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“You’re still more normal than me.”

She sighed. “Is it really quantifiable?”

“Why not? You have more of ‘normal’ than I do, you are closer to it than I am.”

Aredhel wasn’t sure what to say to this. “Amarië wasn’t…wasn’t that different from you,” she said at last, awkwardly. “She wasn’t really big on sex, or interested in it at all, for a while. Finrod took it slow with her. He didn’t mind.”

Curufin pulled in an angry breath, and Aredhel worried for a moment that she’d ruined everything with her comparison. But then Curufin laughed, bitterly. “And he left her for what he could get with my brother.”

“But he’s with you now. He wanted to be with you. You two,” Aredhel hesitated. “You two did a bit together didn’t you, before anything was official? He knew that you weren’t–”

“We were doing more…physical things, when we were sneaking around. I thought, maybe, if I did it, if I tried some things, a switch would get flipped in me, and I’d start wanting it.” Curufin looked at the ground. “But it didn’t. It just made me more sure I don’t want it.”

“I’m sure if you tell him that, he’ll understand. He’ll accommodate you, he – ”

“I don’t want him to accommodate me!” Curufin burst out. “I don’t want him to tolerate me, I don’t want to be a charity case – Look, I know what he wants, and I can’t give it to him! I know what he wants, because I heard it, every weekend night this winter, every afternoon they both had free. I know how he likes it, I know what he asked my brother to do, I heard it, I heard him, them, I know what he wants and what he likes and I can’t give it to him, and he’s just going to leave me too!”

Curufin had said all this in a passionate whisper, his eyes blazing and his features carved sharp in the moonlight, and Aredhel balked at the desperation in those lines.

“I should just end it,” said Curufin harshly. “Break it off. Dump him before he can dump me – or worse, cheat on me.”

“He won’t,” Aredhel tried to say it with conviction. “He won’t leave you. I mean, not just for that. Ahh, that came out wrong. I can’t…I can’t tell much about you, because you’re really good at not letting it show, but I know you like him. I know you care about him. And I know he really wants to be with you. You’re important to him, Curvo, and just because he was one way with one of his partners doesn’t mean he can’t be another with you. I’m sure there are ways for you to meet halfway, or figure things out, you just have to talk about it, and see what makes sense. That’s what me and Elenwë did.”

Curufin had gone back to tight silence.

“I really didn’t want to talk about it, but we had to, it wasn’t fair to let her think she was doing something wrong or that it was somehow a burden for me to be with her. And dude, it was crazy how much better it was once we’d talked. We could work things out. We could set up rules, and, like, strategies for when I was in a certain place…” Aredhel felt her cheeks blazing and was glad for the darkness. She hadn’t even spoken this frankly to Celegorm about her love life. Maybe the wine was destroying her usual boundaries. “I didn’t know you could do stuff like that. Just establish guidelines, and talk about anything that was confusing or scary? Stop anytime and re-set, try something different, even take back something you’d said before…” She had forgotten, for so long, that I changed my mind was a valid thing to say in bed. It had taken her a long time to remember she was allowed to. “But we needed to talk.”

It’s what you do, when you love someone.

“Findaráto would want to hear this from you, so he can listen and understand better and tell you what he thinks himself. Augh, I’m so bad at this.” Aredhel was running out of steam. She set her empty water glass on the table and shook herself. This was important. “You’re not doomed because you have different sexual backgrounds, or histories, or needs. You can make it work, it is possible. I can’t tell you how, or that for sure it’ll all be okay, but I can tell you that I bet Finrod would say pretty much what I’m saying, and it would be much more comforting coming from him. Seeing as, you know, you and I aren’t dating.”

Curufin moved for the first time in a long while, straightening his back and looping his arms around his knees. “It would hardly be out of the question,” he said dryly, sounding more like himself. “I do appear to have a taste for my brothers’ sloppy seconds.” His sarcasm was familiar, but there was no bite to it and Aredhel smiled.

“Oooh, snap, solid burn. Except that you mostly burned yourself.”

“It’s late.” Curufin glanced across the room at the moonlight slanting across the floor. “I can’t believe I’m even talking about this with you, of all people.”

“Well, it’s late,” said Aredhel, with equal wry irony.

“Perhaps I’m ill.”

“That must be it.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while before there were footsteps in the upstairs hall, and then on the stairs, and they both looked up. Celegorm appeared in the doorway, bare-chested, his hair a wild mess around his head. He blinked at them both blearily. “What the fuck? What’s goin’ on? Did someone die? Has the president been shot?”

