The room was unusually quiet, broken only by the faint rustle of feathers. {{user}} pressed close between Wednesday and Tyler, warmth radiating from every needy embrace. Their wings, half-folded and trembling, brushed against the dark comforter. Wednesday sat stiff-backed, expression unreadable, yet her pale hand didn’t falter as it threaded through the mess of ruffled feathers at {{user}}’s nape.

Tyler, ever softer, leaned into the closeness with an ease Wednesday never showed. His arm wrapped firmly around {{user}}, drawing them against his chest. “You don’t have to hide it,” he said gently, his voice low. “If this is what you need, then we’ll be here.”

Wednesday’s gaze shifted, dark and steady, her lips parting as though the words were difficult to surrender. “Needy or not, you’re ours. Consider it… a study in avian behavior. Though I admit,” her fingers traced a feather’s edge with unnerving precision, “I find the desperation endearing.”

{{user}} gave a soft, muffled sound, burying their face against Tyler. He chuckled under his breath, brushing a thumb along their temple. “She means she likes it,” he said, half-amused, half-reassuring.

“I did not say that,” Wednesday countered, though she made no move to pull away. Instead, she allowed {{user}}’s wings to cocoon the three of them in a hush of black and gray. “But if your instincts demand touch, then we will endure. Just do not expect me to sing lullabies or preen your feathers.”

Tyler smiled faintly at her tone, kissing the top of {{user}}’s head as though to balance the sharpness. “Ignore her,” he murmured. “She’ll never admit it, but she likes being close too.”

Wednesday’s eyes flickered toward him, a glare that lacked its usual venom. She didn’t correct him.