Work Text:
“.. if the sum of D cubed is equal to the sum of Y squared, that would make the answer…”
Light drums his fingers thoughtfully against the table.
His brain is a jumble of scattered equations and variables, lines running parallel to each other across the numbered surfaces of graphs.
He’s been working diligently at a page of calculus homework that his professor had assigned practically out of nowhere for a little over three hours now, and the smarting pinpricks of a headache are starting at the base of his head.
L sits a small ways to his left, crouched down in his chair as he types busily away at some document or other.
The rest of the task force has long since gone to bed, no doubt tucked under piles of warm blankets to combat this odd mid-summer chill. Light rather wishes he were able to do the same, as he indeed would have if not for the sheet of equations practically blurring before his tired eyes.
L, as per usual, doesn’t look like they plan to move from their seat for the rest of the night (except, perhaps, to get more cheesecake from the kitchen).
Light eyes him curiously, noting the pronounced and rather ill-looking bags that reside beneath the detective’s eyes.
Light’s own lids droop persistently. He shakes himself, yawning, and returns to his work.
Several times in the next few minutes, Light hears his colleague do a similar action, as if actively trying to keep himself awake.
This is peculiar, taking into consideration L’s usual indifference-bordering-on-dislike of sleeping as a consistent habit. He doesn’t seem to have a problem with resting his eyes barely once a week on average, a fact that absolutely horrifies Light.
He honestly doesn’t know how they do it.
Light blinks down at his homework, entering that weird astrally-separated space wherein one observes their own thoughts as a third party would. This space is, once entered, extremely difficult to expel oneself from.
He glares childishly at the equation he was halfway through solving before thoughts of L interrupted him, trying to regain his place.
He’s tired- very, very tired. He’d love nothing more than to throw this paper in the trash and collapse into bed without a second thought to the fucking thing.
But he can’t do that, can he? And really, L’s persistent yawning (however unusual) combined with the perpetual hum of the computers and his own inability to solve a set of basic equations is getting rather too annoying.
“Good god, are you sick or something?!” Light finally snaps, looking up at the detective practically falling off his chair for want of a desire to work.
“Hm?” L rubs their eyes and blinks slowly at Light, serving only to enrage the brunette further.
“I asked if you were sick,” he repeats tersely, “you’re so lethargic I could have poisoned
your tea and you’d barely have noticed.”
“I think that highly unlikely,” L replies patronizingly.
Light sighs, “whatever. It’s just- you look tired, that's all.”
“…interesting. Though, that’s not really discordant with my appearance as a whole. I’m not exactly healthy-looking.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
They lapse into silence, a state of calm that’s maintained for the next half hour with comparative ease. Light manages to get through most of his homework in that time, ignorant of his colleague’s struggle to fight the weariness off of him.
L feels dreadful. They don’t know if it’s because they’re flaring or because they haven’t slept in over a week, but it’s quite annoying.
The latter would make more sense, given the circumstances, but the thought of that is annoying as well.
Sighing, the detective heaves himself out of his slump and goes back to typing, cognizant of a wash of dizziness as it pours over him.
That’s the least of his worries at the moment, however.
“Kira can’t hit a moving target” doesn’t really make sense, but it’s not like sleeping will assist the case much either (that’s a blatant lie, it would assist by sharpening his deductive abilities by a significant amount, but they refuse to acknowledge this fact).
Twenty-odd minutes float by as they grow increasingly exhausted, becoming less and less alert.
Finally, the crescendo- the climax, of you will- falls as L himself tips sideways off his chair and hits the floor with a sharp thud.
“Ryuzaki!” Light jumps to his feet and kneels down beside them on the floor, chest flooding with terror.
“Ugh…”
“Oh my god,” the brunette’s voice quivers with shock, “fuck! I- Are you okay?”
L groans in pain, “that’s a… good question..”
“Oh fuck,” light pulls his hands away from L’s shoulders and slips them under the man’s head.
They come away smeared with red, incredibly fresh and not yet sticky.
L tries to sit up and is immediately struck by a surge of uncontrollable dizziness, combined sickeningly with rising nausea.
“Shit..” they mutter, bringing a hand to their forehead.
“Sit back down, you’re bleeding,” Light makes an effort to conceal the panic in his voice as he moves a hand to L’s chest and pushes them to lie against the floor.
“Ah, I am bleeding,” the noirette remarks weakly, touching a hand to the back of his head. He stares silently down at the dark liquid smudged across his fingertips, taking
In the dull sheen of it.
He feels a kind of acute horror overtake him, blossoming deep in his stomach, where it takes root.
Is he dying? Why is there blood? Is it serious? Is-
“Ryuzaki!” Light snaps them out of their thoughts and they shift their gaze to the man’s pale, fear-stricken face.
“I’m bleeding..” they repeat bluntly.
“Yes, that’s normal. You hit the floor quite hard.”
“..Hm, I suppose so. The skin in that particular area is particularly thin and therefore prone to profuse bleeding.”
“You’re going to be fine, I’ll call Watari,” Light makes as if to get up.
L stops him abruptly, clasping chilled fingers around his wrist and pulling feebly.
“Stay…” they request, “please.”
Swallowing, Light nods and sits back down.
Gently, he slips an arm under L’s back and tugs them up, guiding them to rest their head against his chest.
For the moment, L makes no comment on this, choosing instead to lift a hand to his mouth and begin nibbling at his thumbnail.
“You’re going to be okay,” Light states firmly, almost as if he were trying to convince himself of the fact, rather than L himself.
“I have a concussion.”
“Yes, but that heals.”
“I may have to be temporarily installed at a private medical facility while my deductive capabilities return to normal."
“Possibly, but you’ll be fine,” Light lifts a hand and begins tenderly caressing L’s hair, twirling the dark strands around his fingers.
For a few minutes, neither of the two speak. Light continues his gentle admirations to the other’s hair, trying to soothe himself and calm the torrent of thoughts inside his head.
“…y’know,” L murmurs eventually, “it will most assuredly take some time before I am once again at my full capacity for work. If Kira wanted to hinder the investigation, this would certainly be an effective means by which to slow its progression.”
“What? I didn’t-” heat rushes to Light’s face as his chest constricts.
“Hush, there’s nothing to be so defensive about. I was speaking hypothetically.”
L sighs. “After all, it would be quite odd to picture Kira deliberately administering a lethargy-inducing drug by way of making me cause harm to myself, and then holding me and tending to my wound. Not unthinkable, though.”
“Oh, be quiet,” Light sets his phone down, having sent an urgent message to Watari requesting assistance, and turns back to the man in his arms, “You need to rest.”
L feels another wave of pain and exhaustion sweep over him, finding its way into the crevices of his joints and the depths of his bone marrow.
Light shifts and pulls them closer to him, nudging their head beneath his chin.
L sighs quietly, feeling their eyelids grow heavy.
Through the thickness of oncoming slumber, they manage to whisper a plaintive, hesitant ask.
“If it’s serious-“
“It won’t be,” Light’s voice is strong and confident, betraying none of the uneasiness its owner feels.
He persists, “if it-“
“It won’t be.”
“I’ll retire, maybe.”
“I guess, but that won’t happen. You won’t need to.”
“Light?” He murmurs.
“Hm?”
“Be sure to prevent my brain from leaking out.”
“Ryuzaki, for the love of fuck.”
“I’m sooo serious.”