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“Oh, yeah?” Amarië put her hands on her hips.

“Oooh, you’re a choreographer too, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“We’re even better.”

“I think you’d better prove it.” Amarië narrowed her eyes at him teasingly, and Turgon gave a dramatic gasp.

“A challenge? Oh, you’re on. Okay, okay, let’s see if I remember.” He nodded his head to the beat for a moment, counting under his breath, and then, to her delight, sprang into a routine. “Yeah! Still got it! Okay, hang on…grapevine...and spin…” He whirled around and she dodged out of his way, laughing. “Hang on hang on, this part is where I need a…a partner…” He reached for her, and then paused. “May I?”

“Yes,” she said, surprising herself for at least the third time that evening.

“Okay good.” He laid his hand with surprising gentleness on her waist, and then, so quickly that she gasped out a laugh, dipped her. “Hah, you weigh a lot less than Findekáno.”

She laughed again. When he brought her upright, he didn’t let go of her, and Amarië, reaching up to brush a curl of hair out of his eyes, found she didn’t mind.

The song changed, but Turgon didn't let go of her. Amarië looped her arms around his neck, and held him back.

* * *

Curufin balanced his laptop on his knees as he worked, and Finrod had ended up propped against his shins as he read, using him as a backrest. When Curufin put the computer down, however, and stretched out his legs, Finrod shifted back and ended up with his back to Curufin’s chest, stretched out between his bent knees. He was still absorbed in his book, however, and Curufin simply settled back against the pillows and picked up his own reading, which he propped on Finrod’s shoulder. Usually this kind of prolonged contact would annoy him, but something about Finrod’s light weight against him was reassuring and even pleasing. He let his chin rest on Finrod’s head, turning the pages of his book almost absently, not quite absorbing the words. Finrod half turned his head, enough so that Curufin could see he was smiling, and without thinking much about it, Curufin dropped his book off to the side and leaned forward to kiss him. These were the times he liked best; when both of them had their clothes on, and there was no touching that would make him panic; simply Finrod’s warm weight against him, and the press of their lips together, and the feather-light touch of Finrod’s fingers at his jaw.

They broke apart finally, and Finrod turned over so they were chest to chest. He laid his head against Curufin’s shoulder, wrapping his arms lightly around Curufin’s waist as he stretched out between Curufin’s legs.

It was an intimate position, but Curufin didn’t mind, though one of his legs was starting to fall asleep. Reflexively, he checked his watch, and Finrod pushed himself upright. “It’s late,” Curufin said, realizing suddenly how tired he was. “I should go.” He sighed heavily, remembering. “God, but that stupid party is still probably taking place at my house.”

“You can stay here,” Finrod offered. “Spend the night if you want to avoid the chaos.”

Curufin looked down at the bedclothes, slightly mussed, and sudden panic filled him. Spend the night, in Finrod’s bed. Spend the night with their bodies pressed close together, Finrod’s breath on his cheek, or the back of his neck. He didn’t think he could fall asleep with someone in such close proximity. Someone, perhaps wearing far less clothing. Weren’t certain things assumed if one spent the night? Was Finrod hoping for such things? He thought of the nights Finrod had spent in his own house, but in Caranthir’s room. In Caranthir’s bed. What if that was what Finrod wanted from him?

Suddenly, Curufin wanted to push Finrod far away.

He must have stiffened visibly, because in the space of a blink, Finrod had suddenly increased the distance between them. They weren’t touching now, and Finrod had laid his hands deliberately on his own knees.

“No strings attached,” he said gently. “Just sleeping. We don’t even have to share a bed; I can sleep on the chair, or the couch, or whatever, it’s not a problem.”

Curufin stared at his hands. “Right.”

“I just wanted to give you the option of staying here if you don’t want to deal with the party.”

“Right.”

Finrod reached out, then, because as Curufin was learning, Finrod found it hard to not to touch, in comfort or reassurance. “Curvo, don’t worry about it. Whatever you’d like is fine, I just want you to be able to get a good night’s sleep.” Curufin allowed the hand on his shoulder, even leaned into it a bit. “Either way, it’s your call. You’ve got options.”

“I think I want to go home.”

“No problem.” Finrod scooted back next to him on the bed and put an arm around his shoulders. “I can give you a ride, if you’d like.”

“That’s not necess– ”

“It’s pretty late, actually, and you have to go across town. Please let me give you a ride.”

“Okay.”

Finrod leaned his forehead lightly against Curufin’s temple. “Is it okay if I kiss you now?”

