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L is, in many ways, like a cat. He is a solitary animal who has little respect for human etiquette. He does not like to be touched or paid attention to, except for when he does, and he will make his needs known in eccentrically roundabout ways.
Light will sometimes complain about L’s idiosyncrasies, but L knows that he doesn’t truly mind, that he finds them charming on most days despite wishing he didn’t. Over the past decade, the two of them have settled into something quiet and comfortable. Neither of them care for anniversaries, dates, or rings. Their love is not the tender, sweet thing of romance novels. It’s a need, like air for the lungs and blood for the body. It’s the fitting together of two jagged pieces somehow made whole, a cosmic push-and-pull that transcends the sappy sentiments of a married couple.
So, no, L does not care that Light isn’t home for Valentine’s Day this year.
He is currently lying in his nest on the couch, the mass of blankets and pillows he tends to sleep in on nights (or, more often, days) when Light isn’t around to carry him off to bed. L will get up soon. He will work on some cases and then make some chocolate for himself. He’s never cared much for Valentine’s Day, but he is a devoted lover of chocolate. Maybe he’ll save some for Light if he feels like it.
L twists and turns to untangle himself from the blankets before rolling from the couch onto the floor. He likes the floor. He stretches out his limbs and lies there for a bit before finally getting up. It’s early afternoon. Light won’t be back from his business trip until tomorrow. L doesn’t exactly know what Light does on these business trips; they’ve decided that he can be Kira when L isn’t looking. L has already had his fun solving the puzzle and making Light surrender. To imprison or kill him would be absurd, a waste of the most interesting person he’s ever met.
L shuffles into the kitchen, where dirty dishes have piled up in Light’s absence. They run a fairly egalitarian household—when it comes to chores, anyway. L admits that his ability to report Light to the police at any time creates a questionable power dynamic—but L has a hard time finding motivation to do housework when he's alone. He salvages what clean dishes are left—he can use a mug in place of a measuring cup, and tongs instead of a spoon—and gets to work. He doesn’t need breakfast. He needs chocolate.
L has decided on a simple recipe: chocolate marshmallow fudge. All he has to do is melt the chocolate pieces, taste, combine with condensed milk, taste, and mix in mini marshmallows (and taste again). At this point, he divides the mixture in half. One part will go in the fridge to properly set and turn into fudge. The other half is for L to snack on while he waits.
L takes his bowl of chocolatey sugary goodness to the computer room, where he loses himself in his work for a few hours. It’s a fairly interesting case about a serial killer, but of course, he can’t help but compare every murder case he gets to the Kira investigation. Sometimes he feels like nothing in his life will ever be that interesting again. Maybe this is why he holds on to Light. So he can hold on to that feeling. I’m not Kira, he’ll sometimes say with a slight smile playing on his face as he sits across from L at the dinner table. He’ll give L a coy look when Kira is mentioned on the news, and L will playfully swat at his arm. An open secret. L knows that it shouldn’t be fun, that the man he loves is a murderer. But over the years, he’s grown to care less and less. L is a hedonist at heart, not a hero.
The world has grown accustomed to Kira’s reign as well. They are driven by fear, mostly, but Kira is also loved and worshiped. Government officials around the world seek his services. He meets with intelligence agencies, royalty, the rich elite. He is desired and speculated about and feared and respected and his name is in everyone’s mouth but his home is with L and L only.
L wants him to come home. They should spend Valentine’s Day together. Yes, even though it’s an asinine excuse of a holiday invented to boost corporations’ profits and perpetuate outdated gender roles. He wants to be with the person he loves. L shuts down his computer, leaving the windowless room in darkness. Perhaps he should curl up in his chair for a nap.
Suddenly, he hears a noise. A home invasion, he thinks, before remembering that their security system is far too advanced for that to be a reasonable possibility. Light.
L jumps out of his chair and flings open the door. Light. Runs down the hallway just in time to see Light opening the door, dressed in a sharp suit and bright red tie. His sleepy, jet-lagged eyes just make him look more handsome. He has his briefcase in one hand and a box in the other. L recognizes the label from a chocolate shop in England they went to a few years back. He’s sure they’ll taste delicious, L thinks, before he throws his arms around Light. The sheer force from his embrace causes Light to drop the box, and heart-shaped chocolates spill onto the floor.
“L,” Light whines in protest. “Look what you did. At least let me get settled before you tackle me.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” L holds him tighter. “You know I’ll still eat them off the floor anyway.”
Light scoffs. “I know.”
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” Light leans in to give L a kiss. Eventually, L loosens his hold on Light. He really isn’t a touchy person like this. Except for when he is.
Light picks up one of the chocolates from the floor and holds it out to L. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Thank you.” L smiles and kisses Light’s fingers before taking the candy between his lips.