第 70 页

“So,” said Finrod, after an interlude.

“Shut up.”

“That’s something I haven’t seen before.”

“Well, you’re not very experienced, then.”

Finrod started to say something to this, then stopped. “Hm.”

“Shut up.”

“I mean, I know the question of calibration is important, but maybe there would have been a more diplomatic way – ”

“No.”

“And perhaps that family didn’t quite deserve to be – ”

“That child had an ice cream cone with him. There are signs. No one was enforcing the rules. Children shouldn’t even be allowed in such places, much less snot-nosed and leaking brats like him.”

“Oh, well, certainly, he deserved what was coming to him. Six year olds are the true menace, I’ve always said so.”

“Right.”

“But the attendant…”

“Shut up.”

Finrod hummed quietly to himself as they walked down the sidewalk. Curufin glowered.

“So.”

“WHAT.”

“Get thrown out of observatories much, do you?”

Curufin looked like he was going to say something scathing, but then bit his tongue, let out a breath through his nose, and joined Finrod in staring at the sky. “Yes.”

Finrod leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, making Curufin jump in surprise. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

* * *

Maglor was staring down at his laptop in mild frustration, the apparently simple task of checking his email having turned into far more of a procedure than he’d expected.

“Augh. Hey Dai, remind me of your wifi password? My computer’s tweaking out and doesn’t seem to remember that I ever connected here.”

No answer.

Maglor sighed and pushed a few buttons fruitlessly. “See, this is when I miss Curvo. Sometimes him just standing close to my computer would make it work again. Machines hate me.” He pulled his fingers through his hair, tugging it out of its usual ponytail. “The password was ‘shadowoftrees1’, right? Is that lowercase or camelcase?”

From the back of the apartment came the banging of a door and the stomping of feet. Maglor wrinkled his nose, frowning.

“Dai?”

Daeron slammed into the living room, looking positively livid, two angry red spots of color high on his cheeks, standing out starkly against his pale, freckly skin.

Maglor looked up, startled. “Hey, is something wrong?”

“NO.”

“Okay.” Maglor watched Daeron stomp over to the fridge and yank it open so forcefully that a beer bottle jumped out. Daeron swore loudly, and Maglor winced.

“Why the FUCK is everything in this house a fucking mess?” Daeron grabbed the beer bottle and shoved it back into the refrigerator door hard enough that the glass rattled alarmingly.

Maglor put his hands over his ears. “Jesus.”

“WHAT.” Daeron whirled on him. “You got a problem?”

“No. It just got suddenly…loud in here. Seriously, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!”

Maglor dropped his eyes to his computer, but his internet connection was still acting up, so he gave up and closed his laptop. He crossed his legs on the couch and draped an arm over the back, trying to get Daeron to look at him. “That’s obviously not true. Did something happen? Why are you so hacked off?”

“You want to know, do you?”

“Um. Yes?”

Daeron grabbed something rolled up on the counter and brandished it like a club. “They wrote us up in the Voice,” he snarled.

“Oh.” Maglor sucked in a breath. He hadn’t considered that fact that their performance the prior weekend might have gotten any press. His shoulders suddenly felt very tight. “Was it a bad review?”

“See for yourself.” Daeron threw the paper at him. Maglor caught it, his heart beating fast, and opened it to the page that had been folded down. He scanned the column, anxiety tight in his throat and his eyes not working as well as they usually did, until his own name leapt out at him.

…but the mononymous singer’s powerhouse vocals are surprisingly upstaged by those of newcomer and backing guitarist, Maglor Fëanorion. Fëanorion’s relatively gentle but more nuanced vocals bring a heart and soul to the performance that ‘delivers’ far more than Daeron’s bring-the-house-down acoustic gymnastics. Bringing in Fëanorion was the right call – Daeron’s never achieved as much emotion or raw talent in a performance as when he had this unassuming, nimble-finger guitarist there to prop him up.

Maglor raked down to the end of the article – most of the rest dealt with the night’s other performers, but that of it that did mention their performance was much in the same line. His mouth wanted to curl into an amazed smile, but he bit it back sharply.

“Hey, pretty good write-up,” he said, trying to sound generally enthusiastic and encouraging and to keep the intense delight and self-satisfaction out of his voice.

“Yeah, for you,” Daeron shot back, and Maglor chewed the inside of his cheek. “The reviewer was all up in your ‘gentle, mellow-voiced’ ass while they cut me down to size. Jesus, what if my label sees this and decides they made the wrong call with me and should just sign you instead?”

