Author Notes: I do not know why this fandom and these boys won't leave me alone. Enjoy.

Edited 8.7.09. Thank the wonderful jjwitdaheydiddydiddy for beta-ing!

disclaimer: disclaim'd

characters/pairings: L/Light

challenge/theme: seven deadly sins

spoilers: entire manga/anime

Sin
by scelerus animus

- o -

vi. Gluttony

When L dies, Light knows it is his best performance yet.

He screams until his throat burns raw and tears sting at the corner of his eyes. He clings to L's body as death slowly leeches the warmth from it. Fingers curl into threadbare fabric and pliant flesh—flesh that soon will be rigid with rigor mortis. The thought makes his blood sing and pulsate through his veins, blurring his vision as he hyperventilates—the epitome of a stunned and devastated friend.

No one (except for L, of course, his eyes widening as life escapes him) notices the wicked, sharp-toothed smile that briefly flickers across Light's face—a smile that voraciously devours the victory he has hungered for so long. It tastes delicious, something sweetly viscous and biting. Light cannot get enough of it, his mouth stretched wide as he screams and L's last breath brushes over his skin—electric and ephemeral. Breath leaves those pale lips and the light leaves those dark eyes, and Light drinks it in, devours it, because now the only part that will remain of L, besides his corpse, exists in Light; settling in his mind, in his belly, so filling, so satisfying.

Though Light will admit he could watch L die a hundred more times; the taste of it so exquisite.

(it is only later, when he is in his room—their room, the one that contains the lingering scent of sex and sweat—that Light realizes that some part of him had not been an act. there is emptiness in his belly—or maybe it is higher—that echoes with a dull ache, and Light can only stare at the computer screen until he pushes the feeling to a place where he cannot remember it)

iv. Lust

Light's nails dig into L's scalp and his fingers twine into grungy black hair as he firmly presses his mouth against the detective's lips.

The computer chair squeaks below them as Light presses L's head into the chair's backrest. L's tongue burns against his, and Light bites at it, drinking in the sweet and minty flavor of their mixed saliva. While plundering the detective's mouth with his own, Light notes two things. First, L's lips are unusually warm, despite his cold personality. And secondly, L tastes sickeningly sweet, like swallowing packets of pure sugar.

Almost so repulsively sweet that he taste bitter, but it's an addiction, like picking up a pack of cigarettes and then never being able to put it down again.

Yagami Light has a vice. Its name is Obsession.

The swivel chair jerkily rolls as Light pushes heatedly backwards, hands fisting and clawing in the threadbare cloth of L's white shirt. As he bites on L's bottom lip, teeth pressing deeper and deeper until too-sweet is stained with too-metallic, the chair bangs into the computer desk. The chain connecting them clinks and clatters. These sounds are nearly unheard in a room that echoes with slick slaps of flesh and rapid, breathless pants.

Somewhere in the darkened corners of the room, the cameras continue to roll, and maybe in another room, Matsuda speechlessly watches—maybe even his father.

ii. Pride/Vanity

L believes in Justice, but he does not believe himself to be Justice.

There are things L knows and things he doesn't. (of course this doesn't mean he won't try to discover them—dissecting and dismembering until there is nothing; like studying a specimen on the autopsy table until there is nothing left to slice up)

L knows:

Everything begins the same way and ends the same way.

As a human dictated by the natural laws of life, one cannot stop himself from being born, and one cannot stop himself from dying.

(at least not forever. L has night-dreams—whispers in his mind while he sleeps with eyes wide-open; they say:

shinigami, death note, shinigami, death note, apple, death note, Yagami Light, Light, Light, Light…)

L knows: certainly, some people deserve to die more than others—rapists, murderers, pedophiles—but that does not allow one to take the law into his own hands and twist and pervert it until it suits his own will. His own agenda.

L knows Justice will prevail in the end. If humans had not wanted justice and order in their lives, they would not have created laws and governments that upheld such ideals.

L knows that L is a hypocrite.

