"Hey!" Fingon called out, raising a hand in greeting as Maedhros spotted him in the crowded bar.

"There he is," Maedhros said to Azaghâl. He had decided it was past time for Az to meet Fingon. Maedhros' trip to Tirion for the day, checking out estate sales, had coordinated well with Fingon's schedule and Azaghâl's, both of them conveniently still on winter break.

Maedhros and Azaghâl approached the bar table where Fingon was seated. He smiled and slid off his chair, extending a hand to Maedhros' best friend and former roommate. "You must be Azaghâl. I'm Fingon. Nice to finally meet you."

Azaghâl found himself staring at the young man in front of him. He shook hands mechanically, his mind whirling. It couldn't be. There was no way that this was the guy Maedhros was dating.

Azaghâl never forgot a face. And he knew this face. It had figured in enough of his own nightmares.

Fingon's smile started to fade as Azaghâl continued to stare at him, his hand still gripping Fingon's tightly. Fingon darted a quick look at Maedhros who was also looking perplexed.

"Sorry," Azaghâl shook his head and dropped Fingon's hand. "Mind went blank there for a minute." He forced a smile onto his face and continued. "Maedhros has talked about you a fair bit."

Fingon turned to Maedhros with a brilliant smile and placed his hand on Maedhros' chest to steady himself, then reached up to give him a quick kiss. "Why don't I get us a pitcher of beer? I'll be right back."

Maedhros caught Fingon's wrist and spoke quietly. "A water or soda for me, ok?"

Fingon nodded. "Got it. I'll be right back."

"What is with you?" Maedhros asked Azaghâl as they took their seats at the small table. "I mean, I know he's good looking and all but still." There was a fond smile on his face and a teasing tone in his voice.

Azaghâl frowned, choosing to ignore Maedhros' question and asking one of his own instead. "You said you'd told him about everything, right?"

"What?"

"You told him?" Azaghâl repeated. "About the attack?"

It was Maedhros turn to frown. "Yes, I told you I did. It's all good." He studied his friend's face. "Seriously, Az. Are you ok? You've gone all pale. Are you feeling alright? Maybe I should get you some water." Maedhros went to stand up but Azaghâl clamped a hand onto his wrist to stop him.

"I'm fine. Sit down. I'm just a little surprised is all." He looked towards the bar where Fingon was ordering their beer. "It's not like you were there, by then," he muttered.

"What are you talking about, Az?" Maedhros' voice had an edge to it. This was not quite how he had expected his best friend to react to meeting Fingon. Az had been his usual self on the drive over but now he looked like he had seen a ghost. It was hard to rattle Azaghâl but he definitely looked rattled now.

The bar was clogged with people so Fingon waited patiently to get the bartender's attention. He was a little puzzled by Maedhros' friend. Not quite what he'd expected.

There was something familiar about him. Had they met before or been in a class together? Maybe that was why Azaghâl had given him that funny look; perhaps he recalled them meeting before? No matter. It would likely come up in conversation.

"It's nothing," Azaghâl said, in answer to Maedhros' question. "I'm here to meet your boyfriend. We'll talk later," Azaghâl growled.

Maedhros raised his eyebrows. "Ok. I don't know what I did to get you irritated but seriously, Az. Be nice, ok? I've told him all about you. He's a great guy and he means the world to me. I'm sure you'll like him once you get to know him." Maedhros still had that perplexed expression on his face but Azaghâl knew this was not the time to explain himself. Definitely not here.

Fingon returned at that moment with a pitcher of beer and three glasses. "The waitress is bringing a pitcher of water for you," he said to Maedhros. "I couldn't carry it all." He seated himself next to him, their knees bumping against each other under the table in that way Fingon loved. He looked up at Maedhros fondly. "Any great finds at the sales today?"

Maedhros instinctively leaned towards him as he answered, his shoulder gently brushing Fingon's. "Mostly children's books today and a great vintage vinyl collection for Maglor to sort through this weekend." He nodded at Azaghâl, who had already poured himself a beer and was downing it rapidly. "Az, you remember that classic rock station we used to listen to sometimes? The afternoon DJ—Lindale—it was his collection I went through today." Azaghâl nodded in response and Maedhros turned his attention back to Fingon. "Totally the type of music our parents listened to—Az and I would play 'guess the band' when we'd have that station on."

Azaghâl poured himself another beer and slowly began to join into the conversation. He still wasn't quite over the shock at seeing Fingon but he needed to focus, for Maedhros' sake. Fingon meant something to Maedhros and as his best friend he owed him a better effort than he had made so far.

