synopsis: maybe a meeting in the rain has it's upsides
tw: allusions to sex, rated T
wc: 1.2k
An outdoor meeting of the squad would have been fine in any other circumstance. But standing under the ledge and looking out at the rain so heavy she can barely see a foot in front of her, Lane regrets ever putting on the metal dog tag.
She also regrets not keeping the umbrella Yan had given her. Letting a quiet sigh escape her lips, she glances down at herself with regret. So much for the eyeliner and nice way she’d done her hair.
Of course, the only reason she cared was because he hadn’t seen it yet.
Cain is probably already at the meeting, most definitely waiting for her. He had left for patrol early in the morning. She has a faint memory of his lips pressing against her forehead in her haze of sleep but it could have been a figment of her imagination. Seeing him is part of the reason she had hurried out of her room once the crackle of her transponder had quieted. In her excitement, she hadn’t checked the window.
She’s about to take a step into the rain when cold fingers gently clasp her wrist. The feeling is familiar, and she already knows who she’ll see when she turns around.
“You’re late.” Is all Cain says, a knowing smile on his face.
“Technically we’re both late.” Lane notes and he shakes his head.
“I was sent to come find you. The bet is you were getting ready.” He casts an interested gaze over her face, her hair, and her body before locking eyes with her again.
“Noah owes Lester his rations tonight.” She can’t help but smile.
“They’re wrong. I just don’t want to get wet.” She gestures to the still torrential rain. Cain is already soaked but the feeling never seemed to bother him. Perhaps it was his ability to self heat. His hair is wet and pushed back, similar to the time on the platform. Water drips off of his coat and she can’t help but feel bad. He had probably been getting soaked since he left for patrol. He shakes his wings off, water flying off them and making her frown as tiny droplets fly at her.
When they’re thoroughly dry, the one closest to her raises into a ninety degree angle above her, a wall of soft white feathers. Cain’s hand slips to her waist. He gently pulls her closer and she finally realizes what he’s doing.
It’s a makeshift umbrella.
The gesture tugs at her heartstrings a bit. When she looks up at Cain’s expression, he’s smiling warmly at her.
“Now you’ll stay dry. Come on.” He leads her to the meeting spot, where the rest of the squad is.
There’s only one umbrella, clutched in the Generals hands. It’s pathetically small, barely enough to cover him and Anna. Both of them are still soaked underneath as if the item made a recent appearance.
Everyone else is absolutely drenched.
Lane suppresses her smile as they walk over. Aside from a stray drop or two on her clothes, Cain’s large wing does a tremendous job of protecting her. It’s not unlike the time he had walked (dragged) her and Anna through the snow in Rotkov.
But this time, the gesture means something very different.
When they finally reach the squad, each member shoots Lane a jealous look. It makes her slightly nervous but Cain’s grip on her waist is oddly comforting. When she glances at his face, she notices his raised eyebrow, as if daring anyone to comment on their position.
“Now we can start.” Despite the water dripping off of him, Dmitry is still the picture of a general as he discusses the squads next move at the base, now that he knows Donovan is no longer as trustworthy as before.
She has ears everywhere, which is the reason for this outdoor meeting.
As much as the squad understands it, the shivers makes it clear this has not been Dmitry’s brightest idea.
He drones on for a while. Lane tunes most of it out. She knows her purpose, her task. There’s really not much need for her to be here. But with Cain’s hand pressed against her waist, she doesn’t have any complaints.
When Cain’s body jolts, she glances up. His face flashes with irritation but she realizes quickly it’s not directed at her. Peaking past him, she understands why.
Lester stands on the other side of him, attempting to raise his other wing to cover himself from the rain. The immortal remains unamused. He keeps his wing firmly pressed down and his free hand swats at Lester.
The soldier casts a pleading look at her, as if she will convince Cain to save him from the rain. She merely shrugs in response. Lester is well aware that she and the immortal have long since passed the line of friendship. The special treatment had been apparent for a while.
