It was movement that woke Light first, rather than sound: a persistent, annoying tug at his handcuffed wrist. Once awake, though, it was impossible to ignore the soft gasps and moans from the other half of the bed. Light cringed inwardly; did L have to take asociability to such a disgusting extreme as to actually masturbate with another man bound unwillingly to him?
Just then, however, L whimpered for his mother, and the moaning of a minute before seemed, in retrospect, less sexy and more frightened. Light reached out to shake him awake, not sure why he was even bothering. L's arm was softer than he could have imagined, damp with a dewy layer of sweat, and Light shifted his hand hastily to L's sleeved shoulder, disturbed in some inexplicable way by the touch of skin on skin.
L came awake easily--none of the flailing and disorientation that Light was embarrassingly prone to himself--just a sharp intake of breath before he was blinking his cartoonishly large eyes up at the ceiling.
"So, what was that all about?" Light asked, making his voice sound politely concerned.
L slanted a look at him and said, "Just a nightmare."
"What was it of?" Light persisted. He didn't really expect L to say Kira, but it was...interesting, that L was human enough to have nightmares, to call out brokenly in his sleep for comfort and protection. L lay silent for a long moment, staring at the ceiling with a curiously still expression. The resemblance to a wide-eyed insect was inescapable, and Light forced himself not to laugh at the idea of pinning L down, literally.
Then L turned to look at Light and smiled enigmatically. "Oh, your typical sort of nightmare, really. I dreamt that I was diagnosed with diabetes."