Hrafn stared out the balcony window while Chief Seong flipped through the channels of the television in the living room. Neither of them nor Ha-Rin had seen much of Haneul recently. In the past few days, Haneul left for work at the earliest morning hours only to return late at night and hole himself up in the study. He said it was a busy season and his father had passed many projects off for him to oversee. 

Somehow Hrafn doubted that. 

“It’s not like you’re going to leave right away,” Ha-Rin had muttered to herself when she had inspected Hrafn’s no-longer broken wing. “You’ll have to do some physical therapy to get your strength back to whatever is standard. I doubt it can hold your full weight if you were to try flying now.” 

Hrafn could not remember a time in his life where he’d been so pressed by a potential mate. 

In his youth he hadn’t particularly cared if he would mate. He had no intentions to sire and he could always pick an egg from one of the planet’s rookeries if he really wanted an heir. Once he had fought through his fair shares of battles, gone on explorations across his galaxy, and then finally became Drottnari—he had not seen a need for a partner. There were too many responsibilities to shoulder and the universe was too big for him to have to devote the last of his time to another. This was all too new to him. And just finally when he thought this absurd will I won’t I debate ended in his head, he stumbled upon yet another barrier in his path. Except this time, it was in the form of his freedom and home. 

This time, he could finally attempt to return home if he so wanted. He could actively search for a Star Warp on Earth. Finally, His people would have their Drottnari once more and he could put the council in their place, under his seat at the chain of command.  

Now we need to have two very important conversations, Hrafn thought dejectedly. Just when we were getting somewhere… 

Chief Seong sighed loudly from the living room. “I can literally hear your thoughts, man. Just go talk to him.”

“I can’t just approach and demand an audience with him,” Hrafn exhaled with more frustration than he meant. Walking into the living room, he crossed his arms over his chest and stood in front of the television. “I listened to your counsel before and now I’m being avoided.”

“It wasn’t my advice. Blame your wing.”

“How was I supposed to know the ocean was going to wash the wound dressing away?”

“You could’ve asked one of us,” the human shrugged. 

“You and Ha-Rin were both intoxicated out of your minds,” Hrafn said. “I doubt that would’ve been much help.”

Sucking his breath in through his teeth, Chief Seong shooed the warlord away so he could continue flipping through the tv channels. “Why are there only romance dramas on right now?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be guarding the door?” Hrafn snapped irritably, stepping out of the way and turning his attention to the TV where some woman and man were yelling at one another in the rain.

“Specifically guarding you and Haneul’s living quarters.” Chief Seong tossed the remote across the couch. “Which I can do from the comfort of Haneul’s sofa, thanks.”

Groaning, Hrafn sank next to the human on the seat. “Why is it always one thing right after the other?”

“That’s the way life is.” Chief Seong patted him on the shoulder.

They didn’t say anything for a while, just watched the drama unfold on the TV. The woman yelling at the man suddenly reached up and grabbed his face. On the screen, the rain turned to snow and began to float backwards. Her face smushed up against the man’s. 

Hrafn’s lips curled up in confusion. “What?”

“What?” Chief Seong echoed back, equally confused.

“Why are they doing that? Doesn’t it hurt?” Hrafn asked, gesturing to the television where the man seemed surprised but unbothered.

“You cannot tell me that the entire time you’ve been on Earth you haven’t seen a single kiss!” This time it was apparently Chief Seong’s turn to be exasperated. 

“Clearly, since I don’t know what it is!” Hrafn shouted back in defense. 

Rubbing his face, the human leaned back into the seat and stared up at the ceiling. “Maybe something like this could have fixed all your problems, my friend.”

“What do you mean?”

“That is a human sign of affection, particularly with a partner. Intimate or romantic.”

“Why?” Hrafn’s face scrunched up. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

Chief Seong’s mouth hung open, gaping like a dead fish. He was clearly baffled. 

Sighing, Hrafn pulled at the side of his own mouth with a finger. He clenched his jaw to display the fangs and sharp teeth in his mouth.

“I hate biology,” Chief Seong sighed, mimicking the same motion and showing off his molars and comparatively less sharp canines and cuspids. “As long as you’re careful, you’re not head butting or nothing painful like that. And even if teeth get involved, some people like the biting.”

“Humans are odd. Thank you for telling me about this, Jiu—you know a lot about human physical affection.”

“Don’t say it like that you weirdo!”

Which is how Haneul walked into the penthouse, to Hrafn and Chief Seong shouting and making faces at one another. 

“Am…what exactly am I interrupting?” Haneul asked, leaning against the wall with a hand on his hip.

Chief Seong stood up immediately, wiping his hand on his pants. “Nothing boss, I was just on my way out. Holler if you need anything!”

Very suspiciously, he hurried out of the apartment.

Haneul lifted his brow and stared at Hrafn dubiously. 

“I have different teeth.” Hrafn gestured dumbly. 