The whole squad knew of it. But they didn’t talk about it. Probably cause there wasn’t much to talk about. In the middle of the apocalypse, who slept with who was the least of their concerns.
Lester gives up his attempt to cover himself, pulling away from the two. A quiet huff of laughter escapes Lane and she can tell Cain is equally amused.
“That wasn’t very angelic of you.” She mutters under her breath, knowing he’ll hear. He looks at her with a small smirk, his eyes that familiar shade of red.
“I’m not that kind of angel.” His wing shifts slightly to block another gust of rain, and he tugs her closer. His hand slips from her waist to her hip. As Dmitry continues his talk, Cain’s thumb slips under the edge of her shirt. He gently strokes her bare skin and she has to will away the images of the night they spent together.
He was totally doing it on purpose.
Finally, Dmitry relents, and the squad scatters to take cover from the rain. Soon enough, it’s just the two of them.
“I should get back to translating.” She turns to look at him. He shifts his body to face her and his other wing moves up to keep her fully covered. Rain still slips in from the part of his head he can’t cover and she frowns. When she reaches up to brush a droplet off his cheek, he dips his head down to lean into her touch.
“You look nice today. I would hate to see it ruined.” She’s about to remark that a good way to avoid that would be to get out of the rain but then his lips are on hers.
It’s a gentle kiss at first. Not unlike the one they had in the showers. He’s slightly hesitant, as if waiting for her to pull away. But she melts into it quickly, hands reaching up to thread through the dripping blond strands.
They only pull away when their lungs begin to burn. Cain’s fingers brush against her jaw, longing in his grey-blue eyes.
“Let’s go to my room. You can help me translate.” She offers. He recalls the last time she has asked that, eyes flashing red.
“Of course.”
When they finally reach the porch and his wings return to their position at his back, there isn’t a single raindrop on her.
How much longer could she pretend, how much longer until she unraveled at the seams and revealed what she truly longed for? Even if apprehension kept her desires at bay, Lane knew that none was invincible in the face of a being so beautiful – herself included.
Slight spoilers for the new episodes.
You can also find this on AO3.
Lane couldn't sleep; she was certain that several hours had passed as she lay awake, listening to the sound of Anna’s soft breathing next to her. The silvery visage of the moon shone through the tall windows, and Lane lay enveloped in its glow, restless, exhausted. Countless thoughts whirled inside her mind. Most of them, she realized, centered around the beautiful angel that she spent so much of her time with.
I can ignore my feelings during daytime, when there are so many bigger issues to worry about, Lane mused inwardly, but never at night.
She furrowed her brows, feeling frustrated with herself. That day in the library kept haunting her. Too taken aback by Cain tending to the scrapes on her hands, she hadn’t given his words much thought, though they lingered in the back of her head, always taunting her with all their implications.
“When you understand all this... I’ll be waiting.”
She turned to lay on her side, one hand tucked under the pillow while the other rested before her face. Lane was no fool; she knew, deep down, exactly what he meant. It was precisely because of that knowledge that she could not bring herself to voice any of her thoughts to him. How could she?
Yet the prospect of losing his interest frightened her; the childish hope that he would forever stay by her side remained undefeated, even though he had broken his promise once and could very well do so again.
Weakly, she slapped herself in an attempt to get rid of those thoughts. She needed sleep. She had to stop thinking.
So she closed her eyes, and...
To no avail.
Lane opened her eyes and was met by the flickering flames of the fireplace. Next to her, Anna slept soundly, blissfully unaware of the turmoil that her squad mate was going through. Were it not for the state of all things, Lane would have considered her lucky.
She gazed at the fireplace and thought of burning books and seductive touches. There were traces of Cain everywhere she looked.
Briefly, Lane wondered if he was asleep. She craned her neck and searched for his sleeping bag in the far corner of the room, only to find it devoid of its owner. Curiosity overtook rationality; as far as Lane was aware, Cain wasn’t on patrol tonight. Where could he have gone?
