Chapter Text
A golden sliver of sunlight slipped through the slight gap in the curtains, stretching across the luxurious hotel bed in a lazy sprawl. It crept up the disheveled white sheets and onto the bare shoulder of a sleeping figure. Misa Amane let out a soft groan as the warmth reached her face, nudging her toward wakefulness.
She grumbled, squeezing her eyes shut tighter, but the insistent light wasn’t having it. With a frown, she shifted onto her side, seeking refuge in the cool pillow.
And then—
Thud-thump.
A pounding headache made its presence known, sending a dull, agonizing throb through her skull. Misa let out a pitiful whimper, pressing a delicate hand to her forehead. Ugh. This was bad. Like, really bad. The kind of bad that told her she had definitely gone overboard last night.
With a sluggish effort, she reached out to where her bedside table should have been, fingers blindly patting the smooth surface, searching for the water bottle she always kept there. Her hand met… nothing.
Misa frowned, brow knitting in confusion. No bottle. No phone. No cute little trinkets. No bottle of painkillers she usually kept for situations exactly like this.
That’s weird.
She forced her eyes open a fraction, bleary vision struggling to adjust. As her fingers continued their fruitless search, she finally turned her head toward where her bedside should be—
And nearly screamed the hotel down.
Two wide, inky-black eyes stared directly at her.
Her breath caught in her throat, a sharp, terrified squeak escaping before she fully registered the face before her. The face of a man sitting at an awkward crouch on the chair beside her bed, knees drawn up, fingers idly plucking at a bowl of sugar cubes and cherries in front of him.
A very familiar man.
“Rin, what the hell?!” Misa shrieked, bolting upright, her headache momentarily forgotten in her panic. “What are you doing? That’s so creepy!”
The figure before her remained unfazed. L, or “Rin” as Misa had taken to calling him, simply tilted his head slightly, unblinking. His thumb and forefinger held a sugar cube, which he delicately placed on his tongue as he chewed in thought.
“Good morning, Miss Amane,” he said, voice as flat and emotionless as ever.
Misa wrapped the sheets tightly around herself and scooted back, eyes darting around in confusion. The lavishly decorated hotel room—the unfamiliar bed she was in—none of this was hers. Her stomach twisted.
“What… where am I?” she demanded, throwing a suspicious glare at L. “What did you do?!”
L calmly licked a bit of sugar from his thumb. “I did nothing, aside from ensuring you did not end up in an unfortunate situation last night,” he replied.
Misa’s foggy brain fought to piece together her last memories. She vaguely remembered drinking. Lots of drinking. Celebrating something? Was she alone? Yes(ish)—there had been people around, classy music, soft lights—
Her eyes widened slightly as a mental snapshot of L lifting her off the her seat flickered through her mind.
“You—You carried me here?” she asked hesitantly.
“Yes.”
She swallowed, then quickly grabbed the nearest object within reach—a chunky metal bracelet from the nightstand. Wielding it like a weapon, she brandished it at L with all the determination her wobbly, hungover self could muster.
“Did you bring me here to—to do something perverted?!” she accused, voice still hoarse from sleep.
L, to his credit, did not react much beyond a slow blink.
“No,” he said, as if the idea were utterly absurd. “I have no such interest in you.”
Misa felt a strange, immediate offense at how casually he dismissed the notion, but she focused on the bigger issue at hand. “Then why am I here?”
L plucked another cherry from the bowl, rolling it between his fingertips as he replied, “You were intoxicated. More so than was safe for a young woman to be while surrounded by men who were—shall we say—less than reputable. I decided that, in the absence of a reliable companion to escort you home, bringing you to my hotel suite was the most logical option.”
Misa lowered her bracelet slightly, lips parting as she processed his words.
“You mean… some creeps were looking at me?”
“Indeed.”
Her fingers curled tightly around the bracelet. She had always been a social drinker—flirty, fun, and carefree. But the thought of strange men eyeing her like prey while she had been too out of it to notice… it made her stomach churn.
A tense silence stretched between them. L, having seemingly lost interest in the conversation, returned to fiddling with his sugar cubes.
Misa sighed, slumping back against the pillows. “Well… thanks, I guess.”
