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ask game: 9 with rlainarin? ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

For ash-sokia, for the write a kiss ask game #9: a kiss in public. 

Author's Note: This fic started out light-hearted and then took a more serious turn during the writing process.  Many, many thanks to cosmere-play, rysn and Priscellie for beta-reading!

Content warnings for classism, speciesism, prejudice

Renarin fidgeted nervously as he and Rlain neared their destination for the evening, a classy new winehouse that had just opened up in an upscale part of the Breakaway market.  It was similar to the establishment on the Shattered Plains where Adolin and Shallan had first gone out together.  When Renarin had heard about the winehouse, it had seemed like a good choice for their first public date.  …Well, a first date somewhere outside of the usual haunts frequented by the members of Bridge Four.  Renarin had heard that this winehouse was supposed to have a relaxing atmosphere and a truly impressive list of wines.

Rlain had initially seemed hesitant about the idea, but ultimately he had given in to Renarin’s enthusiasm, and had agreed they should give it a try.

Renarin was so caught up in his own nerves that he almost didn’t notice the odd look that the master-servant at the door gave him as she double-checked his reservation.  As they were being shown to a table, Renarin thought he could feel her staring at his back.  There were whispers at the tables surrounding them, and someone sniggered.  Renarin flushed and tried to ignore it.  He’d grown too comfortable in Adolin’s shadow when he was among other Alethi lighteyes, forgetting how much Adolin’s presence protected him from being targeted as the ‘strange Kholin’.

Renarin took his time reviewing the wine lists, which were written out in Alethi glyphs as well as women’s script.  Rlain professed that he found the number of choices overwhelming, and asked Renarin for advice.  Renarin gladly obliged.  As he began sharing his expertise regarding all of the different wines, something in him began to relax.  Rlain listened attentively, offering questions here or there, and eventually they settled on some specialty wines from northern Azir.  A glass of sapphire for Renarin and a red for Rlain.

The wine really was excellent, and the alcohol took the edge from Renarin’s nervousness.  As the two of them continued to make comfortable small talk, Rlain raised a hand in a tentative gesture to request a refill of his water goblet.  Renarin noticed immediately when the signal was overlooked by the winehouse staff.  He followed up by flagging a servant himself, and the man quickly came over with a pitcher and refilled their glasses.  A little while later, the same thing happened again.  Then Renarin ordered them another round of wine--orange this time in accordance with the Codes.  Another master-servant brought Renarin’s wine over quickly.  Rlain’s… didn’t arrive.

Oh.  What was happening finally began to sink in.  The looks and the whispers hadn’t been about him.  Or they hadn’t entirely been about him.  Rlain had known, or had suspected this would happen.  He’d expressed hesitancy when they’d first discussed the winehouse--pointing out that darkeyes typically wouldn’t be allowed into such a place, and singers had the darkest eyes of all.  Renarin had brushed off the concern at the time, responding that Rlain was a Knight Radiant now, and Radiants belonged to a class all their own.

Apparently, not everyone agreed with that sentiment.

He was suddenly deeply mortified, because he hadn’t really spared a second thought about the situation from Rlain’s perspective.  Renarin had wanted to go out so that they could have a good time together, but he had caused Rlain pain without meaning to. 

“I’m sorry,” Renarin said abruptly, with genuine remorse.  “I didn’t mean for our date to turn out like this.”  He reached across the table and took both of Rlain’s hands in his own.

Apparently, not everyone had heard the new gossip that Dalinar Kholin’s son and the listener from Bridge Four were openly courting, either.  A brightlady at a nearby table gasped and visibly recoiled from them, shockspren forming and breaking in the air around her head.  Behind her, a master-servant on the way to deliver wine to another patron forgot her training and nearly fumbled her tray as she stared.  And at yet another table, an elderly brightlord in Bethab colors muttered something harshly under his breath, his brows drawing downward as he attracted a bevy of aversionspren.

That was the very last straw.  Something in Renarin snapped, filling him with fury.  It didn’t often show itself, but he had his father’s temper.  Having to witness the insults to Rlain, and to the two of them together, was absolutely intolerable.

Renarin slid his chair out from the table with a long scraping sound that made conversations trail off and drew every eye in the winehouse.  Then he rose and walked around the side of the table to stand over Rlain, placing a hand firmly on the back of his chair.  He left a trail of bubbling angerspren in his wake.

The listener eyed him suspiciously.  “What are you…?”

Renarin drew in a deep breath as he scanned the entire room.  Then he attempted to channel his cousin Jasnah as he spoke out loudly, letting the tone of his voice drop to match the temperature of the snow caps outside the tower.

“The wine here is good, and the selection is excellent.  But the service is appalling, and the ambiance is even worse.  A brightlord’s guest is a brightlord’s guest, deserving to be treated with dignity and respect.  No one here is in any position to dare question whom a brightlord of the second dahn chooses to invite out for the evening.  Especially when that guest is a storming war hero and a Knight Radiant.”

Renarin looked down at Rlain’s upturned face, and raised his other hand to cup his cheek.  He spared a moment to hope that he wasn’t being too presumptuous, then he stooped down and firmly kissed him.

The kiss was chaste, determined, defiant.  He meant it to be a deliberate message to everyone else in the room.  You can’t ignore us and we’re not going anywhere.  This is something you’re just going to have to get used to.

Rlain went very still--not drawing away, but not exactly reciprocating either.  It caused a bit of Renarin’s anger to slide sideways.  You’re doing this wrong, he told himself critically.  He’d been attempting to help, but had just wound up messing things up, as always. 

Then the listener’s quiet humming changed subtly, shifting to something calmer.  Rlain leaned in and returned the kiss, and Renarin felt himself relax marginally.

When Renarin drew himself back up to his full height again, he quickly spotted the man whose clothing marked him as the head master-servant of the winehouse.  He glared and gestured pointedly down at Rlain’s wineglass, still sitting empty on the table.  The man got the message, and another master-servant quickly scurried over with the missing goblet of orange wine.    

Renarin returned to his seat, his anger slowly dissipating.  He felt the weight of Rlain’s gaze on him as the listener sipped at his wine, and it caused a flush to rise in his face.  “I’m sorry,” Renarin apologized again, as the ambient noise of the winehouse began to resume.  “I probably should have handled that differently.”

“Probably,” Rlain agreed mildly.  The cadence of the word was unfamiliar, and Renarin wished he understood enough about the rhythms to know which one Rlain was attuning right now.  “Still, you chose to speak up, to a room full of lighteyes.  I…no one’s ever really done that for me before.”  Slowly, he extended a hand across the table.  Renarin reached out and took it, twining their fingers together.

Renarin had acted out of anger in the moment, drawing everyone’s attention to them without even asking Rlain what he wanted.  That had been a mistake.  They were courting now, and situations like this would almost certainly happen again.  Moving forward, he resolved to do better.

As they continued to drink their wine in silence, Rlain spoke again.  “In my experience, people don’t change unless they’re given a reason.  I love Bridge Four, but they never would have let me carry a spear if I hadn’t made a point of asking first.”  He looked up and met Renarin’s eyes.  “So yes, I’m willing to make lighteyes uncomfortable if it causes some of them to confront their own perceptions of the singers.  If there’s a chance that it results in one tiny step towards singers being more accepted at Urithiru.”

Renarin nodded thoughtfully. Then he smiled at Rlain.  “Making lighteyes uncomfortable is kind of my specialty.”

Rlain smiled back at him.  “I appreciate that. Now why don't we take a look at the wine list again.  I’d be interested in trying that vintage from Tu Bayla….”

they should let the obligate carnivore have it 😊