Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Winter preferred to sleep alone.

Well, he had convinced himself that he preferred to sleep alone. Even sleeping with other dragons at Jade Mountain Academy was too much. Why would he ever want to share such hard-won personal space with someone else?

So it was awkward when the IceWing woke to warmth pushing against his back, another dragon’s scales pressed against his own from head to tail. He looked down to see golden arms wrapped around his chest, ivory claws stroking loosely at his scales. Down near his hips, their thighs tangled together in some horrible contrivance that Winter only tolerated with a soft sigh.  

It had been like this for the past three mornings – three mornings too many, in his opinion. He turned his head back to gaze at the SandWing nestled against him. The early sunlight played through the drapes, casting warmth right on his stupid, snoring face. Winter almost thought the sight was cute before turning back around with a grunt. He rested his head back down, trying to crush his burgeoning feelings under a wall of ice.

But he couldn’t help but indulge himself. Just looking at Qibli aroused something within him, an emotion that he thought he had conquered long ago. It wasn’t as stupid and careless as his first love, though it was hard to believe that from how quickly his heart raced.

Winter could barely remember the last time he felt that kind of rush. Long, long ago, in the first few weeks he had met (fallen for, his mind annoyingly corrected) Moonwatcher, she told him of a dragon named Clearsight. Though he had thought her very existence was mere NightWing exaggeration, she was convinced of her distinct powers of prophecy.

“The ability to see your future!” Moon had whispered. “How crazy is that? Imagine being able to know about natural disasters before they strike! The ability to be a leader for your tribe. Or...” She had paused with a giggle befitting of a dragonet in love. “... who your future mate will be."

Though the memory didn’t arouse the same pain it used to, there was a different ring to it now,  especially with the SandWing hugging him from behind. Winter cringed at the memory of how Moon had caught them sleeping together earlier that week, but he hadn’t considered her faint prophetic powers until now. Did she know that he and Qibli would ever...?

Years ago, back when he truly pined for her, the thought of her foreseeing a romantic relationship between him and Qibli would have definitely broke him. Now, Winter merely teetered on the edge of sanity, trying his best not to imagine what actually dating him would be like. He liked Qibli as a best friend, but what about as a partner?

It was hard not to fall for him. Winter gazed at the lacy gowns and stockings strewn messily on the ground, remnants of their previous night’s fun before they had settled in. It was already alarming that Qibli had charmed him so effortlessly into revealing his deepest desires, but it was so much more terrifying how quickly he had managed to do it. Part of it was his own fault, of course; if the SandWing hadn’t ever seen his unguarded secrets, then all of this would have never happened.

But he had the option to shut Qibli down at any point after he had opened his stupid mouth. Instead of throwing him out like any reasonable host would have, Winter had permitted his best friend to coax him into dressing up as a princess... acting like a princess... and then...

By the end of it all, no matter how much he denied it, Winter found himself wanting to show his friend his true self. Qibli made him feel safe and secure and, above all, valued.  There was no way that he would ever confess such pathetic desires aloud, but he also couldn’t ignore how strongly his heart pined for them.

Winter let out a tragic sigh. Was Qibli really interested in him like that? Was Qibli just being a good friend? Did Qibli really think he deserved his affection?

He hadn’t deserved Moon. Why would he deserve Qibli?

He heard the dragon behind him rouse with a groan. The claws around him pawed at his chest, pulling him back into an embrace. “You’re already up?” the SandWing asked sleepily.

“Of course I’m up,” Winter said back. He tried to pull himself out of the SandWing’s grasp, but Qibli was stronger than he expected. “We overslept, no thanks to you.”

Winter scowled when Qibli nibbled gently on his ear. He hated how such a simple gesture could ease his annoyance, replacing it with a warm giddiness that he was definitely not okay with. “C’mon, Winter. Are we going to be late for anything?”

“No,” he said begrudgingly. “There’s just the painting class is in the afternoon. But that doesn’t matter, you lazy sandsnorter.” Winter tried to pull himself up out of bed, but all it took was Qibli’s tail coiling around his own for him to change his mind. He slumped back against the warmer dragon, trying not to enjoy how Qibli stroked his scales. “I always get up in the morning to have breakfast, tend to my plants, and...”

“They won’t die from you being a few hours late,” Qibli murmured, his voice soft and comforting. “Besides, you were the one who wanted to cuddle, princess.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but the SandWing hugged the words away. It felt as if he was sinking into Qibli, letting him envelop every aspect of him... and though everything within his IceWing heart screamed not to give in, Winter found himself pressing back into the embrace with a long huff. Qibli was right. They could afford to sleep a little more, he thought as he closed his eyes.

“Cricket, I want to ask you something.”

The HiveWing blinked at him. Her glasses seemed to amplify the emotion in her eyes, which currently stared at him as if he had grown not just one, but several additional heads. “What is it?” she asked, a quiver in her voice. As if she’s… excited to talk to me, he thought before shaking the ridiculous idea away.

Winter let out a puff through his nostrils, making sure to direct the frost away from the houseplant before him. He peered closer at its leaves, slicing a sickly-colored stem from one of its branches. “It’s about…” he began before falling silent. Sure, they had talked last night, but could he trust the HiveWing with his thoughts? She didn’t seem like the kind of dragon who could keep secrets. “Never mind.”

The IceWing hoisted a watering can in his claws and watered the plant, watching the leaves flutter under the drizzle. He was aware of just how acutely Cricket watched him, or rather, how he poured from the can. It was something that he got used to after first meeting the inquisitive HiveWing yesterdays ago. After the night before, Winter had expected her to calm down, but her curiosity was impressively, irritatingly boundless.

He was just thankful that Cricket didn’t launch into a hundred questions about Pyrrhian botany, though she did break the silence after he finished watering the plants. “You want to ask me something about Qibli?” she asked as he set the watering can down with a metal clunk.

It galled him that his sole conversation partner about Qibli was just as perceptive as him. “Was it that obvious?” he asked, rounding on her with a half-hearted scowl.

It was unfortunate that his new friendship with her prevented him from delivering his full ferocity, for Cricket just gave him a warm smile back. “After he left earlier this morning, you’ve been acting like you’ve been carrying the weight of an entire Hive on your back.”

“A pleasant way to tell me I look miserable.”

She seemed to consider her words before responding. “Well, you don’t look happy. Hm… lover’s quarrel, maybe?”