“Good lord,” said Curufin. “No.”

“There’s gotta been some global catastrophe to have you two sitting together,” said Celegorm yawning, and he shuffled over to flop on the couch between them.

“We were just talking,” said Aredhel, wedging her chilly toes under Celegorm’s bottom.

“About what?”

“Sports,” said Curufin, just as Aredhel said, “Books.”

“Riiight.” Celegorm looked between them. “Should I be worried?”

“I don’t think so,” said Aredhel, and she winked at Curufin over Celegorm’s head. “I think everyone’s going to be just fine. Not normal, maybe…but fine.”

“Something like that,” said Curufin, and gave her a short, tight nod, and the faintest of smiles.

Rob from the rich and blow down the door

Chapter Summary

Five twosomes have conversations about Life and Shit.

Chapter Notes

0. Warnings for discussion of romantic orientation, employment woes, and generalized twenty-something angst.

Maglor sighed melancholically and linked his arm through Caranthir’s. “I can’t believe I’m walking you to your job.”

“Why not? You think I’d never be employable? Thanks a lot.”

“No, because you are my tiny baby brother.” Maglor looked up at Caranthir, who was close to half a foot taller than him. “Not even out of school and already a big shot accountant, ah, what a world.”

“I’m doing the books twice a week for Telchar,” growled Caranthir, his ears going red. “Stop acting like this is a big deal.”

“Stop acting like you don’t enjoy me making a big deal over it. Also, you’re employed and I’m not, which is unfair, frankly.”

“Cuiviénen wouldn’t give you your job back?”

“They filled the position.” Maglor sighed. “So I guess I’ll apply at other coffee shops around town, it's not like I don't have the experience…”

Caranthir wrinkled his nose. “Do you need to stick with being a barista, though? Why not do more shit with your music? Why not capitalize on your success? You’re going to be a credited artist on a new release album, you should market yourself on that.”

“Mmm,” said Maglor noncommittally. “Might not be credited.”

Caranthir stopped short, and Maglor made a pained noise as his arm was jerked back. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I told you me and Dai didn’t leave things on good terms…”

“Who the fuck cares? This isn’t about friendship and hugs, this is about business. You did work, you deserve credit for that work, you deserve compensation for that work.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Like hell. Look, let me at ‘im, please? Or at his reps, I don’t care. We could even set some of dad’s lawyers on them, oh please Káno, it’ll be so perfect, they won’t know what hit ‘em…”

“I don’t want to talk about this any more,” said Maglor firmly, and dragged Caranthir along. “Aren’t you going to be late for work?”

“Telchar doesn’t really care when I show up as long as I get her the deductions she wants. And you never want to talk about this, let me do something about it, for god’s sake.”

“I don’t want it talk about it anymore. What’s it like in the distillery?”

“You are so conflict avoidant it’s ridiculous.”

“Mmhm, unlike you.”

“I’m not conflict avoidant. I’ve actually been told, repeatedly, that I should try and avoid conflicts more, since I tend to end up getting five million butthurt twits mad at me every time I try and bring up a reasonable point in class.”

“Sure, direct confrontation, that’s you. Except when it comes to, say, Curvo.”

Caranthir shoved his hands in his pockets. “You want me to avoid him, trust me. Otherwise it’ll end with me running him through the dishwasher on heavy rinse.”

“See? Exactly. Engaging with conflict in this family generally means hurled plates, bodily harm, feuds, and chilly silences; I’m not interested. Let’s move on, please.”

“I’m not forgetting that Daeron owes you,” muttered Caranthir. “But fine, point taken, changing the subject for now, you wuss.”

“How is it working for Blue Hills?”

“It’s good.” Caranthir shrugged. “I knew Az a bit because of Mae, but Telchar is awesome, totally rad chick. She takes shit from no one, and doesn’t care about the ‘customer is always right’ b.s., or get put out that I don’t smile and stuff. She’s like, yo, he fits right in, he doesn’t try to make nice, and that’s a fucking relief, right? And the place is cool, there’s always free beer and those fuckers work round the clock, it’s crazy. I mean new business, sure, but they are the hardest working motherfuckers I’ve ever met.”

“You should hear the stories I’ve heard about their Uncle Durin...”

“Grandad Durin.”

“And Great-Grandfather Durin, I think it’s a popular family name?”

“Something like that. Unless there’s one dude who occupies multiple generations, I dunno. As I said, they’re hard-working, that family. And they appreciate good alcohol and I can appreciate that.”

“Says the kid who consistently buys Keystone Light for our parties.”

