Hey. I found this chapter on my computer and figured I'd finish it. Blame the Death Note musical that I just found out about (thanks Good Omens lol). I don't know good it'll be it's probably veered into AU at this point. L is still a bit OCC. This chapter is mostly banter between L and Lena, and I've come to realize that I love them as a couple, especially after this chapter. If you want to give me some ideas, feel free. I'll get back to Light in the next chapter, I promise. I hope you enjoy~Serria Spell23. Also, Stray Italian Greyhound by Vienna Teng fits L and Lena from her perspective.

Ch.6-Monochrome Mentality

"Is this going to become a habit?"

I jumped. L tightened his embrace as I glared over his shoulder at Chief Yagami.

"No, Sir, I was drained after last night, and ironically this is the only place I'm able to sleep."

L gazed at me. "Thanks for the compliment, my dear, but won't your bed be going to waste?"

"You can lie in it with me."

"Are you drawing a comparison between a stuffed animal and me, Lena?"

I smirked. "Or a body pillow, take your pick," I said, pecking the detective's cheek.

He rolled his eyes. "Lena!"

Our boss gazed between us. "As much as I enjoy your couple's bickering, we have work to do."

My friend's mouth dropped. "We are not!" No counterclaim met L's denial. I bit my tongue, longing to contradict our status of how we were wedged—rather precariously— between platonic friendship and intense romance. "Aren't you going back me up?" His voice jarred me to my senses.

"Counteract us being a nonexistent couple, do I have to!"

I leaped off the detective's lap and hovered next to the armrest. Grazing my fingers across L's face, I sighed, my lips poised themselves into a strained smile.

"What do you require of us, Mr. Yagami? I have a plan possibly to cross off your son as a suspect; however, I do not think you'll approve…"

The Chief shook his head solemnly. "What are you suggesting?"

"If you'll allow me to put cameras in his room…"

"Do what you must, Ryuzaki."

"Excellent, on account of I've already installed them."

The familiar twinge of frustration flushed my complexion. "How and when did you do that, L? I was sleeping on you last night! Am I as deep a sleeper as always?"

He smirked, taking my hand. "That's one constant that hasn't changed since our stint as partners…my presence within your personal space soothes you to sleep." I reddened, confirming the truth lingering behind in the wake of our goodbye. His company did comfort me in every facet conceivable and not only in sleep, in waking hours too.

We looked at each other, and I relented, L's eyes holding mine. "All right, you can keep the enigma of the cameras to yourself. It's my curiosity. I admit though I pride myself on knowing the complexities of your mind, sometimes you throw a curveball, you still surprise me."

"Thank you, dear. All we have to do is bide time until Light returns home."

Hours later, we reconvened in front of the screen, tuned to the interior of the Yagami household, Light's bedroom—deserted and cluttered. The aesthetic was typical teenager with clothes and magazines littering the area. L smirked, his gaze landing on titles of the "adult" variety.

"What, Ryuzaki?" the Chief said.

"I had a flashback to my teenage years, Mr. Yagami."

"My son does not read those types of magazines."

"It's completely normal. I still have mine somewhere."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, of course, you do. You know that's not professional."

"My private hobbies have nothing to do with Light, dear, and you talk in your sleep, so we both have something uncouth."

I giggled. I leaned close to L and whispered into his ear. "I didn't say anything incriminating…"

"No. You seemed to be having trouble sleeping even after you dozed off. You kept mumbling for an hour while I poured over your notes and my theories." L winked at me and adopted his trademark monotone. "No sweeping declarations." His eyes remained on the screens, and I frowned.

"Well, this is going to be boring, staring at footage of an empty bedroom. How are we going to entertain ourselves?" I said, impatience within my voice.

"My mind's forever working, dear."

I groaned, my hand tangling into my hair. "With theories, you can't voice. God, L! Doesn't that bother you?"

L gave no sign he'd heard me. He exhaled his eyes in front of him.

Chief Yagami glanced between us. "Ryuzaki, are you baiting Nanami?"

I covered my mouth. L caught my eye and smirked.

"You son of a bitch!" I yelled.

"Yes, dear?"

I stepped into my friend's trap again. He wanted to wind me up; he knew I would be. That's why our partnership worked so well. L pushed me and challenged me. He would not let me idle. It doesn't mean I didn't hate him for it.

"You wanted to fire me up, and I walked right into it. I fell for it. God damn, I hate you!"

L's lips quirked. "We already established you don't," he replied curtly.

I wish I could.

My fingers tugged at my hair under the pretense of combing the knots from my mousy-brown waves. I did not know whether the blush arose from embarrassment, or the euphoric rush I began to feel amidst spurts of characteristic exasperation. Our routine had reinstated itself.

Oh damn! I thought as I smiled at L's back. He insisted on avoiding my eyes for whatever reason.

I chuckled. "L, turn around for God's sake. You're just sore because I called you out."

The detective turned his head and met my fervent and tantalized expression. Nodding, he basked in his victory, laughing—probably in affection— but I could not be sure, and I shouldn't put words or feelings anywhere near L's mouth or mind. I noticed that his eyes seemed infected with the same giddy pleasure I felt. However, I had a habit of projecting.

