Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The hour drew closer to evening, and the training grounds were nearly empty of exorcists. Most had left hours ago, while those who had stayed after drills for extra practice or sparring were already putting away their gear and preparing to head home. Only Lute, ever the diligent warrior, was in no hurry to leave. To her, surpassing everyone—both in training and on the battlefield—was paramount, so she pushed herself until her legs could barely stand and her arms could still grip her spear.

The relentless clang of weapons had long become second nature to her. She continued striking the training dummy, pouring her soul into every blow. A single mistake in technique here could spell disaster in real combat. Demons could fight back now, and they had to be ready for anything. When her strength finally gave out, she sank to the ground and stared at her hands. Beneath the layers of training wraps, fresh calluses had begun to form. They were badges of her relentless effort, yet they ached treacherously, a reminder of her weakness and imperfection. She lifted her gaze to the sky above the Heavenly Realm, now darkened by storm clouds creeping ominously across the horizon, stirring a faint, subconscious unease.

Rain... Guess it’s time to call it a day, she thought, eyes fixed on the blackened expanse swallowing the sky.

Yet instead of getting up and heading to the locker room, Lute remained transfixed. She was so exhausted that she couldn’t remember the last time she had simply looked around and admired nature’s grandeur. Without realizing it, she lay back on the cold surface of the training field. Memories flashed through her mind—of her and Adam spending time together after drills, back when demons were weaker, when the annual exterminations were more like sport than a brutal war where even exorcists could fall.

"Adam..." Lute whispered, her voice lost to the storm.

As much as she hated to admit it, she missed him. He was always busy now, locked in meetings with the higher angels, discussing penance and battle strategies for Hell. He had no time to show her his latest guitar riffs—hell, he probably hadn’t even composed any. He had grown more serious. The fact that Hell’s creatures had gotten their hands on angelic weapons and fought back had wounded his pride and reputation. He doubted himself more, withdrew further.

Lute tried to recall how long it had been since she’d last seen him. A day? A week? A month? Yes—nearly a month had passed. A whole month of grueling training, blurring into one monotonous, exhausting stretch. And yet she pushed herself, desperate to be the best—so Adam would praise her again, see her as a worthy comrade... and partner.

Partner? She didn’t even understand what she meant by that. Or maybe she was just afraid to admit that she wanted to be more than just his loyal soldier and battlemate. She longed for something deeper but didn’t dare dwell on it. He was her commander—literally the first man created by God, now a high-ranking angel with no shortage of admirers. She had seen the newbie exorcist girls slipping out of Adam’s office often enough to know what went on behind closed doors. The question gnawed at her: Could I do the same? Would Adam ever want that with me? Could I impress him—not as a soldier, but as a woman? No... she knew she couldn’t. The girls who visited him were always different. He wasn’t looking for stability—just fun, novelty. He had always been this way, and she knew he wouldn’t change. That hurt more than it should have. To him, she was nothing special—not even a friend. Just another girl staring at him with poorly concealed interest, pushing herself to the brink just to earn his approval. The real question was: Had he noticed? And if so, how did he feel about it? Lute had no answers.

The first raindrop hit her cheek, then another, and another. Lute stayed where she was, letting the downpour soak her. She closed her eyes, lost in thought. The muscle aches, the drenched training gear, the thunder—none of it pulled her back to reality. A bolt of lightning split the sky nearby, but instead of thunder, she heard Adam’s voice:

"Hey, are you out of your damn mind? The hell are you doing lying there?"

Lute’s eyes snapped open. Adam stood at the entrance of the exorcist training hall, shielding himself with his wings. She scrambled to get up, but her battered muscles only allowed her to sit upright. Adam strode over, unfurling one wing above her like an umbrella against the pelting rain.

"Hey, you listening, Danger Tits? Why the hell are you lying on the field like a drowned chicken?"