The library, she thought suddenly, maybe I can find him there. If he hasn’t disappeared again...
Carefully, she rose to her feet, tiptoeing between several sleeping bags that lay scattered on the floor. She knew Anna and Kira wouldn’t wake up – warm and cozy as they were, cooped up right by the fireplace – and no one would notice her absence. Her only concern was that the general would hear her footsteps, but then again, Lester’s snoring was loud enough to block out any and all sounds in the world.
Lane quietly ascended the grand staircase and made her way to the decrepit library. She tried to suppress the shivers that coursed through her body and inwardly chastised herself for forgetting how much colder it was on the second floor.
What am I doing? What am I hoping to find here?
Indeed, what was she hoping to find? Cain sitting in the library, waiting for her? Why would he even come here at this hour? Even if he was there, what would the two of them do, what would they talk about? Lane always followed that which intrigued her, but she had to admit that this was pure nonsense. None of her thoughts made sense anymore – not the ones pertaining to Cain, at least.
She collected herself. She’d come this far; might as well go through with it.
Lane decided that hope was worthless and prepared herself for disappointment, lest she return to the squad in a bad mood. Still, her heart hammered against her chest when she stopped before the door to the library. Wrapping her fingers around the doorknob, she slowly opened the door and found...
Nothing.
Lane bit her lip. This was a waste of time; she was acting a fool for absolutely nothing. She would look back on this moment the following morning and feel puzzled by her own thought process.
She couldn’t leave, though, for the sight of the dusty little library reminded her of careful touches and small, barely contained smiles; of huge, white wings enveloping her and of one earnest plea.
“If you want me to be kind, then teach me.”
Such a difficult request. At times, it felt as if he was more human than Lane could ever be.
She was about to close the door and turn back when she sensed a presence behind her. The change in the atmosphere could be felt – from cold and bleak, to hot and all-consuming – Lane didn’t have to guess twice to know who it was.
“You should be sleeping.”
Cain’s smooth voice jumbled all her thoughts. When she turned to meet his gaze, Lane felt her heartbeat pick up the pace; it was hard to think about anything at all when he was around.
His steel blue eyes twinkled with thinly-veiled curiosity. Lane had never paid much attention to the way he looked at her before, too preoccupied with chasing after answers, obsessing over her goals – but now, she felt small under his gaze. She could almost feel him picking her apart, searching for a confession in her silence.
“Were you following me?” She asked, to which Cain shook his head.
“I couldn’t sleep and happened to hear someone pacing the estate,” he said with a small smile, “it shouldn’t surprise me that it was you.”
If there was even the tiniest hint of fondness in his tone, then Lane pretended not to hear it.
Noticing that she had no intention of answering, he then added, “were you longing for this musty room in the middle of the night?”
“I wanted to clear my head,” Lane said simply. It wasn’t really true, but then again, when had they ever been fully honest with one another?
“What bothers you?”
You, she thought. Your words, your eyes, your presence.
But Lane would never say that aloud. “The Book.”
All warmth left Cain’s expression upon hearing those two words. It was strange – that sudden shift in mood which Lane felt that she couldn’t keep up with.
His eyes were narrowed in something akin to disappointment. Lane, suddenly fearing that she would lose his interest, offered, “let’s go inside.”
It seemed that just the offer was enough to soften him, for Cain said, “you’re shivering.”
“I don’t feel it,” Lane shook her head, even though she had been shivering since the moment that she ascended the staircase. “Will you come in?”
Cain gave in quicker than she had anticipated. He waited for her to enter first then followed after, careful not to hit his wings against the doorframe. In hindsight, coming to the library, of all places, had been a terrible idea; it was worn down, dirty, and the old windows rattled with the wind, letting freezing air seep through the cracks in the window frames. Lane regretted not going to her and Anna’s shared bedroom instead, but as she stood before Cain, all alone in that terribly cramped library, she found that nothing else really mattered.