He knows he treads a near imperceptible fine line—balancing on that high wire with curling toes and spidery fingers. But he lives and breathes this precarious crusade and always, always wins in the end—the clues dissected behind a muted blue computer screen; the case solved as he rearranges the puzzle while chewing on a chocolate-coated cherry; the culprit imprisoned in thick steel bars and four feet of solid stone.

Justice is achieved, and L smiles to himself that odd, quirky grin. Chews on his thumb and munches another delicious sugar-saturated sweet, pleased. Waits until the next interesting case comes along.
And it does, of course.

(humans are so inherently unjust; so inherently selfish)

L sees Kira, who is not Justice and does not uphold Justice, only a mistreated, deformed version, carelessly corrupted to fit a child's fantasy of a foolish and unrealistic Utopia. Kira wages his narcissistic crusade, and plays a game obscured by a blanket of morality—careful and meticulous; gloatingly exultant—as he destroys L's (and humanity's) Justice, and is easily enraged when threatened by failure.

L knows Kira, understands Kira and his petty ways.

Then there is Yagami Light. L sees Yagami Light passing through life effortlessly, dividing and conquering with a youthful, charismatic smile and keen brown eyes. Yagami Light searches for something to capture his attention, to challenge his wits, to challenge his intelligence, to challenge his entire existence.

L almost sees his reflection, his perfect parallel in this teenage boy. This bored genius.

Muted plip-plops echo through the darkened surveillance room as L absently adds three more sugar cubes to his teacup, swirls it in three counter-clockwise circles, and places it down beside the keyboard with a slight tink. Monochromatic blue light highlights ebon hair and shines in dark, intrigued eyes.

L stares fixedly at the multiple computer screens. Most of them reflect the raving Yagami Light in his cell. A brilliant, idealistic, optimistic, teenage Yagami Light.

He thinks, You're so confident, Yagami-kun, that you are not Kira. Or is it merely arrogance?

What has changed?

For a moment, L almost wants that cold, calculated Light back—that steely flash of hysteria in his eyes; a megalomania shrouded by a genial appearance and eloquent words. He wants that challenge, raw and undefined—one that claws at his mind and challenges his prodigal existence; wants it so he can smile his quirky little grin and eat his sugar cubes in peace. In victory.

Then, L curbs the flow of his thoughts, loosens the grip his fingers have around his hunched knees, and meticulously picks up the forgotten teacup.

He eyes the drastically-altered Yagami Light, and absently muses:

Do you think you can defeat me, Yagami Light? Do you think you can defeat Justice?

He takes a small sip of saccharine-saturated tea.

You can try, and I'll enjoy it while it lasts. While I slowly dismantle the foundations of Kira's empire from beneath your feet.

The sugar granules explode on his taste buds, and L swirls his tongue, immersing himself in toxic oversweetness.

In the end, however, you will lose, Yagami-kun.

There are things that L does not know. L is not quite sure if Yagami Light is one of them.

i. Wrath/Anger

The pen scratches furiously at the notebook paper, like the claws of a rabid animal scraping madly at the door to be let inside with the rest of the civilized beings.

Light finishes the final ink strokes, eyes shining with a victorious gleam, while fanatical giggles spill from wide, clown-grin-stretched lips.

"I am Justice!" Light mutters triumphantly. "I am the God placed here to save the weak and create a perfect world!"

Watching the second hand on his watch gradually count down until his victory (the death of the infamous detective L), Light salivates mentally, gleefully, and licks his lips in anticipation.

"And those who oppose that God…" Light smirks, a sanctimonious flash of white teeth in a dim room. "They are evil!"

A glaze covers Light's eyes from the glare of the television screen; images replay in a warped insanity-touched shine. (he can see it, feel it: his victory; over and over it replays before his eyes, flashing in rapid milliseconds, like a movie reel on hyper-speed—and Light. well, Light is the almighty director)

Face twisted in a joker's grin, Light thinks, fool.

"If only you were a little smarter, L," Light declares proudly, laughingly, fingers clenched around the pen and grasping at the notebook beneath his hands. His skin stretches, patchy red and white over jutting bones and thick blue veins pumping with adrenaline. Sweat stains blot the lined yellow-white paper, but Light doesn't care, with victory tasting so viscous and honey-sweet on his tongue.

