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Maglor sat down next to her, their hips and shoulders brushing with the same ease of that night so many weeks before. He’d expected to feel more awkward about physical contact with her, but Ríanellë felt warm and comfortable against his side, and he shuffled his feet on the alley cobblestones, his hands between his knees as he remembered why thinking about Daeron right now gave him a tense, anxious feeling as well as the usual mix of fondness and resentment. “He’s in New York now, working with a producer.” He scowled down at his hands. “I was supposed to visit him this weekend, actually, I even got my shifts covered for the next week and a half so I could stay longer. We were going to hang out and catch up, maybe play a bit together…”

“You were going to?”

“My car broke down.” Maglor’s scowl deepened. “It won’t be repaired for weeks, even once we get the money to fix it – because we’re really trying not to ask my dad for financial help anymore, but none of us exactly makes big bucks – and I thought I could get bus tickets, but it turns out the bus is booked solid because it’s a holiday weekend and…I dunno. I guess it’s not happening.”

Ríanellë wasn’t looking at him, but she was smiling slightly.

"You think that's funny too?"

Ríanellë shook her head, her bangs falling into her eyes. “Serendipity,” she sang quietly under her breath.

“What?”

“I just happen to be driving down to New York City this weekend,” she said cheerfully. “And I could use a good co-pilot to help me not freak out about city drivers. Wanna come?”

* * *

Mass text from Turgon: I know this is random, but does anyone want some kittens? I have two at my new place, first come first served.

Celegorm: i have so many things i wanna say about that i dunno where 2 start

Argon: i thought your cat was spayed dude. tsk irresponsible cat owner

Argon: get ur pets spayed and neutered its like the 1st rule smh

Aegnor: did you give birth to them yourself?

Turgon: THEY ARE NOT MINE NOR ARE THEY MY CAT’S

Turgon: I didn’t even find them it was my new roommate

Turgon: just tell me if you want to adopt them

Maedhros: Hm, maybe…Two, you said?

Fingon: NOPE. Ignore Mae. He’s forgetting there are no pets allowed at our place (and cats makes me sneeze)

Aredhel: DIBS DIBS DIBS DIBS

Aredhel: i’ll be there in 30 min txt me ur address

Aredhel: (is it ok if elenwe comes?)

Aredhel: (if it’s not that’s totally fine)

Turgon: it’s okay, bring her.

Turgon: just sent you the address

Turgon: see you soon

-

Elenwë was watching a tiny orange kitten with white boots race from one end of the couch to the other, sometimes falling over in its own exuberance.

“Oh my gosh,” she was saying, enraptured. “She’s so pretty. What did you say her name was?”

“You’d have to ask Bëor,” said Turgon, who was sitting on the floor, propped against an unpacked box of his belongings, studying and kitten-watching simultaneously. “He’s the one who found them on his way home from work when the snow bank in the back-lot melted.”

“Bëor? That’s the new roommate?”

“Technically I’m the new roommate,” said Turgon, as the little orange kitten latched onto his foot. “This is Bëor’s place. But yeah, that’s him.”

“Why does that name sound so familiar?” asked Aredhel. The second kitten, who was soot black and jumped every time anyone moved unexpectedly, was trying busily to burrow into her sweater.

“He was Findaráto’s roommate freshman year,” said Turgon. “Ingo’s the one who helped me find this place, actually, when he heard Bëor needed another person on his lease.” He reached out to pet the black kitten’s head, and the kitten sank surprisingly sharp teeth into his finger. “Ouch. Hey, I gave you food and made you a bed from my new fleece jacket, talk about ingratitude.”

“I don’t think he likes guys,” said Aredhel, stroking the kitten’s head. He ran up her arm and hid in her hair. “Smart baby. I’m definitely keeping him.”

“Bëor will be glad to hear it.”

“Did someone say my name?” A stocky man with warm brown eyes, a rough dark beard, and his hair in a ponytail came into the room. “Oh, hello. Are these the potential kitten mamas?”

“Hey, Bëor,” said Turgon. “This is my sister, Aredhel, and her… My… Well, her…”

“I’m Elenwë,” said Elenwë, sparing Turgon as he blundered his way into silence. “Turno said I should ask you for the kittens’ names?”

Bëor crouched down as the orange kitten launched herself at his work boot. “I haven’t named the little lady one yet,” he said, as the cat gnawed at his bootlace. “But we’ve already started calling the mean little black one – ”

“You were Findaráto’s roommate?” interrupted Aredhel, who’d been studying him and not paying attention. “Were you at graduation then? I feel like we would have seen you.”

