Death Note, Eye of the Storm

Title: Eye of the Storm [Raito/L]
Rating/Warnings: R. Canon bondage, folks.
AN: Written for the 2005 Sekrit Projekt, Track 6.
Summary:

You made sure the atmosphere was thick tonight
So this is where it begins and where it ends
leave, leave now and don’t you look back
Please come closer
–Blindside

Track 6: Eye of the Storm

“Yagami-kun seems tired,” L comments.

Raito glares at L, who is chewing his thumb and staring at his Powerbook, but he knows that L is watching him in the reflection of his screen, and L knows that he knows, and he knows that L knows that he knows, and Raito is so tired that when he tries to take that thought one step further he finds that he is the monkey who can watch the other monkey hiding the banana, but not the monkey who pretends to hide the banana in the wrong place because he knows the other monkey is watching.

The idea of him and L as monkeys hiding bananas almost makes Raito snicker, and that’s when he knows that he has got to get some sleep.

“You are free to sleep anytime,” L comments, eyes sliding over to watch Raito stiffen indignantly in his chair at the mind-reading. “We are no longer handcuffed.”

“I know that.” Raito’s words come out snappish instead of the neutral he was trying for, but there hasn’t been a moment in the last week when Raito was not keenly aware of his free hand, and it doesn’t help that L reminds him a dozen times daily. Even when L has said nothing, Raito finds himself fingering the callused skin over his wristbones constantly, tracing the slightly discolored skin, eyes drifting over to the similar marks that arc over L’s wrist. “You need sleep too, you know. You’ve been up for 43 hours.” Which means that Raito has been as well; he can’t afford to fall behind.

Something has been off between them for days now, and if Raito could put his finger on it, he’d strangle it to death. L’s attention is divided, that much Raito does know, and every time L sneaks off to examine the Death Note, pale fingers curling around the dark leather, Raito presses his own fingers into the desktop so tightly he’s surprised there aren’t dents in it.

“Ah, I hadn’t noticed.” L lifts one shoulder in a shrug and flexes his toes against the fabric of his computer chair, and Raito fights down the urge to give the base of the chair a kick that would send it rolling across the floor, L’s seat twirling like the Teacup ride at a second-rate fair. “I’m not very tired.”

Raito knows that he should just go to bed, that staying awake much longer will make him absolutely useless, but he just can’t bear to give L the satisfaction, nor the time alone to run off and fondle the Note some more.

Besides, there’s little appeal in curling up against the cold hotel sheets and flat pillows awaiting him upstairs, and the first time Raito had tried, he had found his sleepiness fading as soon as he was too far away to hear the constant patter of laptop keys. The exhaustion had certainly remained, however. He’d tried knocking himself out by jerking off, but found himself thinking sourly that he would have dragged L to bed a lot more often last week if he would have known he’d be back to his own hand this week. It was so pale in comparison that Raito had dropped off before he had finished anyway, hand still curled loosely around himself.

He’s called L a twisted sadist more than once, but it wasn’t until Raito woke up alone that first morning, cold and hard, that he was 100% sure about it.

“You are staring, Raito-kun.” L tilts his head, still watching Raito’s reflection only rather than giving Raito his full attention, and Raito’s fingers tighten against the padded arms of his chair, the slight magnified by exhaustion and frustration.

He just needs to get up and move around a little, that’s all. Raito pushes himself out of his chair and stalks over to the printer, scooping up the pages they have printed out in the last half hour or so and rifling through them. There is nothing new, no matter they strain to churn up a lead, and Raito is half deeply pleased that he has covered his tracks so well, and half suspicious that L is actually burying a few things himself so that he has an excuse to play with the Note more.

Raito grits his teeth at the thought, and turns to go back to his chair. It’s happenstance that the large monitor mounted above their computers is dark enough that he can see L’s reflection in it, ringed eyes staring right back into his own.

“There is nothing there,” L says. “I am going to examine the Death Note some more.”

As he opens his mouth to snap something, his gaze travels down the reflection a little more; L is rubbing his wrist, one damp thumb pressing circles against the bone. Raito’s fingers twitch, and suddenly he is possessed by the need to force L to look at him, rather than his laptop and his monitors and his all-important motherfucking Note.

Crossing the room in two quick strides, Raito grabs the back of L’s chair with one hand and spins it towards him. He plants the other hand in the middle of L’s chest and shoves backwards so that L’s feet slip out from under him and the chair thwacks back into the desk, rattling the Powerbook a little.

L peers up at Raito, one eyebrow quirked as though Raito has asked a really stupid question.

Feeling awake for the first time all week, Raito climbs up into L’s chair, planting his knees on either side of L’s thighs and moving the hand on L’s chair to the desk behind them so the chair doesn’t tip. The other hand is still clenched in L’s shirt, the fabric thin from so many washings that Raito can feel what little body heat L emits tickling his palm.

“Raito-kun is invading my personal space,” L comments. He blinks once.

“Ryuzaki-kun is pissing me the hell off,” Raito snaps back, too burnt out for witty repartee when L’s erection is swelling up against his leg. He leans forward to kiss L brutally before he can say anything else, settling more firmly into L’s lap and releasing the desk to twist his hand in L’s hair and yank his head back for a better angle. L isn’t exactly enthusiastic, but he’s passive, and that’s all Raito requires at the moment.

The chair is putting a serious crimp in Raito’s plans, and in his back, but any interruption will mean that L insists they go back to work, back to his precious Note, and Raito presses L down harder until the back of the chair creaks in protest.

He isn’t expecting the clink of metal, or the cold steel biting into his wrist. He jerks back, breaking the kiss, and he opens his eyes to find that L has never closed his. L’s fingers are wrapped around Raito’s wrist just above the handcuff, and Raito glances down to see the chain trailing into L’s pocket.

Indignation flaring through Raito, he twists his fingers around the chain and gives it a yank that snaps the rest of it out of L’s pocket, just as L shoves him hard enough to knock Raito off his lap. Raito’s tailbone cracks against the floor hard enough to make his eyes water, but he tangles his feet with L’s ankles and brings L crashing down onto the floor on top of him. L is quick, thin frame deceptively strong as he writhes to disentangle himself from Raito, but it only takes Raito a second to slap the other end of the handcuffs around L’s wrist with a decisive chink.

“You’ve been carrying them around in your pocket,” Raito hisses, rolling over and pinning L underneath him by the wrists. “Just waiting for the right time to lock me up again, Ryuzaki? Even now that we have the Note?”

“Kira must be caught.” L shifts minutely under Raito, and Raito kicks at his ankle to keep him from getting his feet under him. “This is very childish, Raito.”

Raito doesn’t answer as he rolls to his feet and drags L up with him, and begins marching for the elevator. He tugs L along beside him, and the jingling the of the chain between them is a familiar enough noise to calm Raito enough to at least begin planning a next move. He shoves L into the elevator in front of him hard enough that L slams into the opposite wall, and quickly punches the button to close the doors, and the button for their floor.

Raito smiles thinly as he turns to find L against the back wall, eyes narrowed and tensing for another strike, because however much he’ll regret this later, for now L’s attention is focused entirely on him. Raito twists his wrist to wrap the handcuff chain around his fingers and flips it up and over L’s head, then yanks it tight, binding L’s hands to his sides. The links pinch at his fingers as L struggles, and Raito’s smile widens.

The elevator dings softly behind them as it passes each floor. Raito isn’t sure what’ll happen when the doors open, but if L is still keeping the handcuff key in his pocket, the best course of action is to get L’s pants off as quickly as possible.