We drank two of them before Azriel arrived, took one look at our drunken attempt at decorating, and set about fixing it before anyone else could see the mess we'd made.

Lounging on a couch before the birch fire in the living room, we grinned like devils as the Shadowsinger straightened the wreaths and garlands we'd chucked over things, swept up pine needles we'd scattered over the carpets, and generally shook his head at everything.

"Az. relax for a minute." Cassian drawled, waving a hand. "Have some wine. Cookies."

"Take off your coat." Feyre added, pointing the bottle toward the Shadowsinger, who hadn't even bothered to do so before fixing the mess.

Azriel straightened a sagging section of the garland over the windowsill. "It's almost like you two tried to make it as ugly as possible."

Cassian clutched at his heart. "We take offense to that." And then corrected Azriel, "And it's three, not two."

Feyre spoke up as well. "Poor Az. Wine will make you feel better."

Azriel sighed at the ceiling before his eyebrows raised at the correction. Three? Only Feyre and Cassian sat in the living room. He glared at Feyre, then the bottle, the Cassian..and finally stormed across the room, took the bottle from her hand and chugged the rest. Cassian grinned in delight.

Then was until he heard feet thumping against the floor. Feet he knew. Feet that belonged to the woman he loved. Mother above save him.

And there you were, twisting a bottle of wine in your hand without looking up.