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nepthys-merenset · 6 months ago

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A Lesson in Kindness

Summary: Lane shows Cain what kindness means to her, and, together they explore trust, vulnerability, and their feelings for one another. Part of my growing "HSR First Kiss" series!

Pairing: Lane x Cain [Heaven's Secret: Requiem]

Word Count: 3,095

Rating: T

Taglist: @rc-catalog

TW: None

A Lesson in Kindness

Lane slipped into her room, easing the door closed behind her. The fact that the rest of the squad kept her at arm’s length in the wake of Noah’s disappearance had its advantages—she wasn’t trusted to participate in the search mission, so she was allowed to remain behind in the estate, alone with the Book.

They probably think this is some kind of punishment, she thought, reflexively glancing over her shoulder as she opened the desk’s secret compartment and took out the Book. She ran her hands over its cracked cover reverently before opening it to the new spread she’d discovered—the spread she hoped would crack the code of the first part of the Book.

She settled in for a long afternoon, examining each character under a magnifying glass and carefully comparing it against the lines Pileon had written in her notebook. Small similarities began to jump out at her—she was making progress. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless.

Just as the beginnings of a new word began to surface, a disturbance outside ripped through her concentration. A gust of wind, then the sound of beating wings, before a flash of white and red streaked by her window.

Cain.

She shook her head and turned back to the Book, then sighed heavily. The word was gone, and her focus was ruined now that she’d noticed him.

The angel occupied her thoughts for reasons she didn’t fully understand. Like the Book, he was a puzzle to which she desperately wanted to find a solution. Unlike the Book, though, she hadn’t managed to figure him out at all, or why she was so drawn to him. Why she felt warm, alive, around him, in ways she hadn’t since he’d pulled her from the Rift.

Picking up her magnifying glass again, she tried to focus on the Book again, but it continued to elude her. The only things on her mind now were white wings, flashing red eyes, and tongues of flame rising seductively from burning books, warming her from the inside out in a way that felt dangerous—and tempting.

She sighed again and put the Book away, accepting that she would get nothing else done today. Not until this strange curiosity was satisfied.

*****

He’d landed in the yard of the estate, his back to her. She quickly realized why she’d noticed a flash of red through the window—he was covered in blood, from the tips of his wings to the tips of his boots. She watched him quietly from the shadows of the porch as he combed his fingers through his feathers, shaking his head in irritation.

He must have run into one of the Infected. Did he tear it apart with his bare hands?

“I know you’re there,” he called, looking at her slyly from over his shoulder. “Haven’t you learned not to stare at me when you think I’m not paying attention?”

Caught.

“You distracted me from the Book,” she said, ignoring the uneven throb in her chest as she caught his gaze. “I noticed you fly by my window.”

He looked away, continuing to absently run a hand over one of his blood-streaked wings. “Ah. Well, I’m sorry for that.”

She nodded mutely, her eyes lingering on his wings, following the path of his hand. His feathers had been soft and warm the last time she’d touched them, sending pleasant thrills down her spine. Thrills that had only intensified when she noticed how he’d stilled under her hand, allowing her to explore him.

“What happened to you?” She asked, leaving the porch to approach him. It was a question she didn’t really need an answer to—more of a tool than anything else.

“An Infected in the woods,” he said, smirking slightly. He’d noticed that she was still distracted by his wings. “The rest of the squad is dealing with the body now.”

“So close to the city?” she asked, mild alarm cutting through the pleasant haze of memory she’d allowed herself to linger in. From what she’d gleaned from the squad, this level of activity was unusual, and the proximity, nearly unheard of.

Could it have something to do with what we’ve been deciphering in the Book?

He watched her closely, his eyes narrowing, before he shrugged. “Yes, but we’ve handled it. For now, at least.” He stepped closer, experimentally, as if testing her boundaries. “I have to rejoin the search soon, but I have to take care of this—” he grimaced as his hand caught in a particularly matted patch of feathers “—first.”

She wouldn’t get anything done while he was gone, that much she knew. Not with fresh anxiety still lurking at the edges of her mind, and a vague sense of loss tugging at her heart. She didn’t want to be alone in the estate—didn’t want him to go, to leave her alone again.

“I could help you,” she offered, then fell silent, shocked by her own statement. Taking a deep breath, she studied him askance, waiting for his reaction.

She’d surprised him, too. He looked at her sharply, his eyes flashing red, before he said slowly, “Do you understand what you’re offering? It’s not like—”

He stopped short, tilting his head as he eyed her like how a predator would stare down prey. She realized that he’d recognized this as a step forward, one that she’d taken perhaps unconsciously.

“Once you figure out what this is, I’ll be waiting.”

Now she was the one waiting, her mind turning over and over as she asked herself where that wild impulse had come from. Curiosity? Reciprocity for the help he’d given her with the Book? It couldn’t be gratitude—he’d broken his promise to her and disappeared on her again, leaving her alone in the hallowed halls of the monastery archives. But still, there it was...a nagging desire to connect with him somehow, coming from some place hidden deep within her.

