Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.
Light didn't reply.
Light rolled over to get away from the noise. He'd woken up the first time L had called his name but sometimes if he ignored him for long enough L would get bored and just…
"I'm not like you," Light complained into the pillow. "I need more than an hour of sleep to function."
L kicked him. "Up."
Light groaned, rolled, sat up. "What is it with you and kicking people?" he demanded, kicking back at him and missing.
"It's how I get my way," L said matter-of-factly. "Now listen to me. I spent all night tracking the movements of Higuchi and I know where he's going to be tomorrow."
Light blinked slowly at him, his brain feeling like it was going through molasses. Sleep, he needed to sleep. "So?"
"So we can go meet him."
"And he can instantly kill us," Light said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"We'll wear masks," L dismissed, waving a hand. "He'll most likely have the book on him, so if we set a trap we can use his temperament against him to make him confess."
"Fine, whatever," Light grumbled. He buried his face back in the pillow.
"Of course, to get his attention," L added casually, "you'll need to dress as a woman; unless he actually reaches into your skirt he'll never know you're really a man."
"Fuck you," Light suggested. "We'll make a trap, he will confess, and I will not dress like a woman."
Light scooted away from him, hopefully out of the range of his feet.
"Japan isn't next door," L pointed out.
"We need to fly there."
"I booked us a flight for three hours from now."
Light gave a long-suffering sigh and fully sat up.
"Do you remember your Japanese?" L asked, voice innocent.
Light proved that he did with an impressive string of explicatives in the language in question.
"Good," L chirped, getting out of bed as well. He presented Light with the suitcase he'd packed for them both before waking Light.
"Did you pack my-"
"What about my-"
Light grouchily let L drag him out of their apartment, into a cab, to Heathrow, onto a plane. Then he tilted his chair all the way back, uncaring for the leg comfort of the person behind him, leaned his head on L's shoulder, and went the fuck back to sleep.
He awoke only when the plane was touching down and L shoved a granola bar in his face. He ate it peacefully. Rested now, though it was only airplane sleep, he was much less cranky as he allowed L to direct them to wherever they were supposed to go. He found that L had booked a hotel, into which they dropped all their stuff and from which they immediately left. Next, Light found himself in a coffee shop.
He sipped his coffee, seated next to L and across from an empty chair. He wondered if Higuchi was going to be taking the seat across from them and observed idly that they weren't wearing their masks. L didn't make that kind of mistake, though, so he simply drank his beverage.
"So where are we?" Light asked after several minutes of silence.
L had already finished his large coffee with enough syrup shots in it to put a hippopotamus in a diabetic coma. "Tokyo," L said, giving Light a horrified look. "Don't you recognize it at all?"
Light shrugged. "I didn't go to a lot of coffee shops at the age of four."
L adjusted his cup. "So you don't remember anything from before Wammy's House?" L asked. His voice was a little too casual.
"Bits and pieces." He looked over at L to examine the odd expression that went with that odd tone, and over his shoulder, to his surprise, he saw a familiar face.
He was older. He had grey hair and wrinkles where he hadn't before. But Light knew, absolutely, that he wasn't wrong. He stood up so quickly he knocked his chair over, causing a resounding clatter over which he blurted, "Mogi-san?"
Mogi heard. Probably because he already had his eyes on Light and was crossing the coffee shop as quickly as he could to get over to him. He stopped short in front of him and bowed deeply.
Light restrained his thoroughly-Europeanized instinct to hug him and instead he reached out to shake his hand when Mogi straightened. "It's. Good to see you," Light said in Japanese, voice fading off. What did he say to this person? "I… It's been a while." That was the phrase, right?
"It's been a while," Mogi echoed. "I'm so glad… I am glad you're well. I've always wondered what became of you and your sister. I'm so sorry about your sister but I'm so glad… that you," he struggled.
Light vaguely, vaguely remembered that Mogi had always been on the stoic side. "Thank you," he said about Sayu. "I'm glad to know you're well, too. I thought about you often," he lied. Light glanced back at L, who was watching their exchange with interest. L must have tracked him down for him. Probably through Matsuda. That man was so damn thoughtful Light just wanted to—
"So you'd be 24 now, right?" Mogi asked, closing the distance between them a little, reaching into his breast pocket and withdrawing a wallet. Light nodded, wondering absurdly for a moment if Mogi was about to give him money as a birthday present or something. Instead, Light found a small rectangle being extended to him, and he took it.
He had to look at it for several moments before he realized what it was.
Deeply creased, color almost worn away, it was the photo of him with his family that Mr. Wammy had made him leave behind twenty years ago.
He stared at it. Again, he was feeling. This time, though, he knew what he was feeling. The first thing he wanted to do was show it to L, so he did. He backed up a few steps, knowing he'd be right there, and turned it just enough so that L would be able to see the photo as well. Light never took his eyes off it.
"That's my mother and father," Light said, voice thick. He pointed at each of them, though it was completely unnecessary.
L leaned in closely, trying to make out the faded picture. "You look just like them," he said. "A perfect blend of both of them."
"That's my mother, Sachiko" Light repeated. How could he have forgotten about this photograph? Or their faces? He hadn't even thought of either of them in years. "And that's my father, Soichiro."
L nodded. Mogi came a bit closer, then seemed to change his mind, going instead to sit in the empty seat across from them.
Light sensed this movement and dazedly looked up at him.
"Tell me everything," he said.
Light sat on the chair L had corrected. He put the photograph down on the table in front of him, hooked his fingers into the hem of L's shirt, and did.
As they walked back to the hotel that night, many hours later, Light nudged L not gently with his shoulder. "So you made up everything about us coming to Japan to trap Higuchi?"
L smiled. "No, no, we're doing that first thing tomorrow."
Light leaned in to kiss him.
"Your mask looks like a giraffe," L chirped.
"You will be wearing the giraffe," Light corrected, aborting the kiss that he felt L no longer deserved. "I will be wearing the other one. What is it?"
"A custom-made mask of my face."
Light cringed. "I'll take the giraffe."
L huffed. "You usually seem to like my face being on you."
"Yeah, I like your face on me. I don't want to look like you." He made a show of shuddering as he fussed with the electronic key to get into their hotel room. "Ugh."
L huffed exaggeratedly and nudged Light into the room, locking the door behind them. "Remember when I made you scream the word 'golf' while violently ejaculating?"
"Yes," Light said, reflecting on what he'd had to do as a result of losing that bet.
"I bet I can do the same thing with the word 'giraffe.'"
Light's eyes narrowed. "Not this time. The same tactics won't work twice."
"I propose that they will," L said loftily, crossing to the large king bed with a definite hint of sass.
Light considered this. This was definitely a win-win situation.
He pushed him onto his back. "Prove it."