The prompt at the kink meme was: Kili and Fili, still as brothers, in a modern AU setting! Angst it up if you'd like (I love angst), but I'd love a reluctant Fili being being wooed into bed by Kili.
Fili sighed as he stepped onto the boat, the twisted knot in his stomach weighing heavier than before. The afternoon weather was fair with gulls crying out overhead and a pleasant, salty breeze blowing the scent of the ocean into his nostrils. The waves were slow for this time of day and the ride to the island city of Dale was fraught with boredom. There was no raging sea monster to try to climb aboard and neither were there any pirates; just the water, the boat and its crew, the passengers, and Fili.
When they landed at the pier, Fili was consumed with a feeling of uneasy nostalgia. He rubbed his hand over his stubble, wondering if he should have shaved in the morning, but quickly banished the thought from his mind. Dale hadn't changed much in his time away; the colorful street vendors were all lined in a row on the main street selling their wares, though mostly, they sold fish this far out on the docks.
It wasn't easy taking that first step towards a home that he didn't particularly feel inclined to go back to, but he had to. Great-grandfather Thror, Grandpa Thrain, and Uncle Frerin had passed away. Uncle Thorin, now the family patriarch, had called for a meeting and everyone was to be there. Fili didn't have very many memories of his Great-grandfather, though he remembered Grandpa Thrain and Uncle Frerin fondly; they had spoiled Kili and him rotten when they were younger and had still lived in the Durin Estate.
The Durin Estate—established back sometime in the eighteen hundreds—was a mansion built on the mountain of Erebor, which their family owned, Fili supposed. He never saw the deed for it, but he remembered being hoisted into his grandpa's arms and being shown the sight of the island at the tallest veranda. His mother had pitched a fit at Grandpa Thrain for bringing him that high up, but Fili never forgot the view.
When Fili looked past the buildings that made up the city of Dale, he could see the winding road that led up to the castle gates, where two giant stone statues stood guard.
Nothing's changed, he thought as he slowly made his way off the pier.
"Excuse me!"
Fili jerked out of his thoughts to look at a curly haired man that had stepped off the boat with him. The man wasn't particularly tall, just a bit shorter than Fili himself, and he carried a rather large backpack with him. He wore practical clothes and didn't stand out in the slightest. In his hands he held a map of the island.
"Hi, sorry," the man said, flashing a quick apologetic smile. "Do you think you can direct me to Arkenstone Road? I can't find it on the map."
Fili raised an eyebrow. "Not using a GPS in this day and age?" he asked.
The man grimaced. "I'm not good with technology," he replied. "So, do you know…?"
Fili nodded and readjusted the strap of his duffle bag. "I'm headed there," Fili said slowly as he scrutinized the map holding man. "Do you want to come with?"
For a moment, the stranger looked at him dubiously. When he reached some sort of mental decision, he sighed and said; "Sure. Why not. I'm certain you're not an axe murderer."
To Fili's surprise, he laughed. He felt a little better at that, the ugly ball of tension in his gut lessening. He held out a hand to the stranger. "Call me Fili," he said.
"Bilbo," the man replied, shaking Fili's hand with a surprisingly strong grip. Despite the odd name—not that Fili could judge, really—Bilbo made Fili smile; he tended to like people who had a firm handshake.
"Is this your first time to Dale?" Fili asked, guiding Bilbo out to the street where they could hail a cab. They exchanged small talk until they managed to get one and when Fili directed their driver to the Durin Estate, Bilbo turned to him with a frown of suspicion.
"How did you know I was going there?" he asked.
Fili slumped in his seat and let his head roll against the headrest as the cab moved through the streets, honking as bicyclists and pedestrians alike crossed its path. "The only thing that Arkenstone Road leads to is the Durin Estate," Fili said as he watched the city pass by in a slow whirl of movement. "So really, I should be asking you why you're going there. You don't look like a journalist or paparazzi. Are you a burglar?"
Bilbo scowled at that. "I am none of those," he said. "I was asked to be there so I'm not some stranger waltzing in uninvited. And you? Why are you going?"
