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They both rounded on him. “NO ONE ASKED YOU!”

“Whoa.” Celegorm looked at the joint in his hand. “That was eerie. You two. Like those little girls in The Shining. Talking in unison like that. Union? Unson? How do words…”

They both turned away, disgusted, and Haleth glared at Caranthir again. “Why can’t you get this through your thick head? I can like you as a person and not want to date you, or fuck you, and you have to accept that already!”

“If we’re such good friends why didn’t you tell me about Lalwen?” demanded Caranthir. “Why did you let me find out like that? Fuck, do you know what that felt like? You should have just TOLD me!”

“Yes, I should have!” Haleth yelled.

Caranthir looked taken aback.

Haleth gritted her teeth. “And if you’d bothered to let me talk to you over the past couple weeks, I could have apologized about that and told you that I felt shitty about hiding from you and I should have been straightforward from the beginning.”

“…Really?

“Yes, really, doofus. I should have told you. You shouldn’t have had to find out like that.”

Caranthir looked down. “…Oh.”

“But instead you were a moody tool and I had to hunt you down and barge into your room, where you could have been doing anything, gross, and…and smoke your weed…and yell at you…and your dumb brother is here…” She broke off feebly.

Caranthir’s lips twitched.

Haleth made a choked noise.

Caranthir looked up at her and wrinkled his nose. “You had to smoke my weed?”

“It helped with the yelling,” said Haleth, then slipped down to the floor and started to laugh helplessly. “…I think it only just kicked in.”

Caranthir slid out of his chair and sat across from her on the floor, his long legs stretched out in front of him. “Oh, thank god. I’ve been fighting my high since you came in. D’you know how scary it is to get yelled at by someone in combat boots when you’re stoned?”

“You did pretty good,” said Haleth, and picked his hat up off the ground to throw at his face. “Are we okay, you giant turnip?”

Caranthir tugged the hat back over his rumpled hair. “Turnip?”

“It made sense in my head.”

“Have you two just forgotten I’m here?” Celegorm slouched down in his chair, arms folded over his chest. “Or am I invisible?” He looked briefly pensive. “Have I been invisible all this time?”

“Oh my god,” said Haleth, and put her head onto her knees.

-

Some time later Haleth gave a groan and pushed herself to her feet, kicking an empty bag of Doritos out of the way. “All right. I think I’m…sober enough to walk home now.”

“You sure?” Caranthir was lying on his back on the floor, making a cat’s cradle out of some yarn he’d found under the bed.

“Yeah. Hey, I’m planning on going for a hike on Friday. Wanna come? I was thinking I’d go to that open mic thing after, I know a couple of people who are going…”

“Oh, yeah.” Caranthir got tangled in his cat’s cradle and tugged helplessly for a minute before dropping his hands to his stomach, defeated. “Makalaurë’s gonna be performing at that.”

“Oh, duh, ‘course he is. Yeah, me ‘n’ Andreth are going to go.” She frowned. “Hey, is Aegnor going to be there? Or his brother?”

“Why would I know that?” said Caranthir, quickly.

“Uh. Because they’re your cousins? And friends? I just know Andreth isn’t super thrilled with either of them these days, but…whatever, if they’re there she’ll get over it. Let’s talk this week – also about our project, dude, we are so far behind – and we can work out the details. Nice seeing you, Celegorm. I guess.” She stepped over Celegorm, who was propped against the wall, fiddling with his phone.

“What? Oh, yeah. Good theater, you two. I’ve never had such a good show…”

“Shut up.” Haleth pulled the door open. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Caranthir.”

As the door closed behind her, Caranthir freed his fingers from the cat’s cradle at last and sat up. “Okay. Now you get out of my room.”

“Mm. You planning on making a call?”

“What?”

“Or do you just text him?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re gonna booty call Findaráto now,” said Celegorm knowingly, standing up too. “You just had a real, human, emotional interaction with the girl you’re still trying to get over, and so now you’re totally going to get it out of your system by giving Ingo a good, deep – ”

“Leave.”

“Leaving…”

---

The light was failing when Finrod slipped through the door, already loosening his scarf. The house was quiet; its residents all in their respective rooms. Finrod hung up his jacket by the door and started across the living room towards Caranthir’s room, walking on light feet. He paused just once to glance up the stairs, and as he did, his phone pinged lightly with a text.

Are you here?

Finrod looked at Caranthir’s closed door, then back down at his phone.

Yes.

Come upstairs when he’s asleep.

