#“you're impossible” i think you mean mildly insufferable lucanis it's a severan trait

[gwynbleiddyn]

→ AN ODD COMFORT || Lucanis x m!Rook • mostly spoiler-free, implications and some dialogue from Lucanis' final romance scene

Exhaustion colours Lucanis’ face in grim gauntness, even under the glow of water and the sunlight of a gentle Rivaini hand.

Kerros traces the faint, blurred edge of a dark circle with his thumb until it sweeps over Lucanis’ dark brow, and fingers slip easily into raven-dark hair, nails dragging lightly along skin. It earns him a gentle grumble of appeasement from the not-sleeping assassin in his lap, whose eyes remain closed in spite of his arguments.

Or rather, Spite’s argument has lessened in shared yearning with its host. The thought crosses Kerros’ mind unburdened, recalling the oddly comforting embrace of spectral wings not an hour before. 

Could be worse, he thinks. He could be battling something like Endless Disappointment or the crushing gloom of Emptiness. Are those even demons? Probably. Maybe. They must be out there, somewhere, ruining every Fade party they come across–

“Rook. Think quieter. Want to look. At you.” 

Kerros’ eyes are drawn to Lucanis’ own, now barely open, purple light spilling from beneath long dark lashes. Beautiful, in a strange and otherworldly way. Kerros chuckles faintly, unwilling to disturb the host from a barely-kept slumber. He runs his fingers down the distinguished curve of Lucanis’ nose, feeling every gentle scar and subtle blemish beneath calloused fingertips. 

A strange privilege indeed, to see a contract killer this close without fear of it being the last thing he does.

“You’ve looked plenty, Spite. Let Lucanis sleep,” Kerros answers Spite, as he always does. The purple glow flickers away, receding as Lucanis’ chest rises with a sudden breath, eyelids fluttering open. Dark, glassy brown, and Kerros would kill to see them in a Rivaini sunset. Maybe after this is done.

“I never sleep,” comes the eventual reply, voice heavy with evidence to the contrary. Kerros lets him have the moment, hand returning to card through his hair, letting it fall from between his fingers before they settle at his jaw instead.

“It’s alright if you do,” Kerros says. “Spite and I can play cards or something.”

Another grumble ensues as Lucanis shifts, propping himself up on an elbow to stare indignantly up at Kerros instead, his brow creasing. “Don’t say that. I haven’t taught him Wicked Grace yet.”

Of course. A fair and compelling argument. Kerros grins, hand dropping to trail fingers down Lucanis’ neck and collarbone instead, feeling the thrum of his words through fingertips. It is a pleasant sensation, a new one. He’s still fumbling in the closeness, uncertain of the unknown. He hopes Lucanis doesn’t quite feel the trembling in his hands, but that is wishful thinking, to pretend that a Crow cannot see the obvious.

“I’m not afraid of him. I just don’t want to waste time now that you’re here.” Lucanis tilts his head, indignance sweeping away beneath a coy glance and a half-hidden smirk. Every move, every look, every word - it all pulls and tugs at the wild little creature Kerros calls a heart, hidden safely behind layers of skin and bone and gold. He had tried to ignore it, and that turned out poorly. But he cannot bring himself to listen to it either, knowing that joy is nothing more than a chained bird, doomed to be brought low sooner or later.

But this Crow does not wear chains any longer. He made sure of that. 

“You still have to sleep sometimes,” Kerros argues. It is a weak attempt, and one that Lucanis easily bats away, his warm hand engulfing Kerros’ wrist as soon as Kerros dares to trail fingertips across his chest. Don’t tease, he can practically see Lucanis' eyes begging silently. 

“With you here, like this?” Lucanis sighs contentedly, gathering Kerros’ fingers and curling his hand into a fist only to press a kiss to ever-bruised knuckles. His beard scratches, his breath almost too warm, the kiss… his heart wrestles against its own bindings, and it hurts. Kerros doesn’t know what to do with it. 

“Lucanis…” Kerros murmurs, unsure of what he wants to say. Lucanis’ gaze turns from soft to sharp in a moment, assessing, the intricacies of a mired mind at work. He presses Kerros’ fist back to his chest, where Kerros can feel his own thrumming heartbeat. It is in his throat, and his head, and his stomach, and–

“Kerros.” Lucanis sits up, the plush cushion of the seat sinking as weight readjusts, placing Lucanis farther away than Kerros would like him. He frowns, instinctively reaching out but his fingertips only ghost warm skin as Lucanis turns to face him instead, and Kerros finds himself mirroring him. He lifts an eyebrow in silent question.

“I may not be afraid anymore, but I think you are,” Lucanis answers. “And I know it is not Spite who scares you.” 

He’s not wrong, even if Kerros wants to say that he is. He swallows, mouth dry, unable to speak past the heartbeat in his throat. 