Fingon was unquestionably good looking, Azaghâl decided, with his striking blue eyes and dark hair. And he certainly seemed smitten with Maedhros. He could see their proximity, the body language of subtle touches and lingering glances. He let himself relax a little as he watched them interact. Everything Maedhros had told him about Fingon before this meeting had made Azaghâl like him, sight unseen. Anyone who could get Russandol out of his shell and make him look this happy was all right as far as Azaghâl was concerned.

He took another long drink of his beer and slowly insinuated some of his wry commentary into their conversation, eventually settling down enough to appreciate the encounter.

His moment came when Maedhros left the table to track down the missing pitcher of water, no sign of the waitress so far. Fingon turned to him. "It's funny but I swear you look familiar," he said to Azaghâl. "Did we ever have a class together?"

Azaghâl tensed at his words but kept his voice casual as he responded. "No. But we have met before," Azaghâl lowered his voice as he spoke so that Fingon had to edge closer to hear him above the noise. Azaghâl darted a glance towards Maedhros—he was still inching his way through the press at the bar—that certainly gave him a few moments to talk privately to Fingon.

"I'm sorry I don't remember," Fingon started to say but Azaghâl cut him off.

"It was summer, four years ago," Azaghâl words were terse and quick, his eyes moving back to the bar to monitor Maedhros' location. "I was at the park. I'd crashed my bike. My phone had broken and I stopped you as you jogged by me. You let me borrow your phone." Azaghâl leaned closer. "To call the police."

Fingon's eyes widened. "I remember," he said slowly. "You don't look quite the same though. You were frantic about your broken phone. You'd been mugged I think?" Fingon's face scrunched as he tried to remember the details. "I'm pretty sure I left as soon as the police showed up."

Azaghâl took another look at the bar. Maedhros was talking to the bartender. Not much time left. "Maedhros said he told you what happened to him. Morgoth's men."

"Yes," Fingon said, his face clouding over as he thought about that incident. What did that have to do with anything?

Then he paled. "No, it couldn't have been . . . it wasn't that day, was it?" He swallowed audibly. "He said you were the reason they found him so quickly. You described the van," Fingon said, a dazed look on his face now. "You stopped me to use my phone to call the police for Maedhros, not yourself."

Azaghâl nodded "If you hadn't come by just then . . ." He gripped Fingon's wrist. "It could have taken hours more to find him."

Azaghâl's grip was starting to hurt but Fingon barely registered it. He felt a chill wash over him. He had been there. Moments after Maedhros had been taken. Fingon wanted to throw up, his stomach roiling at the realization. His hand shook as he downed the remnant of beer in his glass.

Azaghâl let go of his hand and met his eyes. "He needs to know."

"You think so? It won't dredge up the memories again?" Fingon asked slowly, the words already spoken even as he recognized that Azaghâl was right. This wasn't something he could keep from Maedhros. Their relationship was based on trust and honesty. Now that he knew there was no way he could pretend he did not.

"Let me tell him," Azaghâl said. "Please."

"Of course. I didn't remember, after all, and you did."

"You both look like you need more beer," Maedhros said, setting down a full pitcher of beer and one of water for himself. He looked from Azaghâl to Fingon quizzically. "Ok, Az, now Fingon looks as pale as you did a few minutes ago. What have you two been talking about while I was gone?"

"Nothing really," Azaghâl said, pouring himself another beer and filling Fingon's empty glass as well. "Just realized Fingon and I have met before and I was trying to recall how."

"Really?" Maedhros' eyes lit up. "Class likely?"

"On campus for sure," Azaghâl said. "It'll come to me. You know how I never forget a face."

"No one could forget this face," Maedhros said fondly, leaning towards Fingon and brushing a quick kiss to his temple.

Fingon's hand found Maedhros' under the table and laced their fingers together, gripping hard. Maedhros squeezed back.

They spoke for a while, Maedhros keeping the stilted conversation going as the other two continued to be somewhat inattentive. It was odd. Maedhros had been so sure they would get along.

Eventually Azaghâl looked at his watch. "I should get home." He turned to Maedhros. "You ok giving me a ride home?"

"Of course," Maedhros replied, then turned to Fingon. "Drive you home?" he asked.

"Yes, thanks." Fingon slid off his chair and shrugged into his coat. He laced his fingers into Maedhros' and shot Azaghâl a questioning look. Azaghâl shook his head slightly in response.