L glanced at her, an almost imperceptible frown tugging at the corners of his lips. “You should not thank me for simply doing the bare minimum,” he murmured, tone unreadable.
Misa blinked at him, caught off guard. “Huh?”
He didn’t clarify. Instead, he resumed stacking sugar cubes with a meticulous precision, as if the conversation had already ended in his mind.
Misa studied him for a moment. There was something oddly fascinating about him—about Rin. He was strange, unnerving even, but… he hadn’t hurt her. He hadn’t done anything inappropriate. He hadn’t even tried to take advantage of her drunk state by humiliating her.
Instead, he had quietly ensured her safety.
Her gaze drifted away from him, landing on a glass jug of water and a small, unopened box of medication resting on the nightstand. A handwritten note sat beside them, its elegant scrawl catching her eye:
For Miss Amane. Keep the rest in case you have ‘too much fun’ again.
She reached out and ran her fingers over the embossed edges of the card. The message was formal, but there was something almost… considerate about it.
Misa bit her lip, suppressing a small giggle as she risked a glance at L. He didn’t look at her, still absorbed in his sugar cubes and cherries.
For a guy who was so odd—so cold at times—he sure was a bit of a sweetie underneath it all.
Not only had he saved her case before, but now he had saved her from potential danger twice.
Her heart gave the tiniest, most inconvenient little flutter at the thought.
She quickly shook her head. No way. Absolutely not. He was weird. And creepy. And—
And weird.
Misa let out a long sigh before finally pouring herself a glass of water and popping a pill. The headache wasn’t going to kill itself.
“So,” she muttered after a pause, casting a sideways glance at L. “You’re really not interested in me at all?”
L finally looked at her again, tilting his head. “No,” he answered plainly. “I have larger concerns to occupy my time.”
Misa huffed, crossing her arms. “Hmph. Rude.”
L simply went back to eating his cherries.
The morning air was crisp and pleasant, the slight chill softened by the golden sunlight that spilled over the balcony. Misa sat at the small outdoor table, idly tracing the rim of her coffee cup while avoiding looking directly at the man seated across from her.
She hadn’t exactly planned to still be here.
Her original intention had been to slip away first thing in the morning, return to her apartment, and pretend that the entire embarrassing ordeal—her drunkenness, her overreaction, her moment of vulnerability in front of Rin —never happened.
But the butler or whatever had stopped her.
Misa stole a glance at the man she’d mentally dubbed The Old Guy , who had introduced himself as Watanabe. He was an older gentleman, polite and refined in a way that immediately struck her as someone who had spent decades serving high-profile figures. When he had gently urged her to stay for breakfast, she hadn’t had the heart to refuse.
Besides, he was really sweet.
Unlike some people, she thought, throwing a quick side-eye at L, who was sitting in his usual hunched posture, long fingers drumming impatiently on the table.
Misa had noticed him eyeing her plate of pancakes earlier, the faintest crease in his brow betraying his irritation. She was almost certain he was brooding over the fact that had she left, he would have gotten to eat her share.
Honestly.
She wasn’t sure how a grown man could get so sulky over food.
The thought made her stifle a giggle, and she took another bite of her breakfast, savoring the warmth of the syrup-drenched pancakes.
For a while, they ate in silence, the occasional soft clink of cutlery the only sound between them. It was oddly peaceful, despite the strange circumstances.
Misa was the first to break the quiet.
“You know,” she started, swirling the last bits of syrup on her plate with her fork. “You’ve done a lot for me lately, even when you didn’t have to.”
L’s gaze flickered up from his plate, but he said nothing.
Misa hesitated for half a second before pushing through, her voice quieter now. “I don’t even know how to begin thanking you, but…” She tapped her fork against her plate thoughtfully. “I figured maybe I could treat you to a nice meal as a thank you? Like, at my place.”
At that, L stilled. His dark eyes locked onto hers, unreadable.
Misa held her breath, because ugh , why did he have to stare at people like that? It was like being caught in some kind of horror movie, like that one creepy chain mail girl Momo . His tired eyes were so big and black, and his pale skin didn’t help the look.
Just when she was about to awkwardly backtrack, L twirled his fork between his fingers and finally responded.
