn't feel comfortable with the idea of a stranger drawing him - understandable, but stupid to avoid the issue like that when it would be easier to just come straight out with the truth. But then he'd played his next card, inviting Light back to his hotel, and Light had realized what his unspoken intentions were.

It was obvious Ryuzaki wanted to fuck him. He didn't know how Ryuzaki'd known he was gay, but in the end he supposed it didn't really matter.

So yes, Light was aware of what was going on, thank you for your concern, but he didn't see it as a problem.

To put it simply, he wanted to complete that damn drawing. He wasn't about to let this opportunity slip out of his grasp, and if that meant leading Ryuzaki on and letting him think Light was considering sleeping with him, then leaving immediately after he got what he wanted, that was fine. He certainly had no problem using someone in that way.

And Light knew he could take care of himself if things got out of hand; he wasn't a helpless female, by any means. He wasn't worried about that.

What worried him was the fact that he actually found himself considering – considering sleeping with Ryuzaki, that was.

To clarify, Light didn't usually do one-night-stands. He didn't like them, never had.

It wasn't the casual sex he was opposed to (obviously), it was the unnecessary risk and the fact that he had no way of knowing if the other person was some sort of lunatic or riddled full of STD's. It was the uncertainty, the lack of knowledge – it made him feel vulnerable, something he detested.

And yet, he found himself considering, and he wasn't entirely sure why.

Maybe it was because he had spent a week obsessing over Ryuzaki's face, though why he'd want to sleep with the owner of that maddening face that had nearly driven him insane and wasted sheet after sheet of his drawing paper was beyond him.

It wasn't that Ryuzaki was unattractive; he was actually quite good-looking, albeit in an unconventional way - and perhaps that was another reason Light found himself interested.

Light thought most other people boring, both in looks and in personality, and found very few people he could tolerate for any length of time. Mello had been very tolerable, because he was original and actually pretty damn smart and didn't try to suck up to Light because of who he or his father was, because Mello just didn't give a fuck.

There had been a spark of something in Mello that made him stand out, and it was that spark that had made him bearable.

Ryuzaki had that something.

But it wasn't like Mello's, who wore his spark unapologetically in his dauntless grin and bright, clear eyes. Ryuzaki kept his hidden, lurking fathoms-deep in dark, obscured waters.

Light had seen it during their conversation at the coffee shop. It hadn't been in the words, which were covered in a veil of civility and masked intentions, but in the times their eyes met and Light saw the something there – something unknown and deep and with the potential to be infinitely more interesting than the rest of the population Light came into contact with each day, the predictable people he could fool with an effortless smile and empty words.

Ryuzaki was different.

Actually, Light was fairly certain 'Ryuzaki' wasn't even his name, as he hadn't been very subtle about it when introducing himself. "You may call me Ryuzaki" – it was almost like something out of a B-rate spy film, like he wasn't even trying to hide the fact it wasn't his real name.

But Light didn't care what his name was, as long as he got to draw him.

And now Light knew for sure that his memory had done the face justice; it was every bit as unusual as he'd remembered, with the pale skin juxtaposed against the riveting black stare of the eyes, framed by wild dark fringes of flyaway hair. And now that he'd had time to observe closely, he'd realized the rest of the man was just as unusual as the face, strange introductions aside.

Simply stated, the guy was odd. He sat in a strange fetal-position crouch with his feet up on the chair underneath him, and Light was pretty sure the shoes had been left behind on the floor. His pattern of speech had an almost unnaturally even rhythm, and his word choice was somewhat awkward and overly formal, but his voice was smooth and deep and calming and intelligent.

There was something about him that captured Light's attention and made him not want to look away; he was repulsive and appealing at the same time, from his odd, hunched crouch to his piercing, enigmatic black eyes.

He was interesting, and Light was starved for a break from the monotony and predictability of his usual social interactions. That was really what it came down to.

Ryuzaki was interesting.

And interesting was arousing.

So Light was considering.

But, while he was definitely considering, seriously considering jumping into bed with this complete stranger, he was still more concerned with finally drawing that damn face and ending his frustration. Etching first, then maybe sex – that was the plan.

He'd just have to make sure things went accordingly.

So, when the car they were riding in - a dark, sleek car driven in comfortable silence by a white-haired and unobtrusive-looking gentleman - pulled to a smooth stop outside a towering hotel, Light stepped out with no qualms, only anticipation.

If things went as intended, then finally this week of distraction would be over.

Sketchbook in hand, he followed Ryuzaki into the hotel.