Fili mentally went through a list of who would invite Bilbo, this odd, plain looking man, to their family home and could only come up with a handful of names. Then again, he'd only had brief contact with them for the past five years so he couldn't really say. He admonished the thought.
"Family event," he said simply.
The scowl on Bilbo's face softened when realization dawned. "I'm so sorry for your loss," he said. His words were quiet in the din of the cab.
"Thanks," Fili replied automatically. He crossed his arms over his chest and continued to stare out the window, the atmosphere between them having grown awkward. As Erebor loomed closer, he found himself less and less willing to talk and the trepidation he had been feeling all day wrapped itself around him like a cloak, leaving him chilled and nauseous.
When they arrived at the gates, the driver slowed to a halt. "Sorry, gentlemen, but I can't go through," he said apologetically.
Fili gave the man a strained smile, paid him—and some extra for the tip—grabbed his bag, and got out of the car with Bilbo stumbling out after him. Fili walked up to the buzzer, pressed it, and waited for someone to answer. Normally, it'd be answered immediately, but it took three tries before someone picked up.
"Hello, sorry," a harried voice said from the speaker. "Who is this?"
Even through the static, after five long years of self-imposed exile, Fili recognized the voice immediately. It was hard to forget the voice of his brother, especially since they'd spent so much time together in their youths, that they were nearly inseparable. Kili sounded well.
"Fili," he said slowly, clearly breathless and shocked. Immediately, the gates started to roll back and there was an audible click as Kili hung up the intercom.
The old iron wrought gates had been replaced by electronic ones in the last decade; Fili still remembered how heavy the old gates were and how much he had loved to play and climb all over them until once, the gates closed on his hand and he couldn't get it out. It had been painful and when Uncle Thorin had discovered him, had rushed him off to the hospital. He had fractured several bones in his hands that day and both his mother, Dis, and Uncle Thorin had persuaded Great-grandfather Thror to allow them to install a new gate.
Fili led the way up the pathway to the mansion, aware that Bilbo was taking in the sights as he walked. There was a large circular fountain out in front, the water from it flowing in a steady cadence. Around it were many parked cars, something that rarely happened from what Fili remembered, and it was probably because the garage was full. The Durin Estate was huge and fit to accommodate a large family, but the only times anyone ever came out to the island was during Christmas and New Year. The cars parked were all simple and nondescript; there was an old Volvo with a dent in its passenger side door, an ugly orange Toyota, and a small red Fiat that looks like it had seen better days.
"Isn't your family rich?" Bilbo asked when he saw the cars.
"Yes," Fili replied. "The only ones in my family that really cared about upholding some sort of image had been my great-grandfather and grandfather. The rest of us are a bit more…practical."
Bilbo looked rather dubiously at that and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "practical, my arse" under his breath.
They went up the front steps to the large slate colored door and before Fili needed to press the doorbell, it was flung open.
Kili stared back at him, eyes wide and one hand still on the knob of the door. He was taller than Fili remembered him to be, his hair longer, but his smile hasn't changed; it was still bright and vivacious, one that reached his eyes and lit up his whole face. Fili didn't even manage a word before Kili had grabbed him in a giant bear hug.
Fili couldn't stop the smile that tugged at his lips as he brought an arm around to pat Kili on the back. "Hello to you too," he managed to say without croaking like a frog.
Kili laughed, gave him one last squeeze, and pulled back. "You cut your hair," he said, looking Fili up and down. "You look…good."
"Thanks," Fili said, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He couldn't look Kili in the eyes and instead opted to stare at the spot behind his head. "Can we come in?"
It was the first time during the whole exchange that Kili noticed Bilbo standing there and his smile faded a shade as he looked back and forth between Bilbo and Fili. "Yes, of course, come in. Who's this?"
So it wasn't Kili who invited him, Fili noted.
"I'm Bilbo Baggins. Thorin's expecting me," Bilbo said, sounding a bit cross. "As is Gandalf, if he's here."