They made the short walk to Maedhros' car, parked near the bar, as expected. Azaghâl motioned Fingon to take the front seat then shoved the boxes aside in the back to make room for himself.

"Sorry," Maedhros apologized, glancing at Azaghâl in the rear-view mirror. "Sale day."

"I know. It's not like you don't have trunk space for all this," Azaghâl grumbled.

Maedhros laughed. "It's full too. I've been lazy about bringing it all into the store. Maglor will be there this weekend. I'll make him help me carry it all in."

It was not far to Azaghâl's home. Maedhros pulled up in front of his apartment building and turned in his seat to look at his friend.

"Thanks for coming out tonight, Az. I'm glad you two finally met," Maedhros said. "Or met again, I should say."

Azaghâl regarded him far more somberly than Maedhros expected. His smile faded. "What is it, Az? You haven't been yourself at all tonight."

Azaghâl frowned, darted a look at Fingon and then spoke up. "I figured out how I know Fingon," he said.

A curious expression crossed Maedhros' face. "Ok," he said slowly, looking back and forth between Azaghâl and Fingon, both seeming surprisingly tense. "From the looks of you both maybe it wasn't that pleasant a meeting?" Fingon looked apprehensive, in a way Maedhros had not seen from him before. He had hoped they would be friends or at least get along well but there was something uncomfortable about them both right now.

"How bad can it be, Az?" Maedhros joked. "Fingon's not the guy that puked on you at the match, is he?"

"I've never puked on anybody, let alone at a match," Fingon said faintly.

"Come on, Az. Spill. The suspense is killing me," Maedhros said.

Azaghâl shifted in the backseat, darting a look at Fingon again and then nodded at him. Fingon gave him a slight nod back. "Remember when I told you how lucky I was that day? That some guy just happened to jog by and let me use his phone?"

"What day?" Maedhros asked hesitantly.

"You know what day. The day my phone shattered on the sidewalk and I frantically watched a van drive away with my best friend in it. That day."

"What does that have to do with Fingon?" Maedhros asked, his tone very even but the color draining from his face.

"I was the guy," Fingon interrupted. Maedhros whipped his head around to stare at him.

"What do you mean you were the guy?" Maedhros asked, his voice lowering.

"It means he was the guy who happened to jog by right then—the guy who stopped when I started freaking out. The guy who didn't run away thinking I was mental—covered in blood from crashing my bike, screaming desperately for a cell phone, waving my useless phone around like a maniac," Azaghâl said. "Fingon was the guy who stopped and let me use his phone to call the police." His gaze moved from Maedhros to Fingon as he continued speaking. "The guy who politely stepped away when I was on the phone to allow me keep my privacy. He stayed until the police came and then went on his way once he was sure I'd be ok."

Maedhros was still staring at Fingon, face pale, eyes wide open.

"I didn't know," Fingon said. "I didn't want to pry. I just assumed he'd been mugged." His face twisted into a grimace. "I didn't know it was about you."

Maedhros continued to stare at Fingon.

"I didn't even realize when you told me," Fingon continued, unable to keep himself from babbling. "I'd no idea it had anything to do with you—not even when I saw him today and wondered why he looked so familiar."

"Slightly less intense and not covered in blood," Azaghâl said.

"And more hair," Fingon added. "Your beard wasn't as impressive back then." He couldn't seem to stop his mouth from saying inane things like that. He wanted to reach out to Maedhros but he hesitated, surprisingly not sure of how Maedhros would react to his touch right now.

"I told you, Russandol. Remember?" Azaghâl said. "That some guy came out of nowhere, let me borrow his phone and then buggered off before I could properly thank him." He gave Fingon a stern look. "You didn't even let me say thank you."

"I should be the one thanking him," Maedhros said hoarsely. "It's how they found me so quickly. They were already working on the license plate ID while driving over to find Az. Because you let him use your phone."

Fingon reached out for Maedhros' hand, the cold fingers tightly latching on to his own. "I'm so thankful I went for a run that day."

"I didn't mean to just drop this on you, Russandol," Azaghâl said, his tone contrite. "But I knew you needed to know and it was going to weigh on me if I didn't tell you." He darted another glance at Fingon. "I wanted to be the one to tell you—Fingon had no idea what was going on that day—he just showed up out of nowhere and made the difference."

Maedhros' grip on Fingon's hand was making his fingers go numb. "It was you," he repeated. "After all this time it ends up being you."

"I didn't even know what I was doing," Fingon said.

"Doesn't matter. You saved me," Maedhros said. "Then and again now."

