Chapter Text
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Mumei likes Amelia’s wings.
They’d just started to grow. They were fragile, palm-sized things. Amelia hadn’t gotten a grasp of them yet. She’s unbalanced at times, her hand distractedly reaching back to touch it, but not able to reach it. Mumei notices her frown.
“Let me check,” Mumei says.
Amelia squirms. Mumei palms up her shirt. Her back was healing, which was more important. The wounds from the wings were healing well. There was bruising, but nothing rest wouldn’t fix. Her little wings shudder. They haven’t figured out how they work just yet. One will flap while the other twitches. Mumei smiles. She touches her fingers at the intersection between them.
Amelia looks over her shoulder. Her cheeks are tinted pink, “Hey, don’t get handsy.”
“They’re so cute.” Mumei coos. She cups her hand underneath one. It’s tawny brown in color, but she can see a faint hue of yellow. The baby feathers are fluffy. Mumei’s heart tumbles over that. Sweet baby bird.
“Mumei,” Amelia complains, a small laugh in her voice. “It’s cold.”
“Oh no,” Mumei says. “That’s no good.”
She doesn’t know what compels her. She feels protective of this, of something she hasn’t seen in centuries. Another guardian was in front of her. The strings of connection pull her along. She leans down and presses her lips to the space between the wings. She feels Amelia tense. Her wings spaz out, one of them brushing against Mumei’s cheek. Mumei adores the feeling. She laughs.
“Are you serious?” Amelia is being a big whiner about it. “Mumei, I’m itchy.”
“I can kiss it better.”
“That’s not how that works.”
“Yeah, deal with it.”
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When Amelia sleeps, she tries to sleep with a shirt on. She tosses and turns. Mumei lies beside her. She knows what’s wrong. When Amelia hisses with frustration, Mumei puts her hands on her hips. Amelia jumps at the contact.
“Sorry, did I wake you up?”
“I was awake,” Mumei whispers. “Hey, you’re wiggly. Shirt off.”
“What?”
“Take your shirt off.”
“I don’t wanna be sexy right now, Mu-”
Mumei huffs. She tugs at the hem of Amelia’s shirt. Amelia whines, but she’s not resisting her. Mumei helps tug off the garment. As soon as her shirt is off, Mumei wraps her arms around Amelia and tugs her close. Her own wings unfurl from her back. She upsets the blankets, but she’s moving to fix that as she drags her wing over Amelia. Amelia curls against her.
“Oh, you’re a furnace.” Amelia hums. She teases a little with, “Sure you’re not trying to get in my pants?”
“Not right now,” Mumei says, her lips brushing blonde hair. “How are your wings?”
“They feel stiff.”
Mumei drags her hands up Amelia’s back. She feels Amelia shiver. Her fingers find the baby feathers of her wings. She has to be gentle. They are so small. Mumei nuzzles the top of Amelia’s head. It might be insignificant for the detective, but Mumei feels like she’s holding gold. She tugs at those feathers, her fingers massaging along tendons. She doesn’t want to accidentally pluck any before their time. Amelia sighs. She’s melting in Mumei’s arms.
“Feel good?” Mumei whispers.
“It feels really nice,” Amelia murmurs sleepily. “You’re good at this.”
“I know a thing or two about wings,” Mumei says smugly.
Amelia dozes in her arms. Mumei curls her wings around her. The world won’t find her, not when Mumei has her like this.
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Amelia’s wings become her favorite things. They’ll be watching a movie. Mumei has half her brain on that and absorbing absolutely nothing. Amelia has her legs over Mumei’s lap. Her head is leaning against Mumei’s shoulder while she holds popcorn in her lap. It’s convenient for Mumei who really likes extra buttery popcorn. She also gets to put her hand against Amelia’s back. When she slides her fingers up her shirt, Amelia curls her back like a cat that doesn’t want to be touched.
“Mumei.” She mumbles. “I’m trying to watch.”
“Don’t mind me.”
She finds her prize. Amelia has started to master them, bit by bit. They’re folded against her back now. Mumei gently cards her fingers through the feathers. She caresses around her muscles and rubs her thumb on the junction of her spine. Amelia turns to putty in her hands. Her wounds have healed, but there’s tension there. Mumei knows. It’s difficult to adjust to it. It’s a new thing and Amelia treats it fantastically like she does all new things, with open-eyed wonder and a hunger for knowledge. It still requires adaptation.
Amelia noses at the collar of her shirt, “You’re obsessed with them.”
“Yeah, they’re really cute,” Mumei says. “I love them.”
Amelia giggles smugly, “Well you can’t have them. They’re mine.”
“Then I’ll just have you.” Mumei kisses her forehead. “Good luck going anywhere, sucker.”
Amelia shoves popcorn in her face.
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