Bëor shook his head. “I never graduated,” he said cheerfully. “Did my first semester at Beleriand then dropped out to work full-time.”

“He’s the factory-workers union rep,” said Turgon, shaking blood from the kitten bite on his finger. “He works a lot with dad and Findekáno doing contract negotiation and so on.”

“Fingolfin is a heckuva lot easier to negotiate with than Fëanor, that’s for sure,” said Bëor, grinning. “Uh, no offense,” he added hastily. “I always forget that’s your uncle…”

“Step-uncle,” said Aredhel, as Turgon said, “None taken.”

“So,” said Bëor, returning to the kittens. The orange one had scampered back to Elenwë’s lap, while the black one was watching everything beadily from its perch on Aredhel’s shoulder. “You think you’re going to adopt these horrible critters? What are you going to name yours, Elenwë?”

Elenwë smiled down at her kitten, watching tiny white paws bat at her finger. “This beautiful little girl? Idril, I think. How about yours, Ireth?”

Aredhel lifted the black kitten from her shoulder, making silly faces at it as it growled and narrowed its eyes at her, whiskers quivering. “Yes, we’re talking about you, you little dope. Sweet honey baby peanut. What did you say you’d been calling him?”

“I didn’t,” said Bëor. “But it’s Maeglin.”

“Maeglin,” said Aredhel thoughtfully, and tickled the kitten’s stomach. It looked shocked and like it was briefly contemplating biting her, but then stretched out under her touch, a faint, raspy purr coming from its thin chest. “…Mind if I change it?”

* * *

Curufin checked his phone, but there were no new texts, missed call, or voicemails. Just as there hadn’t been the last time he’d checked.

Chewing his lip, he flicked open a new message and started typing.

Tyelko. Are you with Orome right now?

yeah. lots more time to hang out now hes on ‘leave’! ha ha. :P

His lawyers think that’s a good idea, you two being at his house together while the investigation is going on?

yea, cuz i totally consulted with his lawyers before i came over.

Curufin tried not to roll his eyes.

And the investigation IS ongoing then? Neither of you have heard anything from father?

uhh, ofc its still on. ofc dad is still nailing us at every turn.

and I havent heard anything from him cuz his # is BLOCKED on this phone, yo.

Really? He hasn’t called Orome either? No change on his part?

NO curvo, are you kidding?

what makes you think he’d change his mind?

he never changes his fucking mind.

Just wondering.

Curufin set down his phone, trying to ignore the acid churning in his stomach, an odd mix of anxiety, disappointment, and something that was close to dread.

Did I misjudge this?

He attempted and abandoned work on his circuit board, his problem set, and CLBRMBR in short succession, and ran his hand through his hair so many times he was sure it was standing on end.

It was growing late when his phone buzzed and he nearly jumped out his skin. He grabbed for it, and it was the first time he’d ever been disappointed to see that particular name pop up on his phone.

Hey, what are you up to?

Curufin stared down at the text. He’d been so sure it was going to be his father, calling to…apologize? Tell him things had changed? Say that everything was all right and could go back to normal…

His phone vibrated again.

How’s your day been?

(Yes, I am making small talk.)

Even though there was nothing but unhappiness washing through him just now, he knew that in lieu of what he needed, what he wanted, above all, right now, was…

…distraction.

Come over.

no more small talk, I see.

No. Come over.

Are you all right?

You ask the most idiotic questions.

COME. OVER.

Okay.

I’m on my way.

Curufin didn’t bother with any more work that night, pacing his room briefly before flinging himself down on his bed and trying to pick up The Design of Everyday Things again, but rereading the same paragraph over and over, all focus lost.

When his door finally opened, very quietly, and Finrod slipped in, Curufin sat up, his fingers itching with impatience.

“Hello,” said Finrod softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t quicker, I had to – ”

Curufin ignored him, reaching out to grab him and pull him into a rough, artless kiss. His teeth snagged on Finrod’s lower lip, but instead of pulling back he bit down, tasting blood. Finrod let out a sharp breath through his nose and brought his hands up to grip Curufin’s shoulders. Curufin fought his gentling touch and pushed back instead, but Finrod was insistent, breaking their kiss, blood on his lips as he held Curufin still. “Whoa,” he said. “Take it easy, Curvo, slow down a little.”

Curufin wanted to scream at him, but instead found his hands clutching desperately at Finrod’s shirt as if seeking stability. Finrod wrapped steadying arms around Curufin’s waist, bringing them chest to chest and hip to hip, letting Curufin feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. “Do you want to tell me what’s up?”