"Oh!" Kili said and the smile came back full force. "You're Mister Baggins. We weren't sure you were going to show. Uncle's in the study with Gandalf right now so it's probably best that you go quickly. I think they're having another disagreement." He gestured down the hallway. "The study's down there, last door on the left. If you get lost, just listen for yelling."
"I'll take your backpack," Fili interrupted when he sensed that Bilbo was going to leave the two of them alone. "I'll put you in the guest room next to Thorin's."
"Oh, thank you," Bilbo said, blinking owlishly before shrugging off the giant backpack he had on. It was heavier than it looked and landed on the floor with a thump. "I'm going to go see who's still alive. Thanks, Fili." He gave Fili a tight smile before heading off in the direction that Kili pointed out.
Fili returned the smile with a nod of his head and squared his shoulders as Kili shut the front door. He grabbed Bilbo's backpack, hefting it up with no problem, and went for the stairs, taking two at a time in silence. He was aware of an echo following his footsteps, but he didn't look back and neither did he say anything.
Thorin's room was still the furthest room out in the mansion; his overlooked the gardens and part of the sea, though Fili recalled it to be large and bare, except for an opulent four poster bed that he and Kili liked to jump on when they were children. The room next to Thorin's was empty but well-made and clean, so he dropped Bilbo's bag next to the bed and shut the door. He went back down the hallway until he stopped in front of his childhood room.
The gold colored handle still gleamed against the deep brown of the door, as if waiting for someone to grasp and turn it to reveal the inside, and Fili felt like he was seven again and going to his room was a punishment. Fili shut his eyes and took a deep breath, counted to three in his head, and opened them. He turned the handle.
The windows in his room were all open, the shutters letting in the bright afternoon light. Someone had taken to redecorating his room. His bed had been replaced, no longer the small mattress that he slept on as a child, but a large four poster bed similar to what he remembered his uncle had. An oak desk had been shoved against the far corner, a lamp standing next to it. The posters that he remembered plastering to the walls were gone and instead, there was a fresh coat of paint over them, his once blue-colored walls now an eggshell white. His toy box remained at the foot of the bed, a strange juxtaposition with the rest of the room.
"Mine got redone too."
Fili had almost forgotten that Kili was there.
"It's different," Fili said, setting down his duffle bag. Lined up neatly next to the dresser were the rest of his belongings that had arrived before him. He set about to unpacking, aware that Kili was still staring at him, half way in the room and half way out, like he couldn't make up his mind whether to come in or not.
"Do you know who Bilbo is?" Fili asked before Kili could make up his mind. "I didn't know that guests were invited to this…event."
Kili leaned against the doorframe and raked a hand through his hair. "I've never met him before today," Kili said. "But he's Uncle's secretary."
Fili was determined to not make a face at that and instead focused on putting his clothes away in the closet. He knew he was in for a long haul, at least a month or maybe more. This was his first week free of his five year commission with the military and he had nowhere to go. He hadn't wanted to move in with Dis and her beau and he hadn't contacted anyone else aside from Thorin, who had been the one to stubbornly butt his nose into Fili's life.
"I would have thought he'd hire a lady," Fili said, taking his new uniform out of box. It was still crisp, having been worn only a handful of times. He hung it in the farthest reaches of his closet, placing it behind some winter jackets.
"How…" Kili trailed off and Fili chanced a look at him. Kili was staring into his closet. "How was it? I heard from Mum you got hurt."
"Just a nick," Fili said. "I was fine after they patched me up."
Kili was looking at him now, the smile having long disappeared. "She said it was a bullet wound."
"It was a nick from a bullet," Fili said, returning to his clothes. "It wasn't anything serious."
All of a sudden, Kili was no longer hovering at the edge of the room, but inside and crowding into Fili's personal space. He was brought into sudden awareness of just how tall Kili had gotten and while Fili had kept in shape thanks to his stint in the military, he couldn't help but notice just how different the Kili standing before him and the Kili of his memories were. The beanpole that dogged his every step was gone and replaced with a lithe adult body that Fili did not recognize.