“I understand,” she said, meeting his gaze steadily as her mind raced through all the possibilities of what she was agreeing to.

Still looking at her closely, he nodded, seeming to come to a decision. “All right, then. Let’s go.”

Her breath hitched as she realized what she’d done. She would have to touch him, her hands roving through his wings, his body hers to explore. Unsure if it was anxiety or excitement racing through her veins, she shuddered, then quickly attempted to disguise it by stepping towards town.

He caught her arm in his hand, nodding towards the forest. “We can’t use the bath house. The General asked us to try not to make the locals uncomfortable,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk as he gestured towards himself with his free hand.

Noticing distantly that he seemed to be in no hurry to take his hand off of her arm, she allowed him to guide her. “It doesn’t seem like you’re trying that hard.”

He laughed quietly, leading her deep into the forest.

*****

After a long walk, most of which Lane spent questioning her sanity, the trees thinned into a small clearing with a still, glassy lake in the center. A rickety dock, half-collapsed against the shore, jutted over the water. Ice ringed the edges of the lake, but the area around the dock was clear.

“I didn’t know this was—oh!”

While she’d been admiring the landscape, the angel had walked to the edge of the lake and begun to strip to the waist. His jacket was carelessly abandoned on the shore, and he was maneuvering his wings through long slits on the back of his shirt, folding and unfolding them carefully.

She had never stopped to wonder how something as simple as clothing worked for Cain, Pileon, and Anhea before, but she realized now that they must have to make accommodations like this constantly. They were living in a world that wasn’t meant for them, wearing clothing that didn’t suit their anatomy, using furniture that wasn’t designed for them. Surrounded by people who didn’t understand them—people who mistrusted them at best, and hated or feared them at worst.

It must be so lonely, she thought, wavering on the spot. She hadn’t truly thought her actions through; she had just followed her impulses and gotten herself in over her head, as usual. This was a bigger step than she’d anticipated.

Cain looked back at her, amusement ghosting over his face when he noticed her reaction. “Are you surprised? How did you think we were going to do this?” he needled, turning to face her, bare chested.

She shook her head, quickly looking away in an attempt to force herself to stop paying attention to how soft his skin looked in the weak sunlight. Seeming to mistake her confusion for reluctance, he smiled thinly and said, “You don’t have to help me. I can handle this on my own.”

“No,” she said, taking a decisive step towards him, her heart in her throat. “I said I’d help you, and I will.”

A strange emotion flitted over his face, gone too quickly for her to identify, before he nodded and said, “Come on, then. We can use the dock.” Then he smirked, his eyes flashing red. “Don’t worry—I’ll keep my pants on.”

“I’m not worried.”

I’m not afraid of you.

After removing his boots, Cain moved to step into the water, then stepped back and looked askance at the dock. Shooting her a quick look, he walked down the dock, carefully testing the boards, before sitting down at the edge and dangling his feet in the icy water.

“It’s safe for you to come on,” he called, slipping into the water. “There’s soap in the front pocket of my pack.”

She took the soap, wondering briefly what else he kept in his bag, and followed his path down the decrepit dock. Feeling as if she was observing herself from a distance, she knelt behind him and tried to settle herself.

His wings rose and fell slowly as he breathed, and she could feel the warmth radiating off of them—off of him—even though he was submerged in icy water up to his waist. Small tremors raced up and down his back, and she frowned slightly. Angels didn’t react to the cold.

Is he nervous?

She reached out a tentative hand and gently ran it across the top of one of his wings. Warm, soft. Comforting. He stilled beneath her touch, seeming to hardly breathe, before his wing raised slightly into her hand. Silently asking a question that she had also been asking herself since the day he’d taken her into the sky.

Can you accept me as I am?

Running her fingers through his feathers, she reached down into the water and gasped at the temperature. It felt like knives against her skin, lancing through her scar and shocking her back into the present—kneeling on a dock halfway collapsed into frigid water, with Cain in front of her, waiting for her to begin.

She’d gone too far to turn back now, if that had ever really been an option, so she worked the soap into a lather in her hands and then began gently picking her way through the first bloody patch marring his wings. It was a methodical task, and she settled into a rhythm quickly: soap and water, preen her fingers through the area she was working on, rinse, clean her hands, repeat.

There was nothing methodical about the way he was reacting to her, though. His wings rustled in constant minute movements, brushing against her hands and body, and he made small sounds occasionally, catching his breath or exhaling quietly through his teeth. Tiny groans, so low that she knew he was trying to keep them from her.

Does this feel good for him?

Following his reaction, she adjusted her touch to what he seemed to like and watched, gratified, as the tense muscles of his back relaxed. He leaned back a bit, then asked in a low voice, “Is this what kindness looks like to you?”