"I'm going to go," Azaghâl said quietly. "I'm sorry if I freaked you out again today, Fingon. I seem to have developed an unfortunate habit of doing that to you. Hope to see you sometime without all the drama." He turned to Maedhros, who reached out with a free hand to grip Azaghâl's. "I didn't mean to upset you, Russandol. I thought you should know it was him."

"I'm not upset, Az. Shocked and a bit stunned about the whole thing but I'm not upset. Once you two figured it out, it was the right thing to tell me. I needed to know this." He nodded at Azaghâl. "Now that we've got this out of the way maybe you'll be more like your usual self next time. I did tell Fingon how funny you are but you've proved a complete dud as far as that goes today." Maedhros gave his friend a tentative smile.

Azaghâl grinned back. "Sorry not to live up to the hype," he said to Fingon. "I'll try harder next time." He tightened his grip on Maedhros' hand and then let go. "Take care of yourself, ok?" He turned his attention to Fingon. "Keep an eye on him tonight—he usually gets the nightmares after conversations like this."

"I know," Fingon whispered. "I know."

"All right then, my work disrupting your life for today is done. I'll go pester my wife now." Azaghâl slid out of the car and gave Maedhros one last look. "Love you, Russandol."

"Love you too, Az."

Maedhros didn't immediately drive away after Azaghâl left. "I still can't get over the fact that it was you."

"I can't either. I can't believe I didn't think back on this and put it all together," Fingon said.

"Why would you? It's not like you had any idea what was going on."

"No, I didn't. And there had been a run of muggings on campus that summer, I remember that. I just assumed that's what it was and I didn't want to be nosy," Fingon said.

Maedhros' gaze intensified. "I'm glad I didn't meet you then," he said. "Not that I wouldn't have loved having more time with you but I wasn't in any shape to have something like this," he gestured between them and then continued. "Not back then."

"No," Fingon said slowly, thinking back on himself in those days. "No, I don't think I was in the right frame of mind either." He leaned across the car and kissed Maedhros' cheek. "I'm glad I met you now, when I could appreciate it."

"Yeah, me too," Maedhros said. He looked at Fingon questioningly. "You ok spending the night tonight? I might not get much sleep."

"I wouldn't have it any other way. I want to be there for you when you have nights like this and I want to be there for the nights that are quiet and calm." He hesitated for a moment and then spoke again. "I want to be there every night, Maedhros."

"I've been thinking," Maedhros said quietly. "I don't know what your plans are after graduation, if you're planning on staying in the apartment with Finrod." His voice dropped so low Fingon had to lean closer to hear him.
"But if you are thinking of moving out and finding a new place . . ." His silver eyes met Fingon's and Fingon felt his breath catch as Maedhros continued. "There's plenty of open rooms at the house. If you wanted to, that is. Move in there, I mean." The crease formed between his eyebrows.

Fingon reached out a finger to gently smooth it out and smiled up at him. "Are you asking me to move in with you, Maedhros?"

The flush on Maedhros' face was endearing. "Yes, but I mean it about having your own space. There's plenty of room for you and you don't need to pay me any rent. The rooms are just sitting there, empty." Fingon's smile grew as Maedhros continued to babble. "I know the train situation isn't ideal, with getting back and forth for work. I realize that might be a hassle but . . . "

Fingon put a finger to his lips to stop him. "You do remember I'm getting a car, right? There's no need to be concerned about the train or my commute."

"Ok."

"I can't say I haven't thought about getting my own place." He put a hand up as Maedhros started to speak again. "No, let me finish. It's been great living with Finrod but I'm not going to be in school anymore after this term. I've talked to him about it. About how maybe it's time for me to do something different." Fingon smiled. "Turgon's already laid claim to my room there, if I do decide to move out."

Maedhros took a deep breath. "Ok?"

Fingon reached up to cup Maedhros' flushed face with both hands. "I'd love to move in with you, Maedhros. I feel like I practically live there already. Are you sure Maglor and Tyelko are ok with this?"

"I haven't really asked them," Maedhros confessed.

"Don't you think that might be a good idea?" Fingon asked, as his thumbs gently swept over Maedhros' cheekbones.

"Probably, but I don't really care what they think," Maedhros said. "I know I want you there and if you want to be there too, that's all that really matters."

"You know that's not true," Fingon said. "Talk to them first, before we make any decisions." He shook his head as Maedhros went to protest. "Really. If I do move in I want all the roommates to agree to it, ok? It will make things much smoother this way."