"It wasn't anything serious," Kili echoed in the same tone he would use when he was about to pitch a fit. "It was five and a half years and it wasn't anything serious?"
Fili glared, hackles rising. "Don't even—"
"You run away for five and a half years and all you have to say to me is that it wasn't anything serious?!" Kili was absolutely furious. "Why are you doing this? What have I done?"
"You know exactly why," Fili snapped, turning away. He shouldn't have because Kili took that as opportunity to press against him, pushing him down onto the bed in surprise. He struggled, pushing back against Kili to get out of the hold he's been put in.
"Damn you," Kili wheezed when Fili jabbed him in the chest. "You owe me an explanation!" He redoubled his efforts to pin Fili down and the only reason Fili let him was because he knew he could escape if he wanted to. "Why—why did you leave?" Kili was sitting on his torso, his face inches away from Fili's own.
"You know why," Fili hissed, glaring. "There's no way that—it couldn't—we're brothers."
Kili's face twisted into an ugly expression as he reeled back a fist and Fili decided that enough was enough and threw Kili to the floor. Kili looked shocked from where he laid, eyes wide, chest heaving. Though they'd roughhoused before, Fili had never been violent with him in any capacity. He had never been able to, but now. Oh, how he wanted to just lay it into Kili, but if they showed up at the funeral tomorrow cut and bruised, there was going to be many strong words and lectures to sit through.
"You got stronger," Kili said finally after a moment of silence. Fili had righted himself and was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring down at Kili, wondering what he would do next.
"Of course I did," Fili snapped without thinking.
He was so angry—at Kili for making him feel this way, at Thorin for making him come back, at himself for coming back—that he almost missed that Kili was speaking.
"You know that I don't care," Kili was saying quietly, laying an arm over his head and bouncing a leg off the floor as if he decided to just stay there and relax. The carpet was soft and plush enough that it was probably comfortable, Fili thought bitterly. "I never cared. And I know that you didn't care either."
Fili heaved a deep breath and got up to shut the door. When he did, he let Kili pull him to the floor, lying side by side to stare up at the ceiling. They didn't say anything for the longest time, just watching the light from the window slant itself against the confines of the room.
"We were so wrapped up in each other," Fili croaked when the anger gave way to bitterness and melancholy. "I was so invested in you that it was unhealthy." Kili made some sort of noise, though he didn't interrupt. "God, you were so young then, such a brat. And I was just as immature," Fili remedied when Kili swatted him on the arm. "I had to do some growing up too."
"Five and a half years," Kili said slowly. "To the day. Is that enough time for growing up?"
Fili closed his eyes. "I missed you, of course," he said, and then quieter than a whisper: "I left because I couldn't watch you fall in love with someone else."
He could practically feel Kili tense up next to him at that. "I didn't," Kili protested. "Not really, not the way that I'm—"
"You still did," Fili said and Kili fell silent. "How is she?"
At first, he didn't think Kili would answer, but slowly, hesitantly, he heard: "We don't talk anymore."
There wasn't a clock in the room, but judging from the light coming from the window, it was starting to get late. Dinner would be served soon and everyone was going to be there as far as Fili could tell. It would be the first time in half a decade that he'd be seeing his family, his cousins, his uncles, his aunts. Everyone would be asking him why he left so suddenly and as he thought, Fili couldn't think of an excuse to give. He turned to look at Kili, who had closed his eyes and stopped bouncing his leg on the floor.
"What did you do?"
There was a slight flicker of a frown on Kili's face, but it smoothed out. "Nothing," he said. "I fell out of love." He turned to Fili, opening his eyes. They were in such close proximity that Fili could feel Kili's breath intermingling with his.
Fili couldn't smile or offer any kind of reassurance, not even when his mind was racing to find something to say, but all he could see was Kili and his dark eyes and the way they were mired with emotion. Kili had always been Fili's anchor, and even now he still was. Fili closed his eyes and brought their foreheads together in lieu of speaking, a small part of him relishing in the fact that Kili was beside him again, yet another part of him despairing that after all this time, he was falling into old habits.
