A.N. After ACOFAS, I cannot stop thinking about Azriel and Elain. I spent a long time writing this. It's OOC. It's fluffy. It's angsty. I don't even know if I like it, but I can't stop thinking about Azriel and Elain. I much prefer my other Elriel fic, In the Dark.

Enjoy.

Disclaimer: Don't own ACOTAR series

A Kiss Goodnight

They were passing kisses around like sips of hot chocolate on a cold winter's night.

Cassian had his arms around Feyre's shoulders as he slurred a song with all the wrong words, and she was singing along as if they had planned it. The others were tipsy but not singing: Mor and Rhys on the couch, thumb wrestling; Amren scowling at her plate of food and wishing she didn't have to eat it; and Azriel and Elain standing by the fire, both smiling faintly as their respective siblings made fools of themselves.

When Cassian smacked a wet, sloppy kiss on Feyre's cheek, she was not to be outdone. When Mor noticed, she kissed the other side of Cassian's face before turning to Feyre. When Rhys stood, Amren intervened and said she did not want the mates to ruin the evening with their insatiable "appetites"—so Rhys dropped a kiss on her cheek instead.

One look at Amren's disgusted face and Elain hid a giggle behind her hand, but when she stole a glance at Azriel, his grin proved she hadn't hidden it at all. She dropped her hand and returned his smile, relieved that none of the others thought to include either of them in the rounds of kisses—

—until Cassian bellowed Azriel's name and Az flinched.

Elain hid another giggle that Azriel met with a glare, which only made her giggle harder. And then the Night Court converged on Azriel (mainly Feyre, Mor, and Cassian) and Elain circled around the group and stood beside Amren, who had returned to scowling at the food.

The pie is pretty good, Elain offered softly, and she thought she heard Amren growl.

A few hours later and Rhys and Feyre were gone, Mor was asleep on the couch, Cassian asleep on the floor beside her, and Azriel was offering to walk Elain to her room. Though she hadn't had anything to drink, Elain could feel the buzz in the air dying, its last breath whispering in her ear to do it, just do it, so at the top of the stairs and only a few feet from her room, she placed her hand on Azriel's shoulder and pulled herself up so she could drop a soft kiss on his cheek. His eyes widened, maybe his cheeks turned red, and Elain, breathless, flitted to her room as fast as she could before he could retaliate.

Elain found a bunny in her garden and kissed its nose.

Azriel found Elain in her garden kissing a bunny's nose.

He hadn't made a sound—just wanted to be around her while she hummed and worked, unnoticed, undisturbed—but Elain looked up as if she knew he was there and smiled at him while she put the bunny down.

Azriel tracked the bunny's movements as it returned to its family, Elain crowing when she noticed the others. So Azriel, quiet as a shadow, soft as a moth's wing, picked up another bunny and offered it to Elain.

Grinning, she enveloped the rabbit into her arms and placed a soft kiss on its nose before gently setting it down. She beamed at him, curling a wayward piece of hair behind her ear, caught in the wind, and Azriel, suddenly warm, looked around the garden so he could find something, anything, for her to kiss.

He picked a rose and lifted it toward Elain's mouth. Laughing, she leaned forward and kissed its soft petals. He found a bird and tried to catch it, but it flew away before he could cup it in the palms of his hands. He found a worm and, pinching it lightly between his thumb and forefinger, held it close to her face, and Elain, her face scrunching, her eyes sparkling, threatened to kiss him if he kept trying to make her kiss that worm.

And then the smile dropped from her face, but the sparkle didn't leave her eye, and though Azriel could have easily disappeared, vanished into thin air, he let Elain chase him through the garden, silent as the breeze, stoic as a statue, the sound of her laughter echoing off the leaves and the petals and the trees, until she finally stood in front of him and smacked her sweaty, dirty hands on his cheeks and pecked his nose.

-0-0-0-0-

You let me catch you, she said later, once her work was done, a pile of weeds in her hands, as they walked toward the house. She said it as if she didn't expect a response, and Azriel remained silent the rest of their walk home.

She heard them saying that Azriel had to leave for a while to monitor the Spring border. For reconnaissance, they said. The Night Court's Shadow, uncovering secrets only shared in the dark.

Elain did not know how to say she was worried, did not know how to tell him to come home safe, because she never had to say those words before and didn't think Azriel needed to hear them.

The others offered him quick goodbyes—clearly unworried, unafraid—and Elain stood in the shadow of the doorway, staring, thinking about their words—just a few days, maybe a few weeks, should be fine, only a few whispers of something dangerous lingering in Tamlin's region, be careful, brother—and Elain turned to disappear to her room, wishing she had the strength to just know, without any doubt, that everything would turn out okay.

By the time she reached the window in her room—overlooking the Sidra and her garden—ready to stare into eternity and see what only she could, she heard a soft knock on her door.

She didn't turn from staring at the water, not as her door was pushed open, not as he took a few steps closer to her.