Chief Yagami cleared his throat. "Perhaps the task force members and I will leave you and Nanami alone, Ryuzaki. We are playing a waiting game until Light returns anyway. But please notify me or anyone else if something comes up."

"Of course, sir," I said, mimicking L's monotone. "We're attempting to find evidence toward Light's exoneration. Hence the planning of the undercover operation."

"As I said, do what it takes to prove my son's innocence." Our boss's brow creased. "When did you decide that? Can't say I am too comfortable with the prospect."

"Last night. Don't be distressed; it's not for a month. It's for observation."

A nod.

The suite door closed as the task force, and our boss filed out.

"You lie effortlessly now," L said. "You're more fluent than when we first worked cases. I'm impressed."

I sighed and reached for a purple, dark chocolate filled macaroon from the tray in front of me. "I'm not as detached as you, L. He deserved to know our plan even if we are lying about our intentions. Not be blind sighted. And you'll hate me for this, but I understand his stance. No parent wants to see the worst in their child."

L nodded, the admiring gaze back in his dark eyes—subdued but firm. "I do not hate you, dear. The opposite. I respect the difference in your method and sentimentalities."

I popped the macaroon in my mouth to avoid slipping into the romantic witticisms that rested so damn easy on my lips. I brushed my hair behind my ear and swallowed.

I eyed L. "Should I dye my hair or wear a wig for the undercover operation to preserve my anonymity? Light's seen my face, and we still don't know the circumstances of the deaths. Does he need a face, a name, or both? We don't know how he could be delivering the fatal blows, either."

"A wig; I like your hair too much."

I grinned. The detective did not mince words. The phrase didn't come off as a compliment due to the lack of inflection, but I knew better. L was not one to hand out appearance-related praise; it was like his aversion to touch the person had to be close to him.

"Do I have a dopey smile on my face?" I said, touching L's arm.

"Yes. I decided to refrain comment. It makes your face look odd."

My eyebrows shot up. I chewed my lip to ignore the questions in my head. "Odd? Never mind. My eyes, too, should I wear contacts?"

"If you wish, Lena. They'd act as a precautionary measure. Your eyes are unmistakable."

"Yes, they are," I said, the bather between us not faltering. "Light would notice. I'm sure he did when he stared into them, attempting to crack my shell. I hope the Chief noticed something. I felt like glass under Light's gaze." I glanced at L. "My mask isn't as strong as yours. My emotions slip. I want to be an asset to the investigation and you, L, but I'm scared."

My friend gave me a small smile. "You will be fine."

"This is why you called me, isn't it? You wanted to see me like this again. An impulsive and headstrong bitch, who has very protective tendencies and is more emotional than rational." I threw my head back and laughed. "I'm no mad genius."

L smirked. "Some would say you are, however, in the case of us, you are the sanity in the equation. I am the madness within the genius."

I walked into my room and retrieved my laptop bag. I sat beside L's chair, my legs crossed. My jeans, white shirt, and cream cardigan gave me an aura of calm and balanced—the mastery of a façade. Pulling my computer from its case, I set it next to me and searched for the charger.

"What are you doing?"

"I figured I'd transcribe my handwritten notes so I can read them," I said, finding a pair of silver cat eye glasses in the pocket with the charger. I didn't need glasses, but they aided against eye strain when staring at bright screens.

After locating an outlet, I plugged my laptop in and put on my glasses. "You've not worn those in a while." L commented. "I forgot how they looked on you."

I smirked, tipping the frames forward on my nose in a sort of a bow. My eyes held skeptical teasing. "I've worn them. You just haven't seen them." My voice, the inflections shifted into subtle and suggestive territory when I spoke again. "And no, you didn't."

The detective's responding nod confirmed what I suspected: he liked me in my glasses. Of course, L would never admit that, however, a cursory glance in my peripheral vision showed me L was admiring my profile.

He gazed at me; the tightness in my face as I glared at the computer caused him to shake his head. "Lena?"

My hands quaked as I finished the paragraph — the click of the keys disjointed. I gazed up at L, my eyes veiled with cultured cynicism. The helplessness I felt spilled over, and I prayed for it not to be mirrored in my eyes.

"Do you think we'll catch him?"

L frowned. "Of course, dear. Whatever it takes."

I loved and envied his confidence. It petrified me. He meant that statement. His life be damned. As if I needed any more proof he thought he was immortal; his cockiness was enough.

"What will it take? Will it be worthwhile, L? I wasn't lying when I said I was scared!" I said, digging my nails into my palm.

L's expression softened, but he failed to resist smirking. "You're shaking. Nothing will happen." He held out his hand. I huffed and closed my laptop. Sliding my glasses onto my head, I settled on the arm of the chair. I hugged L and let my hand grip his. My head nestled into his shoulder, my face nuzzling the crook of his neck.

I laughed, my voice tired and raw. "This is the one time your cockiness is comforting. You make me believe you. I trust you."

"Mutual, dear. Perhaps you need a reprieve from being in Light's head."

I stared at L as if he'd finally become the 'mad genius' of people's perceptions. I squeezed his hand and rejected the idea of a break with a resolute shake of my head.