Three years have passed since L asked (Y/n) to become his partner.

He spent a considerable amount of time trying to figure out her motives and thinking during the Kira case. Now, he knows all there is to know, but he still watches her.

There is no purpose to it. L knows his partner like he does the back of his hand. He knows how she thinks, her priorities, her hopes and her history. He knows the lines of her palms, the curve of her waist, the bow of her lips and the stretch marks on her knees. He knows the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, the sound of her heart beating in and out of time with his own, and the tensing of her muscles when his touch manages to surprise her.

No more secrets lie around the edges of her brain or etched into her skin. He has every square inch of her memorized so well, her image remains burned into his mind because that's where he keeps the most important facts of life and without a doubt, he believes she belongs there.

The puzzle she poses has finally been completed after this long of watching and analyzing, but he finds his eyes wandering to her anyways.

He cannot look away. Perhaps he doesn't want to.

It's hard to really put into coherent thought and understanding. This tendency is practically instinct now. When he can't figure something out right away, he turns to what he does know for comfort.

Comfort. Yes, he thinks that is exactly what she brings him. Ease and sanctuary, and an undeniable sense of belonging that makes him forget that he is, by society's standards, an outcast. For the first time, he has somewhere to belong-- he belongs with her, wherever they may be.

He used to be of the firm belief that only the weak seek comfort. L spent twenty-five years believing that his isolation and cold in his life equated to strength.

Now, he knows better. His days are filled with warmth and he no longer forgets that he is alive. Her comfort doesn't feel like weakness. He thinks it feels a lot like strength.

They are pressed together under the quilt as they often are on the nights he agrees to rest. Outside, the wind continues to blow in a faint whistle he can just barely make out over the faint ticking of the clock in her bedroom.

Maybe it'll snow soon, he thinks idly, letting his fingers run over the ridges of her spine, pleased when she shudders slightly and burrows further into him to escape the tickle from his digits on her skin.

"Stop," she drawls, voice muffled by his shirt. (Y/n) doesn't bother opening her eyes so she can look at him, and that's how he knows she's close to drifting off and can't be bothered to fight him if he decides to ignore her and continue.

But he listens and lets his palm rest flat against her back instead, and she hums her appreciation.

When they are like this, with silence and drowsiness in their atmosphere, holding each other, L doesn't feel weak at all. He feels like all the strength in the world lies in his arms, and maybe that isn't so far from the truth.

"Your hands are cold," she observes slowly, but she doesn't move away and curls further into him instead.

L slips his hand out from under her shirt to rest it over the fabric instead without a word, not wanting to inconvenience her when he knows she is tired after a particularly trying case.

This time, she does crack an eye open, peering up at him with hazy suspicion. "You're being particularly considerate."

He makes an uncommitted sound, dipping his head so he can kiss her jaw. (Y/n) exhales at the action and he feels her warm breath blow across his forehead.

When he pulls back, both her eyes are open.

"You missed," she says bluntly, her arm rising from where it was strung across his form lazily so she can twist her fingers in his hair and pull him close to press a proper kiss to his lips.

His eyes fall shut on instinct because at this point, this too is familiar. The awareness of her and the warmth she exudes has his toes curling, and the world falls away in this instant like it never does for anything else.

L wonders if she knows how much power she hold over him.

From the way she smiles at him, smug because she knows she has won, he thinks she probably has some idea, but he does not mind these little defeats against her. He's fairly certain he's an equal winner in this case.

For a moment, he's convinced this is all a dream and somehow, when he wakes up, it will all be gone.

Except it won't. He doesn't know what he did to deserve this, but this is real. She is real.

Once, they had been against each other because circumstances of the Kira case would have it be so. That feels like a lifetime ago, though. Reality is different now-- it's sweet, just like the lip balm she applies before going to bed, and that is knowledge he's allowed to have because this reality is his.

"I'm happy," he says, the words light and formless in the air. He just wants to put it up there. Saying it makes it that much more real.

(Y/n)'s eyes are closed again, but she manages a vague sound of acknowledgment. She's beginning to relax again in his hold, melting into him, and he can tell from her breathing that she's past consciousness and has drifted off.

He cherishes the moment, filing it away in his head so he'll never forget what it feels like to have someone who trusts him enough to let him hold them while they sleep. It means that much more that it's someone like her-- logical, composed and careful. She feels safe enough to be so brazenly unguarded around him, and it goes to say about just how much they've grown as individuals and as partners (in every sense of the word).

Tomorrow, Sayu Yagami will return home from her boarding school for the weekend, and he will have to cut the time he spends in her company because Sayu is still unaware of the less than professional nature of their relationship.

She suspects, of course. The youngest Yagami is unarguably intelligent when it comes to emotional and social matters, but (Y/n) has very plainly stated there is nothing between her and Ryuzaki from across the hall.

It's not a lie exactly. Right now, for instance, when she is in his embrace and they share the same air, there is no space between them-- nothing at all.

He's sure Sayu doesn't believe them, especially since L's pesky successors are less than obvious because they enjoy his suffering, but it's not like the girl is bothered by her elder sister's connection to her weird employer who just so happens to live across from them.

Too many coincidences, but Sayu's perceptive enough to know that nothing is wrong even if it has to be kept secret.

They are all peacefully settled in their overlapping worlds, content at the moment.

Outside, the wind blows and he sighs quietly as his own eyes finally give into the weight of sleep. They have no cases lined up and Sayu isn't set to arrive until the evening, so there's no rush to wake up early. He'll have all morning to lay in bed and revel in his own unbelievable fortune.

She will be right here when he wakes up, and the thought is enough to finally lull him to sleep. He can look forward to seeing her tomorrow.

Neither of them has ever used the word 'love' but it settles deeply in his bones and wraps around them anyways.

For once, L is entirely at peace.