“You shouldn’t stay here for long,” Cain broke the silence first, “you’re not an immortal. You’ll get sick before you know it.”
Bits and pieces of Cain’s humanity shined through each time it came to Lane and her well-being. Had he been hiding it carefully all along or was he blind to its existence? No matter the answer, Lane felt honored, special for being the one to see it. She smiled before she could stop herself.
“Are all angels so concerned with the health of the mortals?”
Her eyes immediately fell to the little spot by the bookshelf where they sat together that day. She could still feel Cain’s long, thin fingers wrapped around her wrist as he tended to the little cuts on her hand – a phantom touch that would never fade.
Cain rolled his eyes, albeit without any venom. “Does it look like they are?”
She didn’t need to say something so obvious aloud.
Talking felt so impossible at night. Lane was afraid that it would only take a word from her lips to pop the bubble they were in – but then again, someone like Cain could see right through her. Did he know that all her thoughts revolved around him? Was that why he stayed?
“You’re tired,” he broke her out of her thoughts. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, and added, “if you’re done admiring this cozy little library, then you should head back to the others. You have a long day ahead of you.”
“Don’t you?” Lane retorted. The words were on the tip of her tongue: I don’t want to leave yet. I want to stay here with you.
“I’m not the squad’s only cryptographer.”
“But you’re its only angel.”
Cain huffed in amusement. “We have Anhea.”
Lane bit the inside of her cheek. Why couldn’t she just say it? Frustration bubbled in her chest; this was too much. She could banter with him endlessly during the day, meet him half-way whenever he teased her too much, but now all words failed her and Lane looked like a fool – a sad, desperate fool who did her best to keep Cain’s gaze fixed on her. She felt as if she had failed miserably, and the feeling only strengthened when Cain spoke once more.
“I’ll walk you to the others. You’ll be safe and warm there.”
“I feel safer with you,” the words spilled from her mouth before she could process them. Instantly, her breath hitched in her throat, and Lane fought every urge to avert her gaze as she watched Cain’s eyes widened just enough for her to notice. They glimmered red for a moment – a thing so inexplicable yet mesmerizing to witness – and then they returned to their usual steel blue, just like that.
“I have put you in harm’s way more than once. I could do it again.”
“You didn’t mean to do it,” Lane murmured, unsure, “at least, that’s what I’d like to believe. If you wanted to harm me, you would have done so already.”
Cain studied her closely. Curiosity, fascination, desire – all contained in the brilliant blue of his eyes. It took nothing more than a single look for him to understand her inner workings; Lane knew he had her figured out when the corners of his lips pulled upwards in a small, teasing smile.
“Ignorance is charming. What if I won’t be able to protect you?”
“You promised.”
“Is it just my protection that you want?”
Lane froze. Time stood still as his words rang in her head, over and over. How much longer could she pretend, how much longer until she unraveled at the seams and revealed what she truly longed for? Even if apprehension kept her desires at bay, Lane knew that none was invincible in the face of a being so beautiful – herself included.
But she couldn’t say it, not yet. The truth would break them out of their ephemeral fantasy and ruin everything that they shared.
“I don’t understand you,” she lied, hoping that Cain couldn’t see the slight tremble of her hands. He approached with slow, calculated steps until they were separated by just an inch of space, until Lane could feel his breath on her skin.
Warm, warm, warm, just like that time in the monastery; he was all she could see, all she could feel. Cain was desire embodied, a temptation that Lane struggled to reject.
“But you’re here anyway,” his alluring tone made it harder to breathe. Lane clenched her fists, doing her utmost to ignore the way his wings wrapped around her form as if by instinct.
She breathed, “I just wanted to clear my head.”
To which Cain smiled, “is it working?”
His cold hands wrapped around her wrists and Lane desperately willed her heartbeat to slow down. Cain was no angel – his touch invited the most lustful of thoughts and his eyes, which bore into her own, reflected a desire for something, someone.