Lute blinked rapidly, struggling to process that Adam was really here—not just in her thoughts. His yellow eyes gleamed in the gloom, reflecting the lightning, and his voice, though rough, carried an edge of... concern?

She tried to speak, but her voice trembled—whether from cold or emotion, she couldn’t tell.

"I... just..." she began, then bit her lip, refusing to show weakness.

Adam leaned closer, his wing shielding her completely now. Rain dripped from his hair onto his shoulders, but he seemed oblivious.

"'Just' isn’t an answer, Lute." He scowled, but there was no usual irritation in his gaze—just exasperated bewilderment. "You testing how tough you are? Or just forgot rain’s wet and cold?"

She tried standing again, but her legs buckled. Adam’s hand shot out, gripping her shoulder to steady her. His fingers dug into her soaked sleeve, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Goddammit..." Adam muttered, scanning her up and down. "You even lucid? You’re shaking like a leaf. Christ, Lute—did you train yourself into the ground? Again?"

"I’m... fine. Just wanted to refine my technique. The demons are stronger now, and we have to—"

"And what? You think breaking yourself’ll turn the tide? You’re already one of the best. Stop chasing impossible standards."

"I just... want to be worthy."

"Worthy?" His voice dropped. "You blew past that line ages ago." He leaned in, and Lute froze, locked onto his gaze. "But if you’re fishing for my 'approval,' then fine—you’re stubborn, reckless, and... hell, talented. Happy now?"

She tried to straighten, but her body refused. Adam exhaled sharply, as if stifling a snarky retort, then abruptly scooped her into his arms. Lute gasped, instinctively clutching his shoulders.

"Adam?!"

"Shut up and stop squirming." He pulled her close, his voice low and gruff but not unkind. "If you faceplant into a puddle and break something, I’ll have to explain to the Seraphim why my best fighter’s a cripple." Lute had no rebuttal. His body was warm even through their soaked clothes, and his heartbeat—was it fast? Or was hers just pounding so loud she couldn’t tell?

He carried her toward the building, ignoring the rain now lashing down harder. Lute pressed against him, powerless to resist.

"...You weren’t supposed to be here today," she murmured, not daring to look up.

Adam slowed slightly. "You keeping tabs on my schedule?" There was something odd in his tone—teasing, or... something else.

Lute’s face burned. "No! It’s just... you’ve missed so many drills. I thought you were at another meeting."

"Hah. So that’s what’s bugging you." He smirked, but it lacked its usual edge. "Relax, Danger Tits—I’m not so ancient I’ll sit around in meetings while you all train."

They reached the covered walkway, but Adam made no move to set her down. "...Though, seeing you like this, maybe I should drop by more. Make sure you don’t keel over."

Lute finally risked a glance at him. His face was closer than she’d expected, and his eyes... something was different. She quickly looked away, fighting the flutter in her chest. All she could think was: Don’t let him see. Don’t let him see how weak I am.

When they reached the exorcist barracks, Adam carefully set her on her feet. His touch was oddly gentle—uncharacteristically so.

"Go change. If you’re feverish tomorrow, I’ll finish you off myself." Yet his hand lingered on her shoulder.

"...Okay. And... thanks. For helping me," Lute whispered, unable to say more.

Adam’s gaze flickered over her soaked uniform clinging to her lithe frame, the way it accentuated her narrow waist—then he abruptly turned away, though he didn’t leave.

Silence. Lute’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She should leave, escape this awkward moment. But something held her back—maybe his tense posture, maybe the way his fingers dug into his own biceps, maybe just... wanting him to look at her again. And when he did, his gaze was heavier.

"Lute. Go." His voice was sharp as a whipcrack. She nodded automatically and hurried toward the locker room. Adam didn’t move until the sound of her footsteps faded. Only then did he drag a hand down his face, cursing under his breath before striding off in the opposite direction. His steps were too quick, too stiff—like he was fleeing. As if, for the first time in years, he’d felt something he shouldn’t have.

