Okay so I'm trying my hand at a fic again

Okay so I'm trying my hand at a fic again. : I just finished the GodChild series and loved it. I cried like a baby at the end. Cried and laughed at the same time, actually. Because I was so happy yet so, so sad. How does Kaori Yuki-sama pull off such a bitter-sweet ending so masterfully? Anyway, I could go on and on about my feelings about the series, but that's not what I'm here for. I've had a bunch of CainRiff scenarios in my head since finishing it, and want to try to write them out, because I don't think this fandom has enough love. :0 It will be multi-chapter, in what will hopefully be a semi-linear plot. It's a loose plot though, because it will mainly focus on their relationship. So here's my warning, I might slip up with some of the details and I would love it if whoever reads it could point out any mistakes I make. :

With that said, here we go with chapter one:

Act I: Knot? What Knot?

A feminine giggle, a flutter of lace: Cain found himself pulled down onto the velvet love seat strategically placed in front of the open French windows (how convenient it would be, for her to simply, "accidentally," send whoever offended her plummeting to their deaths, Cain morbidly thought. He calculated how many flights he had walked up to reach her room. He'd best be extra polite, he concluded). She was holding on to his hand so tight he suspected it might need Riff's special ironing attention later that night, if he ever found an opportunity to make his leave. Riff. He'd always felt a little guilty making Riff wait for him to finish his courting escapades, but quickly dismissed it, as it is a butler's duty.

"Sir Cain, please do be relaxing," Dulcinea playfully chided as she started to tug his black leather glove off. It had been a while since he tried courting a woman, because of the rumors flying around his Manor. Cain wasn't expressly interested in a wife, but his insistent Uncle Niel badgered him for weeks. Luckily, Dulcinea came from a wealthy family from Spain, and she had only spent three years in England (her family too, faced petty scandal in Spain and decided to move to England to start anew, in the heart of Scandal itself). It was no surprise she had not mastered the English syntax. Cain chuckled at her accent, despite his self-control. Dulcinea dropped his glove on the ground and huffed.

"Do not take my words in jest, because I do not use my mouth as you do," for some reason, what she was trying to say came out more eloquent than he had expected, and somewhat more suggestive. Her hands were now on her hips, but they disappeared in the green and white ruffles of her dress. In truth, he loved her sense of color, that color green was impeccable. It reminded him of something. Her short curly black hair framed her pout in and admittedly adorable way. He paused and fabricated, "My dear lady, please, I was only laughing at the pleasure it gives me to hold your delicate hand." Dulcinea instantly forgot her defensive posture and took up his hand again and held it to her cheek. She sighed and Cain smiled indulgently. He wondered if Riff could hear his hollow words of flattery from outside the door. Riff, amused, would lightly poke fun at him later, for it.

Cain's eyes were still planted on Dulcinea's emerald bodice when he suddenly remembered. Cain pulled gently away to pick up his abandoned glove on the ground. He stood and donned his favorite top hat. Dulcinea jolted upright in a panic, "Lord Cain, please do not tell me you're leaving so much early again! I see you not for one week! Please partake in the tea with I…" she trailed off when Cain bowed to place his lips on her hand. "Lady Dulcinea, I'm afraid I have several appointments of the urgent kind scheduled for this afternoon. Though it pains me to leave your beautiful countenance for too long, I'm certain I must take my leave. Until next week." He grabbed his cane and lifted his hat in politeness. His two favorite accessories gave him a mature and mysterious dimension; they made him appear an in-control and independent Earl. Dulcinea watched longingly as his perfectly tailored coattails disappeared through the double doors. Riff was in the middle of a bow as Cain shut the doors behind him.

"Riff!"

"Yes Milord?"

"The intoxicating color of Lady Dulcinea's dress has reminded me of something. To the library!" Cain held his cane slightly up as if he were a general leading his men to the battlefield. The only difference was the smirk on Cain's face.

In the middle of London, there stood a grandiose library. In that library there was a wing preserved specifically for the upper-class. Though Cain thought of this as pompous, he took full advantage of it. Cain and Riff walked lightly down the red-carpeted halls. The two of them had learned to walk with a gait so imperceptible that only trained ears could hear. They sometimes required being undetected. This was one of these times.

Cain slipped into the darkest, dustiest aisle of the special wing. He placed his glove along the spines of the ancient-bound books until he found the exact volume he wanted.

"Sir, you'll soil your gloves." Riff had to whisper, in order to preserve their established secrecy. Cain hid his smile beneath feigned concentration. Distracted, he only skimmed through the thin pages until he found what he was looking for. He stood still while he re-focused on his intent. He shut the book with a snap, and Riff jumped. Cain looked at Riff and took off his wrinkled and dusty glove. He placed the disheveled glove in Riff's compliant hand and walked past him, slowly. "I guess it won't be becoming of an Earl to have a dirtied hand."

Cain walked towards the exit, thinking about his next move. He really needed to see Alan in Oxfordshire. He would have to hide his trip from Merryweather... she would be sure to get upset about him leaving without her. This was important. Alan had the information he wanted, and he couldn't afford taking Merry to the apothecary, Lord knows she gets into enough trouble without having hundreds of poisons at her disposal. Luckily, she and Oscar were out to see a play this afternoon, and he had the chance of scheduling his trip before she arrived home this evening. He would have to take Riff with him of course, for... well, because he said so. Mind adopting sensory input from the real world once again, Cain was aware of the uncommon discomfort of his loyal butler, but decided to ignore it for the time being.