“That’s not going to happen. Come on, it’s not that bad. He called you a ‘powerhouse’, that’s a good thing, and you’re the one who has the record deal not me, so – ”

“This’ll look real good in my clippings. ‘Musician sounds the best when he’s completely upstaged by someone else’.”

“It’s one review, you can’t get in your head about this.” Maglor tried to sound calm and reasonable. “He could have just eviscerated you, god knows plenty of amazing musicians get reviews like that during their careers. One review, that’s it, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“ ‘Can’t get in my head about this’, hah! If this had been you, Mags, you would have pitched a fit and sulked for a month, minimum. Remember that Battle of the Bands when you were off-key and someone blogged about it and you threatened to take a bottle of pills?”

“I never did that! If I said anything like that I was joking, anyway, and I was sixteen, for fuck’s sake.”

“So you’re calling me a child now.”

“No!”

But Daeron wasn’t listening, pacing around furiously. “God, was this your plan all along? Come out to visit, right, my ass. You were staging yourself for a take-over, weren’t you?”

“What? No! Dai, I didn’t even know we’d record together out here, much less perform…”

“And yet you brought your guitar.”

Maglor stared at him. “I bring my guitar everywhere! I was just hoping to, like, jam with you.”

“Oh, cut it out, I don’t buy the sweet and innocent act. You’re a calculating fucking bastard, just like the rest of your family.”

Maglor started to get angry. “Calculating? How about you, getting me in to make your album better and beef up your vocals and getting your name on MY songs while you basically use me and Ría like songwriting hacks – ”

“Oh, like this isn’t the best opportunity you’ve had in your life.”

“What even am I getting out of it, Dai? Just unemployment, and crashing on your fucking couch, and not getting paid. Yeah, I’ve been out here weeks, got fired from my job to stick around for you, and not a fucking cent! I asked for a contract ages ago, and you said – ”

“I said I’d work on it, didn’t I? If you cared so much you could have stopped anytime you wanted, but you didn’t. I’m no fucking accountant, and that’s my producer’s job, anyway, not mine, I can’t just whip out a contract lawyer and draw you something up.”

“Really? Because it seems like you could at least lean on someone to make that happen.”

“How about the fact that you’re living here rent-free? How about the fact that I haven’t charged you a penny for rent, or utilities, or fuck, even groceries the whole time you’ve been here?”

“I BOUGHT groceries, last Monday, you saw me!”

“And you ate 90% of them by Wednesday.”

“Maybe if I had an actual income I’d be able to contribute a bit more! I should ask, did we get paid for this weekend’s gig? Where’d that money go? Into your pocket, like the rest, and I’m still playing without a fucking contract…”

“Look at this, little Makalaurë’s finally got himself a spine. Where’d you borrow THAT from, Fëanorion, your brothers? God knows you’ve never had one yourself.”

“Fuck off,” spat Maglor, pushed past his limit. He surged to his feet, angrier than he’d been in weeks. “Fuck off, you petty little child, I’m not going to let you push me around again. The whole time we’ve been friends you’ve always pushed me around, and I’m done. I don’t care what you say about me. Just suck my dick, you pathetic asshole.”

“You’d like that, huh?” Daeron sneered at him, then to Maglor’s shock, pushed him roughly against the wall and dropped to his knees.

“What – ”

“Shut up.” Daeron jerked the fly of Maglor’s jeans down, and Maglor gaped down at him, shocked to the core and utterly derailed. This was not how shouting matches usually ended, surely.

“Dai, what the f– ” But he broke off with a groan and a gasp as Daeron’s mouth closed around him.

He hadn’t been turned on; arousal had been the farthest thing from his mind, but he hardened almost shockingly quickly as Daeron wrapped a hand around him, jerking him off into his mouth, and every other thought fled Maglor’s mind as swiftly as his rage had come on. He closed his eyes, the image of Daeron before him too intimate to look at without feeling a surge of embarrassment, especially when Daeron brought one of his hands between his own legs, clearly touching himself as he took Maglor deeper into his mouth.

Maglor squeezed his eyes shut, anger and arousal heightening his pleasure even as his brain screamed at him about the weirdness of it all. With his eyes closed, he fought to bring other images to his mind: Ríanellë’s dark hair, her full lips, the sounds she made when he touched her, the heaviness of her thighs and the smoothness of her skin, the way she would…pull Daeron against her…as Maglor entered her from behind…Daeron, kissing Maglor over her shoulder…

Maglor could feel his impending orgasm, and with his eyes still tight shut he whispered, warningly, “Dai, I’m – ”

Daeron pulled back just in time. Maglor finished himself off with his hand as he heard Daeron give a tight little exhale, and then a gasp as he came too.