“I was aware of that already.” Haneul tilted his head with a half-smirk. “You made that very clear when you tried to attack Ha-Rin and I the first time we met.”

“Yes well, I was injured and very hungry at the time.”

“It’s a good thing you’re all healed up then.” The small bit of amusement died away from Haneul’s face. He looked as dejected as Hrafn felt. “I’ll be in the study if you need anything.”

“Haneul, wait—!” He stumbled as he stood up, freezing when Haneul faced him with a sad look. “Do you want to cook dinner with me?”

“I have a lot of work, sorry.” It was simple and curt. Not enough to be unkind, but enough to hurt.

“Please,” Hrafn said, stepping closer. “Spend this time with me.”

Haneul stared at him, then down the hallway, then back at Hrafn. After a beat of hesitation, he nodded and acquiesced. He placed his briefcase down on the couch and undid his tie, removing it with his jacket.

Hrafn’s heart fluttered dangerously in his ribcage. “Follow me then, and I’ll tell you what I’d like assistance with.”

The entire time, neither of them said anything outside of Hrafn’s instructions. The sound of kitchen preparation, food cooking on the stove, water boiling in a pot, it all echoed loudly in the warlord’s ears. He’d suggested they make bindaetteok, which he had discovered early on were homey fried flat-cakes with assortments of vegetables in them—he suggested this mostly because the word was fun to say. His human seemed less than enthused by both the food or the word but agreed all the same. Trying to think of anything to loosen the awkward tension that he once again found himself in, he hummed to himself. Haneul’s knife stuttered for a moment before he continued. 

“I wouldn’t take you for a pop fan, Hrafn.” Haneul muttered.

Hrafn’s ears perked up. “It’s just what Chief Seong puts on the radio when he eats lunch with me.”

Haneul nodded. 

The kitchen went quiet again and the little bit of hope that Hrafn had held onto truly began to fizzle out.

Until Haneul began to hum along to Hrafn’s song. 

The low tenor rumbled at the back of his throat, the melody warm and carrying. When Hrafn closed his eyes for just a moment, there was a sense of peace that washed over him. There will never be a right moment for you and I, he thought. This agitating sense of obstacles ruining any sort of progress, forced marriages and impending manhunts, all of it would still be there when he would open his eyes. It would all still be there. But humming a song in the evening light where dinner simmered on a stovetop and the two of them crowded into a too small kitchen—how many moments like this would exist for them?

“Haneul, you have a knife in your hand,” Hrafn said.

Haneul paused and stood rigid. “And?”

“You may stab me if this displeases you.”

Slowly, Hrafn caged his arms on either side of Haneul. “Is this okay?”

Much to his surprise, Haneul nodded. 

Sighing in relief, he rested his forehead on the crown of Haneul’s head. “And this?”

“Yeah.” The man’s voice was shaky. 

“I learned about what kissing is for humans,” Hrafn said. “It would have been nice to know about such practices when I told you about my people’s wing custom.”

Haneul barked out a sardonic laugh. “Oh? And would you have liked me to kiss you?”

“Yes.”

The kitchen silenced except for the sizzling of the stove.

“I don’t know how to kiss,” Hrafn admitted. “But with you I think I would’ve liked it.”

“Your wings.” Haneul turned around and stared sternly at him. “Would you cover me with your wings?”

There was no argument needed. Hrafn unfurled his wings, hiding him and Haneul away. Without the broken wing, it truly was just the two of them. No window to the outside world, no interruptions, it was just them hidden within their own warmth. To protect someone in his wings, in the lee of his feathers, was a sign of affection for his people. It may not have been so intimately intertwining as a human’s, but it was a promise of safety and stability. 

“I will not just abandon you, Haneul,” Hrafn whispered. “There will be a way. There has to be a way.”

Haneul’s gold stare was exhausted. “I don’t think you can have the best of both worlds, Hrafn. For as much as we would both like that.”

“Then I will have the best of this world, the one that is right here in this moment with you. Our world.” Hrafn ran a gentle touch along the human’s forehead, brushing feathery strands of hair away from skin. “I want to try.”

“Lean down,” Haneul said.

And Hrafn obeyed.

Haneul’s touch was gentle and hesitant. His thumb swept along Hrafn’s jaw so tenderly. Crooning softly, Hrafn reassured his human to the best of his abilities. 

“Close your eyes?” Haneul leaned closer.

Hrafn obeyed once more.

A feather light touch grazed his lips. It took half a second to realize that it was Haneul. Haneul’s lips against his. It was the softest of sensations. A lush and smooth caress he’d never experienced before. His hands grazed along Haneul’s sides, claws sliding along ribs—which only seemed to urge Haneul into something that was bolder, warmer, far more urgent.  With a pleased sigh, Hrafn allowed Haneul to guide him, stars dazzling behind his eyelids as he was rocked further and further into the human’s kiss.