Curufin turned his head so that he could feel Finrod’s breath on his lips. “Yes.” He inhaled, and closed his eyes. “Yes, please.”

-

In the car, Curufin laughed a little as Finrod tried to pull out of the parking spot, and ended up revving the car wildly in neutral.

“Stop laughing, this is Turno’s car and I’m not used to driving stick!”

“I’m starting to think I’d be safer walking home in the dark,” said Curufin, as Finrod finally managed to shift into first and pull forward with only a bit of a lurch. “Muggers and murderers are nothing compared to an Arafinwion who doesn’t know how to use a clutch.”

“Hush, you,” said Finrod, checking his blind spot as he pulled onto the main street. “I’ve heard stories of your driving exploits, you are hardly one to talk.”

“What driving exploits? I haven’t been behind the wheel of a car since I was 16.”

“For good reason, I hear.”

“Tyelko is a filthy liar. I passed my driving test, didn’t I?”

“I didn’t hear about it from Tyelko. And yes, you passed. By what, the third or fourth time?”

“Nelyo is a liar too. It was the third time, and I only failed the second because of a technicality.”

“But you failed the first because of an actual accident.”

“I don’t have to put up with this abuse from someone who can’t even downshift properly.”

Finrod grinned, and slid the car into third. “You are free to start ignoring me any time.”

“I would if I could,” Curufin muttered, and looked pointedly out the window as Finrod laughed.

-

They pulled up in front of the house, and Finrod raised his eyebrows.

“Quite the crowd they’ve got here.”

Curufin stared at the scene with grim displeasure. Even from inside the car, the thud of the bass could be felt pulsing through the floor, and there were so many people in the house a couple were actually perched on the windowsills, unable to fit inside. “This is going to be a nightmare.”

Finrod chewed his lip. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll just go to my room and put my headphones on,” said Curufin. “I’ll…work until they disperse. Hopefully that won’t be much longer.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door, grabbing his jacket and computer case from the floor by his feet.

“Wait,” said Finrod, and reached out.

Curufin looked back at him, then rolled his eyes, but half smiled. He leaned across the seat and their lips brushed, once.

“Sleep well,” said Finrod, sitting back behind the wheel. “I hope it’s not too bad in there.”

“Me too.” Curufin swung his jacket over his shoulder, shut the car door, and strode up the walkway. Finrod watched him go up the steps, watched the front door close behind him. But something made him hesitate before driving away, kept him idling at the curb.

And within a minute…

Curufin was back outside, darting down the path, and throwing himself back into the car. “I can’t do it,” he said, breathing heavily and staring at the dashboard. “I can’t do it, my god, it is a madhouse in there, I think I’ll go crazy…”

“Do you want to stay at my place after all?”

“No,” said Curufin miserably. “I want to be in my own room tonight. I just want… Why do they have to… This is hell.”

Finrod thought a moment, and then shut the car off. “Let me go in with you,” he said. “We can go hang out in your room, you can put your own music on, we can talk and read and work, and if the noise gets too bad, I can distract you by telling you about my dissertation and you can tell me all the ways I’m fundamentally wrong. I know it’s lousy tonight, but misery loves company, right? At least you won’t have to face it alone, and you’ll have someone to vent to.”

“You really think that’ll make it any better?”

“Your other option is just to sit in the car for the rest of the night.”

“Okay,” said Curufin. “Okay, yes. Come in with me.”

He got out of the car again, and this time, Finrod came with him.

Chapter End Notes

1. So I got 19 pages in and realized it was all foreplay. The climax comes next chapter (eyyy), because DAMN THIS PARTY WON’T END

2. An explanation of Polish Horseshoes can be found here.

3. Thanks to some amazing artists, there are now two illustrations for this chapter! One is Aredhel in all her glory by Jules, and Ilweran brings us precious beans Turgon and Amarie.

If you need love turn around, do the helicopter

Chapter Summary

The party continues, climaxes, concludes. Rather like the proper narrative arc that has been proving so elusive to me.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Glorfindel let himself out of the door into the backyard, looking around. His long hair was tied up in a messy knot on the top of his head, held out of his eyes by a frayed brim visor, and he was wearing a cut-off t-shirt that read MAKE ME SCRUM.

He made his way over to a group surrounding a battered old tree stump, and Celegorm greeted him jovially.

“Yo, Glorfindel! What’s up?”

“I was just seeking the Stump players,” said Glorfindel, smiling. “I see I’ve found them.”

