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“What gives you that idea?”

-

Ríanellë was poking around in the kitchen, wearing Maglor’s pajama pants – long in the leg and snug in the hip – and his old Formenos Orchestra sweatshirt. Her hair was in a braid, but her bangs stuck up at an angle, and she kept trying to press them down with a distracted hand.

“I’m having some trouble finding the coffee,” she said, her back to them as she stood on tiptoe to peer in the cupboard. “Isn’t that typical? You need coffee in order to conscious enough to locate the coffee… Did you say it was – ” She turned. “Oh, you're not Maglor. Whoops.” She did a double take at Celegorm, half naked and lounging against the doorframe, his hair falling in his eyes. “Whoa.”

Celegorm smiled. Curufin heaved a long-suffering sigh.

Ríanellë dragged her fascinated gaze away from Celegorm’s bare chest. “Um. Are you Maglor’s housemates?”

“Brothers, actually,” said Curufin, digging his elbow into Celegorm’s ribs. Celegorm was watching Ríanellë with interest.

“But I already met one of his – Oh gosh, there’s more of you?”

“Sister, you got no idea,” said Celegorm, grinning.

“It figures that I’ve never been good with names.” Ríanellë sighed and sat down at the table. “Can I just guess, instead? You’re, hmm, lessee, I’m gonna say something like…‘Thor’.”

“Hah. I’ll take it.”

“And then I’d say you’re a…”

“Curufin,” said Curufin, tersely.

“Curufin.” Ríanellë nodded. “Fair enough. I’m sorry to invade your kitchen like this, but Maglor mentioned there was something in the way of coffee down here…?” She trailed off hopefully.

“We’re all out.” Curufin folded his arms.

It was Celegorm’s turn to elbow his brother now. Curufin sighed again. “But I suppose we could run out and get some more.” Celegorm elbowed him again and Curufin scowled. “Yes, I know it was my job to restock the coffee. Stop poking me, Tyelko.”

-

The two of them made their way down the street back from the corner store, kicking their way through half-melted piles of slush. Huan raced ahead of them, soaking wet and jubilant, sticking his face into puddles. Celegorm, who'd finally deigned to put on a shirt and jacket, was holding an umbrella and humming, and Curufin was looking moody. A good part of this might have been explained by the arm Celegorm had draped over his shoulders, and finally Curufin lost patience and squirmed free of Celegorm’s touch.

“Enough already. Do you have to hug me even as we walk, you touch-starved buffoon? Have the rules all just gone out the window?”

“I was trying to keep you dry under the umbrella,” said Celegorm, attempting to look wounded.

Curufin ducked out from under the umbrella and let the icy rain slick down his hair. “Dryness is not worth such proximity to you.”

Celegorm shrugged. “No skin off my ass. It’s your double pneumonia. But speaking of proximity…”

“Makalaurë’s new bedmate?”

“No, actually. I’m talking about you.”

“I can assure you that I am not Makalaurë’s new bedmate.”

Celegorm made a repulsed face. “No, sicko, I mean your…uh, love life.”

“What love life?”

“Well, that’s what I wanna know.” Celegorm shifted the plastic bag he was carrying to his other hand, nearly dropping the umbrella in the process. “I realize I’ve been unintentionally respecting your dumb-ass wishes and not asking for follow-up on the whole Findaráto kiss thing.” His face darkened as he spoke Finrod’s name.

“Yes. I’d been most impressed with your unusual, and appreciated, restraint.”

“Yeah, it’s not gonna last, squirt. I just got distracted for a bit.” Celegorm stopped, and Curufin drew up short to keep from walking into him. They were a block from their house now and Huan was already circling in the yard, wondering why they had stopped moving. “Has he done it again?”

“Done what?”

Celegorm snorted. “Do you know how ridiculous you look playing dumb? You’re terrible at it. Has he made a move again, Curvo. Is he still hitting on you?”

“Of course not.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“He hasn’t tried anything? Approached you, or – ”

“He apologized for the whole incident.” Curufin crossed his arms, rain running down the side of his face. He shook his head impatiently, sending droplets flying. “He was clearly in a post break-up, post-coital fugue, and did something idiotic. He didn’t mean it, I didn’t really want it, and that’s that.”

“You didn’t want it?” Celegorm was still looking ominous. “Fucking scum. I told you you should have let me punch him.”

“I was confused, Tyelko.” Curufin tightened his jaw, looking like it physically pained him to admit such a thing. “But it was a lapse. I’m quite sure, now.”

“Sure that you don’t want him.”

“What else?” Curufin shrugged. “I far prefer the status quo, anyway. Much easier, much cleaner – god forbid I end up in the same sort of entanglements as you fools. Nelyo and his pet Nolofinwion. You and your…” Curufin caught sight of Celegorm’s rapidly lowering brows, and said hastily, “…Oromë. It’s far too much drama and mess for my blood. I prefer it this way.”

