Well, this is the final chapter. This story has been so much fun to write that I'm a bit sad to let it finish.
Huge thanks yet again to TeamDurango my lovely beta-reader – you're awesome :)
Inspired by that post on the Thorin is so majestic tag on Tumblr where someone (Fíli I think) is yelling: Kíli put your pants back on where they should be! Which for some reason struck me as insanely funny. Only it's trousers not pants, obviously, cos I'm English.
Chapter 7: Aftermath
Arms draped lazily over each other's hips, they lie together, their eyes sliding shut, listening to the twin thud of their heartbeats. Their foreheads touching, they breathe in each other's breath. Kíli's hand rests on his chest and Fíli's fingers wrap tightly around it. He can still faintly taste himself on Kíli's lips. Kíli's mouth opens to the kiss and he makes a whimpering sound in his throat as Fíli's tongue slides inside. The kiss is slow and lazy, their lips brushing softly together.
A loud, jarring sound startles them from their moment of bliss. A knocking at the door and the low murmur of voices, somehow familiar, though it all seems a long way off and not at all important right now.
"Oh leave it," says Fíli indulgently, not even entertaining the idea of moving. "Who cares?" He pulls Kíli even closer and they kiss passionately.
Suddenly Kíli sits bolt upright, abruptly breaking their kiss.
"What? Kee, what's wrong?"
"We didn't lock the door!"
"Shit!"
They've never moved so fast. They scrabble for underwear, trousers and shirts among the debris. They're almost presentable by the time the door opens. Too late they realise they're wearing each other's shirts. On reflection, Fíli thinks this is probably best. Kíli's too-long sleeves hide the rope burns on his wrists. He doesn't even want to think about explaining that.
They hear the front door swing open, then the low rumble of Dwalin's voice and Bofur's soft melodic tones as they cross the front room. Another higher-pitched voice, speaking quickly, which turns out to be Ori. One by one, they appear in the doorway. The looks of surprise on their faces as they take in the damage are almost funny.
The three of them clamber over the remains of the door lying on the ground, its damaged wood splintering further beneath their heavy boots. It's hard to see the floor, covered as it is with smashed glass and china and scattered paper. One chair is balanced improbably on the fireguard, which hit the floor with an almighty crash some hours earlier. Another is entirely in pieces. The heavy oak dining table, the one it takes four grown dwarves to lift, is on its side in the middle of the room, its contents cascaded in a tumbling waterfall of chaos. Near the fireplace lie the remains of a glass vase, its flowers strewn across the floor. Their fragrance mingles with the smells of spilt beer and singed carpet. A trail of candlewax is a sculpture frozen in time, from mantelpiece to fireguard to floor. There is broken glass everywhere, glinting dangerously in the low light of the remaining candles.
"Oh no!" breathes Ori, his eyes wide with horror. "You've been burgled!"
"Umm," says Kíli uncertainly, then words apparently fail him.
"Yeah," says Fíli, as if he's just noticed the carnage. "Yeah!" he adds suddenly with more conviction. "It was like this when we got home!" He risks a quick sideways glance at Kíli, who's as still as if he's been turned to stone. Come on genius, work it out, prays Fíli silently, or we're both in trouble.
Dwalin growls. "Where are the bastards? I'll get them for you!" He flexes his fingers, his knuckle-dusters rattling ominously. Ori looks impressed.
Fíli's a creature of Middle Earth, so he doesn't know about facepalm. But if he did, he'd be doing just that right now.
"No!" says Kíli suddenly, as if startling out of a dream. "No…ummm…because…"
"…because we got them already!" finishes Fíli. He wants to whack Kíli round the head again right now. About as much help as an elf you are, he thinks crossly.
"Yeah, that's right," offers Kíli. "Yeah….um…" He trails off, glancing at Fíli for help.
"Caught them on the road out of the village. Gave them a good kicking, smashed their teeth in!" Fíli says animatedly, though his eyes flick tentatively towards his brother. This doesn't go unnoticed by anyone except Ori who is staring wide-eyed at the devastation.
