Disclaimer: Shockingly enough, I do not own Death Note. Nor do I expect to own it anytime in the near future. Or the far future, for that matter. You get the point.

There was nothing that could explain it. This…feeling he had. Agitation, anticipation and trepidation. For anything else, he could be infinitely patient. But this, this endless waiting, and all the while not even knowing…

L nibbled at his thumb absently, ignoring the cooling tea on the desk, the dimly glowing computer screen before him. His toes curled around the edge of his chair as he stared vacantly at the clock.

Every day, at exactly five o'clock, he would return home from work. And every day, L would resolve to lose his silly fear that one day he wouldn't come back…until the next day, half an hour before five. The worry set in again, consuming his over-active mind, compelling him to count every second until his lover returned to his arms.

Raito. A genius, a high-ranking member of the Japanese police, his only true friend since L had set up residence in the country. Eccentric and temperamental, gorgeous beyond reason, L couldn't understand why Raito had chosen him of all people to dote upon. It was in his nature to question everything, to analyze all details, but this he left alone. The detective was appreciative of the attention, and reciprocated Raito's love and friendship with great enthusiasm.

God, the waiting was unbearable. Every minute was an eternity. Worlds were born and destroyed in the minutes that passed. L bit down on his thumb, hard.

What if there was an accident in the subway? They were known to happen. Or if he were attacked in the street? Could he take care of himself? What if he got hurt? There were millions of ways—L had thought of them all, cataloguing them according to how likely they were to occur.

The front door opened.

"I'm ho—" the words were cut short as the hurtling force of the 110 pounds of L's body tackled him to the ground. Raito blinked up dazedly into the ebony eyes of his lover, feeling vaguely bemused and irritated.

"Welcome home, Raito-kun," L said in his monotone voice.

"Is it necessary to greet me with such excessive energy, Ryuzaki? You're going to kill me one of these days." Raito shoved him off, picking up his dropped bags and heading into the kitchen.

L chewed on his thumb again, shuffling after him slowly. "Raito-kun is so hurtful…I would never hurt him. Unless he forgot my cake."

The younger man made an incredulous noise, unpacking the groceries neatly, storing them away precisely. Everything about him was precise, from his spotless designer clothes to his practiced, though charming smile.

"God forbid you go without your sugar, Ryuzaki," he teased. "What's got you so wound up anyhow? Did work not go well today?"

"Work went very well as usual, and I am quite fine," the detective replied automatically. "I am not 'wound up.' Raito-kun is mistaken." Ebony eyes met with cinnamon without flinching, stone against flame.

"I am hardly ever mistaken, and especially not about you, Ryu."

"Hardly ever is not the same as never," he pointed out pedantically, eyeing the final bag of groceries hopefully. Raito raised an eyebrow.

"That's not the point of this conversation and you know it." He lifted the cake out onto the counter and removed the plastic cover. L smiled. It was strawberry. He loved strawberry cake. "Answer the question or I'll throw the cake out the window."

L frowned slightly.

"Raito-kun would never do such a juvenile thing."

"Is that so?"

L blinked. "Is Raito-kun perhaps threatening me?"

"Just your cake. There's a difference." He frowned and pulled the older man into a loose embrace, leaning back against the counter comfortably. L happily draped himself, much like a cat, on what he secretly thought of as 'Raito-kun's formidable chest.' Though he would never, ever, say such a thing aloud. "Really, though. Is everything all right?"

"Everything is all right."

"Liar."

"Everything is mostly all right," he amended smoothly, resting his forehead on the other man's shoulder and closing his eyes.

"Mostly all right is not the same as all right."

"Now Raito-kun is just being silly."

"I'm never silly. I'm being perfectly serious. Are you going to answer the question?"

"No."

"You do realize that I was also serious about throwing your cake. I don't joke about things like that." He nuzzled the man's shaggy black hair. "You're a monster when denied your sweets."

"Now Raito-kun is silly and rude. Let go of me."

Raito sighed softly, pressing his lips to his neck. "No."

They fell into a comfortable silence, soothed by the sound of each other's breathing. Here, in each other's arms, they could be content. Nothing could alter that, not the course of time nor the innumerable arguments they had had with each other.

"I miss you."

There—it was out. He had really said it. The quiet seemed to stretch forever, almost as long as the seconds waiting for his dear Yagami Raito to come home.

"Oh, Ryuzaki."

He clung to the detective, not daring to let go, not daring to do anything more for fear that the frail man would disappear from his arms like smoke in the wind. All the words he could think of were too heavy for this delicate situation.

"Love you," Raito finally whispered. "I love you so much, sweetheart. Why didn't you say anything before? I'll call into work tomorrow, take a sick day. We can go play tennis or something. Watch movies. Whatever you want."

This seemed to be the right thing to say. L looked up, almost shyly. "And you won't throw my cake out the window?"

"Never," he agreed.

Not this one, anyway.

It was four thirty-five, he realized belatedly. A tiny smile broke across the detective's face and he bent back to his work.

"I'm worried one day you won't come back."

"Where else would I go? Dimwit," Raito said fondly. "As long as you're here, I'll always come back home."

Raito-kun had been correct. Mostly all right was not the same as all right. And all right was not the same as perfect, which was what they had. There was still nothing to explain what he felt when he looked into those warm brown eyes and felt those artist hands on his skin. But he quickly finding out that there were never enough words, never enough time to say them.

L beamed at the innocently ticking clock and took another bite of cake.

"Hey, Ryu?"

"Yes, Raito-kun?"

"Do I want to know why you threw your clock out the window?"

L thought about that for a moment, blinking owlishly up at the object of his bizarre affection.

"I…didn't need it anymore."

This idea wouldn't leave me alone. So, at the risk of wasting more time that I should be spending on my English paper, I wrote it.

Let me know what you think!