“No!” he hissed back. The anger in his voice was real enough to make the HiveWing flinch. “We didn’t fight! And for the record, a lover’s quarrel only happens between lovers-”

“Which… you two aren’t?” Another wrong question that he awarded with a frosty glare. “Oh. Right, sorry,” she said with a sly grin. “But you two just seemed so cozy at breakfast.”

“I-” Winter stood up straight and closed his eyes, trying his best to diffuse his frustration. He had to remind himself that this HiveWing actually had thoughts worth listening to. “It’s complicated,” he said after a moment. “How did you and Blue get together, actually?”

Cricket had busied herself with studying one of the flowers sitting on his windowsill. “Hmm. Would you believe me if I told you we were running from the law?”

Winter blinked. His first thought was the image of Cricket fleeing a library with a bag of books strapped to her back, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Really. The law?”

“Well, Blue was a fugitive running from the law, and I thought he was really cute, so I joined him! Which made me an accessory, I guess. We sort of just fell for each other after that.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You… what? What law did you two even break, exactly?”

Her wings rubbed against each other as she shifted back and forth. “Well… first, the government wanted to imprison Blue for life. So my friends and I hid him,” she said so casually that Winter couldn’t help but take a step back. “We also helped some revolutionaries steal a sacred book from the most secure library in Pantala. Oh, and after that, we spied on the HiveWing queen and torched several government buildings. And we sort of started a war, too, but that one wasn’t intentional.” She let out a nervous laugh and shrugged. “Just a few laws, right?”

“Just a few laws…” Winter didn’t know what to do with that new deluge of information, trying to square the image of a curious, innocent Cricket with the treason of a war criminal. “And you and Blue… bonded over all of this?”

Cricket shook her head. “No! Do you think we’d fall in love over crimes?” She paused and tilted her head. “Well, now that you mention it…”

“Well…”

“The answer is still no, obviously!” she exclaimed far too happily for Winter’s comfort. “Well, I just sort of fell for him right away. I can’t really… explain it. He’s cute, and compassionate, and there’s something about being constantly hunted and possibly killed that makes dragons bond much faster, you know?”

Winter, in fact, did not know about that at all, but he nodded his head anyways. “Right…”

“Not the kind of answer you were looking for, probably” said Cricket. “But that’s okay! I can still listen! So, you and Qibli…”

Winter sighed and shook his head. “I just don’t know about him.”

Cricket lowered her head, peering at him over her glasses. “Really? You two seemed extremely… agreeable.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

Winter couldn’t help but let a blush creep into his cheeks. “That’s besides the point, Cricket. It just… it just seems like it’s happening way too fast.” He began to pace around the room, frowning. “We’ve been sending each other letters for as long as I can remember, but he just shows up three days ago and we’re already… well, he’s already making all these moves on me.”

“What kind of moves?”

“You know the moves.”

She turned her attention away from the plants on the windowsill. “They must be pretty good if you’re not rejecting them,” Cricket said with a smile.

“I know!” the IceWing snapped. “I know. I think that’s why I… I like him. I think? I think I like him.”

Cricket laughed. “You like him, Winter. Trust me.”

“But I don’t know if he likes me,” he continued. “Qibli’s been amazing, but is he acting this way as a… as a best friend? Maybe something more? Maybe he’s just trying to get something out of me.”

“I only know him from the war, but I just can’t see Qibli manipulating his friends like that,” said Cricket. “You know, whenever he talks about you, he gets this certain look on his face. You’re probably too busy snarling at him to notice it, but it’s there.”

“I don’t snarl at him!” Winter exclaimed. “I just… well, maybe I do. But that’s not the point!” He was so irritated that he almost snapped out his wings. “Am I just supposed to be a love-stricken idiot and just… fall for him because he’s treating me like this? It feels so simple.”

Cricket let out a hearty laugh. “What does that mean? Are you really the kind of dragon who can get… treated into a relationship?”

“Cricket!”

“I’m just working with what you’re telling me,” she said, though her salacious grin spoke volumes more. “Clearly, there’s more going on than just that.”

Winter traced his claws along the hardwood floor. “Let’s just say he’s… really accepting. Of me. And… everything about me.” Though he liked her, he didn’t dare share that secret with her. If the inquisitive Cricket ever found out about his feminine interests, he’d probably end up killing her, and then himself.

“Is there something wrong with that?” asked Cricket. Her eyes had softened, the teasing edge in her voice subsiding. “I mean, you guys have known each other for years. And clearly you have some kind of chemistry with each other. This just sounds like textbook love.”

“I don’t know!” Winter protested. He didn’t know how to feel about the sudden sincerity that Cricket just clubbed him with. “It just feels… too perfect? Too coincidental? Aren’t there supposed to be fights? Drama? Tension? You know, like you have to prove yourself to them? That sort of thing.”

Whatever true empathy Cricket seemed to have for him evaporated. Amusement shone in her eyes anew as she stared at him over her glasses, as if he was a dragonet who had just told her his favorite color was yellow. “Do you read romance stories, Winter?” she asked.

“No, of course not!” he snarled, realizing that sudden terror had never stricken him harder than right now. “I read, uh… nonfiction. I read nonfiction.”

“Oh! Nonfiction? My favorite genre.” Winter cursed his feeble lie as he watched her eyes slide over to the scroll rack in the living room. He closed his eyes, wishing he could just disappear from existence. Why did he have to ask Cricket, of all dragons, for help?

She walked over to the scrolls, humming as she ran a talon over parchment. “Do you have a recommendation? I love biology, in particular. I’m so curious about Pyrrhian biology.” Her claws gently plucked one of the scrolls from the rack, and she let out a marveling breath as she read its title. “‘To Capture a NightWing’s Heart?’ This, uh… this isn’t nonfiction, is it?”

Winter snatched the scroll away from her. “Fine!” he declared with a blush. “So what if it’s not?”

Cricket’s face fell into softness again as she looked at him. He didn’t know if he should enjoy her compassion or loathe it yet, but there was something… nice about being comforted like this. It was enough of a feeling that he didn’t even put up a fight when she took the scroll back from him. “The kind of love you’re talking about shows up in fiction all too often,” she said, eyes scanning down the parchment. “It’s fun to read about, yes, but… do you really want to fight with Qibli to win his heart? Will arguing with him make your future relationship meaningful?”

“Does it even mean anything if I didn’t fight for it?” Winter sighed. “I don’t deserve for him to just fall into my lap. I learned that after Moonwatcher chose him instead of me years ago. I need to know I’m right for him.”

