Past in Present

New chapter, yay~ It might start going a little slower to write as we’re going to be getting more and more into the philosophical/psychological issues that Monster dealt with as time goes on.

Also – still seeking rp partners. Anyone interested? PM me!

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“Are you ordering me into your bed?” L spoke flatly. The game they had been playing had L obeying Kira’s orders, but outside of that, Kira had allowed him volition.

“I still have the handcuffs.”

“And control issues.” L tried for a moment to disentangle himself, but Kira kept ahold of his hair, kept his head back. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, staring up at him. “Are you ordering me?”

There was silence for a long moment and L could practically hear Kira’s brain working, trying to figure out which was to the best advantage. He was banking on Kira wanting to continue to play this game, the one that never went anywhere.

“Yes.” It was like a bucket of icewater over his head, L inhaling sharply, involuntarily betraying his surprise and making Kira smirk slowly. “So now what will you do, L?”

“Refuse of course.” He kept his voice steady and logically emotionless, not wanting to give Light a fingerhold of emotion to rip at.

“Why?” Kira sounded boredly amused, his hands sliding out of L’s hair to his shoulders.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Calm apathy was the only thing he could use as a defense, letting his chin fall to look back at the computer, as if his notes interested him still, even at this moment.

“Indulge me.” Kira’s hands were heavy and warm on his shoulders and he resented their presence as much as he welcomed them.

“You order it because you believe it will throw me off.”

“Perhaps I find you attractive.” The hands on his shoulders were moving, rubbing out knots from muscles that had long been painful. L pressed his lips together to keep from sighing in physical pleasure.

“Again, trying to distract me. We both know better than that. You’re attracted to power games and nothing more.”

Kira was silent behind him. He thought he caught the image of Kira in the screen of the laptop. He wondered if it was his imagination that the other nodded slowly, conceding the point.

Either way, the silence demanded more from him. “You also think sex will break me.” L followed up. Kira seemed to think that having sex would turn L into some kind of besotted teenager.

“Your refusal seems to agree with that supposition.” And damn Kira for sounding so amused, still.

L’s eyes narrowed, and he couldn’t help but betray his anger. “You’re trying to bait me into accepting. I know you, Kira. Perhaps I’m just tired of the game.”

“And I know you.” His voice was dark and low and too damned attractive. “You’re never tired of it.”

Kira’s hands tilted his head back again, hard and his mouth descended on his, and it was an awkward angle, L’s head jerked back and Kira’s hand on his throat and in his hair, but it was still... good. Better than it had any right to be.

He was right, L mused distantly… Kira was right that it had been too, too long, and once pressed this far, he wouldn’t want to refuse. But that didn’t mean he would play this the way that Kira wanted.

When Kira finally released him, breathless and dizzy, L stood, slowly turning to face him dragging his own shirt up over his head and dropping it on the chair.

“Let’s play it, then.”

-----

Five years had been good to Kira. It was an observation that couldn’t be avoided as L listened to the other man’s breath slow next to him. He had filled out, was no longer as scrawny as he was, and he had clearly gained quite a bit of experience in the intervening years. He’d turned into a good lover, control issues and all.

L rested on his own back, one knee drawn up still, not bothering pulling the sheets up over himself. Kira laid next to him, stretched out like a lazy cat, clearly half-asleep and sated, though expectant. He was waiting for L to fall asleep, he supposed. The temptation was there, sharp and seductive. After all, the sex had been a tightly controlled war, violent but wholly satisfying.

L waited until he felt he had his bearings and then sat up and slid out of the bed, causing Kira’s eyes to open slowly, fixing on him. “Where are you going?” Kira drawled, lazily, watching him.

“Back to work, now that you’ve gotten that out of your system.” L reached down to scoop his pants up.

Kira pressed himself up on an elbow, looking quite shocked, and L kept his face carefully neutral as he slipped into the shower, cleaning up quickly.

When he walked out again, loose jeans hanging low on his hips, his shirt still in the front room, he could feel Kira’s eyes on him, hot and measuring.

He paid them no mind, ambling through the door and back into the chair, ignoring the fact that he was sore, the bruises that were coming up on his skin already. He waited, listening, for Light to come out after him. He’d pushed him hard, and there was a good chance that Light would explode.

No footsteps came after him, though, and the door never swung open. He had had the battle, though not yet the war. He sank himself into the case, feeling better than he had in months.

Round one: L.