"All right. I'll talk to them tonight, when we get home."

Fingon laughed.

"What?" Maedhros asked.

Fingon leaned across and brought their lips together before answering. "You. You're adorable. You're so eager to get an answer on this."

"I've found someone I want to hold onto," Maedhros stated.

"So have I," Fingon replied. "Ask your brothers. Please." He grinned at Maedhros. "You already have my answer."

Maedhros leaned forward to brush his lips to Fingon's, the kiss deepening as Fingon's hands drifted up to his hair, pulling him closer.

It was a few minutes before Fingon pulled back, dropping his forehead to Maedhros'. "Your parents going to be ok with this?"

"Doesn't matter," Maedhros said. "Fingon, I'm twenty-nine years old. I own my own business. I own my house. I came into my trust fund at twenty-five. I don't need their stamp of approval on anything I do anymore. I love you. I want you to move in with me. Their opinion on this is irrelevant." He frowned. "But will your parents be ok with this?"

"I'm twenty-five. I'm hopefully going to have a job, once this semester is over. I don't need to answer to them about this sort of thing. I don't think they'll have any objections but even if they do they are, as you so eloquently put it, irrelevant. I love you and I want nothing more than to move in with you." He gave Maedhros a stern look. "We will have to have further discussions on the issue of rent, however. I'm not going to freeload on you, just because you're my boyfriend."

"My brothers freeload on me just because they're my brothers," Maedhros pointed out.

"This is different."

"That's irrelevant too."

"This discussion is by no means over. We'll hash it out once you talk to your brothers." Fingon gave him a meaningful look. "Ok?"

"Ok."

"Now can we go home?"

"Your place or mine tonight?" Maedhros asked.

"Your house. You need to talk to your brothers, remember?" Fingon teased.

"Right." Maedhros started the car. He turned to smile at Fingon. "No problem."

It turned out that Maedhros was correct. It was not a problem for either of his brothers.

"Shit, Mae, I was wondering when you were going to get around to making it official. He's practically living here now." Tyelko said, when Maedhros sat them down to talk about his offer to Fingon. Fingon had discreetly gone to bed, to leave Maedhros alone with them so they could talk. "It's no bother having him around. We've got the room. Whatever makes you happy."

"Maglor?" Maedhros asked.

"For once I completely agree with Tyelko. It makes sense. He practically lives here now. It'll be much easier for you both if he just moves in. I don't mind having him around. He makes you happy, he has interesting insights on my music and inexplicably he can tolerate Tyelko. It's perfect," Maglor said, dodging the pillow Tyelko heaved in his direction.

"You're sure?" Maedhros asked.

"Seriously, Mae. What part of 'yes' is proving challenging for you to understand? We like Fingon. Some days I think I like him more than I like either of you," Tyelko said.

"I certainly like him more than I like Tyelko," Maglor said, dodging another projectile from his brother.

"Ok, then," Maedhros said, collapsing back on the couch. "Thanks, both of you."

"Go on, then. Go tell him we said it's ok," Maglor said.

Maedhros gave him a sidelong look. "What?"

"We know he's upstairs waiting to hear what we said when you asked us," Tyelko explained patiently. He brightened and locked eyes with Maglor. "Maybe it would be better if we told him ourselves." He stood up, motioning Maglor to do the same.

"No," Maedhros said, "That's really not necessary, I can tell him myself." A look of alarm came over his face as both his brothers scrambled out of the room, headed for the stairs. "No, dammit, Tyelko. Maglor!" He got himself off the couch to chase after them but he could hear them pounding up the stairs already.

By the time he reached his room they had already burst in and pounced on the bed, jolting a bewildered Fingon.

"I thought we'd have to ask you to move in," Tyelko was telling Fingon. "I thought he'd never get around to doing it."

"You practically live here anyway," Maglor added. "And it's one more person to split the chores with." He and Tyelko were sitting cross-legged, on either side of Fingon.

"There's plenty of room," Tyelko said. "And you're pretty quiet. Most of the time." He gave Fingon a knowing look. "My room's not quite far enough away, you know."

"Tyelko, what the hell?" Maedhros said, coming into the room and standing at the foot of the bed, scowling at his brothers.

"Hey, if he's going to live here he needs to know that we can hear you guys when you get down to business. It's not a big deal but if you're going to be going at it every night I might need to get earplugs," Tyelko said, thoroughly enjoying the color of Fingon's face.