Meanwhile, Lute reached the lockers. She slipped inside, shut the door, and leaned against the wall like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Then it hit her—she hadn’t brought a change of clothes. She hadn’t expected rain.

"Spare clothes... damn it! I didn’t—what now?"

She yanked open her locker, grabbed her bag, and darted back into the hallway, moving as fast and quiet as she could. Her soaked uniform clung uncomfortably, leaving a wet trail, and every step echoed too loudly in the empty halls. She clutched the bag to her chest and sped up. The last thing she wanted was to run into Adam again, drenched and disheveled.

"Just don’t see him... not now... not like this..."

But fate had other plans. Around the next corner, footsteps echoed—firm, heavy, unmistakable. Lute froze, heart racing.

"No, no, no—"

Too late. Adam rounded the bend, now in dry clothes but with damp hair. He halted mid-stride, eyes locking onto her. His gaze swept over her.

"You didn’t change at all, did you?" His voice was sharp, laced with irritation... and something else.

Lute’s face burned, but she forced her usual cold composure.

"I... didn’t bring spare clothes..." Her voice shook. From cold, or... his stare?

Adam rolled his eyes, looking half-annoyed. Wordlessly, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, roughly fastening the collar. His fingers brushed her throat. She shivered at the contact.

"Idiot," he muttered, but there was no bite to it.

Lute stayed silent. The jacket smelled like smoke and something uniquely him. She pulled it tighter, savoring the warmth.

"Alright, listen up. You’re coming to my place. Shower’s there, and... hell, I’ll find you something to wear."

Lute’s eyes widened. Go to his quarters? That was—

"I... don’t think that’s a good idea," she whispered, but Adam was already walking, clearly expecting her to follow.

"Yeah, not ideal. But the alternative’s you trekking across Heaven soaked and shaking. And if you get sick and miss training, that’s my problem. So shut it."

Lute hesitated—then obeyed. When Adam said "Don’t argue," it wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order.

But why was her heart pounding? Why did his jacket feel heavier than armor? And why... why had he even offered? Lute wasn’t frail—walking home wet wouldn’t make her sick.

Yet here she was, trailing after him, too afraid to question it—and too afraid to hope.

Chapter Text

The rain continued lashing against the rooftops as Adam led Lute through the deserted streets of Heaven. He walked slightly ahead, still shielding her with his wing, continuing to protect her even now. His steps were quick and precise, but from time to time he would subtly slow his pace, as if checking whether she was keeping up. Brief glances over his shoulder - quick, stolen - immediately averted whenever he noticed Lute looking at him.

"Move your ass, I'm not carrying you again," he threw over his shoulder without even turning around.

Lute nodded and quickened her pace, but her soaked boots slipped on the wet pavement, making each step slightly more difficult than usual. She huddled deeper into his jacket, trying not to think about how this looked from the outside. If someone saw them together like this... But the streets were empty. Fortunately? Or unfortunately? She couldn't decide.

Soon Adam's house rose before them - large, two-storied, with tall windows and a massive front door. Lute had passed by it many times but had never been inside. As the first man and leader of the exorcist army, Adam was entitled to housing worthy of his status, and she wasn't surprised seeing this house. But now, standing before the door, she felt her heart pounding wildly in her chest, drowning out even the sound of the rain. All her thoughts were only of him - that she would now be in his house, in his space, among his things...

A bright lightning bolt split the sky, and Lute flinched, momentarily torn from her thoughts. Instinctively she pressed against Adam, immediately hearing his chuckle.

"Hah. Thunder? Fuck’s sake, Danger Tits—since when do you scare easy?"

She abruptly pulled away, feeling heat spread across her cheeks.

"It was just unexpected, that's why I..."

"Yeah yeah, whatever," he interrupted, turning the key in the lock. "The important thing is we're here."

