Page 84 of Fumiko and the Finicky Nestmate
And he let her.
Juuyu watched the sun skim along a distant bank of clouds, lighting them in hues that presaged a far-off storm. “Are you finished?” he asked.
“Not yet.” Sinder’s phone clicked off to the right.
“Just a few more?” pleaded Akira, who’d been crouching and craning for the last five minutes, trying to frame the perfect photo.
Juuyu spared his partner a look.
Sinder fluted insistently. “When the light changed, it did really nice things to your ….”
He trailed off, leaving Juuyu’s curiosity unsatisfied. But he wouldn’t ask. Sinder might accuse him of fishing for compliments.
“Could you let your hair down?” asked Akira. “It’d be more you.”
Juuyu hummed. “Is the paint dry enough?”
Fumiko came forward. She had a light touch and a serious expression. “Should be safe,” she murmured. “Need help?”
“No, thank you.” Zuzu had been letting slip a little of her sister’s brightness. He couldn’t tell if the tree was teasing him, whetting his appetite, or simply worried about him. Juuyu probably should have protested. This wasn’t setting a good precedent, though she was well within safe bounds. Far from harming him, Fumiko was shoring up his flagging strength. However, he dared not allow anything akin to preening.
Plucking Sinder’s hair sticks, he hesitated. His current attire didn’t allow for much in the way of storage, and he couldn’t very well drop them on the ground.
“Here,” Fumiko said softly. “I’ll take them.”
Her hand came under his, and another tiny burst of awareness seeped into his soul.
Admiration. He could deal with admiration, since he was essentially a painting. Artists were allowed to step back and admire their work.
Interest. Easily accounted for by both her isolation and his clan affiliation. People rarely met a phoenix in person, so curiosity was only natural.
But there was a wistfulness lurking under it all. A pining that she kept to herself most of the time. Until his touch stirred it up … and caused his hand to linger.
“No?” she asked.
What? Oh. The hair sticks. Before she could withdraw, he caught her wrist and pressed them against her palm. “Once the sun sets, I will need to wash.”
She understood the implied question and nodded. “I know. It’s fine.”
“Nearly time,” called Sinder, who snapped a picture of the sinking sun before stowing his camera. “Who else wants to dive in?”
“I will!” Akira set aside his own phone and lined up beside Sinder.
Eyes on the thin scrap of light remaining above the horizon, the dragon counted down. “Three … two … one … GO!”
He and Akira took off with a graceless, high-stepping run that turned into two shallow dives. They disappeared for a matter of seconds, but then the water churned, and Sinder surfaced in dragon form, Akira on his back.
Applause pattered from the direction of the dock, where the interns looked on, all lined up in folding chairs, with blankets on their laps.
“They have been waiting dinner for us.” Juuyu waded into the water, but he stopped when he realized Fumiko had followed.
“I can help,” she offered.
Juuyu hesitated. To nest safely was a bond of sorts. Perhaps … under the circumstances. With a low trill, he backed up a few steps and sat in the shallows. “What you have made, you may unmake.”
She kilted up her skirt and bent to slosh water on his arm.
“Like so,” he urged, scooping wet sand and using it to scrub at the back of his hand.
