So... It's the end. This is the absolute-last-bit-ever of Logical Irrationality, so thanks to you people who read it, and to the people who reviewed.
And just 'cause this is the end, there is no excuse not to review.
Also, I have found a part of Canada without Mosquitoes. This makes me extraordinarily happy.
I apologise for the slight randomness, fluff, and OOC-ness that takes place here.
I do not own Vivaldi. Or the Sweet Shop mentioned, which is real, I've seen it. I also do not own the Catholic church.
I have begun work on something that is called For Your Entertainment which is going to contain my first lemon. And stuff. It's MelloxMatt, because I like them better.
Anyhoo, enjoy this :D
L never ceases to amaze me. I had expected to be thrown in jail, maybe even executed. I never expected to be there, at the trial of a lawyer, one Teru Mikami, who had been killing criminals who had not been found guilty, when he was imprisoned for being Kira. He was sent to an asylum for the criminally insane in the end, after he pleaded guilty, and ranted about Kira being god, and a magical killing notebook. Nobody contested the court appointed lawyer's plea of insanity.
It had been two months since the trial. In those two months, I had suffered the most terrible ordeal any man can face. I had broken up with Misa Amane.
Now, normally breaking up is hard, but breaking up with Misa, clingy, overwhelming, obsessive Misa Amane, is practically impossible. In the end, I had to do what amounted to breaking down the closet door, and then burning the whole thing to the ground. I kissed L right in front of her.
She cried a lot. A really fucking lot. And then she stormed out with a promise of never speaking to me again as long as she lived.
That was possibly the best thing she could have said to me. Ever.
My father didn't take it too well either. He seemed to have great difficulty accepting the fact that his son was gay. He had even more difficulty with the fact that my boyfriend was L. My mother took it very well, and Sayu, like the irritating younger sibling she is, made some remark about knowing all along. My father spent two very long weeks shaking his head at me, and muttering about Stockholm syndrome. He's still unhappy about it, and even more so when I told him I was going to England with L.
The car cruised down the hilly back roads, Watari at the wheel. Somehow, I hadn't been all that surprised when he had flown L's private jet. I had been more surprised that we had landed at Bristol Airport, but, if anybody was trying to track L's movements, they'd expect him to go to Heathrow, or Gatwick, so I supposed it made sense
The journey in from Bristol was pretty smooth. We took the back roads, because L disliked motorways, he had gotten it into his head that all the other cars were either watching or following him. As much as I love him, he can be really frustrating. Like, so frustrating I want to punch him. Not that I would, I am fully aware that that is a fight I would loose.
We were heading into Winchester, to a place called Wammy's House. From what I understood, L had grown up there, in an orphanage for extraordinary children. I got the feeling that Wammy and Watari were one and the same, that the man who followed him everywhere, who did everything for him, was as close to a father as L had ever had.
Not for the first, or, I suspected, the last time, I pitied L. I might have grown up to be a genius mass murderer, but at least I had a loving, functional family.
As we passed through the city, L pointed out some places of interest. First was a sweet shop, named the Sweet Treats Co. it even had a website address. It looked like L's idea of heaven, with shelves, laden with jars, reaching up to the ceiling. I don't really like sweets, but even I had to admit that it looked amazing.
Second he showed me a Catholic Church where one of the seventy-two children at Wammy's spent two hours every Sunday morning, and the occasional evening, because the chapel in the orphanage was Church of England. He pointed out the cathedral, which was hard to miss, and a few other points of interest.
I would be lying if I said I was looking forward to meeting every one of the staff and children at Wammy's. I found the prospect of meeting the top three students particularly daunting. There is something about people who do not use their real name, no matter how young or old they may be, that is disconcerting. The oldest boy, the Catholic, went by the name of Mello. L had warned me about him, in a way that meant I couldn't be positive as to whether or not he was joking. I fervently hoped he was. If Mello was anywhere near as boisterous as I'd been told, I would have difficulty handling him in conversation. The other two, Near and Matt, ranked first and third respectively, seemed a little more normal. I had been told to expect Matt to ignore me almost completely, in favour of a handheld gaming device, or Mello, to whom he was utterly devoted, and Near would, I had been told, probably deduce a lot more about me than he would reveal, ask impertinent questions, and play with robot toys.
These were the top three ranked pupils at Wammy's; they were also L's potential heirs, our potential heirs. L had made it perfectly clear that for the next few decades, I would work as L alongside him.
Even so, I couldn't help wondering if there were any genii who lived, or at least acted, like regular people.
We pulled up outside a large building, made of a pale beige stone. It looked old; and more than big enough for its residents. A sign outside declared it to be Wammy's House for Extraordinary Children. A notice underneath threatened that trespassers would be prosecuted.