“I don’t think that’s necessarily proof of anything,” said Cricket. She reached forward and put the scroll back onto the rack. “And who says you don’t deserve him?”

Winter fell silent. How could Cricket ever understand? Everything he ever knew was won by merit and effort, by sheer discipline and willpower. “The world doesn’t work like that,” he said, frowning as he looked away from her. “Everything is earned. Nothing is deserved. Love is just another one of those things you’re not just… entitled to,” he said, feeling his heart plummeting into his chest. “It’s not a birthright. It’s something that’s earned, you know?”

Cricket had an inscrutable look on her face. “Is that really what you think?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, though the longer she looked at him, the more he began to feel uncomfortable. “You staring at me isn’t going to make me change my answer.”

“I just think it’s really naive to think that you understand how the world works, that’s all.”

Winter blinked. His mane rattled as he failed to prevent a snarl from erupting on his face. “I beg your pardon?”

“No dragon really understands how the world works,” said Cricket, leveling a gaze at him. “The way you think the world works is just shaped by your own experiences, and what IceWing culture has taught you.”

“You might be smart, but don’t you dare lecture me about my own tribe.”

“I don’t plan to,” she said. “I’m just saying that the way you live your life might not be the only way to live life. Not everything needs to be earned, as sacrilegious as it might sound. Do you think I earned my relationship with Blue? He just sort of tumbled into my life, after all.”

Winter frowned. “But there’s a reason he stayed with you, right?”

“Aha.” Cricket peered over her glasses at him. “That’s different, isn’t it? I didn’t earn the right to a relationship with him, but I earn the right to continue a relationship with him. Being his partner through thick and thin, supporting him whenever possible… I can admit to earning his trust and love. But randomly meeting him in a library for the first time? That’s just luck. I didn’t earn that opportunity,” she said with a shrug.

Cricket had that silly look on her face, the one that appeared every time she talked about her SilkWing love. In a bout of self-consciousness, Winter wondered if he looked like that whenever he talked about Qibli, and resolved to flatten his adoration for him under plain disinterest for as long as he lived. “Yes, but… it doesn’t feel right,” he said, loathe to acknowledge her logic. “What you’re saying makes sense, but it doesn’t feel right to me.”

“And it shouldn’t,” she said simply. “It’s not like I can change your mind on this overnight. I’m just hoping that you’ll give the idea a little more thought. You shouldn’t torture yourself over something like this.”

He was searching for something diplomatic to respond with when the HiveWing crossed the short distance between them and threw her arms over his shoulders. Winter closed his eyes and did his best to pretend that he didn’t care… though the warmth of her hug did feel good, he begrudgingly admitted. She smelled of apples and honey, the scent weak but enjoyable as he finally gave in to his desires and wrapped his arms around her too. “I’m not the best with dragons, but I think you’re as good as they come, Winter,” whispered Cricket into his ear. “Qibli would be lucky to have you as a partner.”

He felt something tighten in his chest, and he found himself barely able to will down the sudden emotion in his throat. That was the first time he had heard something like that said so plainly. “You think so? Really?”

“Well, I mean, not absolutely,” said Cricket. “I don’t have enough data to guarantee anything. But Qibli certainly sees something in you. Isn’t that enough to at least try?”

He didn’t even have a moment to process her last words before he heard the front door open. “Hey, I’m back!” called a familiar voice.

Somehow, the socially inept HiveWing was the first to break the hug. Her arms slipped away like a fish in water, and she straightened herself up before Winter even realized what was happening. “Oh, Qibli! Hey!” she called out. “How was your shopping?”

He turned back to see the SandWing watching the two of them. He swore he saw his face darken, but the moment Qibli blinked, he turned back into the same stupid, affable sand dragon he knew so well. “Just got some stuff for dinner,” he said cheerily. “I know Winter likes to hunt out in the forest, but I kind of figured we should just relax our wings today. Especially with Cricket heading out to Jade Mountain tomorrow. Right?”

Winter didn’t know if he liked the tone of Qibli’s voice, but Cricket didn’t seem to pick up on it at all. “Yeah! I can’t wait to talk to Starflight!” she said with a grin. “So many questions to ask! So many books to make! So many dragonets to teach! It’s like going back to school all over again. So exciting.”

“It’s been a few years since then,” said Qibli with a fond smile. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to have you there. They could definitely use some… better instructors than the usual suspects. Do you know if Fatespeaker is still teaching there, Winter?”

The IceWing’s muzzle curled into a frown. “What’s wrong with Fatespeaker?” he asked. “She’s a decent teacher.”

“Decent? The last time we attended, I remember you had some… harsher words about her. And well, you weren’t wrong. She did spend half the time just scribbling things on scrolls instead of teaching. It was a miracle that I got anything at all out of her writing classes.”

“Wait,” Cricket said, reaching for the scroll rack again. She picked up the same accursed scroll and unfurled it again. “Fatespeaker?”

“You know Fatespeaker?” asked Qibli.

Cricket nodded. “Yeah! Starflight talks about her once in a while in his letters. But more specifically… she’s actually the author of this story.”

Winter felt blood begin to fill his cheeks. “Oh? Really? That’s very interesting, Cricket,” he half-hissed, snatching the scroll from her and setting it back on the rack. “What a funny coincidence.”

“Oh! That might explain… several things,” said Qibli, giving Winter a sideways look. “What’s the title of the story?”

“Nothing important!” the IceWing blurted. “It’s none of your business!”

Cricket gave him a strange look. “The title’s, uh, ‘To Capture a Nightwing’s Heart’. I skimmed it a little bit. A romance story? Kind of a heartfelt one, but…”

As the HiveWing began to provide her definitely unwelcome opinion of the story’s details, Winter felt Qibli’s dark eyes drill into him. “A romance stoooooory? Winter! I didn’t know you were so into that sort of thing! How come you didn’t tell me?”

“Erm.”

“I wonder how many stories you took inspiration from,” said Qibli, resting a claw on the scroll rack. “I wouldn’t come across anything incriminating if I read some of these, would I?”

“D-don’t you dare, you infernal sandsnorter,” hissed the IceWing. “I will actually rip the wings off your back.”

“Hold on, I need to get into character… Oh, Winter!” Qibli pretended to swoon. “I wouldn’t dream of going flightless for anyone but you. If only you could capture a SandWing’s heart instead!”