“Welcome,” said Aegnor, touching his hat brim in salute. “You must be the stranger with good taste from the email thread. Nice shirt.”

“Thanks. I see I could have just come without, though.” Glorfindel eyed Celegorm, who had long since shed his top. “Nice tattoo, dude. Looks…familiar.”

Celegorm winked at him. “Thanks.”

“When did you get that?”

“This winter.”

Glorfindel gazed briefly skyward, like he was contemplating how bold he dared to be. Aegnor pressed a beer into his hand, foaming from the keg, and Glorfindel looked back at Celegorm, a twinkle in his eyes. “Did he like it?”

Celegorm chuckled and passed Glorfindel a nail. “You better believe it.”

“Okay, right, that’s my comfort zone, right there, I wondered where it was.” Glorfindel took a deep drink from his cup. “Mild innuendos about our coach, yup, that’s about all I’ve got the tolerance for.”

“You started it.” But Celegorm looked unoffended as he tossed a hammer to Aegnor. “We gonna get this shit started?”

“Yeah, let’s do it.” Aegnor took a nail from where it was tucked behind his ear and set it lightly, point-first, in the stump. “Y’all know the rules, or am I gonna have to enlighten you?”

-

The game started merrily enough, each player gripping a beer in one hand as they flipped, caught, and swung the hammer with the other, trying to drive each other’s nails into the stump.

“Ahh, come on, what did I ever do to you?”

“You pushed me into the duck pond when we were six.”

“I thought we were past that.”

“Nope. Take a drink.”

But soon, a disagreement over perceived cheating quickly devolved into two players standing toe to toe, yelling at each other while the others backed slowly away.

“Who knows the game better, you or me?”

“Don’t patronize me. Which of us was actually paying attention?”

“I’m telling you, it was to the left, just accept it.”

“Are you kidding? You weren’t even watching, how can you have an opinion on this?”

“Oh, so now you get pissed that I have an opinion. Used to be that you’d bitch at me for not ‘expressing myself’ enough…”

“There’s a difference between you being a detached, emotionally distant asshole, and this!”

“Emotionally distant? That shows how much attention you paid. Do you have any clue how hard it was for me when – ”

“No, I don’t, because you never told me yourself. You got your fucking brother to do it instead!”

“Something tells me,” said Glorfindel quietly to Celegorm, who was watching Aegnor and Andreth and shaking his head. “That this is not actually about rule violation.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Celegorm tipped his beer absently onto Fingon’s shirt, making Fingon yelp and jump back.

“What was that for?”

“Just trying to create a diversion.”

“It’s not working,” said Fingon, peeved, wringing out his shirt. "Damn, you are really batting 1000 with me tonight, Tyelkormo."

Andreth was almost standing on her tiptoes now, trying to get up in Aegnor’s face. “You always think you know what’s best, even when you have no fucking idea, that’s always been your problem. You think you’re doing the best thing for someone, or that you have some authority to call what a situation is, when really you’re just a clueless, pathetic, child.”

“Fuck this,” said Aegnor, wheeling around. “I’m out.”

“Classic,” sneered Andreth. “Leave once you feel like you can’t control things anymore. Run away. Typical.”

“Hey, Andreth…” Fingon made an attempt to reach out to her, but she jerked away and spat something about enough help from this damn family, and then Celegorm was saying something to Fingon, and Aredhel was striding across the lawn looking unhappy.

Humming lightly, Glorfindel retreated to the hammock strung between two trees, where two people were half watching the proceedings and half talking amongst themselves.

“Mind if I crash your pow-wow?”

* * *

Finrod slipped through the front door behind Curufin, and almost immediately regretted it. The music was loud and the atmosphere close and hot, but the worst of it was how part of him yearned to be part of it. He remembered these parties so well: playing games and teasing his cousins; winning games of beer pong with Amarië the laughing ringer at his side; talking smack with Turgon on the sidelines; and, more recently, slipping off with Caranthir to hook up in secluded corners. The yearning to join tugged at him, and he tried to push it away, glancing around with attempted detachment instead. There was a group playing flip cup on the kitchen table, and several people perched on the countertops having the heartfelt discussions of the profoundly unsober. He looked up as someone clattered down the stairs, and froze when he saw it was Caranthir, Haleth at his side.

“Yo, tell people if they use the upstairs bathroom to stop leaving beer cans on the sink, damn,” Caranthir was saying.

“Why can’t they just go downstairs?”

“Someone’s fucking in the downstairs bathroom – or puking, I can’t tell.”