“Okay,” said Celegorm slowly. “As long as you’re sure. As long as you’re happy…”

“I am fine.”

“And I really can’t…”

“You may NOT commit grievous bodily harm against Findaráto, no.”

“You don’t let me have any fun.”

“Worry about your own problems, Tyelko. I can handle myself, and there’s nothing for you to fret about on my account. I have it perfectly under control.” Curufin gave a rare smile, and wiped wet hair out of his eyes. “I always do.”

* * *

Ríanellë let herself back into Maglor’s room, pulling the door shut softly behind her. Maglor rolled over in bed, propping himself on one elbow to regard her sleepily. His dark hair was loose and messy, and his shoulders were bare. He shivered a little and tugged the blankets up to his chest.

“Hey. Sorry, I must’ve dropped back to sleep again.”

“No worries.” Ríanellë smiled and crossed over to the chair where her clothes from the night before were draped. “I couldn’t find the coffee you mentioned, but your brothers went out to get more.”

“You met my brothers?” Maglor paled. “Oh, god.”

“It’s okay, they didn’t do anything shocking. Thor was polite enough, if a bit…oggly.”

“Who’sThor?” Maglor wrinkled his nose and then recognition dawned. “…You mean Tyelko, don’t you.”

“If that’s the one who would be the most likely to stare at how my nipples showed through my top, then yes. But how many brothers do you have? I thought you only mentioned two at the café last night, but those two were brand new to me…”

“Six.”

Ríanellë blinked. “Holy cow.”

“Yeah.” Maglor sighed. “We get that a lot. But hey,” he sat up in bed as Ríanellë started pulling the sweatshirt over her head, “…are you coming back to bed?” He swallowed hard as Ríanellë dropped the sweatshirt to the ground and picked her bra out of the pile of clothes. “Um, I promise you don’t need to put that back on.”

Ríanellë laughed, slipping her arms through her bra straps. “Sorry, I meant to stick around for coffee, at least, but it’s already later than I thought.”

From downstairs came the sounds of the door opening and stomping feet and a muffled voice complaining about the smell of wet dog, and another voice retorting, “I bet you don’t smell that lovely either, you soggy little nugget.”

"Stop calling me that!"

“…Sounds like your brothers are home.”

“Yeah.” Maglor slipped out of bed and padded swiftly over to his record player. Grabbing an album from his collection, he dropped it onto the turntable and lowered the needle, turning the volume up so that the sounds of the White Stripes drowned out the noises from below.

Ríanellë raised an eyebrow as Maglor crossed the room to lean against the chair next to her, reaching out to grasp her hips. “Maglor, I really can’t stick around for morning shenanigans.”

“That’s not why I put on the music,” said Maglor, indignantly. “Well, not entirely,” he conceded, as Ríanellë’s eyebrows raised disbelievingly. “It’s mostly because I know my brothers will be trying to eavesdrop.” But he couldn’t quite stop himself from sliding a hand up her side to ghost over the slight swell of her breast.

“Don’t worry, I won’t give them anything juicy to overhear.” Ríanellë stepped out his arms and slid out of the pajama pants she’d borrowed, grabbing her tights and skirt. “Shoot, is it ten already?”

“Okay,” said Maglor quickly. “I know you’re in a rush, but when can I see you again? I know it’s an odd order to do things in, spending the night before we even go on a date, but let me take you out to dinner this Friday. Do you like Mediterranean?”

“Maglor…”

“Or Indian? I know this wonderful place where my ex – I mean, a friend – used to be hostess, it’s got great dhosa.”

“Maglor.”

“Or Ethiopian - What?”

“That's not going to work for me.”

“Friday’s out, then? Does a weeknight suit you better? I work Wednesday and Thursday evening shifts, but…”

“I’m not going on a date with you,” said Ríanellë, gently. “Period. I’m not interested in going out with you.”

“What?”

“I told you last night. I don’t date musicians. I don’t date much of anyone right now.”

Maglor shook his head, smiling. “Right, of course. No dating.” He put his hands on her waist again and leaned down to kiss her neck, his hair falling over her shoulder. “If the terminology is what's bothering you, we could call it a rendezvous, or a tête-à-tête, if you prefer…”

Ríanellë pulled away. “Cute. But I’m not interested.”

Maglor stared at her, baffled. “You don’t want to go out with me?”

“Nope.”

“Nope?”

Ríanellë pulled on her tights. “Nope, thank you?”

“We spent the night together!”

“We sure did. It was a lot of fun. You’re quite a good kisser, and I enjoyed making out with you for three hours straight. But I wasn’t kidding when I told you I don’t date musicians. I thought you got that.”