The joke should have irritated Winter, but the rawness of his conversation with Cricket betrayed him. He stared at Qibli, frozen in place until he came to his senses. “I’d capture your heart only if I could freeze it to ice and bury it under permafrost,” he snapped back, though he somehow failed to imbue his words with his usual caustic energy.

“Winter! How you wound me,” continued Qibli, though his voice also seemed to have lost its humor. “Had I known the princess had a spear for a tongue, I would have armed myself with a rapier wit to match.”

“The princess?” Cricket stared at both of them, her brows furrowed. “What do you mean? There wasn’t a princess in the story."

Stuck between Cricket’s innocence and Qibli’s cunning, Winter realized just how much danger he was in. “Hey, isn’t the painting seminar soon?” he asked, voice strung an octave too high. He made his way to the open door, not even waiting for Qibli to set his groceries down. “We should really get going. We don’t want to be late.”

“But isn’t that another hour from now?” asked Cricket.

“You wanted to learn more about IceWings, right? Well, IceWings are punctual!” exclaimed Winter. “Extremely punctual. I’m leaving now.”

He spread his wings and took to the skies, doing his best to ignore the HiveWing’s perilously odd stare and the SandWing’s boisterously warm laughter.

“Today’s topic is portraits,” said the old RainWing at the front of the classroom.

That was ten minutes ago. Winter already regretted coming to the painting seminar.

He stared at the unmixed rainbow of paints on his palette. It was easy enough to visualize how they would coalesce into the colors he wanted, but he just didn’t know who his subject would be.

Well, he already knew who it would be. He just didn’t want to admit it to himself.

But a little procrastination never hurt… even if the other dozen dragons in the room had already gotten started on their work. He looked to his left, watching Cricket work furiously at her painting. She had already gotten started on what he assumed to be a SilkWing, though he struggled to distinguish anything but the antennae from the royal mess that was the dragon’s face. He looked like a mashup of every tribe on Pantala, and possibly Pyrrhia too if he started trying to identify features. “That’s… a lot of colors,” he said, unable to hold his tongue.

“Thanks!” she said, beaming. “That’s what my teachers said too back then. Except here, they can’t rip up my paintings. Take that, Principal Lubber!” She strangled her paintbrush in a fist as she shook it in the air, splashing her canvas with an unnaturally bright purple. “Hmm… do you think Blue would like this, actually?”

“I think… he’ll appreciate the effort,” he said in an exercise of extreme diplomacy.

“Good enough for me!” Cricket exclaimed, returning to work on her beautiful disaster.

Winter then looked to his right, where Qibli was diligently at work painting another SandWing. He – or she – was still unrecognizable, if only because he was still painting the muzzle a marigold yellow. The IceWing’s mind began to cloud instantly. What other SandWing was he thinking of? Was there some other dragon Qibli had met a long time ago that he didn’t know about?

He must have been staring for too long, because Qibli had turned his head to look at him. “Oh! Winter. I know it’s not the best,” the SandWing said with a chuckle, “but I wonder if Thorn would hang this up in the royal palace if I put enough effort into it! You know, like a mom pinning her dragonet’s awful painting up on the wall in the den, or something like that.” He paused for a moment. “Normal moms do that, right?”

His eyes trailed down the dragon’s face, down to the winged necklace hanging around her neck. He should have known it was Queen Thorn, he thought, trying his best not to sigh. It wasn’t enough to just agonize over this stupid sand-snorter? He also had to be jealous about him, too?

“Maybe,” he said, concealing his emotions with casual indifference “I wouldn’t know.” He turned back to his own canvas. “It’s not like my mother ever looked at anything I drew for her.”

“Childhood trauma buddies forever!” cheered the SandWing. Winter watched malevolently as Qibli  edged closer to him, the scent of cinnamon clouding his personal space. “Wait, what are you going to paint? You haven’t put anything down yet.”

“I’m thinking about it,” he said with a soft warning growl. “I just need… inspiration.”

“Can you take some from Cricket?” Qibli whispered. “She seems to have a little… too much of it.”

They both looked over to the HiveWing, who had managed to convert her portrait into a monsoon of colors that definitely did not belong together. “She’s doing her best,” Winter said, unable to keep a small smile from forming on his muzzle.

“Whoa.” Qibli blinked at him. “What did you do to the real Winter, and where are you keeping him?”

“What nonsense are you talking about?” he asked, peering at the mixed colors on the SandWing’s palette. “Are you sure you haven’t been sniffing paint?”

“You’d usually have something more… IceWing to say,” said Qibli. “Like, ‘I’d have her executed for such slipshod craftsmanship,’ or something like that. That sounds more like you.”

Winter looked at her canvas again. “Well, it’s for her partner. I think…” He paused, puzzled by the very words that just came to mind. Was Cricket rubbing off on him? Was Qibli rubbing off on him? He wanted to growl in frustration, but he wanted to finish his thought, at least. “I think that if you’re making something for someone you care about, then maybe the rules are different.”

“Wow. I was kidding before, but now I’m serious. What on Pyrrhia did you do with the real Winter?”

“Pay attention to your own art,” said Winter, shooing him away with a wave of his claws. “I figured out what I want to paint.”

As Qibli fell away, Winter stared at his blank canvas. He let his eyes close, tuning out the conversation of the other dragons in the room. Sitting at the table before him was not only his untouched palette, but a complex array of tools that neither Qibli nor Cricket had bothered to assemble for themselves. The IceWing reached for the charcoal first, ignoring how the rock stained his ivory claws as he began to rub it against the canvas. Normally, he would have opted for the softer, more detailed pencils, but there was something about his subject that he wanted to be… more freeform with.

Plus, there was no way that anyone could figure out what he was sketching.

The vague form of a head began to form from the expert strokes he filled the canvas with. It was a perfectly characterless dragon, something that Winter could fill in as he began to truly paint. Even then, though, he couldn’t ignore the visions in his head – the visions of a smug, charming dragon that seemed to stare into his very soul.

He shook his head. There was no reason for him to be so melodramatic about it! Winter let out a puff of frost through his nostrils, setting the charcoal down. The IceWing then stole a look at Qibli’s scales, using a brush to mix the paints on his palette into a perfectly matching yellow. Once that task was completed, he dabbed a finer brush in the paint and added the first blush of color to the canvas.