Finrod took a long, even breath, a familiar electricity shivering through him as he looked up the stairs. Then he slid his phone back into his pocket and made his way to Caranthir’s room, turning off the lights as he went.

Chapter End Notes

0. Next week I won’t post a chapter, as I’m going to be traveling for work. However, I DO have a DWMP ‘verse fic to post, a terribly smutty one. So expect that next Thursday, instead of a new chapter. The Thursday after that is Christmas, I believe, so I’ll just have to play by ear when the next chapter goes up, but I have all the ideas and material I need for it. All I require is the time to write it…

She's a ten, I'm a joke in my own mind

Chapter Summary

(But she still loves to dance with my punchlines)

Chapter Notes

0. Happy New Year, everyone! (I meant to post this at midnight exactly, like I usually do, but I'm gonna be drinking and kissing things at midnight, so you get a slightly early update.)

I wrote a similar message on Tumblr, but I just want to reiterate how much I love and appreciate you all. This fandom in general has been such a wonderful part of my year, but on a smaller scale, the reception DWMP has gotten has blown my socks off. I never expected this to turn into anything much, let alone something so many people would read and comment on and even do art for, and it makes me happy to have you every goddamn day. Thanks for bearing with me through the weak or wacky chapters, enduring waits for updates (like, ah, this past month…appreciate your patience), and for exploring this AU with me. Cripes, that’s so trite sounding. But I mean it. Reiterating once again that I love every comment or message I get, and you should all feel free to hit me up on Tumblr, and also, always let me know if you have questions or I miss the mark or otherwise blow it in some way. (Like, don’t send me Howlers, if you can help it, but I will ALWAYS take thoughtful comments and questions and critiques very, very seriously. And gratefully. I will also chatter about inane shit or my headcanons for characters’ underpants or whatever for literally days, so feel free to lob that sorta thing at me too.)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Finrod slipped back into bed beside Caranthir, who was breathing deep and slow, fast asleep like he’d left him. Finrod curled under the blankets and closed his eyes, but memories flickered so fast beneath his eyelids it was almost more distracting than keeping them open.

How wide Curufin’s pupils had been, so large that his eyes were almost black instead of grey. The quick gasps of his breath and those blown-dark eyes the only sign of his nerves – his hands were quite steady.

“We don’t have to do anything. I can just sit with you, we can talk – ”

“No. I want to.”

Finrod shivered, even under the blankets, and rolled over, unconsciously seeking the heat of Caranthir’s body. Caranthir sighed in his sleep and draped an arm over Finrod’s waist, nuzzling into Finrod’s neck. Finrod felt desire ghost through him – again – and bit his tongue against it. There is something so wrong with you.

They’d tumbled together on Curufin’s bed, kissing hard – every time Finrod would attempt gentleness, Curufin would bite at him until he pressed forward more fiercely. There was something almost angry in the way Curufin kissed him. It felt, as it had before, like a challenge, and Finrod wasn’t sure he was the one being challenged.

He’s daring himself to go further.

But it was hard to resist that challenge, to leave it unanswered. And so he wound his arms around Curufin’s waist, pulling him close, tangling their legs together.

At that, though, Curufin had flinched back, and Finrod realized at once it had been because of the brush of their groins together – the press of Finrod’s obvious arousal. He’d angled himself away immediately and backed off, laying almost chaste kisses to Curufin’s lips.

Finally, he’d murmured. “I’d like to touch you, if you want it. But only if you want it. Do you?”

Curufin had shivered then, in his arms. “No.”

Finrod pressed his palms to his hot face.

Finrod had eventually pulled back altogether, sitting up on the bed and folding his legs in front of him. “Let’s slow down, okay?”

Curufin had looked up at him, a wary, defensive look on his face. “Why?”

“Because there’s no rush. And Curvo,” he’d said it with intent, keeping himself removed from Curufin, making sure he wasn’t touching him at all, “I want you to know that I will never, ever touch you unless you want it. Unless you ask for it. You can tell me to stop, okay? Anytime. And I’m not going to – ”

“Stop babying me,” snarled Curufin, and there was a flush on his cheeks. Finrod blinked. Curufin had momentarily looked very much like Caranthir. “If you want to stop, just say you want to stop. Don’t put it on me.”

“I’m just letting you know,” said Finrod softly.

“Fine.” Curufin sat up, yanking his shirt down where it had gotten rucked up over his stomach. “Got it. I think you should go, now.”

“If you want me to.”

“Yeah. I do.”