“Nothing’s up,” said Curufin, staring at him, eyes fixed on the blood still dotting Finrod’s lips. He suddenly felt a little sick.

Finrod steered them both to the bed and sat down, tugging Curufin after him so Curufin was practically in his lap. Curufin wriggled free, simultaneously craving more touch and wanting to hit at Finrod to stop him being so gentle. The concern in Finrod’s eyes was causing his throat to close up, and it made him savage with self-disgust. He was about to say something snarling and cruel to remedy it when Finrod leaned forward and kissed him again. This time it was without the sting of teeth or taste of blood, but still a note beyond gentle, and Curufin sighed with relief, his hands dropping to Finrod’s thighs as he leaned in to deepen the kiss. Finrod’s hands settled on his waist, and Curufin closed his eyes, trying to find the right balance between utter absorption in the kiss and his natural instinct to overanalyze every detail of the physical contact. When had he last brushed his teeth, what was that taste on his tongue, why was Finrod’s breath so hot on his cheek, where –

A noise from downstairs made them jump apart, listening. Finrod leaned his forehead against Curufin’s, his head tilted to the side as they waited for the sound to come again. It didn’t.

“Carnistir is in his room,” Finrod murmured. “He didn’t see me come in, but his light is – ”

Curufin jerked his head away from Finrod’s and covered his mouth with a hand, his eyes glittering. “I don’t want to hear about him.”

Finrod tried to say something, his lips moving against Curufin’s palm, and Curufin hooked his fingers in Finrod’s shirt, pulling him closer, still not taking his other hand from Finrod’s mouth. “Do not,” he said quietly, “say his name to me.”

There was something possessive and furious growing in him now, and he hung onto it with bone-deep relief; how much better was this than disappointment and fear.

Above his hand, Finrod’s eyes were fixed on him, and his pupils had dilated slightly. The light is getting dimmer, Curufin told himself, pupils dilate when in low light…or, his brain added, helpfully, when aroused. So he kept his hand in place as Finrod ran his hands up Curufin’s sides, sliding under his shirt, and Curufin bit his own lip at the sensation. He pulled his hand away from Finrod’s mouth, and Finrod seemed to know better than to say anything, kissing him again as Curufin closed his eyes and tried to let everything else fall away to the background.

Distracted.

Knights of shame

Chapter Summary

Have I used ‘shit hits the fan’ as a chapter descriptor yet? Probably. Is that every chapter? Is that every plot arc? Still. Shit hits the fan herein.

Chapter Notes

0. Warnings for physical intimacy (but not sex; nothing below the waist) in the first scene, and discussion of sexual…reluctance? Okay, it’s grey-ace Curvo things, you know the drill. Then warnings for certain people being Not At All Nice, and some tough love that is distinctly lacking in the ‘love’ part.

1. This is a slightly more close-focus chapter, plotwise. We will touch base with the rest of our gang soon, I promise.

“Why are you stopping?”

“I think we should slow down.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s getting late,” said Finrod lamely. He didn’t say, because you still flinch when I touch you in certain places, and then you move my hand back when I pull it away. Because you kiss me with teeth bared like a dare and your hands shake when they move below my waist. And when I stop you, you snarl at me, but I can tell you’re relieved. Because I honestly think you’re happiest when we sit together and talk, or when our hands touch, or when I kiss you gently, with closed lips and my hands in your hair, but still you insist on more and even though I want it – I want you – it feels wrong. Because I still don’t trust that there isn’t more to this than you’ll admit. Because there is something going on here that has nothing to do with me, and it worries me, sometimes, how wild you look.

“So?”

So I feel like you’re playing chicken with your own boundaries, and I’m the train barreling down on you.

“Well, I shouldn’t spend the night here, probably,” Finrod said, his hand still on Curufin’s waist, Curufin staring up at him with a stubborn jut to his chin. Finrod’s stomach swooped as he spoke, as the idea of doing something as intimate as spending the night with Curufin – sleeping in the same bed, waking up together – did odd things to his heart. But you can’t, you can’t spend the night with him. For so many reasons…And he wouldn’t want it, anyway. He added gently, “We don’t need to rush anything, you know that, don’t you?”

He braced himself for the usual angry response, for Curufin’s defensive retorts that overlaid a clear relief to pull free. But instead Curufin rolled over on his back and lay still, and said, “Fine.”

Finrod propped himself up on one elbow and touched Curufin’s cheek lightly. He wanted to say so much more, but Curufin’s eyes were shuttered in the dark room, and even in such an intimate setting he felt inapproachable. Another wall thrown up to hide his disappointment, or his relief, it was hard for Finrod to tell.