From there, Winter fell into his usual routine. The image of what he wanted to paint stood out so vividly in his mind that he didn’t even doubt himself once, claws swapping confidently between the tools that he knew by heart. He knew he needed an angled brush to draw the handsome curves of the SandWing’s snout, a round brush to carve out his cute, but somewhat fierce muzzle scar, and a liner brush to form that hideously garish earring that he insisted on wearing all the damn time. His claws played between the canvas and his work table as the familiar face of his best friend began to slowly emerge from the lifeless sketch.

By the time he finished his work with his long, elegant signature in the bottom corner of the canvas, Winter was rewarded a full-sized portrait of Qibli that measured from his long, sweeping horns down to his narrow shoulders. He wore a smug, toothy grin, one that bordered on arrogance; the only thing that prevented it was the glitter in his sharp eyes, one that seemed to make his entire personality leap off the canvas in a way that no mere painting should have allowed.

Had he been shown the painting of this dragon without any context, Winter would have shamelessly admitted to him being impossibly handsome, but since he knew it was Qibli, he considered him just alright.

“Just alright?” asked a voice behind him.

He looked back to see the very same dragon staring at his canvas. Winter didn’t know if he had ever seen Qibli’s face so shocked before. “Winter, I didn’t know that…”

“What?” he asked, annoyed. “Don’t get too excited. It’s just what you look like. Don’t they have mirrors in the Sand Kingdom?”

“Winter,” said the HiveWing next to him. “Qibli’s right. This is… extraordinary. When you said you painted, I thought you meant something like… well, not something like this.”

“Wait, what is that supposed to mean?”

Qibli grinned so wide that Winter thought he might dislocate his jaw. “Aw, is my chest really that thin?” he asked, looking down at his own body. “Can I ask you to redraw it thicker? I’d love to be a big, studly beast.”

“Bite me.” Winter rolled his eyes. But he couldn’t help but feel at least a little proud after hearing his friends marvel over his art. “Maybe I was just really inspired,” he finally admitted, looking at the SandWing he had just drawn. “You said you wanted a painting like this yesterday, didn’t you?”

“I was joking, buddy! Well, mostly joking,” he said, his voice filled with so much of some emotion that Winter couldn’t identify at all. “I thought you were going to make some sort of silly sketch, not something that belongs in a gallery.” Qibli stared at himself and whistled. “You could get a lot of gold for this if you had painted some important politician, or even a queen. Thorn would lose her entire mind if she received a painting of herself like this.”

“Seriously,” Cricket said. “You could do a whole tour around Pantala just painting for wealthy HiveWings. There’s no shortage of royalty or riches in the Hives.”

“Maybe,” he said, voice colored with uncertainty. “But I thought that human studies were more important, Cricket.”

“Well, okay, yes,” she said, as if she had remembered her propriety for a second. “But just imagine a portrait of Blue in your style-”

Winter closed his eyes. “There’s a reason why the painting turned out so well,” he said with a huff. “This isn’t something that I do normally.”

Qibli tilted his head. The IceWing could practically see him thinking behind those glittering eyes of his. He couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable, wishing he could take his words back.

But of course, Cricket spoke the thoughts that Qibli had the foresight to keep to himself. “Wait, what’s that reason?” she asked without a hint of malice in her voice.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he almost shouted in frustration. He took a moment to steady himself before starting again. “It’s different when I’m painting for someone who I…”

“Someone who you care about?” asked Qibli, his face completely blank.

Winter felt his heart begin to race faster and faster within his chest, cursing the way Qibli had finished his thoughts. “That’s… that’s none of your business,” he said, the last of his meager stability crumbling away. What did they want from him, a public confession right here and now?! “Look, could we just not focus on this?”

“Alright, alright. I just think I look… is this how you see me, Winter?” the SandWing asked, flashing him a grin. “I wish I was this handsome in real life. Because wow, this Qibli definitely fucks-”

Something within the IceWing finally broke. “Would you two just leave me alone?” he snapped. “I know! It looks great! I get it. I just- ugh, you know what? I’m heading back home.” A place where there’s no Qibli, or annoying HiveWing to remind me of Qibli, he thought bitterly.

Winter turned tail, spurning the gaze of all of his classmates as he exited the classroom. “See you there. Or not.”

Then he launched into the sky, the summer air warm under his wings as he flew himself far, far away.

Chapter Text

Winter dipped a single talon into the lake. The water rippled around it before coalescing back into calm placidity. It reflected the spitting image of a sleek, handsome IceWing, replete with stormy eyes and thinly wound anger.

This was someone who Qibli wanted?

He snorted and retreated to a nearby tree, leaning against it as he sat down. The grass tickled his belly before its cool blades flattened against his pale blue scales. Winter gazed up at the skies above, painted a lovely warm lavender by the tones of the setting sun. It was as if a giant had taken a paintbrush and colored the clouds themselves.

Winter cringed as he played with the grass underneath his claws, replaying the ridiculous scene he had made back in the painting class. It wasn’t a memory that he would live down for a very long time… if ever. He wasn’t a dragonet anymore, not like all those years ago back at Jade Mountain Academy. Even then, he had acted in a manner unbefitting of his cool IceWing heritage, but for some reason, what had occurred just half an hour ago felt like a transgression that made his school drama look reasonable by comparison.

Now, he could only wish that the other dragons would forget him as quickly as possible. The lakeside outside of the library was his happy place where he normally unwound and relaxed. Just yesterday, he and Cricket had chatted out here in the cool breeze of the summer night. It was the first time in a very long time that he had talked with another dragon about something more than just professional topics, and despite his solitude, he thought that she could make a good friend.

But that plan was in the wind now, with how he acted before her and Qibli already. His claws grew more agitated, rooting up the grass and dirtying his talons with clods of soil. When he had stormed out of the class, he had thought about hiding away where Qibli and Cricket could never find him, but… there was a large part of him that wanted to be found. He didn’t know who he wanted to find him, only that he wanted to be found and probably comforted, even though it was the last thing he deserved after all of that.

It was a pathetic feeling, but a feeling nonetheless.

He didn’t need to wait long. A lone, golden figure soared in from over the waters, skimming the surface before landing on the lakeside before him. “Hey,” said the SandWing, his gentle voice carrying on the breeze.

Winter looked up, and quickly realized that it was yet another mistake in the long string of problems plaguing this horrible day. Just looking at Qibli’s stupid face reminded him of the portrait he had painted, and the handsome SandWing he had kept in his mind’s eye with every stroke. It was simply disappointing to find that the evening light only made him more attractive, attractive enough that the IceWing found himself staring before he tore himself away with a growl. “Hey,” was all he responded with, drawing his claws closer into his body.

