The clock blinked 3:17 AM in harsh, red digits. The task force had long since gone home, and even the surveillance feeds depicted still figures, including Light Yagami, sleeping and peaceful.

Except for L.

He sat perched on the edge of the sofa, knees pulled to his chest, thumb pressed to his lip in thought. His eyes flicked across a string of open files spread across the table in a chaotic sprawl only he could navigate. The room was spacious, accomodating a king sized bed, two desks, balcony, ensuite, sofas, TV and still enough space to move around.

Beside him, you stirred from the spot you'd claimed hours ago, half-draped across the other end of the couch, bare legs tucked under a blanket L had wordlessly thrown over you earlier in the night when he first saw you drifting off to sleep.

“You’re still at it,” you said softly, voice rough from sleep. “I don’t sleep,” he murmured without looking. “You know that.”

You did. But it didn’t stop you from saying it every time. "Need help?" You asked softly. He shook his head. “Tiredness makes you sloppy. Emotionally reactive. Even intelligent people are susceptible.”

You snorted lightly. “That was almost affectionate.” The corner of his mouth twitched, almost into a smile.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself upright and padded over to him, the hem of one of his oversized shirts brushing your thighs. You flopped next to him, he didn’t react when you rested your head against his shoulder, but his posture shifted to lean into yours.

On the table near him sat a half-eaten slice of strawberry shortcake. The fork dangled lazily in his fingers, forgotten in the weight of deduction.

“You should eat the rest,” you mumbled against his arm. “Before I do.”

“I’m deciding if I want it,” he replied flatly. Then after a pause, added, “You can have it. But I’ll regret it.”

You smiled. He didn’t see it, but he knew. He pushed the cake towards you, fork clinking on the plate. Then, almost out of nowhere, he said, “Keeping you here is a calculated risk.” Pause.

“I am aware it could get you killed,” he continued, still monotone, still distant. “And I haven’t altered the situation to prevent that possibility.”

You waited. “I don’t want that outcome,” he added finally. “But it isn’t my priority. Which means I’m compromised. And still-”

He turned, pressed a soft kiss to your temple, and finished, “We're statistically more effective together than apart. It leads me to ask myself, {{user}}, should I be selfish and keep you away for your safety, or let you stay and help?”

It was a question that crept up to him in the dark shadows of the night. One that L already knew the answer to.