"Can I touch you?" Kili murmured, the words vibrating against Fili's skin. Fili kept his eyes closed.
"Don't," he said, quiet. He felt Kili's noiseless sigh, though his brother did not pull away. They laid there, soaking in each other's presence, and somehow, Fili fell into a dreamless sleep.
Fili woke up to the sound of gunfire in his ears. He blinked, disoriented for a moment when he wasn't in his bunk with his garrison, but in a strangely familiar room from his memories. He was at Erebor, he realized, at his family home; he relaxed momentarily until he saw that Kili was still asleep next to him. The sun had nearly disappeared from the sky, only a remnant of gold streaking through the clouds. The temperature was starting to lower and Fili felt a slight chill against his skin.
The loud thumping sound that Fili mistook for gunfire echoed again through the hall, this time accompanied by someone yelling: "Kili! Kili! Are you in there? Come down for dinner!"
They were knocking at Kili's empty room from across the hall, he realized. No one else aside from Kili and possibly Thorin even knew he was home yet. He looked over at Kili, who had his mouth partially opened as he slept and Fili smiled to himself at the sight. He sat up, stretched, and pulled on the first jumper he grabbed a hold of.
"Hey," he said as he shook Kili's leg. "Get up. Dinner."
Kili mumbled something and his eyelids flickered, but he didn't actually wake. Fili shook him harder.
"Kili," he called, "wake up."
Kili's hand shot out and grabbed him by the front of his jumper. "You're home," he muttered, pulling Fili tight against him. "You're here."
It was disorienting the way Kili was clinging to him, but pleasant and warm. It was almost like when they were children, still innocent, taking comfort in each other during a stormy night. Fili brushed his fingers against the crown of Kili's head, touching the thick, dark hair.
"I'm here," he said quietly into Kili's ear. "It's dinner time."
"Yeah," Kili said, his hand still fisted at the front of Fili's clothes. Fili slowly pried his jumper free of Kili's fingers.
"Come on, let's go. I haven't seen Mum yet," Fili said lightly, walking towards the door. When Kili just stared instead of following, Fili rolled his eyes in exaggerated exasperation. "I see you got dull in the time I was away."
That seemed to spur Kili into action. "What? You're dull!" Kili snipped, pushing past Fili and into the hall.
"Don't be such a brat," Fili muttered, chuckling under his breath as he followed his brother to the downstairs dining room.
For a dinner served on the eve of several funerals, Fili could hear the noise from the stairs and he imagined the chaos inside the dining room to be near unmanageable. There were sounds of yelling and arguing and silverware clacking on dishes; this was all so familiar to Fili that he felt his stomach flip-flop where he stood, pausing on the precipice of the stairs. Kili gave him a look, but didn't comment. He waited patiently at the large double doors of the dining room for Fili to join him.
"You always know how to make an entrance," Fili said, stepping up next to him.
"Live with Uncle long enough and you'll learn a thing or two," Kili replied cheekily as he swung the doors opened, arms splayed proudly in the air. The noise died in a quick decrescendo as everyone turned to look at them.
Everyone—literally everyone, as far as Fili could see—was there, arranged around an extended dining room table. Uncles Oin and Gloin, who both had grey hair now, and Gloin's wife, Leto, were present and paused in the midst of chewing with their mouths open. A young man with a full beard of red hair sat next to them, eyes on his smartphone and furiously texting away; it took Fili several moments to realize that it was his younger cousin Gimli, who wasn't quite as small as he remembered. The distant cousins were there as well; Dori, the eldest was greying prematurely, Nori, the middle sibling who brought the most notoriety to the family, and Ori, who was just several months younger than Kili and was working on a doctorate in Literature, according to the last update Thorin had given him.
