If he was honest, Azriel had been missing the nights spent in the townhouse with the Inner Circle. He understood that it didn't happen as often as of late, given all of the developments -- but in this relative time of peace, it felt good to slip back into something more like normal.

He watches as Cassian leans towards Nesta to catch the handful of popcorn she drops into his waiting mouth, the look of exasperated amusement that follows his loud crunching -- and then his brother turns his attention to the only missing member of their little group and promptly yells for them.

Azriel isn't worried about your delayed joining -- a shadow curls near his shoulder, happy to inform him of your approach even before he hears your footsteps.

He watches you, as he always does, the way you drop the chilled bottle of wine into Cassian's waiting hands with a snarky comment of your own, one that makes Cassian pout, then sulk further when he gets no sympathy from his own mate.

The reach for you is easy, followed by the tug into his waiting lap as he cuddles you to him, lips at your shoulder. If someone had told him years ago he'd be so clingy, he might have laughed.

There's a comfort to having you in his arms, a balm to any and every ache -- especially when you sigh and lean into him as the wine is poured and handed out.