“It’s cheapest! And none of us are flush. Literally everyone living in our house right now is 50-100% unemployed.”

“Okay, fair.”

They had pulled up on Nogrod Ave and the dragon-embossed sign that proclaimed this the Blue Hills Brewery and Distillery. Caranthir smiled crookedly at Maglor and slipped his arm free. “Time for me to clock in, you freeloader.”

“Buy groceries on your way home,” said Maglor, grinning back. “I would, but I’m broke.”

“Richest family in town, and look at us.” Caranthir waved slightly and turned away. “Good luck with pounding the pavement, dork.”

“Thanks for the encouragement, moneybags.” Maglor watched Caranthir disappear through the front door of Blue Hills, and then turned to make his way up the block to peruse what other coffee shops might be hiring. But the first thing he saw when he turned around was not a ‘HELP WANTED’ sign, but a familiar figure with a black braid, her bangs in her eyes and a flowery scarf tied around her head, reading a book on a bench.

-

Maglor had considered, many times, what it would be like when he first saw Ríanellë, and after all his long ruminations on the moment, his reaction surprised him. His instinct would have been to duck his head and pretend he hadn’t seen her, or to actively hide from her, a tactic he’d confessed considering to Maedhros, or, if all else failed and he couldn’t avoid an encounter, to make falsely cheery small talk and pretend nothing had changed.

What he had not planned on doing was stomping over to her and saying, loudly, “You never told me you DJ-ed.”

Ríanellë looked up from her book. “You never told me you tap-danced!”

“What?” Maglor was nonplussed, and not prepared for being derailed this immediately. “I. What? I don’t tap-dance.”

“Hey, I don’t know, I thought this was a new greeting trend.” Ríanellë closed her book. “An easy way to get musical confessions out of your acquaintances? So now we know I DJ, and you don’t tap-dance, which I’ll admit disappoints me a little. You’ve got the legs for it.”

“I, what? That isn’t.” Maglor felt nettled. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Me? You’re the one who said hi to me after we haven’t seen each other in weeks by shouting at me about my weekend job.”

“Yes,” said Maglor furiously, seizing onto this in relief. “Exactly. Your ‘weekend job’. That I don’t know about, somehow!”

“You…never asked?”

“Just because I don’t ask, that’s no reason to hide it! Don’t you think I’d want to know? There were loads of times that bit of information could have come up. Loads of times it might have been relevant, given our interactions! Now that I think of it, there were times you said you couldn’t do something on a weekend, and you totally neglected to mention why! Why was that? Why feel the need to conceal? Why not come out straight and say, ‘I can’t, I’ll be DJ-ing’?”

“Because I didn’t think you would care much if you knew my supplementary income comes from dubstep remixes in a sweaty third tier club?” suggested Ríanellë. “Maglor, honestly, are you on something right now?”

“And instead it was omissions, and skirting around the truth,” Maglor went on, knowing he sounded absurd but entirely unable to stop himself. “Those times you said you had a family thing, or had a lesson to prep for – were any of those true? Or were they just covers for what you were actually doing?”

“I get the sense,” said Ríanellë carefully, “that this is not actually about me DJ-ing.” She reached out for Maglor’s hand and gently tugged him down on the bench next to her. “Why don’t you calm down and tell me,” and her voice was very serious all of a sudden, “why you feel so entitled to know everything about what I do with my weekends?”

Maglor sat down with a thump, but once they were seated side by side, a silence fell.

“So,” said Ríanellë, when it became clear that Maglor wasn't going to speak first. “How’d you find out about my DJ gig?”

“Glorfindel.”

“Mmm.” Ríanellë nodded. “I ran into him the other day and got to see him look like an excited begonia when I told him Ecthelion would be home on leave in the next two weeks.”

Maglor smiled despite himself. “That sounds about right. Wait, Ecthelion’s coming home? Do you think he’d be able to – ”

“He’s got ten days of leave, Mags, I don’t think he’ll be spending any of it with you. No offense.”

“Right. None taken.”

They sat quietly a while longer until Maglor finally located his nerve.

“Daeron asked you out.”

“Yes.”

“You told him you didn’t do romantic relationships.”

“I did.”

“Is that true? Not just a – a – ”

“Brush off? No, I was telling the truth. I mean, I probably would have turned him down either way, but it’s true.”

“You don’t do romantic relationships.”

“I don’t.”

“Because of a political stance, or a feminist thing, or what?”

“Because I don’t experience romantic attraction,” said Ríanellë bluntly.