“Yeah, but I thought…” Maglor ran his hand through his hair. “I thought I won you over.”

Ríanellë laughed. “You think that’s all it takes? You’re a little smug, aren’t you?”

“Well, usually…”

“Usually?” Ríanellë’s smile turned sharp. “Usually you can sleep with girls easily, because you’re so dreamy and deep, and oh, how they love you. Usually, the trick is avoiding calling them after you spend a few nights together…”

“You don’t know that’s how it goes!”

“That’s true, I don’t know that’s how it goes. Is it?”

Maglor closed his mouth. “Okay, sometimes. But I thought I convinced you to give me a shot!”

“Nope.”

“NOPE?”

“Nope, thank you.” Ríanellë pulled on her shirt and grabbed her long down coat from the back of the chair. “You’re cute, and you’re a nice kisser, but nope. I don’t want to date you, or any musician, or anyone, right now. I told you that, straight up, last night. Sorry.” She pulled her braid out of her collar and gave him a slightly wistful smile. “I’ll see you around, Maglor.”

* * *

It was late in the afternoon. Maglor was playing loud, angry music from his room, and Celegorm, yelling something about “…more FUCKING Jack White. ENOUGH”, had stormed out of the house midday to seek refuge with Oromë. Caranthir had rolled out of bed around two, then spent several hours at the kitchen table, buried in books and groaning periodically over an essay outline. Finally he’d given up, leaving his school books in a heap on the kitchen table, and dropped onto the couch in the living room to watch reruns of shows from the 90s.

Someone else came into the living room and paused, watching him, before speaking.

“Hey.”

Caranthir half looked up, then back at the TV, wordless.

“Are you going to acknowledge me?”

Caranthir grunted. “What do you want? I’m watching a show.”

Curufin crossed the room and switched off the TV.

Caranthir growled. “Curvo, I just finished like 400 pages of reading and a 12 page outline. I have earned a goddamned break, and if you don’t turn that back – ”

“I owe you an apology.”

Caranthir blinked, taken aback, finally looking up at his brother. “What?”

“An apology. I owe you one.”

“Huh?”

“Eloquent.” Curufin sighed. “Listen, I…was unfair to you a while back. About the whole…Findaráto incident. I’d like to take back what I said.”

Caranthir looked perplexed. “You never take things back.”

“I was being judgmental and rigid and I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“Well, yeah. But since when is that something you admit? And wait, so you don’t think I was being morally reprehensible or anything?”

Curufin shrugged. “Morality is relative, isn’t it? And snap judgments are the hallmark of a weak character, something I hardly feel reflects well on me.”

Caranthir was shaking his head. “Christ, Curvo. Where do you get this shit?”

“Look, I’m trying to apologize for being an ass, okay?”

“Okaaay.” Caranthir still looked confused, and a little suspicious.

“And I’m really happy for you.”

Now Caranthir’s confusion turned into full-blown disbelief. “Uh, why’s that?”

Curufin linked his hands behind his back. “I know this is what you’ve wanted for a long time.”

“What is?”

“This. A relationship. What you and Findaráto have.”

“Whoa.” Caranthir sat up straight on the couch. “Um. Hang on…”

“I’m really glad you two are dating now – I rushed to judgment because I assumed it was purely carnal, but I realize that it was just the Amarië of it all that was keeping you two apart. And now that they’re done…You can truly be with him.”

“Wait, hold up. What gave you – ”

“He was really serious about Amarië,” said Curufin, his eyes soft and serious. “For him to leave her he must have fallen for you hard.”

Something like panic lit Caranthir’s eyes. “I don’t think, actually – ”

“Congratulations, Moryo.” Curufin laid a light hand on Caranthir’s shoulder. “I really like you two together. And now you finally have someone, don’t you?” He squeezed Caranthir’s shoulder. “I apologize again for all I said before. It wasn’t fair of me, and I can’t judge the situation so harshly – after all, you got a boyfriend out of it.” He gave a beautiful, sincere smile that lit his eyes from within, then turned, his fingers slipping from Caranthir’s shoulder, and left the room, switching the TV back on as he went.

Caranthir stared after him, shell-shocked.

Upstairs, the music finally ceased, and Maglor thumped down the stairs moodily. “What are you watching? Seinfeld? Perfect. Turn it up.”

“Uh. Right.” Caranthir didn’t move, though, so Maglor grabbed the remote from the coffee table and curled into the corner of the couch, wrapping his arms around a couch pillow.

“You look like hell,” Maglor said tightly, “but I’m not in the mood to examine whatever it is that’s going on, so – ”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Caranthir jumped as his phone vibrated in his pocket. He looked down at it.

Did you still want some help with that philosophy essay?