----

Light watched L leave the room, his eyes narrowed, his body tense. His skin felt too tight, like it could barely contain him. He wanted to tear over there and rip L’s throat out for daring to walk away like that, as if they’d had nothing more than unsugared tea.

L was supposed to have shown something, to at least crack. Light wasn’t so vain to actually think that he’d have cried or begged or anything, but that cool exit that turned his victory into a loss… unacceptable.

He wanted to follow him out there, to see him curled-up and not reading for once, but instead thinking about what had happened. And barring that, he wanted to shove him down over notes and laptops and prove to him, over and over, that he had lost.

He wanted to write L’s name, have him die serving him, begging him. Anything to make the detective lose his fucking cool, anything to make him acknowledge that Light had won.

No. He knew that sort of victory was petty at best and he wanted it to be decisive. He was capable of a protracted battle. He would break him, using whatever tactic he needed.

Besides, L was surprisingly good in bed, for a shut-in. Not a substitute for Tenma’s utter consideration, of course, but he was a challenge that the doctor didn’t provide.

Light, somewhat mollified stretched out, letting the tension drain from his body. Perhaps he’d gotten too used to victory lately. Going out to confront L would only give the detective more of a victory, and he didn’t intend to let that happen.

----

L was the single most annoying person on the planet. He had always known that of course, but Light was running out of any patience he might have had.

He watched L’s slouched form, half-buried in a pile of kid’s books. Light supposed they were relevant to the case – they seemed to be part of Johan’s past, based on what Tenma had told them in a regrettably brief phonecall. Still, it seemed silly.

Johan had passed out reading one of them. Light was positive it was due to the basic shock of remembering – it was doubtful the books themselves had any sort of power. There was no other plausible explanation – after all, they were just children’s books. Light himself had looked through a few of them. They didn’t seem to be notably different than any other child’s book, and Light wondered if L wasn’t just using the excuse to goof off.

Granted, there was something unsettling about them, but Light didn’t really like children’s books to begin with, even as a child.

He was irritated that Tenma hadn’t brought this information to them in person. He found himself missing the doctor’s uncomplicated kindness, his purity. He was thoughtful without being hyper-focused, driven without being creepy, smart without it defining him. Self-depreciating to a fault, as opposed to L’s hyperactive ego.

He was above all, soothing. Light thought his feeling for the doctor might have become an obsession, if he had time for these things anymore. As it was, Tenma had been a very, very pleasant diversion – and to Light’s mind, would be again in the future.

Instead of that future, though, He was now stuck in a shithole hotel (all right, not a shithole but a 5-star suite that still managed not to suit him, somehow), watching the news and getting reports from people only vaguely in the case and watching L read children’s books.

It was babysitting and nothing more. He snarled under his breath, suddenly furious again. L had no right to let Tenma go, just as he had no right to hide things from Light. He was only here because of Light’s indulgence and he could easily go back.

He circled the older detective, studying him. The way his shoulders hunched almost defensively, the way his hair fell into his eyes (brushed now, something that Light did to irritate him constantly), the fingers already chewed ragged, worse than he could recall ever having seen them, pressed to his mouth.

---

L could feel Kira prowling around him, could feel the eyes bearing down on him, but paid them no mind.

Cat and mouse defined him, defined them.

Who played what role was fuzzy at best sometimes. Kira still ostensibly played the role of the predator, but L challenged him in that, seducing as often as he was seduced, and every time walking away afterwards as if he were bored by the whole process – no matter what it cost him personally in pride or pain.

It was worth it, because it was frustrating the hell out of Kira. That much was obvious in how he kept changing tactics… hard and rough, slow and mockingly caring, disinterested… the god of the new world was a rather schizophrenic lover.

L kept his amusement and his bitter satisfaction to himself, because to display it would be to give the whole game away.

Besides there were more games to play – stalking Tenma, stalking Johan. Every time they seemed to get to the bottom of Johan, there was another layer to be peeled back. L felt equal measures of hatred and fascination for the case… for Johan himself.

Some days, he got so absorbed that Light had to physically shake him out of a trance of thought. Today felt like it might become another one of those days… L sat with a picture book open on his lap, staring at each page for so long that he was sure it seemed impossible that he was actually reading it.

But he was. Studying each page, each nuance of meaning in Czech, in German. Translating back and forth to try and suck every drop of information he could out of the words on the page. And when that was making him dizzy and proving silly at best (did any child think this deeply about a story), he studied every line in each drawing – the sharpness of monster teeth, the curious deadness to their eyes. Johan had read these books as a child. As implausible as it might be, they had a hand in his development. The birth of a sociopath. Tenma had seemed convinced that they were pivotal.

