I started this fic ages ago, and finally finished it. It'll be twelve chapters when it's done. It's an Modern day AU where Maedhros and Fingon don't meet until adults and, when they do, hit it off. And stuff. I dunno. Rated for language, moderate sexuality in later chapters, and mentions of torture and sexual assault, also in far later chapters.

"How about him?"

Finn should his head. "No, he's too...rich."

"Brother," said Artemis, rolling her eyes. "We are at a penthouse party. Everyone here is rich."

"Not that guy," hissed Finn, nudging his sister. "That guy is perfectly attractive."

"He's a waiter," sighed Artemis.

"Doesn't make him less doable."

Artemis cast the waiter an appreciative eye. "Yes, I think I can see that."

They returned to their scanning of the guests, but Finn didn't see anyone that struck his fancy, until...

"Hey, sis," said Finn. "What about him?"

Finn nodded his head towards the bar, where an extremely tall man was ordering a drink, his face in profile. And what a profile it was.

"Wow," said Artemis, beginning to giggle. "You have some taste."

"Why," said Finn, confused. "Who is he? Oh, god, he's not one of Father's friends, is he?"

"No," said Artemis. "He's Curufinwe Feanaro's eldest son."

Finn's mouth dropped. Even he, the black sheep of the family, knew of the infamous rivalry between Nolan Fingolfin and Curu Feanaro; they were business rivals who sparred at every confrontation, and, even worse, they were distantly related. There was no greater shame on either side than to think about that.

"What's Feanaro's son doing at one of Father's parties?" asked Finn.

"Rumor is, he's estranged from his father these days," said Artemis. "No one's quite sure why."

"What's his name?"

"Russell," said Artemis, somewhat dreamily. "Russell Feanaro."

"I'm going for him," said Finn decisively. "I'm risking him."

Artemis grabbed his arm as he turned away. "No, not yet. I haven't told you everything I know about him."

"Boy, you're full of gossip tonight, aren't you?" said Finn, pulling at his tie. He hated suits.

"He's worth it," said Artemis. "Did you know that Feanaro makes all of his sons enlist?"

"All seven of them?"

"Yeah, all seven of them," said Artemis. "And apparently, Russell had a bad time over there."

"Over where?"

"I don't know," snapped Artemis. "Wherever he went. Anyway, he's supposedly all messed up now. Very broody."

"So, the answer to the important question?" pressed Finn.

"Yes?"

"Is he gay?"

"Very," said Artemis, grinning at him. "He came out last year. Who knows, could be why Feanaro disowned him."

Finn shrugged, wished his sister luck on snagging her own man, and moved to talk to the mysterious Russell Feanaro.

Up close, Russell Feanaro was even taller than Finn had originally thought. He sidled up to bar and ordered a drink, watching Russell out of the corner of his eye.

"You're not that subtle, you know."

Finn started in his chair, turning to stare at Russell, who was smirking.

"E-Excuse me?" stammered Finn.

"I could see you," said Russell, tilting his head to where Artemis was hitting on the waiter from earlier. "Over there. Didn't your mother ever teach you that pointing is rude?"

Finn blushed. This was not going to way he'd wanted.

"I'm Russell," he said, watching Finn with wary eyes. "Of the Feanaro brood. But I'm sure you know that already."

"And do you know who I am?" asked Finn curiously, leaning against the bar.

"No, actually, I don't," said Russell. Now the Finn had a chance to look closely, he really was quite handsome, with a strong jaw, high cheekbones, flaming red hair, and piercing green eyes. There was something off, though; a long, pale scar that went from his hairline to his chin, his nose, which looked as though it should have been perfectly on-center, was crooked, and there was an overall hardness, gauntness even, that underlay his handsome visage and impeccable suit.

"I'm Finn," said Finn. "Fingolfin."

"The prodigal son returns, hm?" said Russell, his smirk growing.

"Ah, so you know of me."

"Who doesn't? You gave up the second biggest position in the biggest world to be an artist."

"A critically acclaimed artist," amended Finn irritably. "People never seem to realize that."

Russell swilled his drink with his gloved left hand, his right, Finn presumed, hidden in his pocket.

"Are you?" asked Russell curiously. "They do forget to realize that. I didn't know."

Russell looked honestly interested, and Finn felt a surge of attraction for this man. There was nothing more attractive to him, especially a one of his father's parties, than a man who was genuinely interested in his art.

"What do you do?" asked Finn, humbly changing the subject, although he was definitely interested in this man now (although the logistics of certain positions might be difficult, with that height).

"Nothing much," said Russell, and Finn could tell he'd touched a sore subject by the way Russell's mouth tightened. "I tried to get into business, but it's difficult when your father blacklists you from practically every job in the city."

"Feanaro?"

"Yes," said Russell, smiling grimly.

"What did you do to get in his bad graces?" asked Finn. "Or is that too personal?"

Russell didn't reply; his eyes lingered on Finn's face, examining his hair, kept back in a gold ribbon (Artemis had cheerfully told him it was the gayest thing she'd ever seen), his gray eyes, his mouth. Finn unconsciously licked his lips.

"Personal," said Russell finally, his gaze still fixed on Finn's face. "I don't mind, but it's a long story. I'd rather not."

"T-That's fine," said Finn a bit breathlessly.

Russell tugged at his collar, still with his left hand. "I'm afraid...how much do you know about me?"

"That you're my type," said Finn, trying to remember how to flirt. "Although I forgot to check if you're available."

Russell let out a bark of laughter. "I am available, yes."

He shifted positions, and Finn realized that Russell's right hand wasn't in his pocket; he didn't have one.

Russell was watching him with a sad look in his eyes. "Not attracted to me now, I assume?"

"Don't assume," said Finn automatically. "It makes an ass out of you and me."

Russell's eyebrows raised practically to his hairline. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm fine with that," said Finn honestly. "In fact..."

"Yes?"

"As an artist," said Finn bluntly. "I like disfigurements. I don't just not mind them, I look for them."

"Disfigurements, huh?" said Russell, his expression blank.

Finn covered his face with his hand as he blushed red. "Oh, Valar, I'm so stupid. I'm just so...that was insensitive..."

"I don't care," said Russell. "Let's get out of here, what do you say?"

Finn couldn't help himself; a huge grin spread across his face. "Yeah, sounds good to me."

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