PROMPT: "This is girl talk, so leave."

"You," says Eowyn.

"Me," answers Lothiriel, not looking up from her book. "Did you need something, Eowyn?"

The loud clunk of a bottle of wine being set on the table in front of her is her friend's only response. Blinking, Lothiriel lifts her head to meet the other woman's narrowed eyes.

"You've been seeing someone," Eowyn says. It's not a question. "And I find myself very offended that you haven't told me, your supposed best friend, a thing about him."

Lothiriel's bites her lip, guilt curling hotly in her stomach. Eowyn's not wrong-she has been seeing someone. Normally, she wouldn't hesitate to tell Eowyn anything and everything about a potential boyfriend, but seeing as the man in question is...well, already well-known to her, telling her about him would be somewhat pointless.

Not to mention incredibly awkward, considering just where's she's spent the last two nights of their friends-and-family beach vacation.

"I'm sorry," she says, honestly. "It's just...I really like him, Eowyn, and I'm afraid to jinx it by talking about it too much."

(It's not the whole truth, but it's not entirely false either. She's never felt this way about anyone before, and it's equal parts exhilarating and frightening.)

Eowyn's expression softens and she sits down on the couch beside her, pouring them both large glasses. "Well, what can you tell me?"

Setting down her book, Lothiriel takes a large sip of wine, trying to gather her thoughts. "He's as stubborn as a mule, but secretly a big softie at heart, much as he'd deny it."

Eowyn smiles. "I assume handsome?"

"Mm," Lothiriel hums dreamily. "Very."

"Smart?"

"Perhaps not as brainy as your boyfriend," she teases, giving Eowyn's ribs a gentle nudge, "but no slouch there, either."

Eowyn's expression turns mischievous. "Good kisser?"

Lothiriel can feel the blush creeping up her cheeks. Oh, Valar, if they were discussing any other man, she wouldn't hesitate to Eowyn about his kissing skills and more, but-

"That good, hm?" Eowyn interrupts, clearly interpreting her blush. "He sounds like quite the catch, Lothiriel."

"Who's a catch?" Comes a familiar voice.

Lothiriel stifles a groan, if only just.

"Lothiriel's mystery man," Eowyn answers.

"Lothiriel has a mystery man?" Asks Eomer, arranging himself in the chair across from them.

If looks could kill, Lothiriel's quite certain she'd be short a 'mystery man'.

"Ah, ah," Eowyn protests. "Don't get too comfortable, Eomer. This is girl talk, so leave."

"I don't think I will," he says, offering them both a wide grin. "I want to hear more about this mystery man."

Lothiriel opens her mouth to add something along the lines of well, he can also be an utter ass but Eowyn speaks first, saying, "He's a total paragon, apparently. Smart, handsome, an excellent kisser-"

Eomer's mouth twitches. Lothiriel is going to kill him. "Is he, now?"

"But also a stubborn, secret softie," Eoywn concludes. "Does that sound like anyone we know?"

"It's not ringing any bells, no," Eomer answers.

"Funny," Eowyn says, and Lothiriel hears the note of smugness in her voice too late, "I wouldn't know about the kissing thing, but everything else sounds suspiciously like you, Eomer."

Despite her own mortification, Lothiriel has the intense pleasure of watching her apparently not-so-clandestine boyfriend nearly choke on the sip of wine he's just taken.

"Subtle, you two are not," Eowyn smirks. "Faramir saw you sneaking out of Eomer's room two mornings ago, Lothiriel. Won a substantial amount of money from Theodred because of it, in fact, so thank you both for that."

"Eowyn," Eomer groans, but she cuts him off with a swift kick to his shin.

"You're both still in trouble for not telling me sooner," she says, "but I must admit, watching Lothiriel squirm trying to think of appropriate things to tell me about you was very entertaining."

Lothiriel groans this time, hiding her face behind her hands.

"Though I do have to wonder," ah, Eowyn isn't finished, "just why you two tried to hide it from us."

"This," Eomer grumbles, "is exactly why we didn't tell any of you."

"Hm," Eowyn says, "well, Amrothos will be glad it's not because the two of you were ashamed about the whole thing, like he was theorizing-"

"I'm going to strangle him," Lothiriel hisses. "As if there's anything to be ashamed about being in love with someone-"

She cuts herself off as both pairs of Eomundson siblings' eyes-one pair green, the other dark brown-flash to her face. Oh, Elbereth, she didn't just-

Eowyn's face splits into a wide grin, but Eomer-oh, Eomer-looks like she's just hit him over the head with a frying pan.

"You're-you-"

Wishing the floor would open up and swallow her, Lothiriel says weakly, "Well, I hadn't planned on telling you quite like that."

There's an agonizing silence. She's halfway ready to turn and run, but then Eomer is standing, alarmingly slow. His stare is intense and he takes the two steps between the couch and his chair slowly, as if he might startle her. He crooks a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"Did you mean that?" He asks, in a low tone.

"Of course," she says, equally serious. "I've been meaning to tell you for-for ages, but I was afraid-"

And then he pulls her up into his arms for a searing kiss. She's vaguely aware of the noises of mock-disgust that Eowyn is making, from somewhere behind them, but most of her senses are consumed with Eomer-the heat of his skin, the wet, hot press of his mouth, the strength of his arms around her-

"Keep it PG, you two," comes Faramir's amused voice. "The rest of us would like an explanation as to when this all began."

Eomer looks ready to tell Faramir something decidedly impolite, so Lothiriel stops him with a finger to his lips. "Later," she promises, before turning to give her cousin a sheepish look. "I suppose there's no way out of this?"

"Not a chance," he promises with a grin. "And Eowyn and I are the least of your worries."

"Boromir and Amrothos?"

"Elphir."

Eomer groans, dropping a kiss to Lothiriel's temple. "Bema, spare me."

One excruciatingly long conversation later, Lothiriel offers no resistance when Eomer scoops her up, tells all of their meddling relations to piss off, and carries her to his room. They lay in comfortable silence on the bed for a moment, Eomer's hand moving in a soothing, steady motion through her hair.

"So," she says, "that could have been worse."

Eomer snorts. "Your definition of worse and mine must be two very different things."

She laughs, propping herself up on one elbow to meet his eyes. "Well, there is one thing I'd change."

"Being interrogated by your obnoxious brothers while my sister laughs her head off?"

"Alright, two things," Lothiriel concedes, reaching out to run her fingers over Eomer's cheek. "But the one I meant was telling you I love you with an audience."

She can see him swallow, but his voice is steady when he says, "Yes, I'd like to change that, too."

Smiling softly, Lothiriel stretches to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "I do love you, though."

Eomer hums, pulling her closer. "I love you. Meddling siblings and all."

Lothiriel grins. "Prove it."

(He does. Perhaps a little too well, because Amrothos declares the following morning: "I am never going on a vacation with the two of you again! My therapist is going to need a therapist!"

"That's nothing," Erchirion grumbles, looking similarly queasy, "try sharing a wall with Theodred and Boromir."

Lothiriel and Boromir clink glasses, smirking, as Theodred and Eomer groan in horror.

"Your family," Eowyn says to Faramir.

"They're yours too now, love," he advises. "Best get used to it.")