It was a few hours before sunset as the two men carefully and slowly made their way down the cast-iron spiral staircase of the library. The gears in Riff's head were spinning wildly; they had been all day. For some reason, his master's visit this afternoon had sparked a question inside him that had never occurred, or that he had never wanted to acknowledge.

The sun's darkening rays filtered through the dusty air of the library and cast an eerie light upon his master; (Master Cain always planned the most important events of the day around the hours before and after sunset, so that he could easily maneuver between the light and dark. Some events Master Cain insisted to do only at night, and others only during the day). He knew his master was planning something. He rarely was this silently pensive after an ordinary day's "work." It must be one of those days when Cain decided to embrace the night... Orange slats of light graced his the dark of his back. To Riff, it looked like he was burning. Riff could not help it:

"Master, why is it you never commit to any woman? You leave Dulcinea before you become serious with each other. Uncle Niel wishes you to marry and produce an heir. Is… is it because of your scars? One day, your lady will have to see them—" Riff was startled into silence as Cain abruptly stopped on the last flight of stairs. The iron vibrated slightly with the jagged movement. Riff backed up only slightly, the look in Cain's eyes overpowered the fire he saw burning into his back a moment ago. Cain turned fully around and placed his cane on the left side of his servant's body and stepped up so that they were on the same stair. The air became thicker with the fiery red hue of the dying sun. Or maybe it had to do with the hot breath of his master getting closer.

"Riff, are you sure you should be asking me that?" The outer flecks of yellow in Cain's eyes glowed dangerously in the sunset rays, like venom.

"Sir, I only mean to understand your plans."

Surly, Cain had a plan to deal with this. Cain planned everything. He was a clever person. Surly he had it under—Riff stopped thinking and started feeling at the sight of Master Cain faltering. It was a sight only he witnessed. The fall of Earl Hargreaves, the poison mastermind, and the resurfacing of the lonely child he once, and still protects. Cain bowed his head and let his hat and cane fall. He grabbed the lapels of Riff's uniform and looked up with the childlike innocence radiating from his youthful eyes.

"I told you, you're the only one who can touch my scars! I don't want anyone else to see them! I don't want a wife to always regret seeing them! Don't you understand Riff? Why do you insist on supporting the wishes of society? Do you want me gone that badly? Do you want me to be taken from you?" Cain's voice full of childish anger quivered and his head fell again. He let his hands slip from Riff's jacket after moments of non-response.

Before he could back away, though, a white-gloved hand circled around Cain's smoldering back. Riff's left hand was trembling, the arm not coming all the way up to comb through his master's hair. Cain inhaled sharply at the feeling of Riff's ungloved right hand tracing the scars he knew by heart on his back. Cain wrapped his arms around the torso of his butler and buried his head into the jacket separating him from his heart. When Cain felt this vulnerable, he wanted to hide inside the man he trusted most.

Riff was audibly upset, breathing heavily, just holding his master as if the force they were both afraid of was coming to take the young man away that very moment.

"Riff, what's wrong with your arm? Is it hurt?" Cain carefully slid a slender finger along the cuff of his left wrist, and Riff twitched. Anyone else, Cain would have suspected something different, but not his Riff. Riff, as if awakening from a seizure, brought his arm fully up to the face of his master and gently wove his fingers through the silken locks. "No, Master Cain, I'm truly sorry for upsetting you. I belong to you, so I will never leave you or let anyone take you away." Cain only nodded, as if the sound of his voice might betray... After moments of Riff's soothing and comforting words, locked still in an embrace for dear life, there was a sound that cut through the aging silence. Footsteps, it sounded like. Forced back into reality, Cain parted slightly from Riff and Riff's hands shot up from their supportive positions to the necktie of his master, giving an appearance of standard servant wardrobe maintenance. Cain reluctantly looked down the stairs to the intruder.

"Oscar, what are you doing here?" Trying to keep the disappointment from his voice and breaking away from Riff's appealing touch, he greeted his friend a bit too harshly.

Oscar raised an eyebrow, cleared his throat, and then smiled. "Umm, good day to you too, Cain. I thought you'd be here. Merryweather insisted I bring you back to the manor at once."

Okay, that's part one. I had fun writing this. devilish grin A couple of notes: I don't know if anyone would have gotten the reference to Don Quixote, since that was really random and weird. I just thought having a foreign and hyper Spanish girl for Cain would make that boring scene a tad humorous. I hope it was at least slightly entertaining!

Oh, and the title, it's a reference to the euphemism for getting married.

Riff: So, when are you going to tie the knot, Cain?

Cain: puppy dog eyes Knot? What knot?

XD okay I'll shut up now.

Also, I was really subtle this time around. I want to gradually elevate the level of intimacy. Cain's childish persona that comes out when he's upset or doesn't get his way is so endearing, I think. It's a unique defense mechanism. Regression? Also, I wanted to write about Riff's left arm in such a way that made it mysterious. I wonder if it worked. Please let me know!

Also, I'd love to hear any requests or ideas for more scenes between them. The plot really wasn't revealed yet in this one. I hope you'll read the next chapter! (I'll try and make the next act a bit longer!) Thank you! Eternal love for all readers and reviewers!!