“I understand the sentiment,” he said, voice as flat as ever, “but I don’t believe that would be wise.”
Misa blinked. “What? Why not?”
“My work requires a degree of anonymity,” L explained simply, setting his fork down with a faint clink. “It would not be in my best interest to—”
Misa wasn’t even listening anymore, because she’d already registered that he was saying no , and that wasn’t going to work for her.
She huffed, dropping her fork before reaching across the table to grasp his hands. L’s shoulders immediately tensed, but he didn’t pull away.
“Rin,” she pouted, giving him the full force of her best puppy dog eyes . “Come on . It’s not like people are going to recognize you if you just wear a mask! Everyone wears them these days!”
L’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she could practically hear the gears turning in his head.
Time for the big guns.
“If you’re that worried about it, I can just bake you something instead,” she offered, batting her lashes. “I know you like sweets. Every time I came to the firm to sort out my case, you were always munching on something.”
L visibly faltered.
Oh.
Ohhh, she had him.
Misa didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched slightly, nor the subtle shift in his posture—he hunched over just a little more, his eyes flickering with something almost… greedy.
Bingo.
She barely suppressed her smirk as she continued, voice smooth and enticing. “I’ll make anything you want. Cakes, cookies, whatever.” She leaned in slightly. “It’ll be the best you’ve ever had.”
L’s stare lingered on her for a long moment. Then, slowly—reluctantly—he exhaled through his nose.
“…Only because I am curious to sample your baking,” he muttered.
Misa grinned triumphantly.
Hook, line, and sinker.
Misa could hardly contain her excitement as she wiggled in her chair, watching L with victorious amusement.
Even though he hunched over like a sulking cat, staring at his plate with thinly veiled regret, she knew she had won. The moment his gaze had flickered with interest at the mention of sweets, it was over .
Amane: 1. Fujioka: 0, she thought to herself with glee.
She leaned forward, resting her chin in her palms. “So! When are you free?”
L’s expression didn’t change. If anything, he looked even more like a kicked puppy. “That depends.”
Misa narrowed her eyes. “On what?”
“On whether or not I regret this decision before the day ends.”
She gasped, dramatically placing a hand over her chest. “Rin! You wound me.”
He blinked at her, unbothered.
Misa pouted but let it slide. “Well, too bad! You already agreed, and Misa-Misa never breaks her promises.” She shot him a knowing smirk. “And you don’t seem like the type who does either.”
L fidgeted with his fork, twirling it between his fingers. “That would be correct,” he murmured.
Misa beamed. “Then it’s settled! I’ll let you know when I’m ready to bake, and you’ll come over and taste-test everything.”
L let out a long, drawn-out sigh, as if he had resigned himself to his fate. “Very well. But I must insist on precautions.”
Misa cocked her head. “Like what?”
“I cannot reveal my identity. A mask, as you suggested, will suffice. Furthermore, I will choose the time and ensure our meeting is secure.”
Misa huffed. “Geez, paranoid much?”
L didn’t react. “Always.”
For a moment, she studied him, her teasing smile faltering slightly. She was used to people brushing her off, underestimating her, assuming she was just some pretty, bubbly thing without much going on inside her head. But Rin … he was different.
He wasn’t just cautious—he was constantly analyzing, constantly watching, constantly a step removed from everything and everyone around him. It wasn’t just paranoia.
It was loneliness.
Misa twirled a lock of her hair. “You should relax sometimes, you know. Not everyone’s out to get you.”
L took a slow sip of his tea before replying, “That is a dangerous assumption.”
Misa sighed, deciding not to push further.
Instead, she reached for her glass of orange juice and took a sip, letting the conversation settle into a comfortable lull. The morning air was crisp, the city below bustling with life, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to enjoy the calm.
L, meanwhile, had turned his full attention back to his food, his appetite seemingly returning now that the negotiations were over.
Misa barely held back a giggle when she saw him eyeing the last pancake on her plate.
“Oh no, you don’t,” she said, sliding the plate closer to herself.
L blinked at her, feigning innocence. “I wasn’t going to take it.”
“Liar,” she shot back playfully.
L merely took another sugar cube and popped it into his mouth like candy.
Misa shook her head fondly. "Big and greedy,"she teased.