It's so easy, he thinks feverishly, vaingloriously.

Light knows he's won against that insipid Lind L. Taylor—the so-called genius detective L—and Light breathes harshly threw his nose as that second hand passes the forty second mark, hurtling the power high into near-tangible ecstasy (like shooting up, Light imagines absently, but only for those intellectually superior in this wretched world, not the worthless druggies at the street corner).

Then the television screen changes, a bold letter L encompasses it, and a mocking voice filters through the speakers.

Everything falls apart. And Light stares, wide-eyed, mouth agape.

He replays it in his mind, uncomprehending. The man—Lind L. Taylor—collapses, convulses; heart attack. Death.

A moment of bliss, of power, of triumph.

But then. The crackling, electronically distorted voice of L echoes from the television speakers, explaining his hypotheses, his scheme, his victory, and wrath floods Light's veins like blood surging from a gaping wound.

Knuckles turn bone-white as long, tapered fingers clench the pen, cracking the thin plastic cylinder with a sharp echoing snap, like the tinkling glass of a shattered mirror. His fingers shake uncontrollably with seizure-like tremors that course down his entire body, reverberating in the marrow of his bones.

This man! Light rages mentally, lips twisting, a rabid, animalistic snarl escaping his throat. This man—

"But I, L, am real! So why don't you kill me, Kira?"

This man dared to challenge him, with that masochistic arrogance, slowly revealing his trick and tearing Light's carefully planned schemes to shreds.

L.

The name brands itself onto the inside of his mind—a fiery scribble burning on the back of Light's eyelids.
No, Light thinks wrathfully, disbelievingly, it isn't possible.

With a predatory gleam in his eyes, he snarls, white teeth gnashing, flashing in the monochromatic light of the television screen.

Twin voices—Kira, L—echo:

"I will hunt you down and destroy you!"

This is the beginning of Obsession.

"I am Justice!"

For both of them.

iii. Envy

Sometimes, L is envious.

While L is brilliant, he's introverted, and Light is undoubtedly charismatic, drawing people and friends like moths to a flame.

(though L knows how they burn like ants beneath the Sun's white hot glare through a magnifying lens)

They surround Light with smiling faces, salivating jaws and puppy eyes, trying to catch the attention of handsome, charming Yagami Light; they try to impress him, ensnare him, and Light's smiles are always genial, but L…

L can see the fraud in all of its beguiling ugliness.

(he, after all, is not an ant beneath Light's magnifying glass; nor is Light a god that determines human life at will)

(he is only Kira)

The seventh time their verbal fights elevate to physical contact—savage body-bruising and bone-breaking—L smashes Light into the hotel room wall and kisses him.

The chain tying them together clanks and clatters like glass shattering, while teeth gnash and tongues battle.

While the visceral taste of blood fills his mouth, L thinks I will win.

v. Sloth

The bed they share is decently sized, with enough for the two of them, but Light hardly gets any decent sleep. L does not sleep easily. Extremely restless and active during sleep, L turns and flops and rocks and thrashes, hitting and kicking and causing questionable bruises that are the butt of Matsuda's jokes in the morning.

So when L, wide-eyed and far too awake, repeatedly prods Light in the early morning with those creep-eyes (far too close to Light's face for his liking), Light is unsurprisingly irritable and uncompromising.

In succinct words, Light does not want to get up.

"Hnnn, Yagami-kun defies my calculations yet again," L notes as he repeatedly tugs on the back of Light's night shirt.

Light merely shoves the pillow harder over his head, trying to block out L's ridiculous ramblings.
It doesn't work.

L continues on, shuffling closer to Light and forcefully tugging the corner of the pillow up. Light is met with L's too-close, too-big, caffeine-drugged eyes.

A groan that sounds more like a growl escapes his mouth.

"It is too early, Ryuuzaki," Light snaps. "Were you not moping and unmotivated a week ago? I found the connection to Yotsuba, so I think I deserve some sleep."

Ignoring Light's biting words, L continues placidly, "I estimated a seventy-eight percent chance that Light was a morning person. It seems, in fact, that Light is extremely lazy in the morning."

