Oh look, I did it again, didn't I? Ok, so I epically do not have the time to be starting another multichaptered fic, but as usual I have no common sense, so here is the beginning of a fic inspired by the amazing idea left to me in an anonymous review from Mary Lou, to whom I cannot reply, but to whom I am greatly indebted. After all, who can resist the prompt of Wammy's fluff at Christmas? Oh, and crime, of course.

Unfortunately I can't promise regular updates, but I will try to finish what I have started... eventually. This is pretty much a sequel to Light Follows After, but all you desperately need to know for background is that L and Light are together and solving crimes. Read LFA if you like, though. This will be much less conflicty, and much more fluffy. But hopefully it will be enjoyable. Anyways, happy reading!

L was looking guilty. Light was scowling.

"It's not like it's for long," L tried apologetically after a long and slightly chilly silence in the back of the limo. "There's no need to be so cold towards me."

"I'm not being cold towards you," Light said, coldly.

"Oh, I forgot, Light-kun often likes to imitate a refrigerator for his own amusement," L said sarcastically. "I know Light-kun hasn't seen his family in a while, but the boys looked so sad…" L trailed off with his own version of abandoned puppy eyes. Light thawed a little.

"It's not about my family! L, you know perfectly well that those three are little demons. They'd do anything they could to manipulate decent human beings; taking a 'sad orphan' photo and sending it to you is the oldest trick in the book."

"When you're talking about 'decent human beings', Light-kun, are you including yourself in that category?" L asked, putting his finger to his lips. The general temperature dropped again.

"It's just a few days," L wheedled as Light sat tight-lipped. "Quillsh makes excellent stuffing."

"I already said its fine," Light sighed, looking ruefully at L. "Spending Christmas at Wammy's House is no problem. Why would I possibly be upset about spending our first Christmas together with a bunch of interfering geniuses clamouring for your attention?"

"Aah," L said, looking enlightened; for a genius, he could be a little slow sometimes. "I see your point. I think you mean genii, though."

"No, you are incorrect," Light argued. The slightly stormy atmosphere suddenly became electric.

"Quillsh!" L called out, not breaking eye contact with his lover. The screen dividing driver from passengers came down.

"Yes, L?" Wammy sounded slightly exasperated.

"Is the plural of genius geniuses," he spat out the word with distaste, "or genii?"

Wammy paused for a moment to take in the atmosphere. Two sets of smouldering eyes bored into him.

"I believe both are correct," he said cautiously. Thunder crackled ominously in the back seat, and both men began to argue furiously at the tops of their voices in complicated syntax, using words the old man had trouble even understanding.

Wammy quickly put the screen back up. Now everyone was mad at everyone. This was going to be a fun Christmas.

By the time the limo pulled up outside the sweeping mansion in the English countryside, sulky silence had replaced the argument in the back seat, and L and Light were each avoiding the other's gaze. Without the fondly remembered handcuff to connect them, they were standing as far away from each other as possible, the atmosphere tense. However, when you are visiting a household of young, socially inept children with a collective IQ which possibly exceeds the digits of pi, there is little chance they will notice a thing like this, or lend any delicacy to the situation. The second the doors of the car opened, both men were met with a swarm of eager orphans, whose general appearance was like that of an exploded Santa's workshop; gold tinsel and multi-coloured pom-poms abounded.

"L! L! You came, you came!"

"Amy and Tea won't let me decorate the tree because I'm too short, but they're getting the angles of the decorations all wrong!"

"Did you bring us presents? Are they in the trunk?"

"Come help us decorate! L! L!"

The clamour of voices enveloped them both, and Light felt small hands tugging him insistently inside the house, which was so drenched in glitter and so scattered with holly that it was impossible to move without getting severely and intimately prickled or coming out looking like Lady Gaga. L and Light's eyes met over the tops of sparkling heads in mirrored expressions of pure terror and exasperation. Then they both remembered they were fighting, and looked away, scowling. Wammy, holding the luggage, sighed. They were both so stubborn.

It had been over a year since they had last visited Wammy's House. On the last visit, L and Light had still been dancing around each other as well as they could in a pair of heavy metal handcuffs, and the entire house had been relieved to see the back of them once they realised that one plus one minus handcuffs (mostly) equalled two. They had spent a few months 'honeymooning' in Scandinavia, then Paris, solving crimes at leisure along the way, but L had been called away on an important, highly delicate case over the Christmas weeks by the Spanish government, and Light, barred from helping by the higher-ups, had returned home to spend time with his family. Their plans of a Christmas together were scuppered. L's case had dragged, and Light had begun out of pure boredom to take on work from the NPA, swiftly making himself practically indispensible. For a while, it looked as if their professional as well as personal relationship was over. Finally, their paths had clashed again over a particularly fiendish international case, and when obliged to work together for a solution, their partnership had seamlessly resumed. Once the case was solved, summer took them to Australia, and autumn to Brussels and Geneva. They had barely finished tying the ends to a case in Amsterdam, where they had hoped to spend a few days before going to Scotland to enjoy the Christmas break alone, together, for the first time, when L had received an aggrieved letter from his three favourite wards, Mello, Matt and Near. Its narrative was a little obscure in places for teenagers who were more well-read than most Cambridge scholars, but the general theme was clear:

Dear L and Light,

I hope you are still alive. We are too, as if you'd even care, since you haven't spoken to us in months. Things are mostly normal here. Near got a puppy for his birthday from Mello, but then Mello wanted it back because it was really cute. Now they do nothing but fight, and I look after the puppy most of the time anyway. It's called Matt Junior.

Mello just hit me over the head for writing that. He says it's called Anthrax, but I think that's a lame name, so I call it Matt Jr. Oh, and Near says it's called Agamemnon.

Hey, L, are you and Light coming up for Christmas this year? We've missed you loads, and we have plenty of cool stuff to show you. I beat your score on Resident Evil again. Please come, it's boring without you. Mello says he'll even make you a cake. Chocolate, of course. And Near is looking really sad. Pleeeease, L?

Matt, Mello and Near

The photograph included had been even more pathetically persuasive than the letter. Near's hair had been even more tousled, overgrown and fuzzy than usual, his eyes like giant black pools of loneliness. Mello was pulling his most dejected face, and both L and Light found it difficult to look at the angelic blond without their hearts melting a little, even though they knew he was probably just faking it. The fact he had grown about a foot since they had last met did nothing to detract from his adorable vibe, only serving to make the tiny Near look more fragile and doll-like in comparison. Matt, as tall as Mello and twice as gangly, had for once pushed his goggles around his neck, and his eyes were as round and innocent as the other two, his lower lip pushed out in a pleading pout. The teenage menaces looked like heartbroken four year olds.

L had crumbled like a sandcastle in a blender.

Light had sulked for over a week.

And now, here they all were, at the mercy of the three devils, and their minions, for as long as it took for L to hunt down every piece of cake in the house and devour it. Light was not amused.

Especially because it took the ulterior motive exactly as long to come out as it did for L to find cake; approximately three minutes.