Modern day gang AU, written for Maedhros Appreciation Day. Minor Maedhros/Fingon at the end. And blood and shooting, I guess? Or, and descriptions of torture, or the aftermath, something like that. I'm tired, okay?
"Who are you meeting with today?"
Maglor asked the question with more trepidation than he would like to admit. His brother saved him sometimes, when he failed to remember the love buried past Maedhros's shutters. His brother was a hard man, but that did not mean he did not care.
"Azaghâl," replied his brother with a clipped tone, smoothing back his hair impatiently. "He wants to give me something."
"Any idea what?"
"No," replied Maedhros, "But I will have to find something to give him something in return. I do not like being in anyone's debt."
Maglor watched his brother stand from the armchair he'd been resting in. He was still surprised by his brother's massive height even now. The torture had only made him more impressive, for now he had white streaks in his red hair and scars befitting his position as head of the Fëanorian Stars. His maimed hand was a detriment in many ways, but a plus in others.
The steel in his eyes had its up and downs too.
"After Azaghâl?" asked Maglor.
"Full of questions today," said his brother, voice neutral. "I was thinking I could visit your bar. Hear you sing. I've been feeling overworked lately."
A year ago, he would never have admitted that. Maglor resisted the temptation to straighten his brother's tie as he left the room.
Maglor carried an iPod with him at all times, just in case he needed to drown out screaming.
If one of the Orcs tried to sneak into his bar, he was duty-bound to get rid of them. He wasn't as cruel as Maedhros- his older brother was know for his brutality regarding the Orcs and the way he held their turf even when the rest of the city was swarmed by the seemingly endless, mindless group of thugs.
The iPod was comforting. He liked to keep classical on it for these situations, especially when it wasn't him causing the screams, when it was Maedhros who was killing a little part of himself every time he wielded that blade.
The worst part was when Maedhros came out and his shoes made bloody footprints. Maglor could never quite drown the sight of that out with music.
Maglor would never forget the day his brother was taken. Right after their father had been killed, right after they'd promised to find the damn jewels his father wanted so badly, Maedhros had got to deal with Morgoth. Almost alone, in a back alley, no snipers, no guards.
When they looked the next morning, there were two dead bodies and Maedhros was gone.
It had been up to Maglor to keep the family business going. And he had. He'd tried his best with the shadow of his brother's ghost hanging over him, and he had done a decent job. He'd been competent, and because of that, he could no longer sleep well at night.
Fingon had found Maedhros. A very Fingon thing to do, if you asked Maglor. But he was always grateful. Always grateful for getting his brother back, for getting that part of the hole in his heart back. Always grateful for being able to step down as leader.
Horrible things had been done to Maedhros, though, and it changed him. When he came back, there were gray streaks in his hair and he hand one hand. If he took off his shirt, there were burns marks and whipping scars and the more, ever-present remains of the cruelty he'd been dealt.
Their gang was run so much more efficiently now. Profits were up, Orc numbers were down, and Maglor could see the life was leeching out of Maedhros bit by bit. It was for vengeance, Maedhros said, for their father. Maglor wondered if their father would have ever wanted this.
Assassination attempts weren't that uncommon, but Maglor's heart still stopped when someone tried to kill his brother. He wanted to leap to his defense, to rip them apart with his bare hands and dump their corpse in the river himself. He always forgot his brother could take care of himself.
"Did you really think you could kill me like that?" said Maedhros calmly, trigger held at the assassin's temple, arm wrapped around his neck so tightly that his stump was grazing the man's cheek. "You aren't trying hard enough."
He pulled the trigger, and blood splattered Maedhros's face and arms, lighter than his auburn hair.
Celegorm and Curufin exchanged looks of dark amusement as they dragged the body out, Maedhros taking his seat in his armchair again. Maglor just felt sick.
When Maglor heard the laughter, he could hardly believe it. He'd been taking a shower in Maedhros's bedroom, getting ready for a big party at his club, and when he go out her heard the sound of two men practically giggling. He peeked out the door and saw Maedhros and Fingon sharing an armchair, squeezed together so that Maedhros's chin brushed the top of Fingon's head.
As he watched, Fingon plucked a cherry tomato out of a bowl and held it in his teeth. Maglor's mouth fell open as Maedhros, the same Maedhros he hadn't seen smile in nearly two months, leaned down and took it in his own mouth, lips brushing Fingon's. The moment it was down his throat they kissed so passionately that Maglor had to look away.
He shook his head, smiling, and took the other exit. Even if he couldn't help his brother, he was glad someone could.