“No,” Lane said, unable to conceal the truth, “my thoughts are in disarray. I don’t know what to do.”
Cain’s eyes glinted red. One of his hands slowly trailed her arm, her shoulder, until it settled on her neck. The cold of his palm sent shivers down her spine, but Lane stood still, patiently anticipating his next move.
How would they face one another in the morning? Would the others notice that something had changed between them?
Does it matter?
“If you really don’t understand yet,” said Cain, “then you can return to the others and pretend this didn’t happen – and I will keep waiting until you change your mind.”
There was a softness in the way he spoke that soothed Lane’s tired, overwhelmed soul. One more word and she would melt against him, place her empty heart in the palm of his hands and ask him to take care of it. There was no use in pretending any longer. Lane had signed herself up for this on her very first day in the estate, when Cain’s breathtaking visage lured her in like a lamb to the slaughter.
Thus, Lane laced their fingers together and marveled at how quickly Cain’s nonchalant facade shattered. “I want you near... more than your protection. Don’t disappear again.”
She thought she imagined his breath hitching.
“Is that so?”
Lane nodded, noting that his icy hand in her own suddenly felt like anything but. “Just this. I won’t ask for anything more.”
“You should,” Cain breathed, leaning in closer, closer, “you can ask for anything. I have been waiting for you to ask.”
“I’m not sure what I want,” Lane confessed quietly. She hadn’t planned this far; this had already gone way beyond her expectations. Still, as if by instinct, her gaze lowered to his parted lips and she thought, oh. Are they as soft as they seem?
The angel noticed her staring and almost chuckled before he murmured, “it seems you’ve figured it out.”
Before Lane could protest, Cain closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against hers in a tender kiss.
She couldn’t move, at first. Surprise and cluelessness had enveloped her whole for a brief moment – what now? What did she have to do next? Lane peered at Cain as he moved his lips against her own, willing her to reciprocate. His brows were furrowed, his eyes closed shut, his snow-white hair fell over his forehead and he looked every bit angelic. If Lane had known that he could somehow appear more beautiful than he already was – like this, exactly like when he kissed her – then she would have confessed sooner.
Closing her eyes, Lane tentatively returned the kiss, and immediately the pair of white wings around her drew her body closer to his. She was pressed against his chest – not unlike the time he took her into the sky, but better, so much better. Why had she waited so long for this? His lips were sweeter than wine, softer than the clouds that had caressed her body when she flew straight towards the earth that day – until Cain caught her, because he would always, always catch her. He did it even now, for Lane’s knees were so dangerously close to buckling. She breathed him in, invited him to kiss her deeper; Lane parted her lips a tad more, allowing his tongue to roam the inside of her mouth. Every touch, every movement of his lips lit her body aflame. She could confirm it now: Lane was alive, wholly, entirely alive. Although her mind was muddled, it was all she could think about – I'm alive.
She wished this moment could last forever: just the two of them, wrapped up in each other’s arms, kissing until they could no longer breathe. Would he let her? If Lane asked for it, would he give it to her? Would he do his best to draw another sigh from her lips, turn her pliant in his arms?
If only. If only there was no tomorrow, no responsibilities that lay like a burden on their shoulders – they would have tried, then.
Disappointment bloomed in her chest once Cain pulled away. She breathed heavily, gazing at his reddened face all the while, whereas Cain rested his forehead against hers ever so gently. It was all so new; the tenderness, his soft caresses.
“You stopped shivering.”
Lane hadn’t even noticed, lost as she had been in the angel before her.
“I feel warm,” she answered, to which Cain smiled.
“The general would’ve been disappointed if you caught a cold.”
“The general?” Lane repeated. “Or you?”
Cain looked to the side in an almost shy manner– had he always been so endlessly endearing? “Don’t get too bold, Lane.”
She would have to teach him something about kindness after all.