Qibli approached him, his claws parting the grass, and while Winter wished he would just turn the opposite way and leave, he knew that his friend was there to stay. To Qibli’s credit, he just settled down a wing-length away from him, a respectable enough distance for them to gaze at the sun setting over the lake.

The IceWing tolerated the silence poorly. He knew that Qibli was thinking, because when did that idiot ever stop thinking? He was surely searching for something appropriate to say, tracing threads and paths like that Clearsight dragon Moon had told him about so long ago. Was he thinking about something that would placate him? Something that would try to win him back into his good graces? Something that would make him forget altogether?

“Enough,” said Winter aloud, turning to stare at the SandWing. “Tell me what’s really on your mind.”

Bingo. He had caught Qibli in the middle of the act, the lack of preparation visible on his face. He studied him carefully as the SandWing seemed to gather together whatever thoughts he had been shocked into dropping, almost a little amused that he had gotten the drop so thoroughly on him. “I was just trying to find a good way of saying that I’m sorry,” he said with a low, apologetic sigh.

“You could just say that you’re sorry,” said Winter, unable to hide the bite in his voice.

“I wanted to say sorry in a way that you would understand.” Qibli stared at the little hole that Winter had dug. “I was too enthusiastic about the painting you had created for me,” he said, shaking his head. “It made you uncomfortable in a way that I didn’t consider, and that was wrong of me. Especially since even after… everything this week, we never really talked about what’s actually happening… happening between us, I mean. I should have recognized you were uncomfortable, and I didn’t. I’m sorry for that.”

The hurt look on Qibli’s face almost made Winter want to hug him. Almost. Instead, he tried his best to maintain his frosty demeanor and nodded at him. “I understand,” he said. “You make it really hard to hate you, you know that?”

Qibli chuckled. “It’s just my SandWing charm. Sweeps all the girls off their feet.”

And all the boys, too. Winter appreciated that Qibli didn’t reach for that obvious joke, though. “Did you really think the painting was that good?” he asked aloud.

“Moon, Winter,” the SandWing said, his tail sweeping the grass behind him. He must have realized his unfettered enthusiasm, for he took a breath and calmed himself down. “I didn’t know you were capable of something like that. Which isn’t a dig at you, of course. I just…”

Winter couldn’t help but raise his brows at him.

“Well,” Qibli said, uncommon nervousness tinging his voice. “Look, we can both agree that this week has been… different.”

Winter laughed, the sound as brittle as glass. “Different.”

Qibli frowned, as if trying to maneuver around his rebuttal. “Different. As in, dressing up as a princess different. Or sleeping with an IceWing different. Or kissing an IceWing on the muzzle different.”

“Qibli-”

The SandWing waved him off, a gesture that Winter should have taken offense to were it not for the expression on his face. “I never thought that you’d put up with me as long as you did,” he said, letting his gaze fall. “Maybe you thought of me as just some kind of instrument in fulfilling your royalty fantasies, or maybe you just decided that you could finally get your revenge on snarky old Qibli. But that’s alright, you know? You’re my best friend, and I’d do anything for my best friend.”

Winter found himself reminded of the very first day when Qibli had indulged him so thoroughly, and suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

“But I got selfish, too,” he said, brushing his claws in the grass. “I wanted to enjoy your company a little more intimately than I thought you – IceWing or whatever – would have allowed me to. I was forward in some things that I wanted. I wanted to spoon you while we slept, and you let me do that. I wanted to cook you breakfast in the morning, and you let me do that too. I… wanted to kiss you, and for some crazy reason, you let me do that too,” he said, and it was at this point where Winter realized that a blush began to consume the SandWing’s features.

“And I guess I got to pretend for a moment that I was Winter’s boyfriend,” he said, a sad smile drawn over his muzzle. “It seemed like you were enjoying it the past few days, but after what happened in that art class, I had to take a step back. I think I misinterpreted a few things. Or a lot of things. I’m worried that I pressured you too much into indulging me. So, I’m sorry for that too. I screwed up.”

Winter stared at Qibli as he bowed his head. All of the self-control he had learned over the past few years melted away in the face of whatever kaleidoscope of feelings his heart had fractured into. After all this time agonizing and worrying about whether he was good enough for Qibli, and he just dumps all of this right at his feet without a second thought? “Stop, stop,” he said. “Just stop.”

“Winter?”

“You have a brain that barely fits inside that stupidly big head of yours,” growled Winter, “and that’s the smartest thing you could come up with?” Dirt fell from his claws as he got up and swiftly crossed the distance between him and Qibli until they stared each other face to face. “You really are a stupid sand-snorter at heart.”

“Winter, calm down-”

“Shut up,” he snapped, and to his surprise, Qibli shut up. “Do you really think that’s what everything was about?” Winter continued. “Do you think I just let you sleep with me because it was my way of getting even with you? Do you think I just… I just tolerated you? Letting you do this and that because you thought it was some way you could earn your keep? You blithering idiot, you moon-licking scruffy-snouted…”

He met Qibli’s dark eyes with his icy blues, as if he could drill right into the SandWing’s soul just by staring at him. “You didn’t misinterpret anything,” he said so solemnly that Qibli couldn’t even question if it was a joke. “I meant everything I did.”

The SandWing’s wings quivered. His body moved almost imperceptibly, but Winter could sense the faintest quiver rolling under his golden scales. “Really?” asked Qibli with the bewilderment of a dragonet.

“Get over yourself,” huffed Winter, unable to endure looking at the SandWing’s glowing face. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the one with tragic thoughts.”

But he was unable to remain happy despite Qibli’s total admission – or what basically amounted to total admission. Isn’t that what you wanted, you pathetic dragon? a small part of him asked. This is literally everything you’ve ever wanted.

“Before you get any ideas, though, I just… don’t think it’s a good idea,” said Winter instead, watching as pure joy morphed into abject confusion. “It’s… not you. It’s me.”

“Wait, Winter,” Qibli said, almost pleading with his voice. “Winter, what do you mean? I don’t understand.”

The IceWing shook his head. “I know that you’re good enough for me, but I don’t… I don’t think I’m good enough for you.”

That drew a growl out of Qibli. “I don’t think that’s true, not for a second,” he said. “Unless you’re second-guessing my impeccable judgment of dragons.”