"You boys all right?" asks Dwalin. He and Bofur regard them with concern, assessing the damage. Both brothers look dishevelled to say the least, their clothes torn and crumpled and their hair a wild mess that any respectable dwarf would be ashamed of. A bruise blooms on Fíli's left cheekbone. There is a fine cut below Kíli's right eye. They both look uncharacteristically nervous. Something's not right.
"We were waiting for you," offers Ori. "And you weren't there," he finishes sadly, and unnecessarily. Fíli remembers making vague plans about meeting up in the tavern, but he and Kíli had other things on their minds. Ori is more than a little drunk. He sways and staggers. Fíli and Kíli are fond of Ori and they both cast him sympathetic glances. They've been out drinking with Dwalin before. Even thinking about trying to keep up is not a good idea.
Dwalin and Bofur are asking him questions which Fíli does his best to answer, trying to keep it simple so he doesn't trip over his own lies. He shifts nervously under their scrutiny. He's aware he and Kíli must both reek of sex. Kíli is silent for once. They're careful not to look at each other. Fíli's head hurts. He just wants this to be over. He wants to be naked in Kíli's arms. He does not want to be interrogated about imaginary burglars. There are far too many dwarves in this room right now and he has no idea where his underwear is.
It's Ori who unwittingly breaks the tension, deciding the most helpful thing he can do right now is to start clearing up the mess. For some inexplicable reason, out of all the devastation, he chooses to pick up the flowers.
"Ori, no!" exclaims Kili, rushing to his aid. "Leave it - there's glass everywhere, you'll cut yourself."
"Oh Kíli! You're limping!" wails Ori, clutching him. "Are you OK?" His look of concern is so genuine that Kíli almost feels guilty.
Now Fíli appears to be having some kind of coughing fit, so Ori rushes to him instead. He tries to pat Fíli on the back comfortingly but it's less than effective as he's so drunk he almost misses and whacks Fíli in the face.
"Ori, I'm fine, really," insists Fíli when he can speak again. But Ori leans closer and squints at him. "What happened to your lip?" he asks curiously.
"Bit it," says Fíli quickly, shrugging off his concern. He figures it's less of a lie if he doesn't say who bit it. Ori starts trying to clear up the mess again and Fíli tries to stop him but really he's glad of the distraction. Behind him, he can hear Kíli telling a tale of their epic battle with the 'burglars'. Some of it he even re-enacts, with his usual flair for the dramatic, whirling his arms around, gesticulating wildly. The brothers are heroic in it, obviously. Fíli fights the urge to laugh. Kíli, he thinks. Best fuck in the known universe. Worst liar Middle Earth has ever seen.
Bofur is silent. The brothers look…odd. Flushed skin, eyes nervously bright. And what is up with Kíli's hair? It looks like even more of a bird's nest than usual. The lads do look like they've been fighting…or something… With a sudden flash of insight, Bofur realises Kíli's pants are on backwards. Oh Mahal above, he thinks. Not again. He studiously looks down at the floor, his shoulders shaking silently as he fights a ripple of laughter. He daren't look at Dwalin. He really must have a word with them about being more discreet. Or at least less destructive. If Thorin finds out…he presumes Thorin doesn't already know, on account of how the boys are both still attached to their heads. How is it even possible to cause this much destruction…he stops his train of thought there. He really doesn't want to know.
Dwalin is still asking the brothers questions. They're both looking a bit sorry for themselves now and, while they most definitely do deserve it, Bofur can't help but take pity on them.
"But I'm tired," wails Kíli petulantly. Dwalin rolls his eyes.
Bofur comes to their rescue. "Let the lads go to sleep," he says gently. "They've had enough trouble." They are trouble, he thinks but does not say. He starts to herd Ori out the door, hoping Dwalin will follow. Ori's so drunk he's tripping over his own feet, babbling excitedly about Fíli and Kíli's epic encounter with their burglars and what heroes they are. He makes fervent promises to come back in the morning and help them clear up the mess.
"In the morning," says Bofur sagely, "you're going to have one hell of a headache, my lad. Come on, let's go."