From beneath the pillow, Light flips L off. It is an entirely childish and Western thing to do, but Light could care less at the moment. For nearly two months, L had been sulking around their headquarters, hardly working while he swirled listlessly in his computer chair, ate too many sweets, and bugged Light to no end. And now that they finally have a lead (thanks in large part to Light's determination), L has regained his motivation to the point where he barely lets anyone sleep. (The only exception, of course, is Misa, because a model needs her 'beauty rest'—a notion Light found to be utterly ridiculous, but allows it since not one person has the desire to spend time with a nagging, sleep-deprived Misa.)

Curious, and a tad nonplussed, L stares at the middle finger raised in defiance at him. Something so simple, something so commonplace.

After a few disconcerting moments of silence and stillness, Light pops his head out from under the pillow and peers at L suspiciously.

Moody and vindictive and far too incoherent for any better insult, Light sneers unconvincingly. "What? The infamous detective L at a loss for words?"

Blinking once, L shoves the rest of a half-eaten donut in his mouth, and through said mouthful of dough and sugar, nonchalantly comments, "Misa-Misa was planning your marriage to her the other day, and once I compared her and your interactions to ours, I found that we seem to be more suitable to a marriage than she and you are… Though I am not certain. Is this how married couples act, Yagami-kun?"

Disgusting, Light thinks as he stares horrifically transfixed by the sugary flakes and sticky crumbs tumbling from L's gaping mouth and steadily rolling down the dip in the mattress toward him.

But then L's words register, and it's Crack! as Light's head snaps toward the amused detective, with his quirked lips and inquisitive eyes, and Ow, fuck Light irritably thinks as the sharp pain of whiplash rolls down his neck like an electric shock. What the fuck, Ryuuzaki?

Creep-eyes calmly surveying Raito's bewildered expression, L continues, "We are friends, yes, Yagami-kun? However, our actions are not exactly in line with normal activities of camaraderie… at least from what I have deduced. I have even taken into account our unique natures and circumstances. Therefore, our partnership must be me more than that… but I have yet found an exact definition. Not a mere friendship, not simply a partnership in the search for Kira… and although I am not completely familiar with what circumstances would call for the designations of boyfriends—Misa-Misa's title as Yagami-kun's girlfriend is questionable and possible invalid, after all—it highly unlikely that our relationship fits into such a category."

Strands of Light's sleep-mussed hair block much of his vision and tickle the tip of his nose, but as L relates his observations of their quasi-friendship (quasi-something-else), Light wishes that it is his hearing that is presently impaired.

L tugs on a strand of hair and continues to stare at Light questioningly. "The concept of marriage eludes me… spending your life with someone until death. I am 99.5% certain that I will never have the desire to engage in such a union. All my conclusions on the matter lead me to believe that I would inevitably lose interest in a person after such an extended period of time. Nevertheless, I must admit, our domestication is a satisfying and stimulating experience… I wonder if this is why people engage in such relations as marriage."

Light stares at L with wide, vaguely horrified, sleep-drugged eyes, wildly wondering if he has woken up in an alternate dimension where L's sole purpose is to perpetually bewilder and vex Light.

"I did not realize Yagami-kun could make such an expression." L tilts his head curiously while his thumb creeps up to his mouth. "Yagami-kun may even challenge Matsuda's bent for bizarre facial expressions."

Eyes abruptly narrowing, Light scowls and reassesses his previous thought with, Oh, wait, that's already his job.

Light's thoughts have obviously not caught up with his mouth when he retorts, "It's called love, Ryuuzaki—a concept I cannot explain to you right now, but I can assure you we are not married."

L's eyes roll to the ceiling as he contemplates Light's words. "Of course we are not legally married, Yagami-kun, but perhaps you have a point. Love seems to be an imperative and complex, if not the sole, factor in marriage. I have observed that some marriages cease without it, some cease with it, and some continue without it. Even so, perhaps there is a basis for this concept of love in our friendship."

L pauses and digs into his left jean pocket, managing to extract a piece of candy without falling over. Light blames his sleep deprivation when he mentally notes how oddly graceful L is, despite his gangly figure.