Something inside Winter snapped. Qibli was thoughtful, yes, but sometimes he thought he knew everything about a dragon, even their secrets untold. “You don’t get it,” he snarled. “Do you really think I’m someone compatible with you? Someone equal? There’s a reason you can’t tell me what really happened with Darkstalker,” he said, his mental floodgates cracking at last. “There’s a reason why I disgraced myself in the painting seminar earlier. There’s a reason I never completed my education at Jade Mountain. There’s a reason why…” he said with a shaky voice, leveling his gaze at Qibli. “There’s a reason why Moon chose you instead of me all those years ago.”

Though surprise flashed in the SandWing’s eyes, it nearly angered the IceWing to see sympathy so quickly on its heels. “Oh, Winter,” he said, “that’s not fair.”

"What kind of relationship were you thinking about with me?" With his deepest fears out on parade, Winter found himself unable to contain the toxic thoughts boiling over his heart. "Some sort of project that would make you feel better about yourself? Someone to fix so you can preen yourself over being their best friend?" The frustrations began to well up in his chest, like a monster rising from the sea (or erupting from a mountain, he thought grimly).

He glared up at Qibli and found his face darkened with conflict. "Buddy, you don't really believe that, do you?" he asked slowly.

The SandWing had uttered the question so softly that Winter almost missed it. "I don't know," he said, resisting the urge to plunge his claws in the grass again. "I know you care about me, but... why? Why would anyone care about me like that? Why would you care about me like that? There has to be a reason for it."

"Because you're my best friend," said Qibli, as if it were no more self-evident than how the sky was blue. "And... more than that. Maybe."

"That's such a meaningless thing to say," Winter hissed, drawing himself back into a more formal pose. "You can't even answer one of my questions. You just bury it under stupid nonsense about friendship. How do I know that you're not just using me? That you're not just abusing my absurd, ridiculous interest in you?"

He hated the way that Qibli's eyes seemed to light up at that admission. The way his eyes glimmered in the light of the rising moons made him want to drag his claws down his face... or lean into him to do something else. Stupid IceWing, he told himself bitterly. He doesn't belong to you.

"I mean," started Qibli, also rising back on his haunches. His tail curled around his front claws, little barb tucked away as he looked away from the IceWing. "... you're not wrong."

Winter wanted to crow about his victory, but something about it felt too empty to actually be excited about.

"Winter,” Qibli started, “when two dragons start a relationship, do you think they're using each other?"

He tilted his head. "What are you talking about?"

"They rely on each other, don't they?” Qibli asked. “Sometimes it's sinister, like with my parents. They only became partners over riches and gold and control and because they were kind of awful dragons." Qibli fought down a grimace, though Winter could see the hurt in his eyes.  "But other times, it's pure. When dragons in love start relationships, it’s not something selfless. They rely on each other. They borrow each other's comforts; they borrow each other's warmth; they borrow each other's time. They… they use each other."

“When you put it that way, of course they’re using each other. But they’re in love,” protested Winter. “That’s different, isn’t it?”

Qibli hummed. “Is it different? No matter how you look at, they’re using each other, like you said.”

“It feels different,” Winter insisted. “If they love each other, then they’re okay with being used by the other partner. It makes them happy and fulfilled.”

“And what makes you think that this situation is any different?

Winter paused and stared at Qibli.

“Look,” Qibli said, leveling his gaze at the lake beyond. “The whole reason I put myself out there and went along with all these things in the past week is… well, a lot of it was just really fun,” he said with his usual unabashed grin, “but there was something more there, too. I… wanted to be used by you. Don’t take it that way, you gutterbrain.”

“You would never waste an opportunity to offend me with an innuendo.”

“Guilty,” Qibli said with a wink. “But it’s more than that. If you want to look at it as cynically as that, you can say that it… it makes me happy to see you happy.”

Winter’s smile faded quickly. He could feel his heart beginning to sink in his chest, like a dying dragon in icy waters.

“And there were times where I thought in the past few days - oh, this is silly. This is ridiculous. What am I really doing here? But every single time I got to see you smile, or at least seem not so icy and annoyed, it was worth it.” Qibli’s eyes sank. “Even if Winter is using me just to be happy, even if he never stopped to consider if I was attracted to him at all, then this is all worth it. That’s what I tell even now, at least. But, you caught me,” he said, raising one of his claws up. “I was just using you, like you said.”

“You… atrociously stupid smoke-breather,” Winter said with a sigh. “Did you really think I was never thinking about you? What do you think that portrait was?”

“I know!” Qibli said back with more excitement than Winter had expected. “That’s why I freaked out over it. Well, Cricket was freaking out about it too, but I was… I mean, even though you let me dress up as a princess with you, and cuddle you, and cook breakfast for you, and stay by your side every day…”

Winter gave him a deep look.

“… maybe I was still unsure.” Qibli closed his eyes for a long time. “All of those things can be interpreted differently. Is Winter using me to fulfill his fantasies? Is Winter really into me? Is Winter just desperate for another dragon to touch? Okay, sorry, maybe the last one was kind of rude, but you know what I mean.” he said as the IceWing glared at him.

The two dragons sat wordlessly, letting the soft ebbs of the lake fill the silence between them. So, Winter thought, he’s actually interested in me. He can be mine if I just said yes.

So why is it so difficult?

“Why?” he asked aloud, as if offering the question to the dark blues above.

“Why what?”

Winter felt words forcing their way out of his mouth, despite everything in his mind screaming at him to just shut up and take the offer! “Why me?” he asked, picking up a smooth stone. It was comforting to run his claws over it as he pondered one of the most important confessions of his life. “Even after all these years, it’s clear that there’s still something wrong with me. Even with Kinkajou and Peril and Turtle and Moon and… you,” he said, the last word fitting poorly in his muzzle. “Even with all of you guys and your help, I still ended up a loner. And useless, too, though I always was kind of useless.”

“You’re not useless.”

“Yeah, just like that,” Winter said, shaking his head. “You say it, and I want to feel that it’s a truth, but I can’t help but feel differently. Why would you even be attracted to me in the first place?”

Qibli laughed. “I didn’t know you liked to make jokes.”

“When the future of my heart is at stake, I like to think lightly of it.”

“Twice! Twice more than I thought an IceWing is capable of,” Qibli said to Winter’s thorough lack of amusement. “But if you’re being serious… where should I begin? You’re smart – like, you knew that humans were intelligent before anyone else did. Your research even got a genius like Cricket to notice you and fly all the way out here!”

“A fluke,” said Winter, though he could feel the faintest coolness of blue rising to his cheeks. “We just studied similar things, that’s all.”