Maglor leaned back against the wall, heart beating hard, his limbs shaky, his mind unfocused and blurred. He could barely remember what they’d been talking about. He kept his eyes closed as he heard Daeron get to his feet, and do up his zipper.

He only opened his eyes again when he heard the bedroom door close.

He slept on the couch that night, as he had the night before, and would the night after, and in the morning, they didn’t speak of any of what had happened.

Chapter End Notes

1. That final scene with Maglor stolen unabashedly from this post. I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. Also, as the fight unwound, it just happened? And I was like yeah sounds about right.

There will be no strings

Chapter Notes

0. Warnings for a (brief, non-explicit) bit of sexual content, some relationship insecurity, and Lalwen.

1. GUYS LALWEN’S HERE and I forgot how much I love her. That’s all the summary I’m going to give you. LALWEN.

“No.”

“Aw, come on, let me at least give my reasons.”

“No. Are you insane?”

“Yeah, I’ve been told so, but this isn’t one of those moments. Please, Curvo, give me a chance to defend this, okay?”

Curufin folded his arms and glared at his brother, who was watching him with large, pleading eyes. The phrase ‘puppy-like’ crossed Curufin’s mind and he dismissed it as too obvious as Huan wuffled at Celegorm’s side.

“It would be an utter disaster. The two of you attract chaos like you’re gigantic – ” Curufin cast about for a suitable analogy, “ – disaster-magnets, and that’s primarily because you cause it yourselves. You’re both too loud, and messy, and you know I need things to be quiet for me to get work done.”

“What, like it was quiet when we had five guys living here? It’s going to be the summer, anyway, your workload will be less, and I swear we’ll be conscientious.”

“Hah. That’s the first time that word has come near you, either by crossing your lips or being applied in any proximity to you. I didn’t even know you had four syllable words in your concussion-addled, Cro-Magnon vocabulary.”

Celegorm ignored the insult. “Curvo, I really think she needs this.”

Curufin uncrossed his arms, and then crossed them again. “We’re not a halfway house.”

“She’s my best friend.”

“That cuts no ice with me. I could care less about her.”

“Which means you care some.”

Damn. Since when does he notice semantics? “The point still holds.” Curufin searched for another excuse and found ‘Father wouldn’t allow it’ hovering on his lips before he bit it back angrily. He wasn’t supposed to care about such things anymore.

“Please, Curvo.” Celegorm was watching him, and had said ‘please’ twice in the last five minutes. That was…unnerving. “I really want to be able to offer her a place to be where she’s not by herself. She’s had a hard enough time, and living alone this summer isn’t gonna be healthy for her. I want to be there for her like she’s always been there for me. And besides, it’s not like those rooms are being used…” His voice trailed off, and Curufin seized on this.

“Maybe I’m not ready to see someone else in our brothers’ rooms yet, have you considered that?” His cheeks flushed at the catch in his voice, and Celegorm looked startled.

“What? I didn’t…I didn’t think you cared.”

“You don’t think it’s hard for me to have them all leave?” Curufin’s hands had come to rest between his knees and he clenched them hard together. “You don’t think I’ve noticed how it feels to have them gone except for the two of us?” He looked down, avoiding Celegorm’s gaze. “Maybe I don’t want someone else moving into their rooms because…because part of me hopes they’ll still come back. Maybe I don’t want to see them…replaced.” His voice went very soft, and he heard Celegorm pull in a breath. He dared to look up and almost immediately dropped his eyes again. Celegorm was studying him closely.

“No,” said Celegorm abruptly. “You could maybe fool someone else with that act, sweetheart, but not me. For one, Mae’s been gone for months and we know he’s not moving back, so that’s a bullshit excuse to keep his room empty. And also I just don’t buy the whole you’re remorseful and sad and lonely bit. You haven’t mentioned Káno once in the past two weeks, apart from me telling you we’d talked to him and you being like, ‘yeah, right, whatever.’ And I’d know if you felt anything but nastiness towards Moryo right now. At some point you will, but right now I know you’re still being a tool to him and are glad he’s not here. No luck. Try another one.”

Curufin raised his eyes again and dropped the tremble from his lips. He sneered. “Fine. All bullshit aside, none of that means I want Irissë living here.”

“It’ll split the burden on meals and things. She’s a good cook. She can even cook things that aren’t meat.”

Curufin hesitated, caught off guard by this appeal to pragmatism, not one usually in Celegorm’s persuasive repertoire. He had been wearying of Celegorm’s endless hamburgers, relying more often than not on the snack food secreted around his bedroom for meals. “So?”