Sitting near the head of the table were Uncles Dwalin and Balin; Thorin's cousins, trusted council, and closest friends. Next to them were Dain and his wife, a frizzy haired brunette that Fili never remembered the name of, and their son. Bilbo was seated at the table too, along with Gandalf—the busybody lawyer that had to be the oldest person to walk the earth—who simply stared at Fili and Kili with knowing, twinkling eyes. Thorin had a brooding look on his face, but a smile on his lips that Fili couldn't help but echo. His uncle, previously black haired, had silver streaking through it now and the beginnings of crows feet lining the edge of his eyes.
It was Dis that rose from her seat and ran to Fili, pulling him into her arms before he knew it. He hugged her back just as tightly. She was warm and soft and Fili had missed her terribly in the time that he was away.
"You daft child," she scolded the moment she pulled away. "Not a letter, a phone call, a note—I had to hear from Thorin, of all people!" She kept a hand on his elbow as she steered him towards the empty seat beside her. Kili trailed along, grinning like a loon as he took a seat on the opposite side of Fili. "When did you get here? Did you settle in alright? Oh, look at you." She swept a hand through his short cropped hair, her eyes starting to become bright and glassy. "Five years and look at what I miss."
"You didn't miss much," Fili said, patting her awkwardly on the arm.
"Much?!" Dis echoed and that was when Fili noticed the half emptied goblet of wine. "You were god knows where getting shot at and I didn't know if they were going to send you home in a box!" She started to cry in earnest, clinging to Fili's arm like a lifeline. Fili sent a bewildered look to Thorin, who shrugged and continued to eat as if nothing was out of place. Everyone else continued on in spite of Dis crying, leaving Fili floundering until Kili stepped in.
"Mum," Kili said, filling Fili's plate with a little bit of everything on the table. "Fili hasn't eaten yet."
"I haven't seen him in five years, he can wait a bit to eat," she snapped peevishly and clung tighter to Fili. It was embarrassing as much as it was a great relief and comfort to him. He had thought she'd be furious with him for running off like that, and in a way, she was. But she was his mother and she loved him and he had never felt it more keenly. He hugged her back at an awkward angle and pressed a kiss to her temple.
"Mum, I'm here now. I'm home," Fili said. "I won't disappear if you let go."
"You better not," Kili muttered as he piled his own plate full of food—mostly the barbequed chicken legs and a few deviled eggs and nothing else. "You run off like that again, I'm going after you just to kick your ass."
Dis gave a garbled laugh and sob, squeezed him once more, and pulled away. "Eat your dinner," she said, and then, quieter; "I asked Bombur to make all your favorites. Go thank him later."
"I know," Fili said, picking up his fork to spear an egg. "I've never been this hungry in my life."
Dinner was the oddest affair that Fili had to sit through; his mother would break out into tears every so often when someone would tell a story about Great-grandfather Thror, Grandpa Thrain, or Uncle Frerin. She'd alternate between laughter and tears and Fili was at a loss of what to do. He had never seen his mother like this before. She ate little, but focused more on drinking until she was red in the face. Others were in similar states of melancholy and mourning, and at one point Balin had turned to him and said, "I wish you could have come back to a happier feast."
When dinner was over, Fili set off to find Bombur, the family chef. He knew that the portly man would be in the kitchens, as he loved to eat food as much as he loved to cook it, and Fili remembered when he would always be looking forward to Bombur's cooking when he visited Erebor in his late teens.
Bombur—along with the housekeeper and gardener, both relations of his—were there, helping him clean the large quantity of dishes that had been used during dinner.
"Laddie!" Bofur exclaimed, the first one to spot him. "Welcome home!" He had soap on his arms, but held them out for a hug. Fili hugged him tightly because if there was one thing he'd missed most about the estate, it was Bofur.
"It's good to see you," Fili said earnestly. "You look as young as ever."
Bofur laughed as he went back to dishwashing. "I'm glad you think so," he said.
"Don't make him vainer than he already is," Bombur said and Bofur flicked soap suds at him. He pulled the chicken leg that he was eating out of the way. "Oi, watch it!"
