Chapter Text
Chapter 12
Their afternoon was spent chasing names in the notebook.
Some immediately matched missing persons, suspicious deaths, or cold cases.
Some were alive.
Some couldn't be identified at all.
Light and Ryuzaki wondered whether every name in the notebook was real or merely part of Mikami's delusions.
They sent agents to verify what they could.
At this point their input would be tying up loose ends and supporting the case as it goes to trial. Light only saw Mikami once more as he was manhandled into an awaiting car, that would take him to a prison holding cell.
Mikami's worldview on Omegas shook him.
Not because Light thought the man was right.
He wasn't.
But Light couldn't ignore the uncomfortable similarities between the things Mikami condemned and the choices Light himself had made recently.
Moving into Ryuzaki's apartment.
Building a nest.
Seeking comfort instead of logic.
None of those decisions had been made by the version of Light that liked plans and spreadsheets and certainty.
They had simply felt right.
Ryuzaki stepped up behind him, slid and arm around his back, hand resting on his hip.
"Come on, let's go home."
Resting into Ryuzaki's side he enjoyed the warmth that seeped through their clothes.
Nodding they packed up their gear, assigned paperwork to the weekend teams and left together.
The drive home, and now Light thought it without guilt.
They were going home.
Starting with the bedroom, Ryuzaki made room in the closet for Light's clothes.
Not a temporary space.
Not a spare hanger.
Room.
Light's books joined Ryuzaki's on the shelves until it became difficult to tell whose was whose.
A photograph found its way onto a side table.
A spare toothbrush disappeared into the bathroom.
When they finished, Light stood in the middle of the apartment and looked around.
There were traces of him everywhere now.
A jacket hanging by the door.
Books on the shelves.
His coffee mugs in the kitchen.
Clothes in the wardrobe.
Evidence that he lived here.
Evidence that he belonged here.
For the first time since he'd carried a box through the front door weeks ago, the apartment didn't feel like Ryuzaki's home.
It felt like theirs.
Light's ankle started to throb, so he stretched out across the couch.
Ryuzaki returned a few minutes later carrying tea. He set both mugs down before lifting Light's legs and sliding onto the couch beneath them.
The adjustment was automatic now.
Comfortable.
Familiar.
The simple contact had Light fighting the urge to purr.
Across from him, Ryuzaki looked entirely too pleased with himself.
"Stop that."
Ryuzaki looked up from his tea.
"Stop what?"
"Looking smug."
"I am not."
"You are."
Ryuzaki took another sip of tea.
Light rolled his eyes.
The apartment was quiet around them.
Not empty.
Not silent.
Lived in.
The bookshelf now held both their collections.
His clothes hung beside Ryuzaki's in the closet.
A pair of coffee mugs sat drying on the kitchen rack.
Small things.
Ordinary things.
A year ago, he would have laughed if someone had suggested this would be his life.
A year ago, Ryuzaki had barely tolerated him.
The man had watched him like a suspicious package left unattended in a train station.
Every compliment had sounded like an accusation.
Every conversation had felt like a test.
Light had spent months convinced Ryuzaki disliked him.
Looking back now, he wasn't entirely sure that had ever been true.
Annoyed by him?
Certainly.
Suspicious of him?
Without question.
But hate him?
No.
Not even close.
The arm draped lazily across the back of the couch shifted.
Ryuzaki reached out and brushed a hand across Light's ankle.
Checking on it.
Making sure it wasn't hurting too badly.
The gesture was absent-minded.
Unthinking.
The sort of thing people did when caring had become second nature.
Light smiled.
"What?"
Light hadn't realised he'd been staring.
"Nothing."
Ryuzaki narrowed his eyes.
"That's never a good answer."
Light laughed softly.
"No," he said, settling deeper into the couch. "I was just thinking how strange life is."
Ryuzaki considered that.
"That's a concerning statement from a detective."
"Probably."
Outside, the sun continued its slow descent.
Inside, neither of them moved.
For once there were no reports waiting to be reviewed.
No suspects to chase.
No murders to solve.
Just tea.
A couch that was rapidly becoming too comfortable to leave.
And Ryuzaki beneath his legs, looking far too smug about the entire situation.