“If you want me to be kind, teach me.”

“Yes,” she murmured, hardly recognizing her own voice as she continued to comb her fingers through his feathers. “Kindness is...trust that the other person won’t take advantage of your vulnerability.”

In all of her interactions with him, she had never forgotten that she would always be the vulnerable one. A human and an immortal would always be an uneven pair, no matter what she said or did. To even be around him was dangerous, and many would say that she was putting her life at risk by trusting him with kindness.

And yet, here she was, on her knees, fully clothed but still exposed. Trusting him with her safety, as he trusted her with his body.

“You can turn around,” she said, her breath catching in her chest. She would have to look him in the eye now. She wasn’t sure what she would see, but she knew she wouldn’t look away. “I’m finished with your back.”

Slipping smoothly through the water, he turned slowly and caught her eyes with his right away—cool steel blue, open, searching. She returned his gaze, feeling her heartbeat quicken, and reached out to continue her work on the front of his wings. Trailing a hand through the water, he tracked her movements closely, tremors still running across his chest.

As she worked, he lifted his hand from the water. Paused, as if questioning himself, then reached out to rest his fingers lightly on her cheek, cool and damp. “You can trust me, you know,” he murmured, the look in his eyes cutting through her focus. “When I promised to protect you, I meant it.”

“I know,” she whispered—and to her surprise, she meant it, too. Even though he subverted all of her expectations of angels, even though he’d disappeared on her twice, she believed that he would do his best to protect her.

A small smile playing across his lips, he raised his other hand from the water and caressed her shoulder in the barest of touches. She sighed, her breath frosting in the air, as a jolt of electrifying warmth ran through her body. For a moment, he was silent, watching her reaction to him as she shifted into his touch.

“I know you have questions for me,” he said quietly, his eyes following the path of his hand as it trailed up her neck. “But believe me when I say that there are reasons I haven’t told you everything.”

“I do,” she said in the same tone, as if speaking more loudly would shatter this small moment in time. She understood secrets and the patience it would take to unravel them well. She certainly had her own, but even now, a question turned over and over in her mind—were they secrets to him, too? Or were her secrets among the things he couldn’t tell her?

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to drift through a fantasy as the easy motion of his hands lulled her into a trance—one where he would tell her everything, answer all of her questions. One where she knew what had happened to her, where she had been, and why, at times, Cain almost seemed to know her already.

“Did you remember something? Me, perhaps?”

His quiet voice edged into her fantasy—“Where have you gone?”—and she opened her eyes. He was close to her now, so close that she could feel his breath warming her skin.

“I’m still here,” she breathed, feeling as if she were still half-caught in a dream. Secrets, questions, answers—all ceased to matter as she caught his eyes and his hand drifted to the back of her neck. There was no need to speak, all questions answered with one look before they moved as one and their lips met in a burning kiss.

She gasped into his lips, and he pressed his advantage, deepening the kiss, his tongue roving through her mouth. Sinful heat, life, coursed through her veins as she answered him, searching, wondering—could I remember you? Can you help me remember?

Mesmerized, she reached for him, one hand on his chest and the other running through his hair. A small sound escaped him as his wings rose from the water to envelop her in his sanctuary and press her closer to his body. She sighed, leaning into him as his warmth filled her with sensations that she hadn’t even known she’d been missing since he’d pulled her from the Rift.

This must be what it feels like to be alive.

Opening her eyes, she admired him—with his eyes shut, his body warm and urgent against hers, his lips soft and insistent, and tiny ice crystals in his wings catching the sunlight, he looked every bit an angel. Beautiful.

Sensing her gaze, he opened his eyes, a glint of red fading as he pulled back from her. Too soon. Bereft, she tried to will the blush to stop rising in her cheeks, but she knew she had failed with his lips lifted in a teasing smirk and he raised his hand to her face, feeling the warmth he’d nurtured in her body.

“Do you understand yet?” he asked, his eyes boring into hers.

She didn’t have an answer for him. There were still so many questions, but she felt closer to finding answers now. Closer to the woman she may have been before the Siberia base collapsed and she lost three years of her life.

She said nothing, only leaned into his touch, hoping he would understand her vulnerability. After a long moment, she steeled herself and whispered, “You should change and get back to the squad.”

“I should.”

And yet neither moved, frozen in time, tormented by questions, answers just out of reach. Time was nothing to an immortal, but it was everything to Lane—days for the mysteries of the Book to remain unsolved, weeks for her veiled past to haunt her every step, years for the world to tear itself apart at the seams.

But a small burst of hope bloomed in her chest—hope that, in time, they could try to solve these mysteries together. She met his gaze again, a promise in her eyes.

With time, I will understand.

Don’t leave me again, and don’t give up on me.

Wait for me, and I’ll wait for you.

#romance club #rc hsr #lane x cain #cainlane #rc fanfic #romance club fanfic #rc lane #rc cain

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