"Music drowns it out usually," Maglor added helpfully. "I have it just loud enough to drown out the sounds of your passionate love-making but not loud enough to keep me from getting to sleep."

Fingon buried his face in the pillow he was holding. "I cannot believe this," he said, his voice muffled by it.

"Out," Maedhros said. "Now. Both of you. Out of my room."

"Mae, we're just trying to welcome Fingon to the Formenos house properly," Tyelko protested.

"Out," Maedhros repeated, as Fingon gave Tyelko a kick.

"Well, this is the thanks we get," Tyelko said to Maglor. "Coming up here to welcome him to the family."

"Completely ungrateful," Maglor said, successfully avoiding the kick Fingon directed at him this time. "It pains me to admit our older brother has no manners."

"No kidding. Some example he is," Tyelko agreed, squirming as Maedhros attempted to lift him bodily off the bed.

"I mean it, Tyelko. Get out!" Maedhros growled.

Maglor stood up. "Come, Tyelko. I can see we aren't wanted here." He peered at Maedhros. "I can't tell who's blushing more, you or Fingon."

"Maglor, so help me . . ." Maedhros snarled, looming over him.

"Hush, we're leaving." He turned his attention to Fingon, red-faced on the bed. "Good night, Fingon."

"G'night," came the mumbled response.

"Good night, Fingon," Tyelko said sweetly. "I hope you get some rest tonight."

Maedhros growled wordlessly as his brothers moved closer to the door, the amusement visible on their faces.

"Not much chance of that, I think," Maglor said knowingly. "I think I'll turn up the volume on the music tonight. I've got some high-quality ear plugs, if you want to borrow a pair, Tyelko."

"OUT!" Maedhros roared, shoving them out the door and slamming it behind them. He locked it, for good measure. "I'm so sorry about that," he said to Fingon, then gave him a withering look as he realized Fingon was laughing into the pillow he was clutching to his chest.

"You should see your face," Fingon wheezed. "I don't think I've ever seen that look on your face before."

"You might get quite familiar with it, if you're living here with me and those two assholes," Maedhros fumed.

"Come here," Fingon said, dropping the pillow and patting the space on the bed next to him.

Maedhros sat down and then collapsed on the bed, his head dropping onto Fingon's lap. Fingon stroked the fiery red hair as he smiled down at Maedhros. "They seemed ok with me moving in."

Maedhros snorted. "You think?" His hand reached up and gently tugged Fingon's hair. It was getting long; he couldn't remember the last time he had cut it. "I like your hair like this," Maedhros said, his voice softening.

"Hmm. I don't know if I'd look as good with long hair as you do. I can't think of anyone who looks as good as you do, come to think of it," Fingon said.

"And here I thought you loved me for my scintillating intellect and brilliant personality," Maedhros said.

"I do," Fingon said, dragging his fingertips across Maedhros' scalp. "But your looks are what rendered me completely incapable of proper speech the first time I met you."

"I do have that effect on people," Maedhros said drily, laughing as Fingon hit his shoulder. "Of course, you do too, you know. Don't get me started on the sight of you, with snowflakes dotting your hair. I was basically incoherent."

"We are a couple of love-struck idiots, aren't we?" Fingon said fondly.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Maedhros responded, pulling Fingon down until they lay facing each other on the bed. "So, will you?"

"Will I what?"

"Move in with me? I've got the two idiots' approval now," Maedhros said.

"Hmm. So you do," Fingon said, moving closer and tangling his legs in Maedhros'. "I seem to recall I already said yes."

"It was a contingency yes. Not an absolute. I've taken care of the contingency now so I need your answer," Maedhros said, shifting slightly closer to Fingon, their bodies touching.

"You sound like a lawyer," Fingon said.

"Hmm. Just want to be clear on this issue."

"Of course it's a yes. Officially a yes," Fingon said.

"Good. It's settled then," Maedhros said, his mouth covering Fingon's, his hands sliding up under his shirt, making Fingon shiver with anticipation.

He plunged his hands into that mane of hair again, reveling in the touch of Maedhros' hands and lips on him.

Maedhros' touch drifted down, tracing patterns on his heated skin, lingering at his waist.

"Don't stop," Fingon whispered. "They should have the earplugs in by now."

Maedhros laughed and then brought his mouth to Fingon's neck, leisurely trailing his way down his body. Fingon's back arched at his touch. "They may as well get used to it," Maedhros said, as his hands tugged at the waistband of Fingon's pajamas.

There really wasn't much to say after that.

Lindalë is "music" in Quenya. Seemed a good name for a DJ.