Behind us, huge wrought-iron gates closed, driven by some unseen mechanism. Watari opened the door, and I slid out. Night was falling, and jet lag was taking its toll. I wanted nothing more than to get to sleep. I looked up at the imposing double doors that looked like they belonged on a cathedral. In the base of one of the doors was set a much smaller one, that was invisible, but for the handle. It was through this door that we entered, into the entrance hall. There was a lone man waiting for us, sat cross legged in an armchair.
He looked up at the sound of the door.
'Wammy!' he rushed forwards and practically threw his arms around Watari, confirming my deduction. A small part of me mourned that I had not gleaned the man's first name, but I gave myself a mental slap.
'Roger, old friend. It is good to see you.' Watari smiled, and returned the hug.
L ignored it all, as though the sight of his normally solemn guardian hugging another man and grinning like the Cheshire cat was nothing unusual.
'L, it's an honour to see you again.' Roger turned to L, and extended a hand. L shook it briefly.
'It is good to see you, too.' L's voice betrayed no emotion. I couldn't help wondering if he was serious.
'And you must be Mr Yagami.' I shook the proffered hand.
'Call me Light, please.' I wasn't just being polite. People always call me by my first name. The only person who never did was my old math teacher, who hated me because I was smarter than he was. Poor fool never realised I was smarter than everyone he knew put together.
With the introductions over, L and I left the two men to talk. As we walked through the corridors, L slipped his hand into mine.
'Are you tired, Light-kun?'
'Unreasonably so.' I sighed. 'I suppose you're not.'
'One of the few benefits of insomnia.' L's voice was almost bitterly sarcastic.
'Oh, cheer up. Do you want to show me a few places before we go to bed?' I knew he had been looking forward to bringing me here. I wasn't going to deprive him of his fun.
'I thought you were tired?'
'Not so tired that I can't manage another half hour.' I smiled.
'Come this way then.' L pulled me along for a few dozen paces, and then stopped dead.
'Light-kun, there is something I wish to tell you.' He didn't turn to look at me.
I said nothing. From his tone of voice, I could tell that if he was going to continue, he'd do so without my input. Even so, my heart pounded.
'My name is L Lawliet.'
L had told me everything, about many of his old cases, how he grew up, and why he didn't sleep. Now he had told me his name.
I had never realised how much he trusted me, with so little reason to do so.
'Well.' I said, after a pause. 'At least nobody knows your name to take the piss out of you. I have to deal with being called lightbulb.'
'That is the most original reaction I have ever had to that information.' L smiled his half smile.
'L Lawliet, I am warning you that if you continue looking so damn cute then I will be forced to expend a great deal of energy taking you up against this wall.' My only excuse is that I couldn't think of anything else to say. At all.
'Ah, but Light-kun, we both know I am the seme in this relationship.' If L hadn't been L, he would have smirked.
We continued along the corridor, until we reached a fork, at which point we turned left.
The faint sound of a piano reached my ears, and L must have heard it too, because he sped up, heading in the direction of the sound.
The music stopped, the piece finishing, just as we reached the door it was coming from. There was a light on inside, and I could just make out the shadows of two people.
One of them was at the piano. There was a pause, then the sound of a book being closed, and the tinkle of piano keys.
'Vivaldi.' I murmured.
'The Spring Allegro.' L whispered back.
I blame jet lag, and the lack of inhibitions that being really tired provokes, for what we did next.
L, the great, famous detective, put his hand on my waist, I put mine on his shoulder, and we began to dance. I have never danced the part of a woman, but L was definitely leading. We span, our movements faster when the music was louder, slower when it was quiet.
When the music stopped, the piece reaching its end, L looked at me.
'That was extremely irrational of us, Light-kun.' He tried to sound stern.
'Ah, but L, you love it.' I laughed, and suppressed a yawn.
'Indeed I do. Now, you look like you are about to collapse. Come on, to bed with you. Tomorrow you shall have to meet the boy who was playing that piano, and trust me; it is an invariably exhausting experience. You'll need your sleep.' L tugged impatiently on my hand.
'Yes, thank you, mother.' I rolled my eyes at him, and began to walk.
'You'll thank me for it later. If it makes you feel any better, I'll tuck you in.'
'Hilarious.' I said drily. 'I'm not a child.'
L simply smiled at me.
'Don't be so serious, Light-kun.' He told me.
We had reached a door, which L pushed open. It was a lot bigger that the room we had shared at the Taskforce HQ, with a king-sized bed, a desk, a mini-fridge, most likely stocked with cake, and several squashy arm chairs arranged around a wooden coffee table.
'Go on.' L said. 'Sleep.' From his tone of voice, I would have expected an imperious point.
I undressed, and slid into the bed. There was a click, and the lights went out. There was the sound of clothes falling to the floor, and then L slipped into bed next to me.
He wouldn't sleep, and we both knew why, but maybe one day he would be back to simple insomnia.
'Night Light.' I could hear the smile in L's voice.
If I had been any less exhausted, I would have protested at the lame pun, but my eyes simply would not stay open. We had years for L to get those jokes out of his system, years of being L, and years to simply be together.
I couldn't deny, I was looking forward to that.