“Sure,” Qibli said in that dismissive tone that always got under Winter’s scales. “But you’re also insanely talented. I wouldn’t have ever known you painted. You don’t hang any of your creations up on the wall. Do you paint like that every week?”

“Someone usually offers to buy my painting after the weekly class.”

Qibli snorted. “Okay, you’re just humblebragging now. But if that doesn’t convince you… something I can really appreciate you is that you’re very dedicated. Ever since we found out that humans are intelligent, you’ve been working nonstop here to study them. And I’m sure you didn’t just learn to paint like that all of a sudden. I remember the things you drew when we were dragonets.”

Winter let out an almighty groan. “I really wish you didn’t. I had Peril burn them for a reason”

“Sorry, buddy,” the SandWing said with a shrug. “Some of the things back there were… well, I’m glad you improved!”

“Of course.”

“And I can keep going and going.” Winter couldn’t help but roll his eyes when Qibli gave him a moony stare. “I admire the way how rigidly your beliefs are and how you can… believe them, and how you don’t back down even if someone challenges it. Which probably isn’t the best thing for this kind of conversation, is it? I like your bravery when it comes to those you care about. You were willing to risk your life for Hailstorm! I couldn’t imagine sticking my neck out for my family like that.”

Winter looked away from Qibli. “Well, your family was horrible to you. Mine was… less horrible.”

“Will you stop clawing down everything I’m suggesting? It makes it hard to cheer you up,” Qibli said, but Winter could detect no frustration in his face when he looked back. “Fine, here’s something indisputable. Did you know that when we first met at Jade Mountain Academy, I was jealous about how good you looked? I think you’re extraordinarily handsome when you’re being serious, and immensely cute when you’re wearing tight, lacy stockings in bed-”

“Qibli!”

“What?” the sandy dragon asked. Winter really wished he had laughed instead, because the sincere look on his face scared him. “It’s what I really think.”

The overwhelming positivity was almost too much for the IceWing. Even when his winglet had offered him compliments, they were usually empty and meaningless.

Or rather, he convinced himself they were empty and meaningless.

Winter really didn’t like how Qibli was so easily twisting his perception. “Your optimism is one of the most annoying things about you,” said Winter with a huff.

“Is it working?”

Winter gave him another look. Did this dragon really admire him so much? Did Qibli really like him like that? “Maybe,” he said, holding his princely head high.

“An IceWing ‘maybe’ is basically a yes,” said Qibli. He edged closer to Winter, close enough that the tips of their wings touched. In any other circumstance, it was just a clumsy move, but the IceWing felt his heart beginning to race from the contact. “Look, Winter, I’m not perfect either. Even underneath this handsome, rugged face, I have a lot of problems too.”

Winter snorted. “What if I told you your problems started right at your handsome, rugged face?”

“I suppose attracting every girl from miles around would be a problem,” said Qibli with a grin. But he dropped it a second later, staring at him with an intensity that rooted him where he stood. “But I’m not perfect, either. I got jealous over Cricket when I saw her hugging you. Jealous over Cricket! Can you imagine that? But after wrestling with my feelings for you over the past few days, it just… overcame me, like a flash flood. It was a horrible feeling for no reason at all.”

“Cricket? Why Cricket?”

Qibli huffed. “You two had hit it off so well together, chatting all the time ever since she first got here. And then then I saw you two hugging, and I had some more thoughts about – oh, is Winter really into other guys? What if he’s into girls more? And…” The SandWing shook his head. “It just tumbles down from there. You get it, right?”

The IceWing looked down. “You know, she told me that you’d be lucky to have me.”

“Did she? I… I mean, she’s absolutely right, but that’s not my point. Look,” he said before letting out a heavy sigh. “We both definitely have our own issues, and… well, that’s okay. Maybe. I’m not promising that something between us would be perfect. I’m not even promising that something between us would be stable. But I like you… a lot, and you like me… hopefully a lot.”

Winter’s muzzle grew tight. If only you knew. “Maybe,” was all he admitted aloud, though.

Qibli bowed his head. “Winter,” he said with eyes soft enough to still his beating heart, “would you be willing to indulge this love-struck dragon? Just this once?”

“Just this once,” Winter said with a half-hearted chuckle. “I hope you understand what’s been happening over these past three days.”

“I’m asking right now because I don’t,” Qibli said, his voice choking. “I don’t want to infer it from just action, or from a ‘maybe’, or from those very colorful insults you conjure. Yes or no. I just want to hear it from you. Even if it’s a no,” he said with a husky whisper, “it’s better than guessing forever.”

Winter realized then that Qibli was trying to keep himself composed, but he couldn’t miss how a single tear trailed down his cheek. “I…”

Was Qibli right about him? Was he right about Qibli?

Was it worth it?

He closed his eyes. His claws had a mind of their own, stepping closer into Qibli’s warm body. Qibli let out a murmur of surprise as Winter rubbed their wings together at first. He could feel the SandWing shiver at the sudden contact, but a moment later, he pushed back against him with equal enthusiasm.

He hoped Qibli was right about him. He hoped he was right about Qibli.

He hoped it was worth it.

“Yes,” he said softly. “Of course, Qibli. My heart is yours.”

Then he found himself tumbling, falling on his side before Qibli rolled him on his back. The stars above filled his vision before the annoying SandWing popped his head into view again. Somehow, he had gotten the slip on him. “Winter!” he exclaimed, breaking down in laughter. “Where did you get those lines from? Please tell me they weren’t from that story by Fatespeaker!”

“They weren’t!” he protested, a furious blush rising to his cheeks. He could feel Qibli’s bellyscales rubbing against his own, their bodies suddenly entwined underneath the night sky. “I would never quote something like that!” he said, brazen offense painted on his face. “How dare you make a mockery of my confession-”

Then he found himself trying to pull his head back, but the ground only offered stiff resistance before Qibli planted his muzzle against his own. They laid there, locked together for that single magical moment as they shared a kiss. The second one, Winter thought as he pushed back against Qibli. But the first one since…

They separated. Winter found himself staring up at Qibli’s flushed face. “Wow,” the SandWing said, “I kissed you a few days ago, but it feels different when we’re boyfriends. A lot different.”

“Less talking, you idiot,” said Winter, a snarl tinging his voice. Qibli let out a surprised yelp when the IceWing wrapped his arms around the SandWing’s neck, pulling him in for a second, but certainly not last kiss of the night.