He pressed his finger into his mouth, idly chewing a nail. Active, directed analysis was getting him nowhere, so he let his mind wander, pulling the pieces together as it would. It began to draw rapid parallels between his own education and what he had learned about Johan’s. Parallels that made him feel somewhat sick, but he allowed them. Johan’s upbringing could be the same, could be designed. The sociopath could have been crafted.

There was always a meaning. Always a purpose. What did the story mean? What was it supposed to portray?

Dozens of meanings flitted through his head, the most logical being that one did not need a name. Ironic message there, thought of years before Kira’s conception. He traced letters, muttering the lines in Czech.

We just have to accept that we are monsters without a name.

“L, you can’t just sit and stare all day.” Kira’s voice cut into his train of thought sharply, making L blink slowly, raising his eyes to Kira’s.

“I’m thinking.” He replied peevishly, disliking when anyone threw his mental monologues off.

“We’ve already had this conversation.” Kira’s eyes were hard and piercing.

L sighed. Kira needed to get over his need to know every little thing that he was thinking – If he really thought L would or even could tell him everything, he had gotten lazy and foolish. Besides that, such endless vocal analysis would slow them both down. “I wish I could meet him.”

“Why?” L paused and looked closer at Kira. He was learning to read the subtle signs that he might not have seen before – even after the months of being handcuffed, there was more to be learned. Kira was more open than L had been, because he was sure of himself.

He read jealousy in that. He supposed it was logical – L had never often met suspects and Kira was aware of that. He probably thought it was an honor that had been reserved for him.

“We don’t have any information about his personality, and he is not easy to profile. I have no idea how intelligent he is, for instance.”

“He’s clearly smart.”

“But is he as smart as us?” L countered smoothly.

“Of course not.” Kira scoffed as if the possibility was ridiculous. Perhaps it was – perhaps it wasn’t. L himself didn’t know. He regarded it as unlikely, but still conducted his own reasoning with the possibility in mind.

“How do you know?” Doggedly, pressing it. He knew Kira would see it his way, once he really thought. Although that assumption itself perhaps presupposed that Kira himself was operating on the same level he once did, and the god complex hadn’t gotten in his way too much.

Kira was silent. L nodded a little. “We don’t. It’s pure conjecture, based on the fact that we have no academic work to compare. Even the teachers reports that we have managed to get are vague at best. We know he is intelligent… we also know he wanted to remain hidden. Therefore it is just as illogical to assume he is as smart as us, just as it is illogical to assume he isn’t.”

“Even assuming we could find Johan – what makes you think I would allow a meeting?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” L widened his eyes a little, in absolutely innocent surprise, which caused Kira to narrow his.

He suspected a trap of some sort – of course he did. L cursed mentally, realizing that he’d overplayed his hand. He’d be lucky if Kira let him even see another picture of Johan at this rate.

“Why should I hand you over to a psychopath? Even supposing that we manage to find and get close to him, which is highly unlikely – what if he kills you?” The fake concern was silky and choking.

L chewed his finger in silence, letting amusement creep into his stare. Pulling his finger out of his mouth and wrapping his arms around his legs. “I imagine it would simply solve a problem for you if he did.”

Kira’s expression tightened, shut even more. He snorted a little. “Perhaps you’re right.”

And that was that. Whatever it was. L chose to read it as implicit permission – a victory, he supposed, though it left a slightly sour taste in his mouth that he tried to purge with a lollipop.

He did want to meet Johan. It was immaterial though, whether the killer was as smart as them. He just wanted to meet him. He wasn’t sure why. He conjectured that it could be to purge some of the demons of his own childhood. It would be like looking through a mirror, he imagined. Perfect detective, perfect killer. Both created by the interference of others.

He wondered how Johan would compare to Kira – someone so utterly like and unlike himself. Or would he be more like Beyond; his other mirror, the cracked one. Or would Johan be more than either of them, who chose their paths… would he be more like L than he could even anticipate? He shook his head a little, clearing himself of the thoughts.

Johan wasn’t his double. He reminded himself of this firmly, fixed it into his head. He couldn’t afford to get distracted with his own unproductive groping at his past. Johan could give him valuable insight… into the case. The case. That was the most important thing.

Kira’s lips and teeth descended on his shoulder and for a moment he was as apathetic as he always claimed to be. So today it will be sex as punishment.

It seemed like every day he lost his mind a little more.

What was the point of it all?