“Is it me?” Lucanis asks, quiet and vulnerable, and Kerros groans, shaking his head. Never could be. 

“No. No, it’s not you. I never want you to think that, either,” he says, a little more pointedly than he means to. 

Lucanis offers a faint smile, reassuring - I had to ask- but the question remains in his gaze. 

Kerros feels it would be easier to dig into his ribcage and present the problem than try to verbalize it, but that might put a dent in the god-slaying plans for tomorrow. So he sucks in a breath and shifts a little closer, knees bumping into Lucanis’ own, arm stretching along the back of the sofa with a palm upturned - a gesture that Lucanis happily acquiesces to, offering his hand, and Kerros takes it firmly.

“I’m about to violently upstage your broody clouds of doom with my own, okay? Don’t take it personally,” Kerros tries to joke, and the muted laughter from Lucanis does a little to unwind the state his heart has gotten itself into. But only a little. “I just… don’t know how to be. I like flirting, I like the chasing, I love the– the fun of it all. But when that all turns real, when I know the feelings aren’t just here today and gone tomorrow, that scares me.” 

His thumb rubs gentle circles across the back of Lucanis’ hand, and he distracts himself for a moment studying every freckle and vein. 

“It scares me because I don’t really know what to do when it’s real. It feels so… vulnerable. Like…ugh. Not ‘oh no, I left my back open and got stabbed’ kind of vulnerable, the other kind. The one where it feels like someone can look at you and know every single thought. Every feeling. Every desire.” 

There is a flicker of understanding in Lucanis’ eyes, momentarily illuminated by the water-glow behind them. And perhaps there is a little of Spite’s purple gaze in there too. Watching. Listening. 

“That’s a lot. That’s a lot. And that’s the thing – I want you to. I want you to know me. I want to know you. You make me happy, you make me feel good when I’m around you, you… you understand the weird things, the insanity that we’re in. But you also remember my favourite dessert, and the way I like coffee. You know I hate the cold and the feeling of moss. You know stupid shit about me, and I love that, so much,” Kerros can’t help his smile, even if it wavers. All of those things are true - he does feel good here, safe, looked after. It’s easy to be around Lucanis. Kerros just wishes it could be easier still. 

“You deserve more than that, if we’re going to do this. You deserve everything. I want you to know what’s all tied up in here,” Kerros presses a hand to his chest, and his fingers tangle in the gilded chains around his neck. Gifts. Keepsakes. Soon to be a memory of those he’s going to lose. “But I can’t fucking let it go. That scares me, because I don’t know what to do when it’s gone.” 

The admission is raw. The words have never escaped Kerros’ lips before, and the force of them leaves his eyes stinging. His face feels drained of colour and warmth, goosebumps crawling up his shoulders along with the cold realization that the day he dreads is rapidly approaching. 

“Hey,” Lucanis’ voice cuts through the echoing drum of his heartbeat, louder than ever. Kerros doesn’t have time to think before his face is buried in Lucanis’ neck, his nose filled with the scent of him, his body wrapped beneath the weight of him, his heart… well. It remains bound. But it hurts less when Lucanis is holding him as he is, like he never intends to let go. 

“Your honesty is all I ask, tesoro mio,” Lucanis murmurs. The words bleed out of him, honey on the skin, warming Kerros through along with the hand rubbing gentle circles at his back. “I do not ask for things you cannot give, and I never will. Whatever is in there? Keep it. If it sees you through tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, keep it. Keep it until want becomes need.”

“But you deserve–”

“Nothing, Kerros. Nothing is owed. Nothing is deserved. We made no contract, and I will not reduce your heart to ink and parchment. You are more than that.” 

There are few better ways for a contract killer to alleviate Kerros of his guilt. He feels the release almost immediately, the self-inflicted bindings unravelling faster than Kerros can manage, and so he sinks into Lucanis’ hold and stares blankly at the undulating water casting light through the glass of his room. 

“You’ll stay?” he mumbles into Lucanis’ shoulder, following it up with a fleeting kiss to a cluster of freckles, now committed to memory. Lucanis leans back, sinking into the corner of the sofa and bringing Kerros with him. He gives Kerros room to shift in his arms until he’s lying comfortably, securely, feeling safer than he has in a long time, and too-gentle hands begin to card through his hair. Kerros acknowledges he is going to fall asleep here, forgetting about the weight of tomorrow. It is hidden somewhere behind Lucanis, out of sight, and out of mind.

“For as long as you’ll have me,” comes Lucanis’ answer. Kerros smiles, faint and tired. “Sleep. You need it.”

“We. Watch. Keep Rook safe,” echoes Spite. 

An odd comfort, indeed. But Kerros will take it.

He cannot let his heart go, yet. But perhaps he will be able to sooner than he’d imagined.