Lute stepped over the threshold and looked up. The house was truly large and perfectly suited Adam. Expensive but not ostentatious furniture, modern appliances, guitars placed on stands and hung on walls. The air carried a faint scent of beer, smoke, and something else she couldn't identify. The same scent as on the jacket he'd draped over her.

"So are you just gonna stand in the doorway or actually come in?" His voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

Lute hurried inside, closed the door and took off her wet boots.

"Bathroom's down the hall, towels in the cabinet," Adam casually waved toward the door, "and clothes... well, I think I can find something of mine that might fit you."

With these words he headed toward the stairs leading to the second floor. Lute nodded and went in the indicated direction, feeling the excitement rising in her again.

The bathroom turned out to be spacious and clean, with a large shower stall and a cabinet filled with neatly folded towels. Lute removed her wet clothes, unwound the bandages hiding her training marks, and froze for a moment before the mirror, looking at her reflection. The thought that she was now here, in his house, under his roof, made her heart beat faster.

She stepped under the warm water, and for a while the sound of the shower drowned out all thoughts. But then they returned - obsessive, anxious, stirring:

"What if he comes in? What if he sees her like this?.."

She immediately chased these thoughts away. "Why would he? What would he want with that?"

Finished washing, Lute wrapped herself in a towel and waited. Several minutes passed before there was a knock at the door.

"Um... this is all I could find. If it doesn't fit, that's your problem," Adam's voice sounded irritated, but there was some strange note in it - either embarrassment or something else.

Lute opened the door just enough to take the clothes without showing herself to him, and quickly slammed it shut again. And then it dawned on her:

"I didn't hear his footsteps... so he was standing by the door all this time? But why?.."

Adam's sharp voice tore Lute from her thoughts.

"What, did you die in there? Hurry up, or I'll start thinking you want to live in my bathroom. Not that I'd mind, but... just come out already, okay?" His tone clearly carried a smirk.

Lute realized she'd taken too long and hastily pulled on the t-shirt. It was black, soft, and... damnably large, so much so that the hem reached her knees. The fabric smelled of freshness and laundry detergent, and the neckline kept slipping to expose her shoulder no matter how she adjusted it. The pants were so oversized they simply wouldn't stay on her waist and treacherously slid down.

"Damn... I can't go out to him like this..." she whispered, looking at her reflection.

Another knock came at the door and Adam's voice.

"Well? You coming out soon? Come on, or I'm coming in. One. Two..."

Lute threw open the door, blushing and stubbornly staring at the floor.

"Whoa... looks good on you," Adam smirked, looking her over.

"Damn, your pants... they're too big... I couldn't put them on," her voice trembled.

"Yeah, I should've thought of that. But hey, is that really a problem?" He let his gaze slide down her legs, then looked back up. "But you can't go home like this... Damn... I didn't really think this through, but... how about you stay over tonight? No hidden meaning, just for your health. Looks like the storm won't be over soon."

He glanced at the panoramic window where the storm raged and bright lightning split the sky, wind bending the trees.

Lute nodded.

"Thank you for helping me..." she said quietly, trying to hide her earlier agitation.

"Yeah, no problem. Been meaning to hang out with someone, maybe watch a movie. Gets boring alone," Adam tossed off casually, turning and walking away.

He headed to the living room where a massive TV took up half the wall, and motioned for Lute to join him. Lute followed, maintaining her usual cold expression, and sat on the couch.

Meanwhile Adam went to the bar in the corner of the room and opened the fridge.

"What'll you drink? I've got some beer, there's wine somewhere..."

"Just water... I don't drink," Lute answered sharply.

"Don't drink? At all? How boring..." he muttered, but didn't press.

He poured her water, grabbed a beer for himself and sat down beside her, so close that Lute could feel his warmth.

"Thanks..." she said quietly as they started watching some action movie, exactly the kind Adam would like.

Lute noticed Adam glancing at her from time to time, as if checking if she was comfortable.

"What was that? Why was he looking like that? And... why do I like it so much when he looks at me like that?"