Finrod turned over, burying his face against Caranthir’s shoulder. Being around Curufin made his brain burn hot. So many questions, so many layers, so much to sort through – such exhilaration. But it was not…soothing.

It was inflaming.

He had always loved to read. Books could set his mind on fire, but people – people were even better than books. He loved to read their needs and wants and desires, and sometimes, the only time he felt truly happy was when he was fulfilling them.

Curufin was a page-turner, if not a mystery.

It was his own mind he couldn’t fathom.

What are you doing? Why are you doing it?

Caranthir murmured in his sleep and pulled Finrod closer. Finrod closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of Caranthir’s skin, something that had somehow become familiar and comforting in the past month.

What is wrong with you?

Finrod flinched as Turgon’s words echoed through his memory. He pressed his lips to Caranthir’s skin, and remembered the taste of Curufin’s mouth.

He wished he knew the answer.

----

Caranthir groaned. “I am so sore.”

“I told you you didn’t have to try to keep up.”

“I should have had an advantage. Why didn’t I have an advantage?”

“What advantage would that be?”

“I’m…bigger than you.”

“Oh, good. That’s always an indicator of things like stamina.”

“I just mean, like, if we’re talking inches alone, you’re about…”

“Size isn’t everything, kid.”

Caranthir scowled, rubbing resentfully at his calves as Haleth stuck her tongue out at him. “For someone who’s about the height of one of my legs…”

“Yes, I know, I kicked your ass, it was embarrassing. You should get out more often. Get off your butt and actually do something physical, you know?”

“Like more of that hiking? No, thanks.” Caranthir tried to stretch his legs out, grimacing horribly. “I dunno what people like you and Tyelko see in it.”

“You didn’t like the view at the end? We could see three states from up there.”

“I wasn’t counting,” muttered Caranthir. “I was too busy hyperventilating and picking ice out of my socks.”

“Aw, pumpkin.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Haleth drummed her fingers on the table and looked around. The lights at Cuiviénen had been dimmed for its monthly Open Mic night. The café was still serving tea and coffee, but most patrons had switched to beer and wine, and a stage had been set up at the far end of the café, complete with a curtained off backstage for performers to drop their set lists.

“It’s a pretty decent set-up they do here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Makalaurë had a lot to do with that,” said Caranthir, giving up on his sore legs and tipping back in his chair. “He said that a stool and a microphone was not enough if he was going to be performing for free. He got a friend of his to rig a soundboard and everything, and setting up the backstage area was his idea too. He says he needs a place to ‘find his zen’ before a performance.”

“Moryo, your brother…”

“Yeah, he’s the worst.”

Haleth grinned and got up. “I’m going to get a beer. I’ll get you one, too.”

“I’m just gonna stick with chai, I think.”

“I meant I’m going to get two beers and pretend one is for you but really drink both of them.” Haleth swung her hips and sauntered off. “I beat your ass up a mountain today, I deserve all the beer.”

-

Soon Cuiviénen was crowded with people and one of the first musicians was warbling into the microphone. Maglor had appeared briefly, wearing a cuffed sleeve tee shirt and a look of distraction before vanishing almost immediately to talk to a tall, handsome boy with cropped black hair and a flute case. Caranthir looked up as someone tapped him on the shoulder, expecting Maedhros. Instead it was Turgon, who dropped into the seat next to him without preamble.

“I had to escape. This is the open mic thing, right? Whatever, it doesn’t matter. It’s not refreshing the page where my grades are posted over and over. It could be dog fighting and I’d take it over waiting to see what I got in epidemiology.”

“Don’t let Tyelko hear you say that.” Caranthir pushed his muffin over to Turgon, who was pale and exhausted and looked vaguely malnourished. “Looks like the end of the semester fucked you hard.”

Turgon moaned and laid his head down on the table. “It’ll be over someday,” he said, his voice muffled. “Right? That’s what I keep telling myself.”

Haleth, who was already on her third beer and getting tipsy, reached down to ruffle up his curls and then leaned her head down so that they could make eye contact. She adopted a look of intense focus; Turgon looked alarmed. “Turno. No. You CANNOT let it win. The schooly thing. Soon you’ll be a doctor of the medicine and everything will be worth it. Doctor Turno. And…” Her razor focus drifted, and she blinked, trying to drag back her train of thought. “…and you’ll write books for children, with rhyming words, and they’ll learn all about…phonemes…whoops.” She slipped sideways off her chair and Caranthir caught her and hauled her upright again.