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The training yard had been loud all afternoon.
Azi had tried very hard not to listen.
From the little room they’d been given at their friends’ house, they could hear almost everything through the open window: boots scuffing against packed earth, the occasional sharp ring of Siran’s sword, Faelynn calling out some kind of correction about a spell, and every so often the rush of wings cutting through the air.
That last one was, definitely, without a doubt, the worst — Azi had spent three days confined indoors with an injured leg, and every time they heard someone take flight, their own wings twitched on instinct and the other pair, smaller ones tucked into their hair, gave an irritated flutter too, folding back against their head as if they could somehow block out the sound.
They sat on the edge of the bed with their bad leg stretched out in front of them, staring at the training clothes folded over the chair across the room. Their daggers were lying beside them, polished and ready, just as useless as everything else.
“This is bullshit,” Azi muttered.
One of their head-wings twitched sharply.
They picked at the black dye near their temple, pulling a strand forward to inspect it in the light. The dark color had faded enough that their natural blondish-yellow roots were showing clearly now, bright against the black. Azi grimaced and pushed the strand back.
“Broken leg, disgusting feathers, and now my hair looks like shit. Wonderful.”
They caught their reflection in the little mirror beside the window and frowned harder. Their wings weren’t much better — they had been putting off grooming them because they couldn’t comfortably reach the feathers closest to their back, and as a result several feathers had become matted together, with a few sticking out at odd angles from where they’d slept on them.
Azi took pride in keeping their wings neat. Flying left dust and bits of grass caught between the feathers, and training made an even bigger mess of them, but they always cleaned them afterward. It was one of those habits they had never needed to think about, and now they couldn’t even do that properly.
Azi let their head fall into their hands.
They had been told to rest. And they were resting. And they hated it.
The door opened behind them, Azi straightened so quickly that their injured leg protested.
Hermes stood in the doorway, one hand still curled around the handle. They looked like ae had only just come back from training, with her scarf hanging crookedly around their neck and a few strands of ginger-brown and white hair sticking to aer forehead. There was a faint smell of smoke and something sharp clinging to her clothes, probably leftover magic from whatever Faelynn had made them practice.
Azi's mood improved immediately.
“You look miserable,” Hermes said.
“I am miserable.”
“I can tell.”
Azi gestured dramatically toward their leg. “Look at this. I’m basically wasting away.”
“You sprained your leg.”
“A devastating injury.”
“You fell out of the sky.”
“An heroic sacrifice.”
Hermes closed the door and walked over, shaking her head as she sat down beside them. “Siran said you tried to fly again yesterday.”
Azi looked toward the window slightly puffing their cheeks. “Well, he talks too much.”
“He said you got about three feet off the ground before deciding it was a bad idea.”
They turned their face back to Hermes and crossed their arms. “I was testing myself.”
“You landed on your face.”
“Details.”
Hermes laughed under her breath, and Azi had to look away again as their cheeks reddened. Their little head-wings betrayed them before the rest of their face could, folding forward until the tips nearly covered their eyes.
Hermes smiled. “Are you hiding from me?”
Azi peeked out through the feathers. “No.”
“Your wings are covering your eyes.”
“You're hallucinating stuff.”
“Sure.”
Azi’s head-wings folded tighter. “Shut up.”
They reached for the cup of tea sitting on the bedside table instead, taking a sip mostly to give themself something to do instead of fidgeting with their thumbs.
They gulped once, twice, before a coherent sentence came out of their lips. “How was training?”
“Good. Faelynn said my control is getting better.” Hermes tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “And Siran still thinks I overthink everything.”
“He says that to everyone.”
“He says you overthink everything too.”
Azi lowered their cup and frowned. “Okay, that's different.”
“How?”
“Because I'm right.”
Hermes smiled. “Of course.”
The teasing faded into a comfortable quiet, and for a little while Azi let themself enjoy having her there. Hermes never seemed to need to fill every silence, which was something Azi appreciated more than they could explain. She could simply sit beside them without demanding that they cheer up or stop sulking, and somehow that made the room feel less like a cage.
Then Hermes’ eyes drifted over Azi’s shoulder, and her expression changed.
Azi noticed almost immediately.
“What?”
“Your wing.”
Azi instinctively pulled it closer to their side.
“What about it?”
Hermes hesitated, apparently trying to decide how honest she could be without getting herself stabbed.
“It’s a little… tangled.”
“A little?”
“Okay, very, but still.”
Azi sighed and glanced back at it. “Yeah. I can’t really reach that part properly.”
Hermes looked at the feathers again, then back at Azi.
“Do… you want me to help?”
Azi’s fingers reflexively tightened around the cup.
There it was. The question they had been dreading and, embarrassingly, hoping for.
They didn't like people touching their wings. Hermes knew that much, although Azi wasn’t sure she understood how much it bothered them. Their wings were sensitive, and having someone’s hands in the feathers could make their skin crawl if they weren’t comfortable with the person.
Usually, the answer was simply no. But this was Hermes.
Azi stared down into their tea.
“...Would you?”
Hermes nodded. “If you're okay with it.”
Azi set the cup aside. “Yeah. Just— give me a second.”
Hermes waited, which somehow made it easier.
Azi took a breath, then shifted so Hermes could reach their wing more easily. When Hermes finally lifted her hand, they moved slowly enough that Azi could see exactly where ae was going. Her fingers brushed the outer feathers first, barely touching them, before ae began working toward the tangled section.
Azi’s shoulders jumped, and Hermes immediately stopped. “Sorry.”
