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I'll Be Yours If You'll Be Mine by NelyafinweFeanorion

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"Maedhros?" Fingon repeated. Maedhros had said his name, the name he had called him on that voicemail, and then had just stared at him silently. Fingon gave a slight shiver. Maedhros' expression was unreadable and it chilled Fingon.

That seemed to snap Maedhros out of it. "You're cold," he stated, standing up with a concerned look on his face, his previous expression wiped away. "Come on."

Fingon followed him into the family room, where Maedhros was starting a fire in the large fireplace there. He had it blazing rapidly and Fingon soon found himself settled on the floor, leaning against the sofa behind them. Maedhros moved to sit next to him, opened his arms wordlessly and Fingon settled himself in his embrace.

Fingon relaxed into him, the chill of outdoors and his memories fading as he did. He felt lips brush his hair and he slid his arm across Maedhros' chest. They sat there, gazing at the fire until Maedhros broke the silence.

"I wish you had said something," he whispered. "I'd never have suggested it, if I'd known."

"I know," Fingon replied, his face buried in Maedhros' shoulder. "I just thought I'd try. Sorry if I freaked you out."

"You didn't freak me out. I thought you were nervous but I brushed it off—just thought you were worried about being out of practice. I should have paid more attention."

"You're doing it again," Fingon said, looking up at Maedhros. "Not everything is your responsibility or your fault, ok?"

Maedhros looked down at him and then turned his face back to the fire. Fingon kept his head on his shoulder, the warmth moving through him, now that he was so close to the fire and ensconced in Maedhros' arms.

"I don't know if I could have done that," Maedhros said.

"Done what?"

"Tried to skate again, like you did."

"Don't be thinking it was brave," Fingon chided him. "It was stupid. I don't know why I was embarrassed to tell you."

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," Maedhros replied.

"I realize that. I should have known you would be understanding, if I told you. Instead I just screwed up the day," Fingon said.

"You definitely didn't screw up the day," Maedhros held him a little tighter for a moment, then relaxed his grip. "Being with you is good enough."

They sat in silence again but Maedhros' thoughts were racing, Azaghâl's words coming back to him. Was it time to tell Fingon? Could he meet him halfway, with a confession of his own? It would come up tonight, whether he wanted to confront it or not; Fingon had packed for overnight. Even if he hadn't, it was still something that hung between them, that they needed to discuss, before it led to another confrontation like last time.

Ok. He could do this. Fingon had dared so much today and had been so honest with him. It was time to let him in, at least a little bit.

"What are you thinking about so intently, Maedhros?" Fingon asked. He'd noted the silence but didn't think Maedhros realized how rigid and tense his body felt against his own. That crease in his forehead was back again.

Maedhros shifted and rubbed his cheek against Fingon's hair. "You," he answered truthfully.

Fingon smiled, his whole face lighting up and not just from the glow of the fire. "I like that. Go on. What about me exactly?" He raised one eyebrow at Maedhros.

It was now or never, Maedhros thought. He attempted to smile down at Fingon but the expression didn't reach his eyes. "I was thinking about how straightforward you are. How easy it is for you to say what's on your mind."

Fingon looked puzzled now. That wasn't quite what he was expecting to hear. "What do you mean?"

Maedhros shifted again. Fingon made to move over but Maedhros' arms stayed around him so he settled back on his shoulder instead and waited. Maedhros had mentioned needing to tell him something in his voicemail; was this what he had hinted about?

"I know things were . . . awkward that night at your apartment. I'm sorry about that. You were right—we do need to talk about it." Maedhros paused and then exhaled. "I'm not so good at conversations like this," he admitted. "I'm even worse at anything confrontational." His frown got more pronounced as he spoke. "It was always a bit volatile at home, with my parents. It just brought back some unpleasant memories and I overreacted."

"I'm sorry," Fingon said. He held Maedhros a little tighter. "I thought I'd said something wrong when you left so suddenly."

"You didn't say anything wrong—it just took me back to a place that wasn't so good." He ran a hand through his hair and then rubbed his forehead.

"Ok. I'll keep that in mind. I sometimes just blurt things out without really thinking about them, when I'm frustrated." Fingon admitted. "It's something for me to work on."

"No, really. It isn't you. I didn't mean it that way," Maedhros closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the sofa. "I just haven't been completely honest with you."

"Go on." A tendril of worry crept into Fingon at Maedhros' words.

"I know it's been bothering you that I don't come up to your apartment or stay over," Maedhros began.

"That's my fault," Fingon interrupted. "I shouldn't have pressured you or harped on you about it like that."

"That's not it. Fingon. Let me finish," Maedhros said, interrupting him in turn. "It's not your fault at all. Just let me get this out before I completely lose my nerve," he mumbled.

Fingon nodded, reaching out to thread his fingers into Maedhros', staying silent.

"It's never been you," Maedhros started. "There's nothing I would love more than to stay with you, fall asleep with you in my arms, wake up to you by my side." He squeezed Fingon's hand before continuing. "But the problem is me."

"Go on," Fingon encouraged, his voice low and steady, not betraying the anxiety he felt at Maedhros' words.

"I have . . . I have these bad dreams—nightmares, I should say." He darted a quick glance at Fingon, who was looking up at him. "They're . . . they can get pretty intense. I can't predict . . . I never know when. . . They just happen." Maedhros' frown deepened, his eyes not meeting Fingon's. "They tend to be worse when I'm in unfamiliar surroundings."

"I'd never have pushed if I'd known," Fingon whispered. "I can understand how that would make you uncomfortable."

Maedhros dared another look at him. No pity, no disappointment. Fingon's face was open, his gaze direct and kind. He could go on. He could tell him the rest.