But she had no answer. Just a strange, warm feeling in her chest and a tremble in her fingers that she diligently hid.

She wanted to press against him. Press so tightly that everything would disappear - the rain outside, this boring movie, even all of damn Heaven. Just close her eyes, rest her head on his shoulder and stay like that forever, but she couldn't do it. What if he didn't feel the same? What if this was just politeness - letting a soaked subordinate stay over during a storm, anyone would do that. Adam had already shown generosity by letting her stay, instead of sending her out into the downpour. She couldn't take advantage of his hospitality for her own purposes.

Lute clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms and stared at the screen again where another shootout scene was playing. She tried to distract herself and just enjoy the movie where characters mindlessly shot at each other, blood splattering everywhere, which gave Lute a strange sense of calm.

And then she noticed it.

A seemingly insignificant detail - a small hairpin lying on the cabinet by the TV. Hard to make out from this distance, but Lute could see it. The blue flower petal glimmered faintly in the screen's light, as if telling her "You're not the first and won't be the last." Someone else had clearly been here, and recently too, since obviously the hairpin didn't belong to Adam.

This realization brought her back to reality like a bucket of ice water. She clearly wasn't special to Adam, though his small attentions suggested otherwise. Probably he was this kind to all girls. Yes, that's how it was, but why did this fact still hurt so much in her chest? A lump rose in her throat, choking her breath. She'd known about this for a long time, knew about all his flings, but why? Why did clear proof of it upset her so? She knew everything, but right now, when she'd started hoping for something, it hit with renewed force.

"Um... what's wrong with you?"

These words brought Lute back to reality. As if to spite her, Adam had to turn to her right at this moment. His face showed surprise that turned to concern when he noticed Lute looking at the floor, trying to hold back tears.

"Um... didn't like that scene? Yeah, I think they overdid the blood too, but hey..." Adam stopped mid-sentence - "...it's not about the movie, is it?"

Adam's attention was now fully on Lute. Hiding the barely noticeable tears welling in her eyes became nearly impossible.

"Hey, what's going on? You crying? Seriously, Lute?" Adam said, surprised.

"No... I'm not... just a tough day, that's all," she said, quickly wiping her eyes with her hand.

Adam smiled gently and put his arm around Lute, pulling her close.

"Don't sweat the small stuff, just relax and try to rest. There's another extermination coming soon and you need to be ready both physically and mentally. The first part's clearly no problem for you, but the second could use some work..."

Adam's gaze fell on her hands, covered in scratches and training marks. He tenderly took her hand and ran his finger over it, sending shivers down Lute's body.

"These should be treated, don't you think?"

Adam paused the movie. He went to the cabinet by the entrance and a second later had a small jar in his hands.

"Healing ointment, I'll apply it, just try not to squirm, okay?"

Without waiting for her answer he opened the jar and began applying its contents to Lute's hands with surprising gentleness - her hands so much smaller than his own. This struck him as incredibly cute and he ran his finger along Lute's palm, making her shudder.

"So sensitive, I'd never have thought my strongest warrior could react like this to a simple touch," Adam teased.

Lute looked up at him. Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest. Adam just chuckled, noticing the reaction he caused.

"Cute..." he whispered and lightly booped her forehead, as if chasing away her sad thoughts.

"It's late, if we don't want to miss training tomorrow, we should sleep. There's a guest room upstairs, come on, I'll show you."

Adam stood and offered his hand.

Lute took it and his palm gently squeezed her fingers, maybe even a little tighter than necessary.

They went up the massive staircase, then Adam led her to the guest room.

"If you need anything, I'm right next door. Don't hesitate to ask if you need something... or if you start crying again," Adam said with warmth in his voice before heading to his bedroom, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Lute buried her face in the pillow.

"Why is he so kind to her?"

"Why did he tend to her wounds so tenderly?"

"Why did he call her cute?"

What did he mean? Was it just a commander caring for his soldier, or... something more?