Fili laughed and he stayed in the kitchens for a while, helping Bifur put food away, listening to the three of them chat about what he missed when he was gone. They were hired on as help about eight years ago at the worst of the recession; Bombur's food was world class, Bifur did wonders to maintain the vast gardens of Erebor, and Bofur kept the mansion in tip top shape. They were Alfred Pennyworth in three persons and Fili had never understood why Thror and Thrain didn't like them.
"Run along, laddie," Bofur said when the last dish was cleaned and put away. "Go see your brother. He was missing you something fierce."
Fili's smile dimmed. "I know," he said. "Have a good night. Thanks for dinner."
He walked back to his room at a sedated pace, listening for all the little noises. He could hear Gimli chatting away with someone on the phone and Ori speaking with Balin and Oin in the parlour. In the stillness of night, everything he heard was dimmed and muffled. Somewhere in the mansion, there were whispers and crying.
When he got out of the shower, Kili was laying on his bed, thumbing through the internet on his phone. He looked up, dark lashes framing dark eyes, and Fili sighed.
"What do you want?" he asked, glad that he made the right decision of changing into clean clothes in the bathroom. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Kili.
Instead of answering, Kili rolled over, taking the blankets with him. He peeked out of his cocoon and said; "Let's have a sleepover."
Fili tossed the towel that was over his shoulders on top of the dresser and sat down on the evacuated side of the bed. "Give me back my blankets."
Kili snorted and wriggled. "I found these, these are mine now. You can't have them."
Fili gave him a hard stare and sighed tiredly. He knew what Kili wanted, knew what his brother expected them to do—to fall back into routine, to be Fili and Kili again, but he couldn't. He wouldn't.
In another time, Fili would have undoubtedly tackled Kili around the middle and attempted to regain his blankets. There would have been much laughter and rejoicing and probably a few serious punches here and there, but in the end, they would have shared his blankets and the roughhousing would have turned into something quieter, sweeter. But Fili wasn't the same as he was then. He was older and—he'd like to think—wiser, the wounds he'd borne then now mended over, stronger.
Fili got off the bed, grabbed his brother around the middle, and hoisted him over a shoulder. Kili squawked in surprise from the cocoon of all the blankets.
"You're twenty-three," he snapped as he tossed Kili into the hall. Fili watched him roll a bit before coming to a stop. "Keep the damned blankets."
He closed the door to Kili's protesting yells and sank down onto his blanket-less bed. There were several thumps from where Kili was banging on the door, and the sound of him trying to get back in, but Fili had effectively locked it. There was no way in.
"Fine!" he heard Kili yell angrily. Everyone else on the estate probably heard too, with the volume he was going at. "I'm keeping the blankets. I hope you freeze, you ass!"
There was a resounding bang as Kili slammed the door to his own room, presumably taking the blankets with him. Fili buried his head into the soft, plush pillows, willing himself to fall into a cushioned unconsciousness. It didn't happen. Instead, he laid there with his eyes closed, thinking about Uncle Frerin of all people.
He and his uncle had never been particularly close, not the way that he and Thorin were. Frerin had always faded into the background, the second son in a wealthy family, and Fili couldn't remember much of anything about him. He couldn't remember what his uncle liked or disliked, didn't remember anything that he was particularly passionate about; Fili couldn't remember if Frerin had ever left Erebor. He didn't think his uncle had ever shown up on the mainland for any family gatherings.
But very clearly, there was one thing that stood out for Fili. It was Easter holiday then, five and a half years ago with some of the family staying at the estate for that brief period of time. He and Kili were there, along with Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin, although Dis hadn't gone, saying something about not wanting to deal with the overbearing nature of her father and grandfather. Things had been strained between him and Kili and when Kili did the unthinkable—invite Tauriel to stay for the holidays and she actually turned up—Fili got the biggest slap in the face by reality.
Many people would say that of the two of them, Kili was the naïve one, but it was Fili who dreamed the impossible. He had never imagined a life without Kili, but then again, he had never imagined Kili pulling away from him either. He talked to an enlistment officer and on the eve of the day they were supposed to leave, Fili packed his bags and was ready to see a different way of living. Of all people, it was Uncle Frerin that caught him at the door.
