Chapter Text
Their sink backed up Tuesday; Lizard walked in to the apartment he shared with Light on Friday and the dishes were a mountain. On the couch, Light had himself curled up under the heated blanket and Akira, the traitorous gray fluff, purring on his lap. Television – something crime related, which was about the only thing Light watched – blared over Lizard dropping his keys.
“Dishes?” He called out from the front door. Light didn’t move his head, and Lizard tried again. “Dishes? The plumber? Did you do truly anything about the sink issue?”
“Mm, a friend said he’d help,” Light said. “But he’s been sort of busy.”
“A friend?” Lizard pinched himself to keep from using an angrier tone. This always happened. Light refused to take care of household tasks at all. At first, the trait was almost cute – like a dumb rich baby Lizard taught how to sweep – but now, when it directly affected his ability to use the sink, Light’s inability to call maintenance was not cute.
“Yeah,” Light swung an arm over the seatback and flashed his big brown eyes at Lizard. “He’s super fit, so I thought maybe we could have a good eyeful while he fixed the sink. But you can’t say you’re my boyfriend.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Sort of,” Light said. “Teru only does stuff for me because he thinks he has a chance. If he finds out I’m taken, he’ll stop letting me use his Netflix probably. Also, Teru pays for the Netflix. Sorry, I should have said that.”
Between his teeth, Lizard let out a long, frustrated noise. Akira leapt up from Light’s lap, his tail swishing as the cat padded over to his owner. Rubbing against his calf, the soft face of Akira was the one thing soothing Lizard’s frustrations. His first reaction – to yell – had to be filed away under “unhelpful,” and so he moved to his next, more considered reaction: laying on a bit of authority. For how bossy Light was, he often needed someone with a little boom to their voice to make him, for instance, put in a maintenance request.
“Tell your Teru not to come,” he said, thickening his voice into a statement. “And then you’re going to call the apartment office, and schedule a maintenance visit for this weekend.”
“But Teru is already coming,” Light’s voice wavered and he’d pushed off the blanket. “I don’t need to call the office.”
“Light,” Lizard said. The name was string, and snapped his boyfriend’s attention right toward him. “There is a tower of dishes in the sink because we can’t wash them, and I asked you to make the maintenance call three days ago. Call the office. And, just because it’s ludicrous that you haven’t already, tell Teru that you have a live-in boyfriend and that we can pay for our own Netflix.”
The last part strained into anger, as Lizard couldn’t help it. On the couch, Light fiddled with his shirt sleeve, rolling his eyes. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he made a soft, acquiescing sound.
“Okay,” Light let out. “I’ll make the calls.”
“Okay?” Lizard clapped his hands together to cover the surprise in his voice. “Okay! Great.”
“You should use that voice more often,” Light continued, his smile just on the edge of evil. “That one you just used to order me around. It’s hot.”
“Oh really?” Long, thumping strides brought Lizard over the back of the couch, and he wrapped tight arms around Light. Squeezing his boyfriend tight, Lizard felt the shivers even the small kiss to his cheek induced in Light. “You like it when I give you an order, baby?”
“Yeah,” Light sighed. His shoulders stiffened. “Actually, if you’re serious about the Netflix thing.”
“I am.”
“Okay, well. I have something to tell you about the Hulu subscription. Have you ever wondered why one of the accounts on there is called Misa?”