L noisily unwraps the candy and the sound grates on Light's ears, but L ignores his glare as he pops the chocolate in his mouth and continues. "However, since I have deduced that our relationship is extremely similar to a marriage, and taking into consideration that neither one of us are likely to find another person so compatible—ignoring the fact that you may be Kira—and that there are more things that bind us than even what a conventional marriage normally requires, I must wonder… if there is a chance that I love Yagami-kun?"

Light stares at L. L stares back.

Light snorts. "Stalkerish obsession and familiarization induced by weeks of being chained together does not equate to love, Ryuuzaki."

"But can it not be the basis for love, Yagami-kun?"

Voice tight with irritation, Light retorts, "You have been reading too many of Misa's manga, Ryuuzaki. Go back to sleep."

And then he shoves his head back under the pillow. Light has neither the patience nor the desire to try to explain to L the differences between their relationship and a marriage. It's utterly ridiculous. Ridiculous.

L shifts beside him, and Light can feel the heat of L's thigh as it settles against his side. "It is six fifteen in the morning. It would be illogical for you and I to return to sleep, Yagami-kun."

Light only squeezes the pillow tighter around his head.

vii. Greed

Light is screaming when he dies and is screaming when he awakes in Nothingness.

Gray stretches beyond the edge of the world, but Light shakes his head and thinks No this is not right because this is definitely not his world—the world over which he ruled as God. Kneeling on all fours, Light gasps for breath he doesn't need, and his fingers curl around the intangible grayness, around nothing, because this is nothing, and Light does not belong here, because he is far from nothing, he is a Go—

"Would Yagami-kun like a cup of tea?"

Light's body abruptly freezes. He didn't even realize his body was shaking, but now his muscles are strung tight and immobile. He stops breathing and doesn't realize that he is not suffocating.
"I also have strawberry cheesecake if Yagami-kun would like a piece."

Light frantically contemplates screaming again to block out that voice, but he does not want to show such weakness. Instead, he slowly turns his head toward the voice. Hair falls over his eyes, but he can clearly see the figure crouched awkwardly in a worn green armchair, with a cup of tea limply held between two long bony fingers. Light cannot believe it, but he would recognize those dead, black creep-eyes anywhere.

"Why are you here?" Light asks disbelievingly and flinches at how haggard his voice sounds. He stumbles for words, for explanation, mind racing as it tries to grasp at anything.

L tilts his head and takes a sip from a china cup embossed with tiny blue flowers. "I am a very selfish person, Yagami-kun."

L places the cup next to a half-eaten piece of cake on a table beside him and stands. Even now, his stance is awkward and hunched, but his movements are still oddly fluid as he approaches Light.

He crouches before Light, one hand on his knee and the other reaching toward Light's face. When one finger lightly touches the skin below his eye, a shock of cold racks Light's body. It is illogical, for he is dead, and the dead shouldn't feel, but Light desperately latches onto that icy touch, because it makes him feel alive.

"Nothing matters in Nothingness," L explains, trailing his finger down Light's cheek. "Not winning, not losing."

Light shudders, gasps, and has to stop the hysterical laughter from tumbling past his lips. No, he thinks frantically, Gods cannot die, I am not dead, no, no, no!

"There are no Gods here, Yagami-kun, especially the imitation of a God—Kira," L continues, and his voice becomes as cold as his touch. He grips Light's chin, and Light stares, trapped, in black eyes, lined with death, lined with absolution—those dead creep-eyes devour him, and it is not right, because Light already devoured L long ago—destroyed him, killed him, and became a God.

"You do not get your friends, your worshipers, your family," L says, and his stare is all-encompassing, all black, only black, everywhere, everything. "You get neither Heaven nor Hell."

With a fierce jerk of Light's chin, L kisses him. It is harsh and biting and icy, and Light cannot stop trembling, cannot stop the strangled noise—something between a scream and a moan, that escapes his throat. L tastes the same, like an overdose of saccharin, and Light never imagined that death could taste so tantalizing.

L ends the kiss and whispers against Light's cold lips, "All you get, Light-kun, is me."

- Owari -

End Notes: Thoughts?