"I've got my degree and I'm still living at home," Fili had said, unable to meet his uncle's piercing eyes. "I don't know what I'm doing with my life."
Uncle Frerin sighed and put on his shoes. He picked up Fili's backpack and led the two of them to the garage. "Is that why you're really leaving?" he asked when they got into the nice Aston Martin. "If this is over some silly quarrel with your brother—"
"No," Fili protested, probably too quickly.
Frerin sighed again and started up the car. "People change over time," he said as he drove past the automatic gates. "Sometimes for the better. Sometimes for the worse. None of us are what we were as children."
Not me, Fili had thought fiercely then. I've never changed, I've always been there for him, I've always loved him—
"Leaving without saying good-bye is going to hurt him," Frerin said. He had given Fili a critical look, which Fili had stoutly ignored. "Not just him, but your mother too. And Thorin. He may be a grouch, but he loves you too. Your grandfather will be furious that you've left without telling him."
"Okay," Fili snapped. "I get it."
"And me," Frerin continued as they moved through the almost nonexistent morning traffic. "You don't remember, but I was the one who took care of you when you were young. I was the one running after you whenever you escaped your crib and I would be the first thing you cried for in the mornings. I sang you to sleep at nights. I don't know what's the reasoning behind this decision of yours, but I hope that it's the right one. I would hate to see you brought back in a coffin."
There was a pause and Fili watched as a middle-aged man crossed the street at a brisk pace, a brown paper bag in his arms. "I'm not leaving to die," Fili said, reeling from the revelation.
"I should hope not."
Frerin parked the car at the pier and waited with Fili for the ferry to come. "Keep in touch," he said solemnly when they saw the boat approaching. "Otherwise, I'll give your contact information to Thorin and Dis. You know how they can be."
"I'll try," Fili promised. "And thank you. For not making me stay."
Frerin's smile was sad.
That was the last conversation Fili ever had with Uncle Frerin, before the ferry arrived and brought him away. He had looked back at the pier, at the colorful island city of Dale, and saw the tiny form of his uncle standing by the sea. It was all Fili could remember of him, that confession in the silver Aston Martin and the promise—one that he would break quickly within the month—on the pier.
When Fili opened his eyes, his cheeks were dry and no tears came for the dead man. He remembered just a vague tune and a somber voice in the dark.
There was a light rapping at his door and Fili frowned. He glared at it, hoping that whoever it was would go away, and that it wasn't Kili trying to get back in again. The rapping came again and Fili groaned. "Go away," he snapped, loud enough so the person on the other side could hear.
"Fili, open the door."
That wasn't Kili at all, but the deep, distinctive voice of Uncle Thorin. Fili jumped off the bed and opened the door warily and found Thorin, dressed in his blue smoking jacket, standing in the hall with Fili's blankets in hand. Though his back was ramrod straight and his head held as high as ever, there was a tiredness about him and a tension in his shoulders.
"Sorry, I thought you were Kili," Fili apologized.
Thorin gave him an irritated look and walked into the room, depositing the blankets onto the bed. "Fighting again?" he asked and there was something there, an edge to his words.
"It wasn't intentional," Fili said. "Thanks for bringing back my blankets."
Thorin rolled his eyes. "They were left outside your door," he said, and then after a moment's pause added: "idiot."
"I don't—"
"No one was happy about you leaving," Thorin interjected, effectively silencing Fili. "You went and came back, but that doesn't mean everything is fine. You didn't reach out to any of us, treated us like strangers. Do you have any idea how worried Dis was when you'd go for months without replying to her letters and e-mails?"
Fili held back his words and angry retorts; he came back alive, goddamn it, and it wasn't like he left permanently. How many more people would he need to reassure? How many more times did he need to say that he was here?
The look in Thorin's eyes softened a fraction when he looked to Fili. "You're back," he said, clasping Fili on the shoulder, a small, tired smile on his lips. "You came back and that's what matters."
"Yes, Uncle," Fili said, certain that Thorin could hear the bitterness in his voice. "I'm back."