Well, maybe not all of it. He really didn't want to go into the whole backstory, not right now. He had to hope Azaghâl was right and that this would be enough. He just had to get the next bit out.

"The nightmares themselves aren't the whole reason," Maedhros added.


"I tend to come awake violently. Aggressively. Especially if I'm startled or someone wakes me up."

"Ok," Fingon said again.

"Actually, no, it's not ok," Maedhros continued. "I broke Tyelko's nose and gave Maglor a concussion." He looked down at Fingon, his eyes huge and his expression desolate. "I would never want that to happen to you," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "I couldn't ever risk that."

"Maedhros. . ." Fingon felt some of the tension drain out of him. Maedhros' expression had made him fear it was something far more worrisome than this.

"No, Fingon. I could never forgive myself if I hurt you like that." There was an edge of desperation in his voice.

Fingon looked up at him and reached out to gently run a finger along Maedhros' jaw. "That's why you won't stay then?" he asked. "On the chance that something like that might happen?"

Maedhros nodded, words having abandoned him for the moment. He just kept his eyes locked on Fingon's.

"You don't have control over something like that, Maedhros. I understand that." He put his hand back on Maedhros' chest. "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me."

Maedhros nodded again, not sure what to say.

"I understand your concern," Fingon said, his hand gently rubbing at his chest. He looked up at Maedhros, his eyes full of compassion. "But don't you think I get a say in it?"


"I understand there's a risk. It's not something you can control. But it's certainly something I can."

"What?" Maedhros repeated. "What are you talking about? You can't control this."

"I think I can," Fingon kept his eyes on Maedhros, his hand still on his chest reassuringly. "You just said it happens when you are in unfamiliar surroundings, when you get startled in your sleep, or when someone wakes you up, right?"

"Yes, usually." Where was Fingon going with this?

"So as long as we are in familiar surroundings and I don't startle you or wake you up suddenly, we should be fine, right?"

"What?" Maedhros repeated again. Fingon couldn't be serious. It wasn't that easy.

"Maedhros. I can't imagine what this has been like for you. How it disrupts your life, your sleep, your travel, your relationships." Fingon's face was very serious. "But that doesn't mean there can't be ways we can adjust for it. If you want, that is." Fingon's face suddenly flushed and he looked uncertain. "I didn't mean . . . I shouldn't have just assumed that you wanted to get more intimate. I'm sorry, that's not fair of me to just expect that." He sat up next to him. "That was out of line on my part."

This wasn't at all how Maedhros had expected this to go. Deep down he had expected pity, even if Azaghâl had scoffed at him for thinking that way. He had expected Fingon to feel sorry for him, to back away, to do practically anything but this. He had never expected Fingon would just acknowledge it, as a part of Maedhros, and immediately come up with a plan to adjust for it.

He reached out for Fingon's hands. "It's not out of line at all," he reassured Fingon. "Didn't I just say I wished I could wake up with you by my side? I hate the fact that I've had this hanging over my head, keeping me from being able to be with you the way I want to." He moved his hands to gently hold Fingon's face. "I just never expected that you would be willing to risk it, to deal with it, to make adjustments for it. I never expected that."

Fingon's hand went up to Maedhros' chest again, his eyebrows coming together. "What did you think I would say? Did you really think I would walk away from us because of that? This means something to me, Maedhros. You mean something to me. I thought you realized that." He moved closer to Maedhros again, his voice softening, but the concern on his face evident. "I've never felt like this about anybody before. I know it's new and maybe we're moving quickly but I've never wanted something so much. I'll do anything to make this work." He was so close to Maedhros' now. "It's not that much to deal with and it's worth the effort, ok? Do you understand that?"

"I understand that," Maedhros whispered.

"We can work on this together, ok?"


Fingon found Maedhros' lips with his own, hands tangling in his hair, melting into him as he felt Maedhros pull him closer. It started like their first kiss; gentle, tender, but with all of Fingon's reassurances in the sensation of their mouths meeting. Maedhros' hands moved up Fingon's back as his lips parted and the glide of their tongues made a wave of heat flash through him.

A wordless question had been asked and this was the answer. His fingers tightened in Maedhros' hair—he wasn't going to let this go. His chest felt hot, the warmth of the fire too much for him now, when added to the heat of Maedhros' body so close to his, but somehow still not close enough.

His mouth was moving on Maedhros', more insistent now but with a conscious effort he tamped it down, making his touches gentler again, not wanting to move too fast, not when they had made so much progress. Maedhros had opened up and he wasn't going to push him further. It was enough, for now it was more than enough.

Maedhros felt the softening in Fingon and followed his lead. He wanted to savor this; lingering touches, languorous kisses, sharing every breath and so much more. He had dared to take a step and he'd been met halfway. His heart pounded as he gently stroked Fingon's back, his fingers reaching up to thread through his hair, his mouth sliding over Fingon's in the way he had imagined since they had last been together.

He didn't know how much time passed before Fingon pulled back, breathless, his pupils wide and eyes heavy lidded, to rest his forehead on Maedhros' own. Maedhros couldn't keep the smile from his face as he looked at him, his own breath uneven from their touch. "This is where I've wanted to be," Maedhros whispered.

Fingon buried his face in Maedhros' neck and murmured "This is where I always want to be," so quietly that Maedhros almost didn't catch the words. He brushed his fingers down Fingon's back, wrapped his arms close around him and then rested his cheek on that soft, dark hair. They stayed that way as the fire burned low and the light grew dimmer outside.

It was only later that Maedhros realized Fingon hadn't even asked him why he had the nightmares.


Chapter End Notes:

Thanks to Cheekybeak for the positive reinforcement on this chapter and the request for more kissing.

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