Kíli closes the front door behind them and turns the key in the lock, the bolt making a reassuring sound as it slides home. When he turns round, Fíli looks puzzled. "I think Bofur just winked at me," he says, sounding confused.
Kíli reaches for him and he steps gratefully into the comforting circle of his brother's arms. They lean close, their foreheads touching and let out the breaths they've been holding for the last half hour. It was funny…but it wasn't. That was far too close. Fíli rests his forehead on his brother's shoulder and Kíli puts an arm protectively round him. They stay like that for a long time.
When finally they draw back to look at each other, Kíli sighs. "You were great," he says, gazing at his brother adoringly.
"Yes," admits Fíli modestly. "You were useless."
"Sorry, Fee. I'm just not as good a liar as you. Besides," he adds cheekily, "I don't need to be because you always get us out of trouble. It's what big brothers do."
"Cute," says Fíli, rolling his eyes. "One of these days, I'm gonna leave you to clear up your own mess."
Kíli just laughs. Turning away, he catches sight of himself in the mirror. Here we go, thinks Fíli, raising his eyes heaven-ward.
"Look," says Kíli, pouting, "at the state of my hair!" It's a valid point. 'Bird's nest' doesn't quite cover it. Kíli looks like he's been dragged through a hedge backwards. He glares at Fíli. "This is your fault!"
"What about my wrists?" Fíli rolls his sleeves up, displaying livid red rope-burns on both wrists. Kíli has to admit it's pretty bad, but he hates to be outdone.
"My ass," counters Kíli, warming to his theme, "hurts like hell. I probably have a massive red mark shaped like your stupid clumsy hand!"
"I was nearly burned alive!"
"Well…" Kíli flounders for a moment but rallies admirably. "Ori says I'm limping!"
Fíli doesn't hesitate. "You threw us off a table!"
"You destroyed the door!"
Fíli laughs, for he knows he's won this round. "The door," he says, with what Kíli considers to be irritating smugness, "was most definitely your fault."
"You broke it!"
"Yes, but you", he says, jabbing Kíli in the chest with a finger, "turned me into a lunatic."
"Worth it though, wasn't it?" Kíli gives him a filthy grin. Their eyes lock. Kili reaches out, hooks his fingers in Fíli's belt and yanks him close. Fíli puts up no protest whatsoever.
"You look great in my shirt," says Kíli a little breathlessly, his eyes and then his fingers tracing the tear in it.
"You look ridiculous in mine," says Fíli, using that as an excuse to take it off and fling it across the room. He feels desire rise in him again. How can this be? he thinks with amazement. We just spent all night screwing each other and we still want more. I could do it all over again. A low moan escapes his lips as Kíli's hand slides between his thighs. He shivers deliciously as Kíli's fingers begin to disappear inside his trousers. But Kíli stops abruptly, raising an eyebrow. "Going commando, are we?"
"Couldn't find my pants," confesses Fíli, and they collapse against each other, laughing helplessly. It ruins the moment but it breaks any lingering tension over getting caught.
Their arms around each other's shoulders, they stumble towards the stairs. As they pass through the hallway, Kíli risks a look into the dining room.
"Don't look," says Fíli quickly. "Just shut the door and – ah."
Kíli gives him a withering look. "You shut the door, genius." He sneaks another look at the carnage. "Ma's gonna kill us when she gets back."
"It was the burglars, remember," says Fíli. Kíli sniggers.
Fíli yawns and stretches, flinging his arms up over his head. It's an easy, natural-looking gesture, but one that's carefully calculated for maximum effect. His muscles ripple temptingly and Kíli instantly forgets about the trashed room. "Now I think," says Fíli, his eyes sparkling with mischief, "some several hours ago, you promised to take me to bed."
Kíli smirks and gracefully performs a low and mocking bow.
"At your service, brother."
….
The end! They may not be tired but I am.
Well, that is it. Sorry it took so long to get to the punchline. Admittedly there isn't much of a plot - it's all just an excuse to write some smut, for which I am not even slightly sorry. If you're reading this, then congratulations on making it to the end. Thank you for bearing with me and my increasingly bizarre sense of humour. These two bring out the worst in me ;)