“No, no.” Azi swallowed. “You're fine. Just… I'm sensitive.”
“I know.”
She waited until Azi nodded before continuing.
The first few passes were awkward: Azi kept flinching whenever Hermes’ fingers caught a particularly sensitive feather, and Hermes kept stopping to make sure they were alright. Eventually, though, her movements became steadier, separating the matted feathers one by one and smoothing them back into place.
Azi gradually stopped holding themself so rigidly. Their head-wings, which had been pinned nervously against their hair at first, slowly relaxed as well, the feathers lifting away from their face until they rested loosely beside their ears.
They could feel the warmth of Hermes’ hand through the feathers, the occasional light scrape of her fingernail when she worked through a stubborn knot, and the soft rustling that filled the room whenever she moved from one section to another. It was strangely soothing, Azi quite hated how soothing it was.
“You're staring at me,” Hermes said without looking up.
Azi blinked. “No, I'm not.”
“You are.”
“I’m supervising.”
Hermes glanced at them. “Supervising?”
“Yeah. Making sure you don't ruin my wings.”
“I think I'm doing a pretty good job.”
“Mmh. Probably, yeah.”
The answer came out much too quickly — Hermes smiled. Azi looked away as they thought their head-wings might be too slow to hide that sight from them, yet they hid their eyes quite quickly.
“Don't.”
“Don't what?”
“Smile like that.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Wow. That explains everything.”
Azi lowered their wings just enough to glare at her. “You're annoying.”
“You're the one who said I was doing a good job.”
“I can compliment people.”
“You called me annoying two seconds ago!”
“I contain multitudes, Herms.”
Hermes laughed again, and Azi felt their wings relax beneath her hand.
God, that caught them off guard.
They looked back, and by the look in their eyes, Hermes had noticed too — yet neither of them said anything about it.
Instead, Hermes carefully worked through another tangled patch, and Azi watched her fingers move between the feathers. The longer it went on, the harder it became to pretend this meant nothing. They had trusted Hermes with things they didn't trust most people with, but this felt different somehow: their wings were so much a part of them that letting someone touch them like this felt almost like letting them past a locked door.
And Hermes was being so careful with the key.
“I really don't like people touching them,” Azi said quietly.
Hermes’ hand slowed. “I know.”
“But I don't mind when you do.”
Hermes looked at them, her expression softening with a little surprise. Azi immediately became interested in the ceiling, their lips smashed together in an almost funny expression. Their head-wings twitched and wanted to hide their eyes again, but only covered their sides.
“I mean, you're careful,” they added quickly. “And you ask first. That's… nice.”
“I can stop if you want.”
“No.” The answer was immediate enough that Hermes blinked. Azi lowered their little wings again as they cleared their throat. “I mean, no, you don't have to stop. If you want to keep going.”
“I do.”
“Okay.”
Hermes turned back to their wing and Azi stared at the wall, trying to keep their face from heating up.
This was going terribly.
They had spent days miserable because they couldn't train, and somehow all it took to make them feel better was Hermes sitting beside them and running aer fingers through their feathers. Which was probably not something they should think too hard about, considering how hard they were already trying not to fall headfirst into feelings they had no idea what to do with.
After another few minutes, Hermes leaned back slightly.
“There. Try moving it.”
Azi flexed their wing carefully, testing each feather as it shifted. Nothing caught or pulled anymore; the feathers settled neatly against one another, light and smooth where they had been tangled for days.
“Oh,” they breathed out, looking over their shoulder and wiggling them a little. “That’s so much better.”
Hermes smiled, looking quietly pleased with herself. “See? You survived.”
“Barely.” Azi shifted against the wall, their eyelids suddenly heavier than they had been a minute ago. The warmth of the room and the steady quiet of Hermes’ presence had taken some of the fight out of them. “You did a good job, Herms.”
“Thanks, birdie.”
Azi gave her a tired little grin, faking their annoyance. “You’re getting away with that nickname because I’m injured.”
“I'll remember that.”
“You'd better.”
Their head tipped back against the wall. One of their head-wings sagged lazily against their temple while the other drooped beside their ear.
Azi meant to close their eyes for only a second, just long enough to rest them, but the exhaustion they'd been ignoring for the past few days finally caught up with them — their breathing slowed, shoulders sinking as sleep quietly took over.
Hermes noticed only after a very long moment of staring at them.
“...Azi?”
No response.
She leaned closer, just to make sure.
Azi was asleep.
Their wings had settled comfortably against their back, the feathers she'd spent so long untangling lying smooth and clean again, and a part of the other pair lolled across their forehead.
A few strands of black-and-blond hair had fallen over their face, and Hermes carefully brushed them aside with two fingers, taking care not to disturb the little wing. Ae smiled.
“Goodnight, birdie.”
For a moment, they simply sat there. Then, almost without thinking about it, Hermes leaned down and pressed a small kiss to the top of Azi’s head.
She straightened almost immediately, getting up from the bed with the speed of light, their cheeks warming as though ae'd only just realized what she'd done.
Azi didn't stir, but one of their head-wings did jerk. Hermes freezed, glanced toward the door, then back at them, biting back a smile.
“...You didn't see that.”
Still asleep, Azi grunted and shifted slightly, their head sinking deeper against the wall.
Hermes quietly gathered the empty cups and slipped out of the room, leaving Azi warm, comfortable, and blissfully unaware that their girlfriend-to-be had just kissed them goodnight.
Or, more accurately, their very oblivious almost-girlfriend.
For now.