Still staring out the window, Elain whispered from some part of her she didn't understand: Don't trust the wolves howling at the moon. She turned from the window, from the river and the flowers, and met Azriel's hazel eyes, staring right at her, right through her, right to the part of her she didn't understand, and he nodded like he trusted her, like he cared, like he knew.

Their gazes still locked, Elain took slow steps toward him, closing the distance. When she stood close enough to touch, she rose on her toes and closed her eyes, brushing her lips across the skin of his jaw, the smell of him washing over her—pine and sage, earth and leaves—and she whispered, Don't trust the wolves, before Azriel wisped away.

Azriel returned two weeks later, dirty and grimy and covered in blood, and he went to find Elain in the garden as soon as he finished relaying his adventure to his high lord—a coup staged, a group from the Autumn Court trying to get the drop on him, a trap he may have fallen into if he hadn't thought of Elain's warning before he left. Don't trust the wolves.

He expected to find her wrist deep with the worms, but instead he found her shin deep in the pond.

Her back was to him, hair flickering in the slight breeze, wearing a pale pink dress. Azriel held his breath as he watched her take hesitant steps farther into the pond, watching the fishes. When she finally turned and saw him standing there, she smiled in surprise, and Azriel, unbidden, unrestrained, walked right to the pond, right into it—Azriel! Your shoes!—until he stood beside her and could taste the sun shining from her smile on his lips.

Did everything go okay? she asked. Are you okay? She inspected his face, his arms, his legs, and he didn't think to hide his hands until it was too late. She reached for his arm the moment she noticed the blood.

Just a few scratches, a few scrapes—some bruises she couldn't see—and Azriel couldn't bear to hear her ask if he was okay again, so he said before she could, You saved me.

Elain didn't look up from her hands cupping his between both of hers.

You saved me, he said again, and Elain leaned down and kissed a scratch on the palm of his hand.

When she looked up to meet his gaze, her eyes were tired and sad—but relieved. Azriel stared at the blood from his hands now staining her lips and disappeared in a cloud of shadow before he decided to steal a taste.

Elain sat beside Azriel at a booth at Rita's and couldn't stop her eyes from drooping. She felt so tired today, so ready to leave, to sleep, but Feyre had been so discouraged when Nesta had ignored them again that Elain didn't have the heart to say she wouldn't go when Feyre asked.

So she followed a few steps behind the Inner Circle as they walked around town, trying to drown in the sound of their laughter, but her head was pounding, she missed her sister, and she felt so alone.

By the time they reached Rita's, Elain just wanted to go home—wherever that was now— and she didn't notice when Azriel arrived until he was sitting beside her and handing her a glass of water.

Thank you, she whispered, and Azriel nodded. They watched the others dance in silence for a while, and when Mor gestured for Az to come dance with her, he only hesitated for a moment until Elain smiled and told him to go.

He came back twenty minutes later, and Elain hadn't touched her water. He sat a little closer to her than he had been sitting when he left, his leg flush against hers, arm brushing arm, and she didn't know how much time had passed until she couldn't hold her head up anymore. She let it list to the side until eventually, finally, she could rest it on Azriel's arm and close her eyes without thinking about the pain.

When he asked if she was okay, Elain could only mumble a soft my head hurts and then she fell silent, hoping to drown out the sounds of music, of dancing, of laughing, hoping to pretend the glaring absence of her older sister didn't hurt, hoping to ignore the smell of wine and beer and food, hoping to sleep and not remember—

—and when she thought she felt Azriel kiss the top of her head, she pretended she didn't notice, pretended she was asleep, wondering if he kissed her head because she said it hurt, wondering what he would do she said her heart hurt.

Azriel started avoiding the house, started avoiding her—he couldn't look at her face without hoping for a smile, couldn't look at her smile without thinking about a kiss, and he couldn't stop thinking about Lucien—

—he couldn't stand to be around her anymore without touching her, couldn't stand touching her, couldn't stop thinking about Lucien—

—where is he, when is he coming next, is she going to smile, will he make her happy—

—he didn't want to hurt her feelings, didn't want to make this harder on her, so he stopped coming to the house, didn't say anything until someone asked, didn't say much even when they did—

—tried not to be in a room alone with her, couldn't stand to be in a room with others, just wanted to be around her, to see her, touch her, taste her—

—she found him one night walking through the garden and trying not to think about her, and she asked if he was okay, and he just—

—he just—

No, he told her, and then she was in front of him, and then she was looking so sad, so tired, and he wanted to ask if she was okay, but then she was resting the side of her face against his chest, her arms at her sides, his arms at his sides—

—she sighed softly, her tense shoulders relaxing, and Azriel couldn't help it—couldn't stop—he dropped another kiss on top of her head—but Lucien—but Elain—

—head still on his chest, she grabbed his left hand and stroked his fingers—he closed his eyes—stopped breathing—her head lifted from his chest—

No, he thought. Don't, he wanted to say—

to himself

to her

and then she kissed him lightly on the lips, and he didn't deserve this, she didn't deserve this, Lucien—

—Lucien—

and then her lips pressed harder against his—he tasted tears, he tasted her—and even though he knew he shouldn't, Azriel kissed her back.